#man the atmosphere was rough

[fastorslow]

I have to be up in 2 hours… I might pull an all-nighter for like the second time in my life

[muntitled]

Hangman

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: What's a broke girl to do when her university bills keep piling up and a sadistic Salesman offers to take all her problems away? All at one tiny little price.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Suicide, Restraints, Anxiety, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Oral Sex (m!rec), Deepthroating, Blood Kink

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

You hadn't initially intended on slitting your own wrist. That idea was birthed almost vicariously in the moment. If he hadn't stopped you, your corpse would have been found laying on a park bench, covered in its own wet blood that would have been dripping from its open wrist like a faucet. Surely his proposition would be better than that.

With your vision obstructed by a heavy blindfold, your hearing is ten times more prominent. You hear the sound of your own breathing, as if your body was taunting you with all the life it still begrudgingly held inside it. You also heard heavy yet elegant footsteps cross a marble floor. Then you hear the scratch of a vinyl as the very sounds of an orchestra bleeds into the atmosphere.

"Hello," said the Man in the gray suit who had accosted you in the park. You remember the way in which he had sat beside you.

No one had ever sat beside you. Not even any of your peers that roamed the university. Everything about your countenance was so worried and severe. You wore your money problems on your sleeves and that evidently warded off any chance of a social life you had hoped to have.

The moon was shining particularly bright and the stars were twinkling little spectators to your silent meltdown on the park bench. Your eyes had been reading and re-reading the email sent to you by the university. An urgent email amongst a sea of urgent emails begging you to 'please just pay them'.

"Don't slit your wrist," he had said, "Not before you've given yourself a chance to win at life first."

You had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes from all that crying over potentially getting kicked out of university. He hadn't melted at your expression, in fact he only smiled softly. "We ought to play a game-"

"I wasn't going to slit my wrist."

"You were just holding that boxcutter for fun, then?" He curled up an eyebrow, leading both of your gazes down to the pocket box cutter that sat in your lap, the blade extended.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game."

"Not even at the cost of your university fees?" Your eyes snapped up to him then. He sat a healthy distance away from you. The space between you both was filled with possibilities so endless it was becoming uncomfortable to breathe. "How much do you owe them now?"

"That's none of your business," you were on the verge of gathering your things. Your boxcutter and your pride.

Perhaps you could kill yourself somewhere else, preferably without a man accosting you about the embarrassing state of your funds.

"I could pay for your university fees, you know," His words morphed into an anchor, keeping your butt firmly planted to the park bench. A midnight runner passed by you two. An evening breeze blew through your scalp and the goosebumps descended.

"Of course, you'd have to win first."

Anyone could see the conflict warring within your irses.

"This is how people get sex trafficked," you'd said, "Absolutely no thank you," How utterly in control you had been! A girl with a firm head on her shoulders.

He only laughed then. He laughed and laughed, so much so he had to politely clear his throat.

"You were about to kill yourself. Don't pretend to have any self preservation now," his words had struck a cord deep within the inner workings of your soul. Your face heated as you hid yourself, tucking your chin against your chest. You did suddenly feel remarkably silly and so incredibly juvenile.

"Don't worry," he had said with an almost lopsided grin, "It's your lack of self preservation that I find so incredibly intriguing, hence I'm asking for one game."

It was only one game.

One game and if you were lucky enough to win, you might coast through the rest of university stress-free. Like a normal 20 year old with normal 20 year old problems. Boyfriends. Clubbing. Whatever else all those girls did when they huddled together in their magnificent little groups. You could be a part of them. For once you had to give yourself the opportunity of feeling like a member of society.

"Are these restraints a necessary element of our game?"

As you sit in this room- a room he had brought you too- blindfolded- you tell yourself that you are giving yourself a chance to be a normal 20 year old. That's why you were currently restrained to a leather chair. The restraints held your wrists to the armrests and your and your ankles to the feet of the chair. This led to the slight and uncomfortable spreading of your legs- a dangerously vulnerable position to be in when you were wearing nothing but a university jumper and a pleated skirt.

You quickly find out that you didn't like to be restrained.

Your chest rises and falls a little higher with every sharp intake of your breath as you will yourself into calmness. Freaking out now seemed completely silly.

Almost as silly as letting a stranger bring you to his hidden location.

Had you no sense of self preservation at all?

Were you a walking piece of meat, waiting for the first predator to sink its teeth into you?

Has that predator finally arrived?

"The restraints are unfortunately a necessary element.” He says, softly, “The human body tends to get jittery when it's met with unforeseen stimuli, and I don't want you running out on me."

That lets the panic solidify itself even more in your bones. This man walked as if he was a perfectly stand up guy and that helped in your decision of letting him bring you here.

Nothing seemed particularly wrong with him at first glance.

His face has all the workings of a perfectly normal man. He looked like he was in possession of a cushy, stable job with pensions and benefits. A salesman.

He looked like he attended his kids soccer matches on the weekends.

He looked married to a beautiful woman who looks good in mom jeans and baked brownies for her Wednesday night book club.

He looked so painfully normal.

But the panic is rising, the more that ‘danse macabre’ fills the room.

"C-Could you at least play something else," You are fidgeting now and it causes him to raise a brow. "Danse macabre is just," you attempt to swallow but your tongue is completely dry, "-incredibly unnerving, right now."

You try to massage your wrists in the restraints and you breathe through your nostrils as a phantom pain shoots through your legs. The need to move was eating you alive.

"You know your classical music," The man regarded you with slight intrigue as he folded the piece of material he had once used to obstruct your vision. He places it on a tiny coffee table before you. "Interesting for a kid your age. Do you know the story behind it?"

"Of course, I do, why do you think I'm nervous?" You had his full attention now. You were almost drowning in it as he lowered himself to a leather chair directly opposite you.

You had never had anyone listen to you as intently as he does. No one bothered to hear what you had to say. The voices in your head were your only audience…

Now you have someone seated before you, so lax as he urges you to, “Go on, explain why it makes you so nervous.” It was completely addicting.

“W-Well,” you swallowed the air again. “Danse macabre quite literally means dance of death,” he sits back in his chair, his fingers tapping against his mouth.

“Why?” he asks in deeply monotony, as if you had captured him as much as he, evidently captured hou. Like you weren't the only one in restraints.

Your brows furrowed “Is this quiz apart of the game-”

“No. I just want to hear you talk.” He says as he reaches over the side of his chair uncovering a sleek black briefcase veneered in expensive leather. He assures you with a single nod of his head that he's listening as he clocks open the briefcase.

“Well,” your eyes are on the whiteboard he pulls out, “Camille wrote this symphony all dark and depressing because it's supposed to sound like it's being played by death himself,”

The suited man smiles down at his busy hands as he lays your boxcutter on the coffee table beside the whiteboard. “I-It tells us that death is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter if you have money or you're about to be kicked out of university for insufficient funds-” he cracks a small smile at that, pulling out a whiteboard marker in the process, “the dance of death is inevitable for us all. Money can't buy you out of it.” You shake your head, “It's real medieval shit.”

You watch him smile again. It's devastatingly attractive which immediately raises the alarms in your own head. This man has restrained you in a chair, in an undisclosed location. For all you knew, death was very well the thing waiting for you at the end of all this.

But he wouldn't stop you from killing yourself, only to kill you himself, would he?

You'd heard about serial killers being raging narcissists. You would virtually be a lousy victim, having already wanted to die.

That thought calms you somewhat.

“We're going to play ‘Hangman’,” he turns the board to reveal a simple drawing of a gallow and a man hanging from it.

“Are you familiar with it?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, your nerves level somewhat at the sight of the little stick figure.

Just guess a letter to a mystery before the Hangman is drawn. These were children's games.

“For every word you get right, a semester of your studies is paid in full.” He smiles, warmly, watching the awe blossom across your face. “You'll get your degree and become the psychologist you've always wanted to be.”

Your brows furrow, “H-How did you know I-”

“Of course there's a penalty to the game,” you watch him erase the little stick figure, as he draws the little lines corresponding with the amount of letters in the mystery word. “If you don't guess the correct words in time,” Time stands still. “Well… The word get carved into your skin.”

You had never been a cautious individual. When your mother would fret and nag about your safety, you would roll your eyes. Everyone else always had self preservation for you. Why would you need it? Bad things rarely happen to boring people. The news coverage worthy stuff? You?

But here you were, fucking drowning in the Bad stuff.

"I'm not playing,” You begin to try and twist your wrist out of the restraints as your panicked eyes zero in on the blade seated on the desk. “I'm not fucking playing-”

“I'm afraid that isn't an option. What's your first letter?”

Despite the soundproof padding stylishly plastered against the sleek black walls you still scream "HELP-Oh my god- HELP”

He walks over towards you in large strides, clamping his hands in your skull and pulling your head back. He's much closer now. Closer than he had been at the park. His eyes are sparkling with intensity and a manic sort of quality that escaped you on your first meeting. Where were these eyes when you were still on that park bench, still able to choose to run far, far away to the nearest police station.

Where were these wild eyes then?

“Look at how scared you've gotten...” He laughs, in your face, “A scared, terrified little Doll-”

“Please let me go-”

“I'm not the one keeping you restrained here.” He lifts his hands as if he were completely crime-free, “You decided to play this game out of your own volition. You're restraining yourself, Doll”

“Jesus, that doesn't even make sense-” you cry, “HELP-”

He pulls a tighter grip around your hair, silencing your cries as a wince bleeds out of your instead..

“You don't wanna do that,” he says, staring deep into your glassy irses, “I have a thing for little girls with pretty tears-”

“Please don't hurt me-” you didn't wanna be a newspaper girl. You didn't want to be a nobody-turned-somebody because her death was so grisly it graced the front pages of a newspaper. That isn't the way your story was supposed to go and so you plead with the humanity inside him. You search for it under all that black ink filling his almond eyes.

Nothing.

They're absolutely black.

“Guess a letter, Doll."

You steal your nerves. Your shoulders slump.

“E-Every word has a vowel in it right?” his eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips against the side of your face. He seems like he's transforming into a completely different person right before your very eyes and it set you alight with fear.

Fear and something else.

“That's it, now we're getting somewhere,”

“I'll go with ‘A’,” a tense, mortifying silence stretches between you too. He begrudgingly removes his hand from your hair, patting down your head like the child he regressed you to as he strolled to the white board.

“Correct.”

He writes the letter ‘a’ twice on the little lines. The first one of the second line and the second one on the fourth line and almost with your brain slotting into place you raise your head. you wipe a stray tear on your shoulder before saying, “I-I- know what the word is.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Already?” Intuition was a scary thing. It was like a last resort, leaving you clamouring for hope.

“Care to share,”

“Is there an ‘r’” you look up at him. “I need to be sure.” Your legs are fidgeting in anxiety. Your fingernails dig into the leather under the armrest.

He is quiet as he draws an ‘r’ over the second last line.

“Macabre. The word is ‘macabre.’”

A slow almost predatory grin stretches across his face.

“How much did you say tuition was?”

Your heart stammers in its chest.

For those few moments you don't think about death. You don't think about blood. All you think about is that outstanding amount as you murmur a quiet, “₩3,893,852.”

You had it memorized.

The number that haunted your every waking hour, bleed from your lips like a prayer.

You watch as he lowers the white board marker to uncover a phone in his back pocket. He taps a few buttons and in a matter of moments- he turns his screen towards you.

What a remarkable day this had turned out to be.

“How do you know my banking details?,” you ask, squinting your eye at the screen, “Who are yo-”

“That round was too easy.” He moves to sit back down, “Here's your next word,” your heart falls when he only draws three lines underneath the gallow.

Three letter words could be the easiest or the most difficult when it comes to a game like this.

“A?’” you ask through wet lashes. Your only option was to hammer through the list of vowels.

“Ooh-” he pouts, before drawing a Hangman's head. “Try again.”

“E?”

He's silent as he draws a stick for The Hangman's body. The panic kickstarts once more.

“Shit-”

“That's not a letter?�� He jests, “One more non-word and you're Disqualified, Doll.” His knee is bouncing up and down. As if everything in him was anticipating the end of the game. Your nerves are drowing in anxiety.

“I-”

“You can't just name every vowel under the sun, Doll. You don't have very many options remaining.” He draws the stick figures first arm.

4 chances left.

“O?” Your breath catches in your lungs. You watch as he throws his head back to lift his hips slightly, as if adjusting his pants. It almost immediately lowers your gaze to the prominent bulge there. Fuck. Not only was he anticipating your loss, he was getting off to the thought of it.

“Well done.” He writes ‘o’ in the second line. Right between the middle and end lines.

“Uh- ‘c’”

He adds another appendage to the stick figure. “3 more chances remaining.” He says, standing up. His arm jitters as he picks up the boxcutter in.

“G-” you ask through tears. He kneels in front of you, his eyes are almost as desperate as yours.

“You are the most fun I've had in years,” he admits, before turning to draw another appendage.

“Guess again, Doll,” the boxcutter extends and you cry.

“You don't have to do this,” You plead and he only sighs as he places his forehead against yours.

“You are such a brave little girl, you know that-”

“Oh my god-”

“2 more guesses.”

“‘T?” You squeak out so quietly, as your eyes squeeze shut.

He presses his lips to your right cheek and you melt. The fear all disappears and it's just you and him. Even on his knees, he's so large, so towering. It sets you alight with incomparable need.

“Well done, Doll- I'm so proud of you, " he sighs, “One more word, baby.”

“P- wait, No!" the sound barely makes it out of your mouth and looks down at you, chest rising and falling.

You hold your breath, eyes wide and wet and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Y- my answer is ‘Y’.” He exhibited all the signs of a sadist. Of course his word for you word be-

“That's my answer. “Toy”

A tense silence bleeds as he brings the boxcutter into your field of vision, and you're once again writhing in your seat. “Please- please no-”

“Fuck I'm gonna need to cum-” He admits gravely. Even more grave, even more harrowing, you're squirming in your seat. Lust balling deep within your cut. You're terrified but so utterly turned on.

Is masochism a symptom of loneliness?

“Please-”

He presses the blade to your leg and you both watch as he sinks the tip down onto your skin. For all those moments, you revel in the pain. The blade breaks skin and you cry out as droplets of blood grows pregnant along your thigh. Danse macabre crescendos and tears fall. As he swipes his finger along the drop of crimson.

“D-Did I not get it right?"

“”You got it right,” he admits, undoing the buttons of his blazer as he stands to his heavy feet once more. The menacing shadow of a God. He's humongous and you crane your neck back to look at him.

“my little winner-” he mumbles, planting a heavy hand on your head as his other hand rubs over his erection.

“I-If I got it right,” you mumble through your sniffles, “Th-Then why did you cut me?”

He looks down at you. The hand planted on your head moves down to the side of your face as he unzips his pants. Your heart is banging out of its cage as he lowers his pants just enough to have his hand slipping into his boxers.

He watches the blood smudged across your thigh.

“I just-” he curses as he uncovers his fully erect cock, leaking precum,“I just wanted to see your blood.” he admits gravely before bringing his cupped hand to your lips.

'Spit.’ He commands.

You're unable to look away. The precum beading the head of his cock slides down the thick veins along the length of it- all the way to the base. You want him in your mouth. Inside you. The need and the pain is an avalanche of contradictions.

He makes you feel so scared, so wanted.

“Don't make me ask again.” He says darkly, tilting your head up to look deep into his eyes.

His fingers prod at your lips and your mouth falls open as his hand delves inside. “Tongue out.” He whispers hoarsely, cursing once again when you roll your tongue out. Somehow incredibly obedient.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, Doll?” He asks, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips. You nod cautiously, feeling yourself descend into a state of mind you'd never been at before. You feel so pliant with his hand still on your cheek as he guides his cock into your mouth. You feel completely reckless. Someone like you who spends her time studying and worrying. Right now you were made to feel completely empty.

“That's it-” he coos, looking so utterly pained as his cock slides against your tongue, “That's my Doll,” he thrusts in and out of your mouth and you just sit there. Quite literally a doll. You let him use you, feeling more useful now than you've ever felt in all your years of living. There is beauty in submission that has a wet spot forming along your panties. You writhe as he begins to fuck your throat, drawing out a moan from him in the process.

“Shit- you're such a good girl-” there's fire in his eyes as he thrusts in and out. His hands move to the back of your head, forcing you down deeper on his cock. The sounds of your struggle -the gagging- it has his cocm twitching in your mouth

“Fuck-” he grunts, breathing so heavily as you begin to writhe in your seat, needing air.

“I knew you were special, Doll- I knew you were so far beyond self preservation- it borders pathetic” the saltiness of his precum trickle down your throat and you attempt to stomp your feet as your cries vibrate around his cock.

“Look at your hips moving baby,” he says, “You like this as much as I do. You're on my side. Even if you think you aren't.” Your hips are circling as if you're searching for friction along the chair as he groans. “Tell me you're on my side.”

He pulls your mouth off his cock and you breathe in deeply. You're coughing as droplets of spit run down your mouth. Spit and tears. Your face shows it all.

Your voice is hoarse. “I'm on your-”

“F-Fuck- I'm gonna cum-" He brings his cock back to your lips, “All over that pretty fucking face- fuck,” your tears fall as he strokes cock, emptying cock over you face. You keep your eyes shut, letting the sound of his pleasure-filled groans shoot straight to your puffy clit.

“I'm not letting you go,” his thumb moves over the cum coating your face. He moves his thumb past your lips, letting the cum seep into your mouth. Saltiness and need.

He needed you.

“You're not?” You ask petulantly, sucking on his thumb like you've regressed right before him.

“I'm not.” He confirms, “My little winner.”

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[gojosprettyprincess]

Older boyfriend! Toji who never lets you leave the house to attend your classes without stuffing his bitter cum up your cunt in the morning. :(

It’s like seven in the morning and he’s sipping on the freshly brewed cup of coffee you made for him a few minutes earlier while the nasty, loud squelching of your soaked pussy sucking his dick in filled the early morning atmosphere.

Your plaid skirt is weakly brunched up around your waist, the fabric delicately ruffled, and your panties are struggling to stay hooked against your right cheek. You're practically drooling on the wooden dinner table like a little slut. Your poor legs are quivering and shaking in front of his muscular ones while he's just straight up blowing your back out from behind.

“Dear God, you hear how fucking mouthy this cunt is early in the morning?” He winced at the noise, cursing under his breath as he gazed down at his girthy cock disappearing into the warmth of your creamy hole. Every time he pulls his cock out, a glistening trail of cum shimmered at the thick base of his shaft, some even clinging to his curling pubic hairs like pearls in a tangled web.

“Aww is she thanking my cock for splitting her in half? How generous”.

Your whole body involuntarily trembles under the persistence of his roughness. each furious stroke of his angry tip skillfully hitting your sweet spot over and over with precise force sent shivers down your shine. “D-daddy m’gonna b-be late for class!” you managed to gasp out between whimpering moans. Your voice strained and ragged. But he just chuckles in response, his raspy laughter from his morning voice filling the room.

“Oh yeah? Yer not gonna anywhere till my seed is overflowing out this pretty pussy, darling”. He growls. His firm grip on your hips tightens, and his slender fingers kept digging into your soft skin— leaving marks that are going to remind you of his possession and roughness throughout the entire day.

“Fucking hell, you’re dripping everywhere. This cunt’s fucking soaked, it’s just seven in the morning and you’re already creaming like some horny slut” he grunts harshly, biting his bottom lip as he began bullying his cock in and out of you faster.

“Bet your classmates would love to see you like this, all messy and stuffed full with your older man’s cock”. The warmth of his breath creates a tantalizing contrast against your tender neck, making the tiny hairs from the back of your neck rise.

You bite your lips in an attempt to suppress the pathetic moan that was threatening to escape your lips from his humiliating words. Your body starts betraying you as you imagine the scandalized look on everyone’s face to see your boyfriend’s seed slowly steeping out your used cunt.

“N-no Toji, please…” you whimpered softly, your eyes screwed out and cunt clenching tighter around his veiny shaft.

“Fuck you’re so dirty, baby”. He silenced your pathetic noises with a rough kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his fat cock invaded your snugged cunny :(. He sucked on your tongue and swirled his around yours to exchange the stringy saliva. You can’t even think straight at this point, your mind a blur of pleasure and an overwhelming desire to please the older man.

With a sly grin, he gently withdrew from the kiss, his warm lips skimming down the curve of your jaw before settling on the delicate shell of your ear. A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes as he whispered, “You want my fat load deep in this little cunt while you walk into class, feeling it leaking down your pretty thighs?”.

Your face flushed with an overwhelming wave of embarrassment as his hot breath caressed your ears, leaving you unable to form coherent thoughts. You could barely nod, already gone stupid from his abusing cock. “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear, good girl”. He praised with a smug and teasing tone. “I’ll give it all to you, don’t worry”.

“Yer such an obedient little cumslut for daddy aren’t ya doll? He questioned with a light chuckle. He’s always so amused by your fucked out state, he thinks you’re so adorable being dumbed down and stupid from his cock. Your slick, pulsating hole tightly embraces his throbbing cock, gripping onto him like you wanted to suck his soul out of his body.

The prominent veins of his cock rubbed against your velvety walls, massaging your insides and causing an overwhelming sensation of pleasure. He hissed loudly in your ear before speeding up his pace.

He felt your weeping cunt clenching tighter around him, like a vice, threatening to milk every last drop out. “Yeah that’s it, keep squeezing me. You’re so filthy baby, milk daddy’s cock dry” he slammed into you with renewed vigor, his heavy balls practically making love to your swollen clit with each powerful thrust.

Your moans turned into desperate cries, echoing through the morning air. Your needy pussy is spasming around his cock in a powerful orgasm. He could feel your juices flowing out, adding to the creamy mess between your plush thighs.

“Oh fuck, baby you’re making so much mess on Daddy’s cock, yer tryna mark me or something?” he hissed, his cock thumping with a familiar coil in his balls. “M’gonna breed this filthy pussy. Gonna fill it up so full that my seed is gonna leak out of you all day long”.

With one final thrust, he buried himself all the way inside of you— filling you up to the brim so his buttery cum spurts out into your womb. His cock was twitching and pulsating inside of you, making you whine and wiggle your ass back at him at the warm feeling as he emptied his fat load— jet after jet of hot cum shooting into your fucked out hole.

“Good God— fuckk!” the older man lets out a guttural growl, His large body shuddered as waves of pleasure coursed through him. With a possessive gesture, he wrapped his arm securely around your waist, pulling you close as both of you tried to calm your racing hearts and catch your breaths. His cock continued twitching as your heart raced in unison.

“Thereee we go doll, now you’re all stuffed n’ ready for class” he placed an affectionate kiss on your delicate neck, his breath ragged as he slowly withdrew his cock out of your stretched hole— being so careful that he doesn’t spill any of his precious sperm.

His cock slides out with a wet sound before he quickly reaches for your panties and pulled them over your ruined cunt. He gently pulled your skirt over your round ass and smoothed it so it didn't look all wrinkly and mashed up. So you’ll look like an actual neat and well-put together girl, as if you weren’t just fucked into a brainless slut seven in the fucking morning by your sex addict boyfriend.

“Meet me in the car and don’t make any of my fucking cum spill out of you or we’re gonna have to start again, you hear me?”

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

They aren't themselves when you go on vacation.

It's sad, really. Almost pathetic.

Price wished you were under his command, so he could just order you to stay. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing, you wouldn't need to work at all, you'd just need to be there, with him and his men.

But no. Your job was created by a carefully crafted contract. There were clauses both him and you had to follow in order to have you keep your place as his lovely secretary and one of them was reassuring you'd take some weeks off on vacation.

So you had to leave. Leave their side, leave your quarters, leave them all in their lonesome without their pretty little bird to brighten their days. And it wasn't enough to leave the base temporarily, no. You just HAD to go on a trip, huh? You torture them so, doll.

It was hard to tell who took it the hardest. Price was grumpy, Johnny was sulking, Ghost was even moodier and Kyle was snappy. Each one enduring your absence in their own emotionally constipated way.

Sometimes they would raid your bedroom. It was easy. You had locked it before leaving, like a responsible good girl, but it's not like Johnny didn't know how to pick a lock in mere seconds (he's done it before time and time again when you were around just to explore your room, after all).

They'd look like a bunch of mutts feeling the scent of proper food for the first time as soon as they stepped inside your pretty room. Your smell, the ghost of your presence inundating their senses, made your absence just a little bit more bearable.

They stand out like a sore thumb between the purples and pinks and blues of your room, amongst the plushies and the faint clouds of lavender room spray.

Johnny rushes to your bed, plopping onto it unceremoniously and curling himself on his side with one of your plushies held tightly in his arms. It's a jarring sight – a tall, muscular man holding onto a black bunny as if he would die without it.

Simon snatches your blanket from under Johnny's legs and brings it to his face, inhaling your faint scent mixed with fabric softener as if he needed it instead of oxygen. He rubs the fleece plush on his face, feeling it caress his scars and his roughed skin.

Kyle runs to your desk, rummaging through the mess of stationery and notebooks, reverently touching your handwriting as if he could touch you through the disarray of notes and glittery pens. He revels in the little peeks of the depths of your mind with every little note he finds.

Price just chooses to stand in the middle of your room, basking in the atmosphere of your place; the remnants of your presence. He wishes he could will you into coming back sooner, before he or any of his men go mad. It definitely feels like it could happen at any given moment.

They're so fucking dramatic. Four gigantic velcro dogs you don't even know you own.

But how can you blame them? You are everything they never thought they could have. Peaceful, soft, tender, sweet. How can they keep themselves from being addicted to you, love? It's impossible.

It's why they hang by the thinnest thread when you have to leave.

Won't you come back, doll? Come on. Please?

[nanamiskentos]

(JUST MEET ME AT THE) APT! — gojo satoru minors dni. art by chitrartum on twt.

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (a) and let the show begin !

prologue. → your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. never drive, no matter how little alcohol is in you folks!!! never!!! making out, creampiè, hooking up with a stranger, ovèrstimulation, mildly rough sèx, gojo won't tell you what his job is

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. apt — rosé & bruno mars

a/n. reader lowkey a hater, i love vanilla vodka eggnog </3 i said i was gonna post on 02/12 and i kept my word, literally rushed to finished this before my clinical exams in the cardiac ward 😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope y'all stay healthy. your future surgeons are writing gojo smut on tumblr.com

mp3. don't you want me like i want you, baby? don't you need me like i need you now? sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. all you gotta do is meet me at the apartment (아파트) !

you think your friends would kill you if they knew this was how you were spending christmas eve. not at some glittering holiday party, nor tucked away in a snow-dusted cabin. but here, holed up in a dimly lit bar with an atmosphere so questionable it should come with a warning label alongside a health and safety audit.

the place had charm, if your definition of charm included scuffed floors, a jukebox stuck on 'last christmas' and a string of blinking lights that looked like they'd been thrown at the walls rather than hung. still, you'd swiped a couple of minty candy canes from a jar near the door, which felt like a win.

your phone sat resolutely off in your bag. self-preservation. no instagram, and no tacky mirror selfies from your scumbag ex with the same smirk he'd worn a month ago when you caught him cheating. with someone who had always been 'just a friend, babe!' you weren't keen to let that ruin the rest of the night, though if you were being honest, you had already let it ruin a good chunk of the month.

"another christmas vodka...sour, please," you squint at the messy chalkboard above the bar, where the christmas specials were scrawled in what would barely pass for handwriting.

the bartender gave a single, surly nod. he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, preferably somewhere free of customers nursing post-breakup bitterness like a fine wine.

and so, you found yourself staring at the tall glass now sitting in front of you, studying the rosemary sprig that swayed lazily in the translucent red liquid. a few cranberries bobbed among the ice cubes like they were on some tiny festive raft.

"woah, that one's way too strong for me."

the voice interrupts your private session of wallowing. you turn your head, slowly, to take in the culprit. he-who-hath-disturbed-the-peace. a man sitting close enough to be annoying, but not close enough to invade your personal space.

it takes you a moment to process the stranger, mostly because of the brain freeze from your ill-timed gulp.

"i mean, it's not bad," you shrug, hoping to sound neutral enough that he leaves you be. but then because you just can't leave well enough alone, you gesture at the specials board, "better than...that, at least."

you jab a finger at the chalk-scrawled abomination: vanilla & peppermint vodka eggnog.

the man frowns, a sharp but somehow charming movement that's overshadowed by the dim lights, "hey, i ordered that one."

you blink like a startled bovine, before breaking into a laugh, "my bad. i'm sure it's really fuckin' delicious."

the stranger chuckles too, a soft and low sound that seems more genuine that it has any right to be, "i hope so. otherwise, this is gonna be a long night."

the man finally shifts, casting aside the dim shadows that lay over him, into the blinking string lights. broad shoulders framed by a dark, tailored jacket that hugs him like a second skin. his hair, startlingly white, was pushed back by — wait, was that a blindfold?

you stare longer than you should have, trying to piece the odd sight together. a cosplay? a k-pop idol wannabe, hoping to get recruited for the next bts tour? perhaps, he was blind, hard of sight? you start to open your mouth, wondering how to phrase the intrusive and awkward questions, but he beats you to it.

"i can see you just fine, y'know," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

your cheeks burn at the realisation that he's caught you gawking shamelessly. so you quickly turn back to your drink, suddenly very interested in the cranberries floating in the glass.

the bartender returns, sliding the stranger's drink onto the counter with an audible clink. it was the most obnoxious cocktail that you'd ever seen. a martini glass filled with frothy, pale liquid and crowned with a cinnamon stick that jutted out like the mast of some ridiculous holiday ship.

you watch, mildly horrified, as the man picks up the glass and downs half of it in one confident gulp. he sets it down a satisfied sigh, and a smack of his glossy lips, and you wrinkle your nose involuntarily at the sight.

"i swear it's good," he says with a laugh, catching your expression. his grin is wide, playful. and you find yourself smiling back despite your sour, gloomy mood.

he has a nice smile, you note. not forced nor smug, but genuine. framed by pale pink lips that curl up in an easy, natural way. it was strange though, to look at someone without seeing their eyes.

"i'm gojo, by the way," he offers, his voice smooth and lightly amused once more, as if he'd caught you studying him again.

your gaze drops to his hands, long and slender, tracing the rim of the martini glass. something about the way they move — elegant and deliberate, hold your attention a moment too long for propriety. you quickly snap your focus back to his face, "what brings you here, gojo?"

gojo shrugs, and you can almost imagine him rolling his eyes beneath the blindfold, though you doubt his ire is directed at you, "work, i guess. or maybe i just got bored of going to work."

"they're working you hard, yeah?" you ask, trying for sympathy. employers loved squeezing their workers dry during the holidays. your own boss was proof enough of that, running the office like a sweatshop for santa's unpaid elf labour.

"something like that," gojo says with a scoff, the corners of his mouth quirking up again, "what about you? what brings you here? it's christmas eve, isn't it?"

you sigh, the weight of gauche embarrassment suddenly pressing down as the words spill out before you can stop them, "my ex-boyfriend cheated on me."

gojo's lip curls, the kind of expression that balances perfectly between pity and disgust, "that sucks," he offers. profound and wise, you have to agree as he continues, "you jus' find out or something?"

the question makes you cheeks heat, and you fiddle with the edge of your drink, "no, i've known all month." you gesture vaguely towards your purse, where your phone sat like an unsealed pandora's box, "but he posted...on instagram. and stuff. i'm still, y'know, getting over it."

gojo makes a thoughtful clicking noise with his tongue, "ah, see, i don't do social media. but that sounds rough."

you let out a weak huff, "yeah, well...now i just feel like a loser. my friends told me to go out and have fun, and here i am..." you trail off, downing the rest of your cranberry vodka in a single, decisive gulp. the sting hits your throat, sharp and sour, and you grimace at the burn.

gojo frowns slightly, leaning in just enough that you can hear how his voice softens, "i don't think you're a loser." the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, pulling your gaze back to him, "it's fair to wallow."

his words hang in the air, and you find yourself smiling, albeit thinly, "that's...really nice of you to say."

gojo hums thoughtfully, "i meant it, i promise. but i can't exactly say i've been there, never really dated anyone."

you blink, openly gaping at the man, "really? you're joking."

it was hard to wrap your head around that. even with the odd blindfold, everything about him screamed 'pounce-worthy'. the broad frame, the charming smile, the striking white hair that looked like it belonged in a kérastase commercial.

gojo laughs at your incredulous expression, "same old work and stuff," he explains with a casual shrug. then his grin fades, tone shifting just enough for you wonder why that feels as though the clouds have covered the light of the moon outside, "always got in the way."

"at least you never had to deal with a breakup," you offer, trying to find some weak, silver lining.

gojo frowns, his pale complexion now tinged with a faint red flush that even the dim bar lights couldn't disguise. was he really that much of a lightweight, or was the eggnog's amaretto content deceptively boozy?

he sighs dramatically, "a friend once left me outside a kfc in shinjuku. then he became a murderer and a cult leader. that felt like a breakup."

"huh," you murmur, staring at the man with a mixture of amusement and faint alarm, wondering if you'd seen any cult leaders on the evening news lately. no, nothing save for the occasional incorrect weather report, a friendly good-looking priest running some scam association, and news reports about an octopus that could predict the lottery, "that's - well, okay..."

you couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not, but gojo seems to shake himself free of the odd reverie. he's running his hand through his shock of white hair, and his grin has returned, slower and a touch softer, "still, your ex must've been crazy. letting go of a pretty girl like you?"

the words land with surprising weight, considering they come from a stranger in a sleazy bar, but it leaves you momentarily stunned. you can feel a blush rising to your cheeks, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip before you manage to get a grip on yourself.

"wow," you laugh, feigning composure as you sip the last remnants of your drink, "smooth."

gojo's smile is wider now, "hah, i call it like i see it," and his lips now curl upwards as he leans in, "and i'm serious. if i had someone like you..."

you laugh again, but this time it's far more unsteady. you wonder if the cranberry vodka is playing with your head, "big words for someone who's never dated. should i be impressed, gojo?"

gojo's chuckle is a deep sound that vibrates in his chest, "i know a good thing when i see it. you don' need to date to know what you want. and i think i want you."

your stomach does a little flip, and you feel all rationality being pounded out of you just from staring at his unfairly gorgeous hands rest on sturdy thighs, "you do flattery well, i'll give you that."

"oh, i don't know about that," gojo says, fiddling with the stem of his glass, "but what'dya say we get out of here? how about my place?"

you blink slowly, and you're aware that your heart (and...nether regions) have already composed an answer before your mind has, "what if you're a serial killer? you're not about to silent night, deadly night me, are you? you haven't killed someone have you?"

for a moment, the man stills but then gojo leans back, "smart girl. asking the right questions. but no, i can at least promise that i'm not a criminal."

you hesitate just for a beat, the words lingering on your tongue, before you let out a breath and shrug, "fine. where's your place?"

"azabu," gojo replies without missing a beat, his tone smooth, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

you gape once more, blinking as you try to process the information. azabu? as in tokyo's ritziest neighbourhood, where a one-bedroom apartment could cost you more than most people's yearly salary? the kind of place where the floors are made of marble, and everyone's shoes are more expensive than your entire wardrobe?

gojo, ridiculously handsome despite looking like a circus runaway, too charming for his own good, and not the type you'd expect to find in a cheap downtown dive bar. definitely not on a christmas eve, at least.

for a split second, you wonder how a man like him even ended up in a place like this. maybe it's some kind of self-imposed penance. or he likes to keep things low-key when he's pretending not to be rich? maybe he's looking to cosplay a succession character?

whatever it is, it's working. not only does gojo have a face carved from marble, now you've got a solid ticket into seeing what a neighbourhood for the top one percent really looks like beyond it's wealthy exterior. maybe, you'll bring back a souvenir.

you wonder whether there's a group of small emotions standing around inside your head, inside-out style. glaring at you as if you're incapable of making good and rational decisions.

well fuck that, you gather yourself and shrug off the small wave of nerves, and loop your purse strap around your finger, "alright," you say, "let's get out of here then."

you don't miss at how the adam apple of gojo's throat bobs for a second, before he downs the rest of his drink in one go, "let's get outta here then."

you follow him out into the cold, your breath fogging in front of you as you try to focus, but the man is tall, like ridiculously so. but when you reach the curb, he turns to face you again, a frown marring his face.

"so, i have a small confession."

i changed my mind and i find you repulsive.

i was paid by your ex to do this, and now i've done enough to get my money.

i'm a serial killer.

you don't know which possibility is worse, "huh, a confession? what is it now?"

gojo chuckles, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as though he's about to spill a dark secret into the night air, "i don't have a car."

"you've got to me kidding me. how'd you even get down here?"

gojo shrugs, a casual and almost lazy movement. and you feel your gaze lingering on his shoulders. broad, impossibly wide, the dark jacket hugging him in all the right places, like it was tailor-made to showcase just how much he filled it out.

"someone dropped me off. ages ago," like it was the most normal and rational explanation in the world.

your own laugh is short, a little disbelieving, but you pull your silver keys from your purse, "well, i guess i'll have to drive then. but what would you have done if i hadn't been here to save the day?"

gojo steps to the side, opening your own car door for you with a small flourish and exaggerated bow that makes your heart jolt again, "probably teleport back home. maybe fly, since the skies look clear."

what a weird guy. hot, but weird. he seems like the type to dress up with a fake beard and show up as gandalf at the next lord of the rings fan convention.

in the driver's seat beside him, you catch yourself staring too long. your gaze slipping over a model's jawline, the white of his hair being held up by the blindfold. even his vaguely expensive scent is disorienting, pleasant like pine and blackcurrant. but it's also hard not to be amused when he's furrowing teeth into plush pink lips out of concentration, pressing an address into your cracked gps screen.

well, merry christmas to you.

gojo's place is well...how do you say this? gorgeous doesn't quite begin to cover it. he leads you into the building with the ease of someone who knows every inch of it, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder as he swipes a key card to unlock the private elevator, "i tend to move around a bit. or stay in different places. keeps life exciting, don't you think?"

you step into the elevator alongside him, the polished mirrors reflecting the soft glow of gold accents and sleek, modern lines. his hand hovers over the control panel before he presses the button for the top floor. of course, it's the penthouse.

"you move around a lot?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, "what, like a restless billionaire or something?"

gojo smiles, leaning casually against the steel as the elevator begins its smooth ascent, "now you're exaggerating."

the elevator finally dings, and gojo steps aside, offering an exaggerated bow as he gestures for you to exit, "after you, my fair maiden."

you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of it, but there's something so endearing and charming about how he pulls it off, especially when paired with the unfair symmetry of his face.

floor to ceiling windows dominate the far wall, revealing a jaw dropping panorama of tokyo's skyline. the city stretches out in a glittering sea of lights, with the tokyo tower glowing a golden exclamation point against the velvet night sky. the interior is just as impressive, with polished wood floors that gleam in the warm light and a glass dining table that sits beneath a sculptural chandelier. that same faint scent of blackberry and pine lingers in the air, heady almost.

behind you, gojo strolls with an easy and languid grace, tossing his jacket onto an artisan leather armchair. beneath it, his sky blue dress shirt clings just right and rolled up to reveal forearms faintly dusted with pale hair. you think you've momentarily forgotten how words work, and you avert your gaze quickly. though not before catching the faint smile on his lips.

"not bad, huh?" gojo says, heading to the open kitchen as though he's unaware of the effect he's having on a rational and sensible mind such as yourself, "it's no dive bar, but i'll do."

you shake your head, bewildered. trying to process how someone you met in a dingy bar could live somewhere that looks like it belongs in architectural digest. even down to the odd, ancient looking pieces that scatter the wide living room. weird looking artifacts of some sort. maybe he's also a collector? go figure.

"not bad?" you repeat, incredulous, "gojo, this place is incredible."

the man laughs, opening a sleek fridge to grab a bottle of water, "i have good taste," he says with mock modesty, his tone teasing as long fingers twist off the cap, "and a thing for gorgeous views. though, between you and me, i'm not great with heights. ironic, i suppose. paying a fortune for a view i'd rather not get too close to."

he waves a hand vaguely towards the windows, the blindfold still firmly in place.

"so, what's the deal? did you win the lottery, or inherit a fortune. or are you some kinda secret agent who moonlights as a barfly?"

gojo lifts the bottle in mock toast, "let's just say i'm very good at what i do."

you arch a brow, crossing your arms and ignoring the warm flush creeping up your neck, "and what exactly is that?"

"oh, you know. standard stuff. international intrigue, thwarting evil creatures. i even saved a kitten from a tree the other day."

"right, because nothing screams the next member of the avengers like eggnog in a seedy bar."

gojo leans casually against the counter, "even the avengers need a holiday drink now and then. don't knock it." but then he gestures towards the sleek couch, "wait, you can make yourself comfortable, y'know. i'd hate for my guest to think i'm a terrible host."

"terrible host? no, but a mystery man —"

before you can finish, your foot catches on something hard, and you stumble forward with an undignified yelp. gojo reacts instantly, how does he move that fast, and his arm is shooting out to steady you. but glorious gravity and magnificent momentum has other plans.

both of you crash onto the couch, and you find yourself sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. gojo's laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can feel the warmth of it underneath your palms as you steady yourself, "well, that's one way to get comfortable," he murmurs, voice teasing as his large hand lingers lightly on the curve of your waist.

you prop yourself up slightly, cheeks burning, and glance back at the offending object. your brows knit together when you spot what looks suspiciously like a katana gleaming under the soft light.

"did i just trip on a — hey, what the hell is that?"

gojo interrupts, smoothly extending a long leg to nudge that suspicious object under the nearby coffee table before you can finish, "nothing important," he says breezily, the motion so quick you almost think you imagined it.

his focus shifts back to you, almost guilty, but his fingers are pressing divots into the fabric of your top, "now, where were we? hi."

you blink, caught off guard by how strange it is to feel the searing heat of someone's gaze underneath a blindfold, impossibly intent, "hi yourself," you manage.

for a moment, neither you nor the gorgeous man under you move, and the world feels strangely airless.

but your fingers twitch against the fine linen of his shirt. and before you can second-guess yourself, you reach your hand up to the edge of the silk fabric over his face and you ask, "can i take this off?"

gojo tilts his head, like it's a genuine consideration and you catch the faintest flicker of hesitation. it's fleeting, replaced by a crooked smile as he nods, "go ahead, sweetheart."

your hand rests lightly on the silk, hesitant for only a second before tracing its way to the back of his head. your fingers brush through impossibly soft strands of white hair, and his breath hitches when you find the knot tied neatly to the base of his skull.

you wonder what manner of man gojo is, letting himself be stitched undone by a stranger. but with care, you undo the knot, working deftly and clutching the fabric as you pull the blindfold away.

the blindfold slips free, and for a moment, you're certain you've forgotten how to breathe. bright, piercing blue eyes. framed by thick white lashes blink up at you. the intensity of such an unearthly gaze is softened by something more vulnerable, almost shy. nervous even.

"wow," you murmur without thinking, the word spilling out as gojo's expression shifts, an unguarded openness replacing the playful smirk that you've seen all evening.

your earlier assessment echoes in your mind: k-pop reject wannabe. the recent memory now feels like quite the injustice, a careless slight against a face that defies easy description. each detail of his face is striking, as if some divine hand had taken special care to sculpt him from the fabric of time and space itself.

gojo seems to sense your analysis, and you're sure that he's parted his lips to speak, but whatever he was about to say falters. that faint flush, pale-red like vermillion watercolour bleeding across a canvas, blooms across his cheeks. gojo's hazy gaze flickers for a second, and it sends a thrill through you. he's affected by this, by you.

it's hard to resist the slow smile that curves your lips, light and playful if only to mask the way your own heart is racing, "are you seriously shy now, gojo?"

gojo's expression shifts again almost immediately, as if that subtle invulnerability has been replaced by something sharper, almost indignant. he sits up a little straighter, the movement making you acutely aware of how the hard planes of his body feel beneath you.

"shy? no," gojo says, his voice steady but edged with some need to defend his honour, "i just...don't usually do this. that's all."

there's a sincerity in his words, an almost begrudging honesty that takes you by surprise. you tilt your head, as your murmur, "i don't either."

before you can second-guess yourself, you tilt your head down. pressing your lips to gojo's in a featherlight kiss. his taste is intoxicating, honey and sweet grapes mingling with a hint of that ridiculous vanilla drink from earlier. you pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, testing the waters.

but your breath catches when you see that the blue of his eyes has deepened, darkened. and his lips, pink-blush and slightly parted, form a quiet and stunned oh!

"cool," gojo manages, his voice rougher than you expected, and you bite back a laugh as you watch him swallow hard.

"huh, cool?" you echo, your amusement bubbling over, "that's it? that's all you've got?"

gojo's grip on your waist tightens, and his hands are now splayed over your spine. anchoring you to him, as his mouth curves into something sly, though his flushed cheeks betray his composure, "compliments to the chef?"

you shift slightly, pressing more of your weight firmly into his lap. though not yet close enough to situate yourself over his groin, delighting in the way gojo's blush spreads down his neck, staining his skin a shade reminiscent of ripe berries swirling in cream.

you can feel gojo's attention as much as you can see it, how his own gaze lingers, deliberate and unhurried. taking you like a masterpiece that deserves more than a cursory glance. the hand that had been steady on your back shifts, his fingers threading through your hair. he watches as the strands slip and fall beneath his touch.

"thought you said you wanted me, gojo," you tease, though you're certain your voice is betraying the way your pulse is doing its best impression of the macarena in your jugular, "are y'gonna do something or not?"

gojo's gaze snaps back to you, a flicker of something far more intense passing through those impossibly blue eyes. full of hunger, need even. the hand in your hair slides away, only to settle at your jaw. it's warm and steady, his thumb brushing slightly over the plush of your bottom lip.

"i do want you," gojo says, his voice low and steady and maddeningly genuine, "want you to kiss me again. and again. as many times as you want until i forget my own name."

"gojo —"

"satoru," he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly, stripped of any previous swagger. it's unsteady and raw, affected in a way that excites you. sends a dark heat curling low between your thighs, "you can call me that."

"satoru," you repeat softly, letting the syllables fall from your lips, unfurling in the most hazy way.

something within the man shifts. his hand tightens on your waist, dragging you closer in a way that punches the air from your lungs. right over -

oh. the thick, curve of his erection straining against slacks that probably cost more than your monthly salary. it's deliberate, almost desparate at how the invisible thread snapped inside him. unravelled the careful composure he's been clinging to until now.

"go on," gojo murmurs, his voice dark with need, "kiss me again, please."

you lean closer, eyes flickering to his lips, and your pulse roaring in your ears, "who would i be to deny you any wish, satoru?" the words come out more reverent that you'd expected, as if your entire world has been tilted off its axis.

and then you kiss him, hard. desparate. as if his lips are your birthright, a homeland to claim. and gojo's kissing you back, carrying a sweetness that seems both foreign and familiar. in an instant, the weight of another man, a dreary haze in your past, vanishes. gojo is suddenly everything you didn't know you needed, vibrant and electrifying.

"let me know if it's too much," gojo breathes against your lips, his voice shaky as if he's trying to tether himself to the earth. but your kiss deepens, frantic and unrestrained. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends sparks down your spine, and you suddenly realise you quite like the taste of vanilla when it's dripping from his open kisses.

you pull away, for every human needs air. but the sight before you has you clenching your thighs desperately around the bulge where you sit atop. gojo's gaze is heavy, full of that desparate longing that makes your chest ache. his lips are swollen, a soft cherry hue from your kisses. and strands of white hair fall over his blue eyes.

"look what you've done to me, fuck. miss you already," gojo murmurs, and before you can respond, he surges forward, hands pressing against your face with the intensity of a storm. one hand reaches to find the nape of your neck, letting you surrender to the heat of this touch.

you crave more, so much more from gojo, who's taking you in like you're his last breath, his final indulgance. it's as if he's found a new devotion in you, ready to worship you at the alter of your false godhood. but before you can part your mouth to tell him exactly what you and where, gojo's hands are already sneaking under your top, brushing against the trembling skin of your torso.

his teeth are biting down on your lip, leaving you dizzy. and gasping, and so damp in your panties as the fabric of your top is peeled away, and you're left shivering, fighting against the cold of the december air. you find yourself pressing harder into the warmth of his chest, letting the swell of your chest press flat against him.

"shoulda' turned the heat on before we came in," gojo murmurs, breathless as his lips hover a mere centimetre away from yours, "got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart. i'll keep you warm."

"didn't t-think i'd spend christmas eve like this," you gasp, your head lolling to the side as gojo presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft arc of your neck, sensitive even to the cool air.

"no?" gojo's reply is breathy, almost frantic as if he's fumbling in the heat of the moment and has little grasp over the words tumbling out of his mouth, "neither did i. but this? b-better than any fuckin' mission they could've sent me on."

you cock your head, feeling the heat of his clothed cock underneath your thighs, "m-mission, huh? what are you talking about - mmph!" but the rest of the question never escapes your lips for it's swallowed up by another one of gojo's candied kisses.

his rough hands work deftly, finding the clasp of your bra with ease. a pretty crimson thing, almost sheer as it caught the light. and in the centre, a tiny satin bow sat like the final touch on a perfectly wrapped gift. you had only worn it half-heartedly earlier in the morning, some forced christmas cheer for your dreary day ahead.

the look on gojo's face was anything but composed, staring at your cupped tits like you'd knocked the air out of him and his chest rose and fall as though he were remembering how to breathe. in a single fluid motion, your bra is unhooked. the faint metallic click barely audible over the pounding in your chest and he's tossing it aside with a casual flick, his focus entirely on you.

you find yourself mesmerised by his eyes, those swirling pools of blue that seem to have stolen fragments of the sky itself, clouds brushed into cerulean depths with strokes of syrupy smoothness. they're breathtaking, but the thought shatters as gojo's canines graze the flesh of your breasts, a sharp and teasing nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. leaves you rocking sharply against his erection, making him throw his head back, ragged.

the playful string blooms into a flush of heat, and gojo's at it again, his mouth working to leave faint red marks in its wake. you squeal, half in surprise and half in helpless laughter (and entirely in a lusty haze) but gojo only pulls back enough to murmur, "what? can't help myself."

but then he peers at you abruptly, his lips parted as he catches his breath, "wait. do you wanna —?" and gojo tilts his snowy hair towards the shadowy doorway that leads out of the living room, the implication clear even through his panting.

you nod, breathless, "yeah, jus' help me up."

without hesitation, a strong arm slides around your waist, and before you know it, you're being swept into a semi-bridal carry, and your head is resting against the fabric of his dress shirt. not a bad feeling, one you could get used to.

at the doorway, gojo lets out a low 'shit!', nudging the door open with his foot. the faint sound of clattering follows as he kicks something out of the way. you glance down from your entirely too comfortable vantage point, spotting a smattering of cheap tinsel, all glittering in metallic silver and gold, tangled with round baubles that glisten faintly under the dim light.

some have little smears of glue, and uneven glitter patches, as if crafted by unsteady hands, but with earnest effort.

"you big on christmas or something?" you tease, delighting in how the tips of his ears light up like nose of a famous reindeer.

gojo freezes for a moment, almost sheepish as he clears a path, clearly trying to look as macho as possible as he gingerly pushes aside a string of green lights, "made those for my students," he mutters, "thought they'd like them in the classroom tomorrow."

your laugh grows louder, and gojo's brows furrow, his tone growing defensive, "it's a nice surprise for the classroom!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you insist, leaning up to press a gentle, soothing kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, "it's sweet. i think it's really nice, actually. wait, you're a teacher?"

gojo's mouth quirks up in a faint smile, "something like that," he says cryptically, finally clearing a decent and hazard-free path into a sleek, and clean bedroom. it's all modern space, all clean lines in shades of cream and white, and navy.

gojo sets you down gently, and the plush fabric cradles you as your back lands on fresh linen. and for a quiet, tender moment, you're both caught in the stillness. gojo kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on each of your thighs as if he's anchoring himself there.

his gaze is steady, content, maybe even adoring in a way that feels too intimate for someone who you barely know. there's a warmth in his expression, like he's savouring the sight of you, searching for something — and he's found exactly what he's hoped for.

almost without thinking, you lift a hand, cupping the sides of his face. his skin is warm beneath your palm, soft with the faintest hint of pale stubble that seems to fade into his skin. the moment your hands makes contact, gojo leans into your touch instinctively, his white lashes fluttering closed.

"hey, 'toru," you murmur softly, "y'still with me?"

gojo's eyes snap open at the sound of that, sharp and bright, as if the nickname itself has sparked a challenge in him. a low and almost frustrated sound escapes from the back of his throat, and he presses a feather-light kiss to the inside of your knee.

you don't miss at how his teeth sink into his bottom lip again, worrying and working the plush flesh like he's trying to steady himself. spreading your weeping thighs aside, as his gaze is fixed on something. intense, unwavering. the sheer focus of it making heat creep up your neck.

at how he must be staring hungrily at damp, sheer red fabric that clings to the outline of your cunt. at how it must shimmer almost translucently now, the sticky slick of your arousal enhancing the gloss, making your panties glisten under the light.

you're feeling an unfamiliar kind of shy under the weight of his attention, at how he must see how the fabric clings closely to your puffy, swollen folds — the delicate weave exposing the shape of your taut pussy, practically weeping for his touch.

you needn't have asked, for gojo was already diving into deliver.

he's gliding his index finger over your dripping pussy, letting the tangy syrup sink onto his fingers, leaning in to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to your clothed cunt, "she seems desperate for me, don'tcha think, heh?"

the sound of the fabric ripping is sharp and wet, a squelching and almost fleshy tone, a sound that's both soft and sharp to the blood rushing between your ears. a strained tear of your beautiful panties, leaving cool air to gently leave a kiss of its own upon your cunt.

you gape at him, a bit too stunned to find coherent words, "hey, what the f-fuck! those were like super expensive!"

gojo rolls his eyes, the kind of look that has a bit too much attitude for someone who's practically begging on his knees for a taste of you, "don't get all huffy on me, sweetheart. 'm gonna buy you more, is tha' alright?"

"i'll r-remember that, satoru," you murmur, giving a sharp tug at his white strands, "you gon' have to give me your number now."

gojo shudders, the muscles in his back rippling underneath his tight shirt, "was already gonna," and he's back to pressing soft, kitten licks to your now exposed folds, small circles over your throbbing clit.

you buck your canting hips closer to the heat of his mouth, to where the pink tip of his teasing tongue peeks out of a pretty mouth, "satoru, c'mon. can't you just, fuck—"

you sharply cry out as he presses his mouth forward, a sudden surge of heat jolting through you. burying himself deep, his nose brushing against the sweet, syrup that coats your pussy, and the rhythmic, wet movements of his tongue send shivers through your entire being.

"mhm, jus' as sweet as you look, baby," gojo gasps, swirling and flicking his tongue, teasing you with every deliberate patter of the muscle near your winking entrance. so messy, slick and you're not sure where he ends and you begin as it all glides together carnally.

gojo seems languidly tipsy, just from munching through the gloss of your cunt, far more intoxicated from your taste than any cheap christmas liquor. he alternates between pushing his tongue past the ring of your tight walls, and then wrapping his lips around the searing pulse of your clit, leaving your hips shaking and dragging over his mouth, smearing yourself over his chin.

you're fisting delicate white locks with fierce urgency, and he hisses and then chuckles into your pussy, "tch! ease up there for me, yeah? jus' move your hips like you were doin' before," and you comply, angling yourself better so he can flatten his tongue against your folds, jaw grinding deeper into you "hah, yeah, just like that."

"taking good care of you though, aren't i? wait, say it. say that 'm making you feel good," and he's bullying a long finger into your gummy walls, clingy and sopping, "say 'm making you feel better than a-anyone ever has," and you just mewl as your arousal must surely be dripping down his forearms, staining the cuffed sleeve of his shirt as he takes your sweet juices down his throat.

there's stars beginning to twinkle at the edge of your vision, and you know you must be close, for your heart is practically dancing a heavy beat against your ribcage, and you suddenly push his mouth away, watching as a clear strand of spit or your slick forms a taut bridge between his mouth and your folds.

"w-wait, satoru, s-stop."

gojo's head lifts, eyes blinking as if coming out of a faze. but then, like a switch, something sharp flickers behind his gaze and concern floods in. his thin brows furrow slightly, glossy lips parting as he reaches out, as if to steady your hips, "you okay, sweetheart? what's wrong?"

your heart stutters, pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. you try to steady your breathing, but the tremour in your fingertips betray you as they gently slide through your hair, the silky strands tangling around your hand.

"nothin' wrong, 'toru. but i was gonna cum," and gojo's face, still flushed and soft with arousal, splits into a shy, amused grin.

"hah, i know. that's what i wanted," he's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your aching cunt, but you shake your head again.

"feels unfair, wanna see you too. wan' you to cum in me,"

you watch, almost in awe, as a low and guttural sound escapes gojo satoru, raw and unfiltered. gojo runs his tongue over his lips, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger.

"you sure?" and his voice is hoarse, unsure despite his roaming gaze. you nod, your hands digging into his shoulder, tugging at the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, desparate to feel the warmth of his skin underneath.

his shaky laugh of disbelief only makes you more aroused, whining for him to hurry up, and before you know it, he's standing up, towering over your boneless form on the sheets.

"how could i deny you anything?" he murmurs, echoing your earlier words. gojo's hands reach for the hem, the fabric shifting as he pulls it over his head, revealing a milky expanse of toned skin, smooth and taut over a set of abs that should easily land him on a gq list.

his waist is slender, defined in all the right places, and the soft taper of muscles make your breath catch. but the soft white trail of hair that reaches under his waistband makes your cunt clench.

"y'seem happy with the view, don'tcha?" gojo's voice is teasing, the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, but you can hear the impatience threading his tone now too. he's not as in control as he lets on, his hands now making quick work of his belt, leaving your mouth dry when he finally pushes his black boxers down.

you should have known that his cock would be as pretty and unfairly gorgeous as the rest of him. he's circling the strawberry-red tip, glowering and throbbing, right over your gathered slick, coating it and smacking the mushroom head in a thwack! over your poor clit, leaving you jolting as he laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly once more.

"jus' look at me, yeah?" his drawl is slow, lazy and so ruined. at the first inch of his throbbing cock that slips through your walls, he looks utterly undone. a mess of sharp edges softened by something far more primal and raw.

gojo's head tips back, exposing the elegant line of his neck as the moonlight cascades over you, "hey, sweetheart, 's not too much, yeah?"

hazy blue eyes bore into you, and for a brief moment, in the time it takes for the lightning to strike the earth, you swear that his eyes glow. almost radiant and jewel-like, with cerulean fractals shimmering as if they're emitting life of their own. perhaps its simply the electrifying stretch of inches that's rendering you to hallucinate, whining as your nails find purchase in milky skin and rippling shoulders.

"i-it's big, 'toru," you pant, feeling him almost shudder at the clipped name again, as he grips the base of his cock to bully the final inch in, sighing in contentment as he finally bottoms out, with a wet pop!

gojo looks feral like this, heaving a breath through his mouth as though the air is being taken from him from every second he spends stretching you out on his fat shaft, "hah, 'm glad, i'm so glad i met you tonight, sweetheart. fuck, fuck, y'feel i-incredible."

he's pushing your thighs further back, running his hands over the plush skin, leaving bruising red prints that won't disappear tomorrow as you moan, wanton into his open mouth, letting gojo run his lips down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

you're practically now folded in half under the bulk of his weight, feeling stars collide in absolutely astrophysical ways, impaled further on the long and thick length of his cock, "in so deep, s-satoru."

seems that gojo is a man of little mercy, for he seems only all the more invigorated by your squeals, drawing his torso back to watch the hypnotic smack of skin on skin, of your slick and creamy froth creating fresh rings over his pistoning cock.

he's entirely out of control, as you feel your body go limp from the pleasure shooting through every nerve and pore.

depraved.

you don't realise you might have let that slip out loud, so dizzy in your cockdrunk haze because gojo's suddenly ramming himself roughly in you, as though he was desperate to have his cock kiss your cervix, to feel for every divot and nook of your cunt's walls.

"d-depraved, hah. people call me, fuck, p-people call me a lotta things, sweetheart," and gojo's so good with it, letting your pussy have not even one moment to take reprieve, having you feel each vein and bulge of his cock, "but depraved is n-new."

the hand that was dancing over your thighs flies to your swollen, aching clit. practically glistening for his attention, and his attention you did receive, "right, t-there! 'toru, mmph!" you're trying to splay your legs wider, giving his quick hand more room to swirl tight circles where you needed him most.

your double-vision gaze lingers on the ripple of his muscles, the way his arms flex and shift as he seems intent on angling you just right for him to drill his cock over and over, at some freakish and feverish pace, "y'so good, gojo," you purr, and your nails curl against his arms, pressing just enough to leave tiny crescents in his skin, the faint dampness of his exertion clinging to him, "s-so strong!"

something shifts. the glow is back, electric blue flooding his eyes like crackling storm clouds. it's almost unnerving, this unearthly brightness, as if he's some ancient god wrapped up in human skin, and you've just stumbled into a divine revelation.

gojo stills for the briefest moment, the thick head of his cock snagging on your puffy folds as he draws himself almost entirely out. the absence of motion makes you whine, an airy and impatient sound escaping your throat. that hesitation feels like a tease, like a string that's been pulled so taut, before he finally dives forward, capturing your mouth in a messy, heated kiss. sloppy in its disregard.

"s-so strong, huh?" gojo's voice is rough, shaky, as though he's trying to centre himself but your tight pussy holds him in hypnotic sway, "y-you think so? think i'm the strongest?" his lips brush yours as he speaks, and there's something almost boyish and charming in the way that he seems to be fishing for a compliment, despite the low heat in his voice.

you pull back from his wet, spit-stringed lips. just enough to wrap your hands around his neck and push him closer, deeper into you as he gutturally groans, "if i s-say yes, are y'gonna keep showing off?"

gojo's laugh is short, breathless, "y-yeah, wanna see?"

he makes quick work of pushing himself back into you, pumping himself so far in that your slick must be painting and sopping the white hairs at the base of his cock almost translucent, "o-oh my god, 'toru, fuck, oh my god!" the stretch has your head spinning, as if the skies are parting above you, and you're melodramatically left to see the light of divinity as gojo bucks his hips harshly into you. as if he's too far gone, needs to prove himself to you with a good fuck.

"you h-have to say it," gojo stutters, his words tumbling out so quickly, like rough gravel, "say it, fuck, c'mon. say i'm — say i'm the s-strongest. you have to, hnghh, god. please, jus' agree, okay?" his voice is cracking, that cocky veneer entirely shattered under the weight of his rambling desperation as he practically rummages through your sopping insides, "y-you feel it right, i mean, you can feel me — i mean."

a high whine escapes your throat as his pace becomes almost olympian, and you wonder faintly how you haven't managed to sprain a muscle or break a bone yet, how he hasn't managed to shatter something with the sheer pace and force of how gojo satoru fucks, "hah, 'toru. i'm —"

"close? g-god, i hope so. 's what i want. nothing, like n-nothing feels better than this right?" his words are falling out of him in a messy, pussydrunk rush, his eyes flickering between your face and down to where your pussy lips are bulged around his shaft, "so good, right? the b-best thing you've ever —"

you truthfully don't even hear the rest of his words, blood absolutely roaring and rearing in your ears, your ribcage as you feel the tight coil snap, letting out short, slurred snaps of his name when you cum. as he doesn't quite let up on smacking his hips right against your ass, "s-satoru, 's getting s-sensitive, oh, fuck. fuck!"

he's suddenly whining, with pleading and erratic blue eyes chasing after you, sloppily pushing down so he can gasp and pant into your open mouth, before capturing you in a heart-stopping kiss as he finally gets milked dry by your pulsing and fluttering walls. in awe of how creamy white is practically leaking out of you, dripping a stringy trail over the flesh of your thighs.

you're agape at how utterly fucked he looks right now, though you're certain you do not look much better as fat tears prick at your eyes, streaming past your ears from the overstimulation, "s-still fillin' me up, 'toru. god, do ya always cum this much?"

at first, you don't even get a response from gojo who just sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, almost as if he's trying not to cry out, but then he's back to circling your clit with a rough hand, "makin' me sound like some kinda whore, s-sweetheart. 'n and i told you. don't do this m-much."

and now he's slowing down, pleasurably painful bucks of his hips keeping glossy, white seed in you. ensuring that it coats your entire entrance, "an' it's not my fault that she," and here, he gives your clit a small smack! grinning like a madman, "n-not my fault that she's so, hah, addictive."

each tight circle of his hand on your clit sends you hurtling into yet another orgasm, one that has you begging gojo for mercy, repreive, for more. an orgasm that has him whispering the sweetest nothings into your ear, "d-don't worry, gotcha like this. gonna let you rest n-now, jus' gotta relax for me."

by the time he's slipping his still somehow hard cock out of your creamed cunt, you can feel exhaustions heavy and caring hands caress you, rendering your body limp and boneless. your eyes heavy and hazy, but you can feel a soft ghost of gojo's kiss over the shell of your ear, "h-hope y'still here in the morning, sweetheart. don't leave, yeah?"

the morning sunlight filters through the blinds, and despite the ache in your limbs that cricks your bones, you drag yourself out of bed. christmas day, after all. you've thrown on gojo's dress shirt from last night, snug enough to flutter around your hips, but oversized enough around the shoulders to let you drown in it.

it's cozy though, and even the chilly air feels refreshing against the warmth clinging to you. gojo is still sound asleep, and you had smiled at how he took little puffs of air as he was passed flat out in bed. but you always like to be up early on christmas, and there's something about the holiday that makes you feel like you need to earn the right to nap later.

you wander around the bedroom for a bit, stretching your legs as your muscle protest in earnest. eventually, you decide to make your way to that kitchen. breakfast, right.

it seems like a good idea, especially considering the last thing in your stomach was a questionably sour vodka. so you pull open the fridge, expecting something befitting of this apartment. perhaps a slab of wagyu beef, a tin of caviar, a thick block of pistachio-cream dubai chocolate. you'd even settle for sushi.

instead, you're left staring back at a stack of candy canes, some strawberry yoghurt, a carton of milk and some fast food wrappers. despite your protesting stomach, a deep amusement washes over you. it doesn't surprise you that gojo would have a fridge stocked with food you'd find at a child's birthday party and a greasy diner.

still, breakfast is in order and because you can't help it, you pull out a candy cane and start unwrapping it. you're just about take a bite when you hear the unmistakable pad of footsteps. you turn, face to face with someone who would clearly not be out of place on a vogue covershoot.

gojo hasn't tossed on a shirt, and the sunlight filters over his chiselled physique before your sight is stolen by the loose sheet wrapped around his waist. delicious. you try to snap your gaze back to his face, but it's hard to not track your gaze down his torso, like a cat eyeing a particularly irresistible sunbeam.

"good morning to you too," gojo says, a grin curling his lips, "what are you doing?" his voice is still thick with interrupted sleep, laced with a morning rasp that forces you to ground yourself and stop falling prey to the god, eros and his machinations.

"breakfast, 'm starving."

"don't bother," gojo says, shaking his head, "we can go somewhere nice for breakfast. like real, actual food. don't think you want half-eaten yoghurt."

you nod enthusiastically, mind turning back to the peeling seal of the strawberry yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it. but then, something else catches your mind's attention. a little curiosity piques, one that you cannot help but ask him.

"wait," you begin, snapping your teeth around the saccharine mint of the candy cane, "y'know what's crazy. like, i swear your eyes glowed last night. not even in a silly compliment way, but like electricity. i thought i was like, losing it.'

you expect gojo to brush it off with a wink, or maybe laugh it off like you're just teasing him. but instead, the man's face shifts, that cocky smile faltering for the briefest moment. it's gone so fast that you think you almost imagined it. but why does he look...almost guilty?

before you can process that, you realised you've leaned yourself over the counter, and in your absent-mindedness, your elbow presses a button on the answering machine. a small beep, and suddenly, a voice blares through the room,

"hey, gojo-sensei!" comes a high-pitched, distinctly teenage voice, an excited boy who sounds a little crackly over the speaker, "so, we found this grade one curse yesterday...and uh, we totally got rid of it. we were gon' call you, but you didn't pick up. but i almost got my arm torn off. wait, no! that sounds dramatic, i got shoko to look at it anyway. so what we're all wondering right is that we don't have to hand in any homework now right? as like reparations?"

the voice crackles off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. you stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the answering machine like it's about to burst into flames or start singing christmas carols.

gojo, meanwhile, has the most awkward look on his face, clearly caught between embarrassment...and what? panic, amusement?

"satoru, what the fuck?"

he looks at you for a moment, but instead of speaking, he lets out a long and exasperated sigh before pulling out one of the counter chairs, "you're gonna want to sit down for this one, sweetheart."

[st4rbwrry]

𝒟𝒜𝒩𝒢𝐸𝑅𝒪𝒰𝒮𝐿𝒴 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸.

꒰ forbidden love with a southern boy sounds fun. a pastor for a father, and living in a small town with god-fearing, gossipy folk was not. ꒱

🫧 𐀔 . . . 16.8k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, set in 95’, farmer!eren + bluecollar!eren, domesticity, established relationship, talks of religion, small mention of abuse and alcoholism, forbidden love, sneaking around, age difference + time skip, lotssss of arguments, oral sex ꒰ f + m ꒱, quiet sex (they try ;3), fingering, spanking, lots of kisses, eren’s rlly affectionate, foreplay, rough sex, size difference, spitting in mouth vv briefly, sub/dom dynamic, lots of dirty talk, multiple orgasms + overstim. minors do not interact. reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated. ♡

꒰ theme songz + mocha’s note ! ꒱ . . . i’ll be by edwin mccain + movie by avenoir. . . i rlly like this plot, didn’t mean for it to be so long srry. but it’s good so ;) very notebook themed.

part two ? <3

 

getting married in secrecy was every family’s worst nightmare. the opportunity to see their creation speak soul-written vows to their lovers and part ways into unity. to laugh and dance together, snap photos, share cuisines and three-tiered intricately crafted fondant cake. helping their daughter pick out a dress, and their son a tux. all of those memories are delicate and forever cherished. to be ridden of that felt cruel. but, what family deserves that when they don’t accept who you're giving your love to? when they find the person you’re marrying selfish, undeserving of your love, and rude? those are the words people used to describe eren, your husband. 

the sun beats down upon the quaint southern town of georgia, casting long shadows across the freshly cut lawns and pegasus-painted houses. a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the ancient oak trees lining the streets, their gnarled branches stretching towards the cloudless sky. in the heart of this idyllic community, nestled between the town square and the bustling main street, stands a modest yet stately residence. this is where you resided years ago with your father, the reverend pastor kain. the house exudes warmth and tradition, its wraparound porch adorned with rocking chairs and potted azaleas. a white picket fence encircles the property, symbolizing the tight-knit neighborhood and the values upheld within these walls.

inside, the air is thick with the scent of pot roast bubbling within the choral blue dutchoven and the soft hum of gospel hymns drifting from the living room in soft symphonies from your sickly mother. diagnosed with kidney failure yet always ensuring the three of you had the warmest days. the cool interior provides a welcome respite from the summer heat. the polished hardwood floors creak beneath your feet, leading you past a formal dining room with a sturdy oak table and matching chairs. family photographs line the mantel above the fireplace, capturing moments of joy and love.

your father's study lies at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. through the crack, you catch a glimpse of his desk, cluttered with stacks of paperwork, sermons, and bibles. the faint aroma of pipe tobacco wafts out, mingling with the musty smell of aged books. despite the comforting atmosphere, an undercurrent of tension hangs in the air, a palpable reminder of the forbidden nature of your love and the stern disapproval of your father, the man of god who once guided you with unwavering devotion.

you’ll never forget the intensity of your heart racing as you held eren’s hand within your own and stood before your father proclaiming your love. the look of disappointment on his face with furrowed brows, smile lines deep as he frowned and stared unwavering. the stern posture he’d taken by leaning up in his chair and hearing the nonsense coming from both of you. the bickering between him and eren while he held your hand the entire time, silently telling you he’d protect you while you shut out the aggressive sound of your father’s voice. 

your love blossomed in stolen moments, snatched between the cracks of duty and expectation. in the hushed whispers of late-night phone calls, the furtive glances exchanged across crowded rooms, and the fleeting touches that set your skin ablaze with longing. the two of you would meet in secret, hidden away from prying eyes and ignorant tongues. in the shadows of the park, where the crickets sang their serenade and the stars twinkled overhead. or in the cozy confines of his pickup truck, parked along lonely stretches of highway, miles from home.

there, in those intimate spaces, you’d lose yourselves in each other. lips meeting in passionate kisses, hands roaming freely, exploring the curves and contours of your bodies. you’d talk with him for hours, sharing hopes and fears, dreaming of a future where you wouldn’t have to hide your love. 

you met on a warm evening on your way to the farmers market, finding him churning butter with broad muscles, naked from his upper body and inked out over his neck and dominant forearm. there’s a slit in his right eyebrow that also held a piercing. slightly wavy brown hair pulled into a bun with baby blue overalls clinging to his skin. 

when he locked eyes with you while you pushed a cute green grocery cart, your heart immediately bloomed. those slanted grayish-green eyes with long, brown lashes of his stealing your strength. his movie star smile with a toothpick lodged between his teeth as he finally caught your gaze. the sun shone down on him, casting a golden glow on his tanned skin and ricocheting off the silver dog tag around his neck making him look even more attractive. 

the man gave you a wink before returning to his task, a sly smile playing on his lips. his arms flexed as he churned a bit harder, obviously showing off now that he knew he had your full attention. shyly, you pull your eyes away from him and pretend you don’t notice him staring as you inspect the vegetables before you. once he had finished, he wiped his hands off on a cloth and strode over to you, his overalls hanging from his hips now after he popped them free in front of you, sweat clinging to his skin. he stood in front of you, a cocky smile plastered on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, a few beauty marks littered across his skin.

he waited for a moment before speaking up, his voice low. “you know, you’re not very good at pretending you don’t notice me.” he chuckled as he spoke. “i can see you stealin’ glances at me from the corner of your eye.”

goddamn, you nearly short circuit from hearing his voice. it’s deep and slightly raspy. the smell of him is almost natural and sweet. you caught a whiff of apple. or maybe butter given he’d been working on it for the past three hours. 

“and if i was?” 

eren’s smirk widened at your snarky response. he took a step closer to you, his body now mere inches away from yours as he looked down at you, tilting his head slightly. “then i’d say you have a thing for hot and sweaty country boys.”

“yuck, that was so corny,” you giggle in his face. 

he rubbed his forehead with his palm, feigning disappointment at your response, but he was secretly enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. “mhm, yeah. it was, wasn’t it? sorry, i’m not good with talkin’ to pretty girls.” 

you hum. “mhm, i bet you say that to all the girls. it’s a small town, and you’re attractive. i hear lies.” 

“y’know, a liar doesn’t usually apologize for his bad pickup lines. unless . . . ” his voice was a low, sultry murmur now, and his eyes held an intensity that made you feel as if he was peering into your soul. the heat from his body felt like it was seeping into your own, and the air around you seemed to crackle with electricity as he spoke. “he means it. and you aren't calling me a liar are you, darlin’?” 

the way he looked at you made your heart thump hard in your chest, and the fact that he was so close made it difficult to think straight. there’s no doubt that this man was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, in real time at least. 

“you’re staring awful hard, like what you see?” 

“maybe i do.” 

“only maybe?” 

“i do,” you playfully roll your eyes. 

“geez, w’na marry me already,” he jokes, and of course you laugh like a lovesick teen. “i like your laugh, it’s cute. teehee.” 

listening to him mocking you made you gasp and lightly hit his arm. “stopp, i don’t sound like that!” 

“do so,” he slowly licks his lips, scanning you from head to toe. “i’d like to get to know you, if you don’t mind.” 

you nearly choked at the suggestion. me? he wants . . me? no way. “uh, you don’t even know me. didn’t even ask if i had a boyfriend.”

“are you tryin' to say you have a boyfriend?” 

“no, i don’t. but, i'm not allowed to.” 

a frown briefly tugged at his lips as he heard what you said, the meaning behind your words sinking in. not allowed to? “how come? strict parents? celibacy? . . nun?”

“okay, asshole,” you scoff. 

eren throws his hands up in defense. “sorry, just honestly askin’.”

you began to fidget at the thought of telling him about it. what if he ran away because he wanted nothing to deal with it? he notices your reluctance, and almost says something to dismiss the conversation for your sake. “my father’s extremely religious, well known in this town, actually. pastor kain.” 

“oh,” eren nods, understanding clearly now. he tried to be as considerate as possible, even though part of him didn’t care. if he wanted you, he’d have you. “so you’re the daughter. funny, me seeing you only now. he’s that strict he don’t let you come out or sum?” 

“ ‘the daughter’. why do you say that as if i have some type of rumor about me going around?”

“no, no, it’s nothing too serious. maybe a little insensitive, but . . i’ve just heard people whispering about your family and whatnot. things like your father being up his own ass or you being a  . . i’ll dial it down to prude ‘cause i find other shit said derogatory, and i'm sure untrue.” 

pursing your lips, you hum at the things being spoken behind your back. it’s not surprising. “thank you for telling me that. i’m sure a lot of people have opinions about me and my family. my dad can be a bit of a hard ass. and i surely wouldn’t call myself a prude. just because my family is religious doesn’t necessarily make me feel the same.”

“you’re not christian?” he asks. 

“no, not at all. i mean, i believe in something. i pray, i talk to someone, but i don’t consider them god. personally, i call them my fairy godmother,” you smile sweetly, thinking that sounded kind of silly. “sorry, that must sound childish.” 

“it doesn’t, it’s cute,” he chuckles. “i feel the same. agnostic is the term for me. plus, i’m more of a spiritual person. crystals and shit.” 

your brows raise. “wow, that’s rare to hear a man say that, at least here. it’s refreshing.” 

"why's that? you not from here?"

"nah, me and my mother are from the city. philly. he ended up moving us here after getting the deed to his grandfather's house. we've been here since i was ten."

eren shifts where he stands, removing the hair tie from his hair that cascaded down to his shoulders. tucking a strand behind one of his ears and shoving his hands into his pockets. “so does he have you on lockdown for the summer?” 

“pretty much. he’s got me set on studying for college. any other distraction in my path he throws a fit. i usually have free time whenever my mom needs something, like groceries for instance. i have friends and shit, i promise.” 

eren rolls his tongue and plants another toothpick in his mouth, chewing on it and watching as you curiously observe. to do the honors, he answers before you ask. “cigarette addiction. tryna cut back.” 

“makes sense.” 

“how���s about we keep it a secret?"

his tone was firm yet determined as he spoke. he knew it wouldn’t be easy to keep a relationship a secret from the pastor, especially with how overprotective the man was of his daughter. but he was willing to do it, to give you a chance to be happy and not live the way your father demanded. life’s too short, and you’re young and pretty. the thought of sneaking around with you, being your dirty little secret, made his heart thump in excitement. he was never one to play by the rules anyway.

“you mean like . . sneak around?”

“yeah. with your permission, of course.” 

for some reason, his intentions felt sexual. maybe he had heard the rumors and wanted to see what you were like and change that. you’re not a virgin, luckily the person who took it moved out of town therefore it remained a secret from everyone. he’s pretty to look at, nice on the eyes, fairly polite, and a flirt. but, you couldn’t put your finger on it. and if this was going to be a waste of your time, you surely didn’t want to risk your father finding out. 

so, you decline. “i gotta go, i’m sorry. it was nice meeting you though.” 

eren couldn’t help the slight grimace that appeared on his face when you extract your hand to give him a handshake. it felt so formal and . . cold. your dismissive tone and gesture made it seem like you were done, like you were giving up on the possibility of even interacting with him again. he wanted to question you further, but didn’t want to come off as pushy. 

“yeah, same to you.” 

while flashing a final smile, you push your cart around him to head for the check out counter. 

“when can i see you again?!” he shouts across the open market, hands cuffed around his mouth so you hear him loud and clear. 

“around!” 

eren felt a small ache of disappointment at your vague response, but couldn’t help but smile at the frantic pace you left him at. he knew he’d see you again, he’d make sure of it. two weeks passed and the city’s fair was bustling with the townships' people. one they held every year right before halloween. you’d volunteer to help your mom with her candy apple stand, taking any opportunity not to be stuck home studying. 

the county area was picturesque, a perfect example of the serene beauty of rural life. the fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, rolling hills dotted with occasional trees breaking up the endless stretches of greenery. cows and sheep could be seen grazing in the distance, their peaceful presence adding to the tranquility of the setting. the air was clean and crisp, carrying the scent of grass and wildflowers as the sun set into the night. the fair being held was a hive of activity. children running around laughing and excited chatter adding to the general din of the crowds. the smell of food wafted through the air, the scent of funnel cakes and other fried goods mingling with the underlying aroma of hay and dirt. bull rides and horse races occurring. 

eren found himself wandering through the fair, his thoughts preoccupied as he looked around. he didn’t really feel like playing games or participating in activities right now, he just wanted to clear his mind. but as he strolled past the laughing crowds of people, he paused, noticing a familiar figure nearby. his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, and a small jolt of excitement coursed through him. your dressed in dark blue low rise affliction jeans that were flared towards the bottom along with a matching vest top and black western boots. a plain black cowboy hat atop of your head. your hairstyle changed completely the last time he saw you. it’s longer, reaching the middle of your back in soft, curly bora bora braids. you looked beautiful. straight out of a dream. a magazine even. 

the wind blows roughly, and from where he stood he could smell the gourmand of your perfume. he stopped only a few feet from you, shoving his hands in his pockets in an attempt to look casual. despite the outward appearance of coolness, his heart was beating fast against his chest, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness coursing through his veins. he hoped you’d be happy to see him again, but he also couldn’t shake the fear that you might reject him. . . again. 

you were stationed at a small booth, an array of freshly made candy apples neatly lined up for sale. the aroma of sweet, sticky apples mixed with the sugary coating filled the air. a woman who stood beside you who stole your entire face, or more-like you stole hers, taking orders from customers, dipping each apple into the thick, red coating before handing it over with a smile. as he drew closer to you, he plastered a careless smile on his face, trying to appear nonchalant. he raised a hand in greeting, waving at you casually.

“hey, what a coincidence.” 

catching his attention, the glint in your eyes reads more than your face does, discreetly giving flirty while your smile is faint. you’re stunned to see him, in fact. briefly eyeing your mother before speaking. “oh, hi! um. . . didn’t catch your name before.” 

“oh, uh. it’s eren. yeager. eren yeager.” 

he felt a slight flush of embarrassment as he said his name. he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to even introduce himself when he’d first met you. he’d been so eager to get to know you, to convince you to give him a chance, that he’d completely forgotten to mention his own name.

“right, how are you?” 

“uh, good. yeah, i'm good.” 

“are you here with family?” 

“nah, i’m here with some friends. they’re wandering off somewhere,” he says. “are you? is your father here?” 

“he isn’t, actually. i just volunteered to help my mom out with her stand!”

eren’s smile grew just a fraction bigger at your response. he was silently grateful to whatever divine entity was watching over him for keeping your father from being here. it gave him a chance to talk to you freely. 

“is that so? so you’re not being watched over right now?”

“i’m twenty, i don’t need to be watched.”

“point taken,” he purses his lips, eyes trailing over to your mother who was clearly ear-hustling. eren decides to introduce himself. “how you doin’, ma’am. it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“oh, hello!” your mother smiled back, turning her body fully to take in his sudden attention. she’s just a smaller version of you, same pretty face now slowly wrinkling with time. gray kinky curly hair that grazes her shoulders. she’s dressed in a long navy blue dress painted with yellow daises, a white apron draped around her neck. she smiles at eren’s charming demeanor. “are you a friend of my daughter's?” 

he gave a small nod. "yes, that's right.” 

you could tell your mother scrutinized him for a moment, taking in his appearance. she could tell he was well-groomed and well-spoken, but she also had a watchful eye for any potential troublemakers. she glanced over at you, noting the way you were watching the interaction between the two of them, and then glanced back at eren.

“well it’s nice to meet you. i don’t believe you gave me your name,” she nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze still appraising him. 

“apologies. i’m eren yeager, ma’am.” 

she took in his name and the way he presented himself, weighing him silently in her mind. she was clearly being protective, trying to figure out if he was a suitable friend for you or not. you sigh deeply, twirling your fingers anxiously. eren notices. 

“ah, so you’re the eren i’ve heard about. the troublemaker.” 

“ma. .” you eye her, as if telling her not to start. 

he smiled innocently, a small hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. he didn't think he was quite as bad as the rumors might’ve made him out to be, but he also knew that he wasn't exactly the most picture-perfect person. 

“troublemaker, huh? didn’t know i was known for that. i can tell you that i'm the sweetest person you’ll know if that eases you.” 

“hm,” your mother squints suspiciously, a small giggle, surprising to you at least, coming from her. you blink at her, brows furrowing. does she find him sweet? “aren’t you charming. i hope you stand by your word.” 

this was becoming awkward for you. given the way you were raised and the household you grew up in, your mother was always the sweet one. stern when needed, but for the most part she let you be your own person. she still had heavy concerns for the people you chose to surround yourself with. and a man wasn’t exactly something she’d be ecstatic with. but with her sickness, and unknowing of the time she had left, she’d let her guard down to see you happy. if he were to break your heart, it’d only be a lesson you’d have to learn on your own. 

you remove your sight off of the pretty boy before you, the stand quieting down from attraction to hold her shoulder endearingly. “mama, would it be okay if i stepped away for a bit? just to talk.”

“just for a bit, alright? and make sure you’re only talking,” she says, throwing eren a warning glare. you groan, titling your head annoyingly. 

eren nodded in understanding, silently vowing not to do anything that would give your mother a reason to get between you two. the last thing he needed was a scolding from a protective parent, especially one as dedicated as yours. he already had to potentially worry about your father. he gave your mother a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her worry just a bit. “don’t worry, ma'am. we’re just going to head to the hoedown for a dance.” 

you shoot him a look, dancing sounds different from talking. he smirks. 

“alright, fine. but you be back before ten, okay? no funny business.” 

shaking your head, you give her a peck on the cheek. “promise mama. thank you.” 

“mhm hmm.” 

she watches eren step aside as you remove your apron, maneuvering around the stand as he elongates his arm with a gentle ‘after you’, the two of you strolling away, but not before you turn to look back, giving her a grateful yet giddy smile. your mother chuckles, waving and smiling back, her heart warming at the sight of eren reaching to hold your hand that you hesitated to take before giving in. she couldn’t help but think this was going to be trouble. 

“she seems nice,” eren mutters, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

you can’t help but roll your eyes. “yeah, she’s very sweet. just can be a bit overprotective.” 

“it’s good you have parents that care for you like that,” he replied, an almost sad tone in his voice. 

"yeah, they. . they're cool," you say, faltering slightly as you try to find the right words. “what about yours?” 

you look up at eren, trying to catch his eyes, but he's staring straight ahead, his jaw set and his expression closed off. it’s clear that he doesn't want to dive too deep into it, but you can't help but wonder what could've happened to make him react like this. he clears his throat uncomfortably, protectively holding you close as he guides you through the crowd. it makes your heart jump. 

“dad isn’t the best.” 

“. . oh.” 

the ranch slowly comes into view, the sounds of music thrumming louder as you approach. there’s a large, open space filled with people dressed in their best western attire, a sense of excitement and nervousness overtaking you. eren leads you through to make your way towards the center of the ranch, where the dancing and festivities are already in full swing. the music is lively and upbeat, couples twirling and spinning across the makeshift dance floor. others chugging down drinks at the bar. 

“you w’na show me how you move?” there’s a certain look in his eye, something else that you can't quite identify. his confidence is infectious. 

the crowds contagious, and it’s clear that everyone is having a great time. but you can’t help but fidget at the thought of dancing with someone you’re extremely attracted to. who smelt like patchouli, dressed in all black with tan, slightly roughed up cowboy boots. who’s smile is as bright as the moon, chocolate long hair making him look like the prettiest prince. it felt like a date. and technically, this would be your very first one. which, now that you’re thinking about it, is probably why your mom looked at you the way she did. 

you cower, biting your lip. “um, i . . can’t dance. at least the way they are.” 

eren raises his brow at your declaration. “really? hm.” 

you swallow when eren’s hand pulls you a little closer by your hip, gently resting there to guide you into position. "don't worry. i’ll lead, and you just follow. it’s not rocket science, right?"

“okay.” 

he starts to move, slowly guiding you into a basic step. despite your lack of knowledge, you try your best to keep up with him, your eyes glancing down at your feet every now and then out of fear of tripping. eren notices your hesitation and gives a small laugh. he keeps his arm around your waist, making sure you don't falter.

"relax. you’re doing fine. stop looking at your feet so much. you’re going to fall if you keep it up.” 

“sorry,” you giggle, your initial nerves starting to fall off as you let him guide you. 

he spins you around gracefully, his hand still firmly holding you in place. you're starting to get the hang of it, your body slowly moving in time to the music. the expression on eren’s face is a mix of amusement and pride; it's clear he's enjoying teaching you to dance. as the music changes to a slightly faster beat, he picks up the pace a bit, twirling you around with practiced ease. his steps are confident, his grip firm yet comfortable. you find yourself actually enjoying the experience, laughing at your own clumsy attempts to keep up with him. his smile widens, his eyes shining with a playful glint as he watches you. amused by your honest attempts of catching up. 

the music slows down eventually, and now plays a soft melody that has couples pulling each other closer to slow dance romantically. rolling your lips inward, you beam up at him with a soft chuckle. i’ll be by edwin mccain playing, and it happened to be one of your favorite songs. the moment becomes intimate, and eren makes a move to rest both hands on your lower back to pull you even closer so your chest touches his. the warmth from his body onto yours gives you goosebumps. it gets more romantic when he places your arms on his shoulder, your hands interlocking while his eyes lock onto yours. bodies swaying slowly with the melodious tune.

“don’t know if i told you how pretty you are.”

you can feel a flutter in your chest at the unexpected compliment. you turn your eyes away from him, a small smile playing on your lips as you try and hide your reaction. you can feel the warmth rising in your face, and you have a feeling he notices it too. “and i told you that you say that to all the girls.”

you’re unsure what switched, but his face grows calm, studying your face intently, hugging you closer as if you’d slip away. that makes you alert. “so . . your mother thinks i’m trouble. i’m not sure what you’ve heard about me. we do live in a small town so shit gets around, including rumors. but, what i’m worried about is how you perceive me.” 

the tone in his voice catches you off guard, his eyes fixed on yours with an almost vulnerable expression. “um, i haven’t heard anything about you to be honest. i don’t really stick my nose in drama, or the bullshit older folks gossip about. clearly, my mom knows, and i’ve heard something minor about your father. . i just — don’t want things like that to cloud my judgment of you. i’d wanna get to know you from you.”

he swallows, trying to contain his thankfulness. “seriously?” 

“yeah, i mean . .” you shrug shyly. “people don’t necessarily have many nice things to say about me or my family apparently. i guess you could say we’re two peas in a pod.” 

“outcasts,” eren prys in a small joke. 

“complicated, whatever. misconceptions everyone makes when they don’t know shit. if i get to know you, and get what i think we want to get from each other, and it turns out to be great or goes completely to shit? then that’s for me to decide when i’m ready.” 

“you’re absolutely right,” he sighs. “i fuckin’ hate this town sometimes. i’m twenty-three ‘n i feel like i'm stuck here. i just wanna run away and start a new life.” 

“i feel the same,” you weakly smile, thoughts flashing around in your head. “this doesn’t feel like home anymore. the community is perfect exterior-wise, but deep down everyone’s a little demented. and believe it or not, my life is miserable. my father’s too overbearing, my mom's sick. they have these high expectations of me, like going to college and honoring the family’s name. but, i’m starting to realize it’s not what i want anymore. i’m only doing it to please them. my father legit made me take a year off just to make sure i’m fully prepared for college.”

“has your father always been strict like that?” eren switches with you as more people make way on the floor, facing south now. the star lights hung on the ceiling setting the mood as more love music played. 

“since i was a kid, yeah. he’s always had these values he believed we should uphold. ‘keeping’ the families guidance, child’ he would say,” eren watches you chuckle dryly, his jaw clenching. “often times i wonder why my mother married someone like him when she’s the complete opposite. i’m guessing he was different when they were younger. sometimes i think i ruined their love.” 

“don’t think that, ꒰♡꒱,” hearing your name come from him made you squeeze his hand tighter, oddly feeling comforted. “whatever problems they have aren’t because of you. they decided to bring you into this world, therefore it’s their job to raise you to be the best you can be. and i think you’re great, and you can think for yourself and do whatever you want with your life.” 

“thank you, eren.” 

“mhm,” eren searches your face continuously, memorizing every detail of expression. for future notes. “do you think he’s so hard on you because he never got the opportunities you have? or ‘cause, you know, you’re his only girl?” eren asks. 

instantly, you nod. “yeah, that’s definitely it. he’s afraid to make a mistake. granted, he’s made a few already. no parent is perfect, but it’d be nice if he’d see me as the adult i am now and not just his baby girl. or perceive me as this sweet little church girl whose only values in life are to please her parents and have awards to hang in the house to boast about when we get visitors.” 

“that’s gotta be hard, i’m sorry.” 

“it’s okay. i’d also be the first in my family to attend college. i got offered a scholarship to brown, which is why he has me studying till i bleed. figuratively, of course.” 

“wow, an ivy league. that’s big.” 

“thanks, i’m a genius,” you roll your eyes sarcastically. your hands drop from his neck, entwining your right hand with his left, eren wrapping his arm around your waist as you two dance that way. “your hands are really soft.” 

“all that butter i be churnin’,” he cackles. his face grows serious once more, and yet again you’re unable to read him. “listen, so . . i w’na tell you that i really am drawn to you. i like you, ‘n i’d like to get to know you. who knows, maybe one day we can run away together from our lives here, some cliché shit like that.” 

“i . . yeah. i really wanna get to know you, too.”

“ooh, you likin’ me?” he flirts. 

you can't help but give him a small smile, your cheeks flushing slightly. this lovesick feeling you get around him was something you’d only read about in novels hauled up in your bedroom to escape reality. it felt nice. 

"maybe i am. what if i am?"

"i like the sound of that," he replies, his voice a soft murmur just above your ear. "i like it a lot, actually."

you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the closeness making your heartbeat quicken. you try to tell yourself that it's just the dance, just the music, that's making you feel this way, but deep down, you know it's more than that. something about eren, something about the way he's looking at you right now, is stirring up feelings you haven't felt before.

“you know," he says, his voice low and intimate, "would it be too early for me to ask to kiss you?”

and that followed up with more forbidden kisses. the two of you tried to see each other four days out of the week, of course, sunday’s being off limits. you’d run to the market for your mother and spend most of your time at eren’s farm feeding the animals and helping him work. making up an excuse when your mother asked why you took so long. the two of you decided it was best to keep your relationship private from both your mother and father until the time was right. there are nights when you would sneak out when your parents were sleeping to make out in the back of his pickup truck under the stars. 

play fighting in the lake, writing each other love letters, running into his arms whenever you saw him while he spun you around and held you tight. every moment spent with him felt like a novel. every kiss feels like a risk, every touch like a secret act of rebellion. living a double life pretending to be just friends. the intimacy of stolen moments you share is like a secret language, a bond forged by the very secrecy that threatens to keep you apart. a month into the relationship, eren surprised you with a date at the same ranch where you shared your first dance. decorating the back of his truck with blankets, pillows, and tons of snacks for a drive-in movie casting on the back of the ranch. he made love to you for the first time that night. 

pastor kain and most of the god-fearing parents in this town knew that eren had a reputation for being rowdy and a sweet talker with the girls. he’s not necessarily someone they’d see their daughter for. and eren will admit he’s made some poor decisions in life, but that didn’t make up for who he was deep inside. nobody knew him. they only knew the surface level of what was spoken of him and his family. the yeager's. eren practically runs the farm that’s in his mother’s name, working his ass off every day while his father wastes himself in heavy liquor on the living room couch. he could’ve left a long time ago, but his attachment to his mother and what she built refused to let him pull away. 

his father made a few public appearances that tarnished their family name further. altercations with good people in town for giving him dirty looks or speaking with ill intent on his son. a father forever, but a horrible dad through and through. his reputation already ruined eren’s. a lot of people assumed he’d be exactly like his father; a drunk, and an abuser. his mother going without peace in a horrible fight between the two causing her heart attack. eren hates that he can’t let him go, having a few nasty fist fights himself. maybe he’s hoping he’d get better one day and be someone. but that was far from what will happen. 

eventually, you and eren sneaking around had to end when word got out about it through your father’s church; an older woman calling you a slut and stating that you’ll be no good dealing with a yeager. it’s clear they were truly disliked in this town full of idiots and sinners themselves. ‘holier than thou, up their asses, pretentious dicks!’ is what eren had to say about it. you and your father had one of the worst arguments of your life. a total scream fest when he found out. 

eren sat outside in his truck, anxiously bouncing his leg, eventually exiting to pace around on your porch. you come out with tears streaming down your face, eyes red and puffy. eren falls apart, cooing ‘awe, baby’ before embracing you into a tight hug, his strong arms burying your face into the warmth of his chest. 

“he just doesn’t understand. i don’t get why he doesn’t understand,” you choke on your sobs, eren brushing a hand down the back of your head, kissing it after. 

“let me talk to him,” eren suggests, and instantly you’re disagreeing, backing away and trembling. 

“no, eren. i told you, nothing we can say will get through to him. he’s fuckin’ hopeless!” 

“kain, stop it!” your mother’s frantic voice could be heard shouting at your father from inside, glass being thrown out of anger. 

the blood flows through eren’s veins viscerally, an intense feeling settling within him, bringing back memories of his own mother. the booming voices of his father and items being tossed, knocked down, or torn. without another word, he’s rushing into your home intending to set things straight. you panic, following his lead, unaware of what he is capable of when angry. you’ve never seen him on that level before. you knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t put his hands on your parent, and he was respectful to show proper communication. 

“eren!” your voice croaks, tailgating him as he approaches your father’s office where the commotion ensues. 

“he’s corrupting our child! why can’t you see that?!” 

eren stands tall, pulling you behind him protectively as he meets pastor kain’s accusing glare with unwavering determination. 

“who told you to step foot into my home, boy?” pastor kain grits, your mother standing idly beside him, pain wretched over her face. your lips begin to tremble, hating seeing her that way. you never wanted this to be the outcome. you just wanted to love this man. why should you be punished for that? 

“corrupting her?” eren chooses to ignore his statement and cut to the main issue. “sir, with all due respect, it’s not your decision to say who she can ‘n cannot be with. i have no intent to hurt her, which is exactly what you’re doing right now. we've made choices based on what's best for us, for our future. ‘n while those choices may differ from what you had planned, they are ours to make.”  

“and who gave you permission to include yourself into my daughter's plans?” the man snarled, eyeing you as you sob behind eren aggressively. your cries paining eren’s heart. you were too broken to stand up for yourself right now. feeling like you’ve been doing that for your entire existence. it felt safe to have eren handle things for you. 

“she did, because she’s an adult and i will marry her whether you give us your blessing or not,” his voice rises, tinged with a hint of defiance. the word marriage drives your father into madness. “i will never apologize for loving your daughter, for wanting to build a life with her. if that makes me a bad decision in your eyes, then so be it. but i refuse to let you dictate the course of our happiness.” 

his gaze shifted towards you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and disappointment. the tension hung heavy in the air, the weight of their disagreement pressing down upon them. yet amidst the conflict, there was an undercurrent of love and concern, a testament to the complex bond that existed between father and daughter. your father holds a hand to his heart as if it’s torn, strolling around his brown desk to take a seat. 

“you’re going to let him speak for you, ꒰♡꒱. speak to me like this? there’s no respect for me anymore?” 

your sniffles are loud, removing your face from the middle of eren’s broad back to stand your ground, elevating your head and clutching his hand tighter. “i truly don’t know what else i can say to you, daddy. i’m not fond of the life you have planned for me. i will always be your daughter, but i can’t and will not be this little girl you want to have control over. i am an adult, therefore you have to treat me as such. i no longer want to attend college because of my own decision. it was always your dream, not mine. eren had nothing to do with these transitions. i am allowed to love whomever i please.” 

the room falls silent as your parents stare at you, your mother placing her hands over her chest with loving despair. she herself has made multiple attempts to try and change her husband's point of view, but nothing surpasses. eren glances at you, eyes shining with adoration and protectiveness. 

“it’s not that i won’t let you live your life. it’s that i don’t approve of who you’re trying to give your life to. what can he do for you?” 

eren feels a sense of inferiority. “i may not come from wealth, but i am not a man of indolence. your daughter is a remarkable woman who deserves everything she wishes for. she knows her own mind ‘n heart, ‘n she's chosen me. ‘n i love her for that. i’m not belittling your concerns, but i can not, in good conscience, abandon the woman i love’ needs. we may not fit the mold you've envisioned, but i love her and will continue to whether you disapprove or not. i will provide for her, take care of her. she never has to lift a finger while with me.” 

pastor kain’s face contorted in anguish, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world bore down upon him. he looked at you, then at eren, his eyes searching for some glimmer of understanding, some shred of compromise.

“oh lord, have mercy on us all,” with a heavy sigh, he turned away, his voice barely audible as he spoke. “you’ve made your choice clear, ꒰♡꒱. you’re choosing to leave the only home you've ever known, turnin' your back on the only family you've ever had. and for what? a fleeting romance with a man who can't even provide you with a stable future? someone rowdy with a poor excuse of a father? a flirt who can’t handle his greed for women? you want me to be happy for you? for this? he ain’t good for you, baby girl. and i will stand by that for as long as i breathe.” 

that’s when all of you equally realized that no matter what was said, his opinion will remain one sided. admitting defeat as a whole. anything that was said completely flew over his head, and only his view mattered. it’s narcissistic, and bizarre. eren was baffled, in fact. 

the waves of pain crash down on you, wishing he would just understand you, and be happy for you. to approve and give his blessings. to tell you that the man you’re in love with is good for you. eren holds you as your body grows weak, almost falling over. it’s clear the effect this had on you, and he fucking hated it. 

“i just want you to . . you don’t even k-know him.” 

he shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i fear for your soul, my dear.” 

i fear for your soul. that haunted your dreams like nothing else ever had. it was by far the vilest thing you’d ever heard your father say to you. it made you cry for days on end. breaking your heart over and over again. weakening since the moment you’d packed your suitcase and said goodbye to your mother. you no longer saw your father as family. giving her a heartfelt embrace and kissing your home goodbye. four months later, your mother passed away. regret ached at you for not seeing her as much after you left with eren. you’d seen her only a few times after the horrible fight, spending the day with her as she gave eren an extreme apology as well as her approval. she prayed you’d forgive your father, to give him grace. 

the last time you saw your father was at your mother’s funeral. and the look on his face remained the same towards eren; disgust. you still loved your father a great deal, but the respect no longer resides. you’d comfort him, check on him occasionally, but keep your distance to protect your peace. after your mother received a beautiful burial, you continued your future with eren. marrying in secrecy two months later. in the aftermath of loss, the two of you found solace in each other. amidst the grief and chaos, your love became a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there could still be beauty. so, in a quiet ceremony surrounded by close friends, you vowed to spend the rest of your lives together. 

as you exchanged rings and sealed your union with a kiss, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. for a moment, nothing else mattered except the love you shared, the future you would build together. a good thing that came out of this was eren’s father getting clean and giving him a letter from his mother he’d kept hidden on his own accord. a title for land she’d purchased just for him to do what he pleased. eren’s father held down the farm while eren decided to build your dream home on the new land. and he stood by his word. 

it was hard for eren to forgive his father, but he appreciated that he wanted to be better. it’d never bring his mother back, nor heal the bruises on his heart, but it was something. once he built this home for the two of you, he’d never have to see him again. it seemed like both of you were running away from your father’s. it was scary how somewhat similar your situations were. you became acquainted with his father out of respect, helping with the farm to pass time as eren focused on building the house with his friends. it helped you clear your mind surprisingly, always adoring animals and gardening. it’s something you wanted to do once the house was ready as a hobby. 

some days were really hard, grieving not only the death of your mother but the separation from your father. you felt bad for the many nights you cried in eren’s arms about it. luckily he didn’t invalidate your feelings. he constantly reassured you that everything you felt was natural, and he had no problem comforting you on your lowest days. and that if anyone understood the pain of losing a mother, it’d be him. he truly was your angel. who would’ve thought a man you’d met at a market one random day would be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. 

eren spent an entire year and a half building a charming little cottage nestled in a scenic countryside setting out of town, about an hour. it’s a cozy, quaint structure with a warm, homey feeling. the exterior is made of white wood, front adorned by a wrap-around porch, blue shutters, and a few flowers in pots. the windows are large and welcoming, bringing in natural light and a lovely view of the surrounding landscape. he’d built your dream kitchen, tall windows overlooking the garden. a bathroom with a clawfoot tub and double sinks. and a library so you could read and write. he did it all. 

you stood beside him, hand resting on the small of his back as you surveyed your new home. 

"this is perfect," you whispered, voice filled with emotion as tears well in your eyes. “it’s everything i’ve ever wanted, eren. thank you.” 

eren turned to you, his eyes shining with love and pride. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. the scent of your perfume mingled with the earthy aroma of nature filling his senses with comfort.

“i meant what i said, i'd do anything to make you happy,” he murmured, breath tickling your skin. he tilts your chin up, gaze locking with yours as he brushes a stray curl behind your ear, the tears falling down your brown cheeks. “you’re the most important thing in my life, and now we get to share this space, these memories, everything. together."

‎‎               𐦍

a storm is raging outside on the day of your anniversary, and it only raises your anxiety for your husband currently working in this weather. you’d set up the dining area to surprise eren, spending hours in the kitchen to perfect the tastiest meal. you’d always be sure to welcome him home with a good meal after hard labor. talks of the storm have been on a loop, playing on the living room tv repeatedly. one of your worst fears was a natural disaster. for it to possibly happen today of all days felt like a big joke. 

you’ve been trying to keep your mind off it, praying for eren’s safety while anxiously nibbling at your cross necklace. you’ve tried to contact him a few times, but gotten no response. assuming he was busy, you left it alone, knowing he’d get back to you as soon as he was available. service was probably terrible out there. within the next moment, as you set the oven to three sixty-five and placed the round cake pan in, the sound of the front door swinging open alerts you. you hear that familiar sound of house keys jangling, and your heart nearly combusts at the realization that your husband made it home. 

the oven mitts come off, and immediately you’re bolting towards the living room; a sweet scent of roses wafting up from the extreme wind blowing into the house and the bouquet in his hand. “where you at, baby? i’m home!” 

his voice calling out to you makes you giggle, echoing through the warm house. a few seconds later, you emerged from the archway, a smile beaming on your pretty face as you ran into his arms, eren chuckling as he caught you and your legs wrapped around his waist. kissing at his face in relief.

“baby, i was so, so nervous. the storms gettin’ worse by the day. i thought you were stuck somewhere. you weren’t answering your phone ‘n i got so scareddd,” you bury your face in the crook of his tatted neck, nearly sobbing as you clutch him tight. 

it’s true, the weather was horrible. trees knocking down, power going out, roads blocked. it happened out of the blue. they’re saying a hurricane is a high possibility. why you’re finding out last minute? who fucking knows. unfortunately, he was on the clock today working at the plant, his highlighted yellow vest adorned on his shoulders as he stepped himself out of his dirty timberlands. luckily they were collectively told to head home early for safety reasons. 

“oh, darlin’, i’m alright. my body’s intact,” he kisses your cheek. “i told you to stop watchin’ the news. it makes you more sensitive.” 

he sets you down slowly, your bare feet hitting the ground while you pout up at him. your curls were tousled as if you'd just rolled out of bed, but you looked beautiful, breath catching in his throat actually. especially dressed up in this dark red two-piece set. cute ruffled shorts and a skimpy bra accentuating your every curve in a way that left little to the imagination. the swell of your ass, hips, and thickness of your thighs that touch swallows the material salaciously. your skin is smooth, always. scented with dewberries and magnolia. 

“fuck, baby,” he breathed, voice low and husky as his hand slips down to grip your ass, spanking you hard as you squeak. “i like this on you. you look pretty.” 

“thank you, baby,” your eyes sparkle with affection. “i wanted today to be special. i made dinner and all. but the storm had me shittin’ myself.” 

“that’s why i gotcha these before the flower shop closed. well, i ordered ‘em ahead of time ‘n miss valerie let me pick ‘em up,” eren hands you the assortment of flowers in his hand, blooming red roses and cream calla lilies swarmed in black wrapping paper. you take them, adoringly jutting out your lower lip more. “happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

“you’re such a sweetie, rennie,” you lay your chin on his chest, leaning into him while looking up at him with puppy eyes. “thank you.” 

“mhm hmm,” eren loses focus already, clutching the side of your face before leveling his neck lower to capture your lips in a searing kiss, bottom lip dropping to enclose your mouth with his. 

the kiss is slow and filled with passion, eyes shutting in sync as you moan from his taste. he smelt like he’d done hard labor and the musk of his cologne he’d spritzed at six in the morning, but you loved it. every time. your fantasies just get more disgusting as you age. the heavy toolbelt that’s sliding down his hips, the white crewneck, slightly stained with patches of oil almost eating up his muscles, showcasing his tatted right arm and neck. wedding band around his finger as he holds your face to aggressively kiss your smaller frame. he’s forever hot. 

the savory aroma of dinner wafted up from the oven, momentarily breaking the spell. with a groan, he reluctantly pulled back, eyes never leaving yours. "i smell food.” 

"well, since you've gone through all that trouble, i showed my appreciation properly." 

as you drag him towards the dining room, his gaze falls upon the beautifully set table, the flickering candlelight casting a romantic glow across the darkly lit room. confetti littered the surface, a whimsical touch that added to the celebratory atmosphere. a chilled bottle of wine sat in a silver bucket. he watched you slip on your oven mitts to retrieve the food you were keeping warm. eren surveys the spread, the tantalizing aroma of perfectly steamed lobster claws glistened with butter, while the filet mignon looked pink and juicy. his stomach growls with anticipation, only eating the lunch you packed for him earlier in the day containing birria ramen and pork dumplings. 

“damn, you always do so well. good job, baby,” he marveled, heart swelling with admiration for your thoughtfulness. his praises making your face heat up. he does it so much you’re not sure if he realizes how it makes you feel. "everything looks so good. let me jus’ shower real quick ‘n we can dig in, yeah?” 

“noo,” you protest. eren arches a brow. with a flourish, you poured two glasses, the rich red liquid swirling seductively in the crystal bowls. “love you like this.” 

eren cracks a smirk, sucking his teeth in amusement. “you’re so dirty, girl.” 

"you like it,” you raise your glass in a silent salute. “come eat. i need you thick.” 

“shut it.” 

you scream as he hits your ass playfully, sneaking behind you to kiss your cheek while you snort, eren pulling out your chair like a gentleman so you can sit, soon taking his adjacent to you. for the next hour the two of you enjoyed each other's company, laughing in faces, getting tipsy, love bites and sensual touching . . the usual. eren thanked you repeatedly for how good the food was, soothing old-school rnb playing soundly low in the background while he washed the dishes as you spread chocolate icing on the cake you baked. it was a moment of simple domesticity, a glimpse into the everyday life you’d built together. once the last plate was put away, your husband dried his hands and turned to face you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he watched you sip your wine while you spread the icing spatula over the cake, humming to the tune. 

slowly, he approaches you, coming behind you and planting kisses along your neck, your hand dropping the spatula while your eyes falter shut. his kisses are filthy, his hands groping you to push your ass back onto the outline of his dick now hard in his jeans for a while. he slowly trails a hand up your throat to clutch, pushing you against the counter nearly bending you over fully. 

you moan, rubbing your ass back on him as his hands roam over your body, a wine glass in your hand as you close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder. you reached beside yourself, fingers trailing lightly down his forearm where his hand slips in between your thighs, groaning on your skin as he rocks his erection against the shape of your ass. a delicate gasp falls from you, setting your wine glass down and hooking your arm behind yourself to hold his head in place. 

“c’mere,” eren licks his lips, your skin prickling with heat as he guides you closer to him by your abdomen, spreading your thighs further apart to slot his fingers into your ruffled bloomers. 

his teeth nip at your earlobe while he grunts and rolls the pads of his rough fingers against your clit, a cute sound emitting from your mouth. your jaw is agape, eren hissing when you tug at his hair the minute he’s sliding his middle fingers into your pussy, stretching you open as his thumb strums your clit, tugging your bloomers down to your knees with the hook of his thumb. instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm. eren arches over you, free hand palming the countertop which your hand rests over to grab for leverage, wedding bands touching, his breath heavy on your flushed skin.  

"there we go, take it baby,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with desire and encouragement. he leans in to capture your lips in a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to mingle with yours. 

“babyy,” you’re whimpering, his fingers long and entirely deep inside of you. the loud squelch of your pussy fueling him. 

eren’s fingers scissor and curl to hit that perfect spot inside you, your moans growing louder, hips rocking to match his rhythm. the dual stimulation of his fingers fucking you while he thumbs at your clit has your body trembling with anticipation, the wine in both of your systems heightening every feeling. the desperate clench around his fingers only increases his efforts, pumping his fingers faster and applying more pressure to your sensitive bud.

the sudden insistent knocking at the door shattered the intimate mood. you froze, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes shot open to glance at him, a mix of annoyance and concern etched on his features as you watch his jaw clench. he wants to ignore it, but the worry on your face tells him not to. he’s groaning. 

“the hell could that be?" he muttered under his breath, your mind racing with possibilities. it wasn't uncommon for neighbors to stop by, but during a severe storm? you’d think everyone would be hauled up at home. 

groaning yourself, you fix yourself up, scrunching your face from the uncomfortable feeling of wetness sticking between your thighs. wanting to stomp in irritation, you go to grab a soapy towelette as eren’s too busy licking you clean off his fingers while shaking your head and wiping his hand. 

“do you think it could be the county police? maybe they’re checking to see if everyone’s safe,” you say, going to search for one of eren’s oversized hoodies to toss over your head and cover your body appropriately. 

“could be. i heard a few people’s had their power knocked out. i’m hoping we won’t have to evacuate.” 

eren takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever interruption awaited. with a reluctant sigh, he strode towards the front door once you were ready. as he unlocked it, he made sure to securely have a tight grip on it since the wind was ridiculous out. the last thing the two of you expected was to see a familiar face awaiting, going into shock as you see your father standing on the other side, his gaze sweeping over eren before settling onto you. 

“pastor,” eren greeted him curtly, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the annoyance simmering beneath the surface. he steps aside, letting the man inside so he wouldn’t get knocked over by the raging winds. “come in if you must.” 

eren shuts the door, standing tall next to you. he’s confused why he’s here, hoping his visit wasn’t a thinly veiled attempt to criticize his relationship with you once again. then again, it’s been three years since he’s personally seen him. of course you kept him in your life, just extremely briefly. you stand beside eren, feeling his tension and bracing yourself for an uncomfortable confrontation. pastor kain’s presence fills the room with an awkward heaviness, and you can almost sense the disapproval radiating off him in palpable waves.

“daddy, what are you doing here?" you ask softly, worry and curiosity inked in your voice. 

as pastor kain stepped further into the house, his eyes roamed the space, taking in the evidence of you and your husband’s shared life together. the cozy living room, adorned with photos of you two, hinted at the love and connection you’d built. the faint scent of the dinner you had not long ago, a reminder of the domestic bliss you’d created.

“i was in the neighborhood and wanted to see my daughter. the storm’s really bad, and i got worried. hopefully i'm not interrupting anything.” 

your eyes soften, smiling faintly. "thank you for doing that. i’m glad you stopped by. but you should be home. why were you out in this weather?” 

“had to drop cherry off at the vet, she ain’t doing too good,” your father frowned, the mention of the dog he’d gotten a while after your mother passed makes you sympathize. 

“oh, i’m sorry to hear that. she gon’ be okay?” 

“can’t say for sure. she been havin’ a lot of stomach problems, uh . .” he quickly clears his throat as if to cover up his pain. you weakly smile, rubbing his arm. 

“hey, no need to explain. i’m prayin’ she’ll be okay. it’s nice to see you, um . . eren and i were just celebrating our anniversary. would you like to join us for dessert?” you gesture towards the kitchen where a decadent chocolate on chocolate cake sits on the counter. 

eren watched pastor kain’s expression closely, gauging his reaction to the invitation. when he hesitated, eren couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation. 

“sure, why not?" pastor kain replied gruffly, his gaze lingering on the cake before meeting eren’s eyes. "but just a slice, i shouldn't impose."

eren bit back a retort, choosing instead to lead the way to the kitchen. he motions for the two of you to take a seat at the dining table while he cuts a generous portion for each of you. it's silent until he comes back.

“here you go, sir,” eren says, handing him a plate with a warm smile. 

“ ‘preciate you.” 

eren nods formally, leaning against the counter, observing the interaction between you and your father with a mix of curiosity and caution. 

“how’ve you been? i know last time i saw you, you were attending therapy. is that going well?” you ask. 

“it’s been . . difficult," pastor kain admitted, his voice cracking slightly as he set his fork down. he rubbed the back of his neck, a sign of discomfort or perhaps guilt. "losing your mother was a blow, and then dealing with your decision to . . leave home. .” 

he trailed off, gaze drifting to you before returning to meet eren’s eyes. there was a depth of sorrow in his eyes that he hadn't seen before, and for a moment, eren almost felt sorry for the man. the topic of your mother is still hard for you, eren coming over to sit beside you to entwine his fingers with yours to give you comfort. 

“i miss her every day," pastor kain continued, his voice barely above a whisper. your heart aches to hear your father's admission, and you reach out instinctively to lay a comforting hand on his. despite your differences, you know the pain of losing your mother is something you share deeply.

"i miss her too, daddy," you say softly, voice thick with emotion. "every single day. but, she would want us all to be happy, and live life to the fullest. she told me so after . . everything.” 

the thought of the altercation makes you all shift uncomfortably, hating that night. “we both care about you very much. i know things haven't always been easy between us, but . . i hope we can find a way to mend those bridges."

“that’s another thing i’ve been discussing with my therapist,” he sighs. “we talk about that night often, and somehow it still stirs something . . awful in me. though time has passed, i still don't approve of you disappearing with this man while giving me the short end of the stick with only minimal check-ins."

that makes eren flinch, feeling a sting of defensiveness rise within him. clenching his jaw, he stares intently at your father. just waiting for him to really try it. at this point in time, he gave no fucks about respect. eren knows you can stand up for yourself, but he won’t hesitate to set him straight. 

"leaving wasn't easy for me, you know that, as i’ve said before. i loved mom so much, and i didn't want to abandon you. but i also needed to follow my heart and build a life with someone who accepts me for who i am. you’re still upset about us eloping, alright. but that doesn't mean our love is any less real. i mean, of all days, you really chose to do this today?” 

“i’m not saying your love isn’t real,” pastor kain said, his tone softening slightly as he realized he was already upsetting you. it’s something he’s trying to work on. he sighed heavily, running a hand through his gray hair. “i just miss my little girl. the one who used to sit on my lap during sermons, who helped me prepare for sunday mornings. you grew up too fast, baby girl. left me behind. for this man i barely know.” 

your heart clenches at the raw emotion in your father's voice, and you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, getting irritated by your sensitivity. his words still sting, a painful reminder of the distance that has grown between you over the years. eren doesn’t appreciate the way he’s making you feel, easily getting triggered. 

“forgive me for intruding, but i don’t appreciate the disrespect you have towards me or my wife.” eren budges in, his intervention catching you off guard. you face him with wide eyes, silently urging him to tread carefully. while you appreciate his protectiveness, you don't want him to further alienate your father.

"it’s okay, eren," you murmur, placing a calming hand on his chest. he looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“no, it’s not okay, ꒰♡꒱,” eren stops you. “i've grown tired of being disrespected 'n judged based on your father's misconceptions of me. you don’t know me because you haven’t tried to get to.” 

a challenge simmers in the dark depths of his eyes as he stares at your father.  “if you truly care about your daughter's happiness, then you should be supporting her choices, not tryin’ to tear them down with your outdated beliefs.”

“with all do respect, eren, she’s still my daughter.”

“actually, no,” eren jumps back in, his jaw clenching, a hint of steel underlying his words. “this is my wife, and this is our house. if you choose not to respect it then you can kindly see yourself outta that door. i don’t understand your mindset when it comes to knockin’ down your daughter's happiness, nor do i understand holdin’ me accountable for shit i did as a stupid kid.”

“that doesn't change the fact that you stole my daughter from me and married her outside of her faith. it goes against everything I've taught her. and you aren't even a christian, it’s not according to god’s plan."

“where is this even coming from?” you scrunch up your face in disgust, eyes piercing at him. “why are you still being like this after all these years?” 

“i’m not tryin’ to cause an argument. i talked to god and realized i should come forward with issues that are bothering me, and find solace. and that’s what i’m doin’.” 

“by still hurting me?” 

“i’ll say it again,” eren cuts back in. “she’s my wife. put aside your religious beliefs and respect that as a man,” eren scoffs. “we may not have married under oath, but it happened. so deal with it.” 

“i would respect you a lot more if you gave my daughter the proper marriage with her family. especially after her mother died. maybe i’d forgive all your other sins. this goes against her family’s unity,” pastor kain snarls. 

“dad, enough,” your eyes squeeze tight. he’s ruining your day. “this is getting out of hand now. .” 

eren pinches the bridge of his nose, ready to swing at this point. "pastor kain, i understand that my past mistakes have given you a reason to doubt me. but i'm not that same reckless kid anymore, clearly. i've worked hard to build this home for us ‘n keep it. everything i’ve done from the moment i met her to now, has been for her. so here’s what’s gon’ happen. you either start respecting your daughter’s choices and accepting me as part of this family, or you can kindly remove yourself from her life. because i won’t tolerate disrespect towards her, especially not in my home.”

as eren speaks, you instinctively reach out and intertwine your fingers with his, feeling the warmth and solidity of his touch. pastor kain’s expression remains stoic, but you sense a crack in the armor of his rigid beliefs. perhaps, just perhaps, eren’s sincerity and your own steadfastness are beginning to chip away at the walls of resistance. 

“and if you can’t accept me, then maybe it’s time for you to reexamine your own faith and values. because the way you’re treating your daughter, i wouldn’t say it’s christian of you at all. so i implore you, for her sake, let go of your preconceived notions.” 

the air goes quiet for a while, eren staring at your father blankly while you gather your thoughts and caress his hand. it doesn’t take long for your father to push back his chair, the wood slightly scraping the floor as he rises up. 

“i apologize, to both of you. truly,” he swallows, bowing his head. “i’ve made plenty of mistakes i’m not proud of. the biggest one running my daughter away from home. i am trying to do better, i am. my old habits seep out unexpectedly. i think deep down my blessings were always with you two, i just have selfish tendencies. i am deeply sorry, eren.” 

eren isn’t sure if this is a facade, or if the man is being genuine. his lips are pressed into a straight line, nodding once but having no more words. he’d accept it, but the matter of if he was willing to change and show proof remained. 

“right,” he smiles weakly. “and i'm sorry to you, ꒰♡꒱. i’ve never meant to hurt you, granted i have many times. i will continue to repent for my sins. and i hope one day you can forgive me. i will let you two enjoy the rest of your day, i'm sorry to intrude.” 

pastor kain gives one more smile to you both before turning his back away and heading towards the front door. you’re frozen in your spot, your heart telling you to bring him back because it wasn’t safe. 

“we can’t let him go,” you turn to eren, anxiousness written all over your face. “eren, it’s really dangerous out there. what if something happens to him?” 

eren sighs, leaning in to kiss your forehead before standing to follow behind him. his hand is on the nozzle of the door before eren’s speaking up, clearing his throat to rid the still pent up animosity. 

“you can stay the night. i won’t let you travel in that storm.” 

pastor kain breathed in. “no, no. it’s completely fine. i’ve already overstayed my wel—”

“i insist,” eren finalizes, blinking slowly. “꒰♡꒱ will lose her shit if you drivin’ in that. you know she’s terrified of storms.” 

a few minutes pass and your father sits on the living room couch with eren making conversation, surprisingly. you can tell your father is trying to get to know him, and being respectful. you zone out for the most part, this day feeling long and getting to you. you decide to fix him a plate of leftover food you had and making everyone hot chocolate to ease the stress. it’s getting extremely late now, almost near midnight and your father grows tired. 

“we can take the sofa. you head upstairs and get comfortable,” you smile at your father, eren glaring down at you as you hook your arm with his.

eren’s jaw tightens slightly at the suggestion, but he quickly masks his irritation with a polite smile. he knows it's the right thing to offer your father the bed, despite his own desires to share a more intimate space with you. the house was built specifically for both of your comfortability since the two of you had long decided kids weren’t for you, being satisfied without. 

"that’s very kind of you, darlin’," eren says, his voice smooth and measured. “i think your father will appreciate that, huh?” 

“mhm hmm,” you nod sheepishly. “there are clean towels and washcloths in the closet by the bathroom. we’ll be down here if you need anything.” 

“think i’ll manage, baby girl. thank you.” 

your father gives you a sweet hug and a delicate forehead kiss before smiling at eren and giving him a handshake. “thank you.” 

“no problem.” 

eren sighs deeply once he’s fully upstairs, grumbling, ‘gotta take a piss’ before he’s heading to the second bathroom around the hall. you gather extra blankets from the coat closet, cutting off the lights while snuggling into the pillow soft couch watching adult cartoons. it’s been a hell of a day, and you wanted nothing more than to ignore the horrible weather outside and sleep next to your man. the white noise of the staticky television nearly has you drifting off to sleep, that is until thirty minutes later you’re woken up by eren sliding next to you.  

as the two of you settle in for the night, eren pulls you close on the cloud white couch, his strong arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace. despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, he whispers softly into your ear, “you alright, sweetheart?” 

you can smell the body wash on his skin, his hair pulled back into a bun as he kisses your cheek and hums, bear hugging you. sighing deeply, you nuzzle your face into his neck, trying to block out the raging rain outside that’s stressing you out on top of current events. “i’m okay. today was really a lot. i’m sorry about that.” 

eren furrows his brows. “now you know you shouldn’t be apologizing for him. he can’t control himself, n’ that’s not your priority. i meant what i said by protecting you from any n’ everybody that brings you negativity. i’m not with that. he needs to respect you, especially in this house.” 

“as well as you,” you bat your lashes up at him, rubbing his chin. “i hate that he talked to you like that. after all this time, i thought he’d change. i knew deep down he still felt some way since he never brings you up when i visit. doesn’t ask me about us . . nothing. i guess it’s a start that he apologized? and made conversation? but to come here saying you w’na check on me, then proceed to disrespect us?” 

eren sighs. “unfortunately, you can’t ever fully change a person. i’ll take the apology, but it’s g’na take a lot more than that for me to even consider him a father in law.” 

you stare longingly at his face. “i am grateful that you stood your ground and protected us. that’s very attractive.” 

eren grins. “you’re my wife, ꒰♡꒱. forever. ima always make sure you come first.” 

graciously, you smile, leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “thank you, baby. truly. you’ve been the most beautiful, kindest, loving person in my life. i love that you protect me, take care of me, provide and support me. i love you dearly.” 

“of course, baby. i love you too,” he replies, smudging his nose against yours. “my sweetheart. you mean everything to me. you saved me.” 

“stop,” you frown. “you’re gonna make me cry. yuck.” 

eren nudges his knuckles against your chin with a click of his tongue. “cut that. you’re a strong girl.” 

you hum, turning your head to look outside the window that faces the garden out back, the rain pouring heavier; clouds completely gray in the midnight. it was terrifying, especially hearing the wind beat against the shutters. you squeeze eren closer to you, your nerves getting to you more, goosebumps on your arms. 

“what a helluva anniversary, huh?” eren speaks to distract you, leveling his face over yours to block your view of the outside. you smile at him, knowing he was aware of your fear. 

you tsk, rolling your eyes. “man, from this scary ass weather, to my father’s bullshit . . i’m over it.” 

“hm, over it? already?”

you pucker your lips questionably. “yeah?” 

“it’s not over,” his voice barely becomes a whisper as he leans into you more, lips pressing against yours deeply. 

“eren, i really want to, but we can’t. my dad's upstairs,” you giggle, pushing your face away only for him to grab you and pull you closer to his chest, throwing your left leg over his waist. 

“i don’t care. fuck me.” 

you gasp with a laugh, eyes bulging when you feel his dick hard and heavy on your thigh. “mister yeager, are you naked?” 

“had no choice. my drawls upstairs and i ain’t puttin’ the dirty ones back on.” 

“only ‘cause you wanna touch my coochie,” you laugh, gasping when his fingers begin tugging at your shorts, ass almost slipping out while the rest of his fingers delicately brush along your clothed clit. “w-wait. what if he hears. that’s g’na be so embarrassing.” 

“ain’t he a heavy sleeper?” 

“well, yeah, but—”

“guess you’ll have to train yourself to keep quiet,” he smooches your cheek, smacking your ass hard to tease you, and you lose immediately, moaning loud. he chuckles, your thighs parting to welcome him, mouth agape from the warmth his palms bring, igniting your skin. the blood rushes through you as heat encases your face the instant his hand wraps around your throat, bringing your face closer. 

"didn’t get to finish touchin’ you earlier,” eren breathes heavily, his nose pressing against your neck as his lips glide to your collarbone. “it pissed me off."

“m-me too,” you whine when his thick tongue aggressively licks at your collarbone, a kiss following suit and continuing all over your neck.

"your pussy felt so good on my fingers," eren's hands massage over your thighs, purposely avoiding where you need him most. fingers swallowing the thickness of your thighs and the plush of your ass, smacking to get another reaction out of you. 

"you're teasing," you whimper, rolling your head back while your eyes scroll. “fuck, you know how wet that makes me”. 

" ‘fuckin ‘course i do,” his breath hitches again, moving his face to the other side of your neck, your hand gripping his bicep while grinding your hips to inch closer to his fingers. he tastes your skin again, and it’s lewd, and loud. knowing how sensitive you were there, any intimate sound setting you off.

"stop. teasing." 

eren’s pulling the blankets back, dragging you to stand up and firmly pressing your backside to his chest, just like the position he had you in earlier. staring down at you, he admires the deep red of the set you wore for him. it complements your brown skin perfectly, drawing attention to the fullness of your breasts and the swell of your hips. your thick, curly hair tumbling down your back in soft waves, framing your heart-shaped face and accentuating your plump, inviting lips. he pulls the bloomers completely off, your painted toes stepping out of them, twitching from any touch he gives you. 

“you’re so perfect,” eren whispers, guiding your head back to lie on his chest so you can look up at him, his mouth enclosing around yours to kiss you upside down. his chin holding you still. “you turn me on so bad.”

you bite your lip, looking up at him with hooded eyes as he holds you in place, a strong arm wrapped around you to keep you pinned to his firm chest. the heat of his skin seeps into yours, igniting a fresh spark of desire within you. you can feel his dick pressed against your lower back, evidence of how much he wants you. you shift slightly, grinding yourself subtly back in a silent invitation. your nipples harden under the sheer fabric of the bralette when his hand comes to play with them, straining towards his touch. you part your lips, letting him deepen the kiss as his tongue dances with yours. the taste of you mingles together, a heady aphrodisiac that makes you crave more. you moan softly into his mouth, surrendering yourself completely to the moment and to him.

turning slightly to the side, you detach your lips to spit into your hand, kissing him again as you stroke his dick beside your thigh, his hands embedded into your hips. his dark brows knit, your hand twisting to his liking as he holds your entire face with both hands, groaning low while brushing his lips amongst your own. his teeth go to pull down the strap of your top, latching his mouth onto the skin of your soft tits, jaw widening to suck on the flesh with tenacity.

"can't get over how good this looks on you," eren hums, keeping the other strap on your shoulder for appearance. he spanks your ass again, and you stand up straighter, turning to face him.

“you really like it?” you ask shyly.

his gaze roams over your body with undisguised hunger. “baby, i fuckin’ love it."

it makes your face hotter, slowly twisting in your spot to try to keep your composure. you hated when you felt intimidated by him as if he was some sort of stranger. 

“don’t get shy on me now,” he noticed instantly, cupping your chin before kissing you. “show me that bad girl i know.” 

a coy smile twitches at your lips, eren urging you to hurry with a hand smoothing onto the top of your head as you lower to your knees. he grips your hair dominantly, forcing you to keep your eyes on his. the sight is undeniably godly. he looks almost worn out, shoulders hunched under the weight of a long day's labor, and the marital instinct inside of you wants to make him feel better. his dark hair is mussed, easily falling from the hair tie wrapped in the follicles. there's a rugged attractiveness to his features; the strong jawline, the piercing gaze, the hint of stubble along his chin, the desire in his eyes. scattered across eren’s right arm and neck is a plethora of dark ink, artistically gothic, straight out of a fantasy novel. none of his tattoos had deep meanings. he liked what he wanted and that was all, using his skin strictly as an artist’s canvas. the only one that meant a lot to him was your name tatted across his wrist. 

"tell me to open my mouth." 

eren grunts, your sudden lead stirring something within his abdomen. usually, he’s the one telling you what to do. "open your mouth. now." 

your lips part, obeying without hesitation. "stick your fingers in." 

eren lays two fingers on your soft tongue, slowly stroking until he’s reaching the back of your throat to build up more saliva. you moan in approval, eyes watering but still maintaining eye contact. eren’s brows are knitted, dick hanging from the weight of it. he’s bending forward, spitting on your tongue and prepping your mouth, groaning gravely. you pull your mouth back from his fingers, salvia dripping down your chin. 

“you always do that,” he chuckles, the roughness of it making you squeeze your thighs. 

“ ‘cause you’re nasty,” you smirk, rolling your eyes. eren playfully does the same. “take my head and put my mouth where you want it." 

“fuck, you’re so good at that,” eren comments, gripping your chin to give you a chaste kiss. “talkin’ so pretty.” 

he keeps a firm hold on your scalp, curls tangled within his rough hands as he steadily guides you toward his dick, eyeing you darkly, back slightly bent so he can catch the view of your nose touching his stomach. you make sure to keep your eyes attached to his, dying to watch him submerge into ecstasy. he enjoys the control he has over you. you gag around him, and when he whimpers from the sensation, you can't help but grind in your position, the neediness itching at you. trailing your dominant hand between your thighs, you use two of your fingers to spread your lower lips apart to collect your juices before sinking them into your soaked opening. 

"oh my god," he notices instantly, choking on a moan as your nails dug into his thigh, moaning around him. he's breathing heavily, your teary eyes the trigger. pressure builds inside him now. he evokes a low growl, and his pace picks up even more, and so do your fingers. shifting your hips quicker. “i’m so proud of you, mama. you doin’ me so fuckin’ good right now.” 

eren loses himself in the raw act of claiming your mouth, each brutal thrust forces a corresponding squelch from your stuffed lips, saliva and precum mingling in a lewd display of submission. you continue sucking, your moans vibrating around his shaft as you fuck yourself open for him, juices flowing freely down your thighs. eren's thrusts become more urgent, his grasp on your hair tightening.

“fuck, baby gimme your throat," he whispers, his hips driving forward aggressively. “take it real deep.” 

with a deep thrust, eren hits the back of your throat and holds it there, the pressure building at the base of his dick. your eyes water, tears streaming down your cheeks as you hold your breath, never breaking eye contact, silently urging him on. your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the sheer size of eren's dick fucking your throat. you gag as he fucks your face steadily with his head tossed back, and through it all, you find yourself getting wetter at the depravity of it all. eren's neediness is arousing, his hips rocking into your mouth with so much lust. you can feel his balls slapping against your chin with each thrust, the sound echoing obscenely in the almost quiet room. the tv luckily drowned out most sounds. suddenly, eren's entire dick pulses and throbs within your throat, hot jets of cum erupting directly onto your tongue. you swallow, like he likes, gulping down every drop as he rides out his orgasm, finally stilling to catch his breath.

“fuck,” he wheezed, hips jerking as he carefully pulls his toned hips back to let you breathe, dick twitching and jumping, still hard and needing more. groaning when you kiss the tip and after, his happy trail. “that felt too good, sweetheart. c’mere.” 

eren’s gaze locks onto your face, drinking in the sight of your gratified expression as he picks you up, sitting you on the couch as he lowers his head between your thighs. your knees are hiked up to your chest, your thumb hanging on the corner of your mouth as you stare down at him in bliss. his brain rewires every time he sees her; puffy, warm, and soaking just for him. the anklet you have shimmers as you chew at your thumb and gyrate your hips, waiting for him to touch you with a pleading whine. 

he slides two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping pussy, pumping them carefully as he lowers his face to suckle your clit into his mouth. your quiet moans and cries spur him on, your hand going atop his head to guide him as he eats you out. your hips buck against his face, your body trembling beneath him, back arched and toes curled as he devours you. he's relentless, tongue flattening across your clit as he moves his head to apply pressure, lips kissing and swallowing your clit while his fingers twist and fuck into you. you're panting now, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer while your face screws up in pleasure, hating that you couldn’t scream the way you wanted. 

"mmm, look at that pussy, baby. look,” eren’s grabbing the back of your neck to connect your forehead with his, forcing your gaze to look at the way his fingers move inside of you, soft tummy molding. “fuckk, she’s so sweet. clenching too tight. give her t’me. make it easy.” 

sobbing, you nod your head against his, covering your mouth to muffle your moans as tears well. he curls his fingers just right, hitting that elusive spot far inside that makes your toes curl. grunting, he lowers his face back, burying it into your cunt feeling the scruff of his facial hair creating delicious friction against your sensitive skin. he’s opening and encasing his lips around your clit in iterations, sucking and licking hard, spanking your outer thigh while slicking his face up and down, your wetness lewdly known. 

“ooo, f-fuckk, ba—by, agh!” the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your belly until you can't hold back anymore. you cry out, fisting at his hair and the fabric of the couch as you roll your hips harder on his mouth.

“you’re making such a mess, girl,” he talks against your pussy, swallowing down every drop you give him. spanking you repetitively, the act and vibration causing your thighs to clamp around his ears as your orgasm crashes over you. pleasure rippling through your body, your juices flooding eren's mouth as he laps at you greedily, prolonging your bliss.

the shivers come from every part of you, your legs, your arms, and the breath on your lips. wanting to cry from how good it felt along with the frustration of not being able to scream. eren comes up to kiss you, muttering ‘go ‘head’ to let you scream into his mouth, grunting and moaning altogether from the intensity. your legs unable to stop shaking. he’s giving you open mouth kisses, your sounds stirring something sinister within his dick as you suck on his tongue, tasting yourself and groping at his waist to bring him closer to you. 

“atta girl,” he pecks your lips one more time before pulling you to stand again. 

eren turns you around, bending you forward as your thighs press tight together, holding your body up by your forearms pulled back. your upper body hangs, tits threatening to spill from your bralette. eren’s hair is long in his face now, positioning his hips so his dick can slide easily into you without the extra support. a low groan rumbles in his throat when his wish is granted, and you take him full. a ring of white shadowing around his dick with your cream, breathlessly whispering ‘yeah, fuck’ under his breath. feeling his dick makes you whine, shifting your ass back, greedy for more. this feeling never gets old. 

“fuck, yes. squeeze me just like that,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before snapping his hips forward. you gasp from his roughness, tilting your pelvis to take him fully. the tightness making eren blow a raspberry before throwing his head back. “goddamn, mama.” 

“p-please,” you beg, moving your ass back as much as you could, not having much power over strength at the moment. “need it, baby. fuck me.” 

there was no need for that since he already had the intention of fucking you numb. shifting hips waist, he's rolling into you with ease, your ass clapping back onto his abdomen as he lets out a disgruntled noise that's loud enough to wake the entire house. you squeak, his thrusts rough and steady, fucking you good while keeping you still. heaving, your body falls back into his weakly, having no control over how he wants to use you. thighs adding pressure onto your clit as you mindlessly bounce back on his dick that's splitting you open.

"b-baby. . . too loud," a small panic drawls out, leveling your head to avoid blood rushing to it. eren scoffs, slowing himself momentarily to bring his face by yours.

“i don’t give a fuck, this my house,” he rasps, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your jawline. “do you want me to make you cum or not?” 

he assumed you crying was the answer, responding with ‘mhm’ as a ‘that’s what i thought’.  his dick twitches inside of you, eren doing his best to keep his composure, but you make it nearly impossible. he's pistoning in and out, watching you coat his dick sweetly, voice laced with lust as you spasm around him and cum unexpectedly. he groans while listening to your cries that ripple brokenly, pounding depravedly as pleasure courses through both your veins.

“it feel good cummin’ on my dick?” 

“yess, ‘ren. c-can’t stop cummin’, baby.” 

“gimme some more.” 

you bite your lip hard to stifle the scream threatening to spill, fingers curling into fists as you fight to maintain restraint. sweat beads on your brow from the exertion of keeping yourself still and silent under his relentless onslaught. the coil of tension in your core winds tighter and tighter, orgasm just out of reach. just when you think you can't hold back any longer, eren shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. now, the head of his dick is kissing that sweet spot within you with every mean, intended stroke. a strangled gasp escapes you unbidden as that warm feeling bursts once more, convulsing helplessly in his hold, muscles clenching wildly around his dick as you struggle to muffle your cries behind clenched teeth. your hand pushes at his waist as a signal for some form of relief, moving your body forward. 

“where you goin’,” eren’s yanking you back the moment you try to escape, locking your wrists in his one hand, the other gripping your waist to continue fucking you back onto him. 

“erenn,” your voice cracks, your vision blurring from the intensity. a hiccup falls, your head hanging low as he grounds his dick all up in you. you hear yourself squelch, his sharp hips interacting with the softness of your ass that recoils back. your hands struggle in his hold, crying at the deadlock. but it felt so, so damn good. “f-fuck you. oh my god, fuck you, baby.” 

eren tongues his inner cheek with a snarky chuckle. “that just makes me w’na fuck you harder.”  

the stamina he has gives you a headache sometimes, unknowing of when you end up flat on your stomach lying on the sectional part of the sofa. eren notches the head of his dick between your folds to gather more of your slick before sinking back in, sheathing himself entirely, balls flattening on the curve of your ass. the solid warmth of his body blanketing yours, wrapping his bicep around your neck while he grabs onto the armrest before you two, rolling his hips and dropping his dick into you. 

“no one’s ever g’na do the shit i do to you,” he sloppily french kisses behind your ear, voice growing weak, panting heavier.

“mhm mm,” you agree without words, breaking out to follow the rhythm of his hips.

“your so pretty. say it. tell me you're my pretty girl.” 

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, face flushed, and arousal coiling hot and heavy in your belly, responding greedily to his every action. 

"i’m your pretty girl,” you gasp weakly, voice barely audible. your nails dig into the cushion as you writhe helplessly, full with his heavy dick and held immobile by his superior strength. every ruthless drive of his hips forces the air from your lungs, making you feel floaty.

a choked sob escapes him as he sinks everything into you, your fingers clawing frantically at the upholstery. you try to bury your face in the cushions to muffle your noises as he splits you open, each powerful thrust getting a singular sound from you, but eren had other plans. his big hand covers your mouth, continuously french kissing your neck as he grunts by your ear and rambles the filthiest things. your body does what it’s trained to; react. you cry in his palm, pussy fluttering around him as you cum for what seems like the tenth time, squeezing his dick like a vise. trembling violently beneath him and it takes every ounce of self-control he possesses not to let loose the feral growl building in his throat, knowing it would alert your father of your illicit activities. instead, he grits his teeth and redoubles his efforts, fucking into you his hardest to pursue his own release.

“eren,” even in your lightheaded state you begin to worry. his skin clashing obscenely loud with yours makes it hard for you not to scream after every nasty pound. you can feel him in your stomach, eyes rolling back into your skull as your mouth drops open, gasping in fragments.

“shut that shit up, ꒰♡꒱.” 

whining pathetically, you let him use you as he pleases simply ‘cause there’s no room for bickering. all coherent thoughts flee, leaving only primal instinct and the desperate need for release. with a muffled grunt, he buries himself to the hilt and cums inside you, his grip on your hip tightening almost painfully as he thrusts out every hot drop, shuddering while grinding against your ass to prolong the sensations.

"holy fuck," his voice cracks, rumbling as he hits your ass again and again.

eren slumps heavily atop you, both of you panting and twitching in the aftermath. he rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you're draped across his chest rather than crushed beneath his weight. one large hand strokes lazily up and down your spine as the other tangles in your wild curls, holding you close as he tries to catch his breath.

"you did so well, love," he praises softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and rubbing on you soothingly.  "you're a good girl, i love you so much.”

his voice is warm and approving, filled with the kind of affection that makes your heart swell with happiness. in this moment, cocooned in his strong arms and basking in the afterglow, nothing else matters. this anniversary was just one of many. you were worn out, drifting off to sleep without responding, but he knew you felt the same. eren managed to clean you up in your sleep, dressing you with his hoodie again and snuggling under the warm blankets for the rest of the night.

the following morning, you awake to the smell of brewed coffee and pancakes. wiping your eyes and yawning as you make your way towards the brightly lit kitchen, needing to soak in the bath since you can barely walk. finding your father and eren cooking together while listening to the radio broadcasts. it was the most shocking sight seeing them bond. your father flipping buttery flapjacks and your husband fixing the garbage disposal since something got caught in it. your heart blossomed nonetheless, thinking that this is all you wanted all along. this was the best gift. 

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 . all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life.♡

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: betrothed to cregan stark, you seek respite in his chambers, unaccustomed to the blistering chill of the north. feelings become reality.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: cregan stark x jace’s sister reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.2K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), inexperienced reader, there was only one bed, getting warm gone sexual, heavy kissing, groping, mild hand kink, cregan calls the reader “princess” a lot, body worship, breast play/sucking, biting/light marking, thigh riding, dry humping/grinding, fingering (fem!rec), spooning.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this was a random idea I cooked up but I actually got so wound up when writing this no joke 🧍 I love cregan so much, he’s husband !! as always, I hope you all enjoy reading, thank you sm! ❤️

TALES OF THE UNRELENTING NORTH OFTEN SPILLED FROM THE LIPS OF SOUTHERN NURSEMAIDS — WHISPERS OF SNOWFALLS PILED AS HIGH AS TOWERS, HOWLING GALES THAT CARRIED THE STING OF ICE WITH IT, TEMPERATURES THAT WOULD FREEZE MEN ALIVE.

If only you knew the truth of the matter, you might’ve recalled such stories and used them to your benefit.

Dragonstone was oftentimes tepid, a rocky island surrounded by saltwater tides and the kiss of summertime, where heat was a common commodity. Coming here, to Winterfell, you had experienced a rather dramatic shift in atmosphere.

From the moonlit gloom of your bedchambers, you watched a blizzard rage on, wisps of white whipping past your window. Gooseflesh clung to your skin like that of a plague, and you felt yourself being tormented by an incessant cold.

Glacial are the wreaths of snow-furled gales that blanket Winterfell in their pale callousness — it even seeps into your bones, bones forged of fire and blood. It makes you yearn for the South, for the kiss of heat, the lapping of the waves.

Unaccustomed to the biting weather of the North, you had come ill-prepared, thin shift doing little to shield you from the gnaw of ice. It was the hour of the ghost, too late to summon servants and too late to disturb the castle with your whims.

Cregan Stark, your betrothed, was the only one that you could think of who might still be awake at this ungodly hour.

This union formed between Starks and Targaryens was an arrangement of convenience, unlikely allies on the precipice of a tumultuous civil conflict. It was your willingness that had made this all possible — a scion of Rhaenyra, sent away to the blistering North.

Much to your own bewilderment, you did not dislike your current arrangement. Cregan’s stoicism and stalwart demeanor did not chafe at you as it did with others, and his alliance in this matter was of grave importance.

He was a grizzled man, his exterior rough, but you were no stranger to such behavior.

From what you had gleaned of him thus far, he was resolute and rugged, with a penchant for justice and honor — similar to most of the Starks. In the spirit of transparency, he was aesthetically pleasing to gaze upon, and you did plenty of it when time permitted.

A shiver ran down your spine as you tightened a furred robe around your body, and even that did not serve you well. Seizing a candlestick from atop the dead hearth’s mantle, you made your way from your quarters, greeted by a swell of silence.

The ghastly howl of the wintertime squall surged outside, like the shrill cry of a spectre. It did little to ease your nerves, body rattling like a leaf from the ceaseless chill.

The candle’s lick of warmth danced across your wrist, and it made you yearn for more, breath emerging in warm wisps as you made your way to Cregan’s chambers. It was inappropriate of you to disrupt him like this, but sleep evaded you — between missing home and the cold, you doubted that rest would find you.

Standing before the imposing doors of the Lord of Winterfell, your knuckles rapped timidly against the rough wood, drawing your robe around you once more. Waiting with bated breath, your shoulders straightened at the sound of movement from the other side of the door.

As ancient wood groaned in protest, Cregan’s massive form encapsulated much of the doorway, dark brows furrowed together. “My Lady,” His rumbling timbre often filled you with pangs of excitement. “Are you well?”

Concern laced itself into his cadence, fearing that something might’ve happened to you, or you’d received some sort of news. Storm-laden hues picked you apart in observance, noticing the way your body constantly trembled.

The desire for warmth had clouded everything else; you did not register his lack of clothing upon first glance. Cregan’s musculature was openly displayed, save for the trousers that clung to his hips.

“I am,” Your grip tightened around the base of the candlestick. “Forgive me, my Lord, I — the hearth has died in my chambers and it is much too late to rouse any of the servants. I am unaccustomed to this sort of climate.”

Cregan did not protest to your presence, stepping aside to invite you into his chambers. “You are welcome to warm yourself, my Lady.” Gesturing for you to enter, you were greeted by a roaring fire, gripped by an immediate relief.

A sigh of subdued joy slipped past your lips as you moved towards the crackling flames, feeling heat lick across your flesh. Cregan noticed how poorly dressed you were for such weather — a thin shift and one layer of fur would not do.

Admittedly, it might’ve been untoward for you to be here, not yet wed, in the chambers of your intended. You did not want to besmirch Cregan’s honor, nor lead anyone to believe that you’d gone to him with malicious intent.

“I apologize if this is a disturbance, I … I did not know where else to go,” A pang of realization rippled through you, then. “I do not want you to think that I’ve come here with any foul notions.”

A brief huff spread throughout his chest as the Northern lord moved to sit atop the fur-laden footlocker at the end of his bed. “I do not believe your plight of warmth to be dishonorable,” A hint of amusement lingered within his tone. “This is not the South.”

Allowing yourself to relax, you seemed to abandon your coiled posture, placing the candlestick along the mantle above the hearth. “It is not.” Something forlorn saturated your voice, a wistful longing to return to Dragonstone, to your mother.

Cregan could discern the twinge of melancholy within your tone, enough to garner some concern. He knew that this was all unfamiliar to you — and he did not want you to feel unwelcome.

“What troubles you?” His inquiry was born of sympathy, a desire to understand you better. This betrothal was an unexpected thing, but he had no intention of making either of you miserable.

As firelight danced across your features, Cregan fought against baser instincts, crass thoughts of lesser men; and he was not above them. Your beauty was renowned, taking after the features of your Highborn mother, some remnants of your father still present.

An amalgamation of true adoration, no less.

Captivating was a mere understatement, not worthy enough of your appearance, bathed in an orange glow. As grey hues subtly admired your countenance, he realized that your gaze seemed to do the very same, a mutual exchange.

Lips parted, words turning to ash upon your tongue as you clamored for an appropriate response, not wanting to burden him with your lamenting of home. A soft stirring resonated from your throat. “I miss home — my Mother, most of all.”

The softness of your confession was not lost upon him, a sentiment that Cregan could certainly understand. “You are not a prisoner here, my Lady,” He murmured, brows gathering together. “You are permitted to return to Dragonstone and visit, if it pleases you.”

“Duty is sacrifice,” You lamented, a threadbare smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “With conflict on the horizon, it is best if I stay here — it doesn’t lessen the sting, but I know what is expected of me.”

Cregan found it admirable, your acknowledgment of your pledge here, the very root of your betrothal; even then, he would not begrudge you for returning to your family. He was half a stranger, someone that you were growing accustomed to.

“I admire you for it,” Gray hues like that of a swirling snowstorm hadn’t left you, drinking in your features as if you were some magnificent piece of artwork. He grew quiet, noticing the occasional shudder that coursed throughout your body. “Here.”

Lifting a bundle of thick bearskin, Cregan invited you to sit beside him, if you chose. Lacking your typical shrewdness, you stepped forward, joining him atop the footlocker as he shrouded you in the furry hide.

Sinking into the furs, you exhaled, feeling warmth return to your bones as you basked within the dancing firelight. Nestled beside your betrothed, you exuded plentiful restraint, tearing your gaze away from the bare muscle that brushed against you.

There was some grizzled perfection about him — rough, like uneven leather; as mountainous as the Wall itself. Yet, beneath this hardened exterior, he was endlessly soft, a notion that enticed you. He never made you feel an ounce of discomfort.

“Thank you for this,” A sigh floated from your lips, stare trained upon the hearth’s soothing glow as you warmed yourself at his side. “I have felt so alone in coming here, but you have made me feel as if I do have someone.”

Admittedly, he had his doubts about your betrothal — House Targaryen was as infamous and mystical as they claimed, the blood of dragons. Within your graciousness and tender heart, Cregan found himself wanting you, beyond all bounds of propriety, of decency.

Gray hues flickered over your visage, his appreciation of you not entirely subtle, as if he were screaming his praise through gaze alone. Firelight encapsulated your flesh, the glow surrounding you picturesque.

“I shall not waver in my duty as your husband, Princess — you can be sure of that,” Cregan uttered, able to feel the brief brush of your body against his own, a tantalizing thing. It was swift, fleeting; yet it incited the deepest of yearning. “I will remain here, by your side.”

Princess; as the simple title spilled from his lips, warped with his Northern timbre, you felt a peculiar heat wash over your insides. It was untoward of you to feel the tendrils of desire, especially before being wed. You felt like some craven, thinking this way.

It was his moral compass and staunch sense of duty that had enticed you, the way in which he carried himself with an effortless strength. For a man as young as he, one-and-twenty, his wisdom seemed to stretch on for several moons his senior.

The heaviness of sleep had not yet found you, still rather alert as you remained by his side, hues occasionally stealing glances at his musculature. Absentmindedly, your fingers kneaded into the bearskin, something idle to relieve the spark of tension.

“I should hope that I grow accustomed to this chill, with time,” A flicker of amusement danced within your tone, a shiver gripping your body as you shrank into the furs. “I fear that I am not as resilient to this insufferable snow as I thought.”

A short chuckle escaped Cregan, the sound brief; yet it warmed you more than any simmering flame. An unassuming smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, dissipating as soon as it had appeared. “You will become tolerant with time, princess. I shall see about getting you warmer hides.”

Unable to suppress your smile, a burst of ebullient laughter peeled from your lips, like the chime of bells to the Northern lord’s ears. “You have my gratitude, my Lord. Thank you.”

“Cregan,” His insistence was disarmingly gentle, brows knitting together for only a moment. “We do not have to continue to uphold such formalities.” It seemed to dissolve whatever awkward barrier had rested between you; betrothals were never easy.

“Cregan,” As you repeated his name, he savored the way it rolled from your tongue, wrapped in inklings of a growing fondness. He was practical, a man of the present, but he could imagine himself enjoying his union with you. “It is only right if you do the same.”

The bulk of his musculature softly rattled with a brief huff. “Of course, princess.” He mused, tone betraying the hint of amusement that flickered across his features. The hour had grown exceedingly late, and yet, he did not feel the sting of exhaustion.

Such an innocuous remark had effectively stoked a fire within you, tendrils of a starving flame coiling around your insides. Gooseflesh cascaded along your spine, bringing with it a dull ache. A sliver of your being wanted to stay with Cregan, but it was entirely untoward.

In the spirit of transparency, Cregan shared your unspoken sentiment. To lay with one’s betrothed was not inherently a sin; the gnaw of desire grew within, and he feared what it might twist into.

“I wish to stay here this eve, if you are agreeable,” The suddenness of your inquiry had ensnared his attention, bewildering him to no end. He hadn’t expected you to want to stay — let alone share his bed. “I understand how it might seem …”

“I would not condemn you to further suffer in the cold, my Lady.” Cregan’s reply had made your bones lurch, heart fluttering within your breast like the beating of dragon’s wings.

A gale of fire churned ceaselessly within the pit of your stomach, a sensation not often quelled. You had let it burn, as a stark reminder of the sensations he brought to you. As you mulled over his response, the wolfish lord quietly gestured toward the sprawling bed behind you.

Layered in an endless ocean of hides, from bearskin to that of stags, your feet fell atop the cold stone, feather-light as you made your way into the sanctuary of his mattress. It was fit for a man of his bulk, you’d realized, with plenty of room to spare.

Even the mere presence of a companion had brought a sense of ease to your startled nerves, basking beneath the furs and blankets. As warmth settled into your bones, Cregan joined you, keeping a comfortable distance within his own space.

Sprawled upon your back, you cast your restless gaze to the ceiling — an unremarkable labyrinth of ancient stone. To your right, his musculature lay wedged beneath the furs, an arm tucked beneath his head, a gap of silence present.

“You will be an excellent husband,” The genuine conviction within your tone was enough to cause his head to turn, storm-laden hues finding your pleasant profile. “I no longer fear this union as I once had, and I have you to thank for it.”

Cregan steeled himself, honor hanging by a mere thread; you, curled up within his bed, speaking of him in ways that he had not dreamed of. “Your words are both honorable and humbling, princess. I should hope to protect you, and keep you happy.”

Gods, his voice; a timbre akin to the rolling of thunder, harboring a thinly-veiled gentleness that you so desperately craved. No man compared to him, and it made you want him more, and such a notion was strong already.

Despite the berth of distance residing between bodies, he felt closer than ever, within arm’s reach of touching you. A smile found its way onto your face, as warm as a midsummer’s eve, gaze glittering with a peculiar tenderness.

Whatever ghastly chill had once assailed your bones had been quelled by Cregan’s warmth, a fondness displayed through stare alone. Gray hues traced the contours of your visage, toward the plane of your collarbone, slipping beneath fabric.

Huddling beneath the furs, you rolled over, curled up on your side as your gaze found Cregan’s own with a wordless gratitude. A tension began to brew, the first inklings of a pleasant storm that you had no desire to flee from.

A shiver gripped your spine, claws of a gnawing ice momentarily raking themselves across your flesh. With time, you hoped that you would become accustomed to the Northern climate — it was brutal and unforgiving enough as it stood.

“Still cold, princess?” Cregan felt a twinge of sympathy for you, this hotblooded maiden, brought to heel by the wrath of a snowstorm. He felt the desire to safeguard you, shield you from harm, a deluge included.

A fib nearly tumbled from your lips, and you silenced yourself before it could blossom to fruition. Fingers flexed into the furs, seeking relief; you longed to find your relief in him. “Terribly,” Sinking further into the mattress, you happened to smile. “You might not have a wife when this is over.”

In a futile attempt at lightheartedness, Cregan did not see it that way, growing concerned at the incessant chattering of your teeth, the rise of gooseflesh permeating your skin.

Wordlessly, the young wolf gestured to the space at his side, inviting you to take refuge against the biting chill, if you so desired. He did not seem perturbed, but the doe-like glint within your gaze screamed otherwise.

“You do not …” The shrewd cadence of your tone seemed to ooze with embarrassment, a peculiar heat clinging to your visage. Smitten, you watched as Cregan grunted, head bobbing in a brief shake as he coaxed you closer.

“I would prefer it if you did not wither away.” Such a gentle baritone had struck a match within you, turning your insides to molten liquid. With bated breath, you sluggishly crawled towards him, fingers sheepishly hovering above his abdomen.

Cregan’s thick arm encircled you, as innocuous as he could possibly be, ensuring that he did not cause you any discomfort. Nevertheless, he reveled in the sensation of your body pressing against him, kissed by winter’s chill.

Heat bled from his flesh as if he were his own flame, radiating with bodily warmth as he let you seek such respite. The cold plane of your cheek nestled atop his collarbone, the saccharine scent of you wafting from your downy crown.

Many might’ve considered such behavior scandalous, improper, considering that the two of you had not yet wed. For Cregan, he cared little for labels of impropriety or deviance, preferring to put your own wellbeing above any damning accusations.

The erratic beating of your heart nearly leapt into your throat, fingertips absentmindedly dancing across the impressive bulk of his chest. His stature was immense when placed beside you, and yet you remained captivated by it, soaking in any droplet of warmth that he provided.

It was agonizing, being so close; you wanted to curse restraint, damn dignity, beseech your future husband for a kiss. His jaw tensed when you began to stir, writhing against him in an involuntary attempt to become comfortable.

A sharp inhale punctured his lungs, restraint so threadbare that it nearly ripped into two, hand accidentally brushing across your backside. It wasn’t intentional, but your incessant squirming had made this increasingly difficult.

A familiar stirring roused within his trousers, cock twitching as the curve of your breasts happened to ghost beside his ribcage. Cregan wanted to grab you, force you to remain still, if such a thing were even possible.

“You must stop moving.” Through gritted teeth, his warning was sternly spoken, but not one of anger. As his words assailed your senses, you immediately ceased, breath hitching as his hand firmly pressed against your hips.

Before you could sputter some bewildered apology, your gaze sheepishly flickered toward him, his countenance one of thinly-veiled frustration. This frustration was of a different sort, as if he were holding some unseen weight upon his shoulders.

Realization hit with a sudden force as you swallowed the growing lump within your throat. Cregan’s stare met yours, and you seemed to reach some unspoken understanding as to why your constant moving had vexed him.

Impulsivity gripped you then, prompting you to careen forward, soft lips pressing themselves to his. A ripple of startlement consumed Cregan, who did not act until your palm had settled atop his muscled abdomen. He reciprocated your kiss, pulling away with perplexity.

“I am sorry,” Through a hasty, rushed apology, you felt shameful, cursing yourself for behaving in such an uncouth manner. However, to your surprise, Cregan did not appear offended in the slightest. “I … We are not yet wed.”

Wedlock had little to do with this brewing desire, one that he was aching to act upon. Arbitrary rules often dictated that pleasure without the bonds of marriage was some unsightly sin — it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Cregan wanted you; he did not desire your titles, position, or your dragon — it was your heart he sought, something worth coveting, worth cherishing. Whatever pact was struck to ensure your marriage, he became grateful for it.

“I would not dare discomfort you, princess,” A shudder rolled throughout your body, able to feel his palm knead into your waist. “You have my word.” A ripple of understanding found you, then. A sliver of your being knew that it might’ve been wrong, but you found yourself dismissing the notion.

With a nod, you happened to shift closer, noticing the way in which he’d begun to angle himself towards you. “I wish for your warmth.” The lingering, lascivious implication hung heavy within your words, enough for Cregan to urge you closer.

Flush against him, he quieted, steely glower piercing through you like the tip of an arrow, hand continuing to caress along your spine. Somewhat shy, you elected to sever your tangle of nerves, lips seeking his once more.

Cregan’s mouth crawled against yours, disarmingly gentle, intended to savor you instead of rushing headfirst into the fire. He smelled of leather and the woodlands, carrying a rustic scent upon his flesh, brow creased in concentration.

Sluggishly, your body shifted against him once more, feeling the muscle of his thigh press between your thighs. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, lips torn asunder as he broke your kiss, caging you against the hot expanse of his chest.

“Is that what you wish for?” Cregan’s low utterance made your stomach erupt with butterflies, able to feel the tantalizing shift of his thigh, allowing you to rock yourself into him.

Inexperience was scrawled into your features, confidence effectively extinguished then and there. It was your brazenness that had catapulted all of this into motion, and now, you were strangled by your own lack of knowledge.

“Yes, I — I’ve never …” As you attempted to vocalize your lack of physicality, Cregan soothed you with a kiss to your brow. “I do not wish to fully consummate — not yet.” With a strong sense of understanding, your betrothed nodded, digits idly caressing along your side.

“Then we are in agreement.” A sense of comfort flooded through you then, knowing that Cregan did not wish to cross such a boundary on this night. However, he had a plethora of fantasies to supplement your shared desires.

Bridging the gap between you once more, lips sealed themselves together, his palm moving to cup your jaw. It was inherently tender, the purpose of it ensuring your comfort with such acts, thigh continuing to teasingly brush against your core.

A gnawing ache continues to eat away at you, manifesting as arousal that begins to coalesce between your legs. As if acting upon instinct, you continue to grind yourself into his thigh, a soft moan catching within your throat.

Cregan’s palm begins to drift lower, from the plush curve of your waist to your backside, gingerly kneading into the pliant flesh. He is cautious, painstakingly gentle as he lavishes kiss after kiss to your wanting lips.

There is little space between you, replaced with a heated friction that seeps into your bones. No longer tormented by the plague of the Northern chill, your betrothed is eager to take the cold away. His chest bumps into yours, peaks of your breasts snug against the plane of muscle.

Crackling firelight paints the room in a feverish glow, embers beginning to wane like that of a fading sun. It is in your kiss that he finds a semblance of peace, hunger continuing to grow until it becomes some ravenous bite.

A soft gasp inhabits your lungs, sharp like the prick of a knife as you grind against his thigh once more, feeling it brush over a particular spot. Pleasure rippled through you, a foreign sensation that leaves you raw, yearning for more.

The ruffled collar of your shift begins to slip, sagging above your bosom, soft flesh unraveled to the ogling gaze of your betrothed. Mouths ceaselessly collide, wet and fervent, prompting you to reach for his bicep in order to anchor yourself.

Entangled beneath the furs, whatever bitter chill that once grasped your bones had dissipated entirely. Wandering fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tangling around the chestnut tresses there. Each kiss made you feel delirious, dizzy with a wanton desire.

It was then that Cregan’s large hand smoothed across your body, from the dainty curve of your jaw to your stomach, and then up once more. The sluggish drag of his caress made you shiver, hips continuing to rock against his muscled thigh.

Calloused digits find the ties of your evening shift, his grip like that of hardened steel, not daring to unravel you, not yet. With another bruising kiss, you feel him withdraw, gray hues roving across your visage, drinking you in; enamored.

Wisps of hot, labored sighs drift between the both of you, wrought with exhilaration. Slowly, Cregan’s hand wanders, gathering against your thigh, bunched into the silk. “I wish to see more of you, princess.” He rumbled, brows furrowing together.

Fingertips trace along the nape of his neck, caressing along sinewy muscle. His throat bobs momentarily, a fleeting gesture; a needy hum tears past your lips as you nod. “Please.” It is all you can manage, words turning to ash upon your tongue.

Admittedly, he cared little for himself, staunchly devoted to your own pleasure and exploration, storm-laden gaze tinged with tenderness. The hand that had so fiercely grasped at the ties of your shift gives the silk a brief pull, loosening the fabrics altogether.

Beneath his incendiary stare, your heart begins to race, slamming beneath your breast as he gingerly tugs the collar downward. There is an indiscernible devotion within his eyes, a certain protectiveness that puts you at-ease.

Warm, roughened digits gingerly pry at your garment, easing the ruffled silks along your chest, unveiling the soft peaks of your breasts to him. A low grunt of approval stirred within his throat, reveling in the sensation of your lips against his jaw.

Everything about him exuded strength, an honorable stoicism that oozed from every pore. Without pause, you continued to plant kisses against his throat, body seizing with a punctuated gasp as he cupped your breast.

Flicking the pad of his thumb over your nipple, Cregan watched as your countenance contorted into an expression of bliss, lips beginning to part. He was disarmingly tender, kneading at the soft, pliant flesh of your chest, lips pressing against your cheek.

Any sliver of distance that had existed before had been squashed, forms molded to one another, hips begging for a scrap of friction. As you urged yourself against him, you felt the growing tent within Cregan’s trousers, feeling a tendril of warmth slither across your body.

Rough lips pressed a passionate trail of kisses along your neck, nose inhaling lungfuls of your saccharine scent. A pleading moan slipped past your lips, careening into the embrace of his hand.

“Cregan,” With a breathy sigh, your back arched slightly, as if strings tethered you to him, pulling you forward. His mouth hungrily explored your throat, traveling toward the silky plane of your collarbone. “Do not stop.” You whined.

It was all the encouragement he truly needed, bolstered by the tranquil hum of your voice. Lower, and lower still; until his mouth sank between your breasts, still kneading at one, thumb circling your nipple. Your body responded with a visceral glee, continuing to grind against him.

Beyond the archaic stone of Winterfell, the blizzard raged on with its howling gales — and yet, you had never been warmer.

Continuing to palm at your breast, Cregan’s mouth began to lavish the unattended peak in a myriad of kisses, worshiping you in the way that you rightfully deserved. A string of whines left you, gown-clad core brushing over his pelvis once more.

Taking one nipple into his maw, he kissed and sucked at the sensitive bud, a low grunt reverberating throughout his chest. His hips softly collided with yours, the friction driving him to the brink of madness.

Each kiss sent dizzying waves of bliss throughout your body, wisps of air stolen from your lungs as you clung to him, legs parted by the bulk of his thigh. Your shift had hitched higher, gathered towards your knees.

Gently rolling your hardened peak betwixt his fingers, Cregan did not relent, lavishing your breasts in kisses. In the midst of his alternation, his unoccupied hand graced your haunch, caressing into your backside, toying with the hem of your nightgown.

His burly musculature nearly swallowed you whole, wafting with a warmth that you had grown addicted to, longing for his heat as you would gusts of crisp air. Delicate fingertips idly traced along his broad shoulders, hips brushing against his own.

Calloused pads began to drift beneath your shift, crawling along your leg, akin to leather ghosting against velvet. Cregan suckled at your breast, assailing your sweet flesh in a barrage of kisses. Throaty moans signaled your approval of his actions.

Caressing along your inner thigh, his thumb drew circles into the supple skin there, lingering dangerously close to your aching core. Looming above you, his mouth pressed a gentle trail toward your throat, leaving a searing fire in his wake.

Seeking the coalescing warmth between your legs, you nearly choked upon a strangled gasp as Cregan’s digits ghosted along your petals. Arousal had gathered there, akin to the sticky sweetness of honey, prompting you to shiver beneath him.

Gray hues sought yours, boring into you with a burning intensity, enough to elicit a wave of gooseflesh, one that crawled along your spine. He exuded immeasurable restraint, fixated upon your own pleasure, upon your comfort. Wordlessly, he pushed deeper still, fingers pressing into your core.

A sharp exhale pierced your lungs, ripping through your diaphragm as you gripped his bicep, nails leaving behind crimson crescents. Cregan remained unperturbed, concentrating on his new charge, digits dragging in a sluggish rhythm.

Bliss unfurled from your features, a pleasure that blossomed throughout as your hips jolted forward of their own accord. “Cregan.” A breathy whine escaped you, lips clamoring for him once more. The kiss was intimate, a flurry of devotion and desire, now entangled.

“Easy, princess,” Cregan’s husky cadence had lulled you into subservience, able to feel his hot breath fan out across your skin. “Slowly.” He uttered, mouth returning to yours with a thinly-veiled rapture.

It became difficult to stifle your movements, kiss-swollen lips delighted to find him again. Each kiss was accompanied by a swipe of his digits, exploring your nethers with an obvious gentleness.

Between fervent exchanges, his gaze never once strayed from you, steely hues drinking in the weight of pleasure that permeated your visage. Beginning to increase his pace, he stroked along your aching cunt, thumb finding your pearl.

Tracing around the sensitive bud in slow, tantalizing circles, you could do little to smother your moans, hips occasionally lurching forward. The friction that festered between you was intoxicating, something that Cregan found himself savoring.

His lips returned to the hollow of your shoulder, the velvety dip between that and your throat. A string of kisses manifested there, digits continuing to caress over your slit. This rhythm was agonizing, your body screaming with ecstasy.

Chestnut tresses brushed against your neck as he began to suck at your supple flesh, enough to create a mark that would flourish with time. “Lay with your back to me.” Cregan rumbled, watching the flicker of excitement crawl across your features.

In silent subservience, you obeyed, slowly rolling over until your back was nestled snugly against the hot expanse of his chest. He was all indomitable muscle and oozing with strength, the swell of his cock grinding into your backside.

Thick digits returned to you, burly arm looped over your front, taut with impressive muscle. They became fervent in their ministrations, a finger beginning to trace over your entrance.

Caged against him, you used his bicep as leverage, digging into his rugged flesh as he kissed across your shoulder. “Gods, you are perfect.” As the husked roll of his voice echoed within your ear, you moaned, feeling his thumb continue to play with your clit.

Cregan’s other arm had looped beneath you, caressing your collarbone as he gently eased one digit inside of you, the sensation foreign yet exhilarating. It was unexpected, and yet you craved all of it, as much as he was willing to provide.

You squirmed, cunt aching for him in every way imaginable, hips jolting into the sensation of his practiced digits. As his thumb toyed with your pearl, he eased a finger in and out of you at a rhythmic pace, allowing you to grow accustomed to it.

Kisses lavished your soft flesh, seemingly endless, and you felt your bones scream for release. He touched you with such fervent passion, mouth clamoring for yours, lips unable to tear themselves away.

Despite the awkward angle of your head, you reciprocated his kiss as best as you could, needy moans swallowed by his maw. It was then that a second finger accompanied the first, sluggishly stretching you in a way that you didn’t think possible.

He was gentle yet vigorous, digits deliberately rocking themselves in and out of your tight cunt, thumb providing a burst of stimulation against your clit. Your warm, sweet breath fanned over him, mouth agape as a series of excitable pants escaped you.

Arousal clung to your flesh, the intensity of it only magnified, body assailed by sensations on all sides. As Cregan’s fingers pumped themselves in and out of your nethers, you felt your cunt clench pathetically around him.

“Cregan, I — I’m close,” A wanton huff tumbled from your lips, emerging as a moan against his mouth. He kissed you fervently, mouth wandering in the column of your throat, lavishing you in another barrage of kisses. “There.”

A furnace raged within you, a chasm of yearning soon to be quelled, tempered. Heat lapped at your flesh, burning with a smoldering temperature as desire washed over you. His dexterous fingers continued to circle around your pearl, causing you to stifle a moan.

Between the constant assault of lips, teeth, and fingers, you are barely able to register the white-hot rush of your pinnacle, writhing into Cregan’s hand. Thick digits stretch you still, rocking in and out of your snug cunt at a rhythmic pace.

It nearly blinds you, choking upon the cry that turns to ash within your throat. The visceral response of your body is one that Cregan longs to become intimately acquainted with, feeling you pulse around him as you reach your peak.

“That’s it, princess. I have you.” Soothing utterances slip beside your ear, bridge of his nose nuzzling your cheek, heat oozing from him like that of an open hearth. Caressing your stomach with one hand, the other works you through your release.

Through the tepid haze of your release, you begin to find your composure, sinking into his grasp as his hand begins to slow. Thighs tremble in the wake of such ecstasy, and you begin to turn back into Cregan, lips seizing his own in a soft kiss.

Unable to refuse you, the wolf indulges, reciprocating your kiss with such blistering passion that it nearly elicits a moan from you.

As you withdraw, flesh still stinging with an intense heat, you move enough to adjust your shift back into place, peering at him through your lashes. Before your palm can tend to the growing tent within his trousers, he stops you.

“Another night,” Cregan rumbled, moving to lay upon his back, allowing you to curl next to him, his arm finding its purchase around your hips. The other sprawls outward, allowing you to soak everything in. “Are you well?”

“I am,” Sitting up enough to perch your chin atop his chest, your palms draw delicate circles against his abdomen. He nearly smiles, grabbing one of them with a furrowed brow — your flesh is still cold. “Thank you, Cregan.”

A brief huff escaped him, warm palm caressing your own, attempting to provide some relief. “If you are agreeable, I would prefer it if you stay.” Cregan thoroughly enjoyed your presence, more than he ever thought he would.

A tender smile spread across your visage, a soft expression that beguiled him so, roused feelings of devotion from within. Even he seemed to blush, countenance muddied with a scarlet pallor as he caressed along your spine.

“I wish to stay, but what if something is said …” The last thing that you wanted was to besmirch the honor of an already honorable man. A twinge of amusement swirled within his gray hues, and he seemed dismissive of your worries.

“Let them gossip, princess,” Cregan reassured you, one brow quirking just enough to ensnare your attention. “After all, you are here to warm yourself.” His jest made you unbelievably flustered, and yet, he only coaxed you closer, tugging the furs around your bodies.

Heat persists where the chill does not, gone entirely; he is your warmth, and you willingly chase after him.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Saving Grace || CEO!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: When Rafe Cameron’s infamous temper threatens to derail the entire office, his wife is called in as the only person who can bring him back to earth.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 2,051

MASTERLIST

Rafe Cameron could be described in many ways: arrogant, sharp-tongued, perpetually stone-faced, and infamously hot-headed. His temper was a ticking time bomb, always moments away from detonation. It didn’t take much to set him off—a missed detail, an oversight, or even the wrong tone of voice—and once his mood soured, it had a ripple effect on everyone within his orbit.

If Rafe was in a foul mood, the entire office braced itself for the storm, knowing they’d bear the brunt of his frustration. Productivity stalled, morale plummeted, and an oppressive tension hung heavy in the air. No one dared to ask if he was okay or offer to fix the issue—it was simply understood that his temper had to run its course.

But there was one person who had mastered the art of disarming the bomb: his assistant, Rachael. If anyone in the office had something to say about Rachael, it was that she knew Rafe Cameron far too well. She had an uncanny ability to read his moods and an arsenal of strategies for defusing them. Most importantly, she understood the one surefire way to calm Rafe down: his wife.

The woman who he worshipped the ground she walked on, mother to his children, and the only person Rafe Cameron seemed to hold above all else. No matter how irritable or unapproachable he became, the mere mention of her name was enough to shift the atmosphere. So when Rachael watched one of her coworkers stumble out of Rafe’s office, barely holding back tears, she knew it was time to intervene.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the nervous glances exchanged between staff members who were all too aware of the storm brewing behind Rafe’s closed door. Without missing a beat, Rachael grabbed her phone, dialling a number she had memorised long ago. As the call connected, her tone softened—a stark contrast to the sharp efficiency she displayed in the office.

“Hi, Mrs. Cameron,” she began, her voice carrying a mixture of urgency and familiarity. “I hate to bother you, but it’s one of those days. If you’re free, I think a quick word with Rafe might do the trick.” She paused, listening intently before smiling to herself. Rachael didn’t need to explain much; Mrs. Cameron always seemed to know exactly how to handle her husband.

And while the office might dread Rafe’s infamous outbursts, Rachael found comfort in knowing there was someone who could bring the man back down to earth. She let out a small sigh of relief when she heard your calm, reassuring voice on the other end of the line. “I’ll be right there,” you said, your tone steady but with a hint of warmth that was reserved for conversations about your husband.

Without hesitation, you grabbed your car keys, slipping on a pair of heels as you prepared to leave. It wasn’t the first time you’d been called in to play peacemaker, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Rafe’s temper was legendary, but you knew how to navigate it better than anyone else. You’d seen him at his worst, the raw edges of his frustration and anger, but you also knew the softer side of him—the part that melted when you walked into a room, the man who looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

As you slid into the driver’s seat, your thoughts briefly flickered to your children, safely at home with the nanny. You didn’t want to leave them, but you also understood that Rafe needed you. He might not admit it outright, especially not in front of his staff, but the subtle ways he sought you out after a rough day spoke volumes.

~

As you walked toward your husband’s office, the energy in the space shifted noticeably. Heads turned, relief washing over faces that had been tense just moments before. Hushed whispers followed in your wake, employees murmuring their gratitude for the one person who could tame the storm that was Rafe Cameron. Even without uttering a word, your presence commanded respect—graceful yet undeniably authoritative.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” Rachael said as she stood from her desk, her tone filled with a mixture of hope and exhaustion. “He’s in his office, and he’s miserable in there.” You glanced through the glass wall into Rafe’s office. Rachael hadn’t exaggerated—his frustration was palpable. The furrow of his brow, the tight set of his jaw, and the restless movements of his hands screamed of a man on the verge of losing his patience entirely.

You offered Rachael a small, reassuring smile before making your way to the door, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. You didn’t bother knocking—Rafe hated formalities when it came to you. The heavy sigh he let out at the sound of the door opening was immediate. His eyes remained locked on the papers scattered across his desk, his tone sharp and cold.

“I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.” A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you stepped inside. “Does that include me?” you asked, your voice sweet and smooth, cutting through the tension. Rafe’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. Instantly, his rigid posture softened, and the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift.

The frustration etched into his features melted away, replaced by a look that could only be described as unguarded affection. Just your presence had the power to undo him. Without a word, Rafe reached behind his desk and flicked a switch, causing the glass walls of his office to turn frosted, granting the two of you privacy. His voice softened, tinged with genuine curiosity and concern.

“What are you doing here, baby?" You walked around his desk, your movements fluid and deliberate, and Rafe turned in his chair to face you fully. Standing in front of him, you saw the shift in his expression—the hard edges of his day crumbling as he looked up at you. And there it was, the look that never failed to steal your breath.

No matter how difficult or frustrating his day had been, Rafe always looked at you like you were his entire world, as though you hung the moon and stars just for him. In his eyes, there was nothing but pure, unfiltered love—a stark contrast to the icy exterior he showed everyone else. You leaned down, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

His shoulders visibly relaxed at the familiar touch, the tension from his day dissolving. “You’re scaring your employees,” you teased softly, your words accompanied by a light chuckle as you straightened up. Rafe let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back in his chair and rolling his eyes. “They’re ridiculous,” he muttered, his tone laced with both irritation and amusement.

“They’re terrified,” you corrected, folding your arms and raising a brow at him. “I saw one of them practically in tears.” Rafe groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not my fault they can’t handle a little pressure.” You gave him a knowing look, stepping closer and resting your hands on the armrests of his chair, effectively boxing him in. “Rafe, you can be a little… intense,” you said gently, your eyes locking with his. “And by ‘a little,’ I mean a lot.”

His lips quirked into a smirk, his hands instinctively finding your waist. “You don’t seem scared of me,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, almost teasing tone. “That’s because I know the real you,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “The one who spoils me, reads bedtime stories to the kids, and eats all the burnt pancakes I make without complaining.”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest. “You know I love those burnt pancakes,” he murmured, tugging you closer until you were practically sitting on his lap. “Hmm,” you hummed playfully, trailing your fingers along the lapel of his blazer. “Maybe I should remind your staff that under all that brooding, you’re just a big softie.”

“Don’t you dare,” he warned, though his smirk betrayed the emptiness of his threat. You laughed softly, pressing another kiss to his lips before pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “Then maybe try to be a little nicer? For me?” He sighed, feigning reluctance, but the way his hands tightened on your waist betrayed his surrender. “Fine,” he said, his tone mockingly begrudging. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” you said with a satisfied smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Now, why don’t you take a break? Let me help you relax before you scare anyone else.” Rafe’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, the love in his eyes shining brighter than ever. “You really are my saving grace,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

[tojigasm]

I'm imagining how Logan letting you see his claws up close for the first time would go and like not to be too tmi, but I do think Logan's claw slits would be soooo sensitive.

I could imagine him not really holding hands with you or letting you get too close to his hands in general until the two of you have progressed past something superficial.

The first time he lets you even get near his hands is when the two of you are lying in his bed. Your back pressed to his chest and his chin resting atop your head.

You've got one of his hands held by both of yours, running your fingers over his blue veins and tracing the divets and scars of his skin.

"How'd you get this one?" You ask, running your thumb over the rough line of skin, tilting your head up against his chin some.

His other hand momentarily stops its path where he'd been smoothing it down the soft of your arm.

"Think I was cutting up an apple," he jokes.

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles and he presses a kiss to the side of your temple, moving to speak before he's suddenly caught off with a moan so low you almost weren't sure what it was at first.

Logan doesn't even seem as though he's noticed as his brows remain furrowed and his body relaxed beneath you.

"What was that?" You turn to him, brows arched. You know he can already read the scheming expression written over your features.

Wordlessly, he pops his neck as he moves his hand upwards towards your face, pulling your hands along with it.

Balling his hand into a fist, he turns his knuckles towards you.

Your eyes catch on three small slits between each of his digits, only about half and inch or so long.

Cautiously, you run the tip of your finger down the length of one, earning a shiver from the man beneath you.

"Does it hurt?" You say quietly, nearly a whisper. Almost as if speaking too loud would startle the riveting atmosphere of the room.

You feel him shake his head 'no' behind you before he says gently, "feels good."

You give a slow nod at that, eyes glued to his knuckles.

"Can I touch them again?" You ask after a quiet moment passes.

Logan hums from behind you, "Go ahead."

You're careful in the amount of pressure you apply as you gently stroke the tips of your finger down each slit, relishing in the soft hums earned by the man behind you.

You can feel Logan's eyes watching you – as if equally enthralled with your newfound fascination of his mutation.

He lets you enjoy the delicate nature of it. A man so brutally threatening and deemed almost wild for the majority of his life subdued by something so seemingly trivial about the very thing that labeled him dangerous in the first place.

It's sweet to him.

"D'like it?" Your voice pulls him from his haze.

He seems to mull over his response, unfurling his hand to flex all five fingers in a spread palm.

"S'okay," he offers before unsheathing his claws, letting you look them over.

The lights from his room add a sparkle to their sharp tips, and for a moment, he finds his loathed despotion for them to be almost futile.

"They're pretty." You comment, meeting his hazel eyes in the metallic reflection of them.

He scoffs, "That's just cus' you're lookin' at yourself in 'em."

You feel him reach towards his beer on the nightstand. "I mean it." You click your tongue.

It's a sensitive topic for him, you know that.

Logan takes a swig of his beer, taking another look at his claws. He turns his hand back and forth before retracting them with a 'Shing!'

"Well, in that case," he flicks your temple with a chuckle, "Thank you."

"Can I see them again?" You pull his hand back into your own.

With a sigh, Logan unsheathes his claws for you again.

He takes another swig of his beer, mumbling "Brat."

[lovegasmic]

HOT MILF NEXT DOOR

──── Kento, Toji, Sukuna x f!reader.

cw. age gap ( all characters are 25-29 and reader around 44-46 ) , creampie , breeding kink , trophy wife cheating on your husband with a younger plumber Toji ( Megumi doesn't exist ), oral, rough sex with Sukuna ( you babysit Yuuji ) uncle Sukuna.

original full post in the title, I had to re post this bit because I deleted the original reblog by accident. this is mostly just to back up

hot dilf next door out now 𖥔 satoru, suguru, choso version 𖥔 genshin version

KENTO !

the faint mark of a ring around your finger, the soft thud of boxes being left on the sidewalk, all leading to the moment your youngest child finally moves to college, sharing teary goodbyes and hugs as you wave them one last time. so, you’re finally alone...

Kento is not a creep, nor does he intend to sneak his way into your heart the moment you’re finally alone, no, he wants to offer nothing but support.

he walks to your home with easy steps, casual and unconsciously wearing his best suit, not that he wants to impress you, it’s just a coincidence.

“you’re so mature for your age” is what you say, and everyone does, to be honest, but somehow coming from you is not that bad anymore, does that mean you could actually give him a chance?

a tray of freshly baked cookies is placed upon your kitchen counter, a gift from Kento that’s now long forgotten, too busy listening to your complaints with no ill intentions behind them, just sharing how though life has gotten, but don’t worry, Kento has promised to stick with you.

you’re such a pretty woman to cry, each one of your tears tugging at his heartstrings, and his rough and large hands are the perfect comfort for your aching heart.

none of you actually notice when the atmosphere changes, when your soft sighing against his neck turned into whimpers of pleasure by having two of the man’s fingers knuckle deep in your cunt, rapidly dragging the tips across your fluttering inner walls and palm eagerly rubbing your swollen, needy clit.

“that’s it, gorgeous, you’re doing so well” all you need is some relief, of your burdens and sexual tension building up from so long, Kento is more than happy to help, gently scissoring his fingers into your pussy, a bit more stretch so you can accommodate his cock next. you look much better when you’re crying in pleasure, pawing on his shoulders while guiding the thick head of his cock to push past the slight resistance of your pussy, every little vein throbbing and massaging the ache inside.

gushing pussy, welcoming every inch into the depths of your body, almost immediately starting to suck on the girth, squishing your soft breasts against the toned and smooth expanse of Kento’s chest, each muscle rubbing on your nipples so addictively sweet your pussy pulses even more.

the blonde has often mentally slapped himself for lewdly thinking how you’d look fucked, although the image in his head could not compare to the real thing, forcing his load to blow as deep as possible into your sweet pussy, hands on your soft hips, grinding you down until you squeak and cum, creating a bigger white-ish mess on your laps with the diluted semen seeping out of you.

instead of sulking in your sadness, you should ride his cock more often.

TOJI !

working several jobs at once was never an easy chore, but the black haired managed, one had to do whatever it took for some money. and the fancy apartment building you lived was something he could only dream about, compared to his shabby room where he just slept and jerked off to the thought of you.

“where is the leak?” his rough voice echoes, contrasting with the way too fancy and perfect state of your penthouse, fixing his thick denim pants with a tool belt attached, attempting to hide the bulging erection at the sight of you on that flimsy robe you loved to wear.

you’re so soft, with gorgeous curves as you guide him into the kitchen, are you swinging your hips just for him, or is it his lust clouded imagination?

“would you like something to drink?” you offer so sweetly, already grabbing a glass while Toji slides under the kitchen sink, checking the... perfectly maintained pipelines.

with a raised brow, he stays there, pretending to fix a non existent leak, “a lemonade would be good, thank you, doll” he tries, hoping that little nickname will bring him good luck later. the way his thighs spread when he hears you around is definitely made on purpose, can you see how hard he is for you?

once the... job was done, Toji sips on his cooling drink, eyes scanning the adjacent living room where a framed picture of you and your husband hangs, he’s too old, and you’re clearly a trophy wife.

“how much do I owe you?” you bat your eyelashes, and the flutter mimics the pulsing of his cock.

“don’t worry about it, doll, is not a big deal” Toji attempts to play his cards, hitting on your heart first with a closer step, checking your reactions.

“oh, please, Toji...” it’s a low purr and you’re doing it on purpose, “at least let me thank you for your help”

what a little minx, with soft manicured hands on his broad chest, eyes cute and filled with lust while staring up at him, a pretty thing like you needs to get fucked, and it seemed like you needed it bad.

the framed family picture smiles down at your bent over form, robe flipped open, panties pooling around one of your ankles and Toji’s thick cock plunging into your soaked hole, earning a very slight spank on a jiggling ass cheek, “take it, doll, fuckin’ take this cock in your gorgeous pussy”

a mewl seeps past your lips like the string of drool pooling on the kitchen island, pussy fluttering around the girth, desperate to pull deeper, to suck as much as your hole could possibly take.

it doesn’t take long for you to cream his cock, having it abusing the deepest part with perfectly angled hips was quite easy to send you over the edge, your toys were good, but fuck, Toji knows what he’s doing.

a thumb hooks on the side of your cheek, pulling your soft folds open to stare down at the flutter, at the way you’re spread and speared on his cock, at his mercy. “that’s it, doll, take my cum” he grunts, balls pulsing and squished against your clit while his thick semen fills your womb.

“that um, pipe might break soon, call me again” he winks, now fully dressed and with a fat wad of bills you tucked in his shirt pocket.

SUKUNA !

“do I have to do it?” Sukuna groans in annoyance, gripping the phone where his brother spoke through.

“i don’t have anyone else to pick Yuuji, just do it once”

with another groan he agrees, hanging up the call while shrugging the girl clinging on his arm, the frat party is as annoying as ever, his life as boring as ever.

hands shoved in his pockets he waits for you to open the door, impatiently tapping on the floor as if he had something better to do than take care of his little nephew until Jin came out of work. he’s damn tired, almost about to knock again until you open, angelically smiling at him with a little Yuuji perched on your hip.

“hello, you must be Sukuna”

he wants to knock you up.

in a blink, that cocky smirk is again in place, “that’s me, i’ll take the brat now” then he’s pulling Yuuji onto his side much against the small boy grumbling.

what a good brother and uncle is Sukuna, offering to pick up Yuuji from now on, what a kind soul, making you open up to him more and more until he’s comfortably sitting on your couch, baby Yuuji sleeping upstairs and a warm, flirty laugh echoes through the living room. Sukuna knows you’re aware of his advances, and who you are to refuse a cute, ripped and younger boy’s attention.

and that dick was to die for.

“fuck, sweetheart, you’re a pro” he grins, licking across his teeth while you slobber all over his cock, tongue and lips caressing the fat girth, saliva dripping to coat his full and heavy balls slapping against your chin, “made for take my cock down your tight throat, fuck!”

you can feel your juices dripping down your thighs, pooling on the wooden floor, while you feast on Sukuna’s thick musky scent, adding to the soft pulse and slight salty taste of the tip hitting the back of your throat.

thank fuck he does not keep you waiting, “come here, get on your knees, I need to cum in your cunt”

who are you to refuse such a sensual order? shakily climbing on the leather couch that squeaks under your knees, fingers twisting around the armrest while Sukuna pushes into, “is that how you fuck your classmates?” oh, baby, you’re screwed.

Sukuna takes that as a challenge, arching your back, spreading your asscheeks and pounding into your hole, adoring the slapping sound of his balls slapping your wet flesh, soaking in your warmth, “i’ll show you how I fuck a gorgeous woman like you” and he does, trying to prove you how he’s more than a cocky, pretty face, having you squeaking his name, begging to be creampied until next week.

his eyes are hooded, strangely overwhelmed by your pussy, by the easy glide that welcomes more and more into your depths, begging, craving, crying for his cock, to be pounded into oblivion. “i need to keep you full of me, smelling like me” each word is accentuated by a thrust, ignoring the way his balls clench in a signal that he is about to cum.

“ah, u-ungh... Sukuna, ah, you feel so good, love” why does the tenderness in your voice make his tip twitch and splurt another wave of pre?

“yeah, sweetheart? you like it? you love how I pound your creamy pussy?” almost breathless, panting in attempts to hold back a strong orgasm, needing to drive you insane first, to have you gushing, squirting all over his thick cock before he finally, finally gets to claim that sweet release inside your willing, still very much fertile body.

[letsbangts]

ridin || jjk

⤷ summary: when the car ride has you both wildin

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 3.8k

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: smut, established relationship au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, pwp (seriously it's just straight SMUT)

⟶ warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content: car sex, dirty talk, fingering, teasing, kissing/making out, grinding, nipple sucking, spitting, oral (m. & f. receiving), manhandling, biting, spanking, big dick jk, soft dom jk, rough sex, unprotected sex (do better than them!), pet names, multiple orgasms, some choking, praising, a bit of degradation, crying, cream pie

↬ a/n: hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ ridin jessie reyez ft lil wayne 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

As you both make your way home, the night streets are relatively quiet; the scattered lights from the occasional passing vehicles, street lamps and the few establishments still open cast a soft glow around you two.

The excitement from your outing is still vibrating through the pair of you: with the windows rolled down, the wind blowing in your hair and music playing from the speakers, it is hard to be anything but happy right now. However, the atmosphere around you holds much more than just light-hearted fun—an intensity also surrounds you.

As the car halts at a red light, you glance at Jungkook and take him in with the dark attire that fits him perfectly, accentuating his toned figure and face with striking features that would drive anyone wild. He looks back at you, the glow from the dashboard illuminating his features, and you catch that familiar expression in his eyes. It's a look you recognize, one that you know mirrors your own. Both of you feel the same thing, desire for each other.

Giving him a smile that holds zero innocence, you put your hand to the side of your seat to pull the lever and lean it back. Jungkook smirks at you as his gaze moves downwards to watch your movements as you spread your black fishnet-covered legs causing your mini jean skirt to hike up just enough to flash your black thong.

He lets out an airy laugh through his nose, tongue running along the inside of his cheek. His gaze moves back up to meet yours just as the light changes to green.

"Greenlight.", you say with a mischievous smile.

Your boyfriend gets the hint right away. With a grin, Jungkook puts his eyes back on the road to continue the journey home. You feel his tatted hand come between your thighs, and you let him right in, spreading them even further.

Jungkook with a hand still on the wheel driving, uses the one occupied with you to trace along your clothed heat. He takes advantage of the access the holes in your tights give him, touching your clit with slow and gentle movements. With your hum of appreciation, he pushes your panties aside and runs his middle finger through your folds coated with arousal.

You let out a small sigh from the feeling, the reaction brings a throaty chuckle out of him as he glances at you from the corner of his eyes. The amount of wetness that has already accumulated from the pure lust oozing out of you for this man is almost embarrassing.

"So fucking wet from nothing, huh baby girl.", he snickers.

"Mmm Kook", you sigh.

Once his finger has gathered enough of the wetness he slides it right in, your walls enveloping it like they are welcoming him home. He starts moving his finger in a steady rhythm and you moan as you buck your hips up to enhance the pleasure, his palm hitting your clit with every pump. You tilt your head back against the headrest closing your eyes when you feel tension in your lower belly. Everything around you only intensifies the experience. Between the cool night air on your skin along with the warmth of Jungkook's hand on you and the soft music playing mixed with the wet sounds of Jungkook's finger pumping in and out of you, it all only makes the pleasure build up more.

Suddenly he pulls his finger out, your eyes snap open and your head whips over in his direction as your chest heaves up and down. You're about to ask what made him stop but he looks over at you and beats you to it:

"Redlight.", he says with a devilish smile and a glint in his eye.

He brings his glistening finger to his mouth sucking your slick off it while keeping eye contact with you. You scoff out a half-laugh of frustration from the sudden fall of the high he had you on.

"You're just a damn tease.", shaking your head and looking out the windshield.

"You can't be the only one having fun.", he laughs wickedly while looking straight ahead.

Fortunately, this light changes much faster, indicating go. He presses on the gas and your neediness picks up speed along with the car. You see he makes no move to resume his previous actions so you try pulling at his hand to bring it back but he resists and tsks at you.

You cross your arms over your chest, a pout forming and the unwanted emptiness makes you almost whine in protest. But then you notice him pulling over at the side of the road. The area is virtually empty, void of any sign of nightlife.   

Jungkook cuts the engine and turns on the dome light. He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches over to do the same for you. Then before you can react he grabs your chin pulls your face to his and kisses you. A soft moan leaves you as you feel his tongue graze against the seam of yours, biting into your lower lip then he tugs it before he pulls away. His eyes staring into yours and lips hovering as he whispers:

"No need to catch a little attitude. Now get in the back hmm.", with his thumb running along your bottom lip.

Your eyes sparkle as you quickly nod moving to do just what he said jumping over the centre console eagerly. Jungkook watches with amusement as he opens the door to join you in the backseat. As he steps out the front he shakes his head with a smile.

"Cute.", he mumbles to himself.

When he finally settles beside you, you practically jump him dragging him by his neck towards you crashing his lips on yours but before you both get carried away Jungkook breaks the kiss.

"One-sec baby."  

You see him lean forward stretching over to the front of the car and reaching up to the dome light to turn it off. Grabbing onto his shoulder to stop him, he turns to you with a raised brow in question.

"Leave it on. I like to see you when I'm on top", you say.

Bringing him back in, both of you smiling into the kiss but as time goes on the kissing turns wet and sloppy, tongues swirling around one another. Losing track of how long you make out for you now feel so hot from the intimacy.

Your fingers tug his hair and he groans, pulling you onto his lap before he chases your lips once again. His hardness is poking you, but you can tell he’s not fully hard underneath his black jeans. The neediness from before returns between your legs for any touch, your body naturally starts shifting on his lap making a moan rumble in his chest. Once Jungkook feels you grinding, with your Levi skirt hiked up he slides his hands underneath it, pinching the band of your tights with his fingertips and then drawing it back to snap against your skin.

Your hands are all over his firm torso, moving underneath his shirt and he grabs your ass and squeezes encouraging you to keep grinding onto his clothed length. His hands run all over your back down to the hem of your hoodie gliding it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head, and tossing it onto the floor. He dives back into the frenzied makeout, his hands expertly unclipping your black bra and discards it as well. After a few more minutes of your tongues dancing together, he then grips your waist before he lightly pushes you back separating both of your lips, now swollen and glistening with mixed saliva.

Jungkook uses his strength to manoeuvre the two of you, having you lie down with him hovering over you with his knees between your legs. His head dives to your neck and he starts sucking.

“Oh, fuck.”, you curse, head leaning backwards with his lips on the new spot. He groans into the curve of your neck when your hands find their way under his shirt again, digging your nails into his shoulder blades.

He licks the skin of your neck before he goes back to sucking, skillfully twirling his tongue and making you gasp into the air. Lips journey down leaving a trail of markings from the side of your neck, down the front of your throat, and along your collarbone. Thick fingers go to the front of your crumpled skirt undoing the button and pulling the zipper down, while licking a final long strip, stopping just under your ear.

"I think it's about time we take this off.", he rasps into your ear.

You lift your hips to allow him to slide them down your legs, fishnet tights and underwear following right after with his quick hands, all joining your sweater on the floor. Jungkook pulls away, sitting back on his heels as he eyes your now completely bare sprawled-out figure, mouth parted and breathless.

"My pretty girl.", a fond smile on his face as he whispers with his rough hands gently caressing your inner thighs.

"No fair, why are you still dressed?", you whine with a grin reaching for the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and tugging at it. He chuckles as he removes it, then leans down and pecks your lips.

"You're so needy today," he runs his nose down your neck to your chest. Those doe eyes look up at you before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Arching your back, you gasp while he swirls his tongue against it. The other is occupied by his hand, moulding the soft flesh in his huge palm before pinching the nipple. He switches to give both the same treatment and releases them with a pop when he’s done.

"But don't worry babydoll, I'll take care of you."

He hovers over you again slowly making his way down to your stomach his locks tickling against your skin. His words make your heart flutter while his actions bring goosebumps to your skin.

Settling down between your legs he presses his lips against your hip bone and grabs the back of your knees pushing your legs up into your chest. Jungkook licks a long stripe over your folds and he spits onto your pussy before he starts kissing and sucking your lower lips.

“Oh, fuck, Kook.”, you breathe out, lifting off the seat.

He holds you down, making sure you don't wriggle away from the extreme pleasure before he enters you with his tongue. Gasping, you grip his hair tightly releasing a growl out of him. He repeats it all over again lick, kiss, then suck.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, drawing back and pushing his hair out of his face before grabbing your ankles and forcing your legs to stretch out spreading them as far as possible. The way he roughly moves your body around drives you insane. You have one foot resting on the top of the backseat and the other on top of the passenger seat as he pushes two fingers inside you. His tongue returns to your clit, and you moan at the feeling of his muscle playing with the sensitive nub, causing you to clench around his two digits.

“So tight.”, he comments as he starts pumping into your velvety walls.

“F-fuck, Kook, r-right there.”, you mewl out, eyes rolling back when he brushes that spot that makes your toes curl. Your hips start to rise to meet his motions.

“That’s it, baby. Use my fingers, make yourself cum.”, he suddenly speaks, voice breathless.

His encouragement makes you increase your speed as you continue fucking his peace sign, gaze roaming up the colourful intricate ink adorning his arm. You glance up to find Jungkook already looking at you and the eye contact is the final push you need, in a few seconds you're cumming with a silent scream, walls holding his fingers tightly.

“That’s it, sweetheart cum for me.”, he coaxes you through it.

He slowly pulls out his fingers when you’re done, eyes shut with chest heaving from the intense climax. A surprised squeal leaves your lips when he starts to lick you clean of your juices, ignoring your pleas of overstimulation. When he’s done, he pulls away with lips and chin glistening with evidence of your fierce orgasm that makes you bite your lip.

“You did great, baby. Fuck, I thought I was gonna cum in my pants.”, he praises.

You giggle at his remark, and the sound brings a smile to his face. Gazing at the bulge in his black pants, you sit up and push him back by his shoulders, making him sit down properly in the seat. As your hands move to his belt, you lick from the front of his throat to his jaw stopping just under his ear,

"Your turn baby.", you declare.

He bites onto his bottom lip when you unbuckle the belt, helping you slide down his jeans and remove them. Hooking your fingers under the hem of his black Calvin Klein boxers, he lifts himself enough to let you pull them off. His length slaps against his stomach, reddened head leaking precum. Your mouth salivating as you wrap your hand around him, and he sucks in a breath.

When your tongue meets the skin of his cock licking a long stripe from the base and making your way upwards to the tip, his mouth falls open.

“Shit—Fuck, Y/N.”, Jungkook doesn’t hide his moan.

You kiss the head humming against it, making your way down to lick his balls, slightly sucking them which makes him whimper. You take him into your mouth looking up, meeting Jungkook’s hooded eyes taking him deeper as you try to relax your throat. Your hands wrap around the rest that you can’t fit, slowly pumping him as you bob your head with hollowed cheeks. As you notice his eyes rolling back and thighs tensing you swipe your thumb across his slit, causing him to moan again even louder.

His hand comes to your hair, holding the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek. He pushes up his hips, thrusting all of his length into your mouth. With each thrust, he goes deeper until he sets a good pace, his cock sliding in and out. He inhales, throwing his head back grunting when you run your tongue over his tip and suck him. His angelic and hot sounds cause you to moan around him, the vibration shooting straight through him. He grunts and starts to thrust faster. Trying to control your gag reflex with tears spilling down your cheeks, his hips stutter as you feel him throbbing inside of your mouth.

“Stop that's enough.”, he pulls you away by your hair, a strand of saliva connecting your lips and his glistening dick. Bringing you in for a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth and making you moan into his. His thumbs wipe at your tears before pulling away both breathing heavily, his hand smacks your ass cheek. With his cheeky grin, he urges you:

“Come ride me, princess.”

Scurrying to straddle him, you hover over him and let your legs rest against the side of his muscular thighs while grabbing his length. You smear the wetness between your legs against his cock to lube him up some more before you pump him a bit, watching a lustful glint in his eyes that are now slits.

“Baby”, he moans, hands gripping your waist, nails digging into your skin.

You position him against your entrance before you sink onto him, your eyes rolling back at the pleasure and stretch. He kisses you and lets his mouth stay on yours while he slowly fills you up. When he's all in you sit still for a moment savouring the feeling of him so deep inside of you. Jungkook also in no rush, kisses you slowly. It's sensual and passionate making your head spin and heart swell, feeling wonderful after all the teasing done tonight.

You circle your hips while kissing him and after a few minutes, you start to ride him beginning with a slow pace. He detaches from your lips as he leans his forehead against yours. He sits there, enjoying the way you move your hips.

"You look so fucking stunning like this.", he whispers up at you.

The sound of your thighs meeting paired with both your heavy pants is heard clear in the quiet night. You lean back, hands resting on his knees and you start to pick up the pace, he groans moving his hands to grip your ass, and he spreads your cheeks while his nails dig into your skin again. Jungkook starts to roll his hips into yours as he meets your thrusts, feet planted firmly on the floor sending another wave of pleasure through your body with different intensity.

"Oh my god, don't stop", you call out.

Things ultimately turn rough once he takes over the control as he grabs your hips letting out a grunt when he sets an almost animalistic pace. Looping your hand under his arms and gripping his shoulders, his balls smack against your ass. The sound echoing in the car is loud enough to be heard outside, but neither of you cares to stop.

“Fuck, so tight.”, he groans.

“Kook”, you whimper, mouth pressed against his shoulder with eyes screwed shut, as you feel another orgasm approaching and Jungkook notices. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps one hand on your hip continuing to hit your g-spot while bringing the other between your joint bodies to have his thumb draw circles on your clit. You gently bite onto Jungkook’s shoulder while he keeps fucking you, he grunts with your teeth digging into his skin. Your whole body shakes as pleasure washes you all over again bringing out the loudest moan with your second orgasm of the night.

His hands leave your hips and they wrap around your frame, running up and down your back soothingly. You peck his shoulder where you bit him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you let out a whimper and he chuckles darkly.

“We're not done yet, on all fours and ass up.”, he commands you with a slap on your ass.

You rise off him, leaving you empty and greedy for him all over again. Obeying him quickly, you get on all fours as he requested. You gasp when he presses your back down, cheek pressed against the seat as he lifts your ass even more, back arched ready for him. He palms your ass, grabbing the flesh into his huge hands while he enters you easily due to your previous climaxes. Once he bottoms out he doesn't move, thinking he's just giving you a moment to compose yourself, but as the seconds tick by he remains in you unmoving and you realize he's teasing again.

"No, baby.", you complain pushing back into him and shaking your hips a little.

Jugkook leans forward, one hand tugging your hair back holding you against his chest as his inked hand wraps around your neck pressing down.

“Are you being a needy slut for me?”, he rasps nibbling at your earlobe.

"Yes.", you shiver and nod while clenching around him.

"Oh, you like that yeah?"

He moves the hand around your neck up to your jaw gripping it and turning your face towards him, tips of your noses touching. His thumb parts your lips.

"Open.", he orders and you comply right away. He gathers spits and lets it drip into your mouth and you swallow it immediately.

"Mmm, good girl. Now tell me what you want?", he hums.

"M-more please.", knowing Jungkook loves when you beg.

"Hmm? More what?", he prods with his dick still deep inside you.

"More o-of you", you reply.

"You already have all of me, baby.", he snickers jerking his hips to mock you more and his tip hits that heavenly place.

"Please, fuck me Kook.", you gasp out with pleasure as tears gather in your eyes.

"Anything for my girl. Anything for you my love.", he vows before letting go of you to fall back onto all fours.

His hands go back to clutching your hips so tight that they’ll probably bruise but you don’t care. He jackhammers you from the beginning, strokes instantly go at a rough steady rhythm. The feeling of his rock-hard dick grazing your tightening walls is like heaven on earth. You chant out his name in a scream as you clench around him again, causing him to grunt in response.

"Holy shit, you're drenching my dick like a desperate whore. Taking me so easily, you're my filthy little bitch aren't you.", he moans.

His words are enough to shoot straight to your core because fuck, if Jungkook’s baritone voice isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever heard, you don’t know what is. His sweaty forehead drops against your bare shoulder, shallow and quick breaths meeting your skin as he moves his hands up to cup your breasts. The tension in your lower belly builds incessantly. Vision blurring a tear trickles down your cheek and then the coil snaps, the shockwaves of your orgasm have you falling apart once more.

"Oh Jungkook!", you wail.

Jungkook's thrusts get sloppier with each second, clenching around him, it takes a few more pumps before Jungkook completely halts his movements and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. He’s finally cumming with a growl, filling you with his seed and the feeling has you seeing stars. When he’s done, he sighs and moves his hands to your waist hugging you closer to him and giving your neck a peck.

The air in the car smells like a beautiful mix of Jungkook's Dior cologne and sweat. The two of you try to calm down taking a few more seconds of breathing in and out at a rapid pace before your breathing comes back to normal and he slowly lifts his head off you.

When he calms enough to pull out fully, he quickly gets off you and plops on the backseat. You flip yourself on your back, eyes focused on the car roof and legs stretching out over his own. Chest heaves with almost identical heavy breaths that sync with each other. He rubs your legs as he turns to you with exhausted eyes.

"You good?", he asks with a smug smirk with his head resting back against the headrest.

“Fuck yeah, that was amazing.”, you laugh breathlessly and he laughs along with you.

Sitting up and moving to his side he instantly wraps his arm around you and kisses your temple. You return the gesture with a kiss on his chest before resting your head.

“I could fall asleep like this.”, you murmur against his chest, cuddling into him even more.

A soft laugh leaves his mouth, his hand gently slapping your ass.

"No, you can't fall asleep here. Plus this was just round one, baby. Wait till we get home, I promise that you won't be getting any sleep with me."

[youraverageaemondsimp]

A brother's duty. // Husband!Aegon ii Targaryen x Wife!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aegon seemed to have noticed how much his younger brother, Aemond, fancies you, as a self proclaimed caring older brother, he decides to fulfill that role by giving Aemond what he wants, which is you.

WARNINGS: afab!fem!reader, dubious consent, threesome, m/m/f, dacryphilia, rough sex, manhandling, slight humiliation, degrading, double penetration, mentions of infidelity (aegon visiting brothels), slight misogyny, breeding kink, tiddy sucking, oral (f. receiving, m. receiving), pussy drunk aemond, lactation kink, cum eating, anal sex, lmk if I missed any! + not proofread.

WC: 4.7k

A brother's betrayal. - can be read as p2

A/N: the anal sex in this isn't "realistic" aka no prior preparation so please don't come at me and go ''that isn't how anal sex works 😡😡😡 you have to do blah blah blah'' ik but this is just a work of fiction so pls just enjoy it // divider credits: @cafekitsune

“Aemond, do you perhaps fancy my wife?” Aegon tilts his head to the side, questioning his brother as they sit together in the library, quietly reading, of course, until the short pale haired man decided to break the silence.

“Brother, this is no place for such discussions.” Aemond tries dodging the question, but Aegon simply rolls his eyes grunting loudly in displeasure, “Just answer the question.” Aegon says annoyed and Aemond pursues his lip, lost deep in thought.

“What if I say ‘yes’?” Aemond asks, “Then I'd have your head for that.” Aegon smiles which makes Aemond shift uncomfortably in his seat, “Come on! I was kidding, do you really think I'd kill my own blood-related brother over a woman?” Aegon laughs loudly and Aemond sighs but he furrows his brows, “She is your wife.” Aemond states sternly, but Aegon shrugs, “And you are my brother.” He replies.

Aemond lets out another heavy sigh, hoping that he'd escape this situation he'd somehow gotten into, “So?” Aegon pushes further, poking at Aemond to answer the question and Aemond hums in irritance before being fed up and answering Aegon's question. “Yes, I do fancy your wife.” He admits, slightly ashamed.

Aemond was a man of the faith, believing in the faith of the seven, and according to the scripture, desiring a woman is a carnal sin, diabolical if she's a married woman, abysmal if she's your own brother's wife.

But Aemond couldn't help it, it's as if though the gods were testing him, not only were you pleasant on the eye but you were also very polite and had the same interests as him, and most probably the only woman — besides his sister — who was not disgusted after seeing his injury.

He knew he had to stop developing an interest towards you once he found out that you were being married to Aegon, but for some inexplicable reason; that only made him want you more, perhaps it was the label of you being ‘forbidden’ that enticed him further, making him yearn to get the taste of the forbidden fruit more than ever.

How he had wished that it was him instead, the one getting married to you, he wished it was he who fucked you, he wished it was him who got you pregnant, he wished it was his babe you waddled all around the red keep with, he wished it was his child that you had given birth to.

But those were nothing more than just wishes, wishes that would never come true, unless a miracle happens.

“That wasn't hard now was it?” Aegon's voice snaps Aemond out of his train of thoughts and Aemond simply hums, “Why did you ask such a question?” Aemond inquires curiously and Aegon smirks at him, “I may not be sober most of the time but the way you stare at her doesn't go unnoticed, your desire burns deep for her doesn't it? I've especially taken note of it when she was pregnant with my child, your eye never left her womb.” He answers and Aemond rolls his eye.

The atmosphere is filled with silence once again as Aemond continues to silently read his book.

“I would've let you fuck her if you had asked me to.” that statement which left Aegon's mouth made Aemond choke on his spit as he stared at him wide eyed, shocked at what he had just said, “Pardon?” Aemond gazes at Aegon confusedly, and Aegon gets a thrill out of this, watching his brother be flustered.

“I said what I said, you could've just told me so, you're my brother Aemond, how do you think I will ever turn any of your requests down?” Aegon says it so casually, as if he was giving an item that belonged to him which Aemond had always wanted so badly, except you weren't an item or an object.

Aemond remains silent, unable to talk because of how baffled he was, but Aegon pressed on, “Don't you wanna feel her cunt around your cock?” This makes Aemond slam his book down and get up, and Aegon raises his hands in surrender, “It was merely an offer, I wouldn't mind sharing her with you, we've shared whores before.” Aegon tries justifying his reasoning and Aemond scoffs, “But she is no whore, she is your wife, you should treat her with respect.” he replies agitated.

“Enough with the sterness, reply plainly, do you want to fuck her or no? I won't ever bring it up ever again if you say no, we'll pretend we never had this conversation.” Aegon sighs before raising his eyebrow.

Aemond swallows thickly, should he take this chance? He always yearned for you so badly, it's like the opportunity presented itself; he could seize it, but he was in a dilemma, not wanting you to face such disrespect, your self respect will be obliterated to pieces, you'd be drowning in self shame.

You were a very dignified lady, a woman who carried herself confidently no matter what, this is why you weren't even affected when Aegon still visited the brothels. As long as the word didn't get out, you were fine with it. You simply did your duty as a wife and a mother. He couldn't imagine you allowing him to fuck you and ruin your honour.

“Decide fast brother, I have to leave soon, it's been a while since I laid with my wife, the maesters had told me to give her a break for a minimum of six weeks, yet eight weeks have passed, my cock craves her cunt so desperately.” Aegon speaks explicitly, and Aemond's breath hitches in his throat, imagining what your cunt would be like. “Then why do you visit the brothels if you seem to like her so much?” He questions, trying to change topics, “That's cause she can't satiate my depravities, otherwise I wouldn't even be visiting those wenches anymore.” Aegon talks as though it was a minor inconvenience.

“Either way, decide quickly.” Aegon urges and Aemond swallows.

He opens his mouths to reject it, but for some odd reasons his mind forms a explicit thought of burying his cock inside your cunt which causes his cock to stir slightly, the blood flowing to it at the mere thought of fucking you.

‘No Aemond, she is your sister in law, your brother's wife, you cannot let this desire succumb you.’

‘But didn't you want this for a long time? Imagine how her cunt would weep when you'd shove your cock into it hm? Her breasts bouncing up and down while you thrust into her.’

He swallows thickly, those internal arguments happening in the span of seconds before he has had enough and made up his mind.

“Yes, I want to fuck her.”

The babe in your arms cooed as you rocked him gently — caressing his chubby cheeks with your thumb as he slowly fell asleep due to your movements, “He's cute isn't he?” You ask the servant that was in charge of him and she nodded, smiling at you.

“Yes princess, the more he grows, the more he resembles his father, Prince Aegon.” She gives her commentary and you give her a small smile and slightly nod your head. The babe finally closes its eyes, going into slumber and you chuckle at his cuteness, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead, just then, the door the nursery opens which reveals ser criston cole.

You were confused as to why the kingsguard was here himself, “Prince Aegon has sent me in search for you, he is calling you to his chambers.” Those words were enough to clarify the situation. He wanted to lay with you, “I'll be there in a minute.” you reply and he nods, you give the babe to the servant before smoothening your dress, and leaving the nursery.

You reach your martial chambers quickly, you turn around to thank Cole and dismiss him, you then open the door to the chambers and shut them just as quickly, taking a deep breath before turning around and venturing deeper into the room.

You spot Aegon sitting in his chair, but what was odd was that he was accompanied by Aemond, who you've meet occasionally and had nothing but a positive opinion on about, you were confused on what he was doing here.

Maybe Aegon did not want to lay with you? Maybe Aegon was trying to get closer to his brother for having a bond of a family? You knew how strongly bonded these brothers are, especially since after whatever happened at driftmark, so it wouldn't be weird to assume that Aegon is trying to get you and Aemond to become good friends.

“Ah, wife.” Aegon gets up from his chair, coming over to hug you, and you return it awkwardly, knowing that Aemond is in the same room, Aegon chuckles at your awkwardness. He quickly gets behind you, pushing you forward until you're right in front of Aemond who stares at you from below, all the while Aegon nuzzles his face into your neck.

You're confused not knowing what's happening, “Brother, undo her front laces.” Aegon commands and you furrow your brows immediately, baffled at how Aegon was behaving, perhaps he had drunk too much? You felt bad for Aemond, probably stuck in this unwanted situation, you try to give him an escape route but you are surprised when his warm knuckles graze against your collarbones as his fingers hook underneath your laces, beginning to pull them apart.

You were perplexed by his actions, not knowing what to do, you grip his arm from further undoing the laces but Aegon forcefully pulls your hands back, holding both of them behind you as Aemond pulls off the corset.

You were wearing a dress with no sleeves, but that did not mean you went completely shoulderless, your shift and chemise beneath you acted as the sleeve’s replacement, so when Aemond undoes the laces that were holding your long gown up, it immediately plummets to the floor, leaving you in your chemise.

Aegon nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck from behind, taking in your scent while placing small kisses on your shoulder, still not letting go of your hands, “Darling, I hope you don't mind Aemond joining us today, he had admitted to me that he fancies you, and as his older brother, it is in my responsibility that i take care of my brothers needs.” Aegon coos into your ear and you bite your lip, you are about to respond but you are interrupted by your own gasp when you feel Aemond caress your breasts, squeezing the flesh and playing with them.

“I'm afraid— I don't understand?.” You reply confusedly, staring at Aemond play with the mounds of your breasts, and Aegon chuckles into your ear pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, “I'm simply allowing him to wet his dick inside your cunt.” Aegon puts it plainly, making you bite your lip in shame; all the while Aemond's hand slowly travels up your thigh, underneath your chemise, before it disappears inside; reaching your core.

You squeal when you feel him pinch your clit before he stroked small circles onto it.

“W-why?” You question, trying to free your hands from Aegon's grip but he doesn't budge, but instead watches with amusement as his brother's hand brings out such reactions from you, you whimper as Aemond's finger travels down your slit and to your opening.

“It's my duty as his older brother.” Aegon replies nonchalantly, Aegon loosens his grip momentarily, changing his grip so he can hold both of your hands in one of his. His free hand lifts your chemise up, as he peeks from over your shoulder to see what his brother's hand was doing to your cunt, he chuckles mockingly when he sees your juices dripping from in between your legs.

“Look at her leaking yeah? Her cunt is literally weeping.” Aegon comments and you clench your eyes shut because of the humiliation you are feeling, your husband is parading you out like a whore for his younger brother, and Aemond— whom you've thought of so highly— is letting this happen while participating in the act.

You gasp when you feel one of Aemond's finger enter you, your walls tightly clamping around his finger which makes him grunt, “Fuck you're squeezing my fingers.” He breathlessly says. Aemond suckles on your neck, biting your sensitive spot which makes you whimper. Aegon finally lets go of your hands and then holds you by your waist before rubbing his cock against your ass.

Aemond's finger trail over the spongy spot inside of you, that makes you let out a moan and he takes note of this and presses against that area that causes you to tremble in pleasure, your hands fly up to his shoulders to balance yourself, though you knew you wouldn't fall, Aegon was holding from behind after all.

You were trapped between these two men, both of them peppering kisses on the opposite sides of your neck making you feel dizzy so you rest your head on Aegon’s shoulder, revealing more of your neck for the men to claim.

Aemond adds another finger inside you, stretching you out whilst providing you pleasure, his fingers skillfully grazing your spongy spot, constantly hitting it with precision.

You didn't even feel your peak approaching; it was ripped out of you so suddenly, you let out a loud moan of Aemond's name, clenching onto his shoulders extremely tightly, tears streaming down your cheeks at the intensity of your peak. Aegon's warm tongue glides over your face, collecting your tears on his tongue and licking at them.

You feel Aemond pull his fingers out of you, and you watch with hooded eyes as he puts them in his mouth, licking your essence up before he hums in delight, before pressing a kiss to your lips, making you taste yourself.

You are surprised when you are pulled away from him by Aegon, he lifts you up hurriedly and carries you over to the bed before harshly throwing you on it, he is quick to undress, taking off his breeches and undergarments, getting completely naked and harshly grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

His hands rip apart your chemise in a hurry, before he forcefully spreads apart your legs and positions himself in between, he gives you no warning before roughly shoving himself inside you, that make you slightly shriek in pain but eventually the pain fades, he moves in and out of you fast paced, ramming into your hole with such an intensity that it has you seeing stars.

“Are you jealous?” Aemond taunts Aegon and Aegon rolls his eyes, “No, I just couldn't hold back anymore, I've missed her cunt so much.” He replies to the taunt and Aemond chuckles, undoing his own breeches, freeing his cock from its confines. “Can I use her mouth?” He asks Aegon and Aegon grunts, “Do whatever the fuck you want with her.” he thrusts brutally into you.

You feel the space next to your head sink and you look over slightly only to be face to face with Aemond's cock, it forms a shadow over your face under the candle lights, you gasp when you see it physically throb. You've never seen that before.

He uses that slight opening as a chance, hooking his thumb in your mouth and spreading your mouth open before pushing his cock inside your mouth, you are taken aback by this and try to pull away but Aemond holds your head in place before shoving himself inside your mouth further, his tip caresses the back of your throat, which makes you gag on his cock, but that only further provides additional pleasure as he groans.

“Seven hells—” Aemond grumbles, his hand hold your hand as he thrusts into your mouth, thumb caressing the outline of his cock that forms in your throat when he pushes as the way, your eyes well up with tears and soon you're panting for air that makes you involuntarily suck on his cock, Aegon's thrusts from downwards make your body jolt upwards, taking more of Aemond's cock.

Aemond suddenly pulls out which makes you suck a sharp breath automatically, “Easy there sweetheart.” Aemond coos and you pant heavily staring at him with doe eyes, “I'll shove it once again alright? Breathe— through your nose— fuckkk.” Aemond instructs as he shoves his dick inside your mouth again, but this time you're prepared so you follow his instructions.

You hollow your cheeks which makes him grunt in satisfaction, “Good girl.” Aemond compliments you, which causes your cunt to clench around Aegon's cock, to which he responds by a chuckle, “Guess she liked that brother, she's squeezing the fuck out of me.” Aegon talks to his brother and Aemond hums in response, Aegon's thrusts speed up, that constantly hit your sweet spot, he bends forwards and takes one of your breast in your mouth, suckling on the nipple and soon– beads of white droplets begin to come out, directly into his mouth that makes him suck more harshly, enjoying the taste of your sweet milk.

“She's lactating? Fuck I wanna have a taste.” Aemond moans, noticing how the milk started to drip from the sides of Aegon's mouth.

Aegon's tip constantly caresses your spongy part, which causes something to tighten in your stomach before it eventually snaps, causing you to cry out in ecstasy and choke on Aemond's dick.

The sensation of your throat tightening around his cock makes Aemond finish as well, he shoots his load down your throat which you have no option but to swallow, and soon— Aegon is finishing inside, painting your inner walls white.

He pulls out immediately after, falling forward onto you and positioning you in such a way that he is able to suckle more, Aemond joins him soon after; shuffling and turning down to take your free breast into his mouth.

You couldn't help but whine as the two brothers suckled on each of your breasts, your recent high made you even more susceptible to sensitivity, yet you couldn't help but caress their heads gently, Aemond clamped his teeth down on to your nipple hardly which made you wince; but he later soothed the area with the wetness of his tongue. Aegon on the other hand was more careful to not graze his teeth against your sensitive buds, only using his tongue and swirling it around your swollen bud.

Aemond let's go with a wet pop, cleaning up the milk and sat up straight before tugging you, this displeased Aegon who wasn't done yet, but he had to let go, Aegon watches as Aemond settles in between your legs before he crawls down, by then Aegon had already caught on to what he was doing, and assisted him by holding you against his chest, your back pressed against him tightly, meanwhile you on the other hand; had no idea what Aemond was about to do.

“Aemond what are you— huh? Ahhh!—” You ended up squealing in surprise when you felt him place his wet tongue on your clit— you tried to shut your legs from the embarrassment but Aegon held them open— so you could only watch helplessly as Aemond gave kitten licks to your clit, which undoubtedly made you feel pleasure.

He licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit before fully engulfing it in his mouth, sucking on the flesh as if he's starving, Aegon's cock is already beginning to harden again as he witnessed such a depraved act.

Aemond groaned when he felt Aegon's seed in his mouth — which he sucked out of you — but he didn't let it stop from devouring you, his tongue licked through your folds before he sucked on your clit and let go of it with a pop before repeating the motion all over again, you unknowingly pushed his face further into your cunt, which made him moan knowing how desperate you were for him, the moan caused additional vibrations which sent pleasure through your body in waves.

You rested your head on Aegon's shoulder as you watched Aemond continue his ministrations, Aegon turned your head slightly before he connected his lips with yours and you moaned into the kiss.

The familiar feeling of the tightness began to form in your stomach again and you break the kiss with Aegon and start to hump Aemond's face involuntarily; trying to just desperately reach your high.

“You're such a fucking whore do you know that? You look so desperate humping your face against his face.” Aegon coos meanly into your ear and you whine, staring at him with teary eyes and he smirks meanly, pulling your hair harshly, “Whore.” He degrades you and your bottom lips tremble as you are about to start crying, but you aren't able to when your peak hits you at the same moment, making you moan in pleasure instead.

Aegon mockingly smiles at you, “Here I thought that you were a prim and proper lady, hell— you don't even let me do these things to you, but maybe my judgement was wrong, maybe you're a whore from the silk street disguised as a lady.” He accuses you meanly, you shake your head no at his accusation while trying to calm down from your high.

Aemond doesn't say anything to that, but simply sits up, and shifts positions once again, pulling you off Aegon and onto his lap instead, you cry onto his shoulders and he simply coos at you, he caresses your hair to calm you down, “Goodness brother, you've made her cry.” Aemond sneers at Aegon who just shrugs his shoulders. “I've only stated what I've observed.” He replies and you whimper.

“All of that aside— do you think she can take us both? In one hole.” Aegon speaks before Aemond could come up with a response and you furrow your brows, and Aemond is lost deep in thought, “We'll have to test it out.” Aemond responds and you push back, immediately staring at him wide eyes but Aemond just pecks your lips.

He lays down, taking you along with him, one hand holding you against him while the other is grabbing your hips and sinking you down on his boner, you bite your lip at the delicious stretch, you're in a position where Aegon can clearly see your pussy stretching around Aemond's cock. Aegon straddles Aemond's knees and lines his cock against your entrance and you turn your head back to see what he was doing, his cock bumped with Aemond's before he found a slight opening to shove his cock into the same hole. “Ah—!” You let out a squeal from pain as you feel his tip intruding and stretching you far than you're capable of taking.

Aegon grows frustrated, not being able to enter his cock fully inside you as your walls clamp down, resisting furthermore intrudence, however that only makes Aemond's pleasure elevate as your walls squeeze him tightly.

“Fuck this, I'm taking her from the rear.” Aegon gives up pushing his cock inside you, you gasp when you feel his thumb poking and pushing inside your puckered hole on your behind. You cover your face with your hands ashamed but Aemond pulls them away before crunching upwards to kiss you on the lips.

Aegon collects your wetness that's dripping from your cunt and smears it on your slightly stretched out hole before doing the same with his cock and lining the tip with the entrance and slowly pushing it inside.

“Ahh— Aegon— wait– I don't think— hgh!” You squeal once his fully settles inside you, and you couldn't help but tremble from the burn of the stretch as he slowly started to move, tears streamed down your face when you felt Aemond move too.

You were feeling highly humiliated, how your dignity has now been sullied, though this encounter wouldn't get out; you knew you wouldn't be able to see Aemond in the same light again, you'd always think about this day whenever you'd encounter him, a dirty little secret you'll have to keep hidden from the realm.

You are pulled from your thoughts with a sharp thrust from both of them penetrating you, you couldn't stop it but moans slipped from your mouth like prayers, you gasped and choked while calling out their names, the position; the act; the pleasure and humiliation you were feeling all combined made you feel hot, and to your horror, the pain began to subside leading you to enjoy this act.

You clinged onto Aemond as the brothers both rammed into you at such a fast pace that made you see stars, you clenched your eyes shut at the new sensations they were making you feel, and soon you're moving in rhythm along with them.

“Fuck fuck fuck I'm gonna cum.” Aegon grunts, his thrusts eventually becoming sloppy, “Me too.” You tell him and Aemond takes that as a cue to thrust faster into you, his hips ramming against you, the sound of flesh slapping rapidly fills the room.

Once again, you're blinded by the pleasure that was ripped from you, you came with a loud moan just as simultaneously as Aegon did, he pulled out and came on your back, he couldn't help but watch in awe as his seed dripped down onto your ass cheeks.

Aemond's pace became slow and messy, indicating that he was near too, “I'm gonna cum inside you, get you pregnant alright? This time you'll carry my child, not Aegon's. I'll make sure of it.” He grunts out mindlessly, pressing you down tightly to his chest, and Aegon just snickers. “Only time will tell, Brother.” Aegon replies snarky.

And with that, Aemond finishes inside you, shooting his seed far up into your walls, and you just nod silently, processing his words, his grip loosens after he finishes you fall off him and onto the bed, and soon Aegon collapses tiredly as well.

You hoped silently, that this would be the last of it, and that you'll not have to do this again, though it was enjoyable— it was humiliating, you were not that kind of lady that indulges in such depravity, maybe you'll be able to forget this and move on as if it never happened.

You prayed to the gods desperately.

But the gods are cruel.

Such encounters became frequent, Aegon and Aemond were enjoying it too much to stop, and soon you eventually got used to the routine, yet you couldn't help but feel guilty when you'd go to the sept with Alicent, when she prays that Aemond can find a good match, when she talks about the proposals that came for Aemond to you, unbeknownst to the fact that her son was constantly fucking you and was way too obsessed with you to let go of you and marry another woman.

He'd began fuck you without Aegon being involved and when you told Aegon about it, he simply shrugged furthermore simply allowing him to do so, telling you that it was his duty as a brother to let Aemond have the things he wants, the very same excuse he used during the first time.

“So, what do you think about Floris Baratheon? Do you think she's a good match for you?” Alicents voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you stare at her, who is addressing Aemond, who seemed to be as disinterested as ever.

“She's decent.” He replies shortly before he turns his gaze to you, and you immediately avoid it, staring at Alicent instead who sighs in annoyance, soon; the feeling of stickiness between your legs—which you've tried to ignore— becomes more imminent the longer he stares at you.

And guilt overwhelms you, you didn't know why you were even joining this meeting with Alicent, you –infact– hated it, knowing that moments prior to this, you were fucking Aemond in the secret hallways of the keep.

And that his seed was currently dripping out of you.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

[faebled-stories]

The Longest Month

Kinkvember Day 30: Orgasm Control/NNN

Kiss of life Natty (Anatchaya Suputtipong) x Male reader

21.8k words

AN: Last day of Kinkvember 🥹🥹 (might be a little rough on the editing, please forgive me)

Halloween night was alive with excitement. The crisp autumn air carried the sound of laughter, music, and the occasional howl of costumed revelers. Porchlights flickered over carved pumpkins, their grins twisted and glowing, while the streets buzzed with groups hopping from one party to the next. Inside your home, though, the atmosphere was calm and quiet, a comforting contrast to the chaos outside.

Natty stood by the door, dressed casually in fitted jeans and a snug sweater, her hair tied back in a way that framed her face perfectly. She smiled as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder. "I’m heading out with the girls," she said, her tone light and cheerful. "Just a little Halloween fun, nothing wild."

You nodded, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you stepped closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Have fun,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “Call me if you need anything.”

She grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before slipping out the door. The soft click of it closing behind her left the house quiet again. For a while, you settled into the stillness, content to let the evening pass uneventfully. The trust between you was implicit—Natty had always been honest, and you’d always respected her freedom.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, an uneasy feeling began to creep in. It was subtle at first, a whisper of doubt that you tried to shake off. She’d said she was with her girlfriends. There was no reason to worry. Yet the stillness of the house suddenly felt heavy, oppressive, as if something was just slightly out of place.

The buzz of your phone snapped you out of your thoughts. You picked it up, your brow furrowing as you saw the name: a friend of yours who worked as a bartender downtown. Opening the message, your stomach tightened at the words.

“Didn’t know Natty was hitting the scene tonight. She’s here at Platinum—hard to miss in that outfit.”

You stared at the text, your mind racing. Platinum? She hadn’t said anything about going to a club. The unease bloomed into suspicion as you quickly typed back.

“What outfit?”

The response came almost instantly, and when you read it, the words landed like a punch.

“Catwoman vibes, but damn, man… It’s a lot. Skin-tight, zipper low, fake tail. People are definitely looking. ”

Your jaw clenched as you reread the message, disbelief and frustration battling for dominance. She hadn’t just gone somewhere else—she’d lied. And she was wearing something that sounded far removed from her usual playful confidence, something designed to draw attention. Strangers were ogling her.

You didn’t bother replying. The anger was cold and focused, sharpening your resolve as you grabbed your jacket. The night air bit at your skin as you stepped outside, but the chill only fueled the fire simmering in your chest. You didn’t rush, your stride purposeful as you made your way, thoughts churning.

The trust you’d built, the respect you’d shown her freedom—tonight, she’d crossed a line. And by the time you reached the glowing lights of the club, you knew exactly what needed to happen.

Platinum was everything you expected—a pulsing epicenter of energy, where music pounded through the walls and spilled onto the street. The air inside was heavy with heat, a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and perfume that clung to your skin. Strobe lights sliced through the crowd, casting fleeting glimpses of costumed bodies pressed together in a chaotic dance.

You pushed your way through the throng of people, your eyes scanning the crowd. And then you saw her.

Natty was on the dance floor, her body moving to the rhythm of the music. She wore a skintight black spandex one-piece, the zipper pulled low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. Fake cat ears perched on her head, and a thin decorative tail swayed with her movements. The outfit clung to her curves like a second skin, catching the light with every turn.

She was laughing, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, her lips parted as she threw herself into the moment. Strangers circled her, their eyes lingering too long, leaning in too close. She seemed utterly carefree, completely unaware of the storm brewing in you as you watched from the edge of the crowd.

She hadn’t told you about this. She hadn’t mentioned a club, or an outfit that looked like this. She had lied.

Your emotions churned—anger, disappointment, the sharp edge of control you always held carefully in balance. But you didn’t react impulsively. Instead, you moved through the crowd with purpose, your gaze fixed on her.

The crowd buzzed around her, bodies swaying in chaotic rhythm, the pulsing music drowning out everything else. Strobe lights flashed in bursts, illuminating her in snapshots—a vision of confidence and teasing allure. Her laughter was bright, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, as she leaned toward a stranger who was speaking too close. The low zipper of her costume shimmered under the lights, her every move a magnet for attention.

You stepped closer, your presence cutting through the sea of people. The noise and chaos dulled in your mind, every ounce of focus fixed on her. As you approached, she didn’t notice at first, lost in the moment, the music, and the hazy buzz in her veins. But when you reached out and tapped her shoulder, everything shifted.

She turned to you, her laughter faltering. Wide eyes met yours, the realization hitting her instantly. The flush of the alcohol drained from her face, replaced by something colder—guilt, fear, and the dawning understanding of exactly what was happening. The crowd around her seemed to fade into the background, her focus locked entirely on you.

Her lips parted as though she might say something, but no words came. She froze, her body stiff, the haze of alcohol lifting just enough to make the weight of the situation clear.

“We’re going home,” you said, your voice low and steady, cutting through the music with effortless authority.

The words were simple, but their effect was immediate. Her mouth snapped shut, and she nodded quickly, her head dipping in quiet submission. You didn’t wait for her to respond further. Without another word, you turned and began walking toward the exit, not sparing her another glance, not even taking her wrist to guide her. You didn’t need to. You knew she’d follow.

Behind you, her heels clicked against the sticky floor as she scrambled to keep up, weaving through the crowd. No one around her seemed to notice the shift in her demeanor, but you could feel it. The weight of her guilt, her submission, radiated in every hurried step as she followed you out of the club without needing to be told twice.

The crisp night air hit like a slap, the stark contrast to the heat and chaos inside. It was quieter out here, the muffled thump of the music still audible but distant. The autumn chill bit at your skin, but you barely noticed. Natty stayed close, her head bowed, her breath visible in the cold air. Her fake cat ears tilted slightly to one side, askew and crooked, as if even they reflected her subdued state.

She didn’t speak, and neither did you. The silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating, a clear signal that words weren’t needed. You led the way to the car, your steps purposeful, your jaw tight. Natty trailed behind, her head low, her shoulders hunched slightly as though trying to shrink under the weight of her own guilt. It wasn’t just her steps that were submissive—it was everything about her now, the way her presence shrank under your unwavering authority.

When you reached the car, your movements were calm, almost mechanical. You walked to her side, your expression neutral as you opened the passenger door for her. She hesitated for just a moment, her wide eyes flicking up to yours, searching for some indication of what you were feeling. But you gave her nothing, your face a mask of quiet control.

She slipped into the seat silently, her body tense as her hands fidgeted with the hem of her costume. The door closed behind her with a soft thud, and the stillness inside the car was oppressive. You moved around to the driver’s side, sliding in and gripping the wheel, but you didn’t start the car right away. Instead, you stared ahead, your jaw set as your thoughts churned.

From the corner of your eye, you could see her shift uncomfortably. Her breathing was uneven, her fingers gripping the fabric of her costume tightly as though it could anchor her. It was clear she was waiting, bracing herself for the storm to come. But you didn’t say a word. You let the silence stretch, thick and heavy, the weight of what had happened settling deeper over both of you.

Finally, you turned the key, the engine rumbling to life. The car pulled out onto the street, the bright lights of the club fading quickly into the rearview mirror. The ride home was long, the silence between you stretching like a taut wire, ready to snap. She glanced at you occasionally, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak, to explain, but she stopped herself each time. The tension in the air was suffocating, every unspoken word weighing her down further.

You didn’t look at her. Your gaze stayed fixed on the road, your hands gripping the wheel tightly. Her silence told you everything. She knew she had crossed a line, knew the trust you’d placed in her had been broken. And now, for the first time tonight, it seemed she understood—she wasn’t just caught. She was yours, completely.

When you arrived home, the quiet of the house was almost deafening. The faint hum of the fridge, the soft click of the front door as it shut behind you, even her hesitant footsteps on the hardwood floor—all of it felt amplified against the heavy stillness. She lingered near the entryway, her body stiff, her hands clenching at her sides. You didn’t say anything, your expression unreadable as you walked toward the living room.

Settling into the couch, you glanced at her, your eyes sharp and commanding. The weight of your gaze was enough to draw her forward, her body moving instinctively as though compelled. She sank to her knees in front of you, the skintight material of her costume creaking softly with her movement. The faint glimmer of the fabric caught the low light of the room, but her focus was entirely on you.

Her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her breaths came shallow and uneven as she knelt there, waiting for your words, knowing that whatever came next would be entirely in your hands.

The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive. You leaned back slightly, your arms crossed, letting her squirm under the weight of your gaze. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. The subtle tilt of her cat ears seemed to mirror the unease radiating off her as she knelt before you, unable to meet your eyes.

“Explain,” you said finally, your voice low and sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Her head snapped up for just a moment, her wide, guilty eyes meeting yours before darting away again. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I didn’t think you’d let me go if I told you about the party. I thought you’d get mad about the outfit, about the people—so I lied.”

Her hands moved restlessly, fidgeting at the zipper of her costume, the nervous gesture small but telling. Her shoulders were tense, her entire posture shrinking under the intensity of your silence. She hesitated before speaking again, her voice growing quieter, more fragile. “It didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t… trying to hide anything important.”

You let the words hang in the air, your expression unchanging as she squirmed. Her breathing hitched, her body trembling slightly as the weight of your silence pressed down on her. Her lip quivered, and she blinked rapidly, clearly fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

“That’s not the point,” you said finally, your voice cold and deliberate. “It’s not about the outfit. It’s not about the party. It’s about trust. And you broke it.”

Her shoulders slumped further, her head bowing again as the full weight of your words hit her. She nodded faintly, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” The words were fragile, so faint you almost missed them, and yet they carried the guilt and regret that were written across her face.

“When,” you asked, leaning forward slightly, “have I ever not let you go anywhere?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and glassy. The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, she stared at you as though searching for the answer herself. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

“When have I forbidden you from wearing the most revealing outfits?” Your voice softened slightly, but the disappointment still lingered in your tone. “When, Natty? Tell me.”

Her lips trembled, and her gaze dropped to her lap. “You haven’t,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it barely reached you.

You nodded slowly, letting the truth sink in for her. “Exactly. I’ve always let you make your own choices. Always given you permission. And yet, you still lied to me. Why?”

The tears she had been holding back finally spilled, rolling down her flushed cheeks. “I… I don’t know,” she choked out, her hands gripping the hem of her costume tightly. “I was stupid. I didn’t want you to be mad, and I—” She broke off, her voice cracking under the weight of her guilt. “I’m sorry.” The words were fragile, so faint you almost missed them, and yet they carried the guilt and regret that were written across her face.

You sighed deeply, letting the moment stretch, the weight of her guilt hanging between you like a tangible presence. Her fidgeting hands, the way her eyes darted to the floor, her lips trembling with barely spoken words—it all told you that she knew the gravity of what she’d done. And yet, the lesson needed to be clear. Trust wasn’t just something taken lightly in your dynamic; it was the foundation upon which everything else rested.

You considered your options carefully, your mind cycling through potential punishments, discarding each one almost as quickly as it appeared. Something physical? No, that wouldn’t linger in the way you needed it to. Silence? Distance? Those would create tension, but not the kind that would truly drive the lesson home. Then, like a light flickering on, the perfect answer surfaced—a punishment so fitting it almost seemed like the universe had handed it to you on a silver platter.

No Nut November.

The trend was a joke to most, a playful challenge making its rounds on the internet. But for Natty, it would be anything but playful. You knew her intimately, perhaps better than she even knew herself. Her teasing confidence, her constant craving for closeness, her love for release—it was part of who she was. Denying her that for an entire month wasn’t just a punishment. It was a torment. Something she would dread deeply and feel every moment of every day. And the timing was flawless.

Your lips curved into a faint smirk as you settled your gaze on her. She hadn’t dared to meet your eyes, her hands twisting nervously at the hem of her skirt as though trying to anchor herself. You let the silence stretch, letting the weight of the moment build until it felt almost suffocating. Then, your voice broke the stillness, calm and deliberate.

“If you’d been honest,” you began slowly, your tone measured, each word sinking deep, “I would have let you go. I wouldn’t have cared about the outfit, the party, or the people. But you lied, Natty. And now, there are consequences.”

Her head snapped up, her wide, fearful eyes locking onto yours. You saw the desperation there, the faint tremor in her lower lip as her mind raced to catch up with your words. “Consequences?” she echoed, her voice barely more than a whisper, the word trembling on her lips as though she were afraid to give it shape.

You straightened in your seat, the decision crystallizing as you delivered it with calm finality. “You’re going a month without cumming,” you said simply. “Starting now.”

Her reaction was immediate. She flinched as though struck, her lips parting in shock, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. “A… a month?” she stammered, her voice pitching higher, the disbelief and panic unmistakable. “No—please, no. I’ll do anything else. Just not that—please!”

You raised a hand, the gesture silencing her instantly. Her mouth snapped shut, her breath catching audibly as her wide eyes remained locked on you, pleading silently. “No exceptions,” you said firmly, your voice steady, brooking no argument. “This isn’t just about the lie. It’s about trust. Trust needs to be earned back.”

For a moment, she was frozen, her chest heaving as she stared at you, her mind clearly working to process the weight of what you’d said. Then, slowly, the fight seemed to drain out of her. Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze dropped to the floor. The first tears shimmered in her eyes, catching the light, but she held them back with visible effort.

Her voice was small, trembling with guilt and something deeper—fear. “I… I understand,” she whispered, the words fragile and full of resignation.

“Good.” Your tone softened just slightly, enough to let her know you weren’t angry anymore, though the weight of your authority remained. “Go to the bedroom. We’re done here.”

She stood slowly, her movements hesitant and stiff, as though her body were fighting against her mind’s compliance. The faint click of her heels on the hardwood floor was the only sound as she retreated down the hallway. Her posture was smaller than usual, her confident aura replaced by something subdued, vulnerable. There was no defiance in her steps, no attempt to bargain further—only quiet acceptance of her fate.

As she disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of rustling sheets filtering back to you, you let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair. The tension in your chest eased slightly, replaced by a calm satisfaction. You weren’t angry anymore. This wasn’t about revenge or punishment for its own sake. It was about re-establishing the foundation that held everything together—trust.

You sank into the couch, the weight of the moment settling over you like a heavy blanket. The balance you’d struck was delicate, but you knew it was necessary. Natty needed this, not just to understand the gravity of her actions but to grow from it. Deep down, you knew she would.

-----

The first few days passed in an uneasy stillness. The house, once filled with Natty’s teasing comments and playful laughter, now seemed quieter, the air heavier. Her usual spark had dimmed, her presence muted in a way that was both unfamiliar and telling. She moved through the rooms carefully, her steps softer, her gaze lowered whenever she passed you. It wasn’t fear—far from it. It was something deeper: submission edged with guilt.

She stayed busy, as though keeping her hands occupied would prevent her thoughts from spiraling. She fetched your coffee before you asked, setting it down with a barely audible, “Here you go.” She folded blankets that didn’t need folding, straightened things that were already straight, her hands fidgeting when there was nothing left to do. Her movements were deliberate, every action laced with a quiet hope that her obedience might earn her reprieve.

When she thought you weren’t watching, she allowed herself quick glances in your direction, her eyes searching for any hint of forgiveness. But when you met her gaze, her expression flickered, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks warming. She brushed against your side tentatively in passing, her fingers grazing your arm or shoulder as if testing the waters. Each time, you remained composed, offering no indication that her efforts were noticed.

The absence of reaction clearly unsettled her. For a moment, it almost seemed like she thought you’d forgotten about her punishment. But even then, the unspoken tension lingered between you, a quiet hum that grew louder with every passing hour.

By the third day, the shift in her behavior was undeniable. The subtle signs of restlessness began to creep in. She wrung her hands more often, her fingers twisting and untwisting as she tried to channel her growing nervous energy. When she sat, her knees bounced slightly, her body refusing to stay still. Her cheeks flushed more frequently, a faint pink that deepened whenever you entered the room. She wasn’t fully aware of it yet, but the need was beginning to stir—a slow, creeping sensation she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

It was most evident when you were close to her. In the kitchen, as you stood near her to reach for something, she froze momentarily, the proximity sending a jolt through her. Her breath hitched, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to keep them occupied with a dish she was already drying.

“Something wrong?” you asked casually, your voice calm but pointed.

“N-no,” she stammered quickly, shaking her head. Her cheeks burned, and she turned away, her movements stiff as she set the dish down. She didn’t look at you, but the tension in her posture told you everything.

Later that evening, as you sat on the couch reading, she lingered in the doorway, clearly uncertain about what to do. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. When she finally stepped forward, she stopped a few feet away, her voice hesitant.

“Do you… need anything?” she asked softly, her words laced with hope.

You didn’t look up, turning a page instead. “No,” you said simply, your tone neutral.

Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she nodded, retreating back to the other room. The disappointment in her expression was brief, but it was there. You watched her go, noting the way her hands brushed against her thighs, as though grounding herself against the slow, creeping need she hadn’t yet put a name to.

As the hours stretched into night, the tension in her body became more visible. When she settled into bed, she shifted restlessly beneath the sheets, her breathing uneven. The faint sound of the fabric rustling was the only indication of her growing discomfort, but it was enough to bring a faint smirk to your lips. She wasn’t fully aware of it yet, but the punishment was beginning to take root. It was slow, deliberate, and exactly as it was meant to be.

Deep down, Natty must have known it too. But she clung to a fragile hope—a thought that if she waited long enough, if she behaved perfectly, you might let it pass without incident. It was wishful thinking, and you could see in her eyes that she already knew the truth.

It was late one evening, the kind of night where the house seemed to hum with a stillness that amplified every creak, every shift in the air. You stepped through the door, the long day weighing on your shoulders, your muscles tight with tension. The faint scent of Natty’s perfume greeted you before the soft shuffle of her footsteps reached your ears. She appeared in the entryway, her eyes bright but edged with a nervous energy that seemed to hover around her like a second skin.

Her smile was warm but hesitant, her hands clasped in front of her as if holding herself in place. She moved closer, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm as she reached for your coat. “Welcome home,” she murmured, her voice quieter than usual, almost cautious.

You nodded, a soft grunt of acknowledgment as you shrugged off your coat. The day’s weight still clung to you, the dull ache in your chest begging for rest. Before you could fully step past her, she moved again, her hand resting lightly on your chest. Then her lips brushed yours.

The kiss started soft, tentative—a whisper of warmth against the chill of the day. Her hands stayed light, one on your chest, the other grazing your shoulder, her body leaning in closer. For a moment, you let her, the subtle press of her mouth drawing you into the moment. She tasted faintly of mint, her lips warm and pliant as the kiss deepened.

She didn’t stop there. Her movements grew bolder, her body pressing flush against yours as her hands began to move. They trailed down to the edges of your collar, her fingertips brushing along your neck before drifting to the first button of your shirt. Her lips parted slightly, her breath mingling with yours, hot and heavy with quiet desperation. The faintest whimper escaped her throat as she tilted her head, pressing harder into the kiss, pouring everything into it.

You let her guide you toward the couch, her steps slow but deliberate. The kiss stayed connected, her lips never leaving yours as she coaxed you backward until the edge of the cushions met the back of your legs. You sank down, and she followed, her knees sliding on either side of your lap as she straddled you. Her hands moved more urgently now, gripping your shirt, her nails scraping lightly against the fabric as her hips shifted just enough to press her body closer.

She kissed you like she was unraveling, her fingers trembling slightly as she worked on the buttons of your shirt. Her breath came faster, her chest rising and falling against yours. For her, the rest of the world had disappeared—there was only you, the connection between you, and the fleeting hope that she could escape the boundaries you had set. Her need was palpable, her body leaning into yours with a quiet desperation that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

Then she reached for the hem of her shirt, her fingers curling around the loose fabric and tugging it upward slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of smooth skin. The motion was subtle, almost hesitant, but it carried with it an unspoken plea. It wasn’t calculated—just instinct, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between the quiet tension and the simmering need she felt.

And just like that, the moment shifted.

You pulled back, your movement deliberate, breaking the kiss with a soft, almost imperceptible sound. Her breath caught audibly, her lips hovering in the space where yours had been, the warmth of you replaced by a cool absence that felt more striking than any words you could have spoken.

Her eyes fluttered open, and her expression flickered with confusion. Slowly, realization dawned, her cheeks flushing as she started to pull back further. Before she could, you pressed a hand gently to her shoulder—not harsh, but firm enough to still her completely.

“You’re still on punishment,” you said, your tone calm and measured, like a quiet storm.

Her lips parted slightly, a faint sound escaping them, almost like an aborted protest. Her gaze darted downward, her fingers loosening their hold on your shirt. “I wasn’t—” she started, her voice faltering. “I just thought—maybe if…”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting as her words trailed off into nothing. The faint blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck, her hands falling limply into her lap. She took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady herself. “I didn’t mean to push,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

Your hand left her shoulder, and you leaned back slightly, studying her. The tension in her posture betrayed her unease, though she stayed seated in your lap, her legs tucked to either side of you. Her lips pressed together faintly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“You thought what?” you asked after a beat, your voice calm but edged with quiet authority. “That I’d just forget the boundaries I’ve set? That I’d let this slide?”

Her shoulders slumped slightly, her breathing uneven. “No,” she admitted softly. “I just thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d…” She didn’t finish the sentence, her words dissolving into silence.

You watched her carefully, the weight of your gaze enough to keep her still. After a moment, you guided her gently off your lap. She slid to the floor without resistance, her knees brushing the rug as she sank down in front of you. Her head dipped slightly, her posture shrinking as the realization of her overstep settled in.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice almost too quiet to hear.

You stood, the couch creaking softly as you rose. Without another word, you stepped past her, your movements calm and deliberate. The sound of your footsteps faded as you left her kneeling there, the room suddenly feeling much emptier than before.

She didn’t move, her knees rooted to the spot, her hands resting limply in her lap. Her lips still tingled faintly from the kiss, a reminder of what had been taken away. Even as she stared at the space where you’d been, she couldn’t shake the growing realization: this wasn’t just a punishment. It was a reminder that, no matter what she thought she wanted, you were still in control.

-----

The days stretched into weeks, each one blurring into the next as Natty’s punishment continued. She tried to keep herself busy, focusing on tasks that didn’t need doing—organizing drawers, folding laundry that didn’t need folding—but it wasn’t long before the edges of her composure began to fray. The need was slow, insidious, creeping into her thoughts in moments of stillness until it was all-consuming.

Her usual spark had dulled, replaced by a quiet, simmering tension that followed her everywhere. She hovered near you constantly, her movements soft but deliberate, as though being close to you might ease the ache inside her. Every time you passed, her breath caught, and her gaze lingered on you, her wide eyes betraying the growing desperation she tried so hard to keep hidden.

You caught her once standing in the doorway, her hand resting against the frame as she watched you from a distance. When your eyes met, she flushed, her lips parting as though to say something, but no words came. Instead, she turned away quickly, her shoulders tight with frustration, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing faintly through the quiet house.

But it wasn’t just the way she lingered. Her body betrayed her in other ways. The subtle tremor in her hands when she handed you your coffee, the way her fingers brushed against yours just a little too long, the way she bit her lip whenever you were close. She moved with an air of quiet submission, her every action laced with the unspoken hope that her obedience might draw you closer, might break the walls of the punishment you’d set.

You didn’t respond. You stayed composed, calm, offering no indication that you even noticed. And it drove her mad.

One evening, you stepped into the bedroom to find Natty perched on the edge of the bed. Her body was tense, shoulders hunched forward as though trying to fold into herself. In her hands, she clutched one of your shirts. The loose fabric was balled tightly, her knuckles whitening from the grip. She raised it to her face, burying her nose in it as her eyes fluttered closed. Her chest rose and fell in uneven, trembling breaths, the motion betraying her quiet desperation.

As she inhaled deeply, the faintest of shudders coursed through her body. The scent was faint but unmistakable—yours. It seemed to wrap around her, filling her senses with a comfort that only deepened the ache inside her. Her fingers curled tighter around the shirt, her grip almost possessive, as though letting go would sever her last tether to reality.

Her mind was a swirl of emotion. The warmth of your scent grounded her, but it also made her keenly aware of how much she missed you, how much she craved what she’d been denied. The ache in her chest spread downward, settling low in her belly, where it twisted and coiled into something almost unbearable. She didn’t know if the shirt soothed her or made the longing worse. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop herself.

Her lips parted slightly, a soft, shaky exhale escaping as she took another deep breath. The blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck and ears, as her thoughts spiraled. She hated how much she needed this—how much she needed you. The vulnerability stung, but she couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop herself from clinging to the one thing that made her feel closer to you.

“Natty.”

Your voice cut through the quiet like a blade, sharp and firm. Her head snapped up instantly, her wide eyes locking onto yours. The guilt hit her like a wave, and her hands jerked as though the shirt had suddenly burned her. It slipped from her fingers, falling to her lap, but the stain of her actions remained etched across her flushed features.

“I… I wasn’t—” she stammered, her voice cracking as she scrambled to her feet. Her hands fumbled at the fabric in her lap, twisting it nervously as her gaze darted to the floor. The crimson in her cheeks deepened, and her breathing turned uneven, a telltale sign of the storm raging inside her.

You didn’t move, your calm, steady presence only intensifying her discomfort. You didn’t need to say anything else. The silence pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. She bit her lip, her shoulders slumping as she lowered her head in submission. The weight of your authority hung in the air, undeniable and absolute, until it crushed what little resolve she had left.

For the rest of the week, the cracks in her composure deepened. She lingered near you constantly, finding excuses to hover in your space. When you moved from one room to another, she followed quietly, her steps soft but deliberate. She never said much, but her presence was loud enough. When you passed her, her hand would brush against you, just lightly, as though testing your reaction. When you stood still for too long, she drifted closer, her breath hitching every time you turned in her direction.

Her need became a part of everything she did. The way her eyes flicked toward you incessantly, searching for any sign of indulgence. The subtle way her body leaned toward yours instinctively, drawn by a gravitational pull she couldn’t fight. She stopped trying to hide it—her longing was written into every motion, every glance, every trembling breath.

By the second week, it consumed her completely. Her confidence crumbled under the weight of her desperation, leaving her raw and exposed. Even her voice, when she dared to speak, carried the faintest quaver, as though each word threatened to betray her. The ache was no longer confined to moments of stillness; it was a constant presence, burning beneath her skin, coiling low in her belly, and leaving her trembling.

-----

Natty sat at home one day, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, trying to distract herself from the relentless need that had consumed her for weeks. Her body felt like a tightly coiled spring, every small movement amplifying the ache that lingered low in her belly. The sound of her phone buzzing startled her, and she glanced at the screen.

"Bedroom by the time I’m home. Naked."

The simplicity of the message made her heart race. Her fingers gripped the phone tightly as she reread the words, the weight of your command settling over her like a heavy blanket. Her breath hitched, and a nervous tremor coursed through her. She didn’t even need to think—her body moved on instinct.

She stood quickly, her hands trembling as she began to undress. Each piece of clothing she removed felt like shedding a layer of protection, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. The cool air of the house kissed her bare skin, sending a shiver up her spine. By the time she reached the bed, her heart was pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

Kneeling, she positioned herself carefully, her body already quivering with a mix of nervous anticipation and lingering need. She rested on all fours, her breathing uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she waited. The silence of the house felt deafening, the seconds stretching into eternity. She couldn’t help the thoughts that raced through her mind: Would this be her release? Would you finally touch her, grant her the relief she craved? Or would this be another lesson in patience, another test of her endurance?

The sound of the front door opening made her freeze. Her breath caught, her body tensing as she listened to your deliberate movements. The faint rustle of your belongings being set down sent a thrill through her, each noise heightening her anticipation. She stayed perfectly still, her hands gripping the sheets lightly, her heart threatening to leap from her chest.

When your footsteps finally approached the bedroom, she felt the weight of your presence before you even spoke. The door opened, and your gaze swept over her. She didn’t dare lift her head, but she felt the heat of your eyes on her bare skin. Her body trembled under your scrutiny, the vulnerability making her both anxious and exhilarated.

“Stand up,” your voice broke the silence, calm but commanding.

She rose immediately, though her legs wobbled slightly as she obeyed. She felt utterly exposed under your watchful eyes, her arms twitching as though to cover herself, but she stopped. Your steady gaze and the faint shake of your head froze her in place. Her arms dropped to her sides, her fingers trembling as she fought the urge to shield herself.

“Bathroom,” you instructed, your tone firm and leaving no room for argument. “Stay still.”

Natty moved quickly, her bare feet making no sound as she positioned herself in the bathroom doorway. Her body was taut with nervous energy, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides as she worked to follow your command. Her breathing was already shallow, her lips parted, and her wide eyes tracked your every move.

You began to undress deliberately, unhurried, letting her watch. The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as you slid your shirt from your shoulders, revealing the defined lines of your chest. Her gaze clung to you, her lips pressing together as her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. When your hands moved to your belt, her eyes followed like a magnet, locking onto the motion with an intensity that sent a faint flush across her cheeks.

As you stepped out of your pants, she froze completely. Her gaze darted lower, landing on the growing outline beneath your boxers, and her breath caught audibly. She tried to pull her eyes away, but they kept flicking back, lingering with a desperation she could no longer hide. It was as though everything else in the room had vanished, her world narrowing to just you—your movements, your body, and the aching need she felt burning inside her.

You stepped into the shower without a word, the sound of water cascading over your skin breaking the silence. The steam began to fill the room, curling around her, but her attention never wavered. The glass doors left nothing to the imagination, and her eyes locked onto you again, trailing down your chest to your stomach, and then lower.

Her breathing grew heavier, each rise and fall of her chest more pronounced as her thighs shifted subtly. She pressed them together, a faint, instinctive movement that she clearly hoped would go unnoticed. But it didn’t. You saw every motion, every tremor that betrayed how much effort it took for her to stand still.

“Still,” you said, your voice firm but calm, cutting through the thick haze of her longing.

Her legs froze immediately, though her body trembled slightly with the strain of holding herself back. Her gaze flicked up to your face briefly, an almost guilty glance, before dropping again. It didn’t take long for her eyes to return to the same place, fixed on the growing evidence of your arousal.

The effort to control herself was evident in every line of her frame. Her hands flexed at her sides, her fingers curling and uncurling as though fighting the urge to reach out. Her lips parted again, a faint, shaky exhale escaping as her gaze remained fixed, unable to look away.

When you turned slightly, letting the water run down your back, she shifted almost imperceptibly. Her chest rose and fell quicker now, her thighs pressing together again, the motion more noticeable this time. The faintest glisten of sweat began to form on her skin, mixing with the steam around her, as though her body were reacting to a heat only she could feel.

After finishing your shower, you stepped out, wrapping a towel loosely around your waist. Her eyes followed the motion, flicking downward for just a second too long. When you reached for another towel to dry your hair, her gaze returned, locking onto the outline beneath the fabric.

Her breathing hitched audibly, and she swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. She wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore—her need radiated off her in waves, the desperation plain in the way her lips pressed together, her body trembling with restraint.

“Back to the bed,” you said, your tone steady.

She turned quickly, her body moving as though it could barely keep up with the frantic pace of her mind. Every step toward the bedroom echoed with the quiet desperation she could no longer hide. As she lay back on the bed, her movements were both eager and hesitant, her hands twitching at her sides as though fighting the urge to reach out and pull you closer. Her breathing was shallow, each inhale trembling slightly, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms.

When you joined her, her heart raced, the anticipation almost unbearable. Was this it? Had her obedience finally earned her a reprieve? The thought flickered through her mind like a fragile spark, and she clung to it desperately. Maybe this is his way of letting me off early, she thought. Maybe I’ve been good enough.

You didn’t speak, but the weight of your gaze on her was intoxicating. Her body reacted instinctively, her legs parting slightly as you shifted closer. When your hand started at her knee, trailing upward along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, her breath hitched audibly. Her thighs parted further, almost of their own accord, inviting your touch. Her skin quivered beneath your fingers, every nerve ending coming alive as you moved deliberately, your strokes maddeningly slow and controlled.

She bit her lip, a soft whine escaping her as her hips shifted slightly toward your hand, seeking more. Her need was evident now, radiating off her in waves, but the moment her movement betrayed her impatience, you stopped. Your eyes narrowed, and the sternness in your gaze was enough to freeze her in place.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and even.

The praise sent a visible shiver through her. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as her body reacted involuntarily. A faint sheen of wetness betrayed her growing arousal, glistening faintly in the dim light of the room. The ache inside her deepened, spreading like fire through her veins, and the thought of finally being allowed to release burned brighter in her mind.

Your fingers trailed closer, brushing along the edge of her folds with maddening precision. You never gave her exactly what she needed, staying just millimeters away, the teasing strokes pushing her closer to the edge without letting her fall. Her breaths grew shallow, her chest heaving as her back arched slightly off the bed.

She whimpered, the sound barely audible but filled with a desperation that was impossible to ignore. Her slickness spread, catching the light, her body leaking uncontrollably as her arousal built to a fever pitch.

And then, just as your fingers hovered over the place where her need was most concentrated, you pulled away.

The gasp that escaped her was almost a sob. Her hips jerked upward reflexively, as though her body couldn’t accept the sudden absence of your touch. Her eyes snapped open, wide and pleading, the longing in them unrestrained. She looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, her lips trembling as though she might beg. But the sternness in your gaze silenced whatever words she might have been about to say.

“Go to sleep,” you said, your voice calm and final.

Her heart sank, the weight of your command hitting her like a tidal wave. She stared at you for a long moment, her body frozen, her lips parting slightly as though to protest. But she caught herself, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she nodded shakily. Slowly, she sank back against the mattress, her body sinking into the sheets as though the effort to fight was too much.

You lay down beside her, the bed shifting slightly under your weight. The warmth of your body was close enough to feel but impossibly far from the relief she craved. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling in trembling rhythms as her legs shifted restlessly beneath the sheets. She pressed her thighs together, her hips rocking slightly in a futile attempt to ease the tension that burned through her like wildfire.

Her eyes fluttered closed, though she knew sleep would be impossible. Her body pulsed with frustration, every nerve ending alight with unfulfilled desire. She could still feel the ghost of your touch on her skin, the teasing brush of your fingers that had come so maddeningly close.

Beside her, you remained composed, your breathing calm, your presence steady and unattainable. The quiet was oppressive, the tension between you palpable as the minutes stretched into hours.

Her mind spiraled as reality sank in—this wasn’t relief. It wasn’t a reprieve. It was another lesson in control, another reminder of who held the power. And as her body burned with the ache of denial, the truth became inescapable: tonight wouldn’t bring her release. It would only deepen the longing that consumed her.

-----

The final week of November arrived, and Natty was barely holding it together. The days had grown heavier, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours as her body and mind simmered with unrelenting tension. The month-long denial had pushed her to her limits, leaving her restless and sensitive to every touch, every glance, every moment in your presence. This wasn’t just a punishment—it was a slow unraveling, and the last week felt like it might break her entirely.

By mid-afternoon, as she paced through the kitchen for the third time that day, her phone buzzed on the counter, cutting through the quiet. She grabbed it quickly, her heart giving a small jolt as she saw the group chat lighting up.

“Eclipse tonight! Drinks on me. You’re coming, right?” Belle’s message was followed by a string of emojis, the energy infectious even through the screen. Natty’s gaze lingered on the words as more messages poured in.

“You better not flake again, Natty!” Julie added with a laughing emoji.

“I’m wearing heels for the first time in a year for this. Be there. No excuses!” chimed Haneul.

The idea of going out with her friends, laughing and dancing the night away, was tempting. For a brief moment, she imagined herself letting loose, the music drowning out her thoughts, her body moving freely in the dim lights of the club. It sounded perfect—exactly what she needed.

And yet, something held her back.

Her gaze lifted from the phone to the living room, where you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone with your usual calm demeanor. She watched you for a moment, her chest tightening with a strange sense of unease. The thought of leaving the house, of being away from you, felt heavier than it should have. It wasn’t fear, exactly—more like a quiet, unshakable pull to stay near you, as though the distance would only amplify the ache she already felt.

Her phone buzzed again, breaking her thoughts. “Natty, don’t make me beg! 😘 Eclipse is calling your name!” Belle was relentless, as always.

Natty paced the kitchen, her fingers tightening around her phone as her thoughts churned. Her friends wouldn’t understand. They’d tell her she was overthinking it, that a night out was exactly what she needed. But they didn’t know what she was going through. They didn’t know how the last few weeks had left her raw and vulnerable, every nerve in her body on edge. And they didn’t understand the quiet, powerful pull that kept her close to you.

Summoning her courage, she stepped into the living room. “My friends want me to go out,” she said, her voice soft and uncertain.

You looked up briefly, meeting her gaze with an easy calm. “Sure,” you replied, your tone steady. “Go if you want.”

The simplicity of your answer caught her off guard. Her heart skipped a beat, her lips parting in surprise. She had expected… something else. Guidance, hesitation, maybe even a hint of disapproval. Instead, your response was so casual, so sincere, it left her more conflicted than ever.

“You’re… okay with it?” she asked, her tone cautious.

“Of course,” you said, your expression neutral. “If you want to go, you should.”

Natty blinked, caught between disbelief and confusion. Her gaze searched your face, looking for any trace of hesitation, but found none. The ease of your answer left her more conflicted than before, and a strange pang of guilt settled in her chest.

“Really? You don’t mind?” she pressed, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by her persistence. “I don’t mind, Natty. It’s your decision.”

She nodded slowly, retreating a few steps to sit on the chair across from you. Her phone buzzed again, her friends filling the group chat with plans for the night. Outfits, drinks, excitement—it was all there, pulling her in. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing out a reply only to erase it again.

She glanced back at you. “You’re… really okay with me going?” she asked again, her voice even softer this time.

You met her gaze evenly. “I said I was. It’s your call, Natty.”

The finality in your words settled over her like a weight. The decision was hers—fully, completely hers—and yet the idea of leaving felt wrong. Her chest tightened, her stomach knotting with a mix of frustration and longing she couldn’t quite place.

With a deep breath, she typed: “Can’t make it, sorry.”

Her finger hovered over the send button, the decision catching in her chest for just a moment before she pressed it. The message disappeared into the chat, and a strange mix of relief and frustration flooded her.

When she looked back at you, she couldn’t help but ask one last time, “You’re really not upset?”

You glanced at her, offering a faint, reassuring smile. “Not at all,” you said simply, returning your attention to your phone.

The sincerity in your tone surprised her, and she sank back into the chair, her phone now dark in her hand. The quiet buzz of the house resumed, but her mind was still spinning. She had made the decision herself—without pressure, without guidance—and as unsettling as that was, a small part of her felt… content.

The thought of staying near you, of not letting that distance grow, settled warmly in her chest. And as she sat there, the sound of your steady breathing grounding her, she knew she’d made the choice she truly wanted.

-----

The evening had settled in, darkness blanketing the world outside as the soft glow of a table lamp cast warm light across the living room. The house was quiet, a serene contrast to the distant hum of the night’s activity beyond the walls. You sat on the couch, lazily flipping through channels, the faint murmur of the television filling the stillness. The simplicity of the moment was grounding, a calm that belied the tension that had simmered between you and Natty over the past weeks.

She lingered in the doorway, hesitant but drawn to you, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand. She hadn’t left the house since your conversation, her friends’ messages still buzzing occasionally in the background, unanswered. Finally, gathering her courage, she stepped into the room, her footsteps soft against the hardwood.

You glanced up from the remote, your eyes meeting hers. Her expression was conflicted, a mix of vulnerability and determination. “Why didn’t you go with your friends?” you asked, your tone calm but curious.

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I…” Her voice faltered for a moment before she took a deep breath. “I just… didn’t feel like going,” she said, though the truth was far more layered. Her eyes darted away, betraying the nerves she tried to suppress.

Your gaze stayed steady, unyielding, as you leaned back slightly. “That’s not an answer, Natty,” you said, your voice firm but not unkind. “Tell me the truth.”

Her shoulders stiffened for a moment before she relented, her gaze flickering back to yours. “I wanted to stay here,” she admitted softly, her cheeks warming with a faint blush. “With you.”

The simplicity of her words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken until now. For a moment, you didn’t respond, letting the weight of her confession linger. Then, slowly, the faintest smile curved your lips, a warm, genuine expression that made her shoulders relax slightly.

“Come here,” you said, your voice steady but soft, a quiet command that carried more weight than the words alone. “Sit on my lap.”

Natty appeared almost immediately, her movements automatic, her body responding before her mind could process. She climbed onto your lap, her thighs straddling yours as she settled against you. The heat of her body radiated through her clothes, her breathing already shallow as your hands found her waist, grounding her.

Your hands didn’t linger long. They slid upward, brushing over the curve of her chest, and she gasped softly, her back arching slightly into your touch. There was no hesitation in the way you began to knead her, your fingers flexing firmly through the thin fabric of her shirt. She let out a soft whimper, her body reacting to every squeeze, her head tilting forward as though offering herself completely.

“Take it off,” you murmured, your voice low but firm.

Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. She discarded it to the floor, her chest now bare, rising and falling with her quickened breaths. The faint flush across her skin deepened as your eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch of her exposed form.

Your hands moved back to her now-bare chest, your palms warm against her skin as you groped her fully. She gasped again, louder this time, the sound breaking into a soft moan as your thumbs brushed over the sensitive peaks of her nipples. Her hips shifted instinctively against you, the motion subtle but telling, her body betraying the growing wetness between her legs.

Your lips followed your hands, pressing softly against her neck before trailing lower. The faint scent of her skin filled your senses, sweet and intoxicating as you kissed along her collarbone. She tilted her head back, giving you full access, her body trembling as your mouth continued its slow descent.

When your lips finally closed around one of her nipples, her reaction was immediate. She let out a sharp gasp, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her back arched. You alternated between gentle licks and firmer pressure, your tongue swirling in deliberate, teasing circles. Your other hand remained on her chest, squeezing and kneading with steady precision, while your thumb flicked against the neglected peak.

Her breathing grew erratic, her soft gasps turning into moans as her head tilted forward again, her lips brushing against your ear as she whimpered. “Please…” The word was barely audible, trembling with desperation as her body pressed closer to yours.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you bit down lightly, your teeth grazing against her nipple before soothing the skin with your tongue. Her whole body jolted, her thighs clenching around your lap as another moan escaped her lips. Your free hand slid lower, gripping her hip firmly to keep her steady as her movements grew more frantic.

The wetness between her legs became impossible to ignore, the faint sound of her arousal audible as her hips shifted against you. She was trembling now, completely lost in the moment, her body responding instinctively to every touch, every kiss, every firm squeeze of your hands.

“God,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as her nails raked lightly against your shoulders. “I can’t—”

“Shhh,” you murmured against her skin, your voice low and commanding. “You can.”

Your mouth returned to her chest, alternating between each peak, your tongue and teeth teasing her with perfect precision. She was leaking now, her arousal spreading across the thin fabric of her panties, soaking through to the point where you could feel the dampness against your lap.

Just as she seemed ready to tip over the edge, her hips pressing harder against you, her chest arching fully into your mouth, you pulled back.

The sudden absence of your touch left her gasping, her eyes snapping open in disbelief. Her lips parted, trembling as though she might beg, but the look in your eyes stopped her. Her body stilled, though her thighs continued to tremble, the tension coiling tighter inside her with every second of denial.

You leaned back into the couch, a faint smirk playing on your lips as you let your gaze linger on her flushed skin, the evidence of her arousal impossible to miss.

“You know what I want.” you said, your voice calm but edged with quiet authority. 

Her breath hitched audibly, her wide, hazy eyes meeting yours. There was no hesitation now. She shifted off your lap, her hands trembling slightly as they moved to your shorts. Her fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling them down slowly, her lips parting as her focus shifted entirely to you.

As the fabric slid away, revealing the full length of you, Natty's breath hitched audibly. Her gaze locked on you, her wide eyes taking in every inch with unabashed admiration. No matter how many times she saw you like this, she could never fully get over it—the sheer size, the thickness, the way it was always all for her. Her tongue darted out reflexively, wetting her lips as though in anticipation, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

The faint musk of your arousal filled the air, heady and intoxicating, and she inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Her thighs pressed together, an unconscious response to the ache that flared inside her. When her eyes opened again, they were darker, her pupils blown wide with longing, her lips trembling slightly as she leaned closer.

Her fingers hovered hesitantly before curling around your base, the warmth of her touch sending a faint tremor through her own body. She brought her face closer, her nose brushing lightly against you as she took in your scent again, the rawness of it making her exhale shakily. It consumed her thoughts, every nerve ending alight as the need within her grew unbearable.

For a moment, she lingered there, caught in the haze of her desire, her tongue hovering just above you. Her nails bit softly into your thigh as her other hand rose to her chest, cupping the soft weight of her breast. Then, as though steeling herself, she straightened slightly, her fingers squeezing her softness as she pressed her chest together.

Tilting her head, she let a long string of spit fall onto your shaft, the warm slickness trailing down slowly. Her movements were deliberate, unhurried, each moment stretching with intent as her hands guided her breasts to encase you. The soft, pliant warmth of her skin enveloped your length, her grip firm but yielding as she began to move.

Up and down, her chest stroked along you in a smooth, rhythmic motion, the slickness making every movement glide effortlessly. Her breaths grew heavier, her lips parting as a faint sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. Glancing up, she caught your gaze, her expression a mix of eagerness and awe.

You exhaled deeply, the faintest hint of a groan escaping your lips, and the sound sent a shiver rippling through her. The reaction was electric—Natty’s pace quickened, her movements more determined as her confidence grew. She pressed her breast more firmly against you, adjusting her angle slightly, the friction amplifying the sensations with every pass of her soft skin.

Each brush of her curves against your length elicited a flicker of pleasure across your face, and the sight of it spurred her on. The faint flush that painted her cheeks deepened as her own arousal grew with each passing second. She could feel the dampness between her thighs spreading, the sticky warmth soaking her panties, making the fabric cling to her skin uncomfortably. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, seeking relief she couldn’t allow herself, but she didn’t stop. She wouldn’t. This was for you.

Leaning lower, she brought her face closer, her warm breath ghosting across your tip. Her lips brushed against you, feather-light, a teasing touch that made her breath hitch. For a brief moment, she hovered there, as if savoring the anticipation, before parting her lips and taking the head into her mouth. Her tongue flicked out, circling in slow, deliberate movements that sent jolts of sensation through you. All the while, her chest continued its rhythmic motion, enveloping you in warmth and softness.

Her lips worked in tandem with her breasts, creating an intoxicating combination of sensations. The wet heat of her mouth, the slick pressure of her curves, the eager swirl of her tongue—it was almost overwhelming. Her pace grew more fervent, the urgency in her actions reflecting your mounting tension. She could feel your body responding, the slight tensing of your thighs beneath her hands, the subtle shift in your breathing as it became uneven.

Her own breathing quickened, her moans muffled around your shaft as her arousal reached a fever pitch. Each motion, each sound you made, fueled her further, her movements becoming bolder. She pushed herself harder, faster, the rhythm of her chest and the pressure of her lips in perfect sync. Her thighs quivered, her body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

You groaned deeply, the sound low and primal, vibrating through the air as your hips bucked slightly in response to her movements. Your hands gripped the couch tightly, the pleasure cresting as your breathing turned ragged. “I’m cumming,” you growled, your voice thick with urgency, each word a raw admission of the overwhelming sensation.

Natty’s eyes flicked up to you briefly, her pupils blown wide as she heard the words. A soft, needy whimper escaped her lips, her movements quickening as if she wanted to savor every moment of your release. Her arousal was palpable now, radiating off her in waves. She could feel the wetness between her thighs pooling, soaking through the thin fabric of her panties as the ache inside her reached a fever pitch.

Your body tensed, and the first thick rope of warmth hit her face, splashing across her cheeks and lips. She gasped softly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation registered. Her lips parted, and her breath hitched audibly, her chest rising and falling as the heat of it spread across her skin.

The next wave followed, coating her chest in hot streaks that dripped slowly downward. The sheer amount startled her, her hands faltering momentarily as she adjusted, her fingers instinctively brushing through the mess. Her body reacted instinctively, her thighs pressing together as another involuntary wave of arousal coursed through her. The heat radiating from her own skin was unbearable, her breath shaky as she let out another quiet, trembling moan.

Her chest glistened in the dim light, streaks of your release tracing down to her stomach. The sticky warmth clung to her skin, vivid and undeniable, a testament to how much you had been saving up for her. She trembled under the weight of the moment, her lips parting as she whispered faintly, “Oh my God…” Her voice was soft, filled with a mix of awe and desperation, her gaze dropping to the glistening mess on her chest.

Her hands trembled as they moved, brushing lightly over her curves, smearing the sticky remnants across her skin. The sight only heightened the ache inside her, her thighs quivering as she shifted slightly, her soaked panties clinging to her skin. The desperate need for relief surged again, her body reacting as if the mere act of pleasing you had amplified her own longing tenfold.

You leaned back into the couch, your breathing heavy but steadying as you watched her. A faint smirk played at the corner of your lips, your eyes taking in the sight of her—kneeling before you, her chest heaving, her skin glistening with evidence of your release. She looked wrecked, raw, and utterly yours.

“Clean yourself up,” you said finally, your voice calm but carrying a quiet authority that sent another shiver down her spine.

Her gaze flicked downward, her lips parting slightly as she took in the sight of herself. Thick streaks of your release marked her chest and face, the warmth of it clinging to her skin like a brand. Her hands trembled as they moved upward, her fingertips brushing against her cheek where the first streaks had landed. She paused for a heartbeat, her breath catching in her throat as her fingers lingered.

Then, with deliberate intent, she brought her fingers to her lips. The movement was slow, almost reverent, her eyes fluttering closed as she slipped them into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around each digit, savoring the taste, rich and unmistakable. A soft, audible gulp followed as she swallowed, her breath hitching as the act only deepened the simmering heat coursing through her.

Her hands moved lower, cupping her chest, her fingers gliding over the slickness streaked across her skin. The warmth was still there, a visceral reminder of your dominance. She leaned forward slightly, her breath shallow and uneven as she began to clean herself. Her fingers gathered the remnants, smearing it slightly before bringing it to her lips again. Her movements were unhurried, each touch deliberate, each taste sending a shiver down her spine.

She shifted slightly, lifting one breast toward her mouth. Her tongue darted out, tentative at first, lapping at the streaks she couldn’t reach with her fingers. Her lips closed around the soft curve, sucking gently as she worked to clean every inch of her skin. Her breaths were audible now, short and trembling, her chest heaving as she moved to the other side.

The wet sounds of her tongue and lips filled the room, mingling with the faint rustle of her shifting body. She was methodical, thorough, her cheeks flushed deeper with every motion. The room seemed smaller, hotter, the air thick with the lingering scent of arousal. The tension between you remained palpable, her body trembling with unspent need even as she finished her task.

When she finally straightened, her lips glistened faintly, and her chest was free of the sticky evidence of your climax. Yet the dampness clinging to her inner thighs betrayed her state. The act of cleaning herself had only deepened the ache inside her, the heat between her legs an all-consuming pulse that refused to be ignored.

Her wide eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, filled with a mix of uncertainty and raw desire, before dropping again. She seemed unable to hold your gaze for long, the intensity too much to bear. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers twisting together as her breaths remained shallow, her body visibly trembling with need.

She stayed kneeling before you, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only motion. The memory of your pleasure was fresh on her tongue, the weight of your control pressing down on her, and the unrelenting ache inside her burned hotter than ever. Every second in your presence made it harder to endure, the tension in her body coiling tighter, her submission deepening with every unspoken command.

-----

The final days of her punishment dragged on like an endless stretch of time, every moment heavy with unspoken tension. The stillness between you was almost oppressive, each day blurring into the next as the weight of her denial bore down on her. This was the longest Natty had ever gone without release, and it showed in every aspect of her demeanor. Her once-bright spark had dimmed, replaced by a quiet desperation that lingered in her every move.

The ache inside her had become unbearable, growing from a subtle pulse to an all-encompassing fire that clouded her thoughts. Every touch she remembered, every fleeting moment of closeness, replayed in her mind, driving her mad with longing. Even the faintest brush of your presence—a simple passing glance, the sound of your footsteps—sent a shiver down her spine, her body reacting instinctively despite her attempts to suppress it.

You, as always, maintained your calm and composed demeanor. There was no teasing, no deliberate provocation—just an air of quiet control that seemed to magnify her need. The unrelenting steadiness of your presence was both a source of comfort and torment. You gave her no indication of when her punishment might end, leaving her to stew in the tension, her mind spiraling with thoughts she couldn’t escape.

She couldn’t help herself; she gravitated toward you like a moth drawn to a flame. Wherever you went, she found an excuse to be nearby. She lingered in doorways, her wide eyes fixed on you as if waiting for permission to come closer. When you stood in the kitchen, her presence was a constant shadow, her movements soft and tentative as though afraid to disturb the fragile equilibrium.

One evening, the weight of it all seemed to crash over her. You were preparing dinner, your movements calm and deliberate as the scent of garlic and herbs filled the air. She knelt between your legs, her hands resting lightly on your thighs, her head tilted upward as she gazed at you. The tension in her body was palpable, every muscle tight as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will.

Her wide eyes locked on yours, filled with an unspoken plea that words couldn’t capture. She didn’t dare speak, but the faint parting of her lips, the quick, uneven rise and fall of her chest, and the way her thighs pressed together betrayed the depth of her need. Her hands trembled slightly, her fingers brushing the fabric of your pants as though drawn by an invisible force.

She didn’t move, didn’t dare break the silence, but her gaze flicked downward for a fleeting moment. Her lips parted just slightly, her breathing shallow as her eyes darted back up to meet yours. Her desperation was written into every movement, her body quivering with the effort of staying still.

You glanced down at her, your calm and deliberate movements uninterrupted. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, a subtle acknowledgment of her state. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice low and steady. “You can use your mouth.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, she seemed frozen, her body stiff as the words sank in. Then, her expression shifted, gratitude flooding her features as she whispered, “Really?” Her voice was shaky, as if she didn’t trust her own ears, her lips trembling as she waited for confirmation.

You nodded, giving her permission. “Go ahead.”

Her response was immediate, eager, as though this was the reprieve she had been desperately waiting for. Leaning forward, her hands trembled slightly as they moved to your waistband, carefully freeing you. As your length was revealed, her breath hitched audibly, her lips parting as her gaze fixated on you. Her eyes flickered with a mix of awe and raw hunger, the sight of you sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her.

She paused for a moment, her face hovering close. The faint musk of your arousal filled her senses, and she inhaled deeply, her thighs pressing together as a shiver rippled through her. The scent alone seemed to heighten the ache inside her, leaving her trembling with need.

Finally, she leaned in, her lips wrapping around you with deliberate care. Her mouth was warm and soft, her tongue swirling in practiced, eager motions. Her hands braced against your thighs, steadying herself as she began to work. Every movement was filled with purpose, her lips and tongue crafting a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure through you.

Her motions were a mixture of desperation and precision. She wasn’t just focused on bringing you pleasure—she clung to the act itself, as though the act of pleasing you might somehow soothe her own unrelenting need. Her moans vibrated against you, soft and involuntary, her arousal building with each sound you made in response.

A deep groan escaped your lips, and the sound spurred her on. Her pace quickened, her confidence growing as she adjusted to the rhythm she knew would elicit the strongest response. Her cheeks hollowed with each stroke, her tongue working fervently as her lips slid along your length. The way her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with anticipation and longing, only added to the intensity.

Then, without pausing, she shifted lower. Her tongue trailed down to your base, her warm breath ghosting over your skin as she carefully took one of your balls into her mouth, sucking gently. The softness of her lips, combined with the light flicks of her tongue, sent a shiver through you. Her hands stayed busy, one stroking your length in a steady rhythm, the other resting on your thigh for balance.

“Just like that,” you murmured, your voice deep and husky, the words sending a faint flush to her cheeks.

Encouraged, she moved to the other side, giving equal attention, her tongue drawing slow, teasing circles before her lips closed around you. Her strokes on your shaft quickened slightly, her fingers curling tighter as she worked both areas with practiced care. The combination of her warm mouth and eager hands created an overwhelming sensation, pulling low groans from your chest.

Her breaths came heavier now, her arousal bleeding into her movements. The slickness of her fingers against your length was steady and deliberate, the wet sound of her efforts filling the quiet room. Her thighs shifted against the floor, her own body reacting instinctively to the act of pleasing you.

After a time, she released you from her mouth with a soft pop, her tongue trailing back up your length, leaving a wet path in her wake. She returned to your shaft, her lips wrapping around you again as though she couldn’t stay away. She took you deeper this time, her tongue pressed firmly against the underside as she bobbed her head, her hands bracing against your thighs to steady herself. Each motion was fluid, precise, and full of intent.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice low and strained. “So eager. So good with that mouth.”

Her pace quickened at your words, her lips sliding up and down as her tongue swirled over your sensitive tip. The vibrations of her soft moans were almost too much, and you groaned deeply, the sound spurring her on further. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter as she adjusted her rhythm, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the heat rising, the sensation building to an unbearable peak. “I’m close,” you growled, your voice strained as you placed a firm hand on the back of her head.

She took your words as a command, her efforts becoming almost frantic, her mouth enveloping you deeper as her tongue worked with renewed vigor. The vibrations of her soft moans drove you over the edge. As you climaxed, your hand pressed gently but firmly on the back of her head, ensuring there was no space between you.

The first surge of your release hit the back of her throat directly, her eyes widening as she instinctively swallowed. The warmth and thickness filled her mouth entirely, her lips sealing around you as she took everything you gave her. Each pump sent another rush straight to the back of her throat, leaving no room for travel, her swallowing keeping perfect pace with your release.

Her body trembled beneath you, her own arousal spiking as she felt every pulse of your climax. Her hands gripped your thighs tightly, her nails digging in slightly as she fought to keep herself steady. The act of taking you so completely only amplified her own need, the ache inside her growing unbearable.

When the last wave subsided, she lingered, her tongue moving gently against you as if savoring every moment. Slowly, she pulled back, her lips leaving you with a soft, deliberate motion. She gasped softly, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her face flushed and glistening.

Her lips were swollen, her gaze hazy as she looked up at you, the taste of you still on her tongue. Her hands fell to her lap, trembling as her thighs pressed together tightly, the evidence of her arousal undeniable.

Her gaze flicked downward, taking in the sight of your length slick from her efforts and the faint mess left on her lips. Her thighs pressed together tightly, her need still painfully unresolved. She had thought this would help her, that focusing on your pleasure would somehow soothe the ache building inside her. But she was so wrong.

The act of bringing you to release, of hearing your groans and feeling your tension snap, had only sharpened her own longing. The heat inside her was unbearable, the ache now all-consuming. Her body trembled as her lips tingled with the memory of you, the lingering taste of your release on her tongue making her stomach twist with need.

Sitting back on her heels, her hands trembling slightly, she dared to glance back up at you, searching for something—permission, relief, anything. But your calm, steady gaze only reminded her of the boundaries you’d set. Her stomach tightened as the realization settled over her: she was still denied. Nothing had changed. If anything, the fire inside her burned hotter.

Her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. She remained kneeling, her chest heaving softly, every nerve in her body alight with unspent desire. Her thighs clenched tighter, but it was no use—the longing inside her wasn’t going anywhere. It had only grown.

-----

The tension in the house reached its peak on the second-to-last evening, the air so heavy it felt alive. The soft glow of the television flickered across the room, its muted sound blending with the quiet hum of the house. You sat on the couch, leaning back comfortably, your posture calm and steady despite the storm of emotions swirling between you and Natty.

She lingered nearby, her presence hesitant but drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of indecision, she approached. Without a word, she lay across your lap, her head resting on your thigh as she curled into herself slightly. The tension in her body was palpable, her breathing shallow and uneven as though the simple act of being close to you was too much.

Your hand moved to her hair instinctively, your fingers threading through the soft strands in slow, deliberate strokes. The touch was gentle but firm, grounding her even as her thoughts spiraled. She exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling against your lap in uneven rhythm. For a brief moment, she let herself sink into the comfort of your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as the steady motion soothed her frayed nerves.

But the ache inside her didn’t subside—it only grew sharper. Her thighs shifted restlessly, rubbing together as though seeking some kind of relief. The heat in her body was unbearable, the steady press of need building into a relentless thrum that clouded her thoughts. She bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the whimper rising in her throat, but it was a futile effort. Every stroke of your fingers through her hair, every subtle shift of your body beneath hers, only added fuel to the fire.

Her hands curled into loose fists, her nails digging lightly into her palms as she struggled to hold herself together. But it wasn’t enough. The weight of your control, the quiet calm you exuded, drove her to the brink. Finally, she shifted, her body trembling slightly as she propped herself up, turning to straddle your lap instead.

Her thighs pressed into yours as she settled, her hands clutching your chest for balance. Her head bowed for a moment, her breath hitching audibly as she fought to steady herself. When she finally looked up, her eyes met yours, wide and pleading, heavy with unspoken need. Her gaze dropped almost immediately, lingering on your waist, her lips parting slightly as though drawn by a magnetic force.

For a moment, she said nothing, her body frozen as she stewed in the unbearable tension coursing through her. Her hands tightened their grip on your shirt, her fingers trembling as the storm inside her reached a breaking point.

“You’re almost there,” you said finally, your voice calm but deliberate. The words sliced through the silence like a blade, steady and unrelenting.

Her head snapped up, her wide eyes locking onto yours. Her lips quivered, her body trembling against you as though the weight of your gaze alone might shatter her. “I…” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how much longer I can—” She cut herself off with a soft sob, her hands curling tighter into the fabric of your shirt. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just… I need you.”

Her voice cracked, and her hips shifted slightly as though searching for even the faintest relief. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, her desperation spilling out in frantic, unfiltered words. “I’ll never lie again. I’ll be better—I promise. Just, please…”

You watched her unravel in your lap, the composure she clung to crumbling entirely. Your hand moved to her hair again, threading your fingers through it as you guided her forehead to rest against yours. “Shhh,” you murmured softly, your voice calm and steady. “You’re so close, Natty. Just a little longer.”

Her sobs quieted slightly, though her body still trembled against you. “I’m trying,” she whimpered, her voice breaking with every word. “I’m really trying, but it’s too much. Please… just this once…”

Her thighs trembled as she pressed herself closer, her body seeking yours like it was the only thing grounding her. She let out another soft sob, burying her face in your shoulder as her hands clutched desperately at your shirt.

You pressed a kiss to her temple, the softness of the gesture making her shiver. “My sweet,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing. “You’re doing so well.”

The praise sent a shudder through her, and she clung to you tighter, her cries softening as she tried to steady herself. “I’ll be good,” she whispered brokenly. “I swear, I’ll do anything. I just—”

“Shhh,” you interrupted, your lips brushing against her cheek in a gentle kiss. “I know, I know it’s hard. But you can do this. Just hold on for me.”

Her shoulders shook as she nodded faintly, her sobs quieting further. “Okay,” she whispered shakily, her voice barely audible. She stayed there, sinking deeper into your embrace, letting your steady presence anchor her even as the ache inside her burned hotter with every second.

Your hand continued to stroke her hair, the motion slow and deliberate, a constant reassurance. Her body trembled against you, the heat radiating from her a tangible reminder of the control you still held. Despite the overwhelming need consuming her, she stayed, her trust in you unwavering as she endured the storm.

-----

Now finally the last day of the month has arrived.  Natty woke with a feeling she had never experienced before. Her body trembled as she stretched, but instead of relief, she felt an overwhelming tension in every muscle. A deep, relentless ache settled low in her belly, heavier and sharper than before, as though her body itself was protesting the month-long denial. It wasn’t just an ache—it was an all-encompassing sensation that left her feeling sick and shaky, her stomach tight and twisted. Every nerve felt raw, on edge, and her hypersensitivity made her skin prickle even under the lightest touch of the sheets.

She sat up slowly, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress as her head spun slightly. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, and she let out a soft, shaky breath, the tension inside her almost unbearable. Her stomach ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of how long she’d gone without release. It felt like an emptiness and a fullness at the same time, a contradiction that only heightened her frustration. The presence of the plug, which had remained snug all night, only amplified her torment. She could feel it with every small shift of her body—a teasing, maddening fullness that made her hyper aware of herself.

When she finally stood, her legs felt weak, her movements unsteady. Every step sent a faint jolt through her, the plug pressing deeper with even the slightest motion. It was as if her entire body had become a live wire, sparking with every touch, every shift, every breath. She shivered as she made her way out of the bedroom, her hands clutching the fabric of her oversized shirt as though grounding herself against the storm of sensations.

When she stepped into the living room, the light spilling softly through the windows, she found you lounging on the couch, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. You glanced up at her, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as your gaze swept over her. “Come here,” you said simply, patting your lap. “Lie down.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she hesitated for only a second before obeying. She settled across your lap, her breaths quickening as your hands began to roam along her back, the pressure firm but soothing. Your touch was unhurried, tracing the curve of her spine, lingering lower until your fingers brushed against the waistband of her shorts. Without a word, you hooked your thumbs into the fabric and pulled them down, the cool air making her shiver as it hit her exposed skin.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she felt your hand glide over her bare cheeks, the warmth of your palm contrasting against the coolness of the air. Her body betrayed her, a faint glisten of arousal catching the light. You chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing. “Dripping already?” you murmured, giving one cheek a firm squeeze. “You’re really something, Natty.”

Her breath hitched, her body quivering as she buried her face in her arms. Before she could respond, she felt something cool and slick press against her other entrance. Her muscles tensed instinctively, her head snapping up as she stammered, “Wait, what are you—?”

“Shh,” you murmured, your voice calm but commanding as you pressed the small plug in slowly. Her breath hitched audibly, her body jerking forward as the sensation hit her all at once. A soft yelp escaped her lips, her walls clenching reflexively as her thighs trembled.

“Hold it,” you instructed firmly, your hand resting lightly on her back. “You’ll keep it there all day.”

“I—I don’t think I can,” she stammered, her face burning with embarrassment and arousal.

“You can,” you replied, your tone leaving no room for argument. “And you will.”

She whimpered softly, her breaths uneven as she adjusted to the sensation. The fullness teased her relentlessly, and every small movement made her hyper aware of its presence. The ache between her legs grew sharper, more insistent, as if her body was begging for relief that wouldn’t come. Even standing felt like a challenge; the plug shifted slightly with each step, sending ripples of sensation through her core.

The day had barely begun, and yet she already felt as though she was teetering on the edge. The plug amplified everything—every touch, every brush of fabric, every faint movement. She couldn’t escape it, and with every moment that passed, the ache inside her burned hotter, making her tremble with the effort of holding herself together. Midnight felt impossibly far away.

You didn’t let her rest today—not for a single moment. The relentless presence of the plug became a constant torment, every shift of her body driving the fullness deeper, teasing her in ways she couldn’t escape. Throughout the day, you made her bend over to “check” that it was still in place, a smug reminder of your control. Each time, your hand slid along her folds, your fingers brushing lightly against her slick, swollen skin. The wetness clung to you, undeniable evidence of her unrelenting arousal.

Her breaths came in sharp gasps during these moments, her body trembling as she struggled to remain still. The faintest touch sent shivers down her spine, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. She whimpered softly, the sound involuntary, her thighs quivering as the effort of holding herself together grew increasingly futile.

“You’re holding up well,” you teased after one such inspection, your fingers hovering just close enough to make her whimper again. The sound was high and needy, betraying her desperation. “Though it looks like you’re ready to explode already.”

Her cheeks burned a deep crimson, and she turned her face away, unable to meet your amused gaze. Her thighs pressed tightly together, her body shuddering as she struggled to steady her breathing. The plug teased her with every movement, amplifying her sensitivity to unbearable levels, and the ache between her legs became an all-consuming pulse.

But you weren’t done. Your teasing was deliberate and constant, turning the mundane moments of her day into unrelenting torment. A casual grope of her chest as she walked past made her gasp, her nipples hardening under your touch as a jolt of sensation shot through her. Your hand would slide up her shirt without warning, your fingers brushing against her sensitive peaks, leaving her trembling and breathless.

When she bent down to retrieve something, you delivered sharp smacks to her exposed cheeks, the sound echoing through the room as her hips jolted forward. Each time, the plug shifted slightly, pressing deeper inside her, and she let out a strangled moan, her hands gripping whatever surface was nearest for support.

At one point, while she was bent over cleaning the counter, you delivered a particularly firm smack. The force sent the plug pushing deeper, and the sudden wave of sensation made her cry out softly. Her hands clutched the countertop, her knuckles white as her body trembled uncontrollably. Her breaths came in short, uneven bursts, and her legs quaked as she tried—and failed—to regain her composure.

“Careful,” you murmured, leaning close to her ear. Your voice was laced with amusement, dripping with controlled authority. “I wouldn’t want you to lose control now.”

She shuddered, her head dipping as another soft whimper escaped her lips. Her body burned with arousal, her skin tingling as though every nerve ending had come alive. Every teasing touch, every lingering squeeze of your hand left her trembling, her body responding instantly as though begging for more. She was aware of everything—the brush of fabric against her sensitive skin, the cool air that contrasted with the heat radiating from her core, the relentless presence of the plug that made every movement feel like a deliberate act of torment.

By mid-afternoon, she was a trembling mess. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, her body quaking as she navigated the relentless teasing and the ache that had only grown sharper, hotter, with every passing moment. The fullness of the plug heightened her sensitivity, making even the smallest movements feel exaggerated. A shift of her hips, a brush of her thighs—each one sent jolts of need spiraling through her, leaving her gasping and desperate.

Her arousal radiated off her in waves, the heat between her legs becoming an all-consuming ache. It seeped into every part of her, making her feel like she was on the verge of breaking. Every glance from you, every calculated touch, only made it worse. She could barely think about anything else, her mind entirely consumed by the promise of relief she couldn’t yet have.

The promise of midnight was the only thing grounding her, a beacon at the end of her torment. But as the minutes dragged on and each moment stretched longer than the last, she began to wonder just how much more she could take. The hours ahead loomed like an eternity, and her body burned with the need to finally be free.

-----

Once the final moments were minutes away, Natty was a trembling wreck. She couldn’t muster excitement, couldn’t even speak. The month-long denial had consumed her entirely, leaving her a quivering, needy mess. Every step she took sent faint jolts through her hypersensitive body, her thighs slick with a constant reminder of her arousal. Her mind swirled with one singular thought—relief. Midnight was so close, yet it felt infinitely far away.

You watched her silently as she hovered near you, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The air between you was electric, charged with her desperation and your unshakable calm. Finally, you broke the silence.

“Bedroom,” you said, your voice calm but commanding. “Now.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her trembling hands reached for the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head in one fluid motion. Her shorts followed, discarded in a heap on the floor, leaving her completely bare before you. There was no need to ask—her eagerness, her desperation, was written across her flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

Natty lay back on the bed, her legs slightly parted, her body trembling uncontrollably. Every breath she took was shallow and uneven, her body strung tight with anticipation and desperation. Her wide, pleading eyes locked onto yours as you retrieved the wand vibrator from the nightstand, its weight in your hand a promise of what was to come.

“You’ve waited this long,” you murmured, sitting beside her. Your voice was calm, soothing, but carried an unyielding authority. “But understand this—if you cum before midnight, it’s another month.”

Her breath hitched, her body stiffening as the weight of your words sank in. A shudder passed through her, and her lips parted as though to protest, but no sound came. The mere thought of another month was impossible to comprehend. She didn’t even know how she had survived this one. Her stomach churned, and a small, desperate whimper escaped her lips.

“Do you understand, Natty?” you asked, your voice steady but firm.

She nodded quickly, tears welling in her eyes. “Y-yes… I understand.” Her voice cracked, the fear and arousal mingling into a trembling whisper.

With a faint smirk, you picked up the vibrator, letting it press firmly against her swollen clit without turning it on. The weight alone was enough to make her react—a sharp intake of breath followed by a faint whimper as her hips shifted instinctively, seeking more. The glistening slickness between her legs caught the dim light, pooling against the toy and betraying just how close she was to the edge already.

You watched her closely, your calm demeanor a stark contrast to the tremors racking her body. “So needy,” you murmured, your voice low and deliberate. “Leaking onto the sheets, and I haven’t even turned it on.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her thighs trembling as she tried to press them together only to fail against your positioning. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she fought the overwhelming tension building inside her. “P-please,” she stammered, her voice trembling and barely audible.

“Not yet,” you said, your tone firm but calm. Your gaze flicked briefly to the clock. “It’s not time.”

Her body jerked slightly at the reminder, her thighs quivering as the pressure from the vibrator sent faint pulses of sensation through her. The seconds stretched endlessly, each one feeling like an eternity as she teetered on the precipice. Her breaths grew more frantic, her chest rising and falling with each shallow gasp, her entire body betraying her desperate need.

Without warning, your free hand moved downward, your fingers brushing lightly over the curve of her ass. You hooked a finger under the base of the plug, tugging gently. The sensation elicited a sharp cry from her, her hips bucking against the pressure. Her arousal spilled out even more, a slick warmth pooling between her thighs and glistening against her skin.

Her moans turned into incoherent whimpers as her body trembled violently. “Oh God—” she gasped, her voice cracking as the mix of sensations overwhelmed her.

You brought your finger to the slick mess, scooping some onto your fingertip. With deliberate slowness, you raised it to your mouth, tasting her arousal. The faint hum of approval you let out sent another shiver through her. “So sweet,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. “And all mine.”

Her body jerked again, her eyes squeezing shut as her hands clawed desperately at the sheets. The combination of sensations—the press of the vibrator, the tug on the plug, and your deliberate tasting of her—pushed her to the very edge.

Finally, the clock hit 11:59. Without a word, you turned the vibrator on, its low hum filling the room.

The moment the vibrator sprang to life, Natty’s body reacted as if it had been struck by lightning. A high-pitched yelp escaped her lips, her hips jerking against the relentless vibration. Tears filled her eyes as she clutched the sheets, her body writhing uncontrollably, her thighs trembling with effort. The first wave of sensation crashed over her, and she wasn’t ready for the intensity. She quivered like a bowstring pulled too tight, every muscle taut, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe.

“Hold on,” you commanded, your tone calm but firm.

Her sobs came softly at first, as if she were trying to hold them back, but the effort only made them more pitiful. Her lips parted, trembling, and a faint whimper escaped. Her hands clutched the sheets tightly, her nails digging into the fabric as her entire body quaked beneath the relentless assault of the vibrations.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, but the relentless pressure of the toy against her swollen clit made every movement a torment. Her hips shifted involuntarily, as though her body were trying to escape and chase the sensation at the same time. Her skin glistened with sweat, her face flushed a deep crimson as tears streaked her cheeks. Her breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling as she struggled against the unbearable tension coiling inside her.

You leaned closer, your hand resting gently on her abdomen, your voice a steady anchor. “You’ve made it this far, Natty,” you murmured, your tone soft but resolute. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Her eyes widened as another wave of sensation crashed over her, her sobs growing louder and more frantic. Her body arched off the bed, the vibrations driving her closer to the edge. “I—” she stammered, her voice cracking as she fought to find her words. “I don’t think I can—I can’t do it! I need to cum!”

“A little more, baby,” you replied firmly, your gaze locking onto hers. “Trust me, you can do this.”

Her body convulsed, her hips grinding helplessly against the unyielding vibrator. The wet sounds of her arousal filled the room, mingling with her desperate cries. Her slickness coated the toy, betraying the depth of her need. She whimpered again, shaking her head as tears flowed freely, her thighs trembling violently.

Finally, you extended your hand to her. “Here,” you said softly, offering it like a lifeline. “Hold on to me.”

Her trembling fingers latched onto yours with surprising strength, gripping as though your hand were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her nails bit into your skin, but you didn’t flinch, letting her anchor herself in the gesture. “You’re halfway there,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing, an oasis of calm amid her chaos.

Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her sobs hitching with every sharp inhale as her body quaked uncontrollably. She clung to your hand as if it were the only solid thing in a world of overwhelming sensation. Her lips moved, trying to form words, but all that escaped were soft, broken whimpers, desperate and raw. The tension in her body was unbearable, her chest heaving as her thighs quaked, every nerve ending alive with unbearable intensity.

You glanced at the clock, your own breath steady as the final stretch approached. Her body tensed further, every muscle pulled taut as though she were a bowstring ready to snap.

“Ten,” you began, your voice calm and deliberate, a grounding presence in her storm.

Natty gasped sharply, her entire body stiffening as the vibrations pushed her closer to the edge. Her nails dug deeper into your hand, her legs trembling as she whimpered softly.

“Nine,” you continued, your eyes locked on her.

She shook her head, her eyes wide and glossy with tears. Her lips trembled as a desperate whimper escaped her throat. “It’s too much,” she whispered, her voice cracking. The relentless hum of the vibrator against her clit made her legs quiver uncontrollably.

“Eight.”

Her back arched, her body bucking involuntarily as she let out a strangled cry. “I—I can’t—I can’t!” she sobbed, her tears streaking down her flushed cheeks.

“You’re stronger than this, Natty,” you said calmly, your voice steady and grounding as you brushed her hair back from her sweat-dampened forehead. “You’ve made it this far.”

“Seven.”

Her breathing turned ragged, each gasp shallow and desperate as her hips jerked against the unyielding pressure. The wetness between her legs spread further, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the room. “Please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Please—I can’t hold it!”

“Six.”

Her nails raked against your hand, her grip tightening as though holding you was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her sobs grew louder, raw and broken as her body writhed beneath the unrelenting assault. Her thighs quivered violently, every muscle trembling with tension.

“Five.”

She let out a guttural moan, her hips grinding involuntarily against the vibrator. “I’m trying—I swear, I’m trying!” she cried, her voice thick with desperation. Her tears flowed freely now, her face flushed and damp as she clung to your hand with all her strength.

“Four.”

Her breath hitched, each exhale turning into a ragged sob as she whimpered, “I can’t do this! I can’t—I’m going to—” Her hips bucked harder, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as her body convulsed against the sheets.

“Three.”

You leaned closer, your breath brushing warmly against her ear. “You’re so close, Natty,” you murmured softly. “Don’t give up now.”

Her lips parted as if to plead, but the only sound that escaped was a desperate, high-pitched whimper. Her chest heaved as her body fought against the overwhelming pleasure, her tears soaking into the pillow beneath her head.

“Two.”

Her entire frame was trembling violently now, her nails digging into your hand as her body teetered on the brink. “Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I need to—I can’t stop it—I need to—”

“Hold on,” you commanded, your voice calm but firm, grounding her with the unshakable authority in your tone.

“One.”

Your voice remained steady as you carefully balanced the vibrator against her swollen clit, the relentless hum sending vibrations coursing through her. Slowly, deliberately, you pulled your hands away, leaving the toy perfectly poised against her trembling body. At first, she didn’t even notice your absence—her mind was fogged with overwhelming need, her focus entirely consumed by the mounting pressure tearing through her.

“Now, Natty,” you murmured softly, your tone calm yet commanding, slicing through the haze clouding her mind.

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, just as your hands moved to her chest. Your fingers found her sensitive nipples, pinching them lightly before tugging them upward with deliberate precision. The sharp pull elicited a desperate cry from her lips, her hips bucking instinctively against the vibrator. The motion was reflexive, her body torn between seeking relief from the intensity and craving even more of it.

The sensations converged like a tidal wave—the relentless vibrations teasing her folds, the sharp tug on her swollen nipples, and the persistent fullness of the plug nestled deep inside her, pressing in with every trembling movement. Together, they built into an unrelenting storm of pleasure, crashing through her body and leaving no room for control.

Her body stiffened like a bowstring drawn tight, quivering for a suspended second before breaking. And then she shattered. Her back arched violently off the bed, the tendons in her neck straining as her climax slammed into her with unrelenting force. A scream tore from her throat, raw and guttural, reverberating through the room like a primal release.

 “Ahhh! F-FUCK!”, her voice cracking under the weight of the pleasure ripping through her. 

Natty’s legs snapped shut involuntarily, trapping the vibrator tightly between her trembling thighs. The added pressure amplified the vibrations to an unbearable intensity, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her already over-sensitized body. Her back arched off the bed, her abs contracting so hard it felt like they might cramp, every muscle in her body taut as a bowstring. 

The fullness of the plug in her ass only heightened everything, pressing deeper with every spasm of her climax. It felt like her body was tearing apart and coming together simultaneously, every nerve ending alight with sensations so intense they blurred the line between pleasure and pain. She writhed uncontrollably, her head pressing back into the mattress as her trembling hands clawed at the sheets. Her fingers twisted the fabric into fists, her grip so tight her knuckles turned white, desperate for something—anything—to anchor her in the storm raging through her.

“Oh my God—AGH! FUCK, FUCK!” she wailed, her voice breaking into fractured sobs as wave after wave of climax overwhelmed her. Her thighs quivered violently, her entire lower half slick with arousal as the glistening evidence of her release pooled beneath her. The wet, lewd sounds of her trembling movements only added to the intensity, driving her further into a pleasure so consuming it left her mind blank and incoherent.

Her abs cramped again, the sharp ache blending into the relentless throbbing of her core. Every pulse of her body felt magnified a hundredfold. Her nipples, still under the firm grip of your fingers, sent jolts of electric pleasure-pain through her chest with every tug and pinch. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, her sobs turning into hiccupping gasps as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming sensation.

Her vision blurred, the edges of the room fading into a haze of white-hot pleasure. Her thoughts dissolved entirely, her mind unable to focus on anything but the torrent of ecstasy ripping through her. Another scream tore from her throat as her hips bucked helplessly, her body caught in an unrelenting rhythm that wasn’t hers to control.

Her legs trembled violently, the muscles quaking beneath the strain of holding the vibrator in place. Her toes curled and uncurled, the tension radiating from her core to every extremity. She felt utterly consumed, her body reacting on instinct, every motion drawing out the climax until it seemed endless.

Finally, the vibrations began to ease, but her body didn’t stop. The aftershocks rippled through her, smaller waves of pleasure making her twitch uncontrollably. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, her breaths ragged and uneven. Her limbs felt heavy, trembling faintly as they fell limply to her sides.

Tears continued to streak down her face, her cheeks stained with the evidence of her release. Her entire body glistened with sweat, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light of the room. Even as her climax began to fade, the plug’s fullness sent tiny, lingering jolts of pleasure radiating outward, leaving her hypersensitive and raw.

You leaned forward, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the intensity she had just endured. Her glassy eyes fluttered open, unfocused and hazy, a soft moan escaping her lips as her gaze found yours. The exhaustion in her face was mingled with something else—a quiet, unspoken gratitude.

“You did it, Natty. You’re incredible,” you murmured softly, your voice a warm balm as you brushed a strand of damp hair away from her flushed face. The praise seemed to wrap around her like a blanket, soothing her trembling form as she melted into the mattress, her body finally surrendering to the sweet, blissful exhaustion.

A shuddering breath escaped her lips, her chest heaving with the effort of coming down from the most intense climax of her life. “Thank you…” she whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking under the weight of her relief. Her words were barely audible, trembling with emotion, as her body sank deeper into the bed. She looked utterly wrecked—her cheeks damp with tears, her thighs still quivering faintly, her entire form radiating the afterglow of release.

You sat beside her, your touch gentle as your hand trailed down her arm, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on her damp skin. She flinched slightly, her body still hyper-sensitive, but she didn’t pull away. For the first time in weeks, the relentless ache inside her was gone, replaced by a deep, blissful emptiness. Her head lolled to the side, her eyelids fluttering as she floated in the haze of her release. It was a quiet, almost dreamlike state, her mind too overwhelmed to process anything beyond the moment.

For a time, she simply lay there, her breaths coming in slow, ragged bursts. Her body felt weightless, untethered, her thoughts drifting aimlessly as she savored the sweet relief coursing through her. It was everything she had been waiting for—everything she thought she needed.

But as the haze began to lift, her breaths steadied, and a flicker of awareness returned to her gaze. Her glassy eyes blinked open, meeting yours with a dazed vulnerability. The raw emotion in her expression was undeniable—gratitude, relief, and something else, something that lingered in the shadows of her desire.

At first, she didn’t move, her lips parting slightly as though to speak, but no words came. The stillness between you stretched, heavy and charged, until the quiet became almost unbearable.

Then, she inhaled sharply, her voice soft and trembling. “I… I need more.” you felt the tension between you shift, her words a soft, desperate confession that hung heavy in the air.

“Greedy, aren’t we?” you teased, setting the vibrator aside as you leaned closer. The smirk on your lips held no malice, only satisfaction. Her wide, pleading eyes followed your every move as you began to undress. Each button you loosened, each piece of fabric you shed, only heightened her anticipation. Her breaths came faster, her chest rising and falling as she watched your body come into view, her gaze lingering with raw hunger.

Climbing onto the bed, you positioned yourself between her trembling thighs. She spread her legs instinctively, her body quaking beneath you, her slick folds glistening with arousal as she waited for you to fill her. You lined yourself up with her entrance, pausing just long enough to meet her gaze. The raw desperation in her eyes was enough to send a thrill down your spine.

As you pressed into her, the sound she made was somewhere between a gasp and a cry, her hypersensitive body reacting instantly. The tight, wet heat of her clamped around you, her back arching off the bed as she cried out. Her nails dug into your shoulders, her hands clutching you as though you were the only thing keeping her grounded.

“You waited so well,” you murmured against her ear, your voice thick with approval as your hips began to move with deliberate force. “Now, you get all of me.”

Her sobbing moans filled the room, each thrust drawing a broken, needy sound from her lips. She writhed beneath you, her body impossibly responsive to every motion. Your hands moved to her chest, kneading her soft, full breasts, your thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples with teasing strokes. Each touch sent a jolt through her, her breath hitching sharply as her hips bucked instinctively to meet you. Her thighs quivered on either side of you, trembling with the strain of holding back the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

Leaning down, your mouth found one of her nipples, tugging it gently between your lips. You sucked softly at first, your tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before you increased the pressure, tugging firmly enough to draw a cry from her throat. Her back arched off the bed, her chest pressing further into your touch as her hands clutched desperately at your shoulders.

The plug inside her added another layer of sensation, shifting slightly with each of your movements. The fullness it brought combined with the relentless drive of your thrusts, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her walls fluttered around you, a desperate clench that pulled you deeper as she gasped for air.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her nipple as your hands continued to explore her soft curves. “God, I love your tits. Made for me to touch, to taste.”

Your teeth grazed her nipple, tugging lightly before sucking hard enough to make her cry out. “Look at how they react for me,” you growled, your voice thick with need as you pinched the neglected peak between your fingers. “So soft, so full. They’re mine, Natty. All mine.”

Her breath hitched at your words, her thighs trembling as her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer. “They’re yours,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “All yours.”

You smirked against her skin, your tongue tracing lazy circles around her sensitive peak before moving to the other. “That’s right,” you growled, your tone possessive. “Every inch of you is mine. Look at how much you need me. Your body can’t hide it.”

Her walls clenched around you again, her moans turning into desperate, high-pitched cries as you continued to drive into her relentlessly. Each thrust sent her spiraling further into ecstasy, her body reacting to every movement with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Shifting your position, you pulled back slightly, your hands sliding down to grip her thighs firmly. With deliberate care, you lifted her legs and pressed them upward, trapping them against her chest. Your knees pinned her in place, holding her completely open and vulnerable in a perfect mating press. The change in angle made her gasp sharply, her wide, hazy eyes locking onto yours.

“You look so fucking good like this,” you murmured, your voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Completely mine.”

The next thrust sent her screaming, her entire body jolting as you hit that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. Her nails raked against your arms, her head tossing back against the pillow as her voice broke into desperate cries.

“Right there,” you growled, your eyes locked on her face, watching the way her expression twisted in bliss. “I can feel how much you love it. So fucking tight, clenching around me like you don’t want me to stop.”

Her sobs grew louder, her legs trembling against your chest as her body quaked with every deep, deliberate thrust. You leaned forward slightly, your grip tightening on her thighs as you drove into her harder, deeper, each motion pushing her closer to the edge

“Don’t stop!” she sobbed, her voice breaking as her walls fluttered desperately around you. “Oh, God—please, just—just like that!”

Each powerful thrust jolted her body downward, her back bouncing against the mattress only to rise again to meet you, the force of your movements sending ripples of sensation through her trembling form. The angle of the mating press left her completely at your mercy, her legs pinned upward and her body open to every deep, deliberate motion. Each plunge drove into her so deeply that she gasped, her nails raking frantically across the sheets in a futile attempt to anchor herself.

Her cries climbed in pitch, the tremor in her voice betraying how close she was to unraveling. “Oh my God—ah! Please, please!” she sobbed, her thighs twitching violently as the relentless rhythm pushed her to the edge. The slick sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the room, mingling with her desperate cries, the evidence of her arousal pooling beneath her on the bed.

Her chest heaved, her full, sensitive breasts brushing against your chest with each thrust. The friction only heightened her pleasure, her hardened nipples sending electric jolts through her trembling body every time they grazed against your skin. Her walls clamped down on you rhythmically, pulling you deeper, the overwhelming sensations making her feel as though she might shatter.

Sensing how close she was, you shifted with deliberate precision. Your hands slid from her thighs, snaking beneath her legs until they found the soft, round curves of her ass. You cupped her cheeks firmly, your fingers digging into the plush flesh as you lifted her hips off the mattress slightly. The adjustment pulled her even deeper onto you, the angle driving you into her sweet spot with devastating accuracy. Each thrust sent her body jolting violently against yours, the new position leaving her utterly breathless.

Her cries became incoherent, her head tossing back against the pillow as she writhed beneath you. “Oh—oh fuck!” she screamed, her voice cracking as another wave of sensation tore through her. Her nails scraped down your back, leaving fiery trails in their wake, her trembling fingers clutching at you desperately.

Your mouth descended to one of her taut, begging nipples, capturing it with your lips as your thrusts never faltered. You sucked hard, tugging and flicking your tongue against the sensitive peak in perfect rhythm with your movements. Her back arched sharply, a strangled cry escaping her lips as her entire body seemed to tighten beneath you. The way her walls clenched around you made your own need burn hotter, driving you to push her even further.

“You’re mine,” you murmured against her heated skin, your voice low and possessive. You squeezed her other breast firmly, kneading it with one hand while your fingers rolled her nipple between them, tugging and twisting just enough to make her gasp. Each motion sent another shockwave through her trembling frame, her moans escalating into desperate, high-pitched whimpers.

“Fuck,” you growled, your tone thick with desire as your eyes met hers, hazy and overwhelmed with pleasure. “You’re taking all of me. So tight, so perfect—you were made for this. Made for me.”

Her body answered in kind, her walls fluttering uncontrollably around you as the pressure inside her built to an unbearable peak. Her thighs quaked against your sides, trembling as her body instinctively tried to match your relentless rhythm, every nerve alight with overwhelming sensation.

The fullness inside her was all-consuming. The plug pressed deeply, amplifying every thrust as it heightened the sensation of your length stretching and filling her. The dual pressure left her gasping, her breaths shallow and uneven, her mind reeling as she balanced on the knife’s edge of ecstasy.

When you thrust even deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside her with relentless precision, her body couldn’t take it anymore. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing through her with violent force. Her scream tore through the room, raw and guttural, as her walls clamped down on you in an unrelenting grip. “AAGH! Fuck—oh, fuck! I—I can’t—” Her words dissolved into incoherent sobs, her hands scrambling desperately for purchase against your shoulders, pulling you closer as her body shattered beneath you.

Her muscles tensed and released in rapid, uncontrollable spasms, her thighs trembling violently as her body gave itself over to the release she’d been denied for so long. The intensity of her climax rivaled her previous, earth shattering one., her body jerking with each wave as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. She could feel every inch of you inside her, the fullness making her dizzy as her mind blurred into a haze of white-hot pleasure.

You didn’t stop. Your hands gripped her soft cheeks tighter, lifting her hips slightly as you pressed even deeper into her. The angle drove you against every sensitive nerve inside her, pulling even more desperate cries from her lips. Her walls rippled around you, milking you with each spasm as her release seemed endless, her trembling form unable to settle as the aftershocks kept her teetering on the brink.

Your climax hit like a flood, every pulse of release spilling deep inside her as your body trembled against hers. Each spurt of warmth was thick and heavy, filling her completely, and the sensation drew a sharp, trembling gasp from her lips. Her eyes flew open, wide with shock and arousal, as she clung to you with trembling hands.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible, her words catching in her throat as the sensation overwhelmed her. “So much…” Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, pressing tightly against your sides as her oversensitive body reacted to every movement, every pulse.

The heat of your release spread slowly, the fullness consuming her entirely. She could feel the weight of it settling deep inside her, combining with the unyielding presence of the plug to leave her utterly stuffed. Her walls fluttered around you, squeezing reflexively as though her body couldn’t bear to let go of even a drop.

Her breathing hitched as she whimpered again, the faintest shift of her hips causing another jolt of sensation to ripple through her. “I can feel it,” she whispered, her voice cracking, her cheeks flushing even deeper as her hands clung to your arms. “It’s… so much,” she sobbed softly, her words breaking into shaky, uneven breaths.

You didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, you stayed buried inside her, letting the warmth of your bodies meld together. Each faint twitch of her inner walls drew a soft groan from you, the intensity of her aftershocks still gripping you as she trembled beneath you. Her thighs shook against your hips, the muscles twitching as if her body was trying to process the overwhelming fullness.

Your hands slid down her sides, grounding her as she whimpered again, her nails digging faintly into your skin. “I… I can’t believe…” she stammered, her voice trembling as her head fell back against the pillow. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, the slickness between you evidence of just how thoroughly you’d filled her.

Her body relaxed gradually, the tension in her muscles giving way to the soft, warm haze of afterglow. But even as she melted into you, her oversensitive body still twitched faintly with each aftershock. She blinked slowly, her gaze glassy and unfocused as a faint, dazed smile curved her lips.

Leaning down, you brushed your lips against her damp forehead, your breaths mingling as you murmured, “You were perfect, Natty. Every single part of you.”

Her body slackened beneath you, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The combination of your warmth inside her, the lingering tension of the plug, and the complete fulfillment of finally letting go left her trembling. Yet, despite her exhaustion, her arms tightened around you, her hands resting against your back as though she was afraid to let you go.

Her lips curled into a faint, exhausted smile, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you…” The words were soft, raw with emotion, her head tilting slightly to nuzzle against your shoulder. Her breath tickled your skin as she sighed deeply, a sound that carried both relief and contentment.

You stayed close, your fingers tracing gentle circles along her thighs, soothing the trembling muscles. The room was still, the quiet filled only with the sound of your breathing and the occasional faint whimper as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensations still radiating through her. The intimacy of the moment held you both in its grasp, neither of you willing to break the connection.

As your muscles began to relax, you shifted slightly, preparing to pull back. But the moment you started to move, her legs clamped around you, her hands gripping your shoulders with surprising strength. “No,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent. “Don’t… not yet.”

You stilled, your gaze meeting hers. Her wide, vulnerable eyes held a pleading look that spoke volumes, and you felt her inner walls flutter faintly around you, still pulsing in the aftermath of her climax. “I need this,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “Stay… please.”

You exhaled softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her lips. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice warm and reassuring. “I’ll stay.”

Her body relaxed again beneath you, her legs loosening slightly but still holding you close. She shifted just enough to get comfortable, her head nestled into the crook of your neck, her breaths warm against your skin. The intimacy was almost overwhelming, the feeling of being so deeply connected both physically and emotionally grounding you both.

Time seemed to blur as the exhaustion began to take over. Her body molded against yours, her hands resting lightly on your back as her breaths evened out. Despite the fullness she still felt, her body relaxed entirely. It wasn’t discomfort anymore; it was a sense of being whole, of closeness she didn’t want to end.

“Natty,” you murmured softly, brushing your lips against her temple. “I’m just moving us. I’ve got you.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, her voice barely audible as her head nestled further into the crook of your neck. Carefully, you rolled her over, cradling her as you shifted until she was on top of you. The change in position was smoother than expected, her lighter frame settling easily against your chest. She sighed softly, her cheek pressed to your collarbone, her body melting into yours like she belonged there.

“This is better,” you murmured, your hands tracing soothing patterns along her back. “Easier for me to hold you.”

She mumbled something incoherent, her voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction. The warmth of her breath against your skin made you smile, and you began to pepper soft kisses across her face. You started at her temple, trailing down to her cheek, then across the bridge of her nose. Each kiss was tender, deliberate, a quiet celebration of everything you’d just shared.

“You’re so good, Natty,” you murmured between kisses. “You’ve been incredible.”

She hummed again, the sound low and contented, her lips curving into the faintest smile. Her body relaxed even further against yours, the tension completely melting away as your words wrapped around her.

Your hands moved to her hair, threading through the strands gently as you continued to speak. “You’re everything I need,” you whispered, your voice soft and warm. “I’m so proud of you. So proud of how far you’ve come.”

Her arms tightened around you, her fingers clutching softly at your sides as she sighed deeply. The rise and fall of her chest against yours slowed, her breathing evening out as her exhaustion began to take over. Her head tilted slightly, her lips brushing against your collarbone in a gesture so faint it was almost subconscious.

As her breathing deepened, you felt her weight grow heavier against you, her body finally succumbing to sleep. You wrapped your arms more securely around her, pressing one final kiss to her forehead as her face relaxed into the softest expression of peace.

“Sweet dreams, Natty,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into a tranquil stillness, the quiet intimacy wrapping around you both as you closed your eyes. Still connected, still grounded in each other, you let sleep take you, the warmth of her presence the last thing you felt before drifting off.

Afterward, she lay curled against your chest, her body trembling faintly as the intensity of the night ebbed away. Her breaths were soft and uneven, her cheek pressed against your skin, her warmth melding into yours. You brushed a hand through her hair, your fingers threading gently through the damp strands as you pressed a tender kiss to her temple.

“You did it,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with pride. “You made it. And you were perfect.”

Her lips curved into a soft, sleepy smile, her eyes fluttering closed. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice fragile and barely audible, as though speaking too loudly would break the delicate serenity of the moment.

You smirked slightly, the corner of your mouth lifting as your hand drifted to her back, tracing lazy circles against her skin. The rhythmic motion was soothing, grounding her as she nestled closer into your embrace. “Don’t forget this feeling, Natty,” you said, your tone steady but laced with affection. “You earned it.”

A soft hum escaped her lips, her exhaustion pulling her deeper into the comfort of your arms. Her body slackened, her breathing evening out as she surrendered completely, her trust in you evident in every relaxed line of her form.

You lay there quietly, the room settling into a peaceful stillness. The faint scent of her lingered in the air, a reminder of the passion and vulnerability she’d shared with you. A quiet pride swelled in your chest. She had given herself over to you fully, trusted you with every part of herself, and in return, you’d given her everything she had needed—and more.

As she drifted into sleep, her body curled protectively against yours, you held her close, your hand never stopping its soothing motion. For now, the storm was over, and you both could bask in the calm it left behind.

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (One)

CW: Mutual masturbation ;)

Inspired by Neighbour!Simon

Chapter Two

Your legs perched up across the woven strings of the porch chair, knees littered with blue and black kisses, knotted joints tucked into your chest as you watched the peak of gold settle into a deep blue. Bony fingers laced the pages between parched hands, eyes darting maliciously between words as you hummed to yourself softly.

You were used to being out here alone, an orchestra of bats occasionally sounding out to you as they scurried away into pine trees, nipping between each other.  Your flat, a smaller duplex, was tucked away into a quiet cul-de-sac, away from the hustle and bustle of London life. It was an organised routine, your body succumbing to the night air as you bathed in the comforting atmosphere of the twilight. There was an occasional hum from up the road, the chug of a car passing through, but your interest peaked when the gravel road lit up, headlights streaming towards you as you shielded your eyes.

The sound of the engine frightened you a bit before you adjusted your vision. A large shadow stepped into view, the staggering height of a man peaking your attention before you took in the balaclava flushed against his face, russet eyes covered by a delicate frame of blonde lashes, stained with black face paint staring at you before dropping his head in a curt nod.

You recognised him as your neighbour. Quiet bloke, away often on deployment you presumed, but nether-the-less was a comfort for you. Even at home, it was like he was never there, the occasional echo of hollow boots sounding against the floorboards before they disappeared. He was ghostly, slightly peculiar but you noted him down mainly as mysterious.

You had spoken a few times, sounding good morning as he was outside having a smoke when you were leaving for work. His response was gruff and shallow, a deep voice barking out a short reply before smashing the dart under the rubble of his shoe, calloused hands gripping the door handle.

He walked past you, duffle bag dropped against the porch as he huffed with his keys, bruised knuckles peaking your attention as you glanced at him, framed eyes peering in curiosity.

“Y’ alright?” His tone was curt, a hint of annoyance ringing through as his eyes stained trained on the metal knob, working the key through the hole.

You squeaked out a noise, taken back by him as you adjusted in the chair, feet flat against the floor now. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just not used to you being here, it’s uh, nice for you to be back, less lonely,” you rambled, shuffling your hands awkwardly before you shut yourself up.

He let out a grunt, the noise almost animalistic sounding as he shut the door, his vague appearance shuffling into the quiet of his own home as you sat outside, whispering an expletive under your breath as you prodded at the ecchymosis on your nobbled knees.

Rough hands rubbed at the face paint, gentle soap working into the scorn skin, thickened skin almost melting under the velocity of the scolding water. Simon’s throat was scratchy, the irritating feeling of sandpaper lining his oesophagus as he choked out a cough. Broken blood vessels littered across the scarring of his back and ribs, a splurge of hematoma drawn across the broken skin.

Ivory skin was now painted with falling droplets of water, a scratchy moose-coloured towel adorned his hips as he shook his hair, moist residue landing on the mirror as he rubbed his hands across his face, a soft moan leaving his lips as he prodded the tender knot in his back.  

His home felt foreign, no matter how long he had lived there for.

His bedroom had dusk lighting, a double bed pushed against the flaky walls, the metal rods holding the frame scraping at the paint. A singular pillow to each side perked up against his touch as he layered them, unused linen welcoming him with a slight dusty smell, aching body collapsing into the plushness of the duvet.

He was aware that your bedroom was adjacent to his, your beds pushed directly together on opposite ends. He could hear the subtle creaks of your feet against the floor as you shuffled around, a chair squeaking across the floor as it collided with something before the noise of you walking sounded again. Simon could hear the springs in your bed, an acknowledgement that you were now lying down.

There was a low hum of a fan whirring, the white noise drifting into his room as he stared up at his own, the stagnant noise felt unorthodox, the familiarity of the barracks being the usual for the Lieutenant. Simon’s hands felt weighed down as he moved them from his chest to rest at his side, his breathing shallow as his ears perked at every movement you made.

You were restless, sweaty body tangled between cotton as you adjusted yourself, flinging your blankets off you as you let out gentle pants. You cursed at the lack of air conditioning available in British homes, peeling off your silken pyjama shorts as you flung them somewhere across your bedroom. Your body was hot and achy, the heat settling in even during the night as you turned to the side, beady eyes watching as the wind flickered the branches occasionally. You were tempted to sleep outside at this point, your room feeling like a sauna as you let out a frustrated quip.

There was a subtle ache between your thighs, a dull throbbing ringing through your brain as you attempted to position yourself better, clicking your calves as you rustled around. Tired arms stretched your top over your head as it too met the wraith of your floor, bare breasts perked against your sheets as you closed your eyes, cuddling up against a pillow.

Slumber never succumbed to your heated frame, the drill of your fan almost teasing you as it provided minimum cooling. You spread your legs, sweat prickling over your stretch marks as you moaned in annoyance. Your fingers trailed your slit through the thin fabric, turquoise-coloured panties fading into an aqua as you let out a shaky breath. You felt dirty, the dull throb of your cunt mocking you as needy fingers hooked into the lace, dragging them down the plushness of your thighs before settling at the end of your bed.

You fumbled around in your draw, clumsy fingers feeling around for your bullet vibrator before they rubbed against the silicone. You were sure to be quiet, your hands covering the majority of the vibrations as you nestled it between your folds, collecting the sweetness of your slick before resting it on your achy clit, an instant moan rising at your throat as you tweaked at your nipples.

The hum against your sex wasn’t enough as you sat up, resting the vibrator on your swollen nub as you straddled a pillow, sloppy pussy grinding against it rapidly as you rutted like a dog in heat, chasing your high.

You were a sight for sore eyes, breasts bouncing at your movements as you humped against the cushion, the cheap sex toy sounding against the bundle of nerves as you let out soft whimpers, mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape as you tugged at your hardened nubs that were practically aching against your chest.

It was like you were going through puberty again, squishy sounds squelching from your cunt at the licentious actions, hips getting sloppy as you felt your coil forming, antagonising moans dripping from your lips as you stilled, the silicone pressed sweetly into your clit as you whined into your hand, orgasm ripping through you as you jutted away from the stimulation, collapsing into a heap.

Simon frowned at how quickly your noises were over as a spit-covered cock throbbed in agony, veiny hands jutting around the angry member as he milked himself to the memory of your orgasm, hot splashes of cum spurting against his belly, a thick trail of hair leading down to his softening cock as he cleaned himself up before nestling into the comfort of his sheets and the barely audible hum of your breathing.

[codtrashsammy]

This is... love? (Simon Riley x Reader)

- SMUT SMUT SMUT - MDNI MDNI MDNI -

First time writing smut in a loooong time, so bare with me. Had an idea and ran with it. I hope you like it tho!

Simon Riley can fuck. But what about the first time you make love? Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You

Warnings: crying during sex (not the bad kind tho, promise), explicit sex, p in v, praise (heavy heavy like on god), gentle love making <3 bc our boy can fuck, but what about other stuff too?!

Of course, you’ve fucked. Simon has been your boyfriend for 3 years now, you’re definitely comfortable to explore that part of your relationship now.

Simon has had you bent over every piece of furniture in your flat, has had you in every bed in your house, in the shower, on the floor, a couple of times on the balcony even. He’s had you pinned to walls in sketchy bar bathrooms, he’s had you in the back of his nice looking truck, the bed of that same truck- fuckin’ everywhere. That’s all it’s been, it’s been fucking. Rough, fast- always fucking godly, of course, but it’s primal. Animalistic, and you love it- you truly do love it. But this time you want to do things different. You want to slow it down, you want to fucking relish in the man you’re lucky to call your own. You don’t want to fuck, you want to make love to him. Simon has always been… not exactly averse to your softer affections, as he’s always a very willing participant, but you sometimes notice he seems… overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite handle the raw, genuine emotion behind a soft, tender, lingering touch. His cheeks heat up, he gets this certain look in his eyes, and while he’s never been mean about it- he backs away from it. He shies away from it. 

You’ve tried talking to him about it- you’ve tried many, many times to bring it up to him. And yet the bastard always has a way to switch up the conversation, to change things around, to slip past the topic so easily- he can spin straw into gold with that mouth of his.

So, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands.

You’re laying in bed, cuddled right up to him, your leg thrown over his hips and an arm thrown over his chest while you lay on your side, your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm. Simon’s hand idly plays with the ends of your hair, his arm wrapped around you, simply holding you to him as if to make sure you don’t slip away. 

Simon is seemingly lost in thought, eyes closed and body more or less relaxed- as relaxed as Simon can be when the man is always seemingly on alert to every little sound. 

“Hey, Si,” You murmur out, your fingers idly tracing random shapes against the fabric of his shirt. He hums to let you know he’s heard you, but otherwise doesn’t really react. Fuck, you love this man. You love every inch of him, everything about him. You even love that he always leaves the toilet seat up (you swear he does it out of spite) because you know you’d miss it if he wasn’t around to keep doing it.

“Can I try something?” You ask, tone soft and relaxed, casual. Not at all portraying the thoughts in your head, your secret little ‘mastermind’ plan. 

“Tha’s quite vague, ain’t it, love?” Simon grumbles out, voice low as if to match the atmosphere of simple peace and quiet. “Hmm…” You trail off, a playful smile growing on your face- not that he’s looking to see it, “I think it’s pretty simple. Either yes or no.” You quip with a nod, moving to lean up, resting your weight on your elbows so you can look down at him with a soft, gentle smile. And of course at feeling you move, his arm moves from around your shoulders to around your waist- always touching you, never wanting you far when he’s finally home. (You don’t realize home is you- but of course he’s never quite told you that). Simon’s eyes open at your movement, too. Pretty brown eyes, half lidded in his more-or-less relaxed state as he looks up to meet your gaze, his gaze soft in the way it only ever is for you- his mask resting along the nightstand by the bed. There if he needs it- but it’s rarely needed with you around. A warm light, easily able to lighten up even the darkest depths of his mind to keep his demons at bay.

“....yes?” Simon offers after a few moments of contemplation, a curious look in his own eyes as they scan over your face- looking for a hint of what possible fuckery you could be up to at this point. Your soft smile stretches out into a soft grin as you lean down, pressing your lips to Simon's and letting your eyes flutter shut. One of your hands come up, tracing softly up his chest, up his throat, along his jaw before settling to cup his cheek.

You can feel his breath hitch the slightest bit at the soft touch, the lingering touch. This is the kind of kiss that usually overwhelms him, but maybe he’s in a good mood tonight. Your thumb softly caresses his cheek while your tongues intertwine, and you can feel the moment Simon tries to speed it up.

You pull away, eyes still closed, your lips brushing against his as you speak, “No, no,”

And you promptly place your lips back against his own, not giving him time to start spitting his bullshit about how he’s going to make you see stars if you don’t stop teasing him- because that’s not the goal here. 

You shift your body, moving to straddle Simon's hips (a feat in its own right), keeping one hand cupping his cheek while the other moves to the hem of his shirt, slowly running over the skin above the waistband of his pajama pants, before delving under the fabric and feeling the softness of his tummy, touch so soft and gentle, so loving against his body.

Simon doesn’t know what to think, his own hands seeming to hesitate before they come to rest along your thighs, squeezing the fat there a bit roughly- but that’s okay, you can teach him. 

“Love your hands, Si,” You murmur as you finally pull away from the kiss, only to trail kisses down his jawline, slow and soft, occasionally nipping at the skin.

Simon let's out a grunt, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs before moving to cup your ass, pushing your body to force your clothed cunt to grind against his already hard cock, and a breathy moan leaves your lips from the stimulation- but damn it, you’re doing this your way this time.

“I’ll stop,” You warn, voice still soft, but there's… an edge to it for once, one stating that you really will.

A soft groan leaves Simon's lips, along with a scoff at the absolute audacity of you, “Love,” Simon says, in warning more than anything. 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” You’re quick to say, before leaning back to meet his pretty, brown-eyed gaze, your hands moving to lift his shirt which he eagerly enough helps with, throwing the fabric away and down to the floor like it was the very thing that killed his family.

…a bit much, but you can understand his eagerness.

“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” You murmur out, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as you trail your hands across the familiar expanse of his chest, fingers running through his chest hair, thumbs brushing over his nipples before trailing down his sides. Your palms run over the subtle softness of his belly, where you know there is muscle hidden underneath.

A hiss leaves Simon's lips, and you can feel his cock twitch from where you’re perched in his lap. “Bloody ‘ell, love, the fuck ya doin?” Simon mutters, hands moving to grab your hips.

“Jus’ be good for me, yeah?” You murmur out, a soft, adoring smile on your face as you finally look up to meet his gaze.

The sight alone is enough to make you pause slightly. He’s not like this when you’re fucking- and you don’t even have his dick in you yet! His cheeks are flushed, not from exertion, he’s just flustered, his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched together with pretty glossy eyes. Almost like he could cry- but not quite. 

“You’re always so good for me, Si,” You murmur, grinding your hips against his own and letting out another breathy moan at the feeling, his hands tightening their grip of your hips in response. Just one look and you can tell he’s overwhelmed already- or at the very least getting there. But he hasn’t once told you to stop- he’s simply tried speeding you up, which you have no interest in. Not this time.

You grab his hands, kissing each of his knuckles before slowly dragging them underneath your own shirt, placing his palms against your breasts, his thumbs already swiping at your nipples, at the already peaked buds there. “Always takin’ such good care of me, my love,” You praise, and you reward him with another slow grind, beginning to set such a slow, but lovely pace, just enough friction to make you want more- but that’s the goal. A slow build, no rush, no desperation, just… slow. Loving. Gentle. Tender. Simon visibly gulps, his hands squeezing the flesh of your tits with a groan before he’s tugging your shirt off and adding it to the growing pile on the floor. He tries to buck his hips, tries to get your movements to speed up- but you simply lift up, ending the contact altogether, and send him a pointed look.

“Do ya not want me to fuck ya, love? What’s all this then?” Simon says with a huff, eyes narrowing slightly as they meet your own. Anyone else would say he’s frustrated- and yeah, partly he is. But you know your Simon, you can see that glossiness to his eyes, can see the slightest twitch of his brow- he’s overwhelmed- he’s not sure how to handle this, the softness, the gentleness. Simon likes to say he can’t be soft, can’t be gentle, can’t be loving. But it’s been 3 years with this man- you know he can. He just needs to be taught- it’s simply something he’s never had before, it’s not like he was born with the knowledge. “No,” You answer with a pleased, breathy sigh, resting your hips back against his own and beginning that slow grind once more, feeling his cock twitch at the action. “Don’t wanna fuck, Si. Jus’ be good for me, baby. Jus’ sit here, look pretty for me. Always so good for me. Jus’ let me love you, sweet boy,” You murmur out, eyes meeting his own and holding their gaze.

You trail your hands down his arms along his shoulders and collar bones, quite literally loving every inch of his skin.

Simon’s cheeks get hotter, the look he gives you is entirely overwhelmed, spooked even. Like the thought of being loved is absolutely horrifying alone.

“Be good? Kinda kinky, innit?” Simon mumbles out in response, looking at you with a quirked brow.

But you don’t stop. And he doesn’t stop you.

Clothes continue to fly off, positions change, but somehow you manage to remain in full control for once. And he lets you. Sure, you have to correct him at times, have to remind him to slow down, all with soft smiles and gentle praise- and he eats it up like a starving hound.

Even now, as moans and breathy praise leaves your lips, Simon being vocal, a rarity on it’s own, at least to this extent.

“Feel s’ good around me, love, fuck, so good,” He fucking babbles, his cock dragging along the walls of your drooling cunt at a slow, but steady pace. You’re underneath him now- stereotypical missionary- but it’s divine.

You pull Simon’s head down, pressing his forehead against your own, your legs wrapped loosely around his hips as his cock drags deliciously over all those sweet spots inside, the soft mound above his cock pressing against your clit with every. Single. Thrust.

It’s a slow build up, so slow, and while he focuses on clenching his fists into the sheets above your head, resting on his elbows on either side of it, you focus on touching him, praising him.

“Always so good to me, baby,” You practically purr the words.

“I love you so much, Si, so much,” You say, breathless as your back arches, forehead pressed to his and eyes closed in bliss of the slow building pleasure.

“Like you were made jus’ for me, sweet boy,” Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, one of them tangling in his hair.

“Love how you make me feel, Simon,” You moan out, legs tightening their grip around his hips.

If your eyes weren’t closed, you’d see how Simon is looking at you right now. Simon is looking at you like you’re a fucking goddess… but the vision is blurry, from the pure overwhelming, unshed tears in his eyes. God, he’s pathetic, isn’t he? Crying? During sex? But he can’t even entertain the thought- thoughtful praise continuing to spill from your lips as he continues his slow, languid, deep thrusts. 

He focuses on the feeling, on the way your words are soothing parts of him he didn’t care to recognize were broken, he focuses on the way your hands trail across his skin so fucking lovingly- as if he’s actually worth something. As if he’s someone and not a monster. As if he doesn’t have hundreds of lives taken by the very hands you praise for touching you.

No- no, none of that matters right now, as for the first time in his fucking life Simon Riley doesn’t fuck- he makes love. 

“God- g-gonna make me cum, Simon- fuck- love the way you make me cum-” You whimper out, back arching into him and fuck, Simon can’t take it anymore.

Simon doesn’t know what to think. Sure, the pleasure is mind-numbing, your pussy always feels so fucking good when it’s wrapped around his cock like this, but it’s damn near tripled by the pure feelings you’re forcing him to feel. The way his chest burns, but it’s so good- he can fucking feel the love you have for him, the way you hold him in your heart, the way you think of him as though he put the very stars in the sky for you and you alone. And he would- fuck he absolutely would. He’d give you the world should you ask for it- fuck he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

He doesn’t speed up- he wants the slower build up, too, doesn’t want to rush it, but he’s going to shatter if more praise leaves your lips so he presses down, slotting his mouth against your own, a minor distraction really.

You can feel the wetness to his cheeks.

You know it’s not sweat.

Your hands move to cup his cheeks so softly, so lovingly, so gently. You moan into his mouth as the pleasure builds until that band finally fucking snaps, and you’re on cloud nine.

Simon buries his head in the crook of your neck, his hot, thick cum shooting ropes into you as your cunt squeezes his cock like a vice, truly milking him for all he’s worth.

You’re both panting, but Simon's head stays hidden- you know why, you can feel the tears against your neck, but you don’t say anything.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you come down from your high, nuzzling your cheek against the top of his head.

“Love you so much,” You whisper out, running a hand through his hair, still slightly breathless.

You can feel Simon place the softest kiss to your neck, arms squeezing you almost too tightly, but you don’t say anything. 

You know your Simon. He’s not a monster. He’s not a killing machine. He’s a man- your man. Simon’s not unlovable, he’s not broken. He’s not stupid for simply not knowing. He’s not stupid for simply needing to be taught.

And you love him. Gods, do you love him. You’ll teach him. You’ll teach him it’s okay, he’s safe here, in your arms. He’s safe to love, to cry, to breakdown, he’s safe to get the very things he’s never had- and you’ll give them willingly.

You don’t know how long you stay like that. His now soft cock still buried in your cunt, his tears have subsided awhile ago, but he’s still unwilling to move from his spot- not that you’re complaining. 

It’s so quiet you barely even hear it, but fuck, you’re so glad you did.

“Love ya,” Simon mumbles against your skin, his voice so quiet, hoarse and rough. But so very soft, so very gentle. Yeah. Simon Riley can fuck like a god. But Simon Riley is learning how to love you fully, how to make love to you fully- and he wouldn’t change a thing. Neither would you.

[seonghwaddict]

to taint your soul — choi san

in which apparently even the daughter of an exorcist is not safe from the corruption of an incubus.

incubus!choi san x exorcist’s daughter!fem!reader. genre. smut, angst, southern gothic vibes. warnings. barely any plot, religious themes, religious guilt, swearing, explicit sexual content mdni, corruption, loss of virginity, masturbation (f.), referenced dacryphilia, fingering, referenced oral (f.), manhandling?, multiple orgasms, rough and gentle, big dick!san, creampie, marking, nicknames (angel, pretty girl, sweet girl, sweetheart). wc. 7.3k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i should do more mythological characters!ateez cuz i enjoyed writing this and the lamb and the wolf. the demonology book/text here is partially from The Encylopedia of Demons and Demonology by Rosemary Ellen Guiley, but i made up some parts for the sake of the story. THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT ANY OF MY OPINIONS AND I DO NOT INTEND TO OFFEND ANYONE.

listening to. burning desire, lana del rey // gibson girl, ethel cain // lilies, ethel cain & mercy necromancy // ptolemaea, ethel cain // heaven, taemin

masterlist.

you were cursed from the moment you were born.

the idea of being cursed or haunted by anything isn’t one you think about often, considering yourself protected by your father’s profession. at least one dusty bible on every bookshelf in the colonial monstrosity that is your home and crucifixes hung all around, it seems to be common sense that an exorcist’s home would be the safest place to hide from the dark.

unaware of it all, you used to let yourself be tucked into your lace-trimmed bedsheets as he pulled you to sleep with stories. tales of fallen angels and possessed souls became the lullabies of your childhood. admittedly, you were quite terrified of it all, but as you grew older and wiser, you realised there was no way they could get to you. but really, it was wishful thinking.

you weren’t aware of who your father used to be, nor were you aware of the debt he owed to a particular demon.

the dreams started the night after your twentieth birthday, vivid and unsettling. a man haunted them, equally as terrifying as he was handsome. tall and clad in dark silks, his whispered words and hungry eyes intrigued you. his touch, though a figment of your imagination, sent shivers down your spine, foreign yet infinitely alluring. you’d wake up with a jolt, panting, flushed cheeks and tingling skin as the dream stuck to you like cobwebs. your father passed the repeated dreams off as nightmares and you failed to notice the flash of fear cross his features.

one night, however, you were changing in your room. dimly illuminated by multiple candles you set around since you didn’t like how bright the large chandelier was, you held a dress in each of your hands, standing in front of the mirror as you held the clothing to your body in an attempt to figure out what to wear. you didn’t notice at first, but a figure lurked in the shadows of the bedroom. you didn’t notice the shift in the atmosphere or the flicker of the candles.

but soon, a soft sigh sounded through the room, so soft it could’ve been mistake for a whistling breeze outside your window. goosebumps prickled at your skin as you tensed, refusing to move at the oddly human sound. staring at yourself in the mirror intently, you caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the reflection of your mirror. your breath hitched as you fixed your eyes on him, afraid that if you blinked, he’d disappear.

you watched him. watched him take slow steps towards you as he smirked at the sight of your wide, fearful yet infinitely pure and innocent eyes. you convinced yourself you were hallucinating, the disturbingly realistic sounds of his footsteps as much of a figment of imagination as his being. but as he stood right behind you, a coldness swept over your skin and you flinched as his breath fanned against your bare shoulder. whipping around in surprise, you yelped softly at the sensation. but he was gone, and you were alone. breath erratic and eyes stinging, you scrambled to move a wooden cross stand from the top of your dresser to your bedside table.

after that you grew paranoid, always looking over your shoulder, sleeping with at least two safe and reliable candles lit. each time you walked through the hallways of your own home, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at the portraits lining the dark walls as you thought they were watching you. the tiniest of sounds made you flinch and break a sweat, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering prayers, only to find out the sound came from either of your parents.

the constant state of fear and anxiety left you tired, deciding if your father wasn’t going to do anything about it, you would. on quiet feet, you crept through the halls at noon (you were too scared to go to that room at night), a rosary wrapped around your hand with a dainty little cross hanging from your clenched palm.

you father really was a well-known exorcist, often to go on trips within and beyond the country to treat what doctors couldn’t; demonic possessions. as a symbol of his successes and a means to prevent others from coming in contact with whatever a demon may have attached itself to, he brought home trophies and locked them in a little storage room in the basement. of course, he took many precautions—crucifixes all over the inside and outside, sprinkles of holy water here and there, he’d have your local priest come over and bless the area himself. despite all this, you never once stepped in, partially because your father advised you not to, mostly because you were completely and utterly terrified.

as you descended the creaking wooden stairs, a chill ran through you, the hairs at your nape standing in alert. maybe you were scaring yourself more than the room scared you. the dust tickled your nostrils, making you force down a sneeze as you cleared your throat. the wooden floorboards extended into a narrow hallway, lined by cobblestone walls. you rarely came down, in fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you were there, the surroundings seeming so foreign. there were only two doors, one leading to a storage closet and the other to a slightly scarier storage closet.

you stared up at the ominous door, standing tall and intimidating, a golden cross embossed right in the centra, doorknob dark and rusted. with shaky hands, you fished a copper from the hidden pocket of your plaid gown. it half-hearted a few sloppy attempts until you got the key in, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to finally turn it.

another chill ran through your body as you push the door open weakly, cracking an eye open to look inside. had you come at night, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything, the only source of light being an elongated shirt window lining the top of the right wall, an inch below the ceiling. three shelves. one on the right, one of the left, and one down the middle of the room. the middle and left one were lined with various objects. you walked between them, looking but not daring to touch. the objects were quite diverse, you realised. dolls, clocks, little statues.

you took your time to get to the shelf you needed. along with these objects, you father also locked away any books he had that were related to demons in any way. most of them were confiscated from cults, some of their were from his personal collection. he claimed they were to protect you, and you didn’t completely disbelieve him. taking a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh, looking at all the titles. your fingertips ran over their leather bound spines, feeling the wrinkles and grooves. you knew there would be a lot, but as you looked upon the entire shelf, you estimated a good hundred-fifty books.

he organised them by categories. summoning, excommunication, identifying. identifying. that’s what you needed. you took a closer look at the section, nervousness fading briefly to be replaced by a faint taste of hope.

the encyclopaedia of demons and demonology.

deciding there had to be something in there, you pulled it out. the book itself was simple, bound in black leather. the cover was nothing special, just the title and author. by the looks of it, you’d be here for a while, seemingly at least three hundred pages long. you looked around the dark room, a small wooden desk was tucked into the corner though not a chair in sight. with a soft sigh, you walked over on weak knees, apprehensive about what you’d find in the book.

despite your father’s profession and all the bedtime stories, you never came in contact with demons or the spirit world. setting the book on the desk, you opened it to the index, having to squint to make out the text. but the next time you lifted your eyes off the page, a brass candle holder was tucked into the corner of the table.

you blinked. there was no way that was there before, but maybe you had just missed it. the pale yellow candle stood half melted, the hardened wax forming veins that ran down the sides and pooled in the brass bowl.

you held your breath momentarily before beginning to read through the a to z list of demons and other dark entities and their descriptions. you only skimmed, lingering on any that mentioned appearing in nightmares only to dismiss them when the rest of their descriptions didn’t match with your experience. surprised by just how much there was to read, you felt just a little curious, occasionally stopping to read extracts that had piqued your interest. it wasn’t until you got all the way to section i where something actually seemed to be helpful.

‘incubus—a lewd male demon who pursues women for sex. the incubus and his female counterpart, the succubus, visit women and men in their sleep, lie and press heavily upon them, and seduce them.’

you nearly missed it, continuing your skimming until the description registered, scrambling to turn back the page and reread it.

“oh.” you breathed at the realisation. that seemed to be the most accurate thus far, your finger tracing over the name as you furrowed your eyebrows and continued reading. the next paragraphs detailed how they’re conjured and where the name came from. you read some more.

‘incubi are especially attracted to women with beautiful hair, young virgins, chaste widows, and all “devout” females. nuns are among the most vulnerable and could be molested in the confessional as well as in bed. while the majority of women are forced into sex by the incubi, some of them submit willingly and even enjoy the act. it once was a common belief that women were more likely than men to be the sexual victims of demons, because women were inferior to men and less able to resist temptation.

incubi have enormous phalluses that—’

slamming the book shut, your eyes widened and a deep blush settled over your features, just staring at the cover for a moment as you collected yourself from the sudden vulgarity of the writing. after a moment, you cleared your throat and reopened the page, strategically skipping over the next paragraphs that detailed accounts of intercourse with such a demon.

‘an incubus may form attachments to those whose minds are occupied with dark and inherently sexual desires, those that are impure. one also can be summoned for coital gratifications, or a deal in which one’s first born is ommonly offered to repay their sevices (see: dealing with the demons, page 218).’

but that couldn’t be right. you always made sure to be a good girl, always helped at home. you volunteered to read to children at a local orphanage, always helped with charities and donations, always assisted people where you knew you could, stayed soft spoken and always began your requests with please and ended them with thank you. you kept to yourself most of the time, would never dare to raise your voice at anyone, never had any romantic interest, let alone sexual ones.

admittedly, the dreams involving the man— the demon had you waking up with an uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs. but before that, you never indulged. after that, you never indulged either, instead jumping from your bed and taking an ice could bath to calm yourself from the strange feeling. the temptations were always there and were always strong, but your want to be immaculate was stronger. to be free of sin.

a deal in which one’s first born is offered.

it seemed impossible, almost. you knew your father was a righteous man and your mother a pure woman. but where your mother happily shared stories of her childhood as heart-warming anecdotes, your father only dropped tidbits of his memories despite considering you two to be extremely close. you always chalked it up to him being a little boring or generally not very open. but maybe there was more to it…

“there you go, sweetheart.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, pushing the book away from you as you turned around a little too quickly, your knee knocking against the edge of the table.

there he stood, barely illuminated by the singular window as he took slow steps towards you much like the other day.

“so, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

each time he took a step, his muscles visible through the loose black silk, you inched away until the top of your thigh hit the wooden table, your hands bracing themselves on it to keep you from collapsing in fear. the closer he got, the more you realised just how attractive he was. broad-shouldered and radiating confidence, his feline eyes roamed over your figure. depite wearing a white gown that reached all the way down to your ankles, you felt so exposed.

tongue swiping along his bottom lip, drawing your attention to the action. he towered over you, making you feel weak and small as he trapped you against the table. your heart pounded against your ribcage and you feared it would break free and fall into his hands, unsure if the warmth on your cheeks and ump in your throat came from how utterly petrified you were or the way his breath fanned over your face like a whisper.

“your dearest father isn’t who he says he is,” he pouted mockingly, coming to a stop inches in front of you, letting his gaze settle on your quivering lips for a moment, “and me? well, you know what i am. and you also know we can have lots of fun if you allow it.”

your lips parted to speak but no words came out, instead opting to press them into a thin line and squeezing your eyes shut as you shook your head. you weren’t completely sure why you wer shaking your head, but if it would stop the incubus from tainting you, it was worth a try.

“don’t kid yourself, princess. i can smell how wet you are.” as if to emphasise his point, he inhaled deeply, leaning forward to ghost his nose over the slope of your neck without touching you.

it wasn’t until he said it that you notice you had been squeezing your thighs together, feeling warm all over and you stomach twisted in knots at the sound of his deep voice. something ached in your lower regions, but you tried your hardest to resist the thoughts.

but a little voice in the back of your head urged you to tilt your head back, to give him permission, to let his hands explore your untouched body. maybe just this once you could allow yourself to give in, to let your knees go weak and worry about begging for forgiveness later.

“all you have to do is drop the rosary.”

you gripped it tighter at the reminder of the protective object tangled between your fingers, fighting to keep your sanity intact. your breath hitched as you felt one of his fingers run along the beads, not daring to come close to the little silver cross or your skin.

“c’mon, pretty girl. drop it,” you heard the smirk in his voice, “let it go and i’ll take good care of you, i can make you feel things you’ve never thought of… i can make you feel alive, wouldn’t you love that? don’t you want to feel the desire? taste the lust?”

“n-no,” you gasped finally, finding your words, “it’s not right.“

he laughed, a low rumble from his chest, “i promise you’ll love being ruined by me,” he said, withdrawing his hand from yours, “i swear to all your precious little holy symbols, i know i can get you to want me.”

he moved closer and for a maddening moment you thought he was going to kiss you. faintly, you wanted him to. to feel the push of his lips against yours, to let his hands snake around your waist or grip your hips to pull you closer. there’s a ring on his index finger, you noticed, silvery and sharp, a symbol you didn’t recognise yet imagine him pressing it against your throat, branding your neck anew until it’s red and faithful. and maybe you crave for him to undo all the things in you that are holy.

“just drop it, pretty,” his breath teased your lips and you almost leaned forward in curiosity, wanting to see how just one kiss would feel, “i know you’re a good girl.”

those words. they’re almost enough for you to give in. how did he know those would strike a nerve, hit you where he knew it would work? not only did all your efforts ultimately lead to the same goal—purity, goodness—but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction you felt from reassurance. if you were an animal, you’d strive to be the priest’s favourite sacrificial lamb. to hold so very still and to bleed so prettily when the knife final comes down, to be reborn and be chosen all over again.

“don’t you get it?” he whispered, “i live inside you the same way you’re bound to live inside me. we’re a moebius strip, a never ending cycle of a snake eating it’s own tail. maybe it will end in destruction, but that’s your dear father’s doing. mutually assured destruction, maybe; you say yes, i’ll ruin you for everyone else, blacken the wool of your fur coat. you say no to me, i will suffer the consequences of not fulfilling a deal. you wouldn’t want someone to suffer because of you, hm?”

your grip on the rosary loosened and let your eyes finally flutter open. from this proximity, you could see every detail of his face and the image seared into your mind.

something in his eyes darkened as his lips curled, a playful smile, a predatory grin. the way he looked at you made you want to combust into flames, to fall to your knees, you skin rubbed raw on the ground as you beg him to make you feel.

“you don’t look so innocent anymore, you know? you’re docile and sweet, yes, but you’re not as pure as you think you are, there’s a little dirt in your pristine heart, a little lustful stain you can’t erase.”

“y-you’re wrong!” you protested, trying to convince yourself he was lying, “i’m good and i’ve always been good and i always will be good and i will not for the devil’s influence.”

“oh, but i’m not,” he pouted mockingly, moving his head back just an inch, looking down at you, “you’re practically shaking, so close to giving in… you’re the most pious girl here, yet you’re so close to sin, so close to me.”

you opened your mouth to continue your protests but flinched as you heard familiar heavy footsteps, looking up at the little window to see the familiar boots of your father about to enter the house after a long day of work. he was out, casting out malicious spirits and demons, and here you were, about to let one deflower you. the realisation seemingly made you come back to your senses, clenching the roary in your hand once more and looking for a way past him.

but… what would you even do afterwards? confront your father, the town’s devout exorcist, for making deals with the incubus in front of you? would he call you crazy, deny everything and treat you like just another one of his clients?

the footsteps were now above you, you could faintly hear him saying something to your mother though you couldn’t quite make out what it was. you’d never been as afraid of anything as you were of your own father, standing right above you, acting like he hadn’t damned you from the day you were conceived.

as if he could read your thoughts, could sense your panic that was completely unrelated to him, the incubus stepped back. his face was unreadable as his glazed over eyes fixated on you.

“don’t worry, sweet girl, i can wait. the longer you resist, the better it’ll feel when you finally surrender,” he gave you a small smile, different from the previous grins and smirks, as he nodded towards the window, “go.”

you could’ve run away the moment he stepped back, yet you didn’t move until he gave you the permission. you didn’t dwell on that fact as you slipped past him and reached up, shaky hands undoing the latch and opening outwards. you attempted to climb up, your arms burning as you tried lifting yourself, only to give up, panting softly from the effort.

“let me help you.” his voice offered, prompting you to look back at him. the seductive glint in his eyes was no longer there, taking a small step forward. “just… put it down, i promise i’ll help you and leave.”

you stared at him for a long moment. there was something so different in the way he looked at you now, suddenly soft and with good intentions. the voice of your father calling your name snapped you out of your stupor, nodding hurridely as you placed the rosary on the grass outside carefully before turning to look at him.

he gestured for you to turn away, your hands finding your hips as you did. the contact made you breath hitched, despite your layers of clothing between your curves and his hands, your stomach tickled with swarming butterflies as he lifted you up. the heat of his body behind yours distracted you for a moment, taken aback at how real he felt, how human he felt, even as he lifted you with ease.

you braced your forearms on the ground, pulling yourself up the rest of the way as he spoke.

“whisper my name three times, and i’ll be summoned wherever you are, ready to fulfill your needs.”

you stayed quiet for a moment, just sitting on the ground as you looked down at him, now able to see his full face clearning from his proximity to the window. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he smiled, “choi san.”

you loked away, up at your house as your father’s concerned voice called out your name again. “i should get going, but–,” you looked down to thank him, only to find an empty room and a sealed window. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, voiced trailing off, “thank you…”

the first time you touched yourself, it was san you were thinking about.

late at night, your parents fast asleep, a storm ragin outside, but all you could do was think about him. you tried, you really did. you tried to go back in the house and pretend everything was fine, that you had just been on a walk and your flushed face was from the excercise. secretely, all you could think about was him. how you wanted him to show up again—wanted him to make your breath hitch and your heart jump. wanted him to soothe whatever it was that ached inside you; the burn in the pit of your stomach, the spot where your waist met your hips, but most of all between your legs, were it had never ached like this before.

you excused yourself from dinner earlier, went to bed, and tried so desperately to fall asleep. whether it was to forget about it all, or to meet him in your dreams again, you couldn’t tell. you really tried, but haunting thoughts of how his hands held onto you rolled into your mind with images of all the things he could do to you. the raspy lilt of his voice, sometimes soft, sometimes commanding in a way that made your limbs feel like jello at the mere thought of it. his sharp eyes and sharp jaw and such tempting lips. he could have a kind face if he wanted to, yet his toned body, visible and obvious despite trying to hide behind his clothing, screamed sex appeal.

flashes from your previous dreams raced through your mind too. fragments of images where you could feel his hands all over you, his dark hair sticking to his sweat forehead, eyes rolled back from the pleasure he gave himself while you were forced to watch. you never quite gave in in the dreams either.

you tossed and turned in your bed, thighs pressed together so tight you worried you’d have long bruises down your inner thighs the next morning. the new feeling felt much too large for your fragile mind, overwhelming you, making your loose clothes feel suffocating. it wouldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t let you sleep. mostly because you didn’t want to give the feeling a name, you refused to speak its name, even in your mind, even if it could identify this feeling.

pent-up and strained, coiled into yourself in a foetal position, you could only roll onto your back and let your hand trail down your body, hiking up the long skirt of your nightgown before letting your fingers dip between your thighs, spread at the knees. you let out a shaky gasp as you felt the wetness pooled beneath your undergarments, clamping your other hand over your lips. after feeling around experimentally, your fingers found a quick pace, rubbing over your clit, more desperate than they had ever been. your hand muffled your gasped out moans and whimpers, tears pricking at your eyes—partly from the guilt, mostly from the pleasure. you felt your heart beat all over your body, most of all right below your moistened fingertips.

shaky breaths and muffled needy cries were covered by both your hand and the storm outside your window. if hurts a little, your clit swelling as more and more slick coats it and the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. but you don’t mind the pain, you think you deserve it, because after all, it’s forbidden and it’s not supposed to feel good. san is not supposed to make you feel so good. a demon was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to be on your mind, especially not in this way.

the thought of him made your hand move faster and suddenly your breath was stuttering and your core pulse as you finish quickly, biting down on your lip, hard enough to cut through the skin, to muffle your cries. when you came down from your high, you lay there for a few moments longer, heart racing as you glance at the door to make sure it was still closed. and when you realised what you had just done, shame clouded your lungs as you slipped your fingers out of your panties and raised them to your face.

your hands came away sticky. transparents webs of your pleasure linking your index and middle fingers together as you stared in horror before finally collecting yourself and jumping from your bed to scrub the sin from your hands in your bathroom.

you scrubbed until your fingers turned red and your palms raw, losing sensation from the ice cold water, the guilt sinking deeper and deeper the longer you took to cleanse your body. you hadn’t noticed the tears running down your cheeks until you stared at yourself in the mirror, sniffling and glossy-eyed. your body might be clean, but were you? if you wanted to be immaculate, how could you let yourself do such a thing?

it was his fault, really. him and his midnight eyes and electric touches and words that would drive you to madness, damnation.

you changed your panties and nightgown, burying them in your laundry basket as if you were burying the evidence of a crime. once done, you wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed and fall asleep. but as you stared at what you once thought was comforting, you could only think about your soft whimpers and shaking thighs. so you stripped your bed naked to decorate it anew with clean sheets and blankets and pillows, shoving the previous ones under your bed before finally falling into a deep sleep.

shame followed you like a pest for the next days, unable to properly smile because all you could think about was what you had done. and what you wanted to do. a heavy melancholy washed over you in these days, confining yourself to your room when ou didn’t have to come down for meals. if your parents picked up on it, they didn’t say anything. maybe they knew. what if they know?

maybe they didn’t say anything because they knew about san. perhaps they thought it was fate, that you would give in sooner or later. despite cracking a bit, you stood by your conviction that you wouldn’t, no matter what, summon him.

but… was he really so bad? had you not seen a moment of softness when he helped you? demons were, after all, fallen angels. could it really be so impossible he still had a sprinkle of previous angeilc qualities? silently, you were thankful he hadn’t showed up on his own again. if he did, you were afraid you’d throw away all sense of faith and throw yourself into his arms, let him kiss you and lick you and suck you and bite you and everything in between.

despite all this, despite not wanting to summon him, you couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling weighing you down with each step. it had been there before—before whatever happened in the basement—dragging your seemingly heavy limbs through vacant hallways. but when he touched you, when his fingertips brushed against yours as he touched the shiny black beads of your rosary even though he didn’t mean to, when his hands lifted you into the air and helped you escape, the way he talked to you, his words and tone, that unsettling feeling had been lifted off your shoulders.

you noticed, for a brief moment, when you spent that short amount of time with him, you had no desire to think of god or rules or expectations. even if it was for a split second, it happened, and perhaps that what terrified you the most. just wanted to be, something you hadn’t been allowed for so long.

so when your parents said they’d be out late for some dinner you had no interest in attending, you paced around your room, deep in thought as your typical long nightgown tickled your ankles. millions of thoughts raced through your kind but, at the core, they were all the same. san, san, san. you felt like he had attached himself to your very soul, and you’re not quite sure how it happened.

without thinking, you stopped your pacing, glancing at the crucifix on your bedside table, a reminder. you couldn’t take it anymore, reaching out to take the wooden symbol and hide it in your closet. was it really wrong if it was still there, only trapped behind the wooden double doors, nestled between your skirts and shirts and gowns and gowns? out of sight, you felt less bad about what you were going to do.

your eyes squeezed shut and you did as he told you to, lips parting to whisper his name thrice. almost instantly, a gust of wind blew through your room and you knew there was someone else there with you. your eyes remained shut until you heard footsteps stalking towards you, his familiar voice filling the eerie silence of the room.

“hello, angel,” he grinned, borderline menacing, as he backed you up against your dresser. much like before, you were trapped, the back of your thighs pressed against the wood. only this time, you weren’t afraid, “i knew you’d give in sooner rather than later.”

you didn’t reply, didn’t know how to reply, only breathing shallowly, fingers curling into the edge of your dresser as you glanced from his eyes to his lips repeatedly.

“you need to give me permission, you know,” he chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “there are rules for deals such as these.”

“please.” you breathed, somewhere between a whisper and a needy whine as your round eyes looked up at him so desperately.

as soon as the word left you, his lips were on yours. hungry, devouring you, sucking on your bottom lip like it’s a candy as you can’t help but melt and whimper against him. his hand found your cheek, the touch surprisingly soft compared to the madness of his kisses. your heart rattled against your ribcage like a bird wanting to escape its confines. his saccharine saliva seeped into your mouth as his tongue broke past your lips, running over your teeth and the roof of your mouth as you let him do whatever he wanted.

his hands are all over you and yours are all over him, grabbing at each other because there was no way to get any closer like this. your thoughts, unlike before, are completely quiet, head empty and drunk on the sloppy kisses, mouthfuls of teeth clashing against each other. he was supposed to be gentle, he wanted to be gentle, yet now you’re pressed against the dresser and he’s kissing you hard.

it was wrong, but it felt too good. that was clear from the moment your kisses turn open-mouthed, lips clinging and tongues dancing. you shivered as both his hands held you by your hips once more, lifting you to sit on the edge of the oak furniture, caressing your hips bones through the thin fabric of your dress.

your hands rug at his shirt lightly, a silent plea for him to remove it, wanting to see and feel every inch of his divine body. he complies, separating his lips from your to reach over his shoulder and grip the silky shirt from the back, pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. your hands explore his naked torso, fingernails scratching along his skin as he loses himself in the taste of your kisses.

his hands dragged the long skirt of your gown up your legs, fingers ghosting over the supple skin of your calves and thighs before letting the cloth bunch up at your hips, winding your legs around his waist before lifting you off the dresser. you cling to him the way the thought of him cling to you for so long before this as he carries you. he lays you down gently, your head spinning as he kneeled on the edge of your bed and leaned over you, moving his lips from yours to mouth at your neck.

his hot breaths dance along your skin, across your collarbone, neck, pressing wet kisses down to the fabric covering your chest. you gasped softly as he brushed his teeth against your skin, a reminded that he could really break you if he wanted, but the feel of his lips against the curve of your neck, testing out the waters of your shoulder, made the intimidating thought vanish.

he teases the skin just above your neckline with nibbles that have you throwing your head back with soft whimpers, only encouraging him as his left hand kept one of your legs hitched up against his hips and his right undid the ribbons at the back of your dress. the fabric loosens and slips around, one sleeve falling over your shoulder slightly as he sat you up a little and pulled the dress over your head, discarding it and leaving you in your white ruffled bra and panties.

you’re dizzy, delirious with thirst—for his touch, his kisses, for everything his sharp lips could give you, for him to relieve the ache between your legs. you shiver as you’re left bare, nipples peaking through your bra, undergarments barely hiding your most precious parts. you try covering yourself with shaking arms, despite the little fabric still be there, but his hands move them aside, pulling them to rest on his bare chest. his eyelids flutter for a moment at the contact, your hands so much colder than his.

he leans back to look at your, hand at your back winding around to massage a handful of one breast, watching your breath hitch. “such a pretty girl, and all for me.”

“san…” you whimper aimlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“such an angel,” he teases again, thumb circling over your clothed nipple lightly, grinning at how helpless you looked, “supposedly protected by your father, by god, yet here you are, practically begging for a demon to fuck you.”

he presses himself closer and you can feel the thick and heavy weight of his cock smudge against your core, gasping softly as you eyes roll back, his tip prodding against the fabric covering your sensitive clit. his name falls from your lips once again, like a softly uttered prayer as you back arches. he takes the opportunity to undo the clasp of your bra, slipping the item off you before continuing to tease your perked nipples, leaning down to lick and suck at them as his hips grind against yours. you weren’t sure when he took off his pants, but you didn’t quite care, not when his impressive girth covered your core so well. sometimes the tip would dip into your entrance before leaving just as quickly, your toes curling as it stretched you and your panties.

he moans into your neck, grinding against you at just the right pace, his precum smearing all over you already-drenched panties. the feeling of his tip prodding at you clit so continuously makes you come quickly, and much harder than the other night when you touched yourself. you writhe beneath him, shaking and crying out his name as your back arches from the bed.

“hm, you’re so much prettier like this, angel, succumbing and throwing away any desire of virtue,” he mutters against your jaw, having sucked dark marks onto the skin right below it, his deep melodic voice.

angel. the way he calls you that makes you shiver. how could he do that? call you an angel while plucking out the feathers of the wings you’d once had?

when he enters you, it’s slow and deliberate, leaning down to whisper into your ear as he presses your hands into the white mattress—”heaven itself could not make you feel like this.”

“i’ve never… you know…” you had admitted shyly once you came down from the first orgasm he coaxed out of you.

he only chuckled, caressing your cheek. “i know. virgins always smell the sweetest.”

you pleaded for him to be gentle, and how could he say no when you were begging so prettily? now his length is barely halfway inside you and you’re already shaking, drenched and deprived pussy squeezing him tightly as he swallows down your broken moans, holding back him own. you feel abnormally good to him, unable to remember the last time he fucked such a perfect pussy.

as he reaches previously untouched parts of you, his tip brushes against a spongey little area that has you clenching, your breath hitching followed by a gasped moan as you come again. stars flood your vision, feeling like your body was on fire as your hands tightened under his. his tongue licks up every one of your sounds, smothering you as he pulled back a bit to press against the spot some more.

your moans soon turn into soft whines, twitching from overstimulation before he fially continues to enter you. it’s a tight fit, but he bottoms out eventually.

“fuck- you take me so well, you’re so perfect.” he groans, looking down at where he can see his tip bulging through your stomach.

you never imagined just how full you would feel, the stretch burning yet somehow still pleasurable as you squirm beneath him. he doesn’t wait, retracting and fucking into you slowly, letting you feel every curve and vein of his perfect cock.

he loses track, but he thinks he’s made you finish 4 times already. he’s not surprised, virginity leaves most people sensitive, and the fact he’s been teasing you in and out of your dreams for months likely didn’t help. san revels in it though, basks in the sounds you try to hold back so desperately. he isn’t lying when he says you’re pretty, hypnotised by your face contorted in pleasure and your body, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. they somehow still have an innocent glint in them, even as he manoeuvres you into different positions before finally easing you into your back once more.

you arousal is smeared all over yourself and him and the bedsheets. clear and sticky, glistening in the candlelight. at some point he slipped out of you to lean down and have a taste, groaning as you mewed above him. when his teeth grazed your abuser clit, you finish once again and a moment later he’s back inside you.

eventually, his hips stutter and a newfound pace takes over. “shit, angel, i’m gonna fill you up so good. would you like that?”

you can only nod frantically, brain turned to mush, jaw dropped to let out your lazy whimpers. you’ve lost track of everything but him; his touch, his voice, his influence. if you parents walked in or he disappeared, you’d only be able to lay there, completely helpless.

he never really stops, taking his time to worship your tight hole, knowing he’ll only be able to stop when he comes. though, by the looks of it, it’ll be sooner rather than later.

his groans and moans sound blissful in your ears, holding your name between his teeth with a low whimper. he spills his tick warm cum into you, the new sensation making you shake and squirm as you feel your insides being filled. another orgasm washed over you, though a little weaker, drunk on his scent and his saliva and him him him.

he kisses you, bruisingly, slipping out of yoh and letting you feel his seed seep out of your hole and run down your thighs, pussy coated in milky white. he slumps against you, detaching his lips from yours to gaze down at your barely open eyes.

it’s tiring, you can’t deny that, but it just feels so good. all your disgusting, fucked up thoughts were because of him. and now your most intimate parts will always be tainted by his hands. he calls you ‘good girl,’ yet you know you’ll never be good again.

choi san: voice like silk, touch like satin, incubus, demon. you’d think demons kill people, but your purity was his only homicide. he murdered your virginity. murderer.

but you do wish for him to kiss you again.

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