#but these tags are long and i can't get into the push and pull power dynamics of it all. mello can heel is all i'm saying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alygator77 · 6 months ago

Text

∘₊✧─moment of weakness─✧₊∘

✧ pairing. satoru gojo x fem! reader (also ft suguru geto)

✧ summary. after a rough night at the bar, you are drunk out of your mind and decided to ask your best friend satoru to come pick you up to take you home. but during the car ride the alcohol starts giving you courage, making you feel rather bold as you make a move on your best friend. did this ruin your friendship? was this a mistake, or does he reciprocate your feelings?

✧ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, smut, bit of angst, reader is drunk for first half, friends to lovers, mutual pining, somewhat public sex, car sex, groping while driving, dry humping, handjob teasing (m), fingering (f! receiving), satoru and reader in their 20s and both work at jujutsu high, both are powerful sorcerers, satoru takes care of you while you’re sick, satoru is also being an idiot, suguru makes a move on you, takes place before suguru leaves jujutsu high, will end with fluff

✧ words: 12.7k (yeeeeah idk what happened)

✧ a/n. this will be two parts because I'm currently sitting at 20k words, I have no clue how this happened... so I'm splitting it up. anyways, this is just a little side story that I have had brainrot for and had to get it out :)

✧ part two: moment of passion

“'toruuuu~” you call his name is a singsong childish voice while he pulls you into an embrace outside of the bar. Leaning into you, he can smell the liquor on you as you sway a little and give him an adorable pout. It’s not often he gets to see you like this.

“Take me home please, I'm bored here,” you sigh and nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

Amused at this side of you, an affectionate hum leaves his lips as he tugs you even closer. You're being extra clingy today. Satoru can't help but snicker softly, his hold around your waist tightening. His hand slides lower to rest against the curve of your hip; slender, nimble fingers digging into your skin through the thin layer of your skirt.

A low amused chuckle falls from his lips as you snuggled into him. His face buries into your hair, his chin pressed softly against your tilted head. "You're such a needy little thing," he murmurs against your ear, his breath warm and almost ticklish. "And drunk off your damn ass, too. I’ll take you home."

Despite his words, his arms stay where they are. He was relishing in this clingy version of you, much more than the usual, sober you who tends to get irritated by him and push him away.

But who were you to push him away right now? Typically, you would do so in an attempt to distance yourself, to keep yourself in check. Afterall, Satoru is your best friend, but underneath the surface there has always been a part of you that craves more from him. Yet in this moment, you simply want to enjoy his gentle embrace.

With a soft exhale into Satoru's neck, you become enveloped in his warmth. It's a soothing contrast from the cool bite of the outside wind. A low groan escapes his lips as your warm breath tickles his neck, each puff sending a jolt of electricity running down his spine. He wishes he could stay like this forever.

It's always been this way— you're the only person who can make him feel things like this. Satoru and you have been friends for years. It started off as mere fellow jujutsu sorcerers, working together on missions, defeating curses together, but at one point it grew into something much more personal, with your late-night phone calls, lunch dates and movie marathons. That’s how it’s always been now, for as long as you can remember – you, Satoru and Suguru. And despite how much Satoru can get on your nerves sometimes, with his childish demeanor, emotional constipation and somewhat cocky attitude, he is always there for you.

You click your tongue before speaking, a cheeky smirk upon your lips. "Suguru challenged me to a drinking contest. Who am I to say no?"

Satoru's eyebrow quirks up at your response. Trust Geto to influence you into doing stupid things. Though, a subtle hint of irritation stirs within him when you mention his name. He begrudgingly recalls that as of recently, his best friend's gazes tends to linger a moment too long on your figure whenever interacting with you. Satoru’s admiration for you has grown into something he can’t quiet explain. He’s never felt this way about, well, anyone. Yet somehow, you manage to pull at him, thawing the icy heart he shields from everyone else. But he’s scared – if he is to act on those feelings, he’s certain it’ll only cause you both pain. He’s the strongest sorcerer after all, that easily makes you a target. So, he chooses to push his emotions down and continues to be what he’s always been for you, your best friend.

"Of course you're not. You're a glutton for punishment," he sighs, his fingers giving your hip a gentle squeeze. "You just had to prove yourself, huh? Why do I have a feeling you didn't even last a few shots? You're such a lightweight," he teases, his tone a mixture of amusement and affection.

His hand moves lower to hold the back of your thigh – a gasp escaping your lips, immediately followed by a soft giggle as he easily lifts you off your feet. “You're lucky I'm here to take you home, princess."

With a gentle sigh, you rest your head against his chest as he holds you in his embrace. The soft sound of his heartbeat soothes you as he begins to carry you towards his car. "You're the best 'toru. Always taking care of me."

A rare, fond smile tugs at the corners of his lips as you murmur those words, his heart skipping a beat inside his chest. Despite his usual nonchalant and cocky demeanor, Satoru has always had a soft spot for you. He may not admit it, of course, but secretly, he craves your praise.

"Of course I am." he muses, carrying you effortlessly towards his car. As he walks, his chin brushes gently against the top of your head. "Someone has to watch over you so you don't get into trouble. You're a magnet for mishaps." His tone playful, but laced with a hint of protectiveness. "Can't have someone else picking you up from the bar all drunk, now can I?"

Satoru opens the passenger door and carefully sets you inside, leaning over momentarily to click your seatbelt into place. He then walks around and enters the driver side. You lean your head back on the headrest, gently closing your eyes and exhaling with a slight annoyance as you take a moment to recall what happened moments before Satoru picked you up.

"Ugh. You won't believe it. Suguru was insisting I go home with him tonight.. and he was being real persistent," the alcohol is clearly loosening your tongue a bit more, and it doesn’t help that you never really gave yourself a moment to process what had happened.

Satoru freezes for a brief moment, his hand hovering over the ignition. His jaw clenches briefly at the mention of Geto again – did his closest friend actually make a move on you? It sets off a flicker of jealousy within him. Not that he'd explicitly show it, instead, a nonchalant expression maintains his features as he starts up the car. The engine hums to life, casting a low rumble in the otherwise silent vehicle.

"Is that so?" he replies, feigning nonchalance despite the subtle edge that underlines his tone. His gaze briefly flickers in your direction before focusing back on the road. "And why would he suddenly want to do that?"

You stare out at the road and lift an eyebrow, biting your lip as you hesitate – you’ve always had a slight suspicion that maybe Satoru also has feelings for you, he undeniably is affectionate.. but it’s hard for you to know for certain if that affection is romantic since he is always so hot and cold with you. One moment he’s worshiping you, the next he’s pushing you away. And deep down you know it’s probably for the best to remain the way you are – you’re content having him in your life, even if it’s just as your best friend, though a part of you still pines for him.

You wonder how he'll respond when you tell him about Suguru. Satoru’s always been protective over you. But you feel that as your best friend, he should know. That's why you called him. After everything that happened, he was the only person you thought of, the only person you wanted to see.

"Well, considering the way he tried to kiss me tonight, I'm assuming he didn't wanna talk."

Satoru's grip on the steering wheel tightens visibly at your revelation, his knuckles turning slightly paler as his hold on the leather material strains. A wave of bitterness washes over him, his eyes growing darker as he processes what you'd just said. He’s always buried this bitterness deep down when he’d watch you with other men, but Suguru? A twinge of betrayal stirs in him.

His gaze remains fixed on the road ahead, the car's headlights cutting through the night. He clears his throat slightly, his voice low and measured. "And how did you respond to that?"

Bringing your hand to your face, you shake your head in disbelief as if you’re trying to shoo the mere image out of your mind. You, Satoru and Suguru were an inseparable trio. The three of you have been the best of friends for… well what feels like practically forever. But lately, Suguru has been acting rather…odd. That’s why his advances tonight really caught you off guard. It just didn't feel...right.

"Well.. obviously, I pushed him away. I don’t know what came over him, but I was not having it. So, I immediately called you to come get me."

As you describe the encounter, a wave of relief washes over Satoru. It appeases him to know that your reaction wasn't one of reciprocation. His hold on the steering wheel eases a fraction, his shoulders losing some tension. He hums softly in acknowledgment, his gaze flickering in your direction for a brief moment.

"Good," he replies, a hint of protectiveness seeping into his tone. "You should always call me if someone tries to bother you, alright? I'll always come get you. I'd rather have you with me than with anyone else any day."

You giggle and turn your head to the side facing Satoru, the warmth of the alcohol giving a soft flush to your cheeks. You admire Satoru's profile while his eyes are peeled to the road. He is so beautiful in the moonlight, his snowy hair as smooth as silk, tousles hanging loose amongst his white lashes – the headlights illuminating his cerulean blue eyes, eyes you find yourself getting lost in.

Wait.. did he just imply that he wants me? You think.

Have you perhaps had too much to drink? Was that a slip up, or did you imagine it?

"You'd, rather have me with you?" You repeat his words back slowly, gazing at him.

Satoru's grip on the steering wheel loosens slightly, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern against its leather surface as he navigates the darkened roads. He glances in your direction, meeting your gaze for a moment before turning his attention back to the road – the way your eyes trace over his features, bathed by the passing street lights, nearly makes his breath catch in his throat.

The words he uttered moments before replay in his mind, and he realizes just how much they might have revealed. Usually, you’d simply dismiss his subtle advances, or he’d play them off with a witty comment, but tonight there was a look in your eyes, and the gentle seriousness in your voice... It caught him slightly off guard.

"Yeah. I would," he responds, his tone softer than usual.

A brief moment of silence fills the car, his words hanging in the air like a heavy promise. You shift your body to the side entirely, facing directly towards him as you lay back in your seat – your cheek pressed flush against the cool leather as you watch him intently. The intimacy in the car is palpable. You reach your hand out and rest it on Satoru's leg.

"'Toru..."

Satoru's breath hitches at the feeling of your hand on his leg. It's a simple gesture, a subtle touch, but it sends a jolt coursing through his body. The way you say his name in that moment, he’s heard you say it every day, but this was different. The warmth you suddenly inject into the small space, he can’t simply disregard it.

He steals a glance at you, his eyes darkening as he sees the intensity of your gaze. His muscles tense, both from the impact of your touch and the unexpected shift in the atmosphere.

"..yeah?" he replies, his voice a low, almost husky whisper.

You feel the liquor driving your body in a way you cannot stop. You begin to rub small intimate circles on his leg with your fingertips – brushing him ever so gently as you caress slowly up his thigh. There are words you’ve been eager to say but have locked up deep within you – suddenly the alcohol is causing your shackles to break, betraying your sense of restraint.

"I realized tonight.. I really wanted to see you. I only want you. That's why I called," your breath a whisper, your eyes bearing into him with deep longing.

Satoru can barely concentrate on the road anymore. Your gentle touch, the way your fingertips graze over him – it ignites a fire within him. His thighs flex under your caress, your gesture sending sparks of pleasure throughout him.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Your words, the truth in your confession, hit him like a ton of bricks. He'd been wanting to hear those words for so long, and now that they were finally being voiced, it somehow seemed too good to be true.

He inhales sharply, the air caught in his lungs. "You’re drunk. Only me, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse as his gaze momentarily flickers to meet yours. The raw honesty in your eyes stirs something primal within him.

The unpredictable movements of your fingertips begin to climb higher up his thigh, dangerously close to his groin. Your eyes do not waver, intently looking at him with a burning passion. A passion that you had buried deep inside yourself for many, many years.

It’s a passion you’ve been bottling up – you’ve been denying yourself your affection towards Satoru. Denying your love for him. And while there may have been subtle hints that he reciprocated your feelings, there was also an inexplicable fear of breaking the friendship you have built up over many years. That is why usually, you would just turn a blind eye, and so would he. You both accepted this is how it would always be.

But you crave him so much. You crave his touch.

"Only you, 'toru. I... need you."

A soft, almost strangled gasp escapes Satoru's lips as your fingers move higher, the sudden intensity of your touch driving him into madness. He tightens his grip on the wheel, his knuckles turning white from the sheer force. His eyes briefly flicker back to yours, your intense gaze not missed by him.

"Fuck,” he mutters, a hint of desperation in his voice. The need in your words, the way you express your want for him, it causes his stomach to flip in a way he’s never felt before. “What are you doing to me, love?”

Your lips curl into a smile as you hear his voice waver. It’s a side of him you have never had the privilege to see. An intense ache pulses in between your legs as you feel pure, wet, desire begin to cloud your judgement. Why was it you didn’t act more daring with Satoru before? You suddenly can’t remember, because right now all you know is that you just want to hear more of those sounds from him. Make him become undone from you.

Your fingertips brush gently, teasingly, against the slight bulge forming under the taut fabric of Satoru's pants.

"Do you want me to stop?" your voice a silky whisper.

Satoru's breath hitches, a shiver raking down his spine as your fingers brush against the growing arousal in his pants. You have never been this bold with him. It takes every ounce of his restraint not to shudder visibly. He clenches his jaw, his gaze fixated on the road ahead, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

"I... fuck," he manages to mutter, his gaze flicking between the road and you. "Don't you dare," he responds, his voice thick and raspy. "If you stop, I might just lose my damn mind."

You bite your lip and trace your fingers up to the tip of his now prominent bulge – feeling it twitch with a needy desire underneath your digits. A slight wet patch begins to form, seeping through his trousers. Satoru nearly jerks the wheel as shock waves of pleasure shoot up his spine. A sharp exhale escaping his lips, his body reacting viscerally to your touch. It takes every ounce of control for him not to lose it entirely. He can barely keep his eyes on the road, the urge to look at you, to devour you, is almost unbearable.

You click your tongue smugly, a self-satisfied smile forming across your lips. "Tsk tsk~ 'toru, eyes on the road."

Another strangled sound escapes from somewhere deep within him. The way you touch him, the way you tease him, ignites a fire that burns throughout his veins. His mind is swimming with pure need, his hands trembling against the wheel.

"You're... going to be the death of me," he manages to utter, his voice a strained growl. But he can't stop himself from glancing at you, his azure eyes almost black with desire. "You're such a damn tease. I want to pull over and... God." He trails off, his teeth clenched.

You press your palm down on his erection, feeling it grow underneath the pressure, and you enjoy quite literally having him in the palm of your hands. The street lights darting behind Satoru's longing stare, each flicker of light revealing beautiful glimpses of his desperation for you.

"Come on 'toru. Hurry up and take me home. We're almost there," you knowingly tease him with a subtle plea.

Satoru’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, his head falling back against the seat, as you press your palm against his aching length. Was he dreaming? He lets out a low groan, a mixture of need and frustration that he's unable to act on, yet. His eyes flash open and he briefly shakes his head as he quickly remembers he’s still infact driving.

He growls and presses down on the gas, the speed of the car gradually increasing as he fights to maintain his control. "You'd better be ready for what you're doing to me, love. You're playing with fire."

The road stretches ahead, the car's headlights illuminating the way, the distance seemingly insurmountable. You catch sight of familiar houses through the window behind Satoru, which immediately tells you that you are on the street of your apartment complex. Feeling that needy ache between your legs again, you crave more. Your hand trails up to the zipper of Satoru's pants, slowly pulling it down to expose his boxers, bulge pushing hard against the cloth as it is covered in a pool of precum – aching, and desperate for you.

"God, 'toru," you gasp at the sight. Even though it is hidden underneath the fabric, you can tell that it is undeniably, big.

The sound of the zipper being undone is like a siren's call in his ears, his breath catching in his chest. "Fuck," he mutters, his voice a gravelly rasp. "You're... unbelievable. You're... so damn impatient," he manages to bite out, his voice a wrecked, strangled whisper.

His thighs tremble with an uncontrollable shudder as you look at his arousal – he looks at your soft supple lips, and he wants so badly to shove his cock deep into your throat, the need to have you consuming him, gasping and moaning. It’s an imagine that he would often fantasize about.

"If you keep teasing me like this, I promise you—” as he trails off the car suddenly comes to a halt, the engine shutting off as Satoru pulls up to the curb outside your apartment building.

The moment the car stills, the only sound being the rhythmic pace of his ragged breaths, Satoru looks over at you, his eyes raking in the sight of your face — flushed and full of yearning. His gaze dark and intense, his pupils dilated with raw desire.

He watches as you unbuckle your seatbelt, the sound of the click echoes in the small space. And in that moment, it acts as if a switch flipped inside of him, unleashing something primal within. He quickly unbuckles his own seatbelt and turns towards you with haste.

His hand promptly reaches out, grasping your wrist, his grip firm and unrelenting. "Not so fast," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. He reaches for your thighs, his fingers almost trembling with the need to touch you. His body moves with a desperate fervor and a harsh grip as he tugs you across the center console and onto his lap, his strong arms encircling you tightly. The air is thick with tension, the desire between you two palpably tangible.

"Come here," he whispers. His hand grasping the back of your neck and guiding you towards him. You feel your clothed clit press against his length and moan, pushing forward as you crash your lips against his own.

The moment your lips meet his, he practically growls, his own groan mingling with yours as you rock against his aching arousal. His hands immediately finding purchase against your thighs, his grip on you is almost bruising, a physical manifestation of his need for you.

The taste of you, the feel of your body on his lap, pushes him to the edge of what little control he had as his hands begin to wander freely, roaming possessively over your body, as if he needs to touch you everywhere at once – touching and massaging, as if trying to commit every curve and contour to memory.

His tongue dips into your mouth, exploring and claiming your tongue hungrily. His hands moving beneath your shirt, his palms searing against your skin. “You.. don't know... how long... I've wanted you," he manages to mutter between kisses – his breath coming in as hot gasps as his body trembles with the sheer intensity of his desire.

A guttural moan rumbles from deep within his chest, his hips jerking involuntarily as you grind against him. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down the length of your neck, his teeth nibbling and biting possessively along the way. A hand underneath your shirt cups your breast, gently flicking your nipple between his index finger and thumb, while his other hand roams below your skirt, greedily seeking to touch more of you as he circles around your wet sensitive bud through your already soaked underwear.

“Nngh… ‘toru,” you moan. The heat between you two is fierce, a burning tension that has been years in the making. He relishes the sound of his name escaping your lips in a desperate moan. He wants to hear it again, hear the sound of it on your lips, as he claims you entirely.

His hand on your clit moves hungrily, his touch exploring greedily as he aches to feel more of your arousal. “You're so wet for me," he breaths against your skin, his touch growing more insistent, more urgent. "I can feel how badly you want this. Need this."

He pulls the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing your pretty folds dripping in pools of nectar, and he begins to tease your entrance. His mouth moves from your neck to your ear, his lips grazing over the sensitive flesh of your earlobe. "Say my name again," he whispers, his voice a low, demanding growl.

“Please… ‘toru,” you plead. Satoru's eyes fix on your face, he drinks in the sight of you – flushed and filled with need, lips plump and pink. A sight he’s only ever dreamed of, and now he cannot believe that he actually has you like this on top of him. It’s so captivating it makes his heart pound against his ribcage like a caged beast.

He moans softly against your ear, a low growl rumbling in his throat as you say his name — just how he wanted. His own breath comes in ragged gasps as he continues to tease your entrance. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice roughened with need. "Beg for me. Beg me to give you what you need."

An inch of his finger presses against your entrance, his touch gentle yet insistent, as his thumb slowly circles your sensitive bud, teasing and tormenting you, his touch hungry and demanding.

"You're so unfair," you moan, pleading and desperate for more. "Please 'toru, please. Need you now."

"Good girl," he grins as he parts your lower lips and thrusts his digit in deep, feeling the warmth around your plush warm walls. Your body arches back in pleasure as you let out a loud and longing moan. The sound of your moan fills the air, a symphony of desire that only feeds the fire within him. "You're so pretty like this," he murmurs, his voice a ragged whisper. "So desperate. So needy."

He begins scraping inside you softly and slowly, curling his fingers up as your walls clamp down on him, needy for more. You feel the heat rising in the car. The air is thick with your combined breaths, the windows fogged up like a veil of desire.

“Fuck ‘toru.. so good… need more,” pleading to him between your moans, your essence dripping onto him while the squelching sound of your juices fill the air.

"You want more, huh?" he breathes, his voice a low, growl. "You want everything I have to give, love?" He continues to tease you, his finger and thumb working in unison as he adds a second digit, his movements insistent. "Well, I intend to give you just that."

Moaning his name in pleasure from the intrusion, you slowly rock your hips upon his hand. The other hand continues to caress your breast as his claims your nipple with soft stimulating circles. You feel yourself eagerly approaching a sweet release. "Nnngh, don't stop 'toru... m' close"

"So close," he echoes, his voice a low, gravelly growl. "I can feel you clenching around my fingers, love. You want it so badly, don't you?" He continues, his pace quickening, determined to send you over the edge.

Your hands take purchase on Satoru's hair, intertwining his white locks between your fingertips, you lightly pull at the tousles with a desperate need to grab something, anything, as you ride out the wave of overwhelming ecstasy that he gives you. Satoru leans into the touch of your hands as you grasp for him, his eyes never leaving your face. The sight of you, flushed and wanting, only feeds his desire to give you what you need, his cock throbbing underneath you.

His fingers continue their onslaught, increasing pace and delving deeper into your core, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. You rest your forehead gently against his own while the speed of your grinding increases, eagerly matching the movement of his thrusts. "That's it sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice a ragged whisper. "Just let go for me. I want to feel you come unraveled in my hands."

His motions become more insistent, his fingers finding the spots that make you shudder and gasp. "Nnngh.. Satoru.. m' cuming."

"Cum for me, love. I want to hear you scream my name," he breathes against your lips before he captures them in a heated kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with fervor. His fingers move more urgently, his pace relentless, determined to send you over the edge – and he does just that as you come completely undone on top of him. Moaning his name into his mouth, you feel the sweet release drip down his hand, drenching him completely.

Fuck, he wanted to cum right then and there. Holding you close, his arm encircles your waist as he swallows your moans, his tongue claiming your mouth as he kisses you deeply and greedily. His fingers slow their pace, gently guiding you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Pulling away from the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours while groaning in satisfaction. “That's my girl," he breathes, his voice a husky whisper. "You're so beautiful."

He slowly withdraws from within you, his hand glistening with your sweetness, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, slowly licking them clean while a low groan of pleasure escapes his lips. “Need to taste more of you.”

Every nerve in your body begins to sing with hungry desire, your head slightly spinning from the liquor while your skin tingles with the aftershocks of your pleasure. The sight of him, lazily licking his fingers clean, sends a new wave of heat through you, and Satoru’s words, so primal and possessive, only serve to stoke the flames of need within you. He shifts beneath you, his hands moving to your thighs now, gripping you tightly and pulling you down closer to his evident arousal, only separated against the thin fabric of his boxers.

"You'd better get me upstairs,” you urge, breathless from the heat of the moment and hungry for more – more of him. All of him. “I don’t think I can bear much more of this. Need you inside me," your breath tickles him as your teeth lightly nip at the sensitive skin across the length of his neck, moaning softly while you leave a trail of burning kisses across his flesh.

His body shudders under your touch as you graze him, and you feel his cock twitch against you. The feeling of your mouth on his skin is like a drug, driving his desire to a fever pitch. He leans back against the headrest, his head tilting back in pleasure, exposing more of his neck to your hungry lips.

"You're driving me crazy," he growls, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "The things I want to do to you... you don't need to tell me twice."

But while he fumbles for the door handle, you grin against the crook of his neck as you begin to press yourself further on top of him, slowly grinding against his aching length. Ragged gasps escape his lips and you are pleased with how you have him writhing beneath you.

“Nngh.. fuck it,” he hisses. “I need you. Right. Now. Hold on tight."

And in a moment, you feel yourself pulled by a magnetizing force. You blink, and suddenly there you are, laying against Satoru exactly as you were, but now directly on top of your bed inside your apartment. He teleported you there, unable to wait a second longer.

You’ve experienced Satoru’s teleporting technique in the past, but there is one thing you both failed to take into consideration, you were drunk. The sudden force of being projected through space and time makes your stomach twist in discomfort, you bring your hand to your mouth in an attempt to fight off the nausea, and Satoru's eyes widen as he realizes the sudden shift in your demeanor, the color draining from your face as you quickly scramble off of him.

A pang of guilt stabs at his heart as he realizes what he's done – he had temporarily forgotten your slightly impaired state. Concern etched across his features, he watches you stumbling towards the bathroom, your balance betraying you. Satoru springs to action, catching you, his hands reaching out to steady you.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, his hands gently encircling your waist as he leans you against him, guiding you carefully. "Shit, love, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. You alright?"

The room begins to spin as Satoru guides you towards the toilet. You slump down in front of it and begin retching, the nausea beating you in an already lost battle. Tears well up in your eyes from the burning pain that stings your throat.

Satoru's expression twists in concern as he kneels beside you on the floor, his hand gently rubbing soothing circles on your back. The sight of your tears makes his heart sink, and a mix of guilt and worry clouds his features.

"Shhh... it's okay, love," he reassures, his voice laced with remorse. "Shit, I'm sorry. I should've known better.. guess I didn’t think that one through. I really shouldn't have teleported you like that in your state."

You sit in front of the toilet for what feels like an eternity, and Satoru stays beside you the entire time, offering what little comfort he can while you let it all out. You feel your body overcome with exhaustion, aching from the tension of each agonizingly painful convulsion. As you let out the last of what your stomach has to offer, your breath becomes ragged, panting with fatigue. You curl up into a ball, resting your head on Satoru’s lap whilst closing your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the overwhelming feeling that the room is spinning.

He gently brushes away the hair that sticks to your sweaty forehead, his touch tender and caring. "I'm sorry," he whispers softly. "I should have been more thoughtful. I shouldn't have let my impatience ruin things. I was just so caught up in the moment. You're in this state because of me."

You let out a long deep exhale while your eyes remained closed, the sound of his voice giving you slight comfort. “Satoru. I’m in this state because I thought having three shots of hard liquor and five mixed drinks was a good idea. This isn’t your fault.” Reaching for his hand, you intertwine your fingers with his own. “You weren’t the only one caught up in the moment..”

He squeezes your hand in return, his grip firm yet gentle. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, tracing small patterns on your skin.

"You know, for a woman who just emptied her stomach, you sure still know how to put things into perspective," he muses.

You scoff, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “What can I say, I’m a guru.”

"Yeah, sure. You’re a guru. Guru of making poor choices, maybe," he quips back at you with a grin. “You really thought five drinks was a good idea? You've always been a lightweight, but this time you really outdid yourself, princess," he teases.

“Shut up.” You laugh, your eyes still closed as you nuzzle your face more into the warmth of his lap.

He lifts his other hand to your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that lingered on your cheek. "I still feel guilty, though," he admits, his voice carrying a gentle tone. "I should have been more cautious, especially since I know how your tolerance is when you're drunk."

"Well hey, at least we’ve learned our lesson, right? No more teleporting drunk girls."

He chuckles and lets out a small sigh, his eyes tracing the contour of your face. "You've always been a handful when you're drunk, always tending to do things recklessly when alcohols involved. Like drinking more than you should, or getting your hand stuck in the Pringles can. Or…" he trails off, briefly recalling your shared passion in the car.

Your tired eyes flutter open, revealing a lazy smile as you respond with a playful glint. "Oh come on, getting my hand stuck in a Pringles can was a one-time thing. And it was your fault."

He looks down at you with a mixture of concern and affection. Was this all just another one of your drunk antics? He desperately wanted to know your feelings, but now wasn’t the time. You needed rest, and it’s probably best if you’re both level headed for that conversation.

"You’re gonna drink some water and brush your teeth, alright? Then, we'll get you into bed," his voice is gentle yet firm.

You nod weakly in agreement, appreciating his care and concern in that moment. The events of the night and the nausea had drained any energy you had left. Summoning the little strength that you had to pull yourself up from the floor, Satoru's supportive presence is there to stabilize you. You allow him to help you to your feet, steadying yourself against him as the room continues to spin.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan," you mumble softly. "I'm so tired.”

Satoru's touch is gentle and attentive as he guides you through a routine of cleaning up - supporting you to the sink to brush your teeth, helping you brush your hair and gently drying your face with a clean towel.

“Thank you, ‘toru." You mumble softly, and he smiles warmly in response. His arms lift you from the bathroom, carrying you like a delicate treasure through the hallway to your bedroom. He slowly lowers you onto the soft bed sheets with a feather-light touch and brings you a glass of water.

Satoru tenderly strips you of your evening clothes, replacing them with the comfort of your satin pajamas. The fabric is soft and soothing against your weary body and his fingers delicately guide each limb as he moves. He pulls the blankets over you, tucking you in like a cocoon. You shiver slightly as the cool sheets touch your skin, but as you sink into the softness of your bed, the exhaustion seeps into your bones, and you can feel your eyelids growing heavy.

Kneeling beside the bed, Satoru gently brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead, searching your face with a mixture of concern and affection. "Do you need anything else?" he asks, his voice a low and soothing murmur.

With a soft smile of contentment on your face, you reach a drowsy hand over to him and grab onto the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him. "Stay with me," you murmur, the words barely more than a tired whisper.

He chuckles softly, endeared by your drowsy voice and the way you hold onto him. Without another word, he carefully maneuvers himself onto the bed, climbing in beside you. Once he's settled in, he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms tightly around your body.

He reaches forward to switch off your bedside lamp, plunging the room into a soothing darkness. He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your familiar scent as he settles into the comfort of holding you. "I'm here," he whispers softly, his voice a soothing rumble against your ear. "Not going anywhere, love."

You feel warm – this is everything you’ve always wanted. But as you battle falling out of consciousness, you cannot stop your mind from racing. The memories of Satoru being hot and cold with his affection of you in the past – you desperately hope your feelings reached him properly. After all this, he wouldn’t push you away again… right?

“Don’t leave…” your words a soft murmur in the quiet room, revealing the vulnerability and fear lurking in the depths of your heart.

Satoru's expression turns somber as he considers your plea, his arms instinctively tightening their embrace around you. "I'm not going anywhere." he repeats, his voice soft in your ear. He feels the weight of your body relax against him as you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

As you slowly slip into unconsciousness, Satoru remains wide awake, his thoughts swirling like a tempest in his mind. The memory of your shared passion weighs heavy on him, it was a moment where you were drunk while he was sound in mind – he can't shake the feeling that he was too selfish, too impulsive. He feels torn between the desire to submit to his love for you and the knowledge that it may put you in danger. Guilt gnaws at his heart.

∘₊✧

A slight beam of sun filters in through the curtains of your apartment, casting rays upon your face. Your eyes flutter open and you immediately feel an intense pang upon your temple, suddenly remembering just how much you drank last night.

You exhale in discomfort, rolling to the side to see yourself greeted with an empty bed… the sheets beside you are cool to the touch, evidence of Satoru's absence. Suddenly, memories of last night begin to flood your mind. You groan, covering your face with your arm. You acted recklessly… but you don’t regret it. You’ve desperately wanted Satoru for so long, and now you really didn’t want to lose him. Does he think last night was a mistake?

Your phone suddenly pings with a text notification. You fumble to reach for it on your nightstand, wincing as the brightness of the screen assaults your sensitive eyes. As you read the words in the message your heart jumps – can we talk about last night?

Fluttering your eyes briefly, you rub them sleepily in an attempt to steady your vision. You prop yourself up on your bed and take another good look at the message.

Suguru Geto: Can we talk about last night?

The phone feels heavy in your hand as you consider how to respond. You groan and plop back down into the mattress face first, the memories of Suguru's attempted kiss at the bar last night adding another layer of complication to your already throbbing headache.

You know you’ll need to address Suguru, but first you needed to get some food and medicine in you. After taking some Tylenol and chugging three glasses of water to help with the aftermath of your drunken night, you make a cup of coffee and fix yourself a slice of toast and a banana, hoping it'll quell the empty feeling in your stomach. You take a seat at the table, slowly nibbling on the food and sipping the coffee, feeling the caffeine start to help clear your still groggy state.

Once you've had your small makeshift breakfast, you pick up your phone again, steeling yourself to reply to Suguru's message. You muster the courage and quickly type –

Me: Yeah, we can talk.

You continue to take another sip of your coffee, and are surprised to see the phone chime almost immediately after you sent your message.

Suguru Geto: Okay. Meet you later tonight? After work?

Me: Sure.

∘₊✧

As you enter through the doors of Jujutsu High, Shoko's voice cuts through the air, making you wince as your lingering headache throbs.

“You look like shit,” she bluntly remarks as she observes you shuffle heavily on the floor, black sunglasses shield your gaze from the intense light that searches for you through the windows of the hallway.

“Gee, thanks Sho,” you mumble sarcastically.

She raises an eyebrow before continuing, her voice laced with a hint of suspicion. “By the time I got to the bar, you were already gone. You left earlier than I expected, we didn’t even get to do karaoke. What happened last night?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying to find the words. “I’m not even too sure myself what happened last night. What did Suguru tell you?”

Shoko studies your face closely, her eyes narrowing as she tries to make out your expression behind your dark sunglasses. She takes a moment to assess your state, her expression a mixture of concern and subtle curiosity.

"He didn't say much," she says slowly. "Just that you had a good time at the bar and then you randomly left early. But I could tell something was bothering him. He seemed pretty… distracted." She pauses for a moment, tilting her head slightly. "He also mentioned that you left with Gojo," she adds.

“Yeah… I was feeling sick so he took me home,” you reply slowly, trying not to give too much away. You really wanted to talk to Satoru himself before mentioning anything about last night to anyone else.

Shoko furrows her brow at your response, sensing that there's more to the story than what you're letting on. But she doesn't press further, sensing your reluctance to say more.

“Hey, speaking of… where is Satoru?” you ask while briefly glancing through the halls. “Usually he’s the first one here, ready to pester me.”

"Gojo's been pretty mysterious today. He got here earlier this morning, but he was in a weird mood. He didn't say a word to anyone and just headed straight to his office. He seemed preoccupied with something."

“I see...” you say, slight concern filtered in your voice. You really wanted to talk to Satoru, but does he want space? He left while you were sleeping last night, hasn’t texted you, and didn’t greet you like he usually does. Your heart feels a bit heavy with concern – you really hope that your actions didn’t ruin things between you two. How would you even face him? You shake your head, trying to push away the lingering thoughts. Time to focus on the task at hand – you had to get through work, then later you’d address Suguru.

Shoko eyes you closely, sensing the hint of worry in your voice. She hesitates for a moment before speaking, her voice a gentle yet firm reassurance. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure he's just busy. You know how he is, being the strongest and all."

You nod, trying to brush off the nagging feeling that something was off with Satoru. Maybe he really was just busy. "Yeah, you're right," you say, forcing a smile. “Anyways I gotta head to my mission. See you around Sho.”

"See you later. Be careful on your mission, okay?" With a final wave, she turns to head towards her own work. You take a deep breath and trek forward as you mentally prepare yourself for your assignment. You can’t afford to be distracted right now.

∘₊✧

While you’re nowhere near as strong as Satoru or Suguru, you are by no means a weak sorcerer. You hold the rank of Grade A, slowly making a name for yourself in the Jujutsu world. Typically, you can handle missions on your own, it’s really not often that you’re paired up with anyone for your assignments, but today you’ve been paired up with your fellow sorcerer, Nanami Kento, and thank god you are because the bothersome hangover almost makes you lose sight of a dreadful curse lurking in the shadows. It lunges directly at you – Nanami saves you with a black flash and eliminates the curse effortlessly.

Nanami shoots you a disapproving glance. "You need to pay attention," he says gruffly, his eyes narrowing at your distracted state. "You could've avoided that attack if you weren't so lost in thought."

You nod with a subtle grimace, and of course Nanami, as observant as ever, notices your struggle. "Are you alright, y/n?" he asks, his eyes still firm but there is concern in his voice.

“Yeah… thanks Nanami. Guess I’m just a little out of it today. Can you finish up here? I’ll go head back to campus and report to Yaga.”

Nanami studies you for a moment, his gaze assessing your tired appearance before nodding in understanding. "Alright. Be careful on your way back."

You head back towards Jujutsu High, the walk is peaceful, the sun slowly meeting the horizon. You look down at your phone, it reads 4:47pm. Your empty mailbox gnaws at you, it’s clear evidence that Satoru still hasn’t reached out to you. Agitated, you hastily tap your fingers on the keyboard, and hit send –

Me: Hey. Thanks for taking care of me last night.

After the message is sent, you stare at your phone, your fingers tapping the screen anxiously, waiting for a reply – a blue bubble, anything. But the minutes tick by and there’s nothing. The empty screen mocks you, the silence deafening, your heart sinks further.

Were you overthinking things? A pang of disappointment chews at you as the screen remains stubbornly empty. You brush your phone into your pocket and continue to walk towards the school. After a few silent minutes, although it felt like an eternity, you feel the buzz in your pocket. Quickly, you pick it up and look down to see a simple reply.

Satoru Gojo: Anytime.

A scoff escapes your lips, frustration and worry tug at the corners of your mind. The one worded message just as unbearable as his radio silence. Shaking your head, you stuff your phone back into your pocket as you walk through the entrance of Jujutsu High once again. Is this day over yet? Oh yeah, you almost forgot, you still have to talk to Suguru. Your misfortune never ends.

∘₊✧

“I see, so you and Nanami successfully defeated the curse in Ginza.” Principal Yaga speaks to you while he shuffles through the papers on his desk, his eyes not looking up at you while you give him your mission report.

“Great work y/n. You can head home for today,” But as you’re about to step out the door, Yaga promptly stops you with a sudden request.

"Actually, y/n. One more thing.”

“Yes sir?”

“Before you leave, could you bring some of these documents to Gojo for me? He was supposed to handle them yesterday, but you know how he is…" he gestures to the mound of documents on his desk with a disheveled sigh. "This is urgent – the higher-ups are getting impatient."

Satoru. The thought of seeing him right now makes you anxious, however, you know that you can't refuse Yaga's request. What excuse could you possibly give Yaga anyways? You nod, feigning nonchalance while taking the pile of papers from him. "Alright," you reply, the weight of the thin parchment feeling heavy in your hands. "I'll make sure he takes care of them."

As you gather the courage to approach Satoru's office, you can hear your heart pounding in your own ears. You halt directly in front of the door and with a deep breath, you knock firmly on it. His muffled voice instructs you to enter.

The office is dimly lit, the setting sun casting shadows across the room. He sits behind his desk and his eyes flicker up to you, but his expression remains enigmatic. Those piercing azure pools seem to stare straight through you, and you can immediately see they are somewhat detached. He leans back in his chair, his gaze fixated on you as he assesses your presence. The air between you both is thick with tension.

"Hey," he says simply, breaking the silence that hangs heavy in the room, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a more reserved one, causing a pang of trepidation to shoot through you.

“Hey,” you utter. “Yaga sent me to give you these documents,” you set them down on the desk in front of him amongst more stacks of papers. “He says it’s really important you address it.”

Satoru glances idly down to the papers before looking back up at you, his expression still unreadable. His usual smirk is nowhere to be seen; it is instead replaced by a hard, serious look that leaves you feeling unsettled.

“Thanks,” he replies curtly. He picks up the stack of papers and flips through them, his eyes skim over the words without a hint of emotion.

“So… um,” you begin, unsure what it is you want to say but desperate to see him feel something, anything, that will give you some sense of relief from the growing knot in your stomach. “Have a busy day?”

Satoru looks up from the stack of papers, his gaze locking onto yours, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. He lets out a dry chuckle, a shadow of his usual playful self. "Busy?" he repeats, with a hint of annoyance. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that. Meeting after meeting, curses left and right, and the higher-ups breathing down my neck as usual." He sighs deeply, running a hand through his messy white hair.

You know that everything about him is telling you to leave him alone, but your heart aches seeing this side of him. You feel a slight sense of guilt knowing that you probably caused more trouble for him last night, considering how late he was up taking care of you. Satoru always has so much on his plate, being the strongest sorcerer and all. He’s always sacrificing his own wants and needs for everyone else.

You yearn to break his icy front. He’s always putting on a façade, never really great about talking about his emotions, opting to brush them aside with feigned aloofness. Biting your cheek, you finally let the words come out.

“Yeah… well thank you again for taking care of me last night. Sorry I caused you trouble.”

His eyes narrow slightly at your mention of last night, his expression faltering momentarily before he quickly regains his composure. That brief lapse was enough to tell you that he didn’t want you to bring it up. He sets down the stack of papers and leans back in his chair, his arms crossing his chest.

“It’s fine,” he says, waving off your thanks. “You’re just a goddamn pain in the ass when you’re drunk.” There’s a subtle smirk on his face, but it’s lacking his usual teasing tone. “Wasn’t the first time,” he mutters as his gaze returns to the stack of papers in front of him. “Though you definitely were more clingy than usual.”

“Satoru.. about that…”

“—let’s just forget about it, okay?” he interjects, his body tense, his tone icy and his eyes peeled on the papers in front of him. “It meant nothing. You were drunk and horny, I just happened to be within reach.”

Your heart drops as a wave of emotions crash through you. You felt many things in that moment. Hurt. Sad. Angry. Very angry. You were trying so hard to be mature about this but his dismissive attitude was shattering what little composure you had. He wasn’t even giving you a moment to speak. Quite frankly, you had enough.

“Are you serious right now?” your voice laced with an evident sting.

Satoru’s eyebrow raises at your sharp tone. Despite his cold demeanor, the slightest hint of surprise flickered across his features as you retorted. His gaze lifts from the papers in front of him to meet your hurt and fuming expression.

"I’m serious," he snaps back coldly. "It was a drunken mistake. Nothing more. It didn’t mean anything." He pauses, watching you intently, waiting for your response, but you are momentarily speechless as you clench your fist in frustration.

“What?” he continues, his tone sharp. “You don’t like it when I speak the truth? Because that’s what it was. It was just a drunk accident.”

“Oh, so you’re speaking for me now?” you quip. “Who are you to say what it meant to me. I was the only one drunk last night, not you.” You feel your eyes getting wet as you fight back the tears that you desperately try to stop from falling, a lump in your throat from the pain of holding them back. “So, tell me Satoru, is that what it was for you?”

“What do you want me to say? That it meant something? That I’ve secretly been pining for you all this time?” He chuckles bitterly, his gaze hard as he looks up at you. "Sorry, sweetheart. It wasn’t anything more than what it was. If you want a friend to sleep with, why don’t you crawl over to Suguru. I’m sure he’d be happy to please you."

The second the words leave his lips he instantly regrets them. His eyes widen slightly as he realizes the weight of his hurtful words, the stoic front he was maintaining crumbles as he watches a teardrop trickle down your smooth cheek, its salty wetness carving a path of sorrow. He knew that he took it too far. He was trying to push you away, to protect you from himself, protect you from his true feelings.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, his jaw clenching as he tries to keep his own emotions in check. He hates himself for making you feel this way… but his own fears, his own insecurities, have gotten the better of him. When he opens his eyes again, he looks at you apologetically.

"I... I didn’t..." he attempts to backtrack. But before he can find the right words to say, the sound of your choked, heartbroken gasp makes him freeze.

“You have some real nerve, Gojo.” He can see the hurt, anger, and frustration in your expression, the tears were really coming out now. You felt shattered, feeling as if last night meant nothing to him – as if you meant nothing to him.

You turn your back to him as you shift towards the door, and angling your head to the side, you speak your final peace before ultimately taking your leave. “You know what? At least Suguru is vulnerable with me about his feelings. I’m done. If you won’t even listen to what I have to say, what’s the point. Guess I’ll save my breath.”

The sound of your trembling voice pierces through his chest like a knife, pained and frustrated. He clenches his jaw, fighting back his own emotions and the growing guilt that threatens to overwhelm him.

As he watches you leave, the door swings shut behind you. He’s left alone with the silence of his office suffocating him. Every fiber of him screams to go to you, to apologize, to explain himself, but he simply can’t move and the words he wants to say feel stuck in his throat.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath. He rests his arms on his desk and buries his face into his hands, his mind replaying the scene over and over again. He knows he’s royally fucked up – the damage is done.

∘₊✧

The sound of your footsteps echo in the campus hallways as you wipe the streaming tears off your face. Oh god, please don’t let anyone see you like this right now. You really can’t bear it. Right now, all you want is to just crawl into bed and cry. Your best friend’s words are ringing in your mind, each retelling making the tears fall harder. You felt so stupid. So embarrassed.

You push through what feels like a never-ending hallway until finally, stepping outside, you are met with Suguru leaned up against the rail of the stairway, waiting for you. He looks relaxed as always, eyes peering out through the Jujutsu campus, a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke gently curling in the air around him.

When he looks up, the sight of your tear-stained face makes him straighten up immediately. Your expression is one of raw emotional pain. Without a second thought, he quickly stubs out his cigarette and pushes himself off the railing, walking directly towards you, his voice laced with worry.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Are you alright? What happened?”

You don’t know what else to do, desperate for comfort, you run into Suguru’s arms, tears streaming down your face as you sob into his shirt. As you collapse into his arms, the force of your body against him is almost enough to knock him off balance, but he steadies himself, wrapping his arms around you as he holds you tightly against his chest. He's silent for a moment, just letting you cry, his hand gently rubbing soothing circles on your back.

After some time, he speaks, his voice gentle and filled with concern. "Y/n... what happened?"

You exhale sharply, your breath quivering as it escapes your mouth. Sniffling, you dry your eyes and shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Please.. can we just go?”

Suguru looks down at you, his heart clenching at the sight of your broken expression. He nods silently, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on your back. "Yeah," he replies softly. "Let's get out of here."

He gently releases you from his embrace, keeping one arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guides you away from Jujutsu High.

∘₊✧

The car ride with Suguru is quiet. For your planned talk tonight, he had arranged for reservations at a charming little restaurant in a peaceful village. He briefly mentioned how he recently discovered it on an assignment he was sent on. Truth be told, you feel a bit guilty, him doing all this. After all, he went through all this trouble, and it appears that he’s willing to put his best effort forward to have a real, mature conversation with you about how he tried to kiss you last night. Suguru means so much to you, but as much as you hate to admit it, you simply can’t reciprocate his feelings, and you know that tonight will likely lead to some sort of heartache. You’ve been dreading this conversation; likely due to fear you’ve been bottling up – part of you hopes that your friendship doesn’t falter because of this. You’ve already lost one best friend today… frankly you don’t think you can handle losing another.

Suguru steals glances at you every so often as he drives through the village. He can sense your quiet demeanor and the lingering traces of sadness in your face. It’s clear that you’re still upset about something, but he doesn’t dare to pry, allowing you to have some space to collect your thoughts.

When he pulls up in front of the restaurant, he turns off the ignition and looks at you. "We’re here," he says softly, his voice gentle and tinged with concern.

As you enter the restaurant, the quaint atmosphere immediately begins to soothe your weary soul. The gentle music playing, the soft hue, and the smell of delicious food wafting through the air work together to create a warm and comforting environment.

Suguru leads you to a cozy booth in a somewhat secluded corner of the restaurant and slides in opposite of you.

His eyes study you silently. He watches as your gaze roams around the room, taking in the ambiance of the restaurant, before finally you focus on him. “The food here is pretty good,” he comments, attempting to break the ice between you. “I hope you like it.”

“Mmm,” you hum, nodding. “It smells amazing. I’m really hungry. I barely ate this morning. My stomach was turning all day from last night.”

Suguru winces slightly as memories of last night resurface in his mind. "Yeah… about last night," his voice tentative. "We should probably talk about that."

“Right,” you lock eyes with him as let out a sigh. Might as well get straight to it. “Would you like to go first?”

"Alright…look," he begins, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. "I know things got a little out of hand last night. Firstly, I want to apologize for that. I didn’t mean to cross any boundaries with you…" he pauses momentarily, looking down at the table, taking a moment to steady himself before he looks back up at you.

"And secondly. I... I need to be honest with you. I love you. Like, romantically. I think you're beautiful, smart, kind. And honestly...I'm tired of hiding it. I’ve felt this way for a long time. And last night, it just felt like the right moment to tell you...to show you."

“I see…” you say, the weight of his confession is heavy. You can’t help but feel terrible. Here he was, taking accountability for his actions and being completely open with you... but you can’t lie to him about your feelings. And you didn’t want to string him along, it wouldn’t be right.

“Suguru, you’ve been one of my closest friends for a long time. I do love you, just not in the same way I think you feel about me… I’m sorry. I hope you understand.”

Suguru’s expression softens as he listens to your words, a mixture of acceptance and disappointment washing over him.

"Yeah... I kind of thought that might be your answer, " he admits, his voice soft. "I just..." he pauses, running a hand through his hair, "I guess I needed to tell you, to try and see if maybe..."

He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. The silent 'maybe you would feel the same' hangs between you two.

You reach for his hand across the table and look into his eyes. “I appreciate you telling me… and apology accepted. Sometimes people can get carried away when they’re drunk… call it, the heat of the moment,” you give him a soft smile. The words you speak pull at your heart a bit, as they are not only directed to him… but to yourself and your own actions.

"Yeah..." he responds quietly. "Heat of the moment." He laces his fingers through yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

The waiter interrupts as he approaches you both, asking if you are ready to order. Both Suguru and you attempt to shake off the lingering awkward atmosphere.

After the waiter leaves, Suguru looks back up at you suddenly with concern, his gaze searching your features. "But...does this change things? Does it change our friendship?"

“That’s the question I should be asking you. I’m okay with putting this behind us but you need to consider if you’re comfortable being around me Suguru… I’d really hate to cause you more heartache.”

He regards you for a moment, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Hey," he says gently, "You know me. I'm not one to let heartbreak keep me down."

There's a pause as he gathers his thoughts, his expression growing more serious. "As for being around you...I’d rather that not change. You're one of my best friends. I think we've been through too much together to let something like this come between us."

“You’re right,” you smile. “Our friendship can get us through this. Nothing will get between it.”

The waiter brings your food and you both dive into your plates eagerly. The atmosphere between you two slowly starts to feel more comfortable as you enjoy your meals, the food helping to lift your spirits. Suguru can see the color slowly returning to your face as you eat, the tension in your shoulders slowly relaxing. He glances at you every so often, studying your expression, and he can't help but notice the slight dark circles under your eyes, a clear sign of the stress and lack of sleep you've been experiencing lately.

“You’ve been looking pretty tired as of late,” he notes. “How was work today?”

You exhale, where to begin? While you’d like to confide in Suguru about Satoru, you want to be considerate of his feelings. You know you’ll have to tell him eventually, but that conversation would likely sting too much right now, so maybe it’s best to leave Satoru out for the time being.

“This pain in the ass hangover didn’t do me any favors,” you chuckle. “I’m a real idiot for taking you up on that drinking challenge.”

Suguru’s lips curl into a grin and he snickers, “Hey, I tried to warn you. When will you learn your lesson?”

“I know, I know. I’m just lucky that Nanami was assigned as my mission partner today, or I likely wouldn’t be sitting here with you. You should’ve seen the nasty curse that almost got me.”

The sound of his cutlery suddenly becomes quiet, you feel the atmosphere change instantly. You look up to see his face, hauntingly zoned out, a burning rage simmering under him. His usual calm expression hardens, his knuckles turning white as he grips his fork tightly.

"What... what do you mean a curse almost got you?" he finally asks, his voice strained as his words carry an eerie bite.

“It’s nothing really,” you say nonchalantly, a failed attempt to play it off.

"Right," he says sarcastically, a bitter edge to his voice. "It's nothing to worry about. Just another near-death experience. Just another day of risking our lives for people who don't even appreciate it. Just another day of putting ourselves on the line for those who would never do the same for us."

You halt the movement of your fork, frozen momentarily as you’re caught off guard from his sudden shift in attitude. “Suguru, it’s okay. Nanami saved me—”

“And what if Nanami wasn’t there,” he cuts you off, slamming his hands on the table, his volume rising. “It’s not fair that we have to risk ourselves for these damn non-sorcerers … these monkeys.”

There is a loud silence between you as his furrowed stare pierces into you. You’re left speechless, unsure what to say to him. He grips your hand and the violet hue in his iris’ appear to be void of everything. You don’t even recognize him.

"They don't understand the sacrifices we make y/n," his words cold. "Yet we're the ones who bear the burden. We're the ones who have to risk our lives everyday just to keep them safe, and for what?”

You begin to feel a bit nervous as people’s wandering eyes peer to the scene unfolding amongst you both – murmurs echo throughout the restaurant. Suddenly, your waiter walks over, gripping his notepad under a tense grip in support. “Is everything oka—”

Before the waiter finishes his sentence, you watch blood splatter across Suguru’s cheek. You blink – did your eyes deceive you? Suguru just killed an innocent civilian. The waiter, who moments ago was speaking to you both, now lays motionless on the ground, blood pooling around his lifeless body. There is no denying it… right?

The once peaceful restaurant erupts into chaos, horrified gasps and screams filling the air as all eyes turn to look at Suguru, who remains perfectly calm. Civilians around you are running in panic as they try to get away from the scene of the crime.

Suguru simply sits there, his expression blank. There is no remorse in his eyes – only a cold emptiness. He raises a hand, wiping the blood from his cheek with his thumb, before finally speaking. "That was annoying... I despise monkeys."

Suguru's swift and violent act shocks you to the core, causing your heart to race with fear and disbelief. “Suguru…” you manage to finally mutter, your voice catching in your throat from fright.

He looks at you, his expression still hauntingly neutral, as if all he simply did was swat a fly away. "Yeah? What is it?"

“What… what did you just do?” you ask slowly, your voice quivering in fear.

Suguru regards you for a moment, his gaze calculating as he takes in your trembling voice and fearful expression. "I merely got rid of an annoyance," he replies coolly, his voice emotionless. "A mosquito that wouldn't leave me alone. Nothing more."

Reaching for his napkin, he dabs it against his cheek with a look of disgust as he cleans off the lingering remnants of blood left from the waiter. Was this the same person you were casually talking to moments ago? The same person who held you in his arms while you cried? No. Who is this person? Every fiber of your being is telling you to run, but you cannot move, frozen in fear.

“You know y/n. My last mission got me thinking.” He casually leans back in his seat, crossing his arms as he looks at you. “Wouldn’t it be better to live in a world of just sorcerers? If these monkeys didn’t exist, curses wouldn’t be born. We could finally be free.”

You watch him intently as he begins to lift himself from his seat. A fierce cursed spirit begins to manifest behind him whilst emitting blue flames. The blaze dances around him, a sinister aura. “I bet we could make this dream a reality. You... me and Satoru.”

The air around you feels tense and thick with the shock of Suguru's statement. His words hang there ominously, the coldness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"That's a dangerous thing to say, Suguru," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "A very dangerous thing..."

"Imagine it," he continues, approaching closer to you. "A world where we are the only ones to walk amongst the living. No more weak, worthless monkeys to hold us back. Just the strong. Just us."

"And Satoru?... You think he would agree with you?" you rasp as Suguru stops in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face as he answers your question.

"Satoru..." he muses, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "He'll understand. It may take a bit of convincing, but he'll listen. He always does. He’s the most important piece – we need the strongest."

He reaches out, his hand gently caressing your cheek, his touch almost tender compared to his cold words. “He’ll come. Especially if you join. After all, he’s always been unable to say no to you.”

Your eyes expand as the realization hits you. Was Suguru using you as a tool? Your stomach spins. You’re not sure what to believe anymore – was his confession even real? What happened to this man standing in front of you, the man you once considered to be one of your dearest friends.

“Suguru…” you say, tears welling in your eyes. “You can’t do this.”

“Now y/n, don’t say that,” he muses, his voice eerily tantalizing. “After all, you’re my best friend. What was it you said earlier? Our friendship can get through this. Nothing will get between it.”

There's a hint of mockery in Suguru's tone as he repeats your words back to you. It's almost as if he's taunting you. He leans in closer, his hand moving from your cheek to your chin, tilting your face up to look at him more fully. His expression is cold and calculating, like a predator sizing up his prey.

"See? You said it yourself. Our friendship is unbreakable. That means you'll stand by me, no matter what. That means you'll listen, when I tell you something, right?"

You swallow hard and speak slowly, aware that the next words you utter will ultimately decide your fate. “I can’t, Suguru.”

“Can't?" Suguru repeats, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. He leans in closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you. "You can't? Or you won't?"

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his breath dance on your face. You open them and stare deeply into the eyes you once thought were warm and filled with love. “I won’t kill innocent people Suguru.”

Suguru's face suddenly twists into a scowl, his voice is dangerously soft. “After everything we’ve been through, after I’ve trusted you with my deepest secrets, my most intimate thoughts...and you still say no?” His hand drops from your face as he takes a step back. The coldness in his gaze becomes more intense as his eyes narrow. “It’s a shame really. I always cared for you. How…disappointing.”

Chaos erupts as the cursed spirit behind Suguru lets out a screeching roar. The blue flame expands, engulfing the village, casting a hell-bent inferno over everything. The air is thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning wood. Screams and cries echo in the air as people run in panic – they search for any salvation as they desperately attempt to flee the hungry flames devouring them.

You are locked in a vicious battle with Suguru, your bodies moving like blurs amidst the carnage and destruction around you. The once peaceful village becomes decimated before you. Buildings are reduced to nothing more than smoldering ruins, the putrid stench of death.

Suguru shows no mercy, his strength and power overwhelming. But despite his ruthless force, he intentionally chooses to leave you alive, though badly beaten and injured. As the smoke and flames of the battle clear, you find yourself lying on the ground, barely conscious. You open your eyes to see Suguru standing over you, his expression cold and void.

"I truly wish it hadn't come to this," he mutters to himself. “If you change your mind… come find me.”

Your vision begins to falter, and you can barely make out the figure walking away from you, but you know without a doubt it’s Suguru. He leaves you there, alone and helpless.

Fumbling for your phone with what little strength you have left, you try multiple times to unlock it, hitting the incorrect digits over and over again while desperately trying to remain conscious. You finally get past your home screen, and you click through your contacts. There is only one person who comes to your mind – one person for you to reach out to. As you tap Satoru’s name, you use every last bit of energy you have to send him your current location – nothing else.

The world around you goes dark, and you slip into unconsciousness.

✧ thanks for reading! part two will have fluff :') read part two here.

taglist: @haychhans @mysticnozel @luvrsbian @xxxxwhatsername @imonhereforareasonsadly @kalulakunundrum @ch3rryistheg @skyahri @genshingeeksworld @seilahtitania32 @strychnynegirl @kazbrkker @moneyy-21 @tifa1991

871 notes · View notes

sunni-stuff · 7 months ago

Text

No longer a fan.

—★! Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Jaw hurting blowjob, creampie, not proofread + made late at night.

★- This is the end!

The sight of his cock in front of you made your eyes grow wide, your tongue peaking out between your lips as Simon runs a hand through your hair. “Think I like that look on your face doll,” he breathes, fisting his length in his opposite hand. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he gives it a few strokes, pre-cum beading at the tip. You’re lost for words, hands reaching up to rest on his muscular thighs. You see his cock twitch in reaction, leaning forward to take him into your mouth before his fingers stop you in your tracks.

His laugh is cruel in your ears. “Eager little thing aren’t you?” He waves his cock in front of your face, barely brushing it against your lips as he holds you steady. He’s teasing you, enjoying the way your mouth opens for him, practically begging for him to fuck it. Even when you squirm in place and your thighs press together he refuses to indulge in the temptation that is your sinful mouth, wanting to see just how desperate you can get for him before he takes what he wants from you.

“Hungry for it, ain’t you? So innocent-looking but the whole time you’re just a cock-hungry whore.” You whine again, pressing your nails into the meat of his thighs. The sting of it makes his eyes roll. “Come on, use your words,” he gasps, almost feeding you his thick cock—so close, and yet so far. “Use your words darling, tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

He's a real bastard, the way he makes you beg for him. But you can't resist, even as your mouth hesitates to open. Your shame is long gone, especially since he already had his fingers inside you. "Please, Simon," you plead, your cheek pressing against his thigh as you look up at him with those coy eyes of yours. You want his cock now, there's no denying it.

Simon hums in approval as his hand gently guides your head. His cock stands tall in front of you, emitting a powerful musky scent that makes your senses reel. The aroma awakens a deep desire within you for more, more of him and what he can offer. You eagerly take his cock into your mouth, your lips latching onto the head and your tongue eagerly exploring every inch. He tastes so good, a delicious mixture of saltiness and sweat that ignites your taste buds and fills your throat as you try to take more of him, ignoring the slight burn at the back of your throat.

“Yes, that’s it, you’re a natural,” he grunts, being careful enough not to push your head too far. “Just needed someone to stuff that pretty mouth, is that it?” You’re already a sloppy mess, spit running down your chin, eyes watering. Simon's intense gaze pierces through you, filled with twisted desire as he watches you go down on him. You seem so small trapped between his legs, sucking him off with such vigor that he worries your jaw might lock up. He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you away for a moment to help catch your breath but all he hears is a whimper from your lips. "Don't worry, doll. I'm not going anywhere."

You gaze up at him with a dazed expression, your eyes filled with desire as his thumb gently traces your bottom lip, catching the trail of saliva that dripped down your chin. Just his touch alone ignites your entire body like a Christmas tree. This man is dangerous; he may just be the death of you. It's a fact now, one you can't deny. "Why did you stop me?" Your voice comes out slightly hoarse from your activities below.

“You're too eager, love. Don't worry, I plan on being here all night.” He grins widely, enjoying your stunned reaction. Before you can defend yourself, he pushes himself back into your mouth, silencing any protests. You comply, closing your eyes and following his lead, savoring every moment with the man above you. Your head moves slowly, accommodating for his size as it stretches your throat beyond its limits. The sounds of his moans only urge you on further; you want to hear more. More of his gasps and groans that leave his chapped lips. Lost in the moment, you suddenly realize that his entire length is now down your throat. Your face buried in his pubic hair, and the manly smell of him has you dripping onto the floor beneath you. Simon was completely captivated. Although he had been with many people before, men and women, none of them could compare to the woman currently on her knees in front of him. His moans escaped him in a primal, guttural cry that only grew louder with each suckle of your lips. Your mouth felt like heaven to him, causing his eyes to roll back in pleasure. He couldn't help but grip your head tightly as he began to thrust into your mouth, the sound of your gags only fueling his desire further. "Yes… Come on, sweetheart. I'm almost there," he groaned out, feeling his legs tremble.

The force of his thrusts and the taste of his precum are overwhelming. Your mind goes numb as he takes full control, completely dominating your tiny mouth. Your jaw aches and tears well up in the corners of your eyes as his cock hits the back of your throat again. Suddenly, without warning, his release is imminent. "Shit… fucking perfect," Simon's voice is deep with desire but not as thick as the rush of liquid that fills your mouth. His cum has a sweet taste with a hint of salt, almost overpowering at first, but you manage to swallow it all down.

With a smirk, Simon slowly removes his cock from your swollen lips, taking in the sight of your flushed and aroused face. He reaches down and helps you to stand up, his eyes fixed on you. Your mind is still reeling from what just happened as you look at him. "I should go clean up," you murmur, starting to pull away. But he pulls you back in, his lips crashing onto yours. Simon doesn't care if you taste him on your lips or if you find it gross. Teeth clash and tongues collide as the heat builds. By the end, you're breathless and unable to speak. He asks, "Where's your bedroom?"

In a blur, you find yourself back in your bedroom, lying on your back with Simon hovering over you. He carefully inserts two fingers inside you, marveling at how easily you accommodate him. It won't be long before he replaces his fingers with something much larger. It has only been a few minutes since he entered your room, and he wastes no time getting to business. Your soft whimpers turn into loud moans that mix with his low murmurs as he maintains his rhythm, keenly observing your responses and adjusting accordingly. His heart pounds in his chest, and his own arousal throbs against his thigh. "Nice room you have here," he teases, taking a moment to look around at the colorful décor which is clearly your personal touch.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you let out a whiny gasp. "You can't be serious right now," you say, disbelief evident in your tone. But he just smirks at you, clearly not taking your words seriously.

Simon lets out a low chuckle as he leans in and captures your lips in another kiss, effectively silencing you. "Hmm, deadly," he murmurs against your mouth.

Control. Control was the only thing that held him back as he expertly pushed you closer and closer to that second orgasm, that edge, loving the uncontrollable whimpers that slipped out of you lips.

As he caresses a tender area inside of you, your lips part involuntarily and his name escapes in a pure moan. He continues with steady, rhythmic motions, and the squelching sound of his fingers only adds to the erotic atmosphere. The wet slurping sounds fill your ears and drown out any other noise.

Before you could even process what was happening, a sudden tightness consumed your stomach and sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Your core tenses around his fingers as another orgasm crashes over you, leaving your vision hazy and your skin tingling. You took a moment to catch your breath, throwing an arm over your face as the cool sheets of your blanket helped to soothe your heated body.

Simon pulled his sticky fingers out and surveyed the mess he had made. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself as he tentatively licked them clean, savoring the delectable sweetness of you. Slowly undressing himself, he kept his eyes locked on you the entire time, taking in the rise and fall of your chest and the glistening sweat on your skin. His hands shook slightly as he removed his shirt over his head.

The sound of rustling fabric catches your attention, and you look up to see Simon standing there completely naked. He was a work of art, his body strong and defined with the marks of hard work and struggles. Every inch of him was pure muscle, from his chiseled chest down to his toned abdomen. Scars decorated his chest, each one telling a story you couldn't even begin to imagine. His masculinity was on full display, and it was enough to make any woman feel weak in the knees. You were no exception.

With wide eyes and an open mouth, you could only manage a hoarse whisper - "Sweet Jesus." The sound of your voice drew a hearty laugh from him, his deep chuckle filling the air around you.

"I can't guarantee it won't hurt, love," he said with a sly smile, pleased with the sight of his erect manhood looming over you. The power and dominance emanating from him was palpable, and your heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. His words filled you with a sense of anticipation, unsure of what was to come. But the raw desire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

A sharp, searing pain surged through your body, causing your back to arch. Your mouth dropped open, a mixture of pleasure and agony escaping in a silent cry. Your eyes flew open, tears welling up at the corners. The sensation of his erection entering you was almost too much to handle. Another intense orgasm washed over you, tightening your muscles around him and drawing out everything he had to offer. You were wetter than ever, coating his shaft with your juices as you came.

Simon let out a low growl as your third orgasm rocked through you, your walls tightening around him. The sight of his member disappearing into your core, the sensation of your body quivering beneath him, the sound of your moans—all of it drove him wild. "Another one?" he asked, amazed by how sensitive you were compared to others.

Simon groaned deeply as he felt your walls constrict, his throbbing member fully engulfed in the wet heat of your pussy. The intensity of it all was almost unbearable, causing him to clench his jaw in an effort to hold back his release. He watched you with wide eyes, a mixture of pain and ecstasy etched on your face as he stretched you to your limits. It was a sight that would be forever ingrained in his memory - your body trembling beneath him as he filled you completely, filling every inch of you with his hard, pulsing cock.

You became too accustomed to his manhood. Far too accustomed. Probably, because he had already stretched you out so much that your body instinctively knew to relax and welcome him. Your soft cries evolve into moans as your head falls back onto the stack of pillows on your bed. Simon is a master at pleasuring your body, knowing precisely when to thrust and when to pull back, and always praising you whenever he hits that sweet spot that makes you cling to his arm for support. He knows every curve and crevice of your form better than you do, and it's both exhilarating and frightening.

He pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices, before slamming back in. The squelching sounds of your wet pussy taking his cock, the sight of you writhing beneath him, the feel of your tight warmth—it was all too much to bear. He wanted to fuck you until you couldn't walk, until you were a whimpering, shaking mess under him until you were begging for him. Simon loved seeing the way your eyes looked up at him, all pliant and already fucked out. You were better than any toy, any woman or man, he’s ever recorded with. Maybe, just maybe, if that pretty little brain of yours was working after this he’d ask to see you again.

Simon could feel another orgasm building within you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he slammed into you. He was on the brink of his own release, his balls tightening as he neared his climax. You're such a good girl, taking me so eagerly. Can you handle a little more?" He whispered, his voice heavy with lust.

As his words reach your ears, your cloudy eyes clear up. The feeling of his cock thrusting deep inside leaves you disoriented but able to hear him clearly. His praise makes you involuntarily grasp around him. You can sense the effort it takes for him to hold back, though he doesn't say anything about it. It takes a moment for you to realize why - there's no condom.

Breathless gasps escape your lips as euphoria pulses through your body. You looked up at him, meeting his confused gaze before speaking again. "I-I'm on the pill," you managed to say, the words mingling with your moans. His brows furrowed in confusion, but you reassured him with a seductive glint in your eye. "It's okay…to cum inside."

With one last powerful thrust, he finds his confirmation and releases himself deep inside of you. As his cock throbs, he continues to fill you with his hot cum. Your body tightens and releases around him, drawing out your own orgasm as you collapse against him. Gazing up at him through hazy eyes, you notice for the first time that he seems completely spent. Simon slows down, trying to catch his breath and regain his composure. Yet, he remains buried deep inside you, the warmth and tightness of your pussy reminding him of what just took place. He then picks up pace again, renewed energy coursing through his body as he continues.

"Simon?" Your body resists, but he persists. There's that tingling sensation again. Without speaking, he leans in and softly kisses your lips, silencing you. He must have noticed how starved you were for touch, as each time he kisses you, you go quiet and still. "Just a little longer, love." he pleads for once. This isn't an order, but a genuine request for more. And how could you deny him, when he clearly needs it?

An entire hour had passed, and the two of you were still going at it with no signs of stopping. Simon instructed you to switch positions, and now you lay on your side, one leg draped over his shoulder as he continued to thrust into you unrelentingly. Every muscle in your body pulsed as he penetrated deeper each time, reaching a place that no other man had ever reached before.

The sound of the old bed frame creaking filled the air as your bodies rhythmically moved up and down. His movements were powerful, and every time he pushed inside you, your leg would automatically lift up to deepen the impact. Your arousal was evident as your slick walls eagerly welcomed him, trembling uncontrollably when his tip hit that delicate spot inside. You couldn't contain your moans any longer; Simon made you feel too good and he knew it. He gave you everything you needed and more, completely abandoning caution in the heat of the moment.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Your moaning abruptly stops when a loud noise startles you, and the knocking on the wall next to you snaps you out of your lustful haze. Your neighbor has finally had enough of hearing you say the same guy's name over and over again.

"Shut up! Some of us have things to do!"

You feel a rush of embarrassment and shock as you feel your face flush, expecting Simon to stop. But he doesn't; in fact, He somehow pushes himself even harder than before

Simon couldn't care less about your neighbor; you were all he needed. You had given him an hour of pure satisfaction, not just underneath him but on top of him as well. Your neighbor could go to hell because Simon was already in heaven with you. You bit down on your pillow, trying to contain any moans that threatened to escape your lips. It was a struggle to stay quiet when Simon moved his hips so sensually against yours. Your vision began to blur as your walls eagerly pulled his manhood back inside, each thrust accompanied by his praises.

"Simon, gotta quiet…" You whispered to him and trying your best to keep quiet. You were completely spent, stretched to the limit by his skilled cock. No other man would ever be able to fill you so fully or even fit after experiencing Simon's prowess.

"Who says?" Simon's voice was deep, teasing, and seductive as he watched you while thrusting and grinding against you. He was impressed that you could still speak coherently while being pleasured by him like never before. He didn't care who heard you; anyone listening would know exactly who he was - the one giving you the best fuck of your life. This only fueled him to adjust his grip on you, lifting you higher against him so he could penetrate deeper and touch every nerve in your body with each thrust.

That's all it took, your mind was completely consumed by him, unable to do anything but moan endlessly from the passionate experience. You exploded around him, covering his cock in a frothy white mess as your mixed juices flowed out of you. Your hips were connected by thick tethers of cum, evidence of just how full and satisfied you were after being thoroughly fucked by Simon.

Simon pulled out slowly, admiring the trails of cum connecting the two of you. He wanted more, but seeing the tired look in your eyes weakened him. Another loud knock on the wall broke through the moment, causing him to roll his eyes.

Looking back down at you, he noticed that you had fallen asleep. It seemed like he may have gone a little too far. Letting out an affectionate sigh, he gently patted your thigh before getting up and moving around your room.

He went into your bathroom to grab a washcloth and wet it before returning to carefully clean you up. The warm cloth stirred you awake and you murmured in response. "Mmm…?" Simon stated simply, "Just cleaning you up, pet." He made sure to leave no trace of the mess you both had made on your body.

What a man he is. You watch his every move until he pulls away, but then reach out to stop him, pulling him into bed with you. "Stay."

Simon raises an eyebrow and for the first time tonight, he's about to protest until you suddenly kiss him, silencing any words he had planned to say. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Together, you lay next to each other in bed, still tingling from the sex. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist and without saying a word, he pulls you close, letting your head rest against his warm chest as you listen to his heartbeat. Together, you sit in silence for a while until finally, the question that has been on your mind since he you met him slips out. "So, are you GD?"

Simon's eyes widen in shock before he quickly tries to play it cool by trailing his fingers teasingly down your spine. "Why? Are you a fan?

He causes you to shiver as you hum in response, rolling your eyes playfully. This guy, he's full of jokes, isn't he? "I don't know... I think I'm more than a fan at this point."

♡! I tried to make this one really long because It's been literally TWO MONTHS. I'm so sorry. I had planned to come back in April after school died down but I ended up getting nerve damage in my dominant hand and was left unable to type. I hope this makes up for it :c!!

˚ ✦ . Taglist (People who commented): @forgotten-lego-piece @theirkenfiles @gluttonybiscuits @urbimom @blackhawkfanatic @mimidonottouch @madamemelancholysstuff

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost smut #simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty smut #mayadarlings

582 notes · View notes

ellieslittlewh0re · 1 year ago

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

* ೃ⁀➷ part 2 - part 3

pairings - farmers daughter! reader x farmhand! ellie

summary - your dad hires a stranger to help out around the farm

additional tags - inexperienced but flirty reader, shy/loser ellie, cowboy boot wearing ellie, mutual pinning, slight masturbation mention (e!), e! w/ a southern accent??, eventual smut, (nothing too crazy happens in this part it’s mostly just setting vibes lol)

Beads of sweat collected on the bridge of your nose, and your thighs stuck together as you sat on the porch swing, just lazily swinging back and forth, using your tippy toes to keep the momentum going.

You look out over the vast pasture- green as far as the eye can see, with nothing to distract from the country landscape except for some power lines out in the distance.

Even with the sun starting to set- it was still unbelievably hot.

"Keep goin' like that and you're gonna die of a heat stroke."

You yell to your father who was working under the hood of his rusty truck. Usually, he pays no mind to your nagging, but this time it seemed to work- or perhaps he was just finished for the night.

He shuts the hood, slamming it with a metallic thud before wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

His boots rang loudly against the hallow wooden stairs of the porch, looking down at you through bushy eyebrows.

"I don't need your sass, kid."

You roll your eyes at his comment. He's always been stubborn and tough, but in his old age, you can't help but worry. His cheeks have hallowed over the years, sun spots forming from the countless hours working on the farm, and his movements became slowed from the hard work catching up to him.

"I wouldn't sass if you'd just listen. Seriously, it's okay to hire someone to help. no one is gonna shame you for that." You pester affectionately, standing from the swing to open the screen door and enter the house with him following behind.

You follow him to the kitchen, listing all the reasons why he should have help.

One: he's getting old.

Two: his knee has never been the same since he had that operation done 4 years ago.

Three: the farm is too big and demanding to tend to alone.

"Okay- enough.. you sound just like your mother sometimes I swear." He hold a hand up, pausing you mid-ramble, and takes a sip from the glass he filled from the tap.

You pouted, and once again, your suggestions felt shot down.

He finishes the water, wiping his beard with the back of his hand.

"I actually have someone comin' by tomorrow. They were recommended t' me by Phillip at the feed store."

Your eyes lighten up, a smile grows on your face, and you finally feel like you can breathe, knowing that the hardships wouldn't be your dads alone anymore.

You rush around the kitchen island, placing a kiss to your dads cheek and squeezed him tight.

"Thank you! I can't wait- I'll have to bake em' something sweet tonight."

"Alright- settle down-" he pushes you away slightly with a smile on his weathered face. Truly an adoring annoyance that only a parent could love.

Your old man calls it a night, showering and off to bed he went, but you? Oh- you were busy. You tried your hardest to keep the sound down to a minimum, bowls, and kitchen utensils splayed on the counters.

A small apron draped around your waist, flour smudged on your cheekbone as you pulled the blueberry scones out of the oven. A satisfied smile grows on your face as you observe your work and finishing of the pastries with a dusting of powdered sugar.

Maybe, you were going a tad bit overboard, but the truth is, you were painfully lonely. The only time you had any visitors on the farm was when you held pumpkin patches in the fall, but even then, it was always young families that didn't bother to stay around for too long.

You go upstairs, a slight pep in your step as you did so. You showered and put in your favorite pajamas- a short, soft floral patterned dress with bows that secured the straps.

You tossed in bed, sleep not being in favor since your mind was still wide awake. You try to picture what they would look like- what they sounded like.

Was he tall? Around your age, or is he just another old man like your father? Maybe they're not a man at all.

It's best not to get ahead of yourself; whoever this person is, they are coming to work for your dad and not to become your friend.

You slept lightly, and your senses became more aware as a muted thud rang outside your second-story bedroom window. You open your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleepy confusion as dust particles dance in the sunbeams of your room.

It took you a few seconds to realize why today was so important, but once you remembered- it had you scattering out of bed to your window, pulling back the sheer laced curtains, and taking a peak outside.

There was a truck you didn't recognize parked in the driveway. It was slightly newer than your dad's, but that's not saying much; a simple 2-door with an extended bed, slightly lifted with sturdy-looking tires.

A slim figure stood next to the driver's side door, hands on their hips as they looked up at the house. To your surprise, it wasn't a man at all.

You squint, trying to get a better look at her without realizing how big of a creep you are being.

Her hair shined a brilliant shade of auburn in the morning light, a brown button up shirt with the sleep rolled up to her elbows, slightly flared and worn denim jeans hugged her hips with brown cowboy boots that seemed to match the leather of her belt.

You caught a glimpse of something on her arm, dark lines that disrupted her pale skin. It was a tattoo, although you could make out the details of the design.

She looked the part of someone who knows how to run a farm, but something about her seemed so out of place- almost like she was too pretty for such a dirty job.

While you were too busy eyeing her up and down, you didn't realize she had caught you. She put her hand up, holding it there for a second before bringing it back down to her side. You wave back, a slight wiggle of you fingertips which made her smile.

You watch her walk out of the frame of your window before sitting on the edge of your bed- your fingers grasping at the embroidered comforter. You had this weird feeling in your tummy; it was something you couldn't explain, almost like nausea but also like when you go on a big rollercoaster.

You felt nervous but excited all at the same time. You figured it was because she was around your age, maybe slightly older- shrugging it off as you got up and got ready for the day.

You brush your hair before tying it into two loose braids, finishing it with light pink ribbons at the ends. You wanted to put a little more effort into your appearance today since you're meeting someone new, and as daddy always said, "First impressions are the most important."

You take a deep breath in the last most of solitude of your room before making your way down the stairs, the conversation between the stranger and your father growing louder and louder from the kitchen as you inched closer.

"There she is-" your dad motions an arm in your direction, the stranger immediacy turning to meet your face.

"Ellie, this is my daughter, y/n, and y/n, this is Ellie."

"It's nice t' meet you, Ellie." You said in your sweetest voice you could muster as you walk towards her, holding a hand out.

"Likewise." She smiles, taking your hand in hers and shakes it firmly. She seemed respectful, maybe even a little flustered- seeing that her cheeks started to turn a deep shade of pink.

Upon seeing her closer, it didn't help settle your nerves. She was gorgeous; freckles adorned her alabaster skin, a scar that ran through her eyebrow and upper lip, and her eyes a mossy shade of green with dark, long lashes framing the shape.

She was honestly the prettiest girl you've ever seen but not in the same way you were often described. There was a boyish charm to her that you had never seen before.

"Well- best we get to it then." Your dad chimes in, causing you to let go of the calloused hand that you hadn't realized you were still holding onto.

"I'll see you around Ellie." You just barely make audible to her, bitting down on your bottom lip before turning on your heel and leaving them to do their jobs.

Ellie was almost speechless upon meeting you. Never in a million years did she ever think a girl like you could live in this small country town, but fuck, leave it to her luck- you were the boss's daughter, which means you were off limits.

You didn't make it easy on her either, prancing around in your little summer dress that flowed with your movements, rising dangerously high when you would turn around, almost giving her a peek of your ass.

Ellie swallowed hard each time, the saliva filling her mouth with all the dirty thoughts she had- which mostly consisted of you underneath her, completely naked and trembling after she forced a 4th orgasm out of you.

The sun was starting to set, blanketing the canvas in shades of orange and pink, and to your disappointment- Ellie would be leaving soon.

She was walking towards her truck, slightly dragging her feet from exhaustion, and you're happy she did so. It gave you enough time to run out of the house barefoot, container filled with the homemade goods in your hands.

"Ellie!-" you called out to her which made her turn around, her hand opening the driver side door.

You nearly bump into her, slightly out of breath as you held up the tupperware with both of your hands.

"Sorry- I made them last night, must've forgotten in to give 'em' to you earlier." Again, your voice is so sweet and innocent- like honey coated candies on her tongue.

A smirk grows on her face, taking the gift from you to inspect them.

"That's mighty kind of you.. oh no, are these blueberries?"

Your face contorts to concern, and Ellie can't help but think how fucking cute you look all worried like that.

"Yeah, why? Do you not like 'em?" You pout, almost like you're on the verge of tears

A low chuckle reverberates in her throat, "I'm just messing with you, doll. They look delicious."

"Meanie."

A few seconds of silence go by, and Ellie looks everywhere except your face, and I mean everywhere- including the plushness of your breast that spilled over the top of your dress - she couldn't have you knowing how red her cheeks are right now.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She said it almost like a question- as if you'd miss out on such an opportunity.

"See you tomorrow, Ellie. Goodnight." You stand on your tippy toes, planting a quick kiss on the rounds of her cheeks, and run back inside, leaving Ellie in full panic mode.

She gets into her truck, taking a moment to herself before turning over the engine. Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel as she replays it in her head. She felt like she could combust, literally and figuratively- her head came down to rest on the wheel, and her cheeks ached from the smile that wouldn't seem to leave her lips.

In fact- she thought about it all night long. When she showered, when she laid in bed trying to sleep, she was tingling, an ache growing inside the depths of her stomach.

I mean, could you blame her? You didn't try to hide how hard you stared or how flirtatious you were towards her.

Maybe you were just like that with everyone.

Still- it didn't stop her. And It didn't stop her hand from slipping into the waistband of her checkered pajama pants, and it definitely didn't stop her from fingering herself to thoughts of you.

She came hard that night, harder than she had before, and she can't help but wonder- if simply her imagines of you felt this good, how would fucking you for real feel?

❥ taglist - @machetegirl109

2K notes · View notes

blooodsuckkr · 1 year ago

Text

can't run forever

summary: Ghost chases you through the forest. that's it.

tags: Smut, dom!ghost, use of pet names; love, darling, bunny. outdoors sex, unprotected sex, reader gets spanked like once, gn!reader. (i think that's everything!)

word count: 1.3k (it felt like sm more)

a.n: i felt so giddy writing this, this is only partially proofread

Your lungs burned and your legs ached, threatening to collapse under you at any given moment. yet the adrenaline kept you going. He was hot on your trail, the sound of his footsteps hitting the floor behind you was a taunt, a reminder of his speed and power.

he was trained for this, made for it even.

but so were you.

every second filled you with more determination, his earlier words serving as a motivation, for what? you weren't quite sure.

"you run... and if i catch you? well, you'll just have to find out, love."

You knew by his voice, by the whole situation what being caught would entail. The anticipation rested heavy in your stomach. Part of you wanted to get caught. The other part? Desperate to make him work for it.

or maybe just to prove you were better.

It's no secret you both had a competitive streak, silent, yet very much there. During training there was always a tension, who could get more shots? who could go the longest with out tapping out?

Silly little competitions that served as a motivation. fuelling the determination that ran through both of you. That's why you refused to let him win so easily now.

Yet you both knew he would win in the end. There wasn't a single doubt about it, his voice rang past the trees, you weren't able to determine an exact direction due to your constant running. somewhere south-west of you, you presume.

"c'mon darling. we both know you can't run forever." His voice trailed into a chuckle at the end. He was right, you knew it wouldn't be long now from the way your legs shook on each long stride.

each rustle of leaves and snapped twig under your feet always letting him know your location. Earlier it was the same for him, except now you were the only one making sound.

That was more intimidating than the heavy footsteps you swore you could hear just moments ago.

"shit-" You gasp, trying to turn your head to glance behind you, your eyes darting everywhere for even a sign of his whereabouts.

big mistake.

See, if you had just kept looking forward.. you would have seen him slip behind that tree. you would have been able to change directions and bolt away from him. You just had to look away, didn't you?

Just as you assume you've made some distance you feel the unmistakable sensation of his arm wrapping around the front of you, pulling you into his chest and flipping you both so your front is pressed against the tree.

He chuckles darkly, it's over. Theres no way to escape him as he presses up further behind you. Your squirming and desperate attempts to get away only making him push you harder into the rough surface of the tree.

"awe, my little bunny got caught?" He laughs again, the sound of him panting directly next to your ear. You're panting too, much more than he is. A reminder of his stamina, he could have kept going for hours if he needed. You on the other hand were basically at your limit.

"Ghost-" You try to speak but he shushes you, a hand in between your shoulder blades pushing your chest and face further, leaving you minimal room for movement.

"told ya'. You can't run forever, darling." He clicks his tongue, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. one of his feet push in between your legs, widening your stance.

With one hand still holding you firmly in place by the back of your neck, his other lifts his mask above his nose. Then it runs down your side to your hip, grabbing at the flesh firmly and tugging your hips back onto his erection. A groan reverberating in the back of his throat.

"now look what you've got yourself into..." He teases, his voice hoarse and filled with desire. His head dipping to nip at the skin of your neck, earning a whimper from you.

You can feel him smirk against your skin, he can practically smell your desperation, you push your hips back into him only to be met with a sharp slap to your ass.

"That's not how this works, bunny." He practically growls, his hand snaking round to your lower stomach, pressing down momentarily before dipping beneath your waistband.

"Look at you, makin' a mess already. v'not even touched you" He bites down on your neck, his hand working you up expertly, making you writhe and moan as he's done so many times before.

He works you up to the edge just to pull his hand away when you begin pleading, your hips buck for the friction that was so cruelly taken from you.

"not yet, love."

"not until i've had my fun"

He pushes your trousers down, leaving you bare to the cold air surrounding you. The sound of his belt and zipper seem to echo, the hand on the back of your neck pulling your head back.

He brings his other hand in front of your face, "Spit." His tone sends a shiver down your spine as you comply. Letting him use your saliva to lube his cock. His hand pushing your chest back into the tree,

you instinctively push your hips back, always so ready and eager for him. He fills you up in one sharp thrust, his grunt drowning out your moan.

He sets a ruthless pace, bullying his cock into your hole over and over, even as your legs shake and begin to buckle, his arm wraps around your stomach, holding you up at the angle he knows drives you both wild.

As you clench around him and your moans grow louder he chuckles again, shaking his head as he stops thrusting all together. snatching your release away from you again

you whine his name, he growls yours back.

"Not yet." His voice is low, filled with a dominance that always has you whimpering in response to.

"you don't cum until i tell you, got it?" He punctuates his words with a deep thrust, making you nod desperately. He hums approvingly. returning to his rough pace, the tip of his cock hitting the right spot repetitively, making your head spin.

His hand moves from your stomach down to your sex, providing you with more stimulation that has you begging for him to go easy, knowing you can hold back your orgasm much longer.

He only growls in return, biting down on your shoulder as a warning. The way he's fucking you could be described as purely self-serving. but his hand working you up proves otherwise.

as he chases his own climax he still gives you no permission for your own, but you just can't hold on any longer.

You whimper out his name as you cum, clenching down on him as your body tenses. He doesn't take much longer after that, pushing his cock as deep inside you as he can, filling you up.

You're both still panting heavily, his hand easing up on the back of your neck. He takes a minute to pull out of you, using his fingers to push his spend back inside of you.

He lifts his fingers to your mouth, which you welcome happily, licking the mix of your juices off with a moan.

He takes care pulling your trousers back up, the gently actions almost making him seem like a completely different person to just moments ago.

he spins you around, crashing his lips to yours for the first time since you started running. Biting your bottom lip as he pulls away.

"Don't think you're getting away with disobeying orders. I'll teach you your lesson later"

840 notes · View notes

billys-slutcherson · 7 months ago

Text

'I Always Knew You Were Needy'

18+ MDNI

Billy (Burn 2019) x F!Reader

────────────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───────────────

Oneshot:

Billy finally succumbs to your convincing, letting you tease him for a change. Reluctant at first, but it doesn't take long for him to start begging...

Tags:

smut/porn with mild plot, soft dom, sub/dom overstimulation, begging, switch play, orgasm, edging orgasm, denial, face-sitting face-riding, tongue-fucking, sloppy make-outs, wet & messy

────────────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───────────────

Your fingers rush through his curls as you lean in from behind.

"Do you trust me?" You tease in his ear. Breath washing hot over his skin.

Billy tensed slightly, to get him to this point took guts. He sighed softly, feeling the hair on the nape of his neck prick up.

"Enjoying your little power trip huh? This is a one-off, and don't forget it." Though he was grumbling, the corners of his lips tugged upward. Apprehension yet desire boiled within him.

"Before you know it you will be begging on your hands and knees.." He grunted.

You reached round to cover his lips with your palm, gripping tightly.

"Just be quiet for once, will you? For me?" You teased. As you step to the bed, you watch as he slouches slightly. His legs parted, in those tight jeans. The white tee was loose against his body, his stubble thicker than usual. You weren't quite sure when you'd last seen him shave. Not that you minded.

A thick silken ribbon in hand you wander back over, sliding it between your fingers as you drag it against his eyes. Tying it against the back of his head. Folding it into a bow.

"Much better..." Kissing his cheek as you said it. Leaving a little red lip mark.

"You just don't want me to see you blushing and whining, so needy. Isn't that right?..." Billy quipped.

You couldn't help but laugh. He wasn't wrong. Though you stepped around the chair, bending slightly to grip under his chin.

"Does pretty boy need to be muzzled too, shame if so. I can't wait to make you beg, cowboy.." You toyed with him, chewing your inner lip at his words. You snatched the cheap fuzzy handcuffs from his lap. You'd bought them in that little video store in town.

"Oh, I would love to see you try.." He grinned, gripping the arms of the chair. Leaning forward to you.

Your fingertips lingered on his thigh, catching him inhaling softly. Biting your tongue you watched him squirm. Your palm shifts to grip a fistful of his shirt and tug him forward off the velvet chair. Letting him feel your breath on his lips as you pressed your body to his. Tilting his head down to you with a coy smile against his lips as he gripped your wrist. Moving with you.

You guided him towards the motel bed and shoved his back against it.

His laugh was low, devious even. Leaning on his elbows.

You climbed against him till you perched against his waist.

He couldn't help but rub his rough palms over your smooth thighs, digging his fingers into your supple skin. Holding back your little moan.

"Uh uh, behave.." You snatched his palms away, pushing them above his head. Soon, the fluff tickled over his wrists, locking the cuffs shut, one then the next. Pinning his wrists as you tangled a rope against the chain of the cuffs. Securing him against the headboard.

"That's better.." Nestling his face in your palms as you say it. Tilting forward to press your lips into his. His neck craned upwards to feel your tongue on his, as you pulled back. Biting on that lower lip of his. Shifting your weight lower, until your hips met his. You bent your head once more, lower. Peppering his neck with kisses as his chest rose and fell under your palms. He was quiet, for once. Cupping the nape of his neck, you kissed his shirt. Staining it with red glossy lip marks.

"You better not have.." He growled.

You laughed against his chest. Doing it again as he nudged up at you.

Shifting as you lifted the shirt you wore, only barely. You could still smell his musk against it, having stolen it the night prior. The soft linger of his aftershave and cigarettes. Beneath it, your panties were now showing. Slipping against him, you allowed your hips to buck forward. As if testing him.

Watching his wrists jerk slightly within the cuffs. You had him where you needed him. Smirking as you continued, rocking your clothed mound against him. Feeling that bulge begin to swell.

"Good boy.." You sneered, brushing your thumb over his freckles.

His breath hitched as you said it, tugging the restraints tighter.

"Don't..you dare.." He said in a husky groan. However, facing him you could see that sharp little stifled gasp.

"Do you want me to stop?" You tilted your head.

Hesitating at first, he shook his head. Feeling his hips drive up against you.

You worked him, grinding deep strokes of your clothed sex slowly. Closing your eyes you let your head lull backward. Feeling your heart begin to race, he was intoxicating. More so, now that you finally had him at your mercy.

The denim causes the friction to rise, the zipper catching against the cotton. Almost fraying the fabric as you quicken your hips.

"Fuck..don't..d-don't stop..". He rasped.

Flicking your eyes down at him, you caught the flushing of his cheeks and neck, still stained with your kisses. Tracing his sharp jaw with your fingertips as you cupped his chin.

"Is that a beg I hear?.." You moaned, brushing up his cheek till your fingers entangled in his hair. The wetness pooled in the cotton now, lifting away from him softly to catch your breath.

His hips jerked, thrusting for more. Dragging your nails over his t-shirt you found the buckle of his belt. Loosening it, pushing the denim downwards. Without a second thought, ensuring his boxers shifted with the jeans. Watching as he sprung free. His skin speckled with goosebumps.

Moving from above him to your knees at the foot of the bed, you spread his thighs some. Pressing your lips against, working your way upwards, though stopping just before grazing his strained cock.

Twitching against his stomach.

"Fuck, please, please just.." Biting his tongue as he hissed.

"Not yet."

"I ne - .. I need it" He tried to refrain from saying it. You slipped the panties off, caressing over the slick excitement. Dragging your palm against your pleasure, as you playfully bit against his thigh.

With your drenched fingers, you slipped them against his throbbing tip, dragging them down to the base.

He flinched, your touch so light. Whimpering as he tried to thrust upward for more pressure.

"Such a needy, pretty boy.." You said without hesitation.

He scoffed, visibly biting his lower lip.

"God, please, please get back on top.. you little fucking tease." He snapped. A scoff followed, seeing his smile, his pitiful desperation.

"Oh I do love it when you beg, Billy... go on beg for me.." Letting your tongue flutter against his thigh as the words left your mouth.

Soon your breath washed over his twitching excitement. Allowing your tongue to drag against the underside of his erection. He was like putty, as he trembled under you.

You could tase yourself on him.

Tracing your fingers against your clit, his stifled moan finally rushed from his lips. Kissing against him as he was throbbing. Leaking against his own stomach.

"I..just.." Stuttering as he struggled, craving you.

"Just what? I know you can do better than that, Billy.." Dragging your tongue further till it flicked over the pinkened tip. Tasting his excitement against your tongue, the salty musk lingered.

"Please, p-please f-fuck..fuck I want you.." The chain of the shitty cuffs strained as he said it. The headboard shifted forward as he pulled, writhing beneath you.

"Say it for me..."

"N-no...quit being such...such a little slut.." He snorted.

Your fingers dragged once more against the beating cock.

"F-fine..I...I'll be a good boy.." Laughing softly. knowing exactly what you wanted to hear.

You slowly crawled over him, your hands padding against the mattress, not stopping at his waist. Resting your knees on either side of his head. He shifted, confused at first. An almost whimper left his mouth as he breathed heavily. Desperation on his quivered lips.

Then he realised , you could see him pursing his lips as he lunged his head upwards. You shifted slightly.

"So needy.." You teased him. As he hungered to taste.

Palm gripping his head forward, as you slid against him. A gasp of relief falls from your lips. Billy's tongue dragging up along your drenched slit. Exhaling softly as you see him ball his fingers into fists. His wrists were marked from pulling on his restraints.

Your fingers pushed through his hair, feeling his sweat brush over your palm. Fumbling as his tongue hunger for more, you allow your legs to loosen. Leaning your hips deeper, he spread you against the lapping of his tongue. Rippling over you, as he inhaled desperately.

You felt your chest grow flustered. Tugging on his hair tighter, smothering him with your starved sex.

Using your free hand you loosened the buttons of the shirt you wore. Pushing your hair back, as you called out his name. Forcing your hips back and forth. Riding his face. His moans cast against you, as you used him like that of a toy. Merciless.

Hearing the creak of the mattress louden, he was writhing. Fidgeting beneath you. Tongue swirling over your clit, softly dipping inside your clenching cunt.

"Fuck, Billy ... yes baby...just like that...God you are so pretty under me.." You groan. Pulling your sweat-coated hand from his hair as you lean your palms back into his chest. Letting him support your weight. Leaking against his lips, riding that edge.

You felt him jolt under you. Peering back at his body over your shoulder.

Whimpering some, as you see him. So perfectly pathetic. His knees bent, as his hips thrust at the air desperately. Practically begging for your attention, to be touched. The hemline of his t-shirt splattered with sticky excitement, purely from pleasuring you.

He was fucking the air, longing for relief. He craved you .

Hearing his whimpering nearly sent you over the edge, huffing against you as he lunged as far as he could, feeling your hesitation. As your hips yanked upwards, close. So very close.

"Please.. l-let me.." He whined out, his throat tight. Feeling you tremble over him.

Slathering against your clit, greedily. Forcefully tugging those flimsy cuffs one last time. Grunting loudly. As the weakened metal links snapped, under the pressure of his flexing forearms. His veins pulsating as he reached around your thighs. Gripping his fingertips into them roughly. Marking against them as he whimpered.

"I-I'm sorry, I need... you .. god I fucking need you.." Growling as he groaned against your spread folds.

Feeling yourself fold forward as the pressure swelled. Gripping his hair in your fingers. Hyperventilating. Your thighs beginning to clench against his red sweaty cheeks.

Like he was in a frenzy, his hips pounded at the air pervertedly. Crying out your name as his orgasm bubbled, his lips wrapping against your clit. His climax spluttering against his shirt, and your lower back. Dripping against your ass.

One last pull of his hair as you screamed out. Tensing against him as your eyes press shut. Speckles of star-like patterns flashed across the darkness of your eyelids. Feeling as you drown his lips with your orgasm, your body hunched against the headboard.

The grip of his fingers digging into your thighs softened, slithering his palms to your hips, then waist. Tickles of the furry cuffs grazing your glistening skin. Lips kissing against your folds.

"G-good boy.." You whined. Shuddering. "Such a good boy."

He softly laughed against you as you leaned back some, shifting. Catching your heavy breaths.

"You alright baby girl.." He whispered with a coy smirk and wetted lips. Showing off his drowned flushed pink cheeks.

You could only muster a gentle nod, your chest feeling like it could burst as it trembled beneath the unbuttoned shirt. His hands slithered from your waist back to your thighs. Caressing them softly as you made attempts at composing yourself.

"You got, so... greedy .. you owe me new ones.." You stammered pointing to the bent and snapped cuffs. He bellowed a deep grumbling laugh as he gripped and rolled you beneath him. Inches from your face, still smeared with your mess on his lips.

"I will buy you as many as you need, though .. I can't promise I won't break them again." His mouth pressed to yours, teasing as he let you taste yourself on his lips.

Flickering your eyes open, you pursed your lips playful-like.

"Again?.." You questioned, as he covered your mouth jokingly. Reaching to pull his hand away.

"I knew .. I knew you were a needy desperate little puppy.." You sneered, pointing in his face. He scoffed, then proceeded to roll off of your body laughing. Pulling you into his embrace, as the warm haze streamed through the dingy curtains.

────────────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───────────────

hope anyone who read, enjoyed! cringing at my own smut but was desperate to share anyway lmao ( ﾉﾟｰﾟ)ﾉ

#burn 2019 #billy burn 2019 #billy burn #josh hutcherson #billy burn x reader #billy burn x you #billy burn smut #billy burn x reader smut #fanfic #my writing #jhutch #hell welcomes me

170 notes · View notes

itwasthereaminuteago · 8 months ago

Text

|| Sweatpants (Frank's version) ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: this is just an exploration in thirst (and smut) similar to the blurb I wrote for Matt, about slutty grey sweatpants. I want to lick him.

A very sweaty man, oral sex (m and f), come eating. E. Also, PLEASE, PLEASE reblog if you enjoyed, likes are nice, comments even better! There is NO algorithm on Tumblr, reblogs are how things are found on your dash! Thank you so much 💕

This isn't fair.

Yeah, it's hot, but it still isn't fair.

You'd long abandoned any notion of working out while you were at Fogwell’s tonight, Frank unknowingly saw to that. Your kettlebells lay off to the side, long forgotten. Your initial warm up would never have gotten you as heated inside as you are now, seeing what you're seeing.

Those goddamn grey sweats he's wearing are barely hanging on to his hips. You're sure they're actually screaming out to you for help.

Take us off, they seem to be whispering. You're honestly surprised they haven't yet fallen down of their own accord with the way he's been swiping hard at the punchbag for the last half-hour.

He performs the same routine over and over, several powerful jabs, hooks and uppercuts and then he'll back off, doing a little lap of the ring to reset himself. And every time you get a glorious view of his bare upper body, the way the sweat glows on his taut pectoral muscles, the way his abs flex as he moves, the gorgeous curve of his stomach, framed by the defined V lines leading your gaze all the way down from his swaggering hips as he strides past you.

Good God. His ass looks amazing too.

When he bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet you can't help notice something else bouncing up against the slack fabric of those fucking ridiculous sweats of his…

Your mouth is practically hanging wide open now. You blindly reach for the bottle of water next to you to quench your thirst, knocking it over and spilling some in the process.

It's just not fair.

He must know. He must. He's gotta know what all this is doing to you, how can he not?!

Your eyes lock onto an innocent bead of sweat, following as it slowly trails its merry way down his heaving body to the sweatband of his pants, soaking into the soft fabric where you know it'll leave that musky scent you just want nothing more than to bury your nose in.

You bite down so hard on your bottom lip you're beginning to wear a divot into it.

It's insane. They're slung so criminally low on his hips that you can almost see where his happy trail is leading, the dark fuzz drawing your eyes down again toward-

“You alright?”

That gruff, grizzled voice of his knocks you out of your reverie. Are you?

You resemble a doped up kitty that's just returned from the vet, your eyes wide, dark, and spaced out as he's suddenly very close to you right in front of your face. He's pulling off his hand wraps and leaning across to grab some water from the bag that's lying open on the bench next to you.

He smells so good.

You can feel the heat from his worked muscles radiating off him, can almost taste the fresh sweat off him, absently licking your lips again as you watch him run a hand up over his damp forehead and through his hair.

“Y-yeah?” When you eventually reply he cracks a smile that definitely ruins your panties, as if they weren't ruined already.

“Okay. M'gonna hit the shower.”

Oh no.

No no no, you can't have that.

“W-wait!” You stutter out, and you're on your feet, somehow the keys to the gym that Matt had left with you are grasped in your hand, and in a blur you're locking the door, pulling down all the blinds and you've got your fingers splayed over his chest trying to push Frank down onto the mat on the floor.

“Whoa, okay mama. It's like that is it?” Frank huffs out a chuckle but he goes exactly where you want him to, still catching his breath as you straddle his hips.

“...you're evil,” you murmur, tracing your fingertips over and around his nipples and watching how the muscles under your nails twitch as you draw them down to your target.

Frank looks up at you with that confused puppy expression with his brows almost crashing into each other that always melts your heart, but this time it's just making you even more determined.

“Evil huh? Shit. What have I done now?”

“Driving me crazy…”

“C'mon sweetheart, you gotta give me a clue or somethin’.”

You pull teasingly at the damp elastic waistband of his pants, “These.” you muse, letting it snap back against his skin then lowering yourself to lick slowly along the deep groove at his hip. Your eyes shut as you finally get the sweaty, musky taste of your man on your tongue. A soft grunt leaves him as he cranes his neck to watch, his dick already showing interest too as your mouth makes it way lower. He reaches down, his hand just resting on your shoulder, fingers tapping lightly to get your attention.

“H-hey darlin’, not that I don't appreciate it but… we doin’ this? Here? Now?” Frank asks with a very slight nervousness. It's freaking adorable.

You look up at him through your eyelashes knowing he'll fold soon enough. “Yeah we're doing this here and now, Frankie. I already told you - you're driving me crazy, and you were distracting me so much that I still need to workout.”

He smirks and you can see him start to get more comfortable with the idea of some naked shenanigans with you in Matt's gym.

“All because of these pants?” He asks.

“All because of those pants,” You reply, curling your fingertips around the waistband of them again. “along with the way you look like a giant snack in them.”

Frank scoffs, but lays his head back down and lifts his hips up as you tug at the ‘problematic’ pants to pull them down. Predictably, as discerned from your earlier observations, and much to your delight, he's gone commando today. You hum as his fully erect cock is freed, slapping against his stomach with a delicious smack.

“Fuck, Frank…’ you say, taking in the rare sight of him laying almost prone for you.

What to do…

“Hey princess, you're the boss.” He says perceptively, waiting so patiently for your lust-addled brain to decide whether you want to stuff your mouth or pussy with him.

It's a much easier decision than you thought, relishing in the familiar, quiet curses Frank is making as you start to work your way back up his thick, muscular legs, placing kisses wherever you want. When you reach his groin, you nose at the thatch of hair around the base of his cock, idly stroking and gently cupping his balls.

“Mm, I'm the boss.” You repeat back at him, smile sweetly as he grins at you.

“Yeah, that's right, oh shit-”

He makes a choked sound in the back of his throat and his cock twitches as you move your lips to the base, your tongue sneaking out to kitten lick his ball sac, gradually moving upwards, starting to trace along the thick vein that runs the salty length of his perfect dick.

You listen and are rewarded with the soft, low moan that comes from his throat when you keep going, the flat of your warm, wet tongue lapping underneath the head. He throbs again, a drop of precum beading and ready to leak from his slit.

“You're so good for me, Frankie.”

He's got those deep brown eyes trained hard on you, licking his lips, his chest rising with the deeper breaths he's drawing. They only increase as you wrap your fingers to grip around the base of him and then swipe and swirl your tongue to taste him. He moans, biting down his lip as you take him into your mouth, sealing your lips around his girth. Having him, the man the rest of the world only knows as the Punisher, his pleasure at your mercy, is maybe the most powerful feeling in the world. Or maybe that's when you have your own thighs wrapped around his head. It's a tricky one to answer.

“Fuuuck, sweetheart…” Frank hisses out, his hands self-restrained by his sides, “Mm, jesus christ!”

You hum around him as you pull your lips back to his tip before taking him as deep into your throat as you can manage, your hand working the rest of him. You repeat the motion, spit dripping down to his length and over your fingers helping your squeeze and twist, feeling the way he's almost shaking beneath you.

“God damn you're so good, so damn good to me baby.”

Your free hand switches between reaching up to dig your nails into the meat of his pectoral muscle and sliding down between his legs to gently tug and tease his balls. He groans loudly, you'd made a point in the past of making it known to him just how much hearing the sounds of his pleasure turns you on, and he had gradually rewarded you with more and more feedback.

You're almost entirely focused on him but now you can no longer ignore the incessant ache at your core. You're slick from almost an hour of getting yourself worked up at the sight of Frank boxing, still sucking and licking the length of his cock as you slip your hand into your leggings and under the soft fabric of your underwear. You moan around him as the pads of your fingertips slide over your clit, aware that Frank is propping himself up on his elbows to watch you.

“You want my mouth, mama? C'mon an get up here. Sit right here baby, let me take care of you.”

You release him temporarily to shuck off the clothes from your bottom half because you cannot refuse an offer like that.

He curls his arms around your bare thighs as soon as you straddle him facing towards his feet, pulling you straight down onto his hungry mouth without delay. You grind down to meet him as he laps at your glistening cunt, a wavering moan leaving your lips as you reach again for his rock hard, weeping red cock. You stretch your tongue out to lick and suck what you can, jerking him off as he devours your pussy like it's his last ever meal.

This was supposed to be all about him but as usual he's managed to flip the script and somehow make it all about you. You're hardly complaining, no. In fact you're riding Frank's face hard as his encouraging moans vibrate right through your core. He loves going down on you, could even say he lives for it, inviting you to sit right on his face almost every time you're intimate with each other.

Now that he's not snug in your throat he bends his knees and starts to thrust his hips up against the direction of your firm strokes, driven by the way you're grinding and rocking your own more quickly, completely covering his mouth and chin with a sheen of your arousal. You concentrate the tight circle of your forefinger and thumb just under the fat, wet head of his cock, twisting and squeezing up and over because you know that's what gets him panting and praising you. More salty pre trickles out and you eagerly lap it up.

You yelp as Frank thrusts his tongue as deep as he can inside you, fucking you with it before he nudges forward again, slurping and sucking at your puffy clit. The tightness and tension of your impending release is gathering pace as you hear how feral Frank sounds between your legs. You can barely keep a rhythm with either hips or hands but it doesn't seem to matter as you can tell he's as close as you are. You're half worried you'll smother him with the ferocity and strength with which he's holding you so close to him, as if he needs you to breathe.

Suddenly, the tension snaps, hard. His tongue making you cry out, your legs shaking underneath your wildly undulating hips as you climax, calling out his name repeatedly like a prayer, the sound reverberating around the gym. Your hand is barely moving on his cock but it's you quivering and moaning in ecstasy right on his face that sets him off. He's tapping his fingers against your hips in warning, as very quickly afterwards his own hips jerk up and with a muffled groan against your pulsing pussy, his cock spurts its creamy load. You catch some on your waiting tongue, the rest dribbling warmly on your fingers and down onto his tensing stomach and abs.

After a brief moment getting your bearings and breath back, you're both humming, satisfied, and softly laughing with each other. He supports you as you gingerly lift your leg over his head and turn yourself around to face him. He's licking his lips, the biggest smile on his gorgeously wrecked face, his eyes half-lidded as he pulls you down to him for a languid kiss, tasting each other on you as your tongues slide over one another. At the same time you're trying to find somewhere to place your come-covered hand so it doesn't go everywhere and you don't lose your balance.

“Mmm, okay you can't tell me that wasn't fun.” You say, and then your lips turn down as you remember something vital.

“Shit.”

Frank looks up at you, his expression one of concern. “What's wrong?”

“Urgh, Matt will know. He'll know even if we clean the mats and everything!” You groan again, wiping off your messy fingers on Frank's discarded sweatpants. “He won't let this go, we probably won't be allowed back in the gym!”

Frank just shrugs, a damn sight more relaxed now as he cleans himself off with them too.

“I'm pretty sure Murdock's done way worse in here. He aint that pure."

His lips curl into a grin. "Anyway, don't know ‘bout you, but I'll be puttin’ the blame on these pants. More trouble than they're worth, ain't that right, sweetheart?”

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle in sweatpants #smut

159 notes · View notes

kokomos · 1 year ago

Text

𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗦

abby anderson knows what you're capable of, and she knows you can take it and still keep your manners.

tags: explicit content, soft! dominant abby, strap-on sex

It always starts the same way. Your hands, her muscles. Is it really your fault she looks so good in that shirt? She’d be simply toying with you if she didn’t let you feel her up. After all, you’re just appreciating the hard work she’s put into that body of hers.

Your hands alone are enough to send her own towards your hips, pulling you closer. She’ll take the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass while you keep yourself busy. Eagerly, she pulls you into her lap where she attacks your neck with a mix of kisses and soft nips. She’s known to leave a hickey or two if you really get her going.

Abby can’t take a lot of foreplay, she may be patient in other areas of life but the bedroom is not one of them. She’ll have you laying on the bed with your legs around her in no time.

It’s big of course, she prefers fucking you with something impressive in girth and length.

She restrains herself, going in slow for your sake, despite wanting nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress already. Her fingers help line the strap-on up before she puts the tip in, your thighs trembling slightly from the new stimulation.

"Fuck, how's that feel, babe?" She examines your face, looking for an answer without words. When you mutter a small praise to let her know you’re comfortable, she’s already moving to add a couple more inches inside. With your legs around her figure, she’s hitting such sensitive spots. But it’s too much right now, it’s been awhile since she’s fucked you properly and you’ve lost your once admirable endurance.

"Abby." You manage to get out between moans, "I can't, please."

She doesn’t miss a beat, slowing her stroke down in response to your pleas. Intricate kisses on your neck attempt to soothe the discomfort of the strap’s size.

"Come on, baby, I know you can take it. You take it so well for me every time." Abby's words of encouragement combine with the sudden sensation of her fingers on your clit. The discomfort from the size ultimately subsides as she puts all her effort into getting you used to the strap again.

"Faster." Your words of encouragement provoke a grinding stop in her movements.

"I don't think I heard a please, baby. Gotta ask nicely 'cause I'm being so nice to you, okay?" She insists.

You manage to spit out, "Faster, please. " And that's all she needs to hear before moving again; pulling the strap almost all the way out and pushing in at a now painstakingly slow pace to savor the way you take her size.

"You feel so good baby, so perfect." She’s practically grunting the words out at this point, "Gonna make you cum on this dick."

And the pace picks up again, she's slamming her hips almost relentlessly into yours. Her movements hold so much power that the bed starts shaking, the old frame creaking in sync with the way your bodies clash. It's not long with Abby before you're holding onto her, squeezing your legs hard as ever around her form. The noises and faces you're making are enough to make her cum untouched; but with each thrust, the fabric from the strap-on hits her clit just right, perfectly aligning with what she's making you feel.

"Cum for me, cum babygirl." She murmurs, kissing along your collarbone. You're so close, every touch on your body drives you closer to that edge; one thrust hits perfectly and it sends you over. Desperately pounding into you, she tries to get both of you to ride the long high together.

After the come-down, Abby pulls out as slow as possible, she likes to admire all your slick around the strap. It's hard for her to resist just fucking you again when you're all splayed out with your legs wide open for her.

She can't help but ask, "Another round?"

— ♡☆

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x you #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us x reader #the last of us imagine

673 notes · View notes

animasolaoriginal · 3 months ago

Text

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️THIRTEEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

Accused of going soft, he finds himself struggling between wanting to cuddle the girl and do far more unreasonable things to her. Which side of him will win in the end?

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Sex toys/vibrators under clothing. Semi-public oral sex. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 6.8k

TWELVE 🟥 THIRTEEN 🟥 FOURTEEN

He watches her closely as she succumbs to the intense sensations the toys are pulling from her, a fighting little body, convulsing, twitching, suddenly going limp, falling into itself, calming while the buzz still sounds from deep within her. He eases the vibrations, letting them simmer on the lowest setting before he puts his phone away and caresses her sweat-slick face.

“She's actually into it, isn't she?” he hears Mistress's voice beside him. “That's a first. Where did you find her?”

He keeps looking at the unconscious girl, pushing her hair out of her damp forehead. “She came to me,” he replies quietly.

“Oh?” The woman issues a soft laugh. “Isn't that something.”

He inhales deeply, straightening up, his hand brushing along the girl's shoulder, over the pastel pink fabric. She looks so innocent, in that dress, how she lies on the bench, head tilted, exposing her neck, eyes closed, face relaxed, remnants of tears and sweat shimmering on her pure skin. He wipes at her cheek, traces her lips, her soft breath brushing against his knuckles. “She's perfect,” he whispers, more to himself.

“Are you going soft now?”

He looks up at those words, furrowing his eyebrows. The woman shifts on her high heels, crossing her arms in front of her impressive chest, a little pout on her full lips.

“I just miss the good old days of breaking these sweet girls in properly, you know?” she says with a sigh. “Don't get me wrong, this was a nice display, and it sure is entertaining to watch her get overwhelmed and lose it, but where's my fun? Your fun? Was this all?”

“Insatiable as ever,” he replies with a groan, staring at the tall woman he's known for so long he can't even remember the first time they've shared these unusual experiences.

“Come on, don't pretend you didn't think about shoving your cock down her twitching throat while she's assaulted by both toys? I bet she'd be really sweet choking on it...”

“She is,” he says, looking down at the girl. “It's one of the best sights...”

Mistress steps beside him, slapping his arm playfully. “Then wake her up and do it, let me see! Share the joy, come on!”

He shakes his head. “Give her some rest...”

She scoffs. “Rest? Oh, you've already gone soft. You never cared about any of them enough to let them rest. As long as they were breathing, you'd do the most vile things to them and not bat an eye. What changed?”

The question makes him frown. His fingers brush against the girl's soft neck, over the fading marks he's sucked into her skin, the memory still fresh on his mind. He has no idea what changed. Why is she different? She's just as submissive as the others, maybe a bit (a lot) more. The only difference really is that she was into him first, she had a crush, she came to him, wanting something from him, and not vice versa.

The others he had to mold to his desires, make them pliant, use a lot more force and punishment and other help, while she was perfect from the get-go, minus those very few instances of defiance. And she wants this, in a way none of them ever expressed before. He looks around the room, remembers the many girls strapped to various contraptions, remembers their sex-drunk faces, the defeat in their eyes. Not enough, never enough.

But her? In her pure, sweet innocence? In her desire to please him, to submit to him, to do what he tells her without ever fussing about it? Perfect. Maybe he's also past his violent, selfish days. He can't deny still getting hard thinking about his former victims, but looking down at the sleeping girl now feels different.

There's still desire, maybe even more of it, but he doesn't want to break her, not past the point of no return like he did with all the others. He wants to stretch her limits, push her out of her comfort zone, but ultimately he wants her to enjoy it, crave it, beg him to treat her like that because she wants it. And she's close. He's seen her pleading eyes, she needs him, his warmth, his strength, his comfort.

A few more nudges and she'll crawl by his feet like the submissive little angel that she is.

Inhaling deeply, he steps between her open legs again, eyes raking over the wetness seeping past the harness and the toys stuffed inside her, her releases drying on the soft skin of her thighs, her scent still so strong he has trouble breathing. But despite the throbbing of his needy cock, he decides against following his urges and starts unfastening the bindings holding her legs in place.

“What are you doing?” He's already forgotten about Mistress beside him.

“Taking her with me. We're done,” he says, gently rubbing the girl's legs where the leather bands have left deep indents in her skin. “Put it on my tab.”

The woman shifts on her heels, an incredulous expression on her pretty face, turning it sour and as ugly as he's ever seen it. “You come here just to tease me?”

“This is not about you,” he tells her. “Get your own pet!”

She gasps at that, grabbing one of her necklaces in mock indignation. “How dare you!”

“Please, if you wouldn't overdo it every fucking time, you'd still have something to play with now...” He stares at her, holding her dark gaze until it deflates.

She sighs, then rolls her eyes, stepping past him. “Well, consider me jealous,” she admits. “But know you can always bring her back. I have many toys and gadgets to show her...”

“I'll think about it,” he says, knowing he won't.

Even though he had no trouble working with her in the past, he sure as hell doesn't want to share now. The girl is his, and his alone. And she deserves a better fate than any other pet Mistress had in these walls before her. The woman knows no bounds, and the times he had to send in his men to cover up her overindulgence are numerous. If she wouldn't hold his secrets as well, he'd long severed their ties. But she is still useful in certain aspects.

The toys she's provided will certainly come in handy. They already showed potential, and he can't deny being downright giddy to test them out in public, pushing the girl's limits one nudge at a time.

For now, he's scooping her up in his arms, this barely there weight even though she's heavy with sleep, a softness and warmth he needs more of. Yes, he wants to choke her on his cock, but he also wants to hold her, caress her, see her skin pebbling, her eyes glazing over, that sweet little smile on her swollen lips. He wants it all, and he won't get any of it in this dungeon-like room in a seedy little sex shop that pretends to be something better just because the prices are unreasonably high.

He throws Mistress another glance, and the woman bows her head with mock obedience, ushering him towards the door. “Thank you for your purchase,” she says, her accent stronger now as she nears the backdoor of her store, putting up her facade again. “It was a pleasure doing business with you. Come again soon!”

Nodding at her, ignoring her loaded words, he carries the girl out into the bland hallway that's much too bright after spending who knows how long between black velvet walls and dim mood lighting. The unassuming door closes behind them, leaving him alone with her at last. He stops a few feet away and looks down at her. She's breathing deeply, still out of it. Small body still recovering from those unfamiliar sensations.

She took it so well, reacted just like he wanted to see. Squirming, writhing, fighting the pleasure until it overtook her. A sight to remember. He can't wait to force her to the edge once more. Though, of course, he won't amp the toys up to the max like he had done in the shop. She's not ready to let go like this in public, he's sure. One day she will. One day she won't care who sees her when she rides on that wave of bliss, chasing that head-empty-feeling. But he will be there, with her, bringing her there, holding her, feeling her shivers and contractions.

He exhales loudly, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. Fuck. Mistress has been right. He wanted to do more to her so badly, chase his own pleasure after bringing her hers so many times. But the fucking restraint.

Squaring his shoulders, shifting her on his arms, he inhales deeply, grounds himself, focuses on his plans for the day. Tailor, toys, done (even if the latter got a little out of hand), now some more aftercare (not that it matters but he's sure she'll like a few changes, a new hairstyle maybe, some pedi- and manicure, a bit of pampering after everything she had to endure), maybe lunch, and somewhere in-between he'll find a quiet corner where he can push her to her knees and satisfy his own urges.

With his fantasies itching right under his palms where he holds her, he walks to the elevator, eyes fixed on her peaceful face. When the doors open with a loud ding, she stirs in his arms, inhaling deeply, her eyelids fluttering. He steps into the cubicle, hits the button with his elbow and keeps watching her until she finally comes to.

“Hey baby,” he whispers, smiling softly when she blinks in confusion, then scrunches her nose as she squirms a little in his arms, her hands moving down her stomach to where the harness probably cuts a little into her skin. Or where the toys are wedged deep inside of her. “It's alright now,” he adds, and she looks up at him with unfocused eyes.

She slowly fights her way through the fog in her mind, and when the memories return, her cheeks burn up bright red. Looking away, she lets out a strained whine, her hands gripping at the front of his jacket as she pulls herself against him, possibly easing the pressure within her.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, watching her closely.

She doesn't nod immediately, thinking it over, but when she does, she looks up, her eyes pleading with him, silently asking him if it's really necessary to wear these things right now.

“I told you you have to get used to having something in your beautiful holes, darling. This is for your own good,” he tells her, and she hums in disapproval. “Does it really hurt or is it just uncomfortable?” She squirms, giving him a gesture he interprets as “I'm not sure”.

Instead of asking more, he simply slips her from his arms, gently setting her down on her feet again. She clings to him, fingers curling tightly around his jacket, unwilling to let go, to stand on her own, to deal with walking while plugged up. He grabs her hands and pries them off him, but keeps holding them as he looks down at her, assessing her state.

Her legs are visibly shaking, thighs twitching as she presses them together tightly, her chest rising and falling faster, her bottom lip worried between her teeth, a deep frown on her forehead. He lets go of her hands and smooths his own along her dress, showing her that everything is covered up. To anyone who may see them, she is just a normal girl in a cute pastel pink dress and old shabby sneakers.

To him she is the perfect little toy having her holes stretched in preparation.

He takes a step back and leans against the mirrored wall of the elevator, then extends a hand towards her. “Walk to me, come on,” he says, tilting his head as he observes her reactions. “Just walk normally, relax, nothing can slip out, it's alright. No need to stress about it...”

She inhales sharply, her hands balled up into fists at her sides. Slowly, she raises her leg, her thighs already relaxed a little, and takes a step, then another, but as soon as she reaches him, she exhales loudly as if she'd been holding her breath, her shoulders shaking. His hand finds her lower back as he pulls her against him.

“Tell me how it feels.”

Chewing on her lip, she stares at the ground, but leans more into him, seeking his warmth. “They move... against each other... always rubbing...” she mumbles. “It's so... warm... and full... it's too much...”

His hand moves lower, teases the hem of her dress, slips under. She flinches when his finger trails the leather strap between her ass cheeks. “But doesn't it feel good?” he whispers, leaning down to brush his lips against the top of her head. “To be stuffed like this? Stretched? Filled? The constant movement?”

“Not the same,” comes her reply, a huff of air, a pout to her lips, her body stiffening against him.

He chuckles. “You really prefer my cock,” he states with a sigh. “Well, imagine it then. I bet it's not too different...”

She shakes her head. “Totally different,” she mutters, slowly looking up, meeting his gaze for a moment before her eyes wander over his face timidly, her cheeks flushed deeply. “Your... yours is... warm and soft, well, no, hard, but differently. Not so stiff. I mean, not as stiff as... rubber. It fits better, moves better... more...”

While she speaks about his cock, which really flatters him to the point he can't help smirking, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, opens the app for the toys and, once she's done, gives the one in her ass a slight nudge, then watches with glee how she flinches, a soft gasp making her jerk against him, before she blinks and grits her teeth.

“Not fair,” she whispers, looking away, but he can see the tear glinting in her eye.

It's the tear that does it. He leans to the side and hits the brake button with his fist, and the elevator rumbles to a sudden stop, somewhere between the second floor and the parking garage. He doesn't care. Not the first time he's used this little private space to take care of business. Looking up into one corner in the ceiling, he smiles when he notices the little light blinking constantly. Let them watch.

He moves right beneath the camera, back to the wall, phone in one hand, the other pointed at the floor. “Kneel,” he tells her, and despite her pouting face and discomfort, she does as she's asked.

Flinching and groaning quietly when she gets to her knees in front of him, still moving quite stiff and careful with the unfamiliar cargo inside her, she braces her hands on his thighs, then slowly looks up at him, eyes a little wider, pupils dilating as she awaits further instructions. He moves his thumb over the display, pushes the intensity of both vibrators up to three, and she gasps when it hits her, her body shuddering, her fingers gripping at his legs harder.

He turns the phone to her, showing her the dial that goes up to twenty. “This is really mild, baby, you can do this,” he says, and she inhales sharply, a little shocked at the revelation that the vibrations can become way worse.

Squirming on her knees, she slowly adjusts, focuses on him instead of the warring sensations inside her small body. He waits. With how she talked about his cock, she must have a hunger for it. But will she just ask for it, like she did in the shower? Right here? He doubts it. He still waits, watching her, holding her gaze that grows more and more agitated, while she forces her body to remain completely still.

He would have waited longer, but knowing he's occupying the elevator and giving whoever has elevator watch duty a little show, he pushes things along as he slips his phone into his pocket and unbuckles his belt. The girl watches him, patiently, as patient as one can be while two buzzing toys nudge into each other inside her most sensitive places. But she seems alright, content, eager to service him.

His cock, already hard, springs free when he pulls his pants and underwear down enough to do so, and she flinches, her hands twitching, and he smiles. “Easy, girl, this is all yours, no need to rush things,” he says in a mocking tone that makes her blush even more. One hand holds his shaft, the other moves to her head, gently patting her hair, and she leans into his touch like a dog in need of ear scratches.

She watches him, pupils now fully blown, her little tongue darting out between her lips, wetting them nervously. “M-may I –” she starts, but he clicks his tongue and she stops, flinching back, eyes widening. Her body seems to buzz, be it because of the toys inside her, or her genuine need to pleasure him, taste him, her own arousal evident in the way she breathes harder.

He inhales deeply, lazily pumping his cock, before he lets go of it and braces his hands on the rail behind him. “Alright, then. Suck. Show me how much you crave my cock.”

His words cause a shiver to rush through her, but she's quick to grab his length, one hand curling around it, giving it gentle squeezes, bending it carefully to meet her height, while she keeps the other hand on his thigh to steady herself, before she leans closer and presses her lips to his tip. Her tongue comes next, licking along his slit, catching those few drops of precum he can't hold back anymore. He watches her intently, while she focuses on his cock, eyes hooded, and for now, he lets her.

There'll be time for eye contact yet. He prefers them filled with tears anyway.

She's hesitant at first, just kissing along his shaft, tracing her lips along the veins bulging beneath his tight skin, her tongue giving gentle flicks, but she quickly gets more confident, maybe pushed by her own growing need, maybe to get away from the constant buzzing inside her.

He waits until her small mouth envelops his tip, lips straining around him, her tongue poking at his slit, before she hollows her cheeks and sucks hard. A little groan escapes him, almost making his hand shake when he slips it into his pocket to retrieve his phone. His other hand moves over her head, fingers gliding between the soft strands of her hair to give her a gentle nudge, push her slightly closer to his crotch.

She obliges, eyes closed, hand holding his base as she lets his cock deeper into her mouth, still sucking, tongue still flicking, a warm and wet sensation that makes him inhale deeply as his stomach starts tensing up. While she bobs her head slowly back and forth, those lewd little slurping noises filling the small room, he is back in the app to control her vibrators, and even though his cock is nowhere near the back of her throat, she gags around him when he pushes them up to seven, the sudden increase making her flinch badly.

Her body tenses, her movements stop, but despite the surprise, she keeps her teeth away like the good girl that she is. “Good girl,” he tells her out loud, stroking her hair gently. “Just keep going. You're doing great.”

The praise does it for her, and she's back to bobbing her head in no time. She even removes her hand from his base to allow herself to take him deeper, not all the way, but he can feel the teasing grip of her throat when she pushes closer against his groin. Putting his phone away again, seven should be enough for now anyway, he puts both hands on her head, guiding her movements gently but firmly, and she lets him move her for a moment, tongue scraping along the underside of his cock, the wet and warm sensation tickling the sensitive skin.

As she's stopped sucking, he uses her mouth for more rapid thrusts until the telltale gurgling noises ring in his ears when he pushes deep and hard and steadily against the back of her throat. Her hands are on his thighs again, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants, tight but not frantic yet, so he continues to fuck her face, always a little rougher, always chasing the tight grip of her throat.

“Look at me,” he breathes out, voice hoarse with impending release. She does, eyes reddened and glistening, eyelids heavy, tears brimming in her lashes. What a sight. He holds her gaze, his hands tight around her head as he keeps slamming her against his crotch, and it's when he moves his hips as well, that she protests, hands slapping his thighs hard as he slips deeper into her throat, the tightness making him groan, her noises making his stomach tense, her teary eyes making his balls throb.

He holds her there, then leans back, gives her the tiniest moment to breathe, then forces back into it, chasing the impossible grip, the delicious squeeze, and while she slaps his thighs again, panicked and breathless, muffled wails filling the room, he comes with a deep shudder, pressing back into the wall, holding her head right against his groin, savoring the helpless fight she fights as he fills her throat with spurt after spurt of hot cum.

Maybe he's prolonging the moment a little too long, maybe the monster within him needs to see her struggle, needs to see her suffer, needs those tears to roll, but when he eventually pulls her off him, and she coughs and splutters, sobbing and gasping, as her body convulses, he feels bad after all. Pulling her onto her feet, he presses her against him, ignoring the mixture of cum and saliva dripping from her swollen lips that smear against the front of his shirt.

He just holds her until she breathes more or less normally again, and as he waits, he slips a hand under her dress and rubs his fingers over the leather harness, teasing her clit, feeling the toys vibrating against the stiff material, and she cries out again, small fingers fisting at the back of his jacket as she holds onto him as well, her legs trembling, hips bucking, and she comes with a tiny wail, freezing on the spot, her wetness seeping past the obstacle right onto his fingers.

He's breathing deeper, slowly regaining control over his body, and so does she as she relaxes against him, arms wrapped tightly around his midriff, face pressed into his chest. He pulls his wet fingers from under her dress, leaning his head against the wall behind him as he extends his tongue and licks along his fingertips with a soft hum that makes her lean back and look up, and her face, despite her wet cheeks and red eyes, has a beautiful glow, the blush burning just beneath her soft skin.

Offering her his fingers, she opens her mouth, eyes hooded, and he slips them between her warm lips, rubs over her tongue until she flicks it around them, then gives his digits a deep suck. His free hand pulls his phone out of his pocket, and instead of dialing the vibrators down himself, he holds it to her eye level, waiting for her to understand. She hesitates, lips still closed around his fingers, frozen mid-motion, a frown between her eyebrows.

Adorable. “You choose,” he says quietly, voice still a little hoarse.

She raises an eyebrow, then her hand, and her slender finger moves along the display, shaking slightly, but to his utmost surprise she doesn't turn them off completely (and it's not that she didn't see the big Turn Off button at the bottom of the screen), but keeps them lightly humming on the lowest setting possible. He smiles at her and turns the display off to slip the phone back into his pocket.

“My good girl,” he whispers softly, free hand cupping her face before he pulls his other fingers away from her mouth, absentmindedly wiping her saliva on his pants. “You've done so well.”

She beams at him, blushing deeper, leaning into his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

He watches her, overcome with a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time. Admiration. Inhaling deeply, he tilts her chin up with his thumb and bends down a little until he captures her wet lips for a deep kiss, and she replies his motions with an eagerness he hasn't expected.

With their tongues still locked and tangling, he slips a hand between them and tucks himself away, or tries to before she notices the motion and breaks the kiss, suddenly bending at the knees again until she's back in front of him, looking up, her hands placed on either side of his cock. He frowns at the unexpected show of submission.

“Clean?” she whispers quietly, cheeks burning up, but her eyes are clear, though almost black with how dilated her pupils are.

He raises an eyebrow, a short chuckle escaping him. “Clean,” he confirms and watches how she goes to work quickly, lapping her small tongue around his tip and along his shaft, licking up any excess sign of his release. Once she's done, it's her who tucks him away, carefully, her tongue still poking out between her lips, fully concentrated. He helps her a little by adjusting himself through his underwear, before she zips him up and buckles his belt again.

There's a proud look on her flushed face when she looks up at him, and he quickly pulls her into a standing position again, giving her a short peck on the cheek.

“You keep surprising me, baby,” he says softly, and she actually giggles when he nuzzles his nose against the sensitive skin behind her ear. Closing his eyes for a moment as he feels his stomach tensing all over again, he pulls her against him, hugging her tightly.

This fucking girl.

Shaking his head, he moves them to the other side of the elevator and punches the brake button with his knuckles, still holding her when the cubicle starts moving again. Before they arrive in the parking garage, he leans her back a little and wipes at her face, tucks her hair behind her ears, makes her presentable. And she watches him with adoring eyes that make him clench his jaw while the blood rushes back into his dick.

Just when he lets her go as the ding announces their arrival on the last level, her hand is on the front of his shirt, smoothing over the fabric, and he looks down as she tries to wipe away the wet stain her tears and drool created.

“It's fine,” he says, gently prying her hand away before buttoning his jacket, covering up any evidence of their little session.

She bites her lip, but he only cups her face and pushes his thumb against her bottom lip. She stops the nervous motion and even parts her lips, eyes shining up at him, and he lets her suck on it for a moment, exhaling loudly through his nose.

Patting her cheek, he eventually pulls away and grabs her hand, gently but firmly dragging her along – and for the first steps she stumbles after him hissing and wincing, her knees shaking, before she slowly adjusts to walking around with her toys lodged inside her, or at least manages not to show her discomfort too openly. She's learning, and he couldn't be more proud.

They reach his car, and he opens the passenger door, waiting for her to get in, which she does with another tirade of huffs and groans, and he chuckles darkly at the sight when she pouts at him. Buckling her in, he hovers close to her, one arm braced on the seat beside her, breaths mingling as he stares at her.

“Just tell me when you want to replace one of them with the real deal, okay?” he whispers hoarsely, smirking at her.

She blushes, the heat always finding new places to shine through her soft skin. Swallowing hard, she nods. “Okay,” she replies quietly, barely a hum in the air between them, and he leans in to press his lips to hers, before straightening back up and closing her door with a thud.

As soon as he slips behind the wheel, his hand is on her thighs – that she keeps pressed together with a determination that surprises him. His fingers dig between them forcefully until he feels the low buzzing for the vibrators against the rigid material of the harness. He looks at her, sees her worrying her lip between her teeth and clicks his tongue, watching with satisfaction how she stops the gesture immediately, licking her lips and relaxing them again.

He pokes at the harness, her sharp inhale in his ears, before he winks at her and lets her go to fasten his own seat belt. Once the engine roars to life and he maneuvers the car into midday traffic, his hand is back in her lap, and this time, her own latches onto it, small fingers slipping between his, slowly guiding it between her slightly spread thighs. His frown is deep, she's never been this bold before.

“Are you sure you want me there, baby?” he asks hoarsely, forcing himself to keep his focus on the road.

“I don't want it for me, I want you to feel me...” she whispers quietly, voice so soft he barely hears it over the hum of the engine and the noises of the city. “You gave me these toys, and I want you to see that I... I appreciate it.”

He lets out a sudden harsh laugh at her words, surprise plastered all over his face as he turns his head curtly towards her. Her own face is flushed, embarrassment burning in her eyes, lips quivering, and she's tempted to chew on them, but she just looks at him. “You appreciate it?” he echoes in disbelief.

“Yes,” she replies a little breathlessly. “You're doing all of this for me... and nobody has ever done that... given me so many things and experiences... so much attention...”

He furrows his eyebrows and looks away again, contemplating her confession of gratitude. It's so unexpected, not just to hear her voice issue more than a Yes, sir, but those genuine thoughts, full sentences, with barely a stammer in them, unprompted. After all the vile things he forced upon her, she is appreciating it? It does something to him, these sweet words, the gesture of pulling his hand between her legs, wanting to show him how wet she is... for him? Because of him and the toys he made her wear? That she's enjoying it? That she fucking appreciates it?

He can't wrap his head around that sentiment. How can she say that when he has treated her so poorly? He took her away, abused her, cut her out of her old life to stay with him, for him to use. There was no explicit consent, all she had going for her was her infatuation with him. And she seemingly built on it, deepened it, or did he do anything to make her say this? Has Mistress been right and he has gone soft?

A sudden sob breaks him out of his thoughts, and he quickly looks to the side, seeing her sniffling, her hands no longer wrapped around his but wiping at her face. The sight alarms him, and he slams on the brakes a little too hard, causing the car behind them to abuse their honk for a bit, but he doesn't care, he pulls onto the curb and kills the engine, then quickly turns around to her and cups her face with both hands.

“Hey, what's wrong?”

She stares at him, eyes wide, blinking away new tears. “I... I shouldn't... h-have... said a-anything, shouldn't ha-have touched y-you... d-don't be angry with me...” she croaks out, voice broken up with more sobs.

“What? No, baby, come on! I'm not angry! I was just surprised you would say something like that!” he replies, frowning deeply. “Breathe!” She hiccoughs quietly before starting to breathe in and out, in and out, and he mimics the motion until she relaxes in his hold.

“I'm sorry,” she sniffles, and he wipes at her eyes, shaking his head.

“No need to apologize. You did nothing wrong,” he clarifies. “You can talk to me, you know? I told you, if you need anything, you ask me. You can even share your thoughts with me. And you can take my hand, touch me if you want. It's okay. I'll let you know when it's not okay, and when I do, you don't need to cry about it. You do as I say, you take what I give you, remember?”

She nods into his hands, moving her lips for an almost silent “Yes, sir.” while her eyes wander over his face.

“You gotta stop worrying your pretty head so much,” he continues, his voice surprisingly soft as he caresses her wet cheeks. “You'll know when I'm angry, trust me,” he adds, and she stiffens at the words, blinking quickly, causing a few more tears to fall from her lashes that he catches with his thumbs.

Inhaling deeply, he lowers one hand and opens her seat belt with a click. She frowns in confusion, but he just pulls her onto his side and settles her onto his lap, back pressed against the window. She lets out a few noises of discomfort as the toys shift inside her, but then quickly melts against his side, perched on his thigh, both hands resting on her lap, her sneakers brushing against the edge of the passenger seat.

“Is this okay?” she whispers nervously as he drapes his arms around her, one to grip the top of the steering wheel, the other using her shins as armrest to utilize the gear shift.

“Of course,” he says with a smile, brushing his lips against her forehead. “You've been such a good girl today, you deserve a special seat, don't you think?”

She bites her lip as a smile crosses her timid features. “Thank you, sir,” she whispers barely audible.

He hums against her hairline, taking a deep breath, savoring her sweet scent. “You know, I've actually had different plans for you for the rest of the day, but how about we just drive for a bit, hm?”

“Okay,” she breathes, snuggling into him, making herself even smaller on his lap to not block his view. “What plans... did you have?” she then adds quietly.

His hand moves into her hair, combing through the strands, playing with the tips. “I thought a makeover would have been nice. New hairstyle, maybe? Some facials, manicure, pedicure, all the things you girls like?” She looks up as he talks, her eyes wide in surprise. “But you know what? You are already cute, no need to change anything, right?” She blushes deeply, quickly averting her eyes, a shy smirk playing with the corner of her lips. “Unless you want to?”

He's actually asking her, and it twists something inside his stomach. He's gone soft, confirmed. What has she done to him?

She seems equally bewildered. “No, I just... I don't care either way. I just... I just want... well, not want, I know I'm not allowed to have wants, but... I'd like to... keep you company, be with you...” she mumbles, chewing on her lip.

His hand is on her chin, thumb pressing on her bottom lip. Her eyes fly up to his, clumped lashes fluttering. “You are allowed to have wants,” he whispers, tilting his head. “I may not always grant them, but you can ask me for things, you can want things. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies, holding his gaze with a glint in her eyes. “Thank you.”

He hums and tilts her chin up further until he can meet her lips for a soft kiss. Hovering close to her for a moment longer, he sighs. “You sweet, sweet thing, I'm beginning to wonder how I deserve someone like you...”

She blushes, smiling shyly before turning her head to press her face into the crook of his neck, her soft breaths warm on his skin. He rubs soothing circles over her back, holding her for another moment in which he forgets about the city around them, about who he is and how she is changing him. But then rationality kicks back in, with a force that makes him flinch slightly, and a darker voice inside his head tells him to go back to his roots. This can't be happening.

He's supposed to use her for his own pleasure, whenever, wherever he wants, not cuddle her to his chest and comfort her. Not like this. She's his toy, his plaything, a body with holes to fill, and it doesn't matter what she says, what comes out of her warm wet mouth that can hold his cock so well.

Exhaling loudly through his nose, making some of her hair fly, he shifts in his seat, leans around her to grip the steering wheel, puts the car in gear again and starts the engine. With the girl perched on his lap, trapped between his hard body and the wheel, he moves back into traffic, focusing on driving, forcing his mind back to his initial plans.

The ones that came before he wanted to give her something back. A fucking manicure. She doesn't need to have painted nails to wrap her hands around his cock. She doesn't need a new hairstyle, she only needs long enough hair for him to grab and pull, hold her in place when he rams his length into her tight depths. The only facial she'll receive is his cum on her rosy cheeks, or anywhere else on her body. That's the kind of spa treatment she deserves.

Gritting his teeth, he feels his heart racing, his cock straining beneath her, his breaths rough and hard as he pushes the gas pedal down more, speeding through the tight streets, cutting between other cars without much worry. Soon he's on the fast lane out of the city, and while the girl looks around curiously as the tall buildings make way to wide fields and large forests, he grips her tight around the middle, reminding himself that she is his, and his alone.

Once traffic has cleared and he's almost the only car on the road, he slows down some, and unhooks his arm from around her. “I need your mouth, baby,” he then tells her, his voice rough and hoarse from stewing in his own dark ideals for too long.

She looks at him in slight surprise, but nods. “Yes –” she starts, but he already pushes her unceremoniously onto the passenger seat. She yelps at the movement and the sudden change in his demeanor and the sure as hell uncomfortable sensations from those nudging vibrators in her holes, but he doesn't care and already fumbles with his belt.

This is her purpose. He shouldn't feel bad. She does what he asks her to, no matter where or when or how. It's her fucking purpose and his goddamn right!

Without waiting for her to adjust to the task or find a comfortable position on the seat, he grabs the back of her head, digs his fingers into her soft hair, and pushes her down as soon as he frees his cock. She lets out a muffled gasp, but he doesn't care, he –

He sighs when her lips strain around his length, the soft wetness, the warmth of her mouth soothing him instantly. He forces her further, goes straight for the tight grip of her throat, and when she gags and gurgles, gripping his legs for support and kicking her feet helplessly, he relaxes in his seat, eyes hooded but still focused on the road, savoring her noises of distress, soaking them in like her tears soak into his pants.

This is her purpose, he repeats inside his head like a mantra. She's a hole to fill, a hole to take his cock. Nothing more. She can't be. He won't let her.

TWELVE 🟥 THIRTEEN 🟥 FOURTEEN

End notes: Uh oh, did you really think he'll be nice to her now? Oops, sorry, nope. He is still a narcissistic asshole and psychopath! (I feel bad for her though, please don't think I wanted this, he took over...)

Thank you for reading!

Next chapter on Sunday!

TAG LIST: @untamedheart81 @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

#ao3 original work #dead dove do not eat #dom/sub #d/s dynamic #praise k!nk #free use kink #older man younger woman #size difference #modern au #joel miller smut #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #arthur morgan smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #mattheo riddle smut #original fiction

110 notes · View notes

thisapplepielife · 5 months ago

Text

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Settle For This

Day #22 - AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex Acts, One F-Slur, Abuse of Power (Eddie's Not Mad At It), Brief Reference to Recreational Drug Use (Weed) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Eddie x Gator, Minor Steddie Mention | Tags: Modern AU, Fuck The Police, Literally, Blowjob, Semi-Public Sex, But No Speeding Tickets Here

"Fuck the police," Eddie says, slamming his hands against the steering wheel. The van can't outrun the oversized penis metaphor of a truck behind him, red and blue lights flashing, so he eases to the shoulder.

"Goddamnit, Eddie, I told you to slow down ten miles ago!" Gareth yells from the back, trying to hide the last of the weed.

Jeff's up front, and Goodie's sprawled out across the middle row, both dead to the world.

They can't afford a speeding ticket, and definitely not anything more, if the guy's a real dickhead.

The cop taps on the window, and oh, he's for sure a real dickhead.

Stupid camo pants, stupid thigh-holster, and douchebag tattoos he definitely picked off a flash wall. This dimwit from the Stark County Sheriff's office is just gonna fuck up Eddie's whole night. Eddie can see it now.

He doesn't even give an opening spiel, just taps his nightstick on the side of the van, "What're you? Some sort of band? 'Spose yous guys are on tour, eh?"

"Yes," Eddie answers, trying not to sound sarcastic. But honestly? Did the logo give it away?

"Well, what kind of music do y'all shitbirds play?" he asks.

Eddie would rather just give his license and registration.

"Heavy metal," Eddie says.

"I like Metallica," the cop says in his thick accent, as if Metallica isn't the most well-known metal band in existence, but Eddie just nods.

"I'm gonna need you step out of the vehicle," the officer says, and fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.

Fine.

Whatever.

Just get this over with.

He's led to the back of the patrol truck, parked behind the van, lights still flashing, bouncing around in the darkness.

"I'm Officer Tillman, Gator if you're nasty," he says, and Eddie blinks at him. Did he really just say that?

And Gator? What kind of name is Gator? Makes Goodie sound normal.

"I'm gonna have to give you the once over," he drawls, and then he's frisking Eddie, too rough, too long, and way too interested in what's between Eddie's legs.

"If you want to fuck me, just say so," Eddie snaps, and the hand that was brushing against him clamps down, squeezing his dick.

Eddie wills himself to not get hard. On principle.

"What'd you say to me, faggot?"

"I'm not the one squeezing cock, now am I?"

Gator lets go, but keeps patting Eddie down.

"I ain't got nothing on me. I'd suggest a cavity search, but I think you'd like that a little too much, wouldn't you?"

"Don't make me handcuff ya."

Eddie grins, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

Eddie gets shoved against the tailgate of the truck for his trouble, and a knee slides between his legs, pushing upwards.

And a hand, big and rough, grabs a fistful of Eddie's hair, pulling. Hard.

His dick is a goddamn traitor, because that does it. He's fucking hard against this asshole's thigh between one breath and the next.

Fuck it.

Eddie grinds down, and briefly wonders if he's really fucked now. If he's gonna end up in jail, or worse.

But Gator pulls back, and his hand is firm on Eddie's shoulder, pushing him down, down, down to his knees, forcing him into the gravel.

Eddie hates that he isn't mad about this. Hates that he wants it.

Eddie goes.

And Gator is looking down at him, holding some intense eye contact, as he starts unbuckling his belt. Eddie watches and licks his lips. The dick that he pulls out of those camo pants is big, and thick, and Eddie wants nothing more than to put his fucking mouth all over that cock.

Eddie sticks his tongue out of his mouth a little, an invitation, and Gator steps closer, taking it. Eddie wraps his hand around the thick length, and guides it towards his mouth. Rubbing the tip against his bottom lip, before sliding it all down, nose to pubes, showing off.

Gator groans, and grabs a fistful of Eddie's hair. Eddie doesn't mind that at all, and starts sucking his dick in earnest. Enjoy the stretch, the musk, the sore jaw that comes with the territory.

And when Eddie flicks his eyes up again, Gator is sucking on a goddamn vape. He can't even smoke a cigarette like a real man, apparently, but he definitely thinks he's big and bad.

Eddie will just have to bring this fucker to his knees, as retribution.

"Fuck me," Gator moans, and boy would Eddie like to do just that. But right along the highway, as deserted as it is, seems unwise.

He'll have to settle for this.

And Eddie bobs his head, wet and hard and intense, as Gator claws at his scalp, pulling his hair, forcing himself deeper. Eddie's sure he thinks he's getting away with something here, but Eddie wants him that deep.

Wants him to swallow him fucking whole.

"Oh fuck," Gator says, and then lets out a wounded noise as he comes against Eddie's tongue, down his throat. Fucking filling him, still grinding in.

When Eddie finally pulls back, he's sure he looks thoroughly debauched, as he demands, "My turn."

And to Eddie's utter surprise, Gator slips his vape into his pocket, moving to his own knees.

Back in the van, after, Gareth is all up in his business.

"What the fuck? Did you fuck a goddamn cop?" Gareth asks, leaning over between the seats. "I didn't know you were serious when you said fuck the police, Eddie. Fucking hell."

"Didn't get a ticket, did I?" Eddie says, answering without answering.

"That's like, illegal. You could have him charged. Abuse of power or some shit," Gareth says.

"Well, that's a thought. But I'm not dissatisfied with the way my night went."

"How? Why?!" Gareth screeches.

Eddie turns, and grins, "Did he not look like Steve Harrington?"

"No, he didn't look like Steve Harrington. He looked like a fucking douchebag!" Gareth argues, exasperated.

Eddie shrugs.

He looked a little like Steve Harrington.

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt twenty-two: au #eddie munson #gator tillman #eddie x gator #gator x eddie #eddie munson x gator tillman #minor steddie #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #freak stranger things #corroded coffin fic #ccf day twenty-two: au #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

94 notes · View notes

magdalence · 3 months ago

Text

A MYTH OF DEVOTION CHAPTER ONE.

SEE MASTERLIST FOR TAGS + NOTES

pairing: sylus/mc | reader

rating: explicit (18+)

chapter word count: 6,189

“A complete and full resonance link comes at a steep price. Are you willing to pay it? Do you understand how much it will demand of you? How close you will have to get to me? I see how you look at me like I’m a nightmarish monster.” Sylus smirks, leaning in close enough that you can smell his perfume. Leather, metal, and gunpowder. At least, you think some of it is perfume and not just your attempt at his life.

You agree to try your best to resonate fully with Sylus. He agrees to let you go when you do. Both of you get more than you bargained for.

Devour him. It echoes inside of you as loudly as gunshot that rings out in the darkened room, the edges of it steeped in shadows that press in against your field of vision. Nothing in this room matters beyond how the recoil sends the two of you apart, and you feel sick and excited all at once, then even more sick as the adrenaline spikes and dips: you shot Sylus.

No. His finger pressed down on top of yours.

No. Yes. Already you know you may spend the rest of your life contesting this point, turning it over and over, changing the story as your conscience sees fit.

Sylus slumps back in the seat, life draining from his body, collapsing out of the wound. He won't last long. You've seen people bleed out for less.

Your breath comes in short, dreadful bursts.

His hot and sticky blood coats your hands as you try to press down on the wound, the jagged edges of his ruined shirt glued to your fingers. You don’t know what came over you, only that he lured it forth, that he reached his hand inside of you and hooked his fingers into it, pulling it out with such force that it consumed you. It terrifies you – not just that he has a power like that, but that something lurks within you more than eager to respond.

“Don’t die,” you whisper, a shivering plea in the back of your throat. You press down on his chest, feeling the racing heartbeat underneath your palm. He must be going into shock. The bullet must have ravaged his heart, ripped the veins, torn the delicate network keeping him alive apart. He will die and you killed him and – “Please, you can't die yet.”

“If only it were that easy,” he grunts, pain lacing his words. He grips the pistol, wrenching it out of your hands and tossing it aside. “But you got what you want. You always do.”

He glares at you, and you can’t tell if it’s disgust or a worse feeling that simmers within him. Again, his words brush against something inside of you that slips through your fingers, that evades definition, only: this is familiar. He is. It’s dizzying.

“How… You…” You dig your fingers into the wound and find it closing. The shadowy tendrils of his strange power push your fingers out with a regretful gentleness and you shudder, certain you’re imagining it. Shadows can’t feel like that. Right?

“Worried about me?” He grits his teeth, leaning forward. “You can save that for the day you actually manage to kill me.”

Your mind reels. Has been for days. You can't make sense of him, of what the two of you together means, only that it rips you open and a new self pours forth.

But clearly even that isn't enough to satiate his greed.

He wants something from you, and yet you continue to disappoint him. You can’t resonate with him and it drives something dark and jagged in him to push and push.

And now to top it all off – he can’t die.

You lean back, swaying on his lap as he covers his chest, the shadows stitching in and out of his flesh to pull it back together. A grisly sight, turning your empty stomach, but there's not much left inside you. He's been feeding you, trying to resonate with you, and discarding you, over and over, a cycle you desperately need to break. He is so caught up in proving a point to you that he can't see you.

Think. Think. You have to do something, anything, to get leverage against him. All you have is yourself here.

Ah. Yourself. And a discarded gun. And a desire to change the situation entirely.

You scramble off his lap, the red-tinged smoky shadows swirling around your peripheral vision as you reach for the gun he tossed aside. The brush with death slows him down a little, and you file that away for later, unsure what to make of it all but keeping every single detail as close to your heart as you can without feeling it tainted by the knowledge.

He groans as he peels himself out of the armchair. “In a rush to try again, kitten?”

It’s an insane and dangerous idea, but he brings it out in you. Why not meet his crazy with yours? What do you have to lose at this point? Just a little further...

He stands over you, going down on his knees on either side of yours, his shadows pulling at you to turn around and face him. Your fingers are so close to the gun, and you stretch your arms to reach, an ache shooting down your sore muscles. His hands are cold on your hips even through the clothes, like searing ice.

“As fun as it is to watch you try, I have had enough of that type of pain today.”

He flips you over, and his smugness vanishes. He looks almost concerned, and you take in the expression with an open mouth, resisting the urge to lick your lips. Right now, you need to control every single muscle in your body to not risk the gamble as you aim the gun at yourself, your point proven: he wants you alive and unharmed. A weight you can use to re-balance the scales.

The barrels burns your chin and you grimace from the searing heat, but refuse to yield. Your finger rests on the trigger, taut and ready to pull. If he makes one wrong move, you will shoot yourself, and with the way that he freezes, scowls, it tells you everything you need to know. This is the only leverage you need to bring him to heel.

“My, my. A kitten with claws. Your pristine hunter get-up could have fooled me.”

“Do you think I won’t do it?” Your heart beats so loud you can barely hear your own voice.

“I have my doubts.”

“But not enough.”

He leans in closer and you tighten your grip on the gun, eyes wide. His nostrils flare, a twitch in his lips, and he curls his hands around your wrists.

“Don’t,” you warn.

He looks at you, and it’s staggering how much it aches. Strange, how guilty he makes you feel over this. As if you are betraying a secret between the two of you, long forgotten – but not by him. His memory sears you with its heavy weight. You blink, trying to focus on how hot the metal is underneath your chin, still burning from the shot you – him – the two of you, together – fired into his chest.

“Interesting play,” he drawls, voice deep and edged with annoyance. “And what now?”

You swallow.

“You want me to resonate with you, correct?”

“Have you just now figured that out?”

His way of annoying you could be studied at university, the way it fires off immediately in your synapses.

“And that’s all you want?”

He’s silent for a long while, eyes roving over your face yet refusing to meet your gaze directly. Finally he lingers in your lips, the grip on your wrists tightening. “I can tell you are angling for a deal.”

“Yes. If I resonate with you, fully, with everything I have… Will you give me the information I want, and will you let me go?”

His eyes snap up to yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “A complete and full resonance link comes at a steep price. Are you willing to pay it? Do you understand how much it will demand of you? How close you will have to get to me? I see how you look at me like I’m a nightmarish monster.” Sylus smirks, leaning in close enough that you can smell his perfume. Leather, metal, and gunpowder. At least, you think some of it is perfume and not just your attempt at his life.

“I can handle a monster. And I would pay the price, if you give me your word. If you promise to honor your end of the deal.”

“How very brave you are. You should worry about biting off more than you can chew.”

One hand releases your wrists and moves up, stroking your cheek with enough tenderness that you waver, gasping. Your nervous system doesn’t know what to do with the mixed input, with the way you can’t pin him down.

“I accept.” He says it so softly that for a second, you’re not sure you heard him right. “We have a deal.”

He’s close enough that his breath brushes your lips, and a shudder travels through your body. Turns out that is all he needs. He slides his hands over yours, tearing the gun out of your hands as his gaze goes hard and cold again, eyes burning red like flame and blood as he glares down at you.

“We have a deal,” you whimper, his hands closing around your throat, a thicker kind of darkness seeping into your field of vision as he face blurs above you.

As his thumbs press down on your pulse points, you feel the yearning deep within you as he tries to resonate, a stuttering power beckoned forth and dying abruptly, fizzling into nothing.

He shakes his head, disappointed. “Have they suppressed you?”

“I…” You can’t breathe, you can’t speak, all you can do is beg with your eyes, pleading for mercy.

“Do not bet with this life of yours,” he murmurs, his face blurring and distorting as you drift under. “There will be no one here to buy your soul but I.”

You desperately try to cling to consciousness, but he pushes you down, the dim light catching on his face as he does. For a moment, you’re not quite sure what you see, a surge of horror and fascination rising like the tide in you as you think you see a glimmer of something… Older. Demonic. Familiar. A lover long lost.

—

You wake up in a bed lined with sheets so soft it feels like clouds against your skin, and the first thing that hits you is an overwhelming soreness. The second, as you writhe in the sheets, trying to take stock of your own body, is that you could have sworn you saw demon horns extending from him, and in the interim zone between dream and waking, you wonder…

Blinking at the bed canopy above you, you try to shake it off. Get a grip. Sleep deprivation and his viciousness have gotten to your nerves, affecting your grasp on reality.

Pushing back the sheets you rub at your face, not feeling quite in your own body. Your dry mouth aches, and unsticking the tongue from your palate feels torturous. Stiffly, you get out of bed and freeze in front of the mirror, staring at yourself in nothing but your underwear. What has he done with your clothes? What has he seen?

Staggering into the bathroom, you find a set of towels next to a rack of clothes in your size. You note, rather dryly, that all of them in shades of crimson or black. His colors. After showering and rinsing every inch of your body, you pick out the simplest shirt and pants available, grimacing at yourself in the mirror.

Your body slowly starts to feel like your own again, as if the attempt at resonance lingers, ruptured something in you.

Have they suppressed you? What did he mean by that? The skin at the back of your neck itches, uncertainty wending its way throughout your mind. This place feels odd, strange, plucked out of one of those nightmares that fade away in the morning. Except it's all real. And you made a deal with the devil instead of running from him this time.

As you leave the bedroom you hear distant music and at the far end of the corridor a set of double doors stand open, yet you stubbornly try each door you pass on the way, finding them all locked. There's no clocks on the walls and your grasp of time has slipped. Even peeking out through the windows does little to help with that. It’s hard to tell what time of day it is, the skies of the N109 Zone always darkly overcast, the streets steeped in a grey miasma.

You enter through the heavy oaken doors and find Sylus sat at a long table full of dishes, a veritable cornucopia of food that makes your stomach scream to be filled.

“There you are,” he says, closing a book and putting it down on the table. “You slept for almost a full day.”

“You were the one who choked me out,” you say, jutting your chin out defiantly, one hand idly picking and poking at the foods overflowing on the table. The urge to devour overwhelms you, but you restrain yourself -- at least temporarily. “Is that your take on being a good host?”

“A regretful necessity,” he says, folding his hands. “You were throwing your life around so carelessly I saw no other way forward than intervening.”

“You forced me!”

His eyes glint dark and threatening. “You chose that route.”

“Because you cornered me like an animal, pushing, demanding...” You shake your head, frustrated with how quickly he riles up annoyance in you.

“What am I demanding of you, kitten? Something that should be simple -- resonance. Yet you seem hellbent on making it more difficult than it needs to be.”

You shoot him a glare, tipping over a delicate glass purely out of spite.

He watches you silently, his gaze so heavy that every movement feels like being caught in some dark undertow. You rub at your throat, feeling a tight soreness where his fingers closed around it.

“Did it hurt?”

“It didn't feel great, no.”

“My condolences.” He's quiet for a beat, lips pursed. “What do you like to eat?” How oddly disarming.

You try to shake the thought off, sniping back at him.

“Already planning my last meal? Are you intending to extract a resonance by force? It won’t work.”

He shakes his head. “So I can put in an order with the chef, since you don’t seem to want any of this.”

“How can I trust that you’re not poisoning this food?”

“Is that what has you all concerned? It wouldn’t serve any function. I need you, don’t I? So you need to eat, or else we won’t get anywhere, and you certainly won’t be leaving at all.”

With an exasperated sigh, you pull out a chair away from him and sit down, your ravenous body betraying your petulance. You are starving and he’s set a meal fit for a king. Even your willpower has its breaking point.

“How long do you intend to keep me here?” you ask, trying to avoid digging in for as long as possible. It's a fool's errand, but you are nothing if not one here, clinging to every shred and sliver of defiance and choice you can wrench from him.

“We made a deal, didn’t we? If we put a fine point on it, we even signed it in my blood. We will be here as long as it takes for you to do what must be done." He leans back, resting his chin in his hand. "Now, eat. Find some enjoyment in being my guest.”

Picking at the food, you hesitate, struggling with that imperative: resonance.

You aren’t even sure how you resonate. It just… Happens. And for some reason, you can’t get anywhere with him. It dies before even connecting, something inside you recoiling in horror and disgust. And what if you can’t? What if you never manage to resonate with him? Will he keep you forever, until you’re old and wrinkly? Or will he grow tired of the wait and go back on his deal, take it by force? Would you be able to survive that?

All these questions you can’t answer roiling in your head, knotting your stomach.

Your stomach growls again and he shakes his head. “Eat,” he repeats, not a shred of tenderness. He’s so impossible to read. “I wouldn’t want you starving for our little excursion today.”

You tear off a piece of bread, sinking your teeth into the soft fluffy innards and have to swallow a sigh. It's delicious and you don't want him to know that anything he brings you could ever be pleasurable.

—

Of course, nothing about Sylus is simple. A quick trip becomes a motorbike ride, speeding down dark roads through the N109 zone. All you know about this place comes from material curated by someone else, briefings, dramas where a doe-eyed girl falls for the wrong guy and ends up here. There’s something about this place, the smell, the way it coats your tongue, the way it seems to warp around Sylus, the way it becomes him, but your thoughts stutter each time he takes a turn, each time he zigzags between cars more expensive than five annual salaries you get paid. N109 is an enigma, and he sits at the heart of it, moving through it like he owns it.

Maybe he does. Maybe Onychinus is more than the Hunters ever knew.

And now he has you digging your fingers into his leather jacket, body pressed too close to his as you hold on for dear life as he wends his way through side streets, into deeper and quieter neighborhoods.

Above, the red and black sky hangs heavy, clouds blotting out the sky. Not having the stars to look at makes you feel suffocated, only you didn’t realize until now how much the clear sky meant.

When he parks you’re the first to climb off, shaking your hair free of the helmet and following him inside a warehouse. In movies your grandma loved to thrill at, this is the place the criminals would go for shady deals, maybe to bury a body underneath wet concrete – but before it got gruesome enough the hero would swoop in and save the damsel in distress.

Only there are no heroes here. Just the two of you and a shopkeeper wiping his hands on a rag, looking nervously between the two of you.

Sylus pulls up a chair, flipping a knife between his fingers as if it is nothing more than a mere toy, though you know by the style of it could easily cut through a finger or two with little effort.

“I got you a guinea pig,” Sylus says, not looking at you, not a shred of emotion on his face. “It’s about time we made use of a living test subject for your project.”

Your stomach drops, icy and terrible, and you turn on your heel to try for the door. Of course, you only get to watch it slam shut in your face, Sylus’s shadowy tendrils reminding you that there is nowhere here for you to go.

“We had a deal,” you say, biting back the fear and rage, trying to keep your voice as even as possible.

He won’t look at you.

You take three shivering, deep breaths before going along with the shopkeeper. There is no way out but through. You remind yourself that you wanted to come to the N109 zone, that you wanted to be here to find out the truth, that you knew the risks would be high.

While the scan runs, you pretend to drift in your thoughts, but you keep listening as they chat. From it, you can infer quite a lot: Sylus has been gone for quite some time, his direct involvement in the explosions in Linkon are tenuous at best, and the shopkeeper speaks to him as if he’s a revered man. Fascinating details that weave a complicated web, and acting as if you are too wound up to pay attention… Well, hopefully, Sylus will make a misstep somewhere and you can use it against him.

Sylus acts different too. Cold and detached, as if there is a constant calculation running through his mind and he is not pleased with the current sum.

The scan finishes, and the man shakes his head. “She won’t do for the alteration,” he says apologetically to Sylus. “Normal readings, but suppressed.”

“External suppression?” Sylus asks, snapping the knife in his hand in two and throwing it away as if it is a mere toothpick.

“I doubt that.”

Sylus gets up from the chair and approaches you, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up. “What has been done to you to make you forget,” he mutters, his eyes peering deep into yours – but he is looking for something beyond who you are in this very minute, in this rusty workshop.

“There’s never anything wrong with me,” you say, wrenching your head free from his grip. “I can resonate fine with others.”

“Is that so?”

He pulls you up onto your feet. “I have tried and tried to bring it forth in you, yet you resist. Perhaps a different kind of stimulation is in order.”

In the corner, something dark lurches awake, shadows slithering through the cracks and joints of a dormant robot.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching as he pulls out a gun – the gun you shot him with, and you could swear in the flickering lights it still looks stained with his blood. He loads it up and puts it in your hands as the robot jolts awake, unfolding itself from its dormant state to be far bigger than you.

“Stimulating you,” he whispers in your ear, a sneer playing at the edge of his voice. “Don’t disappoint me this time.”

His shadows infuse the robot, awaken it. It doesn’t move right. It doesn’t look right.

“Getting cold feet?”

“We had a deal,” you repeat, holding the gun without wavering despite the visceral unease coiling inside you.

You remember this robot’s make now, it caused quite a problem in the fringe neighborhoods in the grey zone borderlands between Linkon City and the N109 zone years ago. Whoever built them made them with one intention: to disrupt all Hunter activities with ruthless efficiency. The manuals kept updating with a desperate fervour, trying to stay ahead of the programmer’s fine-tuning them and never quite making it.

Above all, you remember the closed casket funerals.

“I am doing my part to get you there. Are you?”

“Cheater. Liar. Bastard.”

“I am that and many other things besides,” he whispers in your ear, pressing against your back. “You have one bullet, and it is programmed to kill lost little Hunters like you. Where do you aim?”

The manuals flip through your head, years outdated. The head? The searchlight eyes? The joints?

“One bullet.”

And you don’t trust him enough to not let you die, not in this very moment, not as the robot readies its weapon and fixes on you. It’s so close you can smell the metal and oil of its body.

Time slows down as he breathes against your ear, his heart hammering against your back. He surrounds you, overwhelms you, his scent in your nose, his voice in your ear, his presence flush against your body. It’s difficult to think, and you surrender to it, letting instinct honed by years of training pick your aim.

And you hit the bulls eye.

The robot lurches, inches from you, and you shudder, letting out a gasp.

“Perfect,” Sylus murmurs, grabbing your wrist and pinning you to the wall. “There it is.” He links his hand with yours and you squirm, trying to get out of his grasp. “Now. Alter her.”

“You are insane,” you say, your heart rate spiking as your Evol flares up, bright and brilliant, thrumming in your veins. “This isn’t what we agreed to, we…”

“Relax. You can handle it.” His fingers slip between yours, and you feel that peculiar call deep inside you, intertwining with your veins, snaking around your spine. It is not entirely unpleasant – but it yields nothing.

It fizzles out between your hands, and Sylus stands back, brows knitted together.

“Why?” he asks, glaring you down even as he addresses the other man.

“Her Evol doesn’t work like others. It utilizes the magnetic waves generated by the human brain. Ergo… If she doesn’t like you…”

Sylus scowls. He looks at you and you can’t quite discern what it is he’s feeling, a maddening swirl of disgust and resentment on him. There’s a storm brewing underneath his exterior, frustration threatening to bubble over – and deeper, there is a disappointment so palpable it wrenches your heart asunder. Not knowing how to meet what he wants unsettles you.

“So I was right. You’re just using me.” Anger masks the unwanted feeling – hurt.

He lets go of you. “Funny, how you’re doing the same.”

You’d be lying to yourself if you pretended there isn’t a part of you that enjoys defying him just as much as he seemingly loves to antagonize you, but he seems different this time. Dejected, even.

He leaves the workshop first, and you roll your wrist left to right, knowing there's no use trying to run; everyone is so damn loyal to him. They’d rat you out so fast. What has he even done to earn it? All you have been able to read in his classified files hint at crimes upon crimes. Your kidnapping is going to be added to that in due time, no doubt.

You throw the shopkeeper a long glance, but he avoids your gaze. There’s nothing more here for you.

Outside, the stagnant air of the N109 zone feels like a balmy wall. It’s sticky to breathe, even in the middle of the night, and in this place all the din and churn of the place is muted, distant. It makes all the sounds you two create feel outsized.

Sylus is leaning against the wall, staring off into the distance, the unreadable mask of his fixed firmly into place.

“Does this place ever get sunshine? Daytime?” Your attempt at breaking the tense energy between the two of you feels flat, hollow.

“No,” Sylus says flatly.

You stare at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You tried to find a shortcut on the deal.”

He smirks, half-hearted. “I tried to motivate you with an appropriate stimulation.”

“Appropriate? That thing could have killed me!”

“It didn’t. I wouldn’t risk you that callously.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

He snorts. “Pity. You should. You want to get out of the N109 zone, and I am the only one willing to give that to you, provided you do what I ask for. However…” He turns his head, looking straight at you, his gaze so sharp and cold that it cuts through your chest. “It seems we will struggle with that.”

“I have managed to resonate with others,” you say, telling him the truth. He is the first one where you try and… Nothing.

“I know.” He doesn’t elaborate for a long time, eyes drifting away from you. “And did you find them loveable? Did you find them palatable?”

If you didn’t know any better, if you didn’t already know that he is just using you for his own ends, you would be tempted to say he sounded… Hurt. Maybe even jealous.

“They were nice. You could try that.”

“Nice.” He rolls the word around in his mouth, seemingly amused at it, as if you have spoken a joke only he is privy to. “Am I truly that horrid that you can’t stand the thought of coming around on me?” He smirks, but his eyes are narrowed. “Or is it that you want me to play the role of monster again?”

Again?

There’s a hundred questions you want to ask him, but… Will his answers be truthful? Deep down you know if he asked the same ones to you, you’d evade, withhold, and lie. Why should he play it any different?

The two of you are silent, staring each other down, neither wanting to be the first to yield. You can’t help but wonder what will happen to you here, with him, and how much it might change you.

His eye flashes red, and the seething voice flares up inside you for a brief and searing moment, whispering devour him take him peel him apart he’s all yours, and you blush, a knife of desire-fear-loathing-want twisting itself deeper into you.

“Cheater,” you hiss, averting your gaze, pulling away from his preternatural control.

“You sound hungry,” he quips, nodding to the motorbike. “Don’t you want me to feed you well?”

Oh. He can hear that. You blush even deeper, pressing your lips shut as you climb on, resolving to scratch his leather jacket to pieces for each sharp turn he takes.

—

Back at his home, which might as well be an elaborate prison for how difficult it is to navigate, he leaves you as soon he steps over the threshold. All the windows and doors leading out are locked, not that you are truly keen on going out to explore the nighttime streets of the N109 zone.

For hours, you try to entertain yourself, avoiding both him and his masked helpers, though the strange and robotic crow is harder to shake. It follows from room to room, perching high on a bookshelf or a chandelier, keeping you within its gleaming ruby-red gaze at all times. It’s distracting, and all the books you try to open blend together, the wine you uncork sours on your tongue, and your mind reels with half-finished thoughts, such as: who is he, what does he truly want, how long will I be here, what’s wrong with our resonance link, he could stand trying.

All to no avail.

Finally, you find your way back to the room you woke up in, and you shower off the day. The shelves are lined with sleek bottles, all of them with their unique smells: cedar wood, musk, rose, vetiver. You pick through them, using too much, letting it drip down the drain. If all you have left are these little acts of defiance, no matter how pointless they are, you will use them for all they are worth.

It seems only fair.

On the vanity shelf you find the same elegantly packaged skincare and perfumes. You repeat the process, knowing it means nothing, but it stokes that simmering fury in you, feeds it with what you need. He is terrible. Frustrating. You don’t need him. You don’t want him for anything but what you can get out of him. These are two truths you have to hold on to, no matter what, no matter that strange and and red-hot thread within you he brushes against at the oddest of times.

You pause, spraying one perfume bottle against the inside of your wrist. It smells familiar, but you can’t quite place it – it is not one you can ever remember buying yourself, but it is like a distant outline of a memory, a photograph long faded…

“Having fun?” Sylus asks from behind you, interrupting your wandering thoughts.

Catching his gaze in the mirror’s reflection, you pull the silk bathrobe tighter around your waist, but it clings to your humid skin, making you feel exposed.

“What do you want?”

“Mephisto let me know, with quite some concern, that you were in my room.”

“Yours?” You freeze, bottle still in your hand. “But I…” That means he let you sleep on his bed. Why? Why would he do that?

“You are wondering why. It’s simple: I needed to keep an eye on you.”

Ignoring his edged statement, you hold up the unlabelled bottle. “What is this perfume?”

His eyes darken. “Do you like it?” he asks, but there is a depth to his tone that slithers in under your consciousness.

“I just want to know where you got it from.”

His lips stay shut, and between this and everything else he’s thrown at you today, you are tired. You put the bottle down on the marble sink and slip past him out of the crowded en suite, intending to go anywhere else to sleep, even if you have to do it on a couch.

Brushing against his arm you catch a whiff of his fragrance, and it stirs up a flurry of memories, both of what he has done to you here and something else, far more diffuse and distant. Leather and smoke, and another note underneath that, more complex and evocative…

He stops you, pulling hard on your arm.

“Let go,” you say, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“I am doing nothing,” he replies, and you turn to see your hands pulled tight together by a shackle made out of golden light.

“What is this?”

He holds up his hand and yours follow, the chain linking the two of them short and taut. You tug, and there’s an ache that runs down your arm. Stepping back, it gets worse, and trying to yank yourself free makes you hiss from how it hurts.

“Stop that,” he groans, holding your hand still. It seems the pain goes both ways. He takes a few seconds to compose himself before turning his hand over, looking at the links. “How ironic. Our Aether cores must be creating this.”

“Well, sever it.”

“The only option I see is cutting it off.”

You poke at it with your fingers, dismayed at feeling how it is barely a physical connection, yet it can manifest such physical pain at any attempt to forcibly remove it.

“How?”

“Well, above or below your wrist, the choice is yours.” He smiles despite his harsh words, and you yank at it again just to make him wince in pain.

“Not funny.”

“You have no sense of humor.”

You groan, rubbing at your face. “I’m stuck here, stuck to you, and you laugh at it all. I just want to sleep.”

He gestures at his bed. “Then sleep.”

“With you?”

He holds up your hands, shaking the link lightly. “How else?”

“I can’t sleep with a stranger in my room.”

He scoffs. “Such a shame. I thought we had grown closer by now.”

“We have not.”

With a heavy sigh, he pulls back the sheets and scoops you up into his arms, depositing you on the bed before laying down next to you. You scramble to pull the sheets over you and scoot as far to one side as you can, the space between you yawning empty save for your linked hands, and you try very hard not to let your hand touch his.

“There,” he says, reclining against the headrest and picking up a book from the nightstand. “Now you can sleep.”

But you can’t. Not really. His presence throws you off, and every time you try to close your eyes they shoot open again for every minute sound he makes, every movement and shift of his body on the mattress.

And you want to ask him about the perfume, about what he does to you with his eye, why he wants so badly to resonate with you, but each time you glance up at his face you swallow the questions.

“I thought you said you wanted to sleep,” he says, looking down at you with his wry half-smile. “Yet here you are, looking at me like I am your tormentor.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Do you want to add that to your list? So far you think of me as a cheater, a liar, a tormentor…” His eyes flash. “A monster, no?”

You press your lips together, trying not to inhale too deeply of that perfume of his, the way it peels out these traitorous things in you bothers you far more than him in this moment.

“The faster you resonate with me, the sooner you can leave.” His soft-spoken words cut through the silence.

“Don’t remind me.”

You roll over onto your back, draping an arm over your face. A part of you wants to scream, another part wants to cry as you assess the situation you are locked into: resonate with a man who might hate you more than you hate him, or die of old age locked up in his house. You walked right into Onychinus’ well-laid trap, and he swallowed you whole.

Your jaw trembles, a wretched half-sob escaping your lips, much to your humiliation, and you tense up expecting him to pounce on it, to ridicule you for being such a weak little kitten.

Instead his fingers brush against yours softly. They are cold, sending goosebumps shivering up your arm, but you hold your hand still, letting him touch your fingers. He moves slow, meticulously, brushing his fingertips against each knuckle and nail, keeping it light as a feather.

It doesn’t feel bad at all. In fact, when he slows down for a moment, you breathe in shakily.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, grateful that you can’t see him, that you are hiding your wet eyes underneath your arm.

It’s a mercy that he remains quiet.

It’s an even greater mercy that he keeps touching your hand, over and over, soft and slow, until you drift off to sleep.

#sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #lnds sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #love and deep space #love and deepspace fanfic #lads fanfiction #lnds fanfic

83 notes · View notes