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ponderingmoonlight · 7 months ago

Text

Seeing JJK men shirtless for the first time

Pairings: (true form) Sukuna x fem! reader; Nanami x fem!reader; Choso x fem!reader; Gojo and Geto x fem!reader; Ino x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader; Ijichi x fem!reader

Word Count: 6k (this is literally one third of my bachelor thesis lmao)

Warnings: Spice in Sukuna's, a little bit in Choso's and in Toji's part, true form Sukuna so slight spoilers regarding his appearance, I'm sorry but Choso's part is a lil shitty

Notes: You guys...This has to be my biggest fic yet and let me tell you, I poured my heart and soul into this piece. So please, if you find the time, leave me a like, a comment or a reblog. I appreciate it more than you could imagine 🤍

Sukuna

You don’t even know how you ended up here. To be exact, it still feels like a feverish dream to you. Only one second ago, you were on your way to find your friends, injured with your shoulder throbbing each passing second. But now…

Your eyes roam around the barely lit area, gleaming in that unpromising red light that runs shivers down your spine. There is absolutely no logical explanation for how you ended up here.

“Sure took you some time to finally wake up again.”

That dark voice hollering at you, the sarcastic undertone in it. It’s a man, without any doubt. And just by the sound of his masculine voice you can tell that he’s build like a wall.

Is it wise to move forward, to discover this place? Well, standing here like an idiot definitely won’t help to find a way out of here, right? And you definitely need to find out who that man is…

“Who are you?”

Your voice gets lost against the tall walls, echoes back at you over and over again. But no answer.

“Are you the reason for me being here?”

There is no doubt in the fact that his eyes are all over you. Like a hunter, he roams around you in silence while your tingling nerves almost cause you to lose your mind. Who is he? Where are you? What is all of this?

Your feet dash forward once again. Straight into the darkness, chasing after a dim beam of light that catches your interest immediately. Maybe this is your way out, maybe you’ll get to meet your friends again, maybe-

Suddenly your breath gets stuck in your throat, feet stopping immediately. That thing…

You swallow hard, eyes fixated on the most muscular male upper body you’ve seen in your entire life. No, this isn’t a thing. This is a grown man.

“Stop staring at me like that”, he growls with his now familiar voice.

This is him, the person who talked to you earlier. You want to confront him, want to ask him for a way out, but instead you stare him up and down. Those oh so muscular four arms decorated by hypnotizing tattoos, a chest so broad it takes you all your strength to outstand the urge to press your head against it. But what really catches you off guard is his mouth. No, not the mouth on his face. Your gaze gets caught by the parted lips that cover his stomach, teeth exposed to threatful that the thought of getting killed crosses your mind for a split second.

“Are you done now, stupid girl?”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you find yourself lying in his arms, his body pressed so tightly against yours that you fail to breathe. His half naked body, muscles touching your bare skin…

Oh god, this is so wrong. There is no doubt in the fact that this is Sukuna in his true form, the king of curses in his full glory. And you? You are nothing but a tiny human compared to him, an ant underneath his boot.

But why does it feel so good, then? Why do your knees give him, why does your body start to throb in places where it shouldn’t?

A whimper escapes your lips, body almost collapsing into itself when you can feel his mouth there.

Against your bare skin.

Caressing the sensitive flesh of your thighs.

“If you just break into my kingdom like that, then I can do whatever I want with you”, he whispers against your ear.

“P-please”, you groan, not even knowing yourself what exactly you’re begging for.

“(y/n)?”

You close your eyes, searching for the feeling of his tongue against your skin.

“(y/n)!”

No, don’t open your eyes, don’t get distracted.

“(Y/N)!”

When your eyes dart open again, you aren’t greeted by Sukuna’s stinging gaze. No, the innocent eyes that look at you filled with worry belong to someone else.

“Man, you really have me worrying out here for you. You just broke down and started whimpering”, Yuji explains while lifting you off the ground.

Was it…all a dream?

Nanami Kento

Your heart races, blood rushing through your ears like electricity. You told him right from the start that leaving on his own wasn’t a good idea, that the injuries of other jujutsu sorcerers make you believe this might be a special grade curse.

But Nanami Kento never listens when you worry about him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but it seems like there’s a gaping wound placed under my ribcage on my right side.”

You didn’t hesitate a single second, rushed after him with your little case like you always do. As Shoko’s co-worker, it’s your responsibility to look after injured jujutsu sorcerers. Even though you’ll never be as good as her, you will always make it your mission to help as fast as possible.

Especially him.

His signal grows stronger and stronger with every step you dash towards his location, mind racing back and forth. A gaping wound, what is that supposed to mean? Did he get hit by a gun, a curse? You don’t allow yourself to catch your breath, eyes focused on the little dot that comes closer.

“Are you alright, (y/n)? You really don’t need to rush to my side like that.”

A wave of relief washes over you when you see him leaning against the wall of a public toilet. But only until you catch a glimpse of the deep red tissues covering the sink and ground, his usual dark blue shirt discoloured in horrific crimson.

All colour drains from yourself while you lunge yourself at him, thick fear rushing through your veins.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You already lost a hell amount of blood”, you press out, inspecting the wound carefully.

This looks bad. Really really bad. If you don’t act right now, if you don’t start to use your technique immediately…

“Take off that shirt. Now”, you instruct him without waiting for his response while putting on gloves and showering your hands in sanitizer.

You fail to understand the meaning of your automatic words until he stands in front of you, bare chested.

Oh.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat all over again, eyes shamelessly discovering the way his muscular chest rises and falls steady.

“Did you just…”

Suddenly your mouth feels dry like the desert, mind unable to form a single sentence. Since you know Nanami Kento, you always know him as that well-dressed gentlemen in that suit that makes his butt look delicious and his shirt that leaves you pondering about the way he might look underneath when you’re supposed to work. There was never an opportunity to peek at more than his veiny forearm. And now this force of a man is standing right in front of your hungry eyes, showing you that reality is so much better than everything you could have imagined.

“Sorry, didn’t you tell me to take my shirt off?”

“I…”

When Shoko wasn’t around, you always pondered about the way he might look under his dark blue shirt. Do his tight muscles draw those valleys onto his belly you’ve seen on TV before? Does his biceps have that popping vein his forearms make you suspect?

You can’t help but allow your eyes to roam around his frame freely. That little scar decorating his chest. Is it from a fight? And that minor trail of untrimmed hair that lets your gaze wander to places…

“I don’t want to be rude but…I’m not feeling that well, (y/n). Would you mind treating me?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Blood rushes into your cheeks immediately, face heating up by the horrific thought that he caught you staring at his bare chest like an idiot. Fuck, he definitely thinks you’re nothing but a freak now. What if he’ll ignore you from now on? What if you won’t see him again after that? What a dumbass you are, didn’t you see countless men without a shirt on already-

“Hey, stop worrying. I’m more than flattered that I caught the attention of someone like you but…let’s do this when I’m feeling better.”

Your widened eyes fail to leave his oh so gorgeous face while your trembling hands go to work, mind too focused on what he just said.

“Let’s do what?”, you finally breathe out.

Is this…a smile forming on Kento Nanami’s lips? You feel like tripping all over again, heart pounding so roughly against your ribcage that you might pass out right by his side any given moment.

“I like the way you look at me, (y/n).”

What a simple reply. And yet, his words send you into another dimension.

“You…WHAT?”

Choso Kamo

Your body threatens to fail you, eyes in desperate search for Yuji. When Megumi finally gave in and told you he went out on his own, you almost lost your mind. Yuji, Sukuna’s vessel, on his own in Shibuya when everyone chases after him? Megumi definitely deserves another slap for that.

You sprint down the empty hallways of Shibuya’s train station, following the distant sound of battle. Please, let Yuji be alright. As his bigger sister, it was always your aim to protect him. When Yuji joined Jujutsu High, you did as well. When Yuji decided to fight in first row, you did too. There is no way you’ll allow your little brother to die, even though technically you aren’t related by blood. But even as your step brother, you can’t afford to lose him.

“Yuji?”

Nothing. Your body hollers back at you unanswered, mind slowly but surely starting to get into panic mode as the sound of cracking metal grows closer and closer.

And then you see it, the chaos that lays itself out in front of you dipped in neon purple lights. Blood is splattered across the area, the floor swimming in water that escapes the nearby toilet.

The toilet…You furrow your eyebrows. Is this… a wave of pink hair?

“Yuji?”

His eyes meet yours. The so determined gleam in them escapes instantly when fright replaces it.

“Get away from here right now, (y/n)!”, he screams at you just before a fist pushes him into a nearby wall violently.

Your brain threatens to fail you, body dashing into the toilet without thinking twice. Whoever this is will pay for hurting your brother so violently, for causing all this mess.

“Didn’t I tell you to walk away?”, Yuji questions with an irritated voice.

“And I told you more than once that I won’t leave you hanging!”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Are you two done?”

A male voice that makes you turn your head instantly. The second your eyes find him, your breath gets stuck in your throat. Oh, what a force of a man he is with strands of dark hair sticking to his wet face, his gorgeous eyes looking at you so unbothered. But what almost sweeps you off your feet is the way his robe allows you a single peek at his firm muscles that are lit by neon purple.

“Oh my”, you mumble to yourself.

Who on earth is this guy? Why is he fighting Yuji? But most importantly…Why does he have to look so steaming hot?

“Why are you not moving, (y/n)? Get out of here right now”, Yuji taunts urgently.

“What a waste”, you jeer at the man in front of you while taking a few steps towards him.

Choso can’t help but look at you bamboozled. How you move so confidently even though you don’t even know who he is, your eyes still fixated on…

His body? Are you looking at his abs?

“That a handsome guy like you acts like this.”

His eyes widen unintentionally, hands not daring to move. He should kill you right on the spot, should end your life just like that of Itadori Yuji. You’re partly responsible for the violent death of his brothers as well, given the fact that you’re also wearing that uniform. But his tight fists don’t dare to move a single inch, glued to his sides.

“Idiot, you don’t even know who you’re talking to. I will kill you just like Yuji Itadori, I will-“

“Will you, though?”

You come to a stand in front of him.

“W…What are you doing, (y/n)?”

Yuji’s voice shifts into the background. This definitely isn’t the first time you get close to a handsome man, but the others definitely weren’t that handsome. Just one look into his surprised eyes, the delicate marks on his face. And that force of a body. There is no doubt in the fact that this man trains a lot.

“I am distracting him, what else?”, you purr.

“I am not distracted.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Before he’s able to think about your words any further, you wrap your longing arms around his neck and hold him firmly against yourself.

“Because your eyes tell me something else.”

Now it’s Choso who fails to breathe. He never understood the simplicity of tender touch, the urge that drives humans almost crazy. What is so special about another hand placed against your skin, about lying in each other’s arms? He might have never understood if it wasn’t for you. You with your arm wrapped around his neck. You, with your free hand wandering down his chest, the wet fabric exposing his tight muscles without mercy.

In the split of a second, he begins to realize what touching each other seems to be about.

“Respect. Out of all the trained men I see on a daily basis, you have to be the most handsome one out of all. You work out a lot, don’t you?”

Your fingertips discover the valleys of his abs even further, force Choso to feel an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. Fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, has never seen you before. How is it even possible for you to have this power over him?

“None of your business, idiot”, he breathes out.

“What’s your name?”

Your voice does things to him his mind fails to understand, his sharp breath now hanging in the air between both of you. You are threatening, your glowy eyes showing more than urgently that you aren’t playing. But that slight smile on your face, the confidence dripping from every pore of your body…Who are you?

“Choso Kamo.”

“I’m (y/n)”, you reply while allowing your eyes to take one last glance at his tight abs.

Oh, you’ll definitely regret what you’re about to do. What if you won’t get to see him afterwards, the most handsome man you ever laid eyes on? There’s no other way, though.

“And I hope I’ll get the chance to be this close to you again.”

One innocent kiss pressed against his soft lips. One innocent kiss that sends him straight onto the ground, emerged into nothing but darkness. A pretty useful cursed technique, probably the reason why you get called femme fatale at Jujutsu High.

“What a shame, I really liked that guy”, you comment with Yuji coming to a stand right by your side.

“You didn’t have to touch his abs like that…”

“Oh I definitely did”, you reply instantly.

Your hands brush over his upper body one last time before you turn around and walk away.

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

What a lovely day. Well, lovely apart from the stinging fact that you are forced to babysit the vessel of Tengen-sama when a bunch of bounty hunters chases after you. Your shaded eyes roam around the area without any break, too scared of the consequences that carelessness could have. In contrast to Gojo, you take this task very seriously. You, who is nothing but an average jujutsu sorcerer at jujutsu high, surpassed by her classmates a long time ago. Who, who only got the chance to go on this mission by coincidence.

Well, and then there’s him.

“(y/n), why are you not wearing a bikini? We’re at the beach, aren’t we?”

Gojo Satoru, the honoured one. Of course, they would choose him to escort the plasma vessel. It’s only logical for him to be here.

“We’re on a mission, Satoru”, you remind him urgently without even looking his way.

“Hey, are you alright? There’s no need to be so tense, (y/n). We have everything under control.”

And then there’s also him, Geto Suguru. The boy with the most charismatic smile you’ve even seen, so gentle and kind that it’s almost unbelievable he’s even talking to Satoru.

“I won’t be tense when she’s finally with Tengen-sama. This mission is very important to me”, you mumble with your eyes fixated on Riko and Misato walking in front of you, completely unbothered by the fact that both of them almost died more than once.

“Hey, stop looking so serious, (y/n)! I’m here to save you if it get’s heated”, Gojo purrs from behind, literally forcing you to roll your eyes behind your sunglasses.

“Why do you always have to tease her like this? (y/n) can help herself and you know that”, Geto remarks instantly, letting himself fall behind to mumble something you can’t understand into his best friend’s ear.

You worked your ass of for this opportunity, always stayed longer than anyone else on the training field, always learned until far past midnight while everyone else was sound asleep. There was never anything except getting a better jujutsu sorcerer in your life. God, you didn’t even have a single boyfriend in all those years.

Enough. You straighten your shoulders and force your eyes onto Rika again. For now, you have a job to do. There’s no time to think about something so wasteful as boys.

Your gaze roams around the beach before you allow the plasma vessel to get into the water with a wink. No one but a little family without cursed energy is located around you, so everything should be fine. Also, Gojo would have detected an enemy with his six eyes. Gojo…where on earth is he, though?

When you turn around in order to follow his and Geto’s muted voice, your breath gets stuck in your throat. You really don’t know what you expected when going to the beach with both Suguru and Satoru, but that? Both of them wear nothing but shorts and a shirt – an opened shirt. Your gaze hits their bare chests one after another, races back and forth while your mouth opens on its own. To be honest, you’ve never seen a real guy shirtless. Maybe here and there at the swimming pool when you were training or at the beach. But they weren’t like them. They weren’t this toned.

“Enjoying the view, (y/n)? Looks like a cat got ya tongue, huh?”, Satoru jeers at you.

“Not every girl looks at you, Satoru”, Suguru comments dryly.

“Hey, are you alright, (y/n)?”

You missed out.

Fuck, you definitely missed out.

How is this he first time you saw both of them shirtless? Geto with a firm body that doesn’t match his soft personality at all. Gojo, who isn’t only blessed with his immense powers but with a god-like body as well.

“I…Uh…”

You can’t find words. How are you supposed to say anything logical when your heart almost beats out of your chest? They were never more than comrades to you, never more than strong jujutsu sorcerers you look up to. But damn, at this very moment, you truly see them as man.

Suguru puts his hand on his hip which makes his muscles dance delicately, head tilted to the side in sheer confusion while he walks towards you. Lord have mercy, you really are doomed. How are you supposed to concentrate on this mission when now you’re aware of how they look underneath those strict uniforms?

“Are you feeling unwell? It’s totally fine if you go back to the ho-“

“No”, you interrupt Suguru immediately when he puts his hand on your shoulder.

His bare hand.

While he stands in front of you with his bare chest.

You never longed for men. No, your only interest has always been your training, to become greater, better, faster, stronger. But at this very moment, when both of their toned bodies stare right back at you, you suddenly feel a weakness you’ve never felt before, a hunger that was unknown until now.

“Can’t you see that (y/n) is busy staring at us right now, Suguru? Bet that’s your first time ever seeing something apart from training”, Satoru teases you.

Faster than your mind is able to follow, he stands in front of you, grabs your wrists and presses your palm against his naked chest. His heartbeat pulsates against your fingertips, forces a warmth between your legs you’ve never felt before. Those tiny hair that tickle against your oversensitive skin, the heat that radiates from his body, that makes you almost faint.

You stumble back a few steps only to get caught by Suguru, who presses you against his body firmly.

“Hey, are you not feeling well?”

“I…I…”, you stutter.

Oh god, you feel like dying and flying at the same time, lying like an idiot in Suguru’s arms while Satoru still grins at you.

“Want me to take off my pants as well, (y/n)?”

“SATORU!”

Ino Takuma

“Why do I have to train with this jerk again?”

Your eyes roll backwards while you let yourself fall onto a nearby bench theatrically. God, how much you hate that guy, the way he always acts so competent around Nanami makes your guts turn in pure disgust. Doesn’t he understand that you are better than him, that you are Nanami’s favorite student? Ino Takuma doesn’t stand a chance against you.

But why does Nanami insist on both of you training together, then?

“Because both of you need to work on your abilities and you complement each other perfectly.”

“That’s not true!”, you answer along with each other instantly.

No, you despise Ino with all your heart. There’s nothing you could learn from him. Him with that stupid grin, him with that dumb confident walk, him in that oversized black sweater.

“I will be back after my mission. It is your choice how you spend your time until then. Stay safe.”

Fuck, Nanami knows exactly what he did with those words. Of course, there’s no way around spending your time with that jerk now.

“Can you stop breathing so fucking loud?”, you jeer at him.

“Me? Nothing but hot air comes out of your mouth. Save your breath, idiot”, Ino bites back instantly.

“You know what? Let’s start right now. I can’t wait to beat your puny ass.”

You dash to the other side of the large room after bumping into his shoulder provocatively. There is no doubt in the fact that you will make Ino regret coming into your life like this. You are the one and only one who deserves a recommendation from Nanami and not him. Just one look into his oh so confident face makes your veins pulsate.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared, (y/n)?”

You let out your shaky breath, hands balling into tight fists. That fucker will regret every stupid comment he ever made when you’re done with him.

“If you were as good at staying dumb stuff as you were at fighting, you’d probably be a special grade by now.”

He dashes towards you with his mask covering his face. Just in time, you are able to dodge his merciless attack while holding onto your sword so tightly that your knuckles stand out white. Over and over, he tries to hit you, tries to distract you while you swing your swords without regard as well.

“I won’t lose this fight, (y/n)”, he presses out while pushing you backwards.

“I won’t either.”

Over and over, again and again, your body collapse against each other, his flying fist missing your face only by inches. You have to fight back harder, sweat sticks to your forehead while you squint your eyes in order to follow his rapid movements. How much you hate to even think about the stinging fact that Ino is a decent fighter, that both of you actually meet eye to eye.

You ball your fists even tighter, let your powers roam free in your pulsating veins. Still, you won’t allow him to win this. You will stump him into the ground, make Nanami proud, show him that you deserve his recommendation. This is your only way to become a grade 1 sorcerer, to surpass Ino.

With one well-placed dash of your bare hand, his sweater gets torn into pieces while you position yourself in front of him, so ready to give him that last hit he deserves, so ready to win this fight.

This fight…Your eyes follow the movement of your hand, watch how the black fabric hangs on for dear life, how it reveals something you’ve never seen before.

Your eyes widen in sheer surprise, blinking against the sudden sensation that hits you. Are those really Ino’s abs? So well-toned that you simply can’t look away, covered in a layer of glittering sweat and flexed to the brim.

“Oh my god”, you mutter to yourself.

This is definitely not the sight you expected. Of course you know how much he trains, that he has to be somehow fit. But that?

“Why you’re looking at me like that?”

“You look like fucking adonis”, you spit at him.

“Why do you have to look so damn good?”

“Huh?”

“This is not fair”, you continue, grabbing his arm and yanking him towards you.

“You don’t deserve to look like that.”

“Are you out of your mind, you idiot?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Like in slow motion, a sudden redness creeps up his face and discolors his cheeks red.

“Just shut the fuck up”, he continues.

Your eyes travel downwards his body again. What a great figure, what a body of steel. Why does it have to be Ino Takumo who looks this damn good? Why on earth does it have to be him? Your cheeks heat up like fire, a nauseous feeling threatening to eat you up alive. Is it even more disgust, more hatred than you already hold for him? No, this feels somehow different.

Is this…desire?

“I need to get out of here”, you announce before turning on your heel and aiming to walk away.

“No, there’s no way in hell I’ll let you leave like that you creep. Did you just check me out? I thought you’re disgusted of me.”

He grabs your arm and pulls you backwards before you’re able to stop him, his eyes gleaming at you.

There you stand, both of you with red faces, just looking at each other like plain idiots while you force yourself to keep your eyes focused on his face.

“You don’t deserve to be this hot”, you reply in a haste.

Why do his lips suddenly look this inviting? You actually never saw him up-close, always kept your save distance to your greatest enemy. Ino is a jerk, nothing but a trash talker, a pain in your ass since you first saw him. But on the other hand, he’s well-toned and strangely handsome with the way a coat of sweat decorates his forehead, his troubled eyes and those lips. Those lips you never payed attention to, those lips who did nothing but talking shit until this day. You can’t help but wonder how they feel pressed against yours, how his abs feel pressed against the palms of your hand. Out of instinct, your head moves forward, closes the gap between both of you step by step. How did you never notice his delicate smell and how hot he looks with that mask?

“Ino”, you breathe his name out like a prayer.

“(y/n)…”

“What’s going on here?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You stumble backwards immediately, heart dropping to the floor. There he stands like a knight in shining armour. None other than Nanami Kento.

“I didn’t know you were still busy, I’ll come ba-“

“This is a misunderstanding”, you desperately try to explain yourself.

And there it is. Even worse than seeing him standing in front of you with his arms crossed after catching you only inches away from your worst enemy.

A smile. A tiny fucking smile forming on Nanami’s lips.

“Is it, (y/n)?”

“I hate you”, Ino mumbles next to you.

“I hate you too.”

Toji Fushiguro

To say that you’re bored is an understatement. You feel like fucking dying with that little brat walking by your side. These last days were like a trip to hell and back.

“Let me say I’ll never babysit some stupid kid again”, you announce into the silence around you, earning a cheeky grin from Gojo.

“Totally agree with that.”

“Oh yeah?”, Riko replies challenging.

Just seconds before a blade pierces trough Gojo next to you with full force.

Just before his blood splatters across your face.

“Satoru”, you hear Geto breathe out far away.

“Get Riko away from here right now”, you instruct him out of instinct.

When you turn around, you get greeted by the hottest green eyes you’ve ever seen. The man who forces his blade straight into Gojo’s chest looks stunning with that maniac smile plastered on his gorgeous face.

“Now that’s a pleasant surprise. Apart from piercing through my friend, of course”, you comment dryly.

It’s clear that he’s older than you. Just one glance into his masculine face tells you that he’s no one to be messed with. Well, separately from the sword he pierced through the honoured one.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt ya, princess. But you and your little friends have something I need to kill”, his low seductive voice hollers back at you.

“(y/n), you shouldn’t stay here, y-“

“I got this Suguru. Get Riko to Tengen-sama as soon as possible”, you interrupt him immediately.

Your heart almost beats out of your chest by only a glimpse at the stranger standing in front of you. Finally, something exciting. Or rather, someone exciting.

“C’mon, we both know I can’t let that happen, princess.”

“Get out of here as well and use your reversed technique, Gojo”, you instruct the white-haired man again.

“I’m the honoured one, remember?”

“Well, I’m a woman”, you hiss through gritted teeth while walking past him.

“Seems like we have to fight, then.”

His smirk is intoxicating while he dashes towards you with neck-breaking speed. Over and over, you escape his blade just by inches while enjoying the wave of dopamine that rushes over you.

“You’re hot”, you jeer at him while dodging another attack.

“Ya know, we don’t have to fight here. Lemme finish this real quick and then we’ll have a talk under four eyes”, he replies with his enormous biceps rushing over your head.

“A talk, I’d rather see you naked.”

“Oh yeah? Don’t force yourself.”

A grin creeps up your face while you attack him with both of your swords, swinging through the air so effortlessly that he can’t help but stare at you. How are you so different from all the women he’s met before? So fearless, so forbidden hot. Maybe not his age, but given the gleam in your eyes mature.

What he’d do to run his fingers through your hair once, to watch your expression twitch underneath his merciless touch. You’d sure feel good pressed against his body with your bare back pressed against the mattress.

“Oh no, seems like I broke your shirt. What a shame”, you purr with your eyes locked onto his now exposed upper body.

Just as you expected, exactly how you imagined a man like him to look like. A body built from heaven itself, his abs so firm that you’re sure they’d feel like cement underneath your touch. What a force of a man.

What a shame he came here to sabotage your mission.

“Would have happened sooner or later anyway”, he replies while pinning you against a nearby tree, desire obviously clouding his dark eyes.

You can’t deny the fact that you are oh so tempted to enjoy this little sensation, a timeout from that shitty mission. Carefully, you allow your hands to discover the valleys his upper body has to offer, to feel his muscles tense underneath your merciless touch. There’s no shame in admitting that this was your favorite first glance of a male for a long time.

“You’re probably my favorite.”

The smirk on his face grows even wider while he traps you between his strong arms. What a shame, you think to yourself. You definitely have to tell Gojo to work out even harder after seeing a guy like him.

“But I can’t afford to play favorites when it comes to men. You’re in my way and if you sabotage my mission, I’m screwed, big guy. Let’s just stay here and let that girl live-“

Suddenly all air escapes your lungs, you fail to breathe when he pushes your body onto the ground with full force.

“Thought you were in control, huh? Too bad for ya, I don’t get distracted by a girl touching my abs. Even though I have to admit you’re a nice one. Now you stay here and let me finish your little friend before killing that vessel, okay?”

Your eyes widen in sheer horror as he simply walks away. Him, with his shirt hanging in shreds down his body, exposing his shamelessly toned back to your watery eyes.

He tricked you with the force of his muscles. And you actually fell for it.

Ijichi Kiyotaka

Your heart is racing in your chest, fingertips trembling by the nauseous wave of stress that washes over you. Again, something you didn’t calculate correctly. Again, some students got stuck underneath a curtain.

Your feet rush you to his room immediately. He’s probably the only one who’s able to fix the mess you’ve caused. After all, this is what he always does. Making sure no one gets hurt, having your back when things get messy.

For you, Ijichi is a blessing walking on earth. And he might be your only saviour right now.

With rapid steps, you dash into the building you know so well, the building he calls his come. Even if blindfolded, you’d always find your way to the man who seems so powerless in a world full of people who are ridiculously strong. Forced into the shadow, always looking out for everyone except himself.

“Ijichi, I need your help, I-“

You dashed into his flat like you always do, expected him sitting on the table while reading a book like he always does when you come around. But today, that doesn’t seem to be the chase. All of the sudden your mouth starts to feel dry, eyes fixated on nothing but his naked upper body.

His naked upper body.

“(y/n)! I…I didn’t expect you here today!”, he frantically mumbles while fighting for dear life with his white shirt.

“I never expected you to be so trained”, you breathe out, glance getting stuck on his surprisingly toned chest and six-pack.

“Don’t make fun of me, (y/n). I’m just an average guy”, he tries to laugh your words off.

“You look fantastic. Literally, you’re definitely able to keep up with Gojo. Are you training in secret?”, you insist.

“Don’t say something like that too loud, (y/n). If he hears you-“

“It’s nothing but the truth. You look absolutely…stunning.”

“Stunning” isn’t enough of a description for those butterflies violently racing through your stomach. It takes all your strength to stop your eyes from moving downwards again, to burn the picture of his toned abs inside your brain. How are you supposed to ever look into his face when knowing very well what an attractive man he is?

“Do you…mean it?”

His eyes meet yours, search for a spark of sarcasm in your glance. But there is no doubt in the fact that you mean it. Every single word you said about his lousy body, the praises.

A woman like you…Finding him attractive?

“Of course I do”, you mumble.

Oh.

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luminiamore · 8 months ago

Text

STRETCH.

yoga instructer choso x black man-eater reader

a/n: this is heavily inspired by jennifer’s body (・_・ヾ

also 1000 followers WHATT? (つ✧ω✧)つ

no branding included in this fic actually, so yk what that means. part two in the future asf (ﾉ´ з `)ノ

warnings: murder, reader is a succubus who eats boys & the girls she sleeps with (not choso), reader has fangs, big dick choso, he’s shy, he do be eating ass though, sloppy eater, whiny choso, pussydrunk cho, breeding asf, soft dom choso but like (￣ω￣;) subby, he makes reader submit, just nasty, also frens with satosugu

masterlist

man-eater

Noun

man-eater (plural man-eaters)

An animal that attacks and kills humans for food, such as certain tigers or sharks; any animal that consumes human flesh. quotations

A cannibal; a human that eats other humans. quotations

(by extension, slang) A seductive dangerous woman, often readily taking and discarding male romantic partners.

One thing you loved about the 21st century is that there was never a shortage of people. They were everywhere. Crawling around like little ants and fucking rapidly like rabbits. You never ran out of your source of food, your source of life.

Your species have been around for a long time. You don’t remember how you came to be, but when you first opened your eyes, you were in the center of hot molten rock from the middle of the northwest Pacific Ocean. Tamu Massif, the world’s massive underwater volcano, just 1,600 km east of Japan, was your home.

Your first feeding, your first kill, happened off the coast on the Seychelles beaches about two days after you were awakened. Your brown body was paling by then, but you didn’t know why. At first, you didn’t know what you were, but you knew you were weak and physically unable to move at some point. While still beautiful, your eyes lacked any life in them. You needed energy.

In your defense, they came to you. The wife did, more specifically. You were under the sun a lot; it was the only thing that could at least give you some life. You suspected she and the buff man with her were here as tourists, a honeymoon vacation spot perhaps. But, even after just being introduced to this world, you knew what you preferred. You were selective.

Her husband wasn’t all that interesting to break, but her...

She was gorgeous, downright angelic. And you had such a strong desire to fuck her. And weirdly enough, your mouth started savoring at the thought of eating her.

It seems you hadn’t known just how insatiable you can be, just how powerful you really are. It wasn’t on purpose; you swear it wasn’t. But you know what they say about firsts. She was addicting. How soft she was, how perfect her body fit with yours. She taught you how to feel, how to let go. You were so high on pleasure.

So, you can imagine your distress when you wake up to her unmoving body on top of your naked one. When you shift your eyes to the left, you notice her neck, specifically the missing chunk of it. You lick your lips and immediately grimace at the saltiness. You pushed her body towards your side with a huff.

At first, you felt quite hysterical. You ran toward the mirror and saw something that caused you to gasp.

Was that blood?

Red spots were all over your face, and your mouth area was even more adorned. Your locs are messy, cascading down past your hips. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what occurred while you were intoxicated with pleasure.

Your face is grim as you grasp onto the skin of your forehead, groaning. Flashes start to appear in your mind. A glimpse of her face, body, her pussy. Flashes of you leaning into her neck, flashes of her neck being torn apart, and flashes of her body shaky under your firm hold.

Oh.

After about ten seconds had passed of your staring in the mirror, you accepted that this woman was now dead. You had killed her.

But.. you weren’t overwhelmed by dread. Not upset or guilty that you completely depleted this woman’s life force. A strong feeling coursed through every nook and cranny in your veins, and you felt rejuvenated. The eye bags that had formed beneath your wispy eyelashes were absent, you could tell that much despite the amount of blood splattered on your face.

You had a liking for this feeling. Your strength was apparent, and your skin was brighter and clearer. You experienced such a state of euphoria. And well, you would die if you didn’t get more. Literally and figuratively.

You didn’t make an effort to conceal the body; you felt no need to. You felt compelled to go somewhere, but when you looked in that direction, all you could see was the moving water. You escaped into the ocean at the exact moment, moving as fast as you could away from the small island and following the intense pressure calling out to you.

Since that incident, you’ve stayed in Japan. A black woman with unnatural beauty stalked through the night, undeniably being the center of attention. You were the talk of everywhere you went; people often compared you to a witch, a vampire was the funniest one you’ve heard. You were unusual and feared a little by the public. Although you were beautiful, every step you took was infused with a sense of danger and mystery. Death, even.

It’s common for people who left with you to never be seen again. In the event that they were, they weren’t the same. People had this inexhaustible attraction towards you. They wanted to know more, they tried to discover the secrets you held. But unless you choose them, all people could potentially get out of you was a meaningless glance.

The more you kill, the stronger you become. You became aware of this shortly after your second kill, and you could soon hold off on feeding for weeks if you needed to. Though you’ve grown to realize that you’re superior to a particular breed, you were never the type to go crazy with power. Many of your species, you could tell, were famous and had the most influence on the public.

Take the city’s most well-known billionaires, such as Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo. Their ownership of many corporations and businesses allowed them to have multiple connections with dangerous parts of Japan, such as the Yakuza. However, they also contribute significant amounts of income to the city annually. Their support of the most popular things in the population was indisputable, making it impossible not to like them. It wasn’t because they wanted to; they weren’t that generous, but because they loved power.

Passing them on your stroll, you could tell they were similar to you. Their scent was unlike that of humans, and their energy and absolute pheromones were ridiculous. They were looking for prey that night, you could tell by how potent it was. And perhaps if you were human, you would have fallen for their charm when they called out for you.

They had plans to make you their meal for the night, but unfortunately, their hypnotic effect on humans didn’t work on you. That’s when they realized that you were like them, and well, they were both amused.

“Aw, how cute,”

“Bet you would’ve tasted real good too.”

To this day, you don’t know if Suguru was talking about eating you or your pussy. Even so, you became a close friend of the pair from that moment forward. There were days when they would pop up to your apartment unannounced and grace you with their antics. It was more of a domestic setting, not sexual, but they enjoyed being around someone who deeply understood them.

Today was one of those days. Your peaceful nap ended when they entered your bedroom and plopped down on your bed, discussing the last feeding they had. Satoru’s voice reaches an enthusiastic pitch,

“She was so bendy, Suguru! She bent over backwards, and she was still taking my dick,”

The long-haired man shifts his eyes carelessly towards his best friend, who is resting on your thighs and intensely focused on something on his phone. You were oblivious to the words spewed out by Satoru, fighting against the sleep you had gotten before they arrived. The latter raises a brow,

“Hmm,”

“She told me she takes something called yoga classes? It’s a shame she’s dead now, she was fu- Wait! Hey, Y/n?”

Your response is a hum as he shifts his head to your face and speaks with a sly smile on his lips,

“Do you take yoga classes?”

You were not very fond of modern activities, so you rarely indulged in them. You rarely attempt to learn about human life and what they do for fun or work due to that knowledge. Their values never weighed down on you, and as a result, you lived a peaceful life. When you glanced down at piercing ice eyes, the confusion was evident on your face,

“What’s..yoga?”

Suguru gave a response instead, knowing that Satoru would give you a misleading description of the exercise,

“It’s just an activity humans do to calm the mind and stretch the body.”

“I see. Does it bring pleasure?”

“Maybe, they seem to be very satisfied afterwards.”

You twist your head in thought, interesting. Satoru pokes at your shoulder, and when you glance down, he shows you his phone screen. Plentiful pictures of women in various positions, very flexible..positions. Was she holding herself up on her forearms?

“Where can I find this? I’d like to.. learn.” Your own words caused you to startle yourself, and now you’re completely awake.

Since when?

You hear a breathy laugh coming from beneath you. “Oh yeah? Didn’t peg you as the type to like playing with your food.” His fingers move to find the nearest yoga studio by your building, despite his taunting, and he feels internally happy when he discovers it’s one he knows.

You flick his head, giggling while he grunts a bit. “It’s interesting. I didn’t know the body could shape itself like that.” In all honesty, he presented you with some pictures that made you grimace a little.

“There’s a place called Kamo’s Zen Sanctuary a few blocks from here. Of course, Suguru and I are friends with the owner.”

The mentioned man hums in assurance,

“We can send a car to take you tomorrow afternoon if you’re up for it.” He wiggles his brows as he waits for your response.

As always, they kept their word without fail. Before the car arrived the next day, a large package was delivered to your door with a flimsy note that said, ‘You’re welcome.’

It’s probable that you only needed one yoga set, but your friends wanted to give you a wide array of choices to pick from. Ultimately, you opted for a lightweight black set. When you looked in the mirror, you really saw how the clothing accentuated your body, especially your ass. Oh, you liked this.

Stopping outside the studio, your mind suddenly became well aware that you didn’t know how human establishments operated. You took pleasure in the decorative pieces that this place had. Cold air, a Buddha statue spilling water steadily in a bowl, and soothing violin music immediately welcomed you upon arrival.

Despite not being familiar with the environment, you still entered it with grace. You would have left if it weren’t for the tall, handsome gentleman who sneaked up on you from behind. His silent demeanor made it impossible to hear him, and when you saw his face, you indeed weren’t disappointed.

“Do you need help, miss?”

Smooth was how his words came across. When you faced him, his face was smooth, too. Your body vibrated, your fingertips were slightly twitching, and your mind was reeling in the fact that you were suddenly very, very hungry. Although it’s been a week since you last had anything to eat, you’ve already found your next prey.

Him. The quite pale man with a pair of beautiful, solemn eyes. The dark line across his face is a perfect fit for him, and it’s hard not to notice. His plum lips are almost puckered, but they look so soft you want to sink your teeth into them. You want him.

You eye his exposed biceps in the black shirt clinging onto his pale skin, “Yes, I want to learn yoga. How can I?”

Even as his ears flush, he maintains a steady tone and unbothered expression when addressing you, barely making eye contact, “I can get you started with that. My name is Choso. I’m an instructor here. Come with me, miss.”

You nodded without reason because the man had already turned and started walking to a different room. You’re staring at him, more so the way his muscles ripple with every step he takes. There’s an intangible desire on your part to fuck this man, bite every inch of his body until he was withering in pleasure.

Choso seemed shy, but you liked that he was nervous and fidgety around you as you faced him in a larger room with a mirror covering both ends. There were no lights on, only candles surrounding the black walls. The echo from the fish swimming in the small pond could be heard throughout the space.

His back could be seen through the clear glass. As you looked around, you also noticed red mats and..blocks? This place was strange. You lick your lips when he speaks again,

“This is where we do the practice. I sense that you’re new to this. Do you want to start with a small stretch first?” His hand reaches behind him to pick up a thin mat, his low purple eyes flickering between the object and you.

“Of course, Choso.”

Choso has a sweet scent, almost like a bakery. The moment you walked inside, his scent infiltrated your nostrils. The sheer proximity of his body when he guided you into what he said was the downward dog position made you feel like you were floating. You felt hot, even on fire, when he touched you. The fabric you wore was so tightly held onto your body that it felt like he was touching your bare skin.

He was exerting pressure on your lower thighs, making them conform to the position. When you glanced in the mirror, he seemed so focused on what he was doing. You swear your pussy had a heartbeat. His gaze catches yours,

“Head down, miss.”

You listen wordlessly, your locs making small thumping sounds when they hit the red surface. Maybe Choso could feel the heat and craving radiating off of your body. Maybe he couldn’t. It’s impossible to read his thoughts, no matter which way you look at it. His face remains blank after he says ‘good job’ for maintaining the position after a minute. If he can feel your body heating up like you can, his expression doesn’t make it known.

His body, however, does. More so, how red he gets, as if he’s heating up too as if he’s experiencing the same shit you are. Could he be?

Choso tells you about the next position he’s going to put you in,

“You’re a little tense on your outer hips, so we’re gonna do something called the Pigeon pose.”

You’re almost about to ask, ‘What’s that?’ but he shows you before you can even part your lips. Your right leg is flat against the floor, twisted in front of you almost perfectly, while your left leg elongates towards the back. Choso observes the difficulty of your arms in holding you up, so he goes in front of you to help. The firmness of his hands on your hips reflects his strength, especially when he presses down slightly to stretch the area.

“It’s okay. Your legs are supporting you. You can relax a bit.” Can you, though? With the way, he’s pressing on an area that’s suddenly very sore to you. His voice is scratching some primal part of your brain. You think it’s impossible.

“Am I supposed to be doing something while in this position?” You intentionally lower your voice to make him look at you. He does, just not in the way you want. That stupid, blank expression is still on his face. You rub your lower body on the mat, shivering a little as it barely touches your clit through the fabric.

“You’re supposed to breathe. Just be.” He speaks softly against your face. You were fond of his closeness, the sensation of his breath being directly on your skin.

“When will this feel pleasurable?” You exhale. You honestly weren’t seeing any interest in human activities again. You were only getting a slight burn on your legs, and that was due to the grip Choso still had on you.

You don’t know what it is you said, but you watch Choso intensely. You can see his eyes widen for a split second before returning to their original state.

“Pleasurable? You came here.. for pleasure?”

There was a slight hiccup in his voice at the end of his question. You got him, you think. It shouldn’t be much to get him under you now. He taps his long fingers on your hip twice twice in an attempt to make you shift to the other leg, causing you to jump.

A wince escapes your lips as he releases his grip on you, “I hear that this practice can give that. Is it true?”

You finally caught Choso’s eye on you. In fact, his gaze remains on you even after he observes your body shift its position. You believe that you like his eyes on you. He lowers himself to your level to help you still your body.

“I suppose it depends on what kind of pleasure you’re looking for, miss.”

You hum softly as you breathe him in once more today when his palms rest against you once again. What did he mean by that?

You reply, but your gaze never leaves his, “What kind of pleasure can you give me, Choso?”

Choso was quiet, reserved from the public, and honestly tried his best to avoid any eye contact with you during your entire time in his studio. But he only has so much self-control, as did you. The only conversation was a series of intense squelching sounds as Choso sucked on your pink bud obscenely.

“Oh fuck- Just like that, Cho!”

He moaned fervently against your brown lips, pulling your hips against his face and keeping your cheeks apart with his large grip. You were on your knees, back shaped into a perfect arch. He was not letting go, squeezing his tongue down your wet pussy lips. Your body shakes as his tongue licks a stripe through your folds, circles all over your puckered hole, and drool slips onto the thin mat.

“Ah-!”

Your cries made Choso even more red in the ears. He thought he was pretty dull, not exciting or engaging to talk to. He didn’t pay much attention to his looks, girls always found him too.. weird. It wasn’t something he expected to happen on his day. He knew who you were before you came in, Satoru had the pleasure of letting him know you were on your way. But the minute you came into his place of work, he found it very hard to resist you. That’s why he didn’t make any eye contact.

The truth is, Choso was deeply attracted to you and found it terrifying.

Choso’s pretty head was puzzled by the fact that he was responsible for the angelic sounds that emerged from your plump lips. He couldn’t fathom that he was on his knees licking the most sensitive parts of your body. But, he welcomed it, letting himself sink into the essence of you with a feeling of overwhelming desperation.

“Want more. Come on, miss. Give m-me more, please.”

How much more can you give him? He already has his face deep inside of you. You understand what he is trying to say when he inserts two fingers into your wet mound, dragging them in and out and carefully grazing the spongy spot that makes you thrash around. You immediately clench at the intrusion, feeling the overwhelming pleasure burn in the pit of your stomach.

Choso is eager to pay attention to all parts of you but doesn’t know where to focus. Every part of you tastes so celestial, he wanted you to give him everything at the same time. His finger-fucking is swift, and your mind is entirely absent when the man pushes his tongue into and out of your ass simultaneously. Choso was so turned on that his precum was making a stain on his shorts from how much he was leaking.

His moans vibrated against your lower lips, and you swore in all your existence that you had never been eaten so nasty like this. He was going to make you cum so fast that you couldn’t even be mad about it.

He can feel it. The fatness of your pussy is pressing against Choso’s two big fingers, forcing him to use more strength to maintain his rapid pace. Your wetness creates a beautiful clear puddle under his attack, and he can feel it. Could you also do that on his dick? Milk his cock over and over and over again until he couldn’t cum anymore? Choso has been an atheist his entire life, but he almost prayed for this one favor.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Ouuu fuck! I’m g-gonna-”

The man doesn’t respond at first, only presses into your G-spot harder and more forcefully, as if he has a point to prove. He circles at your clit, wrapping the twitching bud around his lips, and sucks hard. What does it for you is the drunk whispers vibrating against your core of ‘Please, give it to me. Just cum. Fuck, it’s so wet.’

Your stomach tightens, your hands grip the carpeted floor in front of you, and your mouth releases pornographic moaning as cream pours out of you and onto his waiting tongue. Choso is clamoring for your taste, and as a result, he moans out with you. You have a strong desire for him, but for some inexplicable reason, your body is unwilling to eat him. Instead, you never wanted to fuck a person so badly in your life.

Choso’s close proximity makes him ignore your little whimpers while rubbing his blushing, leaking tip up and down your sloppy cunt. When did he even pull his dick out?

“Bet it’s so w-warm inside. Ah-” When his flushed tip accidentally slips in, and he gets a taste of the warmth you bring, his breathy voice cracks. You’re whining now. Pushing back on Choso, sucking his wide cock in your greedy hole, feeling impatient to force him down far enough to rip your pussy.

Choso has the most beautiful moans you’ve ever heard. His voice is deep, but his tone gets so high in pitch when he’s like this. It’s so whiny it makes you cream. Literally. His voice cracks, just like his resolve does when you slide all 7.8 inches of him in so that your hips are flush against his pelvis. The feeling of his dick inside of you is so good that you’re so close to begging.

He thought he could have some self-control, but he barely kept it together when he was just eating you out. Your drooling pussy convulsing and contracting against Choso, against his cock, is a sign that his soul has reached a part of heaven. He couldn’t stop himself, really. He couldn’t do anything but relentlessly fuck you at an inhuman pace.

“So good. So good. Pussy’s so fucking-” He cuts himself off with a loud groan when he witnesses your soft brown cheeks being spread apart for him, revealing a magnificent view of your pussy being stretched beyond their limits. Giving him a beautiful view of your messy pussy creaming the more his dick repeatedly punches your g-spot again and again and again.

You’re wailing. You’re trying to find something to hold onto that can bring your mind back to reality. Choso makes it so hard. He is becoming more and more clingy to your liquids, and his hips are vibrating violently against yours, making you believe he might be bruising your cervix. You love it. You love every speck of pleasure flowing and rippling through your body. You love everything he’s giving your body at this moment.

“I-I know what you- Oh fuck. W-what you are,”

Huh?

The thought is almost pushed out of your head when he angles his hips to get deeper inside of you. Wet and dirty sounds of his balls hitting your clit are filling the air of the stretch room. Choso is rambling now. Your pretty pussy’s attempt to milk his cock until there was nothing is making him feel delirious. It just feels so good, so safe, so wet. God, you were so fucking wet for him. He continues his fucked out declaration,

“A-And I can tell y-you don’t like c-commitment, but please. Please let me k-keep you satisfied for all e-eternity.” His rough and insatiable pounding sends your mind to distant places while he pleads.

With whatever coherent part of your brain is still there, you cower away at the proposition. Shaking your head rapidly in a ‘no’ motion. His harsh thrusts are practically felt in your womb, pushing your hips away when you scramble to grab something stable to hold you on the floor.

Of course, Choso doesn’t let you run away like that. He quickly brings your waist back against him, making sure that his cock is nestled in the deepest parts of your warmth for a moment before starting to thrust again. You’re forced to take it all, and he doesn’t even need to say a word to prevent you from trying that shit again.

Still, you whimper out,

“Chooo baby, I can’t- Ahhh! Can’t l-let you do that.”

Choso only frowns at the evident lie on your lips and pushes your entire body harder onto the mat. A loud gasp escapes your lips when you unexpectedly squirt all over the thin object due to the sudden pressure you feel on your cervix. He was so deep.

Choso doesn’t slow down; he only moans with staggering moans when your pussy sprays its juices on him. In fact, he goes faster.

“P-Please, miss. I can make you feel this g-good whenever you want. I can- Fuckk. I promise I c-can always fuck you deep like t-this. I’ll worship you. I’d do anything you- anything you ask, just please. L-Let me.”

It seems that Choso understood precisely what you needed, a bit of prodding and persuading. He’s sure that if someone happens to walk into the lobby, they’ll hear exactly what’s going on due to the loud squelching you both are making. But why does he want that? Why does he want everyone to know that he is the one making you cry out so pretty as if he were your god? Despite your brief resolve, you give the handsome man exactly what he asks. You.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes! M’all yours, Cho! M’cumming- Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m-”

The sounds you both made at the same time were too much for your lovemaking to drown out. With your dam breaking, your pussy twitching open and closed, and your tight pussy covering his heavy cock with splashes of clear liquid and your sweet, sweet cream, Choso gets a taste of heaven. He cums with you. His hand grips the sides of your hips so hard, even through your dark skin, that it might leave bruises. Your perfect pussy squeezing a heavy load out of the man so much that he was shaking when he felt it overfill your cunt. Fuck, you’re too much.

Heavy breathing and a light pap sound coming from his cum dripping out of your poor pussy could barely be heard by both of you. Choso was in such a headspace that his mind needed to take a breather to gather what the fuck he was going to say to you in a few minutes, his dick softening inside you. You were feeling the after-effects of being fucked so good, buzzing in your right ear, spasming on a cock that’s still buried deep inside of you, and aches on your lower body.

You start to pull off of him, thinking that’s what he wants, but he immediately grabs your hips and keeps you still, still not getting over the euphoric feeling of your pussy on him. Choso realizes something, and at this moment, he feels the most embarrassed he has ever felt. He managed to get a girl's commitment without even knowing her name.

“Um.. miss?”

You barely let out a whisper, “Yes, Cho?”

“… What��s your name?”

There’s a beat of silence. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. Choso is pleading that you won’t hate him.

His thoughts were disrupted by a melodic laugh and a honey voice, “It’s Y/n, cutie.”

Y/n? He finds that name so.. pretty. Almost as pretty as your body. Almost as pretty as the sight of your tight pussy creaming up and-

Well, now he’s hard again. You won’t mind if he pleases you a little more, right? After all, he made a promise, and Choso is never known for breaking his promises.

tags🏷️:: @hatake05

tags🏷️:: @thickbihhwitdagapp

2K notes · View notes

unstable-samurai · 4 months ago

Text

First Light

Shuhua x Male Reader

Word Count: 16k

one-shot

You're in the lifeguard tower, a cubicle that smells of sunscreen and snacks, arguing with your supervisor about carburetors. He's talking about his Chevelle, and you pretend to understand, but all you can think about is the roar of the engine and how much you'd rather be on the road than here, where the warm breeze seems to glue your skin to the fabric of the chair.

"I’ve got some paperwork to deal with," he says, patting his pocket as if that would make the paperwork more real. "You got this?"

Of course, you’ve got this.

Nothing much is happening right now. The day will repeat itself quietly, like the previous ones—maybe someone will step on a jellyfish, but that’s about it.

For now, just sun-kissed bodies scattered like shells and the sound of the waves repeating the same eternal monologue.

Minutes pass.

Maybe five.

Maybe fifteen.

You see something at the edge of the beach. A crowd. People running to the same spot, like ants in a panic. You grab the binoculars, focus on the scene. Screams. Hands waving desperately.

Okay, maybe things would deviate from normal today.

You know what's happening before you even see the guy's head bobbing up and down, like a miniature castaway.

Your heart speeds up in a "it’s now or never" way. Adrenaline starts to boil in your blood. Without thinking, you grab the jetski and go. Each wave is a slap in the face, the sun a fluorescent lamp frying your neck.

You barely hear the voices around you. Everything is muffled, as if you’ve dived underwater. But you keep moving, your body acting on reflex, instincts forged in drills repeated to exhaustion. The jetski cuts through the water like a blade, spraying droplets that glisten in the morning sun. In the distance, the crowd huddles on the sand, small silhouettes blurred by distance and heat.

The man is floating, face up, but the waves keep pulling him down, away from where he should be. His body moves awkwardly, arms flailing in the water with the desperation of someone who knows time is running out. And you? You’re just an extension of the jetski, muscles and nerves automated, your mind cold as ice.

There’s no time to think. Only to act.

You slow down and approach from behind, tossing the buoy towards the man, who tries to grab it, but his movements are uncoordinated, sluggish. The current is stronger than it looked from afar. You need to be quick. One mistake, and he goes under. Without hesitation, you dive into the water, the cold impact enveloping you, but your mind stays sharp, focused. You feel the resistance of the sea against your body as you swim towards him.

"Grab the lifebuoy!" you shout, your voice lost in the wind and waves, but he finally manages to hold onto it, his fingers white from gripping so hard. You feel the weight of his body as you start pulling him towards the jetski. He doesn’t struggle, but he’s heavy, as if the water itself is trying to keep him.

You lift him just enough so he can lean against the side of the jetski. He’s gasping for air, coughing up water, his eyes wide with fear, but still, conscious. You climb back onto the jetski, keeping a firm hand on him as you steer the vehicle back to the shore. The return trip feels longer, the waves seeming to conspire to pull you both further away, but you don’t slow down.

On the sand, the crowd parts, creating a narrow path to where you’ll land. They’re silent, the kind of heavy silence as if they’re waiting to see if this will have a happy ending. You steer the jetski onto the shore, jumping onto the sand before anyone can react. With the help of a pair of arms you barely see, the man is pulled out of the water, his feet dragging in the sand as he tries to catch his breath.

The supervisor, the great major of this beach, is already there. From somewhere, he appeared, arms crossed, a smile on his face barely containing his pride.

"First rescue, huh, son?" He claps you on the shoulder as if you were a war hero. "Kid, you did a good job. One day you’re going to be better than me."

But the words don’t penetrate the layer of indifference you’ve built around yourself. You just shrug, looking at the man now sitting on the sand, supported by other lifeguards, his breathing finally returning to normal. People start clapping, soon becoming more intense. People taking pictures, a commotion to remember later, something to tell over dinner or post on social media.

Curious eyes, pointing fingers.

They say: "Hero," "Savior," "Blessed."

But you barely hear it, it feels distant, like background noise, like a TV in another room. All you can think is that this is your job. There’s nothing extraordinary about it. You did it because you had to, because it was either that or let a man drown.

Your father's hand is still on your shoulder.

"That’s my boy!" he says. You just nod, pretending to accept everything that’s happening.

But you look at the sand. Look at the sea. The sky. Anything but the faces, anything but the eyes of the people watching you. Because deep down, you know there’s no heroism in this. Just the inevitability of duty.

The man on the sand looks at you with eyes full of gratitude, but you just turn away, not wanting to feel the connection, the responsibility he seems to place on you with that look. Your father says something else, but you barely hear it, already starting to move away from the scene, feeling the weight of what you just did dissolve amidst the unwanted attention.

And then you walk away. The noise of the beach, the applause, all of it fading as you head toward the tower, trying to leave it all behind, but knowing that, somehow, the weight of it is still there, even if you pretend it’s not.

—

You're sitting on the steps of the lifeguard tower, and the sunset is the kind of show that nobody pays to see, but everyone stops to watch. Seagulls circle above you like little white demons, the waves crash against the sand with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic sound, and you feel the salty breeze cooling the skin that’s been under the sun all day. The air carries the scent of salt, of the sea, of a day that's dying.

You hear footsteps in the sand. Slow, as if each grain were an obstacle. And then you see her. The long dress floats around her legs, the wind playing with the fabric. The Polaroid camera hangs on her shoulder, as if it’s part of her. Something about her seems out of place, as if she’s stepped out of a different time and is now trying to fit into the present.

She stops a few steps away from you, her eyes scanning the horizon before they land on your face.

"Could you take a picture of me?" Her voice is soft but firm, like someone who’s used to getting what she wants without needing to ask twice.

You stand up, somewhat embarrassed that you didn’t realize you were sitting until now.

"Sure." You take the camera, and she positions herself so the lens can capture her alongside the vastness of the sea. She doesn't smile for the photo. It’s as if she's lost in some thought that the sun is trying to steal from her.

The flash pops, and the photo starts to materialize, the outlines emerging slowly as if painted by hand. She takes the image, studying it for a moment before smiling slightly, satisfied.

"Thank you," she says.

You can’t help but think of how beautiful she is. Not the plastic, symmetrical beauty of a magazine, but something rawer, more real. Her face has that shape you only see in classic paintings. Large, dark eyes, as if they want to see more of the world than it’s willing to show. Porcelain skin, long dark hair that catches the golden light of the setting sun.

"You're a tourist, aren't you?" you ask, more to fill the silence than out of curiosity.

"I am," she replies, without taking her eyes off the photo. "Just passing through. I leave on Monday."

It's Friday by the way.

"Ah, that's a shame," you say, and realize you sounded sadder than you intended. "Is it your first time here?"

She finally looks at you, and her gaze is something you didn’t expect. Like she's studying you, trying to understand something even you don’t grasp.

"Yes," she says after a pause. "And you? Do you spend your days here, saving lives?"

You shrug.

"More or less. It's my job."

She tilts her head slightly, her hair falling over one shoulder.

"You didn’t seem too happy when you saved that man today."

"I was just doing my job," you repeat, as if that could end the conversation.

But she doesn’t let it go.

"Is that all? I’d imagine saving someone would be something worth celebrating."

You hesitate, your eyes searching for something to focus on that isn’t her.

"It’s not like that. My dad runs everything here. He kind of pushed me into it."

She’s silent for a moment, as if processing what you said. Then, with a slight smile, she asks:

"And why don’t you want to be a lifeguard? Any guy would love to have a dad who's, like, ripped and cool, making a living on the beach, being treated like a hero."

You let out a small laugh, but it comes out more bitter than you intended.

"It's not just that. I wanted to play football instead of being a lifeguard."

She takes a step closer, curiosity growing in her eyes.

"Football? What do you mean? You wanted to be a professional player?"

"That was the plan," you admit. "But life happened. And here I am."

She nods, as if she understands perfectly.

"It’s funny how things don’t always go the way we plan, right?"

You agree. The sun is almost completely gone, and the colors in the sky fade, as if they’re tired of shining so brightly.

"Do you always travel alone?" you ask, trying to steer the conversation to something less personal.

She smiles, but this time it’s more challenging.

"And why not? I like discovering the world on my own. With no one to get in the way. Can’t a woman do that?"

"I think it’s admirable," you say, and you mean it. Something about the way she talks, like she’s always two steps ahead, makes you want to know more.

"I study philosophy," she reveals. "I’m on vacation, trying to see as much as I can before reality pulls me back."

Philosophy. Of course. You should have guessed.

"That explains a lot," you say, smiling for the first time in a while—long enough that you didn’t even realize you hadn’t been smiling.

She smiles back, and for the first time, it feels like she’s really here, in the present, with you.

"And you? Are you going to tell me more about yourself, or leave me to imagine?"

"Maybe I’ll tell you more if you come with me later. I’m going for a walk along the boardwalk. If you want company, we can meet near the broken statue at seven."

She pretends to think for a moment, but the smile on her face already gives the answer.

"Maybe I will. Who knows?"

You both fall silent for a moment, listening to the waves, the seagulls, the sound of the world turning. And then, with one last glance, she walks away, leaving you with a sunset that’s already turned to night.

A night that promises to bring something more than just stars.

—

You're sitting on the bench, waiting. People walk along the boardwalk, laughing, chatting, living their lives as if you weren't there, alone. Every passing minute, every step you hear that isn't hers, feels like the whisper of a tiny little devil saying that maybe you got it all wrong.

Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she remembered something more important. Maybe you're not as interesting as you think. You start calculating how long it's acceptable to wait before getting up and leaving without seeming desperate.

Then you feel the touch. It's light, almost as if a breeze had turned solid for a second. You turn your head, and there she is. Shuhua. As if she had been materialized by your thoughts. Her dress, now shorter, clings to her body with the same ease that night clings to the sky. Her dark hair shines under the streetlights, and for a second, you forget how to breathe.

"You look beautiful," you say, because nothing else makes sense in that moment.

She smiles, as if she already knew, but still likes to hear it.

"Thank you."

You begin to walk side by side, the sound of the waves in the distance sometimes pulling you back to the moment of the rescue again, though you don't show it.

"What's it like studying philosophy?" you ask, because the silence between you seems fuller than any conversation. And because you want to know more about what makes her who she is.

She looks around for a second, as if someone passing by might hand her the answer.

"It's like trying to understand life as it happens. Like you're a spectator in your own movie."

"Then say something philosophical," you ask, half-joking, but half-hoping she'll reveal something that will change the way you see the world.

She stops for a second, and you think maybe you've asked too much. But then she smiles, a smile that doesn't quite light up her whole face, but brings a small light to the night.

"All we know is that we know nothing."

"That's Socrates, right?"

"That's right."

"Oh, come on. You can do better than that."

"So, what do you want to know, Mr. Deep?"

You keep walking along the boardwalk, your steps slow, almost synchronized.

"Do you believe we're really free to do whatever we want?" The question comes out of you before you have time to filter it.

"Nietzsche said that desire is what drives us. It's not just a choice; it's what we are, what makes us act. But the problem is that desire is never simple, never pure. It always comes with a shadow. And that shadow is guilt."

She turns her face to you, a slight smile on her lips, but it's a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, and she continues:

"We can do whatever we want, yes. But do we really want to? Or does desire just push us toward what's inevitable, toward what we try to resist but deep down know we'll end up giving in to?"

You try to process what she's saying, but it's like trying to catch smoke with your hands. It feels like her words carry more weight than the moment.

"So, desire always comes with guilt?" you ask, trying to sound more curious than worried.

"It's not guilt that accompanies desire," she says, her eyes returning to the path ahead. "It's that desire makes us go against what we should be, what we've been told we should be. And then guilt arises, not because we've done something wrong, but because we desire what we've been taught to reject." She lets out a small laugh, but it's a dry sound, without joy. "Deep down, desire is a rebellion against morality. And every time we give in to it, we're challenging the world, the rules, what's right and wrong. But no one comes out of a challenge unscathed. There are always consequences."

"And you? Do you feel guilty about anything?" you ask before you wonder if maybe it's too much, but you don't regret it. You want to know who she is, to understand what's going on behind that face that seems so impenetrable.

She's silent again, and for a moment, you think she won't answer. But then she looks directly at you, her eyes dark and deep like the sea at night.

"Guilt? Of course. But guilt... guilt is proof that we're still alive. That it still matters, that we're still human." She smiles, but it's a sad smile. "I feel guilty because I desire what I shouldn't. Because deep down, I know I'm going against something bigger than myself. And it destroys me a little more each day."

And you realize, at that moment, that Shuhua is talking more about herself than any philosophy. That what she's saying isn't just theory, as real as the ground beneath your feet.

When you pass by a street artist, he observes you for a second, the pencil twirling between his fingers as if looking for his next masterpiece.

"You make a beautiful couple," he says, his tone casual, as if he already knew he was right. "How about a drawing of you two?"

You open your mouth to correct him, to say that no, you aren't a couple, but Shuhua is already agreeing.

"Sure," she says, pulling you to sit next to her on the bench.

The artist smiles, as if he knew the battle was won before it even began. He starts drawing, the pencil moving with the precision that only excessive practice can provide. You try to stay still, but you can't stop looking at Shuhua. The way she's relaxed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. Her scent, a soft perfume, mixes with the breeze entering your lungs, and it's an addictive sensation.

Time passes, but you don't notice. Only the sound of the pencil scratching the paper, the distant waves, and her scent.

Finally, the artist stops, gives the drawing a final touch, and turns it to show you both. The paper reveals the two of you sitting together, but there's something more there. Something the artist captured, something you hadn't noticed until now. He drew you looking at Shuhua with an expression you didn't know you were making. Admiration. Fascination. As if she were something more than just a girl.

As if she were a muse, and you, an artist trapped in her beauty.

"You, my friend, look at her like you're trying to decipher a mystery," the artist says, handing you the paper.

Shuhua takes the drawing, and you pay the artist, still feeling that strange weight in your chest, as if something important had been revealed without your permission. You both stand up, thank him, and continue walking.

She looks at the drawing again, a subtle smile on her lips.

"I like it," she says, and you realize she's not just talking about the drawing.

The sound of the sea never stops, not for a second. It's always there, in the background, a constant reminder that you're close to something bigger, vaster than anything you can do or feel. The waves break, one after another, like the sound of a clock ticking in a time that no one can control.

The kiosk appears ahead, with its yellow lights that seem to blend with the color of the night sky. The tables are scattered around, some already occupied by couples and small groups chatting in low tones, laughing about something only they know. You choose an empty table, away from the others.

The waiter approaches, young and cheerful, wearing a casual floral shirt. He hands you the menu and disappears, leaving you alone. Shuhua flips through the menu as if she's looking for something she already knows she wants, but still enjoys seeing the options. You choose something simple, a random drink that won't make you seem out of your element.

"Do you always hit on tourist girls?" The question comes from her naturally. But there's something more there, a curiosity she's trying to hide, but you notice immediately.

You smile, one of those smiles that's hard to decipher.

"No."

She raises an eyebrow, as if not entirely convinced.

"Then why did you call me? The beach is full of girls much hotter than me, with tanned bodies and everything."

The waiter returns with the drinks, placing them on the table skillfully. Shuhua takes hers and sips, her eyes still fixed on you, waiting for an answer that makes sense in the world she knows.

"Because I don't care about that," you finally say. The drink is cold in your hand, and the taste is strong, but you don't look away. "It's been a while since I went out with any girl. The thing is, you're different, Shuhua, you caught my attention."

She pauses, the glass halfway between the table and her lips, as if waiting for you to say something more. But you don't. Because there's nothing more to say. And, for some reason, that seems to be enough for her.

Shuhua puts the glass back on the table but doesn't drink. She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she's trying to see something beyond what's in front of her.

"You know," she says, "that almost sounds true."

You shrug, as if it wasn't a big deal, but you feel like something has changed in the air between you. As if the conversation had entered another territory, something deeper, closer to what really matters.

"Think what you want," you say, pretending not to care.

"Are you messing with me?" she asks, but now her tone is different. Lighter, almost playful.

"No," you reply, sincerely. And that's enough for her to believe you, at least for now.

You continue talking, about trivial things, about life, about what it’s like to study philosophy and what it means to work in something that isn’t your passion. But with every word, with every exchange of glances, you feel like you’re diving deeper, sinking into something more than just a night by the sea.

And her? She seems to relax, seems to accept what you’re offering, even though she’s still not sure exactly what that is. But there’s a sparkle in her eyes, a spark of interest that wasn’t there before. And that’s enough for you to keep going.

The waiter comes back to see if you two need anything else, but you don’t. Everything you want is there, on the table between you, in the air circulating around, in the words being spoken and those yet to come.

—

The boardwalk stretches out casually, Shuhua always by your side, her steps in sync with yours, as if you’ve done this many times before. But it’s the first time, and you’re still trying to figure out exactly what it means. The streets around are relatively quiet for a Friday night, with the distant murmur of other conversations floating in the air, but none of that matters much because, at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

“There’s a nice restaurant nearby, what do you think?” you ask her.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Shuhua replies. “Tell me the truth, were you nervous when you had to save that man?” she suddenly asks, curious to uncover what’s behind the tough lifeguard façade.

You glance at her sideways, a small smile on your lips as you respond.

“Actually, I was waiting for it. Patiently.”

She seems surprised by the answer, as if she expected something more heroic, something more dramatic. But the truth is much simpler.

“Since I completed training, I’ve never allowed myself to relax. I knew that, sooner or later, something like that would happen. It was just a matter of time.”

Shuhua lets out a small laugh, a soft, light sound, and shakes her head.

“That explains why you always seem so tense. I can see the tension in your shoulders.”

You raise an eyebrow, and there’s a playful note in your voice when you reply.

“Maybe if you gave me a massage, I’d feel better.”

“Maybe I will,” she says, and you know that part of her is really considering the idea.

The boardwalk unfolds ahead, a paved path that leads to anywhere you both decide to go. But before you can reach the restaurant you mentioned, something different catches your attention. A soft melody floats through the air, a mix of guitar, saxophone, and that unmistakable bossa nova beat. The kind of sound that makes you stop and listen, that reminds you there’s beauty in the world, even in the simplest things.

“Did you hear that?” you ask, but you don’t wait for an answer. Instead, you follow the sound, taking Shuhua with you until you find the source: a small band set up in the middle of the boardwalk, with simple instruments and an energy that doesn’t need a big audience to thrive.

And that’s when you do something that maybe even you didn’t expect. Pulling Shuhua by the hand, you lead her to the center of a small clearing among the people, a space that seems tailor-made for what you’re about to do next.

“You said I seemed tense,” you say, looking directly at her, a spark of challenge in your eyes. “Let’s see if I’m really that tense.”

And then you start dancing.

It’s nothing elaborate, nothing you need to think too much about. Just you, Shuhua, and the music. Your bodies move together as if there’s an invisible choreography that you both know but have never practiced. The rhythm of the bossa nova is smooth, easy to follow.

Shuhua watches you, her eyes shining with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“You dance well,” she says, and there’s a tone of genuine amazement in her voice.

“I did theater in school,” you reply, spinning her gently, as if proving there’s still more for her to discover about you. “I was in a few musicals. Nothing major.”

She laughs, her head tilted back, her hair falling like a black cascade that seems to absorb the light around. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

“I’m a guy full of surprises,” you say, and you know it’s a little true.

The music continues, and you keep dancing, lost in this moment that belongs only to you two. Every move, every step seems to free her a little more.

When the music finally ends, you and Shuhua stop, a bit out of breath but with smiles on your faces that don’t need any explanation. The small crowd around you applauds softly, and the band moves on to another song, but for the two of you, this moment has passed, it has fulfilled its purpose.

“Shall we go to the restaurant?” you ask, and she agrees, still smiling.

—

The restaurant is a hidden gem, the kind of place you only find if you know exactly what you’re looking for. It's near the boardwalk, just a few steps from the beach, where the sound of the waves mixed with live music creates an atmosphere that makes everything feel lighter, simpler. The tables are made of worn wood, coated with a thin layer of varnish that doesn’t hide the years of use but instead gives each one a kind of rustic charm. The chairs match, creaking slightly every time someone sits down, but no one seems to mind. Everyone is here for the same reason: good food, a fresh breeze, and a night that doesn’t seem in any hurry to end.

The outdoor tables are filled with couples, friends, and tourists who stumbled upon this place by chance. The lights strung between the posts sway gently, bathing everything in a golden glow that makes people’s skin look warmer, more alive. In the center of the restaurant, there's an outdoor grill, where the chef, a robust man with agile hands, flips fish and seafood over the flames with enviable skill.

You and Shuhua choose a table in the corner, close enough to the grill to feel the warmth but far enough that the smell of smoke doesn’t overwhelm anyone. She looks around, taking it all in as if she's absorbing the details to store them in her memory, and you realize that she does this with everything—every moment, every detail is important to her, which only heightens the sense that she’s just passing through.

The waiter, a middle-aged man with an easy smile, brings the menu, and you order without much ceremony: grilled fish, shrimp seasoned with garlic and herbs, and a white wine to go with it. The conversation flows naturally, filled with laughter and glances that last a second longer than necessary. The food is good, simple, and flavorful—the kind of meal that satisfies without pretense.

As dinner progresses, you can’t help but notice how completely comfortable Shuhua seems in her own skin, how she has a keen awareness of who she is and what she wants. She talks about her philosophy studies with a passion that makes even the most abstract concepts feel tangible, real. And as you listen to her, a part of you feels increasingly drawn not just to her obvious beauty but to the depth she reveals with every sentence, every gesture.

At one point, between a sip of wine and a bite of fish, you lean in a little closer, taking advantage of the intimate atmosphere to ask what’s been on your mind since the beginning of the night.

“When you go back home... can we keep in touch? I mean, you could give me your Instagram or something. You’re a cool, interesting girl. I’d like to get to know you better.”

There’s a second of silence, an almost imperceptible pause before Shuhua responds. She carefully places her fork on the plate, and when she looks at you, there’s a softness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. But there’s also something else, something you didn’t expect.

“You’re sweet,” she says, her voice almost too gentle—the kind of voice you use when you’re about to let someone down. “And you seem like the type who does everything for the girl you like. But... I don’t want you to get any feelings, whatever we are right now. This is casual, you know? I just want to make that clear so you don’t get hurt later.”

Her words fall on you like an unexpected weight, crushing the small hope that had been growing inside you since the moment she asked you to take her picture on the beach. You remain silent for a moment, trying to process what she said, trying to mask the disappointment that inevitably begins to set in.

“I understand,” you finally say, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, a hollow smile that you hope isn’t as transparent as it feels to you. “Of course. No problem.”

The conversation continues, but there’s a subtle shift in tone, a new layer of distance. You make a conscious effort to keep things light, to not let on that her words affected you more than you’d like to admit. Shuhua, for her part, seems relieved to have laid everything out in the open, and she returns to being the same bright, spontaneous girl she was before, as if what she just said didn’t matter in the slightest.

Apparently.

Dinner finally ends, and as you wait for the bill, Shuhua mentions that she’s staying at a nearby inn. You consider her words for a moment, knowing this is a fork in the road, that whatever you decide next will determine the course of the night.

“My place isn’t far from here,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual. “If you want, you can stay over.”

She looks at you, her eyes shining under the restaurant's soft lights, and for a moment, you think she’s going to refuse. But then she smiles, a small, pleasant smile that seems like it might vanish at any moment.

“Sure,” she replies. “Let’s go.”

And with that, the night’s fate is sealed. You pay the bill, leave a generous tip, and together, you walk out of the restaurant, back to the boardwalk, which now feels even more deserted, more silent. It’s getting late, and the streets are emptying out, except for a few passersby who are in no hurry to get anywhere, and the sea breeze feels a bit cooler, carrying with it the scent of salt and something else, something indefinable that mingles with the excitement and nervousness growing inside you.

The walk to your place is short, and as you walk side by side, not saying much, you can’t help but wonder what exactly will happen when you finally get there. But at the same time, you know that’s a question that can only be answered when the door closes behind you, when words are no longer necessary.

—

Your home is modest but cozy—the kind of place that reflects the lifestyle of someone who spends more time outdoors than within four walls. Shuhua places the drawing of the two of you on the counter, says it’s all yours, and casually begins to observe the surroundings. The walls are a soft beige, and the floor is covered with a simple carpet. The living room is dominated by a comfortable sofa, a TV that seems barely used, and a similarly untouched video game console. There isn’t much in terms of decoration, but there’s a certain order to the chaos, as if everything has its place. A guitar resting in a corner and some posters of classic bands hint at personal tastes that go beyond the lifeguard job.

You offer her wine, a bottle of red that you’d been saving for a special occasion.

You pour the drink, trying to appear calm, but your movements are deliberately slow, as if prolonging something that shouldn’t be prolonged. Shuhua sits on the sofa, her legs gracefully crossed, the dress revealing a bit more of her pale thighs as she adjusts herself. She accepts the glass of wine, but her gaze is firm, determined.

She’s not here for the details of your decor, to watch that new Netflix series, or to talk about the idiotic lives of celebrities; she’s here for you.

"If we're going to do this, let’s do it now," she says after taking a sip of the wine, placing the glass on the coffee table. Her voice is almost a whisper, but it carries a calculated firmness. "Let's not prolong the formalities."

The sound of her voice resonates within you, making your heart race.

"I wasn’t sure you wanted the same thing as me..."

You approach her, setting your glass aside as well, your hands trembling slightly, but it’s desire that guides every movement.

Shuhua doesn’t wait. She leans forward, capturing your lips with hers, a kiss that starts soft but quickly intensifies. Her lips are soft, but there’s an urgency in the way she moves her tongue, exploring every corner of your mouth. Her small, delicate hands slide to the buttons of your shirt, undoing them with impressive dexterity.

She climbs onto your lap, your bodies touching only through the thin fabric of your clothes. The heat that emanates is good, it’s alive, but you want more. Your hands trace the outline of her hips, sliding down to her thighs, pulling her closer. Her response is immediate: a sigh, a small moan that escapes her lips as she presses her body against yours.

Shuhua pulls back slightly, just enough to remove your shirt and toss it aside. Her eyes travel over your body, admiring what she sees.

"You’re really hot," she murmurs. Her fingers trace invisible lines on your skin, exploring every muscle. "I’ve never fucked a lifeguard before."

“Well, I’ve never fucked a philosophy student,” you say. Your hands slide down her back to her waist, where you hold her firmly, pulling her even closer. The fabric of her dress is an obstacle you want to remove, but there’s something about prolonging this moment, savoring every touch.

The kisses continue for a while longer, until, without warning, she slides off your lap and kneels on the floor in front of you, her hands reaching for your pants, fingers swiftly unbuttoning the zipper with a speed that catches you off guard. She pulls your pants and underwear down, freeing your hard cock. You somehow feel vulnerable as Shuhua wraps her hand around the base of your cock, her eyes never leaving yours, a gaze that’s both intimidating and full of desire. With a decisive move, she leans in, taking your cock into her mouth.

The warmth and wetness are familiar, but there’s a newness to it—you’ve never felt a mouth so small, lips so soft, and a tongue so skilled sucking you off before. She turns a simple blowjob into something divine. You moan, your head falling back, fingers tangling in her hair as she continues to work you. Every movement of her tongue is calculated, teasing. She uses slow and fast sucks to give you pleasure. The pressure in your body builds, pleasure taking over your mind.

You want to fuck her.

But Shuhua doesn’t stop. She quickens her pace, the moans escaping her throat as she dedicates herself to the task with a commitment that nearly destroys you. When you feel like you’re on the verge of losing control, you pull her up, panting, and place her back on the sofa. She smiles, satisfied, as if she had been expecting this exact reaction.

Now it’s your turn to worship her with your tongue. You remove your shoes and fully take off the pants that were hanging below your knees. You pull up her dress slightly, and that’s when you realize she wasn’t wearing any panties. The shock of this revelation only intensifies your desire. She’s completely exposed to you, her skin smooth and warm under your hands. You kiss her again, with more hunger, your fingers exploring the wetness between her legs. Shuhua writhes under your touch, small moans escaping her lips as you stimulate her.

"I'm getting so wet," she whispers, her voice trembling with pleasure. There’s a mischievous glint in your eyes; you’re not willing to stop. You make her kneel on the sofa, turning her back to you. Shuhua pulls her dress up to her waist to reveal her perfectly round, juicy ass, practically begging for you to eat her pussy. You position yourself behind her, lowering your body, your mouth now replacing your fingers, exploring her with even more curiosity. Your tongue slides along her pussy.

Shuhua's moans grow louder, more intense, as her hands grip the back of the sofa tightly. When you sense she’s on the verge of exploding, you pull back, watching her with a desire to make her feel even more pleasure.

Then, without warning, she stands up, pulling the dress over her head and tossing it to the floor. She’s completely naked before you, and the desire burns even stronger in your chest. You sit on the sofa, and she climbs onto your lap, guiding your cock inside her with an ease that makes you sigh.

Her warmth envelops you completely. She lets out a small moan, closing her eyes for a moment, absorbing every inch as she settles. Her hands rest on your shoulders, nails lightly digging into your skin as she begins to move.

She starts at a slow pace, almost as if savoring the sensation, but soon she picks up speed, her body moving with a determination that leaves you breathless. Her tits sway gently with each movement, and you can’t resist the temptation to wrap one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking intensely. Shuhua lets out a louder moan, tilting her head back.

"You like this, don’t you? You like it when I ride your cock," she murmurs, her voice melting with the pleasure she feels. She smiles provocatively, her eyes locked on yours as she continues to move at a rhythm that drives you crazier by the second.

"Yeah, a lot," you respond through gritted teeth, your hands gripping her hips tightly, helping her maintain the rhythm. The feeling of being inside her, warm and wet, makes you crave more, much more.

Shuhua leans forward, her lips almost touching yours, her breath hot and quick against your mouth.

"Then fuck me harder," she whispers, the provocation in her voice as clear as day.

The urgency in her words awakens something wild inside you. Your fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her into a fierce kiss. In response, she rides you faster, moaning against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as you increase the pace. Your hands move to her ass, squeezing and urging Shuhua to ride with even more intensity.

The pleasure makes your head spin, the room around you seeming to disappear, leaving only the sound of your bodies colliding, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

"Just like that," she moans. "Fuck me hard! Don’t stop, don’t stop."

The pleasure is overwhelming, guiding you to a speed that makes every touch feel more intense than it should. Shuhua writhes on top of you, sweat dripping down her skin as she gives in completely to the sensation. Her face is flushed, her eyes half-closed, and she bites her lower lip, trying to stifle the moans that escape her lips, but failing at the task.

"You’re going to make me come," she whispers, the words broken up by moans. Her gaze is a mix of lust and vulnerability, as if she’s at the mercy of the pleasure you’re giving her.

"Then cum for me," you respond, your voice low and laden with desire. Your hands grip her hips firmly. "Cum on my cock, babe!"

Shuhua responds to the command, her movements becoming erratic as the climax nears. She lets out a scream, her whole body trembling as pleasure overtakes her, and you feel the contractions around you, each pulse intensifying the pleasure already consuming you.

"Oh, God..." She gasps, her nails scratching your shoulders as her body writhes on yours. She’s completely lost in the moment, her face a mask of ecstasy as she continues to move, prolonging the pleasure as much as she can.

When it finally seems like she can’t take any more, Shuhua stops, panting, her eyes shining with satisfaction as she gazes at you.

"You made me cum so hard," she murmurs, a lascivious smile playing on her lips.

You smile back and reply:

"But I’m not done with you yet."

Before she has a chance to fully recover, you firmly grab her by the hips and lift her into the air, your bodies still connected.

Shuhua lets out a surprised gasp, her arms wrapping around your neck as you lift her. Her legs tighten around your waist, her fingers digging into your back as she feels you moving inside her again. The sensation is deeper in this position, each thrust pushing you further inside, making her moan loudly in your ear. Your bodies are pressed together, your sweat mingling as you fuck her in the air, your movements decisive and full of desire.

"Oh, yes... like that!" she moans, her voice trembling with pleasure. You can feel how intense the sensation is for her, the way her body clenches around yours, responding to every thrust. "Fuck, you're so hot!"

Each movement is stronger than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room, mingling with Shuhua's moans and sighs.

You keep her in the air, her legs around your waist, as you quicken the pace, your thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. Each movement intensifies the sensation in your body. Shuhua is completely lost in the moment, her face buried in your neck, her moans muffled but impossible to contain. She bites lightly into your shoulder, a mix of pain and pleasure that makes you gasp heavily, feeling her tremble as she cums again, her contractions increasing the pressure around you.

But you don't stop. Even when you feel her body trembling, her breath hot against your skin, you carry her to the table, driven by desire. With a firm movement, you set her down on the ground, still holding her by the hips as she leans against the table. Shuhua arches her back, and without much delay, you start fucking her again, the new position making her let out a deep moan, pleasure once again taking over her.

"I'm not stopping until you cum again," you murmur in her ear, your voice deep and filled with desire.

"Yes! Make me cum again! Mmm, so good," she responds, her voice completely surrendered, almost pleading. Shuhua places her hands on the table, her body leaning forward as you take her from behind. The sight of her in this position, completely exposed and vulnerable, makes your desire explode.

Shuhua moans loudly, her head falling forward as you fuck her hard, the table creaking under the intensity. Each thrust is powerful. She holds onto the table tightly, her moans turning into screams as the pleasure builds.

When you feel she's about to cum again, you turn her to face you. Shuhua smiles, panting, her eyes shining. She climbs onto the table, lying on her back, her legs spreading for you in a sight that almost makes you want to eat her pussy again.

She exposes herself completely, offering herself to you.

"Come on, fuck me until I can't take it anymore!" she says, her voice low and dripping with lust.

You position yourself between her legs, feeling the heat and wetness of her pussy already dripping down her thighs, then you start penetrating her again. Shuhua cries out, her moans reverberating through the room as you fuck her hard. The table shakes under your combined weight, the intense sounds of pleasure filling the air.

You fuck her with everything you've got, each thrust more intense than the last, the pleasure building to a point of no return. The rhythm between you becomes more frantic, desperate, until you bring her to another orgasm. Shuhua is completely lost in the sensation, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a cry of pleasure. The heat of her body, the feeling of her sweaty skin against yours, the sound of her moans—it all drives you wild.

Your hand slides down to Shuhua's belly, feeling her tense muscles, and you realize you're on the brink of exploding.

"I'm gonna cum," you warn, your voice cut off by the effort to stay in control. But Shuhua doesn't want you to hold back.

"Then cum," she responds. "Cum in me, I want to feel you."

Those words are what make you lose control. You let out a deep moan, your whole body trembling as you finally give in to the climax. With one last deep thrust, you bury yourself inside her, and then, with a quick motion, you pull out, jerking off as the pleasure overtakes you.

The first spurt of cum covers Shuhua's belly, hot and thick, spreading across her pale skin. She lets out a low moan at the feeling of the warmth on her skin, her eyes closed as she absorbs the sensation. You continue, each pulse sending more cum onto her, covering her abdomen, the base of her tits, until there's nothing left to give.

When the last spasm passes, you hold the base of your cock, feeling it pulse lightly, still sensitive. Shuhua opens her eyes, watching you with a provocative smile.

"Is there still more in there?" she asks, her voice soft but full of mischief.

You smile, tired but not done.

"Maybe a little more," you reply, leaning down to rub the head of your cock on her thigh, spreading the remaining cum on her soft skin. The sensation is electric, a mix of pleasure and sensitivity that makes you shiver.

Shuhua watches every movement, biting her lip as you spread the cum on her thigh, mingling with the sweat that glistens under the soft light of the room.

"Yes, paint me all over," she whispers, her voice low and filled with desire. "It's so delicious to feel you like this, hot, still turned on by me."

She reaches out, her fingers gently caressing the head of your cock, still sensitive, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

"I could do this all day," she murmurs, her tone a blend of sweetness and malice. "I love seeing how you react to my touch, how you moan helplessly with every caress."

You can't help but close your eyes and sigh as she presses gently, her thumb grazing the frenulum as you continue to rub the head of your cock on her skin.

"Don't stop," you plead, your voice hoarse, almost desperate. Her touch is both torturous and pleasurable, a mix that makes you crave more, even after you've been spent.

Shuhua smiles, satisfied with your reaction, and continues, teasing you until every part of your body is trembling with the intensity of the moment. Finally, she stops, her fingers still sliding softly across your skin, and she looks at you with a gaze that weakens you before her.

"It's been a long time since I fucked someone with this much passion," she comments, her voice soft and filled with complicity. "You really wanted me, didn't you?"

—

You wake up to the barely perceptible sound of her footsteps on the wooden floor, the sun seeping through the half-closed curtains, filling the room with a soft, golden light. The warmth of her body still lingers in the bed, her presence imprinted on the rumpled sheets and on the pillow where her scent has mixed with yours. You’re not sure exactly what woke you—maybe it was the sound of her breathing, or the slow movement of her bare feet, trying to avoid the spots where the floor creaks. Maybe it was the absence of her body’s weight beside you.

She’s there, at the edge of the bed, wearing one of your shirts thrown over her body, long enough to cover halfway down her thighs. She’s not really trying to escape, not truly. But there’s a carefulness in her every movement, a hesitation that screams of an attempt to slip away without making a sound. She’s leaving, and you feel a pang of fear, something you didn’t want to feel, something you didn’t expect.

You watch her for a moment, her loose hair falling in waves undone by nights of sleep, the curve of her back outlined beneath the soft fabric of your shirt. She’s facing away from you, and you realize she hasn’t even noticed that you’re awake.

With minimal effort, you slide out of bed, your feet touching the cold floor as you quietly approach her from behind. And then, before she can react, before she can think of really fleeing, you wrap your arms around her, pulling her close, closer than you should, as if proximity could make her stay, as if your touch could be enough to anchor her there.

“Stay a little longer,” you murmur against her neck, your lips brushing the warm, soft skin as your hands glide over her waist, holding her with a need that doesn’t make sense to you. “Just a little longer.”

She flinches for a second, her body tense against yours, but then she relaxes, sighing as if exhaling all the resistance she had stored within herself. “I can’t,” she whispers, but her voice lacks conviction, as if she’s only saying it because it’s what she thinks she should say.

“Of course you can,” you insist, moving your hands to her shoulders, massaging gently, while your lips continue to explore her neck, the curve of her jaw, the spot where her skin is most sensitive. “Just a little longer, and then I’ll make breakfast. Like a good host.”

She lets out a soft chuckle as she leans back, surrendering to the warmth, to the moment, even if only for a fleeting instant.

“You know this isn’t right,” she murmurs, but her hands find yours, and she intertwines her fingers with yours, pulling you back to the bed.

“Maybe,” you admit, as you lie down together, her body curled up in your arms, her breath mingling with yours. “But who cares?”

She sighs again, as if giving up on fighting, and you stay there, lying together, exchanging gentle caresses, stolen kisses, and embraces that should mean less than they actually do. Her body fits perfectly against yours, and for a moment, everything feels right, everything feels exactly as it should be. But then she pulls away, just a little, enough to look you in the eyes, and there’s a seriousness in her gaze that you hadn’t noticed before.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she says, her voice firmer, more determined. “I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

You look at her, trying to understand what she’s saying, trying to decipher what’s behind those words.

“I won’t get hurt,” you respond, even though you know it’s not entirely true. “I just want you to stay.”

“And that’s what worries me,” she whispers, before getting out of bed again, the shirt still loosely draped over her body. “Come on, get up. I want coffee.”

You obey, even though part of you wants to drag her back to bed, keep her there, where everything seems simpler. But you get up, wearing only the sweatpants that were tossed beside the bed, and head to the kitchen to make breakfast. The smell of fresh coffee and toast fills the air as you fry some eggs and prepare slices of bread with butter and jam.

When you set the table, she’s already dressed in the dress from the night before, sitting at the table, watching you with a look that’s both curious and cautious. As if she’s trying to decide what to do with you, with what you two are—or aren’t.

“So,” you begin, as you sit down next to her, passing her a mug of coffee. “Tell me more about yourself. What do you do besides studying philosophy? Seriously, where are you from, anyway?”

She smiles, but it’s a fleeting smile, almost as if she’s trying to protect herself.

“It doesn’t matter where I’m from. And I don’t do much,” she responds, shrugging. “I travel when I can. I like to read. Sometimes I write.”

“Write?” you ask, intrigued. “What do you write?”

“Poetry, mostly,” she replies, but her tone is vague, as if she doesn’t want to delve into the subject.

You realize you won’t get much more out of her, so you change the topic, talking about light things, things of no importance. But you can’t shake the feeling that she’s keeping her distance, hiding something, and that only makes you want to know more.

“I want to see you later,” you say, almost without thinking, as you bring the coffee cup to your lips. “What do you think?”

She smiles again, but this time her smile is a bit more genuine.

“I’ll be the one to see you,” she responds, a sparkle in her eyes. “When I have time.”

That’s not what you wanted to hear, but before you can respond, she stands up, grabbing her bag and getting ready to leave. You follow her to the door, your heart racing, knowing you need to say something, anything.

“Shuhua,” you begin, hesitant. “I like you.”

She pauses, her hand on the doorknob, and turns to you, her eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and something you can’t quite identify. She shakes her head slightly, a small smile on her lips.

“I know,” she says softly. “But you’d better stop.”

And with that, she opens the door and leaves, leaving you alone in what’s left of a morning that should have been more than just another fleeting moment. And as you watch her walk away, a part of you knows she’s right, that maybe it’s better to stop. But another part, the part that still smells her on your sheets, that still tastes her on your lips, knows that you won’t be able to.

—

You’re sitting outside the lifeguard tower, on a wooden stool that always creaks a little, with the sun beating down on the sea and the beer cans stacked in a corner. Fourth? Fifth? Who’s really counting? The salt in the air, the heat. You’re relaxed, or at least you try to be. The sea foam dissolves into small waves, seagulls crying out as usual, and you almost forget everything. Almost. Until the sound of footsteps on the sand makes you open your eyes, and you see, like a ray of sun directly in your eyes, your father, arriving all beaming, that smile plastered on his face that you know well, almost a mask. But you know it’s real.

“Son, how many times do I have to tell you not to drink on the job?” he says, still smiling, but with a tone that can’t be ignored.

“I’m fine, I’m not drunk.” You respond, taking the can from your mouth and looking at him, defiant. You see the shadow of that smile fade a little, but he still keeps the sparkle in his eyes.

“If you have to do a rescue now, there’d be two drowned instead of one. That’s not what you were trained for, that’s not what your mother...”

He stops before finishing the sentence, as if the words dry up in his mouth. You look at him and feel that familiar discomfort. The pain that comes like an undertow, silent, but it pulls you down, without warning.

“I don’t care about drowning, honestly. Lifeguards are also at risk of drowning, you know. It’s just part of the job, I guess.” The words come out easier than you expected, but they hang in the air like cigarette smoke, hard to dissipate.

Your father looks at you, and the smile vanishes completely. He comes closer, crouching down to your eye level.

“What’s happening with you?”

You shake your head, trying to escape, but he keeps looking, with that piercing gaze. And then you give in, just a little.

“How do you do it? How do you stay like this, cheerful, even after she… left?”

He understands immediately, his expression softens, a little sad, but still firm.

“Because one day I’ll see her again.”

You look at him, unable to believe how easily he talks about it.

“And until then? How do you cope?”

“Until then, I look forward to that day.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and pulls you out of the cabin, the sun burning even more outside. He points to the pier, where the waves break gently, the sea calm, almost as if it’s waiting for something. “Your mother took me there one night, when we were young. She told me that if our souls were ever separated, we could meet again there, when the moon was full. Its light would make a silver bridge over the sea, and no matter where we were, we could reunite on that night.”

You stay silent, digesting every word, feeling the truth, heavy and luminous like the sun. That piece of history you never knew, a connection that was always there, but only now you can see. He looks at you again, a small smile at the corner of his lips.

“She never told me that.”

“There are many things we don’t know until we’re ready to know.” He gives your shoulder a light pat, something he’s always done to show he’s there, that he understands you.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel better. Just a little. But it’s enough to face the rest of the day.

—

You're walking along the boardwalk, with that killer sun reflecting off every piece of glass, metal, and tanned skin around. Your sunglasses cover more than just your eyes; they cover any trace of expression you don’t want to show. You pretend you’re just like everyone else, but every step, every movement is rehearsed, calculated to appear as relaxed as possible. The sea breeze carries the smell of salt and fried food, but you barely notice. Your vision is the only sense consciously operating, searching for one thing, or rather, one person.

And then, like a mirage in the desert, you see her. Shuhua, the girl of your thoughts. The wide-brimmed beach hat casting a shadow that draws half her face, her hair falling like a veil underneath. She’s smiling, waving, a vision amidst the chaos of half-naked bodies and hysterical laughter. You raise your hand to wave back, but then, right in the middle of it, the unexpected happens. A group of girls—bronzed bodies, bikinis too small, laughter too loud—bumps into you. They smile, toss their hair back, one of them even does that rehearsed laugh, like she’s in a summer commercial.

They start to circle you, flirting, their eyes lingering and hungry, their fingers almost touching your arms, your shoulders, inviting you to show them the beach in a way only you could.

“Hey, lifeguard, how about showing us where the best spot on the beach is?” one of them says, her voice full of insinuation.

You feel the heat rise, but it’s not the sun. It’s not the attraction you’d normally feel at another time. It’s not desire. It’s discomfort, the urgency to get away, to remove this obstacle. You look at Shuhua, see that she’s stopped, and for a second, just for a second, you think she’s going to turn around and leave. And that scares you more than the thought of having to redo lifeguard training.

“Sorry, girls, but I’m busy.” You spit the phrase out like you’re spitting sand from your mouth. A quick smile and you practically flee from the group, who giggle and make comments around you, but you no longer care.

You hurry toward Shuhua, and when you finally get close enough, she lets out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh.

“You seem to have a lot of fans around here,” she says, teasing, but with a tone that hides a hint of curiosity.

“They’re nothing, less than nothing,” you reply quickly, maybe too quickly. “I was looking for you.” And it’s not a lie. Not at all.

She smiles, her eyes narrowing under the hat, and for a moment, you think she really believes you.

“So, you found me. I was heading for lunch. Want to join me?”

As if she needed to ask.

“Sure,” you respond, with an enthusiasm even you don’t recognize.

As you walk to the restaurant, the tension in your shoulders that you always carry seems to dissolve a bit. Maybe it’s the sun, or the way she laughs at something you don’t even know. Maybe it’s just the fact that she’s here, beside you, and doesn’t seem to want to be anywhere else.

In the restaurant, the menu is simple, but who cares? Her eyes are on you, and you realize, for the first time, that she’s a bit smitten. In a way that makes your chest swell a bit because you know, without needing words, that she’s finding you interesting. Maybe more than she should.

“Do you have plans for later?” you ask, trying to sound casual as the food is placed on the table.

She looks up, that look that seems to pierce through you, but in a good way.

“Depends. What do you have in mind?”

You release the smile you’ve been holding back, the one you rarely use but know works.

“How about an ATV ride? At night. The beach is beautiful at night.”

She tilts her head, the hat almost falling, but it stays in place.

“Is that allowed?” she asks, but there’s a hint of mischief in her voice that says she knows the answer.

“No one needs to know.” Your answer is as quick as the beats of your heart.

She pretends to think, her eyes gleaming with a playful amusement you could almost touch.

“I think I can take the risk. Where and when?”

You already have the whole plan in your head. The meeting point, the path you’ll take. Everything is already planned.

“At nine, at the lifeguard station near the pier. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

She smiles, that smile that makes everything lighter, and you feel… complete.

“Then it’s a date.”

And just like that, with this simple nod from fate, you have the night planned. Something that calms the anxiety churning in your gut. Because this girl, this girl named Shuhua, she’s more than just a summer fling. Even if she never knows it. Even if you never say it. She’s the now, and for you, the now is all that matters.

—

Nine o'clock. The night breeze licks the beach, carrying the scent of salt, and the sound of the waves is the only thing grounding you to reality. The ATV is already waiting, and so are you. Adrenaline courses through your veins, mixed with a dose of anxiety. You wonder if she’ll show up. If tonight will be as good as you imagined a thousand times during the day.

And then, as if on cue, Shuhua appears on the horizon. The beach hat is left somewhere far away, her hair loose, blowing in the wind. She smiles in that way that illuminates even the darkest corners of your mind. She approaches with a confidence that makes the ground under your feet feel more solid, and you realize the wait was worth it.

“I hope this ATV is as fun as you promised,” she jokes, eyeing the sturdy machine like it’s a new toy.

“I promise you won’t regret it,” you say, helping her onto the ATV. She settles in behind you, her hands sliding around your waist until they find a comfortable position.

And then, without much thought, you accelerate.

The ATV surges forward across the sand, the wheels kicking up fine clouds that dissipate into the air. The engine roars, cutting through the night’s silence, and you feel Shuhua press against your back, an automatic reflex that makes your heart beat faster.

As the ATV picks up speed, the wind starts to whip across your faces, and Shuhua, without any warning, lets out a scream of pure joy. A sound that bursts into the night, echoing on the beach, and makes you smile uncontrollably. “Faster!” she shouts, her voice blending with the noise of the engine and the waves.

You obey, because, damn, how could you not? You push the throttle, feeling the ATV almost lift off the sand. The wind cuts across your face, almost painful, but it’s a pain you want to prolong. Shuhua keeps shouting, laughing with a freedom you can’t quite understand but desperately want to feel. And it’s as if, for a few minutes, the two of you are the only living beings in that slice of the world. Just you, the night, and the sea.

Eventually, you slow down because even freedom has its limits. Then you find a spot where the sand seems finer, almost white under the moonlight. You turn off the engine, and for a moment, everything returns to absolute silence. But it’s a good silence, for now, it’s good.

Shuhua climbs off the ATV, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She takes a few steps on the sand, looking around the beach. “Look,” she says, pointing to something on the ground. You move closer and see that they’re crabs, dozens of them, emerging from the sand and scattering across the beach like a small horde of creatures escaping from a nightmare. But there’s nothing threatening about it. Just nature in motion.

You both watch in silence for a while, each lost in your own thoughts, until you decide to break the silence.

“What did you do during the day?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

She hesitates, as if searching for the right answer.

“I went to the aquarium… and to a museum,” she finally responds, but something in the way she says it tells you there’s more she’s not revealing.

“Oh, cool,” you say, pretending not to notice. “There’s an institution nearby where kids learn to play instruments and make crafts. I thought about taking you there tomorrow. It’s amazing what they can do.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, but without the certainty you expected.

“We're talking about the last day,” you reply, and the sincerity in your voice makes her waver. You can see she’s considering it, weighing the options in her head.

She sighs, maybe accepting the inevitable.

“Okay, but only because it’s the last day,” she agrees, and you feel a small victory inside.

But before you can savor the moment, she changes the subject.

“I’m hungry. Take me somewhere that doesn’t serve seafood, please.”

You chuckle because, of course. Just because you’re at the beach doesn’t mean you have to eat seafood until you’re sick of it.

“How about pizza? There’s a pizzeria close by.”

“Hmm, great choice.”

And then, without further words, you help her back onto the ATV, and you head toward the city. The engine rumbles, the waves keep crashing on the beach, and you realize that, for a brief moment, everything feels right.

—

The pizzeria is one of those places that seems to have been founded alongside the city. The kind of place where the floor tiles have decades of history from people coming and going, dragging their feet without caring about what they leave behind. The walls are covered with black-and-white photos from old times, local landmarks, and some faded images of retired football players. Soft yellow lights, encased in rusty metal lamps, cast a tired glow over the wooden tables, where checkered tablecloths are worn from use.

The smell is a mix of melted cheese, tomato sauce, and something you can only describe as nostalgia. An old jukebox in the corner plays a melody no one is really listening to, but that somehow completes the scene. Shuhua chooses a table near the window, maybe to look outside, maybe to avoid having to look directly into your eyes. You're not sure. But it doesn’t matter either.

You order a pepperoni pizza because it’s the safest choice, and she agrees. While you wait, the waiter, who’s probably been there since the place opened, brings two beers without even asking. He must know it’s the only thing worth drinking here.

Shuhua fiddles with the rim of the bottle, her long, slender fingers sliding over the cold glass surface. There’s a nervousness in her movements, but you’re not sure if it’s because of you or because she’s with you.

You decide to break the tension… and ask what's been on your mind since morning.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Your voice sounds more normal than you expected.

She looks at you, confused.

“What do you mean?”

You take a sip of the beer, trying to appear relaxed.

“You and your boyfriend. How long have you been together?”

She hesitates, her eyes flickering from side to side as if searching for an invisible escape. Then, something changes. She gives up the lie she was about to tell.

“How did you find out?”

You lean forward, feeling the weight of the moment.

“I’m not stupid, Shuhua. It’s the only explanation for the way you’re acting. When we’re together, sometimes you look around as if you’re expecting someone to see you. That’s not paranoia. It’s guilt.”

Shuhua smiles, but it’s a humorless smile, something forced.

“Besides being a hot lifeguard, you’re also perceptive.”

You don’t care about the compliment.

“How long have you been together?”

She sighs, as if tired of hiding something that shouldn’t even be hidden.

“Since high school.”

Her words fall heavy between you, like a revealed secret that should never have been shared. You feel a pang of something, maybe jealousy, maybe anger, but you don’t let it show.

“Do you love him?” The question comes out before you can think.

She looks directly into your eyes, defiant.

“What difference does it make?”

You don’t look away.

“Answer honestly.”

A bitter laugh escapes her, laced with irony.

“It doesn’t matter what I answer. You still want to fuck me tonight, don’t you?”

Her bluntness stings, but you stand your ground.

“Why isn’t he traveling with you?”

She looks out the window, maybe trying to remember something good about the boyfriend she left behind.

“He’s taking care of his mother. Post-surgery. She had a mastectomy. It’s not serious, she’s fine, but she needs assistance. He didn’t want me to cancel the trip just because of him.”

You nod, not really knowing what to say. Then, you take a chance on another question.

“Why are you doing this?”

She hesitates, as if struggling with something inside her, and doesn’t answer.

“When did you figure it out?”

You shrug.

“This morning, when you left my place. I spent the whole morning thinking about you, about the night and the conversation we had, and eventually, I realized.”

Shuhua seems to absorb this information, and then she asks you something you didn’t expect.

“What does that make me?” You don’t have a ready answer. But she continues. “Are you still as interested as before?”

You lean forward, your eyes fixed on hers.

“At this moment, nothing else matters. I’m yours.”

She lowers her gaze to the table, the tips of her fingers sliding along the wood.

“Am I bad for doing this? You must think I’m a dirty person.”

You take her hand.

“I don’t care. I just.. don’t care. Shuhua, I like you so much, and if you like me too, that’s enough.”

Silence falls between you. This time it’s heavy, full of things that corrode, but somehow relieved by at least being shared.

Shuhua looks at you, her eyes softening a little.

“Take me to your place.”

You nod, saying nothing more. The waiter brings the pizza, but the hunger has been replaced by something greater. The bill is paid, the exit is quick, and the night air of the beach greets you like a cold embrace.

You realize that what’s happening is something you’ll never fully understand. But for now, you let yourself believe that maybe tomorrow you’ll understand a little better. Because believing is better than nothing.

—

You both enter the house in a burst of desire, your bodies colliding as if drawn together by an irresistible force. The kisses are urgent, hungry, a battle of tongues and teeth that almost makes you forget to close the door. Hands slide everywhere, eliciting moans and gasps of pleasure as they desperately try to rid you of the remaining barriers of fabric between you. Her breath is hot against your face, and her scent—a mix of soft perfume and pure excitement—invades your senses, making your heart pound in your chest.

Wasting no time, you gently push her down to the floor, your lips still locked on hers but soon trailing off to explore her neck, jawline, every inch of exposed skin you can reach. The salty taste of her skin, mixed with the heat radiating from her body, only heightens your desire. You feel her squirm beneath you, her nails scratching your back through your shirt in a desperate gesture.

There’s a brief moment where you both separate just enough to remove the remaining clothes. The sound of fabric being torn off, the muffled moans as eager hands explore each other's bodies, all blend into a cacophony of desire. When you’re finally both naked, the sight of Shuhua lying there, breathless, her eyes half-closed with pleasure and anticipation, is enough to drive you wild.

She lies back again, spreading her legs, offering herself to you without hesitation. The sight of her pussy, wet and throbbing, makes your cock throb with anticipation. Without wasting time, you lower yourself, your hot breath against her sensitive skin, before sliding your tongue slowly between her pussy lips, savoring every drop of pleasure. The taste is intoxicating, something that makes you want more, much more.

Shuhua arches her back, pushing her pelvis against your mouth as her hands tangle in your hair, pulling hard, urging you to go deeper.

“This feels so good,” she moans, her voice thick with need, encouraging you to plunge your tongue even deeper, exploring every corner, every curve, alternating with kisses on the insides of her thighs where the skin is thin and sensitive. Shuhua's moans grow in intensity, her hips moving in a rhythm that tries to guide yours.

“Fuck me,” she begs, her voice interrupted by moans. “Now, please, fuck me.”

You kneel, your hands gripping her ankles firmly as you lift her, opening her completely for you. With a deep thrust, you enter her, and the moan of pleasure that escapes her lips echoes through the room. Shuhua’s warmth envelops you, every internal muscle contracting around you, pulling you deeper, harder. You don’t stop, each thrust more intense than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the space.

“Let me ride you,” she pleads, her eyes shining with a mix of lust and determination. Without hesitation, you lie down on the floor, the carpet almost cold compared to the heat emanating from Shuhua as she straddles you.

Her movements are slow at first, sensual, almost torturous. She moves like a goddess, each undulation of her body perfectly choreographed to maximize pleasure. Shuhua's moans intensify, her hands gripping yours as a point of support.

The sensation of her pussy, incredibly wet and slippery around you, makes you close your eyes. You feel every pulse, every contraction, and listen to every moan with attention. The pleasure is an electric current that runs through both of you, feeding off each other in an endless cycle of desire.

She leans over you, her small tits pressed against your chest, her face buried in your neck as you start pounding into her with force, each movement drawing loud moans from Shuhua. The sounds she makes—a mix of pleasure and agony—only increase the intensity of what you feel.

“Fuck me harder,” she whispers in your ear, the tone almost desperate. “I want to feel you deeper, I want to be completely yours.”

Her words are like gasoline on the fire of your desire. You increase the pace, each thrust deeper, more brutal, as if trying to merge with her, to become one. Shuhua's moans turn into screams, her body writhing beneath you as she surrenders completely to the pleasure.

Then, with a moan filled with pleasure and vulnerability, she whispers in your ear, “I want you to fuck my ass. It'll be my first time, so do it carefully.”

Her request is both shocking and exciting. You watch her as she turns over, getting on all fours, offering herself to you in a way that is both submissive and powerful. The sight of her small, tight ass makes your cock throb with renewed strength. You lower yourself, gently licking around the opening, exploring the texture and taste of her, feeling her tremble beneath you.

Every moan that Shuhua lets out as you lick her, preparing her, is an encouragement to go further. You wet your tongue thoroughly, rubbing it against the sensitive skin until she is completely lubricated. Then, slowly, you begin to insert a finger, feeling the initial resistance and hearing her moan, a mix of pain and pleasure.

“It hurts,” she admits, her voice broken, “but keep going… I like it.”

You move carefully, adding more lubrication with your tongue before introducing a second finger. Her ass gradually adjusts, the moans turning into deeper sighs of pleasure. With each movement, you feel her resistance decrease, her body adapting, opening up to you.

“Put your cock in,” she finally asks, her voice almost pleading. “I want to feel you all inside me.”

You position the head of your cock against the tight entrance, pressing slowly as you watch her every reaction. Her ass is incredibly tight, and you feel every inch slowly being swallowed by the warm, pulsing flesh.

“You're so tight,” you say, your voice thick with desire, as you push deeper, slowly allowing her to adjust.

“More,” she moans, her entire body trembling as you finally bury yourself completely inside her. The sensation is overwhelming, the heat and pressure around you intensifying every nerve, every fiber of your being.

You start to move, slowly at first, but soon Shuhua starts asking for more.

“Faster,” she begs, her tone urgent. “Fuck me faster, please.”

You comply with her request, increasing the pace, occasionally pulling out to lubricate in her pussy a bit before putting it back in her ass, which clenches tightly around you. Each movement brings a new explosion of pleasure. Her moans turn into screams, her voice hoarse as she nears climax.

“I’m almost there,” she warns, her fingers digging into the carpet as she holds on against the pleasure consuming her.

When she finally announces she’s going to cum, you don’t stop, continuing to pound into her with all the strength you can muster. She screams as the orgasm hits her, her whole body trembling violently as pleasure overtakes her, and you feel every pulse, every contraction around your cock.

Soon after, you feel your own climax approaching.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn, your voice tense with anticipation.

“Cum inside me,” she begs, her voice full of desire. “Fill my ass with your cum, babe.”

Her words are enough to push you over the edge. You feel an overwhelming wave of pleasure as you finally explode inside her, filling her with everything you have. She feels every pulse of your cock, every hot jet filling her deeply. The pleasure is so intense that your vision blurs, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears as you continue to move, prolonging the moment as long as you can.

As you’re still catching your breath, she slowly leans forward, spreading her cheeks with her hands. Your cum begins to drip out, a thick white line trailing down towards her pussy.

Shuhua looks back at you, smiling.

“Mmm, you came so much inside me,” she says, her voice soft and full of contentment, as you watch your cum drip from her. “I didn’t know this would feel so good… Fuck, I loved it.”

—

You’re floating between sleep and wakefulness, remembering what it felt like to hold Shuhua, her body pressed against yours as if she were an extension of you. The morning light is starting to filter into the room, but you don’t want to fully wake up. You’d rather linger in the haze of dreams, reliving the sensation of her skin on yours, her dark hair splayed across your chest, her scent, her sleepy voice—everything that made up that intimate moment.

You recall how she whispered, almost shyly, “I’m scared to go home.” Her voice was fragile, as if it might break. You didn’t say anything, just ran your hand through her hair, trying to brush away her fear with a simple touch. In that moment, everything seemed possible. Maybe she would stay. Maybe you’d have more time.

But now, on the threshold between dream and reality, you feel the emptiness beside you. You turn your head and open your eyes. She’s moving quietly around the room, putting on the clothes scattered on the floor, just as she did yesterday. And once again, you’re not willing to let her leave like this, as if she’d never been in your home, in your clothes, in your bed.

“Hey,” you murmur, your voice still hoarse from sleep. She stops, her shirt halfway on, and looks at you, her expression a mix of surprise and something like guilt. Before she can react, you get up, slip out of bed, and reach her. Your arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back into the warmth of the bed. She lets out a sigh, caught between discomfort and desire. “Stay a little longer,” you whisper against her neck, your lips finding a soft spot that makes her shiver. “At least until breakfast.”

She closes her eyes, as if trying to find the strength to resist.

“I can’t,” she replies, her voice wavering.

“Of course you can.” You turn her to face you, her eyes meeting yours, looking darker than they did yesterday. “Just a little longer.”

She shakes her head, pulling away, creating a distance that irritates you.

“I’ll eat somewhere else,” she says, her voice firmer now.

You feel the tension rising. Something’s different.

“What happened, Shuhua? Why are you acting like this?”

She turns her face away, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s none of your business.”

Then you remember that, at some point during the night, when you were asleep, a phone rang in the living room, the sound so faint that you almost thought you were dreaming. But it was real. Terribly real.

“Of course it is. We had something here… I know you feel the same.” Your voice rises, you can’t help it. “When will I see you again?”

“Maybe later,” she replies, almost automatically, as if saying what she thinks you want to hear.

You feel nauseous.

“Later, where? What time?”

She moves toward the door, her hands trembling slightly as she tries to grab her bag.

“Anywhere. Anytime.”

“That’s not an answer,” you say, following her, frustration starting to replace what was once concern. “I thought we had something.”

She stops at the door, her hand already on the handle. She looks at you, her expression a mix of sadness and determination.

“We did. But I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what? Being happy?” you snap, knowing the words will hurt her, but unable to stop yourself.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

“You don’t understand. And I can’t explain it to you.”

She leaves, and you stand there, in the living room, staring at the door as it closes, listening to the sound of her footsteps fading away on the street. The feeling of emptiness is like a black hole, sucking all the light and warmth out of the morning.

—

You're back at work, with sand sticking to your feet as you guide a group of tourists, all sunburnt and wearing ridiculous souvenir caps.

“What kind of creature is that, anyway?” one of them asks, curious, pointing at the dead animal on the sand.

“Look, folks,” you begin, trying to sound more authoritative than annoyed, “This is a jellyfish. Under no circumstances should you touch it. We're in jellyfish season, so they’re everywhere, and they’re not exactly friendly. Be careful if you’re going into the water.”

The tourists murmur among themselves, some raising worried eyebrows, others continuing to snap photos of the creature. You shake your head, a little weary of the routine, and turn to head back to the lifeguard station. As you walk, the waves break gently on the shore, a sound you usually find relaxing, but today it’s just another background noise amplifying your anxiety.

You push open the door to the cabin and barely step inside when a voice explodes beside you. “Boo!”

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. You spin around sharply, only to find your dad laughing like a kid who just pulled off a prank. He’s standing there, hands on his hips, wearing that smile that, somehow, never seems to age.

“Geez, Dad!” you mutter, trying not to show how much he really scared you. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack or what?”

Your dad just laughs louder, the kind of laugh that always fills the room with energy.

“Oh, come on, kid. If I can’t prank my own son, who else am I gonna do it to?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face. That’s your dad, always full of life, always trying to make you laugh, even when all you want to do is dive into the sea and swim until you disappear from sight.

He pulls a flyer out of his pocket and hands it to you, still smiling, like he’s giving you a great gift.

“Look what I found out there!”

You take the paper, giving it a quick glance.

“What the hell is this?” you ask, but you already know the answer before you finish the sentence.

“Tonight’s luau! You remember the luau, don’t you? That town tradition, everyone gathering on the beach, dancing, eating...”

“Of course I remember,” you cut him off, tossing the flyer back onto the counter. “But honestly, Dad, I couldn’t care less about the damm luau.”

Your dad pauses, his smile fading for a second, like you just threw cold water on his enthusiasm.

“What? What do you mean, couldn’t care less? You used to love it.”

“That was when I was 15, Dad. Things have changed.”

He looks at you with an expression of disbelief.

“Changed how?”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent, but Shuhua’s name is stuck on the tip of your tongue, almost slipping out.

“They just… changed. It’s not the same anymore. I’m not the same anymore.”

Your dad crosses his arms, clearly not ready to give up so easily.

“So what? Doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun. There’ll be a bunch of tourists there, hot girls who love a lifeguard. And let’s face it, you need to blow off some steam, son.”

You sigh, your thoughts still stuck on Shuhua. The idea of seeing other girls, forcing a smile, pretending to be interested, feels unbearable right now.

“I’m not in the mood, Dad. Not today.”

Your dad watches you for a moment, trying to read what you’re not saying. He’s seen this look before, back when you were a teenager trying to hide some secret.

“Does this have to do with that girl I saw with you yesterday?”

You shift uncomfortably, the tension growing.

“Let it go, Dad. It’s nothing.”

But he’s not fooled.

“Listen, whatever it is, you don’t have to be stuck in it. Things are what they are, but you can’t let that stop you from living your life.”

“I know, Dad. But this is different.”

“Everything feels different when you’re in it up to your neck,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “But trust me, kid. Go to the luau, relax a little. You might find some answers while you’re there.”

You nod, but your thoughts are still far away.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, just to end the conversation.

Your dad smiles, as if that’s good enough. “That’s all I ask. Now, keep an eye on the tourists. I’m gonna check on the rest of the beach,” and before leaving the cabin, he adds, “Oh, and no taking the ATV out for joyrides, young man.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.”

He smiles, and you watch him leave, still with that air of unbeatable optimism, like the world is a place where everything always works out in the end. You wish you could feel that too, but all you can think about is Shuhua. Whether she’ll show up at the luau, or if that was the last time you’ll ever see her.

—

Night has already fallen when you finally decide to go to the luau. It’s not so much a conscious decision as it is an automatic reaction. As if your body is pushing you toward where your heart wants to be, even though your mind is telling you to give up. You spent the day searching in various places, trying to find Shuhua, but she seemed to have vanished. And now, with the darkness settling in, the luau is your last option.

You arrive at the beach where the party is already in full swing. The atmosphere is a blend of colors and sounds, like a vibrant painting brought to life. The flames of the bonfires rise against the night sky, casting dancing shadows over the people around them. Groups gather around the fires, some playing guitar, others just laughing and drinking, all immersed in a carefree sense of freedom. The music plays, a tropical beat mixed with the sound of the ocean.

But you don’t belong here. While everyone around you seems light and carefree, you feel heavy, out of place, like a parasite in a foreign body. The laughter and smiles around you hit like acid rain, burning instead of refreshing.

And then you see your father. He’s on the other side of the bonfire, laughing loudly and holding a drink, surrounded by a circle of friends. He spots you and his face lights up with that simple, contagious joy he always seems to carry.

“Hey, look who decided to show up!” he shouts, waving you over to join them.

You force a smile and walk over, but your father already sees the hesitation on your face.

“I’ll stay just a bit,” you say, trying to sound casual. “Unless... something shows up.”

Your father raises an eyebrow, catching your true meaning.

“Something or someone?” he asks, with a look that says he already knows the answer.

You just shake your head, looking down.

“Whatever.”

He doesn’t give up.

“Listen, son, I know you’re going through something. But... wearing that funeral face isn’t going to help. Look,” he says, nodding toward a group of girls by another bonfire, “that one over there, with the short hair, has been eyeing you since you arrived.”

You don’t even bother to look.

“I don’t care. I didn’t come here for the girls.”

“Really?” Your father tilts his head, as if trying to solve a riddle. “Then why did you come?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, more frustrated with yourself than with him. But then he points his chin toward someone.

You finally look in the direction he’s indicating, and your heart stops for a moment. It’s Shuhua. She’s there, as beautiful and carefree as ever, but there’s something different about her. She seems radiant, brighter than you’ve ever seen her. When your eyes meet, she smiles and walks over, her long, graceful legs moving with a confidence that wasn’t there in the morning.

She wraps you in a hug and kisses you, and everything feels strange. Not the kiss itself, but the way she acts, so joyful, so carefree. It’s as if the Shuhua from the morning, the one who was scared and confused, has been replaced by this sunny version, perfect for the luau.

“Hey,” she says, still smiling.

You force a smile in return.

“Hey. You... seem different.”

“Me? No, I’m just enjoying the night. What else should I be doing?”

You spend the next hour at the luau, doing exactly that. Enjoying. You dance to the live music, join a group playing guitar, singing an improvised version of some Jack Johnson song. Shuhua is light, fluid, as if the world was meant to be enjoyed just like this. She grabs two glasses of some sweet, strong drink, toasting with you before downing it in one go. You laugh, drink, dance more. For a moment, you allow yourself to forget the dark cloud hanging over you. For a moment, everything is simple.

But eventually, the fatigue begins to set in. The bonfires start to die down, and the laughter around you grows softer. That’s when you look at Shuhua, and she’s there, leaning against you, still smiling, but with something in her eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, taking her hand. “I want to show you a special place.”

She looks at you, curious.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise. But trust me.”

She smiles, nodding, and you both leave the luau behind. The walk to the pier is quiet, just the sound of waves and footsteps on the sand. The pier is old, wooden, stretching out into the sea like a tongue reaching toward the unknown. At night, the place is deserted, lit only by the silver moonlight reflecting on the water below.

You walk to the end of the pier, where the world seems to stop. The sound of the waves is more intense here, crashing against the wooden pillars with a hypnotic rhythm.

Shuhua takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

“This place is beautiful,” she says, her voice soft. “I like the darkness... Here, we’re just shadows.”

You watch her, trying to understand what’s going on inside her.

“Shadows,” you repeat, as if the word carries a weight you’re only now beginning to grasp. “Is that what we are? Shadows?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, staring out at the water.

“Maybe. But with the light of the next morning,” she says, her voice low and poetic, “the sun will sweep away the night’s shadows. Forever.”

The silence that follows is heavy, each word a stone thrown into a bottomless well. You wait for the sound, but it never comes. You look at the sea, where the moon draws a silver path across the waves.

“Look,” you say, pointing. “Do you see the silver bridge over the sea?”

She follows your gaze and nods.

“Yes.”

“That bridge,” you continue, your words coming more slowly now, “it can connect us, no matter where you are. Even on the other side of the ocean, there will be a bridge like this. And you can walk across it and come to me. I’ll be here, in this same place. It’s where I belong. And I’ll be waiting.”

Shuhua smiles sadly.

“One day, you’ll get tired of waiting.”

“I learned to be patient from a certain someone,” you say, moving closer to her, gently touching her face. “And I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll be here.”

For a moment, she says nothing, just closes her eyes and rests her forehead against yours, as if trying to etch this moment into her memory. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice full of a sadness you don’t fully understand. “But... maybe you shouldn’t.”

You don’t respond because, deep down, you know she might be right. And there, on the pier, under the moonlight, you stay together. Shadows that, for now, still resist the morning light.

—

You hold her tightly by the waist, feeling her warmth blend with yours as you guide her toward the bed. The surroundings seem to dissolve under the intensity of the looks you exchange. Each breath is heavy with anticipation, each heartbeat a countdown to something inevitable, yet divinely uncertain. Shuhua is in your arms, so close you can feel the softness of her skin against yours, the intoxicating scent of her perfume mixing with the latent desire you both share. This is the last night you’ll have together, and that awareness is reflected in the intense passion shining in her eyes.

When you finally lay Shuhua down on the bed, your hands move with deliberate slowness, touching every curve of her body with an almost sacred reverence. Your lips find the delicate skin of her neck, delivering kisses that are both gentle and laden with desire. You feel her pulse quicken beneath your lips, a clear sign of the effect you’re having on her. Gradually, you move lower, removing the dress that covered her body, revealing her pale, delicate skin. Your kisses follow the path of the dress, leaving a trail of sensations behind. Your lips touch her tits with adoration, your tongue gently exploring every part, feeling the softness of her skin and her unique taste. You continue your descent, kissing her flat stomach, feeling the muscles contract under your touch until you finally reach the place where Shuhua’s desire is most evident. When your mouth finds her pussy, you suck with the uncontrollable desire you always have, each movement of your tongue making Shuhua moan with pleasure.

“I’m so wet for you,” she whispers, her voice thick with need and excitement, her body arching involuntarily with each new wave of pleasure.

Your response to her desire is immediate. You begin to remove your clothes, your cock already fully hard, pulsing with the need to be inside her. Shuhua, with a look that mixes lust and expectation, turns onto her stomach, her body’s muscles tense and ready.

“Fuck me now,” she begs, her voice husky, almost a moan, as she adjusts herself for perfect access. You climb onto the bed, kneeling behind her, your entire body alert, every nerve pulsing with the desire to possess her. When you finally enter her, the sensation is almost overwhelming. Shuhua’s pussy is incredibly tight, her legs slightly closed, amplifying the intensity of each thrust. You grab her ass firmly, feeling the soft, firm flesh under your hands, and start thrusting with fierce passion. Each thrust is deep and deliberate, drawing moans from Shuhua that fill the room like an erotic melody.

“Spank me... spank my ass,” she pleads, her voice almost desperate, and you obey, delivering slaps that make her pale skin flush with a bright red. The feel of your hand meeting her flesh is hypnotic, and every time you spank her, she responds with more moans, more pleasure.

“Like that... harder,” she demands, and you do exactly what she wants, feeling the connection between you deepening with each new slap, each new thrust.

With your cock now fully lubricated by Shuhua’s wetness, an irresistible desire to go further takes over you. Without warning, you guide your cock to her ass, the tight entrance offering a resistance that only heightens your excitement. The gasp of surprise and lust that escapes Shuhua’s lips is like fuel to the fire inside you.

“So good,” she murmurs, almost breathless, as she adjusts to the new rhythm. “It feels so good... fuck me deeper,” she begs, her voice trembling with pleasure. You lean over her, lying on top of her, your weight pressing her into the bed as you continue to penetrate her. The movements become even more intense, and you feel Shuhua tremble beneath you, her body responding to each thrust with a new wave of pleasure. you give gentle nibbles on Shuhua's earlobe, while your moans echo in her ear, an erotic song that makes Shuhua writhe in pleasure.

“I love hearing you moan in my ear, babe” she whispers, her voice thick with pleasure, and you feel the connection between you intensify even more, a mix of love and wildness that you both share without reservations.

The need for a change is instinctive. You both turn onto your sides, you still inside her, each movement smooth and controlled. In this position, the intimacy between you reaches a new level. With Shuhua’s body perfectly nestled against yours, you feel each of her breaths, each heartbeat, as you continue to fuck her from the side. Your hands roam her body, one holding her waist firmly, guiding the movements, while your mouth explores her neck, with kisses of affection and licks of desire. Shuhua’s moans grow louder, more urgent, and you feel her body begin to tremble as she approaches climax.

“I’m gonna cum, babe... don’t stop... please, don’t stop,” she begs, her eyes closed, her lips parted in ecstasy. You feel her body tighten around you, every muscle contracted in anticipation, and when she finally cums, you watch as she loses control. Her body arches, her moans turn into muffled screams, and you feel the wave of pleasure wash over her body, reverberating within you.

With her climax still hanging in the air, you continue, feeling your own pleasure rapidly approaching.

“I’m gonna cum,” you announce, your voice hoarse with desire and need, and Shuhua, still breathing heavily, quickly turns around, her body moving with feline grace.

“In my mouth... I want all your cum in my mouth,” she pleads, kneeling over you.

Her lips close tightly around the head of your cock, while her agile tongue slides and teases, pulling moans from you that echo through the room.

“Give it to me... fill my mouth with your cum,” she begs, and those words are enough to push you over the edge.

When you cum, it’s as if an overwhelming wave of pleasure sweeps through your body, and Shuhua receives every spurt of cum with an almost indecent enthusiasm. She doesn’t pull back; on the contrary, she sucks harder, her tongue swirling around the head of your cock, making sure not to let a drop escape. You watch, completely spent, as she swallows everything, her eyes lifting to meet yours.

“Mmm... Your cum tastes so good,” she whispers as she licks her lips.

“You’re incredible, Shuhua. Fuck… You’re so fucking hot,” and it’s all you can say at that moment.

—

That night dissolved into fragments, like an old film burning at the edges, the moments flickering and disappearing before you could grasp them. But some sparks of moments were still vivid, like when you both ran along the beach, your feet sinking into the cold sand as the salty wind cut across your faces. Shuhua laughed, the sound escaping her as if joy was something impossible to contain. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you had to keep moving, because stopping meant thinking, and thinking was something both of you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You two danced without music, moving to the silent beats that only the two of you could hear. The moon lit you up, turning the sand into liquid silver. She spun, arms wide, head tilted back, her hair floating around her like a dark crown. And you followed her, because there was no other choice, because she was the only thing that made sense that night.

The sea called to you, the waves licking your feet, cold like the reality you were trying to escape. She laughed again, a sound muffled by the water, and you let yourself laugh too, even if it was just a pale imitation of what she felt. You walked back to town in silence, just following the lights that blinked in the distance.

The places you passed seemed unreal, like poorly painted backdrops in a cheap theater. There were lights, there were people, but none of it mattered. You were the only ones who existed, caught in a current pulling you toward each other, keeping you together while the world around you disintegrated.

You remember it now as if it were a dream. The blurred faces, the faded neon colors, the distant sounds. Everything fleeting, so fast that you barely had time to realize what was happening before it was already over. Everything, except her. She was real. She was the only thing that didn’t disappear.

Until you wake up.

The room is empty. You’re alone. Shuhua is gone, without a sound, without a goodbye. She slipped through your fingers this time, point for her. Well, maybe it’s easier this way. But you’re left with the feeling of something lost, something ripped away from you without warning. The bed still carries the warmth of her body, but there’s no one there anymore. Just the echo of what was and what could have been.

You remember her crying last night. Out of nowhere, as you were leaving a carousel, the tears just started falling. She didn’t say anything, just threw herself into your arms, as if she wanted to disappear. And you didn’t ask why because asking would only hurt her more, so you just held her, feeling the tremor in her body, the weight of the impending farewell. She cried again later, when you were both in bed after sex. You wondered how long she had been holding it in, if you were the first anchor she found or just the first one she had.

Now, sitting on the bed, you look at the spot where she was lying. The pillow is still a little damp. Secret tears she couldn’t hide, marks of a sadness you couldn’t heal. You pick up the pillow, holding it for a moment as if it could give you some answer. Something slips from it, sliding softly onto the sheet.

The photo. The Polaroid you took of her the first time you met. Hard to say exactly when she put it there, whether it was the first, second, or last night. Not that it matters, anyway. The sea is behind her, her long dress blowing in the wind, her face turned to the horizon as if waiting for something that would never come.

You turn the photo over and see the words written on the back, in delicate handwriting:

“This is where I stay.”

You feel a tightness in your chest because you know what she meant. This is where she stays, where she belongs. Not with you, but with the moment, the memory, the place that will never move.

She said goodbye there, in those simple words.

And you’re alone, holding a photo that’s now all that’s left. The distant sound of the waves reaches you through the window, and for a moment, you imagine a silver bridge over the sea. A bridge that could have connected you if things had been different.

But all you have now is this fleeting memory, a dream that you’ll eventually struggle to recall, already fading like shadows in the first light of morning.

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whisper-in-the-night · 5 months ago

Note

The author can tell the story with Asa /the Sinclair brothers/Or Brahms. You can choose who you want! How is your recent story with Thomas (it's great) can the above listed slashers be omegas and Y/N alpha?

I've been on Tumblr recently, and there are some things I don't understand what and how. By your recent post, I thought you were taking applications.📿✒️

Omega!Slasher x alpha!male!reader

Warnings: alpha!slashers, omega!reader, omegaverse

Note: thanks for your request honey! Hope you'll like it. Have a good day ;) ♡⁠

•••

Asa Emory

Asa didn't like people, no. The insects were much better. Insects were useful, but what about people? They just buzz, drink and lead a dirty lifestyle. He didn't have a special appearance, on the contrary, he was quite a big man for an omega who was really able to interest someone and find a mate. But he didn't worry too much about it either. People were loud, repulsive.

But you seemed different. There was something so calm and attractive about you. He felt like a fly caught in your sticky web, even though he didn't really mind it. At first, it was strange to have someone around. Emory was a loner. But over time, he realized that you can really be relied upon and trusted. The man might not have noticed you among other small human ants. But that day you were standing in your own garden. You had a private house with a small garden full of flowers. It seemed like you were a hardworking person who loved nature. You were trimming one of your bushes when a pale blue butterfly landed on your shoulder. This startled Asa. After all, animals and insects always feel good people, they are attracted to them. So you weren't like other people.

And now he was here.

It was getting dark. The lights were still on in your house. You were sitting in the living room by the fireplace in your country house and reading one of your favorite books. It was nice to live away from people, the hustle and bustle of the city. The wood crackled steadily in the fire. The room was warm and cozy, your feet were warmed by a brown blanket you bought once at a sale in another city. Your fingers slowly turned over the pages, while your tired gaze slowly slid over the black lines. It's too early to sleep, not yet.

You've been alone for the last two weeks, but you knew that the day of the calendar was coming when he was coming back. You don't know why he comes back from time to time, maybe he was really comfortable with you. Although he was clearly not that kind of person. He would rather call it.. the necessity. You can't fool your own physiology with even a ton of suppressants.

Finally, there was the click of the front door, which you never closed, there was just no reason. There were slow, unhurried footsteps in the hallway, as if you were waiting. And for sure, today you left the light on in the hallway, perhaps this little detail alerted him, the man who loved to move around in the dark like some kind of virtuoso moth. Finally, the heavy boots touched the soft carpet material, and the steps became softer. Perhaps you should still teach him to take off his shoes at the entrance.

A moment later, your blanket was thrown off, and now was laying at your feet. A feeling of heaviness covered your hips. You didn't have to look down to know that the man had his head on your lap. He always did that. He came when he wanted to. Did what he wanted to do. He knew he could get away with it, but he didn't know why. He probably would never have been able to really kill you, even though he still acted like he had a knife at the ready. But none of his blades were worthy of slicing through your tender flesh.

You slammed the book shut with a light clap, having previously put your favorite bookmark with painted butterflies, and put it on the edge of the sofa. Your fingers found their way to Asa's head, caressing his cheeks with the pads of your fingers through the material of his mask. It was a strange material that you had never touched before. Something soft and rough at the same time. It looked a bit like the robbers' masks, but it seemed like he had made it himself.

The man made a soft purring sound as he leaned into your touch.

It was strange to have such a big man on my lap. He was really big, especially considering his secondary gender, which he would never tell anyone about, except perhaps you. Even his former work colleagues were unaware of his omega status. It just wasn't necessary. But it seemed different with you. Even after several vaccinations, you could still clearly smell his beeswax and verbena. Even now, under the mixture of dirt, gunpowder and blood, you could still feel that delicate fragrance, causing a smile on your lips.

Asa sighed, finally closing his eyes and clasping his hands on his chest. He probably hasn't slept in days, which is not surprising. He often stayed up late, thinking through all his riddles and traps. Although it is possible that all this week he was just reading a book about insects and plants that you gave him for his birthday.

Lately, the man has been almost.. clingy. Every time he got closer to his heat, Asa became unusually clingy and looking for touch. Your touch. Up to this point, his every heat was accompanied by pain and anxiety. The suppressants didn't always help, and the people around were too intrusive. Especially alphas. He remembers how, back in his teenage years, some alpha harassed Asa. The guy broke his nose. In principle, he often reacted aggressively to the attention of others. The quiet and secretive man, capable of ripping open the belly of an offender. His temper and uncontrollable aggression often got out of control, which led to sad consequences.

But it was different with you. Your touch felt so.. alive, sincere, gentle. Each time it made him have a sudden urge to take off his mask and feel your hands on his bare skin. But he immediately stopped himself, realizing that he would regret it later. The mask stays on.

You were a good alpha. So much so that something inside him reached out to you, seeking your touch and love. Asa isn't used to love. Isn't used to tenderness. But with you, he felt like he wanted to be pampered, wanted to be taken care of. Although it looks like regular one-night stands to you right now, it's far from the case for Asa. Perhaps one day he will even reveal his face to you. Would you like him? Would you like to start a family with him? Family... He's not sure he could stand the idea of children, no. But with you, everything seemed real. You were his support in life, his firefly in this dark world, even though you didn't know it yet.

But no, that's all later. Let him sleep on your lap for now. Maybe your back will hurt tomorrow because of the uncomfortable sleeping position, but it's worth it, isn't it?

Bo Sinclair

It was a sultry summer day. The sun was high in the sky, and the humid air made being outside even more unbearable.

You were with your boyfriend Bo at his gas station and helped him sort out the parts in the victims' old cars. There was no air conditioning in the room, so you, already soaked with sweat and grueling work, were without a T-shirt, in only loose trousers. You often begged Bo to go to a store in another city to buy you more suitable summer clothes, but each time you two found yourself overwhelmed with work.

When you were taking out another box of garbage, you noticed a car approaching. Regular tourists, even in this heat? Fate is obviously against you. After putting the box on the ground, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaned against the wall of the gas station, and watched the girls getting out of the car. They were two short girls and a guy with them who stayed in the car.

"Hey, handsome. Could you take a look at our car? There was something pounding in it all the way," one of the girls said with a slight smile, obviously flirting with you.

You smiled back, wanting to enter a new game and show all your skills and charisma in the best light. "Sure, babe. Give me a few minutes." You walked up to their car, lifted the hood, and began to pretend that you were really looking for a breakdown. Although in fact, you just needed to stall for a little while until Bo noticed what was happening through the window. The girl came a little closer, as if carefully watching your examination, while her slender fingers slowly slid up your strong arm. You grinned as you watched her. Your gaze darted to the guy in the passenger seat. He could be a problem. You smiled benevolently and nodded towards the gas station, "Buddy, why don't you call my friend? He's insane. I could use someone else's help."

The guy rolls his eyes, but gets out of the car and soon disappears inside the gas station. You know perfectly well that Bo will deal with him skillfully.

The girl's actions stop for a moment and she looks at you from under her eyelashes, seductively biting her lower lip. "Can you tell me where the toilet is here?"You chuckle and wink at her, leaving an ambiguous hint, "The second door on the left." The girl nods contentedly and enters the building, playfully wagging her hips.

You quietly approach the remaining girl while she looks after her departing friend, and grab a hunting knife from your pants pocket, cutting the fragile girl's throat with a sharp movement. When the lifeless body ends up on the floor with a thud , you fold the knife and return to the gas station. The girl was just coming out of the bathroom. You grab her wrist, trying to block her view of the window with your wide body, and squeeze her hips, pulling her closer to you.

"Come on, you didn't think of leaving so easily, did you?" You purred with a grin, burying your nose in the girl's neck. The cloying scent of cheap perfume and disgusting, almost artificial pheromones immediately hit your nose. "I bet that lad is really boring, right, baby?" You spoke into her neck, trying to play the interest. You were already reaching for the knife in your pants pocket when the girl let out a sharp scream, clutching at her throat. You took a step back, raising your eyebrows questioningly, and saw that your lover's screwdriver was pierced through the woman's neck.

Bo grabs the girl's hand and throws her to the floor. The poor girl clutches at her throat, choking on her own blood. The smirk on your face becomes more noticeable when you notice Bo's dark eyes burning with jealousy. The man steps over the girl's legs and comes closer to you, grabbing you by the neck and pressing you against the wall. You giggle, covering his hand with yours.

"What, baby? You don't like it when I use your methods, do you?" You purred, watching Bo's face contort in anger.

"Shut up."

His strong arms are gripping your shoulders, and his nose is burrowing into your neck. He showers your skin with careless kisses, circling around your scent glands. He mumbles something softly, and you feel his already bright pheromones amplify. A million times better than that girl's smell. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling Bo closer, to which he mumbled contentedly. You always liked how jealous and possessive he became in those moments when he realized that he really loved you and that, damn it, he wasn't ready to share you with anyone else. You were his alpha, and he was your omega, although he would never say it out loud. He often denied this desire, refusing to really consolidate this connection. After all, people would rather settle on a free omega to claim than a marked one. Alphas don't like to take other's stuff. But seeing other omegas circling around you, enjoying your pheromones, made him mad. Anger was bubbling deep in his stomach, and his heart was clenching.

"What is it? Jealous?"

Bo lets out a slight growl and tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck to you. His fingers are gripping your shoulders tightly.

"Mark me," he mutters, looking down at the floor.

"Baby, you're not in heat right now.."

"Mark me. Now. Please.." his voice almost trembles, and you tighten your grip on his waist, "Mark me. Show me that you need me... that you want me, not them."

You pulled him closer, touching his neck with your lips and showering small kisses on his skin. A soft sigh escapes from Beau, he closes his eyes. Finally, you sink your fangs into his sensitive spot, the man's body shudders with pleasure. Even if he is not in heat now and the mark will be short-lived, it gives him a strange feeling of calm. He belongs to you. He's yours. And you're his. Nobody else's.

"..thank you."

Brahms Heelshire

You were walking slowly through the mansion, heading towards Brahms. The last item on the list remains: the night kiss. Lately, Brahms has looked kind of nervous and detached, although not so long ago he threw a tantrum after Malcolm delivered groceries once again and stayed a little longer than usual, chatting with you just about nothing. After that, Brahms made a real mess. He even refused dinner, which was unlike him. Although this man was basically quite strange because of his upbringing, you couldn't blame him.

You knocked gently on the wooden door, clutching a mug of warm mint tea. It was supposed to help your boy sleep. There was no response. But you heard the distinct creak of the bed and a slight whine.

Frowning, you pulled the door handle and went into the room. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Brahms was sitting on his large bed surrounded by clothes. Your clothes. His hands were convulsively clutching your clothes, shifting shirts from place to place the way he wanted. The man took one of the shirts and held it up to his face, taking a deep breath. His mask was pushed up just enough to show his nose and lips. Bitten lips with blood in some places. He seemed to be trying very hard to hide the sounds he was making. Brahms let out a soft whine, clutching one of your favorite shirts to your chest, which you wore this morning because it was cool in the garden.

It seems your boy was pushing you away without realizing that he needed your presence.

You let out a short laugh and entered the room. Putting the mug of tea on the dresser, you walked over to the bed. Brahms immediately tensed up when he heard someone else's footsteps. Looking up, the man caught your gaze and let out a slight whine. Right now, he looked like a lost needy puppy. You could swear that if he were a dog, his ears would be desperately pressed to his head right now, and his tail would be tapping on this mountain of clothes around him. Brahms crawled to the edge of the bed on his knees and grabbed the edge of your T-shirt with his fingers. His grip was strong, yearning, and his eyes were full of unspoken emotions. He didn't know what was going on with him, he didn't know why he felt that way and why he was doing these things, so he hoped that you would help him.

Your hand gently touched his hair, your fingers gently played with the curly strands. The man bent down to your touch, making a soft sob, and closed his eyes. Your hands were always so gentle and caring, you weren't like his past babysitters, you were different. You were good and kind, you even treated his doll well, like a real person. And now you've treated him well too.

With your free hand, you touched his chin gently, pulling his thumb away from his skillful lips. A few greased drops of blood were on your skin, but Brahms immediately, almost instinctively, wrapped your finger tongue, cleaning it from the lingonberry color liquid. He looked at you with those big brown eyes of a puppy, and you couldn't smile. His lips gently wrapped your finger, wanting to make you feel good. You always did everything he felt good, maybe he should be make you feel too..? You gently pulled him by the hair, laying on the bed. The large body of the man touched your clothes neatly folded into the improvised nest. You lay beside him, sipping Brahms gently to yourself. Even though Brahms was a big man, you were a little bigger than him, more muscular and strong. It always made Brahms feel small and free. He didn't have to hide under the mask, he didn't have to hide in the walls, no. Brahms was just a few minutes away. You took it all, with his problems, his capricious and his appearance. You loved him for himself. He was your little boy.

Brahms wrapped his arms around your waist, snorting his nose in your chest and squeak softly. With every second his body burned harder and harder, and in his head seemed to be a light mist. He was holding his nose harder in your chest, looking for comfort. You gently ran your hand over his hair, releasing the soothing pheromones through your groin glands. Brahms relaxed a little while, enjoying your smell. You always had your effect on him. Maybe he was your true omega. But it wasn't important now.

You pulled the man closer you, gently humming a lullaby , and pressed a kiss to his mask's forehead.

"Sweet dreams, baby."

#slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slashers x male reader #slashers x you #asa emory #asa emory x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms x reader

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irrelevantwriter · 21 days ago

Text

A Snake & Her Charmer

Pairing: Emperor Geta (Gladiator 2) x Female Reader/You

Warnings: NSFW, Ancient Rome type shit, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, some light dom/sub dynamics, jealous Geta and reader (hubba hubba)

Word Count: 3035

Summary: Part 4. The Empress and her Emperor make it clear they do not like sharing.

A/N: Part four sees our favorite toxic couple up the ante. And it's steamy. As always, there are liberties taken with Ancient Rome. Feedback is that good shit.💗

*Read Part One here

*Read Part Two here

*Read Part Three here

*Masterlist

***********************

You sat next to your husband, the both of you engaged with the entertainment provided for the evening.

Laughter and music wafted around you, the sounds of people celebrating a steady thrum. Applause broke out as one of the snake charmers kissed her beloved reptile on its scaly mouth. Her form was nearly bare, gold coins clattering every time she moved her hips.

The men were easily amused. And that apparently included your emperor.

Geta laughed, nearly spilling his wine when the snake startled one of the Senators, causing him to let out a less than masculine yelp. You were careful not to roll your eyes at the spectacle, sipping from your own glass.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You turned to your left, following the voice that suddenly appeared at your side.

A man, clothed in an extravagant black and gold robe, smiled down at you. Jewels adorned his ears, gold rings that rivaled your husband’s decorated his hands.

“Macrinus, your highness,” he introduced himself, bowing his head and offering his hand.

You accepted his greeting, smiling as a good empress does. “A pleasure.”

“I did not intend to interrupt your evening. You appeared lost in thought.”

“I would not be a woman if I did not appear lost in thought,” you quipped, enjoying his infectious laughter.

“You are quite clever, Augusta,” Macrinus replied, surely thinking he was delivering a high compliment.

You once again fought the urge to wear your emotions on your face. Chatting within the company of men was a pastime you detested, yet you’d become quite skilled at. It was a blessing and a curse. Much could be learned by letting a man ramble on. Much could be taken away from him when you listened closely. They always revealed themselves eventually. It was how you’d been able to navigate as the Empress of Rome.

“She is a prize, isn’t she?” Your husband’s voice cut in, his words dripping with boyish pride.

“Some would say the only prize,” Macrinus added, his dark eyes taking you in.

“And you are a man who surely knows of worthy prizes, are you not?” Geta asked, winking at the man before you.

Macrinus laughed, the private joke lost on you.

“Macrinus supplies the games with gladiators. He is well-known in that arena. Most of his fighters come out victorious,” Geta supplied, popping a piece of oiled bread into his mouth.

Macrinus had the wherewithal to appear sheepish at the emperor’s words, though you were sure it was for show.

“That is quite an accomplishment,” you acknowledged.

“I cannot take all the credit, your highness. The gladiators do some of the work,” he joked, the men around you laughing.

You politely smiled, turning back to the dancers that now fluttered around the table. Macrinus and Geta spoke of the upcoming games, speaking of men as if they were cattle to exchange. You drowned them out, letting your gaze wander over the many faces that joined you.

A stoic set of dark eyes, eyes that nearly matched your husband’s, peered back at you. General Marcus Acacius nodded in your direction, tilting his glass in a modest toast.

You returned his gesture, breaking eye contact. The words that Geta had spoken to you earlier that day rang in your ears.

Men like that would kill me and take what’s mine in an instant.

You knew that to be true for most of the men that sat with you. It was an unsettling thought. Geta might be a tyrant, but he was a known evil. He did not hide his darkness. Those who went to great lengths to conceal their depravity, those were the people that frightened you.

“Lost in your head again, my love?”

Geta’s breath tickled your ear as he whispered, startling you. He chuckled, causing the wisps of hair at your neck to caress your skin.

His warm hand reached for your hand, his thumb rubbing surprisingly soft circles into the appendage, as if comforting you.

“Preoccupied with thoughts of slumber,” you replied, choosing not to divulge your inner musings.

“My queen desires sleep?”

He looked upon you with a rare glimpse of concern, making your heart quicken. You patted his hand, doing your duty to comfort him.

“Do not worry yourself, Imperator. Today’s festivities have gotten the better of me,” you teased, a knowing look in your eye.

He caught your implication, his mind no doubt conjuring up your time together in your bath just hours before. He smirked, the wine surely influencing his actions as he lunged forward, planting hungry kisses to your neck.

Such a display was considered illicit. Your husband was never one for propriety, but he was still mindful of sharing his weaknesses. That included you.

Your eyes shifted, hoping no one was paying you any attention. Your body, despite your thoughts, came alive at his indecent touch.

“Seductress,” he rasped, his hand wandering amongst the fabric nestled in your lap.

“You mean to become a spectacle for your guests?” You questioned, careful not to blatantly turn down his advances in front of prying eyes.

He laughed, his chest rumbling against you as he pressed into your side. He licked his lips, pulling himself from the hollow of your neck.

“Is my spirited wife becoming timid? That would certainly be a first,” he taunted, shifting away from you.

You’d upset him.

He took a generous swig of his wine, a lone droplet escaping his lips. He wiped it away with a rough hand, lined eyes now focused on the undulating figures of the women that still twirled around the room.

“Imperator, forgive me. I-,”

“You are dismissed. You can retire to your chambers as you wished, wife,” he coolly demanded, his eyes never meeting yours.

The sting of his words made your chest tighten. Anger made itself a home on your tongue, ready to lash out like the serpent that curled itself around the dancer’s arm. You were once again reminded of your status. An empress trained to coil itself around its master. To go against its very nature. Never to strike. Only to look upon. To entertain.

A mere pawn.

“If it is a whore you wish me to become for your men, then I shall be prepared to show them how I make their emperor fall to his knees.”

Geta stiffened beside you, your words having their desired effect. Your voice was low, unheard amongst the noise. But he heard you. Loud and clear.

You stood, gesturing for your maiden to follow. A scent of rose followed you. Laughter erupted at your back. Before long, the celebration would turn to a more salacious show. Whores would be paraded about. And after your outburst you were certain Geta would leave your bed cold that night.

A wise choice.

*******************************

Sleep did not come as easily as you had hoped. You laid awake for what felt like hours, still attempting to calm the storm that brewed within you.

Your husband had angered you. Upset you in such a way that tears nearly sprang to your eyes. He made you out to be some common harlot. Attempting to bed you in front of his guests. The thought turned your blood into lava, molten and unforgiving.

Geta was a boy in so many ways. He felt a constant need to make others jealous of him. Envious. Even blood thirsty. He spoke of possession and coveting. And perhaps that was a result of being a twin. Having to constantly be attached to someone. Never having anything of your own.

It made sense. And yet, you could not grant him mercy for how he’d treated you.

A knock made you sit up, reaching for your bedding to cover yourself. You waited as one of your maidens entered, her steps soft so as not to startle you.

“Your highness, I am so sorry to disturb you. I was not certain you were awake,” she feebly apologized.

“I have not slept. Is there something wrong?”

“The Emperor…he wishes to see you.”

You sighed, feeling sorry for the poor girl that had to suffer through your husband’s late night demands. You were surprised he didn’t rush in on his own.

“I’ll be along in a moment.”

“He is here, your highness,” she gestured to the hallway just outside your door.

You did not hide your annoyance.

“Very well. Thank you.”

She bowed her head, retreating quickly. Not a second later your husband was striding in, an expression of irritation marring his features.

The door slammed, ricocheting off the walls. You tensed, readying yourself for a fight.

“You have not slept?”

His question made you pause. He wore the same clothes he’d had on at dinner. The sight made your stomach turn.

“No,” you answered simply.

He stomped towards you, the stench of wine permeating the air.

“Have you not slept?” You returned, knowing the answer.

Geta shook his head, eyes roving over your chest. He could see through the fabric, even with the low light of candles.

“You made a mockery out of me.”

“And you didn’t of me? Suggesting I play along with your antics in front of the men you say covet me?”

He stepped towards you, leaning in so that you could see the smear of berry stained lips across his cheek. “You do not question me. You do not question your emperor,” he seethed.

“Your attempt at playing a man is foolish,” you sneered, surely sealing your fate.

Silence followed. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, matching your own. You waited, anticipating these moments being your last.

Geta laughed, though no humor could be found. “You still think me unwise to your games, my dear?”

He reached out, snatching your face between his fingers. He squeezed. The force made you hiss in pain.

“Your desire to drive me mad is comical.”

“I do no such thing.”

His grip tightened.

“You lie.” He released you, pushing you onto your back. “Do not move.”

You did as he said, watching as he undressed. With every piece of clothing that fell, arousal seeped into your limbs. You wished you had the capacity to feel shame for it.

“I warned you. I warned you I would break you. Tame you into submission.”

He stood nude before you, cock already hard and leaking. A sight just as pathetic as you.

You flinched when he suddenly grabbed at your night dress, ripping it down the middle. Your nipples peaked once revealed to the frigid air between husband and wife.

“Turn around,” he growled.

You hesitated, not understanding what he was asking.

“On your stomach, wife.”

Anxiety prickled at the base of your neck at his words. You were confused, unsure of what he wanted from you in such a state. But the look in his eyes warned you to proceed with caution.

You reluctantly did as he commanded, feeling the shreds of your gown fall to the floor. You felt a new kind of vulnerability at being exposed this way, unable to see your husband.

The bed moved as he mounted you, manipulating your hips so that they were angled towards him. The heated flesh of his torso met your backside and you struggled not to nuzzle into the touch. Your face was smothered into your pillow, Geta’s figure barely visible from your position.

“You are afraid,” he observed, fingers ghosting over your spine.

“I’m not.”

His cock prodded your entrance, immediately met with a wetness he knew all too well.

“Seems you are quite the opposite,” he revered, the head of him teasing your folds.

You grasped the linens beneath you, forcing your eyes shut when he roughly spread you open.

“I have had many whores this way. I’ve been told it is like taking a spear to the heart,” he lamented, pushing your head further into the softness below you.

“Is your appetite so insatiable that you must have a whore and your wife in one night?” You managed, moaning when his cock nudged your clit.

Geta laughed, mocking you. “You are upset at the notion?”

“I am disgusted.”

Two fingers filled you suddenly, pulling a startled cry from your lips.

“I do not think it is disgust that overtakes you.”

He played within you, feeling your walls desperately trying to grasp at him. You writhed. At his mercy. At his whim.

And as quickly as his touch came, it was gone. You whined at the emptiness, unabashedly pushing back in return.

A hand pulled at your hair, forcing you up. You struggled to steady yourself on your knees, Geta’s chest pressing impossibly tight to your back.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I sought the company of another,” he admitted roughly, mouth teasing the shell of your ear. His hand still gripped your hair, pulling at the scalp. The pain made your hips open, seeking his cock. “But you’ve cursed me for anyone else,” he gritted, jerking your head back against his chest.

“Because no one else matches the flames I have for you. No one else feels as sinful. Tastes as addictive. No one else wants to end my life quite like you, Empress.”

You cried out when he thrust into you, sheathing himself completely. He was unforgiving. Relentless in his pace. Your entire body twisted around him, just like a snake.

His hand made its way to your throat, the other at your hip keeping you locked to him. He grunted and groaned, punishing just as much as he was pleasuring. It felt utterly divine.

Your nails clawed at his arms. He only went harder. And faster. The skin at your back nearly bruising with his force. And he was right. It felt as if he’d speared your heart, air struggling to fill your lungs. You were on the cusp of a madness you’d never felt before.

Without warning, he withdrew. Before you could protest, he forced you to face him, humiliating you even more by pushing your head to his cock. You had only ever taken him into your mouth once. At his insistence. It was an act you weren’t well prepared for.

“Open your mouth. Do as I’ve told you.”

You looked up at him with disdain, but your mouth moved on its own, suckling him. He threw his head back, revealing another set of stains in the shape of another’s mouth. You sucked. Hard.

Geta hissed, grabbing for your hair once again. “Tread carefully, my love.”

He forced himself down your throat. Tears clouded your vision while saliva fell down your chin. He took pleasure from you, using your body as a vessel and nothing more.

“Keep your throat open.”

You defied him, gagging when he pushed you into the thatch of curls at his pelvis.

“Shall I call in a whore to teach you?” He jeered, pulling you up so that you were finally face to face.

Traces of coal ran from his eyes. The cords of his neck pulsing with tension. His skin was flush and dewy with perspiration. His eyes now dangerously empty and dark. He looked completely stricken with hysteria.

You were sure your appearance mirrored his own.

“Only if you call in the General as well,” you retorted, throat burning from his intrusion.

Geta’s lip curled at your suggestion.

“You threaten me?”

“I only propose what you had wanted. To entertain. Does having another man see me in this way not please you, your highness?”

With bravery you did not fully feel, you licked his lips, feeling his jaw loosen. You pebbled kisses to the underside of his chin, feeling his hand beginning to release your hair.

“Does the thought of another man’s hands upon me make you murderous?” You whispered into his flesh, hands roaming his scarless chest.

“Not any more than it makes you, my love.”

He kissed you then. It was all-consuming and messy, lips and teeth clashing in rage and blinding passion. His mouth was just as bruising as his hips had been. He wordlessly eased you back, not following. You went to reach for him, but he gripped your thighs instead, opening you up to him.

He stared down at you, a mixture of hatred and obsession clouding his features. He spread you wide and lined himself up at your folds. You found his wrist and held fast, knowing he was not going to be gentle.

He filled you to the hilt, your entire body moving with the force of it. Each thrust was punctuated, a reminder, as he looked down his nose at you.

His gaze flitted from your face to your breasts, intrigued by the way your eyes squeezed shut and your back arched.

“Look at me.”

You did so reluctantly.

He snapped his hips, cock wedging even further inside you. You threw your head back, his name instinctively falling from your lips.

“You call for me as if I am your savior,” he taunted, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs.

“You are my tormentor,” you gasped, feeling your body begin to tingle in that delicious way you’d come to know.

“I think that suits me much better.”

He harshly rubbed at your clit, forcing your legs to try and close. His body prevented such a thing and you were instead subjected to his torture.

As if you were floating in the ocean, a wave suddenly pulled you under, trapping you beneath her surface. You free floated as pleasure of the richest kind made its way through your body. It held you prisoner, ravaging you without an ounce of sympathy. Tears leaked from your eyes and blood seeped from your lip, teeth digging in. But you barely felt any of it.

Beyond your bliss, Geta soon joined your descent, cock spilling into the flood that welcomed him. He fought through the exhaustion, through your pitiful whimpers and filled you so full it seeped from your walls.

From the look in his eyes, you were certain he had just given himself an heir.

He continued to pump his hips, not willing to waste a drop of his royal seed. Lethargy seized you. A euphoria settled in your bones. You hadn’t a care in the world.

“Sleep, my love. You’ll need it.”

#emperor geta #gladiator 2 #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta fanfiction #emperor geta fic

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iliumheightnights · 1 year ago

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m/r asks Scott if he could grow while he's fucking him and Scott begins to blush at the idea and accepts

Scott's face goes red. "Really? I mean...really?" His heart beating faster as he looks at his boyfriend underneath him. "I mean I can if you want. I've never tried it before. I've thought about it, never tried it."

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you or anything."

But Scott goes along with it. He uses his particles to grow bigger while doing it with his love. M/n moans louder as he feels him get bigger and bigger inside of him.

It doesn't take long before M/n looks like a toy on him.

#scott lang #antman #ant man #ant-man #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #male!reader #micro #macro

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yuriisclumsy · 6 months ago

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After I read that Cale x flirty reader!!..I screamed..Like oh my!!.. Can I make a request where is the enemy to lovers?.. Like the reader is a villain who likes to flirt with Cale every time they meet. In addition, this reader is shameless.. Definitely a mess dan chaotic 🤣🤣🤣.. And the reader kisses Cale on the cheek before she leaves saying 'Next time we meet, I'll ask for the size of your ring finger, Bye baby.".. I want to see Cale and the many reactions too..Bye author

Take care of yourself 😘

Villains Have a Heart Too, Y'know

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,355

»»►When I got this request I was surprised many people liked Flirty Reader!

»»►I went off a bit from the request, but what can I do? When a good plot just pops up I have to follow it, no matter if it has little to do with the request. Still, I do try to make it as closely to the asker's request.

»»►I feel like, for this scenario, it would take place in the Whooper Kingdom–you’ll know why once you read.

»»►On another note, [Name] has had encounters with Cale ever since he somehow got transmigrated into the world of Birth of a Hero. The man is tired. But let’s be real, when is he not?

»»►Cale just has to deal with another headache-giving-maniac sadly.

Metals were crashing.

The clash between steel signified a battle taking place. Brutal forces wrestle against each other for dominion.

Fighting for power. It has always been like this.

Walls and towers, buildings–whether high or low–cumbled due to the aggressiveness of battle. Many scurried off to safety, finding a safe place to hide until the warfare concluded with its victors.

In the Whopper Kingdom, where mages were deemed to be spans of evil, stood a woman of great talent. She was a genius in her field, with masses tittling her: “The Grand Magician.”

The Grand Magician had been a force not to be reckoned with ever since her ascension through the Magic Tower. Which is why she is the main target for the Rebellion; Toonka's sworn enemy.

“Come back here witch!” a wounded man yelled.

“Awww, is little Toonka unable to land a hit?” the girl said. She giggled at the man’s inability to harm her.

“Why, you little sh-t! AHHH!” The man–Tookan–charged at her with fists fully ready to punch her. He missed by a large margin.

“You missed me!~” the girl taunted Toonka. She had been flying on a broom this whole time, using spells to her advantage, without fully killing the barbaric man. She had the power to eliminate her opponent, but she found more joy from playing with her food.

She laughed at Toonka’s poor excuse of attacks.

“Get down here you demon-incarnate!”

“My my, that insult is far too sophisticated for you! Did you finally grow a brain?”

“I alway had a brain you b-tch!” Toonka leaped in the air in anger, and missed her once again.

“What foul language,” the mage manifested a staff, “I should teach you some manners!” Twirling her staff summoned a ray of spells; casting lighting in the field—all which Toonka managed to avoid. How lucky.

“Damn you woman!” Toonka screamed as he barely missed a bolt.

“Hehehe…HAHAHAHA!” The girl laughed hysterically with tears in her eyes. She loved to see people from above, scramble like ants.

“Hahaha...ahhh. Dear me, I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” she said, wiping away a tear that had formed.

An orb suddenly appeared next to the mage flashing in alert.

“Hmmm…” in amusement she took it into her hands, one hand gracefully waving above it. An image appeared on the sphere; a red haired male was shown through the ball—he seems to be inside the Magic Tower.

“Dear me, if it isn't my sweet love,” she looks at Toonka after making the crystal ball disappear, “sorry, little Toonka, seems our playtime needs to be paused and rescheduled to a later date. Hope you can keep entertaining me. Ta ta~”

Casting a spell, she disappeared slowly to the disgust of the man she bid farewell to.

She had done it on purpose.

“GET BACK HERE YOU WRETCH!”

…

The twentieth floor, the master of the magic tower’s room.

“I-I thought I was going to die…!!”

A young mouse-dwarf child had almost seen his soul ascending to the heavens above a few seconds prior, when his tiny body was lifted off the ground and flew to the top of the magic tower.

He stepped back trying to ground himself. He bumped into someone, making him turn around apologetically.

“I-I’m sorry,” he turned around only to see a cat.

“Meoow.”

His eyes meet the gaze I casted at him.

“...”

“Ah.”

How awkward.

“There is one more floor in the magic tower,” the kid said, diverting his embarrassing moment.

“Then is the twenty-first floor the master's room?” I, in all my mercy, went on with my business like nothing happened. This was much appreciated by the boy.

“No, that’s not what we call it.”

“Then what do you call it?” I questioned him.

The real room of the master of the magic tower. A place that even the non-wizard alliance hasn’t found; a room no one knew the existence of.

At Least, that was the only thing that was stated in Birth of a Hero.

“Ground Zero,” a high pitched voice responded.

“We call it Ground Zero.”

It doesn't belong to the child, nor could it have come from him–since he didn’t know the room's actual name–the cats did not speak in this form, they knew better than that.

I can recognize that voice even if I become half deaf…

“[Name]...” I called the name of the intruder, facing her as she appeared from a mist that manifested out of thin air.

“Hello,” She smiled innocently, “it’s been a while…dear Cale.”

I stare at her with a suspicion of a hundred detectives. “What are you doing here?”

The children recoil behind me. The mouse: scared out of his mind; The cats: hissing at the intruder.

She had been causing nothing but wreck since the day I met her.

“Awww… did you not miss me?” She pouted.

“No.” I said bluntly.

In truth, although she is destructive, she’s never killed anyone. She may act like an evil witch, but she’ll alway cast barriers to protect.

The reason she acts like she does is still a mystery, even to me.

“Bo-hoo…” She pouted. She quickly got over it and spoke, “So, Want the treasure of this tower now? You know, if you called for me beforehand, I would have shown you the way.”

“Then take me there.”

“Nope,” She smiled teasingly at me. Honestly…can’t I just have a day without a headache. “If I did, you would just leave right after, leaving me all alone in this empty tower.”

“Then what do you propose?” I inquired.

“Well… I want to join your little fiasco.”

“*HISS*” the cats hissed at her. They really don’t like her.

I narrowed my eyes on her. I can’t deny that she would be really useful if she joined us. But on the contrary, the people of the anti-wizard organization would look at us in a not so good light. Tonka is my main problem. If I let her in, Toonka will follow me until the end of the world for, quote-on-quote, “betraying him.”

I don’t need more problems. But his majesty would kill me if he found out I didn’t recruit her in. Luck isn't on my side this time.

“You can join.”

“Oh, I knew you wouldn't let me—wait, what?” she paused, looking at me incredulously. “What did you say?”

“I said you can join,” I repeated.

“...”

“I CAN JOIN?!?!?!?”

We flinched back.

Jeez… Wasn’t it her idea in the first place? Why is she acting like this after I said yes? Honestly… I’ll never understand a woman’s mind.

“..yes,” I said slowly to not ignite another yell.

She jumped up and down while squealing in excitement.

“Oh, I have to go and pack my things!” she summoned her staff, with a swing in the air she started to disappear the same way she appeared. “See you soon love! Next time I’ll ask for your ring size!~”

“Oh, and little Mueller?” she spoke to the boy hiding behind me.

“Yes..!” he shrieked.

“Open up Ground Zero for Cale, will you?” She then fully vanished.

“*sigh…*” I turn to look at Mueller. “Well? Are you going to open ground zero, or not?”

“Ah! Y-yes, right away!” he scurried off to do what he was told.

What have I gotten myself into?

"Human, do you want me to obliviate her?"

"No!"

Fin

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @lureslutes, @cruzerforce4256, @narcise63, @potterhead-whovian-117, @margieee194, @zenix108, @vimenorie, @lunavixia, @potterhead-whovian-117, @alithurism, @matchalyne, @minteaspoon, @dontknowhowtousethis, @valacz29, @rainalovesouya, @vimenorie, @lunavixia, @lablog5, @htshbtcp, @purposefulwhale, @leylnnn, @ixchelhernandez4, @minteaspoon. Re-blog or Comment if you want to get added into the Tag section for Lout of Count's Family updates. Back to Lout Of Count's Family Master-List

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#cale henituse x reader #cale henituse #trash of the count's family x reader #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #lout of the count's family x reader #reader input #x reader #manhwa x reader #totcf #manhwa #manhwa fanfic #raon miru #on and hong #mueller #toonka

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anastasiareadsnwrites · 3 months ago

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Hi,

I just love your Anthony Bridgerton x male reader story. Can you write another? I don't mind what it is about but maybe Anthony has a secret male lover who is of lower class than him, like someone who is a working or middle class person.

No One does it like Ant Part I (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)

Part I

Author's note: Hiya so I decided to make this into a series typa thing so I really hope this is to your liking. I'm so relived to hear that you loved the other one-shot or story. Thank you so much for requesting. I am intrigued to where this one leads.

Summary: Despite the weight of his title and obligations, Anthony Bridgerton finds solace in the secret moments shared with someone who should be invisible to a man of his status: you, a blacksmith's son. The stark differences in your worlds don't matter in the shadows, but in the daylight, the walls between you seem impossible to scale.

Warning(s): Tension/Anxiety, Emotional Turmoil, Risk of Discovery, ANGST, Class difference, Secret Relationship, Emotional Vulnerability, Mild Sexual Content, Fear of Loss, Period-Appropriate Homophobia

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

The flickering candlelight danced across Anthony's face, casting shadows on the familiar furrow of his brow. He stood by the window of the secluded cottage, his posture stiff, as though the very air around him weighed heavily on his shoulders.

"It's not enough," he whispered to himself, but you heard him, leaning quietly against the doorway.

"What isn't enough?" you asked, your voice cutting through the silence like a warm breeze in winter.

Anthony turned abruptly, his dark eyes locking onto yours, the tension in the air thickening as he hesitated. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, his boots echoing against the wooden floor. His fingers twitched, almost as though he was reaching out for you, but stopped himself, retreating back into his restrained composure.

"You and I...this life we lead, these stolen moments," he said, his voice low and laden with the turmoil that seemed to forever grip him. "It cannot be enough, for either of us."

Your heart clenched, but you stayed where you were. You knew this conversation would come, but you had not been prepared for the pain that surged within you.

"Why isn't it enough, Anthony? In here, away from your title, from society's watchful eyes, we are enough."

His expression softened, and for a moment, he allowed himself to drop the mask, the Viscount disappearing behind the man you loved. His lips parted as if to speak, but instead, he closed the distance between you, reaching up to cup your face in his hands.

"You deserve more than this, more than hiding in the shadows with a man like me," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "But I cannot walk away."

His confession hung in the air, raw and real. You raised your hands to cover his, savoring the warmth of his touch.

"I never asked for more," you whispered back. "I only ask for you."

The truth of your words startled him. Anthony pulled back slightly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before dropping to his sides. He took a step back, his gaze distant, as if he were already being drawn back into the world outside—the one that demanded perfection, duty, and sacrifice.

"The world doesn't care what we want, Anthony," you said softly, "but in here, when it's just you and me, it can't touch us."

Anthony's expression tightened, torn between desire and responsibility. The flicker of vulnerability in his eyes was replaced by the rigid control he so often wore like armor. You could see the battle raging inside him, the weight of his title pressing on his shoulders, even as his heart urged him toward you.

“I have obligations,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking the words made them more real, more suffocating. “A name to uphold. Expectations from my family, from society. This... this between us... it defies everything I’ve been taught.”

You frowned, stepping closer, the heat of the hearth warming your back. “And what about what you want, Anthony? You’ve spent your whole life living for others. Don’t you deserve something for yourself?”

Anthony’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, staring out the window into the night, as though the darkness held the answers he couldn’t find in the daylight. His silence was answer enough. You sighed softly, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking as you reached out to brush your fingers against his.

“Anthony,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm, “I know what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid of losing everything. But what is the point of all that wealth, that power, if you’re alone? If you deny yourself happiness?”

His head lowered, eyes shutting briefly as he absorbed your words. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of your touch, his hand grasping yours, fingers interlocking in a way that felt both familiar and fragile.

"I want you," he said softly, his voice breaking the stillness. "God help me, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything."

His admission sent a rush through you, but it was bittersweet. The walls he had built around his heart were still there, still towering. You could feel the strain in his grip, the way his fingers tightened as though holding on to you could anchor him, even as he felt himself slipping.

You gently pulled him closer, resting your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the small space between you. “Then be with me. Here. Now. Forget the rest of the world, just for tonight.”

His eyes opened, and for a heartbeat, the mask dropped completely. Anthony’s hand slid up the back of your neck, his thumb brushing your skin as his lips captured yours in a kiss—deep, searching, filled with everything he could never say aloud. The world outside the small cottage faded away, leaving just the two of you in the warm glow of the firelight.

For now, it was enough.

But the unspoken fear lingered, a shadow neither of you could ignore. What would happen when the sun rose and the world outside came calling once again?

Later, as you both lay side by side in the quiet aftermath, the weight of Anthony’s unspoken words filled the room. He traced absent patterns along your arm, his touch gentle, but there was a tension there, something unsaid hanging in the air.

“You know this can’t last forever,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

Your heart clenched, but you had known that truth from the beginning. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Why not? Why can’t we find a way?”

Anthony turned toward you, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and longing. “Because men like me... we don’t get to choose. I’m the Viscount, the head of my family. The expectations... they’re not just mine to carry. They belong to my siblings, to my lineage. I can’t risk everything for something that the world won’t allow.”

You propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him, searching his face for something—some flicker of hope that this didn’t have to end. But all you found was the same conflict, the same war raging inside him that had been there since the day you met.

“I don’t care about your title, Anthony,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “I care about you. And if you can’t let yourself have this, if you can’t let yourself have me, then what’s the point of any of it?”

Anthony’s gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw the man beneath the title, the one who longed for the freedom to choose his own happiness. But then the walls went up again, and he was once more the Viscount Bridgerton, burdened by duty.

“I wish it were that simple,” he murmured, his hand resting on your cheek. “But you and I... we’re from two different worlds. And I can’t pretend that the world will ever accept that.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your face into his palm. “Then let’s not care what the world thinks. Just for a little longer.”

The night was growing late, and though Anthony knew he should leave before the morning light betrayed him, he remained there beside you, holding on to what little time you had left together. As you drifted off to sleep, you could feel him watching you, his fingers tracing the contours of your face as though committing every detail to memory.

Tomorrow would come, and with it, the harsh realities of your different lives. But for now, you had each other. And for tonight, that was enough.

Morning came too soon. The pale light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains, painting the room in soft, muted hues. You stirred first, the warmth of Anthony’s body still close beside you, his arm draped protectively across your chest. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to bask in the serenity of it, in the peace that only came in these rare moments together.

But reality was already creeping in. You could feel it in the cool air of the room, in the weight of the silence that now stretched between you. Anthony stirred beside you, and as he slowly woke, you felt his grip tighten briefly, as though holding on to the last shreds of the night’s illusion.

His eyes fluttered open, and the moment his gaze met yours, you saw it. The mask slipping back into place. The Viscount, the man of duty, was already returning.

“I should go,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep, but his tone carried a certain finality, like a man waking from a dream he knew he couldn’t linger in.

You sighed, sitting up and gently pushing the tangled sheets aside. The cold floorboards beneath your feet were a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed you’d shared, and it sent a shiver through you—not just from the cold, but from the realization that this, too, was slipping away.

“You always say that,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart ached with the truth. “But you always come back.”

Anthony sat up beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made your heart tighten. “I come back because I can’t stay away,” he admitted quietly, his voice filled with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “But I can’t give you more than this.”

You turned to face him, searching his eyes for something—anything—that could give you hope. “Why can’t you, Anthony? What are you so afraid of?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not just a man,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m the Viscount. My family’s future rests on my shoulders. Marrying, having an heir... it’s not just expected of me, it’s required. And being with you...”

His voice trailed off, but you understood. Being with you was not part of that plan. It never could be.

“I know what’s expected of you,” you said quietly, your voice steady even though your heart was breaking. “But I also know that you deserve to be happy, Anthony. And if that happiness is here, with me, then maybe it’s worth fighting for.”

Anthony’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw the flicker of hope, the part of him that longed to break free of the chains that bound him. But then, just as quickly, the hope was gone, replaced by the weight of responsibility that always pulled him back.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that,” he admitted, his voice cracking with the strain of his inner conflict.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, holding it firmly. “You’re stronger than you think,” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “But you have to decide if this—if we—are worth the risk.”

Anthony’s grip tightened around yours, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken words, with all the things that could never be.

“I wish I could give you more,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “But I can’t change who I am.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I know.”

And you did know. You had known from the beginning that loving Anthony Bridgerton would mean heartache. But even knowing that, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. You loved him, and even if the world would never allow it, you would carry that love with you always.

Anthony stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he began to dress. You watched him silently, the reality of the situation settling heavily on your chest. The moment was ending, and soon he would leave, just as he always did.

As he pulled on his coat and adjusted the lapels, he turned to you one last time. His gaze lingered on your face, and for a brief moment, the mask slipped once more.

“If I could... if things were different...”

You smiled sadly, shaking your head. “But they’re not.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to summon the strength to walk away. When he opened them again, the Viscount had returned, composed and resolute. He crossed the room in long, measured strides, and when he reached the door, he paused.

“I will see you again,” he said, his voice soft but certain.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. You both knew the truth—that no matter how many times he walked away, he would always come back. But what neither of you could say aloud was that each time he did, the space between you would grow, the distance between your worlds widening until one day, it would be too vast to cross.

The door closed softly behind him, and with it, the chapter of this fleeting moment in your secret world came to an end.

You sat there in the stillness, your heart heavy but resolute. You loved him, and for now, that would have to be enough. But in the quiet of the empty room, a question lingered: how much longer could you both live in the shadows?

Days passed with a crushing sameness. The quiet routine of your life returned, each day filled with work and the small distractions that kept your mind busy. But no matter how hard you tried to immerse yourself in the rhythm of everyday tasks, thoughts of Anthony clung to you like a persistent shadow.

At night, when the world was silent and the loneliness pressed in, you would remember his touch, the way his voice softened when he was just Anthony—not the Viscount, but the man who had stolen your heart. The memories were bittersweet, tugging at you even as you tried to push them away.

Weeks later, as you stood at the forge, the clanging of iron on metal ringing in the air, you caught sight of a figure approaching the workshop. Your heart skipped a beat, the familiar broad shoulders and composed gait unmistakable. You set down your tools, wiping the sweat from your brow as Anthony stepped inside, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind him.

He was dressed impeccably, as always, though there was something different about him today. A tension, a sense of urgency in his movements, as though he had come to a decision.

“Anthony,” you greeted, your voice steady despite the sudden quickening of your pulse. It was the first time you’d seen him since that morning he’d left your bed, and the air between you crackled with unspoken words.

He stood before you, eyes searching your face as though he hadn’t expected you to be exactly as he remembered. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of your last meeting hung heavily in the air, both of you knowing this wasn’t just another visit.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said at last, his voice raw with emotion. “Every time I try to distance myself, it’s like I’m suffocating. I thought I could bury it, push it aside. But I can’t. I don’t know how.”

You stepped closer, your chest tightening as you watched the mask of the Viscount crack once more. This time, it wasn’t just a fleeting moment of vulnerability. It was something deeper, something more desperate.

“Then stop trying,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the roar of your heart. “Stop fighting it.”

He closed the distance between you in two long strides, his hands reaching out to grip your arms, his touch firm, almost frantic. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice shaking slightly. “I don’t know how to balance what I feel for you and the life I’m supposed to lead. But I know that I can’t keep walking away.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him, the intensity in his gaze overwhelming. You could feel the battle raging within him, the clash between duty and desire that had haunted him for so long.

“What do you want, Anthony?” you asked quietly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Not what society wants, not what your family expects—what do you want?”

For a moment, he hesitated, the question hanging in the air like a challenge. But then, as though the weight of it was too much to bear, he finally let go of the control he’d been clinging to for so long.

“I want you,” he said, his voice breaking with the force of the confession. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, the kiss desperate, filled with all the pent-up longing and frustration that had built between you. It was raw and messy, a collision of emotions that neither of you had been able to fully express before. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. There was no Viscount, no obligations, no world beyond the walls of the workshop. There was only Anthony, his lips on yours, his hands gripping you as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath. Anthony’s hands slid down to your waist, his touch softer now, more controlled but still filled with that same intensity.

“This won’t be easy,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I can’t promise that things will change overnight. But I’m tired of running from this. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”

You exhaled slowly, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and fear. You had waited so long to hear those words, but you knew the road ahead would be anything but simple.

“I’m not asking for everything right now,” you said softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I just want you to try. To fight for us, the way you’ve fought for everyone else your whole life.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the hint of a smile on his lips—a small, tentative thing, but enough to give you hope.

“I will,” he promised, his voice filled with quiet determination. “For you, I will.”

The days that followed were stolen moments, brief but filled with a new sense of possibility. Anthony was still the Viscount, and his duties pulled him away more often than not, but when he returned to you, there was a shift in him—a willingness to fight for what he wanted, for the life he had always denied himself.

There were no grand declarations, no sudden changes in his public persona, but in the quiet of your shared moments, there was a newfound resolve. You could see it in the way he held you, in the way his gaze lingered on you longer than it used to. He was still navigating the treacherous path between his duty and his desires, but for the first time, he wasn’t walking that path alone.

One evening, as the sun set over the horizon and the two of you sat together by the fire, Anthony turned to you, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice soft but certain. “Maybe there is a way. A way for us to have more than this.”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

He smiled faintly, reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “There’s a lot I can’t change about who I am or the life I lead. But I can change this—us. I can be with you, more than just in secret. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m willing to find out.”

For the first time, there was a glimmer of hope in his words, a sense that maybe, just maybe, the world you both wanted wasn’t so far out of reach after all.

The days blended into weeks, and in those weeks, you and Anthony managed to carve out a fragile existence, balancing his life as the Viscount and the moments of tenderness he could afford with you. Every meeting was a risk, every touch a gamble, but neither of you could pull away. Not anymore.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the village as you waited for him in the small cottage just outside of town—a place that had become your sanctuary, a hidden world where, for a few hours, you could forget the harshness of reality.

You paced, the nervous energy in your body building as the minutes ticked by. Anthony was late, which wasn’t unusual given his responsibilities, but tonight felt different. There was a tension in the air, a heaviness that you couldn’t shake. You wondered if today would be the day he wouldn’t show up. If something had finally happened to tear him away from you for good.

But then, the door creaked open, and there he was—disheveled and out of breath, as though he’d run all the way from Bridgerton House. Relief flooded your chest, but it was short-lived as you noticed the look in his eyes: a mixture of exhaustion, fear, and something else... determination.

“Anthony,” you breathed, crossing the room to him, your hands reaching for his. “You’re late. I was worried.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his face burying in the crook of your neck as if trying to ground himself in your presence. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “There’s... there’s something we need to talk about.”

You froze, your heart pounding. His words were too serious, too final. Panic flared in your chest. “What is it?” you asked, stepping back just enough to look into his eyes. “What’s happened?”

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked tired, older even, as though the weight of his responsibilities had finally caught up to him. “My family... they’re pushing harder for me to marry.”

Your stomach dropped, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. You had always known this moment would come, but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“Do they... do they know about us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your worst fear suddenly feeling very real.

“No,” Anthony said quickly, shaking his head. “No, they don’t. But they’ve been watching me closely, and I can’t keep making excuses for disappearing like this.” His hands gripped yours tightly, as though he was afraid you might slip away. “But I’m not going to give up on us.”

The determination in his voice caught you off guard. You had expected him to tell you that it was over, that he had no choice but to marry someone his family deemed suitable. But here he was, standing in front of you, fighting for you.

“What are you saying?” you asked, your voice trembling with both hope and fear.

“I’m saying that I’m willing to take the risk,” Anthony said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. “I’m tired of living my life for everyone else. I want to be with you. I don’t care what it costs me.”

Your heart soared, but at the same time, the practical part of your mind screamed in protest. “Anthony, you can’t just throw everything away. Your family... your title...”

“I know,” he interrupted, his hands cupping your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I know what I’m risking. But I’ve made my decision.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. You had never imagined he would choose you over everything he stood to lose. But now that he had, the reality of it terrified you. “What if it all falls apart? What if—”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said firmly, pulling you into a kiss that silenced your fears, at least for the moment.

The following weeks were a blur of secret meetings, stolen moments, and whispered promises. Anthony became more reckless, more willing to risk everything for the sake of being with you. It frightened you, but it also exhilarated you—this man, who had been so bound by duty and expectation, was finally choosing to live for himself.

But the world had a way of catching up with those who defied it.

It happened one evening, just as the sun was setting. You and Anthony were sitting together by the fire, the cottage bathed in the warm, golden light of dusk. He had come straight from an event, his hair still neatly styled, his clothes still carrying the scent of expensive cologne. He looked every bit the Viscount, except for the way he relaxed into your side, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh.

A knock at the door shattered the peaceful silence.

Both of you froze. No one ever came here. This place was yours, a secret known only to the two of you. Anthony’s hand tightened on your leg, his eyes locking with yours, fear flashing in them.

You stood, your heart racing as you moved toward the door, unsure of what—or who—was waiting on the other side.

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