#oops. my finger slipped on the reply.

[ofspvrta]

❛  god ,  shut  up  and  fuck  me  already !  ❜ // needy

μ::|| meme: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑰𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑬 . | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @wolfkcst

Eivor could often grow weary of Kassandra's constant need to fill dead air. Could she be blamed? She had gone centuries without a constant companion, she had so much she wanted to say, and for the most part, they were a great listener. Up until the point where Kassandra's chattering went on for far too long. Candles had dwindled down to tiny waxen stumps, their flames flickering and on their last bit of life. She had been in the middle of one of her so-called tall tales, seemingly oblivious to the way that Eivor looked at her. It wasn't the look of someone enraptured by a story so much as the hungry stare of someone enraptured by the storyteller.

As Eivor interrupted, slamming their tankard down on the table, Kassandra abruptly stopped her tale, staring wide-eyed at the drengr at first before a knowing smile crept into her features. How could she ever say no to such a needy request? Standing from her spot at the table, the immortal deftly moved to stand before Eivor, leaning over them and taking their jaw in her hand, pressing a bruising kiss to their lips as her knee pressed between Eivor's legs, knowing exactly what spot to rest it. Her free hand pressed to their breast and kneaded at it, silently cursing the layers of fabric over-top. Pulling back from the kiss, she took Eivor's bottom lip between her teeth. "I think you're a little overdressed, don't you?"

[bruinescence]

// Found out why Halsin is always ending up in the damsel in distress situations in this game first-hand...

There was a pipe that was too small to get into and me being a nosy fuck made Halsin transform into a cat so he could go on a solo adventure. He's a tough guy, so - he should be all right...right??

Well, turns out the area he ended up in had a magic wall he could pass through and end up in the jail. As a cat, he could wander around and the guards were none the wiser. WELL...when time came for him to leave with his findings, the magic wall suddenly didn't work anymore. And he can't open the jail's front door as a cat.

So this man waits for the guard to get by, transforms back quickly and is met with a locked door. Oh, no need to panic though - there's a few thieves kits in his pocket that had hadn't given to Astarion yet. He can just pick the lock and get out. Except his sleight of hand is so bad that he has to roll a 20 and he's getting less than 10 each try.

The panic is real now because the guard is coming back and he's still just uselessly lockpicking and jiggling the door. I think...maybe just break the door down, you're massive? But inner Halsin is like, but it's such a nicely carved door- look at that craftsmanship. He can pass a history/religion/perception check and list about every cool thing about the wood and the carving used on the door; he just can't get it open.

Anyway, that's how the guard walks up on a large elvish man wearing just leather pants and trying to 'break in' on the wrong side of the jail. Sigh...shall he walk himself to an open cell?

[scarletlizzard]

Inked Desires

Pairing: g!p Natasha x fem! Reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, Natasha has a dick, also covered in tattoos w/ piercings, buff out of this world, she's hot okay, cunnilingus, handjobish, unprotected sex, breeding yup, alcohol at the beginning

A/N: I'm cheating and putting these two requests together, oops! This is my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. Also, would really love some feedback on this so I know for the future to either write more like this or just tell me to stop now. Thanks so much for reading and thanks for the requests!! 🩵

Masterlist

~~~

"Here, take this!" Your friend says over the loud music, handing you another cup half filled with a mixture of liquor.

You don't question her and take the cup from her, drinking it down in only two gulps. Kate laughs and cheers as you do, doing the same with the cup she held.

By now, you were a few drinks in, and the house Kate had dragged you to was full of people. This definitely wasn't your type of scene, but as you danced among the bodies in the lowlit living room, you couldn't help but feel grateful she had.

As your hips move against your friend, she leans over to your ear. "She's staring at you again," Kate laughs, and your eyes move to the corner of the room.

There was the stranger of the night, a tall woman who stood out, whose green eyes had been watching your every move since you walked in the door. Her muscular arms were covered with art of all kinds, disappearing up into the sleeves of her shirt. She brought her red cup to her lips again, her face mostly hidden from the light.

Instead of replying, you only continue to dance, this time keeping eye contact with your stranger. The woman watches as your hips sway, your hands traveling your own body as you move to the music. It doesn't take long after that before she's finally striding across the room, standing a head taller than most of the crowd.

When she reaches you, you can finally see the rest of her gorgeous face. Above her sprightly green eyes, you noticed a piercing on her eyebrow, a few on her nose, and one on the bottom lip of the smirk she gave you. As she stands in front of you, you literally have to look up at her, and you realize she was much more toned up close.

"I'm just gonna grab another drink!" Kate raises her voice above the music for the two of you to hear.

"I'll catch up with you later!" You shout back to which she only laughs and shoots you a "Yeah, right," before walking off.

You turn your attention back to the stranger.

"Hi," she smiles.

"Hi," you reply curiously.

"I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?" She asks. Her eyes shamelessly roam the soft features of your face and the curves of your body.

"Y/N... this is my first time here. What's yours?" You ask with a blush on your cheeks. She tucks back her red hair behind one of her ears, revealing to you even more piercings.

You don't know if it's the alcohol or the feeling the stranger ignited in your chest, but you feel compelled to step forward and rest your hand on her muscular bicep. Your finger traces the tattoos that littered the skin there.

"Natasha," she says with a smile. "Wanna go upstairs?" A cock of her eyebrow with the piercing sticking out is enough to get you wet.

***

As soon as the door closes, the two of you are on each other, kissing feverishly. Her hands are under your shirt, touching your skin as she lifts you against the door. Your legs wrap around her hips, and you smile against her lips at how easily she lifted you. She was strong. You could feel her muscles under her tight shirt, squeezing you impossibly close.

But when her tongue slips past your lips, you gasp and pull away, a string of saliva pulling between your mouths.

"What's wrong? Do you need to stop?" She asks with a concerned expression. You look at her with wide eyes.

"No - no, I'm fine, it's just. Is your tongue...?" You didn't know how to ask. She chuckles and ducks her head before looking back at you. Natasha lets her tongue slide across her top lip, and it's then your suspicions are confirmed.

"Split, and yes... it will feel better," Natasha says in a cocky tone, her lips attaching to your neck as she carries you to the bed. You feel your back hit the soft mattress, and she lets go of you to remove your shirt.

"I want to see them all," you breathe out and run your finger over the skin on her arm. She smiles and pulls back, taking off her shirt to reveal she was completely covered. "They're beautiful..." You let your eyes take in the sight of the art, your hands tracing the dark lines and over the grooves of her abs. Natasha is a God.

As she continues to undress you, she kisses as much skin as she can, her lips soft and wet with every touch. When she gets to your breasts, you feel her tongue spread, taking your nipple between the two halves and sucking it.

"Oh- oh fuck," you moan out, suprised at the unfamiliar feeling and how good it felt. Natasha hums and lays you back, kissing down your stomach. When she spreads your legs she looks at you with hungry eyes, seeing how wet you already were.

"All this for me, baby?" She asks, letting a finger move up and down your wet folds. Your body shivers with anticipation. The way she looked at you, the way she looked, you were willing to let this stranger do absolutely anything to you.

"All for you.." You husk back, watching her split tongue wet her lips again.

Natasha kneels down at the edge of the bed and puts your legs over her shoulders, her hands grip your thighs tightly.

"How fucking lucky am I then?" She smirks up at you before placing soft, teasing kisses on your thighs.

You feel her mouth attach to your clit, and the heat in your stomach burns hotter. She licks up your slit, groaning as she tastes you.

"Fuck you taste so good," Natasha moans and let's her tongue lick up to your clit. She let's the two halves spread and rub against you. The new feeling makes you arch your back, your head thrown against the comforter.

"G-God Nat, that feels so good!" You moan and try to squeeze your thighs, but her grip kept your legs spread as she continued to eat you out. The sounds of her mouth against your wet pussy were the most sinful sounds you had ever heard, and the moans leaving your mouth were sounds nobody had ever elicited from you before.

She groans against you, the vibrations causing even more pleasure. "That's it baby," she says in between licks, "Want you to cum all over my face." Natashas tongue moves in two different ways, the coil in your lower stomach twisting up.

Your hands grip the comforter as she moves quicker, and the coil begins to unravel as you come undone

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," your back arches again and your legs tremble around her head as you let out a pornographic moan. Natasha hums agaisnt you as you come, her hands not flinching to hold your thighs apart.

She licks every drop, her tongue swirling around your sensative clit one more time before she lets go and stands up. "Come here," Natasha commands, and with a dizzy mind you sit up, trying to catch your breath. She bends down to take your jaw, kissing you rough and sloppily. You forces you to taste yourself, and her tongue pushes in your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue.

You can smell your own arousal on her face, feeling it wet your nose and lips. You blush, almost embarrassed with how wet this stranger made you.

"Now lets see how well you can ride my cock," Natasha chuckles and pulls back to remove her remaining clothes. Your eyes are settled on her breasts, unable to remove them from the piercings on her nipples. When you can pull yourself away from the sight of the silver metal against pink, you look down to see her remove her underwear. She was hard, painfully hard just from eating you out.

She tosses the boxers in the corner where other random clothes lay, and you gave her a curious look. "It's my room, don't worry. Didn't even know you were in my house, did you, love?" Natasha strides back to the bed and sits with her back against the headboard, pulling you closer to her.

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry... my friend kind of dragged me out tonight," you say with red cheeks, and she kisses you desperately.

"Thank God she did," Nat mumbles against your lips. She lets out a groan as your hand reaches between the two of you to lightly grip her cock, and you could feel how she was already throbbing for you. You begin to move your hand up and down slowly as the kiss turns sloppy, her tongue sliding yours between hers. Natasha revels in the feeling of her in your soft hand, your delicate fingers moving along the veins of erection.

"Shit - that feels so good," she moans into the kiss as your hand movements speed up. Your thumb swipes across the tip, precum dripping out already. You smile at the low moan that leaves her lips and continue to jerk her as you kiss. "I need you, please. Fuck I need to be inside you," she begs, and the sound of her begging was something you wanted to hear again. You take her lower lip between your teeth, sucking on the piercing before letting go with a 'pop'.

"I wanna ride you so bad, Nat.. I'm so wet for you," you whisper and let your kisses trail down to her sharp jaw. You feel her cock twitch in your hand as you speak and she grabs your wrist to stop your hand movements, panting as she does.

Natasha turns you around quickly, groaning at the sight of your ass as you straddle her lap and let her hands guide you onto her thick cock. You slide down slowly, letting out a moan when you feel her filling you up.

"Just relax baby, you're so fucking tight," she mumbles as she watches herself slowly disappear inside of you. She let's out a low moan as she feels your hot cunt swallow her, the back of head hitting the headboard when she feels your walls squeezing her. The feeling alone was enough for her mind to sever ties with reality, the only thought was you.

The sensation has that coil tightening inside of you again. You rest your hands on her toned thighs for support, relishing in the way her muscles flexed underneath your fingertips.

Natashas' hands continue to guide you, and after you had adjusted to her large size, you begin to grind yourself down on her lap.

"Just like that baby, fuck... feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. You were just made to take me," she groans, her words only driving you to move your hips faster.

Her large hands move to your sides and up your body, groping your skin as she starts to move her hips up to meet yours. The two of you find a rythem together, and soon you find yourself willingly bouncing on her cock. Her hands moved to gather your hair, wrapping it into a fist in her right hand. She tugs on it and pulls your head back, a loud moan leaves your lips at the feeling.

"You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?" She smirks, tugging your hair again.

"Yes - god, yes, Nat!" You whine as her lips find your neck. She bites down hard on your pulse point, surely leaving a mark, and leaves hot open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"I know you do, you little slut. Fucking dripping on my cock. You feel how easy I slide in and out of you?" She says and with her left hand she grabs your jaw. "Answer me."

"I'm so wet, you make me so wet," you whine again, feeling her fingers move between your teeth. You suck hard as you look in her eyes, your tongue swirling around spit dripping down your chin. When you bite down, it surprises her, but she only chuckles darkly.

In a second, Natasha had let go of your hair and pushed you down face first onto the mattress. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, but soon after, she's lifting your hips and sliding into you again. Both of you moan at the feeling of how deep she goes.

"Christ, it doesn't matter how long I fuck you. You're just - so - fucking tight," she grunts in between words, her cock drilling you into oblivion. With every thrust you can hear the bedframe hitting the wall, and you can't help the pitiful noises that leave your mouth.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum," You rasp out. A sharp slap on your ass makes you whimper as you feel it begin to sting.

"No, shit, hold it in," Natasha warns. You feel the pressure of her body move on top of you. The piercings on her breasts rub against your back with each powerful thrust, and her arm moves underneath your neck to hold you tightly.

Natasha grunts in your ear as she pounds into you, letting out a moan when she feels your slick cunt tighten around her length. "I'm almost there, baby. Are you gonna be a good girl and come all over my cock?"

You nod the best you can in her tight grip, only able to get out a "Yes," in between gasps.

"You feel so good, Y/N. You want me to cum inside you? Fuck- I wanna fill up your tight little pussy so bad..." She groans against you and her words send you over the edge.

"Oh god, Nat! Please fill me up, please," you beg her, and just the thought of it is enough to let go. Your orgasm ripples through your body, sending shockwaves of pleasure to your core.

Natasha moans loudly as she feels you coating her cock with your cum, and she can no longer hold back. "Fuck- Y/N!" She groans and you whine as you feel her hot load spurting inside of you, her cock twitching as she slows her movements. "Take every.. last.. drop.." She pants as she thrusts a few more times.

The two of you stay like that for a while, her cock inside you as she stills above you. Your head rests against her arm as you attempt to catch your breath. When she removes herself slowly, and you wince at the soreness and empty feeling. Natasha lays next to you and you turn on your side to face her.

"Hi," she chuckles at the exhausted features on your face.

"You just fucked the life out of me and you're going to say... 'hi' ?" You laugh, suprised to see a blush on the strong womans cheeks as she laughs along with you. Your hand reaches out, resting on her stomach and tracing the lines of her tattoos again.

After the two of you clean yourselves up, you begin to dress yourself, feeling her eyes on you as you pull your shirt over your head.

"You don't have to go, you know. I'm not like that," she says gently, and you look up to see her pulling on a pair of jeans. You smile at her kind demeanor and walk over to her.

"I have to take my friend home," you say and lean up on your toes to kiss her cheek. She has to bend down for you to reach her lips, but she doesn't complain.

"Well, maybe I can take you out sometime," Natasha smirks and rests her hands on your waist. You nod as you look up to her.

"I would love that.." You reply honestly, wanting nothing more than to get to know her and count the endless tattoos that cover her body.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

virgin ethan being in his first relationship with you and being so inexperienced. before you he had never even held hands romantically before. when you kissed him for the first time he almost came in his pants. he’s so easily worked up and so sensitive, and you’re constantly finding new ways to take advantage of that.

the two of you were sitting in his bed, watching some obscure horror movie on his laptop, when you started to get bored. he was entirely engrossed in the movie, but you were just sitting there and staring at him, dirty thoughts taking over your mind.

you adjusted your position and inched your way closer, leaning against him. your mouth soon found his neck, pressing light teasing kisses all over the sensitive skin. you smirked to yourself when you felt him tense up beneath you.

“w-what are you doing?” ethan asked, his voice quivering.

“nothing,” you replied, continuing to kiss his neck.

wanting to test the waters, you lightly bit down on his neck, causing the most erotic noise he had ever made to fall from his lips. you stretched a leg over his lap, moving to straddle him so you could get a better angle.

with the movie now long forgotten, you leaned in to kiss him. nothing you hadn’t done with him before, but soon it became more desperate. hungry. ethan felt his cock twitch as the kiss continued, your hands burying themselves in his hair and pulling him closer.

you tugged lightly, making him whimper beneath you. you knew right then and there that you would do absolutely anything to get him to make that sound again. you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip, slipping it inside his mouth once he parted his lips, deepening the kiss.

your hips started to subtly grind down against his, and you were now aware of the very prominent bulge in ethan’s sweatpants. he whimpered once more, his voice breaking slightly, and he moved his hands to grip your hips, holding you in place as he began to thrust up against you.

you pulled away from the kiss, desperately gasping for air, and you smirked at the sight below you. ethan’s eyes were shut tightly, his head tilted back and his lips parted, small grunts and whimpers falling from his mouth. he didn’t even seem fully aware that he was practically humping you from below, holding you in place as his hips moved desperately against you.

only when a loud moan slipped from his mouth and he through his head back in ecstasy, spilling his load into his boxers, did he realize what had happened. his face instantly flushed red as he looked up at you nervously, almost like he was scared that he was about to get scolded.

“i- im sorry! i- i didn’t mean to-” he blurted out, seeming both very nervous and utterly embarrassed.

“shh…” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair comfortingly. “don’t apologize, my sweet boy. you did nothing wrong.”

“but i- i-”

you nodded, still smiling sweetly. “i know, baby. you came in your pants. it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

you leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “in fact, i found it insanely hot.”

this was supposed to be a blurb but i got carried away, oops -_-

tags: @wenvierismycomfort @hyeyulove

if your name is crossed out, it means i can’t tag you!

[possiblyreallyme]

Kinktober day 8: fivesome with Tengen + the wives

warning: p in v, riding, fingering, face sitting, multiple rounds.

kinktober masterlist

Tengen was used to fucking round after round with his wives, and at this point he couldn't even sleep properly if he wasn't met with at least seven orgasms by the end of it. It was very impressive, yes, but the other male Hashira had grown very tired of listening to him brag about it.

His beautiful wives were the light of his life, each a skilled kunoichi able to hold their own against just about anyone, but even they couldn't always keep up. Sometimes they'd have to sacrifice poor Suma so Tengen could be satisfied and pamper her afterwards, or have Makio try to wrestle him out of it, but it seemed only Hinatsuru could convince him to get off on his own and let the girls get some rest. That is, until they met you.

"Easy, big boy, let Hina prep her," Makio chastised in annoyance, trying to hold back her girlish sounds of pleasure as Tengen eagerly bucked up into her as she bounced in his lap from the force. After you agreed to spend a night with the Uzui's, there was no keeping Tengen back. They'd never seen him so eager to fuck someone new, and it had Suma giggling as she watched, fingers pumping in and out of her own cunt without a trace of shame.

Hina kept your mind far from him though, working her slender digits in and out of your sopping pussy slowly, stretching you wide and cooing in your ear. "You're doing so good, dear, just focus on my fingers."

Tengen could hear every little sigh and gasp you made as his loving wife thumbed your clit, even over the sounds of Suma's loud moans and the three different squelching pussies around him. It made him feel lightheaded, gripping Makio's hips tight enough to make her squeal as he pulled her up and down harshly, quickly trying to bring her to an orgasm so he could slip her off without her putting up a fight.

"Cum," He commanded, and much to Makio's dismay, it was all she had to hear before she slumped against his chest and bit her wrist to stop her whines, quivering around his cock while stars flickered in her vision.

"Oop," Suma giggled, starting to rock into her hand to grind her palm against her clit. "Looks like Makio's out!"

"Suma, distract him while I help our new angel," Hinatsuru requested sweetly, almost sounding like a concerned mother as she glanced down at your weeping pussy. "She's still so tight, I'm afraid he might not fit."

"I'll fit," Tengen replied as Suma positioned her hips over his face, pushing him onto his back while Makio tiredly rolled off of him. "I'll make it fit."

Your moan made Hinatsuru chuckle, pressing her lips to your warm cheek as she curled her fingers into that spongy spot that had you leaning into her, face buried deep in her chest. "Just be careful with this one, Lord Tengen, alright? She isn't used to your roughness like we are," She told him gently, though her voice was firm enough to make him grunt out an agreement into Suma's face while she shamelessly rode his face.

Suma looked so pretty in the moonlight, pale skin glistening with sweat and her heavy breasts bouncing with each time she rolled into Tengen's awaiting mouth. Her dark hair was tussled and fluffy, and though you wished you could see her bright eyes at the moment, the blissful look she wore with her mouth agape and her eyes shut had you cumming on Hinatsuru's fingers in an instant, bucking into her palm as she soothed you.

"Shh, there you go, good job," She whispered, voice smooth like honey and directly into your ear, smoothing your hair with her free hand while you pumped yourself on her other one. "You're nice and loosened up now, see? You did so good, especially for your first time, sweetie."

God, you could die in her arms. But the siren-like wail that Suma cried had you wanting to jump her instead, pulling your face from the lovely set of tits you had nestled in to watch Suma come undone while Tengen lapped at her folds.

"Tengen!! Lord Tengen, ohhhh!!!" She was loud, and Makio almost conked her on the head for it, but their husband merely chuckled into her folds and let her ride out here high.

"There you go, baby, I was waitin' for that," He murmured, picking up the shivering Suma by her hips to set her in Makio's lap, smiling a bit more when he finally got to see how pretty you looked in his wife's arms. He licked his lips, pupils dilating in awe at the sight of your panting form— how had he managed to find someone just as beautiful as his wives?

"Hina," Tengen started, voice dangerously low as a shiver ran up your spine, his eyes never leaving yours as he addressed her. "Can you wait? I know I usually fuck you after Suma, but I just can't wait any longer to get my hands on that little dame in your arms right there."

Hinatsuru didn't seem disappointed in the slightest, plump lips curling at the edges into a graceful smile. "Of course, Lord Tengen. I can wait," She chuckled, watching as Makio smirked when she saw how your eyes trailed down her husbands front.

I mean, who wouldn't though? They were all stunning. Tengen was large, all chiseled muscle and handsome features, a perfectly sculpted cock that had your mouth watering. No way you could suck on it without choking, but that wasn't something for you to try today.

"C'mere," Tengen smirked, reaching forward to pluck you from his wife and lay you down on your back. He looked even better from this angle, but damn it, his cock lurched when he saw how gorgeous you looked underneath him.

"You're so pretty," He remarked breathily, almost taken aback by the way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight and your hair created a halo around your head. "I'm gonna fuck you even prettier."

And that he did, sliding his cock into you slowly, sinking inch by agonizingly delicious inch into your tight cunt as groans grunts choked in his throat. "Fuck- you gotta loosen up, little one, just relax."

But you couldn't relax, not when his cock split you in half and you could practically feel his tip in your throat. "Hina," Tengen almost whined, listening to how she perked up before he continued, "Calm her down, please, my love."

"Of course, Lord Tengen." She was on you in a second, picking up your head to rest on her thighs, stroking your hair like she did before and pressing sweet kisses to your forehead. "Just calm down, sweetie, it's okay. I know he's big, but he won't hurt you. I promise."

"Told ya he shoulda just waited for me to use my strap," Makio sassed under her breath, as if she didn't have Suma rolling her hips into her, desperate for more friction as she watched you take Tengen's cock with rapt attention.

"Hush, Makio, or I'll fuck you twice as hard once I'm done with this sweet little thing," Tengen threatened, and Makio murmured some sort of insult under her breath, but her pink cheeks gave her away.

You, the sweet little thing Tengen was referring too, were completely blissed out. Drool seeped from the corners of your lips, eyes half lidded and gawking at the pretty faces of Hinatsuru and Tengen, the latter solely focused on keeping his thrusts gentle instead of pounding your tight cunt the way his throbbing cock begged him to. But he took pleasure in the leisurely pace, chuckling to himself when he felt your walls quiver each time he bottomed out.

"You love it, don't you, honey," He whispered, listening closely to how you whined in response, the smile on his lips tugging wider with each fucked-out babble you made. "You fit right in, y'know. You remind me of Makio when she stops bein' all feisty, just lets me take care of her like I want to, babblin' on my cock and squirmin'," He rambled on under his breath, almost getting lost in thought as he stared at your lovely tits, only for Makio to bring him back to earth with an embarrassed "hey!"

"Hehehe, calm down, sweet-cheeks, I'm just teasin'," He assured her as Suma continued grinding down on Makio, but a gasp tore through his throat when he felt you suddenly tighten up. "Oh- you like it, huh? Hahh, I didn't expect that outta you, pretty girl."

You would normally be embarrassed to tell him how much it turned you on to hear him talk about his wives, but in the moment you couldn't find it in yourself to care, pressing your hips up into his own as you whined loudly for more.

"Alright, calm down, little one, damn," He chuckled, reaching down to the front of your cunt, skillfully pulling up the hood of your clit to press his thumb against the twitching bud without even looking.

Now it was your turn to gasp, eyes screwing shut as your orgasm washed over you and made you arch, crying out whichever of the lover's names was first on your mind as you came around Tengen's cock. Everyone of them had to stop what they were doing and admire you as you cried in pleasure, writhing beneath Tengen's bulky figure in a way all the women could relate to.

"Woah..." Makio breathed, closely followed by Suma gushing into her pelvis, ripping her eyes away from the beautiful scene to yell at Suma for cumming in her lap unprovoked.

Hinatsuru, for once, ignored their arguing, focused completely on watching with red cheeks as you came down from your high, squishing her thighs together in an attempt to ease the heat in her core.

"Damn, little one," Tengen murmured after snapping out of it, keeping his hips stilled against yours. "...Do that again."

[harryssyndrome]

Hoax | h.s

summery: “don’t want no other shade blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do…”

based off this request. Thank you so much anon for this idea, this was so fun writing and I hope it’s something you were looking for. I tried to be as angsty as possible with a blend of cutesy sweet, hope it’s a perfect mix. Let me know in the comments? [thank you! mwah mwah mwah 💋]

Posted on: November 26th, 2024. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM. Like, comment & reblog are appreciated 💓Italics are past memories. Hope you lovelies enjoy this little big piece.

wc: 6.6k (oops🤭) || Masterlist 🤍

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @wheredidmyeyesgo @cherryloveshs | TAGLIST IS OPEN! || REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! 💌

The morning had started just like any other, the sun streaming in through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over everything, but YN barely noticed. She sat at the counter, her hands curled around a coffee mug, its warmth barely a match for the cold ache building inside her. The apartment felt empty, despite the soft hum of the city just outside the window. She could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on her, a silence that had grown more oppressive over the past few weeks.

Harry had been on tour for what seemed like forever now, and their communication had dwindled. What had once been late-night calls and stolen moments between sound checks had turned into rushed, distracted conversations, where he was either too busy or too tired to give her his full attention. YN had always known the demands of his career, had always been willing to share him with the world, but it was starting to feel like he was slipping further away from her.

She had tried to be understanding, tried to remind herself that this was just a phase—that he was only gone for a while, and they would find their way back to each other. But today felt different. Something in the air was charged with tension, a sense of dread that hung around her like a cloud. Harry had promised to call her during his break between rehearsals, and as the minutes ticked by, that sense of unease only grew. She hadn’t heard from him, not even a text to explain why.

When the phone finally rang, she grabbed it with an anxious breath, hoping for the reassurance she so desperately needed.

“Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice crackled through the phone, distant and strained. There was a tiredness in his voice that made her heart ache even more.

“Hi,” she replied softly, trying to keep her tone light, but the worry slipped out anyway. “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about me.”

Harry didn’t immediately answer, and YN could feel him shifting on the other end, perhaps looking for the right words, or maybe just gathering the energy to engage with her. “I didn’t forget,” he said after a beat, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “It’s just… things are hectic right now. You know how it is.”

YN frowned, her fingers tightening around her mug. She knew how it was. She knew that Harry’s tour schedule was demanding, that he barely had time to breathe, let alone talk to her. But it was different now. It had been different for weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“I get it, Harry,” she said softly, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “But it feels like we haven’t really talked in days. I feel like I’m losing you.”

The words hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken emotions. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to accuse him of pulling away, but she couldn’t ignore what was happening anymore. She missed him. She missed the way they used to connect, how they’d stay up all night talking about their dreams and fears, how they’d laugh until their stomachs ached. Now, it felt like all they did was talk about logistics and time zones. She wanted more than that.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, and for a moment, she thought he was going to apologize, that he would offer the comfort she so desperately needed. But instead, his voice grew colder, his words sharper. “You miss me? Maybe you miss the version of me that you had before all of this. But I’m not the same person anymore, YNN. I’m just tired. Tired of feeling like I’m constantly being pulled in a million directions.”

Her heart sank at his words, the finality in them hitting her harder than she had expected. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s words came out in a rush, almost like he couldn’t stop them, as if they were coming from a place deeper than he intended. “It means that I don’t have the energy for this right now. I don’t have the energy to keep pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. And maybe I’m just tired of pretending that you’re not asking for more than I can give. Maybe I need space. Maybe we both need space.”

The words stabbed her. She felt them deep in her chest, each one like a dagger, twisting further with every breath. “Space?” she echoed, barely able to form the word, the hurt creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to hold it back. “I’m not asking for space, Harry. I’m just asking for you. For the person you promised me you’d always be.”

Harry didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was tight, defensive. “Maybe that person isn’t here anymore, YNN. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. YN could hear the faint rustling of something on his end of the phone, the noise of people moving in the background, but it didn’t matter. The emptiness between them felt so loud, so unbearable. The connection that once held them together was fraying, thread by thread.

She swallowed hard, the tears welling in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess I’ll leave.”

The words came out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. But the damage was done. The silence that followed was deafening, and the weight of Harry’s absence felt so heavy, so crushing, that she could barely breathe. The person she loved, the person she had given everything to, had just told her he was done. He was tired of her.

Before she could say another word, she ended the call. The click of the phone disconnecting felt like the final nail in the coffin, sealing whatever it was that they had left.

YN sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in her hand as if it were some foreign object. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her mind was numb, her thoughts tangled in confusion and hurt. The apartment, their shared space, felt so small now. It felt suffocating. Every corner of the place was a reminder of everything that had once been good, everything that was now falling apart.

Tears blurred her vision as she stood up from the counter. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to go. But she couldn’t stay there. Not with him, not with the words he had just said. The love they had built felt like ashes, and she couldn’t breathe in the smoke any longer.

She started packing her things, her movements automatic, like she was on autopilot. Her hands shook as she threw clothes into a bag, not caring if they matched or if they were folded neatly. Nothing mattered in that moment except the urgent need to get away from the place that had once been home. She ignored the phone buzzing with messages, messages from Harry, apologizing, pleading with her to call him back. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not after the things he had said.

When she finished packing, she grabbed her bags and walked out the door. The apartment felt even emptier as she closed the door behind her. There were no more goodbyes, no more promises. Just the echo of his hurtful words ringing in her ears.

YN drove to her parents’ house in a daze, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened, about how quickly their love had unraveled. She needed space to think. To breathe. To figure out how to move on from this. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

It wasn’t just a fight. It was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be fixed with apologies.

When she pulled into the driveway, she didn’t feel the relief she thought she would. Instead, the silence that had followed her from their apartment seemed to follow her here. Even the familiar sight of her childhood home didn’t offer the comfort it once had. It all felt distant. Empty. Just like her heart.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her with a soft click. As she walked up to the front door, her phone buzzed again. She ignored it. She couldn’t bear to look at it. She couldn’t bear to see his name flashing on the screen. The man she loved had just shattered her heart into a million pieces, and she didn’t know how to pick them up.

The night had been a blur for Harry. The anger, the disappointment, the gnawing guilt in his chest from the argument with YN—it was all too much to bear. In the solitude of his hotel room, far from her, he drowned out the pain with alcohol. He knew he had messed up, knew he had hurt her with his words, but the overwhelming pressure of being on tour, the constant demand of being a public figure, and the exhaustion had driven him to the brink. He had never intended for it to escalate the way it did, but in his drunken haze, it all came crashing down.

Somewhere between the blurry shots and the endless stream of drinks, he found himself in a bar, surrounded by strangers, feeling more alone than he had in a long time. His phone was buzzing on the table, the screen lighting up with YN’s name flashing, but he didn’t pick it up. The coldness in his heart had become too unbearable, and he pushed her away instead of confronting the hurt he had caused. He just wanted the world to stop spinning for a moment. He wanted to forget everything that had gone wrong.

And that was when Emily Ratajkowski had walked in.

They had known each other for years, casually friendly in the way celebrities often are when their circles overlap. Emily, ever the charmer, had greeted Harry with a friendly smile. They sat and talked, their conversation casual at first, just the usual small talk about work and life. But Harry, caught in his haze of regret, had let his guard down. The more they talked, the more the words flowed. In some strange way, it felt easy to talk to her—like she was a stranger he could confide in, someone who didn’t carry the same weight of their past, the years of intimacy and history he shared with YN.

It didn’t take long before the alcohol took its toll. Emily’s laughter had filled the air, and Harry had found himself leaning closer, her presence soothing in a way that made him forget the ache in his chest. Before he knew it, they were kissing. His mind screamed for him to stop, to think about YN, to remember everything he stood to lose. But in that moment, he didn’t. The guilt had been smothered by the fleeting comfort of the kiss, the escape from his spiraling thoughts.

He didn’t remember much after that. The night blurred into incoherence, a jumble of laughter, flashes, and fleeting touches. Harry woke up the next morning, disoriented and groggy, the light filtering through the hotel room window far too bright. His phone was buzzing incessantly, and his stomach churned when he saw the series of missed calls and messages from YN. The weight of it all hit him like a wave, and for a moment, he just sat there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories.

Then, his phone lit up with an alert—a notification from a gossip website, and his heart dropped into his stomach. There, in front of him, were pictures of him and Emily Ratajkowski, the kind of photos Harry had spent years avoiding. They were kissing, their lips pressed together, captured in a moment of reckless abandon that Harry didn’t even fully remember. The headline was cruel: Harry Styles and Emily Ratajkowski—A New Romance in the Making?

His throat tightened as he scrolled through the photos, his mind racing. He didn’t remember kissing her. He didn’t remember anything about that night except the overwhelming sense of regret that now gripped him. He had ruined everything. The fragile thread holding him together seemed to snap in that moment. He had lost YN, and now the media would make sure the world knew it. His personal life was on full display, and all he could think about was how much he had fucked it all up.

Desperation began to rise in his chest, and without thinking, he began sending text after text to YN, each one filled with apologies, regret, and pleas for her to talk to him. But she didn’t answer. The silence on the other end was deafening.

Meanwhile, YN was in her parents’ house, sitting in the living room with the muted glow of the television casting long shadows across the room. The house, once a place of comfort and warmth, now felt suffocating. Her mother had been quiet ever since YN arrived, sensing the heavy tension in the air. She tried to comfort her daughter, offering tea, but YN couldn’t bring herself to care. The weight of the argument, of the harsh words Harry had said, sat heavily in her chest, gnawing at her.

But when the photos surfaced—when she saw Harry with Emily, their lips locked, the headlines flashing across her phone—her world shattered all over again. The room spun around her, and she felt like she was suffocating. The love she had poured into her relationship with Harry now felt like a cruel joke. She had trusted him. She had believed in him. And now this—this betrayal was too much to bear.

Tears blurred her vision, and she quickly turned away from her phone. Her mother noticed the change in her expression and asked softly, “YN, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I can’t do this,” YN whispered, choking on her tears. “I can’t keep doing this. I thought he loved me… but now… now I don’t know who he is anymore. It didn’t even take him a night to move on?”

Her mother hugged her tightly, murmuring comforting words, but YN couldn’t hear them. The pain of what she had seen—the public humiliation of it all—felt like a physical weight on her chest. She needed to get away. She needed to clear her head.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, her voice distant, as if she were speaking to herself rather than her mother.

Her mother nodded, understanding the need for space, and watched as YN stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a blanket.

The lake stretched out before her, calm and unbothered by the storm raging inside her. Its surface shimmered faintly under the overcast sky, the golden light of the fading afternoon barely breaking through the thick clouds. The familiar sight of it— the way the trees reflected on the water, the distant sound of birds, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore-should have brought YN the comfort she was seeking. But all it did was make her chest tighten with a suffocating ache.

She had always come to this place for solace, even as a child. The lake by her parents' house was her sanctuary, a space where the noise of the world couldn't touch her. But now, as she stood there, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the crisp autumn air, the silence was deafening. It wasn't peace she found here today. It was the echo of memories she had desperately tried to bury since she walked out of the home she had once shared with Harry.

Her boots crunched softly against the earth as she made her way closer to the water's edge, the damp grass soaking the hem of her dress. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine and earth. But YN didn't notice. Her mind was far away, replaying a reel of memories she wished she could turn off. No matter how much she tried to focus on the present, her past with Harry came rushing back to her, vivid and bittersweet.

She crouched down near the shore, her fingertips brushing against the cool surface of the water. As ripples spread outward, her thoughts drifted to another time, another version of herself-a happier one. She closed her eyes, and it all came rushing back as if she were still there.

It had been a summer evening, the sun setting in brilliant hues of orange and pink.

Harry had been sitting on the dock, legs stretched out, his feet just barely skimming the water. YN had been lying beside him, her head resting on his thigh as they shared a bottle of wine they had stolen from her parents' pantry. The lake had been their escape that summer, a place where the chaos of Harry's career and the pressures of the world seemed to melt away.

"This place is magic," Harry had murmured, running his fingers absentmindedly through her hair. His voice had been low, almost reverent, as he looked out at the water.

YN had tilted her head to glance up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You always say that," she teased. "But you're not wrong."

He grinned, his dimple deepening as he looked down at her. "It's true, though. Don't you feel it? It's like... time stops here. Like nothing bad can touch us."

She had laughed softly, the sound blending with the gentle rustle of the trees.

"That's what l've always loved about this place. It's quiet. Peaceful. Away from everything."

Harry had hummed in agreement, his gaze softening as he studied her. "One day, YNN... one day l'd love to settle down somewhere like this. Away from the noise. Just us."

Her breath had caught at his words, her heart skipping a beat. "Just us?" she'd asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," he'd added, his lips twitching into a playful smile, "maybe not just us. I'm thinking a couple of little ones running around, maybe a dog... or two."

YN's heart skipped at his words, her stomach flipping in that way it always did when he hinted at their future. She laughed, nudging him playfully. "Little ones, huh? You planning on starting a family with me already, Styles?"

Harry grinned, his dimple showing as he leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something deeper. "Why not? I mean it, YNN. I'd love that. A house by the lake. Waking up every morning with you by my side. Teaching our kids how to fish or swim or whatever it is people do out here. It sounds perfect."

Her breath caught as she looked at him, the sincerity in his words tugging at something deep within her. "It does," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It sounds perfect."

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "You're perfect," he murmured, and before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

The world had faded away then, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of love and possibility.

“I wouldn’t want anything less than forever when it comes to you.”

His words had settled into her heart like a warm glow, and she had leaned in to kiss him, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips. In that moment, with the sun setting and the world quiet around them, she had believed him. She had believed in forever.

YN blinked, the memory dissolving as the present came crashing back. The lake was still, the air cold, and Harry wasn't there. Her chest ached as she stared at the dock, the image of them sitting there overlaying the reality of its emptiness. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his hand in hers, but it was all in her mind.

The betrayal burned anew, the image of him with Emily flashing behind her eyes.

How could he have said those things, painted that picture of their future, and then so carelessly let it all fall apart? How could he kiss someone else after everything they had shared?

How had they gone from that to this? How had the man who once promised her forever ended up kissing someone else? The image of Harry and Emily flashed in her mind again, sharper this time, and her stomach twisted. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to hold together the pieces of her heart that felt like they were falling apart.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything she had lost. The life she had envisioned with Harry-the house by the lake, the little ones running around, the forever they had dreamed of-felt like a distant, unattainable dream. And yet, no matter how much she wanted to hate him, to shut him out completely, her heart wouldn't let her. She still loved him, even now, even after everything.

YN sank down onto the grass, her knees pulled to her chest, tears streaming freely now. She thought of the countless nights they had spent talking about their dreams, their plans. The way Harry had once made her feel so safe, so sure of their love. And now, it all felt like a cruel joke, a dream turned nightmare.

"Why, Harry?" she whispered into the stillness. "Why did you have to ruin everything?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

She let herself cry then, the sobs wracking her body as she finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of her heartbreak. The lake bore silent witness to her pain, its surface rippling gently as if trying to offer her some semblance of comfort.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a graveyard for their love.

When she returned to the house, her heart felt heavy, each step laden with the weight of everything she was feeling. But it wasn't the emptiness of the house that grabbed her attention; it was the faint sound-the small, deliberate taps against the window. At first, she thought it was the rain playing tricks on her, the gentle taps against the glass. But when she heard it again-sharp and insistent-her breath caught in her throat.

Her mind didn't even have time to process it fully. She spun toward the window, her heart pounding in her chest. And there he was.

Harry.

He stood in the pouring rain, his face pale, his hair clinging to his skin. His clothes were soaked through, and his hands trembled slightly as he threw small pebbles at the window, as if trying to wake her from a nightmare she couldn't escape. She stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was this real? Was this the same man who had hurt her so badly?

But then, she saw it in his eyes-the desperation. The raw vulnerability. The silent plea for forgiveness that spoke louder than words ever could. He was standing there, drenched, with nothing left to lose. He was a broken man, and in that moment, she could see that he knew he had ruined everything.

Before she could stop herself, she ran to the down to the front door, threw it open, and without thinking, rushed outside into the rain.

The rain fell in torrents, its relentless downpour drowning out all sound except for the beat of water against the ground. Harry stood before YN, drenched, his eyes wide with desperate urgency, a look of raw pain etched into every line of his face. His clothes clung to his body, soaked through, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside of him.

“YN…” His voice broke, as if the weight of her name was too much to bear. His hand reached out shakily, desperate to bridge the gap between them, but she pulled away slightly. He flinched, not from her rejection, but from the weight of his own guilt that seemed to pull him lower with every passing second.

“I—” He took a breath, trying to steady himself, but his words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “I never meant for it to be this way. I never meant to hurt you, YNN. I swear, I never thought—God, I was so drunk, so damn stupid. I don’t even remember what happened, but I know I messed up. I know I messed everything up.”

YN’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt her, how much his words still stung like a constant ache in her soul. But instead, she stood there, her breath coming in ragged bursts, staring at him as he trembled in the rain. She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold of the storm or the pain inside him that made him shudder, but it was impossible to ignore the depth of his regret.

“You do remember, Harry,” she finally spoke, her voice shaking but strong. “You remember everything, even if you don’t remember that moment. You remember the things you said to me. You remember how you treated me. How you—” She stopped herself, not wanting to continue with the painful words. But the memory of his cutting tone, his dismissive words, echoed in her mind, taunting her, making her question everything they had ever shared. “I trusted you. I loved you. And you—you broke me.”

Harry’s eyes welled with unshed tears as he took a step toward her, this time not caring if she pulled away. He was beyond caring about the rain, beyond caring about anything except for the woman standing before him, the one person who had always been his everything.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, and she could see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “I know I broke you. And that’s the worst part of it. I never wanted to hurt you. Not in a million years. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, YNN. You’re it for me, you always have been.” He reached for her again, but this time she didn’t pull away. His fingers brushed against hers, a tentative touch, as if he were afraid she might vanish the moment he let go.

“But I let my stupid insecurities, my stupid mistakes, cloud everything,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’ve never been more scared of losing someone than I am of losing you, and I couldn’t see that until now. I couldn’t see that you are the one I need. That it’s not the fame, it’s not the tour, it’s not anyone or anything else—it’s you, YN. You’re the only thing that matters.”

The words hung in the air like fragile threads, each one trembling with a rawness that made Ashley’s heart ache in ways she didn’t think possible. The anger, the hurt—it was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something else too: hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all lost.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She wanted to push him away, wanted to shout at him for what he had done, but when she looked at him—really looked at him—there was something so devastatingly human about him, standing there, shaking in the rain. He was broken, but there was sincerity in his apology, a plea that reached her heart in ways his words never had before.

“You don’t even understand what you’ve done to me, Harry,” she said, her voice quivering as she took a step back. “You think it’s just about what happened with her, with Emily? It’s not. It’s about everything that led up to that moment. It’s about the words you said to me, the way you dismissed everything we had, everything I gave you. It’s about how you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

Harry closed his eyes, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, YNN. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me. I’ve been an idiot, and I know I’ve hurt you, but please… don’t let this be the end for us. I can’t lose you. I just can’t… live without you. I can’t.”

The storm raged around them, but the silence between them felt deafening, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved. YN could feel the anger still bubbling inside her, but she also felt the pull of something deeper—the love she had for him, the love that she had thought was gone, but now seemed to flicker in her chest like a fragile flame.

She wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt, but something inside her was giving way.

“Harry, I…” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat as her chest tightened painfully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you right now. I need time. I need space to figure this out.” She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes as the tears finally spilled over, mingling with the rain. “I don’t know if I can go back to who we were. You hurt me too much.”

He stepped forward again, his hand reaching for her, trembling with the force of his desperation. “Please, YN. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you all the space you need. I’ll be patient, I swear. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But don’t walk away from me. Please.”

She didn’t respond immediately. The storm had drowned out every thought, every hesitation in her mind, but there was still one thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t let him go. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. Not when her heart was still so tangled up in him, so unable to let go of the person he had once been to her.

“I need time,” she repeated softly, her voice barely audible against the pounding rain. “I need to think, Harry. Please, just… just go inside. I can’t—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, not without breaking apart completely.

Harry nodded, his face a picture of heartbreaking understanding. His heart was in pieces, but he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to prove that he could make things right. Without another word, he turned toward the house, slowly, unwilling to leave her in the storm but knowing that he had to respect her need for space.

YN watched him go, her heart heavy in her chest, torn between love and hurt, between forgiveness and anger. The rain continued to pour, and as she stood there, feeling the cold seep into her bones, she wondered if they would ever find their way back to each other—or if this was the beginning of the end.

The night had felt like an eternity. Each minute stretched on, filled with haunting thoughts and the pounding rhythm of YNs heart. Her mind was tangled in knots, the anger still burning bright, but beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of something she couldn’t deny: the love she still had for Harry. It was the kind of love that had once felt so pure, so easy, but now felt fractured, jagged, like trying to hold onto a shattered glass piece that was bleeding into her heart.

She hadn’t been able to sleep. The past few days, the pain, the betrayal, the anger—it all swirled together in a mess that made her restless. Harry’s words from the night before—the desperate, raw apology—replayed over and over again in her mind, like a broken record. And yet, each time she thought of it, the hurt crept back in. She had tried to push it away, tried to convince herself that she could ignore it, but the reality was that she couldn’t. Not when the memories of their love, of their happy moments, still clung to her like the scent of his cologne.

But it wasn’t just the hurt she was feeling. There was something else, something deeper, something that felt too real to ignore. She couldn’t escape the way her heart still responded to Harry, no matter how hard she tried.

As the morning light began to filter through the windows, YN could no longer stay in the silence of her room. She had to see him. She had to confront everything that had happened and, maybe—just maybe—find a way to heal. But even as the desire to see him grew stronger, there was still that gnawing uncertainty. Could she really trust him again? Could she really forgive him for what had happened?

The house was quiet as she made her way down the stairs, the soft creak of the wooden steps echoing in the otherwise still air. The soft hum of the morning felt foreign against the heaviness that weighed on her shoulders, but she ignored it, pushing forward. When she stepped outside, the cold hit her like a rush, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.

The lake was quiet, still as glass, the air thick with the faint scent of damp earth and fresh water. And there, sitting on the grass at the edge of the lake, was Harry. His posture was slumped, his shoulders drooped, as though the weight of the world was resting on him. The sight of him in this state, so broken and vulnerable, pulled at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

He looked so small, so lost.

For a moment, YN stood there, watching him. She wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. But as she watched him, she realized that she couldn’t stay away. Not anymore. She had to speak. She had to let him know how much he had hurt her, but also how much she still cared, despite everything.

Her footsteps were quiet on the soft earth as she made her way toward him. Harry didn’t look up immediately, but she could see the slight twitch of his head as if he felt her presence. His face was blank, his eyes staring out at the water, but there was something in the way he held himself that spoke volumes.

YN stopped just a few feet away, standing still as the silence stretched between them. For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. The tension was thick, palpable, like a heavy fog.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence, the uncertainty. She had to break it.

“I don’t even know where to start, Harry,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to protect herself from the rawness of the moment. “You hurt me. You really hurt me. And I don’t know if I can ever forget what you said to me. What you did to us.”

Harry flinched, as if each word she spoke cut through him. He finally lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. There was guilt in those eyes, raw and undeniable. His voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, YNN. I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to explain how much I regret everything. I was angry, and I was drunk, and I didn’t—” He cut himself off, his hands shaking as he clenched them into fists at his sides. “I never meant to hurt you. Not like that. You’re everything to me, YNN. You always have been.”

YN took a deep breath, her chest tight with the conflicting emotions. She wanted to stay angry, to protect herself from the pain he’d caused, but she couldn’t deny that his words, his remorse, were hitting something deep inside her. It wasn’t enough to erase the hurt, but it was a start. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw how broken he was. He was a man who had made a mistake, but he was also a man who still cared for her.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to live in the hurt and the anger. I want to move past this, but I need to know that you’ll never do this again. I need to know that you’re willing to fight for us.”

Harry’s eyes welled up, the emotion overwhelming him. He reached out then, taking her hand gently, almost like he was afraid she might pull away. “I swear to you, YNN. I’ll fight for us. I’ll fight for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I’ll spend every single day proving to you that you’re worth more than anything, more than the stupid mistakes I’ve made. You mean everything to me.”

YN’s breath caught in her throat. It was impossible to ignore the depth of his words, the rawness in his voice. But it wasn’t just the words that got to her; it was the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that he rarely showed anyone, let alone her.

She stepped closer to him, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. She had been so angry, so broken, but looking at him now, she realized that she couldn’t just walk away.

“I want to believe you, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I really do. But I need time. I need time to heal, to trust you again.”

Harry’s face softened, relief flooding through him. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, every step of the way. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it.”

And in that moment, everything felt a little bit clearer. The storm inside her had not fully subsided, but the clouds were beginning to part, and the sun was starting to peek through. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and in one slow, careful motion, she placed her hand on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under her palm was a reminder of how much he still cared.

“I’m willing to try,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try if you promise me that you’ll never let me go again.”

Harry’s eyes shone with tears, and he pulled her into his arms, his hands cupping her face gently as he kissed her forehead, his lips brushing softly over her skin. “I promise you, YNN. I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I love you.”

YN closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She hadn’t been sure if she could forgive him, if she could ever move past the hurt. But standing here in his arms, feeling his heart beat against hers, she realized that love wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always simple. But it was worth fighting for.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain. The future was still unclear, but for the first time in a long time, they both had hope.

They’ll be alright.

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 1)

oops my fingers slipped oh nooo. I just watched Pride and Prejudice (2005 of course) and finished the first half of Bridgerton season 3, and this just fell out of my head sooo here ya go

In the heart of debutante season, the grand halls of the manor glittered with an optimistic opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung in every room, and the laughter of the ton mingled with the notes of lively waltzes and invigorating English country dances. Simon Riley, the newly titled Duke, stood at the edge of the ballroom, a stern figure amidst the merrymaking. His eyes scanned the room, but they held no warmth; they were as cold and unyielding as the battles he had once fought in wars. 

Duke Simon Riley had gained his title through his distinguished military service, a feat that made him both revered and feared. His demeanor was hardened, his interactions brusque, and he regarded social gathering and balls with a thinly veiled disdain. He considered balls and galas a different kind of battle, one he navigated with nearly the same stoic resolve as he had the warfront.

Across the room, you move with effortless grace, the hem of your gown bustling around your feet. You are the embodiment of elegance and propriety, your every movement reflecting your strict upbringing. You were popular amongst the ton, your dance card nearly always full. You didn’t really mind, to a certain extent; yet, you’ve never had a dance partner who went past superficial conversation. It was something that irked you, but you had resigned yourself to it a long time ago.

Your father, a Lord, had made it a point earlier in the night to introduce you to the Duke. You glide through the sea of silk and satin, approaching your father’s proud smile in the corner of the ballroom. Next to him was the Duke; a tall, broad man. Quite handsome, you thought to yourself.

“Ah, here she is,” your father said warmly, taking your hand and leading you towards the Duke. “Allow me to introduce Duke Simon Riley. Your Grace, may I present my daughter.” 

You curtsy deeply as your father announces your title and name, your eyes fluttering open to meet the Duke as you offer a polite smile. 

Simon turns his steely gaze upon you, dipping his head slightly in acknowledgement. “My lady,” he said, his voice as cold and formal as his expression.  

“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have heard much about your service.”

“Indeed,” Simon replies, his tone clipped. “I hope the reality does not disappoint.” 

You tilt your head slightly, maintaining your composure at his bluntness. “On the contrary, Your Grace, I find the tales of your exploits quite fascinating. It must have required immense strength and courage.” 

“It required duty,” he said forthrightly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And an ability to see through distractions.”��

Something in his tone struck you, a subtle but clear implication that left you momentarily speechless. You clear your throat, smoothing out of the front of your dress. “Well, we are all very fortunate that you were not distracted, Your Grace. Otherwise, who knows where we might be?”

Simon’s lips twitched, standing straighter than ever, but his eyes remained hard. “Yes, distractions can be dangerous. Such as a ballroom, where idle chatter and trivial pursuits often mask the true nature of one’s character.”

He eyed you up and down as he spoke, and you feel as though the wind has been knocked out of your lungs. You feel your cheeks heat up with anger at his veiled insult. 

“Your Grace, I must respectfully disagree. A ballroom is where one’s true character is often revealed; most often through grace, kindness, and the ability to navigate society with dignity.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, his expression unmoved. “It is easy to speak of ‘grace and kindness’ when one has never faced true adversity, my Lady. Perhaps your perspective would be different if you had seen the world as it truly is.”

Your temper flares at his condescension, your grip tightening on the skirts of your dress as you step closer. “And perhaps, Your Grace,” you hiss, “if you had ever taken the time to understand the world beyond the battlefield, you might see that strength and bravery comes in many forms. It doesn’t give you the right to belittle the lives and joys of others.” 

Your father steps forward, sensing the need to intervene. “Now, now,” he says, his tone conciliator. “Let not a misunderstanding spoil the evening.”

But the damage had already been done. Simon’s eyes remained fixed on you, eyebrows pinched and eyes cold. He had offended you greatly, swiping at your character even though he knows nothing of you. 

With a final cursory glance at him, you excuse yourself with as much dignity as you could muster, your heart pounding with anger and hurt.

As you walk away, you could feel Simon’s gaze boring into your back. You do your best to shake off your emotions, trying to regain your composure. An evening that had started with hope and lightness had turned bitter. And while the Duke might have won many wars, he would find that you were not one to back down easily. You were determined to show him that in the realm of society, you were just as formidable an opponent as he was in war.

> part 2

[hanniebaeee]

Care

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

Summary: When you get back home after a hiking trip, your husband, Chan is there to take care of you. And you can't help but take care of him too.

The minute the door opens, you're dramatically falling into Chan's arms, dragging your backpack along the floor.

"Whoa, baby," he laughs, kissing the top of your head as you flop against him, burying your face into his chest, groaning.

"I think I'm dying, Channie. Everything hurts so much!" You wail, making him laugh.

"Aww my poor baby!" He coos, grinning, his hands running up and down your back, then slowly resting on your butt, before he gives a quick squeeze.

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

“Baby, I need a bath and, like, a lot of painkillers." You manage to say, trying to ignore the shiver that runs down your spine as he presses his lips to the crook of your neck.

"Nope, sit. I’ve got a better idea. Let me give you a massage." Chan is already leading you towards the couch.

You blink up at him, a little suspicious.

"Are you sure you wanna do that? I’m disgusting, like, two-days-of-hiking-and-barely-showered disgusting." You say, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh please-” he scoffs, helping you out of your hiking boots and sitting behind you.

He gets to work, kneading the stiff muscles in your shoulders and you let out a guttural groan of relief.

"Oh my god, Channie - right there. Ah!"

He chuckles, his breath warm against your ear.

"Do more of that and you'll have other things to worry about." He says, and you snort.

And as if to get back at you for that, he squeezes a particularly sore spot on your shoulder that has you moaning. His hands send waves of relief through muscles you didn’t even know were tense.

"Channie," you gasp, breath shuddering and tears stinging your eyes. "How come you've never given me a massage before?”

"You never asked for one, babe.” He replies, and you laugh through a sniffle.

"You're my official masseuse now," you manage. "Oh my God, right there-"

His hands drift lower, down the curve of your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your lower back.

Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Baby," you say, trying to keep a straight face as his hands are on your butt again. “I'm pretty sure you don't usually massage-”

He snorts, laughter bubbling up in his throat.

"Oops, sorry! Guess I got a little distracted." He says cheekily, his fingers slipping under your shirt. "Did I go too low?"

“You can't go any lower, actually," you say, laughing. “You're supposed to help with my sore muscles, hubby dearest. Not make me sore for a whole other reason.”

"Can you blame me, I haven't seen you in two whole days!" He says, pulling you close and his hands go further up under your shirt.

Before you can protest, he’s pressing soft kisses along your neck, his hands slipping under your bra and cupping your breasts.

You shake your head, trying to keep your composure as you snicker.

"I'm sure you don't have to massage there." You say, biting your bottom lip as he kneads your soft breasts gently.

"They're mine!" he declares. "I'll do what I want with them."

You elbow him playfully on his stop. He groans, and says, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Didn't say that," You murmur, voice low.

“That's what I thought.” He says, smug.

You sigh and lean into his arms, putting your feet up on the couch because this massage may take a while.

“I stink, you know.” You remind him.

“Not even a little.” He mumbles against the back of your neck.

“You're crazy!” You laugh.

“Shut up, I missed you.”

“Can I at least take a shower?”

“Can I help?”

“Babe-”

“I'm helping, come on.”

“Chan, I swear you’re impossible,” you say, but your voice is soft and breathy as he scoops you up in his arms.

You’re laughing so hard by the time he kicks open the bathroom door. Chan sets you down and turns on the shower, testing the water with his hand.

“Alright, let's shower,” he says, tugging your clothes off with a smirk, not even bothering to hide the way his eyes shamelessly roam your body. “Hop in, princess.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think this shower is for you, not me.” You muse, eyeing him.

“I'm selfless.” He counters, and slides off his shirt with that little smirk he knows drives you wild. “Just helping my poor wife.”

You both step into the shower, the hot water washing away your aches and exhaustion like magic. You sigh blissfully as the water cascades over you.

Chan reaches for the soap, grinning devilishly as he lathers his hands and starts rubbing circles along your shoulders, your neck, your arms.

“Arms up,” he teases, and before you can even blink, his soapy hands are washing you.

You feel his hands slide down, lathering the soap on your breasts (a bit too long), and down your stomach and lower. He pulls you a little closer under the water, and you can’t help the way you shiver under his touch.

“You're enjoying this a little too much Mr. Bang.” You whisper, leaning into him just enough to feel him tense up.

He chuckles, biting his lip as he keeps you pressed close, his fingers brushing over your sides.

“You’re not wrong, Mrs. Bang,” he says, nipping your ear playfully, making you squeal. “But, if I get to take care of you and enjoy the view…”

The water washes over you both, and you’re still laughing as he helps you rinse off.

“Thank you, Channie,” you whisper, as his hands linger on your hips, pulling you closer.

“You're welcome, princess.”

Chan steps out of the shower first, and brings you a nice fluffy towel and wraps it around you gently. You watch as he wraps one around his own waist and starts to move out of the bathroom. You follow him slowly, and before he could say another word, you stand on your tip toes and kiss him.

He's surprised, but quickly melts into the kiss. He loves it when you take control, and his arms go around you, pulling you flush against himself.

“Get on the bed, Channie,” you whisper against his lips and Chan gives you a questioning look.

“On the bed, baby,” You say again, and he sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at you. His kiss swollen lips and wet curls melt your heart.

“Let me take care of you,” You say, kneeling in between his legs.

“What? No! You're tired-” Chan protests, but you're already opening the towel, and gripping at his hardening length.

His protests turn into a moan as you stroke him gently with your small warm hand. His eyes are focused on you as you give him a sweet smile before licking the tip of his length.

Chan struggles to maintain control over his body, breathing unevenly. And when you take him into your mouth, his eyes roll back in pleasure. He loves how your warm, wet mouth engulf him, your tongue swirling around the head.

You suck and tease, taking him deep. Chan’s hand fists your hair, guiding you as you bob your head. His body shakes, the sensation being almost too much to bear.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, his hips thrusting up gently.

You moan softly around his length, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through him. You look up at him through your lashes, and he is completely falling apart.

Chan's body tenses as you suck and stroke him. He feels his release approaching and he says, "I'm close."

You hum in response, your mouth working faster, your hand pumping him. With a final, desperate thrust of his hips, Chan hits his peak and he pulls out, throbbing and pulsing as his release spills on your lips and neck and chest.

Chan is staring at you, breathing heavily and trembling and you grin back at him, totally pleased.

“Was that good, baby?” you ask.

“Good?” Chan says, incredulously. “It was amazing.”

He falls back on the bed, trying to catch his breath as you giggle and clean up using the towel, before climbing into bed beside him.

“I missed you, Channie.”

“I missed you too, princess…”

[sonotpattismith]

we hereby conduct this postmortem. (yuta okkotsu x reader)

WARNING: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS BELOW

word count: 7.8k (oops) warnings: angst, mentions of death, mourning, smut, Yuta in Gojo’s body, manga spoilers 18+ summary: reader attempts to cope with Yuta’s new body, mourning the loss of his previous one a/n: Hi!!! No one really requested this but Yuta is my man fr and this idea has been heavy on my heart 😮‍💨 Yuta is aged up in this as it made more sense for the point in their relationship they were already in. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I loved making it!

Life as a sorcerer was one littered with pain, fleeting hope, loss, and regret. These pitiful factors could practically be named the pillars of the damned lifestyle. You knew what you were getting into right when you joined, and you were reminded of it as your love held you close to his chest, his large hands secured over your head as if to cement you into his memory. Yuta pulled back just a hair, still clutching your head between his hands to look at you, fingers digging into your scalp gently as his long eyes fluttered around your face.

Through the haze of your tears, he appeared blurred. Still, you could make out the inescapable expression of fear that clutched his features. It wasn’t the battle he feared— far from it. He felt as though he could slash through an army at the moment. What gripped his mind and soul so fiercely though, was the thought of leaving you behind. His warm, dark eyes regarded you with care, taking in the way you clutched at his white shirt as if willing him not to go. It broke his heart.

“Everything’s going to be alright, my love.” Yuta assured gently, trying to keep his trembling voice leveled. He was well aware of the countless sorcerers surrounding them, allowing them the privacy of their intimate moment. They pretended not to watch— not to listen, but their hearts were collectively breaking for the pair before them. “It’ll be over before we know. We’ll go home. I’ll cook you something nice— maybe not burn it this time, huh?”

A laugh escaped you despite your tear soaked face. He smiled softly at the sound. The pads of his thumbs reached out to swipe the surface area of your cheeks before pulling you in softly. Your eyes closed as he placed a soft kiss to one eye, moving to the other and doing the same.

“I want the special rice—” you choked out, attempting to pull yourself together for him. Reaching out to run your fingers gently through the end of his hair, you clarified. “The one you had in Kenya.”

“Yeah? The pilau?”

You nodded softly and forced a smile. He laughed breathily at your reply and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Okkotsu?” Their peer that called out to him sounded apologetic to be interrupting the delicate moment, but, then again, there was a war to be won.

Without tearing his gaze from yours, he nodded in understanding. Leaning down with a certain determination in his energy, Yuta captured your lips in his. It was powerful, rough— desperate. His looming figure hunched over you, as if attempting to swallow you whole. Perhaps you would have been happier if he had.

It was the last time your lips felt those of Yuta Okkotsu.

You had been sent out as support, patrolling the area. Realistically, you knew there wasn’t much that you could contribute. While you served as a perfectly decent sorcerer— your techniques were nothing to be put up against the horrors that lied beyond the culling games. It was mainly a distraction. Your peers didn’t want you to watch the fight. They didn’t want your eyes to have to bear witness should your lover be slain that night.

For a few hours, you would get updates from them. First, it was that Kenjaku was dead. A silent tear slipped down your cheek, but you quickly swiped it away as you thanked them for telling you. It was a victory— one of astronomical proportions, but the fight was far from over. After the second hour with no update— a small part of you already knew. After twenty more minutes of radio silence, you forced yourself to go back inside, despite the fear raging in you of what you may find.

As you entered silently, all heads snapped toward you. You knew. Without a word, you made your way back to where Shoko had set up her make-shift infirmary. It ended up being Kusakabe that called out to you— subtle warning in his tone. As if motivated by his attempted persuasion, a few more of your peers began to step forward, but, before they could reach you, you slipped into the dimly lit hallway. Yuta’s katana was leaning up against the wall beside the infirmary, unsheathed and bloodied. Through the sound of the blood rushing through your ears, you faintly heard a commotion stirring from outside the hall. Your mind was miles away from the beloved friends and colleagues gathered just outside though. Your fingers delicately grazed the hilt of his precious katana, wondering if they had to pry it from his stiff fingers.

One more step. It was terrifying— the sense of impending doom that echoed within the chasms of your mind. Just beyond this door frame, it would no longer be a fleeting ghost story whispered between two lovers— a worst case scenario— a horrifying ‘what if’ that was consistently followed by reassuring kisses and desperate love making. The shouting behind you was growing louder now, rushed footsteps pounding down the hall, screams of your name to not go in there, you don’t need to see it.

You took the final step. The healer stood in the middle of the room and seemed to be busying herself with cleaning. She was cleaning a body. Its mid section was cut off from your vision by her somewhat tense figure. Still, laid unceremoniously at the end of the steel stretcher, the unmistakable locks of dark hair your fingers had been buried in just hours prior. As if sensing your presence, Shoko shifted to see who had been watching her work. Her movements faltered when seeing the face of the stiff corpse’s lover. It was too late though, no matter how quickly she tried to adjust her position once again, the image had been burned into your mind— branded.

The body of Yuta Okkotsu lay bare on the examining table— or what was left of his body. It had been mutilated; your beautiful love’s temple disgustingly desecrated. The cavity of his chest was practically split open, slashes running down his once gorgeously cream skin. Even worse though— his head. It was split down his forehead. His paler than usual head was turned just fractionally toward the door. Your lover stared back at you, eyes unmoving, unloving, gone.

There was blood in your mouth. The iron tinging your taste buds was the only way you realized the visceral shriek that emitted from deep within your gut. Your realization didn’t stop you though, and neither did the pain in your throat as you ripped it to shreds once again, knees buckling underneath of you.

“Yuta!” You sobbed, voice eviscerated raw already. The hurried footsteps from outside seemed to finally reach you and, before you could process what was happening, there were hands everywhere. They were on your shoulders, at your elbows, over your eyes— doing anything to attempt to shield you from the sight before you, which you assumed they never intended for you to see in the first place. It was overwhelming: the attempted, hushed coos of comfort that all merged together to sound like the humming of angered bees just waiting to strike at you; the varying grips all pulling you in separate directions, all with the intent to just get you out of that room. Still, despite their efforts, through the gaps of their fingers and shoulders, Yuta’s dead eyes still stared hauntingly back at you.

Pushing against them all with a newfound strength, you fell against the unforgiving floor on your hands and knees, determined to reach him.

“Please, he wouldn’t want you to see him like this.” Kamo attempted to get through to you, his hand once again reaching for your shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” Your wavering, sliced whisper caused his motions to falter for a moment before reaching out anyway. Another sob was ripped from your mouth at the feeling of hands everywhere again. “Please, please, I just need to hold him. Please. Let me hold him.”

“I told you all to make sure she didn’t come in here.” The commanding voice that spoke up had all five or six desperate individuals looking toward the door. Had you been more present in the moment, you would have recognized the voice. With your peers distracted, you crawled forward once again.

“My love,” The term of endearment reached your ears, making you pause. Wide eyes staring at Yuta’s still lips, you gaped silently. Shoko suddenly moved to cover his body with a sheet she’d retrieved, breaking you from your haze. Reaching out with trembling hands, you attempted to fist the sheet between your fingers. “Please, don’t do that.”

The individuals whose hands had been grappling with you just moments prior released you all together, before another set of firm, purposeful arms slid around your midsection. In mere seconds, you were being hauled up off the floor. For a moment, you were suspended mid air by unfamiliar arms. You thrashed around furiously until they set you down on your feet once again, and you turned to smack whoever it was that was still holding you back.

When the eyes of Satoru Gojo met yours— your movements faltered. A phantom, right before your very eyes. He was real though, you could see his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths, and the warmth radiating from his arms that were still wrapped uncharacteristically around you.

“Gojo—” It was all too much, as you tried to make sense of the scene before you, all the while in the midst of mourning— or attempting to come to grips with the fact that you should be mourning. You suddenly felt as though you might pass out. Steadying a hand on the firm chest before you, your face began to pale a bit. “How are you— what’s—”

Your words failed you though— and so did your body. Satoru leaned down quickly just as you began to slip away. It was too intimate— the way he was looking into your eyes, and the manner in which he held you to his chest. You wanted to push him away, but you felt weak. The snowy whisps of his white hair swayed as he scooped you up and brushed the hair from your forehead. You flinched away from him. As you looked up incredulously at him to question his inappropriate behavior, your eyes caught the scar running along his forehead.

“Everything is okay,” he murmured, but the voice wasn’t comforting, it was confusing as it fell upon your ringing ears. “I’m here, my love.”

The term snapped you from your chance, the murmuring and shuffling around the two of you coming at you in full force as if you’d just come up from underwater. Staring unblinkingly at the man before you, you watched as his piercing, blue eyes drooped softly and uncharacteristically into a haunting stare that was so unmistakably—

“Yuta?”

Following the closure of the grueling culling games, most sorcerers were granted substantial time to rest, and both you and Go— Yuta, were unarguably granted as well. After what you’d seen, what Yuta had subjected himself to for the sake of everyone’s safety, there was a quiet understanding that the pair needed time to adjust to one another again— to heal. As you walked into your shared apartment with the unfamiliar body behind you though, you couldn’t help but gulp down the lump in your throat.

Relieved wasn’t the sufficient word to use to describe how you felt upon learning Yuta was still alive. Granted, he was certainly alive in a very different way than he had been previously— but his soul was still with you. He was still there. Still, the anxiety and grief was eating you alive. You had seen his corpse, seen his lifeless eyes staring back at you. Yet you were still expected to latch onto him once again, resume your bond as if it hadn’t already been irreparably changed. It made you feel selfish— being so uncomfortable by the means by which he remained alive. You wouldn’t say it to him, not after all that he’d been through and the selfless way he sacrificed so much for his peers.

The door of your shared apartment shut behind you. A soft sigh of relief left you. When you last exited this familiar apartment, the two of you were unsure if you’d ever return to it again. A lone tear slipped down your cheek as Yuta set his katana against the wall and came up to grasp at your shoulders. His grip was firm— firmer than you ever remember it being. Feeling the tension in your muscles, he rubbed soft circles into them.

“You want me to start a shower for you, love?” He offered in that unfamiliar voice, his cheek grazing yours as he leaned down to meet your ear. Unable to speak, you simply nodded. With a soft kiss against your temple, he made his way down the hall and disappeared into your shared bathroom. The distance eased some of the pressure building in your chest, and you leaned back to rest against the wall.

How could this ever go back to normal? Gojo was a man who had watched your love grow together from the moment the both of you were introduced as mere teenagers. He’d given a horribly anxious Yuta advice on how to talk to you, given him money to take you on a nice first date before the boy had received his first stipend from the school. And now— now you were expected to live with him, to wake up to him every morning, make love to him. He wasn’t a stranger, but in a sense of closeness and intimacy, your body saw him as just that.

With a shaky sigh, you pushed off of the wall when you heard the shower running. Entering the bathroom with your towel folded over your arms, the steam from the shower enveloped you like a warm blanket. It invited you to wash away all the atrocities you’d faced in the past weeks. You placed your towel on the sink, but your pre-shower routine was cut short when you felt fingers grasping at the hem of your shirt to pull it up. A startled gasp escaped you, and you whipped around to face Yuta. He abruptly halted his attempts to undress you, staring at you with wide eyes. Much to your mortification, he was naked.

“Oh—” You stuttered out, staring up at the ceiling, at the wall behind him, anywhere but him. “Sorry. You— you can shower first.”

Yuta stopped you with a soft hand on your wrist as you moved to exit the bathroom. You were stiff before him, flinching away just barely noticeable as your arm made contact with his bare chest.

“Hey,” he said softly with a chuckle. It sounded a bit forced though— he sounded scared. “It’s just me, love. You can— you can look at me.”

Your head was still turned away from him as he pulled you closer against the stranger’s body, leaning down to press a delicate kiss against your cheek. Your eyes drifted and were met with your reflection in the mirror, wrapped up in the arms of Satoru Gojo. Following your gaze, his icy blue eyes met yours in the reflection. As if recognizing the apprehension in your expression, his face dropped a bit. Your heart clenched guiltily.

“S’okay,” Yuta attempted a nonchalant laugh, his strong arms loosening their grip on you. He gulped down the nausea that began to stir within him along with the pang of rejection. “Umm… I’ll be out in a minute. Why don’t you pick out a movie for us to watch, yeah? We’ve probably missed out on a bunch.”

With a soft nod and forced smile, you couldn’t have exited that small bathroom quick enough.

Time. You just needed some time.

Following your own, mind numbingly relaxing shower, you made sure to dry off and dress in the safe confines of the bathroom. You smiled softly at the feeling of the fluffy rug against your toes as you stepped into your very missed room. Yuta was already under the covers, remote in hand as he read the description of the movie you’d picked out. He was chewing absentmindedly at his bottom lip, a habit you’d never seen Gojo partake in before. It made you smile softly— something that was uniquely Yuta still shining through. His gaze snapped toward you while you stood hesitantly on the side of the bed. Smiling warmly, he opened up the blanket on your side of the bed in invitation, a faint glimmer of hope sparkling in his blue eyes.

“Yu, this shirt is…” Your comment drifted as you fingered at the tshirt spread too tightly across his broad chest. It clung to his bulging arms unnaturally, straining against the muscles.

A blush painted his pale cheeks, and you were once again put off by seeing the innocent expression on the face before you. He smiled sheepishly, looking down at himself.

“I know. None of my stuff really fits me anymore.” He explained bashfully, reaching up to scratch his head awkwardly. “Guess that means we can go shopping, and you can pick out all my clothes like you always wanted to, huh?”

You giggled softly at the idea. Truthfully, you were grateful he’d put the shirt on despite its tight fit. For the past few days, he didn’t even smell like himself anymore. But now, as you timidly shuffled closer to him and buried your head into his chest, you were able to inhale the lingering scent left behind by his previous body. It was the only thing keeping you huddled closely to his new one that night.

You dreamt of him that night— the old him. He was wrapped around you, his grip merciless as he clung onto you, as if you might float away. When you turned to look at him, the sight of his big, warm, puppy dog eyes filled your chest with butterflies. You recognized the scene, it was the first time you’d tended to him following a mission. Both of you unaware of the other’s feelings, timid in the way you brushed against one another, hyper aware of every breath and stare. As you dapped the alcohol-soaked cotton against his cheek, his shaky hands came up to grip innocently onto your waist. In truth, though you teased him relentlessly for it, he really just didn’t know what to do with his hands in the moment. When he saw the way your face burned under his touch, something had shifted between you— an understanding.

Your head burrowed deeper into the pillow below you as you were pulled from your slumber by the heavy hole in your chest. The arm strewn across your waist tighter around you, drawing you closer as he hummed. You smiled softly at the sound of him awakening. Shifting to catch a glimpse of those warm eyes that had just been plaguing your dreams, you were ripped from your trance. A startled yelp escaped you, sending you flying to the other end of the bed at the sight of the electric blue eyes staring back at you. In response, Yuta jumped out of bed with a start, staring at you in bewilderment.

“I— I’m sorry,” you cried breathlessly, not even feeling it when tears began to fall down your face. It was as if you could hear his heart break as he watched you. Running a trembling hand across your damp face, you attempted to calm your breathing. “I’m sorry, Yuta. It’s not your fault, I just—”

“You need time.” He finished softly for you.

For the following weeks, Yuta slept on the couch of your shared living room. It made you feel awful, coming out every morning to see him twisted uncomfortably on the furniture that was far too small to hold him in this form. You insisted that it should be you sleeping on it, given it was you who was so startled by the arrangement, but he refused to even hear of it. He said he’s always found the couch comfortable, but you knew that was about four inches and fifty pounds of muscle ago.

With the guilt knawing away at you, you made every effort to adjust to the dramatic change. The two of you watched your usual television shows on the couch together every night before he’d give you a longing goodnight kiss on the cheek and forehead. He never pushed you for more. You had just begun feeling somewhat comfortable enough to press quick, timid kisses on his lips every now and again, and he relished in each and every one of them like a man starved. It was evident in the way his eyes remained close and his lips chased yours each time you’d pull away.

He really did mean it when he said he wanted you to go shopping with him. After one too many ripped pants and boxer briefs in the trash, you insisted it be sooner rather than later. His wispy hair did a good enough job concealing the fading scar across his forehead while you two stepped out in public for the first time again. Being out of the stuffy apartment helped to ease the underlying tension that had grown between you. Yuta was making you laugh, charming you with his sheepish jokes and shy charisma— the type only he could pull off. It was good for you. You two walked from store to store, and you felt his pinky finger graze hesitantly against yours.

Looking up at him, you found his blue orbs already focused on you. They were wide, hopeful— asking for permission. Smiling softly at him, you silently carded your hand into his large one. It felt foreign, but the wide, excited smile that he tried to conceal seemed to mask any apprehension that bubbled within you. For the remainder of the day, Yuta walked with more confidence in his stride, pulling you giddily along with him wherever his attention drew him to.

It was a much needed break from the awkward push and pull you two had found yourselves in. So, when you returned to the apartment that night, you were almost scared to break that bubble. The two of you fell into your new routine, regarding each other friendly, showering separately. You were just gathering your things when he emerged from the bathroom, a towel hung loosely around his waist. Quickly averting your gaze, you muttered an apology as you attempted to step past him.

“Hey,” he called softly, stepping to the side to block you from entering the restroom. You felt his fingers clutch your chin and turn you to face him. His platinum hair clung to his face, droplets of water spilling onto his chiseled face. A blush rose to your cheeks at the sight. An amused smile fell easily on his lips. “You haven’t blushed like this looking at me since we were in high school.”

Your brows furrowed at his words, envious on the way he seemed to be unable to find the insanity of the situation. His damp hand ran down the side of your neck, creeping over your shoulder and arm until he grasped one of your hands in his. His intense gaze stayed focused on you as he brought your hand up to place on his chest, softly running it down his abdomen.

“I want you to… be comfortable with me again. Be able to look at me again.” He mumbled, his chest beginning to rise and fall more dramatically at the sensation of your hands exploring him once again. You gulped, your fingers catching on the scar that circled all the way across his stomach, sides, and back. It made you tear away from your hesitation, finally allowing yourself to look down at his sculpted body. You circled your finger tentatively around the jagged scar, your other hand creeping up to test the waters in feeling the wet ripples of his abs. Yuta seemed to tremble under your touch, a soft moan falling from his lips at the sensation. It snapped you from your haze. It felt wrong, hearing Gojo’s voice like this, thinking of his body in such a way. You withdrew your hands from him.

“Time.” you quickly reminded him, refocusing your gaze on his face again. His lips were parted, eyes half lidded but blown out with a lustful haze. You darted past him and into the bathroom, hearing him repeat it breathlessly as you closed the door.

“Time.”

You were still a bit shaken up when you exited your shower, pacing the room pensively as you clung to your towel. Looking around, you noticed the small, discarded pile of Yuta’s old shirts that he’d likely just removed from his drawers to make room for his new ones. You smiled fondly at the sight. Picking one up, you brought it up to your face and inhaled deeply. Though evidently fading, his smell still clung to it. It was faint though, so faint that it made your eyes water as you clutched desperately at the material. He was slipping away, every part of him, and all you could do was watch as each bit was replaced. Shoving the discarded shirts into your own drawer for safe keeping, you shed your towel and slipped one over your head before climbing into bed, relishing in the soft, familiar smell that graced your senses.

After a moment or so, there was a gentle knock at the door. Yuta poked his head in and smiled hesitantly at you.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he greeted softly, stepping fully into the dim room. “I just… I wanted to say goodnight to you. You okay?”

You nodded with a sad smile, blinking rapidly to stop more tears from manifesting in your traitorous eyes. Humming softly, he sat on the edge of the bed and grasped your head between his large hands before leaning in to press a gentle kiss against each eye.

“Goodnight, my love. I love you always.”

You couldn’t stop the silent sob that wracked your body as he turned to return to the living room for the night. It was pathetic, the way you continued to mourn for the man sat just outside your grasp. Just moments ago, you stood in tears, willing him not to slip away, yet you were allowing just that.

“Yuta?” Your meek voice made him turn around in question. “Can you… can you come to bed?”

His face lit up the dark room, moonlight illuminating the way his blue eyes seemed to spark at your request.

“Y-Yes, yeah!” He stammered out, looking around eagerly. The man seemed to trip over his own legs as he made his way to the door, holding a reaffirming hand out in front of him. “Hold on, I’m gonna grab my pillows— don’t move!”

Even through your tears, you couldn’t help but laugh at the way he still didn’t seem to have full control over his new body yet— at least not when he was buzzing with the excitement of a teenage boy. Just seconds later, he barreled back into the room, slamming the door behind him and eagerly jumping into his side of the bed. The both of you giggled at the way the bed creaked under his sudden weight. As the laughter subsided, he stared breathlessly at you, eyes gleaming.

“Do you think it’d be okay if I held you tonight?”

Your lips began to tremble at the pained vulnerability in his timid request. Without answering, you scooted closer to him, and he quickly opened his arms for you to tuck yourself against his chest. His chest heaved with a sigh of relief at the feeling of holding you close again. All too soon, he felt his eyes begin to droop despite his burning desire to stay awake and just be with you for a little longer. You were both fast asleep within seconds.

With his old shirt and scent wrapped around your frame, your subconscious couldn’t help but manifest him just as it had remembered him. Again, it was a familiar scene— the night before you two left your apartment for the final time. Before— what happened to him. His dark hair hung lazily over his face as he desperately grinded into you. A gasp over took you at the feeling of him entering you. Your fingernails raked mercilessly across his chest, squeezing the firm slab of muscle there. Yuta whined at the soft stinging that accompanied this action, but it only spurred him on. He wanted to mold himself to you, become one with your body. You helplessly moaned out his name.

Back in reality, beside you, Yuta was stirred from his own peaceful slumber by your shallow, whiny breaths. Your body practically trembled against him, your fingers grasping at the arm that circled your waist.

“Yuta.” Your soft moan filled his ears, making all the blood in his body rush down to the uncharted territory below his waistband. The manner in which you writhed desperately against him did nothing to calm the storm brewing in his pants. Gulping roughly, he allowed his hand to wander from your thigh up to your side, slipping under the thin fabric of your shirt— his shirt. It was the only thing donned on that trembling body of yours save for your underwear. You looked ethereal with the barely risen, morning sun kissing at your supple skin. Leaning down, he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, dragging his lips down to peck and lap aimlessly at your neck. You arched into him, rousing from your sleep with a gentle moan of his name.

“Yeah?” The man mumbled against the back of your neck, gently rutting into your ass from behind you. The wandering hand that had slipped up your shirt grazed over the lush skin of your breast before squeezing it gently between his fingers. A whimper fell from your lips. “Let me take care of you, my love, hm?”

You could only nod breathlessly, and, in an instant, he disappeared under the covers, eagerly shifting you onto your back. Typically, Yuta was a soft, gentle lover— slow in his care for your body. He loved taking his time with you, savoring each sound he could pull from you with each inch of skin he explored. Now though, as he found himself face to face with one of his favorite parts of you for the first time in weeks, he had no patience.

Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he shoved his face into your clothed core. A high strung moan ripped up your chest and out your throat as he mouthed lazily over you for a while, wetting the already damp fabric with his drool. Getting tired of the damned barrier, he wanted to taste you for real. In hasty motions, he ripped your underwear down your legs before settling against his breakfast once again.

“Yuta!” You gasped, face reddening with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. He moaned against you at the sound of his name falling from your lips again. His hips involuntarily rutted against the mattress, but he stopped himself. This was about you.

Your fingers trembled, making their way under the sheets to grip his hair firmly. His head swayed side to side as he ravished you, drinking up everything you were willing to give him. Your hips bucked up to grind against his face, making the sheet fall down his back. Looking down, you were met with the sight of Satoru Gojo between your legs, lapping lewdly at your sensitive core as if it gave him life itself, as if it made the sun and the moon and brought all the stars to the night sky.

His eyes opened upon feeling your gaze on him. Those piercing blue eyes that you were becoming so accustomed to regarded you with a deep lust, a carnal desire that had your release creeping up your toes, into your legs and torso, to the very center of your mind.

No, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t come undone like this. It was so wrong, and you felt as though some part of you was betraying Yuta, despite the fact that he was the very man currently worshiping you with his tongue. You partly wondered if he knew what was going through your head right now, watching as his brows suddenly furrowed and his grip on your thighs tightened with a newfound determination. With a harsh, loud suck to your clit, his gaze demanded to be met as you tipped over the edge. Your back arched up with a deafening cry, all the while Yuta’s lips hungrily laid open mouthed kissed against your core as you came down. He caught your clit gently between his lips, pulling at it a fraction before releasing it.

You were gasping for breath, trying to catch yourself before you passed out in an overwhelmed haze. Yuta licked a final, loving stripe up your folds before peppering kisses up your trembling body. Sliding a hand under the arch of your back, he abruptly sat you up with a strength unfamiliar to you. You landed atop his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck to catch yourself before you fell back.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whimpered, capturing your lips against his desperately. They were still wet from their assault against you. Between rushed kisses, he gasped out against your lips. “So beautiful, my love. You’re everything to me.”

You moaned against him at the sound of his familiar praises, pressing your chest against his. He broke from you for barely a millisecond, tossing his shirt over his head before grappling for you once again. His hands found their natural place on your waist, gripping firmly as he brought you down to grind against his straining manhood. Gasping at the sensation of your folds sliding against his thick length, you reached up to grasp at the ends of his hair as you always did. It hit you then, as your fingers grazed the slowly growing hairs of an undercut, that you were about to make love to someone else. Breaking from him with a gasp, you looked at the man before you. His eyes were practically glowing, drinking you in in a manner that told you his thoughts were positively filthy at the present. Closing them once again, he chased your lips with a determined hand against your jaw. You flinched away. Slowly opening his eyes again, he watched in horror as you climbed off of his lap and stood from the bed, looking around for a pair of shorts.

“W-Wait!” Yuta gaped, practically tripping over himself to follow you out of the bedroom.

You pretended not to hear the desperate confusion in his tone, pretended it didn’t squeeze at your chest with guilt. Opening the fridge, you busied yourself grabbing ingredients to make you two a quick breakfast. He called out your name softly, dejected. Bracing yourself, you glanced back at him. His massive frame was hunched in on itself, and his eyes looked so hurt you could practically shoot yourself in the foot for being the cause of it.

“What are you doing?” Yuta breathed quietly, watching as you spread all the ingredients onto the counter.

“I’m making omelets. You want cheese on yours?” You asked over your shoulder, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet for mixing.

“What? No, I—” He could feel the irritation rising in his chest, and he had to take a deep breath before continuing. Stepping closer so he was right behind you, he grasped your wrist softly to halt your rushed movements. “Baby, I miss you.”

“I’m right here, Yu.” You whispered, unable to meet his unwavering gaze. You heard him sigh in frustration at your response.

“No, love,” he pleaded, grasping your hips to press you roughly against the ever present bulge in his sweatpants. Releasing a shaky breath, he snaked a hand across your collarbone before lining it with hot kisses. “I miss you.”

“Yuta,” you protested, slipping away from his grasp. “I’m sorry, I just need—”

“Time?” He cried out, tears welling up in his sad, wide eyes. “You can take all of my time— have all of it! But please just— please look me in the eyes and tell me I’ll still get you back at the end of it.”

“I’m trying!” You sobbed, smacking at his bare chest. He took it all without so much as a flinch. “I’m trying but every time I look at you all I can see is—”

“I’m not Gojo! I’m right here, I’m me. Look at me!”

“Well I don’t recognize you anymore, Yuta!”

His response got caught in his throat. Those glittering blue, six eyes watched as you fell to the floor, clutching your hands to your face. Gentle sobs shook your frame as you curled in on yourself. Yuta stood before you, unsure if touching you would be helpful or not right now.

“I saw your body, Yuta. Your head was split open. Your eyes were lifeless! I accepted that you were dead!” You felt a hesitant hand come down on your back. He slowly sat beside you on the floor. “And then you come back, and you have a new face, a new voice, you even smell different. You’re bigger and you’re stronger, and you’re not my Yuta anymore, okay? You wanted everything to go back to normal but it’s not.”

“I just… I don’t see Yuta anymore.”

Both of you agreed that you needed some time apart that day. Yuta insisted that you be the one to stay home, but you convinced him that you needed time outside of the apartment.

You found yourself in front of Shoko, who regarded you with surprise at your sudden request.

“I want to see his body.”

She blinked a few times at you, slowly. Not even Yuta himself had bothered asking what it was that they did with his body. When he came to, the only thing that was on his mind was the overwhelming relief that he’d be able to come back to you. As the healer looked over your bloodshot eyes, and the dried tears on your face as you clutched at the old t-shirt covering you, she understood what you really needed.

You blinked down at the simple grave before you. It was large, marbled and domed. It had Gojo’s name on it.

“Is this some sort of joke?” You asked breathily, your brows furrowing in anger. A fiery glare was shot in the direction of the woman standing beside you. “Where is his body?”

“Right in front of you.”

“Then why isn’t his name on here?”

“Because Yuta Okkotsu isn’t dead.” Shoko stated flatly, eyes steady on you. “Satoru Gojo is.”

The words sank into your soul as you slowly looked back up at the name etched onto the grave. It was the name of the man you were sure you had been betraying your lover with for a month. Yuta— his former body rested here, but no one mourned for him here. No, this is where they came to mourn Satoru Gojo. You were the only one who had ever mourned for Yuta.

“Satoru Gojo is dead, and the man waiting for you at home loves you— no matter the flesh that wraps his soul.”

You cried the whole way home, but, this time, your tears weren’t being shed in mourning. Rather, they fell down your face in hot streams of guilt. Yuta had been so understanding, so patient with you. He had gone through so much, lost his body, lost his mentor, his friend. The only thing he asked in return was to live the rest of his life with you once again— and you couldn’t look past the flesh attached to his kind heart.

Slowly creaking open the door of your apartment, there was music flowing softly through the air of your shared apartment. Over the rhythm, you could hear the clashing of pots and the clinking of utensils. There was a faint smell of smoke filling the room as well. Shutting the door behind you, you cautiously made your way to the kitchen, gaze melting at the scene before you.

There was an apron tied haphazardly around Yuta’s waist. It was too small on him— straining against his broad, muscular chest. The smell of smoke seemed to be coming from the large pot that was practically vibrating on the stovetop, angrily hissing at the chef, who was too distracted trying to set a pair of plates and cutlery neatly on the small dining table. He was cursing under his breath, white eyebrows pulled up and together in a concerned, puppy-dog like stare. You giggled from behind your hand. His head shot up at the sound.

“No, babe— gah!” Your lover was cut off as he tried to grab the lid off the top of the smoking pot before abruptly dropping it, seemingly burned from its hot surface. It clattered against the stove noisily. “You weren’t supposed to be home yet— shit!”

He paced the length of the kitchen, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet as he ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. The mannerisms— they were so undeniably Yuta Okkotsu. Smiling fondly, you stepped forward to turn the stove off, making him grumble in disapproval.

“I-I was trying to make us pilau.” He pouted, those wide, puppy dog eyes taking in the sight of you. Despite the commotion you had walked into, he was relieved that you came back to him.

“Yeah?” You questioned with an amused smile, reaching behind him to untie the apron from his back and pulling it over his head. Your hands replaced the ties around his neck, pulling him down toward you. It was gonna take you a while to adjust to this sudden, more exaggerated height difference. “What happened to you not burning it this time?”

The pale skin of his neck and cheeks flushed under your intense gaze, making him chuckle nervously. It was evident in the tentative manner he slid his hands around your waist that he was unsure of what you’d be comfortable with.

“Are you gonna come down here, or are you gonna make you climb all six feet of you?”

His Adam’s Apple bobbed against his taut neck, a boyish grin spreading across his lips as he shook his head.

“I have a better idea.”

In one quick motion, he squatted down to grab the backs of your thighs and toss them high around his waist. You gasped at the abrupt motion, clinging around his chest like a spider monkey. He wasn’t even holding onto you as he began walking the both of you to your room. No, his hands were instead grasped on the sides of your head, pulling you into him for a desperate kiss. Shutting the door behind him with his foot, he turned to sit on the edge of the bed, your comparably smaller frame still attached to him.

You fell slowly into his lap, biting at his lips with an unanticipated fervor. Your hands grazed under the hem of his shirt, palms freely exploring the planes of his chest and shoulders. He whimpered under your delicate touch, breaking away from you only to allow you to pull the fabric off of him. Pushing back on his firm shoulders, he fell back against the bed with a huff, watching with bated breath as you kissed each inch of new skin you were presented with. You wanted to commit him to memory— learn the new ways to make him gasp and whimper in that way only Yuta could pull off. As you traversed down his abdomen, he reached down and yanked the hem of your loose shirt over your head, groaning at the sight of your bare chest that he’d missed so much.

Just as your lips grazed the hem of his sweatpants, he sat up abruptly to stop you.

“No, I can’t— I just need you right now.” He rasped, grasping at your waist to toss you down onto the bed.

“Jesus, Yu!” You gasped as your body bounced with the impact. He grinned sheepishly at you as he stumbled out of his sweats before crawling over your body.

“I’m sorry… not used to it yet.” He apologized before grazing his hand over your clothed core, sighing pathetically at the wetness that met his digits. Your teeth were clashing together as the two of you sloppily kissed each other— a bundle of gasps and moans. He molded himself against you as he dragged your soiled panties down your legs before standing up to remove his boxers. You tried not to stare— you really did. The last thing you wanted him to think was that you found his previous parts insufficient. Lord help you though, because— now? Yuta was massive. Watching your apprehensive expression as you took in his new, bare body, he grabbed your hips.

“Come here.” He commanded gently, easily lifting you up to sit on his lap. You both gasped as your core bumped against his painfully hard length. It was a bit embarrassing— the way he was able to wrap one arm around your waist to hold you up as the other gripped his length. The thought of all the different ways he could use this newfound strength sent bubbling excitement straight down to your core. “Take what you can, pretty girl.”

His compassionate words, even as he had you hovered over his desperately touch deprived cock warmed your heart. You nodded wordlessly, mouth falling open as he slowly lowered you onto him. Your nails dug into his shoulder to cope with the slow burning sensation that filled your core as he unconsciously bucked up into you. Before long, you were fully sheathed over his weeping member.

A long whine fell from his lips as your ass met his thighs. The sound was deeper than his usual, pitchy moans that you’d come to love, and it made a heat spread through your chest. You shifted to adjust your thighs in order to begin moving against him, desperate for any sort of friction after the long period of waiting for you to adjust to his new size, but he stopped you. Large hands came up to grip under your ass, lifting you up with ease to grind you against his already twitching length.

“Allow me, my love.”

Okay, maybe you could get used to this Yuta.

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[togrowoldinv]

It Is Well

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You’re the choir director at Wanda’s church. One afternoon after church, your relationship with her changes

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Reader has a penis but no pronouns are used, kissing, cursing, sex in a church oops, oral (W receiving), blowjob, Wanda being a milf

Note: I have no explanation, just love for milf Wanda. Enjoy!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

There are a lot of reasons that you love your new job. One is that you get to live out your passion for singing and help others in the process. The second reason is that it pays well. The church was desperate for a new choir director, so they were willing to pay you pretty much whatever you wanted.

But the reason that you love your job the most is that you’ve met Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda is your favorite choir member by far. She is always punctual, she sings beautifully, and she flirts with you.

At least, you think she’s flirting with you. She is always making an excuse to touch your arm as she walks by you, or she’ll stay late to help you work on arrangements.

“Hey there!” Wanda says as she enters the choir suite today.

“Wanda, how are you?” You ask.

“I’m doing mighty fine. And you?”

“Honestly, I could use some help,” you admit.

Wanda nods seriously and sets her purse down. She sits next to you at the piano. You try not to notice how good she looks in her button up shirt.

“How can I help, darlin’?” She asks.

“I’m trying to make this transition sound right, but I just can’t.”

“Play it for me,” Wanda says.

You begin to play the song and Wanda sings along quietly. Her voice floats through the room like a sweet songbird. When you get to the transition, you stop. It still hasn’t come to you.

Wanda touches your hand and places your fingers on a few different keys than the ones you’ve been trying.

“It is well,” she begins singing. She nods for you to continue playing. “It is well with my soul.”

It’s the perfect transition.

“Wanda Maximoff you are a genius!” You say. Wanda hugs you tightly and smiles. “We’re ready for the service now.”

“I’ll get my robe on,” Wanda says.

She stands up from the piano and takes her robe out of the closet. Somehow, she looks even better in it than in her regular clothes.

“Looking very nice, ma’am,” you compliment Wanda.

“Thank you,” Wanda replies. She walks closer to you. “Can I admit something to you?”

“Yeah- of course.”

Wanda is just inches from you. You smell her perfume.

“I’ve always thought these robes were kind of silly, but then I saw you in one,” Wanda says. “And now I think they are very flattering.”

Wanda grins before she steps back and leaves the suite. You stand there stunned by her words. She was definitely flirting with you this time.

You try to shake it off and go lead the choir during service. It goes without a hitch. The only time you almost miss a cue is when Wanda smiles at you. It’s really that easy for her to make you fold.

After the service, you go back to the choir suite. No one else is in there when you walk in, but soon Wanda comes in and shuts the door behind her.

“You should leave that on,” Wanda says, gesturing to your robe.

“Are they calling for an encore out there?” You joke.

Wanda crosses the room quickly. She places a hand on your forearm and the other comes to rest on your cheek. Your breath hitches at her movements.

“I’m very attracted to you,” Wanda says. “Are you attracted to me?”

“Wanda, I- um- it’s not that simple,” you say. Of course, your answer is yes.

“I think it’s simple. You’re absolutely stunning,” Wanda says.

“You’re beautiful, Wanda. But we can’t.”

Wanda pouts her perfect lips. You fight the urge to lean forward and kiss them.

“Would you really deny me this pleasure, sweetheart?” She asks.

“No,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“No ma’am.”

She grins wickedly and places her lips on yours in a long, slow kiss. Her hand on your face slips into your hair as she deepens the kiss. Her other hand takes yours and places it over one of her breasts. Even through the robe and her clothing, you can feel the breast.

You kiss until neither of you can breathe. And then you drop to your knees in front of Wanda. She lifts her robe up over her hips. Taking your time, you take off her skirt and let her panties fall to the floor.

“Make me feel good, baby,” Wanda says.

You place kisses against her creamy thighs. She shivers with every touch, and you know her husband doesn’t touch her like this. Wanda moans when you lick through her folds, gathering her wetness with your tongue.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” Wanda says. “About you on your knees worshipping me in this church.”

“Fuck,” you mumble against her.

Wanda’s hand comes to your hair to encourage you to continue. You never want to stop. You take her clit in your mouth and her hips stutter. In a few more moments, Wanda falls apart at your touch. She has to reach for the nearest chair to regain her balance.

“Holy fuck, Wanda,” you say when you emerge from between her legs.

“Mmm, come here,” she says. She lifts you up by your shoulders and you kiss her.

Wanda lets out the softest moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. She wants more. You let her take control, pushing you down to the ground again.

This time she lifts your robe up your body to reveal your hips and something she didn’t expect. Your cock is hard, and Wanda immediately takes it into her mouth. She sucks until you’re coming into her mouth.

“Oh fuck, y/n,” Wanda says. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Ride my cock, baby?” You ask her.

Wanda nods and settles herself over you. She aligns her center with your cock, slipping onto it with ease. She is so wet from getting you off. The woman rides your cock as she moves her hands over your abdomen. You can see yourself slipping in and out of her even with your choir robe bunched up at your chest.

“Fuck, Wanda, I’m going to come,” you say as you feel yourself getting close.

“Me too,” she groans out. Her eyes are closed with pleasure. She shouts as she comes, and you spill into her.

Wanda lets you stay inside her until she’s come down from her high. You kiss her when she slips off of you and lays on the ground next to you.

“We should’ve done that months ago,” you say.

“Agreed,” Wanda says. She chuckles. “Can you go again?”

You look down at yourself. It’s unlikely but you’re willing to try.

“Maybe if we kissed for a while first? Or you let me get you off first?”

“By all means, go ahead,” Wanda says.

You laugh and turn over to kiss Wanda again. Lifting her robe off this time, you pay close attention to her breasts. And you bring her pleasure again. She does the same for you.

Wanda is definitely why you love your job, especially now.

[coryosbaby]

Sub!stepbro!rafe please 😩

Summary: You steal coke from your stepbrother/fuck buddy, and he’s absolutely pussy whipped.

Warning: drug use, stepcest (stepbrother x stepsister), Rafe is in love, mommy kink, edging, spanking (m recieving 😇), oral (m receiving), ball sucking, p n v, body worship, mild mentions of feet kissing, doing Coke off his dick and ass oops, ball sucking, squirting, creampie, sub! Rafe, dom! Reader, literally not canon at all but idc I wanna dominate him

“I know you took it!”

Rafe’s voice screams out throughout the incredibly large Cameron estate as you walk down the stairs, his fists clenched at his sides as he watches your retreating form. You roll your eyes, used to his tantrums and spoiled personality from the many months of living with him. You’re both alone, the house echoing your words and otherwise being completely empty.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Rafe.” You reach the end of the staircase to grab your jacket and slip it on. But before you can, Rafe’s hands grab your wrists harshly. He yanks you to him, his breath heavy and uneven.

“Give me my fucking coke back.”

So maybe you do know what he’s talking about. But so what? Rafe isn’t like you. Whereas coke makes him violent and corrupted, it makes you… well, an average coke addict. It isn’t a surprise for anyone to learn that what’s wrong with Rafe’s brain goes far beyond addiction. So, stealing it isn’t necessarily wrong.

It’s definitely not something anyone with half the balls you have would do, though.

Rafe’s voice on the edge of threatening,, but you merely bat an eyelash at the boy. His face is flushed, mouth mere inches away from your face as he looks down at you with a hesitant angered expression. Your eyes avert to the incredibly long fingers wrapped around your wrist, and then back up to him again with a clenched jaw.

“Let go of me, Rafe.” You demand. He hesitates, and the nervous softening of his grip doesn’t go unnoticed. You move closer, getting on your tip toes to reach his tall height. “Let go of me…now.”

He doesn’t remove his fingers from your wrists at first, but after a moment his hands drop from yours.

Rafe isn’t one to be told what to do, but when it’s you… it’s like he can’t do anything but follow your orders. The other times before this, the times when you had fucked him up in secret, in so many more ways than one, doesn’t help the situation. And as messed up as it is, you’re the only woman who can make him fall to his knees.

Even if you’re the daughter of his dad’s wife.

A small smirk forms on your face, eyes wild, and you’re taking another step towards him. He stumbles back into the wall. You laugh at the look in his eyes. One at first glance would say it’s annoyance, but you know better.

It’s fear.

“I don’t like boys who don’t do what they’re told the first time.”

Rafe scoffs, body moving to walk backwards up the stairs as you follow him with slow steps.

“I don’t like thieves.”

“Don’t be greedy and I won’t have to steal it.”

He chuckles nervously, reaching the top of the staircase.

“‘M not greedy. Just wished you would’ve asked first.”

You pause. You’re both off the steps now, eyes following each others as you beckon him towards your room.

“If you want it so bad, maybe you should come in my room and get it.”

The insinuation doesn’t go unnoticed. Rafe’s face flushes a deep crimson.

“Yeah?” He replies. He reaches for your doorknob, right across from his. “Guess I have to find it, then. Right?”

You don’t say anything, but a smile quirks your lips as he brings himself inside. When his knees hit the edge of your bed you push him down harshly. He gasps, his body hitting the mattress underneath him with a loud thud. He lifts himself up onto his elbows as you approach your bookshelf. Seated on the highest shelf is a golden jewelry box. You pull out the third drawer. You grab the packet of white powder sitting inside and turn around to show the boy.

“This what you want?”

You can tell by the way his mood changes, excitement glazing his features as he looks at the drug. “Yeah.”

“Gonna have to earn it.” You say, coldly.

“I’ll do anything.”

And you know he means it. So you walk over to the bed and grab him by his ankles. His jeans are still on, and your fingers begin to undo his belt. He looks at you with a desperate gaze; you know he could take his clothes off himself, but where’s the fun in that? And so, once the belt is through the loops, you unbutton his jeans and push them down. Dior briefs are exposed to you, and you snicker.

“I didn’t even know dior made underwear. Preparing for something, Cameron?”

The boy huffs. “I just- I know it’s your favorite brand, that’s all.”

“So you wore them for me?” Your fingers ghost over the large bulge accompanying the fabric. He lets out a low groan. “That’s so cute. But it sounds like you came to me looking for a fight. Just so I’d put you in your place.”

“Maybe I did. So what?” He snarks. You narrow your eyes, and your palm lands harshly on his thigh. He whines.

“Don’t be a fucking brat. Now take your shirt off and turn over.”

Of course, he obeys; hands going to the hem of his striped top, he pulls it over his head and exposes his naked chest and torso to you. He’s gorgeous, perfectly chiseled and tense with arousal. He uses his legs to turn himself around onto his stomach.

“Like this?” He asks. Faux innocence drips off of every honeyed syllable.

“Yes, baby. Just like that.”

You sit down on your pink sheets next to Rafe’s pliant body. He’s breathing shallowly, waiting for you next move. You grab his ankles once again and maneuver his body so he’s laying across your lap. His brows furrow in confusion, but they quickly lift into pleasure as his mouth falls open. Your palm comes down on his left cheek. A teasing slap, one that isn’t meant to cause pain, but enough to present the idea of spanking to the boy’s mind.

“Yeah…” It’s all Rafe’s brain can muster, the feeling of being bent over his stepsister’s knee making blood rush to his cock a lot more than it should. “Thas’ good, momma…”

“Jesus...” You pull down his briefs, exposing his pretty round globes to the room. You grab the bag of coke and quickly poor a line down onto his right cheek. Rafe tries to look back at what you’re doing, but you’re other hand grabs his hair and yanks him back down to look at the bed.

“Don’t. Stay fucking still.”

You pull and adjust Rafe’s thighs so he’s a bit lifted. Careful not to spill the coke, you bring your nose down to his cheek and snort up the white powder. He knows what you’re doing, and his legs clench together as he tries to relieve his arousal and the urge to snatch the bag out of your hands. Your eyes roll back when the drug hits your system, a low groan leaving your lips.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Rafe just moans, bare cock pressing against your thigh as he tries to rut against it. He’s dripping, you can feel him making a wet spot form on your skirt. Your palm goes down to his ass again; not to hit him, just to feel him under your fingertips.

“It’s okay, Rafe.” you coo. “You’ll get your share. Just be patient.”

“Don’t wanna,” he whines. “Wanna do a line off your tits… wanna fuck your pussy. Want ‘em both so bad.”

“You’ll get to soon. But I think you need a punishment for your smart mouth, first. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything, just rocks his ass back into your hands as confirmation: yes, momma. I do need a punishment. I’ve been a bad boy.

Rafe has always been shy with words. So you don’t scold when he doesn’t reply. You just tilt your hand back, and spank him harshly. He mewls, hands gripping the sheets below him as his cheeks redden from your abuse. Another slap comes down, and after a few more you can feel tears dripping on your thigh. You smile at the sight of his reddened cheeks, the way he squirms when you rub your fingers over him. And after five more hits, the boy is sobbing into your leg.

“Such a sweet boy,” you praise. He shakes when you press a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Taking your punishment so well. I think you deserve a reward.”

“Please, mommy.” He pleads.

“Get up, honey. Sit up on your knees for a minute.”

He obeys, a small sniffle sounding from him as he does so. The sight of Rafe Cameron, your stepbrother, crying for you like this shouldn’t make you so wet. But it does.

When he’s on his knees you make sure to put a pillow down on the mattress before getting him to lay down on his back; he’s a strong boy, and he can handle a lot, so his sore ass is the last thing he’s thinking of when you ask if he’s okay. He just nods, cushioned underneath the pillow and looking up at you with heavy eyes and a large, hardened cock. You pick up the coke bag again, and teasingly hold it in front of your clothed pussy. And when Rafe sees it, he’s like one of Pavlov’s dogs: The two of his favorite things right in front of each other. He looks at you with longing.

“Can I have them? Please?”

“Not yet.”

He goes to whine, but you shush him with the threat of spanking him again.

“Just stay down, Rafe.” You demand. He nods, although he wants to protest.

You grip his cock, and his eyes flutter shut in surprise and pleasure. But it’s all in stride; you’re only holding it right now. Rafe’s bottom lip gets caught between his teeth when he feels your spit pool along his shaft. And then, you pour the coke onto his cock. It’s an odd feeling, and it tingles a bit. But when Rafe looks down, he wonders why he’s never done it before. Your nose is pressed against him, trying to snort up most of the coke. It’s just messy, though. His pre cum just made the coke stick to him, so you’re practically rubbing your face in his arousal.

And Jesus, that makes Rafe’s cock kick.

“Can’t get it?” He teases.

You just reply, “Fuck you, Cameron.” And then move your tongue along his cock. And he gasps, low and throaty, as he feels your tongue lick along the base of his length and then down to his balls. He’s hairless there (of course he is), so it’s easy and makes it all worthwhile. As you suckle the heavy sacks into your mouth, your pussy drips with wetness.

“Oh my god, that’s good, shit—“ Rafe fucks up into your mouth, and you press his hips back down so he can’t. You look up at him and watch as his face scrunches up in pleasure when your teeth graze his balls. You pull off of him with a pop as he continues to beg for his release.

“I’m gonna give you what you want now.” You state.

“Really? Thank you—“ he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead and cheeks. It shouldn’t be as affectionate as it is. “—thank you so much, momma.”

And he means it. Which isn’t common for Rafe fucking Cameron. But he does a lot of things he usually doesn’t do when he’s with you.

You lay down on your back with the coke in your hand. When Rafe tries to reach for it, you just tsk.

“No, baby. You have to fuck me first.”

He frowns, but he’s also giddy from the thought of being able to stick himself inside you. So he does what he’s told, and lifts up your skirt. The smell of your arousal hits him, and he keens.

“You smell so fuckin’ good.” He mumbles. And he can’t wait any longer, so he pushes your thong to the side and slides right into your soaked entrance. You smile, head tilting back and exposing your neck. Rafe doesn’t hesitate to leave bite marks along the expanse of the skin there. You’re the perfect amount of heat and wetness to make his cock throb in its place.

“Good?” You ask. You know the answer, but you want him to talk to you more.

“Really, really good.” He groans. “You’re always so tight— best pussy I’ve ever had, fuck!”

He’s trying to hold his resolve, but with all the edging you’ve been doing he going to cum quick. He sobs as he bucks up into you, as you drip around his girthy length. And then your arms are wrapping around his back as you start to unzip the bag of coke once again. You pull your top down and expose your breasts to Rafe, and pour the substance in between the valley of skin there. His mouth opens wide, and he just… shoves his face into it. It’s so filthy, and so vulgar, as he snorts the drug up into his nose and licks it off of you. He starts to lick your nipples ferociously, muttering thank yous over and over again. His fingers reach down to rub your clit and you cry out at the pleasure.

“Good boy- good Fuckin’ boy, Rafe!” You moan out. “God.. ‘m gonna cum! Gonna cum all over your cock—“

And that’s exactly what you do. Your high crashes over you in powerful waves, and Rafe lets out a small laugh as he watches you squirt all over him.

“Yeah. That’s it, momma.” He looks genuinely happy, genuinely excited and content. “I’m- I’m so proud of you, holy shit.”

“Yeah?” You try to tease calmly, but the force of your orgasm has you stuttering and shaky. “You have to come for me, too.”

And that brings Rafe back to his cock inside of you, to his unfinished orgasm, and he begins to pummel you with no remorse. His thighs slap against yours aggressively as you scream from the overstimulation. He catches sight of the bracelet you have wrapped around your ankle. It’s made of solid gold, one he had gotten you for your nineteenth birthday, that has Cameron engraved on it in thick letters. Ward and your mom had found it endearing.

‘Your brother got your last name on it!’ Your mother had gushed. ‘How sweet!’

Little did she know that it was a sign of his possession. His possession over his stepsister, his baby sis, as he called you around his family. But although Rafe owns you, he knows you’ll always be the one in control: in control of his thoughts, his mind, his body, his feelings. You’re everything.

He presses kisses to your toes. Not in a weird way.. at least he hopes it’s not in a weird way. His tongue runs along the ridges of your ankle, a little bit up your calf. His strong arms grab ahold of your thighs and push them up, up. Eventually they’re over your head, and you’re crying out for another orgasm. His nose buries itself into your neck, and he can smell you— perfume, sweat, skin, cocaine, and fuck, Rafe doesn’t think he’s ever been with someone this perfect. And when you cry out his name on your lips, when you clench around him just right, he’s filling your cunt up with thick ropes of his cum. He eats you out afterwards, of course. He’s yours, after all, and whatever you want you get. And it’s perfect, even after that: when you’re laying there while he’s on top of you, snorting that last bit of drug that you had stolen from him, his high buzzing through his brain. When your hands run through his hair and offer to put lotion on the spots where you had spanked him. It’s perfect.

Almost. Because how in the fuck are you going to explain this to your parents?

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 12 - Somnophilia

Soap x Reader - 5.5k (on ao3)

summary: Your doctor offers to help you get home after your lasik eye surgery. (Reader POV & Johnny POV)

cw: noncon sex, drugging, kidnapping, briefly mentioned lasik eye surgery (no description past one mention of a scalpel)

note: tysm to ceil for giving me this idea <3 i did a few google searches on lasik eye surgery and tried to mention the actual feelings as little as possible, and also the drug johnny uses is probably literally impossible but its fic so who cares lol

“And… how long did you say I have to wear these?” You ask, tentatively touching the glasses resting over your eyes.

“Och, not long at all. Just until tonight, then you come in for a check-up tomorrow afternoon and I’ll let you know what other care you’ll need.” Dr. MacTavish replies, big hands adjusting the frames and pushing them up your nose.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are they usually painted like this?” You’d hardly been able to see post lasik-surgery - mostly just big swaths of color - but you feel far more vulnerable with the sunglasses on, their blacked out lenses leaving you entirely in the dark except for the blurry light around the rims. 

Your doctor’s laugh is low and comforting, his hand patting you on the shoulder before you hear him moving away. “Of course. Not all optometrists use them, but I’ve found for patients like you they have the best results.”

“Like me?”

“Yes,” another chuckle, and the sounds of what you assume are tools being put away. “Patients who struggle to be good and sit still during their surgery.”

“Ah.” You feel your cheeks go hot in embarrassment. “I really am sorry about that…”

“No need,” he reassures, his hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. You can’t help but jerk a little, the glasses slipping down your nose. “Oops, don’t be losin’ those, bonnie.”

Your cheeks go hot and you have to fight the urge not to reach up and fix them yourself since his hand gets their first. He rights them quickly, then taps the tip of your nose with a finger. “There you go. Let’s keep those where they should be, hm?” He gives the nape of your neck a squeeze, his palm warm and rough, and you do your best to nod without awkwardly dislodging him.

“Now, do you have a ride home?”

You suck your teeth a little at that. You hadn’t known you’d be wearing the dark glasses after - the care plan you and Dr. MacTavish had discussed beforehand had made it seem like you’d be able to ride the bus home, but you’re not comfortable doing that in your blinded state.

“Ah, not right now,” you start, tangling your fingers together in your lap to avoid rubbing at your itchy eyes. “But I can probably call a friend-”

“Nonsense,” Dr. MacTavish dismisses, moving away from you and back to whatever he’d been moving before. “You’re my last patient of the day, how about I give you a ride home?”

“Oh,” you start, startled at his offer. “Oh, that’s… no, that’s alright, Doctor. I’m sure one of my friends could-”

He interrupts you with a tsk, and suddenly there’s a hand at your elbows guiding you up, then just one as he walks you out of the office. “No, that won’t do. We need to get you home and in bed as soon as possible - it’s not good for you to be keeping your eyes open so much after surgery, you know.”

“Oh, really?” You gasp a little, letting him guide you. “Should I be keeping them closed? I don’t want to make anything worse…”

“You’re doing just fine, bonnie, no worries.” The hand on your elbow squeezes as you come to a stop, and you hear the sound of something being written on. “I’ll take good care of you now. C’mon.” What must be a pen is dropped onto what you can only assume is the front counter, and you’re guided forward again. “We’ll have you safe at home in no time.”

Dr. MacTavish’s car is nice - the seats aren’t cracking at all, the air conditioning works to cool the interior quickly, there’s a faint minty smell - but it disconcerts you more than you might’ve expected to be left completely blind in an unfamiliar environment, and with someone you don’t know past a professional relationship.

You give him your address after he buckles you in (you swear his hand brushes your chest, but it doesn’t linger and you don’t want to accuse him of something unfounded just because of a slight touch) and he doesn’t bother to input it into the GPS, tells you he already knows where the neighborhood is.

You haven’t felt so vulnerable in a long time. Even around the edge of the glasses, all you can see are blurs of color, and you feel oddly exposed without the ability to see. Your eyes itch and sting, and it takes conscious effort not to rub the feeling away. 

You lift a hand to rub them without even thinking but before it’s even halfway to your face Dr. MacTavish grabs it, pinning it to your thigh and making a low noise of dissent. “No rubbing now, lass, you know the rules.”

The heat creeping up your neck is entirely involuntary, and you tuck your free hand beneath your leg to resist the urge to squirm. “Right, of course, I’m sorry Dr. MacTavish.”

“Johnny, lass, no need for titles off the clock.”

You try to make a vague noise of understanding but end up sounding a bit like a bird, your hand clammy beneath his. He gives you a squeeze, but doesn’t let go. You’d ask him to move but… well, you don’t want to make things awkward when he’s your only way home at the moment and you figure he’s just helping. So you try to relax your fingers, and zone out to the sound of him humming along to the radio.

“Here we are,” he announces eventually, the car slowing to a stop before he turns into your driveway. “Nice neighborhood, hen. Very safe.”

You try to laugh casually and cringe when it just comes off as awkward - you’re unsure how to naviagte small-talk when all you really want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. “I just moved here recently, but it seems to be a pleasant area. I certainly don’t have any complaints.”

Dr. MacTavish - Johnny - hums in response, turning the car off and getting out to come to your side. He unbuckles you quickly and again there’s a little voice in the back of your head that says his hand lingered by your waist for just a few beats too long. But his fingers don’t venture anywhere appropriate, and you tell yourself that you’re seeing something that isn’t really there.

He keeps a hold of your elbow as he guides you up the stairs and into your building. He pauses and then a moment later you hear a ding, and the clear familiar sound of an elevator opening.

“Oh,” you say, shocked as he tugs you forward. “I had no idea the elevator was fixed - it’s been out of order since I moved in.”

“Really?” You hear press a button.

You stand there in silence for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, before you feel the elevator start to move.

“Um, Dr Ma- Johnny, what floor did you pick?”

There’s a pause before he answers, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Och, silly me,” Johnny laughs, the sound echoing in the metal walls. “Force of habit, bonnie, I picked my floor in my building. What’s yours?”

You try to laugh it off, but the way his fingers tighten almost imperceptiably against the crook of your elbow has you sounding a bit too stiff. “Four, please.”

“Four,” he hums, and you hear him press another button.

The ride up is a bit awkward, at least from your perspective. Johnny makes no attempt at conversation past the occasional hum along to the music, and you’re a little too on edge to worry about small-talk right now.

Calm down, you insist to yourself. He’s just being polite. Making sure you get home safe. You’ve got to stop seeing the worst in people.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to relax.

There’s a slightly uncomfortable silence when the door opens for the first time, both you and Johnny just waiting for it to close and take you to the proper floor. 

The doors are much quicker to open the third time, and you figure Johnny must live on the third or fifth floor in his own building for you to have gotten to your floor so quickly.

“What’s your apartment number, lass?”

You tell him, and his hold loosens slightly against your arm. There’s a part of you - the part still a little cautious for reasons you can’t quite name - that relaxes when the path he takes is familiar. Only a few steps, apartment on the right side of the hall.

“Let me get my keys,” you mumble, tugging your arm away from his and pulling your keychain out of your pocket. You’d opted not to bring a purse to your surgery, thinking you’d be riding the bus home mostly blind, so you’ve got virtually nothing to dig through before offering your keyring up. 

They’re taken, you hear the familiar jungling soun, and then you’re being guided into your apartment by a firm hand placed at the small of your back. You can’t help but sigh deeply in relief, the familiarity of your home a comfort when you still feel so unachored without your sight.

“Very cute place you’ve got,” Johnny compliments, a smile audible in his voice.

“Thank you.” You hesitate just a moment before going on, unsure of how to phrase your next sentence. “And thank you for all the help getting home, Doctor, I really do appreciate it.”

A.k.a., I’m safe, you can leave.

“Aye, of course!” Johnny says, sounding almost offended like you were implying he wouldn’t usually take his patients home. Another part of you relaxes - he probably does this for every patient he sees at the end of a workday, you’re certainly nothing special. “Now, let’s get you settled nice and snug in bed, and then I’ll be on my merry way.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense!” You’re cut off as he drops a heavy hand onto the nape of your neck, ignoring your slightly dramatic flinch and guiding you forward. “I’ve gotten you this far, would be a shame if I left you now and you took a tumble, hm?”

“I think I can get around my own apartment well enough, “ you try to protest, a little huff of offense escaping without your permission.

“Well, now we won’t have to test that theory.”

He moves quickly and just seconds later you’re sort of shoved onto your bed - almost oddly high off the ground, but you chalk it up to the way you stumble onto it. 

Johnny scoops your feet up, laughs a little at your yelp and lays you out on the bed. You blink up into the dark glasses, a little gobsmacked at the sudden shift and odd amount of manhandling from the doctor.

“Do you have any pain meds, love? We wouldn’t want you wakin’ up in the middle of the night, all uncomfortable and hurt. Something light, like Advil or Tylenol?”

“Um, yes,” you stutter a bit, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and glancing up at where you hear his voice. “In my bathroom, on the counter. But Dr. MacTav-”

A hand presses into the center of your chest, forcing you back to the bed with a little oof before your hear him walk away. “Johnny, lass! What’ll I have to do to get you to call me the proper name, hm?”

His voice is almost jovial, and you hear him muttering to himself a bit through the open door of your bathroom before he returns. You hear water running for a moment, and then his shoes on the carpet of your bedroom as he comes back.

“Here,” he says as he grasps your hand, holding it palm open and dropping two pills into it. “And you had a spare cup in the bathroom, so you won’t have to swallow dry.”

“Thank… thank you, Doc- Johnny, truly, I appreciate it.” 

You swallow dryly, suddenly thankful for the glass of water. The pills are small in your palm, familiar but there’s something in the back of your head screaming at you. You run your fingers over them absentmindidly, the stinging itch in your eyes growing.

Johnny scoops an arm around your shoulders, helping you sit up a bit and guiding the glass to your lips. “Here you are, lass, quick sip.”

You listen, then pop the pills into your mouth and swallow them with the water.

“Good girl,” Johnny hums, his voice vibrating through your side. His hand squeezes the shoulder in his grasp, and you shudder out a breath at the odd… intimacy? That doesn’t quite feel like the right word, but affection feels too distant for how close he holds himself.

You’re guided back down, head resting on a somewhat-flat pillow, and Johnny moves down to the end of the bed to take off your shoes.

Now that you’re resting in bed, it hits you how exhausted you are. The past few days of worrying over your procedure, the actual stress of the surgery itself, and the odd tension you’ve carried since all leave you feeling drained entirely once your head hits the pillow.

“We’ll get these shoes off so you’re nice and comfortable,” you hear Johnny say, his voice a little muffled now that you’re nearly half-asleep already. “Tired, lass?”

You only hum a bit, curling onto your side once both of your shoes are off, the sound of them thudding on the carpet almost silent. Your nose scrunches a bit as you get your first scent of the pillow. It doesn’t quite smell right, the lingering air of shampoo is definitely not one you’re familiar with.

There’s a shift of weight against your back, then a hand stroking over your head.

“Just sleep, bonnie. I’ll watch out for you.”

There’s a part of you, still awake enough, that thinks that isn’t right. But the more major part of you is already asleep. 

———————————————————————

Johnny can’t help but smile as he watches you sleep. The little trail of drool dripping from your lips onto his pillow, the soft sounds of your breathing, the twitches to your expression as you dream.

You’re truly adorable. He’d known it as soon as you came for a consultation about the surgery, and every moment spent after has only cemented that in his head. Even the way you tensed and squirmed in his chair while he was working was cute, your desperation to be good and listen overpowering your fear of what he was doing.

He reflects on the day as he gets undressed, folding his clothes on your dresser. You’d been very nervous, and even his most soothing tone and friendly conversation topics hadn’t done much to help. It’s natural - nobody’s ever at ease with a scalpel held over their eye - but he’d still felt a little dissapointed that his presense wasn’t of much help calming you down.

But it’s alright. You’ll learn very soon that you can trust him.

It was easier than he’d expected to get you back to his home. You’re far too trusting, apparently - another reason it’s for the best if he keeps an eye on you - and past some clear tension in your stance, you hadn’t fought him once or even tried to make sure he had taken you to the right place.

Johnny’s certainly not going to complain, though. His plan had been half-baked at best. Honestly if you’d even put up a slight bit of resistance, he probably would have taken you back home - your home - and gone back to the drawing board.

He can’t help but smile a bit. The fact that you hadn’t fought at all is just more proof that this was meant to be.

He climbs over your body, his naked skin brushing against your clothes. You don’t shift at all as he rolls you to your back, your face still relaxed in sleep. His smile grows.

“Pretty girl,” he coos, brushing a hand over your face. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

It’s easy to push your shirt up your stomach. He doesn’t take it off, not quite willing to risk that much movement while the drugs could still be settling in.

God, the way you’d just taken his pills with no hesitation, with just complete and total trust in him to do right by you. It makes his cock stifen against your stomach, the way you’d just listened and trusted him.

He moans as he finally pushes your shirt up to your collarbones, the sight of your tits bringing him to full hardness almost immediately. You’d dressed up for him, soft white lace wrapped around your beautiful chest. 

He ducks down to suck a peak into his mouth, tonguing at a nipple through the fabric. He groans a bit at the taste of your skin, muted as it is, and quickly tugs down the cup of the bra to get a real bite of you.

He could lay there at your tits for hours, he just knows it. He kisses his way across your chest, gives your other nipple some love and thumbing at the first with a free hand. He forces his movements to stay soft and slow, resists the urge to bite and leave a ring of teeth marks around your areola.

“Taste so good, baby,” he whispers as he pushes himself up, admiring the shiny spit across your skin. He rubs it in a little, spreading himself across any place his lips hadn’t touched. “Gonna let me get a taste of your pussy too?”

Obviously you don’t respond. Still, Johnny smiles down at you and moves to pet your stomach.

“Yeah, I know you will. Just wanna be a good girl for me, hm?”

Of course you do, he already knows you’ll be good to him - be good for him. 

It’s easy to wrap his hands around your waist and flip you gently to your stomach. He guides your head to the side and pulls your hair away to make sure he can get a good view of your pretty face, leans down to give you a soft kiss on the cheek and breathes in the scent of your bodywash and shampoo. 

Your pants are easy enough to get off, and he forces himself to tug them all the way off both legs before even looking at your sweet little ass. He’d been staring at any chance he could all day, had kept his eyes glued to your backside for the entire elevator ride up to his apartment when he was sure you couldn’t see his leering. 

Now he can’t help but groan aloud when he kneels over your thighs, the sight of you vulnerable and limp beneath him almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, spread your knees for me, lass,” he mutters, slowly moving your legs to the side and moving between them. He’s careful as he props you up onto your knees, folding them beneath you and making sure to balance you with one hand on your hip so you don’t fall to the side.

He’s nearly drooling as he gets his first sight of your core - lips just slightly spread, pretty pink pussy peeking out at him. It’s almost too much, he has to give himself a few quick jerks just to lessen the ache building in his cock.

“Look at you,” he says on a sigh, dipping his head low enough to breathe in your scent. He hikes your hips up a little higher to keep you at the right angle, quickly shushes your little noise of discontent at the shift.

“It’s alright, you’re ok,” he reassures, petting over your hip a few times to calm your unconscious mind. “Just wanna make you feel good, pretty thing. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

He licks you, from clit to ass, to help you calm down a bit more. It works - your body goes a little more limp in his hold, your back arching more easily into the position he wants. He licks you several more times, groaning as he tries to cover every inch of your cunt, tasting every piece of skin he can. He lays his tongue flat at first, then uses the tip to make sure he doesn’t miss a spot.

“So good,” he moans, burying his face into your center and just breathing there for a moment. There’s a little bit of slick beginning to drip from your hole, but not much. He licks it up anyway, savoring the taste and promising to feast later. 

He stays glued to your clit for a bit, taking the little bud between his lips and running the tip of his tongue over it again and again until he finds the exact spot that makes your thighs twitch, the pattern that has you whining every other breath.

Johnny moves back up, laps at the sweet nectar dripping steadily from you now. Every little flick of his tongue arouses you more, and no matter how long he keeps his mouth on you he knows he’d never run out of your taste.

It’s with only a bit of reluctance that he pulls away. He spreads both of your cheeks with his palms, admiring your two tight little holes and the sheen covering your most sensitive spots. He’d like to give your ass a few smacks, paint it red and watch you squirm, but he’s not sure how much sensation he can give you without pulling you from the drugs’ hold.

Which is also why he tucks a few fingers into your cunt, just to stretch you out. He’d like to fuck into you without any prep at all, watch your pretty face scrunch up as you’re spread on the thickest cock you’d ever taken (and he knows he’s the biggest you’ve had). Maybe you would even cry a little, blink teary eyes up at him and ask him to slow down.

He groans at the image, scissoring his fingers inside of you to prepare you as quickly as he can. 

It’s easy to ease himself forward and line his cockhead up with your little hole. He knows another finger would’ve been a kindness, but with how his cock throbs between his legs he’s not sure he’ll make it very long once he’s finally inside of you. 

So he taps the tip against your leaking hole, snorts quietly when the thought pops into his head that he’s almost knocking on a door, then slowly lets himself sink inside of your heat. He’s stares transfixed at the way your body opens for him so easily, a smooth coming together that he wishes he never had to look away from.

He keeps a secure grip on your hips, letting gravity do most of the work as his hips push forward steadily. His head rolls back on his neck, mouth hanging open and grunts spilling from his lips as your tight heat envelops him further and further.

He pauses halfway in to take a breather, just so he doesn’t come before his balls even meet your clit. Your body’s grip on him is unlike anything he’s ever felt, and he knos he made the right choice in bringing you home with him.

It’s hard, but Johnny manages to control himself and keep from fucking you too roughly. His thrusts are long and slow if a little extra harsh, and he stares down at your scrunched up little face and imagines all the filthy ways he’ll have you in the coming weeks.

You shift on your knees when he hits a particularly nice spot, little whines pouring from your throat on exhales. His thrusts nearly punch the air from your body, and he finds himself breathing in sync with you as he loses himself more and more to the pleasure.

He slips a hand from your waist to your clit as he gets closer. It would be awfully selfish of him to leave you needy after getting himself off, and he’s not about to deny himself the tight clench of your body as he brings you to climax.

It takes a little bit of trial and error to figure out what feels good for you - he can’t quite discern the difference between a nose scrunch of frustration and one of pleasure - but the steady pumps of his hips and the constant motions against your clit quickly bring you to the edge.

Your cunt tightens deliciously around him as you finally come, but the true beauty is in the way you go absolutely boneless beneath him. He has to firm up his grip on your waist just to keep you from sinking flat on the bed, huffing a laugh as he thrusts just a bit faster, just enough to get himself there too.

He lets his head fall beside yours as the two of you ride out your climaxes together, staring wide-eyed at the way your face relaxes into the pleasure. He leans forward enough to mesh your lips together, messily forcing your mouth open and licking at your tongue.

It’s not the best kiss - he has to do all the work, and he ends up soaking both of your chins in spit - but he relishes in it anyway. Your first kiss together is something he knows he’ll want to remember for years to come.

He hardly notices as he slips from your body, tingles shooting through every nerve leaving him mostly unaware of his body’s functions. He hardly has the energy to make sure he doesn’t crush you beneath him, instead laying beside you and tucking you into his chest.

“Thank you, bonnie,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “That was fantastic. Can’t wait to do it again, maybe you’ll do a bit more next time, yeah?” He laughs a little at his own joke, snuggling you close to him and letting his eyes shut slowly.

———————————————————————

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you wake up next, but you can tell immediately that something isn’t right. 

First of all, you’re half naked. And you can tell you’re half naked because your legs are being cradled by someone else’s naked legs. And you know for a fact that you didn’t bring anyone home with you.

Except… it occurs to you slowly as you finally blink stinging eyes open, except you did. Dr. MacTavish brought you home.

And you let him into your apartment. You just handed your keys over to a man you hardly knew, let him guide you right to bed without any sort of fight.

Your head pounds with a vengeance, right behind your already hurting eyes.

You let him give you pills, too. You remember that, though it’s the last thing you remember. He asked where your pain meds were and you didn’t even bother to check that he’d given you what you expected. You just swallowed them with water, like this was a man you could trust.

The slight soreness between your thighs tells you that you couldn’t.

The tears that begin to gather in your eyes hurt, which makes you want to cry even more. You can’t hold back a sniffle, then a hiccup, then what sounds more like sobs than anything else.

You bring your hands up to cover your mouth, briefly recoil and the weight over your torso.

You can’t bring yourself to look, but you know who’s in bed with you.

Johnny wakes up just minutes later, shifting and making a soft sound of confusion. It must not take him long to put the pieces together because it only takes him a few seconds to start cooing, his rough palm cupping your face over your own hands.

“Lass?” He hums, and from your peripheral you see his brows furrow. It’s only a slight comfort that you even can see. “What’s wrong?”

That almost gets a laugh out of you. You nearly choke on the sound, spit catching in your throat. “What’s- what’s wrong?”

He sighs, like he already knows. Of course he knows. He has to know.

“Don’t be upset.” He leans a little closer, and to your horror you feel him press his lips against your forehead. “You can be awake next time, yeah? Then you won’t feel so left out.”

“Left out,” you echo, a strain of horror making its way into your voice.

“But only if you can be good,” he clarifies. “No fighting me now. Just keep being good for me and you can stay awake, alright?”

“Good…” You feel like a robot, but the combination of your headache and the absurdity of your situation leaves you unable to process what’s happening.

It processes much faster when you feel one of his hands slide up the shirt you’re - by some miracle - still wearing. It’s instinctual to jerk up the bed and away when he goes straight for one of your breasts.

“Get- get off me!” Your voice is nearly a shriek, the pitch sending a shock of pain up your skull.

You don’t make it very far in your tiny escape attempt, Johnny quickly hefting himself above you and pinning you down with his weight.

“Now, lass,” he scolds, face set in a frown that you can’t tell is sarcastic or serious. “What did I just say?”

You can’t make yourself speak, fingers trembling beside your head as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“C’mon,” he goads, dropping his weight a little lower. “Just gotta do one thing for me to stay awake, tell me what it was.”

“I’m not-” you gasp a big breath, blinking up at the man above you. “I’m not fucking calming down! Get off of me, you freak, how dare you-”

“Alright!” He nearly shouts, drowning you out. “That’s enough of that. Back to sleep with you, I think. We’ll see if you can handle participating next time.”

He’s leaned to the side before you can really register what he’s said, scooping two little white pills into his palm and coming back over you.

“Open wide,” he taunts, lips curled into a small smirk as he holds his closed fist above your mouth.

Every instinct in you says to scream and shout, to fight back. But he’s got you pinned with your arms stuck between the two of you, unable to lift your hands and cover your mouth, so you clamp your lips as tightly shut as you can to keep him out.

Johnny only sighs, like you’re making his drugging terribly inconvenient. You squeeze your eyes shut to block out his face, praying that you’ll open them and this will all just be a terrible nightmare.

“Really, lass?” He complains, his free hand reaching up to pinch your nose. Without anything to hold him up, you’re nearly crushed beneath his body weight. “Very mature. I can pinch far longer than you can hold your breath, y’know. You’re making this difficult for no good reason.”

Your eyes fly open at that, glaring up at him with what you hope is a scathing look.

He only laughs.

“Very cute,” he hums, rubbing his nose against your cheek. Your chest burns from the lack of air. “I think you’ll be just perfect to keep around the house. You’ll brighten this place in all the right ways, won’t you?”

Your eyes well with tears as black stars begin to dance across your vision. Completely against your own will, your lips part and you suck in a deep breath.

Johnny doesn’t waste any time - you nearly choke on the pills as they fly down your throat with the air you desperately inhale. You nearly choke, hacking with tears streaming from your eyes, but Johnny just holds a hand over your mouth and brings you both up enough to harshly pat your back.

“There you go, you’re ok,” he mumbles in your ear, rubbing the place he’d slapped as your chest heaves with desperate breaths. The pills leave an uncomfortable lump in your throat, and you reach up to rub at it as if that will make it any better.

He stays like that, holding you close, for several long heartbeats.

“Good girl,” he hums, lips pressing to your temple and the sound rumbling through the contact. “I hope you won’t make me do that next time, I’d much rather you be awake for this next part.”

He lays you back slowly, and you distantly wonder what on Earth he’s given you to knock you out so quickly. Already your eyes feel heavier and you’ve hardly swallowed. You try to keep your eyes open as long as possible, which leaves you staring up at Johnny as he hovers above you.

“It’s not the worst thing, though,” he whispers, hand cupping your cheek and thumb passing your undereye. “I don’t mind having you like this, soft and sweet for me.”

Your eyes finally flutter shut just as you feel your legs being nudged apart.

[minnillea]

ON THIN ICE (Keegan P. Russ X Reader)

I’m saddened by the lack of Keegan content, so I’m doing this even tho I’ve never written anything like this before.😩 Might write more later or whatever. English is not my first language + not really proofread, so easy there. (Roughly 4k words)

CW: MDNI!, NSFW, dom Keegan, sub fem reader, pure filth, spanking, choking, degradation, praise if you squint, edging, fingering, bj, raw, tons of pet names, hair tugging, creampie, power dynamics, dubcon, mentions of exhibitionism, rouuughhhhhhh, you really piss him off, and aftercare <3

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .

You followed Keegan through the halls because you were assigned to pair up with him for a mission taking place in a couple of days, and he was going to tell you all the details you needed to know.

You trailed behind him, moving a little faster to keep up with his long strides, before finally speaking. “Don’t tell me you plan on filling out some reports first? I’ll get so bored just watching you do that,” you said with a pout, already frustrated because of how little time for yourself you’ve had in the last couple of weeks.

“What’s that?” he said in a teasing tone without even caring to look back. “I won’t let you out of my sight because you’ll get lost, and it’s gonna be a pain in the ass to find you again. But if you really need to keep yourself busy, I can make you run laps in the freezing cold,” he replied in a harsh, cold tone as he halted beside a door before turning, his piercing eyes staring down directly at you.

You grimaced as you avoided his gaze. “No, I’m good, sir.”

You couldn't help but think about how the black war paint around his eyes made them stand out even more and how his stare made you feel weak in the knees.

“That's what I thought,” earning a soft chuckle from him, he opened the door and signaled with his hand for you to step in. “And yeah... there’s gonna be a lot of stuff to fill in, so you better behave, kid,” he said in his husky voice, waiting for you to move.

You eyed him up and down after his comment, with your lips slightly parted in surprise before you regained your composure and stepped in. “Alright, Sarge,” you said in an unenthusiastic tone, trying to keep your mind out of the gutter.

He gave you a sultry look as his eyes ran over your body before rolling his eyes with a sigh as he followed behind you. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick,” he sat down and pulled out some papers, starting to type on a computer.

You looked around for a bit before sitting on a nearby office chair and swiveling around.

His icy eyes darted towards you for a second before he kept working. (God, this is torture…)

“What are you, like… 10 years old?” he said, shaking his head slightly while typing.

You decided to ignore him as you took a paper ball from a nearby desk and started playing with it until you thought it would be a good idea to throw it at him. Keegan was a very reserved individual, so you loved to try and get reactions out of him. You craved his attention in a way.

Keegan swatted the ball away with a hand as he looked down at some files.

“Don’t you dare drop that ball again, or else there’ll be consequences,” he said in an intimidating low tone as he sent you a sharp glare before typing in the rest of the data.

You tensed up under his gaze, but your stupidity had no limits today, and you looked down at the ball on the floor and bent over to pick it up in a teasing way as you turned your head to look at him discreetly.

“You are walking on thin ice, darling, don’t test me,” he sneered sharply as he glowered at you, crossing his arms. Keegan was in no mood for any games and your silly antics today.

You weren’t sure if you should keep pushing him, but you did anyway. You proceeded to throw the ball on his desk. “Oops, it slipped,” you said in a mocking way, finally making him snap.

“Ohh, so that's how is it going to be?” He said in a stern but playful tone as he cocked a brow. “I’ve had it with you. Come over here, quick.”

You cautiously walked and stopped in front of the desk. He stood up quickly and stared you down, towering over your small frame as a wave of anxiety hit you. (Oh, I guess I really did strike a nerve this time.)

“What did I tell you?” He leaned against the desk with his arms folded.

“Uh, not to throw the ball again?” You said softly, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

“And what did you just do?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as his cold eyes remained fixated on you.

You felt your cheeks burn at how close he was but still attempted to pathetically save face.

“But it slipped….”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” His eyes trailed all over your body before he broke the silence.

“Kneel.”

Keegan’s tone got serious all of a sudden, as he looked down your body slowly before his eyes locked with yours.

“Now, don’t make me say it again.”

You looked at him with big eyes, your lips parting slightly in surprise before dropping on your knees immediately.

He chuckled deeply at the sight. “You really need to know your place…you know what to do next; make good use of that mouth of yours”.

You couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth as you quickly felt your core ache and pressed your thighs together. You fidgeted with his belt shyly before throwing it to the side and looking at him coyly. You exhaled slowly as you let his length spring out.

“I'm waiting,” he said, tilting his head again with a husky voice as his hands went to his sides, gripping the edges of the desk as he leaned on it while still maintaining eye contact with you. He looked down at you in a condescending way.

You wrapped a hand around his base as your other hand held onto his thigh. You slowly licked the tip before starting to suck it and let your tongue roam around it, too embarrassed to keep your eyes open. He sighed, feeling the wetness of your lips.

“Eyes on me, princess,” he commanded as he moved a hand behind your head to tug at your hair slightly.

You let out a little whine and locked eyes with him as he pushed your head into him, making you feel overwhelmed.

“Aww what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you wanna back out already?” he said in a fake kind tone.

You gagged slightly for a bit before trying to accommodate him better as he exhaled softly, still holding onto your hair firmly. You swirled your tongue around him as you dug your nails into his thigh, making him hiss softly. You looked right at him as you started bobbing your head up and down, trying to take in as much as you could.

“Damn, who would’ve thought you were like this?” He said with heavy lids, watching as tears formed in your pretty eyes. He then pushed you further again, tearing more muffled whines out of you.

“I’m not going easy on you.” He smirked under his mask as his other hand wrapped around your neck with a tight squeeze, making you groan.

“I need to show you who’s in charge here. I could make you stay like this the entire day, and anyone could just walk in at any moment to see how much of a slut you are.” He spoke in a threatening tone as he kept fucking your face relentlessly.

Your eyes widened as you let out a muffled gasp.

“Now don’t give me that look; you brought this upon yourself after all. I’ve been too lenient with you. Fuck…” Keegan let out a low groan, and let himself get lost for a moment, before pulling himself together. He squeezed your throat tighter, feeling himself in it and making you yelp as you tapped on his thigh, signaling to him that you needed to breathe.

“Oh, you need some air sweet thing?” Keegan let you have barely any time to breathe, before tightening his grip on your hair and ramming you into him again, earning a moan from you.

“No one said you were getting it easy on any of this, princess.”

You kept your watery eyes locked on him as his breathing became heavier.

Eventually, as little whines filled up the room he chuckled and patted your head before letting your neck go. “You better think twice before defying my orders, understood?” he said in a softer but stern tone.

You pulled back with a pop, gasping for air, before replying softly. “Yes, sir.”

He rubbed his thumb over your cheek.

“Good girl.” Keegan smirked at you as he pulled you in again, his grip on your hair still there but a little looser this time.

He kept you like this for a while as you did your best to please him, tears rolling down your cheeks as your hand pumped what couldn’t fit.

You noticed his breathing getting more elaborated as your throat squeezed him tightly and you pressed your tongue flat, below his length. Tightening your grip around his base, you looked up at him as he threw his head back with a breathy grunt.

“Just like that…” he groaned, gritting his teeth before looking back at you and painting your throat white.

Your eyes widened as you swallowed most of it, with only a little stream making its way down the corner of your mouth. “Mmm…” you hungrily cleaned him off with your tongue and pulled back to rub your thumb over the remains dripping off your face before sucking it lewdly while your eyes met his.

“Careful with your actions, love,” he warned, taking a hold of your face and looking down at you before speaking again shortly. “Such a naughty little thing...”he grinned under his mask, swiping your tears away with a gloved thumb before fixing himself up and putting some documents away.

You slowly stood up as he was facing away before you heard his voice again.

“Did I say you could stand up, doll?” he said mockingly as he rummaged through papers and closed the file cabinet.

You froze in place not knowing what to say.

He chuckled as he turned his head to look back at you. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, kid; you’ve been having your way for weeks now and seriously think you’ll get away that easily?”

“Am I still in trouble?” You asked meekly.

“You’re goddamn right about that, you are.” Keegan spoke in a firm tone as he saw the look of nervousness and excitement in your face.

“Alright, come on. Follow me.” He gestured with his hand for you to come before turning around and walking away, leaving you with little choice. He had orders for you, and you better follow them.

You followed him, feeling all kinds of emotions as your thoughts raced.

Keegan walked out of the room, going down some stairs and walking through some corridors.

He held a door open with a heartless expression as you stepped in, and then he followed, slamming it shut.

He saw you taking a moment to look around the small, dimly lit room before his hoarse voice caught your attention.

“We don’t have much time. So, I advise you not to piss me off further, because you don’t wanna know what’ll happen then. Now come here and bend over, princess” he patted the desk, gesturing for you to come over, as he spoke in a cold tone while staring at you dead in the eye, both of his hands flat on the desk as he leaned forward over it.

You looked around nervously before bending over the cold metal desk he was putting his weight on.

“Attagirl...” Keegan smirked as he walked behind you, the sound of his shoes tapping echoing through the silent room.

He kept his gaze fixed on you as he placed both of his hands on your waist, holding you still.

You turned your head back, to look at him with big round eyes.

He rubbed his thumbs on your hips, and smirked.

“You really pushed it this time,” he sighed, speaking in a low whisper.

He suddenly pulled your pants down in a swift motion before applying more pressure, so you’d stay in that position. He pulled his belt out with a rattle, folding it in half and gripping it tightly before he spoke in a more serious tone once again.

“This is going to hurt.”

You yelped softly as you felt the chilly air hit your hind, your body tensing up as you were still looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Ah ah ah, eyes up front, gorgeous. There’s no turning back now.” One of his hands snaked up your back to hold onto your neck and push your face down against the cold metal table firmly.

You let out a little whine in anticipation as you felt arousal yet fear for what was about to happen.

Keegan smirked at you, knowing that you wouldn’t enjoy what was about to come to you, as he finally struck you with his belt, making you gasp. The sound of the belt hitting you filled the room as you flinched.

“You asked for it, princess.”

Keegan hit you once again, and again, not planning to stop anytime soon.

You whined and squirmed under him as Keegan kept striking you with the belt and smirked at you once again.

“Keep making more noises like that, and it won’t stop.”

He gave you another hit with the belt, which was stronger than the others.

You moaned loudly as your eyes shut tightly. “Hmm!”

“Asking for more?” He spoke in a rather cruel tone with a raised brow.

Another hit with the belt was given to you, making you tremble and bite your lip.

“Hah! I’m s-sorry Sergeant! I won’t do it again!” You wailed out.

“Don't you dare lie to me. I know your games, and you'll do it again unless I teach you a lesson,” he said with venom-laced words. Keegan squeezed your throat tighter as he hit your ass again making you feel the stinging pain every time before it was replaced by a warm feeling. He made sure not to follow a pattern at all to keep you wondering when he was striking you again and for how long.

Your eyes welled up with tears as your knuckles turned white from how hard you were clenching your fists, and you whimpered pathetically before feeling the pool of arousal below you grow larger. How your breasts were getting squished against the desk didn’t help your situation at all, so you resorted to pressing your thighs together to alleviate the aching need you felt.

He took notice of what you did and harshly kicked your legs apart with his.

“You are getting off of this? Look at you, all hot and bothered like a bitch in heat.” he spat as he shook his head slightly with a smirk.

He then paused for a few seconds longer than usual, as you could think it was over.

Keegan caressed your red ass softly, admiring the markings on it and making you shriver.

But he then hit you again, as he chuckled while you writhed before speaking in a dark tone.

“You’re gonna feel this until you remember what happens if you misbehave.”

After a couple of agonizing strikes his deep voice drew your attention.

“Get comfortable…” he whispered, his breath getting hotter as he gave you a smug look. He turned you around, so your back was against the table and restrained your hands with the belt. He then leaned closer over you, in between your spread legs.

“Mmm?!” You looked at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks as he briskly yanked off his glove and stuffed it in your mouth to shush you.

“Don’t tell me you enjoy this.” He suspired, holding onto your waist with a gloved hand as the other one pushed your soaked underwear to the side and collected some of the overflowing slick. “What am I going to do with you?” He teased as he pushed two long fingers into your tight cunt, making you moan in pleasure.

His eyes narrowed, studying your expression as he moved his hand, curling his fingers upwards and rubbing his thumb on your clit slowly.

You moaned and squirmed, welcoming his touch as he added another finger and pumped slowly in and out of you. “You are such a troublemaker you know that?” He pressed on your swollen clit as his eyes slowly trailed all over your body.

He kept you like this until he realized you were about to cum, making him pull out immediately as you whined frustrated.

“Aww, you are so naive, doll.” Keegan spoke in a cruel tone as he tilted his head, seeing your frustration and excitement displayed on your pretty face.

You let out a muffled whine as you pleaded, afraid of him leaving you like this.

“What was that? I can’t understand you, sweetie. What are you saying?” He spoke in a condescending tone before briefly lifting his mask and licking your arousal off his fingers with a soft groan.

You kept whining and squirming with your restrained hands, desperate for him as a result of his teasing.

He chuckled before taking the glove out of your mouth. “Speak.” He demanded dryly as he looked down at you coldly.

“Please s-sir let me cum..” you whispered as you panted.

“Sorry, but you’re at my mercy now…” he said in a firm, raspy voice as he slowly graced your sensitive clit with his thumb, causing you to let a mewl out, before he gagged you with the glove once again.

He kept tantalizing you for a while with devilish eyes as you whined and pleaded in frustration. Leaving you at the edge over and over again, he wouldn’t let you have it. Suddenly, some knocking made your eyes dart to the door.

Keegan’s eyes lit up with mischief as he quickly pulled his cock out before aligning himself with you and sliding his tip between your folds.

“Shh shh...” he said in a quick whisper as he held onto your waist with his free hand, not caring about the situation at all.

You went completely silent as your lips parted in surprise and your eyes locked on his.

“Uh, is everything okay in there?”a voice came from the door.

“Just some discipline, nothing you need to worry about.” Keegan replied harshly before he abruptly pushed himself into you, making you let a choked moan out.

“Now, unless you want to see what’s going on in here for yourself. I’d recommend for you to walk off.” He said in a threatening tone as he pulled his mask up slightly, revealing some stubble and catching your attention. He proceeded to bite on your neck softly while his other hand made its way below your shirt and rubbed circles on your stomach before dragging it up and meeting your breasts.

“Alright, chill man.” The man behind the door left feeling amused yet confused at what he just heard.

Keegan smirked as he took the wet glove out of your mouth, and then looked at you in the eye.

“I see you are quite loud...” He said teasingly, leaning into you with a breathy grunt as he gave your breast a soft squeeze.

You moaned and arched your back in pleasure as you felt him stretch you.

He felt like he had no room to move at all as he toyed with your hard nipples.

“Goddamn…” He sighed as he started to slowly pick up the pace and pressed his lips on yours, kissing you passionately as his hands roamed your body.

“You have no clue how much I’ve been wanting to do this…” He then kissed you again, harder and deeper than before, as he caressed your body.

You let him take you as you moaned into him, not being able to think straight anymore as you felt his tip bullying your cervix.

His breathing was getting louder as he kept thrusting into you harshly. The lewd sounds of squelching and slapping accompanied with your sweet moans filled up the room.

You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly as he placed his hands besides your head and started a merciless pace.

You breathed shallowly and rolled your eyes back in ecstasy, feeling him hit all the right spots.

“Fuck…I love the sounds you make.” He said with a soft groan, stretching your gummy walls as you melted under him.

“Oh m-my hah! Mhmmm! Ahh! Pleaseeee-” You mumbled incoherences as he looked at you with those beautiful eyes of his, the black smudge around them only making his gaze more intoxicating.

“You are taking me so well, darling.” He said exhaling softly before kissing your lips down to your jaw and neck.

Keegan’s brows furrowed in pure pleasure as heat coursed through his body and he sucked on your neck hungrily.

You were reduced to a whimpering and quivering mess as he roughly moved against your little body, but you loved every second of it.

He continued ravaging you as one of his hands made its way to pinch and rub on your clit, making you wail. You felt like you were about to snap again as your walls tightened even more around him.

“You got quite the grip in there huh?” He chuckled before clenching his jaw at the feeling of you squeezing him tightly. His thrusts were getting sloppier as he felt his high near.

You kept your gaze on him with glossy eyes as a symphony of moans and whimpers left your lips, and you came trembling under him, pushing him over the edge and making him grunt deeply as thick strings of cum spurted inside you.

“Fuck….” He said breathily as he rode his high with a couple of thrusts before letting himself collapse on top of you, making sure to put most of his weight on his hands. He nuzzled his face against your neck before planting a kiss on your forehead and levering himself over your body to look at you with calm eyes.

You panted and quivered, feeling so full of him as you took a look into those eyes that had you captured.

He pulled himself back and out of you, making you feel empty and needy as you whimpered softly.

“Look at you….” He said in a husky voice as he admired the mess he’s made of you, leaning in with his hands gripping the edges of the desk.

He pushed the overflowing cum back in with his fingers and put your panties back in place before freeing your hands. He turned with his back facing you to look around as he fixed himself up while you tried to sit up in your sore ass.

He saw you move slightly in the corner of his eye, so he picked up your pants from the floor and came over to take you in his arms. You were quick to wrap your legs and arms around him.

“Hey, lay down for a bit, sweetheart. Are you okay?” He asked in a caring tone as he ran a hand through your hair as the other one patted your back. Your pants were hanging around his arm as he set them down on the table.

You were catching your breath but giggled with a nod as you clung onto him.

Keegan smiled as he held you close, his chest rising and falling as you breathed in his scent. His breathing relaxed you as you nuzzled your face against his neck.

“You are adorable.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he sat down mindfully on the desk, spreading your folded legs at his sides so your behind didn’t touch anything, and proceeding to litter soft kisses all over the love bites on your neck.

He kept a grip on your waist as a hand came up to caress your cheek, and his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. The heat between you two was intense; your bodies pressed together tightly as he kissed you deeply.

Keegan pulled away and held you close to his chest in a warm embrace, his eyes closing as he let out a deep breath.

He let you rest as much as you needed while caressing your hair and rubbing circles on your waist before it was time to leave.

Your eyes locked onto his; he had such a loving gaze.

He pulled his balaclava down after giving you a kiss on the nose.

“Are you gonna behave now?” He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head with a tone as playful as the look he was giving you.

[junkissed]

cranberry concoctions

member | bartender!joshua x f!reader genre | smut, a little angst & a little fluff, 1920s prohibition au, speakeasy au word count | 4.6k synopsis | you came to the infamous diamond glass looking for a good cocktail. instead, you found love in a hot bartender who also makes the best cosmos you’ve ever had. warnings | reader has a vagina and breasts, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly kids), reader smokes cigarettes (only 2), big dick joshua, the sex is not historically accurate sorry, actually most of this isn't historically accurate oops, praise, some degredation, multiple orgasms, name calling/petnames (slut, whore, darling, sweetheart, baby, my lady), kinda size kink maybe (he has big hands i'm sorry i can't not mention it), creampie notes | lowercase intended. this is part of rose's sax, settlements, & speakeasies collab! masterlist will be linked here. this fic has taken so long but it's finally finished!! thank you all for your patience!!

you slip into one of the many empty seats at the bar, placing your beaded evening bag on the counter and pulling out a cigarette with a sigh.

“what can i get you, darling?”

you glance up to see a man in a crisp white button-down, casually swiping a rag along a glass mug.

“what kinda cocktails you got?” you reply, pushing the cigarette between your teeth.

“anything you can dream up, honey.”

you pause, taking the cigarette out of your mouth to think. “how about… cranberry juice, with vodka, and triple sec? and a little lime?”

he grins. “coming right up.”

he grabs bottles from the long shelves behind him, setting them back on the counter in front of you before pulling a cocktail glass from below the bar. 

you slip the cigarette back into your mouth, your eyes following his movements as you pull your lighter out of your bag. you flip the arm up and flick the wheel, creating a tall flame that ignites with a pop, and you bring it carefully up to the end of the stick.

he pushes his sleeves up, revealing a small tattoo of what looks like a diamond on the inside of his wrist. your gaze catches it for a moment before your eyes flick up to find his looking back at you. 

with his sleeves rolled up, you don’t miss the way his muscles bulge against the tight cotton of his dress shirt. he tosses the container effortlessly from one hand to the other. the tendons in his wrist flex as he flips the shaker back and forth, a gleam in his eye and a confident grin on his face as the bottle twirls between his fingers. you take a long drag and give him a smile.

“cool tricks you got there,” you say, sitting back in your seat.

“i spent a year abroad at school in london,” he beams, holding the mixer high in the air and tilting it slightly to let the pink liquid fall into your glass. “picked up a thing or two.”

he tops off the drink with a lime swirl, sliding it gently across the counter. you hold your cigarette between two fingers as you lift the glass to your lips, taking a small sip.

“mm,” you nod, smiling. “ ‘s good.”

the dark room is quiet save for the light chatter from other patrons and the sultry piano music coming from the opposite side of the room. it’s late in the evening—well, by now, more like morning—and the speakeasy is mostly empty. you’re the only one at the bar, and you’re also the only one here alone, noticing the few couples scattered around the room in booths, drinking and laughing together.

you sigh and take another drag off your cigarette.

“you waitin’ on someone, sweetheart?” the bartender asks with a sly smile, tossing the rag behind the bar. “boyfriend, perhaps? or a coworker? can get their drink ready for them, if you’d like.”

you scoff, resting your hand on the counter above an ashtray. “do you often get women comin’ in here by themselves, mister?” 

he leans back against the bar and crosses his arms, but the playful gleam in his eyes tells you he isn’t offended. “not as often as i get pretty ladies like yourself in here,” he flirts. “and the name’s joshua. joshua hong.”

you stick out your hand to shake his, telling him your name. “so, joshua, what do you do? other than serve fancy drinks to pretty ladies, of course,” you say, taking another sip of your cocktail. damn, that is good. your friend wasn’t lying when she said that the diamond glass had the best drinks around.

“nothin’ much,” he shrugs. “i like to sing, sometimes. but not anything special. just a hobby.” he hands you a napkin, to wipe up the drops of your drink that splashed out onto the counter when you bumped it. “what do you do when you’re not ordering fancy drinks from sexy gentlemen?”

“thanks,” you say, squinting at him as you take the napkin, the name of the speakeasy embossed on it in pretty gold lettering. “and who ever said you were a gentleman?”

he smiles. “let me take you out to dinner and i’ll show you.”

your eyes widen, though you try to hide your reaction. “is that so, mister joshua?”

“mhm. and you never answered the question.”

you huff and raise an eyebrow at him. “how ‘bout i tell you over dinner instead?”

you take another big sip of your drink and look down at your watch to check the time. “shit,” you curse under your breath.

you look up and meet joshua’s eyes, standing patiently behind the bar. “i’ve got work in the morning– er, in a coupl’a hours,” you offer in way of explanation. “gotta run.”

“i see,” he nods, his features falling into a faux-serious expression. “the mysterious work.”

“better hold me to that dinner if you wanna find out,” you reply with a laugh as you pull on your coat. 

he grins. “oh, i will, darling.”

you pull your bag off the counter and go to take out some bills, but a large hand falls on your wrist and you freeze.

“on the house,” he says with a grin, letting go of your hand and sliding your empty glass across the counter. “come find me if you ever want some company, and we can set up that dinner, hm?”

you nod at him, unable to hide the hint of a smile growing on your face. “i’ll do that.”

the next time you visit the diamond glass, the place is packed.

it’s earlier in the evening this time, so you aren’t too surprised, but you didn’t think there were this many people who’d break the law to come here in search of a little fun. but, then again, isn’t that why you’re here too? a little fun, a little drinking, and hopefully a little more flirting with joshua, if you can manage to find him again.

the bar’s crowded, and you can barely manage to find a place to slip in between all the occupied stools. you crane your neck to look around, searching to see who the bartender working tonight is. this time there’s not one but two men in stiff white uniforms, handing out bottles of beer and pouring wine for the patrons at the other end of the bar. you can’t see either of their faces, so you lean against the counter and pull out a cigarette while you wait.

you’re leaning down putting your lighter away when you hear a familiar voice call your name.

“didn’t think i’d see you back here so soon,” joshua says when you look up, meeting his eyes.

“came to collect on my free dinner, of course,” you reply with what you hope is a teasing smile.

he chuckles. “well, i hate to break your heart, darling, but i’m a little busy at the moment. how ‘bout i get you a drink instead?”

“fine by me.”

“same as before?” he asks, already reaching for a glass.

you pause to put your cigarette to your lips. “sure, why not. show me more of those gentleman bartender skills you like to show off.”

he starts pouring liquor into the shaker as he continues to talk. “i’m sure i’ve got other skills you’d like a lot better than my drink mixing, sweetheart. maybe i’ll show you after that dinner we keep talkin’ about.”

you suck in a sharp gasp of air, accidentally inhaling a mouthful of smoke and sending you into a coughing fit. you grab a napkin to cover your mouth with as you struggle to regain your composure, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second.

joshua just smiles, clearly amused by your reaction as he slides you your finished drink. “well, don’t lose your cool now, miss, i haven’t even done anything fancy yet. gotta give me a chance to wow you like a gentleman.”

you clear your throat, hoping your voice sounds at least a little levelheaded. “how very courteous of you, mister joshua. i–”

you’re definitely about to come up with the wittiest of comebacks, is what you tell yourself before you’re interrupted by a group of flapper girls, talking loudly as they walk up to the bar.

“and that’s when i told him, ‘if you don’t stop necking on with that sob sister from the newspaper’s, we’re through!’ he really thought i wouldn’t see through that baloney, screwing that reporter and then coming home to me as if he could have us both!”

the group bursts out laughing, and joshua looks over at them, then looks back at you. “mind if i go get these ladies seated, darling? then we can finish our conversation.”

you stutter out a “sure” and he gives you a wink as he walks away. even over the ruckus of the speakeasy, you can still hear him greet the girls, and it makes you irritated for reasons you can’t explain.

“well hi there, girls! how’s the partying goin’ for you all on this fine evening, and how can i make it better?”

the chorus of flirty, drawn out “hello”’s from the group makes your stomach churn, though you have no reason to care. it’s this man’s job to flirt with customers to make an extra buck and keep this joint running. to him, you’re probably just another broad with money to throw away on booze.

you turn around to see one of the drunker girls hanging on joshua’s arm, laughing at something he’s said like he’s the funniest man on the planet. the sight is enough to push you over the edge, and you down your drink in a huff, slipping a bill under the empty glass as you walk out of the speakeasy, pretending your feelings aren’t hurt.

you wake up the next morning feeling guilty about the night before. sure, you probably did overreact, but it had been a long day at work, getting badgered by your boss for no reason other than the fact that he didn’t like having women employees in his office.

and joshua seemed like a nice man, and even if he was just trying to earn some tips, at least he was friendly. 

so that night, you put on your finest dress and head back to the diamond glass, hoping for the chance to talk to him again.

but as you walk across the bar, you see that there’s only one bartender at the counter, and it’s not joshua. he looks vaguely familiar, so you figure he must’ve been the other bartender working with him the other night.

“hey,” you call out to him as you sit down, and he turns to face you, black hair falling into his eyes. 

“how can i help you, miss?”

“what’s your name?” you ask him straight away, and he furrows his brows.

“it’s vernon, miss, but i don’t see—”

“you work with a fella named joshua?”

vernon rests his hands on the counter, leaning towards you. “i do indeed, but he ain’t here right now. it’s his day off.”

you frown. well. that messes with your plans.

“you gotta pen?” you ask, grabbing a napkin from the stack.

he pulls a pen from his breast pocket and twists it open, handing it to you. you scribble something quickly on the napkin, then cap the pen and hand it back to him.

you fold up the napkin and give it to vernon. “when you see him again, can you give this to him for me? it’s real important, make sure he gets it.”

he looks confused, but he shoves the pen and napkin into his pocket. “i’ll make sure it does.”

you nod soberly and stand up from the stool.

“wait– d’you want anything to drink, miss?”

you shake your head, shouldering your purse. “no. that’s all i came for.”

and with that you walk back out the door, frustrated but at least a little more hopeful.

joshua, sorry for taking off last night. phone me and we can do that dinner if you’d still like. #: SE-0317

the wait for joshua’s phone call is unbearable, so instead of pacing by the telephone you try to busy yourself with something more productive: getting work done for your hard-boiled boss. 

but even the pressure of his deadlines is enough to take your mind off what you’ve done. in fact, you don’t even know for sure if he’s single. for all you know you could be trying to screw a married man (though you didn’t notice a ring on his finger, but who can ever know for sure these days?)

the worst part is, you don’t even know for sure if he’s going to phone you, or if he even got your message. vernon seemed like a trustworthy guy, but maybe he and his coworkers get people like this all the time. maybe they’re having to fight off hordes of drunk, horny women with a stick. you scoff, thinking back to the last time you were at the speakeasy. that was certainly the case the other night with the flappers.

in all honesty, joshua was probably just being friendly, trying to make a repeat customer out of you. which he was successful in, of course; he had you hook, line, and sinker, and you didn’t even care. of course his offer to wine and dine you wasn’t genuine: it was a line, one he’d probably used on dozens of people, and you had fallen for it.

you’re so far deep in your own thoughts, you almost miss the sound of the telephone ringing in the other room; until you realize there’s no one else that would be calling you at this hour in the evening.

in a panic you scramble out of your chair, sprinting to the kitchen to grab the call.

“hello?” you answer, a little breathless but still holding onto hope.

“hi, sweetheart. thought you weren’t gonna pick up.”

you breathe out a sigh of relief at the man on the other end. maybe he really was sincere about everything after all, though you still don’t truly believe it.

“are you finally gonna take me out like you keep saying, or are you just tryin’ to get me to buy more drinks?” you ask, hoping he doesn’t hear the shake of nerves in your voice.

“‘course i am, baby. i don’t just go around offering dinner to every woman i meet at work, y’know.”

your cheeks warm, and you hold the receiver closer to your ear with a smile. “flattery will get you nowhere, joshua hong, but i won’t deny it, i like to hear it.”

he laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound, one that you find yourself wishing you could hear in person.

“there’s a new restaurant on the main drag that i’ve heard’s real fancy,” he starts. “been meaning to try it, so i might as well take my pretty lady along with me, too, hm?”

you chuckle, leaning against the doorframe and twirling the phone cord between your fingers. "your pretty lady, huh?"

"wouldn't say it 'f it wasn't true. you've got me wrapped around your little finger, miss," he says, and you have to bite the back of your hand to stop yourself from letting out an embarrassing noise in response.

he clears his throat, interrupting the silence on the line. “anyway, if you'd like, the speakeasy’s closed tonight for the holiday… could bring you back behind the bar after our dinner, show you a thing or two. although i got plenty of other nice things i could show you besides the drinks.”

"sounds like you got a grand evenin' planned, joshua," you say finally, swallowing your excitement.

"only for you, doll," he says, and even over the shaky static of the call you can hear the grin in his voice. "can i pick you up at 6 o'clock? just had my car waxed too; only the best for my lady."

"six is nice," you reply, still smiling.

"i'll see you then, sweetheart," he says, and the line goes silent as he ends the call. 

exhaling a shaky breath, you put the receiver back on the hook and check the time on the clock across the room. better go fix your makeup before he gets here.

at 6 o'clock sharp joshua’s car rolls up in front of your apartment, freshly waxed and polished just like he'd said. 

the drive to the new restaurant isn't far, but it feels like it stretches on for hours as you and joshua talk about anything and everything.

as for dinner, it by far isn't the best meal you've ever had, but your date's company more than makes up for the mediocre food.

as promised, after the dinner joshua drives you over to the speakeasy, using his key to open the back entrance where customers aren't allowed and lets you inside. it's an odd feeling, being alone in the space that's normally bustling with activity.

you slide into a seat at the counter as joshua grins, walking to the opposite side to stand behind the bar.

"sorry, miss, we're closed today," he says with a playful grin. "you'll have to come back tomorrow."

you giggle, playing along. "oh, but please, sir, can't you spare just a little glass of wine for me?"

the restaurants aren't allowed to serve alcohol, but even without it you feel tipsy in joshua’s presence, high on the excitement of being with him with nobody else around.

he places his hands on the counter and leans forward, his gaze meeting yours. "hmm, i could… but i think i have something better i could give you instead."

"better than wine?" you ask, pretending to be shocked. although if you've been reading this right like you think you've been, you have a feeling you know what he might be offering.

"mhm," he says, and he lifts a finger to beckon you closer.

you grin and lean forward to meet him across the counter, his lips locking with yours, and the feeling is heavenly. almost instantly you feel his hands behind your head, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. you tell yourself to fight the urge to moan, but when his lips part just enough to let his tongue slide into your mouth, all your inhibitions go out the stained-glass speakeasy windows and you decide, screw it, whatever happens, happens; not when you're having the most fun you've had in a long time and not when his touch feels this good.

he breaks away for just a second and to your surprise, jumps onto the bar and slides across, and then his hands are back on your body and he's kissing you more fervently than before.

"say the word and i'll stop, sweetheart," he moans, he really moans, but the thought of stopping doesn't even cross your mind as you pull him closer and lift your leg to wrap it behind his thigh.

before you know it, your back is against the counter and joshua is hovering over you. his large hands gently knead your breasts over the fabric of your dress and his mouth is still tangled with yours as you begin to feel heat pooling in your stomach.

"god, you drive me crazy," he breathes when your hands find his body and start to slide lower. you look up at him, one hand hovering carefully over the uncomfortably large bulge in his pants.

"please, joshua?" you ask softly, squeezing lightly around him and drawing another whine out of his gorgeous lips.

the second you hear his throaty "yes", your fingers are scrambling to undo his belt buckle and shoving his slacks down to his knees. his fingers are equally rushed, sliding over your back and quickly undoing the buttons holding up the fabric that hides your beautiful skin from his sight.

your breath hitches as he carefully slips the dress off your shoulders, watching as his eyes wander over you. he meets your eyes, fingers toying with the hem of your panties, and you nod, giving him permission.

“you’re even prettier than i imagined,” he whispers. his hands trail down your chest, mapping out every inch of your naked body.

his words barely even register, because you’re too busy staring at his hard cock. you figured he would be beautiful, but nothing you could’ve dreamed up in your wildest dreams would have even come close to what’s in front of you now. 

you reach out and take his cock in your hand, holding him delicately and observing the way his eyes flutter shut. he lets out a soft sigh at your touch, and his hands settle at your waist for a moment before he reaches to grab your hand. 

it doesn’t escape you how tiny your hand looks in comparison to his; while your fingers could barely reach all the way around his cock, his hand easily covers the space. the sight is almost hypnotizing. you carefully let go, bringing your hand up to the counter to brace yourself.

he leans down to capture your lips in another kiss, and you moan as you feel the head of his cock begin to brush through your soaking folds. he breaks away, and you look up into his dark eyes, waiting.

“been stuck on you since the first time i saw you, sweetheart,” he groans, and you feel the heat in your core grow hotter at his admission, knowing he’s been wanting this just as much as you have.

he curses under his breath, and finally he starts to fill you up. the stretch is perfect as he rocks his hips slowly back and forth, pushing into you a little more with each movement. his brows knit together in concentration, and his lips firmly press into a thin line as his gaze zeroes in on your pussy.

you look down where he’s watching, and you also can’t help but fixate on the sight of his girthy cock inside you. he’s not even nearly halfway inside you yet, but the feeling is already making you dizzy with pleasure. seeing him stretching you open, you feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten almost instantly.

with his sleeves rolled up, you can clearly see the definition in his muscles, flexing as his hands slide across your half-clothed figure. his thick fingers hook around the straps of your bra, tugging them further down your chest to expose your breasts. he pushes his thumb into your mouth, and immediately you begin to suck on it.

he laughs, pulling his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your own spit across your nipple. “such a whore. should’ve known you would like that, my pretty slut.”

you let out a moan at his words, unintentionally clenching around him as he continues to push into you. you feel his grip on your thighs tighten, enough that you know it’ll leave bruises.

your first orgasm hits you out of nowhere when joshua bottoms out in you. the feeling of his cock sitting snugly inside of you, filling you up to the brim and then some, is enough to send you over the edge without warning. joshua curses, your cunt squeezing around his cock as you ride through your high.

“fuck, just like that, baby,” he grunts through gritted teeth, his other hand snaking down to rub at your clit. “cum all over my cock like my good girl.”

when you recover enough to breathe again, you look up to find joshua staring down at you, eyes blown wide with lust. his fingers are still on your clit, your only source of stimulation since he had stopped moving his hips once he was fully inside you.

he meets your eyes and begins to drag his cock out of you, just barely pressing an inch or two into you with slow, meticulous thrusts.

he gradually begins to build up speed, his cock perfectly hitting every sensitive part inside of you until you can’t think straight. you let your eyes close, mouth falling open in pleasure at his pace.

“god, you look so pretty when you cum,” joshua growls, and it feels like you stop breathing altogether as another orgasm slams into you, his words drawing your high out of you like a command.

this time he doesn’t give you a moment to recover, instead pulling nearly all the way out before pushing into you with so much force, you can feel him moving you back and forth across the counter with each thrust, the smooth oak grain growing sticky with sweat with each sharp snap of his hips.

already sensitive from two powerful orgasms, you cry out his name, dragging your nails along his biceps placed on either side of your face as he holds onto the counter. his thrusts get rougher, plunging into you over and over again and already beginning to build you up for another.

“sh-shua, please,” you gasp, reaching out to grab onto his shoulders for support.

the drag of his cock against your walls feels heavenly, quickly sending you hurtling into yet another orgasm that has your legs trembling around his waist. the waves of pleasure seem almost never-ending as his hips jerk into you sporadically, until finally he throws his head back and buries himself as deep as he can go inside of you, his pelvis flush against your cunt. his cock pulses inside you as his orgasm hits, feeling each spurt of cum fill you up, a satisfying feeling like you can’t even fathom.

breathing hard, you manage to drag your eyes away from where the two of you connect to glance up at his face, and the sight is one you’ll never forget: his thick eyebrows knitted tightly together and his nose scrunched up, his beautiful lips parted in a breathy, high-pitched whine.

the bar is quiet, but your ears are ringing and your head is spinning from everything that just happened. joshua stands over you, his cock still nestled in you as he breathes in and out shallowly, trying to catch his breath. you stay still, too exhausted to move until you feel his cum start to drip down your leg and you force yourself to sit up.

but his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly and you stop. you feel so secure, so grounded, despite your shaky legs dangling off the edge of the counter.

he sighs and begins pressing kisses along your neck, though this time they’re softer and gentler, instead of frantic and heated.

he kisses you once more on the cheek, then walks around to the other side of the bar to grab a towel.

“sorry about the mess,” you say shyly, reaching down to pick up your dress off of one of the barstools it had landed on. 

he comes back around, towel in hand, and kisses you again. “don’t be,” he grins, and he squats down so that he’s eye-level with your cunt, his cum still leaking out of you. you resist the urge to snap your legs closed as he gently wipes the damp towel over your skin, a little embarrassed despite him being inside you no more than a couple of minutes ago.

once he’s satisfied he lifts you up off the counter, setting you gently on the floor and helping you into your dress before putting his own clothes back on.

you slide onto a stool, watching him fondly as he walks back around to the other side of the bar and picks up another towel to wipe off the counter with.

“so,” he says finally, rolling up his sleeves with a cocky smile that makes your stomach do backflips. “what can i make you, darling?”

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[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 2)

oops my fingers slipped again. now all of a sudden i gotta see this little au through.

The early morning sun cast a golden hue across the park, the rays dancing on the surface of the nearby lake. The park was unusually  empty this morning, a tranquil atmosphere sweeping over the rolling green hills. 

Multiple days have passed since your rather unfortunate encounter with the Duke Simon Riley, the tension lingering like a storm cloud over the horizon. It left you seething, yet most of all, you still felt hurt over his attack on your character, even though he knows nothing about you. That’s what bothered you the most. 

But, today, you were determined not to let his condescension overshadow your day, and so you sought solace in the park. As you wandered, you allowed yourself to relax, breathing in the fresh scent of dewy grass and listening to the cheerful chirping of birds. The empty park allowed you to sink further into relaxation, trying your best to let go of the lingering tension. 

You had nearly succeeded in calming yourself down when, rounding a bend in the path, you came face to face with the very last person you wanted to. 

Duke Simon Riley was sitting high atop of a giant horse, his imposing figure cutting a striking silhouette against the misty park. His expression was inscrutable as his gaze met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved, locked in a silent standoff. 

You felt a surge of frustration and anger rise within in you at the mere sight of him, the memory of your initial meeting flooding back with startling clarity. Just as you were trying to forget the whole thing. But, beneath the anger, there was something else simmering; a nagging curiosity, perhaps, or a stubborn refusal to let him dictate your emotions. 

The Duke’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes betraying nothing of his thoughts or feelings. He sat atop his horse with the ease of a man accustomed to command, his posture rigid and imposing. 

The silence stretched on between you, tension crackling in the air like lightning about to strike. His gaze upon you was heavy and unyielding, and for a moment, you felt as though you were drowning in it. 

But then, with a defiant tilt of your chin, you square your shoulders and met his gaze head-on. If he thought to intimidate you with his stoic demeanor, he had another thing coming.

“Your Grace,” you say coolly, your voice carrying across the distance that separates you. “What a surprise to see you here.” 

Simon’s lips twitched ever so slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “I could say the same for you, my lady,” he replies, his voice low and measured. “What brings you to the park in these early hours?”

You wanted to laugh in his face right then and there. You barely were able to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes in front of him, choosing instead to maintain your steady composure. 

“I find solace in nature,” you say simply, folding your hands together in front of you. “Unlike some, I rather enjoy the company of birds and trees to that of ‘idle chatter and trivial pursuits.’”

The jab was not lost on Simon, and you could see a flicker of annoyance cross his gestures. But to his credit, he remains outwardly composed, his expression still a mask of impassivity. 

No longer wanting to be the object of his hard gaze, you pivot on your heel. The moment you do, and of course, this could only happen to you, your foot catches on a hidden root, causing you to stumble forward with a gasp of surprise. 

With a strangled cry, you tumble to the ground less than graceful, the skirts of your dress now mangled by the dirt. Pain shot through your ankle as you hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from your lungs by the impact. For a moment, you lay there, dazed and disoriented, the world spinning around you. 

To your surprise, a shadow fell over you, blocking out the sun. You turn, looking up to see the Duke reigning in his horse, his expression unreadable.

Without a word, he dismounts the steed in one fluid motion, landing beside you with a grace that belied his imposing stature. Strong arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly to your feet as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Are you hurt, my lady?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly with the smallest hint of concern. 

You shook your head mutely, too stunned by his sudden appearance to form coherent words. His proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and the way his large arms feel around you sends heat straight to your face.

You meekly look up into his brown eyes, and any hint of anger and frustration now evaporates with every passing moment. You find yourself lost in the intensity of his gaze, his eyes holding you captive. There was something magnetic about them, something that drew you in despite your best efforts to resist. His hand lingers on yours, his thick fingers pressing into the palm of your gloved hand. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Simon’s expression softens ever so slightly, the shift barely perceptible. You could’ve sworn his eyes flicker down to your partly open lips. All he does is nod in return. 

Finally, you quickly step back, straightening your dress and trying to regain your composure. “Well, I- I must go home and change,” you say stiffly, mortified by your clumsiness and the fact that he had been the one to help you. 

Simon does a once over of the skirts of your dress, now covered in dirt. “It appears so,” he states gruffly. 

“Try to watch where you're going next time, my lady,” he states plainly. 

You freeze in your tracks, his words like a slap in the face. How dare he speak to you in such a manner after just helping you up?

Swallowing your pride, you turn back to face him, your jaw clenched with barely contained frustration. “Thank you for your concern, Your Grace,” you reply through gritted teeth, your voice laced with icy politeness.

With that, you pivot on your heel and march away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had affected you. As you walk, your ankle throbbing with each step, you can't help but seethe with anger at the Duke's insufferable attitude.

But amidst the anger, there's a small flicker of something else. A stubborn determination, perhaps, or a newfound resolve to show the Duke that you were not someone to be trifled with. Whatever it was, you were determined to prove him wrong, no matter the cost.

part 1 < > part 3

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 11 - Spaceship + Praise Kink ☄️

I don't have time to write or draw, this is so frustrating 😭 Anyway, enjoy a longer prompt as an apology 🫶🏻

Tags : masturbation, fingering, anal sex, shower sex, top Obi-Wan, bottom Anakin

~~~

“Anakin, slow down.” 

An amused smirk spreads on the young man’s lips at Obi-Wan’s tensed voice. He gives him a side look, noticing how his Master’s fingers had curled up tightly on the edge of his seat, knuckles getting white with the strength of it. 

With a grin, Anakin pushes a finger on the controller, speeding up their ship a little bit more as they flew swiftly over a functioning generator. 

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan groans through gritted teeth. 

The young Jedi grabs the controller with his mechano hand and tilts it to the side, pushing the ship into a series of rolls that make Obi-Wan gasp and Anakin laugh. 

“Anakin, stop it ! You’re going to get us killed !” Obi-Wan hisses. 

“Don’t you trust me, Master?” Anakin smiles widely, just before violently straightening the ship to avoid a random electric pole. “Oops.” 

Obi-Wan’s face has turned white, he is sitting straight on his seat, back and shoulders tense, jaw locked and eyes focused on the windshield. 

“I want to get off.” He says calmly but Anakin can feel his emotions twirling chaotically in the Force. 

He can tell he’s extremely uncomfortable, and if he didn’t know him he would have said scared also. Not that any of this was showing up on his face, right now. 

“And I want you to relax.” Anakin sighs. “I want you to enjoy flying.” 

“I enjoy flying.” Obi-Wan retorts, his whole body tensing again when Anakin brushes the side of a building a little too closely. “I don't enjoy suicide attempts.” 

“I’m not landing until you admit I’m a great pilot.” Anakin replies back, a bit vexed by Obi-Wan’s comment. 

He doesn’t understand why his Master refuses to trust him in this matter. He’s been flying ships for as long as he can remember, he knows perfectly what he’s doing. 

“When was the last time I caused an accident ?” He asks before Obi-Wan can say something. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer, and when Anakin gives him a side glance he can see his jaw working with annoyance. 

“Doesn’t mean you’re flying safely.” He says finally. “You never know about the other’s reactions.” 

“I can anticipate.” Anakin huffs. “That’s why I’m a Jedi.” 

“Still a Padawan.” Obi-Wan mutters, even though Anakin is closer to the end than the beginning. “Now, please land somewhere so I can go back to the Temple without fearing for my life.” 

“No way.” Anakin retorts. “I’m bringing you back to the Temple.” 

He makes the ship leap into a tunnel, squeezing them between a speeder and a flying bus, adrenaline still high on his veins. Speeding up, he outdistances them both while Obi-Wan swears in his beard, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

Anakin can’t help but smile when he catches his Master’s words. He loves more than anything making him slip from his perfectly crafted image to show the real, more human part of him. The one who swears and experiences emotions, the one with flaws and doubts and feelings. 

He stretches out the arm who’s not playing with the controller to gently catch Obi-Wan’s fingers, deeply digging into the leather of his seat. 

“Open your eyes.” He says, tugging on his hand when he doesn’t want to let go. “Enjoy the view ?” 

They exit the tunnel at the same time Obi-Wan accepts to take a peek from under his eyelids. Anakin makes them leave the circulation to push the ship up, higher and higher until they pierce the cloud of pollution hanging low on the city. 

There the air is clearer, the setting sun painting bright colors on the tallest buildings. They leave the crowded paths behind, Anakin reducing their speed to let Obi-Wan enjoy the sight of Coruscant slipping quietly into the twilight hours. 

Obi-Wan relaxes a bit when Anakin slows down, letting the ship float back to their destination, and Anakin takes the opportunity to lace their fingers together. 

“So ?” He asks, turning to him with a smile. 

“You’re a great pilot.” Obi-Wan admits with a sigh. “Probably the greatest I’ve ever encountered. I just don’t like when you put your life in danger.” 

“I’m always careful.” Anakin replies, before biting his tongue when Obi-Wan gives him a look. “Okay, maybe not always. But I’ll never put you in danger intentionally.” 

“I shall hope so.” Obi-Wan says, quirking an eyebrow. 

Anakin smiles and focuses back on their trajectory, guiding the ship with a lazy hand. 

“So you really mean it when you say I’m the greatest pilot you’ve encountered ?” He asks after a few minutes of silence. 

“By far.” Obi-Wan answers. 

He looks way more relaxed now that Anakin flies at a decent speed. He even let go of his seat entirely, one hand resting on his laps and the other holding Anakin’s. 

Anakin blushes faintly at the compliment. He can tell when Obi-Wan is sincere, and it’s the case right now. 

“Thank you.” 

“I’ve never seen someone being that comfortable with a controller.” Obi-Wan continues thoughtfully. “Or being able to fly any kind of ship. I don't really believe in talent but I must admit, when I see you…”

Anakin’s heart makes a little looping at Obi-Wan’s words and his cheeks turn a shade darker. He’s not used to such a large amount of compliments in such a short time. Obi-Wan is not really the kind to praise him every time he achieves something. On the contrary, he’s rather stingy with compliments, making Anakin fish for validation all the time. 

So for a while he doesn’t know what to say. Obi-Wan’s words turn in his head until they’re back to the Temple, filling his chest with a pleasant warmth and making something flutter softly inside his belly. He already knows he wants to experience that feeling again as soon as possible. 

He focuses very hard to make a perfect landing on the platform, making the ship touch the ground with only little shakes, and looks at Obi-Wan expectantly. 

“Nice work, Padawan.” 

There it is again, that tiny little jolt in Anakin’s guts. It feels so good to be praised for his skills and Obi-Wan seems to be in a generous mood today, so he intends on making the best of it. 

“Yeah ?” He asks coyly, looking at his Master from under his eyelashes. 

Obi-Wan turns to him and quirks his eyebrows when he notices his expression. 

“Yeah.” He smiles softly. “I might not tell you often but you’re a good apprentice, Anakin. I’m proud of you.” 

Anakin feels his heart swell with pride and affection at the words. It feels like a warm blanket wrapping him from head to toes, pushing away all his doubts, his constant anger and his insecurities. He’s afraid, suddenly, that when it wears off he goes back to being difficult, unbalanced, unworthy of Obi-Wan’s attention. 

Before he realizes it he’s clutching Obi-Wan’s robes with eager hands. 

“Tell me. Tell me again, Master.” He pleads. “Tell me I’m good.”

I want to be good for you.

Startled by the sudden desperation on Anakin’s features, Obi-Wan’s first reflex is to push him away, but his Padawan grips him tightly. He knows his anxiety is going to throw him in a loop if he doesn’t reassure him. 

“Anakin…” He cups his face gently, disturbed by the anguish in his eyes. “Of course you are. You’re good. Not only for me but for all the people you already helped and the ones you’re going to help in the future.” 

“I’m trying.” Anakin whines. “I’m trying so hard, Master. But I feel like sometimes it isn’t enough. I feel like I disappoint you all the time.” 

“That’s not true.” Obi-Wan replies firmly, softly brushing his thumbs over his cheekbones. “You could never disappoint me, even if you don’t always listen to me.” 

Obi-Wan never understood what triggered Anakin’s sudden self-conscious, anxious crisis. He thought that with time he would identify a pattern but his efforts had stayed vain until now. He wished he could see what happened in Anakin’s wonderful brain but he had to make do with the interpretation of his emotions. 

“Now, be a good boy and go take a shower.” Obi-Wan says, gently patting his cheek. “Then join me for dinner.” 

“Okay.” Anakin replies quietly. 

He gathers all his stuff and disappears into the Temple, heading straight for the shower. 

When he’s finally under the hot water spray, he closes his eyes, trying to prevent anxiety from spilling into his blood and spread into his system to poison his thoughts for the rest of the night. He thinks about Obi-Wan’s words, at the pride he pushed into their bond to emphasize his speech. He thinks about how it felt to be recognized and acknowledged for the skills he worked so hard on. He thinks about the pleasant sensation in his belly when Obi-Wan called him good. 

With a sigh, he slides a hand between his legs, tugging lightly at his soft cock. He wants to feel good like that again. He wants Obi-Wan to praise him like that everyday, giving him the validation he so desperately needs to feel worthy of the world around him. 

He can be good to Obi-Wan, he would do anything to hear him say it once again. 

I’m proud of you.

With a moan, Anakin strokes his hardening cock, not really understanding why those little words made him feel like that. Why he felt the need to touch himself thinking about how good he wanted to be for Obi-Wan. 

“Fuck.” He whimpers, precome dripping between his fingers as he replays the scene in his head once again. 

He squeezes his cock in his palm, playing with his thumb around the head, pressing against the slick slit with each movement, making him shake and moan loudly in the confined space of the shower. A confused thought crosses his mind, wishing that Obi-Wan could hear how good he makes him feel just with the power of his words. He wishes Obi-Wan could tell him again, right now. 

As if Anakin’s shameful thoughts have summoned him, Obi-Wan’s voice can suddenly be heard outside of the door. 

“Are you almost done ?” 

Almost. Anakin thinks. He’s so close it’s hard to articulate a correct sentence. 

“Yes.” He pants, stroking his cock with fast and strong movements pushing him closer to the ledge by the second. “Give me- Give me a minute.” 

There's a silence on the other side of the door, only broken by the rush of water, the wet slapping sounds of skin against skin and Anakin’s labored breathing. 

“Are you okay in there ?” Obi-Wan asks, voice worried. 

Anakin doesn't answer. He can't answer without risking letting out a pretty suggestive moan. Instead he bites his tongue firmly, using his other hand to play with one of his nipples, rolling it between his fingers and tugging at it to add a stimulation to his already overwhelmed body. 

“Anakin ?” 

The door opens at the same time Anakin topples over the edge of his orgasm, spilling between his fingers and against the wall of the shower with a choked, pathetic sound. Pleasure comes in waves, making him fuck messily into his fist to chase it, cum spurting again and again until it calms down, leaving him lightheaded and oversensitive. Leaning forward to press his forehead against the cold tiles, he drags one of his dripping fingers between his ass cheeks, pressing it against his tight hole. 

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when a spark of pleasure ignites deep inside his lower back, making him arch and push his ass against the fingers massaging his rim. 

The haze of his first orgasm starts to dissipate, progressively replaced by another fire in his belly. A second of clarity reminds him that he's supposed to get out of the shower to let Obi-Wan clean but it feels so good and he doesn't hear his Master’s voice anymore. 

That’s when he realizes that he's not alone, his senses sharpening suddenly as he notices another presence in his space. 

Before he can even glance behind his shoulder he feels cold fingers curling around his hips, making him jump and choke on his saliva. 

“What-”

“Can’t you masturbate and shield your thoughts at the same time ?” Obi-Wan’s hot breath brushes against his ear. 

Anakin gasps, his face burning in shame as he tries to make sense of what is happening. He tries to remove his hand from between his legs, tries to do whatever, anything to protect the last bit of his dignity but Obi-Wan is faster, grabbing his wrist to keep him in place. 

“Be a good Padawan and continue what you were doing.” 

“But M-Master…” Anakin whimpers, placing his other hand on the wall in front of him to stabilize himself. 

“Don’t you want to be good for me ?” Obi-Wan whispers against his ear. “Isn’t it what you want the most in your life ?” 

“Yes.” Anakin breathes out, cheeks burning hot at the idea that Obi-Wan discovered his dirty little secret. “That’s what I want. More than anything.” 

“Good.” Obi-Wan praises, wrapping his hand around Anakin’s one to press his fingers back against his abandoned hole. “Then finger yourself open for me.” 

Anakin moans and bites his lip when he feels the press of his fingers, guided by his Master's, against the delicate muscle. Obi-Wan makes him massage his rim for a while before pressing the tip of two of Anakin’s fingers inside. Anakin lets out a shaky breath, trying to relax as much as possible against the intrusion. 

“You already did that to yourself, right ?” Obi-Wan asks before nipping at his earlobe. 

“Yes.” Anakin draws a sharp breath when Obi-Wan pushes his fingers deeper. “Oh.”

“Were you thinking about me ?” 

“Yes.” 

Obi-Wan groans at the answer, tugging on Anakin’s hand to remove his fingers before pushing them back inside. 

“Look at yourself fucking your own fingers. You’re so perfect.”

Anakin cries out at the sensation, shame and adoration mixing in his chest at Obi-Wan’s words. 

“Want to be perfect for you.” He whines, starting to scissor himself open. 

“You’re doing so good.” Obi-Wan hums against his hair, setting the pace of Anakin’s movements. “Make yourself nice and ready for me, sweetheart.” 

Anakin feels dizzy at the implication. Is Obi-Wan going to fuck him ?

“Master ?” He pants, letting their bond fill the blanks for him. 

“That’s what you want, right ?” Obi-Wan rasps, teeth grazing against his neck. “Thinking so hard about me when you’re touching yourself ?” 

“Yes.” Anakin nods rapidly. “Yes. Please.” 

“Then your pretty fingers are not going to be enough.” Obi-Wan replies. “Let me help.” 

Anakin can feel the grip on his wrist relax just before one of Obi-Wan’s fingers slips between the ones already inside him, spreading him even wider. 

“Fuck !” He hisses at the sudden stretch, trying to withdraw from the touch by reflex. “Too much.” 

Obi-Wan kisses his neck, nuzzling gently behind his ear. 

“You’re doing great, love. It’s going to take more than three fingers if you want my cock.” 

“I can’t.” Anakin pants, feeling like his legs were going to give way beneath him. 

“Yes, you can.” Obi-Wan replies softly, starting to move his finger ever so slightly between Anakin’s. “Relax, Anakin. Breathe.” 

Anakin takes a shaky breath, trying to focus on his Master’s warmth against his back, the tickling of his beard against his neck and the way his steady hands were supporting him, pleasuring him. 

It's easier after a while, his body adapting to the stretch and making his muscles soft and pliant once again as Obi-Wan fingers him with more ease. 

The sensation of both of their fingers fucking inside him is exhilarating and soon pleasure hits Anakin back again, making his lower belly tense and his cock leak abundantly. 

“I’m- I’m going to come.” He warns Obi-Wan between two shaky moans. 

Obi-Wan pulls both of their fingers out, then, making Anakin gasp loudly at the loss. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He praises, brushing his knuckles along Anakin's defined back. “Look at you.” 

The gesture makes Anakin blush and whine impatiently. 

“Take me.” He demands. “Let me please you too, Master.” 

Obi-Wan presses against his back, wrapping his arms around his waist, the weight of his hard cock pushing against the cleft of Anakin’s ass. 

“You’re such a good boy, Anakin. Do you know that ?” He murmurs against his ear before placing a sweet kiss on his cheek. 

“For you.” Anakin whimpers. “ Only for you. Please.” 

“Mmh.” 

Obi-Wan wraps one of his large hands around Anakin’s hips, locking him in place while the other guides the head of his cock down the cleft of his ass, dragging slick precome down to his already abused hole. Then he pushes inside in one slow and firm motion, making Anakin cry and press both of his hands against the wall. 

“Fuck, Obi-Wan !”

“You feel so good, dearest.” Obi-Wan sighs against his neck, settling comfortably deep inside him. “You’re made for me, I knew it.” 

Anakin grits his teeth, trying to breath through the burning sensation accompanying the challenging stretch of Obi-Wan’s cock. He closes his eyes for a while, remembering that he wanted this. 

“Move.” He groans when the sensation starts getting too unpleasant. 

Obi-Wan doesn't need to be asked twice. He starts thrusting gently inside him as soon as Anakin asks him to, well aware that his stillness might feel uncomfortable. 

Anakin grunts at this new, weird sensation. For now he doesn't know if he likes it or not, Obi-Wan’s cock feeling more like an intrusion than an object of pleasure. 

That is until Obi-Wan changes the angle of Anakin’s hips, the head of his cock brushing against something that sends a jolt of electricity along his spine, making his toes curl and his muscles tense automatically. 

“Ah !” 

“Found it.” Obi-Wan smiles smugly against his neck. “Feels good, mh ?” 

“Shut up and do that again.” Anakin grunts, pushing his hips back to chase that thrilling feeling again. 

“At your service.” 

When Obi-Wan moves again, Anakin lets his head fall against the wall, his whole body tensing with raw pleasure. 

“Fuck, yes.” 

Obi-Wan does it again, and again until Anakin begs him to go faster, to give him more. He's on his tiptoes, back arched as Obi-Wan presses him against the wall with each thrust of his hips. There’s no more shame in his moans or in the way he asks for what he wants, for what feels good. And what feels good right now is Obi-Wan’s thick cock hitting his prostate relentlessly while he drools against the cold wall, head empty. He knows he's close but he’s not able to form a coherent sentence anymore. 

“Obi-Wan…” He whines instead. 

“I know, love.” Obi-Wan pants right next to his face. “I’m close too.” 

Anakin moans, using his last bits of strength to reach out behind and grab his Master’s thighs, pressing him even closer. 

“Say it.” He breathes. “Tell me.” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t need to ask for clarification. He leans forward, pressing his lips against Anakin’s ear. 

“You’re so good for me, Anakin.” He whispers adoringly. “Such a good boy. I love you so much.” 

It’s all it takes for Anakin’s mind to go blank, his whole body tensing as pleasure explodes into his lower belly, flooding his senses with the intensity of it, making him cry out and cum for what felt like an eternity. 

When he’s done, his body going limp against the wall, he stays there for a little while, feeling high with endorphins, bathing in the scent of soap, hot water and sex. 

He’s almost going to doze off when a sharp knock on the door pulls him roughly from his fantasies. 

“Anakin ?” Obi-Wan’s annoyed voice resonates on the other side. “Are you done in here ? It’s been almost an hour !”