#and he speaks with his mouth because reader finds it comforting :>

[aomiiine]

i NEED caleb to manhandle me right Now... need him to carry me everywhere and put me up against anywhere

i just.. just had to answer this first cause my brain short circuited to an explosion..

caleb + fem!reader warning(s) -> nsfw, MDNI (18+), manhandling, dumbfication, finger sucking, marathon sex, reverse cowgirl, slight objectification, edging

1 am in the morning, dark bedroom, Caleb fucking you whilst spooning you, one bionic arm scooped underneath your knee to lift your leg just enough to bury his painfully hard cock deep inside your sloppy pussy. He’d have the other arm curled beneath your head, making your rest on his bicep like a makeshift pillow with his hand finding your lips, a finger of two delving themselves past your lips and into your mouth, making your tongue swirl on his digits and gag on them occasionally whenever he plunges them deeper just to feel you squirm on his dick. Fuck, it’s felt like hours since he was abusing your tight cunt, his fat cock stretching you out with twitches that made you believe he was about to cum, just for him to stop his thrusts, staying still to supress his orgasm. Caleb was edging himself, to edge you. Because he knew your trained cunt couldn’t cum without him—without his permission.

You whine loudly around his digits at the orgasm he denied you of, eyes swelling with tears of frustration and exhaustion. He coos you in attempt to comfort you, “Shh, good girl, you’ll get to cum soon.. I promise, soon. But not now, yeah?.”

Caleb repeats the same motion a few more times, skin sheened with a thin layer of sweat like yours, hair sticking to your face. Your lewd cries of his name would always be muffled by his long slender fingers invading your mouth, your throat accommodating them just as well as it would with his cock.

He’d keep on going, until he was satisfied with how swollen his balls felt and how fucked out you looked in his arms, drool dripping from the corner of your lips with barely coherent moans of his name escaping like a mantra. Then, just then, his grasp under your knee would tighten, rolling together with you on the bed until he’s laid on his back on the bed, your body laid on top of his and boneless legs spread out wide.

“Do me a favour, pretty girl, and sit up for me,” Caleb coaxed gently, a stark contrast to how his strong hands now held your shoulders, leaving your legs to help you sit up, your back facing him. Soon enough, his hands would slide down your arms, fingers slipping beneath them to find your hips. He’d bury them firmly into your plush flesh, grip tightening to surely leave hand shaped bruise marks the next morning.

Caleb would take advantage of your lust-dazed self, knowing you were barely able to coordinate yourself to sit on him properly when his bulbous cockhead was pressed hard against your g-spot in this position, mouth falling agape in a sharp gasp when he lifted you up off his cock with his raw strength, unable to see how his muscles flexed behind you in effort to yank you up and down his dick like a human fleshlight, using your pussy for his pleasure—and vice versa.

Omg speaking ab manhandling, i can absolutely see him pressing you up against the wall whenever he comes home from a long mission. Then, he’d carry you to the kitchen, laying on the kitchen countertop to fuck you stupid again. Once your panting and weak, he’d scoop you up in his arms to carry you upstairs into your bedroom, then bathroom to press you hard against the cold glass shower stall, fucking you from behind again. After the shower he’d throw you on the bed and settle between your legs, head buried in your pussy cs he claims he needs to clean up every crevice of you

[doodle-pops]

My Turn To Cry

Curufin x fem!reader

Request: Hi! It's titally okay if you don't wanna do this ask or to ignore it. But i was wondering if you could maybe do a oneshot of curufin. Maybe his wife decides to stay with celebrimbor in nargothrond when curufin and celegorm get booted? How does he react to that choice? Or if she does decide to go with them, then the serious strain it puts on their relationship? Thank you so much i love your writing!! 🥰 – @will-0-wsps

A/N: Y’all should know by now that I’m a sucker for angst with no comfort and happy endings when given the opportunity >.< So this was a joy to write. Thank you for the request! Hope you all enjoy it!

Warnings: wife reader, heavy angst no comfort, argument, separation, confrontation, physical aggression (throwing objects at Curufin)

Words: 2k

Synopsis: There was always a time when you believed Curufin, and you would walk separate paths in life—death would be kind to greet either of you with a smile—but not this way. Not for power. Not for pride.

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It was a while when last the sky reflected the same emotions as you did: dull and grey, melancholy and detached. However, there were still some fragments of you lingering here and there, mostly for the sake of your son. There was little to say or do. Not much could be done for what was already known except standing your ground and holding your head high. No longer was he the little cubby elfling in your arms, grasping at your shiny hairpins and attempting to devour them. He was his own man and mind. The least you could do was be his strength and hope in the scarcity of the man of the house.

Alas, there he was.

Strolling into the drawing room with Celegorm flanking his side—the perfect counterpart, more than you could ever be to your own goddam husband. Nonetheless, you observed in silence as he approached, and your final assessment was correct. It had all the reasons for why grey storm clouds hovered overhead. For it was the words which left his mouth, opened up the pits of your rage, and allowed for your fury to be unleashed like a torrential storm—fire and brimstone infused.

“We make leave for sundown. We will find our new station at Himring. Nelyo will host us there in the meantime until we can regather our resources,” he announced with an air of composure and arrogance that made your blood boil. The hairs on your neck rose, and your eyes formed daggers.

Before you could stop yourself from acting, you reached for the small vase on the table nearby and launched it across the room, at his head. Unfortunately, his reflexes saved him, causing the vase to crash against the wall. You noticed the smirk on Celegorm’s face faltering as he shot you a darkened look with a twisted smile, amused at his sister-in-law’s outburst.

Curufin wasn’t one to let your actions slide so easily on the other hand. He whipped his head around to glare at you, looking every bit of regal despite his treachery. “Have you gone mad, woman!”

“Have you?!” you countered, rising from your seat, fists clenched at your side and feeling as though you could have thrown another object at him for his arrogance. “Strutting about the palace as if there were no consequences to your acts. Yet running when fingers are being pointed.”

“Do not speak to me about actions when you have been doing nothing but complaining at every whim,” he compared, taking a step closer, still further from where you stood. “And still, I allow it because it is you. You who have refused the oath and do not understand what it means to bear the weight.”

You gave a laugh. One single, hollow, dark laugh as you shook your head, hanging it low. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. This was not how you imagined walking at his side. This was not how you imagined the act of paying one in kind for hospitality would occur. There was always a time when you believed Curufin, and you would walk separate paths in life—death would be kind to greet either of you with a smile—but not this way. Not for power. Not for pride.

“Yet I who still followed you out of belief and held on to hope and the salvation of your house,” you uttered with an empty tone. “I, who—I will not leave with you.”

The room fell into silence, festering a tension growing under the weight of your husband’s stare and your brother-in-law’s look of disappointment. Celegorm wasn’t one for expressing displeasure often. Turning everything into a game, a sadistic little joke. But now, he seemed to understand the weight of your words and what it meant.

Curufin took another step forward while you stood your ground, your head no longer facing the floor as you met him head-on. Dull eyes staring into silver-grey eyes filled with a cold fire. “You will not leave,” he echoed as the weight slowly seeped into his chest. His eyes were searching yours for some flicker of doubt, something which told him this was merely the result of wounded pride or confusion. A momentary lapse of poor judgement. But there was nothing.

“At least not with you,” you corrected, each syllable measured for him to not misinterpret. “Not after all that you have done.”

“What I’ve done,” he mumbled to himself with a scoff as he ran a hand through his well-kept hair. He dropped to the floor before glancing over his shoulder to meet his brother’s eyes—a quiet non-disclosed exchange between—before he returned to meet you on the battlefield. He exhaled, his glare intensifying. “Have you forgotten who I am? Who we are? I did what was necessary!”

“You did what was convenient!” you snapped, feeling the urge to launch another object at his head. “You and you foolish brother, both—you saw power and you took it, with no though of consequences of loyalty and of honour. Finrod is dead! Dead because of you and your usurping, treacherous ways all for the throne!”

This time, you moved swiftly as you grabbed a book off the shelf and threw it at him, hitting him square in the chest. A failure at the level of destruction you wished to bring. Your action only prompted Curufin to grow more frustrated as he growled, a deep rumble in his chest as he narrowed his eyes.

“You have some nerve, melda—”

“Do not ever call me that. Ever again. I am no longer your wife—I refuse to stand at your side as an individual who was created to be your equal and companion,” you choked and bit your lower lip to cease the tightening of your throat. “I will not follow you after what you did to Finrod.”

He stared at you as if he was the one in pain. There was a moment when he felt himself slipping. His façade melting at your declaration as a hand lifted to his chest, his breathing becoming uneven. “Do not speak so foolishly on such statements. Do you have any idea of what you mean, melda—”

“I said do not call me that!”

“You are my wife! You are not leaving me! You will follow me and continue to stand at my side as you have always done from the start!” he shouted. “My transgressions in the past were never an issue, the ones you accuse me of should be the same. You will come with us.”

“No.”

There was a pregnant pause which followed.

“No?”

You could feel the fire raging in the pits of your bosom, clawing to be let out and show him that he was not the only person born with fire in their spirit.

“I said, ‘no,’ I will not be following you and your conniving brother, who aided you in Finrod’s death and you brilliantly assumed would be perfectly suited to marry Luthien through forced marriage.” Crossing your arms, your eyes bore holes into his, refusing to back down.

His breath came harsh and uneven, but it was the look in your eyes that truly unsettled him—an unbearable mixture of disappointment and heartbreak. “You believed I killed him?”

“No. Sauron did. But you knew what he would face, and you left him to it.”

His lips parted as though to argue, but what could he say? He had known. He had known and done nothing, and now his cousin lay dead in some nameless place, torn apart while he sat in his stolen seat, drunk on his own ambition. His expression faltered, his eyes flickered with uncertainty, and for a moment—just a moment—you almost thought he might yield. But the anger returned, twisting his grief into something uglier.

“You are a fool,” he spat, stepping closer, his presence attempting to suffocate the intensity of the situation. “You speak as if I had a choice. Do you not see the world we live in? The war we are fighting? There is no room for sentiment or weakness.”

“Is that what you think this is? Weakness?” You threw him a look of exasperation, your voice rising. “I stayed by your side through everything. Through your father’s oath, through exile, through the loss of so much. I stood with you. I believed in you. I believed in us. But now...now I see only a man who has lost his way.”

His expression hardened, though there was a flicker of something—hurt, perhaps—in his eyes. “And what would you have me do? Crawl on my knees to Orodreth? Beg for forgiveness for doing what was necessary?”

“Necessary,” you repeated bitterly. “Was it necessary to betray Luthien? To hold her captive while you and your brother attempted to force her into a marriage she did not want? Was that necessary too?”

At that, he flinched, though he quickly masked it with anger. “You do not understand,” he gravelled. “You never did. Everything I have done—everything I will do—is for the sake of our people, for the survival of the Noldor.”

“I refused to share your disgrace.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I expect you to stand by me,” he said, his voice rising. “You are my wife. Is that not what we vowed to each other?”

“I vowed to stand by a man I loved and respected,” you shot back, your own voice trembling with fury. “Not a man who usurped and indirectly held a knife to his cousin’s throat, and attempted someone into marriage, all for power. What becomes of me? Who am I to you? If you could hurt others, then why not me?”

“I would never hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now.”

There was a long, tense silence between you, the words hanging in the air like a blade poised to strike. Curufin looked at you with a mixture of disbelief, anger and desperation, as if he were searching for something to say, some argument that would change your mind. But you saw the truth in his eyes—he was not sorry for what he had done, and he never would be.

At last, he spoke, his voice cold and clipped. “So this is your choice, then. You would rather stay here with those who would see me cast out like a dog than stand by your husband.”

You swallowed hard, your heart breaking at the words. “I would rather stay where there is still a chance for peace and honour,” you said quietly. “Where I can raise our son without fear of what the next betrayal will bring.”

“Tyelpë? You would deny me the rights to my son as well?” he stated in shock. “A boy needs his father.”

“He’s a man. And he doesn’t need a father who would bring him nothing but sin,” you corrected, taking a deep breath to soothe the waves of tension off your shoulders. You were becoming weary of this constant back and forth.

Curufin’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms so hard they might have drawn blood, but the pain was nothing compared to the hollow, searing ache in his chest. His breath came sharp and uneven, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His mind screamed at him to turn back, to say something—anything—but his pride, his fury, his very nature would not allow it.

Without another word, he turned on his heel, the movement rigid, almost mechanical, as if his body moved before his mind had truly caught up. His cloak billowed behind him, a bleak contrast to the weight settling in his bones. Celegorm fell into step beside him, silent and grim, his own expression unreadable, but Curufin barely noticed.

The great doors of Nargothrond loomed ahead, its halls growing colder with each step he took. He did not look back—could not. To do so would be to acknowledge the finality of this moment, the unbearable truth that, for the first time, he was leaving something behind that he could never reclaim.

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[aka-indulgence]

Illithid Kiss

So I caved. Immediately. Mind flayers are hot, bite me

Thanks to @llamagoddessofficial for showing me 1 (one) image of bg3 mind flayer and immediately going AWOOGA

Yes I made an ao3 link, I ‘ve been taken over help

(Mind flayer x Female!Reader

Mind flayer goes by he/him)

Vaussur took you in as his thrall for what feels like a long time ago. Despite being a mind flayer, for his kind, he had surprise you at every turn, acting unlike how you expected an illithid to act- like how the rest of the mind flayers in his hive acts. Lenient and forgiving with you, letting you roam with your mind free (for the most part), you find yourself unexpectedly getting attached to him.

What do you do, when all of a sudden your mind flayer ‘master’ asks you to tell him about human love? When he asks you to show him more directly? And most importantly…

Would you kiss a mind flayer?

Content warning: Mind control involved (consensual), suggestive themes, master/servant romantic relationship

—————

“Tell me, pet. What does it mean to love like a human?”

You’re snapped out of your musings at the voice, echoing both through the room and chambers in your mind. You look away from the window, from the alien society outside. Vaussur was looming behind you, a curious glow in his eyes that looked soft, somehow.

In the shadows of the room he looked ominous, almost spine-chilling. Illithid armour glinting in the faint light, while the rest of his body was merely a silhouette save for his glowing, golden irises. It reminded you of stories people back home used to tell you when you were young: to close and lock the doors at night and close the windows lest a monster sneak into the room. You didn’t know what a mind flayer was, back then, but seeing him now, he fits the stories perfectly.

Yet, he keeps surprising you with his curious mannerisms- his strange questions. You turn to face your ‘master’.

“Why do you ask?”

“As you might guess, it’s not something I can speak of amongst other illithids,” he says matter-of-factly, with a bit of humor in his eyes. “But its still something I’m personally interested in, nonetheless.”

You giggle. “What do you mean? Do you study humans?”

Mind flayers don’t have mouths. But from the way his tentacles moved, it almost looks like Vaussur was smiling at the sound of your giggle. But he answers seriously.

“I have been, as of late.” He gives you a meaningful glance. “Of course, illithids are the superior race and our ways of living are equally superior. … But I find myself becoming curious. We don’t have such customs in our society, and what I’m about to say is unbecoming for a mind flayer, but…”

You look at him curiously as he struggles to speak his words.

“I… envy you.” He whispers. “You have no idea how exquisite your mind tastes, my dear thrall. … How tender, the sweetness in every drop of thought in that delectable mind of yours, the warmth and comfort your memories radiate… You come from a world where a small, innocent, kind thing like yourself could flourish and bloom- thrive, even. How can such a world exist?”

The way he describes your mind in frightening and alien detail, reminds you of what he is- an illithid, a being that literally has a taste for brains. But even so, the way he described yours, though a little unsettling, almost sounds like a poem, words woven carefully just for you. Try as you might, it sounds like a compliment to you.

“W-well,” you stutter, staggered by his flowery words- coming from a being that has never seen much of life in the sun. “I think humans are more social than mind flayers. You communicate out of necessity, working together like a hivemind for the elder brain… right?”

“Right. You remembered what I told you? Smart pet, you prove me again and again why you’re my favorite thrall.”

“Um!” Being called a thrall wasn’t flattering, but still you feel your mind spin from the praise. “Thank- thank you. As I was saying, humans communicate and cooperate too, but we don’t do it just out of necessity. We find joy in the comfort of other humans- and other beings too, if they’ve formed a bond. We do it because we like it. We make bonds with people in our families and our communities, for companionship and… sometimes more. We can work alone, but most suffer from being solitary.”

You don’t know what kind of love Vaussur was asking you for, but you thought keeping it general was a good start at least. And the safest option, considering the other possibility.

“Interesting… not unlike illithids.” He comments.

“Really? How so?”

“As a non mind-flayer, you would not know this, but… it’s very unhealthy for a mind flayer to be completely alone.” You raise your eyebrows in surprise while Vaussur continues. “No elder brain, no other illithids, no thralls. Mind flayers are surrounded and connected by thoughts. To strip the familiar away from them… I’ve heard stories where they’ve gone mad.”

“Wait- mind flayers can go mad?”

“Of course. We are superior but not perfect- even I can admit that. Mind flayers can’t thrive in isolation, we must rely on another living being. It’s a disgrace for a mind flayer to accept it, let alone admit it- especially to admit they rely on thralls so heavily beyond labor.”

“I didn’t know that.” You remarked, seeing the illithids in a new light. Most of what you’ve heard from when mind flayers were merely myths and legends, and from what you’ve seen directly from their society indicates that they’re a self-sufficient, self-aggrandizing people. To know they could be attached to anything other than themselves, or at least to their elder brain… and Vaussur had so easily conceded this information to you.

“Wait, if it was a disgrace, why are you admitting this to me right now?”

“Because I’m no different. And it is no disgrace to say that I need you to stay with me.”

Your mouth hangs open at his honest confession, like it was factual. You try to ignore the little flips your stomach is doing, and whether or not it was a good feeling.

“I’ve also heard that there are different types of love. Platonic and romantic, I think they’re called.”

“Yes, yes there is, it’s-” you stop yourself, even as you quieten the excitement in your chest at the mention of the other type of love (to your puzzlement). “How do you know about that?”

“During my time on a ​​reconnaissance mission. I was looking for possibles hosts to implant with tadpole.”

You fail to hide the distaste on your face at the mention of ceremorphosis. If Vaussur saw it, he doesn’t react.

“I heard them talking about it. I think they were discussing whether what they felt for each other was one form or the other. Their discussion about the romantic one became particularly charged.”

He refocuses on you, and eagerly asks, “What is… romantic love?”

He was trying to sound calm and analytical but you could hear it: excitement. But why would a mind flayer be so interested in romance, of all things?

“It’s… like I said earlier,” you swallowed. You don’t know why you felt so bashful about it, like you were in a group of children talking about your parents kissing like it was a scandal. “It’s when people have more… intimate relationships with another. It’s not very different from platonic love, but different nonetheless. It’s…”

How do you explain romantic love to someone who doesn’t know what it is? How is it different from platonic love? Just having to explain what love is to him proved itself quite confusing to you, as the more you tried to grasp the definition of love to you, the more it slipped away.

“It’s like…” you grasp again, “romantic love is when you meet another person, and you feel a, a… a spark. It’s more intense than platonic love, where you just feel this… attraction to the other person, where you want to be as close to them as possible, and just their presence can make you really happy. You do things with them things you wouldn’t do with any other people you have in your life, intimate things. Someone you want to share your life with.”

You feel a little helpless as you clasp your hands together, trying to convey what you think love looks like to someone who’s never experienced it. Even with your loose explanation, Vaussur is rapt with fascination, his luminous glare unblinking. 

“I’m sorry if this is confusing to you…”

He shakes his head. “That’s more knowledge than any mind flayer knows. And… if it proves hard for you, pet, maybe you should show it to me.”

“I… show it?”

You were about to ask how, but as soon as you thought that, a word echoes in your mind.

With a kiss.

Your eyes widen, and unfortunately, it looks like your mind was loud enough for Vaussur to notice.

Without skipping a beat, he asks you, “Can you… show that to me? Kissing?”

Added with his forwardness, you fluster, but you try to calm yourself. Vaussur is a mind flayer. He’s never experienced any kind of love, let alone romantic. He really is just curious, he’s not trying to charm you… right?

You try to explain it to him.

“I c-could, but… kissing you would be more… romantic. One of the intimate things people do together to be romantic.” You said that twice. Your mind is tripping over itself. “You have to- no, you should do it with someone you care about deeply, the one you want to keep in your life. At least, that’s how you make it more meaningful.”

Vaussur doesn’t speak, not immediately. A strange look washes over his face, his brows furrowing. Subconsciously, he brings his hand to a tentacle, stroking it thoughtfully.

“I don’t see the problem. That describes how I feel about you perfectly.”

Everything goes quiet for you.

… “What?”

Vaussur doesn’t skip a beat.

“That’s how I’ve felt about you since I took you as my thrall. That is not a strange concept. I’m intimately familiar with that feeling.” He pauses. “Unless this is hesitation because I’m a mind flayer.”

“I- no that’s not it,” you say, the ice freezing your tongue melting. “It’s, I just- do you… love… me?”

“Perhaps. If that really what love is, then yes. But illithids don’t have ‘romance’ or ‘love’. So I need you to show me what it is.”

You shake your head, you can’t believe the situation you’re in, looking at the floor. The mind flayer that’s called you his thrall might very well love you- even be in love for you. People have described mind flayers as soulless, one of the defining characteristics they were often associated with, something you’d accepted as fact, until you were captured by one. Despite his illithid tendencies, the air of superiority, lack of care for non illithid lives, and strange fascination with brains; for what he is, Vaussur’s acted with more humanity than what you imagined a mind flayer was capable of.

You’ve noticed that most of your favorite qualities in him come out when you have his attention.

Though he’s always been imposing and quite frightening, you can’t believe that you’ve… thought what it’d be like to kiss him. At times when he seems to go against his natural instincts, like keeping you away from the feedings, how he praises you when he defends you from other mind flayers, how you were precious to him, and the way he held you protectively whenever you needed to cross their domain.

You’re amazed at yourself when you answer him with “... Alright.”

When you pick your head up from your musings, you startle from how close he was to you. You could see the patterns in his illithid armor, the intricate swirls and spirals, turning to complicated geometries as they reach the edge of the armor, extending from what looks like a mind flayer skull in the middle of the collar area. Long, dark purple robes extend from underneath, covering most of Vaussur’s skin. You withhold the urge to trace your fingers over the shapes.

You look up, way up. You were no stranger to this- even among mind flayers, Vaussur was particularly tall. He loomed over you, your head only reaching somewhere in the middle of his chest, and you’d have to crane your neck whenever he commanded you. But now, with the prospect of… kissing him, he seems all the more imposing. The closes thing you could to kissing him properly would probably be on one of tentacle.

“Um…”

Vaussur makes a strange sound, a sound that tickles your brain. A laugh…?

Before you could worry about what you were about to do, you feel a magic presence all around you, like someone was holding you. Your feet lift off the floor as you’re picked up by his psionic energy, bringing you face to face with him. There’s expectance in his burning gaze, something that makes you feel small and defenseless. You feel his thoughts seeping into your mind, mixing with yours: the want to be closer, of warm affection… and something possessive. You’re not sure if he’s trying to make you feel the same things for him, or if he’s simply communicating with you the way a mind flayer would with each other. It scares you a little, especially feeling his more foreign emotions- but whatever it is, you know he’s being genuine. You don’t sense a hint of malice in all the rush of feelings he’s emanating.

Despite your timidity, you can’t say those feelings were wholly unpleasant. You find you’re actually leaning into it, closing your eyes to try to feel it coursing through you. When you open them, you find the courage to brace your hands on his plated shoulders. Brilliant citrine eyes glance down at them, and you realize how small they must look to him.

Your brows furrow a little as you look for a good place to… kiss an illithid. Your fingers curl, and you try to position your head a bit to the side. You could feel him watching your every move, and you swallow.

You lean in. You could smell him, somewhat like vanilla and something else, and you’re surprised that you like it. Your lips press to the side of his face, above two of his tentacles, and kiss him. Vaussur closes his eyes and hums- you could feel him physically and mentally relax. His skin was strange, smooth and slick with a thin film of something; but you didn’t dislike it.

You pull back, parting with a little cup! as you did. Vaussur looks a little more… floaty, like he was dreaming.

“... Can you do that again?” He murmurs

You purse your lips together, hands letting go to twiddle your fingers, not quite knowing where to look.

Apparently Vaussur takes your hesitation negatively.

“I feel your nervousness, puppet. What’s the matter? … Did you not like it?”

You didn’t know mind flayers could even sound hurt, but he did, though he tried to hide it from you.

“No, no!” you stressed, “I’m just! It’s! … I’m just… shy.”

His eyes widen. You know what he must be reading from your mind right now: curiosity, interest, maybe even… fondness.

When you look at his mouth you feel a mix of emotions. Were you afraid? Were you excited…?  … No you don’t want ot think of what that meant, it’s too much. You stare for his mouth a moment longer while you try to gain the courage to kiss him.

You decided to work up to it.

Your hand reaches for a tentacle tentatively.

“Can I…? Touch your..?”

The tentacle flexes. Vaussur seems clueless as to what you want to do with it, but he lets you have it.

You give it a feather light touch, tracing a finger down its length. You realize how… sensual this feels, and you wonder if mind flayers ever enjoyed the pleasures of the body…? If they could? Vaussus gasps quietly, the tentacle reacting to your touch, twitching closer to you.

You’ve found yourself imagining what it was like to stroke his tentacles, of what would happen. Vaussur closes his eyes, letting you run your hand down. It’s smooth and slick with illithid mucous, cool to the touch, almost slippery. You think you like it. The other tentacles start to curl and sway closer around you, as if looking for your attention. You feel a sudden sense of pride fill you, at the effect you had on this mind flayer, just by touching him lightly.

His tentacles start their own exploration of you; timidly at first, but they quickly gain confidence and start to lavish you with tender caresses. One prods and brushes your cheek. Another traces along your collarbone curiously. The third free tentacle slides behind your back and holds you steady. The one you’re holding- clearly enjoying what you’re doing to it, curls around your arm.

You tittered. It’s like they had minds of their own. You wondered… what would happen if you kissed him on the tentacle?

You lift it up to you and give it a gentle peck.

Apparently, they were sensitive because as soon as you did, claws closed around your back and hips and pulled you flush against Vaussur’s chest, squeaking as he did. He lets out a deep, pleasurable sigh that turns your cheeks red while he grips you tightly, wantingly. You’d always assumed that a mind flayer’s body would feel cold, but even though his skin was covered in fluid, he was warm. Very warm.

So were you.

His golden eyes were glowing brighter than ever, his tentacles caressing you and start to float and curl languidly around you. His mouth is open before you, and your breath mixes with his.

You don’t feel fear.

“Please, my human,” he implores, “teach me. Teach me how you love.”

You didn’t hesitate this time. You felt naturally drawn to him. Willingly, you lean into him, his body, his feelings. You wrap your arms around his neck and somehow, your lips found his mouth and you started to kiss him.

As you expected, kissing Vaussur was nothing like the kisses you’ve experienced with other humans, or even other humanoids. You aren’t sure how to describe it, it felt you were kissing all around you rather than on one single spot, he surrounded you. His tentacles start to wrap you more tightly- around your head and neck. Though the thought of how vulnerable you were in this position with a mind flayer- that he could eat you so easily- did cross your mind, it only did so briefly. You were worried earlier that kissing a mind flayer with their mouths that opened four ways accompanied by lamprey teeth, meant to suction and grind into skulls might feel horrible but… you’re delighted that that wasn’t the case. The sensation of having him surround you and hold you so lovingly tightly was quite pleasant.

He hums, the sound vibrating around you. He starts floating backwards with you, slowly settling into his bed, his hands wandering, feeling you. You could feel him in your mind again, but he wasn’t intruding. It felt more like he was asking for your permission. You happily let him in, and you feel yourself cradled by his thoughts: soft, warm adoration for you.

Despite what the natural order tells you, you felt safe with him.

Vaussur had seemed confused earlier, not knowing what to do with himself while you spoiled him with your kisses, but he’d started becoming more confident, evident from the way he holds you and the tentacles’ affectionate touches. He starts taking control, sitting up a little and folding you backwards, reciprocating your kiss with new fervor, deepening it. His claws start to dig into you possessively, and you squeak, his power overwhelming you.

A flood of satisfaction floods your brain, and it isn’t yours.

I like those sounds. Vaussur’s voice purrs in your mind. Give me more.

You gasp and mewl, squirming in his hold, which only excites the illithid more, tentacles winding around your head tighter. One hand manages to stray from the tangle of limbs, only to quickly get reclaimed by his slender fingers, entwining with yours.

Don’t be scared, sweet human. He teases diabolically, I promise I won’t eat that delicious mind of yours. You’re safe with me.

You don’t know how long he kept you like that, hungrily taking your mouth while his hands and tentacles wander. When he was finally sated, Vaussur gently pries his tendrils off your face, and lets you go. You take a gasp of air, the blood in your head slowly draining away, and you cool down. You could feel warm imprints on your face where his tentacles and mouth were. Already, you find yourself missing the closeness you shared, his warm mouth on yours.

It felt like he was sucking your face in the best ways.

… You feel scandalized by your own thoughts, and you cover your mouth bashfully.

“I felt that.”

Damn it!

Vaussur chuckles, his eyes flickering with smugness. His gaze wanders over your face, like he was admiring his ‘work’.

He looks happy, eyes crinkling at you.

“Just like I promised. Your mind is still yours, untouched, undigested. Though… there are marks on your face. I rather like it.”

You don’t know how red your face is right now, fingers scrambling on it as if you could see it better that way.

“W-what?”

He chuckles again, and your frantic thoughts stop when a finger brushes your cheek.

“Thank you. For showing me that, puppet.”

Slowly, you smile, small and demure. “Your… welcome. Thank you for keeping my mind safe. I…” you swallowed, laughing nervously, “I liked it.”

Oh. Oh, he liked that.

“I did too. Immensely. You’re… incredible.” He praises you. “I would not be opposed to it if we did it again.”

You’re suddenly intimately aware of the fact that you were on his lap, practically straddling him, his arms keeping you close. He’s just invited you to another kiss, and you… like that idea. Sheepishly, you say the same.

“I… I wouldn’t either.”

You’re hoping you’ll get to kiss him again soon. Maybe more.

He lays you down beside him, and as he presses the top of his tentacles to your head, you realize it was his attempt at giving you a peck. You smile, and you instinctively curl into him, tentacles floating around you protectively.

Rest, human. He urges. You’ve done a lot today. Sleep.

You let him mentally compel you. It was nice, being able to sleep whenever you wanted without having to toss and turn before hand. You feel sleep quickly take you and your eyes fall close.

…

Vaussur stays up a bit longer after you, admiring his pretty ‘thrall’ that he feels lucky to have found. His fingers comb through your hair and behind your ear.

You’re… extraordinary.

You smile in your sleep as response. He thinks that might be the prettiest thing he’s seen in his illithid life: you being happy while you were with him.

He doesn’t think these soft, tender feelings are natural for a mind flayer. He wonders if he inhabits a human body.

You curl a little, trying to escape the chill, and Vaussur pulls a blanket up to you, and covers you. He needs to rest soon too, to shed his armor and sink into bed with you by his side.

His small… cute… vulnerable little human.

Whatever he may be in his previous life before the ceremorphosis, one thing is clear to him now.

He loves you.

And no one else can have you.

[willyoubemycherryy]

“Who’s your new friend?” (Salesman x reader)

Summary: Your dad’s dark stranger is the one for you. Too bad about his cruel streak….

Contains: sit down chicas this is a LONG one, plot but gratuitous p+rn, dads!friend au, rough sex, edging, pussy spanking, he’s mean :( , choking, drugging, everything IS consensual bc I’m tired of everyone writing him as a domestic terrorlzing rapist, he’s still psychotic and unhinged tho, just not psychosexual because psychotic traits don’t always translate to sexual violence, your dad is sweet but trusting and naive, squirting, pussyspanking unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy, wrap your gummy) begging, degradation, praise, cursing, reader is a bit of a bitch, light dom/sub dynamics, his cock is stuuuupid fat bc I said so and have eyeballs, ur 22 in this period and he’ll spit in your mouth in the next installment of this series :)

A/N: Yeah, he got me y’all😔 Gong Yoo sexy, fine, tall, handsome ass got me😞I’ve been tripping out for 17 days straight over this man sooo…

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ _ _

_ ➵ ✩ ◛ ° . +

You knew your dad often had strange friends but this one takes the cake.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow at the tall man your father was currently introducing you to. Standing over 6 feet in a pitch black suit he was extremely easy on the eyes with full lips, perfectly styled hair, relaxed posture and not a wrinkle in sight paired with the darkest almond eyes you’d ever seen. You rove your eyes over him once more before looking back up to find him staring back at you…

Yes, he was perfectly lovely but was it too soon to assume something about him was..off?

You feel your face warm at how strong his gaze is but you stare back defiantly, mentally cursing your too trusting dad.

“…and since we chat almost everyday during our commute to work- would you guess that we’re both in sales and marketing?- I thought it’d be great to invite him over and talk more in a more comfortable setting!” Your dad says excitedly, smiling as he tells you all about his new friend. The man smiles alongside him, cheeks faintly dimpling and despite your distrust, you can’t take your eyes off of him as you feel your heart beat harder in its cage.

“I was going to call to tell you I was bringing company but you know I forget to use that thing.” ‘That thing’ being a modern phone to a man who was awful with tech. You scoff but nod to let him know you don’t mind (completely) and because you already know how your father is and he continues,

“Oh right! Speaking of forgetting, I don’t remember if I ever mentioned my daughter even though I know I probably did-“, you listen to your dad introduce you and the man smiles even wider as he steps forward, offering his hand to yours in a shake.

“How pleasant to meet you.” Holy shit. His voice is a lot deeper than you expected and you absentmindedly place your hand into his waiting one. The way it completely encases your hand due to its sheer size makes your heart stop before it melts down to a warm pool in your lower stomach, settling in your core like hot tea as you breathe out a shaky exhale. His hand is also rougher than you thought it’d be for a simple businessman as it squeezes yours and a quick flash image of that same hand around your throat has you snatching your hand back as you shoot him a tight smile.

“Right. Back at ya. Um, how old are you again?”

“Ah. Isn’t that improper to ask new people?”

“I’m just curious to how you maintain a career as developed as my dads because you seem so young.”

Oh. You’re quick witted; that makes things a potential hassle for him.

“Well, I’m much older than you. I’m certainly older than your father.”

“Ha! Are you also the Emperor of China-”, You’re cut off as your dad says your name in the way he does when you’re being rude but you ignore it, glaring at the man.

“Be polite! He’s older so you should speak respectfully”, you barely hide the roll of your eyes but your fathers new friend catches it and you swear you hear a huff of amusement from him, the low sound makes you shiver as you turn on your heel to go back upstairs, your dads scolding calling after you.

“Aish! Spoiled! Brat! You were so much cuter when you were younger!”

“Whatever!”

“Bellybutton lint!”

“Old man!”

“Oh yeah?! You won’t be 22 forever!”

The only response he gets back is the sound of your bedroom door slamming while you’re all too aware of the eyes on your back when you’d left. Your dad sighs as he runs a hand down his face. The salesman simply stands quietly, grinning as always as he observes your little spat. Something about it caught his attention though.

“She’s young.” And your father agrees, insisting that’s part of the reason for your behavior, you apparently were “much nicer” and he nods in understanding.

“College age is tricky. I met her mom around her age and things are so much more different than they were back in our day so I try not to be too hard on her but sometimes she’s so-!” He tilts his head as he waits for your dad to find the word.

“Difficult!”

Ah. How cute. A little attitude problem.

That honestly doesn’t surprise him because most pretty little things almost always had one- you were no exception. Though, you yourself were a pleasant surprise. He’d maintained a friendly relationship with your father on a mere whim, finding him to be…nice unlike most he considered nuisances, so when the man invited him over one day he accepted and as he trailed through the door behind him, taking in the warm tones of your house when he spotted you. Standing near the island by the kitchen in shorts so tiny the wide waistband made them look like a mini skirt, the words ‘PINK’ on the back and a snug white tee shirt, the blue of your bra peeking through, you walk towards them smelling of fabric softener and cold vanilla. Your hair was down as you stared at him like you were both scared and wanting with big eyes full of suspicion. The gloss of your lips shining back at him as your lips curl during your inspection of him, lightly arched brow raising as you gave him a thorough once over, eyes flicking back up to his when you were done. You were absolutely delicious to look at. Short, smart mouthed, pretty and prissy.

He didn’t mind the rude way you spoke to him- no- because your eyes tell. You were weary but interested; cynical in all the ways your father wasn’t but that was perfectly fine.

His smile slowly shifted into a smirk as he followed your father to the living room, humming whenever he would speak, but his thoughts were preoccupied.

Thinking of smooth legs on a cute face he’d love to see wet with tears as he spanked your smart ass raw.

•

•

•

When you went upstairs the first thing you did was grab your headphones and tune out.

What the fuck was your dad thinking??

You huff as you flop on your bed, scrolling through your favorite apps while you tried to slow your thoughts.

Everything is fine.

Your dad always has the most unconventional friends and acquaintances so this was probably just that and you were freaking out more than usual because he was unfathomably attractive. That’s it. You just needed to get a grip. But fuck would you love to ride him through the weekend if only he didn’t have such a concerning aura…and wasn’t pals with your dad of-course.

About 2 hours later when you go downstairs to get food and bring it back to your room-answering curtly when your dad asks if you want to join him and the hot stare of the suited man you’re trying to pretend isn’t there.

“Hard no. Do I look like a nurse? You two senior citizens can play amongst yourselves.”

You sigh when you get back up to your room, FaceTiming your friends as you eat, talking about whatever and whoever before you remember you need to organize some of your class notes and say goodbye before you hang up.

It takes less time than you thought it would so when you’re done, you go about your night routine. Teeth, skincare, oversized cotton shirt, lights off as you put on a movie you’ve seen a million times. It’s harder for you to fall asleep when you can still hear his deep voice through the walls talking and laughing with your dad, shaking your core as you toss and turn- physically fighting the feeling- until you fall asleep.

X

Another few hours later, you wake with a start. Something’s not right.

You can still hear the tv downstairs but no voices. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and as you turn your head towards your door- pulling the covers off your legs, the sight of a tall dark figure rips a blood curdling scream from your throat. In that same second the figure steps closer, the light from your tv illuminates him and your heart races as you stare back wide eyed at your dads suited stranger friend. You’re still gasping and reeling as he sits down on your soft bedding, watching with rapt eyes at you trying to calm down from the near heart-attack he almost gave you.

“W-what..what the fuck?!” He smiles as you get up to yell in his face, gesturing wildly.

“Why the hell are you in my-“, you cut yourself off as another realization dawns on you completely and he can’t help the compulsion he feels towards you.

“How long have you been in my room- wait where’s my dad?!” If you knew who he was and what he did for a living, you’d be much more agreeable…or maybe not and that’s what fascinated him about you. You were so unusual. Wanting to steer clear of him instead of on, even though he’d piqued your curiosity, you didn’t blindly follow like every other nuisance did; instead he was the inconvenience and the way you let him know via sharp words and distrusting looks was something he hadn’t gotten in a while. The way you brushed him and your hard working dad off with no more than a pretty glare while probably never having actually worked for anything in your life made him itch to correct you. Make you say sorry- break you back into the sweet girl he knew you could be.

“I swear to god- WHERE IS MY DAD-!“, before you can raise your voice anymore, turning to go find him yourself, he’s pulling you back by your wrist, covering your mouth with his other hand as he hooks his chin over your shoulder cooing at you to calm down - listen to him a bit.

“Shh. Your father is alright, had too much to drink so he’s passed out downstairs but safe nonetheless.” You feel your body relax against your will at his words but you still bite his palm for scaring the hell out of you. The pain that blooms up his wrist from his hand makes him hiss against your ear and you wish it didn’t sound so good before it trails off into a light chuckle.

“I’m going to move my hand. You won’t scream. Understand?” You roll your eyes but nod anyway and a few seconds later his hand is lowered but he keeps you sitting up against him.

“Look- if you’re some kind of extortionist or blackmailer, my dad only works for clean honest compan-“,

“I’m none of those things.” Huh. You’re even more confused but the silence that follows he doesn’t break instead he waits for you, enjoying your discomfort as you shift against him.

“Then what the fuck do you want? Nothing better to do in your ancient age on a Tuesday night besides creep around?” Your mouth would be the death of you and this might very well be the moment as you mouth off to a complete stranger who could be (and actually is) very dangerous but bravado was all you had. You’d seen and heard more than enough to know that an older man in a suit visiting a young girl he didn’t know in the dead of night never ended well.

“I want to chat for a bit.” You tilt your head a bit in confusion but he takes your silence as the go ahead, making your heart pound when he shuffles even closer causing you to feel his firm pecs through his expensive smelling dress shirt; the heady combination makes your pulse race as you fight yourself on whatever it is exactly that you’re feeling but shouldn’t be.

“When your father mentioned you, you sounded like such a nice girl…”, the low way he speaks resembles a purr, words vibrating his chest, thick arms holding you tight to him as his warm breaths coast across your chest and neck.

“Imagine my surprise when I meet you and you’re nothing more than an ungrateful little princess with a pretty face but very nasty attitude.” You feel your face warm in shame at the blatant way he calls you out, immediately defensive as you shoot back,

“What’s it’s to you? If you want to see some obedient thing then get a boarder collie-!” Enough of that. His hand claps down over your throat, squeezing not enough to hurt but enough to make you shut up as your heart rate spikes, nerves going haywire at the sudden cut of oxygen. You get dizzy quick. Blood rushing through your ears like a current of cotton, hand flying up on instinct to pull at his muscled forearm but it doesn’t budge and you whine- biting your lip as your heart beats liquid fire through your body. You were so fucked up, clamping your thighs shut as if that will stop you from getting wet but it’s hard to pay attention to that with a tight hand around your neck and mean lips against your ear.

“Didn’t your father tell you to respect your elders?” He tuts out and you nod desperately, willing to swallow your snideness if it meant getting air. He loosens his grip enough for you and you gasp so hard you nearly choke, the sound turning him on more than it should; he grabs your chin so you face him with teary eyes and he nearly groans at how weak you look. The sedatives he slipped in your dad’s drink would last for a while so for now it was just you and him.

“Answer me.”

“You first-“, you’re quick to shut your mouth as a smirk grows on his face. A fast learner.

“Smart. But”, he pauses to put you on edge before continuing, “because I quite enjoy your father and his company, I don’t like the thought of him being troubled by anything.” His words are sweet but they also fill you with dread because you know how much you intentionally butt heads with your father. Mouthing off at him just to amuse yourself sometimes. You never meant to stress him but messing with him a little was how you showed your affection.

“That includes you as well.” He rasps against your neck, nipping the sensitive skin there with more teeth than tongue and you choke on a moan, breathing hard.

“Okay. Got it. I need to be nicer-”,

“No, you need a firm hand.” Oh fuck. You bite your lip at that, watching through bleary eyes as he rubs his other hand down your chest, brushing your hard nipples through your shirt as he feels up your soft curves. The hand around your throat tightens when he feels you might move but when you don’t he doesn’t loosen it- instead he rewards you with wet, scalding kisses behind that spot under your ear, suckling down until he reaches your collarbones. Your eyes water from all the sensations as you try to rationalize what’s going on before you lose yourself to how good you feel.

The hand caressing over your body doesn’t stop, threatening to burn you alive with the heat it ignites in you. To make matters worse, you can’t even breathe deeply enough to calm down with the hold he has on your neck and you’re reminded of how pathetically wet you are whenever you move your legs as you’re completely naked underneath your shirt. So much is happening but it’s not enough. Fleetingly scarce touches is all you’re being given but you need more. You shouldn’t want this, want him- or anything having to do with him- but you do and that thought scares you more than any potential repercussions.

He watches you with an unreadable expression as you shift constantly, sliding a hand under your shirt to cup your tits, flicking and twisting the stiff nubs cruelly between his fingers. Laving his tongue over each bruise he’s left on your neck before choking you harder, making the veins on the back of his hand show and your mouth drops open, hoarse broken moans falling as your hips twitch upwards. This was how he liked you. Melting into him so obediently…

“You’re going to be a good girl now?” He asks like it’s a question but the even in hazy state you’re falling into, you know it’s an order. He loosens his grip again so you can answer, voice hoarse,

“..y-yeah.” The softened tone you use when you respond makes him hard beyond belief and he bites your shoulder with a satisfied groan and you swear your cunt has a pulse. The familiar burning ache is so blinding that you listen immediately when he tells you-

“Open your legs.”

He almost didn’t hear your sharp intake of breath. He barely noticed the way your hips snapped up to hump his hand… he was preoccupied with just how wet you were. Your arousal coats his fingers as he slides them between your sopping lips making you keen through shuddering breaths as you try to control yourself. A few hard circles to your clit shatters that control as you cry out, needy sobs falling from your gloss smeared lips while you beg prettily for him.

“Please! I-! I’ll-anything! Just-!” His hand collar tightens again as he slides two fingers knuckle deep in your spasming hole, immediately curling them towards him, grinding them against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you and the fire that’s been steadily burning inside you almost makes you black out from how quick it threatens to consume you. You’ve never felt more out of your mind, your cunt so soaking wet it’s audible. White-searing pleasure shoots electricity through every nerve and you’re screaming. Between the fuzz in your head from oxygen loss or the brutal way he’s fucking you with his fingers- the one thing you do know is that if you cum now, you’ll faint.

“Waittt- mm-! S-stopp!!” It’s the struggle of a lifetime to get the words out but you do and when you do, surprisingly- he listens. Taking his fingers out as the strings of your slick drip from them and you cry at the loss, the ache still there but you could at least breathe. You feel a nip at your ear and you only then notice the way you’ve rested your weight completely against him.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick with arousal from how wonderfully you responded to him. So wet he could taste it in the air as you trembled and cried against him. The water in your eyes spilling down over as they rolled back into your skull. Your face was the perfect erotic expression of tormented bliss as he made you earn air and fight off an orgasm so strong it would’ve put you in a vegetative state.

The sound of your weak sniffles make his cock ache as he lays back on your bed, maneuvering your hips over his as he opens his pants, taking his length out he moans at the pressure relief. Swiping his fat head through your messy folds but not inside.

“Well? I need you to answer me. Or do I need to get it out of you myself?” You shake your head, lifting your arms when he moves your shirt up off you and now you’re completely naked while he’s still clothed. As much as his stare intimidated you, his attentions felt even better, moaning at the dirty kisses his cock gave your hole.

“Was gonna cum…but you didn’t say I could yet”, you reach up to use his arm as leverage while you wiggle your hips and your submission drives him mad with how much he wants to ruin you.

“Aw. That’s cute…but if you came before I let you, what then? Are you smart enough to tell me?” He asks sweetly but the condescending undertone makes you feel dumb as heat blooms in your chest and you will away the fuzz that’s making it hard to think so you can give him a proper answer. One that would please him. The fact that you even wanted to please him was something you’d have to get back to.

“I’d be in trouble?” You say it like a question and less of an answer and he finds your uncertainty so cute as he laughs indulgently at you.

“Close. It’s because you’re my good girl. And my girl only does as she’s told, yeah?” The same trickling tingle at the base of your skull is back again as you mindlessly repeat after him.

“Yeah.” He hums, lining himself up with your drooling pussy, sliding in with one thrust. Gritting his teeth with a heavy groan while you choke on a sob.

“Fuckin’ tight-!” Deep grunting in your ear overwhelming you in the best way and you lose it from how full you are. You could’ve guessed by his height and frame that he’d be packing but it felt fatter than you would have ever been able to accurately guess, pressing effortlessly against every spot that made you see stars.

You were everlastingly grateful your dad was knocked out because the sounds coming from you and your room were beyond incriminating. Even though he wasn’t moving, every-time you did, you could feel the deliciously heavy pressure against your slick walls. Shivers wracking up your body as wheezing fucked out moans left your mouth and you grind down in messy circles until the hand on your throat stops you.

“Look at you. Desperate n’ wet begging to cum. You’d do anything I tell you, huh? Just like a dog.”

A disgustingly pathetic warble is his reply but he wants more from you, choking you hard as he pinches your sensitive nipples.

“Uhhn! Yes!” The sheer desperation in your shaky voice gives him a sick head-rush.

“Open your legs for me.”

You obey before he even finishes his sentence. Thighs falling apart, cooled air over your center makes you moan wetly as you wait patiently. So patiently that the first heavy slap against your pussy winds you by the time the pain registers. As soon as the sting settles, warmth pools in its place, sensitivity heightened as you wail. The stricken sound makes his cock throb inside you.

“Wha-!”, another slap cracks down on your swollen lips, hitting your clit spot on and again and you try in vain to wriggle away.

“You still need to prove to me that you’re sorry for your behavior earlier.” He says, voice casual but no less mocking and you cry. Tears running down your cheeks as your body struggles to adjust and obey. Before you can shout out however many strings of apologies it’ll take for him to let you cum, he strikes your center again, hissing in pleasure at your screams. He feels it. That somehow you’re even wetter, dripping down his balls and smearing your slick all over the front of his slacks. He has half a mind to make you clean it up when he’s done with with you as he spanks your cunt again, biting your ear hard until it reddens.

“If you cum before I tell you, I promise I’ll make this the longest night of your life”, he groans darkly in your ear. You’re blessed that you can still hear him through the bass of your heart’s beat and the loud, wet connect every time his hand comes down. You were so close. The sharp sting and the pained pleasure of swelling warmth his heavy hand left behind was too much and your poor clit couldn’t take much more. Gasping through your tears, you scramble to find the right words.

“‘Lease- please! Ah-m’sorry!” Your raspy voice breaks halfway through when lifts you only to slam you back down on his fat length, flicking your sensitive nub when he meanly asks you,

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Try again, little girl.” You night just be in for a long night after all.

You could barely breathe from how hard he was choking you, swollen pussy enflamed from countless spanks, and your center was stuffed to the brim as he was so big that he didn’t even have to try to hit your spots. You scratch and wrestle with his hand until he loosens it, gasping and whining, you pray you don’t come from the instant relief it gives you. The rush settling over you like a fuzzy blanket. He shifts below you and you hurry to get the words out before he makes you come without his say-so.

“I’m- I’m sorry! So sorry! Please Sir, can I-!”

Sir. You called him sir.

It’s less of you apologizing but more of you submitting to him, acknowledging him by title that he held superiority over you that pleases him enough to let you cum. Cutting off your sweet begging with more mean, heavy slaps to your wet pussy, basking in your delighted wails as he fucks up into you.

His hand tightens around your throat and this time, you welcome the suffocating pleasure. Scratchy cries escape when they can but you’re so far on the road to ecstasy that you don’t even care how you look or sound, chest heaving as your eyes water. Your cunt feels like it’s on fire but you beg him in every way you can to keep going even though you can’t take it and he does, groaning against your ear as he rubs messily at your throbbing clit.

“So good, baby- you can cum. Make your little mess before I make you beg some more-”, he does not have to tell you twice as everything you’ve been holding, releases and you do make a mess.

Mouth dropped open as you sob and for the next couple minutes hot unending pleasure is all you know as the stinging slaps get faster, ending with harsh circles on your bud after each one and your hole gets even tighter before you go limp- liquid jetting out of you. He fucks you through it with a tight grip on your windpipe, using you like a snug fleshlight until he’s coming harder than he has in a while at the state he’s put you in. He waits until he catches his breath to slide out of you- who’s deadweight as he lifts you off him.

Rolling off the bed, the silence makes him look over at you only to see that you’re out cold. His eyebrows raise as he huffs out an amused laugh, fixing his pants before brushing his hand over your pretty face. He might have overdone it he thinks as he sees your face return to it’s normal, less flushed hue. Leaning down, on impulse he presses a kiss to your cheek, his gentlest touch of the night before getting up and covering your worn naked body with one of the many blankets on your bed.

“You’re a treat in more ways than you know.”

As he stands, before he opens your door to leave, he pulls a card out of his pocket and leaves it on your nightstand then heads back downstairs to get his shoes and jacket. Turning off the tv where your dad sleeps easily and quietly slipping out the door, smiling the entire way. Now he has even more fun.

You.

•

•

•

When you wake up the next morning, you turn with a pleasant ache and stinging between your legs as you stretch, sighing with a blissful smile until you remember why you ache and who caused it.

Pushing yourself up, you stop when you see a card on your stand, rolling to the edge of your bed, you swipe it off and raise it to your face. It’s a picture of lollipop, a simple circle on a stick but the words below it make your chest warm and you don’t even bother pretending to yourself that you aren’t interested in seeing him again.

“Next time I’ll make you even sweeter.”

In part 2…

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. height difference + jjk men — seeing you struggling to initiate a kiss, ft. gojo, nanami, toji, choso

note. super self indulgent once again woopsies

tags. jjk men x female reader (separately). fluff, suggestive themes. size difference obviously: reader is shorter than the characters. little hint of an age gap in toji’s part (you; early 20’s, he early 30’s). reader gets referred to as ‘small, short, adorable’. nicknames used ‘baby, sweetheart, princess, little girl, angel’. includes drabbles for each character.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

“what’s the matter, baby?” satoru easily notices whenever you’re internally debating something. you’d fidget with your clothes, look around and nibble on your bottom lip.

even if you say that it’s nothing, your lover knows that you mean the exact opposite. he walks hand-in-hand with you out of the boutique where he had bought you a pretty dress. his thumb rubs your skin gently, hoping to comfort you with whatever you’re struggling to say.

“it’s uhm,” you finally speak up. satoru halts his steps and tilts his head with a curious pout on his lips. he doesn’t wish to pressure you into anything, so he keeps quiet.

his blue eyes follow your movements from behind his sunglasses. you step closer to him, your small hands travelling up to gently hold onto his jacket. you gulp before balancing your entire body on your toes—creasing your shoes a bit by doing so.

at this point, satoru knows what you’re trying to do. your actions are absolutely adorable and make the sorcerer giggle. he wants nothing more than to squish your cheeks together for being so cute. especially because you’re failing to reach his lips.

“oh, do y’need help maybe?” satoru asks with a smug grin. you frown and try to stand on the tips of your toes, though that didn’t seem enough. your lover needs to lower his head a tad more for you to kiss him.

satoru tilts his head backwards instead. he loves to see you pout and struggle to carry out such an affectionate act. he can’t help it—you’re so fun to tease, “c’mon, you can do it, baby!”

when you give up due to his constant teasing, the white-haired man gasps dramatically. you smack his bicep and turn around with a huff, “forget it.”

before you can take another step away from him—satoru’s hand reaches out to hold your wrist. he pulls you back against his chest, warm palm holding your cheek and tilting your head up so his glossy lips could meet yours.

“sorry,” satoru mutters against your mouth. his tongue sneakily swipes against yours which causes you to squirm. he gives your bottom lip a playful nibble in response, “couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

“welcome home, dear!” you greet kento at the front door as per usual. he sighs in relief and smiles tiredly, appreciating your appearance before him. he seems utterly exhausted from his most recent mission.

“it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” kento shuts the door behind him. he takes off his shoes and places them where they belong before doing the same with his coat. he looks down at you as you help him tidy his belongings, “you’re looking beautiful tonight.”

to say you’re flustered is an understatement. kento always knows just how to get you shy and embarrassed from the casual way he compliments you. you’re in your pyjamas and apron—barefaced with nothing extra going on and yet your lover is completely engrossed by your looks.

“thank you,” you murmur back with a bright smile. kento smiles as well after seeing your happy expression. that’s what he does it for.

you hold kento’s hand and feel its warmth engulf your skin. his palms are a little rough; probably from the hard work he put into those recent missions he did. you look up at the blonde man in front of you and want nothing more than to kiss him—show your gratitude for everything he does for you.

thus, you lean in and stand on your toes, balancing on one foot whilst the other floats a few centimetres above the wooden floor. it’s hard to find a balance, though your attentive partner is quick to lend a hand.

“careful,” kento whispers, his voice so husky that you feel a shiver run down your spine. his big hands settle on your waist and he doesn’t waste a single second after that.

he leans in as well, head lowered to yours and your noses lightly brushing against each other. kento’s lips find your soft ones—interlocking them in a passion filled kiss. you can feel his entire body relax even more. as if he’s waited all day to be back home. to be back to you.

to kiss and hold you close.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“over here, princess,” toji calls you over with a subtle wave. he’s leaning against a brick wall, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. you walk over to him with an excited smile—happy to spend some quality time together with him today.

“hey, i missed you,” you comment and wrap your arms around his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest to which toji reacts by giving you an awkward head pat.

the older man lifts your head up and away from his body by holding onto your chin. his eyes run over your face, letting out a short content hum. he’s missed you a lot too. not that he’d tell you that directly.

“how’s uni for ya?” toji asks. the pad of his thumb rubs your cheek and you lean into his touch. it brings a little smirk to his face—seeing how easily you become putty in his hands is rather amusing.

“been okay for most part,” you shrug and fail to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend. he probably doesn’t do it on purpose, but his half-lidded eyes makes your lower abdomen feel funny.

you’re still so nervous around him, though you’ve got the guts to at least kiss him first. you missed the feeling of his lips against you after all. the constant, soothing rubs of his thumb against your cheek only intensifies your desire.

you lift yourself up on the tips of your shoes. your cold hands cup toji’s face and he immediately gets what you’re trying to do. he snickers at the sight of you struggling to reach him and acts like he doesn’t know what you want.

. . until you whine about how you really want to kiss him. that man is sold the moment he hears your whiny voice.

“fuck. c’mere, little girl,” toji’s veiny hands go around your waist and move down to cup your ass, his lips crashing down onto yours with a desperation he’s never kissed you with before.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

“do i need to add salt? she’s talking too fast,” choso ask whilst scratching his head. he’s watching a youtube video on his phone; specifically a cooking one. he’s attempting to copy a recipe in his kitchen and you’re helping him since he doesn’t know too much about phones. and cooking apparently.

you giggle and grab the phone from the counter. the lady’s words are incomprehensible due to the video being on two times the usual speed. you return the settings to normal with a light hearted chuckle, “yeah, because you’ve sped up the video, silly.”

“oh,” choso smiles sheepishly. he checks the stove and makes sure the food isn’t burning before turning towards you, “thank you. you’re a lifesaver, heh.”

you can’t help but admire the view of choso in front of you. he’s in an apron which is too small on him since it’s yours—his chiseled chest accentuated by the fabric. his black hair is up in a small ponytail and his cheeks are red. probably from embarrassment.

“you’re adorable,” you comment lovingly. choso’s cheeks turn even redder by your compliment and he sputters some words about how he ‘needs to focus on his cooking’.

you interrupt his stammers by getting closer. your lover stops and his lips are parted—giving you the perfect chance to capture them into a kiss. well, you try to at least

choso notices your silent struggles and blinks. it takes him a second to fully grasp the situation before he decides on helping you. he smiles warmly, his beefy arms effortlessly lifting you up to his height, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

one hand is on your thigh, the other holding the back of your head to deepen your shared kiss. choso pulls away and attaches his lips to your neck, settling you the counter, “want more, angel. you drive me crazy.”

[sarahsangelicdoll]

thinking about Rafe and somno (x/twitter p link !! don’t open in public)

cw; consensual somnophilia, dubcon, s1 Rafe, hints at ‘good girl’ reader, not exactly like the video but that’s ok 😅, soft!Rafe, wasn’t intended but he’s highkey soft in this 😅, unprotected p n v(always use protection!!) but Rafe pulls out.

a/n: wasn’t intending on making this so lovely dovey and soft but it is and tbh i’m not complaining 😭 i got this vid from @rafesbowbunny awhile ago, ty for blessing my eyes with this p link 💞

Rafe snuck in through your window, having previously been waiting for about ten minutes in his truck for you. His messages going through and on read but no reply from you. Why didn’t he walk through the door like a normal person? Well because your parents were curled up on the couch next to each other watching whatever old, rich, obnoxiously fake, stuck up rich people watched. Probably similar to the bullshit shows his parents watched.

He grunted as his feet landed on the floor and he finally hopped himself into your room. making a mental note to find an easier way up to your window. Just as he was about to speak and ask you why the fuck you weren’t responding to him he saw you on your bed, still in your clothes from earlier that day, phone in hand and sleeping away. He smirked slightly as he took in your sleeping figure, looking all pretty. He strolled over to your bed and took your charging phone out of your hand on onto the bedside table, about to shake you awake before he recalled something.

That something being a post-sex conversation he had with you about a month ago. How you went on about how hot it would be if you woke up to him using you and that your body was ‘free to use’ even if you were sleeping. Perhaps it turned you on too much- even expressing being comfortable with the usage of roofie pills(Which Rafe respectfully stated that he’ll never do nor is comfortable with). But he’d be lying if he said the thought of waking you up with his cock when you least expect it didn’t get him worked up. But lying he did, hence why he’s waited so long to surprise you, wanting you to think he wasn’t into it.

Rafe bit his lip as his eyes trailed down your figure. He knew fucking you awake would be risky to do with your parents down stairs- but that just made the situation even hotter, and it’s Rafe- why would he care?

So within just a couple seconds his clothes were discarded and he was climbing onto your bed. His movements careful as to not wake you. He rested on his knees as his hands roamed up and down your curves, stopping to squeeze the flesh of your hip. He sucked in a shaky and lustful deep breath as he hooked his finger under the waistband of your shirts and pulled them down along with your panties. Shifting your legs slightly to string the fabric off of your body and then throwing them off somewhere on the ground. Rafe bit his lip as he eyed your glistening, pretty folds, running a finger through them while his other hand gently placed itself back onto your ass and squeezed.

He shifted position again once your shorts and panties were off. Resting on his side. He reached over your body to lift your legs up further into your body in an almost sitting like position. Rafe let out a quiet groan as fisted his cock in his hand, looking down at your bare and vulnerable pussy.

Lifting his hand up to his mouth, Rafe spit into it and brought his hand back down to his cock and wrapped his hand around the base to spread the spit as a type of lube, his cock twitching at the pleasureful sensation. Rafe took his time as he shifted in his spot to easily run his cock up and down through your pussy folds, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. A smirk made its way onto Rafes face as he felt your body twitch at the sensation.

He teased himself as he circled the tip of his cock around your hole before sinking himself in, quickly biting his lip to stifle a loud moan from escaping his mouth as the warmth and tightness of your pussy enveloped his cock. Rafes mouth fell open in a quiet moan once he fully sheaved himself into your tight cunt. He had to wait a bit both for you and him: Him to get a grip on reality, already feeling like he’s in heaven and for your sleeping body to get used to it.

Once Rafe finally starts moving he has to bite his lip to prevents moans from spilling out of his lips. He couldn’t help himself from glancing up towards the door, heightening the pleasure and even a hint of fear at the thought of your parents waking up to see their perfect, innocent and precious daughter getting used in their sleep. His thrusts stayed more on the gentle and slow side but steady pace, planting his larger hand on the flesh of your ass and squeezing lightly.

He couldn’t help but admire your sleeping position, hair messy and thrown around your pillows. Breathing steady and gentle. Dreaming about god knows what.

Rafes breathing got more breathy and quick as he felt you shift slightly and pussy clench around his cock. But it wasn’t enough, he needed to be deeper and in your plushy walls. So he shifted his position once again, hovering his body over yours as he kept himself up by his fists, planted on either side of you. His body was practically caging yours as he breathed in your scent. The new position letting Rafe fuck you both easier and deeper. Your walls felt so good around him and the slower pace felt like a tease due to the lack of your moans, noises n reactions to help him get off, so he couldn’t help but speed up his pace.

And that’s when you woke up, pussy clenching around him as you felt yourself regain consciousness from your nap, dazed and confused before you immediately felt something fucking itself into you and someone else’s body heat along your side. In your confused state you didn’t think properly and simply felt panicked when you looked and saw someone else’s body over you.

Rafe was too lost in the pleasure to pay attention to you waking up, missing the way your heartbeat sped up along with your breathing. He then froze slightly as he felt your hair shift against his face, lifting his head up to see the panic quickly settling onto your features. He stopped his thrusts and quickly darted his hand up to your mouth, preventing any noises before they even came.

“Hey- hey, just me babe.” He whispered, though his tone was slightly panicked itself, his own heartbeat speeding up.

Your eyes darted up to his as you heard his words, immediately feeling a wave of both relief and arousal come over you. Rafe grinned as he felt your breathing and heartbeat slow down and your eyes become wide with lust instead of fear, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His hand moved from your face down to your waist and squeezed lightly, grin still plastered on his face as he lowered his head down to your neck, breathing in your scent before speaking teasingly through kisses. “Good nap?”

You let out a yawn, followed by a moan as his thrusts picked up again and he started placing soft kisses to your neck. “Yeah… even better was when i woke up.” You teased back, grinning slightly as your hands made way to his hair.

Rafe chuckled as he brought his head back up from your neck, typical cocky grin spread on his face. “Imagine how your parents would feel if they walked into me fucking their perfect daughter? And finding out she asked for it previously.” He continued to tease, leaning back up to put enough space between his and your bodies to allow him to push your body down onto your back instead of your side, moving your leg over as well before he enveloped your body into his again. Rafe’s elbows resting on either side of your body.

Leaning down, Rafe captured your lips into a kiss before you could come out with some smart comeback. His hips rocking back into yours as his hands explored your curves. The usually agonizingly slow position feeling very pleasurable in this moment.

You two simply enjoyed each other’s company. Rafe moving his head back down into your neck to mark what’s his and hide the sounds of his own grunts and heavy breathing. You wrapped your legs around his hips as you let out soft but pleasure filled moans. Every sound you make sounding like absolute heaven.

“So pretty..” Rafe murmured into your neck as he glanced up at you, cheeks flushed as he bit his lip before speaking again. “Especially for just waking up.”

Your face flushed even more at his words as you giggled, biting your lip slightly as you looked down at him. “And you’re handsome.” You complimented cheekily, playing with strands of his hair. Rafe let out a shaky breath mixed with a moan at your words. Biting your neck as his pace slowly became less steady and more quick, signalling that he was about to cum.

Rafes hand found way down to your clit as he started rubbing quick circles on the bundle of nerves. Your own moans raising in frequency and pitch as you felt the sudden, overwhelming sensation on your clit, unmatching to his thrusts. It was such a perfect combination that made you feel like you were about to cum and go up to heaven in seconds.

You grabbed a fistful of Rafes hair as you felt that knot in your stomach slowly come closer and closer to snapping, letting Rafe know in a high pitched, attempting to be quiet breath. “Oh fuck.. ‘mma cum imma cum-“ You chanted, legs wrapping tighter around his hips as you squealed at Rafes fingers increasing their rushed pace on your clit.

“Yeah? me too baby, c’mon.” He said breathlessly, cock twitching inside you at your words. Placing one last sloppy, open mouthed kiss to your neck before letting out a loud moan, quickly pulling out as his cum decorated your stomach and pyjama shirt in long, white, sticky strings of cum. Your own arousal escaping you in clear liquid, absolutely soaking both your sheets and Rafes lower half.

The two of yours loud breaths were the only sound that filled the room as you both came down from your highs. Needless to say; that felt fucking amazing. Perhaps it was all the mix of taboo things; fucking upstairs while your parents watched tv and Rafe fucking you while you were asleep.

Rafe let out a breathy chuckle as he placed a kiss against your cheek and pulled away. Looking down at the absolute mess you made. He grinned as he glanced down at you; “Squirted from this?” He asked, teasing you as if that wasn’t one of the most pleasurable orgasms he’s had.

You grinned back up at him as squeezed your legs together playfully to cover yourself. Nodding at his words, completely tired, blissed and fucked out. “Yeah, was so hot to wake up to that.” You said with an un-matching innocent sounding giggle. Stretching your arms over your head as you yawned.

“Yeah? that a sign i should sneak in and fuck you while you’re sleeping with your parents downstairs more often?” Rafe teased, Shifting to throw one leg off the bed and reach for a random article of clothing to dry the two of yous up.

“Yes.” You replied simply but tiredly, watching as he grabbed the piece of clothing, yawning yet again as sleep again threatened to take over your body.

Rafe couldn’t help but smile genuinely as he looked back at you and saw your sleepy expression. Leaning up and forward to give you a goodnight. “‘mk, now go back to sleep, i’ll clean this shit up.”

⟡ ݁₊ . written by sarahsangelicdoll, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours

⟡ ݁₊ . tagging muts: @moonlightrafe @bloodibambiidoll @winnie1emon @cameronsprincess @hvnlygrl

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

PLEASEEEE MORE POSSESSIVE JELOUS DRACO🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️YOUR BAD SANTA FIC WAS LITERALLY EVEYTHING. POSSESSIVE MEN GOT ME WEAK

thank you for the request!! hope this is satisfactory 🫶🏻

Flutterby Baby | D.M.

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, draco’s pov, established relationship, possessive!draco, bullying, hurt/comfort, men suck, sort of rough fingering & piv, affectionate degradation if you squint (he refers to her as a plant), blood/fighting

masterlist

Draco watched as you pushed your pasta around your plate, staring absently at the whirls of sauce on the porcelain. You’d been quiet the entire meal, only speaking when directly spoken to by your group of friends, and even then, it was half-hearted, brief answers.

Both were unusual for his talkative, carb-loving girl.

He placed a light hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. The warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your perfume, beckoned him even closer, but he ignored his impulses. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked, low enough that your friends couldn’t hear.

“Yes, just not very hungry,” you said in your pretty little voice, placing your hand over his and pecking his cheek.

He didn’t buy it. “I can track down some takeaway and we can eat in my dorm, if you’d like,” he offered, wondering if the commotion in the Great Hall was a bit too much for you.

You shook your head, another stunning development. You never turned down takeaway. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll make one of these sod’s fetch it for you,” he teased, hoping to get a smile out of you. He didn’t.

Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Theo and Pansy. He continued to watch you in his periphery as you started to play with his fingers, twirling his signet ring around and around. As much as he enjoyed the mindless contact, the delicate brush of your skin, he knew this was a nervous habit of yours.

He had half-a-thought to excuse you both, but he knew that would only draw more attention to your melancholy state, which would likely make you feel even worse. He could pick your brain later. Right now, he needed to make sure you were fed.

Casually, he picked up his fork, twirling a bit of his own pasta around the tines. Without breaking away from his conversation, he held the fork up to you, hoping you’d take a bite without really thinking about it. It was a small ritual the two of you developed during lengthy family dinners, something you often did automatically if he offered food to you. He felt you shift forward, your mouth wrap around the small bite, and you ate it.

He squeezed your thigh, a flare of affection making his heart pound. Good girl, he thought, but refrained from saying aloud.

The rest of dinner continued like that, Draco keeping your friends talking and distracted while he fed you small bites of his own dinner, your fingers twined with his in your lap. When he held up a bite and you gave small shake of your head, he knew it was because you were actually full, and he set his fork down, satisfied. For now.

That night in the common room, you were curled up in your chair by the fire, a book open in your lap while everyone pretended to study around you. He watched your eyes, your hands curled around the cover, and you were motionless. No pages turned, no lines devoured.

His worry deepened. Blaise seemed to notice as well, and gave him a curious look, dark brow raised. And of course, Theo caught the exchange, but turned back to his work, pretending he didn’t.

A prickle of suspicion climbed Draco’s neck. Typically, Theo was the first one to make a fuss over someone being in a sour mood due to his inability to tolerate negative emotions, but this time, he stayed silent.

Very odd, indeed.

But he could worry about Theo later. Draco lifted himself from the couch and walked over to you, dropping onto the floor in front of your chair. He tilted his head back, resting it against your shins. You reached down, dragging your fingers through his hair while you continued “reading” your book. He let his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and tried to think of a way to draw you out of your head.

Lips pressed against his forehead, your perfume wafting over him, and he hummed in appreciation, reaching up to cradle your face. You leaned your cheek into his palm, and he titled his head back a little further to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

Your lips moved against his, brief and tender, and some of his tension unwound. It didn’t seem that you were upset with him, which was a relief. But, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly was troubling you.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you murmured in his ear, and he blinked in surprise, checking his watch.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“So early, love? Are you feeling alright?” He turned to face you, rising to his knees. The group noticed, but he was too concerned to care. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your cheek, your neck, but you waved him away.

“I’m fine, D. Just tired,” you said, averting your eyes from his and rising from your chair.

“Baby—”

You leaned down and kissed him again, cutting off his protest. “I love you, I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, pecking his cheek one more time before walking towards the girls dormitory and ascending the stairs.

Draco slumped back to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What did you do to her?” Pansy accused after a moment of tense silence.

“Nothing,” he snapped, though it was mostly toothless.

“She was acting strangely at dinner too,” Blaise noted. “She didn’t even have dessert.”

“Yeah, and she loves those chocolate things—what are they called?” Theo chimed in.

“Cauldron cakes,” Draco answered, glaring at them, irked that they were paying that close of attention to you. That was his job.

“Are you going to follow her?” Blaise asked, glancing at the stairs.

“No, he should give her some space,” Pansy said, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly capable of managing my girlfriend’s needs. Thank you,” he bit, and they fell quiet. He would leave you be, for now, but if you were still in a funk tomorrow evening, he’d be forced to intervene.

You were decidedly still unlike yourself come the following morning, and when he saw you during your shared Potion’s class. He continued to monitor the situation, trying to be patient like you often asked him to be, but that went out the window when you returned from your Herbology class with Theo in tears.

As soon as Draco saw your red and puffy eyes, he was on his feet. You ran straight into his chest, burying your wet face in his robes and digging your chilled hands into his back, trembling as your tears returned in earnest.

“Darling, what’s happened? What’s going on?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t respond, just held him tighter as you cried.

Theo tried to slip around the two of you, but Draco pinned him with a glare.

“What happened?” Draco hissed at him.

“Her Flutterby bush is dying,” Theo whispered, and you started to cry harder.

Shit. You’d slaved half the semester over this Flutterby bush in Herbology, it was your pride and joy, and you often stayed after hours with Professor Sprout to tend to it and the rest of the greenhouse. You had the greenest thumb Draco had ever encountered, and that plant was your baby. There was no way it would just suddenly die.

Draco raised a brow, and Theo made a ‘tell you later’ face. He nodded his head to dismiss his friend and turned his attention back to you, his poor, sensitive girl.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on—”

You shook you head. “It doesn’t make sense,” you sniffled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “It was perfectly fine. There’s no bugs or blights, I don’t understand.” You lifted your face, cheeks streaked with tears and lashes spikey, your eyes rimmed with red. The state of you made his heart ache.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your nose. “If anyone can save it, you can. You’re brilliant, love.” He used his sleeve to wipe your eyes and your nose before bundling you into his side. “Come on, relax for a bit with Pansy. That’ll help you think a little more clearly, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him deposit you on the couch beside your friend, who immediately abandoned what she was doing to fuss over you.

He kissed the top of your head, satisfied that you were well looked after for the time being. “I love you, I’ll be right back, okay?” He murmured, and you nodded again.

Theo was waiting for him in the hall. “Okay, so don’t get mad,” he said, holding his hands up.

Draco’s anger instantly flared. “Don’t give me a reason to get mad then.”

“She told me not to tell you because she knew you’d get all—” Theo gestured vaguely at Draco. “All…this.”

“Out with it, Nott,” he growled, fully prepared to punch his best friends nose through the back of his skull. What could you possibly want to keep from him?

“We think someone poisoned her plant,” Theo said, grimacing.

Draco froze, rage flaring so suddenly it darkened his vision. “What?” he snarled.

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Theo said hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the oncoming storm. “But there’s this one guy—”

“Who?”

“Reinhardt? Renfield? Something like that, I don’t know, he’s a Gryffindor. But he—Draco, where are you going?”

Draco was already halfway down the hall, formulating a plan in his mind about how to find this guy, and how to make him wish he’d never been born.

Theo grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, I have a better idea than storming the Gryffindor common room,” he said, and Draco paused.

“Go on.”

Draco loitered outside the Greenhouse, hidden by some trees, a stupid plastic ear in his hand. Theo had the other tucked into his robes, and Draco could hear Sprout beginning her lecture through their connection.

Draco sighed. This was ridiculous, he should just waltz in there and figure out exactly who this—

“Hey, y/n,” he heard someone mutter, an unfamiliar male voice, and he immediately held up the ear to listen. “Flutterby’s not lookin’ so good. Maybe I could help clear away some of the dead stuff?”

Draco's ears started ringing so loudly, he almost missed your response.

“I'm killing it just fine on my own, Renley, I don't need any assistance from you.”

He heard Theo snicker in the background, and Draco smiled. Atta girl.

“My mandrakes are thriving, thank you,” Renley replied, his voice tight with indignation. “It's a real shame about yours, though. Probably would have gotten you top marks.”

You didn't respond, and Draco gripped a tree branch to stop himself from charging through the glass to get this audacious fucker.

“Fuck off, Renford,” Theo warned, the feed clouded by his robes rustling.

“It's Renley,” the prick corrected, his voice a little louder, and Draco could practically hear Theo roll his eyes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Oh, this fucker was a dead man walking. “I'm willing to stay after and help you out. I'm good with poisons—”

“Poison’s?” You asked, a snarky lilt to your voice, and Draco loosed a relieved exhale despite the implication. For the first time in days, you sounded like yourself. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Oh, I—uh—”

“Reindeer, how did you know her plant was poisoned?” Theo prodded, his smirk audible.

“I don't! It's obv—it’s probably not p-poison!” Renley stammered.

“What's this about poison?” Sprout interrupted at the same moment Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the treeline.

“Check fucking mate,” Draco mouthed, grinning.

“Professor Sprout, I do believe Renley here just confessed to poisoning y/n’s beloved Flutterby bush,” Theo said.

“Is this true, dearie?” Sprout asked you.

“Yes ma’am, it explains the strange phenomena we noted, as well as the sudden nature of the ailment. Renley’s been taunting me for days, and finally his mouth got ahead of his brain,” you said, poised as a Queen, and Draco was so proud of you it hurt.

Sprout gasped. “Mr. Renley! To Dumbledore's office this instant!”

“Crabbe, Goyle, grab him,” Draco ordered, stuffing the ear into his robes.

The two of them lumbered over the door, staying out of sight until the culprit stepped out into the sunlight, and Goyle grabbed Renley by the shoulders and started to drag him back around the Greenhouse.

“Hey! What the fuck—” his words pinched to a strangled whine when he saw Draco and Blaise waiting a few feet away, arms folded over their chests, completely hidden from the rest of campus.

Goyle shoved him to the ground at Draco's feet, and the coward was already sniveling.

Draco crouched down, nose to nose with the fucker that made his girl miserable, and smiled. “Was it worth it, Renley?” Draco asked, his voice low.

“Look, Malfoy. I didn't mean to—”

Draco didn't give him a chance to finish his paltry excuse and cocked his fist back, slamming his knuckles square in the side of his jaw. The bone crunched under his fist, sending Renley flying sideways in a spray of spit and blood, and Draco rose, clenching and unclenching his aching hand.

Normally, he'd step back and let the others get their hands dirty, but you were his girl. And if anyone was going to defend your honor, it would be him.

“No, no please!” Renley begged when Goyle hauled him back up. Draco punched him again, dead on the nose, then the temple, then the sternum. Goyle let Renley fall, groveling and weeping as blood ran down his face, his eyes already half-swollen shut.

Draco grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “You're lucky it wasn't poison,” he snarled, and dropped Renley’s head into the dirt. “Leave him on the front steps of the castle,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately pulled the boy up and started dragging him back towards the castle.

Blaise chuckled. “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Draco looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, the pain bright and deliciously satisfying, his signet ring splattered with red. “Like I said, he's lucky I didn't decide to poison him.”

The chatter of students filled the air, and he looked up to see the Greenhouse emptying. Theo headed straight for them, glancing at Draco's knuckles and the blood in the grass before breaking out in a wild grin.

“Sorry I missed it,” Theo laughed.

“Where is she?” Draco asked.

“Staying behind to administer the antidote. Sprout is leaving her to ensure Renley is dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, she certainly won't be disappointed,” Blaise snickered.

“So she’s alone?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to clean himself up before seeing you, but wasn't sure he could resist the temptation. Not with his blood still running hot and your smart little voice echoing in his mind.

“Yep.” Theo smirked. “See ya’ back in the common room.” He and Blaise turned and started heading back to the castle, leaving Draco alone.

He rounded the greenhouse, knocking with his sore knuckles so he didn't startle you.

“Draco? What are you—saints, your hands!” You cried, rushing over to open the door for him. You grabbed for his hands, face pinched with worry.

“I'm fine, love,” he cooed, letting you fuss. The air in the greenhouse was thick and warm, coaxing him in like a embrace. It smelled fresh and lush, sweet soil and green leaves, like you.

Merlin, he couldn't think straight with you looking at him like that.

“Who did—” you paused, eyes narrowing. “Renley?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Draco!” You huffed, dropping his hands. “I had it under control!”

“I know you did! You were amazing! I just...accelerated the consequences.”

You glared at him, but he could see you softening by the second.

“Baby, I'm fine. And he'll be fine in like, four to five business days.”

“Draco!” You shouted, but you were smiling. He fucking loved what you called his name in that exasperated but undeniably affectionate voice. “You don't have to get involved all the time. I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and Professor Sprout was working with me to solve it and—”

Draco reached out, pinching your cheeks with one hand, pursing your pouting lips and dragging you closer to him. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No one fucks with you so long as I'm breathing, is that clear?”

You nodded, eyes round and sweet like honey.

He released your face, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and craning your head upwards. “Can I kiss you now? Or would you like to keep telling me off?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a playful, smiley kiss. “Anything for my hero.”

“Anything?” Draco purred, walking you back into the long work table. You gasped, arching against his chest, and he caught the sound with another kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you.

Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his tie to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

And he could feel how much you loved it, your hips pressing against his as your hands wandered his chest, unable to pick a resting place.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he spun you around. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself, your perfect ass pressing back against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Draco,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

He tsked, sliding up your skirt, admiring the way his ruined knuckles looked against the soft flesh. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, darling?” He already knew what your answer would be, especially after a few stressful days, but he felt inclined to double check.

You shook your head side to side, pressing your ass back into his hands. “No.”

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “That's my girl. You want me to scare away all those bad thoughts? Turn your brain off for a bit?” He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties.

You nodded, nails scratching along the wood when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Words, love,” he said, pausing his movement.

“Yes, baby. Please,” you whined, and his cock gave a painful lurch against his thigh.

“Colloportus,” he murmured, flicking his wand to lock the Greenhouse door. “Don't move,” he ordered, then walked over to the sink, washing the blood from his hands and muttering a quiet episkey to fix most of the damage on his skin. Some cuts remained, and his hands were still sore and slightly bruised, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to you, where you remained perfectly still, nibbling at your lower lip. In quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fall around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest against the table.

“There we go,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly.

“Better, darling? Nothing to worry about besides being my good girl.” He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, his signet ring kissing your entrance before he curled his finger up. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out, only to graciously stretch for him when he added a second.

“Fuck, D,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. “You said you wouldn't be gentle “

He smirked, enraptured with the way your pretty little cunt yielded for his battered hand. “Just so pretty,” he hummed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pressing you harder against the table. “Can't help but worship you a little.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he slammed his fingers inside of you, drilling into your channel with sloppy, punishing strokes. You cried out, feet sliding around on the floor, but he had you pinned and at his mercy.

“This better, brat?” He growled, nipping at your ear when you keened for him, unable to formulate a response. “Oh, how that fucker wishes he could see you now,” he drawled, straightening while his fingers fucked into you. “What'd he call you? Sweetheart?” He chuckled. “Sweet doesn't begin to cover it.”

“How did you—”

He slipped his fingers out to work your clit, the bud swelling under his touch as your orgasm built, and your words twisted into a moan. He tried to stay focused, keep you on the edge until he was sheathed inside of you, but couldn't bring himself to stop just yet.

“Are you sweet, baby?” He asked, swatting your ass cheek, enjoying the way your flesh rippled.

“Only for you,” you gasped, starting to tremble as that knot wound tighter and tighter.

“That's right,” he praised, undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand. He was insanely hard, the head a deep pink, pearly precum beading from the slit. He pumped himself twice to relieve some of the ache, then notched himself at your entrance, not pausing his assault on your clit for a moment. “All fucking mine,” he growled at the same moment he thrust inside of you, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, muscles contracting hard around him, and he groaned low in his throat. You were so fucking tight, gooey and supple when you weren't squeezing the life out of him. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your ass cheek in his free hand to keep you spread for him as he pounded into you.

He felt your orgasm hit the second before you did, your cunt clamping down on him a heartbeat before you screamed, your whole body locking up before going completely limp. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook, how much you begged. Your tears left damp spots on the wood, your knees trying to buckle inwards, but he planted his feet on the inside of yours, forcing you to stay upright.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back. “Doing so well for me, sweet thing.” He was panting, the heat of the greenhouse coupled with the exterior making sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. His knuckles burned from the salt, hands ached from being used long past when they should have been bandaged, but he didn't give a single fuck.

“Draco, shit—fuck me so good.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“Give me one more, baby. I know you can. Then I'll water my favorite plant.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled. You were such a little freak, his little freak, and he loved you all the more it.

“You like being my pretty little houseplant? All mine to take care of?” Fuck, he was close, rambling in an attempt to distract himself and spend just a little longer in the delicious heat of your body.

“Yes, yes—fuck!” You were coming again, your whole body convusling as it ripped through you, and he was done for. He came with a yell, hips stuttering against your ass as he pumped rope after rope of release into your spasming cunt.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, poor thing, were left drooling and trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “Did so good, love. So fucking perfect,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Squishin’ me,” you giggled, squirming beneath him, and he straightened, nearly toppling over himself at the weak feeling in his knees.

“Sorry, darling,” he chuckled, and you groaned, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. He moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

“Mm, how did you know he called me sweetheart?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at him while he grabbed his wand to clean you both up.

“I have my methods,” he replied, righting your clothes and helping you stand up, relishing in the lingering tremble in your limbs.

“Were you spying on me, Draco Malfoy?” You teased, tugging him down by the tie so you were face to face.

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“What a horrible invasion of privacy,” you snickered, giving him a playful peck.

“You want to punish me for it?” He nipped at your lower lip and you grinned, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Enough you, I have to administer the antidote before my plant gets any sicker.”

“Good thing I already cured mine,” he teased, and you swatted him before slipping out of his arms.

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're adorable.”

You grabbed some items from the shelves and a watering can, then paused, turning to look at him, a deadly serious look on your face. “Can we get takeaway after this?”

He snorted, his heart doing a giddy little flip. “Of course we can.”

[sugawhaaa]

SKZ HEADCANONS

The type of women they like in bed...

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, shower sex (Hyunjin), cowgirl (Changbin, Felix), BDSM (minho) Collar (Minho) creampie (Chan)

Pairing:: ot8!Skz x fem!reader

A/N:: so I started with ateez and now I'm done skz should I do...a txt version 🤨 or maybe piwon 🤭

Skz masterlist:: 🍒

Taglist:: @weallneednamjesus @strykdsstanot8

Emotional, a girl who will let him take care of her in many ways

Chan has many different sides to him in bed but no matter what, he loves to cherish his partner. He wants to be able to treat her like a princess or a slut or just his girlfriend.

"You're so pretty like this," Bangchan groans before leaning down to kiss your neck, his hips never losing their pace. You can't even reply because you're so focused on the sensation of his fat cock stretching you wide open. "How you feeling baby?" He tucks a strand of your hair back. You let out a choked moan as you try to form words.

"Good," You claw at his back as you struggle to speak. "Faster please," You whine and Chan smiles shyly.

"Already?" He asks in a teasing and genuine way.

"Yes please! Fuck, I can take it," You assure him and he grins before snapping his hips against yours. The room fills with a symphony of screams of pleasure and the clap skin on skin. As Bangchan pounds into you he leans back, holding your hips, to admire your body. The way you squirm and twitch, the way you pant and moan and reddened face, the way tears of raw desire build in your eyes, and it's all because of him.

Obedient, a woman that'll listen to him and enjoy it

Minho loves to be in control during sex but he doesn't want his partner thinking their opinions aren't valid. He needs his woman to understand that this is his way of showing love and that he just wants to love on her...hard.

"C'mon, look at me baby," Minho says as he lifts your chin up to look at him, however the vibrator pressed against your core drew your attention more. "You need to keep being good for me alright?" He tugs on your collar slightly to draw your attention. You nod with a little whine and Minho smirks, his power over you shining through.

"C-Can I cum yet?" You ask between heavy breaths, the band in your stomach tightening its knot.

"Soon baby, hold on as long as you can," He then leans into your ear, his breath ghosting over your ear. "The longer you last the greater your reward babygirl," Minho smiles before bringing a hand up to your breast, cupping it in the soft lingerie. "shh, you've been doing so good," He says before smirking. His opposite hand creeps down to your vibrator, ticking it up a few setting, the vibrations now more intense than ever. You squeal and arch your back, your head falling back as well. Minho chuckles darkly at your reaction. "So cute~"

Comfortable, a girl who will make him feel safe and relaxed

Changbin has rough appearance and exterior but everyone knows he's very vulnerable inside. He needs to find someone who will keep that vulnerability safe, especially when indulging in something like sex.

It was moments like these you really cherished with Changbin. Your bodies nearly bare and pressed up against each other, your tongues intertwined as your hands frantically search for a place to rest. Changbin holds the back of your head, his fingers sorting through your hair, as he hungrily kisses your lips.

"I need you," You pull back to announce and Changbin smiles shyly, looking down.

"Whatever you need," He kisses your cheek as his hands trail down to your ass, picking you up and lifting you higher up his lap. His mouth finds yours again as he messily helps you take off your panties but you're too impatient to let him take off his underwear, instead you grind against his boner. He moans quietly, his brows furrowed at the new sensation. "Wow that feels..." His hands fall to your sides, relaxingly resting on your hips. "Keep doing that baby and I might cum in my clothes," He chuckles as he tosses his head back.

Gentle, a woman that will put care into every touch

Hyunjin has a frail heart and he can be a little sensitive to such intense feelings such as lust. He needs someone to calm him and occasionally steer him during sex.

"Yes fuck, are you slipping baby?" Hyunjin grunts as he slows his hips, making sure the wet surface wasn't causing you any risks.

"No, I'm okay, keep going," You pant softly and rest your head against the shower wall again. Each one of his thrusts was deep and passionate, the pace was slow but the strength was there. You bounce against the wall with each pound and Hyunjin comes around to hug you, pulling you off the wall like a starfish.

"Is...Is this position okay?" He asks shyly as his wet hair clings to your shoulders, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"God yes," You moan and throw your head back. He begins to thrust into you again, hitting up deep in that one spot that makes you scream. Hyunjin focuses hard as he watches your body from over your shoulder. "Yes right there, keep going," You moan, subtly praises him. Hyunjin has to hide his smile as he fucks you faster, hoping to receive more praise later.

Passionate, a woman who will bask in his presence

Felix has a bit of a clingy side, but it's not as much physical as it is emotional. He needs that person release on especially when it's his love.

"Yeah, yeah, just like that baby," Felix encourages in his thick Aussie accent but a hint of something else lingers in his voice; perhaps lust, hunger or love? His hands stay fastened to your hips as you hop on his lap, his cock slipping in and out of your warmth. Felix rests his head in the crook of your neck as he pants heavily, his hot breath ghosting over your damply sweaty skin. He lets out a low growl before tossing his head back. "Oh yeah, harder baby, c'mon bounce on me," He smirks softly at the lewdness of his words.

"I can't," You breathe out softly and Felix sits up again, holding your hips with more strength.

"You can babygirl," He kisses your jaw before assisting in lifting your body up then back down on him. His cock hit imaginably deep very hard, making you moan loudly, eyes wide. "That's it, feels good doesn't it?"

Needy, a girl who will match his constant need for relief

Han is undoubtedly clingy and loves the feeling of hands and attention on him. Jisung needs a girl who won't mind his constant need and ache for her. This fact transfers into the bed as well, he gets aroused easily, especially with physical stimulation, and he needs a partner will understand and care for his needs.

"Baby..." Han whispers as you peacefully sleep. He gently shakes your shoulder and you startle awake, forcing your eyes open. "I'm sorry," Jisung instantly regrets waking you and hides his face in the plush white sheets.

"What's wrong?" You ask groggily as you prop yourself up with your elbows. As your eyes adjust to the lighting you notice Han looks quite distressed; his eyebrows are curled upward, his lips swollen and red, his eyes glossy and his face and hair damp from presumably sweat. "Is everything okay?" You sit up, alerted by his appearance.

"Yeah but I um..." He blushes and looks away, ashamed of his behavior. "I had a wet dream and I've been trying to get off but..." He bites his lip before looking at you. He lets the plump skin between his teeth go with a sigh. "I need your help," He whines and your heart melts at his puffy cheeks and doe eyes.

"Of course, what do you need?" You watch as he sits up beside you, the blanket falling to reveal his broad chest.

"Anything...your hands, your touch, your voice, just be here with me," He whines as he extends a shaking hand toward you. "I need you," He caresses your jaw before pulling you into a deep kiss.

Patient, a girl who can wait for and understand him

Seungmin feels a little conflicted about his sex life. There's times when he's really into it and other times he can't find the lust to indulge in. He needs a girl who will respect his boundaries and understand his conflicting emotions.

Seungmin lays back on the bed after a long day with hands tucked behind his head, a thoughtful look on his face. As you put away your laundry you notice his stern expression. "You look scary when you're thinking," You smile, your voice light hearted. "What's got you thinking so hard?" You ask sincerely, assuming he's stressing about work. You set aside your laundry and sit next to him. Seungmin tenses as you come closer.

"Not sure...I feel," He looks away, pausing for a moment. "I feel like I wanna have sex but I'm so tired. My body feels weak from working," He groans as he props his head back, his arms now limp at his sides.

"That's okay," You smile, trying to assure him that he's feeling normal.

"It's annoying," He grumbles with a little pout. He shifts his hips and a blush creeps up his neck. "Could you...help me?" Seungmin asks hesitantly before making eye contact.

"Of course, lay down," You push his chest down softly, encouraging him to relax. As you do so you notice the throbbing tent in his jeans; you tilt your head in curiosity. "Is this what's been bothering you?" You smirk softly and he looks away from you with a slight pout.

Daring, a girl who will take the lead and follow his lead

Jeongin has a switch in his sexuality. Sometimes he wants to be on top, be mean, be hard, be in control and other times he wants to be hurt, broken and rebuilt as someone else's. He needs a lady who will be able to do both: fold for him and fold him.

"What's it gonna be tonight?" Jeongin says as he kicks his feet up on the bed, his elbows propped up to hold his jaw. He watches as you walk around the bedroom, doing chores, while he patiently waits for you to finish and indulge in some lust. "Maybe you'll let me bend you over the bed or desk?" He says with a devilish smirk before rolling onto his back, his legs now crossed. "then let me fuck you into the wall of the shower for round two," He tilts his head as he watches you get flustered by his words, your focus fading as you brush your hair. "Or would you rather pull out the sex toys and use me until I cry?" Jeongin just kept egging you on until you reply.

"Bending over sounds nice," You smile with red cheeks as you sit beside him on the bed. He instantly pulls you closer by your hips, setting you in his lap. He nuzzles his face into the back of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"I was hoping you'd let me fuck you tonight," He flicks his tongue out to snake around your ear, making your body shiver with excitement.

[cumironi]

COLD ICE POPSICLE!

summary. you and your friends sit in the back of the school building, smoking and talking, joint in hands. it was summer and heat waves swimming around freely, you eating some ice cream, licking and slurping while your eyes focus on your two friends, GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU . . . who knows that might not be the only thing you lick that day?

wc. 12k | masterlist.

warning. fem! reader, dirty talk, praise, choking, hair pulling ( gojo, geto ), nineteen! satosugu x reader, biting, risky public place, degrading, oral sex ( m! receiving ), smoking joint, drug mentioned, fingering, threesome mentioned.

in the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun, you, gojo satoru, geto suguru, and nanami kento are lounging in the back of the school, surrounded by abandoned tables and chairs. the heat wave has turned the place into an uncomfortable haven, but you all find some relief in the occasional breeze.

gojo, sprawled out on one of the tables across from you, is animatedly complaining about the heat, “i swear, if it gets any hotter, we’ll need to start using our powers just to stay cool!” nanami, sitting cross-legged on a nearby chair beside gojo, rolls his eyes. “gojo, we’re not going to use our cursed energy just to avoid a bit of sweat. it’s not that bad.”

geto, lounging on the grass with a half-smile, adds, “you’re just saying that because you’re immune to the heat. it’s like you’re always in your own personal air-conditioned bubble.” gojo grins, clearly enjoying the moment. “oh, come on, nanami. you’re just bitter because you can’t complain as creatively as i can.” nanami raises an eyebrow, throwing his upperclassmen a look. “creative? more like annoying. maybe if you spent less time talking and more time focusing, you wouldn’t be so bothered by the heat.” gojo laughs loudly at nanami’s retort, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“aw, come on na-na-mi,” he teases, drawing out the syllables, “admit it, you love it when i get all creative. adds a bit of spice to your otherwise predictable life.” you snort at gojo's words, hands waving up and down as you try to cool off your neck. gojo grins widely at your reaction, noticing your attempt to cool down. “oh, fanning yourself, huh?” he says with a smirk, “can’t handle the heat?” now shifting his attention to you.

nanami just rolls his eyes, not even looking up from his book. “you’re not any better, gojo. you’ve been complaining nonstop for the past hour.” hearing the words coming out of nanami's mouth, gojo feigns a wounded expression. “excuse me, nanami. i’m not complaining. i’m creatively expressing my discomfort,” he gasped before throwing the blonde a nasty look.

“yeah, creatively annoying everyone around you,” geto chimes in, lounging comfortably on the grass with his eyes closed. gojo turns his attention to geto, a playful glint in his eyes. “oh, look who decided to join the conversation. got tired of just sitting there looking pretty?” geto scoffs at this, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “oh, please. as if i need to say anything. unlike you, i know when to shut up.”

gojo shoots geto a mock-offended look, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “ouch, sugu. you wound me. i'll have you know, my talking is a form of art,” he pout as he speaks bullshit. nanami finally looks up from his book, his expression unreadable as usual, “more like art of torture.”

you chuckle when you hear the words nanami said as his eyes back to focusing on his book. “why are you even reading in this heat?” you look at your classmates, shaking your head lightly as you pull out an electric fan from your bag and opening two buttons of your uniform. gojo's eyes immediately light up when he sees the fan and starts fanning yourself, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “well,” he says, lounging back on the table, “looks like you've got the solution right there.”

geto open his one eye to look at you— eyes straight to your chest as he lets out a low whistle, eyeing you up and down, “now that's a sight for sore eyes.” nanami ignores their comments, focused on his book, but you can see a subtle flush rising on his cheeks. gojo leans forward, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, “you know, y/n, that fan would be a lot more useful if you were over here.”

he pats the spot on the table beside him, looking up at you with a hopeful expression. geto chuckles at gojo's blatant flirting, amused by the situation. “yeah,” he adds, “or come lie over here with me. i promise i won’t bite.” even nanami glances up from his book, his eyes flickering in your direction before quickly looking back down when he accidentally looking at your chest.

gojo's smirk widens as he notices nanami's reaction. “ooh, look at that,” he teases, “is that a blush i see on na-na-mi's face?” geto laughs, clearly enjoying the teasing. nanami shoots both of them a glare, his cheeks still flushed, “shut up.” gojo just grins, enjoying the effect he's having on the other sorcerer, “what's wrong, na-na-mi? can't handle a little heat?”

geto grins, continuing to tease nanami, “yeah, looks like you're finally overheating, nanami. maybe you should take a break from that book and enjoy the scenery.” which he means by scenery is your chest. gojo pour fuel to the fire, looking at you with a smirk, “well, what do you say, y/n? want to save na-na-mi from melting?” nanami glares at gojo and geto, his cheeks now turning more pink than before. he keeps his focus on his book, yet there's an undeniable flutter in his chest.

geto continues, “you know, i bet you could cool down even more if you undid a couple more buttons,” he says that last part without even an ounce of shame, which gets him another glare from nanami. gojo, ever the instigator, smirks at geto's words, “now you're talking. i'm curious to see if that would help, honestly.”

nanami rolls his eyes at their constant bickering, but he can't help but feel a flutter in his chest when he imagines you taking off your uniform. he clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure, “knock it off, you two. stop being so inappropriate.”

gojo and geto, of course, ignore his plea and continue their teasing. gojo leans forward to you as he sits on the table across from you, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone, “you know, i could help you undo those buttons if you want.” you can't help but blush at the suggestion, feeling a bit flustered by gojo-stupid-satoru's boldness, “fuck off, satoru!” you throw your book at the white-haired boy, “always a fucking pervert,” you mumble loud enough for your friends to hear.

geto barks out a laugh at your reaction, clearly enjoying the show, “ah, there it is. that's the y/n we know and love.” gojo grins as he dodges the book effortlessly, his eyes still fixed on you, “oh come on, don't be like that. i'm just trying to offer my services here, love,” he smugly said. even nanami can't help but snicker at your response, his irritation momentarily fading as he glances in your direction.

“seriously,” gojo says, a smirk playing on his lips, “just imagine it. i could help you take off those pesky buttons one by one. slowly, gently.” geto grins, clearly enjoying gojo's suggestive tone and your reaction. “oh, i can already picture it. the look on your face would be priceless.” just like how they fuck you the night before’ geto thought.

nanami finally looks up from his book again, his eyes flickering in your direction. he can't deny that the image gojo is painting is getting to him, and his cheeks flush a deep pink. gojo leans back on the table— back almost touching the wall, his arms stretched behind his head as if he hasn't a care in the world, “you know, you'd look even better without that uniform anyway.”

geto adds, his expression sly, “yeah, i wouldn't mind seeing a little more skin.” he lays back on the grass, his arms under his head. of course they don't, at least not after that night. “you know,” he says, “it's not like there's anyone else around. we could probably get away with doing some pretty lewd things right now and no one would ever know.”

he shoots a sly glance in your direction, clearly enjoying the idea. gojo smirks, stretching casually as he nods at whatever geto's said, “oh, i like the way you think, suguru.” nanami shoots both of them a glare but doesn't say anything. he can't deny that the thought has crossed his mind as well, but he's too dignified to admit it.

seeing nanami's reaction you can feel your beating faster and the heat from the sun running through your blood straight to your cheeks. you pull books out of geto's bag beside you before throwing them to the two shameless hyenas. “stop putting things on na-na-mi's mind! you two are insufferable!” your voice wavering with annoyance.

feeling your cheeks start to burn, again, as your mind plays a split second of your activity with gojo and geto a few days ago, you walk over to shoved gojo's chest lightly before muttering, “asshole.” before walking back to the table across from him and sit your ass back to your original position— not forgot to kick geto's leg on your way back.

gojo snickers as you shove him, enjoying the reaction he's gotten out of you, “oh, come on. don't be mad.” geto joins in, his tone teasing but lightheartedly, “yeah, we were just messing with you.”

“can't even let you kids alone for a second, and now i heard some fighting,” shoko's voice could be heard, followed by a long sigh. you could see a plastic bag on her hand while a joint in the other with yuu haibara following from behind. you perk up at the sight of the girl, a wide grin forming on your face. “ah, my baby shoko! finally some company is worth tolerating. did you buy me the ice cream?”

shoko gives you a small smile, her usual laid-back expression never faltering, “of course. how could i not get my favorite sugar-addict some much-needed ice cream?”

yuu, trailing slightly behind shoko, gives you a wave, “hey, y/n. hope these two idiots aren't giving you a hard time.” geto and gojo, hearing yuu's comment, both let out a mock-offended scoff, clearly unbothered by the jab. pouting as you look at your classmates, yuu haibara always the soft one sitting himself beside you at the edge of the table. “they always give me a hard time,” your voice no longer lingers with annoyance as you talk to the boy, clearly different from before.

seeing the change in your behavior as you talk to yuu, geto and gojo rolled their eyes. shoko hands the ice cream to you, she glances over at gojo and geto, her eyes narrowing slightly, “what are you idiots up to now?”

geto grins cheekily at shoko as he stretches out again, “oh, nothing much. just having a bit of harmless fun.” gojo nods, and flashes shoko a smile, his eyes flickering over to you and yuu. “yeah, we were just talking about how hot it is today.” shoko rolls her eyes, clearly not convinced by their innocent facade, “yeah, right. i know you two. i'm sure you're plotting something mischievous.” geto push himself off the grass before dusting his pants and sit beside gojo.

“i swear if idiots could fly this school would be a fucking airport,” nanami mutters under his breath as he shake his head. his eyes throwing a look at gojo and geto before back to his book. you snicker the moment the words go through your ears before laughing.

both gojo and geto roll their eyes at nanami's words, clearly unbothered by his disapproving attitude. gojo, spotting the joint in shoko's hand, immediately perks up. “hey, share some of that, shoko,” he says, holding out his hand expectantly.

shoko shoots him an unimpressed look, “buy your own.” gojo huffs dramatically, “come on, don’t be like that. i’m suffering in this heat. just a little bit?” nanami just shakes his head, while geto chuckles at gojo’s persistent begging.

“me first, me first,” you tug shoko's uniform.

shoko rolls her yes lets out a weary sigh, her expression unchanged, “ah, there's the drug addict i know.” her resistance to the boys' pleas wearing thin. she sigh, voice dripping with defeated, “alright, you brats. you're all like a bunch of beggars.” she hands the joint to you first, before passing it to geto next, and finally to gojo.

“i swear, you guys are such a pain in the ass.” she mutters, though there's a hint of fondness in her tone. as gojo takes the joint, he grins widely, clearly pleased with himself, “aww, we know you love us, shoko.”

geto chuckles at his comment, taking a drag before passing it to yuu. he added, “yeah, we're like the three stooges, you can't get rid of us that easily,” referring to himself, gojo and you. nanami snort, “yeah, right, more like the three nuisances.” geto takes the next hit, the smoke swirling around his face before he lets out a contented sigh, “yeah, finally. now we're talking.”

yuu, still sitting beside you, can't help but chuckle at his friends' antics, “i swear, you three look like a bunch of potheads sometimes.” gojo lets out a mock-offended gasp, his eyes widening, “how dare you. we're not potheads. we're connoisseurs of recreational relaxation.”

geto snickers, adding, “yeah, we're exploring different states of consciousness for medicinal purposes.” nanami, clearly exasperated by their excuses before reaching his arm to take the next puff, “yeah, medicinal purposes, my ass.” hearing your snorts, clearly amused by the blonde's response. with mockery in your voice while faintly nodding your head you joked, “yeah, that's a nice way of saying we like to get high as often as possible.”

shoko rolls her eyes but doesn't protest, used to their shenanigans by now. “ah, i swear one of these days you guys are going to smoke yourselves stupid,” she mutters. geto grins, taking another drag before passing the joint to you. “what can we say? we just enjoy the finer things in life.”

gojo nods in agreement, his eyes already starting to glaze slightly, “yeah, we're philosophers of sorts. exploring the boundaries of our minds and whatnot.”

yuu rolled his eyes, grins at their responses before he takes a puff himself, “yeah, you're all philosophers, alright. the three wise men— stoned edition.” shoko can't help but snicker at yuu's comment, clearly finding their behavior amusing despite her facade of annoyance. “ah, the three wise men on a never-ending journey to find their inner peace in a cloud of smoke.”

nanami snicker, now fully closed his book as he takes a bottle of ramune from the plastic bag that shoko brought, “more like the three idiots on a never-ending journey to find a brain cell.” offended, you puff a smoke out of your lips before giving nanami an offended look, “hey, i'm smarter than these two fuckers, alright?” your fingers pointing at geto and gojo, joint still intact between your fingers.

gojo and geto feign shock, pretending to be insulted by your words. “hey, we take offense to that,” gojo protests. get corrected, “yeah, we have brain cells. somewhere.” shoko chuckles at— more like a scoff, “oh, please. we all know you two share a singular brain cell, and it's permanently on vacation.” yuu grins at her comment, nodding his head before agreeing, “yeah, it goes on a vacation every time you light up a joint.”

gojo laughs, his eyes still a bit glassy from the drug as he looks at you. “aww, that's cute. you think being smarter than us is an accomplishment.”

a smirk playing on his lips, geto argued, “just because you scored higher on a few tests, doesn't make you a freaking genius.” you cross your arms, feigning indignance taking an offended with his words, you bark with your finger pointing at yourself, “hey now. i'll have you know, i'm a lot smarter than you idiots give me credit for.”

nanami rolls his eyes, adding with his expression still as stern as ever, “yeah, like that's something to brag about.”

shoko chuckles at your response, clearly enjoying the playful rage between all of you, “yeah, she's smart. just don't ask her to do basic math. she'll probably look at you like you're speaking a foreign language.”

yuu laughs at shoko's comment, chiming in, “yeah, she's book smart, not street smart. she'd probably get lost trying to find her way out of a paper bag.” gojo grins, clearly satisfied with the jabs at your expense, “yeah, she's smart in theory, but in practice...”

geto added to your fire with his tone teasing but playful, “yeah, she's got a head full of knowledge but zero common sense.” nanami raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, taking a liking to how his friends started teasing you. “come on, guys, don't be like that, she's good at memorizing facts, just don't puts her in a real-world situation and it's game over,” yuu berated his friends even though his word says otherwise.

you give yuu a light smack on his stomach before laughing, “shut up,” you protest, slightly annoyed by their teasing, “i swear every time you guys talk i'm seven years old again.” yuu chuckles, rubbing his stomach playfully before sticking his tongue out at you, “aww, is someone feeling a little sensitive about their lack of common sense?” shoko grins, enjoy your annoyance as much as the rest of your friends, “yeah, you're definitely showing your youthful side right now.”

gojo and geto's grins widen, having a moment with the chance to poke fun at you, “oh, you're acting so mature,” gojo teases.

geto adds, “uh-uh, like a petulant child.”

you rolled your eyes, annoyed, “whatever.”

you open the package of your ice cream and notice how it's already half melting because of the heat wave, “aw man, my ice cream melting.” geto snickers, “yeah, maybe that's what happens when you spend too much time talking crap and not enough time enjoying your snack.” he wiggle his eyebrows together when you throw him a glare before focusing back to your half melted ice cream.

you pout at all four of them, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement, “why are you all so mean to me?” yuu grins, clearly enjoying the chance to poke fun. “aww, don't pout. we're just teasing you because we love you,” he lean in to give your cheek a kiss.

shoko smirks, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “yeah, and besides, you make it so easy.” gojo grins wider and eyes glimmering with amusement, “right, you're like a punching bag for our jokes.” shoko, who’s been enjoying the banter, pipes in, “maybe you could lick it off the wrapper. improvise.” you look down at your half-melted ice cream, contemplating whether to eat it straight from the wrapper or not. “yeah right, like i'd lick it off the wrapper like some kind of savage,” you protested.

gojo, geto, and yuu all burst into laughter at your protests, satisfied with your reaction, as always: so easy. shoko snickers, a smirk on her face, “oh, come on. where’s your sense of adventure?”

gojo wiping away a tear of laughter, open his mouth again to pester you, “yeah, live a little. stick out your tongue and taste the wrapper.” yuu chimes in with a wide grin, clearly enjoying himself with your misfortune, “yeah, embrace your inner beast. lick that wrapper clean.”

geto smirks, enjoying the opportunity to tease you even further, “or are you too much of a princess to get your hands dirty?” he, always knows which button to push. you raised your eyebrows, suddenly feeling challenged by his comments. they know one thing about you: you love proving them wrong, and you hate losing. and you, yourself know that they're doing it on purpose.

so you stick your tongue out, giving the wrapper kitten-lick as your eyes lock with the two boys across from you before fully, slowly licking the wrapper, making it as sensual as possible. and all at once, gojo and geto's minds suddenly flashed an image from a week ago where you gave them head.

gojo and geto's eyes widen as you start to lick the wrapper. the sight, as innocent as it might seem to the others, reminds both of them of something far less so. their cheeks flush red as their minds suddenly flash back to the moment from a week ago with you.

yuu, noticing the change in their expressions, raises an eyebrow, “are you guys alright? you look a bit flushed.” shoko, being more observant, smirks as she notices the similarity between your action and their reaction. you snort before throwing the wrapper on the ground and putting the ice cream in your mouth. a faint mumble could be heard from you, “pussy.”

gojo and geto, still reeling from the unintentional but reminiscent display, are left speechless. their faces continue to burn red as they struggle to keep their cool, trying not to think too much about what your action had reminded them of.

shoko, her smirk growing wider, glances at them and snickers, making a mental note of their reaction. nanami, having watched the entire exchange, rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath, “idiots are so easy to read.”

geto, trying to compose himself, clears his throat and forces a smile onto his face, “nah, we're just... distracted.” gojo, joining in, adds in a slightly shaky voice, “yeah, distracted. by how absurd that display was.” he pointed his finger at you, “did you really need to make that so sensually?” yuu snickers at gojo's comment, while shoko rolls her eyes again and nanami just mutters ‘idiots’ once more.

you, on the other hand, feign innocence as you lick the ice cream, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “what do you mean, sensually? i was just simply licking the wrapper, like a normal person would,” your voice dripping with innocuousness.

gojo and geto exchange a look, knowing that your feigned innocence is just a mask to cover up the fact that you knew exactly what you were doing. gojo tries to keep his composure as he retorts, “yeah, right. that was the least innocent licking i've ever seen.”

geto adds while struggling to keep his mind from wandering, “you definitely knew what you were doing. don't play coy now.” shoko, enjoying their obvious flustered state, can't help but tease them further, “oh, really? distracted by how 'sensual' it was? what's so special about licking an ice cream wrapper that you two are acting so awkwardly?”

yuu, oblivious to the hidden truth, chimes in with a confused expression, “guys, it was just a wrapper,” his voice dripping with confusion. you continue to maintain your innocent facade, licking the ice cream nonchalantly.

gojo and geto's faces flush even deeper as shoko's remark hits the mark, and they struggle to come up with a response that wouldn't give away their true thoughts. yuu, oblivious to the hidden context, looks innocently confused while nanami mutters under his breath and choose to playing with his phone, “ignore them, ignore them.”

you look up to meet their gaze, eyes glued to you. silently you are eating your ice cream, eyes never leaving them as you lick your ice cream from the bottom to the top before bottom out your ice cream. you smile as your tongue licks the bottom of your ice cream, a few times slurping the melted ice away before putting the ice cream back inside your mouth, didn't really pay any attention as your friends keep plastering gojo and geto.

gojo and geto's gazes remain fixated on you as you continue to lick the ice cream in such a manner, their faces turning even more flustered and their minds racing with inappropriate thoughts. shoko, who is enjoying the show, can't help but tease them further, “look at you two, practically drooling over there. something you'd like to share with the rest of us?”

gojo and geto quickly turn their heads away, unable to hold your gaze any longer. they try to play it cool, but their flushed faces and the occasional glances they steal in your direction betray their true feelings. yuu, still in the dark, looks at them curiously, “why are you guys acting so weird? it's just an ice cream.”

shoko, enjoying the power she has over them, gives them a mischievous smirk, “yeah, seriously guys. what's up with you two?”

“yeah, guys, it's just ice cream,” you said after finishing your ice cream. gojo rolled his eyes, finally gaining composure, just a little before he threw a comment, “oh please, nobody eats ice cream like that.” geto chimed in, trying to regain some control over the situation, “yeah! nobody eats ice cream so... seductively.”

shoko snickered, clearly enjoying the spectacle, “oh, really? i didn't notice anything out of the ordinary,” she said, feigning ignorance. geto nods in agreement, trying to regain his own composure as he adds, looking at shoko, “she was basically giving that ice cream the full treatment.”

gojo added, trying so hard to point his finger at your act for everyone to notice, a hint of irritation in his voice, “she was practically making out with that ice cream.”

nanami, start to enjoy the moment as ever, laugh at their comments, “come on, that's just ridiculous. it's just ice cream.” shoko can't help but smirk at gojo and geto's comments, enjoying their flustered states, “yeah, it's just a little ice cream. no big deal.”

gojo mutters under his breath, “like hell it is.”

geto adds, trying to sound nonchalant, “yeah, it's not like watching her eat that ice cream was... distracting or anything.”

“you two watch too much porn,” nanami said as he took a sip of his ramune. gojo and geto's faces burn even redder at nanami's comment. “what? no, we don't,” they protest, simultaneously, their voices are a little too defensive, breaking here and there with a high-pitched when they say ‘what?’

shoko rolls her eyes, clearly enjoying their discomfort, “yeah, sure you don't.”

yuu looks at them with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, clearly wondering what was going through their minds. before they get a chance to answer, yaga's voice rings out, bringing an end to the tension-filled moment. all hell breaks loose as everyone scrambles to react.

gojo grabs your hand, tugging you in the opposite direction from your teacher. he hollers, “run!” geto follows closely behind, the three of you separating from nanami, shoko, and haibara, who turn left. you grab your bag, heart pounding in your chest as you all try to evade yaga's wrath. as you run, you can hear your teacher's voice growing louder behind you, “get back here, you damn brats!”

laughter and the sound of footsteps fill the air as you and gojo and geto sprint away from yaga, trying to get as much distance as possible before he catches up. “come on, faster,” gojo calls out as you run, his hand still gripping yours tightly. “fuck, we can't let him catch us,” geto laugh, panting as he runs alongside you.

yaga's voice echoes behind you, growing louder and more urgent, “don't you dare run away, you brats!”

“fuck, my cigs!” you could hear shoko's voice faintly from behind you. “just let it be!” nanami's voice followed along, tightening his hand around shoko's wrist as he kept pulling the girl to run for her life. despite the panic, you can't help but chuckle at the scene playing out behind you.

gojo pulling you to the empty class and locked the door— hiding behind the door as they sandwiched you. you can feel their heart pounding on your front and your back. gojo leans against the closed door, pressing his body against your front, while geto stands behind you, his chest heaving against your back. both of them are trying to catch their breaths, the adrenaline from the chase still coursing through their veins.

gojo grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “that was close, too close.”

geto chuckles at gojo's comment, “shit, i thought we were goners for a moment there,” he laughed a little as he tried to catch his breath.

once gojo's eyes meet your face, a grin kissing his lips. he wraps his arm around you, “now we finally have time for ourselves, do you know how hard it is for me to pretend like i don't care after that stunt you pull earlier with the ice cream?” you playfully pout at his remark, leaning into his embrace. “oh, did you not enjoy the show? i thought i caught your attention quite well.”

gojo smirks back, his eyes drifting down to your lips. “oh, you caught my attention alright. you had me completely entranced.” geto snorts from behind you, his hands resting on your hips. “yeah, we were practically drooling over you. but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“you guys are being an asshole, there,” you pout. “so i try to give you some hard time like you did to me in front of nanami, what if i actually take off my uniform? want everyone to know our little secret?” your eyebrows knit together softly when you gaze at the blue pale irises. nobody knows about your little secret with geto suguru and gojo satoru. pretend to be friends in front of the others after they fuck you to oblivious the night before, but friends, right? both boys snicker at your threat, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

gojo smirks, his hand tracing small patterns on your hip, before pulling you toward him a little, “oh please, like you don’t love the thrill of it all.” geto chuckled behind you, his hands beginning to roam over your body, “yeah, we all know you’re no angel. you get off on pushing our buttons just as much as we do.” your cheeks flushed pink as their hands continue to linger on your body, their teasing words only making you feel more flustered.

gojo continues, his voice low and sultry. “you like knowing you have that kind of power over us.” geto agrees as his hands wander further up your sides, “yeah, you love driving us crazy. it’s all a game to you, isn’t it?”

you scrunch your nose for a second, “is it?”

“and if you did take off your uniform, we would be the first to know,” gojo adds, his voice low and husky. “yeah,” geto agrees, his hands slowly pulling at the hem of your shirt. “we would be the only ones who would get that privilege.” you giggle, wrapping your arm around gojo's neck before pulling him down a little, “think i spoil you guys too much.”

both boys chuckle at your comment, clearly enjoying your playful banter. gojo grins as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. “oh, you definitely spoil us.” geto smirks, his hands continuing to wander over your sides, slipping beneath your shirt, craving for more of your skin, “yeah, we’re practically spoiled brats when it comes to you. but you love it, don’t you?” nodding, you lean down to gojo's neck, kissing the boy as you hummed, “mmh-mm.”

gojo moans at the feeling of your lips against his neck, his hands gripping your waist a little bit tighter. he leans his head to the side, giving you better access to his neck, his eyes fluttering shut as he enjoys the sensation. geto smirks, watching as you kiss gojo, his hands still roaming over your sides. he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “you’re such a tease.”

gojo wrapped his arm around you when you pulled your face away. he pulled you to the wooden table on the front row, sitting on the edge with you between his legs while geto walked over to the teacher's table and sitting on the chair, pulling his phone out and cigarettes, letting gojo have you for a moment before his turn.

gojo chuckles as he tugs you closer, his legs trapping you between them. he leans back on the edge of the table, looking up at you with a smirk on his face. “you’re all mine for a moment,” he whispers, his eyes tracing up and down your body. geto watches from the teacher’s table, an amused smile on his face as he lights up a cigarette and scrolls through his phone.

your heart races in your chest as gojo's eyes rove over your body, his smirk sending a shiver down your spine. you try to keep your composure, but something about his gaze makes you feel completely bare and vulnerable.

gojo leans in closer, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “you know how bad i’ve been wanting to touch you like this?” you smile, tighten your arm around his neck as you draw him close with your lips almost touching his, “i don't know, tell me.”

gojo grins wickedly, his large hands sliding down to grip your ass possessively as he pulls you flush against him. “i've been dreaming about having you all to myself, just like this,” he growls lowly, his hot breath fanning across your lips, “wanted to strip you naked right here in class and show everyone who you belong to.”

he punctuates his words with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and soothing the sting with his tongue. one hand slides up under your shirt, fingers skimming along the sensitive skin of your lower back. “i'm going to mark every inch of you up later,” he promises darkly, nuzzling into your neck and biting down hard enough to leave a vivid hickey.

“ahh!” a moan leaving your lips as you feel him biting down on your neck, hard. his large hands gripping your ass, intentionally pulling your skirt up to flash geto your underwear. gojo's fingers dig into your ass cheeks harder, kneading them roughly as he bites down again, marking you with his teeth. his other hand moves higher, slipping beneath your shirt to caress your back. he smirks against your neck, feeling proud of himself for making you moan so loud in public.

“suguru can see everything,” he murmurs against your skin, knowing exactly what kind of view he'd given their teacher, “and i bet he loves seeing you like this.” gojo, still clinging to you like a second skin, leads you to the back row of the empty classroom, sitting in the chair and pulls you onto his lap. he positions you so that you're straddling him, your knees resting on either side of his thighs. he wraps his arms around your waist, his touch possessive and firm, roaming over your body.

geto, noticing the change in location, gets up from the teacher's desk and slowly makes his way over to join the two of you. he takes a seat at the desk next to gojo, lighting another cigarette as he does. as soon as you settle onto gojo's lap, he grips your hips tightly, grinding his hardness against your core. a low groan escapes him, his eyes closing in bliss as he savors the sensation of being so intimately connected to you.

“you feel incredible,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe before trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck. his hands roam freely over your body, squeezing your breasts through your shirt, dipping between your thighs to rub at your clit through your panties.

meanwhile, geto observes the scene with a heated gaze, taking slow drags of his cigarette as he watches gojo lose himself on you. gojo has you panting and writhing on his lap. there was no denying the heat in his gaze as he observed every move you made together. he exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes never leaving your form.

gojo lets out a deep, rumbling moan as you start moving your hips against him and your fingers hold on tightly on his shoulder. your wet heat rubbing along his thick length through your clothes. his hands squeeze your ass tighter, fingers digging into your flesh as he urges you on.

“that's it baby, ride my cock just like that,” he encourages, his voice husky with desire. as you grind against him, gojo reaches up to cup your breasts, thumbing over your nipples through your uniform. the friction combined with his touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins, making you even more desperate for relief.

geto watches intently, his own arousal evident in the bulge growing in his pants. he takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly as he drinks in the sight of you pleasuring yourself on gojo's lap.

you keeps on grinding on gojo's clothes cock, as you rest your cheek on his shoulder and turn to your right to look at geto. moaning and grinding as you look at him.

“fuck—” you whimpering.

geto's eyes darken with lust as you meet his gaze, your needy little whimpers filling the air. he stubs out his cigarette, tossing it aside carelessly as he rises from his seat and stalks towards you. gojo notices geto approaching, a wicked grin spreading across his face. he slides one hand up your thigh, pushing your skirt out of the way to expose your soaked panties to geto's hungry eyes.

“there you go, baby,” gojo purrs encouragingly as you continue to grind on his rock-hard erection. “let suguru see what a dirty girl you are for us.”

geto looms behind you, leaning down to press his lips to your ear. “that's right, princess,” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. geto leans in closer, pressing his body against yours from behind. his hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your hardened nipples through your shirt.

“such a good slut,” he purrs in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “wet and leaking for satoru.” his other hand slips between your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and teasing his finger tips over your slick folds. “suck on ’toru's cock, baby,” geto whispers in your ear, smiling as he look at the white-haired boy. gojo return the smiled, “why don't you show me some tricks like you did with the ice cream before, hm?” gently, he cups your cheek.

geto back to sit on the table next to yours while you go down between gojo's legs with your knees press against the wooden floor, getting uncomfortable. without breaking eye contact with the special grade sorcerer, you kiss his clothes twitching cock before licking a damp on his pants where his precum leak through his pants.

gojo groans, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. he looks down at you, his eyes locking with yours as his breath hitches in his throat, “oh, god, that feels so good,” he tears another hoarse groan when he throws his head back for a second. your hands deftly undo his uniform buttons until his abs are revealed. you gently caress his chest, a thrill of excitement coursing through you as you notice his happy trails. with a playful smile, you place a tender kiss on them.

gojo lets out another low moan as your hands begin to unbutton his uniform, his muscles tensing under your touch. he watches you as you kiss his happy trail, his eyes burning with desire. “you’re so good at this, baby,” he says, his voice a little hoarse.

gojo shivers at your touch, his abs flexing under your fingers. he lets out a soft moan as you kiss his happy trail, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “fuck. . . you’re driving me crazy,” he whispers.

gojo lets out a strangled moan as you kiss, lick and nibble on his abs. he can feel your hands on his hips, holding him in place, and it only drives him wilder with need. “oh god, baby,” he gasps, his hips arching up off the table involuntarily. geto watches from his seat, his eyes narrowing as he takes another drag from his cigarette. his jaw is slightly clenched, and he seems to be struggling to keep his own excitement in check.

gojo looks down at you, his eyes burning with desire. he can hardly keep himself still as you keep going, his body twitching and trembling with need. he reaches down, grabbing a handful of your hair and gently tugging it. “look at me,” he commands. you look up at gojo, meeting his intense gaze. his eyes are like pools of molten lava, burning with a hunger that only you can satisfy. he loosens his grip on your hair, gently stroking it instead. “you’re so goddamn beautiful, you know that?”

“am i?” you whisper. your pretty, sparkling eyes looking through gojo's soul as you painfully slow unfasten his belt. gojo watches you with hooded eyes, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he threads his fingers through your hair. gojo nods, his hand continuing to caress your hair. “yes, you are. you have no idea how much you drive me wild.” he gazes down at you, his eyes burning with desire and affection. “you’re the most gorgeous girl i’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he whispered. he bites down on his bottom lip, trying not to moan too loudly in response to your teasing tongue after it touches his abs for the second time.

he shifts slightly in his seat, allowing you better access to his throbbing member. you can practically see him grow longer and wider under your touch, the tip glistening with pre-cum. once freed from its confines, his impressive size stands proudly before you, a clear sign of how much he desires you. the head of his dick pulses, leaking pre-cum faster now that it’s been exposed.

seeing how eager gojo is for you only fuels your excitement further as you lick along his length from base to tip with slow deliberate licks. you swirl your tongue around the head of gojo's cock, collecting the pre-cum on your taste buds. the salty-sweet flavor explodes in your mouth, spurring you on to take him deeper. with a gentle suction, you envelop the first few inches of his shaft in your warm, wet mouth. your tongue dances along the underside, tracing the prominent vein while your hands continue to caress his chiseled abdomen.

“jesus, y/n...” gojo lets out a soft groan, his grip on your hair tightening ever so slightly. he watches with rapt attention as you bob your head up and down, taking more of him with each pass. from his perch on the table, he watches the erotic display unfold below him with his own cock strains against his pants, clearly eager for attention.

geto, who just lighten another cigarette, hold it between his left fingers after a faintly notification ring. he holds his phone on the other to look at the notification— a message from yuu. he reads a message from his underclassmen and chuckled, telling gojo that yaga caught shoko and nanami.

gojo’s eyes flicker up to geto when a chuckle passes his lips as the raven reads the message. “sounds like shoko and nanami got in trouble,” he says, a smirk on his face between his grunt, hand tightly around your hair. “l-looks like they’re the ones in the— fuck! doghouse n-now.” gojo rolls his eyes at the news, his attention still on you. “of course they got caught,” geto mutters, taking another puff with eyes still on the screen before adding, “those idiots have no sense of subtlety.”

he is smiling as he runs his hand on your hair, gently caressing them while his hips thrustin to your throat making his balls constantly slapping with your chin. “don't you think baby?” he ask. you— the girl who's cursing and calling him an asshole hour ago and now getting her throat fucked, going up and down on gojo-stupid-satoru's cock, only nodding.

gojo smiles as you nod, his hand continuing to gripping through your hair. he seems amused by the situation, enjoying having you at his mercy like this. geto puffs on his cigarette and watches the two of you from his seat, his eyes lingering on your lips around gojo's pink cock. “looks like you’re having fun down there,” he comments, a smirk on his face before chuckle.

gojo chuckles at geto’s comment, his hand giving your hair a harsh tug to push your head down to his cock until your nose touches his skin, forcing you to take his cock down to your throat. “shit!—” gojo groan, throwing his head back while you crying under his mercy and nail digging to his thigh. “she’s doing such a good job, so—ah! f-fucking good. . .” he mumble, back to fixed his eyes on you after he let you pushed yourself away from his cock, choking with tear down to your cheeks and chin wet from your saliva. “fuck, satoru, i can't fucking breath!” you look at him with tears in your eyes and lashes damp.

gojo chuckles at your words, his heart racing as he watches you come up for air. he gently wipes away the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, his gaze softening. “you did so well, baby,” he praises gently, his hand caressing the side of your face. geto lets out a low whistle from his seat, his eyes dark with desire. “god, you do look good like that.” gojo looks up at him, his eyes darkened with lust and a hint of ownership. “you see what i mean? she’s so goddamn perfect.”

geto nods in agreement, his eyes roaming over your body with unabashed hunger. “oh, we’re definitely keeping you all to ourselves.”

“come here,” gojo hand meets your hair once again, “we're not done yet, baby,” his deep voice gently lures you in, again, like it always did. he pushed your head towards his tight, “i'm gonna spoil you rotten after this, don't worry.” he leaned down to kiss your forehead before tugging your hair signaling for you to continue what you were doing.

“now be a good girl and finish what you started,” he husks, his eyes dark with desire. you feel another wave of heat wash over you as gojo's deep voice calls you back to him, his hand gently yet firmly guiding you towards his lap. you shiver as he kisses your forehead, his touch sending a spark of pleasure through your body. and when he tugs your hair, you can't help but comply, your body automatically moving back into position.

gojo lets out a low, possessive growl as you return to him. “that's my good girl,” he praises. you feel a shiver run down your spine at gojo's words, your body responding immediately to the low timber of his voice. you lean into his touch, letting him guide you back down to him, your heart racing with excitement. you can feel his body trembling slightly as you get closer to him, his muscles tense with anticipation. your lips are practically touching his length, your breath hot against his skin.

gojo's hand is still in your hair, and he gives it a slight tug, pressing your face closer to his still-hard cock. “go on, baby,” he coaxes softly. “make me feel good.”

with each languid lick you give his cock, gojo's grip tightens in your hair. he tilts his hips up, thrusting his length deeper into your mouth. his breathing grows heavier, a soft groan escaping him as he watches you work him over. the taste of his precum is intoxicating, making your mouth water for more. you swirl your tongue around the head of his dick, coating it thoroughly before sucking him into your mouth.

the warmth of your mouth envelops him completely, causing him to hiss through clenched teeth, “fuck. . . just like that.” you can feel his hands on your body, gently yet firmly guiding your movements as you continue your task. gojo's eyes are darkened with desire as he watches you, his gaze fixed on your every move. he loves seeing you like this, completely submissive to his commands.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, his voice thick with arousal, “so obedient. so perfect for us.” gojo's hips buck involuntarily as you deepen the suction, your throat constricting around his girth. he throws his head back, a string of curse words falling from his lips as he loses himself in the pleasure of your oral skills. your hands move to his balls, gently massaging them as you bob your head up and down his shaft. each stroke brings you closer to the root, your nose brushing against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock.

gojo's fingers tighten in your hair, guiding your movements as he grunts and moans, lost in the blissful sensations you're providing. the room fills with the sounds of slurping, sucking, and gojo's increasingly erratic breathing.

gojo's control starts slipping away as you continue to worship his cock with such enthusiasm. his hips begin thrusting upwards instinctively, seeking more of your warm, wet mouth. a low growl rumbles in his chest as he watches you work him over so skillfully. “shit... i'm gonna cum if you keep going like this...”

his warning comes out strained and ragged, but there's no real conviction behind it. instead, he pushes your head down further onto his cock, urging you to take all of him inside your mouth once again. gojo's control snaps, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. with a hoarse cry, he tenses, his cock pulsing violently as he spills his hot seed down your throat.

wave after wave of his release coats your tongue and the back of your mouth, the salty-sweet flavor overwhelming your senses. you swallow greedily, milking every last drop from his quivering member. as the aftershocks subside, gojo carefully pulls you off his spent cock, his chest heaving with exertion.

“you're incredible,” he rasps, still catching his breath, “i don't know what i'd do without you, baby.” he looks down at you with a mix of satisfaction and adoration, stroking your cheek affectionately, “you really know how to make a man feel good and bring them to their knees,” he says approvingly, gives your cheek a light pinch before pulling you up onto his lap.

his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close against his chest. you can hear his heartbeat quickening again, signaling his arousal wasn't fully satiated yet. with a sly smirk, he presses his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss. his tongue explores your mouth eagerly, tasting himself on your lips. gojo chuckles softly between the kiss, his voice still rough from the intensity of his climax.

as the kiss breaks, gojo smirks down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “but let's not forget about our lovely suguru,” he whispers suggestively, nodding toward the other end of the table where geto is watching intently. he gestures for you to crawl over to geto while he cleans himself up. geto smirks, leaning back slightly on the table as he watches you two bask in the afterglow of gojo's climax. his eyes gleam with possessive pride, clearly pleased by the display of devotion between you and his best friend.

“i think we've established that by now,” geto drawls, taking a long drag from his cigarette. he exhales slowly, the smoke curling around his head as he regards you with a heated gaze. “but after my turn, we are not done with you yet, princess,” his voice deepen, soften.

he sets his cigarette aside, standing up from the table with a predatory grace. geto moves towards you, his movements fluid and deliberate, like a cat stalking its prey. “don't worry about satoru for now,” geto purrs, his voice low and seductive, “it's my turn to play with my favorite toy.”

geto reaches out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet. he spins you around, pressing you against the table as he leans in close behind you. his breath tickles your ear as he whispers, “time to show satoru just how well you can please two men at once.” his free hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher as he explores your wetness. “soaked and ready for me,” he murmurs approvingly, circling your clit with his thumb. “you love being used for our pleasure, don't you?”

“oh, suguru..” a soft moan escape from your lips.

without waiting for an answer, geto sinks two fingers deep inside you, pumping them in and out at a relentless pace. his other hand wraps around your waist, holding you steady as he fucks you with his fingers, making sure you feel every inch of his digits stretching you open.

between your whimpering and moaning you glance over at gojo, who's watching the scene unfold with rapt attention. his eyes are dark with desire, his cock already starting to stir again at the sight of geto claiming you so roughly.

too busy drinking on gojo's spend expression you don't realize geto positions himself between your spread thighs, lining up his thick erection with your entrance. without warning, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

“oh god!” you cry out, your body arching off the table as geto's girth stretches you impossibly wide. he sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with reckless abandon, each stroke hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that sends sparks flying behind your eyelids. your hands gripping at nothing on the table while geto fuck your from behind.

gojo's gaze never leaves yours, his expression a mix of awe and hunger as he watches geto take you with such ferocity. “fuck, look at her take it,” geto's command sends a thrill through your body, heightening your arousal even further. as instructed, you look over at gojo, who is watching intently with half-lidded eyes and parted lips. seeing both men so focused on you, so consumed with desire, is incredibly arousing.

“s-suguru..” you gasp as geto aligns his throbbing cock with your slick entrance, teasing you with the head before plunging into your clenching walls once again. a loud moan rips from your throat as he buries himself to the hilt inside you, filling you completely. your palm nailed unstable against the tabletop, desperate for support.

each thrust is powerful and precise, designed to drive you insane with pleasure. geto's hands grip your hips tightly, anchoring you to him as he pounds into you relentlessly.

your cries of ecstasy fill the air, mingling with the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin as geto takes you hard and fast. sweat beads on your brow, trailing down your sides as he ravages your body, claiming you as his own.

gojo's gaze remains locked on the erotic spectacle, his cock twitching with renewed interest. “such a perfect little slut for us,” he praises, his voice husky with lust. “love seeing you get fucked senseless.”

geto picks up speed, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. “gonna fill this cunt up,” he snarls, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. “make you mine, all mine.”

geto's declaration sends a shiver down your spine, his dominant words igniting a fire within you. you're lost in the intense pleasure of his possession, your mind foggy with need as he continues to pound into you mercilessly.

“yes, yes!” you cry out, your nails raking down his arm as the pleasure builds to an unbearable crescendo. “fill me up, suguru! claim me!“ geto's words send a shiver down your spine, his dominant tone igniting something primal within you. you meet his thrusts eagerly, rocking your hips to take him deeper, harder.

just when you think you can't take anymore, geto's movements become jerky and uncoordinated. with a guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt one final time and holds still, his cock throbbing violently as he spills his hot seed deep inside you.

the sensation of his cum flooding your womb triggers your own climax, waves of pure bliss crashing over you as you come undone beneath him. his release triggers your own climax, and you come undone beneath him, screaming your pleasure for all to hear. your inner muscles clamp down around his spurting cock, milking him for every last drop as waves of ecstasy crash over you.

as the aftershocks of their shared climax ripple through your bodies, geto pulls out slowly, his cum leaking from your still quivering pussy. he steps back, admiring the sight of you sprawled across the table, panting and spent.

“perfect,” he murmurs appreciatively, his voice laced with satisfaction. he wipes his cum-covered length on your inner thigh, smearing you with evidence of his claim. gojo watches the entire exchange with hooded eyes, his own arousal evident by the bulge straining against his pants. “damn, suguru,” he says enviously, “i didn't know you could be so... gentle.”

the feelings of void inside you, the feeling of never getting enough of him making you crawl down from the table and get on your knee in front of geto. your warm hand takes his silk-with-cum cock into your hands, stroking it gently as your tongue licks his overly sensitive lip, cleaning his cum with your tongue.

geto's breath hitches as you tend to his spent cock, your tender ministrations a stark contrast to the rough fucking he just gave you. he leans back against the table, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss as you lap up every trace of his release.

“mmm, careful there,” he warns, his voice low and gravelly, “still super sensitive after that orgasm.” despite his words, geto doesn't pull away, seeming to enjoy the intimate act. his hands find their way to your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he guides your mouth along his shaft.

when you reach the tip, he tugs gently, encouraging you to swirl your tongue around the sensitive head. a shudder runs through him, and he lets out a contented sigh. “that's it, baby. clean me up nice and thorough.”

“umm..” you hummed against his length, slowly running your tongue from the base before moving under his mushroom tip. your thumb gently caressing his tip. geto's hips give a small jerk as your talented tongue explores every inch of his cock, from the heavy base to the delicate underside of the head. he hums in approval, his fingers tightening in your hair as he savors the sensations.

when you focus your attentions on the sensitive area beneath the tip, geto's breath catches. his cock twitches in your hand, and he lets out a low, needy moan. “fuck, just like that,” he encourages, his voice strained with pleasure, “use that clever tongue of yours.”

as you continue to worship his spent length, geto's other hand comes up to join the first, cradling your face as he guides your movements. his touch is gentle yet possessive, a reminder of the dominance he displayed earlier. despite being thoroughly used, he seems to crave more of your affection, your submission.

geto's chest rises and falls with each slow, deliberate lick you bestow upon his oversensitive cock. his hips twitch slightly, as if trying to follow the path of your tongue. the touch of your thumb to his lip elicits a soft moan, his head falling back in surrender.

“that's so good,” he breathes, his voice heavy with pleasure, “keep going like that, and i might just have to start getting hard again.” as if to prove his point, geto's cock twitches in your grasp, the tip already beginning to swell with renewed interest. you continue your sensual ministrations, determined to bring him to full mast once more.

geto's warning only spurs you on, your tongue dancing along his length with increased fervor. you can feel his cock growing harder in your hand, the veins pulsing with renewed blood flow. his moans grow louder, more desperate, as he loses himself to the pleasure you're providing.

“ah, fuck... right there,” he gasps, his hips bucking slightly as you focus your attention on the sensitive spot beneath the head. “don't stop, please...” geto's grip on your hair tightens, almost painfully so, but you don't mind. in fact, it only adds to the intensity of the moment, making you feel owned, claimed by this powerful man. you redouble your efforts, determined to bring him to the brink once more, to make him surrender completely to your skilled mouth.

your diligent efforts soon pay off, as geto's cock begins to thicken and lengthen in your hand. a bead of precum forms at the tip, glistening in the dim light of the room. his breathing grows ragged, and his fingers tighten in your hair, urging you on.

“nnngh, that's it,” he grunts, his hips rolling subtly as he tries to grind against your mouth, “want to feel that tongue on my cock again.” emboldened by his reaction, you redouble your efforts, swirling your tongue around the head and tracing the ridges of his shaft. geto's moans grow louder, more desperate, as he teeters on the brink of another climax.

“just a bit more,” he pleads, his voice strained with need, “need to cum again, baby. make me lose control.” geto's pleas for release fuel your desire to please him, to see him unravel beneath your touch. you increase the pace of your strokes, your tongue working overtime to bring him closer to the edge.

“fuck, yeah...“ he groans, his body tensing as he approaches the precipice. his cock pulses in your hand, the vein throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat. another bead of precum appears, this time dripping onto your waiting tongue.

“cum for me suguru,” you murmur against his length. encouraged by his responsiveness, you lean forward, taking the swollen head into your mouth. your lips stretch wide to accommodate his girth, your tongue flicking against the sensitive spot underneath.

“shit, right there,” he gasps, his voice laced with raw desire, “gonna... ahh, fuck, gonna cum.” you increase the pace of your ministrations, your tongue flicking over his length with relentless precision. each stroke sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through him, and he can't help but rock his hips in time with your movements.

“shit, that's it...” he groans, his eyes squeezed shut as he fights against the wave of pleasure building within him. “gonna fill your mouth this time, baby.” his cock pulses in your hand, the tip gushing with precum. you can taste it on your tongue, salty and musky, and it only serves to fuel your desire to bring him to completion.

with a few more expert strokes, geto reaches his limit. his body tenses, a low growl escaping his lips as he cums once more. geto's cock throbs in your hand as his orgasm hits, his thick seed spurting from the tip to coat your eager tongue. you swallow every drop, savoring the taste and texture of his release.

“mmm, tastes so good,” you murmur appreciatively, your lips still wrapped around his length. you continue to suckle softly, milking every last drop from his cock before finally pulling away. you look at the man as she shaking almost uncontrollably from the action, drawing a satisfied chuckle from your lips.

geto takes a deep, shaky breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort. his cock gives one final twitch, releasing a tiny trickle of cum onto your hand. he looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion.

“you sure know how to handle a guy,” he says, his voice a husky whisper. he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tender touch that contrasts sharply with the roughness of moments ago.

“breathe, suguru,” you advise with a smirk, wiping a stray dribble of cum from the corner of your mouth. “you look like you've seen a ghost.” you chuckle as you stand up from your kneeling position before turning your attention to gojo, seeing him sitting on the table beside you with cigarettes between his fingers and phone on his other hand.

he then turns his gaze towards gojo, who was watching the entire display with evident fascination. “what do you think, satoru?” eto asks, a smug grin spreading across his face. “think she's got skills?” gojo raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable behind the smoke curling from his cigarette, “she certainly does,”

hearing the praise fill the air, you lean toward gojo, placing both hands on the table as you close the distance between you and the white-haired man. “you think so?” you ask, smiling before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

gojo leans into the kiss, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek as his tongue slips past your lips. he pulls back after a moment, a sly smile playing on his lips. “i knew you had potential when i first saw you,” he says, his voice low and husky. “but this... this is impressive even for you.”

he takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly as he regards you with a heated gaze. “i think we should celebrate your newfound skills properly,” he suggests, his eyes glinting with mischief. “how about a threesome with suguru here? we could really put those talents of yours to the test.”

you snort before scoffing— the mocking one with no bite, cleaning your clammy hands with a paper from geto's textbook. “yeah right, like hell i'll let you two have a threesome with me here, in this stupid school,” you retort before throwing the paper to the ground. gojo chuckles, the sound is rich and smooth like velvet. “oh, come now,” he coos, reaching out to trail a finger down your arm. “we wouldn't dream of doing anything inappropriate here, where anyone could walk in on us.”

he leans in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers, “besides, i think suguru would be more than happy to join us somewhere private. don't you agree, big boy?” gojo glances over at geto, who's been quietly observing the exchange with a predatory gleam in his eye.

the suggestion seems to stir something within geto, because he suddenly stands up, towering over both of you. “i'm game if you are,” he rumbles, his voice deep and husky with desire. “but we should probably take this somewhere else.”

you laugh with no sense of humor at the mention that they don't want to do anything inappropriate at school. “funny how you mention you won't do anything inappropriate here while i just give you two heads and let you fuck me,” you again laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm as you turn to gojo, finger pointing at him for emphasis.

gojo arches an eyebrow at your pointed remark, a slow smile spreading across his face. “ah, but that's different,” he purrs, catching your finger and bringing it to his lips. he places a soft kiss on the pad of your fingertip before releasing it. “that was just a little preview of what's to come.”

he stands up, smoothing out his shirt as he moves to stand beside geto. the two of them loom over you, their combined presence overwhelming in the best possible way. “so, what do you say?“ gojo presses, his eyes locked on yours. “ready to take this party elsewhere and really let loose?”

geto nods in agreement, his own gaze intense and hungry as he waits for your response. it's clear they're not going to take no for an answer, but somehow, that only makes the prospect more enticing.

you scrunch your nose, “you two are hornballs, you know that right?”

both geto and gojo share a look, their amusement is clear despite the serious expressions on their faces. “well, when it comes to you, we seem to lose all reason,” gojo admits, his tone is light but sincere.

geto steps closer, his large frame casting a shadow over you. “and we don't mind admitting it,” he adds gruffly, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. “you make us forget our own names sometimes.”

he reaches out, tracing a finger down your cheek before slipping it behind your neck. his grip is firm yet gentle, pulling you closer until your bodies are almost touching. “so, what's it going to be?” he murmurs against your lips. “are you ready to lose yourself to us?”

just when you and geto start having fun, gojo's voice annoyingly rings in the room. “as much as i enjoy having fun here, i think we need to leave,” he shifts from his phone to the two of you.

waving his phone in the air, “just got a text from yuu that yaga is still looking for us.” geto lets out a low growl of frustration as gojo announces that yaga is still looking for them. he clearly doesn't want to stop, but he knows they have to be careful not to get caught.

“what is wrong with him?” you groan in annoyance as geto help you fix your uniform, “yaga acting like he's never young when he's worse than us,” you grumble in annoyance. gojo chuckles at your frustration, a sympathetic expression on his face. “yeah, he’s just being yaga.”

geto finishes fixing your uniform, his fingers deftly adjusting the collar and straightening the hem. “yaga's just trying to keep us in line,” he says, though there's a hint of bitterness in his voice. despite his words, he can't deny that yaga has a point— they shouldn't be causing trouble when they have bigger issues to deal with.

gojo pockets his phone, his eyes still sparkling with mischief despite the seriousness of the situation. “come on, let's find someplace less public to hang out,” he suggests, putting his cock back to it's coffin. “maybe we can convince yaga to lighten up once he sees how well behaved we are.”

geto rolls his eyes, his annoyance evident. “he’s being a pain in the ass, that’s what he’s being.” gojo nods in agreement, zipping his pants up and fastening his belt. “but he’s our teacher, so we’d better listen to him for now.”

“he teaches shit, always making us a punch bag with his stupid toys,” you spat. gojo and geto both laugh at your comment, knowing that you’re not exaggerating. yaga can indeed be quite rough when it comes to training. “yeah, he can be a little hard on us,” gojo agrees, running a hand through his hair. “but he’s just trying to make us stronger, you know?”

“whatever,” you wave your hand nonchalantly. gojo lets out a soft chuckle, finding your nonchalance amusing. geto chimes in, “don’t be too upset, princess. we’ll make it up to you later.” gojo took your bag and sled it over his shoulder, along with his bag.

“promises, promises,” you tease, giving geto a playful shove as you follow gojo out of the classroom. the halls are mostly empty, which means you can move quickly without drawing attention to themselves.

as you step outside, the fresh air hits you, cooling your flushed cheeks. “so, where to?” gojo asks, glancing around to get his bearings. he leads the way, choosing a path that will lead you away from prying eyes and towards a quieter part of the academy grounds.

you smile at geto after he pulls you closer by your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze in the process and kiss your shoulder. the raven kisses your cheek before he speaks, “how about we stop at my dorm, hm? continued what we left before,” his voice teasing you making you giggle as you look into his eyes.

a devilish grin spreads across geto's face at his own suggestion, his dark eyes flashing with lustful intent. “mmm, that does have a certain appeal, don't you think baby?“ he murmurs, his voice low and raspy. “but we'd better be quick about it.”

with that, he takes your hand and starts walking faster, eager to reach his dorm room and continue where they left off. gojo follows close behind, his eyes never leaving you as he watches every movement with keen interest.

you laugh as geto starts running, holding your hand, causing both men to join in the giggling. gojo chuckles softly, the sound muffled by the rush of wind against his ears. “seems like someone's eager,” he teases, glancing back at geto with a smirk. the sight of you giggling and bouncing alongside them only serves to fuel their excitement further.

once you reach geto's dorm, he wastes no time unlocking the door and pushing it open. “after you,” he says, gesturing grandly for you to enter first. as soon as you cross the threshold, he closes the door behind you, sealing off the world outside and leaving nothing but the three of you in the dimly lit space.

[cherryheairt]

Hidden Truths pt.2

Cregan x wife!reader

named reader no description, from house Glover

masterlist

part 1

thank y'all so much for the kind words and eagerness to see this part. Please forgive me for not replying to all asks being sent to inbox, you'll understand with the chap lol. The pressure was so real I had planned to write other things between pt 1 and 2 but I dropped everything to do this between work and sleep lol

changed the og ending because so many people thought it would be more fitting and I agreed lol

anon pointed out my mistake on glover and bolton im so sorry for that confusion yall it is meant to be glover originally. i made too many mistakes im a mess rn

Ernest makes it to Cregan's solar first, Ron not far on his heels. Panting, the younger speaks up first when Cregan Stark shoots them a bewildered look whilst hunched over his oak desk.

"Was Lady Stark due for some business today, My Lord?" He asked, catching his breath as Cregan sat up in his seat, attention fully on the guards.

"Not any that I'm aware of. Where is my wife?" He asked, glancing outside of his small window to the blistering storm outside. There was no way she would be anywhere except her chambers—not after he caught her soothing Brandon to sleep. The sight had melted his heart immediately, glad to see his wife finally finding it in her to go see him, to give him a chance.

Though, he could not blame her, of course. He could still remember the day he brought the Stark babe home, and how he dreaded the meet throughout his months of journeying home to Winterfell.

Aelys had been on the forefront of his mind, even through the slimy politicking of King's Landing. The wait was only made ever longer by the fact that the party Cregan traveled North with had to wait until Brandon was old enough to travel, too. Moons went by painstakingly slow, and Cregan moved to load the carriage for the boy as soon as the Maester gave his word that Bran would not be suseptible to the outdoors during long durations on the road.

Cregan dismounted his grey mare, patting her on the neck in thanks before the stable boy guided her back to her designated place. With a tense sigh, he rolled his shoulders and opened the carriage door that held Brandon and his new wet nurse. Sara, his older sister, would join the family in a few short weeks while she continued her stay at the Blackwood's. He wished she was here to console his wife in the coming days. Gods know that he cannot, not when the news of his betrayal had to come from his own mouth. As he promised himself it should be. The sinner should say his own penance, no one else. A Stark is a slave to his oaths.

Thanking Greya kindly, Cregan picked up Bran in his arms. His onyx black curls shifted against the crook of his arm as he shifted the babe to be held better. The four moon-old babe fussed as he was removed from the woman's comforting hold. As if was, Cregan was more of a stranger to the young babe than his wet nurse was. Unfortunately, the Lord had not spent the amount of time with him as he knew he should have. The thoughts and guilt racked up in his mind and burned at the back of his throat every day, leaving Cregan to promise himself that in Winterfell he would spend more time with him.

Another promise for the list.

Cregan stepped through the courtyard's archway, holding his breath as he watched his beautiful wife standing by the Keep's doors, shivering but still insisting that she come out to meet her husband. Her smile was as lovely and bright as he remembered, a much more contented and relieved smile than she had sent him off to battle with. That day, she could hardly stifle her tears back as she hugged him 'goodbye'. He felt quite the same. Cregan would never leave for Southern business again, not in his lifetime. Once had been enough to last generations, though he was sure the Stark family would not go too long before being summoned again.

Her face shifted from joy to confusion in a matter of seconds. As Cregan continued straight towards her, Bran bundled up in so many wools and pelts that it entirely engulfed the babe. She lifted her skirts to step down to meet him. Originally, Cregan had wished to scoop her up in his arms and place a sweet kiss on her cold lips, but the bundle between them prevented such things. He could not greet her so sweetly and then present the bastard to her. Ripping the bandage off a fresh wound, Cregan would not be deceitful for longer than he had been during his moons of silence in the South.

"Husband," She smiled, reaching out to touch his chilled face, pink in the cheeks and ears from exposure. "You should come inside. A feast has been prepared for you—and your men, of course." She was antsy on her feet, eager to get inside to proper reunite with her husband, no bystanders gawking.

Speaking of bystanders—Cregan's entire party had separated and dispersed around the courtyard. They met their own wives, parents, or children as they laughed and conversed. Though, the loud and joyous clamor soon died down when whispers had been spread around by those who already knew of Cregan's boy. Wives that knew Aelys well stared in pity, clutching their shawls to their chests and shaking their heads quietly at their Lord.

He fought the urge to hang his head.

She had not yet seen the babe, only the cloth surrounding him.

"Cregan?" She whispered, tilting her head with concerned eyes. "What is wrong?" His sweet, sweet wife. Her first priority had been him over anything since the days of their honeymoon—the days she had confessed to be extremely anxious about during their courtship. She was a Northern woman herself, hardened and shaped like an ice sculpture but retaining her warm heart and spirit. Cregan had intimidated her greatly, according to her giggling confession, and she had feared he may be a cruel and selfish man since he could easily do as he wished to his Lady wife. He proved her wrong, apparently, getting to know his wife throughout their private honeymoon. They had a bond like no other, always at each other's side and filling in for the weaknesses of the other during their duties as leaders.

Cregan's brow furrowed deep, blinking away as he felt his nose start to sting.

Only then, when his glossy eyes met hers silently, did she glance down to the cloths. Slowly reaching up a shaky, gloved hand adjusted the pelts so she could peer past them. Gasping at the pale babe, Aelys' eyes sharply met his. A million thoughts raced through her head, clearly showing in her facial expressions. Not assuming the worst, as she probably should have done, Aelys asked, "has one of your men died? Is this babe an orphan?" Always so trusting of her Lord husband, something Cregan had admired and was eternally grateful for throughout their marriage.

"Aelys..." He cleared his throat when his voice came out much too quiet and hoarse. "This is my son." He declared to her, and to the onlooking crowd who did not bother hiding scandalized gasps.

Her eyes blinked in rapid succession, shaking her head lightly and smiling. "Don't jest, Cregan. We have no son."

His silence met her words. When he did not cave and admit to messing with his wife, Aelys shook her head more firmly. "No." She said, whispering. Her eyes clamped shut as she breathed in and out deeply, only opening to glance down at the babe, scrutinizing its appearing and comparing every freckle to Cregan's. "Don't do this to me, please. You would never do this to me." Her words were nearly lost to the air.

"It was one time, I swear it on my honor and Stark name." Cregan told her.

"On your name?" She harshly bit, stepping away from Cregan as if he had burned her. "Your honor? You swore on your honor the day we said our vows under the Weirwood tree. Under OUR Gods. Did that mean nothing to you? Did I—" She gasped out, covering her mouth with the back of her hand and clutching her stomach. A choking sob rippled through her, and Greya stepped forward to gingerly take Brandon from Cregan's grasp. His arms fell to his side, clenching as he stopped himself from holding his wife in comfort. She could find no solace in the man who hurt her so.

"I thought you wished to wait. You told me you wanted it, too. Was it just not me you wanted a family with?" She asked, cranking her neck up to look at her shameful husband.

"Aelys, I did—I do!" He started, stepping forward to wipe a hot tear from her cheek.

Flinching away from his touch, she looked up at him with the same mistrust and solemn acceptance that he found in a dying prey's eyes. Suddenly, Aelys looked to become aware of the crowd. Glancing around self-consciously, she straightened herself upright like the people expected of a Lady Stark. "The feast is growing cold. Enjoy it while it's warm." She loudly adressed the weary party and their families, who awkwardly moved to shuffle inside the dining hall. With a final glance past Cregan's shoulder to the wet nurse, Aelys was gone.

Seeing the shared glances of horror between the two, Cregan cleared his throat. "Where is my wife, boys?"

Ernest swallowed harshly, not daring to look him in the eye. "She—she said that she 'ad business in Winter Town. That you approved of it, I swear!"

Ron nodded so quickly that his head of curls messed about and framed his face further. The snow still on their heads and shoulders had now melted in the warmth of the Great Keep, reminding Cregan of the harsh weather the guards had to bear all day. They were trained and honed for such conditions, Aelys was not.

"Yes, Lord Stark! We couldn't disobey our Lady's words." He insisted.

"You think I'd make my wife go settle business in Winter Town during a blizzard?" He growled out, standing from his seat and storming between them to his doorway, where he turned on them and saw them both flinch in shock. "Which way did she go?"

"Uhm..." they shared another glance. "She said Winter Town, Lord Stark. What other way would she have gone?"

Cursing, Cregan grabbed Ice and lifted the great sword to his shoulder. He left without another word to anybody, knowing every second counted when it came to finding her. "Bloody fools." He scoffed to himself, mind turning and thinking of places she might head to.

Clearly, not Winter Town. She had no business there, not that he knew of, and although they had not been speaking these past moons he still oversaw all of her duties as Lady. Though, her reports of dealings and responsibilities was done through the Maester rather than her own mouth. A middleman, the poor elder had become. Cregan endured the silence without complaint, knowing his own actions brought it upon him.

His actions brought her further away from him than he perhaps estimated. He knew the babe would tear a rift in their relationship, and knew it would take a long time before they could even begin to mend it—but he never wanted it to go this far.

Back to her childhood home, to the Glovers in the Motte? Or, perhaps she found a secret lover that would meet her in the storm like a destined and tragic fairytale. He would not blame her for seeking love in another, though his never faded.

His quickened pace was only interrupted by Sara. "What is the rush for, brother?" The elder woman asked, dark brows furrowed with concern. Other the past four moons she had gained her strength back, looking the picture of health now that she was back home and recovering. Cregan could barely meet her gaze, looking between her and the doors ahead.

"My wife is gone." He told her honestly, shifting impaitiently in place. "I don't know where to, but I'm going to search for her."

Sara's dark eyes saddened, face scrunching up in grief. "This is my fault. I should have—"

Cregan stopped her immediately, taking her firmly by the shoulders and dipping his neck down to level himself. "No. It is mine alone. I made the choice to do this, I shall face the consequences of my actions."

"Cregan..." she sniffed, but did not allow tears to fall so easily.

"I'll be back." He promised. "With my wife."

Was she running away?

Cregan swung open the Great Keep's door, blinking staggardly at the wind gust that slammed into him. Not bothing to close it behind him, Cregan stormed to the stables and tacked his horse up. In a matter of minutes he was off and out of Winterfell's expansive walls.

His only option was to head towards Glover territory. It was a two days ride normally, but the storm would make it double or perhaps longer. She would not be far ahead, not even two hours ahead of Cregan and unknowing of how close he might be on her trail.

There were not even hoofprints left in her wake. The snow immediately covered all tracks and left only pristine fields of white powdery frost.

He would not know where she was until he spotted her amongst the white. Cobalt, her black stallion, was sure to stand out within close enough distance.

Until he did see her, he could only wait.

And it was exactly that; a waiting game. Cregan took only three days to reach the Deepwood Motte, faster than he anticipated. He was weary and exhausted, but still pumping with adrenaline and awake off sheer will. Here, in the safe walls of Harriston Glover's keep, his mare could finally have more than a few measly hours of rest, as well as food and water.

His fingers and toes burned with the edges of frostbite. Even in his thick protective gear, he was not entirely safe. The few, small fires that he built for himself in the cold nights gave him only a semblance of warmth. Each step felt like five as his vision blurred and weaned in and out. He steadied himself on a pole, waiting for his father-in-law to come downstairs to greet him. And, if luck be on his side, his Lady wife.

He owed more than an apology.

Harriston was a stern man, though not unreasonable. He loved his children and ensured they had only the best; education, caretakers, spouses. His eldest two children married long before Aelys was even of age to be wed, both men marrying Northern girls that they'd grown up with. When it came to his youngest and only girl, the man knew Lord Stark would be a most auspicious match. The Houses had long been friends and allies, and keeping the tradition of partnership thriving through marriage was no strange thing. He'd been even happier when Aelys wrote to him weekly, describing how enchanted she had been with her new husband and thanking him profusely for giving her a blessed match.

Now, the greyed man stood in front of Cregan with a deepset frown and a fierce look in his eyes. "Lord Stark. I thought you'd be busy in Winterfell."

Cregan cleared his throat, focusing on him intently. It made sense that the man was cross with him, especially after he assumed that Aelys had sent him a few lengthy letters telling of Cregan's infidelity. "I came to see my wife, and to bring her back home."

Harriston huffed a sarcastic laugh. "You send her back home, only to come yourself first?" He gestured around with his arms up.

Cregan tensed, "first? Is Aelys not already here?"

Lord Glover matched in his seriousness. "Aelys wrote to me three days ago, informing me that you had sent her here to be away from danger."

"I did not send her anywhere."

"You mean you do not know where my daughter is?" He asked, voice low and firm as he stepped closer. Though Harriston was a fine swordsman and a battle-worn fighter, Cregan did not fear the Lord's wrath, for he could easily best him in combat.

He did, however, have the brains to fear a furious father's vengeance.

His heart nearly beat out of his chest. "And she stated that she was on her way here?"

"I think I know what she said, boy." Lord Glover hissed. "Where is Aelys?"

"She must still be out there," Cregan murmured breathlessly, turning on his heel and running out of the fort's doors and back out to the stables. Cobalt was in none of them, confirmed to him that Lord Glover was not simply lying and hiding his wife away from him.

Cregan decided to take another horse—one well rested and ready to travel in the packed snow, unlike his own weary mare. Guiding it to the doors where Lord Glover had exited and looked at Cregan with a fear unlike the learned man usually expressed, he asked: Where are the kennels?"

When Aelys left to brave the storm alone, she had not anticipated the sheer unforgivable nature of it. Living in the North her whole life, she'd long grown used to cold weather and hunting for herself. Hunts often lasted days or weeks, being times of comraderie and companionship when out in the wilderness with your people. She had not been hunting in years, much less alone.

The snow had slowed her travel significantly and clouded her navigational judgment. North became South, and East became West after so long of walking. With the skies so darkened, it was even harder to tell the time of day. With every stop she made and every fire that burnt out too quickly for her to be fully warm, Aelys had grown desperate.

She found shelter in a half-conscious act to preserve her on life. Now, curled up with only her fur-lined dress and the pelt she had brought from Winterfell, she could not help but begin to accept that she would die in this cave.

Aelys thought of her life in a few curt thoughts.

She had only lived twenty and two years. She grew up with loving parents and two elder brothers who doted on her greatly. She married Lord Stark of Winterfell, someone who took her heart quicker than she'd ever thought possible. She would die here, alone and cold because of him.

She thought of all the things she had wanted from life. Not much, for a Lord's daughter. Aelys had always wanted love and gave love in return. Trusted perhaps too much and did not gain from it. She wished for children, eventually, and could never have them now. She wished to see the warm deserts of Dorne and the lush gardens of Old Town in her retirement.

Aelys Bolton would not see anything but the North, nothing but the cold snow and frost-tippes trees around. They had grown familiar and warm.

Warm.

She was so warm, now.

Aelys closed her eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of better days.

"You do not wish to return home to a babe in the nursery?" Aelys asked, voice low and humming as Cregan lay beneath her on their shared bed. Most men did, misliking the process of pregnacy but loving the outcome, for it could only serve to benefit them.

"We will have plenty of time for babes when I come back to you." He replied, brushing his lips over her the crown of her head. "What kind of husband would I be if I left you to deal with the struggles of pregnancy and birth all alone?"

"I won't be alone. Sara is staying, too. I will have a sister to keep me company and complain all my grievances about my missing husband to her." She said amusedly.

Cregan paused in his rhythmic stoking of her spine. "Sara has asked to come, my heart."

She paused, too, lifting her head from his chest and squinting at him. "Sara can come down to King's Landing with you, but I cannot?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "She will be staying at the Blackwood's residence at Raventree Hall, not King's Landing. I would never endanger either of you by bringing you to the capitol. She has been offered guest housing by her friend, Alysanne Blackwood, during my time down there."

She huffed, conceding to his words and dropping her head back down, listening again to his ever-steady heartbeat. "Must be nice to see the Riverlands." She said lightly. "I hear they have fields of flowers growing year-round."

"And the permanent smell of fish and mildew." Cregan added with a snort. "You're not missing anything, I swear it to you. Sara and I will be gone for a short period of time. I intend to leave as soon as things are settled and put to rest."

Aelys hummed her quiet acknowledgment. There was no argument to be had, not when Cregan was set to leave in the morning. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." She said cheekily, though there was plenty truth to the statement. Alone, she would serve as political head to Winterfell and the temporary 'Warden' while Cregan was missing in action. She had her advisors, consisting of Cregan's trusted councilmen, but the hole that she knew would sink itself into her heart already wore her into her.

Cregan laughed at her words, nodding. "Aye, my love, you will do perfectly. I'm sorry to leave you alone for so long, but I have no doubt you'll do great." He said proudly, kissing her nose. She scrunched it up at the ticklish feeling, allowing a girlish giggle to leave her throat.

"Don't be gone too long, husband. Your wife needs you here." She said, tilting her head up to meet his lips.

"I would never dream of it."

The moons passed by with no reprieve for Aelys. As Winterfell's sole head, her days were busy from dawn til dusk. Letters were exchanged sporadically with her husband while he helped Aegon iii ascend to his place on the iron throne.

Until, one day, his letters ceased. It had already been a full year without Cregan Stark, and Aelys was beginning to grow used to the lack of her husband and sister by her side. Routine had grown to be instinct for her, breezing through her duties like she'd done them all her life. The only thing missing was her lover.

Concerned, Aelys checked in with the resident Maester to ensure Cregan's wellbeing.

When he paused, lips pursed and hands clutching at his cane with a stress unlike the calm elder, he rasped out his own fears. "I, too, have received no word from Lord Stark. Though, no news has come of us death in the capitol, so he must simply be occupied."

Occupied at the end of the war? When Aegon had already been named King and all the men put to trial were either declared guilty or innocent? The brunt of the work was over and done with—told by Cregan himself.

So why was he silent for an entire moon?

It was another fortnite before the Stark wrote back to her. The letter was curt and brief.

My dearest Aelys,

Forgive my abrupt silence these past weeks. Please know that you have been on my mind throughout this entire time.

Sara has grown sick in Raventree Hall, and has not been able to travel with the host of men I have sent back home to the North. We will stay behind for another few moons while she is in recovery. I will return to you soon.

With love,

Cregan Stark.

It was shorter than his other letters by many paragraphs, pages even. Cregan left out no details when describing his miserable times in the capitol. Aelys found herself much enjoying his theatrical melodramatic retelling and was rendered bemused by this letter. Still, she continued to lead with no pause for breaks.

Three more moons later, and Cregan wrote that he was mere days away from Winterfell. Without Sara Snow, unfortunately, as she was still not entirely recovered, but his party could be postponed no longer.

Aelys rushed around Winterfell's Keep in a flurry of excitement. She ordered every room to be cleaned spotless, for rations to be saved for days until a feast could be made for their arrival, for hearths to be extra tended to, and for the courtyard to be prepared to clear the way for the host.

Finally, the days of busy bodies floating around the Great Keep came to a stop. The feast was warm and ready at all available tables. The hearths were warm and ready for sleepy heads to rest within the rooms. The tubs were filled with scalding hot water that would warm by the time they were used. Lady Stark stood for hours at the Great Keep's entry stairs in the courtyard.

She wanted to be there exactly when he walked through the archway. Despite the cold biting at her nose, the Lady stood resiliant and tall.

It was nearly in the afternoon when Cregan's party arrived. He came through first, leading as head of the host as any Lord should. A wheelhouse followed, surrounded by a small league of soliders all around it. She bounced on her heels slightly, seeing Cregan dismount from his ride. Though she found herself bemused and slightly hurt when he glanced at her and made his way towards the wheelhouse instead. Had Sara recovered enough to join and perhaps wanted to surprise her good sister? She hoped so, for she had missed her greatly. After growing up with only brothers, Aelys found a best friend and sister in Sara Snow. The whispers about Lady Stark befriending the bastard of Winterfell followed her around like a dark shadow, but she never paid them any mind.

Bastardry had never bothered Aelys before. Not even when she was a woman of noble birth and was taught that bastards were born inherently lustful, evil, and made of sin.

She waited patiently at the top of the steps for Cregan to fetch Sara.

To her surprise, he only pulled out of the carriage with a bundle of clothes in his arms. Pelts and blankets, it seemed. A plainly-dressed woman from the South stepped out after him but stayed trailing behind. A maid of some sort, though she had no clue as to why a Southern maid would need to follow Cregan back to Winterfell.

As he strided towards her, a strange and unhappy look on his face, she forced her anxiety back down her throat and raced to meet him. "Husband," she greeted with a smile. "You should come inside. A feast has been prepared for you—and your men, of course." Reaching out to caress his face and simultaneously brush flecks of snow from his loose hair, she couldn't help but stop to admire her husband's handsome features. It had felt like an eternity that they were separated, and she had begun to forget the full details of his frame. Forgot his scent in the room and his side of the bed. Nearly forgot the warmth that he provided simply from standing nearby.

The very warmth he is giving to her now, in the chilly courtyard.

His eyes appeared to gloss, his nose and cheeks pinking even more so than they had already grown in the biting air. Glancing over Cregan, she assessed quickly for signs of fatigue or illness.

"Cregan?" she asked gently. "What is wrong?" She prayed he did not catch whatever Sara had caught, or hid a wound under his mass of leathers and pelts.

When he shiftly lifted the bundle in his arms to gesture for her to look at it, she finally spared a look to the mysterious ball of cloth. She had completely forgotten about it until now, noticing the maid still behind Cregan a few yards back, head tilted down and looking at her slippers. Peeking over a fur pelt, Aelys gasped at the sight. A babe, only a few moons old by the looks of it. Her mind raced with possibilities. Why would Cregan bring a babe back instead of leaving it in more temperate climates like the Riverlands that he stayed in on the way up North?

"Has one of your men died?" She asked in a hushed tone, assuming first that one of his soldiers perhaps fathered a bastard babe before perishing in a battle or falling to sickness. "Is the babe an orphan?" Cregan did always have a soft spot for younglings, showcased clearly by his time spent personally training young squires of Winterfell. He had lost his own younger brother in their youth, and the hole had never filled from that loss of kin.

"Aelys..." he started, meeting her eyes with a soft and sympathetic look. "This is my son." Was said loud and clear for any listeners to hear.

A jest. Cregan had seldom liked to be humorous in front of crowds, or anyone but herself and Sara, but he must have been in good spirits today. Briefly glancing at the surrounding people, she found only pitiful looks from the women and severe looks from the men. Shaking her head, Aelys forced a smile onto her face and a shaky laugh. "Don't jest, Cregan. We have no son." She emphasized.

He only stared at her back. No words of comfort, no sudden burst of laughter among his men to tell her that the biggest prank in the world had been pulled on her. Just shameless silence.

He had declared her second best in front of all of Winterfell. Her people and his.

"No." She said firmly, shaking her head 'no'. She breathed in and out deeply, trying to clear her blurry eyes and woozy head. Glaring down at the false babe in his arms, she found many similarities that she wished she had not. The same straight brows that Cregan had, the same scattered freckles, the same pale skin. The only difference was the hair color—black as a midnight sky or dragonglass. The mother must be beautiful.

Moving her eyes to the maid behind Cregan, she found that the girl had a mousy blonde color to her tresses. She could not have possibly bore a black-haired babe. She felt sick, like she'd throw up and choke at the same time. "Don't do this to me. You'd never do this to me." She pleaded out, voice small and hoarse.

"It was one time. I swear it on my honor and Stark name." Cregan promised. But every word was like poison, filling her heart with a heavy black liquid and drowning her from the inside out.

"On your name?" She hissed out, uncaring of the onlookers for this one moment. She was allowed to be angry, callous, and spiteful, even. Any self-respecting woman would be. And she'd be damned if she wasn't. Any Stark woman ought to be when ruling over the entire North. Any Glover woman is.

"Your honor? You swore on your honor the day we said our vows under the Weirwood tree. Under OUR Gods! Did that mean nothing to you? Did I—?" Words spilled from her mouth before she can think properly. But she did not regret any of them, knowing she was in the right. Bile rose in her throat, pushing itself past the forced down emotions. She swiftly covered her mouth, stilling herself to prevent any more embarrassing. Subconsciously, she clutched at her empty stomach with her free hand, both mourning the fact that she'd have no children and thanking the Gods for not giving her any previously. A cry finally escaped her lips, watching the plain maid take the babe into her arms again as Cregan looked on helplessly to his wife.

Aelys found her voice again, though it was ragged and tired. "I thought you wished to wait. You told me you wanted it, too." He was a liar, the worst kind of man. "Was it just not me you wanted a family with?"

She'd rather be struck with his hand than his deceitful mouth. It would hurt much less.

"I did, Aelys—I do!" He pleaded, stepping forward to console her. His arms looked like steel traps in her louded mind.

She took a lengthy step back. She would not share his warmth, nor his love. Or his bed, his room, his damned dining room. His children. Not when he had shared it with another woman. Given her his love, his attention, his son.

She could not bear to keep herself calm any longer. Adressing the entire courtyard, who had made themselves the Stark's own personal peanut gallery, she spoke firmly. "The feast is growing cold. Enjoy it while it's warm." Without a second glance back at the Stark, Aelys excused herself to her chambers, where she emptied the contents of her stomach into the chamberpot until she could only dry-heave nothingness. These chambers had not been used since she arrived in Winterfell, instead choosing to sleep and stay in their marital ones. She would not step foot into those again unless she was dragged kicking and screaming.

Aelys awoke to strong arms lifting her from the stone floor. Groggily, she was stirred from her deep and preserving sleep. How long had she been traveling? How long had she been buried under those pelts? Time was a blur when she was in a near comatose state, dead to the world. Limbs were numbed and her body felt warm after so long in the cold weather.

"I've got you, sweet girl. We're going home." A familiar voice rung in the back of her head. Even the jolting movements of a horse trotting could not fully move her to consciousness as she fell back asleep.

When she fully gained her sense of mind, she could clearly hear the sound of two men arguing. The warmth of a hearth was next to her as she lifted heavy blankets and furs off of her body. Glancing around, Aelys found herself back right where it all started. In Cregan's room, formerly their marital chambers that she had long since moved out of. A large oil painting sat over the heart, depicting a newlywed image of her and Cregan. They both smiled brightly in the photo, much to Cregan's complaint that the painting did not make him look 'serious enough'. She only laughed and tipped the painter extra gold dragons for the accuracy.

She loved that painting more than any others they kept in the Great Keep. Now, the two faces looking down at her only served to remind her of the falsehood she lived every day while Cregan was absent. Taking care of Winterfell and the North all by herself, just to come back and be thanked by his uncouth mistakes.

Shakily standing up, she winced at the feeling coming back to her limbs. Wriggling all twenty of her toes and fingers, she ensured they still all had feeling. Miraculously, she did. The numbess still felt vaguely there, and her throat was extremely dry and achy. But at least she was alive. Even if it was back in Winterfell, she could attempt her return to the Motte as soon as the storm died down.

It had been a dreadful blizzard. Not a rare sight in the North, but usually none lasted so long. Aelys could not help but feel it was the Gods punish Cregan and Aelys for their marital spat. Something like this must be so futile and useless in their eyes and the eyes of the people of the realm, but to Aelys it was her world and her life. No one could help Aelys but herself. She'd leave these spoiled halls even if the Old Gods and the New wished otherwise. If Cregan didn't have to keep oaths, why should she?

Opening the large wooden door, Aelys found the source of the faint yelling. Her eyes widened at the sight of her father in front of Cregan, in all his gruff charm with his silver hair and beard. She hadn't seen him in nearly two years. She stayed at the archway under the door, simply listening in as the men shouted further down the hall. If either turned their heads, they would spot her eavesdropping.

"—cannot even keep her safe during Winter! Am I to expect her to stay safe during a wildling attack, or worse? Or will you be prioritizing the safety of your mistress?" Harriston shouted, veins nearly popping out from his forehead and neck in his fury. Snow still gathered on his pelt coat, meaning he had just arrived recently.

"It is my mistake that she was endangered out there—but I would never let such a thing happen again under my protection. This is her home, I cannot allow her to go back to the Dreadfort. She is a Stark." Cregan emphasized, though had a defensive raised tone.

"Was she a Stark when you bed a whore in King's Landing?"

"The situation is more complicated than that." He responded, clenching his jaw.

"Nothing could ever be more complicated than losing your wit at a brothel, Stark. There is no argument to be had. She is staying with her family, where she was intending." Harriston growled out, a tone of finality to his tone. As he swung on his feet to head down the hall, face set in a worried and seething anger, he finally spotted his daughter.

"Aelys!" He yelled in relief, rushing toward her and scooping her up into his thick arms. "We're going home immediately. We will wash our hands of the Starks once and for all."

"I will not allow that." Cregan spoke from behind. As Aelys hugged her father back just as tightly, it was a battle to keep her tears from flowing in his safe arms. She missed her father more than she knew.

Before Harristone could speak, Aelys nodded. "We will settle this." She said flatly. Her father hesitantly let her go, nodding once firmly after seeing the resolve in his daughter's eyes.

"Very well. I will wait in the dining hall for you." He sighed, walking away.

Aelys shivered in the loss of warmth again. In her bare feet and night gown, she felt the cold of the cobblestone walls and floors start to seep under her skin again. "Here," Cregan murmured, gently shifting his mass of brown wolf pelt over her shoulders and clicking the direwolf emblem into place.

She allowed it, though she did not thank him with words. She took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes. "I want to separate. Divorce, I mean." She said tiredly.

Cregan flinched, jaw ticking and heavily considering her words. "That is entirely my fault. It is in your right to ask that of me." He said, voice dimmed and not nearly half of his assuredness. "But please, hear me out."

"What could I possibly hear you out with?" She asked, exhaustion clear in her tone. She'd dealt with this situation long enough.

Cregan nudged the door back open, nodding for her to enter. Reluctantly, she led the way in and watched as he gently shut it behind them. "I swore an oath, nearly nine moons ago." Cregan started.

Her brows furrowed, bemused. "To whom?"

Guiltily, he looked down at her, looking much alike to a kicked pup. "My sister."

"To Sara? What ever for?" She grew frustrated, knowing he was beating around the bush.

Taking a deep breath, he told her everything. "Sara stayed with her friend Alysanne Blackwood in Raventree hall for the entire time I was aiding King Aegon. In that time—she fell pregnant."

Aelys' heart dropped to her stomach. The same sick feeling overtaking her. She did not say a word.

"Davos Blackwood and Sara had built a bond, much like we did." He said. "When she told Davos of the news, they both went to Lord Blackwood to plea to marry each other. He refused, not allowing his heir to marry a bastard."

"And you legitimized Brandon as your own in turn?" She hissed.

"Sara begged me to. She lived her life as a bastard—she did not wish the same for her own son. I swore to her that my nephew would never be allowed the same treatment. I knew Aegon would do it." He trailed.

"So you bring him home, and humiliate me instead? You didn't even tell me, your own wife! You chose Sara over me. She is your sister, I know, but she chose to be with Davos Blackwood." She could have taken a tea, or moved to Essos or Dorne where bastards were more accepted. There were other options, but neither Sara nor Cregan used them. "That is cruel, Cregan. It is heartless." She cried.

"I never wished to hurt you, I only wanted to protect her. It was my oath." Cregan pleaded, grabbing her hands in his.

She shivered again, though unknowing if it was in chill or her own anger. Part of her was happy that he never truly took another woman to bed—never picked another other her. Though he still hid the biggest secret in the world from her for moons. Allowed her to suffer in their shared home and withstand the pitious looks of the people and court.

"I can't trust you. Not ever again. You could not trust me with your own kin's truth, and punished me for it." She stated. She could not allow herself to cave in so easily, to fall back into his arms.

"I understand, sweet girl." He muttered, softly stroking the apple of her cheek almost mindlessly. "I will sign whatever the Maester's conjure up. You will be free to marry whoever you wish—someone who will not lie to you."

The Starks were known for their loyalty and devotedness to their oaths. If Cregan Stark had lied to his wife so easily, no lesser man could ever make her happy with faithfulness and loyalty. Aelys had accepted her life to be one of loneliness from the day Brandon was allowed into the home.

"I will stay in Deepwood Motte for the time being. From there, I will see where my path leads." She said vaguely, unknowing now of what her heart desired. "Wish Sara well for me." Aelys asked of him, leaving him behind as she wiped any straying tears from her face.

"I love you, Aelys." He said, calling softly after her.

"I know." She whispered to herself.

In the dining hall, Harriston awaited her arrival. Perking up when she entered, he knowingly took her into his arms. "I'm tired, father."

"Let's go home. Your mother has missed you dearly." He said, planting a fatherly kiss to her temple.

Aelys would not yet send word for a formal separation to the Citadel or to the King. For now, time apart was what she declared best for herself.

divider by - @issysh3ll

tags - @palomavz @emithefrog @karinalight @johnshelbywife @tojisrealwifey @baddielizzy @pearldaisy @brookiecookie @jessicar401 @hardkiddonut @littlelilly27-blog @nayaniasworld @just-mj-or-not @flaneurpastel @unsweetenedpeatea @blucesita09 @maxmegara @deeeeexx @masschotch @janniepark1997 @spongelistener @margaaaa30 @paracii @lovebabe18 @rey26 @damneddamsy @yunnifer @kenzcarson @glqmmywhqmmy @arizonadesert @blumin8 @its-your-girl-savy @dreamygirli3 @aemondloverr @zaranobiyuyu @nsr-15 @oxymakestheworldgoround @isansstuff @high-speed-r

so many tags dont work 🥲 will try to tell in comment sec

ending is ambiguous. Will she decide to divorce or eventually mend their relationship? Up to you!

might make an alt ending where he really is just a shitty guy but this had been my idea from the start (many guessed it and i could not reply to them because of it lmao)

sorry if those two scenes got repetitive, but I wanted to show the 'cregan bringing brandon home' from both of their more detailed perspectives. Cregan's shame and guilt and her humiliation and heartbreak.

so many people guessed so close (to the sara part at least) only saw Jace thoughts tho, but he's already dead long before Cregan's walk down to the South. Would have been much more dramatic, but I think Jace would never allow a child of his to be apart from him. Many people swayed me to lead them to separate instead of stick together, and it does make more sense to have her leave him in the end. Although he did not cheat he still lied and publicly humiliated her, even unintentionally, but he's a grown man who is smart enough to know consequences.

[dustysalmon]

Steb x Reader Headcanons

Steb ns//fw alphabet

Warnings: nsfw (below the cut)

Being a paramedic, Steb's protective instincts always kick in, even at home. He's hyper-aware of potential hazards and is often worried you will get hurt. He is always happy when you ask him to teach you some first-aid stuff

While Steb perfectly understands you, he cannot communicate verbally. He uses sign language, and truly appreciates the fact that you learnt it to understand him, even though you believe that is the least you could do

Because of the way he communicates, Steb is very sensitive to physical contact, and he can read expressions and body reactions extremely well. He adores holding hands with you, or simply brushing his fingertips against your skin (he very much enjoys the way you tremble under his touch whenever he does it)

Steb expresses love through acts of service. He loves cooking for you, especially seafood. He often does the fishing himself, picking the very best ingredients for you

Steb is definitely more on the introvert side, very calm, but also very attentive to the people around him. He is quite discreet and gets a little anxious in very noisy or crowded spaces

If you're comfortable with water, he WILL take you swimming whenever he can. His favourite thing is having you climb on his back while he swims as fast as possible

He absolutely cannot dance but always finds himself moving to the beat due to feeling the sound vibrations very strongly, he also just loves music in general. And he does have a playful side, doing extra awkward moves to make you laugh. He loves your laugh

Now about that fish stick...

Because he can't tell you what he wants, he likes to guide your hands and movements. He himself is very deliberate and exploratory. His nipples are highly sensitive, and you've made him cum a few times just by licking and sucking on them

It gets extremely messy when he cums, you weren't prepared the first time. Buckets after buckets of hot sticky fluids. Needless to say the sheets were done for. Also, the gills under his eyes move when he orgasms, they do so until the aftershocks have passed. Sometimes they even keep moving in the afterglow if he came particularly hard, it always mesmerises you

Shower sex is a big thing for him, it gets him going like nothing else. He loves coming up behind you as you shower, he starts washing your back, but then his hands are all over you, your nipples, your chest, between your legs. There's something about your naked wet body that makes him go absolutely crazy. But he's aware shower sex it's not the best for your species, so you don't do it often.

Steb doesn't speak, but boy oh boy does he moan. And being hyper sensitive doesn't help. Whether you're teasing his nipples, sucking on his cock or fucking him, you're gonna hear him whine, groan and whimper. He gets a little embarrassed about it, but knowing how much you love it makes him feel a little better

Steb's species have extremely sensitive genitals, especially the males. For that reason, his cock is normally tucked away in a genital pouch. It opens naturally with arousal to release his sex

Steb's cock is also equipped with small gills that are only here for one purpose: pleasuring his partner. And they do their job very well

Ever since Steb came into your life (literally and figuratively), you've stopped buying lube. His species produces a ridiculous amount of lubricant that is more than sufficient for the two of you

Steb loves giving you oral, loves seeing how much pleasure he can give you with his mouth alone. His tongue is much longer and stronger than a human's. He'll never forget your reaction the first time he plunged it deep inside you. He is not against receiving but he always gets scared about the idea of cumming in your mouth and basically drowning you

[soobnny]

my girl — jeongin x f!reader ; the boys find out their youngest has a gf

(1.3k words)

It’s a once in a while thing for the boys to be able to eat out together.

Challenges usually pose through schedule conflicts, one or the other being absent, and timing. They can never truly catch a break. So, when the first sign of a temporary alignment showed, they took the opportunity in a flash.

It was going to be their first dinner together in months, one of their off days.

Usually, the next challenge of indecisiveness would present itself. However, their youngest is quick to suggest a place.

Apparently, they had really good jjajangmyun.

(The boys didn’t know then, but it was because the faster they could decide where to eat, the faster he could go visit you.)

(They also didn’t know then that jjajangmyun was your favorite.)

A chorus of laughter echoes through the little corner store as they’re served their third plate of food. Jeongin didn’t lie about their food, and it was a safe enough space for them to celebrate the end of their latest comeback season.

“Seungmin, you’re getting really brave with your jokes about PD-nim.”

“I ran that contract renewal like the military.”

They spend the night joking, revisiting their past, and being hopeful for the future. A few grateful messages are exchanged after liquid courage is brought to their table. And while a simple night, the boys knew they’d remember this day for the rest of their lives.

There’s quiet pop music playing in the back—the kind you’d hear in the early 2000s. And Han Jisung orders another plate of jjajangmyun.

“Ayen, the food here is crazy good. How’d you find this place?”

Jeongin snaps out of his mental chant at the call of his name, fox-eyes trained on the older boy before the question reverberates in his mind. “My girlfriend recommended it.”

A pin drops.

Their youngest has a habit of lying, taken after his roommate, Seungmin. He usually does it with sneaky smiles and a few giggles. However, both signs indicative of lying are absent, and the boy has the audacity to refill his plate and keep eating as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his members.

“Girlfriend?” Hyunjin is the first to speak, asking the boy to reiterate what he had just said, even though he heard. Loud and clear, in fact.

“Uhuh.” Jeongin replies through a mouthful of food. “What?”

He looks curiously around the table. His friends’ eyes are glazed, and he’d expected the conversation to be over three minutes ago, but it doesn’t.

Jeongin is in the middle of another bite when all hell breaks loose.

“Girlfriend?!” It’s said even louder now, more amplified, and Hwang Hyunjin stands from where he was previously seated in pure disbelief. All the while, their eldest is having an existential crisis. “Innie, what do you mean?”

He perks his head up, pursing his lips slightly and tilting his head. “What’s the big deal?”

“You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us?” It’s Han’s turn to be perplexed, and it’s humorous the way his features mimic the dramatic shock on Hyunjin’s.

Seungmin simply keeps eating.

“Yah, Kim Seungmin. Why aren’t you as surprised as us?”

“I already knew.”

“Seungmin knew, but not us?!”

“Not my fault he trusts me with dating advice.”

That boy definitely knows how to add fuel to fire. Chaos erupts as the younger half harass Seungmin for knowing before them.

“How long have you been dating?,” Minho asks.

“Just around 3 months now.”

If Chan was out of it then, you wouldn’t know how to describe his state now. Felix sits next to him to comfort the poor boy.

“My baby has been dating for 3 months, and I didn’t know anything.”

“Sorry.” Jeongin responds bashfully, scratching the back of his head. He knew his hyungs would act this way, which had led to his decision of keeping it hidden for a while. He thinks he should’ve just told them right away.

Though, he thought they’d known by now. He wasn’t exactly the most secretive about it, and he was sure he’d mentioned you before.

And although shocking to suddenly hear that their youngest (and their baby) had a girlfriend, they will not have his head for it. They know he’s responsible enough to know what not to do, and it was a little touching to know the boy had enough time to fit romance in his life.

“Show us what she looks like!”

The boys get a selfie of you that’s set as his lockscreen, and it’s enough proof to have the boys cooing at how adorable you two would be together.

“Motherfucker, she’s really pretty.” Changbin comments.

“I know.”

Meanwhile, Han and Hyunjin are making up fake scenarios in the corner, scrolling through photos and videos. Then a message.

While their youngest is distracted, Han quickly taps on the notification.

(8:23pm) innie: I miss u

(8:30pm) ynie: miss u too!!!!

(8:31pm) innie: Wish you were here right now

(8:32pm) ynie: aren’t u celebrating with ur friends rnnn

(8:32pm) ynie: stop texting me and enjoy !!!

(8:33pm) innie: But i miss u

(8:33pm) innie: Call me later?

(8:36pm) ynie: after you spend time with ur friends let’s call

(8:37pm) innie: Wanna call now. Just for a second

(8:37pm) innie: Haven’t heard your voice in a while

(8:37pm) ynie: ok fine >:( give me like 10-15 mins

(8:51pm) ynie: i’ll call now

“Oh my god, she’s calling.”

That’s definitely enough to get Jeongin’s attention.

“Give me my phone back.” He reaches out to them, but Hyunjin is fast enough to swipe it.

“Answer it!” Changbin instigates.

Jeongin’s eyes widen in horror when he hears your voice go through his phone. “Innie? Oh—hello.”

You sound so shy, and Chan feels like he’s about to cry. “She calls him Innie.”

The youngest finally snatches his phone back when all Hyunjin could do was stare at you through the screen of his phone. You were real. Yang Jeongin actually has a girlfriend.

“Hi.” He mumbles, moving away from their table to talk to you privately. Though, before he does, he makes sure he leaves a threat to the boys not to follow him. “‘M sorry, did they scare you, baby?”

“It’s okay, I was just surprised.”

Jeongin visibly melts at the sound of your voice. “The boys know about us now.”

“I figured.” You laugh, and the service at the restaurant doesn’t do the warmth of your laughter any justice. He can’t wait to see you later.

“Can I see you later?”

“Mkay, but just… enjoy your time with the boys, okay? You told me it’s been a while since all of you were able to relax over a meal like this.”

“Fine.” He sighs, before a smile creeps on his face. “They liked your suggestion.”

“That’s good. Now go!” There’s a pout on his lips when you shoo him away. “Go have fun, go! I’m hanging up now. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

The wide, bright smile remains on his face even when he goes back to their table.

“Who has our Ayen smiling like that?”

“My girl.”

“Innie’s getting soft.” Minho teases.

Seungmin, on the other hand, fake vomits at his response, and another chorus of laughter bursts from their seats. The night continues through conversations over Jeongin’s sudden revelation, and the promise to let the boys meet you properly next time. He agrees if they promise not to scare you away.

And while he’d kept you a secret for a while, he can’t help but feel a tinge of happiness in his heart that the most important people in his life know about you now, are even eager to meet you. There is no better contentment than all of the people he loves aligning with one another.

The entire night, Jeongin itches in anticipation to hold you in his arms and hear your voice in person after his schedules had torn apart his much needed quality time with you. And when he asks to leave, they don’t need to know where he’s going.

One look at his face, and the only evident answer is you.

[crushmeeren]

How They Eat You Out - MHA / Fem Reader

Everyone is 18+/aged up.

Master List Link

Bakugou Katsuki

❧ Katsuki truly enjoys eating your pussy. It’s just as much for his pleasure as it is for yours. Plus, Katsuki likes to play with his meal before he eats it.

❧ He definitely gets you worked up first. He’ll sharply smack his fingers against your clit, forcing you to specifically tell him you want his mouth instead.

❧ Katsuki teases you with the absolute filth that spills from his mouth “Can’t believe how fucking whiny you are, pretty girl just wants me to eat her pussy so badly, yeah? Beg me for it.” — telling you it’s pathetic, but in the next heartbeat he’s moaning like a whore at the first taste he can get.

❧ He’s one thousand percent the guy who presses your thighs so far back into your chest it makes your ass lift off the bed. His shoulders and biceps flex as he keeps you pinned in place, spread wide open so he can see you entirely.

❧ He runs his tongue from canine to canine before lowering his head between your legs to swirl circles into your clit at a pace that’s maddening. He keeps that up until you plead with him to go faster, promising you’ll never suck his cock again unless he picks up the damn pace.

❧ He has the audacity to laugh, but ultimately he bends to your whim. He’ll wrap his soft lips around your clit, making you see stars when he starts sucking in a slow but steady rhythm. He flicks his tongue up and down at the same time, just to add to the intensity.

❧ Katsuki can also be an asshole. Often, he has you writhing — toes curling and hips twitching, gripping handfuls of his fluffy hair. He gets you begging for his fingers too, needing them so badly, but no. He forces you to cum just from his tongue, poor pussy tightening around air, aching for him.

❧ Don’t worry, he more than makes it up to you, stretching you deliciously with his thick cock right after. Fucking you until your legs are numb.

Kirishima Eijirou

❧ Eijirou honestly just can’t help himself. He’s enamored with your pussy, drunk on it. He loves eating you out whenever he gets the chance. The man gets rock hard doing it because your pleasure is his pleasure.

❧ He’s the kind of guy who loves getting on his knees for you. Grabbing your ankles and yanking on you till your ass is on the edge of the bed. He laughs and drapes your thighs over his broad shoulders, making sure your comfortable while you lay on your back.

❧ Eijirou grabs onto your hips, looking up at you like you hung the moon as he runs his tongue between your lips and up to your clit on the first pass. He whines, lids fluttering closed, nails sinking into your skin at how soft and warm your pussy is.

❧ He licks your clit lazily at first, like one would eat a popsicle. Eijirou savors the taste, letting his lips meet again and again over your clit. Swirling his tongue in between, making out with your pussy.

❧ Eijirou gets so lost in it that after awhile you have to lace your fingers in his silky red hair and tug gently to get his attention. He opens his eyes in question, cheeks flushed pink as he teases your hole with the tip of his tongue.

❧ “I wanna cum Ei, please,” you plead sweetly, rolling your hips up to meet his mouth. He looks at you shyly before he speaks, “Oh! Yes, please cum for me baby girl, want me to use my fingers to help you sweetheart?” Eijirou coos, tone teasing and warm. He rubs your clit with his thumb and nips the soft flesh of your inner thigh while he waits.

❧ You nod yes and Eijirou hums happily, slipping two fingers into your ridiculously wet pussy with ease. He instantly starts licking over your clit again and thrusting his fingers, curling into your g-spot perfectly.

❧ Your thighs tighten around his head, back arching when it takes you no time at all to cum. Gasping his name, pulling at his hair, he moans when your pussy doesn’t want to let go of his fingers as he works you through your orgasm.

❧ Once he lets you go, you find his hand curled loosely around his cock, covered in his sticky release. He grins sheepishly, admitting “I couldn’t help it baby, you taste too good.”

❧ No matter, he’s still hard. Eijirou makes love to you until you cry from overstimulation, wiping your tears with his thumbs and asking you to give him one more orgasm.

Todoroki Shouto

❧ At first, Shouto wasn’t quite sure how to eat pussy. Sure — he could eat pussy, but not well. After your more than willing participation in helping him practice, he eats pussy like a champ now.

❧ He salivates thinking about going down on you now. Often he gets you singing his name, toes curling so tight they cramp, squirting all over his face and fingers.

❧ Shouto starts out slow, laying you out gently on the bed. Biting kisses into your neck, sucking on your nipples. Letting his thumb rub circles into your clit with just the right pressure.

❧ He lays on his belly, placing soft kisses everywhere but your pussy. Sinking his teeth into the sensitive crease of your thigh. Barely ghosting his tongue over your clit. It’s torture of the best kind.

❧ Shouto gets a thrill out of the anticipation. He leaves hickies on your inner thighs and pushes three fingers in your pussy, just letting them rest there until you’re begging him for more.

❧ “Sho please stop teasing,” you whine. Those slender fingers start to move and curl when he responds. “Sorry princess, you want me to make you squirt? Will that make up for it?” he murmurs, voice low and playful.

❧ You moan your agreement, gripping the sheets. When Shouto finally, blessedly lets his too warm tongue run over your clit, your back bows so hard it almost snaps. You breathe out his name and Shouto hums, running his tongue over his top lip. “Good girl, say my name again,” he demands, smacking the side of your hip harshly.

❧ You cry out and Shouto suddenly frees his fingers from you. He hushes you, sliding a slick finger into your ass up to the last knuckle. Wanting to keep you completely stuffed, the fingers from his free hand find their place in your pussy.

❧ You pull his soft hair so violently you think it’ll come out in fistfuls. Sobbing his name as he eagerly sucks your clit in between his lips. You start to cum, entire body taught and Shouto happily finger fucks you through it.

❧ Even when you shove at his forehead he doesn’t stop, bullying your g-spot till you flutter around him again. He frees himself from your tight holes, using his thumb to rub your clit harshly as you squirt, making a fucking mess of his face.

❧ It makes him moan brokenly and then he’s desperately crawling between your legs, begging to put his thick cock inside. You agree and he fills your pussy over and over — sweet and slow until you both cum again.

[moonstruckme]

Heyyy! So I'm obsessed with your writing! Your EMT series might be my favourite thing I've ever read.

I was wondering if I could request an EMT Marauders x reader story where she gets really sick but thinks it's nothing and downplays it to them, only for it to end up being Pneumonia or something. And maybe they feel guilty for not realising it sooner?

I know you've probably already written something similar to this so no worries if you don't feel like writing it but I'd love to see your take it if you decide. Hurt/comfort is my favourite trope in the world. I just can't get enough of it!

I hope you're doing well!

Thanks gorgeous, hope you're doing well too <3

cw: pneumonia

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You make sure there’s plenty of honey in your tea when the boys get home. 

“Hi,” you greet them, pleased when your voice comes out semi-normal. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” Sirius flops onto the sofa, nearly on top of your curled-up legs. “How was your day?” 

You try to keep your answer brief, your cough plied into submission with honey and warm tea but not for long. “Good. Got some things done.” 

You don’t mention that after every one of those things you’d had to have a thirty-minute lie down, or that many of them involved disinfecting surfaces you’d accidentally coughed near. 

“Being sick isn’t an opportunity to get things done.” Remus sinks into his chair, leveling you with a reprimanding look. “You’re supposed to be resting.” 

You shrug. “The only reason I haven’t been at work is because—” A couple of coughs fight their way out of you. James’ expression pinches as he sits on the arm of Remus’ chair, but thankfully the fit passes quickly. You take another sip of your tea. “Because I don’t want to pass it to anyone. I think I have to go back tomorrow, though.” 

Sirius makes a soft tsking sound. The boys are all still in uniform, his tattoos peeking out from the short sleeves as he traces looping circles on the side of your knee. “But you’re not better yet.” 

“Yeah, but I’m running out of sick days.” 

James frowns. “How long has it been?” 

You bring your tea to your lips, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’ve been out for a week.” 

“But you were sick for a while before that,” he says. “What is that, ten days? Eleven?”

You shrug. 

Sirius is looking up at you with a puckered brow. “Do you feel like you’re getting better?” 

“I think so,” you say optimistically. It’s quickly undermined, however, when you’re caught up in another coughing fit. You have to set your tea down to keep from spilling it, holding a tissue over your mouth. 

James’ eyes widen, and Sirius sits up to rub your back. 

“That doesn’t sound very good,” James says. 

“No,” Sirius agrees. He reaches to feel your face, but you brush him away. 

“Don’t-—ack—don’t get too close. I don’t want to get you sick.” 

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby.” He pushes past your hands. “Let me do my job.” 

“You just got off work.” 

“Yeah, well,” his voice softens, taking on a sympathetic hum as he lays his palm flat to your hairline, “maybe I maybe I was talking about my boyfriend job.” A pause. “I think your fever’s gotten worse, my love.” 

You whine. “Really?” 

“‘Fraid so. Have you noticed your symptoms getting worse at all?”

“I don’t” —you cough and reach for your tea again— “think so.” 

“Dove,” Remus says warningly. 

“It’s hard to tell,” you admit. “It’s moved around.” 

“Like where, honey?” James asks. 

“Like, in my…” You feel your throat contract, another fit brewing. You touch a hand to your sternum to avoid speaking. 

“In your chest?” Remus infers. 

You nod. 

He hums and moves to sit on the coffee table, his knees touching yours. You try to warn him away, but Remus shushes you gently. “Let me look at you.” 

He brings one hand to your face, feeling the way Sirius had, and touches the other to the pulse point on your neck. His touch is gentle and cool against your warm skin. You don’t know what exactly he’s looking for, but you find yourself fighting the urge to fall asleep in the basin of his palm when it slips down to hold your cheek. 

“You don’t need to talk,” says James, “but just nod yes or no, okay? Have you noticed yourself feeling more tired lately?” 

You nod tentatively. 

“Yeah? Less appetite?” 

You frown. “I don’t think—” You’re cut off by your own hacking. 

“One week off work, and she completely forgets how to follow instructions,” Sirius teases, rubbing your leg. 

“Terrible patient,” James agrees. 

“Alright,” Remus says once your fit ebbs. “I don’t have a stethoscope, but can you turn sideways for me?” 

You do, confused. Remus puts his ear to your back. You must make an odd face, because Sirius grins at you, reaching over to pinch your chin affectionately. 

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 

You try, but it doesn’t get far. Your lungs expand maybe halfway before you’re coughing again, horrible, wracking coughs punctuated by stabbing pains in your chest. Remus sits up after a few moments, rubbing your back. 

“Sorry,” you manage. 

“Why are you sorry?” Sirius pulls you into him, cradling your head to his chest. “That sounded like it hurt, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Remus answers for you, brows bent with sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. At least now we can get you some medicine, though.” 

You cough weakly. “You can?” 

“Sounds like pneumonia?” James asks Remus. Your boyfriend nods. 

Sirius coos, petting your head. “I’m sorry, baby. I was thinking it was just a cold.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you croak. “I was, too.” 

“Feels like we ought to have known the difference, though,” James admits. When Sirius gets up, he’s quick to take his spot, tucking you underneath an arm. 

“Where are you going?” you ask Sirius. 

He’s putting his shoes back on. “To get someone to write you a prescription. The sooner we get you on antibiotics, the better. It’ll give you something to show your boss, too.” 

“I don’t need to come with you?” you ask hopefully. 

He winks, grabbing his keys. “Perks of knowing people at the hospital.” 

“Perks of flirting with the doctors, he means,” Remus mutters after he’s gone. 

“Hey,” James laughs, giving his boyfriend’s knee a playful squeeze, “it works out for us, doesn’t it?” 

“Sometimes,” Remus allows. He fixes his gaze on you. “Anything we can do to help you feel better, sweetheart? Do you want to try a hot bath? Steam would be good for you.” 

You look down into your now cool mug. “Could I have some more tea?” 

He takes it from you with a kiss to your head. “What a silly question.”

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 | Emperor Geta x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Emperor Geta takes a liking to you but ends up with far more than he bargained for.

author's note | full blame on @hauntedhowlett. also don't look at me and tell me that man doesn't have a mommy kink, he does.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!geta, dom!reader, mentions of spousal/child loss, brief mentions of pregnancy, subtle mommy kink, lactation kink (titty suckin' hell yeah), oral (f receiving), use of sweet boy/good boy, unprotected piv

word count — 4.2k

A widow, a mourning would-be mother—naive amongst your youthful glaze, the softness in your features as you stare down the two brothers from across the long, crowded table. It has only been a fortnight now, but your face proves entirely unsuspecting.

This meeting was about you—not of your late husband, not of legality or current issues to address, but your qualification to have a spot amongst men. Most were unaware of your puppetry with your late husband and his place in the senate—an older man triple your age that had brought you for a price.

Easily to manipulate, easy to convince.

“There is no place here for a mockery like this,” An older gentleman with stringy, greying hair chirped up from his seat, fist tucked under his wrinkled chin, eyes carefully examining your figure, licking his split, dry lips, “she is young—negotiate a price with her father and—”

“He is dead,” You state flatly, a piercing glare shot down the line toward the spoken male, seemingly ticked by the sound of your voice, expecting submissiveness, “And I will assure the price is one you will never afford.”

Caracalla, as aloof as he was, seemed to snicker at that. A high-pitched cackle that slips from his lips as Geta raises a brow, his mouth hidden behind his curled fingers, opposite hand spread out wide on the arm of his throne.

“I am well versed,” You address both of the emperors directly, “Educated—my husband would be displeased to hear me say this, but he was not the smartest man. I have lost more than just him, but I am not here to beg.”

There was no love lost, fortunately. He wasn’t a good or bad man, only a man. He frequented brothels often, voiced his displeasure when you weren’t serving him correctly, and only forced a child upon you because of societal standards. It was distressing, still deep in your own grief as you avoided the deadlocked stares from the surrounding men, praying that one of the two young emperors would have a soft spot, or even a weakness. 

You would find it, if needed. But, Geta’s amusement was a comforting sign. 

The same man, displeased with your presence, grips hard enough at his wooden cane that it starts to crack, “Better yet, force her to work in the brothel. Plenty of use for you there,” His gaze switches from the head of the table to you, nodding his head with a triumphant smirk.

“As I am sure your wife would love to hear about your visits,” There’s a collective tenseness, both of hands gripping the table and men shifting in their seats, eyes flickering back and forth between the volleying conversation, the dueling man’s face going slack, “do not act surprised, you keep company of men with loose lips, be thankful one of them has died with the rest of your pitiful secrets.” 

Geta clears his throat then, sharing a brief moment with his brother as they nod in unison.

“I will consider this,” He begins, tongue swiping along the inside of his bottom lip, “given the suddenness of—”

“Your highness, do not fall victim to her deception, she is—”

“If you value that head of yours,” Geta’s words are biting, quick, “you will not interrupt me when I am speaking.”

He’s highly temperamental, the dagger he’s spent twirling in his hand for the past several minutes tossing lazily against the wood as he flicks a hand up dismissively, “Get out of my sight,” He excuses them all, aside from his finger pulling like it was held on a string to aim in your direction, “you—stay.”

You’ve just resigned yourself to death, surely.

–

The wine is dark, staining his upper lip as he drinks, clunky rings tapping against the glass of his cup as he passes you off a cup of your own. He had his own private quarters, opposite of his brother and hidden down a long, trailing hallway, an office-like room attached to his quarters.

You weren’t going to defy his command as unsettling as it felt, his glittering and colorful robe dragging against the tile floor as you stood silent, a comfortable distance away. 

Your dress was unbearably tight, back straight as an arrow while your shoulders ached, but you didn’t waver, didn’t slouch. Your breasts spilled over the fabric, barely covered by the shawl draped over your shoulders, signs of motherhood that had yet to dissipate. You cleared your throat, shuffling quietly on your feet. 

“I do not like nervousness,” Geta announces, turning his head over his shoulder as he swivels his body to lean against the edge of the desk—the room was clearly unused, aside from now. 

“I am not nervous,” It wasn’t that at all, rather an uncertainty. 

“Drink,” He suggested, nodding his head toward your full glass, “it will help.”

He doesn’t seem to believe you and you defy his order further, traveling toward him to rest the glass against the desk, hands settled at your stomach as you look at him, his eyes carefully tracking your movement as he sloshes the wine around in his mouth, a fingertip trailing the rim before he mirrors your actions.

“G—your highness,” You begin indecisively, “forgive me for sounding…selfish, but is there something you require? Do I serve a purpose being here?”

“What are your current living arrangements?” He asks suddenly, fingers curled around the edge of the desk, tilting his head in question. 

“I am living under the selflessness of a senator’s wife—though, if he knew, it would not be welcomed with open arms,” Geta is aware of your steadfast gaze, rare that you ever looked anywhere but his face, not the usual roaming nervousness he had become acquainted with.

“Ah,” He chuckles, “If I may pry—well, I am…is it—”

The man who had challenged you earlier with a wife too gracious for her own good.

“Yes, unfortunately.” 

Geta contemplates—he wasn’t against you having a voice within his council, aware that it wouldn’t be well-met, but there was a way to ensure safety and submission; he's learned to mold and shape to achieve what he wants at the lift of a finger. It was a mix of power and practiced manipulation. 

“You will relocate here, to the palace,” He informs, “as an extra measure and because I am fond of your…bite,” His mouth upturns in a lazy smirk, “you will be well cared for here, I assure you.”

A man who was far too fond of his toys, you notice the glint in his eyes as soon as his expression morphs. Greed; he could have everything and even that wouldn’t be enough. 

It was only minimally amusing, his confidence. 

And within a few hours and a few snaps of his fingers, you were set up comfortably in your own room, a pleasant conversation with his less than stable brother and the obedient monkey perched on his shoulder—he was endearing, but visibly paranoid. 

You refuse the help of the servants as you attempt to retire for the night, brow furrowed in frustration as you reach unsuccessfully for the tied string of your dress, resilient and stubborn in your unwillingness for help as you curse to yourself, half a second from ripping the fabric in half before the door to your room is opening quietly, creaking on it’s hinges. 

“I assure you, they are here for a reason,” Geta remarks fondly, the faint fire of the candles lit around your room painting him in a warm glow, softening an unusually rigid man, he approaches without a word as you relent, hands curling around the edge of a nearby chair, his hand working methodically along the knotted fabric at your back, a few minutes passing before he’s tugging it loose, a breath of relief slipping beyond your lips.

Geta takes a few steps back, ringed fingers interlocked behind his back as he watches you expectantly, watching quietly as you turn with your arm clutching the fabric to your chest, hair loosened, your face relaxing into a natural scowl.

“Do you require anything of me?” You ask, curious of his lingering presence but not feeling threatened or undermined—shockingly, he seemed unsteady. Unsure. His confidence failed him for the first time in his young life, “If there is…something you would like to address, I will listen.”

“When did you marry?” An odd start, but you answer with ease.

“Fifteen—he promised my family wealth, it was a simple trade. They died not long after. Tuberculosis, or so I was told,” You shift from one bare foot to another as Geta’s lips pull together in a narrow line, “You know, we are not much different.”

That grabs his attention, his eyebrow raising in a silent question as you approach slowly, arms crossed over your chest now, holding the fabric in place, “Coyness is unbecoming, Emperor.”

“Enlighten me,” Geta replies, his restless hands finding their way over the collars of his robe as he tightens it around himself, joining him near the end of your bed—a strange thing to claim; this entire room, yours. 

“If my math proves me right, we are of the same birth year,” You begin, “—those men, your advisors, they severely underestimate you and Caracalla. They are scared of you, yes. But, if given the chance, they would strike you down without a thought,” He turns his head, blinking away a sour expression, feeling particularly bare despite his state of dress.

Your gaze was powerful, intense, even Geta could not handle it.

“I am trying to say that I understand,” You clarify, tilting your head to catch his eyeline, reaching out slowly to provide a comforting touch, hands curling around his wrist, “not that I understand your role and the burden it carries, but being young and overlooked. I have felt that, I still feel it.”

He’s never been approached so openly—though he prefers the proclivity of men who bow down without question, his psyching was always searching for something more. A poor boy without love, or meaningful relations. You offer a soft smile as he turns his head to you.

“You came here for a reason,” You remind him, “—make it clear.”

His eyes follow the steady rise and fall of your chest, your fingers curling over the rough, coarse lining of the dress as it pushes your breasts up, his tongue trailing along his bottom lip in a wordless hunger.

“Did you plan to force yourself upon me?” You ask curiously, his face flushing with embarrassment, “Or, perhaps, hope that I would be charmed by you?”

“It is rare that I am denied,” He explains, like a petulant kid preparing to be denied their favorite toy, “—but, you are not mine.”

“I belong to no one,” You clarify, “I am not a whore, or a servant. We are…equals, yes?”

“Not entirely,” Geta counters, still donning the crown on his head—more subtle than the formal one he wears around, a delicate band of gold leaves adorned with gems, “but, it seems—”

You smirk slightly to yourself as you reach forward with one hand, plucking the band gently from his hair and tossing it aside to the bed, fingertips trailing down to his chin as you tug his face to look at you.

“You need not put on a performance for me,” You comfort him, his features softening as his eyes flicker toward the crown, “it is as simple as just asking, Geta.”

At level ground, it feels more appropriate. If he wanted your head, he would have it.

Eagerness invades his mind, clawing forward as his palms form to your neck, jaw, lips pressing against yours with impatience, a hum of hunger laying in wait in his throat. For a second, you allow it. Indulge in the simplicity of desire that has been long forgotten, sighing fervently against his mouth before you’re taking grip of his robe and forcing him back, his eyes blackened with lust and his mouth open, blinking with confusion.

“Ask me,” You demand him, “I have allowed so many in my life to take, not this. Not you.”

Geta clears his throat hastily, closing his mouth, gathering the immense willpower it took to listen, comply, “May I—may I kiss you?”

You nod, a grin spreading across your face as he lunges forward eagerly once more, held back by your surprisingly powerful grip, unaware of how your dress had shifted down, held up solely by the body contact against Geta, chest to chest.

It was teasing, taunting him with the ability and control you had over him, lips grazing against his testingly as he laughs too, a quiet and joyous noise as you finally let him have it, arms wrapping over his shoulders as his own hands roam down your sides, around your back and down your side, squeezing a hand at your thigh and bringing it up, high enough that it can rest at his hips, his fingers kneading into the exposed skin near the slit of your gown, toying with the delicate skin that he could reach.

You revel in the neediness, an intense feeling of want washing over you, his nose following the lines of your face as they nudge at your chin, forcing your head up as his kisses trail down, spit slicked lips pressing into your skin, bodies separating as you dress falls, as bare as he under his own robe, plump breasts pulling his eyes down, a slow blink and an instant flick up towards your face.

“Seems the effects of motherhood are taking their time to dissipate,” You admit, his fingers twitching at the sight of them, “If that is an issue we can end this he—”

“No,” He growls, “it—sorry, it is not.”

You reach for his hands quietly, his gaze following your direction as you cup them over your breasts, the heavy weight of them in his hands, the gentle squeeze that would otherwise make you wince but instead has your thighs clenching together. Geta was practically salivating at the sight, mesmerized by the fullness and warmth, his thumbs rubbing carefully over your hardened nipples, a small opaque drop of liquid painting his finger.

You grab his thumb suddenly, shoving his hand away at the sight.

“Despite a loss my body continues to provide,” You explain, “ It is not a lot, but it lingers.I have tried…everything to will it away.”

“Why?” Geta asks, looking up at you with newfound curiosity.

“It is not ideal, you see—”

“Who has told you this?” Geta pesters, watching the liquid drip down his finger before he brings it to his mouth, “I see no issue.”

Your nose twitches in uncertainty, his fingers trailing an abstract pattern into the underside of your breasts, around the side, admiring, “I have always been curious,” Geta admits, his voice trailing as you slowly guide yourself to sit on the bed, the emperor following in suit as he kneels against the edge of the mattress between your open thigh, “did he appreciate your body for everything that it was?”

“He was barren,” You admit, “He liked my mouth on his cock and that was all. He did not care for much else or my pleasure at that, he was much too inadequate anyways.”

He doesn’t address the glaringly obvious admittance—a much longer story for another time that neither of you cared for at the moment, “May I?” He asks politely, his hot breath ghosting over your chest as you nod, his mouth latching onto your skin in an instant.

It starts at the center of your chest, face buried between your breasts as he pulls his robe open, aided down by the push of your hands, his alabaster skin contrasting the plum sheets, his knee rising briefly to push into the sheets as you catch a glimpse of his cock, hanging heavily and intimidating in its size, anticipating of the stretch if you allowed him so far. 

His tongue follows a planned path, along the underside of your breasts and around your nipple, grazing over the pebbled skin with the subtle taste of sweetness seeping into his taste buds as his lips wrap around and such, the faintest push of teeth in your skin as his eyes peer up at you, your brow furrowing in delight at the sudden shock to your cunt, nothing like you’ve felt before.

You did not know pleasure like this, a fair trade. It was a shock to the system. 

He’s looking for acknowledgement, trading off to share the same care to the other breasts, his free hand trailing to the side of your face and under your neck, cradling you with a gentle touch as the hand on your breasts curls around and squeezes, sucking gently at your breasts as his head tilts into your comforting touch, your opposite hand turning as you run your knuckles alongside his jaw.

“Sweet boy,” You praise, “is that what you wanted?”

As if he hadn’t been eyeing you the entire meeting, breasts squeezed together as you leaned daringly over the table to argue with your aggressor, quenching the hunger all day with a steady diet of wine and the assorted fruit placed around the palace, always within reach, watching you quietly. 

He nods slightly, distantly, as he’s focused on his current task.

“Geta,” Formalities forgotten by now, his eyes widened as you stare at him, rising on your elbows with a waiting expression, “have you lost your tongue?”

“It would—it would seem I have not,” He chuckles with a knowing smirk, swiping his tongue around your nipple in a circular motion, “I am pleased, yes.”

He shifts his arms around you, curled fists landing in the sheets beside your head, his cock sliding against the inside of your thigh as he settles to his knees, a fresh flush to his chest as he admires your state of nakedness, trailing two wondering fingers from your chest to your pelvic bone, a slow dance in the low light of the room.

You nudge his hand away, “You are eager,” You note with a fond tone, watching as began to lean into you, eager to capture your lips once more, but your fingers are pressing over his lips before they reach their destination, shaking your head in disapproval, “I have ideas for better use of that mouth, Emperor.”

He pulls back with grin, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip as you filter your fingers through his ginger hair, curling your hand over the back of his head as he bows, settling on his belly with his cock trapped between the sheets, slowly his nose buries into the coarse curls, his tongue dragging down the seam of your pussy.

Geta can only liken it to a taste of the divine, or the closest he would ever reach, settled between your open legs with a mission to please, to satisfy. And for the first time in his life—serve someone other than himself. Normally he would bark at the informality of things, only allow his given title, a strict instruction of a bowed head and obedience, but he finds himself bending to your rule and dropping to his knees, if you demand.

“You have your wits and sharp tongue,” He hums against your cunt, a delightful noise slipping out as you tug at his hair, “I suggest you put them to good use.”

As he does, you find yourself drifting.

He is precise, thorough—which is not at all expected from a man of his status, or any man, really. They were never concerned with the pleasure of anyone but themselves, but Geta has proven you wrong in many ways as undesirable as his ruling may be. 

You only cared for your life anymore, witnessing how delicate it could be when it came to everyone around you.

He likes to watch, too. It isn’t at all surprising, eager for praise he brings you to a quick and intense, but fleeting orgasm. It swells in your stomach, the heat pooling before it explodes, hearing the satisfied groan as he licks you clean, murmuring a shaky, “Good–good b-boy,” as you force yourself to catch your breath, allowing him to climb his way back up your body with the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, both of you sighing into the shared space as your foreheads meet and Geta was completely at your control, awaiting your next command.

“Are things often like this?” You ask curiously, “Is this what you seek?”

Domination; someone to submit to.

In a daze, he shakes his head, lips parted slightly.

“Do you enjoy that I make you feel this way?”

He smiles, sated, nodding in response.

“I want to feel you,” It was a whispered request, his eyes searching your face—again, even just the nudge of his cock between your folds was enough to make you tense and you find your own fingers drifting between your legs, dipping inside of you as he looks down, mesmerized as you guide his hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around his as you work together in tandem.

When his brow draws together, you guide him inside of you, staving off his impending orgasm.

“Slow,” You instruct, hands traveling to grip his face, nodding his head between your hold, “You are…quite large, I am not used to that,” Geta seems to find a surge of confidence at that, leaning forward greedily to capture your lips, his teeth dragging along the fleshy skin as he angles his and pulls back slowly, entering you at the same pace despite the impatient shake to his body, eager for more, “slow—slow, look at me,”

“You’re obedient,” You praise, “far more than I expected.” 

“My brother likens you to a goddess,” Geta notes, the odd timing sending you into a gentle snort of laughter, “I must say I agree, you are mesmerizing.”

“I prefer Caracalla not be a topic as your cock is buried inside of me,” You retort with a kind smile, his own morphing into a frown of concentration as your knees hike around his hips, encourage him to lean his weight against you as he rocks his hips, a gentle rhythm that is drowned out by the sounds of the city at night.

His itching impatience grows tiresome, gripping desperately at whatever skin he could reach, pitiful moans of pleasure inked into your skin with the silent plea of more—please, more?

“Make me come once more,” You urge him, “and take what you need.”

It was all he needed to hear, taking the opportunity to slip out of you as he guiding you toward your stomach, guiding one knee up toward your chest as he hovered over you, turning your head to face him as he pushed his cock back inside of you, your walls fluttering around him in satisfaction of being filled again. 

There was a perfect view of the sky this way, a small alcove open to the night breeze, stars twinkling against the contrasting colors of midnight, “It is beautiful,” He begins, not admiring the same sight as you, a shakiness to his voice as he pumped his hips at a nearly unbearable pace, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you.

He’s panting into your skin, a feeling you’ve experienced in plenty of other circumstances, with a well-versed ability to separate yourself from your body as men chase their pleasure, but with the emperor, it was a different experience.

A cacophony of small whimpers followed by an utterances of words you’re not sure he or his brother have spoke often, “Please—-please, may I—“

The gravity of the situation flips as you realize your mistake, giving a man with far too much reach and power any type of influence over you, your brain searching for a way to counter his plea as you turn your body, arm wrapping around the back of his neck as he shakes with his impending orgasm.

Words are lost, unable to speak before he’s pulling out of you, the drip of his warm seed coating your skin, the tight grip at your chest loosening in an instant.

Thank the gods, you pray silently. 

“I apologize,” He breathes heavily, bottom lip swollen and red from the mutilation of his teeth, chest flushed bright and burning, “if—if I scared you.”

He uses his discarded robe to clean you up, unthinking of the consequences as he leaned back to stand, fully nude as he extends his hand in wait, beckoning you closer.

“Scared me?” You challenge, curling your hand into his own as he pulls you up, legs bracketing his thighs as your hands come to rest against his abdomen, staring up at the emperor. 

“Your bark is quite frightful,” He admits, “I can only imagine how you would rip me apart had I gone too far,” His words trail, a softening to his voice as he curls his hand around the side of your face, a gentle gesture.

“Would you like that, Geta?” You ask with a creeping suspicion, a smirk spreading across your face, “For me to rip you apart?”

A man of such power, unrestrained and chaotic—shrinks.

Almost too shy to admit it.

“Careful, my lady,” He warns, “I am still a ruler of Rome, such disrespect is—”

“Punishable by death,” You confirm, “but, you promised me safety, yes?”

Geta nods silently, watching the slow crawl of your fingers up his chest before they grab his chin, your thumb smoothing over the dimpled skin, his lips pulling apart in a shaky exhale.

“And I am sure a good boy like you will keep that promise?”