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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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Stars all aligned - Chapter 1

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, definitely disordered eating, kinda depression?, isolation

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

He found her deep inside the House of Wind. Far enough from the festivities of Starfall that it was startling to find her.

The second oldest Archeron Sister must have wandered off just like he had.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Azriel asked her as he spied her sitting in a puddle of her skirts on one of the couches, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Why aren’t you?” Zahra gave back drily, not even looking up at him.

What exactly was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I can't stomach watching your sister dance with her mate? And even if I could stomach that, Rhys's mental commentary to him about it had turned his stomach. Even when Azriel had kept away from Elain just like Rhysand had ordered him to do, ever since last year. So really...what was he supposed to answer?

“Dancing isn’t exactly my favourite activity,” Azriel finally replied. It wasn’t a lie.

"Yeah, well, mine neither," she answered with a shrug. "Not that I ever learned."

"You never learned?" he asked surprised. Nesta had learned. Elain had learned.

"Bastard, remember?" Zahra said drily. "I am lucky that I got to learn how to read and write and do basic math. I was not going to be molded into a perfect lady, because no self-respecting man would marry me anyway."

The blunt way Zahra was talking stunned Azriel momentarily. There was something harsh, something almost...bitter and resentful in her voice as she spoke.

It seemed like it didn't matter if one was born a bastard in Illyria or the Human lands. It was horrible either way.

"Your sisters will miss you," he said instead quietly. "And you'll miss the spectacle."

"I don't really care for the festivities," she said with another shrug. "I don’t like the holidays. Humans don’t have any. We… they are too busy trying to survive," Zahra corrected herself quietly. "And besides, I am only here anyway so I don't end up being an indentured servant until some of you decide that I am back in your good graces,” she gave back caustically.

He grimaced. That Zahra had vehemently disagreed about their treatment of Nesta was well known.

It had surprised him too because it was just as just as well known that Nesta seemed to not care for her half-sister on a good day. They weren't particularly close, in any way, shape or form.

Something in his chest clenched painfully. Not from the insult she threw in his direction, but from the defeated way she said it. That she thought that they would just…toss her aside like that.

She was one of them.

"We won't," he said firmly. Her eyes slowly turned toward him and there were dark shadows in those eyes. Out of all the Archeron Sisters, she was the only one with green eyes. Azriel wondered if she had inherited them from her late mother.

Zahra was only the half-sister after all. The result of her father’s dalliance with a maid. Her age put her somewhere between Nesta and Elain.

It was easy enough to pick out the differences between Nesta, Elain and Feyre and Zahra. Dark hair similar to Elain’s, but green eyes. Skin a few shades darker than any of theirs. Lips that looked like Feyre’s but a nose that looked like none of her sisters.

Zahra seemed to belong but didn’t.

And right now, these green eyes…something was wrong. Something was off with these eyes.

"You don’t know that," she said with a humourless laugh. "Do you want to lie to me too, and tell me that Rhysand has nothing to do with whatever happened between Elain and you?"

Azriel stiffened, a low sound escaping his throat. She knew. She knew.

"How did you-" he croaked hoarsely and Zahra cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Do you really think that I hadn't noticed the two of you dancing around each other for months? Or the fact that you two can barely manage to be in the same room together?" she asked dryly and Azriel averted his gaze. "There is no one as beautiful and kind as my sister," Zahra said drily. "I don't fault you for falling for her."

Azriel said nothing, the pain in his chest growing at her words. The pain...and the bitter realization that his feelings were not as well-hidden as he had thought they were.

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She has a mate. She deserves better than me anyway."

"Did Rhysand tell you that too?" Zahra said drily. "You never tried to hide the fact that your mate was dying from the same, so you have that on him."

Azriel gritted his teeth, the pain in his chest becoming almost unbearable. "It doesn’t matter," he repeated firmly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Elain is happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger."

"Yes, she is," Zahra agreed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she apologised to him, her voice honest.

Azriel swallowed, the pain in his chest lessening only to be replaced by something else. Something...much more complicated. Something like…pity.

He pitied her. This young female was so full of bitterness. He couldn’t even fault her for it either. She had been just a bastard. Even when they had first met the Archeron Sisters…Zahra had been working in the household as a maid. Half employee, half part of the family. Like their father couldn’t make up his mind what he should do with his bastard daughter.

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Azriel finally told her quietly. "Do you really not want to watch?" he asked her. "You are supposed to wish for something when you see the stars fall."

She snorted, the sound bitter. "What I want, I am never going to get," Zahra said, her voice brittle.

He took her in in more detail at that moment.

The simple green gown she wore, high necked and long sleeved...that long gown that did little to hide how thing she was. The dark brown hair, pulled into a braid, obviously trying to hide the pointed tips of her ears and failing...the way her skin, darker than all of her sisters, was nearly ashen.

They had all thought that she was doing well. That Zahra at least was adjusting well.

But she wasn't. She wasn’t doing better. She hadn't adjusted. Azriel would bet anything that all she wanted in her life was to be human again.

She hadn't adjusted. She just acted in a way that didn't bother anybody, that didn’t spell trouble for anybody. Zahra had gotten herself a job, managing the accounting at an apothecary in the city. She had gotten herself a little cottage to rent. She didn’t go out and get drunk. She didn’t use any money from Rhys or Feyre. She showed up for family dinners, staying quiet and polite.

And if she was miserable…well, then nobody cared, because she didn’t bother anybody. Azriel could understand that. The same was the case for him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, watching her quietly sitting here. The way she was trying to hide away. The dress that was more like a potato sack than anything else. The way her skin was almost...grey. That bitter voice.

The shadows were stirring and he was unable to look away from her. She looks upset, Master, they told him helpfully.

"Do you want to go home?" Azriel offered quietly. Home to her cottage? Maybe some peace and quiet would make her feel better.

Zahra shrugged, not looking at him. Not giving him an inch. That wall of bitterness and sarcasm was so firmly in place, that it was practically a solid wall between them.

“Don’t want to end like an indentured servant, remember?“ she quipped drily.

“You won’t,“ Azriel said evenly. “You had a headache. I brought you home.“

She still didn’t look at him, her hands tightly knotted into her skirts as she sat there. She was so thin, almost fragile-looking. Her skin was sickly grey. “Come on,” he said finally, walking towards her.

Zahra finally looked up at him. Those green eyes. A bitter and lonely light in them. “What are you doing?“ she muttered.

“I’m bringing you home,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come on, get up.“

Zahra looked at his hand, her gaze wary. “Why?“ she asked quietly.

“Because you look like you are about to keel over,” he said, more bluntly than intended.

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, her voice sarcastic and bitter. But she placed her hand into his own and let him pull her to her feet, even though he could feel the tension in her entire body.

Azriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed,” he said firmly.

He led her towards the balcony, the last few streaks of light painting the sky, and he grasped her tightly as they shout these few feet into the air until he could winnow to the cottage she rented.

It’s ugly, the shadows complained.

He had to agree with them. The cottage was an ugly little thing. Plain. Small. The type of thing that was more of a hovel in the outskirts, rather than anything else.

“Home sweet home,“ Zahra said dryly, pulling away from him and a key out of her purse.

That cottage was in serious need of some renovations when the red paint that was flaking off the door was anything to go by.

As she unlocked the door it became obvious that while she kept it clean and neat.. even that couldn’t help much. This is a hovel, the shadows hissed.

Azriel was inclined to agree. He looked around with a frown, as the shadows scuttered around the tiny cottage. “You live here?“ he couldn’t help but ask. It was a terrible hovel indeed.

Zahra shrugged as if she didn’t notice the disgust in his voice. “I couldn’t exactly afford anything else at first,” she said drily.

At least not without taking any money from Rhys and Feyre, and clearly that was nothing that Zahra wanted to do.

He was struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small kitchen space, a table with a few chairs a fireplace… And the door that led to her bedroom, he assumed.

“How long have you lived here?“ he asked carefully, taking in the bare emptiness. There were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets and little belongings anywhere. It was…lifeless. She shrugged again and kicked off her shoes, making her way towards the bedroom. “A year?“

The room was equally simple and bare. A bed, a few clothes. A little bathing chamber. That was it.

“You’ve lived here for over a year?“ Azriel repeated, his voice turning sharp as he looked at everything. There wasn’t even a mirror on the wall.

When she just shrugged again, he was done. He grabbed her arm and towed her back into the main room. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the table and one of the two rickety chairs.

“What are you doing?“ Zahra asked, raising both eyebrows at him. Her irritation had started to rise considerably. At least that had done something to the sickly colour of her skin.

“Making sure you eat something before you pass out on me,” Azriel muttered, turning back into the kitchen area, looking around with a frown.

There was…nothing. His shadows reported as much. She literally had a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the whole house. He was more than fuming. That was not enough that she was living in…this hovel, she was apparently also starving herself.

He pointed at the chair again. “Sit,” he ordered a little sharper than he had intended.

The glare she gave him did not surprise him. Zahra hated being ordered around. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not hungry.“

Azriel clenched his jaw, the anger flaring. How stubborn could she be?

“You clearly haven’t eaten in days,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You have nothing in your house to eat.”

“I have what I need,” she retorted, her own anger flaring. Azriel gritted his teeth, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

“You are skin and bones,” he hissed. “There is barely enough fat on you to keep out the cold.“

“Why do you care?“ she snapped right back.

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Why did he care? Why, he asked himself for a moment. Why indeed.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it was just because she was Feyre’s sister.

Thankfully, Azriel was saved from actually having to answer, when her stomach grumbled.

Loudly. Azriel almost chuckled at the sound of her own stomach betraying just how hungry she really was. “Clearly your body disagrees with you,” he said drily.

“Shut up,” Zahra snapped, her skin flushing at the sound of her own stomach.

“I will shut up after you’ve eaten something,” Azriel said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zahra gave him a glare that could strip the paint from the walls, (but then, the paint was already flaking off anyway). Still, she grudgingly sank down on the chair, her eyes avoiding his.

He turned back into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and found absolutely nothing. There was nothing. Not even some fruits or vegetables.

He slammed the last cupboard closed, almost causing the hinges to break, the anger flaring hotly in his chest. That stupid, stubborn, stubborn woman.

“I will personally come here every day and stuff you full until you burst,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Why?” she asked and he could hear the challenge in her voice. Her own anger rose to meet his own. “Why would you even bother?“

“Because you are starving yourself,” he said, spinning around to face her. “Because you are so thin, I could snap you in half with one hand. Because I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least a year. That’s why.“

“Maybe I don’t deserve a proper meal,” she shot back and something inside of him snapped at the tone in her voice.

Because he knew that feeling. He knew. For just a moment he froze. They were far more similar than they should be.

It was a terrible realization. He knew what the self-hatred and bitterness was like. He understood it far better than he wanted to.

“Nobody is going to suddenly show up and care,” he told her quietly. He saw her eyes flare at the words and he knew she got the meaning behind them instantly.

She sat there, her jaw tensed. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped, her voice bitter.

“I know what it feels like to starve oneself,” he said calmly. “I know what it feels like to have not a single person notice or care.“

The words rang truer than they should. Her eyes widened for a moment, shock flashing through her.

“I know what it feels like to be the one be always at the edge of the family. I know what it feels like for everybody around me to meet their mate but not me.“

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The pain he had buried so deep, deep down flaring up. The pain and loneliness and bitter realization that would never have what everyone else had.

He realized only then how much they really had in common. How similar they were.

“I know what it feels like to be the afterthought,” he continued, unable to stop now. “I know how it feels to be shoved aside. I know how it feels to watch everyone around me find someone while I’m the one left behind.“

He took a step closer to where she was sitting, towering over her. “And I know how it feels to hate myself enough to deny myself the basic needs I actually have.“

The last words made her flinch. He was so close he could almost see the pain and guilt and bitter realization flit across her face. Her eyes were on her lap, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table.

“I know what it feels like to feel as if I don’t deserve to eat,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not good enough. Not worthy enough. Not deserving enough.“

He knelt down in front of her, forcing her to look at him. To meet his eyes.

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to see. To understand that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I know what it feels like to punish myself by not giving myself what I actually need,” he said quietly.

Her breath hitched at the last words, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was listening. Really listening to what he said.

“You’re not the only one who hates yourself, you know,” he said quietly. The look in her eyes shattered him. The look of realisation. Of bitter understanding. The realization that they were so much more similar than either of them had thought before.

Zahra bit her lip, the guilt flashing across her face. Her hands started trembling, ever so slightly.

“You don’t deserve to go hungry,” he said quietly, his voice firm and quiet. “You don’t deserve to starve yourself. You don’t deserve to live in this… hovel.

“The cauldron should just have killed me,” Zara said her voice brittle. “I don’t like this life.”

And didn’t that break his fucking heart?

She laughed bitterly, but there was no humour in it. “I’m not even surviving,” she said, a bitter smile on her thin lips. “I’m existing. There is a difference.“

The words hit him hard. She was right. She didn’t survive, she just existed. There was a difference and a huge one at that. “Then stop just existing,” he said quietly.

His hand was still cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking gently over her skin.

“Says the guy that just keeps moping around,” she quipped.

It was a low blow but also true. Azriel’s jaw tensed at the comment. “I don’t mope,” he bit. “I just..“

He didn’t really have a good argument in his defence at the moment.

He sighed. “We should both stop rotting away,” he said drily.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy to you to say,” Zahra said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice.

“Eat your cheese,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and snatched away the slice of cheese off the table. “Happy now?“ she muttered.

“Delighted,” he gave back drily, as he moved towards her fireplace.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra said quietly. “I can do that.”

“Considering you’ve been too starved to think straight, you are going to let me do this,” Azriel cut across her calmly. “You are more than likely to burn yourself.”

“Don’t the flames bother you?” She asked him quietly. He froze.

Nobody else had ever asked him. They had just expected him to be over it by now. He had 500 years to be over it. His hands clenched.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “They still do.” It was the honest truth. A truth he never told anyone before, least of all someone like her. The shadows curled around his shoulders and arms as if to calm him down. The flames still bothered him. They always would. “But I learnt to deal with it a long time ago,” he continued.

“That’s not fair to you,” Zahra said, her voice quiet. “You are always the one in discomfort. And nobody cares.”

Her words hit him square in the gut. It was true. It was painfully true. He was always the one being uncomfortable. Always the one on edge. It had always been expected of him to be over it by now, the pain and the hurt. The fear and the bitterness.

He finished building the fire. Using a match to light it carefully, then closing the door quickly.

“I can deal with it,” he answered quietly. “You should go to sleep,” he advised her.

“So should you,” Zahra told him just as quietly. “You look terrible.“ He knew he looked like crap. But that didn’t matter.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing off her comment. Even though he knew it was a lie. Even though he knew they were both terrible at taking care of themselves.

“You are a terrible liar,” she quipped. He looked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face.

“And you’re a very stubborn, very stupid, very annoying woman,” he quipped back just as quietly.

The smile on her face broadened the tiniest bit at the comment. “I could say the same about you,” she shot back.

“Sleep,” he told her again.

And then he left that little cottage to get back to the House of Wind. He didn’t bother winnowing, instead, he shot up into the sky with one flap of his mighty wings. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

His mind was whirling as he flew back to the House of Wind. So much had happened in the last few hours and it was all still a lot to process.

He had always been good at keeping a rein on his thoughts and his emotions. But this time, he simply couldn’t.

Zahra and him, always on the outskirts of their family. Ignored and expected to get on with it.

They were so similar in so many ways. It was shocking to realize just how much they actually had in common.

The loneliness and solitude he had come to live with, she had experienced herself. The pain and the bitterness, he could recognize it on her, for he had felt it himself.

Where are you, Az? Rhys demanded at that moment mentally. Azriel would like to scratch out his eyes, but he didn’t.

I’m flying back to the House, he sent back curtly. Zahra had a headache, so I brought her home.

A headache, Rhys shot back incredulously. Azriel could almost see the look on his High Lord’s face. You really think I will buy that?

I don’t care if you believe me or not, Azriel responded icily, his temper rising already at the tone. It is the truth and I really don’t wish to have a discussion over it.

There was a pause in Rhys’ mind. Then a slight huff. You can be so unbelievably stubborn sometimes, you know that?

Azriel didn’t bother reacting to that.

Elain and Lucien are figuring things out. So keep away from her, Rhys told him sharply.

I am keeping away from her, Azriel shot back, irritation flaring. You really think I will go and ruin this for her?

I don’t know what you are up to, Rhys retorted, and Azriel knew the High Lord was irritated. But I really don’t have the time to deal with your crap right now. That’s an order.

Understood, High Lord, Azriel snarled back and he felt Rhys chuckle in his mind at the tone. I will keep away from your precious Elain, I promise.

Damn right you will, he heard Rhys mutter in his mind and the mental connection between the two of them snapped close.

Azriel snarled in irritation as he landed on his balcony and stalked into his room. It wasn’t enough that he was wrestling with his own emotions, No, he also had Rhys all up his ass about it.

And he was infuriated about the whole thing.

Nobody will suddenly show up and care, he has told Zahra. It was the truth. Nobody would care.

They only cared as long as they got what they wanted from him.

Chip away the pieces they didn’t like. Mould him into a person they could stomach.

Either it was Rhys ordering to keep away from Elain…or ordering him to behave around Mor and Emerie… and to be quite honest…Azriel was done.

It was always him that needed to bend to make everybody else comfortable. Nobody bends for him.

So many years of following orders, of keeping his mouth shut, of bottling up the anger.

Even when everyone around him was getting what they wanted. They got their happily ever after. And he was left behind. Not once did someone ever realize that he was struggling. Not once did someone notice that he needed something…anything. That he was hurting and in pain. Nobody even bothered to check on him, to ask how he was doing.

They all got what they wanted. Mor, Emerie, even Feyre. They all got the mate that they wanted. Rhys, Cassian and even Amren had Varian.

He was the one always helping everyone else. Always the one having to endure everything. Never anything for himself. No love for himself.

Orders, commands, demands…that’s all it ever was. He didn’t get a say in anything. They just expected him to be fine. And if he wasn’t…he had to push through it.

He was the tool that did whatever needed to be done. The spy that got the order to do the dirty work. The shadowsinger that just had to endure everything.

All for scraps of attention.

Azriel was done.

He was so done. With everything. With everyone. With the one-sided affection that he had given in a desperate attempt to feel…something, anything….

He needed to stop expecting to get anything from them.

Zahra did not. She seemed to have given that up a very long time ago

The cold realization that they had been doing the same to her hit him. She was also the tool they used when they needed it. She may not be a spy, but they used her just the same. Expected her to be fine.

She was alone just as much as he was.

Alone and isolated, an afterthought to their family just as much as he was.

***

It was quiet in the little cottage.

Peaceful.

Comfortable.

Sie should be happy. Or at the very least…she should be content, should she not?.

Zahra had a roof over her head. And if she wanted to…she could afford food.

Her job didn’t pay that well, but it wouldn’t leave her starving. She just wasn’t hungry. She seemingly never was.

That was a lie and she knew it. Deep down she was hungry all the time. She just refused to give in to eating. She refused to listen to her body screaming for sustenance. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nobody cared.

She didn’t care.

Something inside her had broken during her bath in that cauldron. Her humanity had burned away and with that…with that everything Zahra had ever wanted.

She didn’t crave anything anymore. Not love. Not affection. Not attention. Not food. It was all gone. All she felt was numb.

Cold, empty and numb. Like her shell had hardened and frozen over.

She had never thought it was possible to feel so damn tired without having done anything.

Zahra forced herself to get up. Forced herself to heat some water on the stove… to make tea. The cheapest tea she had been able to find at the market.

It wasn’t the best. The taste was bitter and the color was more brown than black. But it was tea and she was thirsty enough to drink it.

It wasn’t very warm and left a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. Like her life itself.

Maybe just dying would have been easier, she reflected bitterly. Was this how eternity would feel? Alone? Tucked away in this cottage?

All her sisters had been given a mating bond. They had been given another person who loved them unconditionally…that was at their side. That wanted them around. That wanted to spent time with them.

And then there was her.

She had been closest to Feyre during the years in that cottage. Nesta gave her the fault for seemingly everything htat had ever gone wrong in her life, though Zahra privately thought that for Nesta, Zahra was just the evidence of another of her father’s failings…Elain…well, Elain was more embarrassed than anything about Zahra’s very existence. But Feyre…well, Feyre hadn’t cared. And so Zahra had tried to dote on her as much as she could.

And then clearly she had been replaced in Feyre’s affections.

She didn’t fault her for that.

Feyre had made her own life. And she had every right to do that. She was busy with her mate and her son and Mor was her best friend and…there was seemingly no place for Zahra there.

Which was fine.

It was.

But if Zahra was completely honest with herself…she was unspeakably jealous of the mating bond of every single one of her sisters.

Of that promise of at least one person that would be on her side, come Hel or High Water.

Clearly, something was wrong with her that she hadn’t been given a Mating Bond.

She wasn’t worth a mate. Clearly, something was broken inside her. Otherwise, the cauldron would have given her a mate, right?

Maybe she was broken so thoroughly that nobody even wanted her.

Why would they? She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the woman she was supposed to be.

She was cold, empty and numb. Everything that nobody could possibly want.

Everyone else got a mate, love and happiness. Not her.

She had nothing.

Her hands clenched around her lukewarm cup of tea.

Some random sparks of light sparked against the mug. A gift from the cauldron. They didn’t seem to do anything but warm whatever they touched. Maybe that was that random power the cauldron had given her. Neither future or death…but…warmth. She supposed it was something.

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and she had never bothered telling anybody about it.

Sometimes she allowed herself to play with them when she couldn’t sleep. They were strange and utterly useless.

It wasn’t the power of foresight or the power of a death god…no. She had the stupid power to create sparks. Useless sparks of light.

Oh well.

Complaining about her sparks wasn’t going to help her either.

So she pulled out her work and sat down to do her work as the sun came up and the day went on.

Zahra balanced the account ledgers for one of the apothecaries in Velaris. Which meant she had a whole box of receipts to sort through and put into said ledger.

One receipt at a time, one name after the other.

It kept her busy. It paid well enough. She seemed to have some kind of aptitude for it…maybe the fact that her father was a merchant had come through for once.

She worked until the late evening. Until her eyes couldn’t concentrate on the numbers anymore.Until her back and shoulders ached with pain. She stretched her shoulders back.

She wondered if she should eat something. Her cheese was gone, thanks to Azriel standing over her until she ate it…but she still had one or two slices of bread, didn’t she?

She could go food shopping…buy another bread, another chunk of cheese tomorrow.

Then Zahra heard a knock on the door.

Confusion spread through her. Who would knock on her door at that very late hour? It was after 9 pm already.

She got up, walked towards the door and opened it carefully.

It was the last person she would expected to be standing on the front porch. Azriel.

“I am making you dinner.“

Her eyes widened at that announcement. “You are what?” she asked him dumbly.

He just gave her a deadpan look and pushed past her. “I am cooking dinner because I am assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,” he told her plainly.

It was true. Zahra hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long. But why did he care?? “Why?” she blurted out. “Why do you care if I’ve eaten?”

He gave her a sharp look and pushed her towards the kitchen chair. “Sit down,” he simply ordered and she was too taken aback to protest against it.

He had brought his own ingredients. His own knives, all tucked away in a little basket that he put on her countertop. “Can you peel potatoes?” He asked her as he rummaged through it.

She could just stare at him.

“Who do you think cooked the meat Feyre hunted?” Zahra replied drily.

Azriel froze in the process of digging something out of the basket on the counter. “You can cook?” he asked her and she heard the surprise in his voice.

Zahra let out a snort. “Yes, I can cook,” she retorted. “What did you think I was doing this whole time in the cottage? Twiddling my thumbs?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what you were up to,” he told her truthfully. “I thought you were as useless as Elain and Nesta were at that point,” he admitted.

“Nesta did all the cleaning and hacked the wook,” Zara corrected him quietly. “Elain mended. I cooked. Feyre was the only one who hunted. And yes, we should have done more, but I did help run the household. The only one who never helped was our father.” The bitterness bled into her voice at that.

There was a long pause after her admission. Then Azriel exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he muttered. “You don’t strike me as a pampered useless damsel.”

“Thank you for that assessment, Shadowsinger,” she quipped back. “I will make sure to remember it when I need a pick-me-up.”

He put a sack of potatoes in front of her. “I take it I’m peeling potatoes,” Zahra murmured, staring at the sack that was in front of her.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed in that no-nonsense voice of his. “While I prep the meat. I do hope you like rabbit,” he added drily.

“Oh good,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and started to peel away at the potatoes. “Did you hunt it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice neutral. Zahra bit back a snarky remark and focused on the potatoes.

They worked like that in silence. Him preparing the meat, her peeling the potatoes and the carrots.

It was odd. This whole thing was odd. Sitting and cooking with Azriel. She hadn’t even known he could cook.

And yet…it was comfortable. Like the silence wasn’t awkward and neither of them felt the need to break it. It was a comfortable domestic kind of silence. Like they had done this a thousand times before.

“How are you with spicy food?” Azriel asked her after he had taken the potatoes from her.

Zahra blinked in surprise. “I have a pretty good tolerance, why?” she asked, curious.

“All the food I can cook is Illyrian,” Azriel answered drily. “I learned from Rhys’ mother and later from my own. It’s spicy.”

“I can handle a bit of spice,” she assured him. “It should be fine.” He nodded in response.

The sound of the fire crackling in the stove and him stirring up the meat were the only sounds filling the kitchen as they continued their work.

Zahra honestly had no idea Azriel could cook. He didn’t seem like the type of male who spent time cooped up in the kitchen, making meals. It was a little surprising.

And yet, the scents of spices and rabbit were filling her kitchen right now... It smelled almost heavenly.

She hadn’t smelled something as heavenly in a long time. And her stomach growled in response to the delicious scents of food. Zahra tried to remember when she’d last eaten something actually decent, but she couldn’t think straight. The food was distracting her.

“You look half starved,” Azriel observed in a deadpanned tone and she snapped her head up only to find him looking at her.

His eyes were focused on her, a frown playing on his forehead. “When was the last time you actually ate something properly?” he asked her, his voice firm.

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking away from him and to the pot bubbling on the stove. “Maybe a week ago?”

He was silent for a moment. “That long?” he asked her, his voice carefully neutral. She just shrugged in response to keep herself from admitting that she actually couldn’t remember exactly.

He poured hot, thick stew into a bowl for her and then put it in front of her, holding out cutlery for her to take. “Why are you doing this?” Zahra asked him weakly.

“Because I wish somehow had done it for me,” Azriel responded

That simple statement made her blink in surprise. It was not an answer she had been expecting. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say.

And then he simply said. “Eat. You look like you’d blow away at the slightest breeze.”

She should have been angered by that blunt statement, but somehow she wasn’t.

So Zahra ate.

The food tasted incredibly good. She had to admit that the Shadowsinger was talented with cooking. The food was spiced just perfectly, hot and filled with flavour.

Every bite made her realize just how incredibly hungry she was. Her stomach filled slowly and the hunger abated with every spoonful. It was like her insides started to come back to life. The numbness was slowly disappearing, replaced by an odd sort of warmth flowing through her limbs.

"Thank you," she finally said weakly.

Azriel just nodded at her, watching her eat. “Of course,” he murmured and continued with his own food.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #Stars all aligned

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cherrysnip · 6 months ago

Text

sincerely yours - choi seungcheol

pairing: seungcheol x afab!reader

content: married life, dad!seungcheol's reaction when your daughter received a love letter.

(spoiler alert: he freaked out😭)

word count: 1.5k

Tuesday nights have always been Seungcheol's turn to wash the dishes. In retrospect, no one can even make him do a single household chore when he was younger. He grew up surrounded by helpers who were paid to do the job so he didn't try as much to learn them.

However, that changed when he married you. Probably it was because of how you were raised differently from him but you’re not comfortable of having other people hovering around your house to "do things you can do on your own". And unwilling as he was at first, Seungcheol just obeyed what you wanted because well, that's how whipped he is. (He'd undoubtedly say yes had you even declared the sky green.)

So here he is, seven years later, a "master" on the craft of washing the dishes. It's silly how such a simple thing could make him so happy but really, it wasn't easy for him to reach this point. He broke plates after plates that he swore at one point he saw you gritting your teeth like you were one thread away from strangling him.

But he said that every time you would smile at him and utter a soft thank you, hell, everything's worth it.

"Why are you smiling like a fool?"

He turned to see you leaning on the counter watching him with suspicion. A sheepish smile escaped from Seungcheol's lips as he reached out for a dry towel to wipe his hands.

"You don't have to know," he teased.

Your brows furrowed, "You better not be thinking of another woman or else..."

Seungcheol chuckled and walked towards you. He leaned, placing his hands on your sides, caging you on the counter. The action was so sudden it caught you off guard.

"How would I do that when you're everything I think about every waking day of my life? Hmm?" He planted a kiss on your shoulder which made you gasp. Years into your marriage but this little things your husband does still makes you giddy like a teenager. And of course, the blush spreading all over your face didn't escape Seungcheol, causing him to grin wider. Your reaction to his touch will always be his favorite drug.

"Now, you're just flattering me..."

"I'm being sincere," Seungcheol insisted and met your eyes. "I still can't believe that after all these years, I'm actually married to you. How can I be so damn lucky?"

After he said that, your pouting lips turned into a wide smile. He is such a dork, you thought. You can't resist it anymore so you cupped his cheeks to kiss the tip of his nose. Being the competitive guy that he is, he did the same to you while chuckling.

"I'm luckier to have married you, Cheollie. You're everything I've dreamed of a husband."

"Are you sure? I remember six years ago, you said you'll divorce me because I forgot to clean our room."

"Well, you already learned your lesson, didn't you?"

Seungcheol nodded, "I most certainly did."

"Oh by the way, I have something to tell you," you said a little bit later. Your arms were already wrapped around Seungcheol's waist with your chin on his broad chest.

"Baby no. 3?" Seungcheol asked hopefully and he only received a pinch on his side. "Aw! I'm just kidding sweetheart!"

"Tss," You removed yourself from Seungcheol but you still didn't let go of his arm while you gently dragged him to your living room. You picked up something from your coffee table and even though he was basically towering over you, he still wasn't able to have a clear sight of what it was because you were quick to hide it on your back.

"What is it?” He curiously asked but instead of answering him immediately, you slightly squeezed his arm."Promise me you won't have a heart attack?"

"How can I promise that sweetheart? Come on."

"Well, okay. Just please don't pass out."

"You're just making me nervous."

You pursed your lips and handed him the familiar heart-shaped paper. The last time he got a hold of something similar to this was during Valentine's Day and he almost lashed out. Good thing, you were able to prevent him from doing so.

"W-what's the meaning of this?"

You clicked your tongue trying to supress your laughter. Knowing your husband, you kind of expected this reaction from him already.

"Found that in your daughter's workbook. I was helping her with her assignment and that fell."

"Damn it! Seriously?" Seungcheol dramatically gasped and stared at the piece of paper again. "Sweetheart, you've already read this haven't you?"

"I did."

"And you're not bothered?"

"No, I'm not. Actually, I find it cute," you replied.

"It isn't." Seungcheol almost shouted but tried hard not to make it too loud because he was well aware the twins were already sleeping. "Look here sweet, whoever this kid was, confessed he has a crush on Chaewon and even wrote I LOVE YOU! He wrote I LOVE YOU to our daughter!"

You finally burst into fits of laughter, "What's wrong with that?"

Seungcheol was starting to get annoyed now but it immediately dissipated when you touched his arm and guided him to sit on the couch.

"Calm down Cheollie. It's just a simple note. No need to fret so much about it," you tried to ease him and Seungcheol sighed. He reached for your hand and pressed it as if he's trying to summon his lost composure.

"I mean...that kid wrote those words for our daughter. To our princess. And he's only what? Six years old? Does he even know what it means?"

"Don't insult the feelings of that kid, Cheollie. You yourself even proposed to someone when you were just what? Three?"

Shock passed through Seungcheol's face. He was just going to defend himself when you waved your free hand. "Don't even try to deny it. It was your mom who told me about it."

"Fine. But that's beside the point...last time it was Jungwon. Our little prince received a similar letter with three red roses on Valentine's Day and now it's Chaewon...and an I love you? God! The moment we received the result of your pregnancy test even felt like it just happened yesterday and now, they're receiving these...things. It's too fast. They're growing up too fast."

"Cheollie. It's not as if they're already marrying--"

Seungcheol was quick to cut off what you were supposed to say. "God no sweetheart! They're just six-year olds!"

"Exactly my point," You calmly said and closed the gap between you by hugging him and burying your face on the crook of Seungcheol's neck. "So loosen up, okay?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that... I know that after several years they'll grow up and will meet a lot of people. And then eventually, both of our kids will each meet the person they will love...but right now, I really just want them to enjoy their childhood first...is that too much to ask?" Seungcheol immediately stopped talking when he heard you sniffing. "Are you crying?"

You lifted your head and hurriedly wiped your tears without looking at him. "This is your fault."

"What did I do?" Seungcheol asked teasingly and helped dry your cheeks. "Okay, I'll stop being irrational now so you should stop crying too."

You immediately shook your head, "You're not being irrational. You're just being a good, scratch that, the best father you have always been. You're loving and responsible."

"And?"

"Fine. Handsome too. Very," you both chuckled. "Jungwon and Chaewon are sure lucky to have you as a father."

“And you as their mother," Seungcheol kissed your forehead.

"Seriously though," You suddenly said and peeked at the paper your husband was holding. "The kid is undeniably sweet writing a letter like that."

"Sweetheart..." He groaned and his plump red lips automatically turning into a pout like that of a kid sulking.

"Sorry," you giggled. "I won't bring it up again."

You both just stayed on the couch for a long time hugging each other. And even with just that, everything felt perfect.

"Cheollie?" You called in a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"I just realized something after reading that kid's letter."

"Uhuh?" Seungcheol responded expectantly.

"That I don't say those words a lot to you," Your voice wavered. "Even if you very much deserved to hear it everyday."

Seungcheol can't help but smile because he is completely aware that you're not the most expressive when it comes to your feelings (which is a complete opposite of him) but he also knew that you have so much love to give and you just have a different way to express it.

"Even if you don't say it everyday sweetheart, I can always feel your love for me and for the twins. And that, " Seungcheol hugged you tighter, "...is more than enough.

"But still, I feel like you want to hear it."

"I do but--"

"I love you, Cheollie." You said rather abruptly and buried your face on Seungcheol's chest. He could only laugh at your cuteness.

"Are you seriously acting shy now?"

Shame was definitely already creeping on your system so you slapped his chest and whined in a low voice, "Stop teasing me!"

With a contented smile, he whispered too.

"I love you more sweetheart."

—♡—

#svt #seventeen #svt scenarios #svt au #svt imagines #seventeen drabbles #seungcheol drabble #seungcheol fluff #svt fluff #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n

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msschemmenti · 2 months ago

Text

girls night

jj x reader x emily

prompt: y/n is garcia’s neighbor and the girls come back from a rather rowdy night of salsa lessons and drinks and forget which apartment is garcia’s.

a/n: another crack drabble from my notes app but i couldn’t decide between jj and emily

“pen where are your keys?” emily spoke around a hiccup. they’d all had waaay too much to drink tonight and it was hitting the older woman as she swayed in the lobby of penelope’s apartment building. salsa dancing always brought out the women’s inner alcoholic and it was a miracle they’d even made it to the apartment building in general.

penelope, ever the excitable drunk, circled the lobby in a conga line of one but stopped next emily with a grin. “in here!” she grinned wiggling her cupcake shaped purse in front of emily’s drooped eyes.

the woman nodded and dug around in the cupcake until she felt the metal of the keys and pulled them free from the bag. “alright ladies, i think we’re ready to tackle the stairs now.”

“the stairs?” jj whined pushing herself up from the wall and toward emily.

“yes the stairs. the elevator is broken,” emily gestured to the metal doors with the paper sign on them. both jj and garcia boo’d loudly and mimed throwing tomatoes at the door. “plus i think we need the physical activity to sober up a bit. move out, soldiers.”

jj rolled her eyes and threw a dorky salute emily’s way before practically pulling herself up the stairs by the railings. garcia following closely behind and emily playing caboose on the train of drunk women. they make it all the way to her floor and pause in the hallway.

“pen did you decorate the entire hall?” jj asked in confusion. the normally empty hall looked like garcia’s home exploded all over every door.

“yeah! we had a neighbor decorating party. so now every door looks like mine.” garcia twirled unsteadily and poked one of the wreath covered doors.

“well which one is yours? it’s usually pretty easy to tell when i’m sober but i’m struggling a bit here.” emily asked as they walked the hall looking at each door.

mid spin garcia stops in front of a door with a potted planter and rainbow doormat and grins, “this one!”

jj furrowed her brows, “i thought you lived on this side facing the street…”

“the street is this way, jayje.” penelope singsonged as she extended her finger to boop her nose. “just get the key on my pink key ring. that’s where i keep my apartment key, so when im like this i can remember.”

emily looked jj wearily and shrugged before fishing out one of the two keys on the pink key ring. “as long as one of us is confident in this decision…” she mumbled before trying the key. when it didn’t turn she gazed up at the blondes in confusion. “um it’s not working.”

“oh oh wait, try to jiggle it. sometimes it gets stuck.”

emily wiggled the key all kinds of ways— unknowingly making quite a bit of noise in the hall. she turned to question garcia to complain when the lock turned in her hand and the door pulled open from the inside. all three women froze in shock and slowly allowed their eyes to pan up over the woman holding the door in her hand.

“hi,” she spoke with a laugh as she took in the hazy drunken cloud that was clearly covering the three agents on her doormat.

“garcia, who’s the hottie in pink?” jj whispered out of the side of her mouth, eyes never leaving her woman.

“jen,” emily groaned swatting the blonde’s hip as she watched the blush cover the woman’s cheeks.

“oh my god, y/n! what are you doing in my apartment?” garcia grinned, ignoring her bickering coworkers to pull her neighbor into a hug. y/n pushed her glasses up her nose and patted garcia’s back affectionately.

“penelope, you live across the hall babe.” y/n chuckled sweetly as she held the technical analyst by her shoulders to look her over. “and it looks like you’ve had quite a bit to drink, huh?”

penelope grinned, “uh huh. are you sure i don’t live here? it’s so pretty.”

“yeah hun, i’m sure. here why don’t i help y’all get inside and settled for the night?” y/n asked slipping her feet into a pair of slippers by the door and grabbed her keys. she turned to face the two other women leaning on either side of her doorframe. “and maybe i can introduce myself to your friends.” she spoke with a wink before corralling all the agents across the hall and over to penelope’s door. which looked pretty similar to her own.

emily shoved the keys toward y/n clumsily, “you probably need those.”

y/n accepted the key with a laugh and unlocked the door. “thanks hun,” she pushed the door open and held it open for all three women to file in. “welcome to you actual home penelope.” all three agents fell onto the closest flat surface and released various groans and sighs of relief at not being stood upright. “god you guys really got your fill on whatever alcoholic drink you could. i’m gonna go find you guys some water and advil. don’t move— unless you think you’re gonna puke.”

as soon as the woman turned her back to head into the kitchen, jj and emily both sat up to face garcia. “when’d you get a hot neighbor?” jj asked accusatorially.

“yeah! last i heard there was some old mean lady across the hall. you’ve been holding out on us.” emily chided, poking garcia’s shoulder pointedly.

“down you animals, she moved in a couple months ago. we’ve been a bit busy with you know the dark evil cruelest corners of the US. sorry i didn’t find the time to throw in my new neighbor is hot and single and very into women.” garcia rattled off with a shrug.

“well yes, we’ve been busy but sometimes hot neighbors trump serial killers.” jj replied matter of factly causing emily to tilt her head in thought.

“shut up jj.” she deadpanned with a shake of the head.

“hey!” the blonde called with a pout.

before anyone could actually continue the conversation y/n rounded the island with three glasses of water and a palm full of pain killers. “it seems in your inebriated states, you’ve all forgotten how open floor plans work.”

“oh my god, i think she heard us.” garcia whispered [not actually] to the now blushing women next to her.

“what did y’all drink?” y/n asked watching as each woman downed their water and pills.

“something called the green fairy. very good and very effective.” garcia replied.

“that’s for sure.” y/n nodded in understanding before turning her gaze to the other two women. “as flattered as i am ladies, you can come introduce yourselves when you’ve sobered a bit. that’s if any of you remember this tomorrow.”

“i don’t think either of can forget a face like yours.” emily flirted with a smirk, almost seeming completely sober. until a hiccup distracted her.

“we’ll see about that.” y/n laughed before heading to the door. “i trust all of you can at least get yourselves ready bed. i’ll lock you in for the night.”

“thanks y/n!” garcia sang they watched her disappear through the doorway.

“no prob, pen. come get your keys tomorrow! good night ladies.” the three women heard the door lock from the outside and the echo of the other woman’s door closing in the hallway.

“someone remind me to flirt with her tomorrow.” jj spoke, eyes half open but finger pointed to where y/n had been standing last.

“i’ll set a reminder in my phone.” garcia said pulling the phone from her pocket.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds x reader #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau x reader #msschemmenti #jemily fanfiction #jemily

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subskz · 7 months ago

Text

multitasking - s.cb

content: sub changbin, dom reader, pegging, lots of teasing, slight dumbification, binnie cries a little, male squirting, praise, handjob, female reader

word count: 4.5k

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Just like that, okay?”

Changbin’s breath came out in shudders, so noisy that you wondered if he could even hear you over them. Judging by his scrunched up nose and furrowed eyebrows coming together to form an adorable look of concentration, you doubted it. He was focused on one thing and one thing only.

“Binnie,” you sang. “Are you listening to me?”

Just to make sure you had his full attention, you brought the steady roll of your hips to a halt, keeping your strap buried inside him, but denying him the friction that had wiped all coherent thoughts from his brain. His body rocked for a few seconds more even after you’d stopped, operating purely off muscle memory. Then, it turned into squirming, hips twisting helplessly in the sheets to try and regain the buildup of pleasure he’d suddenly lost. You watched him wiggle around, half-amused, half-endeared as he finally blinked his hazy eyes open to process what was going on.

“Mm?” he mumbled; drowsy, like he’d been stirred from a dream. “S-sorry? I didn’t…”

His gaze fully refocused to find you smiling down at him. On your end, you could’ve sworn his pupils dilated just a little bit more, painting his irises black and glazing them over. They looked so innocent, you’d never guess what he was really pleading for.

“I said,” you began playfully, running your palms up his twitching thighs just to tease him. They felt especially thick under your touch with all the tension they were holding, you couldn’t resist digging your nails into his flesh, hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents behind. The tight clench of his muscles was almost as satisfying as the sweet little gasp he let out. “Are you listening to me?”

Changbin swallowed down the saliva that had begun pooling in his mouth, sucking in a deep breath to find his voice again. “O-oh, yeah.” He shifted on the mattress to inch himself closer to you, as if your strap didn’t already have him filled to the near brim. “Yeah, listening. Sorry.”

“What number are we on, baby?”

He paused, doll-like lips curving deep into a pout. It was almost cute enough for you to let him off easy—almost.

“I…I don’t—” he chuckled nervously, eyes flickering to the side. “F-four?” You shook your head. “Five?”

You could tell he was growing restless, even when he was doing his best to behave himself. His dick twitched against his stomach, crying out for you to just forget about the count and start thrusting into him again. All the blood in his system must’ve pooled hot in his abdomen by now, you couldn’t even blame him for not being able to think straight.

“S-sorry, I really can’t remember,” he stuttered, embarrassed. “Again?”

It was the second or third time Changbin had lost track by now, and he once again found himself cursing the second he’d ever let his pride rope him into this tortuous little game you’d proposed. He’d never been one to back down from a challenge, even if it was a challenge that you both knew full well he’d fail miserably at. That, combined with his insatiable need to impress you clouding his better judgment, had him playing right into your hands.

“I can multitask!” he’d protested. “Do you know how much work it takes to be this cute and sexy at the same time?”

“So much work,” you’d agreed solemnly, trying not to crack a smile over the defensive squeak in his voice. “Then this should be no problem for you, right?”

From the moment you’d first bottomed out inside him, Changbin had gotten the sense that he’d already lost.

“I’m trying to help you, baby,” you pouted down at him. His eyes fluttered shut as you dragged your index finger along his plump, wet lips, mesmerized with the cute popping sound they made every time you prodded at them. “If you’re too dumb to count by yourself, just repeat after me.”

“N-no, Binnie’s smart,” he insisted, muffled by your finger. His legs squeezed around your waist like they had a mind of their own, trying to rub against each other and generate some friction. “Not dumb. I can do it, lemme do it.”

“Yeah? Let’s try and make it past three this time.” You gave his cheek an affectionate pat. A shiver ran through his body as your hands glided down to his hips, gripping his soft flesh to stabilize yourself before inching out of him bit by bit.

Immediately, Changbin’s attempt at counting was cut off by his own whine, stretching out for every second the silicone dragged along his walls. Then, you heard it, shaky and breathless as you pushed back inside him.

“O-one.”

His stomach rose sharply under your palms as you pulled out a second time. Before you’d even snapped your hips forward again, he gasped out a “two”, all too eagerly. You giggled, waiting a few extra seconds just to test his patience

“Two,” he repeated with a tinge of desperation. He looked lost, like he was genuinely wondering if he’d already managed to mess up the order somehow.

You felt a tinge of pity; he really was trying his hardest for you. So, you followed through, deciding to take it slow this time so he actually stood a chance in counting your thrusts. His foggy brain was grateful for it, but his body, not so much.

“Th-three—ah. Three. Faster, please?” he barely got the words out in time before he felt that delicious stretch again, coaxing an especially high moan. “F-four.”

You could practically taste the hunger rolling off his skin in warm waves. Every needy noise that grew louder his throat, every jerk of his hips begged you for more, even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up with it. His teeth sank into his bottom lip when you pushed back inside of him without missing a beat—faster, just like he’d asked for, and as deep as your position would allow. You dragged your hands up and down his stomach in unison with the slide of your strap; such a simple touch, but enough to disrupt his concentration all over again.

“Fi—” he began. His voice failed him, cracking pitifully as you grabbed his bouncing chest at the very same instant you brushed against his sweet spot, digging your fingers hard into the plush skin. “F…f-fi…fuck.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back against the pillows as his resolve fully crumbled. The sensation of your palms pressing against his nipples was already dizzying enough, but once you took the hardened buds between your fingers and pinched, he was a complete goner. He made no effort to keep counting even when you didn’t stop rocking your hips, instead letting his mouth hang open uselessly, spilling out another long, shameless moan that made goosebumps rise on your skin. Just a few strokes in, and he was already so far gone.

You let him get away with it for a bit longer, taking the time to admire his dark, messy curls sprawled out against the white pillowcase, even fluffier than usual from all his tossing and turning. Everything about him was so soft. His pecs spilled out between your fingers as you pawed at them, his full cheeks were flushed red and his lips were swollen into a cute, puffy ring after how much he’d nibbled on them. It took all your willpower to not give in to the irresistible sight and keep pounding into him until his head really was too empty to think anymore.

“So pretty, Binnie. Wanna keep you like this forever,” you murmured. You could feel his heartbeat pick up over the praise, pulsing faster under your palms. Then, all at once, you forced your hips to stop and snapped him out of his daze yet again. “But a pretty boy like you still needs to listen.”

“M-mmph,” he mewled. His body chased after your touch, protesting the loss before he even fully realized what was going on. “N-no. Sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t stop, please?”

“I only stop when you stop.” Your hum was deceptively sympathetic as you watched him fist the sheets in frustration, biceps bulging and chest heaving. His throat bobbed as you closed his slack jaw and tilted his chin up, brushing your thumb delicately over his tiny scar to urge him to look at you. “What’s got you so distracted, hm? What’s on my baby’s mind?”

He forced his eyes open again, so dark that you could see yourself reflected in them clear as day. They gave you your answer before he even said it.

“You,” he breathed. It was a reply he’d normally be proud of, but with the way you were staring him down from above, he couldn’t stop a sheepish giggle from rising in his throat, lips twitching at their corners and cheeks bunching up.

“Me?” you echoed. “Or this?”

You slid your strap back inside him in one sharp thrust, angling it so that the tip rolled against the roof of his walls and hit his prostate perfectly. He cried out as if on command, high-pitched and sweet. “Ah! Yes, r-right there.”

Even your own rules were becoming less convincing of a reason to deny him when you knew those were the kinds of sounds you’d be missing out on. But you were on a mission, today; teaching Changbin how to multitask, or, toying with his body until he couldn’t take it anymore—whichever came first.

“There’s my answer.” You feigned disappointment, flattening your palm against his stomach and pressing down right around where you guessed the head of your strap had reached inside him. “All you care about is being filled up, huh, baby?”

“N-no, no.” His hand pawed around blindly in the sheets for a moment before he found you, grabbing on to your wrist and pushing your hand harder against the soft pudge of his tummy. You weren’t sure if he’d done it just to gain some kind of stimulation, or because he was just aching to be as close to you as physically possible, but to his credit, he forced himself not to lose his train of thought even as the sensation had his eyes rolling back.

“Binnie’s a good boy. ‘M only like this ‘cause of you. I need you, please.”

He was right; he was such a good boy. He could forget how to count, forget how to close his mouth, forget how to listen, but he’d never ever forget how to say please. That was something you didn��t have to teach him. Still, you didn’t give him what he wanted just yet, instead tracing gentle patterns on his skin, just above where his cock was leaking out tiny drops of precum. It took a few moments for him to connect the dots, but finally, he rasped out the word you were looking for.

“Four…n-no, wait, it was five,” he stammered. “Please, don’t stop, please?”

“Good boy,” you cooed. Grabbing hold of his thighs, you used all your strength to pull your bodies closer together, lifting his legs and settling them around your waist for easier access. A cute, flustered giggle escaped him as he scooted down the mattress, melting into a sigh of pleasure when you were able to nestle your strap even deeper inside him than before.

His fingers sank into the sheets, gripping them so tight that you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing. “S-six,” he gritted out. “M-mm, feels so good. More, please, more.”

The sound of skin on skin began to fill the room as you finally picked up your pace like Changbin had been begging for. You made every stroke count; deep and heavy, pulling out until just the head of your strap was left teasing his entrance, then sliding all the way back inside until your hips smacked against the back of his thighs. The new position immediately took a toll on him, you could tell by the growing lapse in his counting. Every time you left his walls fluttering around nothing, it took a few seconds before he remembered to call out the next number, just so he could feel the relief of you burying the toy inside him again.

“Nine,” he gasped. The building pressure in his core drained his concentration little by little, making for an adorable show of reactions for you the more his self-control slipped. Every pretty sound he made rang out in the thick, hot air around you, unrestrained and heavenly. Your gaze fell from his blissed out face to where his dick laid half-hard against his stomach, bouncing from the impact of your movements. It gave you an idea.

Changbin choked on his next number as you brought your hand to his head, scooping up the tiny beads of precum and curling your fingers around it. You felt him swell in your grip almost instantly, and when you began to pump his cock along with your thrusts, he fully throbbed in your hands with a fresh wave of heat.

“El-elev—ngh,” he slurred out, barely intelligible. “Three…four. No, t-ten.”

“Four? Ten?” you mimicked. “That’s not right, baby. Try again.”

You swirled your thumb around his leaking tip, effectively fizzling out the last of his thoughts. It was hopeless; the strokes of your hand were mixing up with the pump of your strap, muddling his everything together until he couldn’t distinguish between the pleasure. “Six…n-no, ah. Good, so good. I c-can’t—”

“You usually listen so well, Binnie,” you frowned. “What happened to my good boy?”

Changbin bit down on his bottom lip, so hard that you worried his cute little fang might dig deep enough to split the plush skin. You timed your thrusts seamlessly with the rhythm of your hand, sinking down on his cock as you pulled out of him, and gliding back up his length as you bottomed out again.

“Y-your hand,” he whimpered. “It’s confusing me, I can’t…feels too good.”

“Should I stop touching you, then?”

You released him from your grip, letting his dick fall against his stomach to twitch over the loss. His hips surged up in protest, a soft whine spilling out of him and growing even louder when you pulled your strap out of him in one fluid motion, leaving his walls clenching wildly for you.

“No, no,” he groaned, locking his ankles around your waist to try and bring you closer. “Please, ‘m so close. Please.”

Taking the silicone into your hand, you lined it up with his entrance, pressing the tip just hard enough against him to add an exhilarating pressure. His reaction didn’t disappoint; a full-body shudder, rippling through his muscular thighs, making his chest jump and his biceps tighten.

“You want it, baby?” you asked sweetly, circling the head of the toy around his rim.

“Yes, yes, please.” The way he rolled his body was nothing short of sinful, you almost gave in right there. His tiny grunts of frustration only grew the more your strap prodded at his hole, teasing the sensitive nerve-endings without giving him the satisfaction of slipping back inside. “Please, b-been so good. Give it to me, please.”

“I know, baby.” You inched the toy away before he could get any real stimulation out of it, brushing its slick tip against his inner thighs in a playful taunt. “Just tell me where we left off, and I’ll fuck you like a good boy.”

Changbin shot you a look of pure helplessness, eyebrows scrunching in dismay as it dawned on him what you wanted.

“I-I…I don’t remember,” he mumbled, not even trying to muster up a guess before he surrendered. “I got it all mixed up, I can’t—”

“I thought Binnie was smart?”

He squeaked in protest as you pulled your strap completely away with a click of your tongue. “I am! I a-am. Again, please? I’ll try again.”

It wouldn’t make a difference, he knew that as well as you did. But he said it anyway, as a last resort—anything to feel you stretching him out again, anything to hear you whisper honeyed praises into his ear as he fell apart for you.

“You’re hopeless, baby,” you murmured, brushing back his fluffy bangs to reveal his eyes. They were wide as moons, full of desperation and welling up with tears at their corners.

“Please.” The droplets spilled over before he could blink them away. You softened as they trickled down his flushed cheeks, darkening his eyelashes and glazing over his pupils.

“You’re crying?” Gently, you cupped his face to soothe him. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin as you wiped away his stray tears, only for new ones to take their place again. “You want it that bad, angel?”

The wet gleam in his eyes spoke for itself, but still, he managed a tiny nod.

“You look so pretty like this,” you marveled, rubbing the pad of your thumb under his eye to scoop up another bead trailing down his face.

Despite himself, Changbin perked up over your words. “Pretty?” he sniffled.

“Mm.” A mix of lube and tears smeared his skin as you tilted his chin up, looking him straight in his eyes to admire the fresh droplets gathering at their edges. They caught the light like rhinestones, a visual captivating enough for you to give him anything his heart desired in that moment. “Beautiful boy. My pretty little crybaby.”

Changbin’s nose scrunched up, a shy, downturned smile tugging at his lips. He knew there was a condescending hint to your words, but when they were spoken so sweetly, when you called him pretty in that voice—when you called him yours in that voice—he could do nothing but melt.

“Seriously. Don’t you like me too much?” He pawed your hand away in embarrassment, but you didn’t miss how his face lit up, visibly yearning for more compliments, for your approval.

You let out a fond hum. Just like that, you’d found the key to keeping him motivated. He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise as you took hold of your strap, realigning it with his entrance.

“Let’s try again.” You tapped the head of the toy against his rim, just to bask in the way it made him wriggle in the sheets. “Show me how good you are, baby.”

He nodded again, still timid, but revitalized by your encouragement. His lips puckered into a cute little rosebud for you, and with a soft giggle, you took the hint, leaning down to press them against yours. The wet trails on his cheeks cooled your skin as you kissed him, slowly, dragging your lips past the corner of his mouth to kiss away away his tears, too. His shaky sigh fanned out around you, warm and feather-light as you sank back into him, all the way to the hilt of your strap.

“One.”

You rested one hand on the mattress, bringing the other back to his dripping cock. It was still fully hard even after being neglected so long, jerking gratefully in your palm as you began to stroke it again.

“Two. Th—mm—three.”

“That’s my boy,” you praised. “I know you can do it for me.”

You matched the rock of your hips with the glide of your hand, just as you’d been doing before. It immediately took effect on Changbin, slurring his speech and making his face scrunch up. But he kept trying for you.

“Four…ah, please.”

“Good boy. Keep it up, okay?” You rolled your strap against his sweet spot, teasing it repeatedly with the curved silicone tip before pulling out again.

“Five. F-five, again, please.”

You indulged him. “Doing so well for me, Binnie,” you crooned, swiping your thumb over his swollen head and making his hips buck. “My smart boy. My good boy.”

“Mm, mm. Binnie’s smart. Your s-smart boy,” he agreed. He was so simple; spurred on by your doting, even as that familiar, hot coil in his abdomen started nipping at the edges of his mind again. “Your g’boy…ngh. So good.”

More tears trickled from the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut, trying to get ahold of his thoughts long enough to get out the next number. You were being so patient with him, so kind to him, he had to do his best for you.

“Six,” he whimpered. A new wave of droplets spilled over, this time, because the pleasure was growing too strong to bear. You picked up your pace as you drank in the addictive sight; his clenching stomach, tear-stained face, his bulging muscles grasping at the sheets. He deserved it when he took it all so well and looked so good doing it.

“Seven, eight—close! I c-can’t—!”

“Almost there, baby. Just a little more,” you encouraged him. “You’re so perfect like this. Don’t you wanna show me how pretty you look when you cum for me?”

His dick stiffened in your hand, both over your words and the way you wrapped your palm around its sticky tip. The squelching noise that each roll of your hand created started to mess with his head again, distracting him from his count.

“Eight…e-eight—ah, please. Please, please, please. ‘M gonna—”

“C’mon Binnie, you’re so close. Don’t give up now.”

“Ten, n-no, nine? Nine—?”

He clenched his jaw, hips surging up and walls tightening around your strap like he was afraid you might pull out at any moment. It was useless. No matter how desperately he tried to concentrate, the pressure in his stomach consumed everything else, emptying his mind a little more each time you filled him up. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry. It’s so good, t-too good.”

“I know, baby,” you purred, sensing that he’d reached his limit. “It’s okay, let it all out for me.”

Changbin’s words melted into moans again as you thrust into him with more force, giving him no chance to brace himself for each dizzying stroke, let alone keep track of them anymore. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how tortuously long the buildup to his climax had been, but the sensation creeping up on him felt more intense than usual, like a dam of water waiting to break. Everything felt amplified—the drag of the silicone along his ridges, the sensitivity of his nerve-endings at every point of contact, the dancing of your fingers around his cock—it was all dialed up to a hundred.

You thumbed at his leaking slit, unprepared for just how powerful of a reaction it’d elicit from him. He stiffened beneath you as a jolt of pleasure shot straight to his core, breaking the dam loose all at once.

Changbin’s broken sob sent a shiver down your spine. He arched his back off the mattress as his orgasm racked his body, spurting his release against the pad of your thumb. You stopped rocking your hips to admire him, completely taken by the sight unfolding before you. His cock pulsed in your hand with every wave of pleasure that passed through him, spraying out more cum than you’d ever seen before. It was noticeably different from the sticky white ropes you were used to—watery and messy. The streams splattered against his contracting stomach, glazing his skin with a translucent layer of fluid and coating your hand in the process.

He was panting by the time the last few drops of his release spilled from his aching head. Even as it dribbled down his hips and sank into the sheets underneath him, he didn’t quite understand what had happened, far too preoccupied with the tiny aftershocks rippling through his body.

Your fingers uncurled from his dick, letting it fall limply against his ruined stomach. He flinched as you ran your hand over his soft, soaked flesh, still hypersensitive after the climax that had shaken him more intensely than either of you bargained for.

“Look at that, baby,” you marveled, holding up your dripping fingers for him to see. “Your dick’s crying, too.”

Changbin’s eyes fluttered open, shiny with residual teardrops. They widened when he registered why his skin felt so wet, why the bed beneath him felt so sticky and warm, and why his muscles felt deliciously sore, like when he stretched them after a good workout. His cheeks flushed beet red, legs squeezing around your waist in a pointless attempt to cover himself.

“Oh my God. I c-can’t believe—” His face was hot with shame as he buried it into his palms, muffling a noise that sounded something between a giggle and a miserable wail. “I didn’t mean to. W-wait, don’t look, please.”

His babbling trailed off when you stroked his stomach, a gentle touch that masked how fast your heart was still racing over the effect you’d had on his body. You wanted to make it happen again.

“That was intense,” you murmured. “Are you okay, Binnie?”

He couldn’t find the courage in him to reply, too mortified to face you after making such a wreck of himself, too dazed to string a proper sentence together. All he could manage was peeking out shyly between his fingers.

You rested your hands over his to tug them away from his eyes and get a look at him. A soft objection rumbled in his throat, but he let you, anyway, mustering all his self-control to not shove his face in the pillows and hide away from your stare.

“M okay,” he reassured you quietly.

“Felt good?”

“Good,” he mumbled. “Too good. Wh-what did you do?”

“Ask yourself that, baby,” you drawled. Changbin shivered as you gave his hips a squeeze, an embarrassing mewl slipping past his lips when he clenched around your strap reflexively and realized it was still nestled deep inside him. “Look at the pretty little mess you made for me.”

Changbin let out another low whine. He gave up on maintaining eye contact, turning his head to squish his heated cheeks against the pillow. “Binnie’s shy.”

“You’re so cute.” You ran your fingers through his messy curls to ease his mind, relieved when you felt some of his tension relieve under your touch. “Do you have any idea how hot that was?”

Your words seemed to snap him back to his senses, clearing the fog in his head and reminding him of how he’d even reached this point in the first place. He made a tiny grunt of effort as he scrambled to prop himself up on his unsteady elbows, eyes widening with guilt. When he spoke, his voice was shot, edged with a delicious rasp after how much he’d strained it.

“I…” he giggled nervously. “I-I lost count again.”

You puffed out a light laugh of your own. Even you had completely forgotten about keeping track of your thrusts after watching Changbin fall apart so beautifully for you. Your little experiment may not have worked out, but you were far more interested in the outcome, anyway.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep practicing, yeah? Until we find out how many it takes for you to cum for me like that again.”

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!changbin #changbin smut #skz x reader #changbin x reader #dom!reader #seo changbin smut

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bunnys-kisses · 4 months ago

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yacht party

toto wolff

cw: smut/pwp, yacht sex, toto being a possessive old man, age difference (20s/50s), i'm sorry george russell, bimbo!reader, daddy kink, sugar baby au, jealousy, punishments, drinking, spanking, choking, doggy style, oral sex (toto receives), unprotected sex,

bunny says: i got messages saying more toto! so here it is!

you could never say no to a boat party! being on toto's expensive yacht was something that you'd deny yourself the privilege to be on. so after monaco you were happy to be out of those pretty dresses that toto often dressed you in and into something a little more comfortable.

that came in the form of a white bikini with a heart clasp showed right down the middle of your breasts and did nothing but make you look like the little slut you were.

there was a reason why toto kept you on a tight leash. but even he liked to show you off a little. you hung around your older boyfriend as he talked to those he had invited.

you were just the pretty arm candy, your nose often buried in toto's arm as he kept his hand around your waist.

"in a moment, liebling." he said as he held you closer and continued his conversation. you snaked out of his grasp however when you saw george come through the crowd with a bottle of something expensive in hand.

"georgie!" you squealed as you went up to him. you threw yourself at him and gave him a huge hug. he caught you with ease and you kicked out your legs as you were lifted.

sometimes you were just too innocent for your own good.

when you let go you beamed at him for a moment. you chirped, "oh wine!" before you took the bottle from him, "thank you so much, georgie!"

george couldn't look away as you scampered away from him to say hello to someone else and put the bottle with the rest. his eyes were glued to your ass as it bounced. the white bikini made you look almost innocent (he was lying to himself).

toto chuckled as he leaned in to the other man, "like what you see?"

george swallowed, "i'm so sorry! i've just never seen her so excited before. i really am sorry!" he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"she's a pretty sight isn't she?" toto couldn't be too upset with george. he trusted george, george was his superstar on the track! so it would be a little curel to let something like jealousy curl up in the older man's stomach.

you on the other hand would be dealt with.

toto would feel controlling if he said that he had rules for you. rules made you seem like you were a dog to be trained rather than a little girlfriend who was just a little too excitable.

they were guidelines, suggestions with consequences. he believed that good behaviour should be rewarded. and the rewards weren't cheap, so there was an expectation to be managed that were guided by a set of... rules...

toto found you on your second glass of wine and a little tipsy in the kitchen. it was easy for him to crowd your space, he was almost two heads taller than you. and his presence was often grounding for you, like a big shadow to protect you.

so it was easy for you to fall into your arms and giggle as you rubbed your face all over him. toto chuckled and took the glass from you. you looked up at him with big innocent eyes.

"hello, daddy." you had a cat's smile on your lips as you looked at him.

his hand was on your lower back, "do you remember our little agreement, liebling?" his tone wasn't harsh, but it was a little stern. he held you against him as you swayed from side to side.

you nodded, "yes, daddy, uh huh." you were a giggly mess.

he cupped your face, "did you do this for attention, little one? i saw how you threw yourself at russell. and i saw how he looked at you when you ran away. maybe i should bring him over next time?" he knew that he'd never actually do that, not without a few stiff drinks in him. he was a dirty, possessive old man with too much money in his account.

you replied, your glossed lips in a 'o' shape, "oh no daddy, not at all." you held onto him a little tighter.

he leaned down and whispered in your ear, "come now, let's get you sobered up." and you knew that meant going to the bedroom on the yacht that had a lock on the door. and the sound proofing.

this wasn't the first time that toto punished you for being a "dumme kleine schlampe." nor would it be the last. toto stayed close to you like a shadow as you tried not to wear your anticipation on your face. the bedroom was nicer than some you lived in and quite big considering you were on a boat.

toto gave you a nudge to get inside before he looked around and closed the door. he locked it and turned towards you. he looked very nice in the crisp white button-up tucked into beige pants. his shoes were shined to perfection (you'd know, your last punishment was to shine every last pair to his liking!). and there you were on the bed in strappy heels and a white bikini.

you pouted at him and said, "i wasn't doing anything bad!"

he sighed and took his belt out of the loop of his pants. he put it down on the chair nearby before he approached the bed. it was a shame that he had to punish his baby girl during a party. you should be your sweet self. but, rules were rules.

"remember rule number twelve, kleine hure? no throwing yourself onto men who aren't me, you should've waited for me and we both could've greeted george. but instead he got a full view of your whorish little body as you ran off." he sat on the bed beside you and he grabbed you by the back of the head.

you blushed as you looked at him before you reached for the front of his pants. you undid them and got his shirt out of the waistband. you swallowed as you took his impressive cock out.

you measured it once because you thought he was lying. he said he was a modest six inches to make you less scared. he was in-fact almost nine inches. just shy of the threshold, even when painfully erect. while most overcompensated, he lied so you wouldn't be so nervous to take him.

you licked your lips before you placed your lips on the head. his fingers knotted in your hair as he moved your head up and down his cock. drool went down your chin as so much of his cock was crammed in your throat.

you somewhat believed that toto wolff ruined your gag reflex, that the blunt tip of his cock had battered it down until you could almost take every inch.

there was little time to adjust to his cock in your mouth before you were deep throating it. it throbbed in your mouth as your were moved up and down on his cock like the toy you were.

"filthy little thing. i'm starting to think you like being punished. maybe i should open the door and you can put on a little show for anyone who comes by. maybe next time you act like a little slut, i'll pass you thought all of mercedes from bottom to top, let them fill every hole they want. maybe that'll give you the attention you want, you little greedy whore. even when you take my cock you still want more." his voice was sharp and its stabbing tone let warmth in your gut.

your pussy ached for him, he was right. you were greedy. a little whore for his cock, his attention and anything else he'd give you. from kisses in the paddock to flowers after dinner to nine inches stuffed in your poor abused cunt.

you looked up at him and tried to pull your head off to tell him something, but his grasp was tight. it was unrelenting as you were forced to continue to orally pleasure him.

there was a thrum in your head as you could hear the party outside the room. his words melted in your brain, leaving it fuzzy and your body hot. you yearned for him in a way that made you want to yell.

but you couldn't yell with his cock in your mouth. it was heavy in your throat, you could taste the salt on his skin as the precum almost made you choke as it oozed down your throat.

"i've given you so much, little one." he said with a hint of disappointment, "why can't you just behave? let daddy take care of you, but instead you have to be a little whore. you made poor george all flustered by acting the way you did. that's not fair is it, liebling?"

you maintained eye contact and shook your head as much as you could. he tapped the side of your face before he pushed you as deep as it could go down your throat. it choked you slightly, but that only made the rush to your core more intense.

the pressure in your throat and the slight cut off of oxygen made you see stars behind your eyes when you closed them. toto rocked his cock up into your mouth, the tight feeling around his length was painfully erotic.

he had spent so much time shaping you into the perfect liebling. the perfect little thing that always got him all riled up. from your cute little behind to those soft breasts, your cheery smile and those precious eyes. he pulled his cock out of your mouth so you could breath and rubbed his wet length up against your face.

you whimpered and tried to move away, but his hand in your hair kept you still. feeling your own spit against your face was a weird feeling.

"be good, liebling. i know you can be." he said he tapped his cock against your face. you whimpered before your head was moved to choke on it once more.

the pleasure was felt in your core, your pussy clenched when your throat stung. it was painfully erotic and you yearned for more. toto thought you looked like a doll in the cute bikini that he picked out for you.

he was thinking maybe next time to get you like a collar or something. a little tag that had his name, address and phone number. just in case you strayed a little too far. can't have his beautiful angel got lost on him!

the debauched sight of you made his cock throb and when he was about to cum, he pulled your mouth of his cock and finished all over your sweet face. painted white like the bikini you wore. globs of cum were in your hair all the way down to your chin.

marked as his.

you whimpered and tried to open your eyes but cum threatened to get in it. he wiped it away from your forehead and pushed his thumb in your mouth to lick it off.

"good girl." he purred. he then watched you get it all off your face and into your mouth. your movements were slow as you collected the cum onto your fingers then put them in your mouth.

the salty taste was heavy in your mouth but the stickiness on your face remained, the glossy leftovers of the pearly cum were drying on your cheeks.

toto just thought you looked more angelic. he got you on your stomach with your hips raised. then with a little help from you, got the bikini off of you. he tossed them over in a corner somewhere you won't be finding for the rest of the night.

you were going to be in time out for the rest of the party, young lady.

he got out of his own attire, they remained a little more central in front of the bed before he climbed into bed with you. he rested on his heels behind you and then leaned forward to wrap a strong arm around you.

he laid down the first smack across your ass and your toes curled. you whimpered, then another was laid. then another, followed by two more in quick succession.

the pain in your backside bloomed and toto found you responses to it very erotic. his praises were interwoven with degrading words about your character. you were his beautiful princess, but also his whorish little girl who he'd happily throw to the dogs.

"leave you tied up against russell's car, thighs spread open. tell everyone that you're a good luck chair for the race." he landed a harder slap and the sound rang through the room, "a beautiful fall from grace, i wonder how many loads you'd take before nothing could fit. but you'd always make room for me." he raked his nails across your bruise forming on your cheek.

you almost kicked out your legs from the sensation but he pressed his nude body against yours. he kept you pinned under him, his wet cock painfully close to your pussy. one wrong move and he'd sink it with ease.

you were soaked like a fountain with your need for him. it was almost leaving a painful feeling in your gut or a carnal want. he teased you a little before he sank it all in, it only took one stroke before he was bottomed out in your cunt.

the stretch burned as you felt almost nine inches of cock fill you up. you gripped onto the bed under you and arched your back. you let out a shaky breath as the feeling of it all was a little overwhelming.

"beautiful, little thing." he purred, "perfect for your daddy. i think you're a good girl." he said, "you just act out because you want my attention solely on you." he gripped your thighs and began to thrust his hips. he loomed over you as he had you face down and ass up in the bed.

the party outside was quieter than the thumping of your blood in your ears. you felt light headed but also that your skull was made of lead. the sounds of your fucking filled the room but didn't go past it. your little slice of paradise while out on the water.

everyone else was drinking, smoking and doing god knows what else, meanwhile the host of the party was too busy making sure that you didn't forget what it felt like having his cock pushed up into your cervix.

"please, daddy!" you whimpered as you arched your back and clawed against the bed. you greedy slut, you still wanted more of him! you panted with your mouth wide open, gasping for air as he pushed it out of your lungs with every hard thrusts.

his voice was in your ear, filling your head as he kept thrusting, "good girls stay under me. all open and ready for my cock. i know i'd make the paddock for you, but i know you'd never run off from me, kaninchen." he laughed.

you whimpered as you felt your eyes flutter shut, your brain slowing down to process all the pleasure in your body. you felt him practically rearrange your insides with each of his movements.

you rubbed your face against the bed pathetically, and his grip only tightened. orgasm was quick to grab you, you felt the pleasure up to your ears and you clenched around his cock as you coated it even more in your wetness.

then you were just a panting, whiny mess. no words came out, only pathetic little noises as he continued to slam his hips against your ass. you were such a good girl, a dumb little slut, but a good girl! he continued to bully your cunt with his hard thrusts, until they started to stagger as the pleasure clouded his brain.

with one last hard thrust, he finished inside of you. you felt most of your body go limp as the weight of his cum filled your poor little pussy.

the older man pulled out and got you settled into bed. he then pulled the covers over your exhausted body. the last thing he saw before he pulled the covers was globs of his cum oozing out onto your thigh. he was a bit proud of that.

he found his clothes and tried to straighten them out as much as possible. his little girl would be out of commission for the night. he left the room and closed the door behind him before he re-entered the party. he saw george once more and slapped the man on the back and leaned in to him.

"what happened to-"

toto just smiled, "you know how she is george, all that energy and then she has to lie down. the wine didn't help either, good choice by the way."

george nodded and thanked the man before he walked off to get a drink of his own. the smell of sweaty hung for a moment, but george sniffed his collar to make sure it wasn't him. the scent was familiar, like sweat and pussy. <3

#bunny writes #formula one #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one smut #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #form #f1 fic #f1 smut #sports fiction #toto wolff smut #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff #toto wolff fanfic

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hanasnx · 7 months ago

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NO KISS SEX — satoru gojo.

“Sato, please?” you beg, pouting your bottom lip so enticingly SATORU GOJO nearly breaks his streak just to lick at it out of familiarity.

“Wasn’t this your idea?” he anecdotes amusedly, tilting his head with that wolfish grin. “You said you wanted to try it, and now you don’t wanna commit.”

“I change my mind!” you insist, bobbing your body in place to emphasize your frustration, his cock still lodged comfortably up in your guts in a mating press. “It’s lonely.”

He gives a few swings of his hips, and your lashes flutter in turn. “‘Lonely?’” he parrots in feigned disbelief. “You wan’a kiss that bad?”

Eagerly, you nod, under the impression he’s about to give in and you raise your head to meet his with an innocent smile. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, honest.” You eye up his lips, just out of your reach.

“Ah, ah,” he chides, arching away. “I distinctly remember,” he states matter-of-factly as he picks himself up using your knees, pressing them to the pillow as your head is forced to lay back down and you peep and grit your teeth when the dick soaking in your hole brushes your spongy spot. It twitches, but he keeps it sheathed. He alters his expression to exhibit what he sees when he looked at you earlier, upturned brows, wide-o-shaped mouth, and heightens his voice to an embarrassing high pitch that grates the ears, “‘Goji, I want to try no-kiss-sex, please? Please? Can we-can we-can we?’” he mimics you unflatteringly, and you reach up to yank him back down to you. “You only call me ‘Goji’ when you want something, just like you call me ‘Sato’ when you’re trying to butter me up.”

You jerk your head away in a mock attempt at bratting, frowning your brows as he snickers through his nose as you, readjusting so he pulls out a few inches just to push back in. As if he’s testing the waters with his hips, watching your minute reactions written all over your pitiful little face. You pant through your mouth, so he keeps going, slowly sinking in and out.

“If you get so lonely, why’d you suggest it?” he questions, soothing you out of your difficult mindset and your want to be uncooperative with the splendid ministrations of his cock licking your insides.

“I dunno, I saw it on a show or something! I wanted to see if it would make me want it more.” you inform him with a fair amount of attitude, and toy with his hair at the nape of his neck. That pout resurfaces, and you must know you’re making your pillowy lips look so irresistible that Satoru bites his own hard. He has to remind himself he’s proving a point. Even folded in half you’ve got some kind of power over him.

“Does it?” he asks, more winded than before as your hole loosens the slightest, letting him pull out more. You question him with an idle hum, brain fuzzy from the sensations pulsing from your core. “Does it make you want it more?”

“Yes!” you cry, offended he’d ask such a thing. “Obviously!”

That wolfish grin stretches back onto his mouth as he dips down, and a grateful thrill blooms in your chest at the notion he’s going to do it this time! You offer yourself to him, facing him to reach for him, but as soon as you get close he rears his head. Your lips narrowly miss each other. Your bodies bob as he moves in you, a steady pace of pulling completely out to ease in until he bottoms out. He’ll do all that, exhibiting a strong sense of control over his body, but he won’t give you a kiss. Instead, he does the same thing as before, ducking so you’ll gain a false sense of security, reach for him again. He teases you, keeping his lips just out of your area of influence. “Stop that!” you whine, your brows pinching together from the pleasure he’s giving you between your legs.

“Can’t help it, pretty, you make it so easy.” he taunts, “You keep falling for it.” As soon as he’s said it, he stoops and lingers, letting your cock-drunkened brain work through the thought process, lifting yourself again out of habit and trust to go for a kiss. Once more he corrals it from you, but he laughs this time. A jeer that burns your cheeks hot as you glare at him. “You keep falling for it!”

“Satoru!”

“I see the appeal now.” he lowers his voice, the grain of it traveling down your spine straight to your core, taking his cock at gradually hastened pace. “No-kiss-sex, huh? This shit was a good idea, baby.”

#indy: drabbles #ch: satoru #satoru gojo drabble #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x fem reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo imagine #satoru gojo fanfiction #gojo smut #gojo x reader #satoru smut #satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #reader insert

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thegnomelord · 7 months ago

Note

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

#gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #the last of us cod au #the last of us #trans character #idk how this happened #Clicker Simon Ghost Riley

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sugarbcnes · 2 years ago

Note

MORE ETHANNNNNNNN (please 🥺❤️)

sorry, i know i’ve been lacking!

! ! ! 18+ content below cut, MDNI. ❀ Ethan Landry x Fem! Reader

warnings: pantie stealing, semi-public fingering, bathroom stalls ew, pervy ethan, bathroom quickie, switch ethan, squirting.

Ethan is impatient and desperate as he shoves you into a ‘disabled’ stall in the Blackmore University library. He’s grateful that you’ve worn his favorite skirt today. Not only is it an adorable shade of punch-pink, showing off all the best dips and curves of your body, but it’s easy access to your sopping cunt that sits hidden barely by your cotton panties. He moans at the mere sight of your juices that are borderline dripping out of you, puffy lips shaped in the drenched soft-cotton as his nose is already picking up on the candied aroma.

He pulls them from your hips, not caring that he’s snapped the cute little bows on the side. He tucks them in his back pocket. You wince, pouting as you sniffle a soft “those were my favourite.”

“I’ll buy you a new pair, my baby, I promise.” His promise is mumbled and hurried as he tucks your skirt into its waistband so it’s out of the way, his fingers quick to touch you where you need him most. Your mewls are adorable, melting his heart as his eyes linger on your pretty face. It twists at the sudden satisfaction of his long fingers kissing your sweet spot, sitting there nicely as you adjust.

“Move, Ethan, please.”

He nods and moves to give into your pleads as he begins to plunge his fingers into your soaking core, curling his fingers with every thrust. when did he learn to do that?

Your eyes disappear behind slumped lids, fists twisting the material of his black sweatshirt as you let out a loud moan through gritted teeth.

“Shhh,” he shushes you, hand over your lips as his fingers curl and scissor in your heat, “quiet now pretty girl, this is a library after all.” Your eyes go wide, struggling to focus on his words as heat pools in your stomach. You shake your head, hand wrapping around his wrist as you squeeze your thighs shut. He seethes with frustration, his cock now hard and painful as it begs to break free from his jeans.

“Open your legs, sweet girl,” he says, trying not to show his annoyance, “feet on the basin.”

you whine as you spread your legs, struggling to keep them up as they begin to shake. He knows exactly what’s about to happen and thank god he remembered to roll his sleeves up.

You cry into his palm, teeth grazing the skin as your knees wobble. You feel embarrassment heat your skin as it shoots out to shine the porceline skin of his forearms. Grinning, he pulls his fingers out, shaking the liquid off them slightly. He grabs a few paper towels, wetting them to wipe you down before he cleans himself.

With a gentle kiss on the bridge of your nose, he smiles softly.

“I’ll clean this up, you go get started on the homework.”

As if you can even think straight after that.

INBOX/REQUESTS STATUS: OPEN

18+ ONLY © saintels 2023 — do not copy, repost or translate my work onto any other platforms without my permission.

#┆ 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐬 #br:ethanlandry #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #female reader #scream vi #scream 6 #smut #scream #jack champion #jack champion smut #ethan landry x you

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1800titz · 17 days ago

Text

UNSPOOL | first time anal

soft, boyfriend au

You’re nervous. Understandably. It’s like that time you wore zeal and went bungee jumping in the batholiths; craning your neck up to the summit of the bridge was one thing, but dangling over the ravine on a harness was another. You want a countdown, or—? (“Just launch,” squeezed out between your teeth. You swore, sagging over the cleuch like that, you felt every synapse wriggle like a worm.) When you were in college, you stepped on a penny board and broke a tooth on the asphalt, so now you’d rather regret no than regret saying yes. But you remember the drop and the weightless thrum of adrenaline that felt so close to touching God’s nose and forging transmutation, and you think life is all about shouldering your way from the comfort zone and worms. And you really, really want him to fuck your ass.

preview

When he breathes again, his shoulders swell up, and he doesn’t bother wiping his chin off against his palm, so your arousal sits like a filthy swatch of a topcoat varnishing his jaw.

“What’s’a matter?”

You shake your head again. A little jut that picks up on its own kinetic momentum the longer you stare back at him. The easy, pensive sculpt of his features. You try to superimpose hesitancy (curdling at the back of your throat like sour milk) with a smile, but it’s flimsy. “Nothing.”

He frowns. Leans over you and cages your body in with his arms so quickly that it nearly gives you whiplash. A curl flops over his forehead in the process, where the skin is smooth despite the ruckle between his ruminative brows. You blink up at him and gnaw into your lip until he catches it between his thumb and forefinger to pry it from your teeth and squish.

“Something.”

You bat your lashes at him helplessly. Hopelessly. You don’t want to spell this out, because you don’t want to give him the wrong impression, and he looks too tender. It pools in your belly.

“I’m a little bit—“ you finally manage, your mouth still tucked in his fingers, “Like. Nervous.”

His eyes are a little wet. The way they get when he’s been eating your cunt for too long for the rings of his irises to take, until the green hellebore and flecking gorse is eclipsed by the full-moons of his pupils, and if you were to pick your hand up and palm it along the stony heft of his heavy cock, you’d find a wet spot spilling along the mushroomed ridges of his tip through the cotton. He takes his fingers away from your pout when you poke out at his thumb with the tip of your tongue.

“We don’t have to do this,” Harry assures. The words are sincere and so nonchalantly chiseled that your spit puddles to the back of your throat. You nearly choke on it. “I could fuck your pretty pussy and we’ll call it a day. It’ll be just as good.”

You shiver.

“Or—“ he hunches down to speckle a kiss to the crest of your cheekbone, the corner of your mouth, “We don’t have to do anything. Your call.”

Your brows notch. This is the gorge. The panorama of the canyon unfolding in a plummet; feathers prickling under your shoulder blades when the cord wrenches you back, swaying. You're airborne. You can taste the ozone on the back of your tongue— nearly smear your fingers along the borders of the broken crater in its layer over the earth.

“I want to,” you tell him, lashes fluttering.

You can squeeze all your muscles and imagine him carving a shape out for himself in this place of you— forcing flesh to split around him until you feel his cockhead in your underbelly, where the molten geyser of your arousal has been spilling. You want to feel the stretch, you want to feel like you’re being pried apart, you want to give that to him.

“Want you to… fuck me there.”

You pick your head up, and you can’t reach his mouth from the angle, so you settle for smearing a kiss against his chin and pick up the tack of your tang across your lips. Your tongue swipes out softly. You taste yourself— it’s so delicately lewd—

He thinks it’s hot, so his eyes narrow a little, and he ducks his head to nip at your ear.

The press of sharp teeth on your cartilage is a paradox to the gentle nature of his tone, the plume of his hot breath on your earlobe.

“You don’t have anythin’ to be nervous about,” Harry murmurs, “We stretched you out all nice, so it shouldn’t hurt. And if it does, we’ll stop.”

Your heart murmurs. He ducks his head a little more, and pastes his mouth onto your pulsepoint. It’s chaste, but you feel it like a thunderclap rippling across your heartbeat.

When he stretches over the bed and hands you a vibrator, you blink up at him.

“To take the edge off,” he supplies, lips curling, but the grin is more soft than seamy, and oh, fuck— he’s going to fuck your ass.

He’s going to fuck your ass. Raw.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #soft dom harry #soft dom h #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry smut #harry styles dirty fanfiction #patreon teaser

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dilatorywriting · 1 year ago

Note

59 Leona, it'd take a lot for him to admit but he would say it eventually. (Also I know you'd recognize me but I'm shy, so anon it is)

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 59: "People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, I think fate was being harsh on you."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You are nice, and you are stupid. And those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Sometimes you’re nice because you’re stupid, and sometimes you do stupid things because you’re too nice for your own stupid, stupid good. And it drives Leona half insane.

Which it shouldn’t, because nice, stupid people like you are just as annoying as his brother. Goody-two-shoes with buttoned vests and sparkly, star-shaped stickers on their term papers.

“Did you remember your homework?”

Leona flicked his tail in your face and you scrunched your nose over your notebook.

“Well?”

“Of course I remembered,” he scoffed, lazing back against the roots of one of his favorite trees. This spot used to be so much quieter, so much more peaceful, before you decided to trail after him like a duck quacking for its mother.

“Did you do the homework?” you clarified, and Leona rolled his eyes.

You sighed and starting ruffling around in your bookbag. “I brought a spare copy of the worksheet. You’re going to drive Ruggie insane, y’know. If he winds up stuck with you for another year because you failed for not turning in assignments.”

“Yeah. Sure. Another three-hundred-and-sixty-five days to rifle through my wallet. Worst news of his life.”

You huffed good naturedly and handed him the sheet of crisp, white copy paper and a pen. “Get to work, Kingscholar.”

“Oh?” he drawled, closing his eyes and settling back, loose limbed and all long, lean leisure, against the tree trunk. Clearly ready for an afternoon snooze. “Make me.”

You sighed again and reached over to flick your own well-used pen against his ear. It twitched under your fingers—soft, and tufted. The finest of the pale, tan fur brushing up against your fingertips. “Fine. Be that way. See if I bring you lunch tomorrow.”

“You will,” he scoffed.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sounding resigned and foolishly fond. “I probably will.”

See? Stupid. So easy to manipulate. So willing to let yourself be squashed under his clawed thumb. It was a wonder you’d managed to survive in this school at all. Nevertheless by clinging onto the coattails of someone like him. He’d never made anyone’s existence easier a day in his life, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now, just because you were too soft-hearted and slow to see a looming predator for what it was.

“Just give me that stupid fucking paper,” he snapped, sitting upright and swatting away your poking pen with a sneer. You laughed into your palms like a secret—bright, and merry, and dumb as a fucking rock.

“Whatever you say, Leona.”

You’d handled his Overblot with a strange sort of aplomb that at first Leona had attributed to perhaps a lingering, hidden confidence that he’d just never bothered to unearth. You were just some herbivore, and even the littlest rabbits could bite back when you put them in a corner. But then he’d come to the decision that that easy conviction was just another symptom of your rampant stupidity.

“I know you guys don’t want to hurt me, or any of us. Not really,” you shrugged around a wad of cotton—the blood dripping from your nose slowly drying up to a tacky, sticky dribble. Leona gaped at you outright.

That was your grand explanation. For why you’d been so eager to charge forward when he’d collapsed in a pool of inky nightmares and self-loathing. And the very same reason apparently thatyou’d felt so comfortable rushing forward to treat Azul Ashengrotto’s blubbering, hysterical, breakdown with the same urgency.

“That octo-prick would have ripped you in half,” he sneered, fingers twitching a nervous rhythm against his palms as he watched the nurse wrap another layer or bandages around your head.

You shrugged. “Not on purpose.”

You were going to give him an aneurism.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he snarled, ignoring the horrible, twisty thing curling like bile through his chest. “And I’m not going to bother paying for some self-sacrificing idiot’s funeral.”

Another shrug.

“That’s alright,” you hummed, a soft sort of crooked smile on your mouth. “Would’ve been a waste of money anyways.”

Leona didn’t talk to you for a week after that. Surely because your stupidity had reached such a fever pitch that it was no doubt contagious, and he needed to protect his far superior and more valuable brain. Not because the image of you smiling and nodding along to his declarations that he wouldn’t put the effort into mourning your death had soured something so deep in his gut that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to scrape it out.

When he received a letter from home asking him to return for some shitty coronation nonsense for his equally shitty brother, Leona had debated just skipping it outright. Who was going to stop him? You?

Well. Yes, apparently.

“It sounds important,” you hummed, peering over his shoulder at the neat, formal scrawl of the summons. “You should go.”

He snorted. “I don’t want to be there, they don’t want me to be there. What’s the point.”

You frowned, brow crinkling in the middle.

“Well, that’s not true,” you said, perplexed. “They wouldn’t write to you if that was the case.”

Leona snorted, eyes darting away to glare bitterly off into the corner. “Not like they have a choice.”

“Well then you don’t have a choice either,” you argued, firm. “I’ll go with you. See? It says you can have a plus one. You can camp out in your fancy, princey, bedroom. And I can siphon you snacks from the fancy, princey hors d'oeuvres tables. That way we both win. You get to be a reclusive asshole and rub the fact that that you still went in everyone’s faces, and I can get access to some tasty, royal food that I’ll probably never be able to afford again for the rest of my life.”

“Should’ve known you’d be like Ruggie—only using me for the free food,” he sighed, melodramatic and obviously put on.

“Well, also because I thought you could use the emotional support,” you added, a touch too soft and far too genuine. “But I didn’t think you wanted to hear that bit.”

“You’re right,” he scoffed, turning onto his side to hide the strange, miserable heat pricking at his skin. “Don’t ever say corny shit like that again.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you grinned, flicking at his ear, and Leona added another mental tab to his never-ending list of reasons that you were really far too brainless to keep functioning at all.

You were nice, and you were stupid. And Seven, he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“My brother hasn’t ever brought someone to one of these events before,” Falena had said, to your face. Idiot to idiot communication.

“I didn’t give him much of an option,” you’d chirped, perfectly pleasant. “I don’t think he wants me anywhere near here, to be fair. Or around him in general. But I’m like a cockroach. Can’t get rid of me.”

And Falena had laughed. Because he was terrible. And said, “I’m sure he must care about you very much, little cockroach.”

And then because you were more terrible, you laughed back and said very assuredly, “Oh, not at all.”

Which was—was—

“Do you really think that?” he snapped, once the two of you were alone. And you blinked back at him with wide, owlish eyes.

“Think what?”

Think at all,he wanted to sneer, but just glared silently and bitterly into the middle distance—fighting the nonsensical, irritated swishing of his tail.

But you just kept staring at him. Like he was the moron here. Which was unacceptable.

“Look,” he frowned, sharp and miserable. “I get it. People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you. Whatever gods exist out there were playing a shitty fucking joke on you when they dropped you in my lap. But you’re stuck with me. So stop—” he bit out, fighting that awful, twisty thing in his gut that never seemed to fully go away. “Stop talking like I can’t stand you.”

“…oh,” you mumbled, whisper quiet—that wide, startled gaze flicking away in embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed, sharp, and you snorted a laugh that seemed to surprise even you.

“You’re stuck with me too then, y’know,” you said after a long moment. “Even when I make you grumpy.”

“You don’t make me grumpy. I am grumpy. You make me—” he cut off quick, eyes darting away petulantly and an absolutely unfair heat rising along his cheekbones.

“Itchy,” you piped in, and he gaped at you in shock.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, awkward, and reached up to wiggle your fingers. “Cockroach. Many legs. Squirming. Itchy.”

“Never say any of those words again.”

You laughed into your palm—inelegant and a touch too loud. Leona felt his lips quirk.

“Thank you,” you said after a moment, once your giggles were a bit more under control. And leaned forward quick as a whip to press a nervous peck against his cheek. “For being kind to me.”

Kind.

Leona reached up to press a hand against the too-warm skin with a terrible, unfamiliar sensation in his head not unlike the fuzzy, white drone of TV static. And a horrible thought managed to filter its way through the floating, buzzing sensation curling through the whole of him.

Oh, fuck. It is contagious.

#4k Event #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #Leona x Reader #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #My Writing #Writing Prompts #Leona Kingscholar

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risuola · 14 days ago

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VII, FINALE — IT WILL ALWAYS BE YOU // He knew it's selfish to think of you as his.

contents: hurt to comfort, longing, heartbreak — 2,8k words

a/n: here we have it! last chapter of the story that began as a simple oneshot and evolved into a full on series. it was a bumpy ride with this one, it took me a lot of time to bring it to a closure. thank you to everytone who read it, who waited for updates, who enjoyed the plot and followed the story. i love each and every one of you and i'm beyond thankful for the support!

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

The months without Ryomen had been the worst time in your life.

It’s okay, you told yourself over and over again, as if trying to convince, to trick your own mind into believing that it could ever be okay. That you could ever get used to the emptiness that etched itself deep into your very soul. It felt like there was nothing left of you. Your daily routine became easy, you got used to it all over again and yet, it felt hollow. The walks, the work, the sun and the rain — all of it seemed to just exist somewhere around you. Like you were a guest in the world that wasn’t entirely yours. But there’s no exit doors. There’s no way for you to escape, no secret path that would lead you back into the arms of a man that has stirred everything inside you so fiercely.

You missed him.

Every day, every night. Every hour, minute, second. You missed him so exhaustingly, it’s frustrating, suffocating. Would you ever be able to live your life without him haunting your every thought?

No, you thought, you wouldn’t.

It would be an anniversary today and you hated how it was the first waking thought of yours. The empty side of the bed looked at you mockingly the moment you opened your eyes in the morning and you cried, once more, for the last time, you promised.

It won’t be the last time.

It has been a year already — since the night that changed your life so drastically. It was an anniversary of many things. The first time you met him, your first talk, first kiss and the first time you had sex with him. You knew who he was that night, when you chose to ask him for help. You knew he’s dangerous, you’ve seen the shape of a gun behind his belt, the way the fabrics of his clothes exposed the unfamiliar lines. It wasn’t hard to notice, but you chose him anyway, from the crowd of people that came there that night to have fun and dance. He wasn’t dancing. Sukuna wasn’t the type to go crazy on the dancefloor, to grind against the drunken bodies. He was too mature for that, too troubled with a mind full of business to let himself go like this. But he danced with you. Many times, in the quiet of his living room, to the music softly playing he swayed with you. You remember the touch of his large hands splayed possessively over your body, your hips, the small of your back. His hot breath on the skin of your neck and the sensitive parts behind your ears. His lips on your lips.

As you got up from the bed to get ready for the day, you wondered if there would be anything special happening to celebrate one year together — if you stayed with him, that is. He would hate the reddened skin around your nose and the puff underneath your eyes. He would pepper your face with little kisses, hoping to soothe the emotions raging inside of you and you’d melt in his arms, like a putty molding yourself to the shapes of his powerful body.

Washing your teeth, you realized that there’s no remedy for the longing. Time didn’t do a thing to heal the wounds you inflicted on yourself the moment you decided to leave. It was for the better.

“Happy anniversary, Ryomen,” you muttered to yourself, looking into your own eyes in the mirror. The reflection stared back at you, a picture of anguish and resignation. Will it ever get easier? Maybe you need more time. For sure. Only time can heal you.

The day has become a blur of nothingness. The café pulsated with life, people came and go and you forced yourself to focus your attention and thoughts on doing your job. Two lattes, table four. Caramel mocca, frappucino, flat white on almond milk. Table seven. Double shot of espresso for a man in black, packed to go. Fuck, you hated it. The group of teenagers couldn’t decide what drinks they wanted. How about a cheesecake? In a bundle, it’s cheaper. Skimmed milk. Cinnamon rolls. Caffeine.

You couldn’t breathe.

Your mind raced with thoughts, with memories that were distracted over and over again with hollow coffee orders. A cappuccino with oat milk seemed much more intense when nudging itself between the thoughts of Sukuna, almost villainous and you caught yourself nearly writing a name of him on the paper cup for the client. The decadence of the chocolate cake dressed with raspberries appeared too simple, too insignificant to even think of it twice when you cut into the layers of creamy goodness.

Tick, tack.

It’s almost over. You’d finish the job in just a little more and go home. The thought of his shirt on your bed soothed the chaos in your mind, though the fabrics didn’t carry the scent anymore. It’s still his. No matter how many times you needed to wash it, the memories of the man that once wore it will never fade. As you waited for another coffee to be processed by the machine, you thought about the feeling of the soft cotton fabric against your fingertips, your cheeks, your body. A ghost of intimacy that carried you through every night, a phantom touch you could almost feel on your skin.

And so, you left the café, after finishing the shift and took a deep breath of the crisp, night air. After locking the doors, you moved forward, through the same, well-known pavements. There’s a restaurant nearby, a boutique, a hotel. There are few stores and a bakery — most of which closed already or just about to finish for today. A deep sigh escaped your mouth as you looked into the sky. The stars were beautiful that night and you hate yourself for not remembering if the night you met Sukuna was starry as well. There are details that slipped your memory and it saddened you deeply, but it’s okay. As long as you remembered the taste of his skin, it has to be okay.

One lock, and you were in the old staircase leading to your little apartment. The lights seemed to stop working, so with a flashlight from your phone, you climbed up. Your steps echoed in the empty area, bouncing from the walls and creating an unsettling cacophony throughout the entire walkway. You hated it, the sound of someone following you, the faint thumps of shoes coming right after every one of yours. You knew there’s no one there, but looked back few times anyway, nervously moving the flashlight around to catch any movements, just to find nothing. Of course there was nothing. It was just in your head. There’s nothing there. But you rushed forward anyway.

Your eyes caught an unfamiliar glimmer. Your floor welcomed you with darkness broken just by the glittering element at your doormat and you gasped. A box, beautiful and luxurious, laid right at your entryway — the lush, emerald ribbon bounced the lights back at you, taking your breath away. You felt excitement bubbling inside your chest, it felt hot all of the sudden and cold at the same time. You knew who put the box in here, you knew it. You’ve seen it many times.

Back when you were with Sukuna, he would always send you a package just like this one, deliver it to your hands or onto your doormat. Many gifts you’ve received that way, all of which you held dear to your heart whether they survived the future or not. But your hands shook this time as you bent down to take it. Your fingers trembled as they run over the silky dressings, the ribbon soft and cold under your fingertips.

Unlocking your doors suddenly became a puzzle you struggled to solve, as if your hands had a mind on their own and it took you too long to get into the apartment. You were afraid to open the gift, and curious at the same time. Was it from him? It had to be from him, who else could have done such thing. And on the anniversary. He wouldn’t remember a thing as trivial as an anniversary.

You washed your hands and rushed to your bedroom, putting the box softly on top of your bedsheets. It reminded you of the old times — you’d do it the same way, in the comfort of your room, in the quiet melody of your own heartbeat. You pulled at the ribbon, a knot untying easily, yielding to the gentle force you administered and then, falling silently on top of the cotton bedspread. The lid came as smoothly, lifting from the base with ease and you gasped, taking in the insides. There was a note on top, handwritten yet not signed. An address and an hour. Join me, it said at the bottom. You took it to your nose, inhaling the scent that clung to the thick paper. The texture felt rough against your skin, but the lingering fragrance made it impossible to put away.

Then you moved, fingers uncovering a box of chocolate covered strawberries, nestled beautifully in the red, crumpled tissue paper and decorated with swoops of white chocolate and flakes of dried strawberry, while the box itself was wrapped in yet another ribbon — this one much more delicate, half-transparent, a little more textured. And below, there was a dress.

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

Sukuna had no idea if you’d show up. He shouldn’t even entertain the idea of seeing you again, but how could he not if today would be one year of loving you? Today is one year of loving you. You’ve shaken his soul so devastatingly deep, he had to come to terms that he’ll never get over the loss of you.

And so, he sat there, in a restaurant to which he has taken you for the first time when you started dating. A luxurious yet cozy atmosphere was something you seemed to appreciate greatly back then. He remembered you getting a little tensed when one of the waiters came by stiffly, asking questions about the order while you were just barely getting into the menu, analyzing the names and ingredients that you told him, you’ve never seen or tasted before. But he remembered you smiling warmly, asking for more time.

You won’t come, he told himself, as the clock arms moved tantalizingly slow on the wall in front of him. It was already after the time he has wrote on the letter, but maybe you were home a little later. Maybe the box didn’t even reach you? He has left it carelessly at the doormat, maybe someone stole it. Or maybe you just ignored it, moved on from him. Maybe you tossed it to the corner or threw it away. Deep down, he would love it to be the case. He hated the idea of you hurting because of him, and during last months he did all in his power to secure your safety while you were trying to live your life and patch it together.

“Would you like to place an order, sir?” The waiter asked once more, for the second time that evening and Sukuna shot him a glance that could freeze the blood in the veins. With a sigh, he schooled his expression back to neutral and shook his head.

“Not yet, I’ll call for you once I’m ready,” he said sternly and the young server nodded, leaving his side. It felt odd, sitting in a restaurant like this, so clearly waiting for someone all while nothing seemed to foretell the entrance of said company. As Sukuna sat there, staring at the clock and the entrance to the restaurant simultaneously, he wondered if it’s evident in his stance that he’s heartbroken. That he’s sitting there, all strong and powerful and yet so vulnerable and helpless. The nervous tapping of his fingers against the wooden table had to be a dead giveaway of his frustration and if not, the crumpled tissue and the subtle bounce of his leg said it all.

You will not come.

An hour passed since you were supposed to be there and Sukuna began to come to terms with the fruitless effort. One year. One year you’d be together if he wasn’t who he was. The realization of how much he had lost due to his chosen career path had never grow less devastating. All the beautiful smiles, the gentle brushes of your fingers, the passionate nights filled with lust and love so intense it almost hurt. Sukuna hated how many mornings he woke up alone in the bed that you used to share with him, tickling him with your hair and the slow, regular breathing fanning over his skin.

There were no words to express how much he missed you.

That loss could never be amended.

You were once in a million.

Sighing heavy, Sukuna let go of the napkin he was playing with. Asking for the bill for his water, he began gathering himself up. For you, he would sit there for an entire night, but he knew you won’t come.

He swiped his card absentmindedly and raised to his feet, smoothing his pants briefly. A suit he had chosen for the night was new, elegant. You’d like it if you came, and just the thought of it made him smile a little. You always liked him in a suit. Yeah, you would for sure like this one.

But then, the doors to the restaurant opened and his eyes moved straight to that direction. You came. You were there, swooped to the side to tell the receptionist why you came. You were panting a little, as if you were rushing here. And then, your eyes locked with his and it seemed, like in that moment the entire world ceased to exist.

You had a dress on, the one he had picked earlier that day — the silk in the shade of a night sky, just a tone or two away from being pure black — it hugged your body lie a glove. The delicate straps accentuated the liens of your collar bones and shoulders, the long fabric nearly reached the floor, exposing one of your legs. But his eyes stayed fixed on your face. Your beauty has never ceased to impress him. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. The shape of your cheekbones and chin. All of that was a piece of art and he doubted that even the most famous masterpieces could ever match the allure of you.

He noticed the glimmer around your lash line, you were holding the tears back and he found himself doing the same. So he moved forward and you moved too, slowly at first, before you started running.

It was a dream.

You met him halfway, your body hitting his own in a desperate embrace and suddenly, everything was fine once again. Suddenly, you were just where you were supposed to be. In his arms, nuzzled into his chest, hidden from the world inside his powerful embrace. It felt ecstatic to hold you once more.

“I missed you,” you whispered, words muffled against the fabric of his dark blue shirt.

“I missed you too,” he confessed, instinctively pulling you closer, until there was no space between you and him anymore. “I missed you every single day. Every second.”

He felt your heartbeat against his chest, and the soft trembles of your body. You were crying, silently against his body and for once he didn’t try to stop you. His fingers run through your hair, smoothing the strands, playing with them. He leaned down, burying his nose into the crown of your head, inhaling the scent of you, so familiar, so undeniably you. “It’s selfish, I know, but I want you back,” he whispered, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your head and temple.

It was selfish, to think of you as his. Selfish to crave you the way he craved, to love you the way he did. It was a crime he had chosen to commit, one that he will always pick if only given a chance to hold you again. You held his heart, he trusted you with it and gave you his soul too. Without you, there was no him as well.

But he anticipated the rejection. As heartbreaking as it was, he knew better than to push you. He knew better than to expect you to accept him and the dangers of his life, he knew better than to promise you things he might not be able to execute. Safety was a tale he was scared to tell you once more.

But fuck, did he want you.

With every cell of his body. Every atom of his entire existence. With every breathe of air and every blink of his eyes, he wanted you.

“I’m yours.”

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chlorinecake · 1 month ago

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❝ TADAIMA ❞ ✦ — 𝐎.𝐒𝐓 🍙

PAIRING: Pervy Homestay Roommate Shotaro x F. Reader

GENRE: Smut, Enemies to Fuckers, Set in Japan

SYNOPSIS: While on a 2-week trip in Japan for a cultural research project, you end up boarding with the strangest man imaginable: He’s dirt rich, unemployed, and triples as a pervert…

WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, mentions of EJ from &TEAM, voyeurism kink, mutual masturbation, shotaro gets drunk at a restaurant once, use of sex toys (a vibrating dildo), handjob, clit play, kissing, switch!taro x switch!reader, minor use of the japanese language (sorry if its cringe or inaccurate lol)

WORD COUNT: 7.5k (I still don't know how that happened) — DAY 3

COLLEGE: A JOURNEY that most folks, including yourself, viewed as a grueling scam that ironically accessorized an equally crooked work-system proceeding the four mandatory years of academic suffrage.

But at the end of the day, every scam succeeded on the back of fraud, and if you were gonna get something worthwhile from your college experience, that is, beyond just a fancy diploma to hang on a wall, you’d have to adapt the same dirty playbook...

Skipping over some boring ass details here, but you decided to become a cultural studies major at your university for the sole benefit of being able to jet off around the globe once every autumn for free, and it was honestly the best.

Taking free trips so long as you tackle some pointless academic assignment almost felt like cheating... or better yet, like living life on easy mode...

Your current voyage was set to explore a place in Asia, specifically the humble city of Tokyo, Japan.

You’d be traveling alone for 2 weeks alongside a homestay family that your academic advisor arranged for you to stay with.

Brimming with excitement, you remember promptly leaving the airport with your bags secured and a camera in hand, eager to begin your overseas adventure in a foreign land!

Unfortunately though, your enthusiasm quickly waned the moment you arrived at your homestay host's doorstep, which brings me to introduce your internal eyeroll as provoked by the one and only Shotaro Osaki, a.k.a. the menacing man in his early twenties that you'd be sharing a home with until you returned back home 14 days later...

TIMESTAMP: 1日目

“Not to sound rude or anything, but I was expecting a host family...” you specified at the front door while kicking off your shoes, shocked to only find two young men occupying the large home.

“And that’s exactly what we are, silly!... Me, plus my friend Shotaro here, plus you equalsss... well, one big happy family!” Euijoo Byeon, the taller and younger of the two, chirped reassuringly, but his efforts still didn't aid your confusion.

“Correction: "Host family" is just a mainstream term, and doesn't strictly refer to full families only... kinda like in this case where I'm the actual homeowner and EJ's just a friendly freeloader,” Shotaro clarified, but you found yourself focusing on his facial features more than any of the words that came out of his mouth so far...

His pearly doe-eyes, button nose, heart-shaped lips, thick hair, and even his angular jawline... it all garnered your attention—

“Heyyy, I'm not a freeloader!” Euijoo defended himself with a forced pout, “I contribute around here pretty often with the homestay students, in case you forgot...”

“Please, you already know that everyone who steps foot under my roof is obligated to serve me in one way or another... including you, ____-chan.”

He smiled as he said those words, looking you dead in the eye with his hands in his pockets.

“Excuse me?” You asked in utter shock at his bold statement.

“Oh, c'mon... acts of service are my love language... that is... right after physical touch...” Shotaro said with a deep sigh, right before taking a few lazy steps until there was no more than a gentle push separating you two.

A brief silence filled the room until EJ helped himself to moving your suitcases from the front door, and off to another room as the sudden business reminded Shotaro to stay on track with you.

“Follow me as I take you on a brief tour of the house, please...”

His home was adorned with beautiful Japanese calligraphy paintings, elegant Shoji screens, and a stunning view of cherry blossoms in the living room. The scent of green tea roamed the halls, but the room you’d be staying in had its own scent… similar to that of cardboard… and grass...

It was like its own little secluded hideaway from the rest of the home, and you felt honored to have such a nice space all to yourself.

“I recently added this extra room to the place after my last homestay student trashed the first space… that’s why it still smells a little… earthy in here,” Shotaro said as if he'd just read your mind.

“Oh, I don’t mind the scent at all!” You replied, hoping that your gratitude was evident. “I really appreciate you even giving me this room...” your voice trailed off, but only because you noticed that Euijoo had helped himself to fully UNLOAD your luggage items now...

“Euijoo-san, thank you for carrying all of this for me, but I can take care of my belongings myself from here,” you said in the most patient tone you could muster.

“Oh, that's nonsense…” he responded with a swatting hand, “you just got off an exhausting plane ride and deserve a break... Besides, it's a joy for me to help homestay students, anyway...”

“Euijoo-san, seriously, I’ve got it,” you said more casually this time, and in a failed effort to hide the anxiety and frustration growing within you.

The tension was almost unbearable for you in this moment—

“You’ve got some pretty nice clothes, by the way, ____-chan,” the young man went on, flipping through your clothes as if they were pages in a comic book.

“T-thank you,” you said shyly, really feeling your face burn up as he slowly started to put your items into the bedroom dresser one by one.

And his hands were so meticulous, too... carefully refolding any pieces that got jumbled up on the way here... you'd otherwise be exceedingly grateful for Euijoo's help if it weren't for the eight-inch secret you were hiding in one of your suitcase compartments—

“Wait, what’s this?” Shotaro asked with raised brows, his otter-like features causing a pit to form in your stomach as he reached over EJ’s shoulder, grabbing the cylindrically wrapped up scarf from your exposed luggage.

Similarly to Euijoo's movements, Shotaro's hands began to slowly unwrap the item, and at this point, you couldn't hold yourself back anymore.

“Shotaro-san, don’t touch that please!” You yelped, snatching the cloth from his hand as both confused and intrigued faces surrounded you now.

Shotaro, being the menace that he was, shook his head in response, almost as if judging you for reading in such a way,,, “You know what they say about secrets, ____-chan… it’s only a matter of time before they come to light…”

His voice held a cheeky undertone that made you internally wanna kick him in his gonads, but instead, those instincts were cut off by a faint buzzing sound.

It was coming from behind the cloth you held securely in your hands, and perhaps almost too securely given how you’d just accidentally triggered the ON-button on the damned thing...

“Is that a..?” Euijoo began to ask with his own puppy-like eyes rounding innocently, but Shotaro nudged his friend's leg.

“Can you go check the mailbox? I think the package I order just arrived a few minutes ago…”

“But the mailbox is so far from here... plus, you don’t even order stuff online these days—”

“Euijoo, do as I say…” Shotaro said more sternly this time, and EJ simply chuckled awkwardly before bowing his head slightly to display apology,

“Sorry, Oniisan,” he smiled facetiously, right before standing up from where he sat and stammering out of the room.

Shotaro waited until he heard Euijoo open and close the front door of the house before saying anything else to you, which only led to you saying something first.

“NOW do you see why I said I could handle my own belongings?” You asked rhetorically, just as you turned off the toy by pressing the OFF-button through the fabric, ceasing the vibration sound that once filled the entire room.

“Yup... I see it crystal clear,” Shotaro smirked to himself before continuing, “I’ll give you your space though after you let me see what you're hiding first… promise...”

And with that, you had more than enough verbal evidence from Shotaro to confirm that he was a raging pervert...

“You... you wanna see my toy?” You asked again despite how obvious the answer was, but only because you were in utter disbelief of his shameless offer.

“Yes,” he clarified with a plain expression, poking his lips out slightly, “and then I’ll leave you alone right after I get what I want... It’s a simple condition, really…”

You flashed him a dead-pan look to which he simply shrugged, right before leaning down to dig inside your suitcase once again.

“Alright, let’s seeee… what other surprises do you have in here?… ooo, I think I feel something—”

“Okay, enough!” You said in a raised tone, making the strange man smile for reasons you didn't understand, “I’ll let you see it, okay? Just... get your hands outta there immediately!”

“No problem, missy...” he practically whispered, standing up from the ground with a proud look plastered across his now irritating face, making you feel all the more embarrassed...

Still, there was something about the awkwardness that made you feel hot all over, and you were hoping it was just because there wasn't a ceiling fan in the room..

With slow movements and a deeply exasperated exhale, you finally pulling back the cloth encasing the item, just enough for him to get a fair peak.

And to your surprise, you almost hurled with his eyes sparkling with yet another glint of excitement...

“So... you’re a dildo kinda girl, huh? A vibrating one must've been pretty pricey, though... how’d you even get past security with this thing?”

“Luck, I guess…” you muttered awkwardly, right before abruptly swatting his hand away as he reached to pull back more fabric. “Hey! You look with your eyes, mister, not your hands…”

“My apologies,” he chuckled once again, both at your words and the way your palms felt a bit clammy when you touched him...

He couldn't help himself from having dirty thoughts about you, either... your nervousness from simply showing him your sex toy was just too adorable to ignore… he wondered how nervous you’d get if you ever let him use it on you one day—

“Shotaro-san, you can leave now,” you said plainly, reminding him of his part of the deal as he clearly got lost in his thoughts on the accident...

“Okay okay, I’m going…” he said, stepping over a few clothing pieces that EJ had left scattered across the room floor while making his way to the door.

“Oh, and I thought I should mention, there’s a convenience store a few blocks from here that sells sex toys, too… specifically from the more portable variety, though…”

SHOTARO WAS QUICK to establish a list of “house rules” for you to abide by the very next day of your stay.

Needless to add, but yes, you were a stranger in his home, so of course you expected him to set boundaries for you to follow, and you respected that for the most part… or at least, that was until his proposals started to get a bit over-the-top for your taste...

TIMESTAMP: 2日目

“Anyways, curfew is 8 p.m.,” Shotaro stated while leaning against a wall in his kitchen, arms crossed over his chest as if the pose would make you take him more—

“Seriously?” You asked in utter shock, though, as per usual, he obviously wasn’t joking.

“Yes, seriously… and if any instances arise where you find yourself struggling to comply with the set curfew, you will promptly be asked to turn over your spare key privileges…”

Euijoo was once again stuck in the middle of all of this, awkwardly sipping from a bowl of soup as the tension between you grew so thick, he could cut it with a knife.

“Fine,” you shrugged, already having had enough of going back in forth with him, as this wasn’t even the first disagreement y’all had had that morning…

TIMESTAMP: 3日目

The days were flying by fast, and you hadn’t even put a dent in your list of activity plans for the trip.

You couldn’t exactly put a finger on where all your time was going, but you knew you had to get out of the house soon so you could take some photos and write about your experiences for the project.

In the meantime, you simply decided to push out a few words about your homestay living experience so far, just as Shotaro, of all people, took his daily stroll through the living room, wearing nothing but a body towel that lazily sat around his waist.

It was evident that he’d just gotten out of the shower, too, especially with the way his bare feet were tracking water all over the house.

What made the whole thing even more annoying though is that you could hardly keep your eyes off of his bloody abs—

“Sorry if I’m distracting you, ____-chan,” he said in a muffled voice, standing a few feet away from you now as he made his way into the laundry room before letting the towel around his waist drop to the floor with a heavy thud, “I’ll be outta your hair in a minute…”

You almost gasped out loud at the sight of him in his squeaky clean birthday suit, lifting your laptop high enough to cover your eyes… anddd to cover your clearly flustered face, too.

“Y-yea, no worries,” you replied with a tinge of discomfort in your voice as the tiny grunts left his lips echoed off of the walls, and you assumed it was because he was doing a heavy load of laundry, “take your time…”

SHOTARO WAS SUCH a shameless weirdo, and that’s a heavy statement coming from someone like you…

Admittedly, you’ve met your fair share of odd people in the past, but never someone like this… never a person who was so strict to their own rules, but completely ignorant of other people's boundaries…

And to top it all off, he went as far as to task you with mopping the floor up after his promiscuous little water mess, dubbing it your “reasonable service” to assist him as a guest under his roof…

TIMESTAMP: 4日目

Knock, knock, knock.

With loud pounds, Shotaro’s balled fist clashed from behind your sliding bedroom door.

“____-chan? It’s almost 9:00am, aren’t you awake yet?”

“Uh… y-yea, just give me a sec!” You called out, only having gotten up about five minutes ago to brush your teeth and change out of your pajamas.

“I’m sorry? I can’t hear you very well…”

“I said just give me a sec, sir, I’m almost done!”

“Okay, I’m coming in—”

“Shotaro-san, no!” Your voice blared from where you stood, but it was already too late… Shotaro was slowly sliding the door open, and a pang of embarrassment overcame you for a plethora of reasons…

(1) Your bed was unmade, (2) the floor was decorated with stuff that should’ve been neatly tucked away in either your drawer, closet, or suitcase by now, and (3) you were only wearing pants at this point, having to cover your bare chest with your forearms to hopefully avoid flashing him.

“Did you run out of clean bras to wear or something?” Is the first thing he asks you, and you internally face-palmed yourself.

“W-what? No, I’m just gonna wear this one again, it’s fine—”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted you, “I’ll start a fresh load of laundry for you right away…”

“Shotaro-san, I sincerely appreciate your kindness, but I don’t mind bringing my clothes to the laundromat down the street…” you clarified as he had his back turned to you, and you took this as an opportunity to throw on a baggy T-shirt real quick.

“Look, I’m unemployed for the season, so helping with house chores is the least I can do to stay busy…” he replied, making you roll your eyes in memory of the stunt he pulled yesterday, “oh, and are your tits still hanging out or can I turn around now?”

“Oh- right… yea, you’re all good,” you stammered as he turned around to see your face as he spoke, and you helped him by picking up some of your clothes from off the ground, too.

“But uh… I also wanted to apologize for disrespecting your home recently, sir… I’m not usually this disorganized, though… I guess I’ve just been a little tired…”

“Oh, I can tell…” he replies in a voice that makes you quirk a brow at him.

“Wait… you can?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “your face looks bloated, your eyes are all puffy, and you walk around as if you’re six months pregnant… it’s honestly pretty depressing to witness…”

“Oh…” is all you managed to say.

Usually, you’d be a bit offended if someone said you looked tired, but from Shotaro’s perspective, it seemed like he expressed those thoughts out of concern.

“Y’know, the best part about not having a demanding job or being in college is that you have more time to take care of yourself… both outside and within…”

“Okay?” You replied redundantly, not sure on where he was going with his “Shotaro Wisdom.”

“I just think that you need a traditionally cooked Japanese meal to soothe your jet-lagged bones... it’ll be my treat…”

“Shotaro-san, my diet is just fine… and I get that you’re concerned, but you really don’t have to do all of that for me…”

“Well I insist... You spend all day and night either bound to your bed or roaming my kitchen, anyways, and that’s no way to fully experience the beauty of this city. You’ve gotta be more adventurous, ____-chan… otherwise, what’re you gonna write about in your cultural project, huh? Your adorable homestay host? My cherry blossom garden?”

Slam.

He dropped the dirty clothes basket on the hard wooden floor, and you’re just now realizing that you’d followed him all the way from your bedroom and into the infamous washing room.

Though, Shotaro in all his oddness was right about you… about you not being adventurous enough on this once in a lifetime opportunity to travel… and you know it was only out of shyness that you’d been hermiting for the past few days, but you really did need to get out more if you wanted any chance at writing a good paper—

“Can you pass me the detergent from up there please?”

“Sure,” you chirped, standing up on your tippy toes to reach the top shelf, and Shotaro couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Thanks, pretty,” he said, and you fight with a bull’s strength to not make a face at the random pet name.

“N-no problem,” you finally replied, resting your hands at your hips as you watched him load the washing machine.

“So, what color are you wearing later?” He asked, and the question reminds you of his offer to take you out to eat.

“Ugh, I’ll let you know when I decide, but right now I’m thinking something either black or grey… what made you ask?”

“Because I wanna match with you,” he responded shamelessly, “That way, if we cross paths with any weirdos while we’re out, they won’t approach us because they’ll assume I’m your boyfriend...”

“Righttt…” you went on, thinking to yourself how weird these people must be if even HE’S calling them weird… “anything else you wanna say before I go and get dressed though?”

“Yes, actually... try to be ready by 14:00 p.m… my favorite chef’s on duty during mid-evening’s and you must try his dumpling soup recipe!…”

A few hours later, you found yourself on a tour of Tokyo beside Shotaro, taking photos of local shrines, indulging in delicious street food, and just simply enjoying the aura of the vibrant city together.

And as on par with his plans, you and Shotaro arrived at the traditional Japanese restaurant just in time to be served by his favorite chef.

Though, it's not like effort went very far once Shotaro got to drinking, which left you thoroughly entertained by his tipsy charisma.

“Heyy, these chopsticks are almost as big as your dildo back home,” Shotaro giggled while eating beside you, cheeks a flushed hue from the warmth radiating throughout his entire body...

I wonder how useful he’d be in this state if any alleged weirdo's approached us later on, you thought to yourself...

“Mhm… looks about seven inches to me,” you responded plainly, right before stuffing your mouth full with another flavorful soup dumpling.

“Wanna see how many I can stuff inside you before it doesn’t fit?” He went on to ask, eyes widening as if he just suggested something totally normal.

“Maybe another time,” you smiled half-heartedly, patting him gently on his head, “when you’re less drunk on… well, whatever the name of that drink you just had was…”

“It’s called shōchū, ____… say it with me!” He chirped with a raised hand to the sky.

“Shōchū,” you repeated again with him, a small smile creeping up your face.

“Yikes, your pronunciation needs a little work…”

“My apologies, Taro… I’ll make sure I work on that for you…”

“Aww… you’re giving me a nickname?” He pouted, leaning his head on you. “I had a dream about you the other night and you called me that same name… it was pretty explicit, though…”

“You can tell me about it later…”

“Okay… what do you think of the food?”

“It’s really tasty, actually. Thanks for taking me out, I really needed this…”

“You’re welcome… thanks for letting me lean on you, too… most people push me away when I do that…”

“And by most people, you mean Euijoo-san, right?”

“Yes… he claims to dislike touch with his words, but he genuinely loves it… I remember one time we went clubbing together, and a really hot girl kept trying to dance on him… he awkwardly pushed her away, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it once we got home…”

“Interesting… do you always overshare like this when you’re drunk?”

“Not like I’d remember anyways,” he shrugged, “can you tell me a secret about something, though? To even out the playing field?”

“Huh…. This isn’t really a secret, but I rarely admit this… I have a tendency to judge people before getting to know them…”

He was quiet at first, stirring the foggy broth in his bowl with a chopstick before asking quietly, “Like you judged me?”

“Yes, like I judged you… you seemed… I don’t know… weird at first? And a bit overbearing, too…”

“All those things are true though,” he giggled.

“Sure, but… never mind, you’re right… I still think you’re weird…”

“Oh yeah? Just wait til I tell you about—”

“Later, Taro… I’d love to hear all about it then…”

TIMESTAMP: 8日目

You and Shotaro developed a quirky friendship with each other, and it was quite refreshing in contrast to your initially rocky start with him.

He was a pervert. You caught onto the way his eyes watched you through the cracks of doors, or fell to glance between your legs every time the chance was made available. Always caught him going through your things under the excuse that “if it’s under my roof, it’s under my control.”

So, you made clear to him a few of your own boundaries, and luckily, he agreed to respect them… for the most part…

The rules followed a simple list…

1. “No more sneaking and spying on me.”

2. “No more going through my things.”

3. “No more walking around naked when I’m around.”

4. “No more weird questions about my sex life.”

In the last four days, he followed you to the bathroom three times, asked about your sex toy twice, and walked around the house half-naked only once… you’d say that was a good sign of improvement, honestly…

You kept yourself busy by annotating every relevant detail and observation from your time in Japan this far, and you were slowly starting to gain reassurance in your abilities to produce an excellent cultural project in time for the deadline.

TIMESTAMP: 12日目

One evening, after yet another day full of laughter and cultural escapades alongside Shotaro, you and him found yourselves lounging on the tatami mats in his living room, enjoying a bowl of miso soup, stewed meat, and some of Shotaro’s homemade onigiri.

Earlier that day, you and him were busy cooking in the kitchen together, where he even shared with you a few of his not-so secret secret Osaki family recipes.

He took the honors of playing photographer for you though as you offered to tuck the seaweed wraps around the triangular mounds of sticky rice.

“Look at you, you’re a natural at this, pretty,” Shotaro complimented you while snapping a few more pictures, and you shook your head at the comical tone of his voice, “now all there’s left to work on is pronouncing ‘onigiri’ properly!”

“Ha ha, you’re so hilarious,” you replied sarcastically, making him chuckle slightly at his own sense of humor, or perhaps, the lack thereof.

There was one moment in particular though that really got your heart racing between him… it was when he scooted himself behind you as you stirred the bubbling pot of miso soup, guiding your wrist with his delicate hand.

“You have to stir carefully from the bottom ____-chan, or else you’ll break up the chunks of tofu we just neatly cut up,” Shotaro whispered from above you, given the height difference, and you’ve never heard his voice sound so calm til now.

He let you lead your own hand for a bit just to check that you had the stirring motion down on your own, and he smiled softly once you did it correctly.

“Like this?” You asked, feeling a lot more nervous than expected while he was so close to you, despite how the other night at the restaurant and bar you found it much less nervous inducing when Shotaro kept leaning his head all over you.

“Mhm… just like that,” he hummed, right before his warmth left you as he walked away to return back to cutting up the stew meat…

Since that moment, the air was filled with an electric tension that neither of you had acknowledged yet as the sun began to set, casting its warm glow through the shoji screens.

In the middle of Shotaro telling you a story about his childhood though, the jingle of keys sounded at the front door as EJ invited himself to join you two once his shift at the local bakery ended.

“I come bearing treats!” He smiled vibrantly, right after bowing his head slightly to show his respects.

“Euijoo-san, how nice of you to join us,” Shotaro said in a corny accent, “how was work?”

“Exhausting… especially because I lost track of time and missed my lunch break…”

“Awww, bummer,” you pouted, “I’ll fix you a plate while you wash up then…”

“Ahhh, thanks a billion, ____-chan… since my own best bro doesn’t seem to care about me anymore,” the young man sulked playfully, and Shotaro widened his eyes in confused offense.

“What d’you mean I don’t care about you? I literally made you onigiri with my bare freaking hands, you ungrateful fart—”

“Acts of service may be YOUR love language, but it isn’t mine,” EJ reminded his friend before dramatically crossing his arms and walking out of the room, “remember that the next time you insult me, Shotaro-san… hmph…”

A few more minutes passed before the third member of your uncanny trio settled down to eat with you guys, provoking you to take a deep breath, summoning courage within yourself.

“Euijoo-san, Shotaro-san… you both have truly made my time in Tokyo one to remember,” you began, watching them shyly nod as your words touched the tenderness of their hearts.

“But,” you went on, voice catching slightly as you tried to keep their attention, “my time with you all is dwindling, and by that, I mean tomorrow is my last day here…”

You watched as the expressions on their faces shifted from joyful camaraderie to sudden surprise, and you couldn’t shake the guilt ones bulding up inside you now.

They had made the Japanese lifestyle seem so inviting for you that just acknowledging that you’d be departing soon hurt…

“No way, it’s been two weeks already?” Euijoo exclaimed with shock, his chopsticks paused mid-air. “Can’t your school let you stay a little longer? I’m sure Shotaro doesn’t mind opening his house to you for an extension…”

“I really wish I could take that offer, Euijoo-san,” you replied, offering a soft smile to hopefully ease his emotions, “I just have to get back for school… plus, changing my flight dates so late wouldn’t be a wise move on my part…”

Shotaro looked down for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his sullen, otter-like features. “It’s been so nice having you around here,” he said quietly, his tone laced with something that you couldn’t quite decipher, but you knew it was different from his usual chipper.

After dinner, the three of you tried to shift the energy by sharing a few more stories and cleaning up the kitchen together, your harmonious laughter echoing beneath the dim house lighting.

Excusing yourself, you eventually retreated to your bedroom after everything was tidied up, but your mind remained a swirling sea of freshly acquired memories of the past few days.

You were gonna take a walk to clear your head and sight-see for what might be your last chance, but your plans were cut short once you realized it was past your curfew, the clock reading 8:00pm on the dot, and you respected Taro too much now to disregard his rules…

Sighing, you closed the door to your room, the world outside faded away, leaving you only to your thoughts and the slightly improved clutter of personal items that you’d worry about packing up tomorrow morning.

You were too emotionally drained to do anything in this moment, other than something to take the edge off… and quickly…

Across the hall, Shotaro sat in the living room, wishing he could shake off the heaviness in his chest. He had grown so fond of you over the last days, your laughter, your genuine curiosity about everything around you and your interest in his culture... The sound of the sliding door to your bedroom clicking shut reached his ears.

“No more sneaking around and spying on me,” your voice faintly resounded from a few days ago in the back of his mind, but a certain impulse washed over him, and he couldn’t help but draw himself to your room, once step at a time.

And it came to no surprise that the clicking sound he heard wasn’t even from the door, but better yet, your suitcase latch after your brief search for the infamous cylinder wrapped in cloth.

You still hadn’t learned how to properly lock the doors behind yourself again, which is why you set that no peeking rule down in the first place… you knew secrets enticed Shotaro, but in this moment, you just focused on taking care of yourself… just like Shotaro said, both outside and within…

Kneeling down, Shotaro edged himself towards the door, where a slender crack allowed him a stingy look inside.

The soft glow of your dresser lamp illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows along your bedsheets and your now half-naked body.

You wore nothing but a baggy T-shirt and panties as you got positioned into your back, legs spread just enough for Shotaro to see everything… your graceful and seren silhouette, and your pulsating core… it all caught his attention, and it all made him all the more aroused…

Luckily for the both of you, EJ had locked himself up in his room to wash off his long day of work, and the sound of the water running faintly in the background acted as a timer for you to finish by.

You began to slid your panties down your hips, each motion fluid and unhurried as Shotaro's poor little heart raced, quickening the pace of his breath.

Slowly caressing over your skin with one hand, you reached for the dildo with the other, and unbeknownst to you, Shotaro was just a few feet away from you, untying his pants as his semi-hard dick sprung out, almost hitting the door.

You just hoped that Shotaro had busied himself somewhere in the house so he wouldn’t find you like this… though, once the head of the toy circled your clit before you slowly lined the head up with your entrance, your mind couldn’t shake the thought of him…

The thought of how he’d feel inside you, or the thought of his hands pinning yours over your head and to the mattress…

Finally inserting the toy all the way, you felt your breath hitch as you started sliding the dildo in and out of your cunt, already coating it in your slimy juices.

The room was silent except for the sound of your own soft gasps bouncing off the walls. Shotaro licked a stripe of spit up his hand before cupping the base of his cock with his palm, already too caught up in the private world of his thoughts to care about how perverted of him this was.

The way he stroked himself mirrored the pace that you set for the dildo as you kept fucking yourself, circling your hips against the mattress as you somehow widened your legs even more.

And by now, Shotaro was in visual heaven, despite the fact that he hated how slow you were going with it… he hated that he couldn’t make himself go any faster until you did.

“Nghh~” a needy mewl ripped from under your breath, and Shotaro felt himself shiver at the way you lifted your hips into the toy now, gripping at your tit with your free hand.

Words can’t begin to describe how badly he wished he could cup your breasts in his hands…

Your hole was impressively taking all of the toy’s girth, but from the looks of it, your pussy was still suffocating around it, being stuffed to the brim as your walls quivered in ecstasy.

So that’s how she likes to be fucked, Shotaro thought to himself, and your lips ironically started to cry out yes as he kept his grip firm around his shaft.

A stream of your own arousal dripped unto the sheets, coating the dildo and your pussy lips in a delicious shine, and Shotaro swore he would’ve sold his soul just to get a taste—

“Shit,” he swore, a free hand flying to cover his mouth as he can barely keep his sounds in now.

You picked up the pace, and he pumped his cock even faster, knowing better than anyone that his rough fingers didn’t feel half as good as your pussy probably does.

He watched the way your tightness gripped at the dildo every time it hit that special spot inside you, and at this point, you were too turned on to pretend like you don’t hear him.

When he had cursed, you noticed his boba eyes peeking at you, and although your first instinct was to shut your legs and scold him, you let the moment take its course…

“Taro,” you said in a seductive voice… one that comes out naturally because of the state you’re in, “you’ve never been very sneaky, y’know that?”

His round eyes nearly popped out of his head at your offer, and he was torn between whether he should pretend like this never happened or just adhere to your lust-laced words.

“Q-quit being shy, Taro,” you whined out again, stammering over your own words as the dildo started to vibrate, “just get in here before I- fuck... ch-change my mind...”

Shotaro could hardly believe his own ears once you announced your scandalous invitation to him, and doesn't think he's ever put his dick away so quickly, either...

Carefully sliding the door open, he slipped through the narrow gap he provided for himself before locking the door back behind him and joining you on the bed.

You were definitely feeling a little less bold now that he was barely a few inches away from you, but the ways his eyes flickered between glancing at your face and then your sloppy cunt motivated you somehow—

“Want some help with that?” He offers quietly, and you respond by slipping the thick toy from your hole, a wet pop filling the room as you lazily held it towards him.

And although his face still appears like a cross between shocked and dumbfounded, his body posture is confident as he takes the toy from your grasp, caressing your exposed thigh just to see you shiver.

He give you one more glance for approval as if your consent wasn't already obvious enough before sliding the tip of the toy between your slick folds, but he's applying a lot more pressure than you did when handling it... not that you had a problem with it anyways...

“You're so sensitive,” he chuckled slightly, watching the way your torso clenched as he pressed the dildo against your entrance, and you're suddenly feeling shy yourself now-- “And pretty,” he continued, complimenting the view of your beautiful bare body before him, the purest look of lust upon both your faces, “so, so pretty...”

A soft moan escaped your mouth as he pushed the toy all the way inside you now, and his method of pumping you felt way better than what you usually did for yourself.

“T-Taro,” you whined, watching as he continued to fuck your cunt open with the dildo, fully focused on pleasing you... he was so fascinated by the way your walls clenched around the silicone, lewd noises filling the room as you grew even hazier in your head.

“What is it, ____?” His voice came out deeply as his gaze barely met yours from behind his neatly cut bangs, his cold hand pressing firmly on the bulge in your stomach, as created by the long toy inside you.

“T-touch yourself,” you whimpered, reaching down to grab his wrist as the pressure he applied became too much for you to speak over, “while you keep touching me...”

That's all it took for him to slowly get to work on shimmying down his pants again, and single-handedly at that. The tip of his cock was sore with a throbbing need as he took his shaft in his free palm, stroking it to the same pace that he set for the dildo inside you.

And his moans were joining yours now, his starved out teeth biting at his lower lip as he continued gliding the toy in and out of your pussy, making your eyebrows furrow at the sight before you.

You imagined that the dildo was his cock as you threw your head back against the pillows, closing your eyes while he did the same by imaging you were responding this way from taking his cock, fucking the pathetic silicone into you just like his hips would.

And as badly as the intrusive thoughts were telling him to toss the toy and just fuck you properly himself, he knew there was a better way to help you get past the sexual frustration of not coming... and he didn’t want to pressure you into doing something you weren’t completely down for…

“Play with your clit for me, baby,” Shotaro slurred while speeding up the movements of his hand pumping his length, and you adhered to his words immediately, sliding your hand down to rub at your sensitive spot just like he told you to.

“That's it baby,” he sighed, chest heaving as he felt himself reaching the point of no return, “you're close, aren't you pretty?”

“S-so close,” you winced desperately, and it only takes a few more thrusts of his hand and circles of your own finger before you were falling over the edge, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to keep your moans in.

And your eyes are pricking with tears given how good the stimulation felt, but you knew Shotaro hadn’t reached his climax yet.

With the little energy you had meddling within your system, you sat up to meet him where he sat, the dildo still jammed inside your pussy as you pulled his face to kiss you, and the contact was hungry… Shotaro’s own mouth gaping open to groan as you kept your grip tight around his neck while looking deeply into his eyes.

He was a panting mess now, and you wanted to help him feel just as good as he had made you feel.

“____, you don’t have to—”

“Shhh,” you interrupted his choked out sentence, kissing him once again as you moved your hand to take the place his around his shaft, “let me return the favor, baby…”

Although a bit delayed, Shotaro eventually nodded in compliance, resting one of his free hands behind him to brace his weight on the bed and his other free hand at you ass where he spanked you slightly.

“B-bounce on it,” his voice came out, and a bit strained in tone as he spanked you a little harder this time, reeling a soft whine out of you, “p-please baby, ride that dildo while you jerk my co— holy fuckk…”

You were still so sensitive in this moment, so the overstimulation was insane once you started grinding against the toy, lifting your hips to ride it as he watched with lust-ridden eyes.

And your delicate hands were doing such a good job of pumping him, too, stroking his length at just the right pace while paying extra attention to the head of his cock, the part that you knew would make him feel the best.

“God, you’re so fucking good at that, pretty,” he praised, and you kissed him instead of saying anything, bouncing so hard now that even the bed is starting to squeak beneath you two.

And the sound made Shotaro smirk… the sound of your juices squelching around the toy… of your heart beating fast behind your chest… the gentle meals escaping you, and the sound of your hand stroking him to heaven—

“Fuck!” He suddenly cried out, as quietly as he could as to not alarm EJ, and that’s when you knew he had finally reached his climax.

Breaking from his lips, you reached behind yourself to grab the scarf you used to wrap up the toy and held it over the top of his cock, just in time for his pearly spurts of his release to fill up the cloth.

Your warm hand slowly pumped the girth of his shaft, continuing to milk him dry as his hand gripped your hips tightly at the feeling, and you’re certain you’d have a bruise there later from his force.

And there is was again… Shotaro’s infamous smile as he sighed beneath his breath, releasing his grip on your hip while looking into your eyes now.

“Sorry I messed up your scarf,” he said plainly, and you can’t help but smile at his remark.

“Eh, it’s alright,” you returned, taking the bundle of fabric from his cock and holding it in your hand, “you’re in charge of laundry duty, anyways…”

Both of your cheeks were as warm as fresh baked milk bread now as you awkwardly lifted your hips off the dildo, the slimy object falling from your hole with a gentle pop as you took the cum rag and wrapped the toy in it, too.

“So…,” he began, voice returning to its usual pitch as you helped shimmy his pants back up, “do you always cum that hard, or was that orgasm special just for me?”

“Shut up,” you scorned playfully, nudging his shoulder slightly to which he chuckled alongside you.

But that’s when you both noticed it… the sound of the water running had stopped, and you’re sure it hasn’t been running for a while.

The two of you exchange worried looks as your ears keen in on the sounds behind the door, if any at all…

“Should I just…?” Shotaro started to ask while getting up from the bed, but you placed a hand at his thigh, keeping him in place.

Step, step, step.

Euijoo’s house slippers slid across the floor as he made his way to your bedroom door, the silhouette of his frame being clear as day behind the slightly opaque door, and you wonder just how much he can see from his point of view.

“Hey, is Shotaro-san in there with you?” He asked, visibly tucking his hands in his pajama pants pockets, “I heard the bed creaking, and he has a strict ‘NO-SEX IN THE HOUSE’ policy…”

“Yes, he’s in here—”

“We weren’t having sex.”

You and Shotaro’s of your voices came out at the same time, and by this point, EJ is really confused, even though both of your sentences were 100% the honest truth.

“Right,” is all the poor boy says before turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction, “just make sure you end your little sleepover in time for me to get my work clothes washed by tomorrow morning…”

��♱✮ Thank you to everyone reading this fic of mine, which actually concludes DAY 3 of my Kinktober Event !! Also, if you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

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imsilay · 9 months ago

Text

HAMARTIA

MNDI +18, cw: oral (f!receiving), fem!reader ( i don’t think there’s much to warn :/ )

cw: 2.3k

bigger font as promised lol and not proofread sorry :/ my stomach hurts :(

(i need my mouth on his abs. and hands it’s a need trust me. idk the cr please tell me.) it’s royaidni on X guys :> -i might buy patreon for him-

You swore this was the day that you’d kill this man as you tightened your hands around his thick neck. He smirked under his mask, you were strong. You were strong enough to take your anger out of him and knock him to ground when he asked for a fight with you. His words were taunting, irritating even as he did so which was something you happened to not like. You didn’t really knew if he was doing it on purpose. You suspected that he was trying to get the best of you.

And you were undoubtedly right.

He absolutely loved the way you clenched your fists when someone challenged you. He observed you long enough to know you wouldn’t say no to any competition. What a brave girl you are. “You… are weak.” he managed to choke out as you breathed rapidly. Oh how beautiful you were… From the blood dripping down from the edge of your lips to your heaving chest. You were a mess, he wasn’t easy on you, he knew what you were capable of, he knew if he let his guard down you could easily knock him down which was predictable and happened as soon as he froze for a moment. He froze because he couldn’t believe he really punched your precious face, because he couldn’t believe how pretty you were when you spit the blood pooled on your mouth and jumped on him like a lioness. He felt his whole body shivering underneath you, not daring to move away, not daring to do anything to ruin the positions of your bodies because Gott- your form rose heavenly on his stomach.

The angle was just right, he could see- nein, he could feel the way you looked down at him, was it another way of saying him he’s nothing different than a bug without words? Did you hated him enough to not even utter a word? That couldn’t be the case because he saw the burning lust in that gaze, felt it in his bones. It flowed into his skin from your palms around his neck.

“Said the man who’s about to die from my hands.” you snickered, breath coming out short and rapid. You felt a hot sweat rolling down on your spine as he chocked out a dry laugh. It was chocked because you had no intention of loosening your grip. “It would be a honorable way to die.” he finally got a hold of your wrists and pried your hands from his neck.

“But not today, Maus.” he lead your body down from his stomach to his crotch. Oh he loved the dumbfounded expression of your face, eyes going wide and lips forming a small ‘o’ shape. Because what was the thing poked your ass, you hoped it wasn’t his gun- or maybe you hoped it was. You were frozen and only remembered to get up when he tilted your chin up with his nose. You pressed your knees firmly against the floor to have the leverage to push yourself off of him. “Sit down.” he barked, both of you knew you could try more and eventually break free from his grip but you were a little curious thing. You wondered if he was really getting off from fighting with you. You were also curious when you accepted his challenge, wondering that König, the colonel who never talked with anyone unnecessarily but a few people, came to you on his own.

Did you loved to be on top? Or did you prefer to let your partner have the control? Would you like if he had you in a mating press and emptied his balls deep inside you until you break and cried for him to sop? Or would you prefer to ride him until he was overstimulated and panting like a dog?

These were the overwhelming thoughts he had every single night since he saw you kill a enemy which he claimed as his target. Along with 10 others. Your skin was hard, not squishy and soft like he was used woman to be. Your skin was scared from the bullets and sharp knifes. Your skin was tortured, beaten, overworked even. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to cause you any pain. The punch he landed on you made him want to cut his wrist off and feed it to dogs. You weren’t fragile but he loved how sensitive you were. Just like him, you weren’t so used to have someone so close and intimate. He could feel your heartbeat pick up as he pressed his clad lips on your pulse.

You were being oddly obedient and he loved it.

You we sitting on his lap like you weren’t choking him to death just a minute ago. You could be a witch or siren, whatever you name it, because there was no other explanation for your enchanting presence. He felt weak, for the first time in a decade he felt like he could drop to his knees and worship you like a temple.

You weren’t patient as you were strong. You wanted to feel him grow harder, you wanted to feel him as impatient as you so you could have him. So you started to grind your hips against his throbbing length, successfully drawing a growl from him. But not without a smack to your hips.

“Behave. I didn’t knew you were much of a slut. I thought you were just an arrogant brat.” he mumbled, not bothering to leave the confines of your neck. So you grabbed his hair with his mask and yanked his head back. “Are you going to fuck me or do i have to continue where i left of?” you hissed, wrapping your now free hand around his nack and getting irritated with his calmness. “Don’t wanna hurt you Maus, but you give me no other choice.” he purred yet there was irritation matching with yours, maybe even more. “Sometimes you forget who you’re talking to, and i’d be more than happy to fix that.” he pushed you back onto your back and you landed on the ground with a thud. You didn’t expected him to push you off after nuzzling you like a stray cat. You thought you had him in your palm, but he wasn’t like others. You were so shocked that you couldn’t do anything to stop him when he pressed on your torso and tugged down your pants. You wanted to kick him which you could with your current position but something primal in you prevented you from it. You wanted to let him put you in your place, you wanted to see if he could.

Now he was the one breathing heavily as he looked down at your exposed panties. The black ones, his favorite. He saw you in them one time, by accident if you believe. And since then he couldn’t get any sleep. He gritted his teeth, this was his lucky day. “Don’t move.” he retreated his hand from your torso so he could pull your panties with both of his hands. As he pulled down the fabric his hungry eyes drank every bit of skin that was being exposed to him. You thought he was doing it slowly on purpose, you thought he was teasing you for being touch starved but you just couldn’t notice how his hands were trembling and he was thankful that you didn’t noticed. “This wet from a little fighting and grinding? You’re pathetic. And i’m your colonel. Aren’t you ashamed? The strong soldiers everyone’s afraid of is getting wet for her colonel, i bet they would kill to see you.” his words hit just the right spot, it traveled through your veins and rushed your blood pressure. And of course that cocky bastard noticed that. How couldn’t he? His eyes were never leaving you!

But you wanted him to do more than looking, you wanted to feel his hands, mouth, tongue- god you wanted him all over you. “Oh look at that…” He parted your folds with his thumb and catched that glob of arousal dripped from you. “Do you need something in your pretty pussy? I got something you’d like.” he snickered, how needy you were… He’d never thought you would be so cute under him. You’d be hot of course but not that cute. He imagined every possibility but the way you covered your face with your forearm and the way you lifted your hips to chase his thumb never crossed his mind. “Give it to me.” your voice came out muffled by your forearm but he could understand you very loud and clear. “Nein Maus. You forgot to ask properly.” he dab his thumb on your clit, slowly and lightly. “What do you want?” he asked again and you knew it was your last chance. He never liked to repeat himself. You threw your head back when he licked your slit before you could answer. He swallowed thickly and pressed his fingers into your thighs. You had to answer before he lost his control and did something he would regret. “I…” you hesitated, he was your colonel but he was the one who offered all of this. You looked for your morals but they were no where to be seen when König was between your legs, looking into your eyes with his halfway lifted mask and your slick on his chin. “I want your cock. I want to feel you, i want you to fill me up until i am full of you.” oh your sweet voice, your sweet sweet words. “Braves Mädchen. That was what i wanted to hear.” he practically growled when he buried his fingers and face into your cunt. You gasped by intensity of both at the same time. His long and thick fingers dragged along your walls and curled just right as his lips wrapped around your sensitive bundle of nerves and sucked and lapped until your hips rose from the ground by his merciless attack. “Slow down!” you grabbed his hair to pull him away but you couldn’t use your strength due to his teeth gently grazing your clit. Your hips twitched and you could feel the overwhelming pleasure pooling within you, ready to explode with a poke. And the poke was his fingers hitting your g-spot. You pushed his head away- at least you tried but he didn’t left his place. His tongue lapped every drop you offered as you squirted all over him and the floor. “Mein, mein, mein.” he purred as he pulled his fingers out of your quivering hole and kissed your pretty pussy all over. Along with your strong thighs and throbbing clit. He sucked and licked your folds like he’s making out with your pussy. You were still twitching and trying to calm down after your intense orgasm. “König, enough.” you whined, your whiny voice strange to even yourself. Oh but did he love it. He’d kill to hear you whine and beg him again.

“I can’t understand what you’re saying, Maus.” he mumbled against your slick pussy and continued to lick until there was nothing left from your orgasm. He wanted it back. Not just your sweet slick, he wanted your sweet cum on his tongue. But he had to leave your pussy as his cock throbbed painfully in the confines of his pants. He straightened his back and that was when he could get a glimpse of your glossy eyes. His heart kicked his chest like it was trying to rip his skin and present itself to you. ‘Beautiful, pretty, cute, but mine, mine, mine.’ His twisted mind screamed as he hungry gaze drank the sight of you. You were just laying there obediently, for what? For your colonel to sink his cock into you and fuck the breath out of your lungs. He felt the globs of precum dripping from his slit to wetting his boxer. “Open your pretty legs f’me Maus.” he taunted, looking for a defiance or a little light of irritation in your eyes at his order but surprisingly you brought your hands under your knees and pulled your legs open for him. His whole body shuddered and he felt like he had been blessed by the god himself. His hands were erratic as he unbuckled his belt and fished his cock out. He hissed when his painful erection was finally free. He grabbed the base of his cock as he opened your folds with his long pointer and middle fingers. “You’re so ready f’me.” he breathed, you’d think he was talking to himself. He dragged his cock up and down on your slit until it was covered with your slick. You twitched and moaned everytime his tip kissed your clit. As he pushed the tip in he caressed underneath of your thighs and stopped under your knees where your hands hold your legs up and open for him. “Leave it to me Maus.” he softly pushed your hands and replaced it with his. You tried to breathe and loosen up for him but he was just so thick and it felt like he was splitting you open. Finally when he was fully inside you and filled you up like you wanted, you felt him pressing your thighs further into your chest. Your breath left your lungs when he snapped his cock out and inside you to the brim. He thought you couldn’t feel any better than engulfing him like a glove but when he left you breathless your walls clenched around him like you wanted to milk his balls empty.

After a few thrust your moans got louder and louder along with the clenching of your walls. "Scheiße Maus. If you continue to squeeze me like that-“ he grunted and picked up the pace. He felt like he couldn’t hold back anymore but he wanted you to cum with him. So he brought a hand between your impossibly flushed bodies and drew firm circles on your clit until you cum with a screaming of his name and he painted your walls with his relase.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

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