#i just now got the time to give you a proper answer

[bulkyphrase]

Post-CACW Stony: a fic rec list

I've been on a Captain America: Civil War kick lately, and since I know that Steve-friendly CW Stony fic can be hard to find, I've put together a rec list!

I am thoroughly team cap, but these range from being anti-accords to just not getting into the issue, and all are Steve-friendly as long as you can accept a lot little loving Steve-whump.

Atlas by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 11,505 words)

Summary: They don't hear each other.

Eigengrau by vorkosigan (@the-vorkosigan) (Teen And Up Audiences, 16,811 words)

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Nights When the Wolves Are Silent, and Only the Moon Howls by Cluegirl, Defiler_Wyrm (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, 77,612 words)

Note: has a Stucky element too, but the relationship between Steve and Tony is the main focus.

Summary: “Could you drop all that stoic shit and be my freaking-the-hell-out wingman for just like, five seconds here?” Steve wasn’t sure he could think of anything he wanted less to do than to freak out about his wounds just then though, so he reached across his chest and gingerly patted Sam’s clenched knuckles. “It’ll be fine,” he promised, believing it. “Serum’s handled worse.” “You know, I actually believe you,” Sam allowed after a long second of glaring. “Which is deeply alarming, considering how much of your connective tissue I’ve touched in the last 4 hours. Now you wanna tell me what Russoff’s men did to you that made it look like you got mauled by a bear?” Steve flinched, then breathed the memory down to size. “Not a bear,” he murmured. “Wolves.”

More below the cut!

(trust me when i say) i'll get back to you by machi_kun (@machi-kun) (General Audiences, 1,549 words)

Summary: “Me and Rogers are not on speaking terms anymore.”

An Infinite Number Of Monkeys At Typewriters (Or, Steve and Tony Finally Get It Right) by JenTheSweetie (@jenthesweetie) (Mature, 18,864 words)

Summary: Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to - “Steve?” After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you'd expect it to.

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Cluegirl (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 152,765 words)

Summary: They all made mistakes. They all have regrets. They all have nightmares, suspicions, and questions they'd like to ask. And they all left business behind them that was never quite finished. This is the story of how the Avengers ask those questions, get their answers, and come together like fucking adults to make things right again.

Bring Him Home by seventymilestobabylon (@seventymilestobabylon) (Explicit, 13,769 words)

Summary: Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days. (a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Conjugal Visits by xtricks (Explicit, 4,252 words)

Summary: AU: Steve Rogers gets captured fairly soon after Civil War and sent to the Raft. Tony discovers that trying to appease your enemies doesn’t work and ends up a prisoner too.

Down Came the Rain by captainoutoftime (@captain-outoftime) (Explicit, 75,274 words)

Summary: A mission goes badly for Natasha, who is discovered de-aged to three years old. She recognizes no one, but every kid knows Captain America. When Tony grudgingly makes a call, Steve makes good on his promise to answer. Steve has to work together with Tony to take care of a traumatized child and figure out how to turn their itsy bitsy spider back into a Black Widow. Neither of them really want to talk about what happened in Siberia, but living in close quarters, they have to come to some sort of peace - even if it means addressing some feelings they'd rather not admit to having. As they work together to solve the problem of a re-emerging Red Room, Steve uncovers something he never expected to find again: family.

Hating Steve Rogers by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 16,243 words)

Summary: The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.

I Have Questions by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce) (@yourfadedglory) (Not Rated, 2,808 words)

Summary: There is only so much that Steve can carry. His legs quiver and his heart aches, he looks skyward, and in a startling moment of clarity he lets the shield go. Gouged and battered, it rings like a bell when it hits the stone floor. He wonders for a split moment if it will weigh on Tony the way it has weighed on him.

The Crying Game by fohatic (@fohatic) (Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ...Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

the hope that kills you by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, 1,227 words)

Summary: Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

live for the hope of it all by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1,880 words)

Note: This is a sequel to the hope that kills you

Summary: “You can keep me here, can’t you?” Steve asks a little desperately as Tony kneels over him, spreading himself out all the better for Tony to take. He must have really hated his cell on the Raft, Tony thinks before he loses himself in Steve’s body, and for a little while, everything is the same as it has been for the past six months. It’s only after, in the dark and quiet of his own bedroom with Steve sprawled sleepy and heavy across his chest that Tony realises— This is their cell now.

The Phone by AvengersNewB (@avengersnewb) (Mature, 9,039 words)

Summary: Tony hates the flip phone Steve sends him, but he keeps it close at all times, and it never rings until it finally does and the news might help put things into perspective - Captain America : Civil War fix-it. or The phone can't take the place of your smile. [podfic added as chapter 2]

the things we invent when we are scared by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, 18,305 words)

Summary: Steve is trapped in a dream machine, programmed to make him believe he's living his happiest fantasy. Tony goes inside to wake him up, but what he finds is a lot more complicated than he expected.

there's nothing but blue skies by Meatball42 (Mature, Major Character Death, 647 words)

Summary: “This isn’t good,” Steve said grimly.

[alarrytale]

Hi Marte. I saw a tiktok vid about Kit being forced to CO. It was essentially saying that speculating about someone's sexuality is bad because it's their private business. It mentioned Shawn identifying as straight and yet people label him as gay/bi. Which could easily apply to Louis too. I see this opinion mostly with young people, that if someone states they're straight then we should believe them and not question it. But these people are treating celebrities like regular people when they are closeted for different reasons. Celebrities are usually closeted because of money but the average person is usually closeted because of fear. Kit's situation was unusual but the vast majority of celebrities who have CO have said themselves that they were manipulated into hiding their sexuality. They were made to feel bad about it. Billie said multiple times that she was straight and yet when she CO she said people mistook her queercoding for queerbaiting. She was trying to communicate to her own community that she was one of them and they weren't getting it. Other celebrities have talked about this too, Dove was one. That people didn't pick up on her queercoding. Just because someone is pressured by their team into hiding their sexuality from the straight gp it doesn't mean that they're trying to hide it from their own community, hence why queercoding exists in the first place. To let people know you're one of them. These people who preach about how sexuality speculation is bad don't seem to understand the concept of queercoding. A celebrity, who has their sexuality speculated about often, wouldn't queercode and engage in queer culture if they didn't want to communicate with their community. Don't young people understand or pick up on queercoding anymore?

Hi, anon!

I think you're right that people don't understanding why people in the industry is closeted. Some apply the same reason they themselves are (or were closeted) to the celebrity. Some people still think it's bad or something less to be queer and think that people speculating is to hurt their favourite. Some people are protecting the celebrity's closet for them because they want their fave to succeed and they don't think they will unless they stay closeted.

Most closeted celebrities are only closeted to the public, because they believe it's neccessary to succeed, advance their careers and make money. Most celebrities wouldn't be closeted if that wasn't a barrier anymore. For a lot of celebrities it isn't a barrier anymore, like Billie. It's a strength and it can actually help you advance your career.

Celebrities know how to balance the queercoding they do and stay in the closet. Some are very closeted and others are in a glass closet. It depends on their situation and how they manage their closet. Trust the celebrity and the choice they've made. There is no need to ignore queercoding and not point it out. If celebrites are queercoding they need fellow queer people to pick up on it and they need that degree of self-expression within their closet. They need the validation and find acceptance in the queer community. Fandom shouldn't guard the closet door for them. Fandom can risk further closeting the celebrity and making the closet harder for them to deal with when their queercoding isn't picked up on and hushed down. If something is visible to you, or information is widely known, you're supposed to see and know about it. Believe me, they do know how to shut something down if they really want to. They've got PR teams for that very reason.

Like i've said before, there is a difference between outing someone and a celebrity feeling pressured to come out. With Kit it was the latter. He was cast on a show with an out queer cast (at least the roles playing queer). The queer community were ecstatic to finally get a queer cast playing queer people and representing most of the lgbtqai+ spectrum. Kit was the only one, or the most noticible one at least in a lead role, to not state his sexuality while playing queer. That breeds speculation. He wasn't giving the queer community representation. He is straight passing. He was seen holding hands with a woman right when the show came out, making everyone think they'd cast a straight man (or at least a straight passing man, who is in a het relationship) in a queer role. That will create reactions within the queer community. So he was put under an enormous amount of pressure to make a statement. If he didn’t want to come out i think he could have handled this differently. But he was very young, is still very young. So it's very understandable how he reacted.

It isn't and it will never be wrong to speculate if a celebrity is queer. Because being queer isn't bad and straight isn't the default.

[aardvaark]

im so glad that we never get a clear picture of sophie’s background in leverage & i hope we never do. however i also really like making up various, often conflicting backstories for her in my head. perhaps they’re all backstories for an alias of hers, ones she laid to rest back in season two.

[canisalbus]

I say this in the best way, but your characters feel like they're from an obscure but really good piece of media, and you feel like the artist who always draws the two main characters as ghay lovers

.

[hella1975]

hella I keep getting edits with some sort of original version of waiting room?? on my fyp and I'm gonna be honest waiting room wasn't a song that did me in quite as badly as the rest of you but this version I keep hearing literally rips my heart straight open😭😭 like I've been planning on fixing the no waiting room on spotify issue by taking it into my own hands🏴‍☠️ but now I know it's gonna have to be this version I'm not even bothering with lost ark waiting room. it's just gonna be waiting room og bc what the fuck?? "I never grew up with you, and you're not my waiting room" what the fuck??? with the haunting background noises literally WHAT THE FUCK????????

OMG IVE SEEN THAT ONE everyone keeps going on about the vocals of 'and you're not my waiting room' but i really cant get over 'i never grew up with you' like what??? WHAT??????

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[lyrefromthesea]

Male pillars x Reader - sitting on their lap

author's note: I'm strictly against any kind of sexual interactions with minors. That's why I will either exclude Muichiro from such fics of or portray a wholesome interaction instead.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Muichiro x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestive words and actions

Tengen:

"excuse me? I'm married!" he dramatically exclaimed, looking down at you. the man was already trying to refrain from smiling, watching you turn your head towards him.

"i'm sure Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma will forgive me." you answered, showing him your hand. he smirked at the all too familiar ring. he was glad he had married you.

"just playin', i could never disappoint the flamboyant person i married!" he laughed, clearly proud of himself. when you cocked your eyebrow at him, he let out a dramatic gasp, pulling you closer.

"are you trying to say i'm not the most perfect husband you could imagine?" he asked, displaying a huge amount of shock. you knew he was just making fun, especially when he pressed your back against his chest, bringing his lips to your ear.

"you were saying entirely different things yesterday." he said, watching you shudder at his words. you slapped his knee, scolding him for saying such things outside.

"come on, you know you love it!"

Obanai:

he freezes, his brain nearly malfunctioning. it's not like you've never sat on his lap before, but you usually gave him a warning first - asked for his approval.

"[name]? what's-" he asked, surprised when your arms wrapped around his neck, barely giving Kaburamaru time to slither away. words got stuck in his throat, feeling your lips against his mask - right above his own.

"nothing. i was just feeling affectionate." you answered, shifting to wrap your arms around his torso. he looked down at you, letting out a quiet yelp when your hips moved a bit too much on his lap.

"oh..?" you looked at him, a smile slowly forming on your lips. a blush made his way towards his cheeks, luckily covered by his mask. at least he felt lucky, you would've liked to see him blush.

"it looks like you're feeling affectionate too, Obanai." you chuckled, purposely drawing light circles with your hips. of course you had noticed the growing bulge in his pants, his hands now holding yours.

"don't tease me, [name].."

Rengoku:

"little flame! how was your day?" he enthusiastically asked, his arms wrapping around your torso. he pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder.

"it was okay, i missed you." you answered, leaning against his chest. he smiled at you, enjoying the way your bodies were pressed together so gently.

"we can't have that, little flame! how about we go eat later?" he asked, holding you a bit closer. you chuckled at his words, he really loved taking you to new places - especially restaurants.

"i'd like that. let's go eat something later."

Sanemi:

"and what the hell are you doing?" Sanemi asked, feeling you make yourself comfortable on his lap.

he had cleaned his sword moments prior, hearing the door open - it was you. you moved towards him without warning, getting between him and his sword.

"getting your attention." you answered, moving even closer. don't think he didn't notice the way you purposely squished your chest against his own.

"yeah? didn't I give ya enough attention, sweetheart?" he teased, watching you pout in response. you had been alone for far too long, you finally wanted to spend time with him.

"you've been working on your sword for two hours now.." you complained. he placed it down, knowing that you were right. he just felt like the proper care could safe his ass one day, though a shiny sword probably wasn't that important.

"fine, ya win. this was getting uncomfortable anyways." he answered, almost making you question what he meant until he pressed his hips against yours more. oh, now you could feel it too.

"does that mean you want my attention as well-" you asked playfully, getting cut off by his lips pressing against yours before you could finished talking.

Giyuu:

"is everything alright?" his voice broke the silence, you've been sitting on his lap for almost 5 minutes now, not saying a single word. he was confused, not sure if you were fine or needed help.

"Giyuu, attention?" you asked, feeling him relax under you. he had been tense, thinking you could've been hurt somewhere. your words instantly calmed him down, his lips pressing against yours gently.

he didn't expect you to turn his soft kiss into something more passionate. his hands slowly came to hold your hips, tongues swishing against each other.

you broke the kiss, panting against his lips. he pressed his forehead against yours, pulling you a bit closer, only to have your hips start grinding slightly.

"l- love.. t- that's not.." he muttered, his cheeks visibly growing more red. hands squeezing your hips more, trying to create more friction. he could only moan when you finally started grinding against him properly.

"i.. i need to go on a mission later.." he panted against your lips, but he didn't object when you kissed him again, your hand wandering to his belt.

Muichiro:

"Muichiro! i finally caught up to you.." you heaved, letting yourself fall onto his lap. you had been running for nearly twenty minutes now, watching the boy leave his estate without food. being the good friend you were, you ran after him.

"[name]? what are you doing here..?" he asked, letting you lean against him. your cheeks were flushed from running. it would've been different if you also were a hashira, but you still had much to learn.

"you.. you forget your food, Mui.." you panted, reaching into your pocket. he looked rather surprised when he saw the small box of food he usually brought with him.

"thank you..! i've completely forgotten." he laughed, eventually coaxing a smile out of you. you gave him the box, seeing his eyes lit up at the promise of food.

he wanted to dive right in before he had a quiet growl come from your stomach, making your cheeks flush. "do you want some?" he asked, watching you shake your head.

"i brought my own!" you countered, grabbing into your back once more. silence filled the room when you noticed you had only brought his food.

his arm wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay on his lap a while longer. "let's share." he said, offering you some of his food. you knew he wouldn't let you go until you have had a healthy portion.

Gyomei:

"welcome back." the giant said, feeling you plop onto his lap, nuzzling against his chest. you let out a tired hum, feeling a large hand soothingly rub over your arm.

"is there something wrong? you're more quiet than usual." he asked, gently bringing your head closer with his hand - allowing you to be closer to him. you could hear the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

your day had been stressful, but he somehow always managed to calm you down. his warmth. his voice. his actions. they put your mind at ease.

"i know it's ridiculous, but i've felt really stressed out lately. i just want a break.." you muttered, closing your eyes. you were trying to focus on his heartbeat and ignore everything else around you.

"it's not ridiculous, you deserve a break. perhaps a visit to the hot spring would help calm you down?" he offered, feeling you nod against his chest. you felt warm hands rub over your thighs, his head now closer to yours.

"and i could pamper you a bit more after that.." he muttered against your ear, your eyes opening again. the warmth pooling in your gut could probably rival the hot spring's temperature

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Miss ma’am, hi hello how are you?

I am presenting myself here, very very humbly to ask if we could please get another part of your Nerd Nanami fic?🥹🥹 please please puhleaseeeeeeeee

That was an actual masterpiece, I had to read it very slowly and savour it, making sure to process every single sentence of that fic. You’re so talented it makes me cry

Please offer us more Nanami, pleaseeeeeee

Giving the nerd a chance… part two

Tags: nerd!Nanami x fem!Reader, college au, smut with plot, nsfw, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, size kink, breeding kink, dom!nanami, sub!reader, marathon sex, exhibitionism if you squint real hard, mdni

Synopsis: Your nerdy boyfriend is so prim and proper in real life, but he has big dick energy over text.

An: 4K Follower Special! I got over 20 requests for a part two of this fic. At this time, it is my best performing fic on tumblr, and I fear… I may have peaked with it. I never EVER intended on writing a second part because I was sure that I couldn’t ever follow that fic up with something as good, but this sweet anon request warmed my heart so much that I decided to give the people what they’re asking for. This one’s going to be a long one… pace yourself because there will NOT be a third part… right?

Nanami’s a stoic lover. He doesn’t keep you hidden, but he doesn’t outwardly drag attention towards your relationship. Too much attention meant drama, and Nanami hates drama.

Nanami asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks after the first time you two slept together. Of course, everyone in his friend group saw it coming long before you two had even hooked up.

They saw the longing gazes between you two when you pined for each other. They saw the cheeky glances once you two finally started texting. They noticed how their dear friend smiled more — was more laid back and relaxed.

Everyone welcomed you into their small found family with open arms. They simply couldn’t have picked anyone better to balance out Nanami’s far too strict nature.

Things with Nanami were absolutely a dream. You two had great chemistry emotionally and physically. Of course, he just made things so easy for you.

While he is a stoic lover, you never ever feel unloved by him. He’s always there to reassure you with words of affirmation or small touches that just remind you that he’s there.

Like when you two are at one of Satoru’s “exclusive” gatherings, if you’re not in Nanami’s lap, then he’s got his hand on you somewhere. Sometimes he gets so bored during those little get togethers that he spends his time leisurely pressing kisses into your cheek and neck. He never quite understood Satoru’s and Suguru’s affinity with public displays of affection until he met you.

Or there's those times when you need a little extra help with your studies. Kento is right behind you, with you on his lap, his cock is snuggly being squeezed by your warm leaking cunt. He presses small chaste kisses against your temple and ear while you try your hardest to focus on the homework.

"Do you remember this one, sweetheart? We went over it in class yesterday... Aw, don't go all stupid on me now."

When you get an answer right, he'll reward you with small, shallow thrusts, but you have to finish the whole assignment to get him to really fuck you.

Or if you two are walking together in the halls, Nanami holds his arm out for you, letting you latch onto him so he can guide you two through the crowd of people. He knows how you are in crowded areas, so he's keen on not letting anyone get too close to you.

Nanami’s a true gentleman too. His parents made sure they raised nothing less than a perfect man. You’ve never had to touch a door handle, any of your own money, or bags when you two go shopping. Nanami handles all of that for you. He doesn’t let you walk on the outside when you two are on the sidewalk. He’s respectful of you and your time, and he always listens to everything you have to say with his full attention because you deserve nothing less.

Nanami’s parents truly did their best work with him, and speaking of his parents, Nanami’s the type that wants to take you back home to meet them.

It was nearly fall break as you were sitting in your experimental research class — your final class before you’re free from the hell hole of academics for a full week.

You glance down at your phone as it buzzes in your lap. You and Nanami had been planning a trip out to his family’s home in Hakone for a little bit now, and the closer that time gets to you two leaving, the more stressed out Nanami feels.

Nanami: We’ll probably leave out early tomorrow morning and catch the first train. Will you be okay with that?

Yn: Mhm. That sounds fine, Ken.

Nanami: After class, I need to inform you a little bit more about my parents… I just don’t want you to feel shocked or surprised when you meet them.

Yn: I’m not sure why I’d be shocked or surprised, but I’m excited to hear more.

Nanami: Don’t get too excited.

You stare at his message for a bit, pondering what he could’ve meant by that. He hadn’t ever spoke poorly of his parents, but he didn’t necessarily praise them either. Actually… he never spoke of them.

*** *** ***

For the rest of the class, you wondered just what you were getting yourself into by going and meeting them. Maybe you two were moving too fast or..

“Sweetheart.” His steady voice broke your trance. He’s crouched down next to your desk to be eye-level with you, and the palms of his hand is gently caressing your cheek. “There you are. Spaced out on me.”

The entire classroom is empty. Class must’ve ended a minute ago because not even the professor is in the room now. You must’ve been deep in your own head.

You let force out an awkward laugh before nuzzling your cheek further into his palm, seeking out his affections as comfort from the insecure thoughts that somehow always manage to find a way in.

“I was just.. thinkin’ about your parents is all..” You finally give him some sort of explanation, and Nanami softens a bit.

“It’s just a weekend, my love. Then, I’ll make it up to you.” His words are a promise. You know for a fact Nanami doesn’t say things that he doesn’t mean.

“I think that was the part where you were supposed to reassure me that they’ll like me-“

Nanami pulls you forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you regardless.”

Gods, his words are so sweet, but they cut deep like daggers.

“They’re… not going to like me..?” You mumble in a tone that makes Nanami’s heart sink. He takes your hands into his as he gets on his knee to better talk to you while you’re seated.

“My parents are… very traditional.” He carefully explains, and his hazel eyes search yours for a reaction before he reluctantly continues. “They want me to marry a girl from a specific family-“

“An arranged marriage!?” You blurt out — unable to control your emotions as it feels like your heart is trying to force its way up your throat.

“Something like that - but not exactly. It’s not arranged, but it’s definitely heavily pushed.” He tries to keep his tone steady, but seeing you so upset like this has him feeling raw with emotion as well.

“So, no, they will not be happy to know that I’m going against their wishes, but they’ll come around eventually.” His eyes focus on yours, and he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“… and if they don’t?” A small sniffle escapes you before you can stop it. The thought of Nanami being with anyone else has your head spinning. There’s another girl out there who might be expecting for him to take her hand in marriage.

“Hey... look at me.” He coaxes softly as his hand guides your face to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I’m doing this as a courtesy for them — not because I need their approval.”

Chills shoot up your spine from his words. Nanami rarely cusses, but when he does, it’s enough to even make Satoru blush when he hears it.

Your worry instantly flees your body when Nanami’s lips press against yours to seal the deal. This was just a visit to his parents. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“I’m still gonna love you…” He mumbles his words against your lips before seeking out more of your honeyed kisses. “…still gonna marry you one day…” His deep voice groans a little as he gently suckles on your bottom lip. “…still gonna fuck you senseless every night.”

“Ken..” A breathy whine; a whimper; a plea.

“Because you need it every night, don’t you?” His lips are still chasing yours with an insatiable hunger. It just wasn’t enough. If the next class wasn’t coming in the next 10 minutes, he’d take you right here on your desk, but he doesn’t fancy the idea of anyone else’s eyes accidentally falling upon your ethereal body.

“Mhm… need it.” You murmur against his lips quietly in agreement.

Nanami suddenly pulls away, and he reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Come on before I fuck you right here.” He threatens and picks your bag up off the floor for you.

*** *** ***

A gasp flees you as Nanami pushes your back against his bed. His lips are immediately assaulting your neck: suckling soft red marks into your skin and nipping at you gently.

He loves to see the aftermath of his love on you, but he has to be careful this time. Can’t have you going to meet his parents with hickeys all over your neck, can you?

“Mmm~ What about Haibara?” You ask now before you find yourself too hypnotized by his affections.

“He has a class right now.” Nanami answers before his hand trails up your thighs towards your already damp panties. He has had this on his mind all day since he saw you in that cute little skirt you’re wearing.

“Already so wet.” He groans into your neck before biting at your shoulder. The pads of his fingers tease your sensitive clit through the cloth of your cotton panties. “Fuck. You’re so good to me.”

Nanami drops to his knees on the edge of the bed, and his strong arms pull you by your legs to where you’re situated at the edge for him to eat you out to his heart’s desire.

He doesn’t even remove your panties before he leans in and presses a sloppy kiss to your cunt. He can already taste you through the fabric, and he needs more.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, carefully placing them on his bedside table. If he can swing it, he’ll definitely hide them from you and claim that you lose them — just so he can keep them for when you’re not around.

He’s not a pervert!! Well… he loves jerking off into his girlfriend’s panties when he’s too needy at night… Feeling the wet fabric that was pressed so unceremoniously against your heavenly cunt is more than enough to get him off quickly. It would be ungentlemanly to wake you up at your dorm for such a scandalous adventure. At least he washes and returns them to you promptly after using them a couple of times.

As soon as your panties are safely discarded, Nanami has his face right back between your legs. He uses his hands to prop your legs up on his shoulder, and he just.. absolutely begins to devour you.

“Ngh.. oh fuck— wait Ken.. I wan..” You can barely get your words out right while his tongue is lapping at your slippery folds.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to interrupt someone during a meal?” His hazel eyes look up at you with such a serious look — you feel like you’re being scolded.

Your face flushes a bright red before you relax back into his bed — accepting your fate. Kento smiles to himself, knowing that it doesn’t take much to pacify you. You’re too much of a good girl for him.

“Mmm~ that’s right. Just lay back and take what I give you, pretty girl.” He hums in satisfaction as his tongue connects with your cunt once more.

He licks up all the sticky wetness that you so graciously leak for him. He’s so messy with it, practically french kissing with your cunt. Your juices are smeared across his chin from him hopelessly lapping at you. His tongue writes love letters to you against your clit, making your body shiver with pleasure and excitement.

One of your hands is clasping at the sheets, and the other hand is entangled in Kento’s blonde hair, giving him small tugs as he gives you the best head of your life.

Your thighs unconsciously press together, trying to run from the weird sensations that his mouth gives to you. Your boyfriend grunts in dissatisfaction — not enjoying the sudden disobedience from you.

His hand press against each of your knees, and he forces your legs back open — spreading you wiiiide open for him.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He asks while looking up at you through his lashes.

“Please — please~” You whine. Your hips involuntarily buck up, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Then be good, and sit still.” Nanami orders, and his hand ever so carefully swats at your sensitive cunt — sending shockwaves of electrifying pleasure through your nerve endings.

“‘m sorry.. ‘m sorry.. please.” You’re so whiny and desperate to be stretching by him. It’s honestly so pathetic that he pities you.

“My poor sweet girl.” He chuckles lowly before pressing a more gentle kiss against your clit. His tongue carefully dips into your wet heat. “Tastes too sweet for your own good. How am I supposed to stop enjoying you, huh?”

A glob of spit rolls down your cunt from Nanami’s mouth, and he uses his own two fingers to spread it around, softly toying with your glistening pussy. A smirk curls on his lips as he watches the way your entrance flutters — so enticed by the potential of being filled by him.

You quietly stifle a squeal as he stuffs you with two of his thick fingers. “So reactive, baby.” He murmurs as his tongue darts back out to gently lap and flick at your clit.

“Ken.. fuck, fuck-! Mmmph..” Your hips start to roll against his fingers, trying to force them inside you. Your boyfriend obliges your silent request, and he pushes his fingers in deeper, curling upwards to that spot he knows will make you cry out his name…

“Nanami-!” There it is. His fingers begin to roughly pump in and out, abusing your sensitive g-spot over and over again.

“Better be a good girl and tell me you love me.” He mutters lowly into your cunt. He knows he doesn’t have to tell you anymore — you’re already conditioned to tell him you love him when you cum. Even if he’s not the one making you finish, you’ll text him a quick “I love you” as you clench around your own fingers to the thought of him.

Your hips roll harder, and your moans are way more throaty — interrupted by small gasps for air. He can tell that you’re getting close. His mouth gently begins to suckle on the small bundle of nerves, and he focuses his tongue on swirling circles around your clit.

It’s all so much. It feels like Nanami is literally playing you like an instrument. He knows exactly what to do to make you a whiny trembling mess.

His fat fingers are pummeling into you, slamming into your sweet spot — making overstimulated tears well up in your eyes. “Sh-shit.. gonna cum.. Nanami… ah~ more..” You’re babbling utter nonsense while trying to find your orgasm.

Your stomach starts to clench, and it almost feels uncomfortable. Your breath stutters as Nanami murmurs into your pussy. “Let go for me, darling. Let it alllll out.” He encourages you as if his fingers and tongue aren’t absolutely tag teaming you.

“Ah~ Mmph… I.. fuck- I love you-!” You moan as you finally feel your orgasm suddenly break. Your tight walls clench around Nanami’s fingers, and fluids from your arousal gush out, making a big mess on his face and clothes.

Nanami quietly chuckles as he comes to realization that you just squirted on him. “Oh? That’s how you feel, huh?” He mocks playfully before pressing one last french kiss against your cunt. “I love you more darling.”

For a moment, you don’t know if it’s more directed towards you or your pussy.

*** *** ***

The early morning train ride was spent with your head cozied into Nanami’s shoulder as he had a protective arm around you. The scenery outside was beautiful. Hakone is known for their breathtaking sights of Mount Fiji. Too bad your eyelids were so heavy from getting up so early.

Nanami takes the silence as a time to reflect. He truly can’t remember a time when he was nervous like this. It was as if that emotion left him when he was a teenage boy. His family’s harsh regime for raising him left no room for shy or nervous behavior. Men were strong, confident, sophisticated. They exuded chivalry in everything they do.

Honestly, he’s glad that he was raised the way he was. Every time he bears witness to Gojo’s crude behavior, he can only think of how happy he is to have had a strict childhood.

But right now, he wishes he wasn’t so nervous. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s silently praying that you can’t hear it. Even though he didn’t care what his parents thought of you, he didn’t fancy the idea of seeing you torn down by his parents. Hopefully, they’ll have enough class to take up the issues with him — not you.

*** *** ***

Nanami’s parent’s house had a very traditional vibe to it, and it was easily twice as big as the house you grew up in. It was beautifully decorated, and the lawn was obviously meticulously cared for. It makes sense that Nanami grew up here.

“Just one weekend. Then, we’ll be back to normal.” Nanami murmurs softly into your ear. Though, he doesn’t know if he’s reassuring you or himself at this point. He takes a deep breath before knocking on the door with a heavy fist.

“Oh, Kennn.” His mother immediately ran up to Nanami and gave him a big hug after answering the door, which he returned back to her.

“It’s good to see you, mom.” He responds heartily before he holds out his hand to his dad.

“Look at you. Our son has grown up on us.” His dad gives a sweet smile while gently nudging his mom with his elbow.

“Don’t remind me!” His mom practically wails with her arms still wrapped around Nanami, and you’re awkwardly on standby.

Nanami finally puts his hands on his mom’s shoulders, and he forces her to take a step back. “It hasn’t even been that long since you two saw me, and besides, I brought someone for you two to meet.”

His arm carefully wraps back around your waist, and he looks at his parents before collecting himself briefly. “This is my girlfriend, Yn. Yn, these are my parents.”

His mom’s smile falters almost unnoticeably, but you immediately pick up on her dissatisfaction. His dad seems to just he surprised.

“Ah, yes, welcome to our home, yn.” His dad finally says with an earnest smile, and he subtly nudges his wife. It’s definitely a silent reminder for her to stop looking at you like you’re an intruder.

“Your home is lovely, Mr. and Mrs. Nanami. It’s nice to meet you two.” You try your best to not sound nervous at all, but his mom’s face just makes your stomach turn.

His parents guide you through their home, but they mostly focus their attention on Nanami: asking him about his studies, asking how Gojo’s doing, and asking if he’s contacted some girl named… Allegra. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was the girl who they wanted him to marry instead.

They didn’t ask you very many questions. His dad was friendly, but it seemed like he was tip toeing around all the awkward tension. His mom was just flat out ignoring your presence — clearly in denial about her son having a girlfriend who wasn’t this mysterious Allegra girl.

When it came time for dinner, his dad finally broke the awkward tension and asked about you.

“So yn, you go to the same college as Kento?” His dad seems to be genuinely sweet — just more on the passive shy side.

“Yeah, Ken and I actually share quite a few classes together.” You smile as your utensil grazes along the food they prepared. It smells delicious, but your nerves will barely allow you to nibble on it.

“What are you studying?”

“Oh, I’m in general studies for now. I’m still deciding on what to major in.” You reply as you finally feel yourself beginning to relax in your chair.

“Did you tell your friend that Allegra is studying to become a doctor? Wouldn’t that be nice to have in the family?” His mom finally speaks up, only addressing Nanami and not you.

Your stomach sinks as you realize why Nanami was so apologetic and reassuring this entire time. He knew his mom was just going to take subtle digs at you the entire time.

“One, she’s my girlfriend — not friend. Two, no, I have no reason to speak about Allegra with my girlfriend.” Nanami responds, and he gives his mom a subtle look. It appears they have a brief challenging moment before his mom looks away and relents.

Nanami’s foot gently nudges yours underneath the table, and you try to give him a small smile in response. It’s just hard when clearly you’re not wanted in this household.

The dinner goes silent for a moment, and the dining area fills with the sounds of chopsticks gently touching against plates. You subtly check your phone for an escape.

Nanami: Don’t pay her any mind, okay?

Nanami: I promise I’ll make up for this tonight. I’ll kiss you for every rude thing she says.

Yn: and for every time she says Allegra?

Nanami: I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember her name… make you so dumb until you can only remember my name. That’s all you need to know anyways.

Yeah, that’ll do it. The negative emotions are gone — replaced by a feral need for his cock. You take a subtle breath before putting your phone away, not wanting anyone to accidentally see him dirty talking you right in front of his parents.

“Ah, do you think you can help me out with the car tomorrow, Kento? Your old man is getting too old and worn out to crawl underneath there.” His dad finally breaks the silence once more.

“Of course, dad. What are you needing done on it? I’ll probably wake up early and get it done before day breaks.” Your boyfriend is such a good son. It’s no wonder that his mom is stupid protective over him.

“I just need to breaks changed on it. It’s probably due for an oil change too.” His dad explains, and Nanami assures him that he’ll get it done.

“I didn’t know you knew much about cars.” You take the chance of speaking up, and Nanami’s hazel eyes meet yours. His face instantly softens, and his mouth opens to speak. Too bad his mom beats him too it.

“Of course, he does. He needs to know all sorts of things like that in case his future wife needs her car repaired.” His mom says with a hint of hostility in her tone. “Speaking of which, Allegra just bought a new car a few months ago.”

You sit in silence for a moment, and you feel your stomach twisting in discomfort. You don’t know why you care so much for this woman’s opinion of you. Nanami already warned you that they likely wouldn’t approve of you, but you didn’t know you signed up to practically be bullied all weekend.

“I know a few basic things about cars. Nothing major.” Nanami responds to you — ignoring his mother’s comments. “I can show you too if you’re interested.”

A small smile curls on your lips, and you swallow back your emotions— trying to stay strong for him. “That’d be nice.”

“You definitely have a….”

“Mom.” Nanami immediately warns, staring down his mother before she can even finish her sentence.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything mean.” She’s immediately on the defensive, casually laughing as if she’s been nothing but friendly this entire time. “I was just going to say that your friend certainly has a bold personality… wearing red to meet someone’s parents is definitely… a choice.”

Your eyes look down at the nice blouse you’re wearing, and you swallow harshly. Nanami was actually the one to pick it out for you. He reassured you this morning that you looked gorgeous — unknowingly signing you up to be bullied.

Your face is burning hot with embarrassment, and you wish you could just fold in on yourself and die right on the spot.

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” Nanami frowns, and he puts his chopsticks down on his plate. “I’m serious. Being a bully at your age is unbecoming to you as a mother.”

“Kento.” His dad warns, but Nanami doesn’t relent for a second.

“No. I’m not going to sit here and allow her to continue disrespecting my girlfriend like that.” Your boyfriend retorts, and he switches back to glaring at his mother. “I’m not dating Allegra — nor do I want to. I’m doing you a favor by introducing you to yn. I figured you’d like to know your future daughter in law.” He gestures to you,

The color leaves his mom’s face as she stares back at her son — as if him implying that he is going to marry you is the worst news she’s ever heard. Her eyes cut over towards you in a vicious glare. “How long have you even known my son?”

Your heart is beating straight through your chest. Confrontation isn’t your strong suit, and to be honest, his mother was terrifying even though she’s literally shorter than you are.

“W-well, we met in college so…” You inwardly curse for stumbling over your words, and Nanami frowns as he looks at you. He hates that his parents are making you so unsure of yourself and your role in his life. He wants to take all your insecurities away and make you forget this ever even happened.

“It’s not even been that long! You don’t even have history with this girl. Allegra was your first kiss.. your first everything!” His mother raises her voice at Nanami, making exasperating hand motions.

His first everything? He told you that you were his first.

Tears prick into your eyes before you can even think to stop him. Overwhelmed by shame and just utter defeat, you don’t even know what to do other than to hide and cry.

Nanami’s eyes widen as he sees you clearly trying to cover up the tears streaming down your cheeks. His jaw tightens as he returns his gaze to his mother.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall you ever being present for any of those things.” His mom starts to speak up, but he is quick to shut her back down. “I kissed Allegra because you were breathing down my neck to. I was barely 15 at that time, and it happened once. That was the first and only time I ever even touched her.”

His mom starts to try to speak up again to probably bring up some other point about why he should be with Allegra. Nanami interrupts her again.

“Allegra and I do not like each other. We hardly tolerated each other for yours and her parents’ sake. You have to get over it. I’m with yn, and I’m happy — happier than I’ve ever been. She was my first everything. My first real kiss, my first girlfriend, and since you seem to want to stick your nose so far in my business, she was my first in bed too.”

“Kento, you’re being incredibly disrespectful.” Her voice is much more strict now as she scolds her grown son.

“I wonder where I get it from. It seems as though we both have a propensity for being rude.” He retorts, and while he’s arguing, his hand slides over to your inner thigh under the table, and he gropes it harshly.

He’s so pissed. He doesn’t even know how to get rid of this anger. His hand squeezes your thigh tightly, making your face go bright red as you look away from everyone.

“I’m not accepting her into this family. You can forget that. She’s changed you.” His mother’s words are growing harsher, and his dad is trying to quietly calm her. She doesn’t pay him any mind though.

“Fine. We’ll just go make our own family.” Nanami scoots his chair back, and he stands up. His hand roughly pulls you up as well — not giving you a chance to even think about what he just said. He bends down and effortlessly throw you over his shoulder, making you gape in surprise. His arm securing you by wrapping around the back of your thighs. “And by the way, I chose the red blouse. It matches the cute bra she’s wearing that I also chose for her.”

His parents stare at him — both completely dumbfounded by what just happened. They didn’t raise him to be like that, but what were they going to do?? Stop him? That’s a laughable thought. You’re not even sure God himself could pull Ken off of you when he’s feral like this.

His footsteps are heavy as he stomps up the stairs towards his teenage bedroom. Nothing has changed since he was last in here. It’s still completely sterile from how he was made to clean it each day. The walls are littered with posters of various science related things, and he has some posters of older video games he use to enjoy.

Your body is practically flung onto the bed, and Nanami doesn’t waste a single second. His heart is pounding in his chest. His mind is fogged with pure anger. He hasn’t felt like this in so long. It reminds him of why he took up going to the gym.

With no punching bag in sight, you’re his only outlet.

His body is unwavering on top of yours — a force to be reckoned with, and his mouth immediately connects with yours in a suffocating kiss. Quiet hums and moans fill the air between you two, and he quite literally steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers wrap around your wrists easily, pinning them above your head on the bed.

No longer satiated from robbing you of your breath, Nanami trails his kisses down to your neck. To hell with not marking you — he needs to see his brand on your neck. You’re his, aren’t you? Who cares if his parents see?

“Ah~” You let out a breathy whimper as he angrily sucks and bites on your neck. Your skin is sensitive - already turning bright shades of blue and purple from his mouth. His dental imprint litters your neck and shoulders.

“K-Ken.. what about..?” You start to ask about his parents. They’re going to hear you two. Wouldn’t that just make things worse?

“Don’t care.” He responds so brashly. If he thinks about his parent’s behavior any longer, he’s going to need to fuck you into next week to get all his anger out.

Riiiip!

Your eyes widen as you look up at your boyfriend’s hulking figure. The blouse that you were just criticized for was now more like a coat, split down the middle, revealing your perfect breasts, so prettily on display in your red lacy bra.

His mouth waters as he looks you up and down. You have almost this panicked look in your eye, provoked by his unpredictability, and for whatever reason, it’s driving him insane.

His mouth is back on you like it never left: kissing and biting on your mounds, painting them so beautifully with his mark. “You’re mine.” He grunts lowly. His jealousy almost makes it sound like his parents were insinuating that you should marry someone else.

“Say it.” He demands before his teeth graze over your collarbone. His warm breath fans over your skin, making you shiver.

“Yours.” You comply with such a small whimper, and your body jolts when you feel his raging bulge rub against you.

“See what you do to me?” He rumbles lowly as he looks down to where he’s now shamelessly dry humping you through clothes like he’s a horny teenager.

“Fuck… Ken..” You whisper as you’re also mesmerized by the sight. His slacks are completely taught, outlining the shape of his cock so well. You can almost see the veins that protrude on him.

His hips rolls slowly against yours, savoring the way the fabric rubs against him and you. His dick is painfully throbbing — begging for the reprieve of being squeezed by your gummy walls.

“Are you as much of a mess as I am, baby?” He asks as his hand dips into your pants. His eyebrows furrow, and he lets out a low groan as his fingers are instantly coated in your slick. He slips his hand back out of your pants just to slide his fingers into his mouth. He holds eye contact with you as he hums in satisfaction. He'll never get enough of your taste.

“You want this, don’t you? Want me to fuck you where my parents can hear you?” He slides his hand back down into your pants, and his fingers rub tight, firm circles against your clit, making your body squirm from pleasure.

“Nngh~ ah!” You’re already so noisy, and he hasn’t even began fucking you yet.

“Give ‘em a show, baby. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

“Mmm~ Ken…” You moan as your back arches up off the bed. His fingers press down harder on your swollen clit.

“You can do better than that, darling.” He can be so condescending in bed, using that insatiable need for praise against you.

“Ken!” You shout, all logical thought has abandoned you. He tells you to do better? You do better.

“Good girl.” He purrs before sliding his hand out of your pants. He can’t get your clothes off of you quick enough. His cock is beckoning for attention, still neglected from yesterday of just eating you out.

Your hands shakily try to unbutton his shirt, and he chuckles lowly at your pitiful efforts. “Aw, my poor girl. Already so shaken up. Go on. You can do it.”

You huff at his taunting. Usually, he’d just see you struggling and take off his clothes for you, but today he was thriving off watching you so desperately trying to get his clothes off him.

It takes you a minute to get his clothes off him, and you don’t even properly take off his pants. You merely shoved them down along with his boxers just low enough for his monstrous cock to spring out. Nanami merely watches you with a cocky smirk.

“Yeah? This is what you wanted?” He purrs lowly, and he carefully drags his tip up and down your core, smearing his precum along your lips as if his tip was giving you a sloppy kiss.

“Gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” His other hand releases your wrists, and he lovingly cups your cheek. His hand is so big compared to your face. He loves watching you nuzzle up into his palm.

You nod your head quickly in response, lifting your hips up to meet his with each slow movement. Wet slippery noises from your cunt weeping for him fill the room.

“Use your words.” He demands before he speaks up louder — just to spite his parents who are right below you two. “I said. You’re going to take this dick like a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You whine before your body is completely shell shocked from a quick slap to your cunt. His cock is so heavy — you can feel the weight of it as his rudely smacks it against you again.

“Louder.”

“Yes sir-!” You immediately oblige, following his commands without a second thought in your brain.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, and he carefully guides his sweltering tip towards your entrance, plugging your hole with just his head.

“Keep being a good girl like that, and I might have to give you baby. Do you want that?” He asks while carefully stretching you by fucking his tip in and out of your tight hole. “You wanna have my baby, don’t you?”

“Ffffuck- Ken! T-too much..” You squirm your body against his bedsheets, and he chuckles at your poor attempt at getting away.

“You clearly want this, so why are you running?” He hands latch onto your thighs, and he pulls you back down towards him, inadvertently impaling you even further on his cock.

A smug chuckles bubbles up in his throat as he sees how much of a mindless mess you are. He loves how he can make you all dumb so quickly with his dick. It brings him great joy to know that you trust him and can just let go, letting the more primal urges take over.

“Mmm~ so tight and wet for me, aren’t you darling? Need to just let Ken take care of you, yeah?” His voice is like velvet as he slowly thrusts himself in and out, sinking deeper into you with each movement, splitting you wide open.

“Ah~! nnnnn… so good.” You manage to whine out.

“What a crybaby. I know you can take me better than that, darling.” Nanami gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before his large hand wraps around your neck, applying pressure in just the right spots to make you all lightheaded.

"Come on. Show me how good you can take it~" His hips snap forward suddenly, sinking his full length deep inside you. Your eyes roll back into your head as he takes full control over you.

His hips are pounding forward, bumping his tip right against your cervix with every mean thrust. His balls are heavy and slapping against the flesh of your ass — a reminder for how pent up he's been recently.

Maybe it's the lack of an orgasm for the last couple of days or maybe it's his parents being utter assholes to you, but Kento finds himself feeling frustrated all over again. Low grunts and growls escape him, and he uses his grip on your neck to push himself in even further -- harder.

The sound of skin clapping against skin fills the room, and his childhood beds starts to squeak out with each forceful blow. He knows for a fact that his parents can hear every single noise. The thin walls of this house absolutely hide nothing. He may as well have fucked you right there against the kitchen table to really prove a point.

"Fuck-! Kenkenkenken! Ah~" You can't even form sentences much less words other than his name. Before you can even warn him, your walls begin to pulse around him - practically milking him while your orgasm takes you over. "Nnngh~ I-I love you.."

"Mmnn~ I didn't tell you that you could do that, sweetheart." He hazel eyes bore into your very soul as his grin shifts to a more wild one. His hips move with even more vigor as if he's trying to push himself straight into your womb,

His hand lets go of your throat, finally allowing you to get a deep breath of air while trying to cope with his massive size pumping in and out of you as if you're nothing but a senseless fuck toy, but you clearly fucking love it. You're practically dripping all over him, soaking his bedsheets in your arousal.

At this point, his parents aren't sure if he's killing you or fucking you. Either way, they're too afraid to intervene. They didn't raise a gentleman at all. They raised a monster.

"Mmph... Need to give you a baby. Can I? You'd make such a pretty mama. School be damned. I need you." Normally, Nanami is pretty controlled over his pillow talk. He's really good at it, but right now, he's completely lost in you -- just babbling promises of giving you a baby and marrying you.

"Y-yes, Ken! Fuck... give me a baby, please." Your legs are trembling around his waist, and your fingernails are giving him such pretty decorations along his back. Small trophies for fucking you just right.

"Fuuuck- Take it. T... take it all..." His voice is a gravely groan as his cock twitches inside you, spilling all of his seed directly into your tummy. It's so fucking much from holding back for a couple of days - completely filling you up. "I love you so much. Gonna marry you one day."

The house is eerily silent for a moment as both you and Nanami catch your breaths. He stays planted on top of you, keeping your legs hooked around his waist. Small creaks of footsteps against a floorboard fill the air, and you tense up, thinking his parents were going to come in there and raise all sorts of problems.

Nanami gently strokes your face with the back of his hand. "Shhh, they're not coming in here. Promise." He whispers lowly, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. You slowly relax in his arms, trusting his words that his parents weren't going to come in there.

You can hear a door open and shut, and it sounds like bickering back and forth between his parents.

"See? They're just going to bed." He presses another reassuring kiss to your cheek.

His hips continue to lazily pump in and out of you, basically fucking his cum back into you as it seeps out. His cock is hyper sensitive, but he can't get enough. You're completely drenched for him. You deserve more of his loving.

"Keennn~" You whine quietly, shifting in the bed slightly as your legs are all achy and sore from him taking out all of his anger on you.

"What is it, baby?" He asks in a hushed whisper against your ear. His breath tickles your skin, making you slightly squirm in response. "I'm just making sure it takes, yeah?" His cock sinks further into you, already growing hard all over again even though he just finished.

"Mmmph~" You hum as your eyes slipped closed. Nanami smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, knowing that you're already needy all over again for him.

"Answer me, darling. Want me to stop?" He asks while peppering kisses all over your face. If the last round was about degradation and taking his anger out, then this one was about how much he loves you and can't get enough of you.

"Nonono... don't stop, please." You murmur out quickly, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"That's my good girl... Always needin' more, aren't you?" He hums lowly, and his cock pumps in and out so slowly, delicately smushing against your cervix with each loving thrust.

"Mmn.. I love you." You slur out, completely cock drunk at this point. Kento just smiles and continues to dote on your with messy kisses against your cheeks and neck. His hand is gently massaging your breast, just barely teasing your nipple while he makes love to you.

"And I love you, darling." He responds before he feels you squeezing around him already. "Oh pretty, again?" He asks as his eyes look down to your fluids gushing around his length. "Such a mess. How are we meant to sleep on these sheets now?"

"'m sorry... I c-couldn't help it. 'm so sorry." You whimper as your face dips into his shoulder, hiding you obvious embarrassment.

Kento's arms wrap around your waist, and he uses his hold on you to drag you up and down along his length — still moving at such a torturously slow pace, making you feel every inch as it enters you.

"Aw, that's alright, darling. I'll clean us up. Just take a little bit more for me, yeah?" He whispers into your ear while your pelvis is slotting against his. He's damn near holding you up into his arms. Lucky you for having such a strong boyfriend.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss. His tongue slips past your lips, claiming your mouth as his completely. A few seconds later, his cock is pumping you full again with his cum — still so much on the second round.

Without even missing a beat, Nanami's mumbling breathily in your ear. "Mmm, I know I said I'd clean us up, but you wouldn't hate a third round, would you?"

*** *** ***

Nanami didn't wake you up the next morning to watch him work on the car. He knew your poor little body was put through the ringer yesterday, so he gave you a tender kiss on the temple before making his way into the garage in just his sleeping pants and socks.

His father's car was already propped up on the jack, and his father groaned as he leaned up off the ground. "Well good morning." He says in a knowing tone.

"Good morning. Why are you down there? I told you I'd fix it today." Nanami asks as he shoos his dad out of his way, and he slides himself underneath the car.

"Well, I didn't know if you'd be up for it after your fun ventures last night." His dad hands Nanami a tool to help get the brake pads off the car.

Nanami stays silent. In his new found clarity, he does know that fucking you so loudly to where his parents can hear was a weird retaliation method, but he doesn't regret doing it.

"Your mother cried all night last night."

"Maybe she needs a reality check if she's that damn upset about who I choose to romantically involve myself with." Nanami rolls his eyes, and he grunts as he forces the brake pad away from the car.

"I don't think she was crying because of that. I think she realizes just how far she drove you away from her with her constant pressure over your love life." His dad explains, and he hands Nanami the new brake pad to replace on the car. "I'm not saying you or yn have to forgive her for how she acted today, but I am asking that you try to give her another chance today. I think she understands now."

Nanami takes a deep breath, but he nods quietly. "She's got one more time to say anything rude to my girlfriend, and we're taking the first train back to the university."

*** *** ***

Your eyes darted over to Nanami's nervously when his mother asked you to have a girl's day with her, but your boyfriend gently rubbed your back, silently assuring you that it'd be okay. At least, he hoped it'd be okay.

Nanami: Text me if she says anything rude. I'll pack our stuff up and we'll leave, okay?

Luckily, you didn't have to text him at all that day. His mom took you sight seeing around the town, out to eat at one of Hakone's favorite restaurants, and you two got your nails done.

"You know, I was being a bad person yesterday." She starts off as you two are sat next to each other. Her feet are being massaged by one of the workers, and you're getting your toes painted. "I guess I just had this idea of how I wanted Kento's life to go, and when things started not going to plan, I started trying to grasp onto anything that'd give me control."

You glance over at his mother, and she has a small nostalgic smile upon her face. "I can't believe I allowed myself to act that way towards you... especially after my parents did the same thing to Kento's dad."

"Your parents didn't accept Kento either?" You curiously ask, wondering how similar your stories were.

"No, but they didn't try to arrange me into a marriage either. They just didn't think Kento's dad was manly enough for me. They didn't like seeing me wear the pants in the relationship, but that's just what works for us... I use to beg for them to just let us be happy, but they never stopped criticizing him. I finally just.. stopping talking to them when I fell pregnant with Kento." She explains in a voice raw with emotion. You can clearly see how this still impacts her to this day.

"I don't want Ken to do the same to me... I want to be in his and your life and my future grandchild's life if that's what you two choose to do. I raised him well, and I know he has a good judgement of character. So, I know you must be a good person. If he's happy, then that's all that matters to me." She goes on, giving you a small apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry for how I acted towards you last night. It will never happen again."

*** *** ***

Nanami had spent the whole day checking his phone religiously while his dad kept him employed with random home renovation tasks. He was waiting for the moment to start packing up your stuff and telling his mom that he wasn't going to speak to them again.

When he heard sounds of wailing coming from the front door, he immediately hopped off the ladder that his dad was holding for him.

"Kento-!" His dad shouts as he wobbles around, but Nanami was already speed walking towards the front door to see what was happening.

To his surprise, there was no wailing. It was only hysterical laughter coming from you and his mom. He stood in the door way with a confused look on his face as he observed you two.

"Yes, he was such a cutie pie.." His mom laughs as she shows you another picture of Kento in high school.

"Aww, Ken... you didn't tell me you were emo." You greeted your boyfriend with a fit of giggles from seeing his high school photos. His fringe proudly in view.

Nanami rakes his hands through his shorter hair now, and he lets out a relieved laugh. Seeing you interact so happily with his mom was enough to make him feel full with love. His heart feels at ease now... until he remembers that he has to meet your parents at some point.

tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

[peachylynnie]

the cat butler

word count: 2.4k

synopsis: in which sylus is eager to please you, as always. but this time, as a cat butler.

contains: sylus x mc!reader (they're not dating, but sylus is down bad), references to the cat butler trailer, sylus with cat ears and a tail, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol, cussing, making out, and stalking(?).

a/n: i wrote this after reading somewhere that the upcoming memory might be our first-ever kiss with sylus. so consider this a prediction of some sort (probably not gonna happen). also, sylus' cat ears suit him so well. do not plagiarize or copy my work. sylus would not endorse plagiarism. enjoy!

“my lady,” a rich yet sultry voice calls. you shift uncomfortably in your sleep, wanting to rest a bit more.  

“my lady,” the voice repeats firmly. still, you dismiss it by grumbling and refusing to open your eyes. 

“my lady.” huh, that's weird. why does that voice sound like…

“my lady.” sylus?!  you burst open your eyes upon recognizing who was calling you. though, not without a startled "oh, god" because sylus was mere inches from your face.  

immediately, you sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to process what was happening. where were you? how long were you out for? and most importantly, why was sylus calling you "my lady?" not that you had any problem with it, but still. your eyes widen as you find yourself on a velvet sofa in a sleek lounge of some sort. extending your arms in front of you, you stare dumbfoundedly at the tight leather gloves enveloping your hands. confusedly, you look down as you pat your body. a silky red, a-line dress hugged your figure, and you couldn’t help but admire the strings of shimmering pearls that hung around your waist and neck.  

hoping for answers on how you got here and why you were dressed so nicely, you turn to look at sylus, who was kneeling on the ground next to the sofa to meet you at your eye level. you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your mouth. are those cat ears?!

nevermind the fact that sylus was dressed in a neat, scarlet tuxedo that matched the shade of your dress. nevermind the fact that he looked good in a tie—so good to the point you wanted to tug on it. nevermind the fact that he was wearing a clean pair of white gloves that outlined his fingers so nicely. what was with the cat ears?! and a tail, too?! 

"uhm" you start. "what’s with the…?" you point at his head, hoping that he would understand. you couldn’t care less about formulating proper sentences. right now, you wanted answers. where were you? why were you dressed so nicely? why the fuck is sylus wearing cat ears and a tail? and why did the caracal set suit him so well? 

sylus' crimson eyes move up cutely as if he was trying to see the ears for himself. then, they fall back down to you, but not without a chuckle. "they're cat ears, my lady," he answers teasingly. "isn't it obvious?" with that, the ears twitch excitedly. yup, you saw that right. they actually twitched. 

"holy shit," you mutter as you reach to stroke the ears. "can i?" 

sylus smirks as he gives you a single nod, closing his eyes to convey that you are more than welcome to touch him.  

the ears felt incredibly real. the fur was super soft, and you could feel the skin vibrating beneath your fingers. your eyes widen as you pinch the ears gently. they didn't just feel real. they are real. the sheer warmth you felt from touching the exposed skin in the ears told you so. fascinated, you move your fingers to the back of one of the ears to scratch at the fur. sylus purrs and leans into your scratches. you can’t help but giggle at the sight. "who's the kitten now, sylus?" you jest, lifting your free hand to scratch his other ear, causing the man to part his mouth and rest his head against your knee. fuck, your touches felt so good.  

wanting to get actual answers from him, you stop scratching and let your hands rest on your lap. before you can even speak, sylus hisses at the loss of your touch, his brows knitting and a scowl growing on his lips. he grabs both your hands and places them back on his ears. understanding his message, you continue your ministrations, trying to remember certain spots that cats tend to like. 

"as much as these ears suit you," you coo. "this is really weird. want to tell me what's going on, sylus?" you don't remember him contacting you for a new mission where cat props and formal wear would be involved. heck, you don't remember how you even got here. what exactly was going on?  

sylus sighs and raises his head back up before answering, "you purchased me, my lady." his amused gaze meets your bewildered one. “we signed a contract where i would be your cat butler as of today. perhaps you forgot because as soon as you signed the contract, you drank excessively from the bar over there," he juts his head towards the bar behind you. "then, you passed out." 

what in the actual fuck? did he say purchase? what contract? you don’t remember signing any contracts. and since when did you ever drink? no, this can’t be right. you don't even recall coming to this fancy place. let alone dressing up so nicely.  

"you're lying," you nervously say. "there's no one working at the bar, and i don't see any glasses either." for a moment, a look of pride flashes on sylus' face. you always were so observant. one of the many things he loved about you. if only you were more observant of his affection for you instead of being so oblivious all the time. "besides, what's with our outfits? i don't remember putting this on. let alone coming here..." 

sylus laughs endearingly. his signature, billionaire laugh that constantly stirs up butterflies within you. "trust me, my lady, you drank," he insists, grasping your wrist and pressing a fond kiss. flustered by his actions, you try to pull back, but sylus' grasp remains strong. his sharp gaze locks with yours as he continues. "the dress code here is formal. thus, our attire. you walked in looking like this. a wonderful choice, i must say. you look ravishing, and i am honored to have been sold to you because..." sylus leans in next to your face, his hot breath fanning your sensitive ears. "i wouldn't have anyone else as my master."  

you stand up immediately, uncontrollably blinking and blushing from what you just heard. unfortunately, you don’t realize that you are wearing heels, causing you to stumble backward. sylus swiftly stands up, pulling you to him with an arm around your waist, effectively and attractively saving you from your fall. you place both hands on his broad shoulders, trying to balance yourself and catch your breath. noticing that the two of you were basically conjoined by the groin, you avert your eyes away from him.  

"t-thanks," you stammer as you try to get some space by pushing at his shoulders. "you can let go of me now."  

sylus tilts his head, looking down at you mischievously and trying to meet your avoidant gaze. "is that a command, my lady?"  

puzzled by his question, you finally meet his eyes. sylus sighs a hum of satisfaction, relishing in your eye contact with him. "what do you mean command?" you ask. you were too occupied by sylus’ accusations of you drinking to fully capture his previous answers.  

"it's part of the contract you paid for. i am to obey your every command as your one and only cat butler." the man answers eagerly, as if what he had just said was completely normal. almost as if he was enjoying this.  

you blink once. then twice before asking, "i paid for this?" you did not like where this was going.  

"indeed, my lady. five million dollars to be exact. i am quite the expensive cat butler," sylus grins. normally, you would've found his grin cute. some fangs would peek out, and a slight dimple would show. moreover, he was wearing cat ears. which only added to his playful demeanor. but right now, you were mortified because FIVE MILLION DOLLARS?! WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET THAT MUCH MONEY?!

"what?!" you struggle against his embrace. "what do you mean five million dollars? not even a rare protocore is worth that much!" you panic as you think about your savings. did you seriously spend all your savings on a cat butler contract and put yourself into years’ worth of debt? oh god, if so, you were fucked. say goodbye to all your years of hard work and saving. 

sylus frowns at your last statement. "are you not satisfied, my lady?"

with your jaw dropped, you look at the man towering over you as if he had said something, for lack of a better term, dumb. which he technically did because who would be satisfied after spending five million dollars on a cat butler contract?! (me). "yes?!” you say incredulously. “who in this situation would be satisfied?! you just told me that i blew all my savings and probably even more for a stupid contract!" 

sylus sighs, pinching his nose bridge with his free hand. while it was one thing to have something related to him get called stupid, it was another to see you so rattled. he had to ease your mind, knowing it would spiral if he didn't act soon. "now, now my lady. there is nothing stupid about this contract. you'd be surprised by the numerous benefits that come with it. which are but not limited to me obeying your every command." 

you don’t know which is worse. the head of onychinus telling you that you spent a sickening amount of money just to see him in a suit with cat features. or the head of onychinus telling you that you were actually benefiting from spending a sickening amount of money just to see him in a suit with cat features. as much as the idea of sylus following orders sounded like heaven, being broke in a matter of who knows how long, or in this case, little, and for a stupid reason at that, was not great. not great at all. your gaze shifts rapidly, distracted with coming up with a solution. "are there any refunds by chance?" you ask meekly. 

a dangerous look passes over sylus’ crimson eyes. with no ill intent, of course. he could never harbor any feelings of malice towards you. but the idea of you wanting a refund bothered him greatly. he was not going to let you get rid of him so easily. his arm around your waist tightens, bringing you even closer to him. lifting his free hand, sylus curls a finger under your chin, tilting your face upwards to meet his burning gaze. you shiver, forced to drown in his deep pools of rubies. feeling a rush of pleasure from finally having your attention on him, sylus moves his hand from your chin and reaches behind you to caress the blade of your shoulder. you can't help but shudder at the sudden intimacy. why did this dress have to expose your back? 

"even if my services were terrible," sylus doesn't cease his feather-like touches on your back, causing you to twitch and pant from sensitivity. "there are no refunds," he rasps as he traces a finger down your spine, prompting a whimper from you. enjoying the small yet addictive noises that leave your pretty lips, sylus smirks. yes, this was how it was supposed to be. you, in his embrace where only he could make you feel good and only he could hear your sweet, sweet sounds.  

"sylus..." you try your best not to moan. "s-stop it." you hide your face in sylus' chest, wanting to muffle your sounds and smother your embarrassment away. "i-i got it. no refunds."  

liking what he hears, sylus ceases his ministrations. he brings his hand back to your chin, gently pulling you away from his chest and slowly tilting your face so that you meet his gaze once more. "i'm glad you understand, my lady," sylus closes in on you, his lips millimeters apart from yours. "you won't be returning me anytime soon."  

sylus smashes his lips against yours, earning a moan from you. with the hand that was on your chin now cupping your face and the arm that was around your waist tightening some more, the two of you fall back onto the velvet couch. you gasp at the impact, causing sylus to slide his tongue in, capturing your own in a heated dance that he seemed intent on leading. you shakily wrap your arms around sylus' neck, trying to keep up with his relentless kisses. out of the corner of your eye, you see sylus' tail desperately swaying left and right. an idea flashes in your head. as sylus continues to swirl his tongue in your mouth, you raise your hand from his neck and gently tug at one of his cat ears. sylus jerks violently, mewling filthily into your mouth. taking that as a sign of encouragement, you continue playing with his ear, causing him to lose himself more and more in your lips, your scent, your everything. 

when the two of you grow in need of breaths, sylus pulls away, panting the same rhythm as you. you had no idea how gorgeous you looked right now. splayed out underneath him in tempting attire that was of his signature color. hair disheveled, cheeks rosy, lips swollen, eyes teary—god, you were going to be the death of him. tenderly moving a stray hair out of your face, the silver-haired man speaks.  

"so, what is your first command, my lady?"

extra:

you inhale sharply as you jolt out of bed. what the fuck was that?  you breathe rapidly as you take in your surroundings. sighing a breath of relief, you find yourself back in your room and your comfy pajamas. tiredly rubbing a hand over your face, you start to agonize over the fact that you dreamt about making out with sylus. not only that, you dreamt about making out with him in cat ears. why? you're not sure what this says about you as a person, let alone your growing attraction to him. did you have a thing for pet pla—you don't let yourself finish that last thought. ruffling your hair in frustration, you fall back onto your pillow, determined to recover from that dream. you decide that you are going to avoid sylus for a few days. 

shifting into a comfortable position, you shut your eyes and wait for sleep to find you, causing you to miss the mechanical crow with glowing red eyes flying away from your window and into the night. sylus, viewing the surveillance screen back at his grand residence, tilts his head in curiosity, a subtle smirk appearing on his lips.

 "what did you dream about, kitten?"

[connorsui]

Sylus x wife! Reader || Imagine

"A sticker crown!"

The house was quiet, a warmth settling into every corner as you opened the front door and slipped off your shoes. The soft glow of evening light filtered through the windows, giving the entire place a serene feel. There was no immediate sound of movement downstairs, but something more faint came from upstairs—a soft giggle, the high-pitched sound unmistakable.

"Sylus? ...Are you up there?" you called out, the smile already pulling at your lips.

No answer—just more giggling.

Curious, you made your way up the stairs, your steps slow and deliberate as you approached the source of the sound. The door to your daughter’s room was slightly ajar, and as you pushed it open, the scene that greeted you filled you with pure amusement. Toys were scattered all around the room, dolls and baby pink teddy bears seated around a small tea table with plastic cups clinking on the surface. But the real sight was in the center of the chaos.

There was Sylus, your formidable, commanding husband, lying flat on the floor with his hands clasped on his chest, eyes closed, and a faint smile playing on his lips.

"No, no, Daddy! Stay put! You not pretty yet!" your daughter scolded in the sweetest little voice, her small hands busy rummaging through a pile of stickers.

"I'm as still as I can be, sweetie," Sylus murmured, barely moving a muscle. "I'm not going anywhere."

You covered your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to bubble up as you stepped further into the room, but the moment was short-lived as your daughter spotted you. Her eyes lit up in pure delight, and she gasped as if you’d appeared from nowhere.

"Mummy!, Mummy! Look! Look how pretty Daddy is now!" She scrambled up from her spot, her tiny hand reaching for yours as she dragged you closer to the spectacle. "Daddy won’t scare anymore! People will like Daddy now!"

You bit your lip to contain your laughter when you got a proper look at Sylus. His face, once an intimidating picture of authority and dominance, was now decorated with Hello Kitty stickers and glittering stars. The contrast was almost too much to handle.

“Well, don’t you look handsome as ever?” you teased, standing over him with an affectionate grin.

Sylus cracked an eye open and smirked. "And how can I resist? My own princess demands I become a statue for her enjoyment."

“You are fulfilling your role quite beautifully," you said, trying to peel one of the stickers off his cheek, only for your daughter to intervene, placing her tiny hand on yours with the fiercest pout she could manage.

“No, Mummy! Daddy needs to be pretty!”

You and Sylus exchanged a glance, amused as ever, while your daughter grabbed a fresh set of stickers, picking the sparkliest one of the bunch. With a proud smile, she pressed a glittery star right onto Sylus’ nose.

"Yaaay!"

Before you could respond, Sylus' smirk widened. "Princess, why don’t you add some of your beauty onto Mommy? Make her feel just as pretty as me."

Your daughter, to both your surprise, frowned and shook her head, her little hands resting on her hips. "No! Mommy is already pretty. Mommy doesn’t need stickers, she’s not mean! Mommy is nice so Mommy doesn’t need to be pretty!"

With that final declaration, she slapped another heart-shaped sticker onto Sylus' forehead, sealing his fate.

That was the last straw—you couldn't hold back anymore, laughter bursting from your lips. "Oh my God," you gasped, wiping at the corner of your eye.

Sylus, however, rolled his eyes dramatically. "Help me here…for once, I'll be the one begging."

“Oh, isn’t that a rarity coming from you?” You knelt beside him, gently peeling off the stickers from his face, one by one.

Meanwhile, your daughter looked on, fidgeting with her toys before tugging on your arm. "Mummy… is it bedtime now?"

You glanced outside, the fading light of the day casting soft shadows across the room. "Yes, sweetie. It’s bedtime. As much as you love playtime, it’s time to rest for now."

"The moon is out?" she asked, tilting her head.

You nodded, peeling the last of the glitter from Sylus' face and then guiding your daughter to her bed. Tucking her in with care, you kissed her forehead. "Yes, the moon is out. But when the sun comes back, you can play more."

She smiled sleepily, already closing her eyes. "Okay… Night, Mummy."

You and Sylus quietly left the room, gently closing the door behind you. As you walked back down the stairs together, you couldn’t help but giggle. “How long has she been doing that to you?” you asked, barely containing your amusement.

Sylus sighed dramatically. “Ever since you left. She said I look too angry and I have to be ‘kind’ more often. She believed her toys and her drawings would do me great favors.”

You chuckled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Well… she’s not wrong. You did look far better than all the years we’ve been together in that moment.”

“Oh really? Is that what I needed to love you?” Sylus arched a brow, his teasing tone back in full force.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, stifling another laugh.

Sylus shook his head, a laugh of his own escaping. “Please... save me next time.”

You grinned, leaning into him. "Sylus, don't be mean."

[affableramen]

yandere genshin men trying to make things right between you

angst, mildly dark themes ayato, neuvillette, pantalone, capitano, dottore, alhaitham

note: trying a new genre.

Neuvillette

Yandere Neuvillette kept forcing you into marriage after your relationship just got established. You asked him to give you some time to think over such radical and responsible change in life, but he was adamant to your pleads. He wanted everything here and now proven officially on the papers. You spent some nights crying because to think that such gentleman-like and solitary person like Neuvillette would force you into marital relationship was eerie. The desire to possess you officially seemed to blind him completely and he went from a loving gentleman to an almost insanely addicted man who did not accept a refusal.

It was your break-time at work when Neuvillette suddenly came up to you. It was odd at first - the judge putting away his duties to meet you seemed almost unbelievable, but remembering how assertive he was in the relationship with you it might have been close to the reality.

“Can I have a moment of your time, love?” He asked you, his hand not reaching to touch you but his gaze was heavy on your face.

“Of course.”

Not longer after the two of you were sitting in the cafeteria - a curious choice for a private conversation. Although you did not deny you seemed much more comfortable in a public place rather than face-to-face with him.

“About our marriage…” Neuvillette started, his fingers grazing over his glass of water.

“You already know my opinion”, you answered with no emotion. The time to play nice unfortunately came to an end.

But the next response from Neuvillette kind of gave you goosebumps:

“If I was too harsh on you, I beg of you to forgive me. I have a habit of grasping something dear to me too tightly, and I’m afraid that I hurt you more than I could possibly imagine”, he took a pause for a breath and gulped a sip of his crystal clear water. “I genuinely need to know whether or not you still harbour any pleasant feeling towards me?”

“What are you saying? Of course I do, Neuvillette—I admit you were unacceptably rough on me the past few weeks, but it would make me a poor lover if it were to stop me from harbouring affection to you.”

The judge sighed in relief, and then his expression became serious again.

“I would love nothing more than for us to marry, but I realise the circumstances of pushing you too much. Tell me, dear, if you no longer want to proceed in intimate acquiantance with me.”

You shook your head - seems like he was not hearing you. You then took his hand in yours and spelled it again, frankly:

“No, I want to be with you, wholeheartedly. And the marriage proposal, I shall accept it too.”

Pantalone

When Pantalone kidnapped you for no specific reason, days turned to weeks. You almost forgot about the existence of sunlight as he kept you there like a pretty little porcelain doll for his own amusement—or whatever his nasty reasons might have been.

The last time you tried to escape his gloomy, mysterious castle-like home, you were severely punished for your “bad behaviour”. Blood dripped down from your chin as you were sitting on the floor of a dark hollow room, chained and bruised by his henchmen. Perhaps he considered it too tacky to touch you with his own hands.

And then he entered. You didn't even want to look at his unapproachable, icy-cold eyes, and simply turned away, your eyes shut and hidden from him.

“How rough you look”, he said with his usual tone which was cold, but at the same time smooth like butter.

You were dehydrated and hungry, that’s for sure. You wanted nothing more than a warm fuzzy blanket and sweet tea, and forget this nightmare forever.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He asked. He knew you never ate his food because you’d consider yourself indebted to him. And you did not want to take anything from this man.

Your face went deadly pale and bewildered when Pantalone dropped on his knees before you and started freeing you from your shackles. His hands were shaking wildly, you could witness how poorly he mastered the lockers due to his stress.

Yet without a single doubt, with no longer time to lose he wrapped his arms around your waist to carry you. His clothes were a little stained with the snow, and a bit of freezing touch made you shiver.

“I will never do this to you anymore. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.” His words that used to be spoken as an order now were slipped from his lips as a request. 

You were laid in the warmth of the sheets of your own home. The familiar surroundings brought you joy and comfort you never knew you’d forgotten so easily.

“My butler is cooking a dinner for you in your kitchen.”

He watched the whole time you were eating, guarding you and seeing how desperately you were filling your stomach up. When you finished eating, there was one loud slap—against Pantalone’s face, by your hand. In a normal situation, he would be so angry and furious that the earth would shake of his abhor. But now he was simply taking it.

"I know. I should never have treated you like this. I ignored your wishes and violated your privacy. I’ve done the worst crime to you—I took your freedom”, he touched the red mark blooming on his cheek from your unexpected punishment. “I wanted to obtain you so much that I ended up hurting you instead.”

Ayato

He was rich to his fingertips. In his world, the only thing he could not have, but wanted to, was you. You found yourself working as his secretary, aesthetically pleasing and always efficient. But Ayato was ruthless; he could never be satisfied, he was always unhappy. The requirements to you were growing day by day, and keeping up the standards seemed an impossible task. His moods were changing like a thunderstorm.

It was a regular day when you were performing your duties that you felt someone’s presence behind your back. Ayato was not exactly above lurking so he made his presence known after you turned to face him. He did not expect you to turn so rapidly and ended up with his breath tickling against your face.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have been too demanding and controlling. My actions driven by raw possessiveness inflicted undesirable effect upon you”, Ayato’s words died away, though the expression on his face became even more grim and grave. “You do not deserve such treatment, any of it.” 

You nearly dropped your working papers as you stared at him. Was this man really sincere? How long has he been overthinking about your relationship? It took you just a few seconds to gather your composure and strike him with an indifferent glare.

“It’s always so easy and costs no trouble for you, rich people. You just take what you want without considering either the outcome or other people’s feelings. You see people as things, belongings in your possession, and you never have enough.”

At that, Ayato became even more tense, his expression that was mainly seen by the most of people as sweet and gentle, now was an embodiment of darkness. Nevertheless he nodded to you.

“What should I do for you to forgive me? I’m not going to lie and say that I did not think about how harmful my attitude might have been to you for the past month. What think you? Do I even stand a chance?”

“Fat chance”, you chuckled under your breath. The laugh was almost too bitter rather than sarcastic.

Ayato took your hands in his, his black gloved thumbs rubbing against your skin slightly.

“You’re like a poison to me. A very addicting one. And the more I see you work for me, the more I want to have you by my side. Not just at a formal event…” he bit his pale pink lip for a moment. “I’m starting to feel as if I’d like to see you out of work circumstance, and the thoughts of such impropriety are enough to drive me utterly insane.”

You reciprocated the light squeeze that came from his hands, however yours was less obsessive and more gentle. 

“It is a very dangerous thought, Ayato.”

“Oh, I can be a very dangerous man. For you, that is.”

Capitano

You were walking in Capitano’s garden, feeling yourself like a beautiful bird in a golden cage, but in fact you were a princess in a beast’s castle. Once you saw his real face, you kept having nightmares about his skin rotting appearance. This man was scaring you to the bone, and every time you met him, although not very often, you felt how demanding and heavy the gaze of his icy blue eyes was.

You did not see him often, but once a while Capitano requested (no, ordered!) a private dinner with you. The rooms were dimly lit, his loyal butler making preparations to the highest standards as usual, and you - wearing the most luxurious of dresses you’d only be able to peek at in the past. But your face was the odd one as it beared no smile on it. You were gravely terrified by this man who had claimed you as his. And even though you slept in separate rooms, you could not brush the feeling as if he owned you; well, he kind of did, since you dwelt in his mansion. 

Per usual, you were having a dinner with him at about eight in the evening when Capitano finally spoke. His tone was filled with assertiveness and power, yet the way he was eating, the movements of his hands were elegant enough to remind you of an excellently-educated prince.

“Y/N, I need to speak to you.”

You shivered when you heard him, and you let go of the fork. The jingling sound spread across the room which put you even in an unnecessarily bigger predicament.

“Yes, sir?”

Capitano hummed - he put his utensils away and looked as if he was carefully choosing his words which was not a habit of his. This Harbinger often talked exactly what he thought and was known for his bluntness. Capitano never beat around the bush and was always straight to the point, and this was one of the personality traits of his that made you feel conflicted. It was both terrifying and worth of respect.

“I want you to stop being scared of me. I want you to see that there is more of me than a horriffic, ugly old beast.”

You gasped: did he just used those unflattering words to himself? It felt so odd and so frustrating.

“What feelings do you want me to harbour for you, given our unusual circumstances?”

There was a long pause before Capitano made a sip of his red wine and suggested the following:

“Affection is too much, but could you at least try to be friendly with me? Don’t you see—can’t you see how hard I’m trying to make your life with me less unbearable?”

Affection… friendliness… is that what he really needs from you?—you think.

“I’m a prisoner here, I cannot imagine how I am supposed to show any warm feelings towards you. It would be fake and stupid.”

“Then make them not fake and stupid.” Capitano raised from the table and stormed out of the dining room, leaving you alone in the dim light of candles.

Dottore

You woke up on the plain lab bed, still restrained but this time your pain was drastically diminished. When you opened your eyes the lights did not cut your sight right away and you realised that the room was only dimly lit. You sighed in relief - perhaps he went on a break and you had a few moments of rest from his constant analysis and experiments upon your body.

There were a few tattoos on your hands but too small to even understand their meanings. Perhaps it was something from Zandik’s past that he decided to ruthlessly carve on you.

Your happiness and sense of relief did not last long though, as the man who called himself Doctor entered the room not exactly quietly. 

“Look who’s alive. I’m glad”, he wrote something on his notes, “very glad, even.”

“What are you going to do to me next? Turn me into… abomination?” You attempted to sound sarcastic even though all your being was screaming inside. “I’m pretty sure you have not gotten your fill yet out of me.”

Dottore abruptly stopped writing and dropped his journal on the lab desk next to you.

“I think we’re finished here.”

“What?”

“I said you’re free to go”, he cut your leather restraints with one rough motion that had a vibe of uncertainty of the soul.

You looked at your hands, your body cheered welcoming freedom, but at the bottom of your heart you were perplexed.

“But why?”

Dottore did not utter a single word more, with his face buried into his other records, he turned away from you completely ignoring your presence.

You found your clothes tidy and repaired on the chair, and put them on quickly. Upon escaping the place you saw that not a single Fatui agent was preventing you from leaving. You looked at the lab once more and a pang of strange kind of sorrow appeared in your heart. Perhaps, you should pay him a visit once you’re recovered? Or was it a bad idea?..

Alhaitham

The nerdy scholar was quite possessive and jealous. He had a very curious but rather depressive personality. You thought him a quiet man until one extraordinary and terrific experience. 

Alhaitham locked a man in the library for the whole night after he saw him giving you too much attention and you happily reciprocating him. An innocent friendly conversation seemed a blunt flirt to him. He could not bear the thought you having affection to someone else who was not him. When he saw you first he realised that he wanted you to see only him, and give all your attention to him. He craved to see you wanting his company, clinging to him or even agreeing to date him. But since his personality was too aloof and he never ever attempted to simply ask you out, but kept staring at you from the side, stalking unnoticeably and gather all information about you, you never had a chance to learn of his true feelings. Behind his obsession there had to be something, as such strong feelings never came out of nowhere.

Upon seeing you chat with that guy Alhaitham grew so furious that he almost not giving it a thought just slammed the door with the poor guy in the library and left him there for the whole damn night. Blinded by his jealousy, he did not even consider how you’d feel about that. The next morning you were perplexed by the sudden disappearance of your classmate, and once the library opening time came, the student was finally released.

“How could you do this to him? To anyone?” You asked Alhaitham; it did not take much time to learn whose fault was that.

“How could I?” He asked you back, his expression grave and unmoveable as if he were not interested in a single thing in the world. “How could you spend so much time with him? He’s a total jerk.”

“Judging by what you did the total jerk is you! How could you simply lock the person up? Are you insane?”

Alhaitham’s patience started to grow thinner. He squeezed his hands into the fists so hard that his knuckled turned snow-white.

“Are you stupid? You really don’t see how I feel about you? And you keep being so nice to everyone but me. You’re obviously ignoring me.”

Bewildered, yet you finally understood the root of the case. You stared at him for a few seconds before checking if anyone was near to eavesdrop. Luckily, there was not a soul around so you spoke honestly:

“If you wanted to woo me, endangering someone was not a good idea. You did something I deem unacceptable. And such unacceptable actions will only make me like you less, Alhaitham.”

Alhaitham leaned closer, his voice was a gentle whisper.

“Right? Then teach me to woo you properly. I’ll do thousands of attempts to win you over, no matter the cost.” You pressed your hands against his shoulders to prevent him from getting into closer proximity with you, and Alhaitham, although not completely willingly, but still backed off.

[yieldtotemptation]

PROFESSIONAL ft. Bae

bae x male reader smut

8k words

For those keeping score at home, Bae Jinsol does appear to have the upper hand.

Not just because of who she is—the looks, the celebrity, the whole perfect package of it all; that's a dime a dozen in your line of work.

It’s how she haunts you.

The messages she leaves on your phone. The way she says your name.

The photos.

So, yeah. Despite the fact that you’re ostensibly just her personal trainer, and therefore, ipso facto, the ‘one in charge’; it’s becoming all too apparent that the balance of power in your relationship with Bae is, well, to put it simply, not exactly professional.

Which makes it no surprise that even though you’re at the gym a half-hour early; a black coffee in hand, ready to chase the one already running through your veins—she’s already there.

Stretched out like a cobra; hips to the ground, back arched, chest high.

Her reflection in the mirror greets you with a knowing smile.

Unsurprised. Unbothered.

Like she's been waiting for this—planned it all out. Down to the exact second that you’d walk in, discovering her in the centre of your private gym, splayed out in a pose chosen specifically to make you feel like you're intruding on something intimate.

Showing off the sharp planes of her abs, the muscles of her legs, the curve of her ass, and that dangerous strip of skin that makes you want to—

"Looks like I beat you again, sir."

You swallow. You somewhat regret giving her a personal key.

“Just getting warmed up.” Bae slithers out of the stretch, sinewy and fluid, turning over and around so she can properly face you; so she can properly present herself to you.

A glance—a gawk, really—has you rethinking your earlier assessment. Most of your clients are a dime a dozen. But Bae, looking at you, looking like that. Gorgeous, fit, unattainable yet somehow within your reach and daring you to do something about it—she’s a whole other currency.

She's been here for a while now, you can tell. Beads of sweat have started to slick her skin; over her brow, down her neck, pooling at the crevices of her collarbones. And the show she makes of wiping across her throat with the back of her hand, leaving a glossy sheen.

You ponder licking it off.

Long enough for her to catch you being unprofessional, again. To her credit, Bae just hums a note of amusement, gracious enough to let the moment pass as if it never even happened.

“You don’t need to do that,” you say, which could really be in reference to anything at this point. “We’ve got one hour. Warm-up included.”

“I know,” Bae answers, revisiting a long-standing argument, "But I like to be ready."

“Ready,” you echo, tasting the sound of the word on your own tongue.

“So that we can make the most of our time together,” She continues, twirling a peroxide-blonde curl around her finger, stirring up entirely inappropriate images of Bae, and her hair, and your hands, and oh God. "I only have you for one measly little hour, after all."

She lets the implication hang in the air, planting her flag (bright red, of course). It gives you an opportunity to take a long sip of your coffee; the burn from it sliding down your throat a welcome distraction.

You clear it with a cough.

"Well," you say, setting your mug aside and putting on the face of someone who isn’t severely compromised by Bae's casual, shameless attempts at whittling down your resolve. "Let’s not waste any of those precious minutes."

There's this grin on her face, as endearing as it is infuriating; and you can already hear the reply she’ll make before it comes, the way she’ll twist your honest words into lurid innuendo. Something with enough plausible deniability to keep it from crossing any lines of proper decorum you’ve tried to set, but pointed enough to blur them.

Something like—"Oh, I plan on making every second count."

You emphasise, “Exercising.”

Bae plays along, “What else would we be doing?”

More of this game, presumably.

The one you've been playing for the entire month you've known her, this routine you've established—you trying to keep things on track, do the job you’re actually being paid by her company to do; and Bae pushing back, pushing you as far as she can.

Trying, hoping, to inevitably bring you to that point where you break, where your veneer of professionalism finally slips away and you give her the type of workout she really wants.

You really should know better.

Should know to ignore the innocent requests to 'help stretch her out' or 'massage this cramp in her thigh'. Should know not to indulge the flirty banter; the 'oh, you're so much stronger than me', or worse yet, the blatant, 'but I bet you're not as flexible.'

You should have never let your hands linger, held her close when she asked you to correct her form, taken your time to navigate the curve of her hip, the small of her back, the slope of her legs.

Definitely should not have given her your personal number. Fuck, you should have blocked hers. Not read any messages, not even dreamed of replying. Not opened the photos, not fucking saved them and revisited them night after night after night.

(Because ultimately, the main party at fault is you.

After that first time, that first session; when you excused all the innuendo as coincidence, pretended the flirtations, the touching was just down to Bae being her normal, bubbly, extroverted self.

And then, when she convinced you to come into the shower because she just couldn’t seem to get the hot water to work, well—

Yeah.

Somewhere between making her moan your name and fucking her into the tile walls; you really, really should have known better.)

But today—today won’t be the day you give in.

The first time was a one-off, a fleeting lapse in judgment. Won't happen again.

You’re the trainer. She’s the client.

You have your clipboard, and your workout plan.

And Bae…

Bae’s biting her lip; blushing at you like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

“So, how do you want me, sir?”

(Bent over, on top, pinned underneath, from behind—you could fill the whole session with your long list of answers; but none of those are on the clipboard.)

You fight the urge to laugh, or scream, or maybe just drop to your knees and surrender.

Instead, you reproach, “Bae.”

“Sir.”

Laying it on thick; the innocence, the arrogance, the knowing in those doe eyes. Something she said to you once rattles in your mind: "Everybody needs an outlet, don't you think?"

Bae swings her legs around, tucking them under her so she’s on her knees. She’s looking up at you, those wide eyes and that even wider smile, sizing up every inch of you through her long lashes.

"I know what you're doing," you try, but it's not enough. Knowing is only half the battle.

"You do?" Bae's playing coy, keeping her tone light and breezy. "And here I thought I was just trying to be a good student."

A finger on her thigh, to dance along the hem of her shorts, peel it back just slightly, only to let it snap back into place.

“Clock’s ticking.”

There's a correct response here, you think, one that keeps you both on the straight and narrow. Not that you get a chance to find it, because Bae's leaning forward, placing her hands behind her back, pushing out her chest and arching her spine just so.

Her top stretches over her, a sports bra that’s somehow both modest and obscenely revealing; clinging to her—she’s filling it out, her nipples poking through like two little darts, demanding your attention.

She tilts her head, smirks, and it hits you like a sucker punch.

That’s the pose.

You’ve seen it; it’s been seared into your brain. The centrepiece of a photo that she so casually sent you in the middle of the day, just to ‘get your opinion on her progress’.

(Only then, all she had on was her smile.)

A sigh, because you know—this is it.

The last exit off the highway, the last chance to say no, to keep things strictly above board and not let this get any more complicated than it already is. But you’re nearing a wreck on the side of the road, and you can’t help but want to stop and look.

Fuck it.

Fuck the clipboard, fuck the workout plan, fuck not giving in. You can always try (and fail) again the next session.

Bae reads your mind. "Time for some cardio, then?"

“Get up,” is your answer. (A command, a plea).

She’s quick to rise to her feet, smugness gone, and in its place shameless glee as she witnesses you crack and concede defeat in real time. 

This is how you'll rationalise it:

There’s only one way to take back control of this situation. At her core, Bae’s an extremely simple person. She sees something she wants; she gets it. She’s a fire—all she does is burn hot, and the only way to keep her from turning your professional life to ash is to feed the flame.

Just enough to manage it.

You step closer, she takes a step back. You follow, each step, each sway of her hips a metronome set to a rhythm that says ‘yes’. She keeps backing up, leading you on until she’s seated on a bench. Placing her hands on her knees, pushing them apart, spreading her legs in a V; an open invitation to the space between.

You're not sure who's training who anymore.

Putting that thought aside—lines can be redrawn, boundaries reset. If you’re going to get some form of authority back, it’s not going to be with words. So, you do the only thing that makes sense in a moment that's lost all logic.

You lean down, take Bae by the chin, and you kiss her.

Something sounding like your name slips from Bae's lips as your tongues meet; as her hands find the back of your neck, pulling you in so she can lick into your mouth and get a taste of your morning.

Eager, greedy, demanding; full of all the pent-up need that’s been festering since that first encounter—when you had her creaming down your thighs and screaming your name. There's little tenderness to be found in the kisses, the licks, the nibbles that follow, you’re both too desperate for any kind of sweetness right now.

Bae’s hands are everywhere; peeling your shirt over your head, tracing the lines of your stomach, digging her nails into the meat of your shoulder. Your own hands are busy too—squeezing her thighs, cupping her ass, drifting up her skintight shorts in search of the heat that’s been keeping you awake at night.

"Took you long enough," she murmurs against your mouth, the words barely discernible but the triumph tinging them crystal clear.

An acknowledgment groaned against her lips, breaking away from the kiss to trail down her neck, licking away that spot you've had your eyes on the whole time. Tasting the salt of her sweat, the sweetness of her skin, revelling in the tang of the forbidden, the vanilla of the inevitable.

It’s some wonder, truly, of how a girl like her—all youthful glow and sharp edges, sculpted by both genetics and sheer force of will—wound up so utterly obsessed with you.

“Because of what you said when we first met,” Bae whispers in your ear, bites on the lobe, and you’re realising that maybe your thoughts haven’t been as silent as you assumed.

“Oh?” Is all you have to offer, because that memory is far gone, and your mind has far too little bandwidth to focus on anything that isn’t her wetness, seeping through the fabric of her shorts and staining your fingertips. 

The dampness—it's a dead giveaway. Yet you still ghost a thumb over her, press down just to confirm, make her inhale, sharp. And sure enough, there it is. Or rather, there it isn't.

The audacity.

There's a giggle from Bae as she feels you discover her secret; that it's just her shorts that are keeping you from being knuckle deep inside of her, and nothing else.

Bae recites your words back to you, only from her lips they’re far more honeyed, sticky and sweet against your cheek. "You said that you'd—ah—that you’d push me."

She’s sighing, melting into you, hips slowly grinding against your fingers, so achingly close to begging. Turning up the heat, you let your other hand glide up her abs, feel the need radiating from her, the muscles tensing and rolling with every slight movement she makes.

You’re reaching for her sports bra when she finds her voice, continuing through gritted teeth, "You said that you wouldn't take it easy on me."

Her breath stutters as your thumb traces the bottom of her top, fingers digging beneath her bra line. With one swift tug, the fabric's pulled away from her body, yanked over head in a blur of motion, leaving her breasts bare and heaving before you.

They’re small, yes, but the curve, the fit, the weight of them in your hands—just right.

“You said that if I—ah fuck—”

You can’t resist, really, your lack of self-control has been well established. So, you kiss her chest, licking a path through the valley between her breasts, drinking in the sweat that pools there, that little reservoir of desire.

“You said that if I tried hard enough, I’d be—God, yes—I’d be rewarded.”

Words, simple instructions you’ve given to countless other clients, but Bae. Twisting them, hearing what she wants to hear, or maybe what you intended all along? (Who’s to say.)

“You weren’t lying, were you, sir?”

You don’t have a response—what is there to say now, anyway? Any words would just be noise, inconsequential compared to the symphony of gasps and groans playing out between you both.

There’s a dusky pink nipple just waiting for your touch, all swollen and sensitive. You don’t disappoint. It’s in your mouth, rolling between your tongue and teeth, pebbling under the attention. It’s so easy to get lost in them, in their taste and feel, in her hands threading into your hair, pulling you closer, as if you need the encouragement.

You’re indulging in her, yes, but right now, there’s little you wouldn’t do to make her keen. Your other hand doesn’t rest; fingers are at work, pressing down, circling her clit through the nylon, making her arch up into you. These touches, swipes over her stiffened nub; she's falling into you.

Needy little sounds spill from her mouth, sweet nothings and half-formed pleas; bad things, dirty thoughts that most would regret ever even thinking, but of course, Bae only has the best of intentions. You’ve got her right where she wants to be; where she needs to be, and fuck she just takes your breath away.

You look up at her, feel her, and the absurdity of it all is dawning on you. To think someone like Bae would ever need training.

She was already perfect the first time you met her.

The long, pale-white expanse of her legs, all toned muscle and elegance. Her ass, the tight curve of it, fuller, rounder than should be possible on a frame so dainty. Her stomach, her thighs, her arms, (God, did you already mention her abs?), every flawless fucking inch of her.

A work of art, meticulously crafted by some divine hand; there’s nothing to be done by mere mortals except worship.

Let it be known the irony is not lost on you, when you let her nipple slip from your mouth and relay your next instruction: “Get on your hands and knees.”

Bae doesn’t need to be told twice.

With grace that’s far too practiced to be interpreted as anything other than a deliberate tease, Bae swings her body around, shifting her weight until she's on all fours.

Standing before her, watching the muscles in her back flex, her ass peeking out from beneath the elastic of her shorts. They’ll be ripped off entirely in due time.

But first, a kiss for your troubles. Over your sweatpants, branding you through the cotton as hers.

“Finally,” she breathes, making you swell, throb under her gaze.

Fingers hook into your waistband, pulling down your pants with ease. Your cock springs free, slapping across her lips, leaving a wet streak on her gloss. It shines.

A giggle, a raise of her bleached brows—like it’s a surprise. Like she hasn’t been made intimately familiar with your length; felt it buried deep inside her, painting her walls, her throat, with your release.

The tip of her tongue peeks out, just enough to swipe across the slit, to scoop up the pre-cum beading out of it. You hiss through your teeth, hips jerk forward, but Bae’s too quick—draws back with a laugh. She’s enjoying this, this little game of hers. The brat and the trainer, the cat and the mouse, the idol and the grown man who’s supposed to have his shit together.

“Tease,” you groan, your hands finding her hair, tugging gently to remind her of her place.

“Sorry, sir. Couldn’t resist.” 

A wink is all the warning you get, and she’s diving down.

No more preamble, no hesitation at all—Bae’s been waiting for this all fucking month, and she’s dead set on making up for lost time.

She’s taking you in, all of you, all at once; her mouth stretching wide to accommodate the girth. The feel of her, the wetness, the tears at the corners of those big, round eyes, and the question in them—'think you can handle this?'

Fuck.

She’s sloppy; so immediately, noisily sloppy.

Cheeks hollowing out, taking you deep, making your hips buck and collide with the back of her throat for that agonising split second before she retreats; only to do it again. Faster, harder; making you doubt the ability of your knees to hold out.

A fistful of her hair, if only to keep you upright.

She’s all over the place—popping your cock from her lips, kissing down your shaft, licking around the base, a cheeky graze of teeth along your balls, and then back again, swallowing you down until you can feel her nose nuzzling into your groin.

You’re a mess of sensations, pleasure coiling in your stomach, a knot inside you tightening with every wet sound she makes.

It’s her enthusiasm that does it, really. She’s not trying to be good at this, not trying to impress you with her skills. She’s just plain desperate for it.

Her moans vibrate through you, muffled by the thickness of your cock. She’s saying something, words that you can’t quite make out, that takes a moment to translate: "Needed this," she gasps around your length, "Missed it so much."

An admission: you’ve really fucking missed it too.

“This beautiful, beautiful cock,” Bae slurs, sliding your cock out of her throat to catch her breath, so she can take a break to wonder. “How many has it ruined, hm?” Her tongue flicks out, scooping the globs of saliva and pre-cum hanging from the head. “All those pretty little girls you train.”

There’s envy there, and you’re barely managing to groan out, assuage her, “Just you.”

“I find that so fucking hard to believe, sir.” Bae says, resting your cock on the edges of her cheeks. “Those tight cunts, those eager mouths and asses, and you're telling me—" she swipes her tongue along your shaft, leaving a wet trail in her wake "—that it's just me?"

Her voice, her fucking words; too, too much. It’s all you can do to not just grab her by the neck and fuck her face raw. (A dream for her, probably. To have you grab her throat and made her choke on you).

“Well, if you say so,” she’s unconvinced; not that it does anything to slow her down. Back at it, back at making her eyes water, at needing these panted, desperate gulps of air between mouthfuls of you.

The little things—her lips glued around your shaft, her throat a tight, warm fist, and her eyes. Looking up at you like she's afraid if she doesn't, if she stops moving and averts her gaze, you'll pull away.

As if.

“Bae, you’re so fucking good at this,” you’re blurting out, because she is. She really, really is.

Wet and filthy and so fucking delighted to let you know, “All for you, sir.”

And you believe it—she makes you believe it.

Everything’s for you, even when she’s not supposed to be. The sound of her, choking and gagging, the wet, slobbering noises of her devouring you, echoing off the empty gym walls.

The sight of it all; tearing your attention to a million different places. There’s the Bae in front of you, focused entirely on your cock, on letting you use her mouth like a toy, plunge your length deep down her throat to make her cry, to make her cheeks flush.

Then there’s the Bae in the mirror, the reflection bouncing off the polished chrome surface behind her. Her ass, rising and falling, in time with the bobbing of her head; and that soaked spot right at the centre of her shorts, the bullseye growing and growing with every second that passes.

Fucking amazing, incredible, too good, too much to handle; spilling out of your mouth as those pouty pink lips of hers slide up and down, drool pooling around your base, slipping down your thighs, a wet mess dripping onto your floor.

“And to think you wanted to stop this from happening,” she’s chiding, offended really, voice raspy with the effort of speaking around your cock.

There’s no argument to make, not when you’re too busy taking in the sight of your cock disappearing back into her mouth. She’s impatient now, not letting up, not even for air; just taking you in deep, deep, so deep she’s trying to swallow you whole.

You’re sliding down, down her throat, and she’s got you; this suction around you that holds you there and it’s a sheer miracle that haven't completely dissolved inside her. Your hips are thrusting forward of their own accord, your hand still in her hair, but not pulling anymore. Just holding on.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, the gym spins around you; the lights, the equipment, everything blurs into a sea of white noise, and all that remains is the wet sound of her mouth and the hotness of her throat, the fistfuls of her blonde hair, her eyes, these pretty drops of chocolate brown; and it’s all building and building and tightening and tightening, until—

"Stop."

It’s a pain to say, but necessary; if you still want a fighting chance to make it out of this with at least some of your dignity intact.

A gentle tug of her hair has your cock slipping from her mouth with a wet pout; leaving the warmth of her lips for the sudden chill of the gym’s regulated air. Bae looks up at you, panting, lips swollen and shiny, drops of you smeared from your base to her chin.

“Something wrong?”

A pause until the room stops spinning, so you can collect yourself and wonder why you’re even here. “I need—" you start, but the words catch in your throat. What do you need? To not fuck your client? To try to keep your job? Or to hear her scream your name, have her beg and beg and beg, drill her into every surface possible—every bench, rack, wall, fuck even the elliptical if she’s game.

Coherence comes and goes, and Bae remains seated on her heels, supplying her own suggestions. “Need to stretch me out? Make me really sweat?”

"Still with that?"

"Tired of the wordplay?" She laughs, and you can't even be mad—you're the one who gave her the opening.

"What do you think?"

Bae takes her sweet time looking you up and down, greed in her gaze, as she takes in you; straining from the effort of holding back. From your chest, down your stomach, landing on your cock, still painfully standing at attention.

"I think," she says, drawing out that word, sliding it over her tongue like a piece of candy, "That I regret not asking you to send me any photos back."

That brings a smile to your face; and it’s enough to clear the fog from your head. You steel your resolve, give her the one thing she’s been craving, from the moment she saw you walk in:

A firm order: “Stand up. Take those shorts off before I rip them off myself.”

You give her room to lift herself off the bench, legs unfurling one at a time and stretching beneath her. She wiggles her hips in this dance as she kicks off her sneakers and shimmies out of her shorts; the nylon clinging to her skin before it’s peeled away to reveal… nothing.

Just her bare, naked flesh—pink and perfect.

Tearing away from her momentarily, from the living canvas of long legs and naked anticipation, ignoring the fucking twirl she does for you, because yeah, she’s fully, adorably aware of just how insanely, lights-out good she looks.

You turn to the bench, kick up the backrest from a flat to an incline; doing your best to pay no mind to Bae, waiting. Rather impatiently, bouncing restlessly on the balls of her feet. The teacher’s pet, so needy for a morsel of attention.

Back to her, unable to suppress the smirk spreading across your face as you take a seat. “Squats.”

Her face. The amusement, the excitement, the acknowledgment that you’re now completely on board with this derailment of a training session—it's all there, painted across Bae's features in glorious, full-colour high definition.

She takes a step forward, sauntering over, one hand sliding down to trace over her mound, to tease herself; tease you. And when she’s close enough, she swings her legs over your thighs, straddling your waist, taking hold of your shoulders and bracing herself against you.

Dripping already, cunt barely kissing the tip of your cock, the heat of it all; it’s a living, breathing entity in the room—thick, heavy, making the air feel charged.

And then, without another word, she sinks down.

A long, hot breath from Bae's mouth: “Fuuuck me.”

Slow, delicious torture has you groaning, has her biting down on her lip. The way she takes you in, the way you push into her, inch by inch—feeling every little twitch of her walls, every throb of your cock; it’s all just so fucking perfect.  

“Good girl,” you find yourself saying when she bottoms out, when your cock completes her, turns her into something beautifully obscene.

“God, you’re just so,” she starts with, but the words get lost somewhere between the shallow gasps and harsh breaths that follows.

She’s staring at you, deep into you, and there’s this satisfied grin playing at the corners of her mouth that makes you want to do everything she hasn’t had the breath to ask for.

"Thank you," she manages instead.

And then she’s moving. Slowly, so goddamn slow, taking her time to feel every ridge, every vein; making sure she’s got you all to herself. Her chest heaves up and down, her tits bounce dangerously close to your lips. You spy past her, enamoured with her reflection, how her back flexes and tenses, how her spine curves with each descent, how her ass cheeks clench each time you fill her whole. 

It’s these tight little squats, this wonderful rhythm she’s setting, these squeezes of her pussy around you, the juices of her cunt slapping against your thighs as she bounces.

“Creaming everywhere, so fucking messy.” You’re taking stock of her; of this mess she’s leaving, all over herself, all over you, all over the bench and down to the ground. You can’t even be mad because, “It’s a good look on you, Bae.”

From a distance she’d be the purest depiction of innocence; the sweetest angel, the kind that would be painted on stained glass and prayed to by the masses.

But here, up close, biting down on your shoulder, devouring your cock with her cunt, moaning in your ear things that would make the Old Testament blush; she’s fucking pornographic.

Yet, she says, “Sir, I can’t handle this—”

You pause, holding her by the hips, eliciting this whine from her lips. “Too much?”

“No, not that, it’s—ah. It’s too slow,” Bae whines, emphasising her point by slamming her hips down onto your thighs, the slap of skin on skin bouncing off the mirrored walls. “I need it fast. And hard. Like you said, I need to sweat. It’s there—I’m right fucking there—so, can we—fuck, can we just go?”

Bae, Bae, Bae.

She makes your blood sing and your cock throb.

Makes you give it to her, just like she asked.

Fingers dig into her hips, thumbs pressed into the softness of her flesh, and you lift her slightly, only to pull her right back down. Like she asked: fast, hard, and you’re thankful you shelled out extra for benches that could take punishment.

“God—” Bae cries out, high-pitched, a scream that has her shaking; not because you’re hurting her, there’s no pain to be found here. It’s all just bliss, pure, unbridled bliss.

So, you lean in, suck one of those pretty little peaks into your mouth, swirl your tongue around, and she’s jolting, her cunt clamping down on you, so tight, so fucking tight.

Every part of her, from the top of head to the tips of her toes, is tuned to this frequency of need. Her nipples, especially so; they’re so sensitive, so attuned to your every touch. They tighten to pebbles with the slightest swipe of your tongue, when your teeth dare to graze them—any pressure from your lips and she shivers.

"That’s—fuck—that’s so much better," she’s panting, “Isn’t it, isn’t it so fucking good?”

You rumble something of an affirmative into her chest, too occupied to bother with words, too busy mapping out her chest, her breasts, that lovely dip between, with your tongue and teeth and hands.

And you’re suddenly having trouble remembering, or forgetting altogether—what was it really that was stopping you from doing this sooner? What could possibly make missing out on this, missing out on Bae’s sighs and moans, missing out on the blistering heat of her cunt and the tightness wrapped around you worth it?

Sure, you had her (had each other) in the shower—slippery, steamy, illicit—but it had been so fleeting. Just a glimpse into what had been begging to happen since she first entered your domain, all smiles and sly glances.

Now that she's in your lap, taking your cock like such a good little slut, you can’t stop the images flooding your mind, feeding your imagination with every conceivable scenario.

Tasting every inch of her, exploring every crevice with your tongue, every peak and valley with your fingers. Spending hours just learning her. In due time, in due time; not now, when she’s riding you like she’s trying to break you—or at least, break the bench.

“This, exactly this,” Bae breathes into your neck, her nails raking over your shoulder blades, leaving these angry red crescents that burn and sting. “Fuck, fuck, I want it just like this—"

Getting more erratic, louder, closer.

So, you lean back, content to let her do all the work, watch her climb that peak. You could take all the time in the world, watch her waste away the very expensive fee you’re charging her company for your time. It’s what she wants, and isn’t that how it goes—the customer is always right?

"This is exactly what I want to do, exactly what we're going to do every session from now on," Bae’s instructing, voice a whip crack in the quiet of the gym. She’s getting braver with each moan that escapes, each grind of her hips that sends you deeper. "You’re going to fuck me, hard, rough, just like you fucking promised."

You can't help but laugh, the situation absurd, the words rolling off her tongue like she’s rehearsed them. "Every session, huh?"

"Every. Single. One," she confirms, her eyes fluttering shut as she starts to bounce faster, her pussy swallowing you up in a wet, delicious rhythm. “No more hiding, no more pretending. Just me, you, and this gym, as much as we need, whenever we want. Fuck, doesn't even have to be scheduled, I'll just call you and you better be here ready to fuck my brains out."

"Alright, Bae," you grit out, something inside you tightening at the thought of her calling you, begging for it like she is now, "If that's what you want, that's what you'll get."

It’s a contract, signed and sealed with the slickness of her cunt, the heat of your skin, the promise in her eyes that she’ll be good, so good for you—or at least, good enough to get more of this.

"But remember," you say, unlatching yourself from her tits, making sure to catch her eyes. "I don't do easy. You want this, you're going to work for it."

Bae bites her lips, “Yes. God yes.”

You correct her. “Yes, who?”

“Yes,” Bae grins, “sir.” 

Something shifts; the dynamic swinging for the first time in your direction, and it’s clear now. Clear to you, to her, that from now on as long as you’re taking her—pushing her—to that precipice, you’re the one calling the shots.

So, you guide her, guide her hips with your hands; setting a new pace. One that’s demanding, borderline violent, that has her chanting—“yes, yes, yes”—the syllables falling from her lips like sweet little prayers to some depraved deity.

She’s coming apart, leaving herself so vulnerable and bare, like she'd just die on top of you if you didn't stop fucking her back to life. It’s so, so painfully lovely, you’re seeing the most beautifully crafted sculpture crumble into dust. You’re in awe of her. You’re in—

Fuck you might be falling for her.

That’s a revelation to keep tucked safely away, because you couldn’t think of a less appropriate time for confessions. No, now’s the time for grunts and groans, for the sound of her wetness and the smack of her ass colliding with your thighs.

"Am I good for you?" Bae mewls, "Am I good for you, sir?"

She’s so, so good. So fucking good that your answer is a knee-jerk reaction. “Fucking incredible, Bae. Such a good slut. Getting fucked like this, used. Taking it so fucking nicely.”

Red colours her cheeks as they flush at the praise, a silent plea for more. And so you give it to her, pushing harder, faster, showering her with these gems of depravity that only someone like Bae could bring to the surface.

“You’re just loving this, aren’t you? Getting so close. So desperate to give it to me,” you’re taunting, feeling her walls closing in around you, feeling her body coiling up tight. “It’s okay, let go. You can let go.”

So close to the edge she’s practically dancing on it. She’s fighting it, fighting against the wave, her cunt spasming around you, her breaths hitching and coming in these sweet desperate little pants.

You can taste it; she just needs that extra push, that hard fucking to bring her there. A demand: “Cum. Cum for me now, Bae. Show me how good you can be, show me how much you want this.”  

And finally, a gasp, “Say my name. Call me by my name, please.”

A hand at the back of her neck, bringing her ear to her lips, so you can whisper the name you’re fucking her hard enough to forget. “Jinsol.”

It’s fucking immediate.

The words leave your mouth, and she shatters. Fine china thrown against a brick wall.

Waves of it hitting her, a shudder at first, then a fucking tsunami; ripping through her, stealing away any last semblance of bodily autonomy she might’ve had left and leaving her as a puddle of trembles and shivers and pure need.

You keep pumping, calling her every dirty name in your book—whore, slut, your little toy, your good girl, just Jinsol—again and again until all she knows is your voice.

Each name you give her, it’s a spark that sends her higher, makes her cum harder, and she just goes and goes and goes.

"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuuuck," Bae whimpers, eyes squeezed shut so tightly you can see the veins pulsing at her temples. And you keep going, you keep pushing her, because you can't get enough of this—of her, of the power she's given you, of the way she's so obviously yours in this moment.

You want to mark this occasion, leave a sign that it was real, that you really did fuck her to oblivion. It has you kissing into her neck, sucking at the pale flesh, biting down just hard enough to make her whine.

"You're mine," you burn into her, in that nook between her neck and shoulder. "You're all mine."

Ragged huffs signal the end of it, the come down from the high—but you’re hardly done with her. You can’t be—not when you’re still this hard, not when she’s still so fucking wet around you, not when you’re feeling like this, like you could drown in her without ever needing to come up for air.

"So good, so fucking good.” She collapses, her body folds into yours, and she’s giggling, all breathless and boneless.

Of course she’d be like this, over the fucking moon. She’s got what she wanted, what she needed; made you promise to keep giving it to her whenever she wanted.

She reaches for you, fingers trace the line of your job, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, smudging a bit of her own gloss there. "I knew you’d be perfect," is what she says, right before she kisses you, "Perfect for this."

The tangling of your tongues, the taste of mint and sweat, and the smiles you’re sharing against each other’s lips when you flex your cock inside her.

“I’m not done yet,” you remind her, pulling back from her kiss, pulling your bottom lip out from her teeth. “Far from it.”

“Not going to let me catch my breath?” Bae teases, acting like this isn't entirely her fault. Like she wasn't the one that pushed you this far, that dug underneath all your layers of professionalism and responsibility until she found someone that could match her appetite.

“No.”

You’re up, pushing yourself up to your feet, keeping her impaled on you, fucking her up into the air and forcing her to wrap her legs around your waist.

And then, with a strength fuelled by lust and want and a need to just fucking cum in this slut; you drop her on her feet, spin her around, and plant her hands against the mirror.

No warning, no easing her in; she’s still so wet, cunt slick and slippery. Just slide back in, slam into her from behind, watch her come apart.

It’s all in front of you, all playing out across her pretty reflection: her face twists, her tits jiggle, her abs, God how they tighten and release all at once.

Taking back a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to claim her neck; all these sweet things—"watch yourself get fucked, Bae, look how pretty you are for me.”

And she laughs, she actually laughs, because it’s all she can do when you’re gripping her hair so tight, scraping your teeth across her neck, making her feel you all thick and hard inside of her.

A hard buck of your hips sends her forward, presses her cheek to the mirror, staining the glass with the heat of her breath.

“Look,” you demand, “look how perfect you are taking my cock like this.”

She obeys; staring at herself in the mirror, watching herself get fucked, get filled, get taken. It’s just too much. She’s too much. You’re too much. This whole fucking situation is just too much.

"Fuck it's so—you're fucking me so—"

"Didn’t you say you could take it?"

Bae's response is a whine, a clench of her cunt around you. "I can, I can take it, sir," she gasps. "Whatever you have for me. But you're just too..."

You lean in, eager to hear her confession. "Too what?"

"Too much! Too big, too good, too everything."

A fucking compliment and a challenge all rolled into one. "Is that so?"

"Y-Yes—I’m just so—just need you to—please fucking cum," she groans, barely audible over the wet sounds of your bodies slapping together. "Do whatever you want to it, to me, to my pussy, please, just please, please, please."

You're breaking her, turning her into this teary mess of moans and whimpers, tapping into something innate inside her, something that wants to be bent to your will, to be used by you, to be treated like the slut she craves to be in this moment.

And fuck, it’s addictive.

"You're going to scream my name.” You’re telling her, telling her how the rest of this situation, how the rest of your entire relationship is going to play out. "You're going to cum all over my cock again, and then you're going to tell me how much you love it."

"I will, sir," she nods furiously to you, to herself in the mirror, "I'll do anything you say."

You just can't wipe the grin off your face.

Thrusting into her, fucking her like you've never fucked anyone before. Like you own her, like she's nothing more than your toy to play with—to use and abuse and enjoy.

She’s screaming your name—no, not your name—“sir, sir, sir, fuck me, sir”—and—“more, sir, please, pretty please.”

More for her—a hard smack to her ass that makes her jump, makes her eyes water. But it also has her push back against you, fucking you back, more frantic than ever. A second smack cracking through the gym, and already there’s red blooming on her skin, marring the perfect pale flesh.

"Sir, please," she cries out, her voice high and tight. "More, more, more."

You oblige, your hand coming down again and again, painting her ass with the sting of your palm. Each smack has her pussy clenching around you, her lips begging for more.

"I love this," she admits, shakily. "I love it."

You slap her again, and again, and again—each hit punctuating her moans. "Say it," you demand. "Say it louder."

"I love it, sir," she cries, the filthy fucking admission bouncing off the walls. "I love it, I love it, I love it!"

Her orgasm builds again, her body tightening around you, a vice. The tension in the air is suffocating, you’re fucking in for it now, dooming yourself to this delicious cycle of sin with every thrust.

Bae, your Bae, all pure white and angry red now, the beauty still standing despite your best efforts to bring it to ruin.

She's there, and you're done waiting.

"Now."

It's that fucking easy.

That's what you think as you watch Bae unravel all over again, all over you; slipping into that sweet, sweet oblivion that you’ve coaxed out of her.

"God, sir, fuck!"

Hammering into her, fucking her apart; through the pain, through the ruinous pleasure, pressing her up against the mirror, squishing her tits into the cold glass.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, sir, fucking me so good, making such a mess, you’re—" But that sentence dies before it even can get started, and all that tumbles out of her mouth is, “fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—”

She’s fucking gone.

Bae crumbles against the mirror, and you fall into her, keeping your body glued to her back. The clenching, the shivering, the twitches and the gasps; the patchwork of bruises and bites and crimson you’ve left all over her.

You follow.

Something dark, a guttural grunt, and you pull out of her, this sloshing noise from her cunt as you do.

Without your cock Bae just falls to the ground, bracing herself against the wall while she gathers herself—twists her body into something beautiful.

Before you can even process what she’s doing, what’s happening at your feet, she’s in position; that pose again. And you realise what it was: the kneeling, the hands behind the back, the tits out, mouth wide open, tongue waiting.

A preview. A promise. An invitation.

“Sir, your cum, if you please—"

A sledgehammer to your fucking soul—that's what it feels like when you finish.

One, two, three pumps of your cock and your vision goes white, like someone's shone a fucking flashlight right into your eyes, and the only thing you have left is the intense, throbbing release all over Bae.

Ropes of it spurt from your cock, painting her face with thick, white streaks. There’s more sirs, more thank yous and pleases and fucks, (you swear you catch a daddy in there as it hits her); but she doesn't flinch—no, she opens her mouth wider, needy for every drop.

The first shot hits her square in the forehead, sliding down the bridge of her nose and into the waiting cavern of her mouth.

Another shot goes wide, spattering across that dark freckle on her cheek. Another hits her chin, another ruins her hair, the last sprays over her tits; all these shots just covering her, turning this fucking idol into your personal cumslut.

“God, yes, sir,” she slurs through the cum, earning every single drop, “I’m just covered in it. So, fucking much. It’s so good.”

A stumble back on your feet, a step away to assess the damage as you slowly stop pumping your cock. Bae on her knees before you, just drenched with your cum. Bae your client, if she still can be called that anymore.

What else could she be? Your lover, your sub, your obsession, your… what? You’re not quite sure what to call it, call her, other than a big fucking mess.

But, as you watch her happily lick your cum off her own skin, you can’t resist giving a final instruction. “Swallow.”

“Yes, sir.”

You are so, so fucked.

Bae, sweet and obedient, takes her finger, scooping up every trace of you from her cheek, her tits, all along the ridges of her abs. All this hot, hot white you’ve expended on her, marked and branded her with.

It all happens in slow motion; she laps it up, paints it over her lips, pushes it into her mouth. Sticking out her tongue, presenting it to you in one big sticky glob, making sure you're seeing nothing but her be such a good girl for you.

And down her throat it goes.

"Good enough, sir?"

You lean down, wipe the last drop off her temple with your thumb. She opens her mouth, helps you push it in, sucks on it greedily as if it’s the last taste of you she’ll ever get.

There’s a thought to give her more, to fill her mouth until she’s addicted to your flavour. But you don’t—not yet.

You must save some things for later.

Bae’s content to stay there, kneeling, cheek resting your thigh, utterly cum-drenched; fingers idly dancing along your softening cock, toying with the last few drops of cum that still cling to your shaft.

You break the silence with a sigh. “Guess I should get used to this, huh?”

Bae sings, “Every single session.”

“Christ.”

That draws a chuckle from her, and you shoot her a warning look as she dares to kiss your cock once more. “Care to show me how the shower works again?”

You roll your eyes.

“I mean, only if we have the time.”

At this point, you’d give her your every waking hour if you could. A glance at the digital clock on the wall has you guesstimating—"It'll be a squeeze."

Bae, never to miss an opportunity, “Isn’t that how you like me?”

“I thought we were going to stop with the wordplay."

"Can't help it, sir." Bae's arms snake around your leg, sidling just that inch closer. "You just bring it out of me."

"Ah, so it's my fault."

"Of course. This whole thing is your fault," she tells you, donning the expression of a saint; all wide-eyes and sweet smiles. "You just had to make me yours."

"Mine?"

"From now on, yes."

“In that case—” You bend down, lifting Bae up, hoisting her up in your arms as easily as any other weight in the gym. She giggles into your neck, her body fitting into yours like you've been doing this for years. The warmth of her, the press of her breasts into your chest, her legs looping around your waist—it’s all so natural. “While we still have some time left.”

“Before your next client?” She asks, oh-so-innocently, like she isn't prying, isn't trying to make a home for herself in the remaining hours of your day.

“Sullyoon.”

“Oh,” Bae says once, processing, and then again, “Ohhh.”

You blink, trying to keep up with wherever her mind is racing to next. “What?”

The smile that widens on her face is going to haunt you, you can tell. “Oh, nothing,” she says, but she’s got a secret she’s just dying to share.

But she won’t, not yet.

Bae’s fingers trace a pattern down the centre of your chest, playing over your sternum, circling your navel, and then—there’s that smugness again—heading south. “I was just thinking I might stick around for your next session.”

It’s a declaration, not a question. The way she says it, so casual, so flippant, it’s like she’s talking about sticking around to watch a movie, not grossly overstepping even more lines before you get a chance to redraw them.

And then you're back at square one.

“Just to make sure you and her keep things strictly professional."

[hiraethwrote]

Been thinking a lot lately about how Satoru doesn’t really cook.

Growing up the way he did, everyone was pulling from every direction, unloading immense responsibility on him because of the Six Eyes. So normalcy wasn’t in the cards for him.

From a young age, his schedule was packed from dusk to dawn with all kinds of tasks embedded on him. And so, dinner was simply a time of day for him more than anything else. He was served a mediocre dish, then he had to return to his responsibilities.

And then he moved to Tokyo, and was finally blessed with some newfound freedom. But he didn’t want to waste this spare time learning how to cook, especially when Jujutsu Tech served him perfectly okay meals three times a day. Who was he to not take advantage of such privilege?

Any interest of developing some culinary skills was also smothered by his insane sweet tooth. Something he’d picked up as a way to help him, quickly evolved into never ending munching — forget proper food.

Sadly for him, the number of responsibilities didn’t decrease as he entered adulthood — rather the opposite. And now, as he was technically a grown up, there was a lot less tolerance for nonsense. People expected things from him now.

Yet again, cooking dinner was deprioritised. He also didn’t see a reason to devote time to cook when it was so much easier to just have it delivered right on his doorstep. He had the means to support such an expensive luxury, so why not?

Sitting down by the dining table after a long day of duties, a warm meal welcoming him with delightful smells never even became something he missed, seeing as he didn’t know what it was he had sacrificed for choosing the easy path.

Then you came creeping into his life.

You in general, had been a surprise to say the least. After everything, pursuing anything romantic wasn’t something that had been on his list of priorities either. But once he met you, he couldn’t not try to make you his.

Everything escalated pretty quickly, and it was fairly early on that you decided you wanted to cook for him for the first time.

“I got some insane pasta cravings. You down for that tonight?” You had your phone resting between your shoulder and your cheek while you scanned the grocery isles for what you needed.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he answered on the other end of the line. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

You couldn’t help but giggle a little at his comment, a tiny bit confused by what he meant. “Well, duh. I’m not making two separate pasta dishes.”

“Oh,” a moment of silence from your boyfriend as the reality set in. “Yeah, no, of course. Just habit I guess,” smearing on with his usual, charismatic voice to play off his little slip.

Because poor Satoru had only assumed you would be ordering in, since it was all he really knew. The concept of prepping and cooking a dish from scratch hadn’t even crossed his mind.

A few hours later, the same usual comfort that came from your company, welcomed him along with an assortment of the most delicious smells once he arrived at your apartment.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you smiled, rushing to give him a small peck on the lips when he joined you in the kitchen before quickly hopping back to putting the finishing touches on dinner.

A small sensation of worry filled you, because this was the first time you had witnessed Satoru completely silent. Taking the time to turn your head over your shoulder to make sure he was alright, you saw his eyes just taking in the scenery of the set table and the somewhat messy kitchen.

“Just take a seat, Satoru,” you chuckled nervously, nodding in the direction of what had become his designated chair. “It’s almost ready.”

You saw a weak nod before he slowly shuffled over to the table and sat down. He swallowed the small lump in his throat when you put the casserole on the table in front of him.

“Dinner is served. But it’s hot, so just, be careful.”

When he didn’t move a muscle, you tried to act as if things were normal and served yourself first, hoping he would eventually tell you whatever it was that had gotten into him.

“Satoru?”

Your soft voice of concern snapped him back to reality, his familiar smile finding its way back to his expression — though he wasn’t truly himself quite yet.

“Looks absolutely delicious!” He gushed and finally filled his plate.

You continued to eye him with some suspicion as he started to dig in. Something you couldn’t put your finger on, washed over him when he took the first bite. Then another, and another, and another — then he was suddenly ogling you with the widest eyes you could remember seeing on him.

“This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten!”

You pursed your lips to choke back the exaggerated laugh that was about to burst out at his statement, that you were convinced had to be a lie.

“Is that so?” You teased, carefully stepping deeper into the topic to see if he was actually being truthful.

“Babe, this-“ he cut himself off, awe overtaking him. “Where did you learn this?”

You shrugged casually. “I’ve just picked up a few things over the years, I guess.”

“What else can you make?”

“Uhm, I don’t know,” you stuttered, a little taken aback by his surprising enthusiasm to what you considered to just be a simple pasta dish. “Several things.”

“Could you please cook for me tomorrow? And whenever you have the time?”

“Of course,” you smiled, shoulders resting when he now seemed to be totally fine, finishing his first portion only to take yet another huge serving.

Because to Satoru, it was more than just dinner.

Dinner and eating had always just been yet another task he did simply because he knew he had to eat. Never had there been any deeper meaning to it — but you showed him it could definitely be more.

To him, it also became a sign of devotion. You were willing to put in the time and the work to make him something nice, then you would get to enjoy it together. No one had really done that for him before.

Finally it was Satoru's turn to enjoy the domesticity of something as mundane as a home cooked dinner.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[rainyyynightssss]

Twisted Wonderland

Reacting to you trying to go back home

Characters: Overblotters

Notes: Yandere/Toxic themes involved

"Crowley thinks he might've found a way for me to get back home!"

Riddle Rosehearts

He looks at your smiling face and something in him breaks. He should be happy for you, he really should. This is what you had wanted from the beginning. To see your family and friends. To be free of magic and almost getting killed by overblots.

But you should've been happy here. He'd order his card soldiers to keep the rose garden in prim condition for you to gaze upon whenever you visited. The birthday parties always included a dish you liked. You got along well with Trey and Cater. Sure, Riddle was strict with his rules, but he grew more lenient with you. Surely, you could see that.

"That's wonderful news. And you're...happy to leave?" He tries not to let his voice crack as he grips one of the legs of the table they had just used to share dinner together. Apparently for the last time.

"Of course, I'll be happy to see everyone back home. It is a bittersweet feeling though. I'll miss you all." He chooses to ignore the 'all' part of your phrasing for a moment. You'd miss him and isn't that enough reason not to go?

"We'd all miss you as well....I, especially,-"

"But I think it'll be good for me to go and be back with my family, you know?" You add and he tenses again. He knows well how important family could be, and he also knows how burdensome they are. His mother forced him to adhere to strict guidelines, and while it shaped him into the respected house warden he is today, it also made him afraid. Terrified, even, that everything would go wrong if the rules were not followed.

Perhaps that's what you needed. A healthy dosage of fear and some rules to keep you in line. You were his perfect rose, blooming and unblemished. You had always managed to drag him away when he got too deep in his studies and talked him down when his face became as red as the flowers in his garden. But now your edges have grown frayed. You're trying to go back to your roots but he'd rip you out of the ground, thorns and all, to keep that from happening.

"Right. Well, it's gotten quite late and it wouldn't be proper for you to walk back to Ramshackle this late at night." He sensed your confusion even before you could voice it. You've taken plenty of late-night walks before and this would hardly be on the top list of most dangerous things you've done at the school.

"I can walk back-"

"I insist. I couldn't let you go...to your dorm! This late." Riddle shakes his head and covers his blushing face with a hand as he stands up from the table. "I have a room for you. If you'll take it?" He offers his hand to you, hoping you will miss the small trembles.

You smile at him again and take his hand, sending warmth even through his gloves.

"Just for tonight." You nod. Riddle gives you a small, though tight at the ends. His rose didn't need to know about the details of their stay, only that it was going to last longer than they thought.

"Of course. Although I must make sure you have an adequate stay. Rules indicate that guests should have the most hospitable experience, no matter how long that takes to fulfill." Riddle answers with ease and you see nothing wrong with it. His rose would blossom even more under his careful watch.

Leona Kingscholar

"And?"

The notion of you leaving was laughable to him. You had already managed to barge your way into his life, ruining his plans at the Spelldrive competition, ruining his nap routines, and ruining his pride as a prince. And he wouldn't have it any other way. Though the latter is still mostly kept intact.

You look at him, seemingly flabbergasted by his dismissal.

"And...that means I'll likely be leaving soon." You tell him. He sees your small frown. You must think he doesn't care that you're leaving. But it was quite the opposite. As much as he would never admit it to himself, he cares so much that he denies any possibility of it happening. He knows you don't actually want to leave.

Leona watches you sit up from his bed that both of you had been lying in for the past few hours. He grasps your wrist before it can leave the sheets. His grip is tighter than usual. Leona had always been like that. He demanded respect and expected you to follow. You, of course, were not so willingly submissive to him but that made it all the more fun for him to make you.

"Ruggie isn't going to be back 'till later tonight. I've got more sleep to catch up on. Especially after you bothered me last night." Leona tugs your wrist to bring you back closer to him while he rests his other arm under his head.  Last night you had came to him, clearly anxious about something and didn't want to be alone. Anyone else he would have turned away with a scoff, but he's found over time that he has a hard time refusing you. As long as it didn't involve you trying to run away from him.

"Are you even listening to me?" You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks.

"I have and it sounds like a buncha nonsense. Go back to sleep and maybe you'll forget your dumb ideas in the morning." Leona grumbles and pulls you to his chest. He hears you huff but you don't resist, lying back down beside him. He doesn't know exactly why you're having these kinds of thoughts but it doesn't really matter to him. If you want to run, he is glad to give his precious prey a chase.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul's hands freeze in the air, his fork and knife about to cut into the juicy salmon that had been plated beautifully in front of him. He glances up at you, his smile also frozen on his face, as you were just talking about how much you enjoyed Night Raven College and the Mostro Lounge. All until you abruptly switched to this topic he thought he was doing a good job at evading.

"Ah, isn't that...delightful?" His words would have come off as calm to anyone else, but you notice the slight strain in his voice. You always seem to see right through him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you-"

"Upset me? No, quite the contrary. I think it's wonderful the headmaster has finally secured your passage back home." Azul muses and goes back to cutting his salmon, though it's obvious that his cuts are a bit more jagged.

"Yes... he said it could be any day now." You respond carefully. You try to offer him a smile as you take another sip of the drink he gave you on the house. He could see the small ounce of hope in your eyes of going back to your world. That wouldn't do.

"Is that so?" Azul takes a bite of his food, swallowing before adding, "It's really too bad you won't be able to go then." He continues eating, ignoring your confused eyes as if he didn't just say the strangest thing.

"Why wouldn't I be able to go?" You ask slowly. "I mean, the transportation might be difficult but-"

"It has been a while so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you forgot." Azul sighs and dabs his face free of any smudges with his napkin. "You may not step out of the bounds of Night Raven College by any means, including the Dark Mirror."

"According to who?" You let out a disbelieving laugh.

"According to Article 3 Section 5 of the contract you signed." Azul takes another bite of the salmon, not letting himself react when you slam a hand on the table.

"What contract?! I never signed anything!" You snapped. He remains as calm as ever. This time, you couldn't read him, couldn't even see his eyes through the glint in his glasses.

"You must remember when you agreed to work in the Mostro Lounge for a couple months. I had you sign an employment contract. I warned you about reading it through to the end. A suggestion I don't give to most poor, unfortunate souls in this school." Azul answers.

He did indeed give you the small packet to look through and recommended reading it all. It wasn't his fault that Floyd made a commotion in the kitchen just as you started reading the end portion. Azul urged you to sign it while he dealt with the mess that Floyd undoubtedly caused and you did, just missing the statement that required you to be on-call even after your employment ended, and being on-call meant you always had to be within a certain range of the lounge.

"You can't be serious." You utter quietly with wide eyes, realizing exactly what he was talking about.

"I'm afraid I am. But don't fret too much. I think you'll come to like it here." Azul smiles again. A smile that's hardly recognizable.

He watches you jump up from the table and storm out of the lounge, passing confused customers who glance back at him. He takes a drink from his glass. Azul isn't worried about you walking out. You couldn't leave here, leave him, anyway. And if you tried to hide from him, he would just send Jade and Floyd to hunt you down. You have become one of his prized possessions, and he isn't going to let you go that easily.

Jamil Viper

"Really? It's about time." Jamil comments as he starts chopping the vegetables you prepared in a bowl.

He had invited you to try some new recipes with him that he'd then distribute to the Scarabia students. For the past few months, you had been inviting yourself into their kitchen, much to Jamil's annoyance. You always offered to help him and he always declined, especially when it came to Kalim's meals. He was not going to lose his job over a pretty face. You respected his refusals but you still liked to watch him for some odd reason. Today, he finally decided to let you help him.

He appears to be half paying attention to your words while you're stirring the stew. "Haven't you been waiting a while?"

"I have. Crowley's been pushing off researching but I finally made him go through with it!" You look quite proud of yourself and if Jamil wasn't so irritated, he might have thought it was cute.

He simply hums in response and continues swiping his blade through the onion, each cut sharper than the next. He should be fine with you leaving. People come and go, after all. It would make things easier for him as well. He would stop getting distracted so easily, riddling his fingers with knicks from the blade when his thoughts drifted off to you.

"Kalim also promised to help me pack my stuff. He's eager for me to see my family." He sees you smile absentmindedly as you stir. Jamil's hand clenches tighter on the knife.

"Of course he did." He mutters to himself. Kalim got everything we wanted, didn't he? He got the wins, the praise, the Housewarden title. And now he was going to send you off. Jamil bet he was even encouraging you to go and like always, Jamil would just have to accept it. Only this time, he wouldn't. Jamil never got anything he could have to himself, always having to share with Kalim. You would be the one thing he could keep just for him.

"That reminds me, I needed to ask you something," Jamil says and you look back at him. He takes a step closer to you and leans forward, whispering the name of his unique magic. His lips widen into a smirk as he watches your irises fade to red.

"You'll be staying here, won't you?"

Vil Schoenheit

He raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow as he works to pluck yours with tweezers.

"Hm? That's not the line, darling," Vil says. In your hands is the large packet of paper that contains Vil's script for his upcoming film. He had asked you to practice lines with him. You agreed and in exchange, you asked him to put some makeup on you. It was something he's been wanting to do anyway so he obliged. All was going well until you dropped this bombshell on him.

"I know, I was trying to figure out how to tell you and I accidentally just blurted it out," You sigh.

"Mhm. And Crowley has- Close your eyes, now - provided a way for you to get back home safely?" Vil asks as he moves on to your eyes, brushing an eye shadow across your lids that matches your skin.

"I don't know if anything about that man is safe, per say, but he did seem pretty confident about this." You respond as you keep your eyes closed for him. Vil shakes his head with a small 'tut'. The headmaster didn't exactly have a track record for reliability. He voiced exactly this to you.

"Crowley may just end up sending you on a one-way ride to nowhere. There's no telling where he could send you, why not wait for a few trial runs?" He places a hand under your chin. "And besides, why do you need to go home so badly?" Vil puts the palette back down and takes a tube of lipstick in his hand.

"Well, I want to see my fam-" You're forced to stop talking until he finishes applying the lipstick, "I want to see my family and finish everything I had going on there."

"If that's the case, I don't see what you could do back home that you're unable to here. And if you want to see your family, shouldn't you make sure your travel is safe so you can get back to them in the first place?" Vil questions as he wipes the small smudge of lipstick from the bottom of your lip with his thumb.

"That's...true." You nod reluctantly. Vil smirks a bit as he moves his hand towards the back of your neck, his thumb tilting your head up so you can look at him properly.

"Correct. And if I'm not mistaken, you've built quite the life here, haven't you?" He watches you slowly nod and he soothes the back of your neck with gentle fingers.

"You really want to throw that all away?" Vil looks down at you with questioning eyes even though he already knows the answer. You shake your head.

"No...but I also know that's something I'll have to do if I want to go home." You tell him firmly. Vil lets out a sigh and turns away from you for a moment.

"If you say so, but at least let me leave you with a parting gift." He turns back towards you and presents a small perfume bottle with a fancy font across the lid that you can hardly. It would no doubt cost hundreds in the market.

"My own creation that I've been working on. You're the first to have it." Vil says as he hands it over. You take it with a bright smile.

"Thank you! I'll try it on as soon as I get back to Ramshackle." You respond excitedly as you move to stand up from his makeup chair but he places a gentle hand on your wrist.

"I'd like to hear your critique as soon as possible. You are my perfect model, after all." He says with a glint in his eyes. You didn't seem to have any problem with that and sprayed a few spritz of the perfume on yourself, promptly passing out in the chair. You would get it through your head eventually that you belong here. You just need a little more convincing.

Idia Shroud

"Hold up, what?"

Your sudden words caused him to press the wrong button and his character gets brutally killed by one of the forest monsters in the game. You wince and put down your controller, turning towards him on his remarkably soft couch.

"Yeah...sorry to tell you so late but it looks like it could be soon." You say and Idia tosses his controller to the side, facing you as well.

"So you're gonna go? Just like that?" He asks in shock. You only recently just started playing video games with him in his room. Before, you had to practically beg him just to play a game with you when you were both in different dorms. It took a lot of convincing but he soon gave in after some persuasion from his brother. Once, you showed up to his room to see if you could play in person and he stared at you with wide eyes for about five seconds before slamming the door in your face, apologizing later over text.

He was unbearably anxious around you at first but he got used to the idea that you wouldn't judge him so easily. So he showed you another side, his more competitive and ill-mannered side to see if that would make you go away. And you still didn't. You instead embraced him for it. So why now were you just going to forget about all that?

"I-I mean I have to," You were clearly caught off guard by the intense look in his eyes, "I have a home and a family and friends-"

"Yeah, yeah, sure but what about everything you have here?" Idia insists.

"Everything I have here?" You ask.

"Y-Yeah, those first years, Grim, your dorm, me- many other things!" He stammers out. It would be way too cringe to mention himself deep down he hopes he's one of the things that could keep you here.

"Of course I'll miss everyone, but I miss everyone back home too," You say. Idia sighs deeply as he throws his head back on the couch.

"You're reallly set on this, huh?" Idia asks. You bite your lip and nod.

"But I still-" You try to add but he cuts you off.

"No, I get it. I wouldn't wanna be around me either." Idia sighs again. You look at him with wide eyes and fervently shake your head.

"No, it's not like-"

"You must have better friends back home if you're so desperate to see them again." He adds as he looks away with a frown. You don't notice him peeking back at you. You sigh and tilt your head so you can fully meet his gaze.

"Look, I'll talk to Crowley, see if he can push it back a bit." You tell him. He looks at you curiously.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna pressure you if-"

"No, it's okay. I want to spend more time with you and everyone anyway." You give him a small smile and he smiles back. He could play the pity card all day if it meant you'd stay.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus pauses in his steps, looking at you with a wide, curious gaze.

"You're leaving?" He utters. The two of you had been enjoying your nightly walks together back to Ramshackle. After one too many fights and attacks happening after hours on campus, he thought it best to escort you back home. He could easily teleport you both back to your dorm, but it gave him a good excuse to be around you more.

"Yes, hopefully it'll be soon. I'm excited to go back!" You smile enthusiastically and Malleus can only offer a grimace back.

"I suppose you could say I'm a little surprised. I thought you were happy here. Did I assume wrong?" He asks as he continues walking you to your dorm. Normally you would have never been able to keep up with his pace but he always kept a slower one for you.

"Oh no, I am happy here. My friends have been wonderful and I'm glad I'm friends with you. There's just some things I could do without." You mention offhandedly as you gaze up at the moon. He looks down to see it reflected in your eyes. The moon is wondrous but all he can see are the eyes that pinned a man who could never yield so deeply. You managed to befriend a dragon who is intimidating in every manner. That kind of connection isn't so flimsy that it could be dismissed by thoughts of departure.

"Things such as what?" Malleus perks up at the idea of solving one of your problems. As powerful as he is, there are a number of things he can't help you with. He couldn't do anything about your assignment getting deleted after your internet 'crashed' or about the friendship problems you once had with the Heartslabyul boys, but he's always eager to listen, just as you always do with him.

"It's just some rowdy guys from Savanaclaw who are still mad about the Spelldrive competition. They've been bothering me a bit but it's not a big deal." You tell him and he stops the both of you this time with a hand on your shoulder.

"Bothering you? For how long?" Malleus didn't mean to turn his hard glare on you but he couldn't help the fury building up inside of him. Many of the students already noticed your looming shadow that often followed you around like a lost puppy, which was usually enough to keep them from trying anything. Malleus isn't naive enough to believe that students at this school are always on their best behavior when he has his own business to deal with in the Diasomnia dorm. However, he swiftly and discretely took care of any nuisances that he happened to notice. He didn't think you were keeping anything from him.

"Like I said, it's not-" You try to soothe him but his glare only hardens.

"For how long?" Malleus repeats and he doesn't plan to a third time.

"For about a month now...but I can handle it myself!" You insist but he ignores the latter half of your sentence as his face morphs back into a gentler one.

"So that's what's been burdening you? I wish you'd have told me sooner but it's no matter. I'll take care of it." Malleus assures you.

"I mean that's one thing, but I have other reasons-" He cuts you off with a pat on your head as the two of you stop in front of Ramshackle's doors.

"You don't have to ruminate on it any longer. Do try to tell me about any other troublesome students in the future. I'll handle them and anyone else who tries to ruin your happiness here at Night Raven College." He vanishes in a flurry of lights before you can say a word. Any serious notion of you leaving is unthinkable to him, and if you do come up with more reasons, he'll make sure to take care of those as well.

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader

sorry for being inactive yall teehee just thought about this cute little idea and had to write it... also no sex just a little spicy lmk if yall want to see more of this guy 🤭

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

you did not expect it to rain during your forest hike today. anticipation to dive into the lush green unknown was quickly turned into a wet mess as your scrambled to find shelter, unsure of where you were even going as the gps signal got weaker deeper into the forest you ventured. much to your surprise, you soon came upon a quaint winding road. following it lead to an ancient-looking manor straight out of the victorian era. despite your brain recounting that this was how every horror movie started, you were desperate to be out of the cold, and soon rushed to the grand door to seek warmth. luckily, someone answered the door. a tall, lanky, ghost of a man, who quickly invited you in and fretted over the prospect of you catching a cold. he was a little odd, speaking in such a proper, olden manner, but he was lovely.

despite your initial protests of overstaying your welcome, he managed to convince you to stay for a week. he invited you to join him for dinner everyday, and it was through these meals that you found out quite a lot about him. one, his name was kliff (you swore his face turned red when you said he had a handsome name), and that he was a vampire who was at least a hundred years old (he stopped counting after the 120th year). the way he revealed it was kind of adorable, he was so reluctant at first.

"sooooo, kliff. you're a vampire, right?"

"goodness, whatever gave you that idea? i most certainly am not." his face said otherwise as his eyes darted everywhere around the room but your gaze, and the tip of his ears turned red.

"and you're gay, right?"

"now THAT is an accusation!" he replied indignantly, now fully flustered. "i, a dignified gentleman, would never engage in such sinful acts."

"but i saw you peeking at me showering yesterday. pervert." you were having the time of your life teasing this poor fossil.

he stood up from the dinner table and paced around the room. "i did no such thing." he mumbled, face somehow steaming even more than you thought was humanly possible. wait, but he wasn't a human. nevermind.

you spent most of your week exploring his manor, poking around the various dusty bookshelves and artifacts of an era long bygone. if there was one thing you picked up from your exploration, it was that kliff was awfully lonely. and had been for a long time. he didn't seem to have had any romantic partners, probably due to his sexuality, nor any pets to keep him company. you could infer this from his clingy nature, he was constantly in the shadows observing you, blending in seamlessly using his powers. he thought he was being slick, but really, he was a rather clumsy vampire. whenever you caught him, he would always act oblivious, and give you a sheepish grin, before scurrying away. it was quite cute, really. another thing was the fact that he never asked to drink from you. "it is quite alright. i sustain myself well enough through other means." was all he said when you asked him about it. mysterious. almost like he didn't dare to taint your skin with his fangs. you decided not to tell him about the fact that you were aware he watched you when you were asleep in the guest room, sometimes even daring to climb into bed silently with you and bask in your presence. he was a lonely soul, you figured. you could let him be delusional for a bit. you would leave after this week, anyway.

but that week passed quick, and with each day, kliff seemed to grow even more on edge, getting nervous whenever he was around you but never daring to speak what was on his mind. brooding around the house, watching you silently as you attempted to grow something in his dying garden... oh it was bad for him. but this came all to a head on your last day, when you bid your goodbyes and were one foot out the door, and he suddenly gathered the courage to say something.

kliff threw himself at you in one final, desperate plea. "please... please don't go...." his tone was so pitiful, you stopped in your tracks and looked at the way he's grabbing your wrist so tightly. "i... i.... if i may, i have one final request."

"you want to drink from me? honestly, i'm surprised you didn't ask earlier."

"no, no... it's not that. it's the opposite, really. may i... may i humbly request that you..." he stops mid sentence and breaks eye contact to look at the ground, voice so soft you could barely hear him. "bite me instead..."

"i beg your pardon?"

"i would like for you to leave a mark on me. as a reminder of your presence." his tone is slightly more confident now as he meets your eyes, centuries-old desire rekindled and burning within them. he falters a bit as he notices your lack of response. "....please?" he mumbles pathetically.

oh, poor baby. he's wanted a man to love him all his life. luckily for him, you found his desperation cute. you drop your bag and take his hand in yours.

"want me to take the lead?" you squeeze his hand, and he nods shyly.

"i would like nothing more."

you gently, but firmly pin him to the nearest wall, the ancient manor creaking under the pressure. it's kind of poetic, kliff thinks, as he wilts under your touch, it sounds like my house is congratulating me. you start off by peppering fleeting kisses all across his neck, admiring the small noises of pleasure he made everytime your lips came into contact with his skin. the fleeting touches turned into harsher bites, as you nibbled at his delicate skin, so fragile and untouched. it was just like he fantasized, and he was in heaven. he gripped onto the wall for support as he gasped at the new sensation, writhing around as you marked him, but your strong hands on his waist kept him steadily in place, a feeling he quickly learnt to enjoy. all those years he spent in solitude seemed to culminate to this moment, he'd never felt more intimate with anyone in his life. you stepped back to look at your handiwork and he immediately collapsed into your arms, a dark purple hickey prominently showing on his neck. he stared up at you lovingly, unable to really form thoughts. "please don't go...." was all he could mutter as you slowly swayed him back and forth, soothing his cold, beating heart.

"guess i'll see you next week, hm?" he's never been happier to hear those words in his long life.

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

[hoshifighting]

oiiiii

hey, 👋 a big fan of your parents work (which is you)

and also a great fan of your works too!!

you're so sassy and lovely, a real role model btw.

I got a good fic idea and you are the only one I think can do proper justice to it.

rough sex from a nonsensical fight between the reader and seungcheol. the man ends up taking her from behind on the couch, but ends up having the reader's back to his chest, one hand down the other holding her throat kinda, and he accidentally says something so dumb, they both stop and start laughing. same position everything, they just are laughing and that sex turns to soft one. yeahh sorry about that.

😭

sex after a fight with seungcheol

WARNINGS: smut, silly fight, choking, dirty talk, mentions of body fluids (cum), clit stimulation, afab reader, seungcheol saying smth cringey bc hehehe a/n: def telling them about this compliment HASHAHAUHAUHA, and thank you sm 😭😭 on my sassy era I think? heehheeh

“why the fuck are you so bossy, cheol?” your voice cuts through the living room, breathless, already hoarse from the way he’s been handling you like a doll for some time already.he doesn’t answer—he’s too busy burying himself inside your drenched cunt from behind, his hand splayed across the small of your back, pushing you into the couch cushions like you’re meant to stay there forever. the smack of his hips against you echoes in the room, like he’s trying to fuck his frustration right into you.

“you’re the one who—fuck—” you gasp, fingers clawing at the couch. “—started this. you put the stupid picture on the wrong wall.”he lets out a low, guttural laugh, breathless and mocking, like you’re the one being ridiculous. “wrong wall?” his voice trickles with sarcasm, like you’re talking about world peace instead of home decor. “it’s my fucking apartment too.” “it’s not just yours—”he pulls you up without warning, your back flush against his chest, his arm wrapping tight around your waist to keep you steady. “you really wanna fight about this now?” your head tilts back on his shoulder, and his other hand comes up to your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. his fingers don’t tighten—just rest there, like a warning—like, he still can choke you.

“you’re so fucking stubborn,” he growls, his lips brushing your ear, making your skin prickle. his hips don’t stop, not even for a second. “every damn thing’s a fight with you.”

“maybe if you weren’t such a—shit!—control freak—” your sentence shatters into a moan as his free hand slips between your thighs, fingers working your clit over until you’re gasping, your chest heaving.

“what was that?” he mocks, “didn’t catch that, baby.”

your nails dig into his forearm as you throw your head back. “i said—you’re a—bossy prick—”

his grip tightens just enough on your throat to shut you up.

his hand tightens just the right amount, that perfect sweet spot where your head spins a little, but it’s the way his fingers don’t even falter on your clit that gets you. he feels it—of course he feels it—the way your clit pulses under his fingers at the same time your walls clamp down around him, like your body’s completely giving you away.

cheol’s known you for years. too many nights fucking you, too many fights that ended like this—he knows you too well. knows how you get all sensitive when you’re this close.

so, of course, the fucker pulls out.

“ah-ah, nooo! cheol—what the fuck!?” your voice breaks into this desperate whine, your thighs trembling as you claw at his arm.

he just smirks, like this is a game to him. “shhh,” he hushes, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder before lifting his hand and landing a sharp slap to your ass.

“cheol—!” you snap, twisting your neck to glare at him, but he’s just laughing. the kind of cocky laugh that makes you want to slap him back—except he looks too fucking good, his flushed face and that messy, sweaty hair making you forget your anger for a second.

“that ass sounds like a drum babe” he chuckles.

you freeze. he freezes.

and then you’re laughing, full-on cracking up, hystericaly “what the fuck did you just say?!”

cheol’s face goes bright red, and he buries it in the curve of your neck, trying to hide. “sorry i—oh my god,” he groans, muffled against your skin, though he’s laughing, too—embarrassed and shaking with it. “just shut up, i don’t know why i said that.”

you’re wheezing at this point, your stomach hurting. “a drum, cheol? seriously?”

he huffs, still trying to hide his face, but his hand sneaks up to squeeze one of your tits, like it’s his way of punishing you for laughing too hard, trying to distract you while rolling your nipple with his thumb. you break a moan, but cant stop laughing.

“quit it,” he mutters. “you’re gonna kill the mood.”

“the mood’s dead, babe,” you gasp, wiping at your eyes as you keep giggling. “you killed it. murdered it.”

“shut uuuup!” he whines, but he’s still laughing, his body shaking against yours.

somehow—somehow—he slides back inside you, still chuckling, the both of you grinning like idiots. every time he thrusts, the moans stutters for a second because one of you bursts into another fit of laughter.

“okay, okay, seriously—stop laughing,” cheol says, exasperated, amused as you’re still choking on giggles. his hand smacks your thigh this time, not too hard. but it only makes you laugh harder, your whole body shaking against his.

“i can’t!” you gasp, turning your head to catch his flushed face out of the corner of your eye. “you called my ass a drum, cheol. you banged your way into that one.”

he groans like he’s suffering, but his smirk gives him away. “you’re gonna regret that.”

you scoff, not buying it. “what are you gonna do? write a—fuck!”

you barely get the word out before his arms snake around you, pulling you flush against his chest like you’re a doll he can just position however he wants. his lips brush your ear, and his voice drops into that low, syrupy tone that’s made you weak since day one. “told you I know how to shut you up.”

his hand dips between your legs again, fingers finding your clit like it’s second nature, you forget how to breathe for a second. the other hand stays firm on your chest and arms, holding you pressed tight against him so there’s nowhere for you to go. his hips move deep so you feel his wet tip hitting your cervix, he makes you feel every inch of him.

“oh my god,” you whimper, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

“there she is,” he murmurs. “what happened to all that laughing, huh? gone now?” you try to bite back a moan, but it comes out anyway, and he chuckles, smug as hell. “yeah, that’s what I thought.”

you lean your cheek against his, feeling the scratch of his little facial hair. “cheol—ngh.. baby!”

“mm?” his voice is too relaxed, like he’s not busy fucking you into next week. “what’s up, baby?”

“don’t—don’t stop, gonna cum.” you gasp.

“wasn’t planning on it,” he says, and you can feel the smirk pressed against your jaw. his fingers move faster, matching the pace of his hips, and you’re melting, just like he knew you would. “but... say it hm..” he says, . his fingers press harder against your clit, and your body jolts at the same timr. “say you’re mine, baby. let me hear it.”

“i’m yours,” you breathe, and the way his breath hitches makes your chest tighten.

“that’s right,” he mutters, his lips finding your jaw, kissing along the line of it, like he can’t get close enough. “mine. all fucking mine.”

you twist in his arms, turning just enough to catch his lips with yours, and the kiss is messy, desperate, tongue and need. his rhythm falters for a second, but then he’s right back at it, fucking into you so deep it’s all you can think about, his hand still working between your legs until you’re right on the edge again.

his name spills out of you, you crash over the edge, your body shaking in his arms. he holds you through it, his own movements growing rougher, until he’s groaning into your neck, his grip on you tightening as he fills your swollen cunt, the slick starting to drip from your folds.

“told you i’d shut you up.” he mumbles, his lips quirking up against your skin.

“shut up, cheol!” you mutter back, but there’s no heat in it. just warmth, just laughter, just him.