#purpled wants to be friends with you /silly

[icypopz]

coming over when they're drunk ♡

↬ request from anon ; Hiiii, may I please request the LADS boys getting really drunk, and they decided to come to her house late at night (they either live together or just came to her apartment). It can be only Zayne, tho.

↬ notes ; caleb, rafayel, sylus, xavier, zayne x gn!reader

↬ from ice ; hihi!! it's been like 7000 years since i last wrote but caleb's announcement has resurrected me!! this prompt was so fun and silly... anyways i hope you enjoy this!

↬ warning(s) ; all LIs are drunk, caleb antis dni, mc is described as shorter than all of them, sylus + zayne's are p suggestive

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

[ caleb ! ]

"caleb?" what are you doing here?" you gasp as you open the door and see his familiar figure leaning against the frame. he's so tall that he has to duck to enter your apartment, and he stumbles as he does, making you rush to support him. "y/n..." he mumbles, his voice deep and husky, and you feel your heartbeat speed up at the way he says your name, "missed you..." "tsk, you're so dumb," you scold, though your heated cheeks betray how flustered you really are, "going and getting drunk even though you know you can't handle alcohol?" "mmphhh..." he groans as you both somehow manage to land on the sofa, his head resting on your chest, "sorry." you roll your eyes affectionately, threading your hands through his hair, "it's fine, silly. you're going to be the one hungover tomorrow." he nuzzles further into your chest, making you squeak, "hey! caleb!" "just let me sleep here..." and just like that, he's out like a light, his head tucked perfectly in the crook of your neck even though he's so much taller than you. well, you've known him for so many years that being this close is fine, right? it's totally fine that your heart is racing at a million miles per hour from how your dear childhood friend is sleeping on you... right?

more content utc !

[ rafayel ! ]

"ugh, raf, get off!" you groan, trying (and failing) to shove the purple-haired artist off you. "you're too heavy!" "but miss bodyguard~" he whines, lifting his head from how he's draped all 183cm of himself onto you, arms wrapped tight around your shoulders as if daring you to leave. his cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, crimson dusting his ears when he gazes at you, "you're so warm! and it's sooo cold! you don't want your precious rafayel to freeze, do you?" he pouts, jutting out his lower lip in a way that's deceivingly adorable, and it almost makes you fold. keyword: almost. "well, you don't want your precious miss hunter to get crushed, do you?" you retort, even though you press yourself further into his comforting embrace. "if it's with me, then it's fine," rafayel teases, "i'll take care of you even if you're a pancake." "you're so annoying," you huff, though there's no real anger in your tone as you tuck a strand of purple hair behind his ear. "i'll even get you the best maple syrup and everything!" "...go to sleep, rafayel."

[ sylus ! ]

"sylus?" the two of you are in his mansion in the n109 zone, and he's just returned from another protocore auction. you help him slip off his masquerade mask, though you know he doesn't need to conceal his identity in someplace like this where his name is fear-inducing enough. "are you okay?" your palm presses against his cheek and forehead, checking if he has a fever, "you seem a little flushed." his eyes flutter shut and he leans into your touch, exhaling slowly, "it's nothing... i might have drank too much earlier." his large hand envelops yours, and he opens his ruby eyes once more, fixing his intense gaze on your face, "you're making me want to do very bad things, kitten." "i haven't even done anything- ah!" you argue, but your sentence is cut off as he sweeps you into his arms, lifting you easily into a princess carry. "you talk too much," he teases as you half-heartedly punch his chest, "ugh, sylus!" "i can think of several better ways for you to use that mouth of yours," he smirks as he kicks open your bedroom door, "so let's put those pretty lips to good use, hm?"

[ xavier ! ]

it's two in the morning when you hear a thump on your balcony. arming yourself, you stalk forward slowly, only to see, "xavier?!" "ah. hello, y/n." he stands up shakily, only to lean sideways and fall into a chair. "i was trying to teleport back home... but i guess i ended up at your apartment instead." he looks at you with his irresistible puppy eyes, and you can already guess what he's going to say next. throwing your hands up in defeat, you sigh, "sure, you can stay over." but as he stands up once more, almost toppling over again, you raise an eyebrow, "xavier, are you drunk?" "...not really." he looks away, and you can see how his neck is flushed, "liar. come here, let me help you." as you help him balance with his arm around you and head back inside, xavier's familiar scent wraps around the two of you like a soothing hug. "do i get to share a bed with you?" his eyes light up when you push open the bedroom door, "yeah, i feel too bad making you sleep on the couch when you're like this." his other hand sneaks up underneath the back of your shirt, pressing against your bare skin and sending waves of heat through your body. a gasp slips past your lips, and when you look up at xavier, he merely smiles, "i guess it's a good thing that i ended up here tonight after all."

[ zayne ! ]

"hmm..." you pretend to look thoughtful, gaze roving over zayne's tall figure as he sits on your couch, "is the famous dr. zayne perhaps... drunk?!" your voice turns dramatic, "how scandalous!" zayne looks at you confusedly, dark eyes seeming even darker and rounder than usual like a pair of twin boba pearls, "...what?" "aw, zayne! you're so cute like this!" you gush, giggling and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. "my senses are not that impaired," he retorts, though his voice softens as he feels your familiar weight on his lap, "i am just... tipsy." "mhmm, whatever you say~" you tease, pressing a flurry of kisses along his neck. "d-don't do that..." he gasps, breath hitching as your lips drag over his pulse point, "i might not be able to hold myself back." "so don't." you lean back and tilt your head smugly, knowing that he's putty in your hands, "who said i wanted you to hold back anyway?" his eyes narrow behind his glasses, "don't say things you don't mean." "i mean it one hundred percent~" you smirk, leaning forward to steal his breath with another heated kiss. zayne's hands tighten their grip on your waist before he pins you underneath him, "whatever you say, y/n."

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠

© icypopz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[hughiecampbelle]

Healing (Roman Roy Oneshot)

Character/s: Roman

Word Count: 1,576

Inapired By: Amusing by Genevieve Stokes

Warning/s: self harm, self harm scars, self harm mention

A/N: Just a silly little therapy fic. Back in my "Roman Roy is my husband" phase lol. I will get back to writing and posting and requests, my brain is just acting up and I think my meds need to be adjusted. Things are getting serious with the LSATs coming up and applying to law school. I'm taking a couple classes at the local community college with law and fiction writing (so my fics will hopefully get better lol). Scars are nothing to be ashamed of no matter what they come from and I hope you know that my loves 💕

Your love was bruise-like: healing, but oh so tender. Place your fingerprints atop it, apply the slightest bit of pressure, and an ache would form from the heart of it. Beating. Pulsing. Changing, too. Adapting. In its infancy it was pink and chewy, at times (in certain lighting) red and bloody. Crude, you used to call him. An anomaly. Strange, this stranger, with his defenses up, his walls built. His words are needy, but his body is repulsed by the idea of love, of holding. Gory, you used to think, before it settled. Settled into a deep blue, a purple, a dark, cool tone atop the skin. An irresistible want the way your tongue finds a gap between your teeth, playing with the gummy socket. Hurting, you’d think, but less so. Ripe, the word comes to mind with a certain sweetness. Give it time. Give him time. Shared moments between meetings, calls, emails. A joke here and there just to get you to smile. One or two dates. Casual. It was only meant to be casual. The tone warms into a green, a yellow, blooming under the flesh like a spill. Of what? You’re not entirely sure. Still nothing to cry over. An affection developing for it, for him, one you cannot quite name, but feel for regardless. More than friends, more than casual, that much is clear. Between here and there you became official. Introduced not as an employee, but someone to share dinner with, attend parties and vacations. Someone trapped in family photos where he is silly and unserious. Between here and there the yellow, so potent, so pigmented, fades until there is little sign of anything wrong. Moved in together. Move up in the company. Your clothes mixed with his in the washing machine, tumbling together in the dryer. Your things melded with his: indistinguishable. A life not of two, but of one. Together. You press, and wait, and sometimes you still want it to hurt, to throb, but mostly you are content with the way things have played out.

It’s the softness of his cologne. The sharpness of your hair dye. Toxic, you think, chemical, though you love it anyways. The dust from the heaters, off for so long it stirs up that familiar scent of time passed without even noticing. There are others, too. Fabric softener, various candles, soaps and shampoos. Hints of him, of you. The front door shuts behind you and you are enveloped in warmth. Outside the snow falls in fat, round flakes and the cold kisses your cheeks the whole way home. You consider yourself grateful. Every day. Every time you walk through this door, every time you are greeted by warmth and safety and security. Nothing bad has ever happened here. Nothing will. That is not a fallacy or lie you say to yourself like you used to, so many years ago. This is true. Whatever, and whoever is out there cannot get to you in here. They cannot scold you. They cannot sexualize you. They cannot strip you of your home or sense of security. In here, this place, this home, you are in control. You have a say. This place is your domain and you may do whatever you please. 

You hang up your jacket, dropping your bag. You can hear his patter far away, humming to himself, unaware of your presence. Quietly, you make your way to the bedroom, following the buttery light dripping into the hallway. He is a welcomed sight. A sight for sore eyes, you think. Softly you move, your socks lightly across the carpet. Hi, you say. Hey you, he says, startled only slightly. He turns to face you. The button of his shirt is undone, but only one. Instinctively, you reach out, your fingers moving automatically down his torso. His shirt, crisp and white, opens to a t-shirt beneath. Thin, you note, too thin for this cold, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He used to squirm, uncomfortable with the touch of another person, uncomfortable with the idea of being taken care of. You have been together long enough for him to grow used to it, accustomed, welcoming it even. He stands still, his breathing shallow, until you meet his gaze, a smile spreading across your faces. No need to thank me, you joke. Wasn’t going to, he shrugs, placing it on a nearby hanger. 

It is late. The sun has set, though it does so so early. You follow him. You stand beside him, facing your closet, large enough to throw a party from within. Prompt, he speaks about his family: something stupid his brother said, a joke his sister made, and his father. . . well, there were a few kind words. You share your day: meetings mostly. Kudos shared with how technical your work has become. He smiles, listening intently. Praise is given in rations at Waystar. It is not an easy feat to earn. Together you undress, tired from the day, welcoming the quiet of the night. You unzip your pants, letting them fall around your ankles. Your skin prickles in the open air. Scars, mostly, stare back at you. Old and new, healing and trying to. Patterned. Stitched, like that of a quilt. He does not take a second glance. They, like the rest of your skeletons, had been exposed a long time ago. In return, he plucked his bones from under the bed, scattering them out where you could look and touch and learn. He has never started. Not then, not now. Your words are muffled by your shirt, pulling it over your head. I couldn’t believe they actually liked. . . In nothing but your undergarments and yet, perhaps foolishly, doing so unafraid. 

More scars. 

There is nowhere else to truly look at them, see them as they are, except this place. Not just this room, though these walls have seen more of you than any other. The kitchen where you can cut up vegetables with your forearms out. The pool where you let the sun warm all of your skin, diving into the water, fearing only the cold and not what others might say. The couch you sit and work without pants on, your legs stretched and tangled with his. There is no person or place that offers the same kind of comfort, the same kind of radical acceptance as him. He’d noticed them, of course. A sleeve rolling down when you’d fetch printer ink on the top shelf, back when those kinds of things were part of your job description. The change from work to party attire, the transition daunting, at times impossible, as more skin was seen as acceptable. Back when the bruise was still gnawing. He’d stare, just as everyone else had, politely saying nothing, waiting until your back was turned. The more he sees, the more frequent you undressed in his presence, the less interesting they seemed until, finally, he could go from subject to subject without so much as a glance, choosing to poke fun at Tom and Greg, their odd yet delicate dynamic, instead. 

Hidden from the rest of the world, this is the only company you let them show. Shameful, or, worse, sickening. They wouldn’t understand. They don’t, and so you keep them beneath fabric. You do what you can to minimize the attention. Did I tell you what Kendall did today? Grab something warm to put on, to sleep in, just as he has done. You shake your head, grateful for the smooth fabric against your body. Your skin does not hum the way it used to, alive and breathing and begging. Loud, you think, screaming, even. Okay, so. . .  It whispers. That you cannot avoid, but you can ignore the best you can. When you are done you turn to him, wanting him to know you’re listening, plucking an eyelash from his cheek and making a wish in the process.

His hands move as he speaks and you cannot help but watch them dance. Frantic, you think, and you wish to soothe him, but for now you must listen. You will laugh as you always do. He paints a picture of absurdity and humor, fitting for his brother and all his intricacies. He’ll tell you he ordered takeout from that one place you like around the corner. You’ll take out plates and silverware, pour something old and red into two glasses. You’ll sit together and swap containers, praising the new recipes. You’ll feel full and warm and grateful, watching him instead of the television. The way his chest rises and falls. The brightness of his eyes. His laugh, like music to your ears. You will stay up and work, your computer screen blue and hazy. When it is late and he cannot keep his eyes open, you will go to bed. Sleeping soundly beside one another, just to repeat the cycle again tomorrow. For now, though, you listen. You watch his lips turn upwards as he pokes fun at his brother, the highs and lows he falls into, putting on a show before everyone's eyes. The bruise has healed. The color faded until you can no longer distinguish it. You brace yourself when you touch it, afraid, though there is little to fear nowadays. There is little to worry about, to anticipate, for it is you and him in your home, your life built imperfectly. Lopsided, crooked even, but better than you would have ever expected.

[elpresidentenevadas]

Bad was walking on the outskirts of Las Nevadas. He seemed out of it as he walked, as if listening to something that wasn't there. Not even realizing he reached the road leading into Las Nevadas.

{{CHOOSE WHOMEVER YOU LIKE}}

Charlie was walking along the perimeter. He did this from time to time, just watching the world outside to see what was going on. His world had become so... tiny, and it was nice to catch a glimpse.

His head slowly tilted to the side when he saw Bad, eyes dull and wide.

"Invitation." He blubbered, just doing his jobs. Bubbles on his head popped and sizzled. "You can still get in without one, just means you have to get one from Quackity." He added with a soft sigh. Standard procedure, just repeating rehearsed lines.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what kind of underwear do you think Erik and Charles wear (i'm not asking this to see them half naked) ((please believe me)) (((PLEASE)))

My Personal Belief is charles is a briefs guy while erik's a trunks guy. trunks/briefs kinda couple because i can

and idk just a lil bonus or somethin. as i do.

[sollucets]

make it purple || only friends trailer

[parme-san]

^ i deadass feel that i peaked with this drawing i did at 17

[anberry362]

Maxed the tag for this two bbygorl ❤️🖤🤍

Reblog and write in the tags a character you never expected to love/get so interesting

[selfcontainedunivcrse]

VWOOP can you tell me about serens story 👀

HI I would love to tell you about my little guy…

So. First of all, he is from minecraft :3. He is very meta about Minecraft, bc well. I like this sort of a framing :]. And uses a lot of headcanons about the Minecraft multiverse and servers and how the game is structured. Out of universe, this kind of translates to being a wannabe modder. 

He goes through three stages of life basically. He hangs out around a traditional server that devolves into violent conflict, in the way that servers sometimes do. Enough horrors happen that he just escapes. He does not identify a life before this. I don’t have a full cast for here yet but he does know a foil to himself named Requiem, and a meek redstoner with a mech-type. It’s supposed to be like a mid-sized SMP, and I think he held some sort of power before it devolved into The Horrors. (The supporting characters don’t come up again to him, though Req exists sort of like . As an allegory to him. In my brain.)

So, he dips. Without knowing what else to do, he becomes an adventurer traveling from server to server. Mechanically like a Wandering Trader. I have a servers in general headcanon that most servers can be left either though proper server navigation via communicator/portals/what have you, or you can walk far enough with the intention to leave and then end up in the realm of singleplayer and LAN worlds. You can return to your own singleplayer world/s easily through VIbes, but finding the same small servers/LAN worlds over and over on foot is difficult. He is primarily traveling on foot. He passes through a lot of servers and does not like what he sees at all, a lot of them devolving into similar senseless violence that happened to himself and his friends. He’s especially bothered by roleplay canonicity that goes beyond the regular mechanics Of Minecraft, like death/ghosts or giving power to random things in the world (like the Crimson Egg, HC Big Moon, stuff like that). He tries to learn more about the world through his adventuring, going beyond just being a trader of sorts to go on an Uncovering Secrets of the Universe quest. He starts to follow the research of other people who’ve done so, and basically ends up in modded minecraft.

It’s worth noting that at this point in his life, he’s also a smug little fool. He’s into the glory and the adrenaline of adventuring. He wants to go dungeoncrawling and almost die. This is fun and epic and he’s showing off.

Notably, in his modded adventurers, he picks up a questionably-implemented little creature. It’s some sort of unofficial cobblemon expansion with more Minecraft themed forms, like Nether and End themed. It’s incredibly experimental and he’d never come across worlds with it again. He names an ender wooper Vwoop and they’re his little companion, because adventuring is nice, but sort of lonely, and you can bucket them like an axolotl so its convenient. One day they start talking. He does not know enough about cobblemon to dispute this, but it can hold a weapon, so they’re adventuring partners now…?

And adventuring partners they are. They’re having a nice time. They’re some of the adventurers ever, even. Seren does the heavy lifting, but Vwoop is also here. Seren is forming new hypothesises about the world based on what he’s seeing. He’s come to some conclusions about the will of players shaping the world. (Vwoop asserts this isn’t that bad of a thing – he started talking to Vwoop like a person, and Vwoop became a person, in the style of mob NPCs/kids. Is that so bad?). Regardless, they are out here having a generally nice time. Showing off. Discovering things, pawning off rare items, having near-death experiences. Seren’s not afraid of his near-death experiences, he’s a confident respawner, but he is a bit nervous for Vwoop, considering they ARE just some creature.

Until he gets his own canon horrors! They’re exploring. They come across a dungeon. Cion lives here, and is NOT a fan of adventurers who believe that they can just do whatever they want. He was hibernating. Cion is significantly OP at this state in time, as he is actively cheating, and attacks the two. He’s easy on Vwoop, since they seem just to be going along with Seren, but leave Seren with a pretty bad withered scar on his shoulder where Cion claws him. You are not supposed to get scars in Minecraft. Seren dislikes this wholeheartedly. He respawns later on (Cion lets them go, he just wants to make a point) and it is still there. 

Seren writes this off as a skill issue. He got scared and let getting hurt mean something to him. He would not do it again. He solidifies his conspiracy theory of canonicity. He doesn’t have any real desire to settle down, so it’s not hard to try to keep his identity insular and not really latch on to anything hard enough that it would impact him. And this is his adventurer arc.

Somehow, Vwoop gets isekaid. I. I don’t know this part. I think Cion is involved again, but it’s not necessarily purposeful. Regardless, they are separated, and nobody likes this. Seren gets his emo arc. He tries to use what he’s learned about modding, and how some people were able to alter the universe, to somehow translate this to necromancy. To bring back his little guy. To do this he also settles down into a very small LAN world, and essentially gets super depressed. 

He is not very good at necromancy. (Vwoop is, also, not even dead! He doesn’t know this though). Instead, he creates another creature, which he also calls Vwoop. As it’s sort of a clone, he just presumes that it has memory loss for the first little while. He was also wholeheartedly not intending to be a parent. He doesn’t know how to be a parent. Honestly I’m not entirely sure how to title their relationship ooc, Vwoop considers him to be its sibling and Seren does not label it at all. However, he does have to raise it, because it has fully not seen the world before. And he does so very poorly. They live above a small shop set up for other travelers and trade modded items that he’d collected in his adventuring days, which he considers to be over. Instead he spends his time doing totally ethical science to try to crack modding, getting very into the idea of being able to control the physical world himself. Especially as his paranoia of the horrors of self-destructing server communities grow. He wants to be more than just a player and not be subject to such things. Enforcing his belief is proximity to the aforementioned cheater, Cion, as they basically become neighbours, and this kind of spirals.

They stay in a small community mostly comprised of people coming and going, and also Cion, much to Seren’s displeasure. Cion enjoys poking around in his personal life. Seren’s not doing great. He can muster customer service, and that’s pretty much it. Vwoop is increasingly aware about the nature of its existence, how depressed Seren is that it’s not *the* Vwoop, and also that it longs to explore for itself. While he trades modded items, it trades books, collecting accounts of other players’ experiences and stories and mythologies about other worlds. This drives them further apart, because it absolutely embodies Seren’s fears about the corrosiveness of servers. Eventually things come to a head with Vwoop figuring out more and more of his totally ethical science, and other creatures that he’s made and disposed of in the process of trying to perfect Vwoop. Eventually it makes the decision that it needs to live for itself, after they get into a fight (a physical one, on account of... Vwoop.). So it leaves quietly one night. (... after stealing his identity. It swipes his communicator on the way out.)

He does not know what to do now.

[reignpage]

Art Student!Choso

Classicism : practice strokes

Contents: 18+ mdni, pure smut, sub!choso, teasing, edging, handjob, tit sucking, morally questionable reader?

Things have taken an unexpected turn. 

When you were assigned project partners with Choso, the mysterious yet popular emo boy in your class, you hadn’t expected to become good friends. Especially since he rarely attended lectures or classes, and was so reserved you actually thought he hated you. 

But now, here you are, at his apartment (again) but this time you’re stripping in front of him. 

His place is nice, really nice, much nicer than any normal student's. Though, Choso isn’t normal, you suppose. He’s a member of one of the richest families in the country. You sure are jealous. The ceilings are tall, the exposed bricks add rough contrast to the polished wooden floors and to the metal beams hanging overhead. There are numerous artworks in his place, some hung up, but most on the floor, not discarded per se, but rather simply kept out of the way. 

The first thing that caught your eye is a huge canvas, half obscured by a large fabric, all wrinkled as if it had been hastily thrown over it. All you can see are red and purple strokes in the corner, disappearing under the blanket. It wasn’t there last time you were here.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Choso awkward mumbles. He rushes off to the kitchen and pours both of you a cup of water, and you take it from him with a smile. 

Then you settle yourself on the floor, sitting by the coffee table a couple metres from his bed. There aren’t any chairs, you noticed. Just a rug. It’s comfortable and plush so you don’t mind. 

Apart from the king sized bed made up of black sheets, the coffee table and the various canvas and paint tins, his place is bare. It’s so totally Choso you can’t help but grin. 

He sits in front of you, crossed legged, his jeans ripped and his black shirt baggy, just as distressed all his other clothes. You’ve gotten so used to his face, it’s easy to see past the huge tattoo crossing his nose. On anyone else, you’d wince, but on him, he just looks adorable. You wonder if he has any other tattoos. He certainly has piercings, lots on his ears. And you’ve caught him waiting outside Uzumaki for his friend, who you know is Geto because your friend writes about him a lot.

All the students go to his place for tattoos and piercings, and sometimes not even that; some guys like to go to be seen near him for the clout, and some girls hope to catch sight of him. 

You’ve seen him around and he’s certainly good looking. And the things you’ve read on the Bulletin, the gossip page, makes him a sexy enigma, for sure. But you’ve never been quite as curious about him as you are of Choso. 

Your friend says Choso is rarely ever seen with another girl; he likes to keep to himself. And on her Insider’s Line, there’s never been any confessions of a 'fun time' with the man. In fact, there are actually rumours he might be a virgin. She’s implored you to ask but you could never. 

“So,” you elongate, stretching out on the carpet, “should we get right into it?”

He blushes, nodding. “Do I go first?”

“Do you want to go first?” You fire back quickly. 

He’s chewing the inside of his cheek, eyes looking anywhere but at you, and it's clear he’s shy and embarrassed. This must be just as new to him as it is for you. Feeling merciful, you offer a compromise. 

“How about,” you’re grinning now and his eyes flicker to you, “we do it at the same time?”

Choso gulps. 

“At the same time?”

You laugh, getting up on your knees and leaning over the coffee table to watch him lean back like he might disintegrate if you touch him. What a silly man. 

Hands sliding to the hem of your shirt, you trace the edge, pinching it up to tease a sliver of skin. His eyes are drawn to the movement and your grin widens when he subconsciously leans forward. 

“Let’s both undress and even the playing field. What do you think, Choso?”

Oh, and how Choso hates the way you say his name. You always emphasise every syllable, every letter, with a musical cadence that often leaves him lightheaded. It’s like you know the effect it has on him and you’re determined to make him cave, to embarrass himself. 

He nods, getting up on his knees too, and matching your movements. You both lift your shirts over your head and his eyes are following the material as it slides up and up over your body to reveal a lacy bra. It’s black. Oh, he might just pass out. 

You’re desperately trying not to laugh; Choso’s so entranced with every inch of your skin, you don’t even think he knows he’s licking his lips. But, in his defence, you’re probably not much better. 

Choso is hot. 

Sure, you’ve never thought he was ugly, but he’s always been adorable -- the shy and introverted friend you just can’t help but tease. Looking at him now, though, you realise why Choso’s high up on the List, why, despite being so inaccessible, the girls seek him out. 

His body is lean but chiselled with well-defined abs that look sharp, so sharp you could cut yourself in your exploration. Throwing his shirt over his head, you watch his muscles ripple, tensing and flexing in a way that makes you curious to see how it feels beneath your hands. 

With a gulp, you stand, giggling at the way his head snaps up like he’s worried you’re going to leave. Shaking your head slightly, you reach out a hand to him. He eyes it for a moment before he places his own on top of yours. You pull him up. 

You hope you’re doing a good job of looking reassuring as you unbutton your jeans and slide it down your legs. Hope that you aren’t going too fast — you really don’t want to spook him.

Choso follows suit, kicking his jeans to the side and standing before you in just his black, Calvin Kleins boxers. His thighs are toned and smooth, there’s no doubt in your mind that they’d feel great between your legs. 

Slightly more clothed than him, you stand in your matching lace panties and bra. For reasons you don’t really want to get into, you had been sure to be shaved, waxed and cleansed thoroughly before showing up at his door. Thank goodness for younger you. 

You’re both sweeping your eyes over each other, you with respect for his hard work, and him with something much more lewd. Lips are slightly parted, eyes are darkening and his hands quiver, opening and closing. He wants you. And he wants you bad. 

Why not have a little fun?

Taking both of you by surprise, you’re rounding the table and he’s rooted to his spot, uncertain of what you’re about to do. The poor boy looks terrified. But you try to soothe him with a small smile, reaching a hand out once you’re near and placing it on his chest.

The muscle there flexes like a reflex and you hear his sharp intake of air. You’re so close you can feel his heat, feel every tremor running through his body, and you won’t lie, it’s setting your own alight. 

Wordlessly, you slide that hand down at the slowest pace possible, enjoying thoroughly the feel of his hard body. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t show up to most classes; he’s too busy in the gym. How bad of him. 

And when your finger tips reach the top of his boxers, following the line as it hugs his hips so perfectly, your eyes meet. 

You look so devilish Choso can only gulp, fearing what you’re going to do next. He’s aware you’ve got him in the palm of your hand, toying with him and pushing his buttons, but he doesn’t care. He gives not a single fuck that his stupid cousin would make fun of him endlessly if he knew that he’s shaking like a leaf just cause a girl’s standing in front of him half-naked. 

His hips jerk when your forefinger hooks over the band. 

“Should we take this off?” Your voice is so sultry, he feels like he’s meeting Venus of Urbino in the flesh. “Hmm? Choso?”

There it is. 

The exaggerated movement of your lips and the way you cock your head in question, fluttering your lashes. He’s so hard it’s actually painful, he feels his dick strain against the material, no doubt leaking a wet spot. This is too much, too embarrassing. He can’t move, can’t answer, can't even think with the way his heart is beating so fast.

Can you hear it?

Is it turning you off? Or is it fuelling you?

You already know about the hard time he’s having, pun intended. You saw it through his jeans as soon as you walked into his apartment. And as you stand before him, almost pressed right to his front, you can feel his hardness. 

When he doesn’t say a thing, you smile comfortingly again and hook all your fingers over the band, pulling down just a little and watching his expression for any sign he doesn’t want this. But there’s none. If anything he looks like he’d cum from just the wind alone. 

And there’s no denying that you are almost just as excited as he is. Your nipples are scraping the lace of your cups, poking through, and you can see his eyes darting between them, like he can’t choose a favourite.

Between your legs, you’re sure you’ve soaked your panties. And you feel a certain urge to show him just how wet he’s made you. But that’s a reward, and he’ll have to earn that.

“Choso?”

Through the haze, he hears you call his name, like a siren, leading him deeper into the pleasure. There's no resistance at all when you tug him closer with just your voice. He’s only a man, what strength could he gather to resist you?

He gulps. “Y-yes?”

You flutter your lashes at him again and stand on your tiptoes, grazing his chest with your nipples and he shivers from the feeling of them scraping his bare chest through the lace of your bra. Whispering in his ear, cheeks brushing against each other, you say, “Keep your eyes on me.”

Just as he pushes out the words ‘I will, I promise’, you fall to your knees, dragging his underwear with you and his rock hard cock breezes past your face, leaving a trail of wetness. 

Your jaw slacks. 

Your project partner is packing. 

His dick is just as pretty as he is --so long, clean shaven and thick enough to leave your mouth watering. But you won’t taste him. He needs to earn that, too. And so far, you’re both already behind on your little assignment. 

Unhurriedly, you skim your fingers up and down his thighs, transfixed on the way they shake, just barely, almost imperceptibly. But of course, you'd notice. You're pressed so close, just the warmth of your breath makes his cock bounce. And then you’re looking up at him from down there, face just below his erect cock and he swears you’re Lilith, sent from above to drag him below. 

And what a way to go, he thinks.

Then, with grace, you’re pulling away, keeping eye contact, and crawling back on the rug, feeling the fibres tickle your skin. You’re lying there, legs bent and resting on your forearms with a playful sparkle in your eyes. 

You lift your foot and run it up his calves, and back down again. Choso’s watching every move like it’ll be on an exam, like it’s life or death, and with the way his cock is throbbing so painfully, it feels like it is. He’s breathing so heavily and he doesn’t even realise he’s running out of air, not until you’re spreading your legs with an impish smile and he sees the wet patch on your panties. 

“Won’t you take my mine off?” There’s laughter in your words and it’s the sweetest melody he’s ever heard. “Please, Cho?”

He falls to his knees, a man succumbing to worship, compelled by the beauty he sees before him. You’re a saint, carved by Bernini, and he’s stolen you from Cornaro Chapel. He’ll bear the consequences, every punishment in the world, to stay like this, to bask in the divine love he’s become overwhelmed with. 

You don’t need to say anything more. 

Choso’s already crawling towards you, gaze fixed between your legs. He wants to feel you, to taste, and see and hear and commit everything to memory. If he could capture this moment, this sight, in a canvas then he’d slave away at an easel for eternity. 

Cooing, you lift his chin with a finger. “Cho, you’re not just going to stare forever, are you?”

He shakes his head vehemently. 

“Then take it off for me, please.”

And he does. 

His hands are shaking, running up your thighs, over your hips and then under the flimsy fabric, pulling and pulling until it’s dangling from one ankle. It tickles you, like electricity sparking over your skin. Choso presses his face to your foot, moaning the contrast of the smooth skin there with the scratch of the lace, and he’s inhaling, nose pressed to the fabric.

You should be mortified, should be embarrassed, but you can’t find it in you. Instead, you’re simply oozing more wetness, staining the rug underneath. You rest your ankle on his shoulder and tap him. 

“Not just my panties, Cho,” you remind him. 

He blushes. 

With clumsy shuffles, he’s hovering above you, casting a shadow and he hates it. He wants to see you in clear view, every part of you, unobscured by anything ever again. Still, he makes do with the natural radiance you’re emitting, and he clasps your ribs, hands splayed over your sides, thumbs just below the plumpness of your breast. He lifts you with question in his eyes.

You help him out, arching your back so he can curve one hand and pop the clasps open. And then he’s sliding down the cups until you’re all bare and pretty for him. 

He’s frozen, eyes roving all over your body in a panic. He doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t want to miss a thing, doesn’t want to make one part of you jealous. He looks frantic and you have to hold his face steady and bring him closer. 

“It’s okay, Cho. I’m not going anywhere.”

Choso inhales and then exhales, soothed by the coolness of your palms and your scent. He knows what he wants now; he daydreams about it in class, watching you answer questions or mouth jokes to him from across the room, noticing every quirk and twitch of this beautiful lips of yours. He wants to kiss you. 

You giggle when he leans in. 

“Choso, I think you’re forgetting why we’re here in the first place, you silly boy!”

He blinks. 

Like a cartoon character, you can hear each plink-plink as he looks at you in confusion. Yep, he’s definitely forgotten about the assignment.

There’s a devastated look marring his face and he’s pouting when you sit up. He pouts even harder when you instruct him to grab his sketchpad and get to drawing. 

“How do you want me?”

Choso glares at the paper like it’s his worst enemy. On my face riding me until we both cum.

He has no idea where that thought came from. It’s a foreign concept but feels so familiar. He doesn’t dare voice it out loud though, instead he mutters ‘just as you are’, and gets settled on the rug. 

And if his cousin knew that he has a girl fully naked and wet for him right there in his room and he’s sat clasping a pencil instead of his dick, he’d never live down the humiliation. 

But what does he know?

Most of the action he’s been getting is through text messages, popping boners during family dinners from a scolding he receives from a girl who has no idea of the effect her words have on her vice president. 

Maybe, if he makes fun of him again, he'll just tell her. 

“Choso, angle your head just slightly towards me, please.”

And he hates the conversational tone your voice has taken, like he’s back in class. But he does as he’s told, shifting every time you ask, and he scribbles, lead gliding across the paper as he follows every curve of your body with his eyes. If every class was like this, he’d actually come, he thought. But thank goodness it isn't; how would his dick ever survive?

For an hour, you sit in relative silence, just the sound of scratching and occasional humming filling the space. It’s a peaceful sort of quiet, the one he doesn’t mind staying in, one he could get lost within. 

You’re lying on your stomach, feet kicking and hair draped over your shoulders. Your ass looks so soft, like marshmallows, and your breasts are pressed against the rug, and not in his face, and he thinks it’s a tragedy. 

He feels like Icarus, having flown so near to everything he’s ever wanted, only to plummet to the ground never having even touched or tasted. Instead of melted wax and feathers, all he has is a leaking dick that you don't even look at.

Yet, he isn't softening at all.

Eventually, you turn to look at him, studying his features for reasons that have nothing to do with drawing. Choso’s still pouting, scratching the paper sometimes a little too hard, and the poor pencil looks like it’s about to break in his fist. 

You feel bad for the sweet little guy. 

So hard, leaking and weeping at the tip, and he isn't touching himself. He's so good at following instructions you just have to reward him.

You push up and slither over unseen -- he's still glaring at his sketchpad -- nudging the book off his lap and grinning up at him. You're doing this for him and definitely not for your soaking pussy.

Choso gulps. 

You’ve played with him too much, he can’t trust that gleam in your eyes and the curl of your lips. So he stays still again, content to watch you do as you please with him. 

“Have I been bad to you, Cho?”

He shakes his head, but he’s nodding internally. You’ve been so bad to him, so mean, ignoring the way his cock jerks when your eyes meet his. But he could never be mad at you, he’s so sure, he's willing to bet everything on it. 

“Should I help you out, you poor baby?”

You’re mocking him again. He knows it. But God, does he love the sound of you tearing him down. He wants you to call him 'Cho' and 'baby', and everything else you'd like. He just wants you to call for him, to only look at him amongst a gallery of Michelangelos, to see him and only him. 

Choso nods, desperate for anything. 

And you lean in to press a chaste kiss on his lips. He blinks again and then chases after you but you’re already going down. There’s nothing for him to do except to stretch his legs out, caging your body, and to lean back on his hands. He doesn’t dare say a word, knows better than to interrupt a Master at work.

You’re eyeing his dick and you’re enamoured with every vein. His cock head is raging and leaking pathetically, and your hands wrap around as much of his length as you can to soothe it. At the first touch, Choso bites his lip to stifle a whimper. Your hands are cold.

It burns him.

But then you're rubbing up and down at a slow pace as if basking in the feeling. Again and again, you go up and then down, twisting and turning your wrist when you reach his head.

"Fuck! Y/n, please!" He breathes out when you thumb his slit.

You use his pre-cum to lubricate him, going faster when his heavy breathing turns into low moans. “Is this how you like it, Cho?”

He nods furiously. 

"Yes, yes. Thank -ngh- you."

His eyes are closed and you’re upset. So you sit up, hands still jerking up and down, and tap his cheek. 

“I told you keep your eyes on me.”

Did you?

He’s forgotten now. Everything’s a jumbled mess, like an abstract art, taking no shape or form in his mind. It feels so good, your dainty hands are wringing pleasure from him and his balls are tightening. 

You grab his hand and direct it to your tit, and he wastes no time in squeezing and groping. Choso's mouth drops. You're so smooth, so pretty, it's the only thing he ever wants to hold again. His hand covers your entire breast and he’s massaging it like a stress ball, like it’ll help ground him whilst you attack his poor cock. 

"S-so good, God! You're -ha- so pretty, y/n."

When you speed up, he whines, mouth slack and eyes crossing. This is too much, he doesn’t know what to do. His other hand is tugging at the rug, tearing fibres away, and his legs are tensing, muscles cramping but he doesn’t care. 

“Faster -ngh- please!”

You kneel, his hand falling away from your chest to grip your hip. “You’re such a good boy, Cho. Well done for remembering your manners.”

Despite the way his head is reeling, growing lightheaded, he conjures up a shaky smile, so very pleased he’s doing good, for you. And when his eyes open back up — he doesn’t recall closing them — he’s drowning in your tits. 

You've inched forward, tightening your hold on his cock, and pushed your chest in his face. With haste, like a man starved, he sucks on your tit, rolling the nipple with his tongue. It sends spikes of electricity through you. You clench down on nothing and it's such a shame, when his pretty cock is just a couple centimetres from where they should be. Your hand picks up pace and his whines are muffled, sending delicious vibrations down to your clit.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeats but the sound is so jumbled you don’t even know what he’s saying or if he’s even saying anything at all.

Choso's trying to devour your breasts, engulfing as much as he can, so distraught he can’t take it all in, so he brands a punishing grip on your hip and you gasp. 

“Are you going to cum, Cho? Are you going to cum for me?”

He can’t answer, doesn’t want to stop tasting the salt of your skin. But he hopes that the intensifying throbbing of his cock provides a good enough response. 

And when your grip on him tightens just as he nibbles on your nipple, thumb pressing hard on his slit, he cums with a whine. He spurts between you, hot liquid landing on both of your chests and all over your hands. It’s opaque and syrupy; you feel regretful you didn’t make him cum in your mouth. You don’t stop jerking him off, intent on milking him for everything he’s worth, and his eyes are rolling back.

It’s too much. 

Your scent, your body, your hands, your cooing in his ear. It pushes him over the edge again and again until his balls are emptier than they’ve ever been, dick lurching and bobbing like he's pushing out phantom spurts, and then he’s falling backwards, taking you down with him.

You both catch your breath, panting under the warm lights of his apartment. You’re sweaty, skin sticking to his, and there’s cum gluing your stomach to his body. There’s the unmistakable smell of sex lingering in the air, and you feel bad that he’s going to have clean up after this, but you press a kiss to his chest, licking away the salt from your lips. 

And then you stand, grabbing your clothes. 

Choso’s still coming down from his high, so lost in everything you’ve had to give him, he doesn’t even register that you're getting dressed until you’re giggling. That sobers him up. 

Pushing himself into an upright position, he wipes the drool from his chin and pouts at you again. 

“Don’t you need to…,” he trails off. He doesn’t know what to say but you get him nonetheless. 

You sport an apologetic expression, “Don’t have time, sorry, Choso. I’m having dinner with my brother and his friend.”

He follows you, thighs complaining with very step, but still pushing through so he can hold you before you go. The feel of your clothes scratching his bare skin is setting him on fire again, but you only press a kiss to his cheek. He tries to nuzzle your neck, arms clinging around you like a koala bear. 

You kiss him on the lips and smile. “I had a good time, Choso. I’ll see you in class, yeah?

He nods.

But Choso doesn’t want to just see you in class, he wants to see you laid out bare beneath him on his bed. It doesn’t even have to be his bed. He just wants to touch and taste again. 

He can’t, though. 

Because you’re already stepping out of his apartment and leaving him. 

Your project partner’s missing you miserably by the time you step out into the street. You wished you had the time to make him make you cum, but that’ll have to wait another day, even if the uncomfortable wetness in your jeans is reminding you exactly why you should stay.

Wait, jeans?

Where are your panties?

Oh, fuck, is your last thought when you get into your car. 

Choso, on the other hand, is already pumping his cock as hard as you were, brain working overtime to recall how exactly you touched him. The way you went slow at first, relishing in the heavy feel of his cock in you head and then quickly ramping up to a rhythm that had him seeing stars faster than nightfall.

His nose is pressed to the soaked gusset of the panties you had left behind. He doesn’t know if you did this on purpose, hell, he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how he at least managed to paint your body with his cum, even if he wished he could cover every inch of your skin. Choso just hopes you'll give him another chance. He'll do so good you'll want him just as bad he wants you.

So happy to have a reminder of you, he promises to cherish your panties every night until he gets to do this again, tasting from the source, or even just having a fresher pair.

You’ve given him a gift, the best gift of his life, and you deserve to be gifted something just as special in return. 

You’ll find this gift on your desk.

And he hopes it makes you just as happy as you’ve made him. 

Because, God, does the memory of you make him so pathetically hard.

[megamindsecretlair]

I Need Your Lips On Mine

Pairing: Dom!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem receiving), PIV, oral (male receiving), Use of pet names, (Big Daddy and baby), use of sex toy, bratty and yandere reader. All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: While Terry’s away on a special teaching assignment, you decide to be a little gremlin and not listen to him. You wear your sexiest dress out with your girlfriends to a rooftop bar. But Terry comes home early to ring in the New Year’s with you in a very special way.

Word Count: 7,111k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. Ya'll don't ask about this man no more!! I cannot control myself around this man, I just can't. I'm not strong enough! Request from @prettyisasprettydoes1306. Happy 2025, my loves. Thank you so much for all your continued support! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Big Daddy 🤪 Calling…

Your music dimmed as Terry’s incoming call flashed across your screen. You put the finishing touches on your makeup and hurried to swipe to answer. 

“Hey Big Daddy,” you sing. 

“Hey baby,” Terry said with a sigh. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, immediately picking up on his tone. 

“Miss you,” he said. 

You couldn’t help pinching your lips together, trying so hard not to cheese out. You looked at yourself in the mirror, at the goofy lovesick smile on your face. You drove your friends wild, but you were down bad for your man. 

Just for the silly, little things he did. And moments when he seemed able to read your mind. “Miss you. When you coming home? It’s New Year’s,” you pouted. 

“I know. I’m still trying. Don’t give up on me,” he said.

“Never,” you said with a giggle. “I know you’re busy.”

“You almost done getting ready for the party with your girls?” He asked. 

You spread a bold pink gloss across your lips and then used your finger to clean up the excess or areas you went too heavy on. You leaned away from the vanity, turning one way and then the other. 

Your long fitted cami dress looked painted on your body. It had a swirl of pink, purple, red, and brown like an abstract painting that stopped just above your ankles. But the top barely covered your girls. Just how you liked it.

You had paired it with a necklace Terry bought you for your birthday, the pendant dipping between your boobs to draw eyes there. The spaghetti straps fit snug on your shoulders but not tight. It was a dress almost literally made for you. 

“All done. Wanna see?” You said, lowering your voice. 

Terry shuffled on the other side of the phone. He sniffed as he moved before he settled down. “Show me,” he said.

You swiped to put him on video. His face took up the screen before he pulled back with a smirk. God, that man was fucking beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. He was your favorite painting, your sweetest song, and your most comforting book. He oozed comfort and made you want to sink into his big arms whenever he was around.

You turned from side to side so that he could see the dress in its entirety and how it fit on you. “You like?” 

Terry tilted his head. “Isn’t that the dress I got you for your birthday one year?” He asked.

“Yes! Looks good, huh?” You asked. You posed as you turned, modeling for him. When he didn’t say anything, you stopped and stepped closer to the phone. 

“Baby,” he said. Uh oh. When he hit you with that tone, he was about to be a big ole meanie. 

“Yes, Big Daddy?” You asked. 

“You know I don’t like you wearing that dress unless I’m around,” he said. His eyes dipped further and further lower and you followed his eyesight. 

With the phone on the vanity and you leaning over, he had a perfect view down your dress. Your pendant swung freely and you giggled, pressing it back against your heated skin. 

“You so nasty,” you said and giggled. “And I know. But we’re going out and I wanted to feel sexy. I like wearing things you give me.”

“That makes me happy to hear, baby. But you look too good in that dress. And I’m not there to make sure no one messes with you,” he said.

You sucked your teeth. “I’d never leave the house if that was the case, Terry,” you said. You closed your eyes and sighed. 

“What you call me?” Terry asked. 

You peeked just as you saw Terry stand up. You didn’t know what top secret villain lair he was currently in, having been called away to teach a special MCMAP class at a different base, but he was good and agitated now. 

He ducked his head as he walked off somewhere, nothing but empty night sky behind him. You wished you were with him, on a blanket somewhere, looking up at the sky while he ate you out. 

Terry’s soft grunts pulled you from your nasty thoughts as he finally stopped. Low, fluorescent light fell across his face. His eyebrows were arched and his eyes were narrowed. 

“You wanna run that again?” He asked, his accent getting thicker with his tone. 

“I love you, Big Daddy,” you said sweetly, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re the kindest, most wonderful, most amazing Big Daddy a girl could ask for.”

Terry shook his head. “Try again.”

You pouted and prepared yourself to apologize. But then the gremlin on your shoulder made an appearance. You absolutely, positively did not need to mess with your boyfriend. You absolutely did not want to make him mad. But ugh, you missed him.

This was one of the longest times he’d been away and you did not sign up for a long distance relationship. He wasn’t here at the moment….and being on the phone made you a little bolder. 

You smiled. “What ya gonna do if I don’t?” You asked, tone as sweet as tea on a hot day.

Terry’s expression changed fraction by fraction. His frown disappeared as a self-pleased smirk took over. “Think very carefully about your next words,” he said quietly. 

That probably should’ve been your first clue to stop playing with that man. But when your inner gremlin took over, there was just no stopping her. Consequences be damned. He must secretly like when you got this way, because he delivered on the goods tenfold whenever he finally got his hands on you. Your pussy throbbed thinking of the last time.

At the moment, he wasn’t set to come back until later in the week. By then, your gremlin would have gone on vacation and you would be back to your sweet self. But when you were in a party mood? And Big Daddy wasn’t around? You tended to show your entire ass. 

You stared at Terry’s gorgeous face, at the tempest in his eyes promising you won’t sit right for a week. His right eyebrow curved upward in a challenge. Make that two weeks. You grinned. Terry’s head tilted forward slightly. 

You should’ve listened, you know you should have, but instead you shrugged your shoulders. “Seeing how you’re way over there and I’m finna go out, there’s not a damn thing you can do right now,” you said. You blew him a kiss. 

Terry’s smirk was vicious. He looked away from the camera and nodded slowly like he was confirming something in his mind. That probably should’ve been your second clue to stop egging him on. But that damn gremlin…

The doorbell rang and Terry turned his head back to the camera. “That’s probably Miranda and Tenni,” you said and smirked at Terry. “If you’re good, maybe we can video chat later and I’ll show you a little something.”

“A little something?” He asked. But that smirk was still on his face. He was playing with you and you weren’t sure how. Partying was too heavy on your brain at the moment to suss out his expressions so you blew him a kiss and promised to take lots and lots of pictures.

“Have a good night, baby,” he said, his voice saccharine and sugary.

You narrowed your eyes at him but he only grinned and hung up. Putting his gorgeous smile and whatever punishment he was planning from your mind, you grabbed your heels and headed to the front door of your apartment. 

The doorbell rang again just as you opened the door to find Miranda and Tenni on the other side. They grinned and wolf-whistled at you and your outfit. You were lucky enough to find the perfect friend group in high school. One summer class before freshman year and you three were inseparable. 

Tenni cocked her hip and jerked her thumb. “Is you ready or naw?” She asked. She wore a striped mini dress that stopped mid thigh. With a colorful mix of blues and purples, the dress made her body look amazing. She wore low heels and had her locs in a cute bun on top of her head. 

Miranda wore an olive green short dress that ruffled at the bottom but had a cut out underneath the cups, showing off her tiny ankh tattoo there. Her big hoop earrings swung as she turned her head to Tenni.

“Ten bucks says she was talking to Terry,” Miranda said.

“That ain’t no damn bet. Of course she was,” Tenni said.

“Just because you hatin’ hos ain’t got a man, don’t mean you need to dim my light,” you said and grinned, hugging them. 

You quickly put on your heels adding to your height. Though no matter how high the shoe, you weren’t close to Terry’s full 6’3 stature. Which suited you just fine. You liked hopping on that man like a spider monkey.

“Whatever. I’m such a why choose girlie, anyway,” Tenni sighed wistfully. 

“Why choose a good man?” Miranda asked. You howled with laughter and hi-fived Miranda as Tenni’s face dropped. She flipped both of you the bird but ended up laughing with you. 

All done, you didn’t bother grabbing a sweater. Yes, it was freezing, but after a few drinks and some dancing in a cramped space, you would be warm enough. 

As a trio, you all headed to West Hollywood. The lights grew brighter the closer you got with billboards and ads all vying for your attention. The streets grew cleaner and the restaurants grew more expensive.

The apartment you shared with your boyfriend was by no means considered the hood. But the startling contradictions about LA were what kept you there. On one corner, there was a man dressed in a feather pink boa and leopard print undies dancing to some invisible beat. On the other side of the street, there was a group of women with three shopping bags a piece. 

LA was weird in the best way but it was home and it was yours. You giggled and laughed with your friends in the Uber, chatting up the sweet older gentleman who insisted on opening the doors for all of you. 

After arriving and showing the bouncer your IDs, you all headed to the elevator. The space was surprisingly big, with a 50s style black and white flooring and wood paneled walls. There was an advertisement for the rooftop movies they sometimes showed. You checked over the movies, wondering if there was something Terry would be down for. 

Before long, the elevators opened on the other side out onto the rooftop. The place was already packed, with people crowding the bar like it was running out of alcohol. The DJ played annoying club mix pop songs that grated because it made these people think they could dance. When all they did was jump up and down in place.

The hostess smiled at your group as you stepped forward. To the left, there was a door covered in faux grass and a sign with something you couldn’t read. But, it was half-cracked open revealing a skating rink on the other side.

“Oh my god! Look!” Tenni screamed. Behind you, there was a life sized Barbie box. Tenni hopped in with a deranged giggle, handing Miranda her phone. 

You directed her to look a certain way or pose a certain way while Miranda played photographer. You each took turns in the box, taking a thousand and one pictures. As soon as you were done, there was a mini line forming of people wanting to do the same thing. When you got your phone back, you selected the best pictures and sent them to Terry.

You added in saucy comments, teasing him, telling him all the filthy ways you were going to pleasure yourself tonight since he wasn’t around. He sent cryptic messages back and promised his retribution when he saw you.

“Are you going to talk to him all night?” Miranda asked.

“No, you hater. I came to hang with ya’ll and ring in the New Year. Now, where them drinks at?” You asked.

Tenni grabbed Miranda’s hand and led all of you to the other side of the rooftop bar. Against the railing, there was a line of white tables and plushy seats filled with people nervously glancing around and bobbing their heads. 

There were other standing room only tables, with people leaning against it and holding onto their significant others with a vice grip. It was like everyone was too afraid to loosen up and have fun. 

Behind you, the dance floor was tucked into the corner with strobe lights going wild and a machine projecting a neon dancer on the wall. The further you walked from the main area, the quieter it became. 

There were more tables and chairs here, but you already knew that those were reserved. Why these places thought you wanted to pay for a ticket, a seat, and a drink was beyond you. If you paid to get in somewhere, you should be able to sit wherever you damn well pleased. 

There was a second bar at the end of the rooftop with less people fighting over each other for watered down drinks. Your eyes roamed over the few people there. There were plenty of Black folk and you took a deep, restful sigh. You were around your people and you were safe. 

You each ended up grabbing a signature drink, passing it amongst yourselves to try the other’s drink. The sweet hit of alcohol hit your system and soon, you were dancing to even the cheesiest of songs. 

You three were probably the only ones dancing in the back area but that was fine. You were an entire vibe amongst yourselves and you all danced in time with the horrible remixes. 

The more you danced, the more others seemed to loosen up and go on and turn it into a party. You ended up linking with a group of guy friends who checked your friends out. 

True to form, Tenni stood between two guys, dancing and teasing them. When one got too handsy, Tenni would giggle and lean on the other for help and support. “Working them like a damn fiddle,” Miranda said and shook her head. 

“Think they’ll fight or want her at the same time?” You asked. 

Miranda assessed the two men playing with Tenni like a ping-pong ball. “Same time,” she said with a deadpan delivery that nearly made you snort your favorite drink. 

The night passed in a dizzying mix of alcohol, laughs, and the night sky overhead. Sweat rolled down your back as you shook your booty to every song that came on. Sometimes the DJ played songs you could actually dance to.

During those songs, you and your girls showed out. You twerked and sang, trying to one up each other in good fun. Tenni took a break from luring her next conquests in to snap pictures and videos and post it. 

“Shot! Shot! Shot!” You yelled, giggling, holding three shot glasses in your hand. You were more than a little tipsy, everything turning sideways a bit. But you trucked on, too turnt up for self-preservation. 

You clinked your glasses together. “Another year to the best friends I could have ever asked for,” Miranda said. 

“Another year of being badasses,” Tenni said.

“Another year of holding each other down,” you said. At once, you drank the shot and braced yourself for the swift burn down your throat. 

The DJ turned on the unedited version of ‘Big Energy’ by Latto. “Oh shit!” You screamed. 

You stomped your feet and shook your ass to the beat. You sang along and threw your hands in the air. “Pretty face, no waist, and a big ol’ ass!” 

You wilded out and let the alcohol direct your body for the night. You felt so loose, so alive, so free. It was a Tuesday night but you partied like it was a Saturday night and your bills were due. 

Tenni waved to you and you waved back, grinning at her. She continued to wave with one arm slung over one of the men she was thinking of taking home. You waved again, not understanding what she was trying to signal. 

Tenni looked over to Miranda who waved you down as well. You continued to twerk, getting into the song. “Ain’t too many niggas that can handle me!” You sang, sticking out your tongue and doing the most. 

“That right?” A deep, smooth voice said behind you. You straightened up immediately and turned around.

Terry stood behind you in a knit black see-through polo and dark pants. The collar was left open, revealing a short gold chain against his tanned skin. His gold watch flashed on his wrist as he looked down at you.

“Big Daddy!” You screamed, launching yourself into his arms. He caught you with ease and chuckled against your cheek. He absorbed the shock of your attack and hugged you around the waist. 

Your lips sought out his, pouring all of your love into it. His lips were so warm and juicy. Your body melted while in his arms, all the tension from the last week and a half leaving your body now that he was back.

“What are you doing here? When did you get in?” You asked once you leaned back. 

“I was planning a surprise for you when you got home,” he said.

“A surprise for me?” You asked. You remained in Terry’s arms, talking to him face to face. He smelled so damn good. Your eyes drifted taking in the subtle differences and comparing it to the last time he was with you.

His goatee framed his perfect face but he was letting it grow a bit. His hair filled out and it looked so good that you ran your fingers through it. His naturally dark eyelashes fanned his cheeks whenever he blinked. 

“Was a surprise,” he repeated. 

You pouted. “Why not anymore? It’s almost midnight,” you sang and waggled your eyebrows. 

Terry chuckled. He nuzzled your cheek with his nose and gave you a small kiss. “How much have you had to drink?” He asked.

You leaned back and pinched your thumb and forefinger. “A little. Barely a drop,” you said but your following giggle gave you away. 

Terry pressed his lips together in a frown. “Let’s go,” he said.

“But–” You looked behind you at your friends who waved you off. They already knew the business. Once Terry was home, you were off grid for at least two days. That ‘I missed you sex’ hit too fucking hard for you not to be in a sex coma afterwards. 

Terry waved to your friends before turning around with you still in his arms. You wiggled, but Terry held firm. You giggled and finally stopped. “I missed you too, Big Daddy. You got something for me in them pants?” You asked against his neck, rubbing yourself on his body, unashamed at who may be watching.

Your man was home, that was all you were concerned about. 

Terry held you in his arms as he opted for the stairs rather than the elevator. “They have rooftop movies here, babe. Would you be down to go?” You asked. 

Terry didn’t answer, taking the steps quickly. You shrugged. Maybe he was too focused on not dropping you. And with the dress you wore, you couldn’t wrap your legs around him like you wanted. 

Outside, the frigid night air was worse than when you were on the rooftop surrounded by bodies. The unforgiving cold air highlighted just how sweaty you were, making your bones shiver deep down.

Terry’s truck was parked illegally beside the curb. He tucked you inside and closed the door, walked to the other side and climbed in. He blasted the heater for you and put one arm around your headrest to back up safely into the street.

You watched, mesmerized, as his big hands turned the wheel one way and then another, adjusted the gear shift, and then pulled on down the street. This man could read the dictionary or draw stick figures and you’d sit and be attentive as hell. Everything he did turned you on. Absolutely everything.

And this outfit was doing things to you. Awful, terrible things to your body. Making you flush with heat. Making your pussy throb and your panties grow damp. You loved when he wore short sleeves so that he could show off his tattoos. He had a tiny scrawl across his right bicep with your name in cursive. You wanted to lick it.

At a red light, you leaned over the console and did just that. Terry gave you a side eye, his eyelashes so long and thick. 

The ride home was quiet but your tipsy, horny ass was too impatient to notice. You carried the conversation, telling him about things he missed while he was gone teaching. You touched him as you talked. You traced the veins in his arms and the tattoos painted there. You played with his neck and his big ears. And squeezed his thick thigh. Terry endured all of it with barely a sound. 

“Play with me,” you whined.

Terry silently pulled into the underground parking at your apartment building and then turned the car off. Without a word, he hopped out and then held the door open for you and helped you out as well. 

Terry grabbed your hand and yanked you towards the elevators. You giggled at his little caveman routine. Inside the elevator, Terry pulled until your back was against his chest. He gripped onto your waist possessively, alternately squeezing and letting go. 

Your body responded, melting against him while also tensing up from how amazing you felt in his arms. He was here. He was back. You couldn’t help rubbing his arms and hands as he held on. You leaned forward so that you could turn but he tightened his grip on you, holding you in place.

You looked over your shoulder at him but his eyes were trained on the numbers as they climbed higher. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on your floor. Terry pushed you forward, with a quick smack to your booty.

Your hands shot out to cover your ass as you looked back with a giggle. Terry’s eyes were narrowed as a slight smirk played on his lips. 

“Love you,” you said, an edge of nervousness creeping into your tone. He was too quiet. Too focused. 

“You know you fucked up, right?” Terry asked, breaking his silence.

Your mouth dropped open in a cute ‘O’ as you walked with him down the hall. You pointed to yourself and Terry nodded. He kept a firm grip on your waist as he approached your apartment door, taking out his keys to enter. He let you go first and you skipped further away from him.

“Okay, I said some things earlier that I did not mean at all,” you said. You nodded your head but Terry only followed you into the apartment.

You held up your hand as Terry locked up and took off his shoes. You took off yours as well, needing the advantage. After all the dancing you did, your feet hurt something serious. But Terry was not in the mood for a foot rub. 

No, he was deceptively calm as he took off his watch and placed it on a table beside the front door. He emptied his pockets as well and you started to back away, mentally calculating where you could escape to until he calmed down.

That damn gremlin. Always writing checks your ass couldn’t cash. While not sitting right for two weeks sounded good in theory, you wanted a good dickin’ tonight. Not punishment. 

“We can talk about this, right?” You asked. Nervous giggles bubbled from your gut as you took in the stiff slope of his shoulders and the fluid way he moved. 

Terry turned to you and then folded his hands in front of him, one hand clutching the other wrist. 

Your hands turned clammy as you noticed his posture, his tilt, and his electric eyes. His chest rose and fell and your own heartbeat began to rise. Oh, shit. 

You turned and ran, heading towards your closet. “Where you going, baby?” Terry asked after you with a playful lilt in his accent.

You ran, full speed, heading up the stairs. You hit the top of the stairs and nearly toppled over, too excited at reaching the top without getting snatched. You took off down the hall and the bedroom door was cracked, calling to you. 

You reached out your hand to push it open and Terry’s big arms circled your waist and yanked. “Ahh!” You screamed as you were lifted clean off the ground. 

“What happened to all that big girl shit you were talkin’ earlier?” Terry asked, low and deep in your ear. Your pussy throbbed, getting wetter by the second. 

On second thought…

“Time to back up that shit you was talkin’ about,” Terry growled in your ear. 

Terry placed you on your feet but didn’t let you escape. He walked with you into the bedroom, turning on the lamps in the room. The warm lighting was dim enough to remain intimate but bright enough to see everything. 

Your bedroom was tastefully decorated in copper and navy. The walls were dark and so was the furniture, with a deep navy comforter and a copper throw blanket. Terry tossed you onto the bed and you hopped right back up.

“Wait, wait,” you said, the world spinning from your run and the alcohol still coursing through your blood. 

“You gon’ talk like a big girl, you need to take it like a big girl,” Terry said. He pushed you back down onto the bed and you bounced, biting your lip, as you looked up at him. 

You never felt more girly and small than when faced with just how tall Terry was. You were level with his waist as he undid his belt and watched you with a smirk. You mushed your thighs together at the devious look in his eyes. 

“But Big Daddy,” you said, pouting, trying to give him doe eyes so that he would take mercy on you. You reached out to run your hands under his shirt, to lay flat against his stomach. He had a light dusting of hair that tickled your palms.

No such luck. Terry moved away, removing your hands from his stomach. He looped the belt around your wrists and pulled tight, ensuring that you couldn’t move. You tested the bind, twisting your wrists but there was no give.

“I wanna touch you,” you whined. 

“I know,” he said. He pulled you by the belt to stand. Then, he placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. “Just remember I love you.”

“Shit,” you sighed.

Terry grinned as he spun you around and then moved your hair to the side. He positioned you to face the floor length mirror tucked into the corner for just this occasion. You watched the feral look on his face as he kissed and licked on the T tattoo you put on your shoulder for him. 

Your body shivered and you moaned as Terry’s hands trailed along your body. His hands relearned all of your curves, your ass, your waist, and tugged on your nipples through the fabric of your dress. 

You hissed as he pinched harder and harder, rubbing your nipples between his fingers. “Oh, Daddy,” you moaned. 

Terry kissed your shoulder and your neck, randomly licking in areas. You never knew when it was going to happen, but when it did, your clit throbbed with need. 

Terry pulled on the spaghetti straps until it slipped down your shoulders and your arms. You wore no bra underneath and Terry sucked in a gasp when you were fully exposed. He licked his lips and his eyes grew more narrow as he looked and grabbed his fill.

He continued grabbing and twisting your nipples until you were a squirming mess. “Please, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll behave,” you moaned. 

“I don’t believe you, baby,” he said. 

Terry pushed the dress down your body inch by inch. With each new section he uncovered, he kissed and licked and nibbled on your skin. You giggled and squirmed, trying to escape from him but he was too large. Too big. 

He peeled the dress off of your ass revealing your lacy pink panties beneath. Terry hummed and knelt on the floor, twisting your body around. He buried his face in your pussy and inhaled, groaning at the heightened smell of your arousal. 

Your body was on fire, throbbing with need. “Please, baby, please, baby. I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“I still don’t believe you,” he murmured against your pussy. He peeled the dress down your thighs, his thumbs digging into your skin. He nibbled on your thigh and licked away the sting. 

You moaned as he continued dropping your dress to pool at your feet. He helped you step out of it and then he was back to planting his face in between your legs. You giggled. “I need you,” you moaned.

“I need you to behave,” he said.

“You like it when I misbehave though,” you said and poked your bottom lip out. Maybe if you got him talking, he’d abandon this silly plan and fuck your brains out. 

“Alright then, back up that shit you was tellin’ me,” he said. He looked up at you and you sighed at the raw need in his stormy eyes. 

You sank to your knees and pushed at him to stand. Once he did, you had just enough room to get his zipper down. You mirrored what he did earlier, planting your face against his thickening bulge and inhaled his deeply masculine scent. 

You moaned, fighting with his briefs to free that long, girthy dick begging for your attention. Once out of his briefs, his dick bounced against your face. He held the base and slapped your lips with it a few times.

You giggled and then opened your mouth, sucking him down. He groaned and threw his head back. “Shit, like that?” He asked. He slipped from your lips while he went to sit on the bed. You scooted in between his legs and then began licking his shaft.

He groaned and jerked his hips. You sucked his tip back into your mouth, sucking hard and watched as his eyes rolled back. He gripped the back of your head and pushed you down on the full length of him.

You couldn’t fit all of him inside, but damn if you didn’t try. Each slide down, you tried to take more and more of him. His dick tickled the back of your throat but you breathed through the gag reflex, relaxed your throat, and sucked him down how he wanted.

“Good fucking girl,” he groaned. “Missed this nasty mouth.”

He reached out with his free hand to grab and yank at your panties, pulling the thin fabric between your pussy lips. You yelped and squeezed your thighs together. 

You moaned around his dick. He throbbed in your mouth, dick pulsing. You flicked your tongue along the veins on his dick, wishing more than anything that you could do more. Grip him at the base, grip onto his thighs, something. You wanted to touch him so badly, your fingers tingled with it. 

Terry continued to push you onto his dick. He leaned partially back so that he could thrust up from his sitting position. You gagged anyway and spit on his dick. “Fuck, just like that,” he moaned. 

A light ring of gloss encircled his dick and you licked it all up, getting his dick nice and clean. The delicious salt of his cum mixed with the flavored gloss and you moaned at the taste. You watched his heavy balls rest against his thighs. You ached to touch them, play with them, bury your face, and suckle one into your mouth. 

“Gonna bust in this pretty mouth and you’re going to swallow it,” Terry moaned.

You locked eyes with him and nodded. He closed his eyes and thrust a few more times before he jerked and his dick twitched. Hot, pulsing cum filled your mouth and slid down your throat and you sucked it all down, swallowed just like he wanted. 

Terry panted as he slowly withdrew his dick past your lips. He grinned and massaged your jaw and throat. “Okay, baby?” He asked.

You nodded and blinked at him. “Words, beautiful,” he commanded.

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said. His fingers worked out the kinks from taking his dick and you moaned as he found each one. 

“Am I forgiven?” You asked.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “Not yet, I need a better apology,” he said. 

You whined. He tapped your face with his dick and you giggled with him, but kept your mouth shut. He rewarded you with a sultry, hot, deep kiss that made your toes curl. He licked your lips and you moaned, trying to get him to do it again.

Instead, he pulled away and then stood up. His dick was still hard, hot, and jutted away from his body. It bounced with each movement that he made. He helped you stand and then he helped you get on the bed.

He positioned you on your stomach and made you face the mirror. You watched him as he worked. The gleam in his eyes. His tongue slightly poked out from the corner of his mouth. 

“Knees,” he ordered.

You got to your knees on the bed, ass up, face down. He grabbed your hips and moved you until you were in the perfect position to offer your pussy on a silver platter. Terry took off his clothes and your pussy throbbed as his broad chest was revealed.

His body was beautiful. From head to foot. He sculpted his body with care and precision until he was a walking sex god and he was all fucking yours. 

You licked your lips as you watched him. Fully naked, he stepped forward and then rubbed his hands on your ass. 

He tested a few smacks, watching your ass recoil. He analyzed it like the soldier that he was, but each smack grew harder and more erratic. You couldn’t predict where he was going to smack and that fact turned you on more.

From time to time, he’d look up from his handiwork and wink at you in the mirror. He stopped his assault to head to your drawer. Inside, he dug out your favorite vibrator. “This is a punishment. So you are not allowed to cum, understand?” He gripped your chin and forced you to look him in the eye.

“Yes, Daddy,” you said with a nod.

Terry coated the bullet vibrator in lube, turned it on, and then plunged it inside. You moaned, stretching out like a cat. “Repeat after me, baby. I will be a good girl and listen to Daddy,” he said.

“I will be–” He delivered a swift, decisive smack that stung long after the initial hit. You gasped and bowed off of the bed but Terry pushed your lower back down. 

“I don’t hear any talking,” he said. 

You looked at him in the mirror and he grinned like a demon. “How long this lasts depends entirely on you,” he said, his voice low and deep. 

“But–” Another smack stole your breath away and you gasped, trying to fight the pain. The vibrator was no help, throbbing in time with your pussy in response to the spanking. 

“I will be a – unf,” you moaned. Terry rubbed your ass, fresh waves of fire licking down your spine. He gripped the vibrator and fucked you with it. You moaned and you rose up to meet the thrusts. 

Terry pulled the vibrator out and you cried out. “Talk,” he growled. 

Tears gathered in your eyes but you nodded. “I will be a good girl–” you stopped because Terry pushed the vibrator inside. When you stopped, he pulled it back out.

“I will be a good girl and listen to Daddy!” You yelled, not wanting him to stop again. Terry chuckled and kissed both of your ass cheeks, then plunged the vibrator back in. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Terry said.

“I’m sorr-” you began but another smack turned your brain to jelly. You moaned and collapsed on to the bed, the sensations too much for you to bear. 

Terry roughly readjusted you. “If I have to move you again, you won’t cum at all,” he said. 

You sniffled as tears fell freely down your cheeks. You wanted to cum so badly, you were ready to beg. Until your knees were raw, your voice hoarse, and snot ran down your face. Your belly tightened with the urge but Terry was right there to pull the vibrator out. 

“Baby, please!” You begged. 

Terry answered with a smack to your ass, loud enough to echo in the room. Your body threatened to collapse but you wanted to cum more than anything at the moment. You tucked your knees further together and then wiped your eyes on your arm.

“I’m sorry, Daddy!” You yelled. 

“I won’t play when you’re gone. I’ll behave,” Terry said.

“I won’t play when you’re gone. I’ll behave,” you repeated, even as he delivered smacks. Your ass was on fire and your pussy leaked with your essence. Your nails dug into the comforter, gripping it as if it was the sole thing keeping your sanity intact. 

You shivered with the overwhelming need to cum. “Please, please, please,” you begged, nearly at your limit. 

“When Daddy tells me not to wear something, I’ll listen,” Terry said.

“When Daddy–” you said and cried out when Terry started fucking you with the vibrator. Your thighs twitched and jerked. 

Terry kissed your sweaty skin, nibbled on your ass. “Please, baby, I can’t no more. I can’t do it no more, baby, I can’t! Let me cum, please, let me cum.” You didn’t even know what the hell you were saying anymore. 

Terry removed the vibrator and you sighed, rubbing your forehead on the comforter. Cold air caressed your skin as Terry stepped away. You closed your eyes briefly, loving the reprieve. 

Terry entered you from behind in one rough thrust. You cried out with a moan, trying to escape. Terry grabbed your hips and slammed you back down on his dick. He grabbed your neck and pushed your face into the mattress. You were barely able to keep an eye on him in the mirror.

You gasped and panted, the delicious stretch of him competing with the slight burn of the unexpected rough thrust. “When. Daddy. Tells. Me. Not. To. Wear. Something. I’ll. Listen,” Terry punctuated every word with a sharp thrust that made you see stars. 

You fought, hard, with your body to not cum unless he said so. With his fingers wrapped around your neck, he had full control in this position. He moved your neck so that you could look at him in the mirror better. 

“When Daddy tells me not to wear something, I’ll listen,” you sniffled. Fuck, you weren’t going to last. Not at all. It was a miracle you lasted this long. 

He was so thick, pushing up and into you. He dug you out, nearly touching your guts as he delivered long, deep strokes. His hips rolled into you, making you feel every inch of him. 

“I won’t tease Daddy when he’s away on an assignment,” Terry said, his voice rumbling in his chest. Sweat poured off of him and dripped onto your back. His moans were low, eyes crinkled in the corner. His jaw was slightly slack, juicy bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“I won’t te-te-,” you stuttered, your body giving in to the pleasure. Terry stopped stroking until you calmed down, the orgasm retreating from the edge. 

“Start over,” he said, his voice soft for once. 

“I won’t tease D-D,” you stuttered again. You were ready to combust. 

“I won’t go until you do,” he said. “You might wanna hurry up though, it’s almost midnight,” he said. 

You whined and groaned in frustration. This was such bullshit! But fuck, your brain was pleasantly numb. You were Terry’s plaything at the moment and this was the only place you belonged. Naked and at his mercy.

“I won’t tease Daddy when he’s away on assignment,” you whispered. Took you a few tries, but you did so without stuttering or stopping. 

“I won’t use Daddy’s real name unless it’s necessary,” he said.

“I won’t use Daddy’s real name unless it’s necessary,” you whispered. You could only hold on for so long. Your orgasm twisted your belly painfully, rising closer to the surface with each deep stroke of Terry’s dick. 

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” he said. He moaned as he seemed to sink deeper. Hit a new depth inside that unleashed an entire galaxy behind your eyelids. 

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you moaned. 

“I won’t do it again,” Terry said.

“I won’t do it again,” you said. 

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Terry counted for you because you were too far gone to say anything else. When he got to one, the clock struck twelve and Terry moved his fingers between your legs and rubbed your aching clit. 

Your orgasm split you open, atom by atom until you were able to take a peek at your soul. Written in the seams was Terry’s full government name and military rank. In every lifetime, every reincarnation, it was just the two of you. Forever and ever as long as there was life in the universe and all of creation.

Fireworks boomed and whistled outside your apartment as the world went crazy for the near year. Light flashed behind your closed eyelids. Terry’s grunts and moans faded to the background as your orgasm seemed endless. Boundless. You were beyond this room, this block, this city, this country. You were beyond. 

Terry stroked once more before he exploded inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum. “Fuckin’ love you, baby. You’re so good for me. You did so well. I’m so proud of you,” he moaned. He kissed your neck, your back, your shoulder, and your tattoo as his dick throbbed and throbbed.

“Happy New Year’s, Big Daddy.”

“Happy New Year’s, baby,” he said and kissed your forehead.

Happy 2025!!!! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

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@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[iamzer0]

May you please do yandere platonic season 2 squid game reader with 13 year old reader who wants to stay

Hi can do!

Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ Pʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ Sǫᴜɪᴅ Gᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ Tᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

(MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS)

You had managed to get yourself into the games, congratulations..! I guess..

You tried to blend in but you stuck out like a sore thumb.

So many people had questions especially this guy named Gi-hun.

For some odd reason he was very insistent on you leaving.

You just couldn’t understand why, all you were gonna do was play some silly games for some cash.

How dangerous can that be?

During the first game red light green light, you knew you had this in the bag.

That was until the first shot was fired, your entire body froze. Even with Gi-hun screaming instructions you were still frozen.

Even when people began to start moving again you stood there frozen.

Tears are down your face, you were terrified.

Then someone grabbed your shoulder, it was this lady with a lip ring(player380).

She guided you along the field.

You had 30 seconds left, the people that were at the finish line screamed words of encouragement towards you.

It was strange to have so many people cheering you on all at once.

You crossed the line finally, and collapsed into player 380’s arms.

After the game you sat on the floor, ignoring the sympathetic looks from others.

You sat there thinking on what to do.

Thats when player 388 came and sat with you, he introduced himself and his friends to you.

“Are you ok..?” Gi-hun asked in a tone that could only be described as pity.

“Yea.. I think” you said quietly.

That’s when armed guards came in, they told y’all about the voting system and how you could vote to stay in the game or not.

Everyone placed their votes when it was your turn the room became eerily silent.

You could feel everyone’s eyes staring at you. Your hand hovered over the X button but then you thought about it.

About your parents and their struggle, you thought about all the loans they had to take out just to keep you in school.

You hesitated before pushing the O button.

You heard a collection of gasps and cheers.

You slowly walked towards the O side avoiding Gi-Huns look of disbelief.

You were met with pats on the back and words of support.

Then in a flash you were pulled to the side by some purpled haired guy(thanos) he did his whole introduction.

You thought he was insane, he looked cracked out.

But every time you tried leaving he would pull you back.

He looked at you as if you were an artifact that needed safe keeping.

Fortunately you pulled away by dae-ho(388).

That was when you met player 001(frontman) he stared at you intensely studying you.

They questioned you on why you chose O but you didn’t feel like explaining yourself.

From then on you had multiple people trying to convince you to join their side. They wanted you to quit the game.

You protested you wanted to stay in, but no matter what you said they never let up.

You started to not like the people you were stuck with.

Part of the reason was they treated you like a baby, some of them even coddled you.

It was nice a first, people gave you some of their food, they lended their protection to you.

But in the end it became much more annoying rather than loving.

Around the second game is when things got really bad.

People all around you offering for you to join their team, you walked around until you got pulled onto Thanos team.

You were in charge or spinning top and all though you were good you could barely focus with all the people yelling.

You managed but not before yelling some very unkind words.

After the games you had people practically swarming you, you wanted to cry and throw up all at the same time.

Then a miracle happened, player 001 pulled you out of the crowd.

Yelling at them all while holding you close to himself.

He held you close for a while, it got kinda awkward after the first 20 minutes.

It was a very overwhelming experience being in the game, along with the killing games, people were starting to seriously scare you.

I mean they were having full on arguments over you. It was kinda insane.

Even the guards treated you differently, they gave you the occasional head pat after a game, they slipped you extra food, and no matter what time it was they always let you use the restroom.

It was nice to have so many people care about you but care becomes smothering after a while.

You started becoming the apple of everyone’s eye, everyone was just so 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜.

A/n: I hoped you liked this one, I love u all so much bye bye✌︎('ω')✌︎

[reilemon]

♥︎Amore Immortale♥︎ Ch. 1

Chapter Title ♥︎ Down The Rabbit Hole ♥︎ ch.2 𓂂 ch.3

♡︎ synopsis: A simple foraging trip takes an unexpected turn when you wake up in a mansion hidden deep in the forest. Now four captivating men are nursing you back to health, but their intentions—and identities—are a mystery.

♡︎ pairing: vampire!Xavier, vampire!Zayne, vampire!Rafayel, vampire!Sylus x fem!reader (separately and together)

♡︎ cw: depictions of head injury and fever

♡︎ tags: vampire au, slow burn (-ish), eventual romance, eventual smut, eventual polyamory

♡︎ word count: 4.3k

♡︎ a/n: the first chapter of the sixth and final story for kinktober 2024. I wanted to finish off kinktober with a gang bang, but I got carried away and now this is going to be a multi chapter story. I hope you'll like this one.

♡︎ Thanks to my dearest friend and beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

"Poor little bunny." The blue eyed man coos as he find the source of the sudden loud noise - you. The clumsy human probably slipped and fell when the sky opened and heavy rainfall started. He carefully scoops you in his arms, with your head resting on his shoulder.

A small whine barely hits his ears and he catches the moment you briefly gain consciousness. He softly chuckles when he hears your silly question before passing out again. He ignores how a little of your blood is mixing with the rain on the fabric of his coat and starts walking away.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your eyes flutter open, heavy and bleary. You adjust slowly to the dimness around you, the fireplace in front of your bed the only source of light. The ceiling looms high - a ceiling you don’t recognize. The walls are covered in wallpaper, worn and peeling in places. You don’t recognize that wallpaper either. The royal purple catches the dim firelight, a color you could never possibly afford.

You shift against the bed beneath you, the silk sheets cool and smooth against your skin. Over you is a heavy wool blanket, its weight like a comforting presence. A low groan escapes your lips as you rise and rest on your elbow. The room is beautiful, with expensive furniture, but there is this dormant energy to it.

You glance at the thick velvet curtains covering the window. The sliver peeking in the corner shows you a glimpse of the outside world. It’s nighttime, the downpour relentless, drops thrumming against the glass.  

‘The rain!’

You sit up abruptly, a sharp pang of pain zapping through your skull, making you wince and press your fingers to your temple. Your fingers try to rub the pain away as you lean on your other arm to rest. Right, the rain. After closing up the bookstore, you've gone to the forest to search for some mushrooms and sweet chestnuts. A hearty dinner and sweet dessert would be a great start of your two week long vacation. The last visitor commented how their elbow hurt which meant a thunderstorm is coming. You politely smiled and packed up their books. You should've listened to their elbow.

Now, staring around this unfamiliar room, unease twists in your stomach.

‘Where the hell am I?’

Right on cue, the door creaks open, and a tall, raven haired man steps into the room. He pauses in the doorway as his eyes meet yours.

“Hello,” he says, his voice smooth and deep. “How are you feeling?”

You swallow, his presence suddenly making you aware of the mess you must look. Embarrassment prickles your skin, and you rub your temple, trying to compose yourself, only to see his brows knit with concern.

“Um, I’ve been better,” you manage, forcing a chuckle. The grogginess in your voice doesn’t help the embarrassment. You smooth a hand over the blanket, feeling a little exposed. “Why am I here?”

“My friend found you,” he explains, “Out in the forest, just before the storm. You most likely slipped on the mud and hit your head.”

He nods towards your forehead, then reaches for a small, gold hand-mirror resting on the bedside table. The antique metal glints softly as he holds it, and you take it with a hesitant hand. As you lift it to inspect your reflection, you catch a small bruise just above your brow, the skin tender and slightly swollen. Considering the circumstances, you think, it could’ve been much worse.

The man, whose name you still haven’t learned, clears his throat. “I was the one who changed you into dry clothes,” he shifts in his seat, averting his gaze briefly before meeting your eyes again. “For that, I apologize. I wouldn’t have done it if there were any other choice.”

You shake your head with a small, reassuring smile. “It’s fine, really. If you hadn’t, I’d probably be shivering with pneumonia right now.”

His expression softens with relief. “I’m glad you understand. I would still like to listen to your lungs, Would you be comfortable with me examining you?” then he adds, “I’ve been in the medical field for quite some time, I assure you.”

Something about his demeanor, calm and controlled, makes him look trustworthy. And considering how thoroughly he must have tended to you—removing every speck of mud, leaving you dry and warm in a comfortable bed—it’s clear he has your wellbeing in mind. You nod. “Of course.”

He gives a curt nod and shifts closer to the bed. “You don’t need to do much, just sit as comfortably as you can,” he murmurs, the calm, low timbre of his voice steadies you. The shirt you wear—a loose button-up clearly meant for a man—hangs loosely over your shoulders, open at the collar. Suddenly, you feel the pulse of your own heartbeat, wondering if he might hear it already. His hand moves lightly over the fabric, as he leans closer, and then he places his ear gently against your chest, just above your heart.

The moment feels both entirely professional and so intimate. You tell yourself that this is completely normal, this is the usual routine. But he is not your doctor, and you can’t shun the butterflies you feel from having a handsome stranger resting his head on your chest. His hair, thick and dark, grazes your collarbone as he listens, his breath warm against your skin. Your heartbeat, which you’re certain must be thudding wildly beneath his ear, betrays you, a deep flush creeping up your cheeks as you try to steady yourself.

“Breathe in deeply for me,” his voice a soft murmur, his cheek brushing against you.

You comply, feeling his presence with every rise and fall of your chest. When he shifts, his head moves closer to your collarbone, the tickling brush of his hair sending a wave of goosebumps along your chest. You’re conscious of every small movement, every slight intake of his breath.

He shifts back a little, his hand grazing your shoulder as he adjusts to press his ear against your back. “One more time,” his tone is still composed, though you’re unsure if you catch a hint of restraint.

You breathe in, slowly, deeply, feeling the warmth of his palm on your shoulder. He holds still for a moment longer, listening intently. Then, he slowly pulls back, settling into his seat with a neutral expression.

“You do have a small fever,” he calmly states. “Although, there are no signs of anything serious.” He offers a faint, almost apologetic smile. “You should lie back down and rest.”

Your cheeks are warm, and not just from the fever. You nod and do as you’re told, sinking under the comforting weight of the blanket. The man briefly explains that you were unconscious for around two hours, and that your clothes are being washed.

You nod again, processing the details. “Thank you… that’s all very considerate of you.”

He offers you a faint smile. “It’s the least we could do.”

He rises from his seat and steps toward the door, his hand resting on the brass knob. “I need to check on my friend in the kitchen. There may be a fire to manage. And I’ll bring you some herbal tea.”

You chuckle. “Well, thank you, Dr…?”

A flicker of amusement lights his eyes as he opens the door, pausing for a moment. “Just call me Zayne.”

You tell him your name in return, and with that, he’s gone with the soft click of the door.

After Zayne leaves, the room slips into an almost eerie quiet. You prop yourself up against the plush pillows, trying to get comfortable despite the persistent ache in your muscles and the dull throb in your head. The room feels larger now that you’re alone. Every detail catches your attention—the thick velvet drapes, the intricate patterns on the worn wallpaper, the faint smell of stale air. You’d get up to investigate the room or try to figure out more about where exactly you are, but your body protests with every small movement. So you have to settle for gazing around the space instead, picking out details you hadn’t noticed before. The furniture is old but well-kept, the kind that belongs in a property far grander than any home you’ve ever been in. This place—it’s not like the humble cottages back in your village. No, this is different. Larger. More isolated. Somewhere far from the familiar streets you walk every day.

A shiver crawls down your spine at the thought of how far away you could be from your home. You’ve never ventured beyond the edge of the forest. You’ve heard stories about the other side. It was always whispered between older folk who’d lived through enough strange events to keep their superstitions alive. Vampires, werewolves, creatures of the night. They’d mention them, always in passing, as though acknowledging them would draw something out of the shadows.

At first, you’d dismissed it. What else could it be but old folklore? Some scary tales to spice up their lives, stories passed down from generation to generation. Something for them to talk about when the nights grew long and dark, to keep the children from misbehaving. Those creatures don’t exist. You were certain of that.

Or, at least, you had been.

You replay the events in your mind, trying to make sense of it all. Zayne said that his friend found you unconscious in the woods. They’d brought you here, tended to your injuries, and kept you warm. His behavior had been nothing but kind, gentlemanly even.

But then, why does your skin prickle as you think of him?

What if he is one of them? The pale complexion, the unnerving quiet, the way he’d moved with such elegant grace. And those eyes... there was something about the way he looked at you. Your pulse quickens. You try to reason with yourself—if this man, Zayne, were a vampire, wouldn’t he have done something by now? You were unconscious and vulnerable. He could have easily taken advantage of that moment, but he hadn’t. He’d taken care of you.

But what if... what if this is all part of some darker plan? You swallow hard, trying to silence the growing paranoia. What if they want to keep you here? What if, right now, they’re simply playing a long game, to coax you to be their little blood doll—

‘Stop.’ You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to calm your spiraling thoughts. There’s no proof, no reason to believe that Zayne—or anyone else—is anything other than a human.

You glance toward the window. Your body feels like lead at the moment, but tomorrow you will probably be well enough to leave. The storm can’t go on forever.

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

"Come in," you manage, your voice wavering just a little.

Zayne steps in, balancing a tray of a delicate ceramic tea set. The gentle clink of porcelain against porcelain brings comfort to your senses. Behind him, another figure slips into the room—a man with handsome, soft features. His tousled, blonde-gray hair looks like it would be soft to the touch. And his eyes, though shadowed by the dim lighting, have a dreamy quality, like someone lost in thought.

A faint smell of something burnt drifts into the room, cutting through the soothing scent of the herbal tea. You can’t help but frown a bit at the scent, but neither man acknowledges it. Zayne places the tray on the small bedside table, the teapot steaming. The air feels warmer now, not just from the tea.

The second man steps forward, offering you a polite nod, “Hello.” he says, his voice silky and mellow. “I’m Xavier, the one who found you.”

His soft smile makes your heart stir. It takes you a beat to find your voice to introduce yourself.

“Thank you… for, well, rescuing me,” you say with a shy smile.

Xavier gives a gentle shake of his head, his smile widening. “Why were you so deep into the forest with a storm on the way?” he asks, his tone feels almost like teasing.

You chuckle nervously as you feel the faintest flush of embarrassment creep up your cheeks. “I – Well, I wanted to gather some things for dinner,” you admit. “It’s my first real break from work, and I may have gotten a little too excited.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, as if he’s trying to fully take you in.

“You’re lucky he was done fishing at the time.” Zayne adds as he hands you a cup of tea. His fingers brush lightly against yours as you accept it, deepening the flush on your cheeks. You are lucky to be here. Even though you’re sitting in a room with two men who are strangers, they still have cared for you with such tenderness. You could feel their warmth in every gesture, in every word. It’s hard to hold onto fear when faced with such care. Even now, you can feel yourself relaxing, the tension in your shoulders unwinding.

You take a sip of tea slowly, trying to mask the strange tide of emotions flooding through you. You had been so afraid, so convinced of something dark lurking beneath the surface. But now, in this quiet moment, with the warm tea in your hands and their watchful eyes on you, you feel strangely safe.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The clock on the mantel ticks softly, the brass hands showing it’s almost 1 a.m. The fire burns low, casting a warm, flickering glow over the room. Your eyelids feel heavy now, the weight of exhaustion settling deep in your bones. You turn onto your side, pulling the duvet tighter, forming a cocoon around you. The warmth, the softness—everything lulls you closer to sleep. But your mind drifts, recalling the conversation with Xavier after he’d brought you dinner.

He’d placed the bed tray gently over your lap, making sure everything was within reach. Before he turned to leave, the sound of your voice stopped him.

“Did you manage to catch anything?” you asked, your voice quiet but curious.

Xavier had looked confused for a moment, then his face lit up with a soft smile. “I did. Fried a few, but Zayne didn’t let me serve it to you.” He chuckled. “Said he didn’t want you choking on a bone.”

You laughed too, the sound easing the leftover tension you’ve been holding. That explained the faint burnt smell that had lingered earlier, and why Zayne had to rush to the kitchen.

“And don’t worry,” he added. “I brought back your basket too. Everything’s intact.”

You were about to thank him, but then an image flashed in your mind—a fleeting memory of him, his hair wet and clinging to his face. The moment felt so vivid, so real, that it stopped you mid-thought. You stared at him, squinting slightly.

“What’s wrong?” His voice softened with concern, his brows furrowing.

You shook your head quickly, flustered for being caught staring. “Nothing… it’s just—did I say something to you?  When you found me?”

Xavier hesitated, his lips twitching as though trying to suppress a grin. He glanced to the side, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, but his eyes gave him away. “Oh no…” you said, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. “Was it something embarrassing?”

“No,” he replied, though the gleam in his eye said otherwise. “It was cute.” He paused, then looked back to you, “You opened your eyes for a moment, and asked me, ‘Are you my prince?’ Then you passed out again.”

Your heart practically leapt into your throat, your face instantly flushing. “Oh, that’s definitely embarrassing,” you groaned.

Xavier laughed then, his voice soothing. “Don’t worry, I’ve been called worse.”

And just as you wished for the shadows to come alive and swallow you, Zayne entered, saving you from further humiliation. He brought you a bowl filled with ice and a cloth. You thanked both of them, adding that you planned to leave in the morning.

Their faces changed for a heartbeat when you said that, though you didn’t miss it. It wasn’t worry exactly, more like hesitation, as though they weren’t entirely convinced you would be gone by morning. Or perhaps… that they didn’t want you to be.

That thought lingered now, swirling in your mind as your body sank deeper into the mattress. Their kindness, their calmness—they made you feel safe, soothed the fears that had gripped you earlier. Yet, there was something unspoken between the three of you.

A sigh escapes your lips. You can feel sleep creeping over you, warm and heavy, pulling you under. The memory of Xavier’s reassuring smile and Zayne’s attentive gaze lingers in your mind, their faces blurring at the edges as your thoughts dissolve into a haze.

They are both so kind. And so handsome.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

A low whine escapes your lips before you even open your eyes. The ache in your body is heavy and relentless. Every muscle protests as you shift, but you force your eyelids open. The room is warm, the fire crackling faintly in the hearth. Someone must’ve light it while you were still asleep.

‘I said I’d leave in the morning.’ You glance over at the clock—it’s 11 a.m. That’s not really morning, but it is time for you to leave. If only you felt better.

You wince as you slowly, painfully, push yourself out of bed. Your legs feel weak, your body sluggish, like you’re moving through water. Every movement sends a wave of soreness through your bones, but you grit your teeth and push through. You don’t want to linger here any longer than you have to.

Grumbling under your breath, you stagger toward the door, your feet barely shuffling across the hardwood. You’re still dressed in the warm clothes Zayne gave you, though they feel a little too big now. You’ll just ask for your things and be on your way. You’ll return their clothes once you fully recover.

Goosebumps spread all over your skin as you open the door, the chill air of the hallway shocking your senses. It is completely quiet, only the soft creak of the floorboards under your slippers breaking the silence. More doors sit along the hallway, likely bedrooms as well. You glance at them briefly, but you step towards the staircase ahead. The polished mahogany wood gleams faintly, and you internally groan at the thought of making it down the steps in your current state.

You’re about to take your first step when—

“Hey!”

The voice comes out of nowhere, stopping you in your tracks. You freeze, your heart jumping in your chest as footsteps echo from above, growing louder as they approach. Turning, you find yourself face-to-face with a man descending the stairs. He’s tall and moves with an almost feline grace. His hair is gorgeous - messy curls of muted violet and his eyes, an unusual blend of blue and pink, are sharp and full of curiosity. His plump lips are pulled in an amused smirk.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is teasing, though there’s a touch of disapproval in it. His arms cross over his chest, as he takes in your disheveled state.

You blink at him, still trying to shake off the fog in your head. “I - I need to leave.”

He narrows his eyes, looking you up and down. “You should stay in bed,” he says firmly, stepping closer. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”

He is right, you do feel like you’re about to collapse, yet you can’t help but notice how striking he is. His hair, his eyes, even the way he moves—it’s all captivating. But you force those thoughts away, shaking your head slightly. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

He uncrosses his arms, offering a small smile that’s both charming and a little smug. “Oh, right. I’m Rafayel.” His voice dips slightly, your name falling from his lips. “I’m staying here too. Zayne told me what happened.”

You blink again, taken aback by how easily he says your name. You hadn’t expected to meet another guest in the house. “Rafayel,” you repeat.

He nods, brushing a hand through his unruly curls. “Yeah. I took care of your clothes. They’re drying in my room,” he adds. “It’s still raining, though, so they might take a while.”

At his words, you pause and listen. Sure enough, you hear the soft, steady patter of rain against the windows. You’d been so focused on leaving that you hadn’t even thought to check the weather. ‘Of course it’s still raining.’ You sigh inwardly, frustration and weariness settling in your chest.

“What about Zayne and Xavier?” you ask, hoping to at least get some help from them.

Rafayel smirks, shaking his head. “They’re sleeping.”

You frown. “Sleeping?”

“Yup,” he says with a shrug, almost dismissive.

Your mind races. You know why you are up so late, but why are they still sleeping. Your mind is about to wander to that corner again, but you stop yourself. ‘They must’ve been exhausted from taking care of an injured stranger.’

Still, the unease lingers. Rafayel’s gaze flickers over you, his eyes softening slightly as if sensing your discomfort. “Look,” he says, his voice gentler now, “you really don’t look like you’re in any shape to leave. Why don’t you rest a bit longer?”

You hesitate, your body aching with every breath, the fatigue weighing you down with each second. He’s right. You’re not ready to leave yet.

Rafayel’s eyes hold yours for a moment. “You’re safe here,” he adds softly.

Just as Rafayel is about to steer you back toward the bedroom, another voice cuts through the air, deep and teasing, with a velvety edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Is that the lost kitten?”

You look down the stairs, and there he is. The man who appears next makes the very air around you seem heavier. He’s taller than the other men, with strikingly sharp features. His white hair is tousled yet elegant, and his eyes - a deep, mesmerizing wine-red, lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter.

Before you can even react, the man is standing right in front of you, his height towering over you. You can’t help but gawk, unable to stop yourself from tracing every detail of his sharp jawline, the way his lower lip looks so plump and soft.

Rafayel’s voice, sharp with annoyance, snaps you out of the trance. “You know her name, Sylus.”

But Sylus just smirks. He takes your hand, his fingers long and strong, enveloping yours completely. Your breath catches in your throat as the warmth from his touch sends heat rippling through your body. His hand is so much larger than yours, making you feel almost fragile in his grip.

“My name is Sylus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Your name drips from his lips, and he bends forward and presses a tender kiss to the back of your hand. The sensation of his cool lips against your flushed skin sends tingles across your arm. You can’t help but blush under the attention.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rafayel roll his eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “You’re shameless.” he mutters, though there’s a playful lilt to his voice.

Sylus simply laughs, a low, rich sound, before releasing your hand. With a light touch on your back, Rafayel guides you back toward the bedroom, his hand steady and firm against you. Sylus trails behind, watching with an amused expression.

When you’re back in the bedroom, Rafayel’s hands gently but insistently push you down by the shoulders, guiding you to sit back on the edge of the bed. “Seriously,” you protest, exasperated, “I feel better already! I don’t want to be a burden.”

Sylus leans lazily against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a smirk dancing on his lips as he watches the scene unfold. "You look much too cute to be any kind of burden, kitten," he says, his eyes fixed on you.

Before you can say anything else, Rafayel presses you back into the blankets, his firm but gentle insistence impossible to resist. As you sink back into the bed, Sylus pushes off from the door and approaches with an almost predatory grace. The teasing glint in his eyes fades slightly as he crouches beside the bed, his expression softening as his hand reaches out to press against your forehead. His touch is cool—no wonder, since the rest of the mansion is freezing—and the sensation sends a refreshing chill through your heated skin.

“You still have a fever.” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly against your temple.

Rafayel shakes his head, giving you a disapproving look. “See? You’re in no condition to leave. I’ll prepare you tea and breakfast.”

Your protests die on your lips as Sylus pulls away, his touch lingering on your skin. Both men turn around and leave before you can say anything else.

The door shuts softly behind them, leaving you alone once again. You sink deeper into the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. Your thoughts swirl, still caught in the lingering effect of their presence. You turn on your side, facing the window, staring at the thick velvet curtains that block out the view of raindrops racing down the tall windows. As much as you want to leave, as much as you should leave, you know your body isn’t ready. The fever might not be severe, but it’s enough to weaken you. Slipping away now—especially into the woods with no clear path—feels like a death wish.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips. For now, the best option is to rest and regain your strength. You can’t deny how safe their presence makes you feel, even if you don’t fully understand why. Something about them pulls you in, something more than just their looks.

You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion pull you under.

[miley1442111]

(part 1) before his choice- a.donaldson

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

this is like the prelude to the other stuff but i get that it's confusing that it's coming out later- i didn't think i'd turn this into a series so i didn't exactly have a plan, sorry :)

this is 18+, mdni plssss

summary: how it was before art ruined your relationship

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: smuttttt, 18+, piv using protection (don't be silly, wrap it), oral (f receiving), cute couple moments

(i think that's it but pls tell me if i forgot anything:)

Part 1 of 12

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“There goes Stanford’s favourite couple!” Megan rolled her eyes playfully. Art had his arms draped around your shoulders as you walked around campus as the sun set. Art chuckled and flipped her off, smirking as you laughed. Megan had been your roommate in your first year and you’d been best friends ever since.

You and Art were Stanford’s favourite couple. You were tennis prodigies, both extremely talented and both of you were friends with basically everyone. Everyone was always rooting for the two of you, apparently there was a fan page dedicated to your relationship. 

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“How was practice with Tash?” He asked, his arms circling your waist as you leant against the wall, waiting in line in the canteen. 

“Fine, she’s getting better,” You shrugged. Tashi had never been able to beat you, but she was getting better.

“She’s not going to beat you,” He smirked, pressing kisses against your cheeks.

“She’s really good!” You giggled, feeling his hands squeeze your waist harder. “I wouldn’t mind, maybe then she wouldn’t hate me.”

“Tashi doesn’t hate you,” he shook his head. He knew it was a semi-lie, Tashi didn't like loosing. You were the only person capable of making her loose.

“She doesn’t like me Art, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you sighed. “Anyway, enough tennis, what are we doing tonight?”

Art smirked. “We have that party-”

You groaned. Art always wanted to go out, then leave early. In your opinion, why not just cut out the middleman and go straight to your dorm? “Art, what is the point?”

“You look hot in dresses,” He shrugged and chuckled as you playfully hit him on the arm. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can dance and hang out with our friends.”

You rolled your eyes at the way he’s pretending it’s a choice. “It’s not like I have a choice, I picked date night last time.” 

“Exactly, so we’re going,” he grinned and you cupped his cheek, kissing him heavily. He was so beautiful, what else were you supposed to do? You pulled away quickly and moved up in the line, beginning to order both your lunches. You drove Art insane sometimes. Your pretty tennis skirts, your sweet lips on his, you. 

He did recognise that his brain was still stuck in the gutter like a teenage boy when it came to sex. He didn’t seem to mind much though. 

He placed his hand on your ass as you ordered for the both of you and he saw how you gulped.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’s head was in the gutter. 

You collected your food and sat at a table together, enjoying the canteen food.

“You’ll wear the red dress, right?” He asked. It was his favourite colour, and the colour of the college that the two of you would be representing. 

“No, Nike sent over something for me to wear, I think it’s purple,” you shrugged. Your partnership with Nike meant at every event you went to, you were representing them. That meant they were often sending you new things. 

“Purple?” He questioned.

“Yeah, like plum-y purple,” you shrugged. 

“Can’t wait,” he winked at you and you kicked him under the table. 

Tonight was going to be a long night. 

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You finished styling your hair as Art walked into your dorm, baby blue shirt and some black formal trousers on, his blonde curls looking particularly beautiful. The dress Nike had sent over was beautiful, Art’s jaw dropped when he saw you. 

You were gorgeous. 

“Hey baby,” You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his stunned cheek. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He stated. You chuckled at him as his hands gripped your waist, making you look at him. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

“You look handsome,” You smiled, smoothing out his collar. “Ready to go?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he decided, lust-filled eyes staring into yours before he pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. 

You kissed back immediately, your hands running through his curls. You probably had a ‘thing’ for his hair. His hands smoothed up the expanse of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. This is what he was, passionate, loving, and a little bit possessive. He radiated heat, his chest against your as he pushed you against the wall, his lips never leaving yours. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips as your hands dipped lower, going directly for his trousers zipper. 

“So are you,” you smiled, kissing him again. His hands found the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor at your feet. You unzipped him then started working on his shirt buttons, both of you forgetting about the party. 

His hands quickly pulled at your bra and underwear, leaving you bare as he stripped himself, thanking his past self for keeping a stock of condoms in your bedside table. He leaned over, quickly grabbing one and opening it with his teeth, sheathing his hard cock as you looked at him under you. He met your glazed eyes, lustfully looking at him, a soft smile on your face. 

You were so beautiful. 

You sank down on him, never quite used to the stretch he provided. “Fuck,” you moaned out. 

His eyes rolled back as you buried him inside of you. His hands gripped your waist, the faint remnants of bruises left from earlier in the week, when he was in this exact position. He pulled your face down to his as you started moving and started kissing up and down your neck between moans. He changed the position slightly, thrusting up into you to reach the gummy spot inside of you that made you scream out for him.

“God,” he groaned. “Fuck… f-fuck.”

You felt so good around him, it was one of his favourite feelings, the absolute euphoria of having your wrapped around him, using him to get yourself off.  

“You’re so good,” you whined breathlessly. “So good.”

Your voice and moans spurred him on, he loved your voice. He loved everything about you. 

“You gonna cum?” He whined, thrusting up into you. You nodded, bouncing on him harder as you began reaching your climax. He felt you tighten around him and he gasped, trying to not cum so quickly. 

“I’m c-cumming,” You groaned in his ear and he was a goner. He cupped your cheek, hap-harzardly kissing you to swallow the scream that was bound to leave his lips. You gripped his hips to still his uncoordinated and subscious thrusts as you both came down from your highs. 

Art still wasn’t done, he needed to taste you. “Let me taste it, please?” He begged, pulling himself out of you. “Please?”

“Art, we’re already late,” you reminded him through your sex-fueled haze. 

“Please, just let me kiss it,” he begged, kissing down your body, his fingers finding your sopping core. You moaned at the contact and nodded, a meek ‘please’ leaving your lips. 

That was all the confirmation Art needed. He latched his lips onto your clit, drawing out moan after moan. His fingers pumped in and out of you slowly, paying special attention to your g-spot. His tongue sucked over your over-sensitive clit and brought you to another two orgasms, not being able to stop himself from humping the bed in his enchanted state. He loved how you tasted, he couldn’t get enough of it, he never wanted to. If he could spend his days between your legs he would. 

After you came for the third time that night, he connected your lips again and smiled at you. “Thank you.”

Your fucked-out face was truly a sight to behold, and he had the pleasure of seeing it whenever he pleased. 

“Come on, we have a party to go to,” He smirked and you whined as he cleaned you up by running three fingers through your soaking core and licking them clean. 

He appreciated the new marks on your neck that he had created as you slowly got up. You dressed yourself in the beautiful dress once again, fixing your hair and makeup, then spraying yourself with some more perfume, attempting to cover the smell of sex. 

As you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he thought about how perfect you were, his hand in yours as he drove you to the party. 

Little did he know that this party would lead to the beginning of the end of your relationship.

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

art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Thinking about playfighting with Rafayel

+ brief sexual content, play fighting, subby rafayel

Your sweet, dramatic friend of a man. Your fights with him normally stay in the verbal arena, where he excels at throwing playful jabs, sassy remarks, the quick teasing nickname, and occasional cocky comment. When he’s smart-mouthed one too many times, oh, that’s when you have to drag him into your arena. It never hurts to teach your Lemurian charge who’s the real boss from time to time.

It never goes far; you think he might be a little too delicate for your full strength. So, you stick to a quick tackle, some torturous tickles, and silly pokes, all in attempts to make his face go a lovely shade of red and hear him beg for mercy. You love when he’d whine your name and plead for forgiveness while the angry pout and glare after would always be the icing on a very much deserved cake.

Sometimes, when he’s in a cheerful mood, he fights back, determined to give you a taste of your own medicine.

It always ends up with you two on the ground in front of his couch. You pin him on his stomach to punish him for defying you, and he tries his best to regain dominance. Even with all his squiggling and wiggling like an octopus out of water, he won’t be able to get you off.

Forcing yourself to lie on top of him and pressing your chest into his back, you ignore his demands for you to let him up, not until he apologizes. Ah, but he never wants to give in right away, and you up your force a little as he tries to flip you over.

Then, there’s a tug.

It’s an accident.

You weren’t entirely paying attention to where your hand was until there’s already wavy purple strands tangled around your fingers and the loud moan that filled the room was already beginning to fade away. It leaves you frozen with Rafayel whose hair is clutched in your hands and whose ears and face are very, very deep red.

This is certainly a first.

“Did you just—” you ask.

“No,” he groans out, but his denial is short lived because you just can’t resist teasing him and seeing that blushing face of his, so obviously, you have to experiment by giving another light tug. It yields the same result: a whine held deep in his throat and the tensing of his legs under you.

“Stop,” he says. “You’re gonna—”

You cut him off with a grunt, already knowing where he was going.

“Turn you on?” You finish for him. “Don't tell me you have a hard on.”

The pout he gives is adorable, his face brightly decorated like a bucket of vermillion paint was dumped on him. He lifts his arm to his face, trying to hide the blush behind his hand, which you take that to mean as a ‘yes’.

“What else do you expect to happen when you do that?” he comments between heavy breathes, and the absolute embarrassment laced in his voice makes a tingle go down your spine as he sputters out lame excuse after excuse – it was reflex, random timing, the rubbing, to try not to get too full of yourself—like he was an inexperienced young man dealing with his first rush of hormones.

All you could hear was your own thoughts whirling faster and faster and the adorably flustered sounds of his voice straining as you repositioned on top of him.

“Round 2,” you whisper then blow against the back of his heated neck, causing him to shudder.

A lightly grumbled “shameless as always,” puffs from behind his trembling hand. But when have you ever led him to believe that you weren’t especially in situations like these?

You squeeze your hand between his stomach and the floor, slowly drawing it down and stopping at his belt. He doesn't fight it, doesn't move even, maybe is silently anticipating this even more than you. Still, you’re not “shameless” enough to not give him a choice in the matter.

“Last chance to tap out, fishie. Apologize,” you warn.

It takes him time to respond, but when he does you can’t resist smirking. He finally asks, “Do you really think I’d give in so easily? Do your worst.”

You nearly laugh. That’s what you thought.

[norikuna]

you've reached norikuna's masterlist / minors dni! compiled jan. '25

𓂅⭒ ִ fics 𓏲 ִֶָ

GOJO SATORU.

she told you that she celibate, she told me i could nail her shit — college!au, friends to lovers, nsfw ᵎᵎ you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

just meet me at the apt! — hookup/strangers!au, sorcerer au! nsfw ᵎᵎ your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

i love you so matcha — fluff, angst, sfw ᵎᵎ green was the color of life, and gojo satoru, in all his contradictions, carried life in the way he loved recklessly, laughed shamelessly, and held you like the universe began and ended with you.

cream soda — rivals to lovers! nsfw ᵎᵎ you've always known that gojo satoru is a real piece of work. arrogant, haughty. definitely has a praise kink for when people always call him 'the strongest.' but you're not even friends anymore, so this isn't any of your business...right? what you didn't know is just how nasty he is, caging you in front of a mirror to lick away blood that he spilled from the veins of another man, one who dared to touch you.

i love you, i'm sorry — ex!reader, angst, suggestive ᵎᵎ gojo was always charming, maddening and impossibly brilliant. a gift and a curse to the world. the love of your life, the loss of your life, the one that got away. you can only sit alone with his cold, lifeless form and wonder where it all went wrong. how do you mourn a star that burned itself out for the sake of the sky?

greedy — age gap, nsfw ᵎᵎ pretty, prodigal, and teasing. how far can you push your former teacher before he snaps? gojo's about this 🤏 close from releasing a hollow purple on the world

ditto — best friend!gojo, angst, fluff, sfw ᵎᵎ brave, lucky, courageous. these are the words that people bestow upon you when the dust has cleared, and the king of curses is no more. you disagree, for if you were lucky, gojo satoru would still be standing at your side. instead you've been left to stare at the ocean shoreline on your own, without your best friend (the love of your life) by your side.

GETO SUGURU.

bed chem — established relationship, nsfw ᵎᵎ ditching your friend's christmas condo party for your scrumptious, needy boyfriend? yes please!

born to die — ex!geto, lovers to enemies, nsfw ᵎᵎ it's been three years since suguru left all you had ever known, crumbling it into the fine dust of the earth. a suspiciously timed mission from gojo leads you right into the arms of the man you swore to kill. well, fuck him right?

RYOMEN SUKUNA.

achilles come down — true form!sukuna, wife!reader, sfw ᵎᵎ you had given the king of curses what he had wanted the most, an heir, borne of the wife that he loves. but for one typically vicious and unshakeable, you wonder why sukuna is left so shaken by how much your daughter takes after him. you wonder at how the vast ribcage of a demon and a cold killer, who can make the sun rise in the west if he so wished, was once the ribcage that held the beating heart of a young boy, with little space for him, or his mother, in this world.

so it goes — wife!reader, nsfw ᵎᵎ newly-wed life is hardly what you expected it to be, its hardly a surprise. after all, how many people find themselves bound to the notorious king of curses? but after a frosty few weeks, sukuna finds the easiest way to win you over is when he's on his knees, and between your thighs.

TOJI FUSHIGURO.

that's so true! — dilf!toji/neighbours!au, nsfw ᵎᵎ you vowed to yourself that you would rock toji fushiguro's world as a new year's resolution. but it's christmas eve already, and the year is almost over. by hook or by crook, you're gonna that gorgeous, buff older man in your bed tonight.

mama, a diva behind you — dilf!toji, sfw ᵎᵎ toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall. or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

CHOSO KAMO.

what? like it's hard? — college!au, sfw. ᵎᵎ you were the glittering prom queen, the crème de la crème of the school's social heirarchy. and yet, choso kamo, the quiet boy with no friends shattered your heart. you wish you could hate him forever but it's hard when he's your partner in med school three years later, and he's hot now.

last friday night — best friends to lovers! nsfw ᵎᵎ it's been seven days since you wobbled into your apartment and almost threw up on your best friend. seven days since you confessed your love to him. seven days of radio silence as you've done your best to shut him out, hoping that the earth swallows you whole. there's no way he's going to want anything to do with you now!

cheri cheri lady — bf!choso, nsfw ᵎᵎ its hard not to be endlessly fond of your sweet boyfriend. he's quiet, unassuming but sweet, oddly so for a half-curse. but god, you want to jump his bones so bad.

NANAMI KENTO.

youngblood — mythos!au, hades&persephone ᵎᵎ tba

note — this masterlist is for all 'proper' fics, and not drabbles or thirsty thoughts. all other works can be found under the tag /daphworks.

[versupital]

p is for p*ssy 🐈‍⬛

JJK HALLOWEEN!! getoxreader

sum it up ❥ suguru is cursed to turn into a cat by nightfall, and you are a lonely witch who takes advantage of his human parts during the day.

CONTENT: shapeshifter!geto, modernau, swan lake adaptation, fluffy, soft, praise kink, virgin!reader, unprotected, creampie, overstim, nudity unrelated to sex

word count. 8k

song inspo 💿: west savannah ft. sza

A/N:

to conclude my beloved Halloween jjk series, i am giving our bby geto the soft love story he deserves. everything about this fic is gentle from the conversations to the smut and so, it may be boring and out of some of your interest range, so i apologize. this is just something i wanted to do. ofc it’s still a little *nasty* just not rough.

The moon kisses your skin as you sink into the small pond in your front yard.

With no neighbors for miles, you're able to do so without clothes, letting your body recharge in moon water, drenching your hair and skin.

Your practices may appear silly, but that is why you live like a recluse, your only friends being the wildlife and the riverbed. No one around to judge you as you splash your bare shoulders in the cool water.

You lean back in the pond, arms balanced on the wet earth around you. You stare up at the stars. Your eyes begin to flutter closed, until you hear rustling.

Not uncommon. Of course there's wild animals all around you, and you usually welcome them. With it being dark though, you have to be a bit more cautious.

You open your eyes and turn, scoping the scenery. At first, you don’t spot anything until you hear rustling again. Your eyes follow the noise, then you see that walking along the bushes near your porch is a fuzzy, black ball. You cannot quite make out what it is until you squint and see bright purple, slitted eyes staring at you.

It's a cat.

You gasp in excitement and pull yourself out of the water. The cat scurries around the corner of your porch and you frown, but you know how you can get it to come back.

In all your bare skin, you bolt inside the house, dripping water, and begin to scour your fridge for the tuna you had very recently made.

The real reason you live so far from society is because you are not quite an ordinary human. You see, any food that you cook heals the person who eats it. You first discovered this when your brother had busted open his head as a child, and you'd made him a sandwich out of sympathy. Hours later there was not so much as a scar in the place he'd been bleeding out of.

And ever since, when your parents weren't looking, you and your brother would beat yourselves up just to test your powers. He remains the only person who knows about them.

With this ability, you figure the stray cat could use a bit of healing. You fix the tuna into a small bowl, a soft shimmer coming from the fish.

You walk back outside, still stark naked. You don't see the cat anymore but you can hear it in the bushes. You squat down and place the bowl on the grass, just under the awning of your wooden porch, and then you back away.

“Here, kitty kitty,” you coo.

Moments later, the skinny cat emerges, glancing up at you to see if you intend harm. You back away farther and soon, it dips its head and begins eating the food.

Within minutes, the patchy fur around its ears begins to fill in, the mats disappear, and the crust around its purple eyes dissolves.

You smile to yourself. You've only had to use your healing technique on yourself in the past years, so you weren’t entirely sure how powerful they still were. This confirms you’re still fully capable.

The cat would go on to disappear, but for the next couple of months, you’d search for it outside, both day and night. It only ever appeared at night, though, and only about twice a week. Sometimes less.

“Why hello, kitty,” you’d say when seeing the cat, and it would regard you with a mew, but it would never quite come close enough to touch.

A week passed, for the first time in months, and there was pure silence. No sign of the cat. You found yourself rocking on a chair on your porch, waiting, and it didn’t come for an entire seven days.

Until a full moon-bathing night.

The cat returns, completely different in appearance and nearly a brand new animal. It's belly is thick with nutrition, ears sharp and full, tail furry and active.

And to your complete surprise, the cat approaches you in the pond.

You jump with surprise, and turn around to face the cat, putting your hand out of the water. It sits down next to the water and watches you intensely.

You don't move for a moment, afraid to scare it off. But after several beats, it nudges your wet hand and you rub your palm across its back.

You jolt with the realization that you have earned its trust.

"Welcome back," you say softly, moving your hand to scritch its chin. "I wish I knew what you were. A boy or girl. So I can name you. Right now, your name is 'here, kitty kitty.'"

The cat's ears twitch as it rolls onto its side and licks its paw.

"Oh well," you shrug. "Kitty will have to do for now. Anyway," you shake your head, realizing you are trying to hold a conversation with a cat. "Where have you been, naughty cat? I was worried about you.”

The issue with you holding a conversation with the cat is that it seems to be listening. It looks up at you with a slow blink and mews.

You smile. “It’s okay. Just missed you, is all.” You take a deep breath. “It’s chilly tonight, kitty. You sure you don’t want to stay with me? I have a warm bed.” You rub your hand along its side and it begins to purr.

Perhaps that is a yes.

It leaves your hand and skips to the porch where it then sprints towards the front door, turning to face you expectantly.

You huff and then pull yourself up out of the water, your body soaked and dripping as you reach for your dry cloth and begin to wrap it around yourself as you walk towards the feline, who is staring at you.

When you make it onto your wooden porch, you smile down at the feline and pull open your storm door, stepping inside as the cat follows.

It glances around, nose twitching, taking in this new and intimidating space.

“I would have made you your own space if I’d known you were coming,” you say, continuing to talk to the cat like it would really respond.

It was much to hope for, but you hadn’t had a conversation with anyone in years.

You lead it off to your bedroom and push open the door.

"I don't mind if you sleep with me," you say kindly, but now it appears that the cat is back to not understanding you, as it goes into the bathroom and looks around - then back to the living room, before ultimately nestling in on your couch.

You sigh as you follow it around with a smile.

"Fine, make yourself at home.” You walk over to scratch the cat on its head. “If you see any mice, feel free to take care of it for me. I will see you in the morning.”

Okay, so maybe you have lost it. A lonely, weird witch who's speaking to animals that cannot understand you. But at least you have a companion now, something to help you be a little less lonely.

Maybe.

You go into your room and change into warm pajamas, then settle into bed that night with a smile on your face. You poor thing, having no idea what you'd gotten yourself into.

The sun peeks through the window the next morning, and gently pulls you out of your sleep.

The first thing on your mind is that you have to feed your new pet. Even though it looks well fed thanks to your magic, it has been a week since you'd seen it last, so you aren’t sure if it has eaten in that time.

You rub your eyes free of sleep and grab a comb in order to gently work the sleep-knots out of your hair. You emerge from your bedroom to head to the kitchen.

Halfway down the hall, you hear snoring and you freeze. Is the little cat really that loud of a sleeper?

You peer around the corner and, you don't see the feline anywhere. But then your eyes travel to the couch, where you’d seen it last.

Your eyes land on very human toes, then they slither up a very bare human calf, then over a bare muscular thigh, and up a bare human chest, until they land on a human face - surrounded by a wild pool of ebony hair.

Your shriek jerks the individual awake.

You take your comb and hold it out in defense, but you know realistically there is no violence in your body.

"Oh, shit," he shouts, scrambling to stand off of the couch and raising his hands. "I-I thought you would sleep a bit longer."

"Who the hell are you?" you shriek, your trembling hand keeping the comb up in defense.

"I'm..." he swallows and looks down, appearing to realize that he is stark naked, but makes no effort to hide himself. "You invited me in," he continues, voice accusing. "Here, kitty kitty. Remember?"

You blink in disbelief. Your eyes trail over his black hair, then his purple eyes, the slits in them now blown to full size. He's not lying. There is no denying the eyes.

"B-But how are you human?" you whisper.

He sighs sadly, dropping his hands. "I have a curse." He scratches his head and you wonder when is the last time he's taken a bath that wasn’t with his own tongue. "I apologize, as I never intended for you to find out."

You think back to your time with the cat. He’d seen you naked a couple of times, for long periods at that. And he’d secretly been a man the whole time. Even though he stood naked in front of you now, as well, you're more embarrassed than you are upset with him.

"It's okay," you say softly, lowering the comb.

He blinks at you in disbelief but his shoulders visibly relax.

"I considered telling you sooner but, I didn’t want to scare you.” He sighs and interlocks his fingers. "But I always wanted to thank you for healing me.”

You nod slowly. "It was my pleasure.” You pause for a moment. "What is your real name?”

"It is Geto," he says.

"Odd name for a cat," you say, teasing. "I'm Y/N."

Geto nods. “Lovely, well, I'm sorry for the intrusion. I'll go now." He turns to leave and your heart stops.

"What?" you blink at him. "N-No, you don't have to do that."

"Well, don't you think I'm some kind of freak?" he questions. "Aren't you upset I didn't reveal the truth sooner?"

"No, and yes," you say softly. "I wish you would have told me because…” because it is a dream come true that you’re a human, you want to say. “Because who am I to judge you?”

Geto clicks his tongue. “People judge all the time even if they have no right to.”

“I am a witch who lives by herself in the woods and talks to animals, for God’s sake,” you throw your hands up. “Clearly, I needed someone real to talk to.”

“I’m sorry,” Geto says, swiping a hand down his face.

You take a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” You lower your hands. “How long will you be human?"

"Only until dusk," Geto explains.

"And this happens, everyday, without fail?" you question, taking a step towards him, trying not to allow your eyes to wander.

"Yes," he says, raising an eyebrow, hands flying up in defense. "Forgive me, but I am naked. I don't think-"

"Do you know how long I've been without companionship, kitty?" you ask, putting your hands on your head. "I enjoyed taking care of you, feeling like I kind of had a pet, anticipating your return. I don’t want you to leave so soon.”

Geto bites his lip, "Really? I... I enjoyed coming to see you, too. Especially on nights you moonbathe."

You quirk your brow. "Is that so?" That much was obvious, as you think about the previous night when he had come and sat next to you while you were in the water.

Geto nods sheepishly, keeping his eyes averted. “So, this means I can... stay with you?"

You nod happily, "Of course. How long have you been out there like this? With no where to go?"

Geto shrugs his shoulders. "My life before getting cursed is pretty fuzzy. The days and nights have blended together.”

“And you are always naked?” you snicker.

Geto chokes a bit and uses his hands to hide that part of himself, which you’d been trying not to look at and failing miserably.

“Um, I wasn’t at first,” he admits, “but my clothes became ripped to shreds and I just accepted defeat. If I am wearing something before nightfall, by morning when I am human again, I will be in the same clothes.”

“Oh, fantastic,” you say with a smile.

Geto opens his mouth to respond, but with a snap of your finger, his body is covered in a black sweater, shorts and warm socks - as you are well aware of your cottage’s autumn chill.

"Clever witch," Geto nods in approval. "Thank you. I don't deserve this kindness."

But he does, you think. A man cursed to be something as small and vulnerable as a cat, forced to defend for himself all this time.

And to top it off, as a person he is gentle and kind. You feel your heart palpitate. You aren’t sure what that could mean.

“You’re welcome,” you say, and gesture towards the kitchen. “I was going to make breakfast. Now that you’re human, would you care for pancakes?”

"I have never had pancakes," Geto admits. "But anything you make is delicious, so I’d love to try some.”

And so, you both end up at your small wooden table - a perfect fit for just the two of you as the sun beams in through the arched windows. You've poured strawberry syrup all over Geto's stack of cakes, and he is devouring them with full cheeks and a bright smile.

"I love pancakes," he mutters out. "Your food gets better every time.”

You nod at him with a smile. "Just wait till I make dinner. I know you will be a cat again, but I think you will enjoy it.”

Geto's eyes roll in pleasure, "I already can't wait."

You know your food has physical healing abilities, but you've never known it to seep deep enough to affect your thoughts and emotions. So, this means the odd twinge in your heart whenever you look at Geto must not be from the food. You wonder if he is feeling the same effect.

"So, have you ever tried to break your curse?" you question, shoving another syrupy mouthful into your cheeks.

"No," Geto mumbles sadly. "I used to sit under the sun for many hours, and then when the sun began to go down I'd close my eyes and try to fight the change. But when I'd open my eyes again, there would always be paws looking back at me. I'm used to it now, I live my life around it.” He sighs before smiling softly at you. “And, well, my curse brought me to you, didn't it?"

You feel your face warm at his kind words. They weren’t helping the fuzziness in your ribcage.

"It did," you confirm with a smile. "Well, I was prepared to give you your own little cat room. The offer still stands, but I don’t think the room will be big enough for you in human form.” You tap your fingers nervously on the table. “So… um, you are welcome to share my bed with-with me.”

Geto gasps a bit and nearly chokes on his bite of pancake. "Hmm, I don’t mind, but are you going to wake me up every morning threatening to hit me with a comb?"

You grin, "No, especially since I think it will be nice to wake up to the warmth of another person every day."

"I think so too," Geto says softly, before attempting another bite only to realize he has cleared his plate. "My, my, little witch. You have spoiled me."

He elbows you playfully and you feel your stupid, lonely heart filling to the brim with some new emotion.

"I do think you could stand a bath before you get in my bed, though," you say with a playful smile.

"Oh, right," Geto nods, pink creeping up on his cheeks. "I will do so right after breakfast."

And he did. You had gone outside to tend to your garden while he washed, to see if your vegetables were ready to be harvested yet. They weren't.

Geto joins you in the same outfit as before but now, there are droplets of water falling off of his deep black hair. He walks under the porch awning to the side where you are waving your sparkling fingers over your crops.

"I feel much better," Geto stretches as if he were still feline and leans on the porch railing, looking down at you. "A good meal, a good shower, and a place to live all in one day."

You look up at him. "Well, after so long in the wilderness, I think you deserve it, kitty."

Geto bows his head in gratitude. "At least let me take care of your garden, to... repay you."

"Why do you need to repay me?" you question, astonished.

"Well, nothing in this life comes for free," Geto mutters somberly. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have this curse."

You shake your head, "Well, I already told you that I desire companionship. You are giving me that, so it isn’t technically free."

Geto swallows. "But what is companionship? Just my presence? Or is it engaging and fulfilling conversations and time spent together?"

"All of the above, it may be different depending on the day," you explain.

Geto ponders for a moment. "So, what is it you would like today?"

You smile at him, the sun beaming in your eyes, while Geto remains shadowed under the awning. "Your presence."

And when dusk fell, like clockwork, Geto was back on all fours; a small, vulnerable ball of fur.

You prepare a quick dinner, which Geto slurps up to the last bite, and then you are ready to go to bed - just because you know that the sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up to be with human Geto again.

You go into your room, preparing for bed, and he follows you this time. You step behind your closet door to change into a silk nightdress and then, you climb into bed, and Geto hops up next to you. You fluff your pillows and blankets to make a little spot for him, and he curls into it before nestling his head into your side.

Your hand mindlessly strokes his fluffy back until he's purring in his sleep, and not long after, you float away with him.

The next morning, something solid digging into your back awakes you from your peaceful dreams.

You blink open your eyes and see that it is grey outside, combined with the soft tip tap of raindrops on your roof. You smile, it's going to be a lazy day indoors.

When you attempt to roll over, you notice Geto's hand is splayed on your stomach. A moment later you realize: his entire arm is wrapped around you. But that's not exactly what's bothering you, it's whatever is digging into you from behind.

You carefully roll over in Geto's arm. When your face aligns with his, you see he's still sound asleep, messy hair covering his cheeks and forehead. His lips are parted as he snores.

The something is now digging into your stomach. You glance down and find the culprit: the large tent in his shorts. You gasp at the sight. Does Geto realize this is happening to him?

Of course you know what sex is, but being outcasted at such a young age, you'd never experienced it. You certainly don’t know how it affects boys. Over the years you'd experimented with your body, though, so you knew how to please yourself. But what would it be like with another person?

You wonder if the case is the same for Geto. There’s only one way to find out.

You shake him awake with a soft press on his shoulder.

His eyelids flutter open, and the first thing he does when he sees you is smile.

"Good morning, beautiful," he grumbles sleepily, hand flying up and off of your body to rub his gorgeous purple eyes.

You smile goofily, and feel the urge to cover your face.

"Hi," you whisper. "How did you sleep?"

Geto yawns, stretching. "I slept better than I have in years. You’re very warm and soft."

You smile harder, heat filling your cheeks. "I cannot say the same for you."

Geto raises a brow. "Am I a rough sleeper?"

"No, I just mean," you bite your lip and shyly point towards his groin.

Geto's eyes follow yours and then his face turns equally as red. "Oh, shit, I-"

"Don't apologize," you say quickly. "In fact, um, I was going to ask if... if you wanted help f-fixing it."

Geto's eyes widen in disbelief. "What do you... I mean, you want to...?”

"Yes." Your answer is quick and desperate.

"Well then," Geto scratches his head and then puts his soft palm on the side of your face. "I said I would be here to offer whatever type of companionship you desired day to day. Today, this is what you really want?"

"Mhmm," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "Do you want to?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I mean, my body kind of already answered for me, hm?”

You giggle, “Kiss me, then.”

Geto nods politely before leaning his face in, softly planting his feathery lips on top of yours. Your eyebrows furrow at the foreign contact. It feels like sparks of electricity are zipping through your veins. Like stars forming together in a constellation. You wonder if this is what soulmates are supposed to feel like.

Geto's lips part your own and his tongue drags slowly across your bottom lip, leading the kiss, as you are clearly the lesser experienced of the two of you.

A small moan falls from your mouth and your eyes pop open in embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you say, pulling away.

"For what?" Geto questions, rubbing your cheek slowly with his thumb.

"I didn't mean to make that noise," you whisper.

"No, it’s okay," Geto explains. "Those noises let me know what I'm doing is good, that you like it. Have you never done this before?"

You shake your head, biting your lip.

"That's okay, I'm here to guide you through it," he nods reassuringly, and then, drops his hand from your face.

He gently pushes on your shoulder and you are now laying flat on your back. He then props himself up on his elbow and slides part of his body between your legs.

"Just follow my lead, and tell me if you want me to stop at any time," he instructs, pushing a piece of your messy morning hair away from your face.

You nod trustingly, and he crashes his lips back onto yours.

This time, he's harsh and desperate. He cocks his head to the side so that your faces fit together and smacks his full lips against yours. Your hands fly up to hold him at his shoulder blades, and his body begins doing a winding motion against yours. You feel his hard length pressing into your stomach with every bit of movement.

You purr softly into his mouth and he responds with his own sultry noise, which alights a flame between your legs. You’ve read about this in books, but no amount of words compared to what it actually feels like, to have another person on top of you.

Geto's hand slides up the side of your left thigh, before stopping to hold your hip underneath the fabric of your nightdress.

His touch and kisses are so soft and pure. He is speaking to you without saying a word.

"Y/N," he mutters against your mouth before breaking away from you. "Is it okay if I take these off?"

His finger tugs the band of your panties and releases it against your skin with a soft pop.

"Yes," you breathe, digging your fingers into the material of his shirt, which earns a deep sigh from his throat.

Not a second more and he's lifting his hips up in order to rip the material down your legs. His eyes linger on them before he tosses them to the floor. You feel yourself become a bit shy, even though he's seen your naked body in full before. It's entirely different when his very human eyes are raking over your body, and his hands are hiking up the nightdress to get a better look at your bare hips and thighs.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen," Geto whispers, pushing your leg up and out, so that you feel the cold air hitting you at the meeting of your thighs.

You blush and slide your hands into his soft hair. “I’m sorry, I’m just shy.”

“Understandably so,” he says, planting a kiss to your jaw. “But remember, I’ve already seen everything. God, it’s so much different to actually touch you.”

You nod and gasp as his hand moves to hover over your cunt, that had been getting wetter by the second.

You can feel the presence of his hand without him even making physical contact, and you nearly buck your hips to break the gap.

“So touch me,” you hum, desperately ready to experience pleasure that wasn’t self-inflicted.

"Okay, eager angel," Geto smiles. "Ready?"

You bite your lip, "What are you going to do?”

He chuckles, "Just getting you warmed up for now, okay? You don’t have to do anything for this part.”

You nod up at him, trusting, and then in another silky breath his fingers come down on your clit - without even searching for it. Your body has no choice but to spasm against his, as his soft fingers begin to slide across your bud like a bow on a violin.

He circles the spot and you cry out instantly, lips still dangerously close to his, but not quite touching. His own lips are parted as he burns his eyes into your face, watching the different ways your pleasure manifests in your features.

"Hngh - Geto," you murmur, your fingers now curling into the roots of his hair.

"Mhmm," Geto sighs back, planting his lips on yours again, this time shoving his wet tongue into your mouth and using it to suck on yours.

You writhe against his touch, unsure how you'd survived this long without this kind of pleasure. It seems Geto had been waiting his entire life to do this, he's so good at it.

You start to roll your hips against his hand and his fingers pick up pace, circling faster, your moans getting louder.

"Pretty girl," Geto praises, after pulling his mouth away from yours. "That feel good?"

You can do nothing but nod desperately, wanting to tell him that the pace he's at right now is perfect, that you feel heat bubbling in your pelvis, but the words won't come.

His fingers are coated in your juice now, he slides them down your folds and back up to your clit, and you almost lose your mind.

Then, his fingers go back down and his long middle finger pushes into your entrance the same way you put your own before. Although, his hand is much larger, and thus his finger fills you so much better.

Your head falls back deeper into the pillows and Geto takes the opportunity to pepper sloppy kisses all over your neck and collar, holding his mouth at times just to make you squirm.

His finger pumps shamelessly in and out of you, going knuckle deep, curling into the squishy roof of your pussy. You feel your hips pulling back from him but he follows you with his wrist.

“Just relax,” he purrs. “Let me make you feel good, repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

You nod obediently and allow your wet inner muscles to relax around him, and he notices, giving you a warm “that’s it” in your ear.

“T-Thank you,” you rasp, pulling his head to your face by his hair.

Your noses touch as you share breath, his hips dry-grinding into yours as his finger harasses your cunt. His pace quickens then slows. He takes note of the way you get louder and nearly burst into tears when he pushes a second finger inside, and begins slamming both members in, his palm hitting your wet clit with each stroke.

“Oh, angel,” Geto coos, “can already tell you’re gonna gonna do so good for me. Huh? Aren’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you hiss. “I-I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good to hear,” he rasps against your mouth before giving you a needy kiss.

He repeats his quick, deep pumping with his wrist until an unholy wave rumbles through your nerves and your body shakes against him - moaning wildly into his mouth. The rain on the roof begins to fall harder and nearly drowns out your noise.

“Ah - ah, shit,” you whimper as he fingers you through your orgasm.

“Yes, pretty girl, you got it,” he praises, catching your moans in his mouth as your thighs shake and your back twitches on and off of the mattress.

"Mmh - so wet," he adds, pulling out his fingers and tapping them together; revealing a clear, sticky string of secretion between them.

You blink in disbelief, had you done that?

What happens next nearly makes your soul shatter. Geto brings the two fingers to his lips and licks them clean, purple eyes watching you every second that he does so.

He releases his fingers from his mouth with a pop! and plants a kiss on your nose.

"Now, you're all ready," he says with a satisfactory nod. "It's been a really long time since I've done this; I'm glad that it's going to be with you."

You smile up at him, legs still twitching as your clit tries to come down from your high. “You’re so good at it,” you quiver. “‘M glad y’gonna be my first.”

“Maybe even your last,” he says, soft enough you fear that you may have imagined it.

You drop your hands from his hair and slide them down over his sweater collar and instead change the subject. "Aren’t people usually naked for this?"

Geto grins, "Yes, my bad. I'm used to already being naked."

You giggle as he parts his body from yours, only for a second, then he slides his shirt off his body and shakes his hair loose, before discarding the garment to a random corner of the room.

Your hands immediately find his bare, chiseled skin. Albeit soft, the muscles underneath are rigid, and he's covered in tiny white scars that paint a small piece of his entire portrait.

His eyes don't leave you as his hands move to pull your nightdress over your head. Now the two of you lay topless, skin to skin, the only thing separating you being his shorts.

His hand glides mindlessly down your side, resting on your hip. "Just breathtaking," he murmurs, planting a kiss to the crook between your shoulder and neck.

You shake your head. "That's all you. Whoever cursed you must have known that seeing your beauty all twenty-four hours a day would be too much for the world to handle."

Geto cracks a laugh, his eyes crinkling with genuine adoration and happiness.

He doesn’t say another word before he tugs down his shorts, and they join the growing pile of clothes on your bedroom floor. Now he’s back to laying gently between your legs, careful not to crush you with his weight.

Your eyes widen as his length pops out, smacking his abdomen before falling forward from how much it appears to weigh. You’d seen it the day before, of course, but it hadn’t been… erect. You are amazed at the sheer difference in size, and quite frankly intimidated.

“What’s wrong?” Geto wonders, lifting your chin to look at him.

“Th-that’s gonna fit inside of me?” you ask, blinking out of embarrassment.

Geto nods slightly, “Yes, believe me, angel. You can take it, it’s not as scary as it looks.”

You stretch your knees apart so they aren't digging into his sides, and you feel that hard part of him brush against your cunt.

A small gasp flies from your mouth, as your body shudders, and Geto calmly relaxes you with his soft hands massaging your sides, burying his face in your neck.

“A-Are you sure?” you ask.

"I’m gonna need you to kiss me, and focus on breathing, okay?" He speaks against the skin on your neck before planting a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

"Okay, I can do that," you nod nervously, wrapping your arms his neck.

He sits up a bit to stare at you, faces barely inches apart. The rain still patters against the roof mercilessly in the background, occasional thunder claps landing in the distance, mirroring the thump of your heart in your ribcage.

His hand that isn't being used to hold himself up is sliding between your legs, where he grips his cock, then begins sliding it on your slick, lathering himself up.

Your back comes a bit off of the mattress, stomach sliding against his torso.

“Hngh - oh," you mumble, and Geto cuts you off with a peck.

"Don't tense up, angel," he mutters against you. "Hold on to me, don't let go."

You nod against his lips, still shuddering. He taps the surprisingly heavy head on your clit, his wetness and yours creating a smack! noise.

“Tell me you’re ready,” he requests as he takes the tip of his cock and presses it at your entrance, not applying pressure yet.

“I’m ready, Geto,” you say desperately.

As much as you are scared, you’re also ready to feel him, to please him. To be as close as two humans can possibly be.

"Deep breath," he whispers, dipping his face.

You lift your chin to grab his mouth and bite down on his bottom lip as he pushes past your gummy threshold, feeling as your walls mold to the shape of his cock and swallow him up.

You try to keep your eyes open just to see the way his own roll to the back of his head as he pushes in, but the burning at your core makes your eyes squint shut as your nails dig into his back.

“Sh-shit,” he grumbles against your bite, as his hand jerks to find something to grip on, ultimately settling for the pillow next to your head.

“G-Geto, it-” hurts, feels good, burns, is exhilarating. All of these things are entering your mind as he enters you.

He gets about halfway deep and you feel yourself clenching around him, trying to relax, but it’s hard when it’s scary and a bit painful. It’s not the first time something has been inside of you, but this feeling is raw and unique, and he’s so much bigger than anything you’d ever put in there.

He pauses for a moment and you release his mouth from your teeth so that he can prop up on his elbow, and he looks down at you in amazement.

“Doing amazing so far, beautiful,” he praises, placing his palm on your cheek and stroking away the stray tear that is falling from your eye. “How do you feel?”

You nod your head, unsure for a moment if you can speak. “G-Good. J-Just trying to adjust.”

“It’s okay, take your time,” he plants a kiss to your earlobe before whispering, “let me know when you want me to keep going.”

You keep your hands on his back, then slide them down his arms, before dropping them behind your head.

Geto glances up, then takes his own hands up the side of your body and your arms before meeting his hands with yours and linking your fingers together.

You sigh against this touch. He’s no longer hovering over you and you are chest to chest, erect nipples brushing his chest. He buries his face in your neck and awaits your command.

“Go,” you whisper softly, and he does not hesitate to grind his hips further into yours.

Now, his cock is filling you from wall to wall, entrance to cervix. Your legs are shaking on either side of him as you stretch, ecstasy consuming you and making your brain turn to mush.

Geto’s wet mouth smacks sloppy kisses all over your neck as he pulls his hips back to begin his rhythmic stroking.

You arch against him and cry out.

“Mmh, feels so good,” is all you manage to mumble in his ear, and he responds by grazing your neck with his teeth.

The rain swooshes against the window in time with your cunt’s squelches, as you drip all over Geto’s length and down onto the mattress.

“Y’so p-perfect,” Geto whines against your neck, and for several moments he pumps silently and softly into your core, driving you to a feeling you’d never thought was possible.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His hips roll with the howl of the rain, slowly but deep. Your wooden bed creaks in his wake, adding to the symphony of sex in the room.

“Faster,” you hear yourself moan in his ear, and his hips pick up momentum.

They clap against your skin softly as he works harder to slam his cock against your taut insides.

“So warm,” he mumbles, propping himself up to look down at you, and you grip onto his hands tighter. “Shouldn’t feel th-this good.”

You grunt out a pathetic cry as his new pace results in him hitting a new spot, one he continues to press into upon hearing your response to it.

“Oh, shit,” you whimper. “Oh shit, Geto, right there.”

“Right there?” he echoes in a silky tone, pinning your hands further into the pillows as he fucks harder into you, still maintaining his soft kisses along your jaw.

Now that the pain is disappearing, ecstasy consumes all of your thoughts, and it seems to come naturally to you what to do next.

You pull your legs up and wrap them around his back, linking your ankles just over his waistline, and it creates a new angle for Geto to pound you from.

“Hngh - oh,” Geto’s eyelids flutter. He’s hitting another new spot that makes you feel like your groin is going to explode. “Pretty girl, I don’t wanna finish so soon, but if you keep me like this…”

“Don’t care,” you shake your head, wanting to feel what it’s like to be filled with the aftermath of a man’s orgasm. “Wanna take it all.”

“Don’t say - mmh,” Geto cuts himself off and dips his head back into your sweaty neck. “God, I… I think I love you.”

You gasp at his sultry confession. Of course, you had been taking care of him for a while. Though you hadn’t known his human form for long, he’d known you. He was the first person you’d come across in a long time, but in all your life, absolutely the kindest. Was it really that insane to think the two of you could be… in love?

“I-I love you too,” you reply without much thought, using the leverage on your legs to grind yourself down onto him as he pumps.

Your wetness covers his groin which has the underside of your thighs soaked, nearly sticking the two of you together as his strokes become sloppier, wetter, his cock drenching your insides in precum.

You feel him squelching around inside of you, stretching your poor virgin walls to their peak, wringing immeasurable pleasure from deep in your guts.

“Hah - mm,” Geto whines, now mercilessly drilling as deep as he can go.

It hurts but you’re taking it so well, and it shows in the way Geto is mumbling praises in your ear.

Good girl, so good, so wet, mon amour, take it.

He lets out a deep groan and then, he’s grabbing your knees and unwrapping your legs from around him. In a flash, he has you flipped to your side, and he slides behind you, as if you were back in your cuddling position from this morning.

“Just needed to switch it up,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing your shoulder.

“Mm, what are you gonna do?” you question him, and he shows you when he slides his cock between your coated thighs and pulls a gasp from you.

His hand finds your hip and grips it. “Tell me if you don’t like it, we’ll go back to the other way, yeah?”

You nod, but there’s a twist in your stomach at this exciting new angle, as Geto lifts your leg up and holds the underside of your thigh in the air. You twist backwards to put your arm around his neck, and he kisses yours.

“‘Member what I said?” he reminds raspily in your ear, “just hold onto me. I’ve got you.”

“Please, just put it back already,” you whine needily, and Geto doesn’t hesitate to push himself back into your crying hole.

This new angle hits you deep in your belly. Geto’s hand flattens out over your lower stomach and presses down. Inside of your guts, Geto’s cock is jerking hungrily, needing to feel every inch of you sliding back onto him again.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair.

He keeps his hold on your thigh, his chin on your shoulder, biting and licking and moaning into your ear.

“S-So good, angel,” he huffs out, and all you can do is whimper as he grinds his thin hips into your backside.

“Ngh - kitty,” you whine, “where’d y-you learn this?”

Geto responds by kissing your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything aloud, instead shuts you up by fastening his pace, thundering into you in competition with the lightning from the rainstorm.

His hand glides down the side of your body and takes a handful of your ass, digging his nails into it as if he is going to slip away.

“I… regrettably think I’m gonna c-cum,” Geto stammers.

Something overcomes you, and you spin around, still on his cock. His perfect lips form a shocked, ‘O’ shape, and you put your hand against his throat, softly, applying a slight amount of pressure to each side. You adjust your legs to be on either side of him.

“Cum for me,” you mutter, shocking yourself, and Geto’s response is a guttural, pathetic groan.

“Why’d you have to - hngh - nooo-“

And not a moment more passes before he’s hopelessly spilling into you, cock jerking against the top of your sticky walls, nails breaking open the skin on your hips as you round them over his cock to drag out every drop you can.

The warmth of his cum inside of you makes your body writhe, squeezing his length painfully as your own orgasm comes intensely - covering him in watery fluid.

“G-Geto, I’m-” you can’t get the word out, you are shocked but have no way of telling him due to how fucked out you currently are.

“Agh - so beautiful,” he mumbles, bringing his strokes to a conclusion. He remains inside of you for several unearthly moments, your cunt twitching around his shakey cock.

Then you use the leverage of your legs around his waist to push yourself up and down, up and down.

Geto’s eyes bulge and then roll backwards. “Oh, oh shit.”

Your hands grip onto his shoulders for more leadway.

“Does that feel good?” you question him, a little unsure why you’ve decided to do this, knowing he’s already cum inside of you.

“Y-Yes,” Geto grumbles, leaning forward to plant a sloppy, needy kiss against your mouth before he parts his lips and holds them there - so fucked and barely able to contain his moans. “D-Do y’even know what you’re doing?”

Your body is tingling with the leftover feeling of your orgasm as you slide down on Geto in this laying position, and having him still hard inside of you does feel weird but - you like it.

“No,” you answer honestly. “I-It just feels good.”

Geto nods desperately, “Don’t stop, please.”

You obey his wish by sliding faster, feeling your walls pulsate around his cock as you push both of you beyond your limits. Whoever said sex had to end with orgasms is a loser, you think.

“Geto, you filled me up so well,” you say, “s-so glad you were m-my first.”

Geto looks up and forces his eyes open. He smiles at you through gritted teeth, “I-I’m glad too, m-mon amour.”

Him stuttering like this is doing dangerous things to your cunt, causing you to gush and pool on him even more than before. Geto notices and grabs a handful of your hair.

“O-Okay,” he shudders, and begins to laugh. “Maybe - maybe we can stop now.”

“Hmm? You sure?” you tease, and he shakes his head.

“No, but don’t know if I can take it,” his smug laughter has faded back into pathetic whimpers, and your cunt hates the thought of not being able to hear these noises from him.

You sigh softly regardless, and smile at him, before halting your movements and laying there; his cock now covered in cream and cum, stagnant inside of you.

He takes the pause to catch his breath and there you stay, cock inside, arms intertwined.

He releases your hair and puts his palm on your cheek, pulling your face towards his to kiss him.

“Perfect,” he says. “I wish that I could spend all twenty-four hours as a human with you.”

You sigh softly, “I do too. But I am glad we even get to know each other in this lifetime, let alone spend the time together.”

A moment too soon, he begins to slide out of you with a smile and both of you moan at the gushy feeling. He sits up on his elbow and stares directly between your legs to watch his cum drip out of you.

Then he sits all the way up, on his knees; his hair sticking to the crown of his face by sweat.

You lay there, all kinds of fluids dripping slowly out of you still, breathing in his scent that he’d left behind on the pillow.

“Geto, did you mean what you said?” you ask suddenly, forcing yourself to sit up, your insides squishing around, a slight pain jarring up your tummy.

Geto glances down at you, eyes still dark with lust. “About what?”

“That you love me,” you question, cocking your head to the side. “We’ve only known each other a short time, I-I just…”

“I meant it,” he says softly, falling onto his bottom, before pulling you up on onto his lap, his fluids and yours dripping all over him. “I think that if you are capable of feeling such strong things so quickly, it must be real and true.”

Your eyelids flutter softly and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, running your fingers down his back.

“It’s just that I’ve never had anyone love me for me,” you say. “I literally live alone because no one else ever accepted me.”

“Well,” Geto nuzzles your neck and kisses your collarbone, “I am equally a delinquent as you are. We are one in the same, and I think you are perfect for me. You showed me kindness when you didn’t have to, so yes, I love you.”

You smile, in your happy little post-ecstasy bubble. The rain pours still, and the clouds remain grey, but as long as Geto is around, you know that will always be able to see the sun.

A/N

why…. why am i SOBBING

this is the life our little baby deserved (with gojo) goodbye!!

and that concludes JJK HALLOWEEN! let’s take a bow everyone, i couldn’t have done it without your support!!

jjkhalloween!! is gonna forever be remembered as the series that got me jump started on this platform and im gonna remember the absolute fun I had writing it for the rest of my days :’)

this community is so welcoming and sweet and i love all of you guys and your kind words and reblogs it means EVERYTHING to my poor little jjk heart even if i’m a boomer who doesn’t know how to reply!1!1!

mwah mwah, now onto new things!!! <3

~ pennjammin