#so it brings me mild amusement

[lavender-tinted-spectacles]

"Look at those eyes, there's nothing behind them" Funky little Grian doodle

[bibiana112]

I would like to stop finding Akane Kurashiki relatable for one day of my life thank you why is my chest heavy

[perilegs]

ok but has a man ever told you you have a dainty rook piercing area? i don't think so 😌

[wriokitty]

morning routine — ft. sylus

before you read: established relationships ; gender neutral reader ; sleepy clingy sylus ; banter ; fluff and cheesiness i apologize in advance

“Here we go,” you hum to yourself, rolling your eyes with a knowing smile curled loosely on your lips as soon as Sylus starts to shift in his sleep. “Like a hermit crab,” you tease to his unconscious figure, “no wonder you’re so pale. Do you even remember what the sun looks like?”

“Do you always talk to sleeping people?”

You still at the sound of his voice, hand freezing in the middle of stroking through his hair. He doesn’t like that, either—his head presses up into your fingertips, a silent demand for more.

“You should be sleeping,” you scold gently, fingers returning to their earlier movements. You scratch lightly at his scalp and he shivers, humming in content. Like a cat, you think fondly, purring in your arms at the slightest show of affection.

Your morning routine starts with the same valiant effort every day: protecting Sylus from the sun. It’s honest work: he already doesn’t sleep very much through the night, and if he doesn’t sleep through the day because of a mild setback either, you think a number of poor victims would suffer the consequences of his tired, grouchy attitude.

So, you protect him as he falls asleep while the sun rises, beams of light slipping through the cracks of the blinds a little more with every minute. You watch him—with equal parts amusement and equal parts fondness, you watch every morning as he slowly shifts in his sleep. It starts with him inching closer and closer towards you, and ends with his head buried into your chest and his body curled around you like you’re a shield for the cruel light that disturbs him.

You like this routine, though. It’s the perfect chance to admire him, to bring a hand to trace over his relaxed features—the slightly crooked slant of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the defined edge of his jawline. And, of course, your favorite part: the soft, plump curves of his lips. He never does anything to indicate he’s awake, either. Nothing to even hint that he feels you, breathing slow and soft puffs of air peacefully nestled against you.

He looks delicate in slumber. Vulnerable. So agonizingly soft and fragile in a way he normally doesn’t look. (Oh, but does he feel soft, you always think. Sylus always feels so inexplicably soft.)

“I would be sleeping,” he finally grumbles, but it’s playful as he shifts to hide his face deeper into your chest while his nose presses against your collarbone. “But someone disrupted my efforts.”

“No, I protect you,” you huff, “with the way you avoid the sun in your sleep, you’d think the vitamin D would poison you.”

“If it was poisonous, then I’d be dead,” he sighs dramatically, cracking a crimson eye open and looking at you like he’s wounded. “You do a terrible job at keeping me shielded.”

“Maybe I’m trying to kill you in your sleep,” you wink, “ever think of that?”

He chuckles, voice low and still laced with the evidence of sleep from the raspiness of it. You smile softly at the sound, pressing a chaste kiss to his head while he moves to bury it into the crook of your neck. There’s something oddly comforting about it—holding him like this. Holding him while he hides into your body, melts against your skin, sinks weight onto you because you take it and he can.

“Go back to sleep,” you murmur sweetly, rubbing a slow, soothing hand up and down his bare back and tracing his spine. “I’ll make sure the sun knows not to bother my big, sleepy, vitamin D deficient baby.”

“I’m not vitamin D deficient,” he huffs.

“So you agree you’re a big, sleepy baby?”

He snores dramatically, pulling a giggle from your lips. A kiss presses to the skin of your neck, and they come from a pair of lips that feel suspiciously curled—like they’re smiling. You wrap your arms around him a little tighter, because close just doesn’t feel close enough when it’s him.

“Let’s hope I wake up without being poisoned,” he hums, half-asleep once more as you trace a finger along the sharp, muscled curves of his back.

You press one more kiss to his head before murmuring, “I’ll see what I can do.”

He lets out a gentle snore again, real this time. He’s sound asleep with his body molded against yours, routine like it is every morning—you protecting him from the sun, and him falling into your arms.

I just want to hold him while he peacefully rests and hide him away from the sun so he can sleep well like he deserves because he’s a BABY

To me he’s a baby :(

[coconutdays]

love line

s. on a very drunk night, satoru exposes your crush on the famous mma fighter, and friend of yours, toji zenin

w.c. 12.3k

w. fem! reader, mma!toji! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: this might not be proofread well but I hope yall enjoy. im very in love with this man!

"I can't believe I lost that stock today!"

you're out having drinks with your friends at a fancy bar in shibuya when satoru gets shitfaced drunk. the matter is nothing new. he's the lightweight of the group and doesn't care about getting home most of the time because he knows either you or suguru will take charge and take him home.

you're taking frequent sips of your whiskey as you watch one of the country's most successful business owners mope over a small, so very minuscule, fraction of his wealth fly by. suguru is sitting next to you at the booth and exchanges a look of 'idiot' in reference to the white haired man's sad life story. sukuna is in front of you and no look needs to be exchanged because he simply acts on his thoughts and gives satoru a smack on the back of his head.

and toji's at the center of the booth, smooshed between shoko and satoru. he's looking at satoru in mild amusement, a small smirk on his face at the fool's stupidity as he too drinks from a glass of whiskey. he's wearing a low scooped black long sleeve that probably costs a thousand dollars and rightfully so, it makes him look so handsome. the price nothing compared to the pay he makes as a world champion mma fighter. 

you've known him for the better part of a year, a bit more actually. satoru met him near the end of your college career on a business whim with his father and has since made him a member of your friend group. you're not as close as you wish you could be, the immense nerves you have in fear of him even getting an inkling that you're attracted to him have always stopped you from initiating a more than necessary amount of text conversations or random phone calls. satoru could do that, you couldn't. god, you've even seen suguru have more dms with the raven haired fighter than you. even in the group chat all of you share, you can't bring yourself to connect with him aside from teaming up to tease satoru or sukuna. 

the last thing you ever conversed with him on your phone was a conversation you, surprisingly, started. he had told you about this one taco place and said you would love it based on your shared interest of food. when you told him you'd try it, he had told you, 'better send me a picture when you're there.' and you did. he had sent a laughing emoji when he asked if you liked the food and you said, 'I'd step on lime juice covered shards of glass to eat this again.'

that was the last thing you'd see in your messages between each other. 

he was close to four years older than all of you, except for sukuna, they were only a year apart. he had this endearing scar across his lip that curved so achingly whenever he smiled or grinned. he was built gorgeously, his back a sight to behold whenever you got to see him fight. and his eyes, fuck, the bright mix between grey and green always had you throwing a fit in your bed and wishing you could have him. 

nevertheless, you go back to paying attention to satoru. 

"you profit from so many other stocks satoru. that one stock is just a random occurrence."

"but the ladies won't want to go out with a guy who loses even one stock!" he looks up from where he's sprawled across the table, pouting at you.

"the fact that you're a millionaire at the age of 23 already gets enough ladies." you roll your eyes, unable to help the twitch of your lips at the sight of a little bit of drool seeping from the corner of his mouth

"it's not enough." he mutters

this time, you and sukuna share a deadpan face and you flick satoru's forehead, leaning only slightly across the table.

"yeah you're right. satoru gojo is such a loser for losing a stock, none of the girls are gonna want him now."

out of the corner of your eye, you see toji huff a little laugh at your antics, it makes your heart skip a beat a little that he finds you, even if its mostly satoru, funny.

"don't mock me!" satoru's cheeks are red as he scowls at you the best he can.

"she's not mocking." sukuna snorts, taking a swig of his beer.

"yea she is!" satoru points at you, "I never mock you about toji!"

everybody in the group stills except for satoru, who looks like he's still revved up about the subject.

much like cassie's reaction in euphoria when rue asked her how long she had been fucking nate, all you could do was nervously laugh.

"what–what are you talking about?"

you can feel your entire body starting to shake in fear. it was like you were in elementary again and some mean friend of yours was going to expose your crush on the popular boy of your grade. the fear was something you never thought you'd experience again.

"don't act stupidddd." satoru drags on, as if toji fucking zenin wasn't right next to him, "you're always talking about how bad you want toji and that ' I wish I could talk to him' bullcrap!" he says the last part in imitation of you with a high pitched voice.

suguru is staring at satoru in terror. sukuna is looking at you, in peril for you. shoko looks like she mentally checked out so she couldn't feel your embarrassment.

...and toji is staring at you, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, like he doesn't know what to say.

your phone is in your pocket. check. your purse is on your lap. check. satoru can pay for your tab when he comes to his senses. check.

all you can do is abruptly get up and start to dash away, ignoring the yell for you from suguru. you don't look back, pure peril and adrenaline taking over your body as you make it out of the bar as quickly as possible, thanking whatever god that you chose to wear the easiest pair of heels to walk today.

the metro, the metro, the metro.

you look around for a quick second, only taking a second to remember what way the metro was before you rush in its direction. you feel a buzz coming from your pocket when you do, and you can only figure its one of your friends, trying to get you to come back.

you ignore it and rush down the escalator to the metro, making a glance behind you and noting that nobody was behind you. thank god. however, it doesn't stop your pace and your heels click and clack you all the way to a seat on the train to your part of town. 

fuck.

your entire body feels like its on fire and melting. 

toji knows you like him.

fuck.

suguru 5 missed calls

shoko girl where did you go?

sukuna 1 missed call dude, since when do you run track

you have to stop yourself from bashing your head on the pole in front of you. shakily, you press on suguru's contact to call him. you would tell him you were going to home so he wouldn't need to worry. what's the worst that could happen by now anyway. 

"y/n? hello?"

"I'm on the train home." you breathe

"that fast?" he doesn't exclaim, he's not the type to show his surprise so blatantly like his counterpart but you can hear his concern at the fact.

"yeah." you murmur, stomach churning now that the adrenaline's worn off.

suguru sighs, "satoru is scared you're going to kill him now."

and you can hear his wails in the background. 'no she's going to come after me!' 'I need to up my security!' 'is that her on the phone?! y/n pleasseee forgive me!'

your nose scrunches in annoyance and you blurt, "I'm not going to kill you stupid idiot!"

"she says she's not going to kill you." suguru says to satoru and you can hear what you presuppose is suguru pushing the drunk fiend off of him before he continues talking to you, "about toji–"

you feel your stomach drop at the mention of the name, he's still there with them, fully aware of your feelings for him

"ah! don't wanna hear it!"

the beginning of a call to your name from suguru went ignored as you immediately pulled your phone back and pressed the little red button.

the sky had literally fallen for you and now you had to deal with the aftermath—which you weren’t doing right this second, due to what you just did to your friends, but you’d do it eventually. being an adult made sure you had to face it sometime soon. its just that toji zenin learning from satoru gojo that you had a massive crush on him had not ever been something you expected. hell you never expected him to find out in any sort of way, ever. god, he was never supposed to know.

well, your fun was over, you had to move on now. if you wanted your friend group to stay normal and go back to the way it was, the looming existence of your feelings for the world renowned fighter had to die. you could tough it through that, you could come back and say ‘i thought it over and don’t have feelings for you anymore toji so don’t worry about acting weird with me. we’re casual friends like we’ve always been.’

a particular rattle of the train had you planting your feet on the floor purposefully and waiting for it to fully stop before you got up. you were five minutes from your apartment now, the walk you started now would pass by in a flash and you’d get to wallow in your misery soon.

ordering takeout sounded nice and so did watching your favorite show, especially after a warm shower, it had been quite chilly tonight. 

you had no room to really think about your predisposition in regards to toji zenin the next day, having to attend work then go to a work party afterwards at some high end restaurant/bar located at the top floor of a skyscraper overlooking tokyo. at work, you had to host various meetings and delegate new responsibilities you planned out the day before to your peers. it was all very hectic since it was all a completely new project. you had barely looked at your phone and even if you did, there wouldn’t be much to fret over, your friends had busy lives too. and right after, you had to head straight home and get ready for the party later that evening. 

you were sporting a tight black dress with light red flowers embellished across it later that night while you drank champagne and conversed with your coworkers. it had been a decent night so far and you had photos taken of you along with your peers, they’d probably be posted on the company website or social media. 

there had been some interesting work tea to listen in on too, your rival company was involved in it too and you were smushed against your coworkers in a red leather lined booth with dim lighting to listen in on all of it. it was more than worthy of your time by the end of it, you deemed. you would have to tell shoko and sukuna about it whenever you got the chance next time. yes, sukuna liked tea, he was an ass who loved hearing about ass things happening. 

the craving for a new glass of champagne sent you to the bar the moment the story ended, so you sat up on one of the chairs lining it while you waited for the bartender to get to you. you could see your ceo already getting shit-faced from where you were and it was funny, she always did that and always managed to get embarrassed the next time everyone saw her in the office. 

“are you part of that office party?”

a large and handsome figure suddenly appeared before you, blocking the view of your boss. he was wearing a rather expensive looking black suit with a silky blue dress shirt under, all of which couldn’t hide the obvious hard and sturdy muscles under them due to the complimentary tailoring. when you took in his face, you had to hold back the urge to widen your eyes. he was excessively good looking, with sharp and devilish features sketched across his face, intertwining hand in hand with his semi-long brown wavy hair pushed back and away from his face, save for a singular pretty strand falling near his brow and down his cheek. and that scar near his eye, it seemed so familiar…

you had to blink yourself back into reality when you realized you were taking a bit too long to answer his question. 

“yes,” you finally responded, trying your best to remain neutral and politely smile at him

he leaned against the open spot of the bar table between your seat and the empty one behind him, one hand in his pocket as he smiled down at you, “you’re very beautiful.”

your spit got caught in your throat at the blatant admission, this time unable to hide the way your head reeled back a little and started sporting a rising heat on your cheeks in slight shock, “oh–i–thank you.”

his smile grew wider at your flustered state and he reached a hand out for you to shake, “aizen sosuke.”

so at to remain polite, you shook his hand and repeated your name back to him in return for his, but in reality your head was falling in on itself

him.

fuck.

that’s aizen sosuke, the other world renowned mma fighter that you were very aware of due to his competitive nature and rivalry with toji. as far as you were aware, toji absolutely hated him, and you were sure aizen did too. anytime the rivalry came up into the conversation you saw toji’s eyes darken and his posture straighten in seething hate for the man. if satoru felt like getting on his nerves, as he did with everyone, he always knew to mention the tall brunette to get a visceral reaction out of him. it was bad. wait–

they have a fight tomorrow.

oh god, this was all types of fucked up. you've been pining after toji this whole year and he just found out yesterday and now you're talking to his rival who's very obviously flirting with you.

...but he was aizen sosuke, aside from that, and he just called you beautiful.

“is there any particular celebration happening?” he tilted his head to the side a little in curiosity 

“no, not this time,” you breathed, trying to shake the nerves off, “my boss just likes to treat us frequently and…well herself.”

“is that the only occasion where you get treated as of late?”

suave

and you can’t help the small knowing smile starting to creep up your lips, “as of late, yes, although she mostly does it in drinks.”

“dinner isn’t often?” he leans a little closer, his lips quirking up a little

“no,” you shake your head, aware of the way your eyes are smiling back at him too.

“allow me to treat you then,” he says confidently, watching as the bartender slides you your champagne

“In exchange for…?” you quirk a brow up at him as you take a sip

“what are you willing to give?” he bites back with a canine smile, still looming over you and infringing himself a little into your space even.

“nothing.” you snark back smoothly, pressing a finger into the middle expanse of his chest. he’s really sturdy, you note before continuing, “dinner with me should be a prize enough.”

he laughs at your response handsomely, reeling away from your space in accordance with the finger of yours pushing him away, “i’ll pay for everything. hell, send me the receipt for your outfit if you feel like it. i’m sure some sort of gratitude will overcome you.”

“ravenous,” you tut your glass in his direction, “i’ll politely decline then mr sosuke.”

“you haven’t even allowed yourself to grace over the thought of spending a night in my sheets,” he’s leaned down to speak so sensually next to your ear, “if your line of work is a stress, i can make you forget all about it.”

“i’ve allowed myself to grace it,” you speak back lowly, matching his game, “and i can only see you adding onto my stress by the end of it.”

“you’re oddly confident about that,” he smiles deviously, turning his head so that you’re face to face with him, “i aim to please, if any.”

“to please?” you question in haughty disbelief, squinting your eyes playfully at him

“to please,” he’s still smiling, eyes fleeting to your lips for a second, “i could relay the details if you’d like.”

“that’s unecessary,” you laugh at his boldness, turning your head away from his, “but it’s not something i’m interested in. im only looking for stability right now.”

“how unfortunate for the both of us tonight then,” he retreats back into his space before reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone, then splaying it out in his hand for you to take, “at least leave me your number. i can be capable of stability for the right woman.”

you feel your phone buzzing erratically that night, when you’ve washed away the night’s events and lay comfortably in your bed with a glass of water cradled to you. upon first looking at your messages, you were greeted by a paparazzi picture of you, courtesy screenshot from gojo, and aizen speaking at the bar. it was one of you smiling and looking up and him while he was leaning down, face inches away from yours as he returned your toothy grin.

satoru img_736 ?????? is that aizen sosuke?! dude are you fucking him rn

sukuna  take one of his trophy belts when you come back home

shoko lol he looks hot in blue

suguru  satoru, aren’t you supposed to be on your flight back from dubai right now?

satoru first class has excellent cell service ha and y/n hasn’t answered aizen def has his hands busy rn

shoko it’s only been five minutes since you sent that picture plus she’s at her work party, i think. she probably just met him there

satoru who cares bud looks like he’s ready to pounce 

sukuna heard he likes bdsm shit

satoru send pics of his paddle lol y/n

suguru both of you are despicable

shoko let us know if he has good stamina

suguru the three of you

all those messages had been sent ten minutes ago and you gaped at your friends’ mischief

y/n  I AM NOT WARMING AIZEN SOSUKE’S BED RN!

satoru liar, he’s in your mouth rn isn’t he

y/n  literally shut up toru i’m in my bed. no aizen near

sukuna  sure you are you looked real horned up smiling at him in the pics

y/n LMAO  he was a little funny ok, i couldn’t help laughing

shoko oh he was funny hm

suguru  actually worried a little at that statement wdym he was a little funny

y/n im going to crucify all of you he tried getting me to warm his bed and was very smooth abt it, but i said no gave him my number though :p since he asked for it

satoru was that before or after he told you you have great boobs img_737 could not have been more obvious about it

the stupid texts from your friend had you laughing out loud and setting down your glass of water on your bedside table before you pressed on the microphone button and sent a loud, giggly voice message for emphasis of your previous point.

“I didn’t fuck aizen! and he didn’t need to tell me i have great boobs, i saw him staring at them the entire time.”

sukuna you are not living this down if we see hickeys on you tomorrow

satoru what he said ^^

and there came the realization, 

toji and aizen’s fight was tomorrow

and all of you always showed up to toji’s fights ever since you befriended him

hell, fuck, you hadn’t even remembered he was in this group chat too. fuck fuck fuck. was this good? was this bad? he hadn’t said anything and he never really took too long to answer sometimes. no, this was the night before a fight, he’s probably already knocked out right now considering the late hour. but still, what of when he woke up to the messages tomorrow? would this help ease the knowledge of your being into him? oh she’s already flirting with some guy she’s not into me as much as a i thought so i dont feel as awkward around her anymore. but what if he thought you were doing this purposefully to get a reaction out of him and that you were so obsessed with him, you did it for that sole reason. you didn’t even want to come to the fight anymore. could you get out of it somehow? no, stupid satoru knows you’re free tomorrow and that would add more drama to your ‘up and dash’ incident from the bar yesterday night. 

you turned around and flailed on your bed, screaming into your pillow in the process.

regrettably, you show up to toji’s fight the following afternoon, trying your best to suppress the notion that aside from having to be near toji later, that aizen was going to see you too, and that whole ordeal would be something different entirely for you to deal with.

you dressed pretty well, you always did, but you added a little more effort than the usual when picking your outfit for the day. it was ufc fight night worthy and showed a generous amount of skin, the pictures you would upload later that night to instagram would be amazing. 

sukuna snickered when he saw you, pulling you in for a quick friendly hug as he said, “wanted zenin to see that you really didn’t fuck sosuke?”

you gaped at him and held back a smile as you smacked him with your purse, “i will hurt you ‘kuna.”

“try me, idiot,” he bites back with a snarky smile before sinking into one of the cage-side seats toji always managed to get for you guys. you had already said hi to the rest of your friends before getting to him and all felt normal until that dumbass made his dumb comment about your crush on toji. satoru, had of course, without a doubt, inspected you for hickeys and love bites immediately upon your arrival and had given you a suspicious look, as if to say, ‘you got away with it this time.’ he was always ridiculous like that, trying to cling onto random drama, even if he gaslit himself, all for his own fun. 

“i really did not expect to meet him last night at the bar,” you sighed after you sat down, taking in the bustling crowds of people gathering in the arena with him

“fuckin hilarous,” he all but barks evilly in amusement at your predicament before taking a swig of his beer, “paparazzi is gonna have a field day thinking you’re aizen’s girl now that you’re here.”

“WAIT!” 

you immediately sit upright at the realization and turn your body towards sukuna, jaw hung open and eyes wide in panic.

“holy shit. what the fuck.” you start having an existensial crisis and sukuna, the great friend he is starts snickering at your dilemma, finding humor in your panicked expression

“go sit near his side of the arena,” he jeers, “there’s some open seats.”

you run your hands down your face, stressed, “i thought the worst i had to deal with would be aizen seeing me here.”

“still is,” sukuna is still smirking at you evilly, “everything is shit about your day today.”

and then the lights dim and sporadic blue lights start sparkling across the arena

“get ready to say hi to your boyfriends,” sukuna teases with a canine grin before leaning over to see who would do their walkout first.

and it’s toji first.

he’s so beautiful and rugged, wearing skin tight black shorts that highlight every muscle underneath them and his eyes are glowing so pretty against the fluroscents, even if he has a murderous look on them right now. his staff are behind him as he walks through the arena, and looking at them almost distracts you from the way toji holds you in a cutthroat stare the moment he spots you, and only you.

you can hear satoru’s sly voice saying from near you, “nice.”

too scared to look away from toji, you can only speak to your friends without turning to address them, “why is toji giving me a death stare?”

“cause you fucked aizen,” satoru’s teasing lilt jeers

“yeah,” shoko agrees

“i did not fuck aizen,” you bite through gritted teeth as toji walks into the fighting cage, eyes still on you.

“tell that to him,” sukuna snickers

“don’t think about it too much,” suguru tries to comfort

then the lights starts blaring furiously again and aizen’s presence is announced throughout the entire arena. and you were really right about that suit being unable to hide those muscles, because without any clothing over them…they were enormous and mouth-watering.

all of you watch as he, accompanied by his staff too, walks to the cage, handsome smirk planted on his face. 

“would you look at that,” satoru starts, “he doesn’t have your scratch marks all over his back.”

“ha ha,” you sarcastically mutter back when aizen enters the cage and he situates himself in his side, taking in his surroundings, like those sitting in the cage side seats.

like you.

you know he’s spotted you because of the way his eyebrows raise in surprise and the wolfish smile that starts forming on his face the moment you make eye contact. and you know toji’s noticed too because of the way he turns to you too and keeps looking between you and the fighter in front of him.

satoru whistles while sukuna howls, both leaning down to elbow you from either side much to your annoyance

“scratch the paparazzi thinking youre here for aizen being the worst thing capable of happening today,” satoru sighs haughtily, “if toji loses, you’re in for it.”

you spin your head to him, panicked, “what?! is he gonna stop being my friend?!”

satoru shrugs, nonchalant, “don’t know, just keep watching sweetheart.”

so you did and it was unnerving.

when the fight started and toji and aizen started squaring up against each other, you could see aizen start speaking to him. his mouth was moving a little and a smile crept up on it when he jeered his chin in your direction, all of which you saw toji answer back with what looked like single word short answers and a sneer on his face.

“wonder what they’re talking about,” suguru questioned softly

“i have a small idea,” satoru said under his breath before toji threw the first punch and the chaos ensued.

the fight consisted of a lot of hisses and ows coming from everyone, including you, in the arena. toji and aizen were really putting in the work to beat the crap out of each other. ten minutes had passed and toji was already bleeding from his mouth and aizen had blood falling down his nose. both of their bodies were beat too, red splotches blossoming all over them as a reaction to the various kicks and punches both of them sent to each other. 

however it looked like it was reaching its cusp when aizen got toji in a headlock and muttered something while looking at you. 

which must have given toji enough energy to quickly peel himself off and knock his face in a couple of times. and when aizen stood up straight after it to counter, he was bleeding profusely from his mouth and smiled so devilshly at you before wandering into toji’s space again. 

“hot,” shoko commented while gnawing on a toothpick

and that continued, the smiles at you from him, with his questionably hot bleeding mouth while he sported a beating from toji or gave it to him. but it started dying down when toji actually started knocking him in so close to his own victory. and there wasn’t much aizen could do until toji pinned him down and forced him into submission,

all while aizen stared at you and even had the gall to wink while his loss was announced

satoru whistled again, “the balls on this guy. surprised you aren’t soaked right now.”

people were starting to filter out when the winner and loser were officially announced and were beginning to get escorted back to their locker rooms.

“come on,” sukuna muttered as he drank the last of his beer and got up with the rest of you to go to toji’s room.

when all of you are rushed into toji’s locker room, you somehow wound up standing next to him, where he’s seated on a bench and wiping the blood off his face with a hand towel.

“congrats,” you mumble, along with the others

“what’d he say to you during the fight,” leered satoru, both of his hands in his pockets and his shades over his eyes again now that he doesn’t have to watch the fight.

“none of your business,” muttered toji after wiping his face again, “where’s my fucking water?”

“here sir, here,” one of his goonies said while weaving through the people in the room and nervously handing him a water bottle

“thanks,” he huffs with a small glare before opening the bottle and starting to chug from it

“who do you fight after this,” sukuna asks

toji shrugs and looks towards his manager, who then starts to explain the next sequence of events after this win. and it lasts for thirty minutes before everyone falls quiet and toji gets up abruptly

“alright, get out. ‘m gonna change,” he all but demands for everyone to leave ominously

and you listen to his words, letting the half closest to the door start to filter out before you make to move your feet and suddenly toji’s holding onto your arm.

“where do you think you’re going?” he huffs when the last person leaves the room and the door clicks shut

you feel like a deer caught in headlights and feel yourself start to grow nervous, “outside…to let you change?”

“you gonna fuck him?”

and you gaslight yourself into pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about, “who?”

he deadpans at you with bored and almost annoyed green eyes and you have to look away from him when you murmur, “no…i don’t know. listen, me having a thing for you isn’t that serious and if i entertain aizen it isn’t so you can finally notice me or something, i just–”

“when the fuck did i say i never noticed you before?”

your eyes widen and you didn’t know what to say

“what? you think it’s so easy for me to try and talk to your dumbass too?” he pulls you closer by the arm he’s already holding, scowl etched across his face

“what,” is the only thing you can get out in your nerves

toji glares at you, “when silver spoon said you wish you could talk to me, did it ever cross your smartass that i don’t know how to talk to you either?”

“no,” you let out meekly, struggling to make eye contact with him and feeling your heart rate go up by a million beats per minute

“so,” toji tugs on your arm again, “are you gonna fuck him?”

you look away to a locker near when you mumble, “do you not want me to?”

“no, i fucking don’t.”

“then i won’t.”

“great,” he lets go of you and now centers himself to stand in front of you, quirking a brow up when he asks, “you gonna let me take you out on a date?”

you have to fight the urge to fiddle with your hands as you look back up at him, “when?”

“tonight.”

“shouldn’t you rest after a fight!?” your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, pupils darting to the blood staining his lips

“not if i don’t feel like it,” he shrugs, before gaining a threatening aura, “or do you wanna bite the bullet and get lunch right now? you won’t have time to get a pretty dress on.”

panicked at his suggestion, you mindlessly put your hands against his chest and plead, “no! tonight is fine, tonight is fine!”

“thought so,” he huffs back at you, corners of his mouth quirking up a little 

and put on a pretty dress you did, a red sultry one that teetered between innocence and sex. it had toji staring you down as you took the unfathombly large bouquet of flowers he brought for you from his arms and set it on your kitchen island.

“where are we going?” you turned to look at him while he drove you to whatever destination he had in mind for tonight, playing with the metal clasp of your handbag

toji had been leaned against the driver side door of his car, with one hand holding onto his chin while the other steered, he seemed oddly pensive.

“allen’s,” he gruffly swallowed before straightening up and putting both of his hands on the steering wheel. you weren’t surprised by the mention of the michelin star restaurant, he could afford it and had the status for it anyways

so you couldn’t help but speak, “are you nervous?”

his entire body tensed visibly and his eyes slightly widened, glancing at you for a half second before looking back at the road and relaxing, “what do you think smartass?”

a smile crept its way onto your face, “well i am too.”

“you gonna run away again?” he side eyed you with a slight gleam of mischief

your face flushed and your mouth gaped, turning to look at the road too now instead of at him, crossing your arms as you huffed, “what else was i supposed to do? not like you had anything to say either, had your mouth open like a fish when i got exposed…”

“least i didn’t run,” he huffed back

“well you didnt try to contact me after,” you sasssed, sensing his growing irritation

“you’re a real pain in my ass,” he glared at you, “you know that right?”

“and you’re not acting like the guy who just won a fight earlier today.”

toji had just parked outside the restaurant and splayed his hands across the steering wheel, trying to control his breathing from what you could tell. 

“i didn’t know what to say, okay negative nancy?” he finally turned to you, green eyes striking under the night sky and neon lights from the restaurant name shining through, “and then when i was going to call your pretty ass the next day, i saw the pictures of fuck face raw dogging you at the bar.”

“he didn’t fuck me,” you whined in complaint as you splayed yourself across the center console of his car and batted your scorned eyes at him, “how many times do i have to tell you guys?”

“well you were real close to,” he smirked at you before something serious fell across his features and his eyes darted to your handbag, “matter a fact, block his number right now.”

your head perked up at the demand and you blinked at him, “i dont have his number.”

toji squinted his eyes at you, “you said you gave him your number in the group chat.”

“yeah but he hasn’t called me or anything, so i never got his.”

the ravenette rolled his eyes, taking his keys out of the ignition and pointing at you with them, “when he does, you better fucking block him.”

“i will,” you nod obediently, watching as he starts to get out of the car

you move to take off your seat belt and he leans back into the vehicle with a warning look, “i’ll unbuckle it, don’t move.”

and he does, closing the door of his side before walking over to you and opening the door to kneel in and take off your seat belt, then giving you a helping hand to get out.

“thank you,” you murmur appreciatively as you watch your step before landing a quick kiss to his cheek. and if it affected him, you wouldn’t know, he said nothing and held onto your arm softly while he guided the both of you to the restaurant entrance.

“you look hot by the way,” he breathed out before opening the door and entering with you, giving you no chance to respond when the hostess immediately greeted the both of you and began to lead you to a table.

it was intimate, the table. it was small and dainty, relatively little space would be between you and the gruff fighter. and both of your seats were at the same corner of the table, making the distance shorter than it would have been sitting across from each other. 

toji instinctively pulled out your chair for you and muttered out a sound of acknowledgement when you thanked him as he sat down. 

“you gonna drink?” he quirked a brow at you, gesturing towards the menu of alcohol planted right in front of the both of you

“a little red wine sounds nice,” you try to say politely, “you?”

“nah,” he responds while raising a hand for a waiter to come by, “i need to drive you home. you like sweet or bitter wine?”

“sweet.”

and so he orders a wine for you to drink right off the bat, saying a thank you as the waiter walks away to get the bottle.

“does your mouth hurt?”

toji hums mindlessly, as if his head had been somewhere else before he perks up again and says, “come again sweetheart?”

the pet name had you a little fluststered in speaking again, feeling your body grow hot as you gestured to his mouth meekly, “your mouth, it was bleeding after the fight, does it still hurt?”

the corners of his mouth start to rise as he encroaches into your space, eyes lusty, “nothing a little kiss won’t make better.” 

your breath hitches and you feel like pushing him away to hide how easily he’s affected you, “you’re shameless.”

toji is inches away from your face now, and he tilts his head in fake hurt, “i took those punches from the lowlife trying to steal my girl away, doesn’t that mean i deserve a reward?”

you try to keep your face serious as you deadpan, willing your need to laugh away as best you can, “your girl?”

“my girl,” toji grins sleazily 

you’re about to bite back when the waiter comes back with the bottle of wine toji ordered for you and the menus for tonight’s dinner. toji takes the bottle from the waiter and insists on serving you your glass himself while you begin to look at the menu. choosing a meal was difficult with all the delicious options available, every description making your mouth water, you wanted everything. when you complained to toji about not knowing what to get because of all the options, he brushed you off while still reading his menu.

“get whatever you want, we can come again and again until you try everything.”

well that’s one way to make you horny

so you settled for these sauteed calamari rings with a savory sounding sauce while toji got a steak under the pretense that ‘i need to stock up on protein after fights.’

while the both of you eat, good conversation comes up and the previous tense awkwardness of the both of you goes away.

“i haven’t dated anyone since my sophomore year of college,” you say while taking a sip of wine to wash down a bite of calamari

toji quirks up a brow in disbelief at your statement while he takes a sip of his water, a scowl almost, as if he’s offended for you, “what about that emo lookin kid—“

you tilt your head in confusion, not being able to pinpoint who he’s talking about, “emo?”

toji rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers at himself, “that kid, can’t even remember his name, with the blue hair, you know–��

“grimmjow?!” you gape, eyebrows knit

“yea that fucker,” toji nods before he takes a bite of his steak

“I never even got to have a thing with grimmjow,” you deadpan, swiveling the glass of wine in your hand, “we kissed like once and then he told me he wasn’t ready for anything the next day.”

“silver spoon made it seem like you guys fucked.”

you sigh in agonizing pain that your white haired freak best friend loves to say you fuck frequently, “satoru says that because he feels my dry spell more than me. horny ass. he wishes i could get laid.”

“what,” toji snickers, “haven’t fucked in a year or something?”

this was going to be a pain

“three years,” you clarify, staring at him with bored eyes because you know you’re going to get a reaction because of this, “with my ex was the last time. and i lost it to him.”

toji eyebrows immediately raise and he looks at you like you’re insane, “you’re lying.”

“don’t you think id rather say i just got laid two weeks ago or something?” you quizically ask him

“well yeah,” he scoffs, “but i'd rather you not at that point.”

you knowingly squint your eyes at him, jabbing a fork of calamari, “why’s that?”

and you laugh when toji drops his napkin back onto his lap very done with you and blankly stares you down.

“how long have you liked me anyway,” you continue, hoping and praying on the small chance that toji pined for you as much you did for him so that you didn’t feel as pathetic

he stays quiet for a bit, as if he didn’t hear you, and you feel embarrassed that you’re about to repeat himself until he looks up from his meal and says, “ever since business boy posted a picture of you before i got the chance to meet all of you.”

hoping and praying did you well

you had to physically stop yourself from giggling like a schoolgirl by holding your hands in fists under the table, “and..why did you never make a move?”

“i thought you had a crush on sukuna for a good four months,” he shrugged and if you were seeing right, there was a pink hue dusting the tips of his ears, “after i figured out you didn’t, i pussied out because i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

then his eyes fixated on you, “what about you huh?”

you felt yourself growing small in your seat, beginning to play with the ends of your dress, “well, when we met and you told lent me your jacket because my cardigan was thin…”

“both of us have been idiots this entire year huh,” toji joked, laughing at himself and you

“yeah,” you meekly agreed, taking a woeful gulp of wine until you came to a realization, “wait, is that why sukuna thought you didn’t like him for the first few months of knowing him?!”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” the fighter grunted, looking to the side as he drank another gulp of water

by the time your date with toji ended you were as happy as could be, having felt fulfilled that yes you were on a date with your long time crush, but that you were also very compatible and had amazing chemistry. you kissed briefly, outside the restaurant when your heel got caught on a pebble and he held you upright so as to stop you from falling. you pulled him in for it to thank him and he held onto your waist so fucking well, the fact that his hand was almost the same size as your back was dizzying. 

he had asked for another date the following afternoon for brunch with him and you couldn’t deny, wanting to spend more time with him. you were telling satoru this on the phone before he said…

“so when are you guys getting it on?”

if you could, you’d throw something at him through the phone right now.

“you are such a pervert!”

“i am not,” satoru defends, “okay maybe a little, ha. but in all honesty when are you two going to rip off the bandaid? it’s not like you’re strangers and you have to do that awkward period of oh im respecting your space crap. oh my god, does he know you’ve never gotten head?”

your cheeks flush hot, “no.”

“this is hilarious,” satoru jeers, “try to last longer than two seconds when he eats it.”

you sprawl across your bed and almost scream, “stop, because im going to be really embarrassed if that happens!”

“i think it’d be a miracle if it didn’t happen,” you can hear the millionaire open another candy wrapper before stuffing the sweet into his mouth, “so when are you sealing the deal?”

“when even is the appropriate time?” you gaze at your ceiling, feeling hot all over your body and embarrassed that you’re talking to your friend about having sex with one of your other friends

“personally, i think he would’ve done it by tonight already.”

“you think?”

“he looks at your boobs when you aren’t looking.”

“what?! why didnt you tell me this before?” you sit upright in your bed

“him wanting to fuck you is obvious, i just didn’t know if he liked you, so i kept it to myself.”

“unfair,” you huff, falling back into your comforter, staring at the ceiling in silence until you felt your phone beginning to vibrate

pending call - toji

“toru, ill catch up with you some other time, toji’s calling me,” you usher out and immediately accept the incoming call before the snow haired devil can say something cheesy.

“hi,” you breathe out

“hey,” toji’s gruff voice responds through the small speaker, “how are you feelin?”

“about the food or you?” you tease

“both.”

“wish i could’ve eaten some of that peach cobbler the couple next to us ordered,” you fluff up a pillow behind you, wondering if you should go forward with a thought before you think fuck it, and say, “wish i could’ve kissed you more.”

“i can get you both angel.”

“what are you doing?”

“just put some patches on my back, ‘s sore,” theres a moment of silence before he quips, “was thinking about you.”

“me too,” you sigh, hoping he can’t hear how dreamy you unintentionally sounded

“what about me?” you can hear the smirk in his voice

and you indulge him a little, just to fuck with him, “how big your hands are.”

“you like ‘em?”

“mhm, they looked nice with the bruises on them too.”

“ ‘s that why you kept holding onto them?”

“maybe,” you watch as you kick your feet up in the air, finding something to exert your energy 

“yours are soft,” he breathes, “i like it.”

“you know what else is soft?”

“what?” you can hear his energy shift

“my hair, i use really good conditioner and product.”

“fuckin tease.”

you turned around in your bed to hold your head in one of your hands, “what ever do you mean by that toji?”

“you always pull shit like this and you know it. you made me think i forgot your birthday last week.”

you laugh at his offense, noting that you did get a good scare out of him last week when you pretended he said your birthday wrong, “okay that was a one time thing though.”

“and then you told me the chinese restaurant i sent you to had shitty lomein.”

he had recommened the restaurant to you last month based on the premise that the lomein was good as hell and that you’d like it. you didn’t think he’d fall for it, but you told him it was crap just to fuck with him and he couldn’t function for a minute. 

“okay okay maybe i do pull shit like that every once in a while,” you digress

“every once in a while…” the scowl on toji’s face is quite loud when he responds

“every once in a while,” you punctuate with a sing songy voice

after your brunch date with toji the following day, he took you vase shopping because when he showed up at your place to pick you up he had another very large bouquet of flowers in his hands for you. and unfortunately, you couldn’t even fit all the flowers from the night before into the three vases you had. 

he took you to a high end home furniture store that you were pretty sure millionaires only shopped in, your theory being proven when a rug you passed by was the exact same one satoru kept in his apartment and shamelessly replaced when shoko got red wine on it. 

“woah,” you say when you get to the vase section, “this is way different than the ones at ikea.”

“see anything you like?” toji moves to stand next to you while you take in the vast number of beautiful vases in front of you

and at first you think you have nothing to say, unable to pick from all the beauties in splayed out for you, until your eyes spot a pretty almost seashell shaped vase, with defining ridges, colored gold, it was beautiful and you wouldn’t mind a number of those decorating your apartment. 

“i like this one,” you murmur as you walk up to it, noticing the slight iridescent shimmers on it

you can see toji raise his hand and make some sort of mannerism towards someone, you assume a worker, out of the corner of your eye after you say that. 

which led to the predicament of accompanying toji into your apartment numerous times as he carried the multiple boxes carrying the same vase into your apartment. you weren’t allowed to, he had demanded. he even eyed you threatningly when you made to pick up your own box to take with him. 

by the time he had brought in the last box you were very antsy, trying to find something to do in return for him like offer a water or food, or what fucking ever, just anything in exchange for his buying you multiple luxury vases and carrying them into your apartment. 

“i did that shit because i like you and i think you deserve it,” toji huffed, eyeing you pointedly while he accepted the glass of water you had offered him, “don’t get all weird.”

“okay…” you nervously looked to the side as you traced invisible lines across your kitchen island, “at least sit for a while before we have to unpack them and put the flowers in them. please?”

the tall and buff fighter let your small and nimble hands drag him to your couch by the arm and then guide him to sit on it, with you following after.

“I was watching grey’s anatomy before you came over,” you start, looking at him earnestly, “do you wanna watch some with me?”

toji set the glass of water on your coffee table then splayed his arm behind you on the couch and nodded, “go for it.”

“okay,” you smiled lightly then, much to his obvious surprise, crawled over him and reached for the remote next to him, tucked into the corner of the couch just a little, then went back to your original spot next to him.

your eyes were focused on opening netflix when he spoke, “is that the uh–the show with the doctors and crap?”

you pressed play when you set the remote off to the side and leaned more into his space, “yeah! it’s a little cheesy, but it’s fun to watch, at least before a certain season. after that it just goes downhill.”

“alright,” the ravenette said, leaning closer to your space too

“glow in the dark,” toji exhales a light laugh at the mention of glow in the dark condoms

“ever tried those?” you look up at him from where you’re tucked underneath his arm, hand splayed across his chest and abdomen area

“never knew they were a thing,” he smirks, “you?”

“i don’t even know what head’s like,” you roll your eyes, “as if i would’ve gotten to the exploration stage of fucking.”

you can see toji visibly stiffen at your comment

“what?”

“there’s no way in hell that fucker didn’t eat you out,” he’s sat up straighter now, eyes pining you under his gaze

“well there is a way in hell,” you move your hands as if to gesture ‘it is what it is’, “he didn’t like the taste.”

“what, he got a wonder dick or something?” he looked annoyed, “that do the job?”

“i did not ever orgasm, so no,” you laugh, finding it funny how pissed he’s getting on your part, “why are you so pissy for me zenin?”

he gives you one glance before looking forward at the tv to avoid your gaze, sighing a little, “it’s stupid, is all.”

“me not getting head?” you’re still staring at him even though he’s watching george and alex bicker on the tv

“yeah,” he nods

and satoru’s words play through your mind again, ‘personally, i think he would’ve done it by tonight already.’

but you shake the thought away before you start something stupid and reassume your cuddling position next to toji, watching as it gets revealed that the neurosurgeon lover has a wife already. the previous piece of information making toji uncharacteristically scrunch his nose and look as if he wants to spit at the screen. 

“what,” he looks at you, eyes waiting in earnest for the next episode, “that the end? start the next one.”

“are you sure,” you giggle at his sudden interest in the soap opera.

toji sinks into his spot on the couch, bringing you closer to him with a hand on the skin just above your knee, “yeah, play it.”

while you take the remote to start the new season, you laugh, then place it down before leaning up and placing a chaste kiss on the fighter’s lips, “you’re cute.”

he gives you a bored look, obvious in expressing that cute is not something he wants to be described as, but you can also feel the grip he has on you twitch for a second. 

“what?” you smile, “can i not call you cute?”

“can’t you find something better?” he says, trying not to roll his eyes

“not when you’re acting cute,” you sit up a little and grab his face to place a kiss on his forehead, then his nose, which scrunches up cutely at the action. you can see toji try to chase your lips just the slightest when he sees your mouth fall away from his nose and wander so close to his mouth. you use the observation to tease him, making it look as if the next destination was his lips until you go further down and land a peck on his chin. 

toji’s had enough of it, it seems, when he swoops a hand under your jaw and near your neck and guides you to his own mouth. he's soft about it, simply trying to taste your lips and memorize the feeling of your lips on his, until–you dont know who–one of you takes a sensual turn and makes it much more intense than need be. although unable to find the culprit of before, you can say that toji’s first in sliding his tongue into your mouth moments after. he does it slowly, flicking the muscle to tease at your own before retreating, as if waiting for yours to give the same response and you do, shyly dipping yours in to lick across his tongue. almost like he lured you in, he intertwines his muscle with yours upon the interaction and you can’t help the small high pitched moan that escapes you. 

on some sort of instinct, toji uses the hand on your knee to hook it under his grasp and guide you to his lap, planting you thigh to thigh on top of him. your hands, having forgotten what to do in these situations, awkwardly place themselves on his chest, shakily feeling the hardness of his chest underneath them. he grabs onto one of them, caressing the skin of it, while his other hand finds comfort in your waist. 

a second moan makes it way out of your throat and toji’s hips buckle up subconsciously, which makes you gasp into his searing kisses. the action has you noting that he’s hard underneath you and the exact size of him is a curiosity to you, the thought making you reach a hand down to hold him. 

he’s big, an ‘it’s going to hurt’ kind of big. 

“don’t…” he grunts out, letting go of the hand holding onto his chest and reaching down to take off the one holding his length, “touch unless you’re ready.”

“i’m ready,” you shift your hips atop of him and being forced to look at him when he pulls away from the kiss, lips pink and splotched and his pupils blown out.

“I can wait,” he says, trying to control his breathing, the expanse of his chest rising and falling so controlled even though the look in his eyes says otherwise, “don’t worry about me, if that’s it.”

“well I can’t,” you tug at one of the buttons of his shirt for emphasis, then guide one of his hands underneath your skin and near your inner thighs, “feel me.”

slowly and hesitantly, toji moves his hand onto your panties and runs a finger across the excessively damp wet spot of them.

“fuckin tease,” he groans at the touch, sliding his finger across again and again, earning mewl after mewl from you

“do you want me?” you shyly pant as you hold onto his free arm, fighting the need to put your head in his shoulders

“yeah, i fucking want you,” toji growls as he pushes you onto his chest by a hand on your back

he maintains eye contact with you when his hand pushes your panties out of the way and immediately slips a finger into your heat. the pressure of his gaze turns feral when your eyebrows knit and a loud moan leaves your lips.

for some reason, trying to excuse the loud reactions he’s about to get from you, you heave, worried, “i—i haven’t done this in a long time and–oh mmmm–i won’t be able to help myself.”

“think i care?” he huffs, concentrating on you when he slips a second finger inside and curls them both curiously to find your spot, which he does, smirking a little when your hold on him grows tighter and your hips wiggle at the pleasure, “scream all you want princess.”

he starts jutting in his fingers quickly in and out of you after the words leave his mouth, and the stretch is so good, so unlike your small hands that haven’t been able to do crap for years, that you start squealing and hug toji in by the back of his neck and shoulders.

“there you go, there you go baby,” he coos, smiling a little at the cute sounds you’re making and relishing in the squelch of your pussy while his fingers abuse it. 

“wait–wait–” you heave, beginning to push him away, even though the advance is useless due to his iron grip and try to explain an embarrassing admission so as to warn him, “i feel like im gonna–”

he gives you no chance to finish your sentence when he punches in a third finger and makes you nearly scream.

“what?” he breathes, lusty eyes boring into your own, “you gonna cum?”

“no–”you shake your head, trying your best to still relay your message even though you can feel your orgasm taking its final steps near, “well yeah–but–but–”

your stomach starts dropping and toji picks up his pace so brashly that you release almost instantaneously all over him. your legs twitch uncontrollably and you bury your face into his neck while squealing through the feeling.

“shit.” he utters, still fingering you through it, “fuck, fuck.”

“i squirt,” you almost cry, embarrassed and shaken up by your orgasm, unable to look at him, “i’m sorry, i tried to tell–”

“shut up,” toji spanks your pussy and doesn’t care when you yelp as he throws you with your back on the couch and starts to tug your panties off, “you’re gonna do it again.”

submitting to him, you shimmy out of your dress nervously while he hastily undoes the buttons of his dress shirt. the burly fighter drags you, so your legs dangle off the couch before he kneels down and places his hands underneath your thighs to spread you out for him

“look at me when i eat you,” toji pinches your clit to get your full attention on his face, “don’t close your eyes or look at the ceiling, none of that shit. got that?”

you nod your head impishly, hesitantly putting a hand on your stomach, itching to hold onto his face or his hair. 

his eyes drift to your sex and you can see a hint of irritation paint itself across his features when he mutters under his breath, “didn’t like the taste my ass.”

within milliseconds, toji saves no mercy and starts to eat you out like a man starved. his mouth is hot and wet, and you don’t know where the mess is coming from, his lips or yours. the man spits onto your pussy and so sloppily makes out with your sticky heat, interchanging between that and sucking so harsly against your clit. 

your legs are twitching so wildly and the only thing keeping you from scrambling away is toji’s hands that are now wrapped around your thighs to keep you pressed against him. 

you’re basically screaming now, in utter bliss from the heavenly feeling, unable to speak. 

his eyes keep looking up to bore into yours all while he aggressively kisses your pussy. it has your breath picking up rapidly and goosebumps rising all across your skin. his tongue laps across your lips so foreign yet so deliciously that you can’t help the increasing reach of your orgasm.

“I'm close!” you squeal after a particular suck of your clit, thinking that he needs to heed to the warning because you’re so sure you’re about to squirt on his face

all toji does in response is growl and let go of one of your thighs to start fingering you with two digits rapidly.

he stares you down while you struggle to keep the eye contact, your whole body beginning to twitch uncontrollably and your vision starting to see white until the invisible cord snaps and you feel an immense relief wash over you–and him.

the juices seeping from you seem to spur him on and he doesn’t move in any sort of way to avoid them, instead choosing to lap at them and drink it in all while making growls and groans of satisfaction. 

he’s still going at it when you come to, and you start shuffling away–well try to–from him, yelping, “it’s sensitive toji!”

he seemingly listens to you after a few seconds, running his tongue flat against your folds before he lifts his face from you. the entire lower half of his face is covered in your juices and his spit and he looks outright animalistic as he looks back at you. 

he gets up and stalks towards you until he’s on top of your body and dives down to kiss you aggressively, making you taste yourself in the process. it’s so erotic, it has your pussy fluttering all over again. 

“fuck,” he groans deeply into your mouth, “you don’t have any condoms right doll?”

you shake your head a little, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders and offer something else, “i’m on the pill…so i don’t really mind…”

you can feel his breath hitch and you’re quick to add, “but! if you’re not comfortable without one–”

“you fine with me blowing a load in you?” he mutters and seizes the chance to nip at your bottom lip

“i wanna feel it,” you admit, glad he’s still kissing you so he doesn’t see the flustered look on your face.

“dirty fucking angel,” he says heavily against your mouth before he gets up to undo his belt buckle and push both his pants and briefs in one motion.

he doesn’t even really spring up free like you expected him to. his dick is so hung that well, it hangs. the size looks bigger than what you predicted already when you touched it earlier. your ex, the only person you’ve had sex with, was the stark opposite of this, easy to fiddle with and well below average. the difference of having toji’s thick length right in front of you now had you clenching around nothing. 

“you like it?” toji smirks at you while he goes up to you again and moves you so that you’re completely laying across the couch before he climbs up on top of you between your legs.

“mhm,” you nod, looking down and hoping his tip can at least graze your folds while it bobs down near your inner thigh and that’s when you get an idea.

“can we–” you almost hesitate, “can we do a mating press?”

“was planning on it,” he says gruffly when he leans forward and pins your legs next to your head. 

you giggle at the words and he smiles down at you, a moment of innocence before the both of you look down and he’s using one hand to guide his tip into you.

the pop of his tip inside of you is overwhelming. you feel like you’re going to push him out in a single clench with how girthy he is. and you think the previous two, very wet, orgasms are what lets him slide into you, even though it stings. 

“shit’s fucking tight,” toji groans, both hands back to your legs while he and you watch him pull out nearly all the way and sink back in.

“ ‘s so big,” you huff, feeling like he’s outright in your stomach, “feel so full.”

“bet you do,” he sounds so serious when he says it, still entranced when he starts to pound in and out of you at an average pace that, although it’s not fast, still has you starting to feel tears brim near your waterline

the man above you starts groaning in sync with your moans and whines, shuddering a little everytime you clench and suck him in

“beautiful,” toji groans under his breath and you can feel his pace start to pick up a bit, “getting fucked on a huge cock, little princess slut. tiny fucking hole’s begging for help.”

the mean words mixed with his praise has you feeling epically embarrassed yet turned on all at the same time and all you can do is moan in response 

“you like getting called a slut?” he presses himself against you, almost chest to chest, smirking evilly while he raggedly breathes, “or princess? or you like me talking about splitting your pussy open?”

“all…of it,” you gasp through two punctual thrusts of his, he’s hit your cervix multiple times but the pleasure is so overwhelming, you’re starting to enjoy it

toji snickers a little, opening your legs a bit further to expose more of your torso, your tits being part of it and his intention, you realize when he goes down to pop one of your nipples into his mouth. he swirls the bud around his mouth and bites at it with his teeth while he starts to jackhammer into you, making sure each thrust is deep.

his balls start making a pap–pap sound everytime he thrusts back in, accompanying the wet squelch of toji dragging himself inside of you repeatedly.

it’s rough and hard, but more intimate than anything considering the few words being exchanged. the both of you are more concentrated on each other’s presence and reactions because after toji comes back up from your tits, he finds your lips and starts to makeout with you languidly. 

the grip on your thighs grows bruising when you mix tongue into the kissing, coaxing him to do the same too. 

“feel so fucking good,” he hisses when you clench around him uncontrollably, a sign of your incoming orgasm, “pussy’s close isn’t it”

you nod instead of speaking, concentrating on the delicious drag of his veins against your walls and the prodding of his tip at your g-spot

toji leans close to your ear, voice hard and lusty as he starts to mutter sweet and dirty nothings, “such a pretty girl, taking this cock so good.”

he then bites your ear softly, “you gonna milk my cock like a good girl? squeeze my load all out?”

shivering, you nod again and make a whimper in response 

“squirt all over me angel, i know you want to,” toji starts plummeting a bit harder into your sweet spot, finding it again, the action has you looking down at where you’re both connected unable to fathom how large he is and just how he’s making it all fit inside, “look at me.”

one of his hands is gently under your chin now, guiding you to look at him since your eyes had strayed from his own. he’s breathing heavy now and his irises are almost completely gone considering the blown out size of his pupils. 

“cum with me sweetheart,” the hand from your chin snakes its way down to your clit so as to start rubbing harsh circles for you, and you just know you’re about to make a bigger mess than before, “wrap that pretty pussy around me. milk the shit out of this dick. cum’s all yours baby.”

“ ‘s too much,” you whine, breathing ragged, “i don’t think–oh my god!”

you feel the pleasure wash over your entire body and come out all over toji’s lower abdomen accompannied by the profuse hard flutters of your pussy on his cock. you release a combination between a whine and a cry, feeling completely wrecked by the sensation.

toji follows you the moment your release gets all over him, his hips stiling and jerking into you roughly, this time giving hard kisses to your cervix instead of the fleeting small pecks from earlier. his cum feels immense, its warmth you can feel pooling inside you as toji sputters it into you.

“shit! fuck!” he groans, watching himself push it all into you before looking back up and taking you into a passionate kiss

“atta girl,” he utters after swiping his tongue across your teeth, one of his hands coming up to tentatively hold one of your breasts, “that feel good?”

tired, you weakly nod and sigh a weak, “mhm”

he lets go of the one hand holding your thigh up and moves both of your legs so that they wrap around his waist. he hasn’t pulled out yet.

“gonna buy you a new couch,” his lips twitch a little as he looks at the surrounding area near the both of you, “shit’s soaked.”

“toji!” you whine, embarrased, and pull him into you so you can hide your face.

toji doesn’t let you, instead pulling away so he can get a good look at you and grin, “you got spare sheets?”

“yeah?” you furrow your eyebrows, “but what does that have to do with the couch?”

“it doesnt. I’m fucking you on your bed later,” he shifts both of your bodies so that you can sit on top of him now just as he shifts the conversation back to what it was, “we’ll go shopping for the couch tomorrow. make it celebratory gift.”

“for the first time we fucked?”

“nah,” he lands a teasing kiss on your nose, “for your first time.”

you roll your eyes at him, “just because its been three years–”

“don’t care, doesn’t count if you never came with shrimp dick.”

a fit of giggles escapes you as you press yourself up against him for physical support, “yeah okay, it’s my first time gift.” 

then your eyes stray to his very wet clothes on the floor next to yours, “sorry i got your clothes dirty though. I don’t think i have anything for you to wear either.”

toji puts both of his thumbs at the corner of your mouth to make your pout disappear, he snickers at himself for it, “i’ll call my assistant to drop off some clothes here.” 

“how long will that take?”

“long as our shower,” toji huffs as he lifts the both of you up and starts walking to your restroom.

“and how long will that take?” you laugh, wiggling your eyebrows at him and clinging onto his shoulders.

“three more orgasms,” he comments, opening the door and leading the both of you to a very steamy shower. 

“you haven’t even made the call yet!”

“shut up.”

[lalunanymph]

I GET THOSE GOOSEBUMPS EVERYTIME

summary. your husband decides to take playtime to the next level

warnings. fem!reader, wife!reader, reader is pregnant, reader has children with sylus, reader is his submissive, teasing, orgasm denial, oral, nipple play, clit play, orgasm control, bdsm, bondage, panel gags, panty gags, petnames (good girl, doll, my love, my wife, darling, sweetie), sir kink, biting, edging, free use, mild exhibitionism, dirty talk, Dom/sub dynamics, begging, super indulgent and so self-ship coded :,)

The flickering vintage lamp spilling warm, orange light on his large, blackwood desk is the only accompaniment to Sylus’s late night work. 

His sharp ears, however, detect a hint of movement, and he looks up in time to find you standing by the doorway, hair mused and face still warm with sleep, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Mhm... love? You’re not asleep yet.”

Those crimson hues soften at the sight of his beloved wife, a surge of affection and warmth filling his chest.

“Did I wake you, doll?” 

A hint of amusement dances in his ruby gaze as you pout and pad over to him. Sylus doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist, dragging you onto his lap. Your head rests perfectly in the dip of his chest, your eyes slipping close to enjoy the warmth his broader body offered. 

He can faintly make out the small protrusion of your belly hiding underneath the silky black nightgown you wore that left little to the imagination. Your husband’s large hand strokes through your hair, and he leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know I cannot sleep if you’re not in the same bed as me,” your petulance earns a chuckle, Sylus’s blood red eyes twinkling.

“I have some documents to review and then I’ll be in bed soon with you, doll.”

But, you wouldn’t budge, stubbornly twining your arms around his neck, pressing your body flush against his. 

Your body heat seeps past the thin sleep robe he wore, straight into his skin which was tingling from your close proximity. 

“I think I’ll just take a doze here.”

“Are you sure, doll?” He exhales a short laugh. “It’s not exactly comfortable to sleep on me, but if you can wait for me to be done, I promise I will carry you back into the bedroom.”

You sigh, and shake your head. “I don’t think I can sleep, either.” A sly smile plays in the corners of your mouth, and Sylus feels a shiver of excitement running down his spine.

“Doll, are you saying what I think you’re saying…?”

No longer sleepy-eyed, you were awake and teasing, your hands pressing flat onto his broad chest. 

“Well, since we both can’t sleep…” You trail off, letting him fill in the blanks. Sylus did not disappoint, of course, just as sharp and keen as you are whenever it came to the matters of fulfilling your shared lust.

His hands came to wrap around your waist, sliding down to grip the bare skin of your exposed thighs. “Hmm, what do you have brewing in that devious mind, my beautiful, sexy wife?” 

You fight back a smile, pretending to be coy and demure. 

“Do you remember that night at the Eizer gala? Where you gagged me with my own panties in the bathroom while you took me there? Or, the beach when you tied me up before you collared me and made me yours in every way possible?” 

Sparks of heat light the base of his spine, your words instantly bringing to mind the memories of past carnal encounters which he holds dearly in his soul. 

Sylus grins, his eyes darkening with arousal at your words. He loves that you’ve been thinking about your previous play sessions, and the thought of having you bound and gagged again was incredibly arousing to him. He reaches out and gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Mhm… you’ve been thinking about that, haven’t you, doll? You want to be tied up and gagged again?” 

A tremor of excitement twists in your gut, tightening the band of arousal around your belly. 

“Yes, Sir. I want to completely submit my body to you again, Sir.”

Sylus’s grip on your chin tightens, his possessive fire roaring within him at your admittance. He loves it when you desire to submit completely to him, to give yourself over to him in every single way. 

“Mhm, that’s my good girl. And you’ll do exactly as I say, doll? You’ll allow me to do anything I want with your body?” 

You nod, your eyes drooping to half-mast from the desire thrumming in your veins. “Anything, Sir… anything you please. Hurt me, tease me… I want it all.” 

Sylus growls at your words, his mind racing with all the things he wants to do to you. He knew that he had to keep himself somewhat restrained, as you’re pregnant with his child, but he can still have you in so many different ways.

“Anything I please, doll? And you’ll be completely obedient and submissive like a good girl should?” 

“Yes, Sir,” you answer docilely. “Anything you want… I will be your good submissive.”

Sylus’s grip on your chin tightens, his carmine eyes boring into yours, his gaze dark and dangerous. 

“Mhm… I won’t go easy on you, my love. You need to understand that. If you give yourself completely to me, you’ll be completely at my mercy. There’s no backing out once we start. Are you sure you’re ready for that?” 

You bite on your lower lip, nodding eagerly. “Yes, Sir. I know what I want and what you can provide. I’m ready for it.” 

Sylus smirks, satisfied with your answer. 

“Then, I have something special planned for you, doll. I’ve purchased a surprise. Do you want to know what it is?” 

Your eyes shine with curiosity. “What is it, Sir?” 

Sylus releases your chin and leans back in his chair, a smug grin on his face.

“Mhm, doll, I’ve always wanted to try something new. I've been looking into some… equipment. Specialized handcuffs, designed for a specific reason.”

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers the next words: “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Your curiosity is at an all time high, the eagerness to uncover these new methods he had up his sleeve to torture and tease you driving you wild.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful, Sir.” 

Sylus’ grin grows wider as he watches you shiver with anticipation. He loves seeing your excitement, your eagerness to be at his mercy. 

“Doll, I know you’re going to enjoy this. But, first, we need to talk about safe words. Do you remember our rules of play?” 

“Yes, Sir,” you begin to recite the rules from the top of your head. “Red is for ‘stop’, yellow is for ‘slow down’ and green means ‘yes’.”

Sylus nods with approval, satisfied that you remember the rules. He knows it’s important to establish a system of communication, especially for situations like this. 

“Very good, doll. I’m glad you remember. And you’ll use them, right? You won’t hesitate to use a safeword if something becomes too intense or uncomfortable for you, correct?” 

His large palm rests on your belly, reminding you of this precious gift you’re carrying—his second son and third baby which he loves with his entire soul. Sylus would hate himself if something were to happen to you in the middle of playing that would unintentionally harm Dante. 

You nod, solemn and sure. “Yes, Sir.” 

Sylus moves his hand to rest on our face, his touch gentle but firm, his eyes locked on yours. 

“Good girl. Now, I have a few other rules for you. If you do something without my permission, or if you disobey me, I will punish you. Are you ready to hear the rules, doll?” 

“Yes, Sir,” you whisper, your heartbeat thudding with a mixture of dread and excitement.

Sylus can sense the contradicting emotions, his eyes darkening at your eagerness, the dark flame of dominance burning within him as he prepares to lay down the rules.

“Rule number one: you will not touch yourself. Do you understand?” 

You shiver at the demanding implications of his order, nodding. “Yes, Sir.” 

Sylus can’t help but to grin at your shiver, your body responding to his crisp command. He knows you’re excited and willing to submit to him. 

“Mhm, alright. Rule number two: you will remain submissive and obedient, following my every command. No hesitating, no questioning my authority. Do I make myself clear?” 

Again, you nod, growing restless on his lap, feeling the heat of his bigger body seeping into the skin of your split and bare thighs wrapped around his waist. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Sylus slides his hand down from your face to your neck, his fingers closing around your collar, tugging you closer to him. 

“Mhm, good girl. And rule number three: you will tell me exactly how you feel, doll. I want to know every bit of pleasure and pain I caused you. You will not hold back, and you will not be shy, understand?” 

This time your teeth find refuge in your lower lip, biting down on it to quell the mounting sexual tension threatening to squeeze the air from your lungs. 

“Yes, Sir… oh God, yes.” 

Sylus grins, his need to dominate growing stronger with each of your words, each shiver of your body. He can feel the power he has over you, the control he has over your body and mind. He’s addicted to it, the feeling of being able to control you completely.

“You’re being such a good girl, doll. But, there’s one more rule. One more important rule, doll. Do you know what it is?” 

“N-no, Sir.”

Sylus’s predatory smirk widens as he looks into your eyes, his hand still holding onto your collar, pulling you closer to him. He leans in, his lips nearly touching yours, his voice lowered to a rough, possessive whisper. 

“Rule number four, doll: you will follow all of my other rules, or I will punish you. And my punishments will not be gentle.”

Your agreement comes swiftly, born on the willingness of your eager nod. “Yes, Sir. I will follow all of your rules.” 

His ruby eyes gleam with satisfaction, hearing your words. He knows you’re ready to submit to him, to give up control, to be completely at his mercy. 

“That’s a good girl. Now, are you ready to try out your new equipment, doll?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He almost laughs at the excitement leaking through your tone, how your eyes are shining brightly with anticipation and lust.

Sylus opens a drawer under his desk, pulling out a set of handcuffs made of sturdy leather. He holds them up for you to see, the black bands connected to each other by a short chain.

“Here they are, doll. Specialized for this situation.”

You marvel at them, reaching out to graze a finger against the supple leather. “They’re beautiful, Sir.” 

He can’t help but grin at your words, the need to dominate you flaring the flames within him as he sees the eager submission in your eyes. He knows you’re excited to be bound by these handcuffs. 

“I thought you’d like them, doll. But, they’re not just designed to look beautiful. They’re also designed to be completely inescapable. There’s no wriggling out these handcuffs, doll. Once they’re on, they’re on.” 

Your breathing hitches, the idea of being completely bound and helpless at his mercy causing goosebumps to erupt across your body. 

“Will you gag me too, Sir? So we won’t accidentally wake up the twins.” 

Your babies are just down the hallway, sound asleep in their nursery and oblivious to the wicked games their parents are playing in daddy’s office. Since they’re starting to teeth, getting Sabrina and Protus to fall asleep was an endurance contest every night, and the idea of having to get up in the middle of playing to soothe them back to sleep daunts you. 

Sylus smirks, seeing the shiver of excitement run through your body as you ask about the gag. As if he can read your mind, he can tell what’s troubling you; how you’re eager for more and to be completely under his control.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want to ruin playtime tonight because I have so much in store for you, doll. You will be wearing this gag for the entire night. But, I won’t use a ball gag, my love. I have something much better.”

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you tilt your head to the side. “What is it, Sir?” 

Sylus moves his hand back to the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a slim, black device with a leather strap attached to the top. 

“It’s a special gag designed specifically for this kind of play, doll. It’s not a ball gag, it’s a panel gag. It’ll look more elegant on you, much more suited to a beautiful woman like you. And it’ll do a wonderful job of silencing your moans.”

Your eyes glimmer with wonder. “It’s beautiful, Sir. I love it. And the dildo insert—” you reach out to touch the phallic plastic protruding from behind the gag. “—that’s supposed to pin my tongue down, right?” 

Sylus’s smirk deepens at your enthusiasm, hearing the wonder and lust in your voice. He looks at you, feeling a shiver of desire run through him at knowing how much you want to be bound and silenced.

“You’re right, doll. The insert is to pin down your tongue, keeping you completely silenced and unable to speak. And the way it sticks out like that… it’ll look perfect on you, doll.”

“Mhm, like I’m sucking on something… naughty… while you have your way with me.” 

Sylus’s breath hitches at your words, the image you paint in his mind sending a wave of dark desire flowing through him. His eyes darken as he imagines you bound and gagged with the phallic panel gag, mouth stuffed full and completely at his mercy. His control is crumbling, the urge to fight back the need to stake his claim on your body weakening. 

“You’re being such a naughty tease, doll. So incredibly sexy with your words. You want to be my helpless plaything, don’t you?” 

You don’t help the urge from taking over him when you nod, meek and submissive. “Yes, Sir. I want to be controlled by you, Sir.” 

His ruby eyes darken with a dangerous gleam as the words leave your plush lips, the need to dominate and get you screaming for him burning hotter with each moment that passes. “Mhm, you’re mine, doll. Completely and utterly mine. And I’m going to make sure you remember that. Stand up, doll.” 

He gets up from the chair and guides you to the front of the desk, holding the gag and handcuffs in his hands.

“Time to get these on you, doll.”

You demurely get to your feet, fidgeting with your hands. But, before he puts you under his control, you want to do something for him. 

“Sir… can I strip for you?” 

Sylus’s breath trembles at your question, his eyes flicking down your body as he imagines you stripping for him, revealing your bare skin for his hungry gaze.

“... you want to strip for me, doll? You want to give me a show before I bind you and gag you?” 

His words elicit a dark wave of heat washing all over you, involuntarily making you moan softly.

“Yes, Sir. I want to make this good for you, too.” 

Sylus’s eyes darken with that all-consuming desire to claim you, a low growl escaping his chest as he looks at you with the fire of his immense heat. 

“Go ahead then, doll. Show me how much you want to be bound by me.” 

He sets the handcuffs and gag down on the desk, then crosses his arms and leans back against the edge of his desk, watching you with a heated gaze. He looks devilishly handsome in the dim light, frosty silver hair mused from your wandering fingers, and those piercing dark red gaze drinking in your every movement and expressions. 

You bite your lip and sway your hips, moving to a slow rhythm, starting with your nightgown straps. Gently, you ease them off your arms and let them fall, then you peel the band of your dress down your chest, sliding the slinky material over your barely there baby bump and down your thighs, leaving you in just your underwear. Glancing at him through your lashes, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your black thong, teasing him. 

Sylus’s breath is coming faster now as he watches you, his eyes glued to your body as you move with slow, alluring motions. The sight of you stripping for him, revealing the curves of your body and the soft skin of your pregnant stomach makes the fiery desire to claim you blaze even hotter. 

“You’re so beautiful, doll,” your husband praises you in a low, husky tone. “So damn beautiful.”

His fingers are starting to itch, aching to touch you, to feel your skin under his palms. But, he keeps his arms crossed, forcing himself to wait, to watch you finish your little strip tease for him. 

You hook the thong and drag it down your hips. With a sweet yet devious giggle, you ball it in your hand and toss the lace scrap onto his chest. 

Sylus smirks and catches the lace underwear, his fingers closing around the soft fabric. He looks down at the garment in his hand and then back up to you, his eyes darkening with desire and his slipping control. 

“Mhm… doll… you’re being very naughty, throwing your underwear at me like that.” 

He brings the tiny scrap of lace to his nose, inhaling your scent and a growl escapes his chest, low and possessive. 

Your eyes darken with a similar shade of desire and longing. “Anything for you, Sir.” 

Sylus can feel the fire to claim you threatening to engulf him, burning hotter with each moment that passes, his blood-red eyes locked on you and the desire in your own restless gaze. 

“That’s what I like to hear, doll.”

Your husband sets your thong on the desk and gets up, moving to stand in front of you. His hands reach out, fingers gently tracing the outline of your hips. “Turn around, sweetie. Let me put these handcuffs on you.”

Obeying him, you turn around, and rest your wrists on the small of your back.

Sylus’s eyes darken at your perfect submission, as he sees your wrists in their position, ready for him to bind. He picks up the handcuffs, the leather cold in his hand, and snaps the bands around your wrists. Pulling them taut, he secures them in place and snaps them shut with a click.

“How do they feel, doll?”

The low rumble of his question lights the warmth of arousal between your thighs, and you squirm, breathing growing heavier. “Heavenly, Sir… I can’t escape them.”

Sylus lets out a chuckle and a low growl, his need to dominate flaring up as he watches you squirm, testing the cuffs, trying to pull free. He takes a step closer behind you, his chest pressed flush against your back.

“That’s what I love about these cuffs, doll. They’re completely inescapable. No matter how much you struggle, you’re not getting out.”

Once upon a time, the idea of being bound by the infamous Onychinus leader would have made your fearless heart tremble. But, after falling in love with him, marrying him and giving him two beautiful twins and with another baby on the way, the fear is no longer there, replaced by the intense desire to always belong inexplicably to him. 

You lean against his chest, a soft moan slipping past your teeth. “Feels… so good…”

Sylus wraps his arms around you, his chest pressed close against your back, the heat of his body warming you. He pulls you closer, his hands running along your hips and sides, up to your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your skin. The feel of you against his chest, the sounds of your sweet moans, makes him burn hotter for you.

“Mhm, such a good girl. The way you respond to being bound is so damn sexy, doll.”

Your hips involuntarily undulate, desire singing in your veins. 

“They make me feel so sexy, Sir.” 

Sylus tightens his arms around you, his fingers tracing along the curve of your hips as you grind your lower body against his. He can feel your desire, hear the need in your voice, and his control is close to snapping. Gritting his teeth, he fights back against the urge to just bend you over the desk and take you like an animal. 

“You can really feel how helpless you are now, can’t you, my love? These cuffs make you feel so vulnerable, so exposed… so completely under my control.”

No one can say your husband wasn’t an expert and talking through your mounting desire. You tilt your head back and moan softly. 

“Yes, Sir. I feel so helpless… It's intoxicating.” 

Sylus leans down, his lips hovering over your exposed neck, just below the line of your collar. He can feel his possessive fire burning ever brighter, the instincts to devour and pleasure you taking over.

“Mhm, doll… you’re completely at my mercy like this. You can’t do anything except wait for me to touch you, to tease you, to give you whatever I want.” 

Your body begins to shake, the force of his words enough to bring your composure to its knees. 

“Please…”

Your Master and husband smirks, feeling your body tremble with desire, the need in your voice fueling the dominant flame within him. He doesn’t give you what you want, instead continuing to tease you, his lips just barely touching your neck.

“Please what, doll? Use your words.”

A gasp flies past your lips, your eyes squeezing close; the words that spill from your tongue are wanton and take you aback with how desperate you are for your husband. 

“Use me, Sir. Touch me. Tease me. Make me your toy, Sir.”

Sylus grins, feeling the power surging through him at your words. He loves it when you give yourself over to him, when you surrender to his indomitable control. 

“That’s exactly what you want, isn’t it, doll? You want me to use you, to do whatever I want and please to your sweet, hot, tight little body?” 

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, breath hot and insistent.

“You want to be my toy, my plaything.” 

“Yes, Sir,” your voice shakes from the force of your desire. “I want to be your filthy plaything… your sweet toy…”

Your husband’s dominant fire roars, the possessive need within him flaring up at your words. He knows you’re completely his; his to do as he pleases. Your submission and your surrender only serve to stoke the flames of his desire, making him want to push you further, to take you to the edge and beyond. 

“That’s exactly what you are, doll. You’re my dirty, filthy sweet little toy. And I’m going to use however I please.”

Those words and promises… they drive you insane with need and want.

“Oh God… oh God…” you groan needily. 

Sylus moves his lips down your neck, biting and sucking on your sensitive skin, leaving possessive marks on the tender stretch of your throat. His hands wander down your body, tracing the curves of your hips and stomach, gently pinching and tugging on your swollen, tender nipples until your hips stutter, his touch setting your skin ablaze. 

“Mhm, doll… say it. I want you to say it. That you’re my toy. That you belong to me.” 

Your head tilts back onto his chest, your breath coming out in hard pants. “I’m your toy, Sir. Your beloved toy and I belong to you.” 

He grins against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Hearing you say the words, hearing you claim yourself as his, only serves to fan the flames of his desire to dominate even further. Your husband pulls you flush against his chest, his body pressed against your back.

“That’s right, my doll. You’re mine. Mine to do as I please. Mine to play with, to tease and to take however I want.”

His lips move to your ear, voice low and dangerous. 

“And trust me when I say this, sweetie. I plan on using you all night.” 

Your hips quiver, the surging heat clawing through your body, demanding to be whetted. “Please, Sir. Make it hurt. Make me cry. I want you to consume me.”

This dark game you and your husband love to play will never cease to enthrall you, leaving you bright-eyed and impatient for him to fulfill your desires. 

Sylus’ demanding nature roars at your words. He understands you’re giving him explicit permission to push you to your limits, to take you beyond the edge of pleasure and into the aching terrain of submission. 

“Careful what you wish for, sweetie… you’re giving me all the permission I need to do things to you that will make you scream and cry. Are you sure you won’t regret this?” 

“I won’t, Sir,” you promise. “I need it… I want it…” 

He grins, knowing that he has your complete trust and surrender. Your white-haired devilish husband knows he’s going to push you to your limits and he’s going to make you enjoy every second of it.

“Hmm. Alright, doll… you asked for it.”

Without warning, he bites down on your neck, his sharp canines sinking into the delicate skin of your throat, marking you as his. Your body jerks instinctively, and he moves his hands to your wrists, gripping it tightly in his grasp, pulling you back against him, keeping you captive and pliant to the pleasure he’s eliciting in your bound body. 

“A-ah!” 

Tears fill your eyes, your loud moan catching you off guard. 

Suddenly, you hear a rustle over the baby monitor he has installed near his office desk, and you gasp softly, catching his attention. Sylus stills, following your gaze to the baby monitor, hearing one of the twins starting to sniffle, having been startled by your shattering moan. 

He grumbles and releases your wrists, reluctantly pulling away from you. Sylus can tell from the cadence of the tiny sniffles that Sabrina has woken up from your unintentionally jarring moan. 

“Damn it, doll,” he hisses, “you woke the baby with your screaming. Are you happy now?” 

Despite being bound and at his whim, you shoot him a glare and whisper-yell: “That was what the gag was for, Sylus!” 

The rustling continues over the baby monitor, Sabrina smacking her lips and yawning. Your husband makes to move to the nursery, wanting to comfort his baby girl when you shake your head and whisper, “Wait! Let’s just give her some time to settle down…”

He grumbles again, the aching need to dominate you temporarily stifled by this unforeseen interruption. He knows that it was his fault for not gagging you sooner before proceeding with playtime, and he can’t help but feel frustrated at his lack of foresight.

“Fine, doll. We’ll give her some time. But, trust me, when she goes back to sleep, we’re picking right back up where we left off.” Your husband’s ruby red eyes seem to glow in the lack of light with the intensity of his need to assert his dark desires over you. “And this time,” he promises, “you will be wearing a gag.” 

Nodding, you rest your head on his chest, listening to the baby monitor. Sylus remains quiet, too, sliding his hands up and down your arms and shoulders, praying to whatever deity above that his sweet children will remain asleep while he has his way with their mama. 

Like his prayer was answered, Sabrina stops sniffling and coos, rustling sounding over the scratchy audio. Then, soft snores fill the office, the baby monitor picking up on both the twins sound asleep. 

Sylus waits until his baby girl’s snores turn into soft, even breathing, indicating that she’s fallen back asleep. When he’s absolutely and 100% sure she’s knocked out cold, he glances down at you, corners of his lips twitching in a smirk at the sight of you tense and waiting in his arms. 

“I hope you know what you’re in for, doll. You asked me to push you to your limits and now that our precious babies are asleep… I’m not holding back anymore.”

You nod, squeezing your thighs together, despite the guilt swimming in your soul at how easily you had already disobeyed his orders tonight. 

“Sir… I’m sorry, Sir.” 

Sylus grins, noticing the way you’re squirming from the heat in between your thighs, your body responding to his dominating words. “You’re sorry, sweetie? Yes, you should be. You woke the baby and now we had to stop. But, don’t worry, I’m going to make sure you remember this lesson, doll.”

Your eyes flash and your shoulders tense when you hear him pick up the panel gag from the desk. 

Like he’s completely attuned to you, Sylus smirks when you turn around to show him the flash of excitement in your eyes. He holds up the panel gag, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Doll, this is the exact punishment you get for waking the baby. You’re going to be wearing this gag for the rest of the night.” 

He shifts closer to you, reaching forward to tilt your chin up. 

“Open your mouth, doll.”

You obey him with no resistance, letting your mouth fall open. 

Sylus’s grin stretches wider when he watches you obediently drop open your mouth, your eyes filling with excitement and submission. He lifts the panel gag up, sliding the black phallus between your teeth and securing it behind your head. 

“There you go… mhm… you look so beautiful with the gag in your mouth, doll.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear and inciting shivers down your spine from his honeyed threat. 

“Now, let’s see how loud I can make you scream.”

You gurgle his name, biting down on the black plastic, humiliation and desire running through your veins. 

Sylus runs his hands over your body, tracing your curves and planting his mouth on any inch of skin he can reach, leaving his marks all over. He sees the way you look at him, the desire for more melting in the depths of your gaze, and the way your body responds to his touch. It only serves to fan the flames of his need to dominate. 

“You like being gagged, don’t you, my love?” He brushes his fingers across the outline of the gag, moving his hand to grip your neck lightly, enjoying your stuttering breath and muffled moan. “You like the way it feels when I take control and you have no choice but to surrender to me, don’t you, darling?” 

Tears of pleasure and yearning fill your eyes and you nod, your hips twitching pathetically from the impact of his debauched words.

Sylus smirks at the tears in your eyes, knowing it’s him that is making you feel the way he wants you to. He can tell that you’re completely engrossed in the moment, that you’re drowning in the subtleties of this power dynamic between you two. 

“I can see it in your eyes, my love. You’re desperate for me, aren’t you?” His voice is a low, alluring rumble that comes from his chest, vibrating against your back. “You want me to take control and make you mine, completely and utterly.”

The gag slurs your plea, but he hears you all the same. “Pwease.” 

The ache in his loins flares up at your muffled plea, the way you’re begging for him makes Sylus even more excited to deny you.

“You want more, doll? You want me to edge you hard and fast? You want me to deny you and make you drip with pure, pathetic need?” 

You nod desperately, clipping your hips forward, a slutty tick of libidinous desire you cannot control.

Sylus grins at your body’s desperation manifesting in the uncontrollable movement of your hips. He sees the way you’re squirming and pleading for more, even when he hasn’t touched you fully yet; his sick, twisted desires growing harder to control at the sight. 

“You’re so eager, doll. So eager to give yourself to me, to let me take control. But, you have to be patient, doll. I’m going to make you feel sensations you've never felt before. But first…”

Sylus presses closer, his lips hovering close to your ear: “I’m going to do something you won’t like.” 

You chew on the phallic silicone stuck between your teeth in frustration, tensing up and waiting for his next words.

He notices the tautness of your jaw, grinning at your reaction. The tension in your body as you wait for his next command is delicious, and he takes a moment to soak in the sadistic enjoyment he’s getting from the way you’re desperately waiting for his next command.

“I’m going to give you a choice, doll. And I’m not going to tell you which one is worse.” 

There is nothing you can do but nod. Sylus’s large hands drift to your midsection, curling around your waist. With a nudge of his knee, he spreads your thighs wider, leaving you vulnerable and unsteady on your feet with nothing but his grip around you to keep you upright. 

He grins, fully enjoying how helpless you are, knowing that you’re willing to do just about anything to please him. He raises three fingers in front of your face, chuckling darkly. 

“Doll, I’m going to count down from three and I want you to choose one of my fingers. Whichever one you choose will be the punishment that you will get.”

Behind you, he grins, knowing that he’s setting you up for a sadistic game that is designed to push your limitations and boundaries.

“Are you ready, doll?”

You jerk your head, burbling a muffled, “Yes.” 

Sylus grins, the fire inside of him burning brighter at the sight of your eagerness. He starts to count down, slowly and deliberately, his voice taking on a rough edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Three… two… one…”

You blindly bump your nose against his ring finger—the third one. 

Sylus grins cruelly, seeing the finger you chose, knowing you have fallen right into his trap. He takes a moment to enjoy the moment, letting the anticipation build before delivering the punchline. 

“Heh… doll, that was the choice you would have wanted to avoid the most.” 

He grabs your hair, turning you around to face him, fingers tangling in your soft strands as he pulls your head backward, making sure to keep eye contact. 

“Silly, stupid little doll. You fell right into my trap,” he croons, low and dangerously.

Sylus lets your fear and anxiety marinate, unwilling to break the tense silence for the grand reveal. You run your tongue over the plastic cock stuffed in your mouth, simmering in your frustration and dread.

Your tormentor chuckles, watching the way you squirm, delighting in the look of frustration on your expression, how your jaw tenses as you flick your tongue against the plastic phallus in anticipation. 

“Mhm… someone’s eager to know what their punishment is, aren’t they? You want so desperately to know what I have in store for you, doll?” 

As much as you’re dreading the reveal, you can’t stand the thought of being stuck in limbo. You twist your wrists in the handcuffs and bob your head.

“Pwease, Sir,” you speak past the gag. 

Sylus is immensely enjoying the way you beg for him, calling him ‘Sir’ in a thick, slurry voice that’s impeded by the panel gag. He leans in, his lips hovering just inches from your ear, his voice taking on a low, dangerous edge. 

“You’re being so desperate and eager… it’s so easy to tease you, doll. But, since you’re begging me nicely, I suppose I’ll tell you what punishment you’ve chosen.”

He lets the words dangle in mid-air, intentionally drawing out more of your frustration. If there’s one thing your husband excels at, it’s being a goddamn tease. 

You make a sound of curiosity from the back of your throat, brows dipping together in pure frustration. 

Sylus grins, seeing the way your frustration and dread is mounting, the plastic bit of the gag digging against your teeth as you bite down on it in anticipation. 

“You’re just so cute when you’re desperate, my love. But, I suppose I’ve teased you enough…”

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, the words making your blood run cold. 

“Your punishment, doll… is two days of edging.”

Your stomach sinks right to your toes, your breath catching and eyes widening.

“Nwooooo,” you protest, shaking your head, already regretting your agreement for these titillating games. “Pweeasseee…”

All your resistance does is make him grin, seeing your reaction, the way your eyes widen in shock and dread as he reveals your punishment. He can feel the sadistic glee surging in his chest at your pleading voice, begging him to change his mind.

Sylus grips your chin, forcing you to stare right into his glinting, ruby eyes. “Nuh-uh. No can do, sweetie. You made your choice and now you’re going to have to suffer the consequences.” 

He runs a hand through your hair, pulling tighter on the strands, making sure you’re gazing directly into his eyes when he utters these devastating words: 

“You’re not getting out of this, doll.”

Tears glitter in your eyes and you hiccup, the pain of his tight grip around your hair pebbling your nipples, making them irresistible to his wandering mouth. 

Sylus ducks his head, sucking on them gently and making them shiny with his spit, earning a whine from you. 

“Mhm…” he sees the tears glossing in your eyes, the way you’re flushed and responding to his ministrations. 

“Look at you, doll. You’re desperate and begging already and I’ve only just started,” he chuckles darkly, “You’re going to be in so much trouble by the time these two days are up.” 

He kisses a path from your chest to your neck, brushing his heated lips against your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“But, you’re going to be a good girl and take it, aren’t you, doll?”

There is nothing you can do but lick and suck on the gag, nodding furiously; hoping he would take mercy on your poor, keyed up body and disregard his punishment.

Sylus grins, noticing the way you’re chewing on the gag in frustration, answering his question without saying a word. Tenderness seeps into his heart and he runs his knuckles down your cheek.

“You’re being so good for me already. But, you’re going to have to be even more of an angel for these next two days if you want me to give you what you want, sweetie.” 

Without warning, he grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to look directly into his dark and intense eyes. 

“Can you do that, sweetie? Can you be a good girl and let your Sir edge you for two days?” 

Tearily, you nod. 

Sylus is satisfied with your answer, the way you’re still desperately agreeing to his terms. 

“Doll, your desperation is delicious. You’re so eager to please, to be a good girl…”

Gently, your husband runs his hand over your cheek, his fingers tracing the outline of your gag in a soft caress. 

“But, you still need to wait a little longer, doll. Two days. What happens after that… we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

It must be the hormones or the baby you’re carrying inside of you, because you start to tear up, wondering if you can endure such torment and if he will begin it tonight.

Sylus’s smirk grows at your reaction, how you’re squirming and already on the verge of tears just from the anticipation. 

“Mhm… my love, you’re already so desperate from such a simple punishment. I wonder how you’re going to fare by the end of the two days…” 

He moves behind you, his hands resting on your hips, his front pressed up against your ass, letting you feel the half-hard presence of his cock digging into your thighs. 

“But, I suppose there’s no time like the present to begin.” 

Your body seizes and you cry out softly, whether from anticipation or dread, you have no idea. 

He grins, feeling your reaction to his words and touch, the way your body tenses up and the hitch in your breath and composure. He can feel your skin heating up, the desire and need building within you from just a simple touch. 

Sylus brushes a tender kiss onto your temple. “Mhm… you’re so sensitive and responsive tonight. You’re just begging to be touched, aren’t you?” 

He moves closer, his body digging harder against your backside, his lips trailing hot kisses down your spine. 

A soft, involuntary moan slips past your gagged mouth and you nod, wishing he could go lower. 

Sylus thoroughly enjoys hearing your moan, the way you’re practically begging for more with your body. He can feel your skin slowly burning with the aching heat, the want and need coursing through your body. 

“You want more, don’t you? My dirty little desperate doll.” 

He kisses his way further down your back, each brush of his lips on the sensitive expanse of your back making you twitch, his lips slowly inching lower and lower.

Your eyes roll back into your head, a steady stream of moans trickling past the black, phallic plastic and leather strap over your mouth. 

The heat from his mouth makes your entire body tingle, and Sylus grins at your non-stop moans, growing bolder and more demanding. 

“Doll, your skin is so hot and sensitive tonight. You’re so responsive to my touch… so desperate for more.” 

He moves his lips even lower, trailing them over your backside, nipping your skin and leaving a stinging bite right on the plush globe of your right ass. 

You squeal from the pinch of pain, back arching and body growing warmer. The need to come undone blazes hot in your veins, and you wish Sylus will just give into you.

But, he only grins, chuckling low and darkly at your reaction; the way you arch your back and lead for more, the way you’re begging for your release. He knows you’re fighting it, trying to hold back. Trying to be a good girl for him and obey his rules. Your sadistic husband loves seeing you at his mercy like this, desperate and needy, begging for him to save you from this torment with your glassy eyes and bulging cheeks stuffed full from the gag. 

“Oh, doll… you're such a good girl for me. But, you need to wait a little bit longer… you need to wait for two more days.”

He kisses his way back up your spine, his lips and teeth marking every inch of your body. Sylus gently nudges you against the edge of his desk, guiding you to your back, careful not to crush your bound palms from the weight of your body pressing into them. 

He lays you against the cool wood, taking his time to run his hands down the length of your body. 

Those calloused, thick fingers play with your nipples, squeezing and teasing them until you cry out and gurgle his name. 

In this position, it’s a breeze for him to keep your thighs wide open, using his large and warm hands to hold you wide as his tongue dances along the seam of your inner thigh, teasing the length of your pelvic bone.

Sylus smirks when he hears your choked moans, seeing the way your hips twitch in an effort to get his mouth right where you need him the most. 

Patience, he murmurs and gives your throbbing clit a little kiss.

Your body seizes and you shiver, desperately undulating your hips for more friction—for more of him. 

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” Sylus coos, trailing his mouth to the apex of your thighs languidly. “Such a good… girl…”

Your hips jerk violently at the sensation of his mouth on your clit, his tongue running through your folds. Sylus eats you out passionately, not holding back, flicking your throbbing bundle of nerves relentlessly; mouthing your folds and spitting it back out, branding his name on your clit with his tongue. 

He can tell you’re on the verge of coming undone, your hips bucking up and an endless stream of moans blessing his heated ears. 

The second he tastes your orgasm crashing around his tongue, Sylus pulls back, laughing low and devilishly at your chagrined cry. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, doll. Were you close?” 

He eyes the tears beading on your lash line and chuckles darkly, smoothing his palm over your stomach soothingly. 

“There, there. You need to wait a bit longer, my love. Two more days.” 

Your husband’s cursed mouth kisses his way up your body, his frosty white locks falling right in his face, the tips tickling your bare sternum as he moves his lips to your swollen nipples again. 

The tears gathering in your eyes begin to drip down your cheeks, and you start to sob.

Sylus pauses, seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks, hearing your hitched cries and the way your body is shaking from your ruined orgasm and the effort of holding back. 

“Mhm… sweetie, you’re being so good for me,” he praises you softly, pressing his body onto yours, his hand caressing your cheek and thumb wiping away your tears. “But, you need to wait a little bit longer, alright? Two days. You can do it.” 

Shivering, you sniffle and nod.

Sylus grins. “That’s my girl.” He sees the shiver wracking your body, how you’re sniffling and knows you’re trying your best to obey his rules. As a sign of comfort, he pulls you even closer, his body flush against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you tight. 

“You're such a good little doll for obeying me. You’re doing so well…”

He leans in, his lips close to your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Now… how shall I reward good little dolls who listen to their Sirs, hmm?” 

The answer comes in the form of Sylus edging you for throughout the night, his mouth, tongue and fingers expertly bringing you to the brink, only to rip you back time and again. By the end of the night, you’re left sobbing, aching, and unfulfilled. 

He removes the gag, but keeps the cuffs around your wrists, leading you to the office sofa where his arms wrap around you and he caresses your hair, slowly bringing you down from the high. His heart aches seeing tears in your eyes, knowing he’s intentionally kept you frustrated and unsatisfied. But, he can’t deny the pride shining in his ruby red eyes when you keep holding out and do your best to obey his commands. 

“You did so well tonight, doll,” he praises you in a soft, husky voice. “I know you’re frustrated and unfulfilled, and it’s going to be like this for two more days, but you’re being so good… I’m so proud of you.” 

Sylus unbuckles the cuffs and brings you to bed, holding you close and caressing your body, trying to ease you into sleep. But, you can still feel the need humming in your veins, the desire burning within you; the need for a release he’s been denying you the entire night. 

He knows you won’t be able to fall asleep like this, but he also knows he needs to stick to his word and let you suffer for another day. 

The next morning, your husband takes you again, his hands and mouth working over every inch of your body, bringing you right to the edge and pulling back when you’re about to spill over; crimson eyes dancing with glee at your choked moans and teary hiccups. 

He loves how you cry out in frustration, writhing naked on the bed with your sweet little body unfulfilled. How you grab his shoulders, trying to tug him back into the circle of your embrace, but he evades you easily, sitting up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Sylus!” 

Your whine doesn’t phase him. Sylus’s eyes darken with his own desire as he presses you back into the mattress, aching to take you but at the same time, he still wants to see you suffer more. 

“Doll, you need to wait, remember? Two days. That’s your punishment.”

You groan and turn your body away, hiding your face in the plush pillows while screaming, “It’s not fair!” 

Sylus exhales a chuckle at your petulant whining, the way you’re hiding your face in the pillow and complaining. It makes his heart swell with glee and pride, seeing you like this, so desperate and needy, but knowing he’s the one in total control. 

“That’s the whole point of a punishment, doll. It’s not supposed to be fair. I told you, you have to wait until the two days are up before you can come.”

You should’ve known his words would herald a full day of torment, but you were too slow and soft hearted, desperately hoping he would be swayed by the tears in your eyes and finally give in to your need to release.

But, Sylus did no such thing. 

He mercilessly edges you throughout the day, never giving you any respite. 

He loves the way you’re getting more desperate as the day goes on, his hands and mouth bringing you close to release again and again but never giving you what you need. Your husband loves seeing you on the edge like this, fighting against your own body’s needs, fighting the urge to give in and just let go. 

His lips leave the juncture of your thighs, the TV humming in the background while the twins are busy in the playpen, cooing and rolling around. 

Normally, you would never let your husband have his way with the babies so close in the vicinity, but your mind isn’t where it is today, desperately in need for him to take you over the edge and let you come.

“You’re doing so good, taking it and holding back,” your husband praises, rising to his feet and adjusting your skirt, hiding your bare and neglected pussy from his view, making you decent once again before you have to feed the twins. “You don’t need to come, doll. Coming is only for good girls and you’ve been bad to the core.” 

Your brain feels like it’s melting, no thoughts but the feeling of his mouth on you, his fingers sinking deeply into the heat of your cunt, thrusting in and out to bring you to that sweet edge where he doesn’t allow you to spill. 

It’s a borderline addiction, the pain and pleasure rolling into one that you don’t know what you want anymore. 

Sylus edges you wherever he wants: in the living room after the twins have been put to sleep, in the kitchen against the counters, in the bathroom, in his office. 

He grins, seeing how exhausted you’re getting, how you’re struggling to keep up with his constant teasing and edging. His punishment is even worse now that he’s home with you, Onychinus duties relegated to Luke and Kieran who overlook the day-to-day operations while the organization isn’t in crisis mode. 

Sylus knows it’s torture for you, but he also knows it’s what you need.

“You’re doing so well, my love. Just a little longer, doll. One more day. Just hold out a little longer.” 

Night comes by, and after the twins are fed and put to bed, Sylus immediately pounces on the chance to tie you up to the bed, edging you over and over until you cry out for him to stop past the lacy thong he’s stuffed in your mouth, crying out from the oversensitivity. 

Sylus grins, seeing how sensitive you’ve become and how you’re begging him to stop but at the same time, still hold on and obey his commands.

“Oh, doll… you’re being so good, so strong. I’m so proud of you for holding on this long.” 

Twisting in your bonds, you writhe, whimpering through the makeshift gag in your mouth.

“Yesh, Shir… one mwore day…”

He traces your cheek with the tips of his fingers, smiling softly, loving how you’re fighting off your body’s baser needs, determined to obey his every command.

The next day is the worst for you. You’re sore all over, and completely sensitive to his touches. Due to the constant arousal thumping in your veins, you barely had a decent night’s sleep. 

Sylus notices how tired you are, how exhausted and worn down you’ve become from the constant edging he’s been doing to you. He was the one who suggested asking Sara to babysit the twins for a day because you’re too tired to take care of them yourself. 

You’re dozing off on the sofa, blankets tangling around your legs when he sits down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap.

Even in a doze, you instinctively wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest and Sylus’s heart squeezes. His sweet, delicate, naughty little doll.

“You’ve done so well, my love,” Sylus whispers, tracing his fingers over your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his gentle touch. “It’s finally time for your reward.”

“Wait?” You perk up in disbelief, fully awake now. “Really?” 

“Mhm. Yes.” Sylus grins at the way your eyes light up at the idea of finally getting to come after being teased for so long.

“You’ve been so obedient and good, I think you deserve to shatter around my cock, now.” 

Giggling, you nod. “I’m ready, Sir.”

He laughs at your excitement, loving how eager and desperate you are to finally get what you need. 

“Mhm… doll, lie back and relax… let me take care of you…”

Sylus gets your skirt and blouse off your body, his ruby eyes hungrily devouring the expanse of your skin. You’re so beautiful to him like this—spread out on the couch, your hair fanning across the pillows, body supple and ready for the taking. 

He removes his clothes as well, slowly easing his touch up and down your body, though it's useless to do because you’re already so keyed up and ready for him. 

Your eyes roll back into your skull when he finally sinks his thick cock inside of you, a ring of cream already forming at the base of his girthy length as he fucks you hard and fast, urging you to rub your clit and play with your nipples as your release builds to a crashing crescendo. 

That’s it, good girl, good girl, he coaxes. Come for me… come for me, doll… make me proud and come together with me…

Sylus makes you come more times than you can count, and afterwards, he holds you in his arms, his body pressed against yours, his breath hot against your skin as you pass out cold, fast asleep.

A pang of pride lights up in his chest, seeing how spent you are, completely satisfied and pleasured but also completely worn out from the experience. 

He caresses your hair, gently pulling you closer to him, caressing the slight bump of your stomach where his son is growing inside of you.

Sylus kisses the top of your head, tightening his grip around you as he sighs, enjoying this moment of unfettered peace and love surrounding the two of you. He might not be the best at vocalizing his emotions, but with your defenses completely down and your body resting after such a strenuous experience you willingly went through out of your love for him, Sylus thinks you deserve a bit more praise and credit for putting up with his demands.

“Rest well, doll,” he whispers into your hair, stroking your belly. “No words can encompass how much I love you and want to protect you with my life, my precious wife. I’ll be here when you wake up… sleep tight.” 

As the day goes on, all is right and well in the Qin household.

— reblogs with comments and feedback are so appreciated <33 thank you for your constant support and love on my fics !!

©️lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost and claim as your own.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 4]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: It is very, incredibly important not to get attached to someone who will no doubt be leaving you high and dry to die stranded on an island any day now—be they man or fish. And you are definitely, definitely following that rule. For sure.

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Spice

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

The next morning, there was a conch shell set beside the familiar offering of half-mauled fish.

The insides were a shining, pearlescent pink—smooth and sleek. You picked it up curiously and turned it over in your palms. You’d never seen such a complete one before. Normally they were at least a bit dinged, cracked here or there along the thin edges. But this one was practically perfect. It sat heavy and warm in your palm, and you brushed a finger along the rough ridges.

You looked up and the Siren was lounging at the shoreline, waiting expectantly.

“Thank you,” you said. “It’s really pretty.”

He preened, the fins along the side of his head fluttering wide and colorful. You huffed, amused, and set the shell neatly at the forefront of your slowly accumulating corner of Things. You’d rebuilt the little shanty shelter that he’d had his seagull minions pick apart into useless nonsense that first day together, and it wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep some of the sun off your shoulders at the height of the afternoon and would probably (maybe) hold up under a bit of rain. And that pleasantly cozy hovel of yours was where you’d been keeping your Stuff. The best sticks for poking at the fire, a rock that you’d found with a dip in the middle that made it sort of, almost a bowl if you squinted hard enough, bunches of drying beach grasses that you’d been tediously twining together into bits of rope and other nonsense. That sort of thing.

You placed the conch shell on the roof of it, prodding at it with the tips of your fingers until it sat just so. Like a figurehead on a ship. The crown jewel on your little mess of ferns and driftwood.

“What do you think?” you asked, turning back to the Siren. “Really brings the room together, huh?”

He puffed something under his breath and rolled those amethyst eyes of his, but there was a curl to his lips that looked far more amused than irritated.

You trudged back over and plopped beside him in the sand, the soft, low roll of the waves playing against your toes.

“Today feels like it’s going to be gross again,” you sighed, squinting up at the sun overhead in distaste. The big ball of glowing fire had barely crawled its way over the horizon and already it felt like the world was beginning to steam.

The Siren curled his claws around your ankle and tugged.

You arched a brow at him and he pushed his stupidly, perfectly shaped ones up right back. Like he was positive that he could out stink-face you with ease.

“It’s too early to swim,” you complained.

He tugged again.

“I can’t be in the water that long. You’re going to turn me into a prune.”

He said something back, mouth quirking in irritation, and you focused hard on the shape of it. His expression smoothed with that familiar, near-eerie perception of his and he was reaching forward to dig his free fingers into the sand at your hip.

‘Don’t know what that is.’

“It’s like a—” you frowned, waving your hand around your head. “Y’know. A fruit, that’s gone pruney. A prune.”

He looked at you like you were the dumbest human he’d ever met, and to be fair you very well could have been. You doubted it was an extensive list. And even if it was, you tended to have a proclivity for landing near the top of those illustrious sorts of rankings either way. At least that’s what your Captain saw fit to remind you ad nauseum.

So, like the very mature and intellectually competent person that you were, you kicked a mess of seawater right into his face. And then the Siren was screaming something silent and mad that had all the goosebumps on your arms popping up to say hello, and he was dragging you into the shallows ass first. You skidded along the wet sand and landed in the white surf with a laugh that you had to swallow real fast. Because if you drowned in three inches of water just because you couldn’t manage to not choke to death on a giggle fit, you’d never forgive yourself.

.

.

That night, you were lounging by the fire with a belly full of seared snapper and the Siren curled just as contentedly only a few feet away. His fins were splayed out across the damp sands, and you couldn’t help but compare them yet again to some of the finest, spun silks you’d ever seen. Even when they’d been pinched and shredded beneath the prickly teeth of your ropes, they’d still been lovely. But now that they were near-fully-healed, the spread of them was truly impressive.

And they were. Almost healed, that is. You could barely make out the trailing, scar-puckered lines of even the biggest tears anymore. Which was good! Great, even. Because that meant he’d be able to begin his journey home soon, didn’t it? And then at least one of you would manage to get away from this barren mess of rocks and sand.

There was a thump against your thighs that had you jolting back into focus, and you looked down to see a pair of familiar, gem-cut irises staring back in the dark.

The Siren was glaring up at you like there was a Purpose to his sudden loss of personal boundaries, and you blinked down at him in confusion. After a long moment of nothing but your silent gawking, his brow started to pinch and the skin around his eyes went tight with irritation. The fins along his ears rippled like a pissy cat raising its hackles in preparation to lunge, and you cautiously placed a hand against the edge of one. The grumpy fluttering stopped all at once, and if you were a touch more sun-poisoned you would say that those delicate, purple pins relaxed against your palm. Either way, you were clearly on the right track. So you let your fingers trail down towards his temples, and then to the salt-curled waves of his hair. His eyes slipped closed with a pleasant rumble that you could feel all along your skin, and you puffed in half-hearted irritation. Prickly, fussy, bastard man.

You weren’t really sure what he wanted, but for now the gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp seemed to do the trick. After a few cycles of lazy petting, you let your fingers catch in some of the softer, pale hair beneath his fins. It was a bit tangled—possibly from all that frilly posturing of his—and you carefully began picking apart the small knots there one by one. Once those were cleared away, you found yourself with little else to do but sit and play with the newly freed waves of lavender-tipped gold. You tucked one strand over the next, twisting the familiar pattern of a simple braid beneath your palms.

“Deuce grew his hair out at one point,” you chattered idly as you wove those silky locks together beneath your fingers. “That’s someone from my ship, by the way. Deuce. Anyways. He thought it’d make him look more rugged, or whatever. But he just ended up looking like some rogue, sea elf, and everyone was teasing him about how he’d gone for ‘windswept sailor’ and ended up with ‘foppish, little lordling.’ So he chopped it all off again.”

The Siren hummed, and you could feel it against the pads of your fingers.

“Which was a real shame,” you continued. “Because obviously I spent all that time learning to braid it, but also because it actually looked pretty nice—OUCH! What is your problem—"

You yanked your hand away from his sharp teeth and cradled your smarting fingers to your chest. Because the stupid fish had bitten you! Not hard, or anything. Just a little nip. But it’d still hurt. If less as a genuine injury and more as a sting to your pride.

The Siren spat something quick and harsh under his breath, turning up his nose like you’d been the one to err here, and not his wandering fangs.

“What?” you huffed, reaching out to flick at those purple fins in irritation. They twitched against the side of his head to smack at your fingers. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I not allowed to call anyone else pretty, your highness?”

The Siren rolled his eyes with a look that screamed ‘well, duh,’ and you forced your irritation to override the little, bursting bubble of fondness in your chest. So silly, so silly. This ridiculously primped fish of yours.

“Well, too bad,” you grouched, tugging at the end of that half-bound braid. “Just because you win ‘most attractive specimen on the island’ doesn’t mean you get to tell me to pretend I’m blind on top of being deaf. Let me have something, you prick.” And it wasn’t like it was much of a competition—seeing as the entrants were you, him, and the octopus (if you were being generous). Less of a contest and more of a merciful slaughter, perhaps. A kindness that you were even allowed to share the same stage at all.

The Siren muttered something low and amused under his breath, the amethyst in his irises twinkling with the crackling, orange light of the embers beside you. He reached up to twist his claws along your palm and snatch the hand he’d so viciously nipped—bringing it down to eyelevel to observe it more closely in the dim glow of the fire. There was a steady trickle of blood bubbling up along your thumb. Honestly, not much worse than a papercut. Nevertheless, his brow quirked at the soft trail of red and his gaze jumped up to yours with a pointed sort of curiosity.

“What were you expecting to happen? Humans are fragile,” you huffed. “At least more than you are. It’s not like I have scales or things to keep me safe.”

His mouth tucked down on a frown, and his tail swept irritably back and forth through the sand.

“What? It’s not like you didn’t know that,” you tried, awkward. Because he ate stupid, little flesh bags like you for breakfast. Surely he ought to be well aware that there wasn’t much there. Just skin, and muscle, and all the gory, gooey bits beneath. Just like how you knew what it felt like to bite into a piece of bread, or the crunch of an apple. Solid enough to survive in its own right, but something that would give beneath your teeth easily enough that calling it anything other than ‘delicate’ would have been a gross exaggeration.

He turned your palm this way and that, brow pinching down more and more with each fresh prick of crimson. His tail beat against the sand and his talons curled up and away from your skin—like he was worried just touching your fragile, little, egg-shell of an exterior would burst it.

“It’s fine,” you blurted out, still far too confuddled over his progressive panic. You pulled your hand away from his claws and popped your finger in your mouth. “See?” you garbled around the faint taste of copper. And then pulled it out with a pop to show him the slowing trickle. “Totally fine. Just a scratch.”

The Siren watched that little bubble of red with all the vigilance of a hawk eyeing its super, and then he was snatching your wrist back between his talons and dragging your hand down towards his own mouth. And oh my God, this was it. He’d finally decided to eat you after all. What was it? Had your oh-so-breakable human foibles finally pushed him over the edge? Or was it the blood? Were Sirens like sharks? Driven to hungry frenzy by the very scent of your—

There was a gentle, wet warmth along your skin and you blinked through your hysteric descent into adrenaline-manic-mania to see the Siren carefully cleaning the blood along your cut, just as you had only moments before—his tongue running smooth lines along the teeny wound until the sore skin was tingling and spotless. Granted, his endeavors were carried out with a great deal more delicacy than your earlier example of just shoving your whole finger into your mouth like a gremlin, but…

“Uhm—” you spluttered, too gobsmacked to come up with much else. “You—ah—you don’t have to—uh—"

The Siren grumped something at you that you could feel the shape of against your palm, and then returned to diligently wiping away each new drop as it appeared. It was a strange sort of sensation. Not bristly like a cat’s tongue, but certainly not all human. There was a sting to it—something hot and prickly. Poison, maybe? Or… something. Whatever it was, it had the hair on the back of your neck rising to attention and a shiver working along your shoulders. He kept at, silent and meticulous, until finally—finally—the bleeding slowed to a stop. He hummed and turned your palm this way and that, looking over the drying nick in your skin like an artist admiring their work.

Once he was content with whatever it was he’d been searching for, he tucked your hand back along the fins at the side of his head and butted up against your palm in as blatant of a ‘get back to work’ as you’d ever seen.

You swallowed the weird mess of something that had clawed its way up to tangle your tongue and dug your nails back against his scalp just to give yourself something to do other than—than—

“I hope you don’t expect me to do that for you,” you babbled, still far too out of your head with What In The Fuck Was That to do much but gawk like an absolute imbecile at the fact that he’d actually, factually, just—

The Siren rolled his eyes and reached over to drag the point of his talon along the sand at your hip.

‘No need. Already healed.’

You barked out a startled laugh and tugged at the ends of his hair. Your fingers caught at the edge of the braid you’d been weaving, loosening one of the twining sections, and he was hissing and swatting your hands back into place—poking around with his dark claws at the little end you’d fussed with until it was exactly how it had been. And then was dragging your hands back to the half-woven bulk of it with a pointed snarl that was clearly an order to finish what you started, human. Or else.

“Okay, okay, jeesh. I’m on it.”

The Siren trilled low and rumbling under his breath, and beneath the weight of your palm it almost felt like the steady drone of a cat’s purr. Warm, and pleasant, and comfortable in a way you couldn’t quite place. The thin strands of chain-twined-rope you’d woven to make his necklace pressed into your thighs with a scratchy tickle, and the pretty piece of sea glass at its end reflected the low light of the fire in a kaleidoscope of purples. His fins flicked against your fingers in a steady tempo, and when you gave in and pinched one he was rolling onto his side to shove the full weight of himself into your lap. You whined, and bitched, and complained about suffocation, and the stupid bastard of a fish just smacked his tail indignantly against the wet sand and draped over you even more.

Seven, he was such a nightmare. And you were going to miss him so, so much.

.

.

The next day passed in much the same way as the one before, and the day after that, and the day after that. And as pleasant as it was, you couldn’t help but feel like the headsman's axe was hanging over your neck. Always there—just a breadth away from falling.

You were fixing your Siren’s hair—redoing that braid of his that he insisted you tuck into his golden locks each and every morning—and normally he was quite responsive to your prattling. Flicking you with his fins and curling his tail along your ankles as you rambled. A silent, steady way of expressing his interest when you couldn’t hear his own responses in return. But today he was… distant. Amethyst eyes locked on the grand expanse of the ocean before you with a forlorn sort of expression on his face. The water was still and quiet today, with sunlight bouncing off the low, rolling waves in a pretty glimmer like the glow off his own, shining scales.

You trailed off, fingers falling from his finished braid to twist in your lap. And he just kept staring. Fins half-pricked along the side of his head and gaze heavy with focus.

You swallowed around the tightness in your chest and forced a smile. You hopped to your feet with a merry, little bounce and reached down to pat him on the shoulder.

“It seems like a nice day for a swim,” you said, and ignored how you could feel your nerves eating through the words. The wobble of them in your throat.

The Siren startled, as much as someone as grandly majestic as he could really do such a thing, and turned your way with a fondly exacerbated huff. He held up a hand, like he was expecting to drag you along with him into the lulling tide, and you shooed away his fingers. His brow pinched and his mouth turned down at the corners.

“For you, I mean,” you clarified. Like your blatant stepping away from the water’s edge wasn’t an obvious rejection in its own right. You turned back out towards the ocean beyond your little cove. “Your fins are doing a lot better, aren’t they? You could probably stretch them a bit, right? With how smooth the waters are today.”

He hummed, considerate, gaze skirting out to track your own. You swallowed around another ball of prickling ice in your throat and kept your grin buoyant and encouraging.

And then he turned back and offered you his hand again.

You frowned, confused. “I can’t follow you out there.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward to dig his talons into the damp sand.

‘I will swim with you.’

A pause, where he reached out to poke at your ankle with a pointed jab, jab, jab before finishing off with a—

‘Like always. Stupid.’

“Oh, yeah? Well, I won’t be so stupid when you ditch me halfway out and I drown in the riptide,” you harrumphed and his eyes narrowed grumpily.

He dragged his claws through the sand in short, angry jerks.

‘Won’t leave.’

“Uh-huh,” you drawled, swallowing stiffly again when that curl of awful something tightened behind your ribs. Hoping you could manage to choke it down. It sat heavy and unpleasant on the back of your tongue, like food gone off.

He underlined the ‘won’t’ with hard, pissy strokes.

“How about this,” you tried, because man oh man, you couldn’t do this. It was going to turn you into a ridiculously weepy, clingy mess if he kept talking (writing?) like this. “Prove that your fins work well enough to keep you up and alive before I risk it. And then we can go from there.”

The Siren huffed, sending the longer ends of his hair flipping out to the sides. But those gem-cut eyes of his kept flicking out to sea, and you could see the tip of his tail twitching back and forth—like he was itching to just leap forward and swim. The fins along his ears pricked up again, and then he was turning his nose up at you with some petulant comment under his breath and diving forward into the surf. He smacked his tail down with a splash!, drenching you in a mess of salt and seafoam. You spat, and hacked, and scrubbed the water from your eyes.

“Great way to prove you won’t try and drown me!” you called, hands cupped over your mouth and still spluttering around lingering saltwater. He reared up quick enough to swipe another wave your way before slipping back under, and you laughed through the spray of mist.

You settled yourself back in the sand, ankles crossed and chin pillowed in your knees, and watched the shadow of him dance just beneath the surface—starting in his familiar, looping circles before slowly venturing towards the mouth of the cove. He paced along the breakwater, pectoral fins cresting above the waves to glint bright and sleek in the light of the morning. And then he was darting forward with a great beat of his tail, spraying salt behind him as he dove towards the depths. You waited, anxious, as one moment faded to the next, and then—finally—there was a burst of frothing bubbles as he broke the surface with a great, curling leap—fins flared wide like the wings of a great bird and scales shining like jewels. It was nearly effortless, how he crested over the water. Diving back down in a mess of spitting mists with a flick of those long, trailing fins. He leapt up again, twisting in the air to crash down on his back and it almost looked like he was dancing. You could see the white flash of his grin even from all the way where you were sat. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so happy. Truly, a sight worthy of every grand tale you’d heard of the Sirens of the Sea.

He circled the mouth of the bay at least a dozen times more—fast, and wild, and breaching the waves in a burst of seafoam like he was trying to give every pod of dolphins out there a run for their money. Gradually, he began to lose steam, and those grand leaps melted into soft curls of his tail in the tide. And honestly, this was the part where you expected him to sink beneath the surface and glide off into the sunset. You braced yourself for it—for the moment that golden head of his would vanish beneath the water and never pop back up again—but instead he bobbed closer.

The Siren rolled in with the waves, panting, and flushed, and looking like someone coming off of a marathon. The muscles all along his torso were jittery with the strain of it, and he looked positively exhausted. Ecstatic beyond compare, but exhausted. He slipped up the damp shore with wobbly arms and came to a stop at your side before very gracelessly and rudely flopping the entirety of his sopping wet bulk onto your person and squashing you into the muck.

You squawked, rightfully indignant, and he just puffed against your neck and let his tail smack harder against your flailing legs.

“You’re going to crush me!” you wailed, shoving at his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes and curled his fins along your hips—spreading himself out in the sands like your complaints held no merit whatsoever. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against yours, and the rabbit-fast thump-thump-thump of his heart. His skin was so warm. You could even feel the heat of it off his scales, which you hadn’t even thought was possible. Weren’t all fishy, scaly things supposed to be cold? Slimy, and gross, and like poking a wet blob of some unmentionable gunk scraped off the hull of a ship? Instead it was just… smooth. Glass-polish sleek and all warm muscle twined along your much, much smaller self.

You cleared your throat and turned to blow a frustrated raspberry against the sand.

“You do realize if you break all my bones that there isn’t going to be anyone to cook your stupid fish for you anymore.”

The Siren grumbled something against your shoulder that almost felt like the breathy puff of a laugh, and then he was collapsing all over again with a sigh that ruffled all the soft, short hairs at the nape of your neck. He scrubbed his cheek against the curve of your throat and you froze. Because it almost felt like—was he purring?

A deep, low, tremulous thing that you could feel rumbling against your skin. Like laying a hand against a mast strung too tight in a storm. Or maybe more like that one time you’d found a stray cat lounging in the sun by the docks—the sweet, old thing chirping softly beneath your palm in a lulling drone that tickled all the way up your arm.  

The Siren’s purr wasn’t quite like either of those things, but perhaps a mix of the two. Dangerous but warm, powerful but cosseted. More predator than pet, and, well, that’s what he was, wasn’t he? And honestly, it was pretty nice. A language you could feel rather than hear, something just for you.

So you let yourself relax beneath the weight of his scaly bulk with a sigh that wasn’t quite as aggrieved as you would have liked, and his tail twisted another loop around your calves. His fins spread around the pair of you like a roll of fine silks, and while the texture wasn’t exactly soft, they were delicate enough not to feel suffocating or coarse either. Sleek and cool to the touch, and maybe the thickness of canvas. And there were just so many of them. Long, and trailing, and ruffled along the edges like the folds of a fine-boned fan. Your weird, purple blanket. If Riddle ever found out you’d been using a Siren as bed linens, he’d probably have an aneurism and scrub you in one of the scullery buckets for a week straight.

It was stupidly easy to fall asleep like that—wrapped up in lavender and plum, with the thrum of his heart next to yours. You napped all through the afternoon, and only woke up once the sun had set over the horizon.

You blinked awake to stars in the sky and a strange, scratchy sensation at your hip.

The Siren had apparently finished up whatever little bout of insanity that had made him think you’d be the perfect impromptu pillow. He hadn’t gone far—or even anywhere at all really—but he was propped up at the hip now instead of crushing you into the shore. His hand was resting just beneath the hem of your shirt, right over the origin of that bizarre, ticklish feeling. You blinked again to clear the salt and sleep-grit from your eyes, and realized it was his talons. Not ripping, or tearing, or rending. Just very, very carefully tracing a set of shapes into your skin. The same three symbols, over and over. Up, and down, and up, and curled.

He traced those shapes again, and again, and again. It was almost—you’d think it was letters, if not for the strange, swirling pop of them. Almost like the words he’d written in his own language all those days ago. His claw dragged along the skin there in the faintest prickle, leaving slowly growing streaks of red in their wake with each repetition. You opened your mouth, ready to ask him what exactly he was so painstakingly etching into your hip, and paused.

You’d realized over the past however many weeks you’d been marooned on this little crescent of sand and stone that maybe Sirens weren’t all you’d thought them to be. And that maybe you really didn’t know much about them at all. Something about the slow, cautious way that his claws were tracking along your skin made you think that this was another of those things that you just didn’t get. And going by how quiet he was, how stalwart and careful he was being not to let the knife-sharp curves of those talons dig too deep or do anything other than trace back and forth, and back and forth, it might be something… Something important. Or at the very least something that you had no business bothering him about.

Least of all if he’d be leaving any day now.

So you tossed your head back on a very loud, very dramatic yawn and used the ensuing stretch to gently swat his hands away.

He didn’t look put out by your ridiculous show of flopping around and scooching out of his grip, so that was good at least. You sat up and rubbed at your eyes, and he just kept staring. Kept to his place in the soft, wet sand not a foot away and eyes sharp in the lowlight of the evening.

“Well,” you chuffed on another yawn. “I’m starving. Dinner?”

The Siren rolled his eyes and dipped his chin in what could perhaps generously be classified as a nod. He reached up to flick at the mused braid in his hair with a pointed scowl—twisted and tangled from the salt of the sea and his earlier rambunctious tomfoolery. You sighed, overly put upon, and hefted your way to your feet.

“Yes, yes. And I’ll fix your stupid hair.”

Another nod, this one far more pleased, and the Siren settled himself neatly back into the low roll of the waves to watch you work.

.

.

The next morning when you clawed your way back into consciousness, the Siren was already awake and staring off into the distance.

The fins along his head were pricked in that same, focused way from before that made you think of a hound dog catching a scent. There was a strange sort of energy about him—not quite nervous, but certainly not anything comfortably at ease either. Unsettled. Jittery. The end of his tail flicked against the sand, and the fins along his spine curled and arched to an unsung tempo.

You followed the path of his leer and didn’t see much of anything yourself. Just an endless stretch of blue in all directions with the occasional white crack of a wave breaking along its surface.

His tail smacked at the muck again and you felt something tight and stupidly, stupidly selfish curl in your stomach.

You swallowed it down, just like you’d said you would. Because you’d meant it when you’d told him he deserved his happy ending, and you weren’t going to let the rotten, nervous thing growing in your guts stop him from having that. Not that you could even if you wanted to, but it was the principle.

“…are you going to swim again today?” you asked, and one of those fins swiveled in your direction. You came to stand at his side and curled your toes in the sand to keep yourself steady. “You should, you know. To make sure everything is really all fixed.”

The Siren tore his gaze away from the sea to cant his head at you with a sharp, suspicious narrowing of his eyes.

You held your hands up in defense. “I’m just saying. You want to be able to go home, don’t you? Back to your pod?”

He frowned, tight, but his glare flickered back out to the mouth of the bay like he couldn’t help himself.

After a long, long moment, he reached out and dug his claws into the sand.

‘Not safe yet.’

You arched a brow. “Oh, come on. I’m sure it’s fine. If anyone could make it back, it’d be you.”

He turned back your way and arched a brow, looking entirely unconvinced.

You huffed and crossed your arms. “Don’t get all modest now. You’re the most obnoxiously proud person I’ve ever met—fish or otherwise. I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to.”

His brow pinched again, and there was something almost like worry sparking in those amethyst eyes of his.

“Look—” you said, reaching out to plant a palm against his shoulder. “If it doesn’t work out, you can always just come right back here, okay? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

You weren’t going to think about how nice that sounded, and how absolutely, bitterly selfish it was to hope that he’d turn right back around and head back. You weren’t.

The Siren’s brow pinched and he turned back to the open water, fins rippling against his sides and mouth twisted down at the corners.

You tugged at the braid in his hair.

“Don’t make me tie you back up again just so I can drag you out.”

He scoffed and spat something at you that looked like it was properly bitchy, and it had your lips quirking on a smirk. But prissiness or no, he’d started to let himself slip down against the surf, to lull deeper into the shallows and flare his fins at his sides for balance rather than a show of irritation.

You swallowed the last, lingering bite of dread at the back of your throat and offered him a winning smile.

The Siren huffed, and right before he sunk all the way into the water, he set his talons by your feet and scribbled—

‘Do not do anything stupid.’

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off. “Sure.”

He underlined the ‘do not’ with a harsh sneer that could have made paint curl and the fiercest of generals quake in their boots, and you burst into peals of too-fond laughter.

“Okay, okay. I promise. Swear.”

He nodded, firm, and finally—finally—sunk beneath the surface with a grand, sweeping beat of his tail.

He circled the whole of the bay once, twice, thrice, and then set out past the breakwater with another of those bounding leaps that looked like something straight out of a painting.

You sat and watched the rolling waves until the sun was high in the sky, and then long after it had begun its creeping descent. Fat and sluggish over the horizon, dripping gold along the water like the strokes of a paintbrush. Until there were no shadows in the tide, no purple fins popping up from beneath the surface to smack at your ankles. There hadn’t been for hours now. The glint of his tail had slowly grown further and further away, and you’d been staring out at nothing for longer than not.

You stood with a sigh, legs wobbly and prickling with static as you stretched out of your scrunched up crouch.

You moved towards your little shanty hut and carefully readjusted the conch at its helm so that it sat just so. You stepped back with a soft nod and began your familiar trek towards the other side of the island, dutifully ignoring the stutter in your steps and that tight, miserable something twisting in your guts that you refused to name.

It was fine. He’d be home soon, surely. With his pod—his family. Which was what you’d wanted. And now… well, you had to go catch some dinner for you and your octopus. And there was no use waiting around.

.

.

You fucking sucked at fishing.

Which was a lesson learned with miserable, sopping wet consequences. You sat in front of your stupid fire, ringing out your stupid, soaked shirt, and sneezing in the chill of the night air. You’d never been responsible for hauling in food on The Rose Queen, and the Siren had basically been feeding your stranded ass from day one (whether intentional or otherwise). And so now here you were. Fishless, friendless, and freezing.

You sighed, miserable, and carefully made your way back to the familiar, little tidepool in the crags. You knelt down by the teeny pool of water there and the octopus inside was immediately scurrying for cover. When no tasty treats rained down overhead like the gift of some benevolent god, it slowly creeped its way out from beneath the stones with a trudging sort of paddling you wanted to call pouty.

“Sorry, little guy,” you huffed. “I don’t have anything for you today.”

You reached forward and the octopus panicked—trying to flee so fast that the poor thing wound up twisting itself in knots. Its stubby tentacles curled and flailed uselessly in its puddle, and you tutted in sympathy. You scooped the blob into your palms and immediately four sets of tentacles were curling around your fingers like a lifeline. Its little suckers pulled at your skin with sticky smacks as it tried to burrow away into your skin. And Sevens—OW! What the Hell!

“Chill, chill!” you squawked, trying to wrangle the thing more securely into your hands and stop it from pinching the flesh clear off your bones. “I’m just—would you—look, I don’t want to drop you, okay? So would you just—"

The octopus screamed, and you didn’t even think that was possible. You could feel the sharp, yowling vibrations of it all along your fingers and a few of the gulls nesting along the rocks took off into the air with a harried flurry of feathers and scrabbling claws. Their wings thwacked the back of your head and you swatted them away with a shrill scream of your own. Why did everything on this stupid island have to be a no good, dramatic, serenading, piece of shi—

“Fine!” you shrieked, feeling your molars ache with it. “Begone!”

And hurled the thing as far as you could over the edge of the rocky shore. It landed in the water with a lackluster plop of fat bubbles and immediately darted away like a prisoner fleeing captivity. And not, you know, the benevolent hand of the very lovely pirate who had been feeding and caring for it all these weeks.

You kicked angrily at a mess of pebbles, and then swore loud and furious when all it did was scuff up your toes and prick bruises into your heels.

You trudged back to your stupid, little hovel and collapsed miserably into the sand.

Here you were, trying to be noble, and kind, and give all of these ridiculous sea creatures the second chance at life that you would never have. And what did you get for it? An empty stomach, an aching heart, and gravel in your fucking feet—

“Well,” you chattered to yourself. Pleasantly poisonous and tendons jumping in your jaw, “I suppose at least it can’t get much worse.”

Which should have been the universe’s signal to do something truly petty. The skies opening overhead in a torrential downpour. Your little, stick home collapsing under the sheer weight of your patheticness. A crab scuttling up from the depths just to pinch your toes. Something like that.   

Instead, there was a gentle breeze that tickled your cheeks and coaxed you into looking out over the horizon.

There was something there—something in the distance that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were curled up suffering in the sand. You sniffled past angry tears and scrubbed the back of your hand over your nose, and then let that touch of wind guide you forward on wobbly legs.  You had to climb all the way up the salt-slick rocks to get a good look at it. But there it was. Not too far at all actually.

A ship.

Large, and wooden, and cresting through the low rolling waves with all the ease of the monstrous vessel it looked to be. There was a silver insignia emblazoned on its side, but it was still too far away to make out the particulars. But you didn’t care, because it was a ship. An actual, factual ship.

You waved your hands high over your head and shouted at the top of your lungs.

And holy shit, holy shit—maybe the universe didn’t actually hate your poor guts. Maybe there’d be a happy ending to this whole thing after all.

You watched in the distance as an anchor dropped, and you had to stop yourself from tumbling off your rocky perch in your excitement. One of the small dinghies was lowered into the water and a gaggle of crew climbed down to man it. Slowly but surely, that little boat grew closer, and you sprinted down to the shoreline to meet it.

A man with short, dark hair climbed over the side and met you halfway. His eyes were soft, and brown, and kind, and he offered you a warm smile when you nearly tumbled straight into him in your haste—catching a hand around your arms and helping keep you upright.

He said something polite that you assumed was the usual sort of greeting and intrigue into how exactly you’d managed to find yourself in this state of affairs, and you hastily made to explain your situation as you always did.

‘Thank you—I can’t hear, but I can write and read—And I—’

Your train of thought cut off sharply, and your rambling explanations with it. The brunette was already nodding your way in sympathy and rattling off instructions to his crew. They were all decked out in slightly differing variations of the same, white and navy uniform. With golden buttons and sashes glinting in the low light and silver pendants pinned to their breast pockets. Your doe-eyed savior turned back your way and offered you his arm with another of those sap sweet smiles that lit his cheeks in a merry, rosy pink.

You hesitated, throat bobbing around something tight and cold that curdled along the back of your tongue.

Twining songbirds, wings frozen in flight as they soared up towards an endless sky.

The intricate, little emblem stared back at you proudly from its place on his chest, and you couldn’t help but think of the Siren who’d only just left your cove a few hours before.

‘Not safe,’ he’d demanded, dragging you away from the wreck so frantically you’d nearly drowned from it. ‘Not safe.’

The brunette’s smile wavered at your hesitance, and he wrapped his hand around yours to tug you into the boat.

You climbed in on wobbly legs, because—what else were you supposed to do? Stay stranded on this little patch of sand and stone until you starved to death or went mad from loneliness? Run? From sailors with swords on their belts as long as your arm? To hide on an island that you could traverse in its entirety in a half hour or less? You were always one to happily snatch up the weird and wonderful opportunities life could present to you and run them into the ground, but now… What else was there?

You were settled against one of the small, wooden benches and the brunette shucked off his jacket to drape over your shoulders and the silver songbirds glinted in the low light. He offered you another of those warm, warm smiles before turning to call an order to his crew.

You sighed, miserable, and slouched against the siding—fingers dangling down to brush along the surface of the water.

‘Do not do anything stupid,’ your Siren had said.

And you’d really been hoping to last more than twenty-four-freaking-hours before inevitably breaking that promise, but it seemed the universe really was out to get you after all.

.

.

.

[TAG LIST - CLOSED]

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[atinyslittleworld]

Step By Step

wooyoung x f!reader

Summary: When Y/N confides in Wooyoung about her inexperience with kissing, he offers to "teach" her. What begins as innocent lessons soon spirals into something neither can ignore.

Word Count: 3,072

Genre: friends-to-lovers, slow burn, romantic tension

Warnings: kissing, mild suggestive themes

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

Wooyoung’s voice echoed with disbelief as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape.

“Can you stop saying it like that?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his lack of remorse. “I’m just shocked. Like, you’ve dated before, right? Not even a quick peck?”

“Not everyone is as… free-spirited as you,” you retorted, your voice muffled by your palms.

“Free-spirited?” he repeated with a laugh. “You mean hot and irresistible.”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” you said dryly, finally lowering your hands. The amused sparkle in his eyes was both endearing and infuriating.

“So,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Why bring this up now? It’s not like you to care about this kind of stuff.”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “There’s this guy…”

“Wait, a guy?” Wooyoung interrupted, his eyes widening.

“Yes, a guy,” you confirmed, already regretting bringing it up.

“Okay, continue,” he said, leaning closer.

You sighed. “He’s been flirting with me for a while, and I think he’s going to ask me out.”

“Well, that’s exciting,” Wooyoung said, though his smile faltered slightly. “So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is…” You paused, searching for the right words. “What if he finds out I’ve never kissed anyone? What if I’m bad at it and he decides I’m not worth the effort?”

Wooyoung blinked, his playful demeanor shifting into something softer. “Y/N,” he said firmly, “any guy who would ditch you over something like that doesn’t deserve you. End of story.”

His words warmed you, but your insecurities lingered. “You don’t know that,” you murmured.

“Yes, I do,” he said, sitting up straighter. “And if he does pull something that stupid, I’ll fight him. With my bare hands. No gloves. No mercy.”

The serious tone in his voice paired with his exaggerated expression made you laugh despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously devoted to you, yes,” he said, grinning.

“Thanks, Woo,” you said quietly, his reassurance soothing the knots in your stomach.

Then his grin turned mischievous, and you immediately braced yourself.

“I have an idea,” he said, his tone laced with that dangerous kind of confidence only Wooyoung could pull off.

“Oh no,” you said immediately.

“Hear me out!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands. “Let me teach you.”

Your brow furrowed. “Teach me what?”

“To kiss,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting. “You’re joking.”

“For once, I’m not,” he said, his smirk widening. “You trust me, right?”

“I…” You hesitated, unsure how to respond. The idea was insane—wild, even—but something about the sincerity in his eyes made it impossible to say no.

“Fine,” you said, exhaling sharply. “Teach me.”

It started innocently enough.

You sat cross-legged on Wooyoung’s bed, facing him. He mirrored your position, his usual cocky grin softening into something more genuine.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Lesson one: the peck. It’s the foundation of all kissing. Super simple, super easy.”

He leaned forward slightly, his lips brushing against yours for the briefest second before pulling back.

“See? Nothing to it,” he said, smiling. “Now you try.”

You nodded, leaning in to mimic his action. Your lips pressed against his, quick and soft, and when you pulled back, he gave you an approving nod.

“Not bad,” he said. “But you can hold it a little longer. Watch.”

This time, his lips lingered against yours, the kiss lasting a few seconds longer. When he pulled back, you mirrored his actions, holding the kiss until he hummed softly in approval.

“Good,” he murmured. “Let’s move on.”

Each step grew more intimate.

Wooyoung guided you through the basics of lip movement, teaching you how to match his rhythm. His kisses were slow and deliberate, his lips soft yet firm against yours.

“You’re getting it,” he said after a particularly long kiss, his breath brushing against your skin.

“Really?” you asked, your voice slightly breathless.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes flickering to your lips. “You’re a natural.”

The next step involved using your tongue. “It’s all about subtlety,” Wooyoung explained, his voice quieter now. “Open your mouth a little, like this.”

He demonstrated, his tongue grazing your bottom lip before retreating. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t pull away. When it was your turn, you hesitated, but Wooyoung’s patient gaze encouraged you to try.

Your tongue brushed his tentatively, and for a moment, he froze. Then his hand moved to the back of your neck, steadying you as he guided the kiss, deepening it slightly.

“Like that,” he murmured when you pulled back, his voice low. “You’re doing great.”

The kisses grew longer, harder to break.

Wooyoung’s hand lingered on your neck, his fingers occasionally brushing against your hair. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, holding onto him as the tension between you thickened.

Neither of you noticed when you began leaning back, but suddenly you were lying on the bed, Wooyoung hovering over you.

“Woo,” you whispered, your chest heaving.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t quite name. “Are we still practicing?”

You swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. Your lips tingled from his kisses, your body warm and buzzing with an unfamiliar energy. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly.

His gaze flickered to your lips, and for a moment, he seemed torn. Then he smiled—a small, almost shy smile that made your heart ache.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered.

You didn’t. And when he kissed you again, slower this time, you responded without hesitation.

The line between practice and something more blurred entirely.

Wooyoung’s kisses grew deeper, more insistent. His hand slid from your neck to your waist, his touch warm and steady as he pressed closer. Your hands, once tentative, moved to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands.

Every kiss felt like a revelation, the heat between you building until it was almost overwhelming.

“Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, his voice hoarse.

“Hmm?” you replied, too dazed to form actual words.

His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm and uneven. “We should stop.”

You nodded, but neither of you moved. His gaze dropped to your lips again, and before you could think, you were pulling him back down, your lips meeting his in another heated kiss.

Wooyoung groaned softly, the sound vibrating through you as his hand slid under your shirt, resting lightly on your waist. The weight of him above you was intoxicating, grounding you even as your head spun.

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice a mix of desperation and restraint.

“Do you want to stop?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at you, his lips red and swollen, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name. “No,” he admitted finally.

And just like that, the last thread of restraint snapped.

[cumironi]

GOJO : NOWHERE TO BE FOUND! s. geto

☆ sum. is it acceptable to geto when you have him all to yourself but still moping around for gojo who’s away for a mission? absolutely not. but. . . is it acceptable for him to remind you who you are with? absolutely yes. so yeah, gojo is nowhere to be found, while geto? he is between your legs.

warning. established relationship au, poly relationships, pet names, praise, creampied, unprotected sēx, fluff, jealous geto, bear with me please :'), #longfic.

gojo’s version | request by anon.

the morning light seeps through the open door, casting a soft glow around gojo as he stands in front of you, his figure backlit by the gentle sunrise. it almost gives him an ethereal quality, as if he’s already slipping away, and your heart tightens at the thought. the birds are chirping melodiously in the distance, a sound that would normally bring you peace. but today, their song seems too cheerful, a painful contrast to the ache settling in your chest.

you tighten your hold on gojo’s hands, your fingers clinging to his as if you could keep him here just a little longer. the pout on your lips deepens as you gaze up at him, eyes tracing every detail of his face, as though memorizing it for the days you’ll be apart. “how long will you be gone?” you ask quietly, voice laced with the sadness you’re trying to hold back, though it slips through in each word.

gojo’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though his usual playful spark is subdued. “just a week,” he murmurs, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “it’ll fly by, you’ll see.”

“just a week?” you echo, your voice tinged with disbelief. “that’s easy for you to say. for me, it’ll feel like forever.” you give his hands another squeeze, refusing to let go, as if your grip alone could keep him from stepping through that door.

from your side, you hear an exasperated sigh, and you don’t even need to look to know that geto’s standing there, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and mild irritation. “you act like he’s going away for a year,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “it’s just a week, you’ll survive.”

you shoot him a quick glare, though it’s half-hearted, more a habit than anything, before turning back to gojo, who’s watching the exchange with a hint of amusement in his gaze. “ignore him,” you mumble, a slight whine in your tone. “i just... i don’t like when you’re gone, ’toru. it’s too quiet without you around.”

gojo can’t help but chuckle at your words, his heart warming at the way you look up at him with those pleading eyes and puffed up pout, as if trying to convince him not to leave for the mission— you almost did. “i’m sorry, my sweet,” he murmurs, voice soft and loving, “i wish i didn’t have to go, but you know how it is. duty calls.”

he gives your hands a light squeeze, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a soothing gesture, trying to comfort you. “but hey, it’s just a week. i’ll be back before you know it.”

geto rolls his eyes at the tenderness in gojo’s voice, his arms remaining crossed as he leans against the doorframe. his expression is a mixture of irritation and mild jealousy. “you’re coddling her too much,” he mutters, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “you know how dramatic she gets every time you leave. and you’re just making it worse by babying her,” he continues.

gojo looks over at geto with a hint of annoyance in his eyes, his grip on your hands tightening ever so slightly. “i’m not coddling her,” he retorts, a slight bite in his tone. “i’m just trying to comfort her. she’s allowed to be upset, you know.” geto just snorts, shaking his head. “yeah, but she acts like you’re leaving for a year every time,” he says, still with that slightly jealous edge, sharp eyes but narrowing without a bite. “it’s ridiculous.”

you ignore geto’s grumbling, his words rolling right off your shoulders as you focus solely on gojo, gaze softening as you look up at him. his eyes, as blue as the sky just starting to lighten behind him, meet yours with that familiar warmth, and you feel your heart squeeze at the thought of him being away, even if just for a week. without another word, you slip your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against him, your cheek resting on the sturdy fabric of his jujutsu uniform.

“can i come with you?” you mumble softly, your voice carrying a hint of hope, though both of you know it’s impossible. there’s a gentle desperation in your words, like if you asked just right, maybe—just maybe—he’d take you along, and you wouldn’t have to spend the next seven days missing him.

gojo’s heart softens at the way you cling to him, and he gut-wrenchingly instinctive lifts his arms to wrap around you, holding you close against him. he looks down at you, a mix of love and guilt in his gaze. his hands run gently through your hair, touch gentle and soothing. “you know i’d love to have you by my side, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of apology, “but it’s too dangerous for you. i can’t take that risk. and i don’t think the higher-ups would like that very much.”

you huff against his chest, your pout only deepening as you snuggle closer, pressing your forehead into his shoulder, now. “well, maybe they need to lighten up,” you grumble, your voice muffled but clear enough to make him laugh again. his laughter vibrates through his chest, and you feel it resonate within you, easing some of the ache of separation you’re already feeling.

gojo can’t help but chuckle at your defiance, finding it endearing, even as he knows you’re just grumbling to get a reaction. he continues to thread his fingers through your hair, the other hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “they can be a bunch of hardasses, that’s for sure,” he agrees, a hint of amusement in his voice. “but still, i won’t risk your safety, love. i’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. you know that.”

geto, still leaning against the doorframe, lets out an exaggerated sigh. “love,” he mimics, his voice tinged with mild disgust jealousy as he rolls his eyes, his irritation at the show of affection evident. “you’re nauseating,” he mutters, crossing his arms again, “can you both stop being so damn adorable? god, it’s too early for this.”

before you even get the chance to respond, geto’s hand is on your head, guiding you gently but firmly away from gojo. “alright, that’s enough of the mushy stuff,” he says, his tone carrying a hint of amusement despite his exaggerated annoyance. he pulls you to his side, keeping his hand on top of your head as if to hold you in place, and you can feel the warmth of his touch radiating through your hair.

“ijichi’s waiting,” he adds, his jaw cocks in the direction of the vehicle, and his expression is a blend of impatience and mild exasperation— the car parked a little way down the drive. “you want him to die of old age out there? you two can’t take all day saying goodbye.”

you pout, glancing back at gojo, but geto’s hand keeps you steady, grounding you by his side as he rolls his eyes. he doesn’t let go, his fingers giving a small, almost affectionate pat atop your head. “he’ll be fine,” he assures you, his voice softening ever so slightly, almost as if he’s trying to reassure himself as well.

as the car idles in the driveway, a mischievous glint in your eye despite the lingering sadness. “at least give me a kiss before you go,” you say, tilting your head up at the white-haired man, lips curving into a small pout. your tone is both a plea and a playful demand, as if challenging him to say no.

gojo looks at you with an expression that can only be described as smitten, and he steps closer to you, a fond smirk on his lips. “since you’re being soooo demanding,” he teases, his voice low and honey-sweet. he leans down, one hand coming up to cup your face, and he gently presses his lips against yours, his kiss both gentle and dawdling, as if he’s trying to capture the sweetness of your goodbye.

his other hand finds its way to your waist, gently pulling you closer, and for a brief second, it feels like time has stopped. his touch is soft and gentle but a silent reassurance, filled with a promise to come back to you. “happy now?” he whispers against your lips as he pulls away, his thumb brushing across your cheek. there’s a twinkle in his eye, as if he’s savoring the look on your face.

before you can respond, geto lets out an exaggerated groan from behind. “ugh, enough with the romance already,” he grumbles, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone as he rolls his eyes. “we get it—you’re both madly in love.”

with a final glance at you, gojo laughs, shooting geto a smirk. “take care of her for me, alright?” he says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “yeah, yeah,” geto sighs, grabbing you by the shoulders and gently steering you away from gojo. “now, get out of here before i have to witness another heartwarming moment.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes, even as geto holds you firmly by his side. “don’t act like you’re not gonna miss him too,” you tease, glancing up at him. geto scoffs, but there’s a soft smile playing at his lips. “just get inside,” he mutters, guiding you back into the house once gojo is gone, but his hold on you is gentle, as if he’s quietly reassuring you that he’s here, ready to keep you company until gojo returns.

as you make your way back into the house, geto keeps his hands on your shoulders, steering you away from the door and into the living room. a part of you wants to turn back, to catch one last glimpse of gojo before he leaves, but you resist the urge, knowing it would only make the parting more difficult.

he guides you to the sofa, gently pushing you down to sit, before taking a seat beside you. geto is characteristically quiet, his expression a mix of annoyance and... something else you can comfortably decipher— jealousy. the air in the room is heavy with an unspoken tension. geto is silently gazing into space, his thoughts seemingly far away. you glance at him, your gaze lingering on his profile.

the sunlight streaming through the windows casts a warm glow on his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the slight furrow of his brow. he’s always been handsome, you’ve known that from the day you met him, but in this light, he’s almost unfairly beautiful. after a brief pause, he finally speaks, his voice low and strangely serious. “you’re too clingy, y’know,” he mutters, not looking at you.

you pout, sink into the couch, letting out a sigh. “i just miss him,” you murmur, your voice a bit quieter, softer. “he’s been going on missions non-stop lately. it’s like the moment he’s back, they send him off again.”

your gaze drops to your hands resting in your lap, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your sleeve as you try to make sense of the mix of emotions welling up inside. the frustration, the loneliness, the worry—each time he leaves, it feels like a piece of you goes with him. you want him safe and sound here, not off somewhere you can’t reach him.

geto sighs, his annoyance melting into a softer, more understanding expression. he glances at you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, and he can almost feel your worry and frustration mirrored in his own heart.

“i know,” he murmurs, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “it sucks, huh? they treat him like he’s invincible, sending him on one mission after another. it’s like the higher-ups forget that he has someone waiting for him at home.”

the words hang in the air, lingering with an unwelcome sense of truth. you can hear the undercurrent of frustration and worry in geto’s voice, something he rarely allows himself to show. he looks at you, his gaze, drowning in nothing bot love for you. “he’ll come back,” he says firmly, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. “he’s gojo. you know he can take care of himself.”

the warmth of geto’s voice, with its steady reassurance, settles into your heart. but then he whispers, “come here,” his tone softer than before, and before you can process it, he pulls you into his arms, his embrace gentle but firm. he shifts, bringing you both down to lie on the couch, his arms circling you securely, as if protecting you from your own worry.

you let out a sigh, the tension slowly melting away as you rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. it’s calming, grounding, and in this quiet moment, it feels like everything might actually be okay. you wrap your arm around his waist, clinging to him as if he’s the anchor keeping you steady— like how he is.

the silence is filled only by the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear, strong and reassuring. he gently strokes your hair, his hand moving in slow, soothing motions, and you find yourself relaxing more with each breath. it’s not rare for him to show this side of himself, the part that isn’t just strength or sharp words, but softness and quiet care when it comes to you.

“he’ll come back, love,” geto murmurs again, his voice almost a whisper, a shape of promising for you and himself at the same time. “and until then… i’m here. so don’t worry so much.”

a faint smile tugs at your lips, and you nuzzle into his chest, letting his warmth surround you. “thank you, sugu’,” you say softly, your words muffled against him but carrying all the gratitude you feel. he doesn’t respond right away, but his arm tightens around you slightly, as if that’s answer enough.

geto holds you close, his fingers continuing to run through your hair, the motion soothing for both of you. he can feel your body relax in his arms, the tension slowly dissipating as you melt into him.

he takes a deep breath, still trying to control the swirl of emotions inside him. the words he wants to say linger on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them back, keeping them locked away for now. “try to get back to sleep, love, it still morning,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you don’t say a word, letting the warmth of his quiet presence surround you. instead, you shift slightly, reaching for his hand, your fingers finding his. without a second thought, you intertwine them, feeling the familiar strength and roughness of his hand against yours. it’s a simple gesture, but it carries all the things you’re too tired to put into words — the trust, the comfort, the gratitude.

geto’s fingers close around yours, and for a brief moment, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, as if to tell you he understands. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, a soft, grounding touch, and you feel a small part of the heaviness lift from your heart. you close your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his embrace calm the lingering worry.

he leans his head down, pressing a feather-light kiss to the top of your head, lips remain there as if to say, i’m here. “you are such a baby,” he teased, despite the jealousy burning inside his heart. geto tries to keep his voice light, the tease gently masking the more complicated feelings swirling beneath the surface. he feels the weight of your body against his, the way you cling to him, seeking comfort and reassurance. and as much as he tries to hide it, he revels in it, the feeling of having you close, needing him.

but there’s also a pang of jealousy gnawing at him still, a bitter taste in his mouth he tries to swallow back. he doesn’t want to think about gojo, about how he’s getting more of your affection than usual.

“always so needy,” he murmurs, his tone a mixture of fondness and annoyance, “and so clingy. can’t even handle a week alone.” he let out a soft huff at your clinginess, his eyes studying your face, the expression on your face so open, so at peace, that he can’t help feeling just the smallest twinge of possessiveness.

you’re his right now.

you tilt your head up to look at him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “oh, please, babe,” you whisper, the playful lilt in your voice matching his tease, “if it were you going on missions all the time, i’d be just as clingy. maybe even worse.” your words are light, but there’s a flicker of honesty in your gaze, and geto can see it, feel it in the way you hold him a little tighter.

for a moment, he doesn’t respond. his eyes search yours, and the soft teasing mask he usually wears slips, just a little. the warmth in his expression, mixed with something deeper, tells you he understands, even if he’d never admit to feeling the same. he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering there.

“oh, so you’re saying you’d actually miss me?” he murmurs, a hint of challenge in his tone, but there’s a gentleness there, too— an unspoken desire for that closeness, for you to need him the way you need gojo.

you roll your eyes, pretending to scoff as you press closer against him. “obviously,” you reply, your voice dropping to a whisper, “maybe i’d even be... clingy.” the word is playful, but it carries a certain weight, a confession you both understand without having to say it.

geto’s eyes darkened slightly as he feels your body pressing closer to his, your words sending a shiver down his spine. he can’t help the way his heart clenches, the pang of jealousy mixed with a desperate need for you to want him instead, to cling to him instead.

he lets out a scoff, his voice low and filled with a mixture of annoyance and desire. “clingy?” he repeats, “you are clingy. all the time. you just can’t seem to keep your hands off me.” he moves his hand, untangling it from yours to gently grab your chin, desperate for you to look up at him, for those eye-contact. his eyes are a hue of violet, almost intense, as they meet yours, a small smirk on his lips. “always all over me, like a little leech,” he continues, his words a mixture of teasing and honesty.

he studies your face, a mixture of irritation and affection in his dark eyes. “you’re always glued to me, sticking like a damn limpet. seems like you can’t even handle a few moments apart without clinging to someone.”

his tone is as sharp as ever, but there’s an edge of protectiveness that betrays his concern, his possessiveness, and geto, is for sure diving for validation from you. he keeps his hold on your chin, not willing to let you look away, not right now. “it’s annoying,” he mutters, the words not carrying the irritation they should, giving your chin a little squeeze.

you don’t bother with a reply, letting your actions speak louder than words. shifting even closer, you nuzzle against his chest, letting your nose brush against the soft fabric of his shirt. a quiet hum escapes you as you tangle your legs with his, wrapping yourself around him like he’s the only thing anchoring you. if he wanted to tease you for being clingy, you’d prove just how right he was.

your response, the way you cling to him with every fiber of your being, it’s both satisfying and frustrating. a deep, possessive part of him relishes in the way you’ve wrapped yourself around him; it’s exactly what he wants. but another part of him, the part that’s still struggling with jealousy, it’s a stark reminder of how he isn’t your first choice. gojo gets all your sweet words and loving gazes, while he’s left with the scraps of your affection.

a frustrated sigh escapes his lips.

geto’s hand is still on your chin, but his grip loosens slightly, as though taken off guard by how naturally you mold yourself to him. his gaze softens, the teasing sharpness in his eyes dimming just a bit as he takes in the sight of you — nestled against him, as if you truly can’t bear even the smallest distance between you. his fingers trace along your jaw, down to your shoulder, finally settling at the small of your back, holding you just as close.

a soft sigh slips from him, his hand firm and warm on your back, as if he’s accepted his role as your personal anchor, whether he likes it or not. he doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the subtle shift in his posture, the way he settles into the embrace, his other hand resting against your tangled legs, as though to keep you even closer— as if it’s even possible.

in the quiet of the moment, with your legs intertwined and your face nestled against him, you feel his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. there’s no need for words; the tension fades, replaced by a silent understanding that neither of you wants to break this closeness. his hand resumes its gentle, absent-minded strokes along your back, a gesture both protective and tender.

“so much for needing space,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but there’s a hint of warmth behind it— a warmth that feels almost like an unspoken confession.

he continues to hold you, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly, as if he’s holding onto you tighter than before, desperate to became one. he can feel the warmth of your breath on his chest, the way your body presses against him, the way you’ve wrapped yourself around him like a clinging vine.

he can’t deny the way it makes him feel— the possessive need to keep you close, the satisfaction in knowing that you’re choosing him now, in this moment. he pushes the intrusive thoughts of gojo away, focusing only on the feeling of you against him.

geto’s grip tightens as he holds you close, feeling that satisfying warmth seep into his chest as you cling to him with every bit of yourself. there’s a certain possessive satisfaction in knowing you’re nestled against him so naturally, as if it’s where you belong. it’s exactly what he wants, and for a moment, he lets himself believe it’s all his.

but it wasn’t last long, few second of faith and the familiar ache starts creeping back in, that unshakable jealousy lurking beneath the surface. the reminder that, despite this closeness, he still isn’t the one who occupies your thoughts most of the time. gojo gets your smiles, your sweet glances, and sometimes it feels like he’s just here to fill the spaces left behind.

his hand on your back stills for a second as he tries to quell the frustration bubbling up within him. he lets out a soft sigh, his gaze softening as he takes in your peaceful expression against his chest. he’s just about to release that jealousy, to accept that maybe, just maybe, this moment could belong to him.

then, you speak.

“how long is ’toru’s flight?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant but still leak with the same longing, “do you think i can call him soon?”

your words cut through him sharper than he expects, and for a moment, he can’t mask the flash of hurt that crosses his face. he pulls back just enough to look at you, searching your expression for any sign that this is some sort of joke— but there’s only genuine curiosity in your eyes. it’s as though the thought of gojo is always there, lingering on the edge of your mind, even when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

“thinking about him again, huh?” he murmurs, a bitter edge sneaking into his voice. his hand loosens slightly on your back, his thumb tracing a faint, absent-minded pattern along your shoulder as he tries to keep himself composed when he nearly going spiral from the unbound jealousy. it’s a small gesture, but it betrays the tension he’s trying so hard to hide. “can’t go a moment without wondering about him?”

the words are quiet, almost more to himself than to you, as if he’s not sure he even wants an answer. he knows it’s unfair, knows he’s being unreasonable— but he can’t deny the sting, the way your question pulls him back to that reality where he’s still second in your heart even though it was all his insecurity.

he takes a steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he speaks again, his tone softer this time, though there’s a faint trace of melancholy lingering beneath it. “gojo’s flight… should be landing in two hour or so,” he answers, finally looking down at you with a resigned smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “you’ll be able to talk to him soon enough.”

but even as he says it, his arms still slide back around you, holding you close with a renewed sense of determination. because if this is all he can have, if these fleeting moments are all that belong to him, then he’ll take them. his hand resumes its gentle strokes along your back, his touch firm and always tender, grounding himself in this closeness that he knows he’ll have to let go of eventually.

geto shifts on the couch, his movements slow and deliberate as he gently lays you down against the cushions. he hovers over you, one hand braced beside you, the other coming to rest softly against your cheek. his gaze is intense, filled with something raw and unspoken, and for a moment, he just looks at you, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin.

“stop thinking about him,” he murmurs, his voice a low whisper, almost a plea. “i’m here. not satoru. right here, with you.”

the words are quiet, but there’s a weight to them, a vulnerability that he rarely lets show unless it’s needed— which is, often. his fingers trace along your jaw, grounding you in the moment, anchoring you to him alone. his eyes search yours, looking for any hint that you understand— that maybe, just this once, you’ll let go of gojo’s hold on your thoughts and give yourself completely to him.

“i need you to see me, too,” he continues, his tone softening, almost breaking. “just me.”

his hand slips to the small of your back for hundred times, pulling you closer, his face inches from yours as he holds your gaze. there’s something possessive in the way he looks at you, a quiet desperation mingling with the need in his eyes. he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours, barely touching as if he’s giving you the chance to close the distance— to show him that you want this, that you want him.

but instead, you hum softly, your fingers finding their way to his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw as you meet his gaze with a knowing smile. there’s a glimmer of playfulness in your eyes, and you can feel his breath hitch as you lean just a little closer.

“you’re always so jealous of satoru,” you tease, voice laced with gentle amusement, a slight tilt to your smile that says you know exactly what kind of effect you have on him.

a flicker of irritation flashes in his eyes, but it’s tempered by the warmth lingering there, an exasperation softened by how much he cares. his hand tightens on your waist, a gentle but firm reminder of his presence. he’s almost pouting now, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to find the words to deny it— but he doesn’t.

“you know,” he murmurs, voice low and almost a little sulky, “you make it really hard not to be.” his thumb brushes over your hip, his other hand cupping the side of your face, his touch, like a glue, stick around like he’s savoring every moment. “i just... i just want you to look at me that way too.”

there’s a softness now, a vulnerability barely hidden beneath the usual confidence. his fingers trail along your jaw, and his eyes search yours, almost pleading, even as his lips curl into a slight smirk. “but if you keep teasing me like that,” he whispers, leaning in until his lips are a breath away from yours, “i might just have to make sure you only think about me.”

“oh? promise, promise,” you teased.

geto lets out a scoff at your teasing tone, the sound caught between mockery and affection. he leans closer, his eyes darkening slightly as he meets your taunting expression, the hint of playfulness in your gaze only fuelling the possessive fire inside him.

“oh, you want me to promise?” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with a quiet challenge. “you want me to prove it?” his hand slides down to your waist, his grip firm as he pulls you closer, closing the distance between you. his lips graze yours, a tantalisingly whisper of a touch.

“you really think i won’t?” he murmurs against your lips, his hot breath sending a jolt of shudder in your being. “that i can’t make you forget about that idiot satoru?”

he gently pushes you deepened, back against the couch, leaning over you with a possessiveness that’s verging on territorial. his hand slides up your side, coming to rest just beneath your chin, tilting your face up towards him. his eyes burn with a quiet intensity, a mixture of irritation and desire.

“i can make you forget your own name, if i wanted,” he whispers, his thumb gently tracing your bottom lip, gently tracing the contour, his gaze locked on yours as if he’s memorizing every detail. his voice is low and rough, and there’s a possessive edge to it that makes your heart skip a beat.

“i could make you obsessed with me, if i tried hard enough,” he continues, his lips hovering a breath away from yours, like he is playing game who’s going to kiss first before move down to your neck, his body pressing against you in a way that feels almost predatory. “just you and me, all alone, no one else. i’m not like satoru, y’know,” he murmurs, “and i don’t want to be.” he leans in deeper, lips just barely grazing the skin of your neck. “i don’t want to share you, i don’t want to have to compete with him for your attention. i want you to be mine, and mine alone.”

he leans down deeper, his lips tracing a path along the length of your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses as he slowly descends. he finds that spot right behind your ear, the one that makes you shiver, and he lingers there for a moment, his tongue gently teasing the sensitive skin.

he nibbles softly, just enough to drive you wild before pulling back, a smug smirk on his lips as he returns his attention to your face. “you’ll have no choice but to think of me.”

a breathless sigh escapes you, fingers curling around his shoulder as he holds you beneath him, his lips still searing a path down your neck. every soft kiss, every teasing graze of his teeth against your skin, it all makes your chest feel tight, your heart pounding with the intensity of his touch.

“a little too late for that, don’t you think?” you whisper, voice barely above a murmur, eyes simmering with a playful, daring gleam. your words carry a note of surrender, as if admitting that he’s already woven himself too deeply into your thoughts, filling every corner of your mind in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying. he is already woven into something complicated, tangled up with you and gojo for years, making it impossible for him to truly claim you as his alone now.

a sharp pang of possessiveness jolts through geto as you whisper those words. he pauses in his trail of kisses, his breath warm against your skin as he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes are dark, almost possessive as he holds your gaze, a flicker of irritation and arousal swirling in his expression.

“too late, huh?” he murmurs back, his voice edged with a soft growl. “i don’t like that answer. doesn’t sound like you’re all mine, yet.” he leans in again, his lips meeting yours in a fierce kiss that’s all possession. he kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as his hands slide down to your hips, holding you still against the couch.

when he finally pulls back, his breath is coming in ragged gasps, his gaze still intense as he looks down at you. “i’ll make you mine,” he whispers against your mouth, his voice firm, almost a promise. “i’ll make you forget everything else. satoru, anyone else. just me.”

in split second, geto have you gasp as you’re suddenly straddling his lap, his lips capturing yours in a possessive kiss, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip for the second time. the intensity of his hold makes your breath hitch, but you quickly regain your composure. as he pulls back, you push his face away with a teasing smirk, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“again with your sadistic strike,” you murmur, voice light and playful despite the heat between you both. you tilt your head, amused by how easily he falls into this possessive role, your fingers lightly tracing along his jaw as you continue to tease him. “you’re really not giving up, are you?”

geto lets out a scoff as you push him away, a mix of irritation and desire flashing in his eyes as he looks up at you, straddling his lap. he can feel the heat between you, the way your body responds to his touch, and it only fuels the possessive fire within him.

“not giving up?” he repeats, his voice edged with a rough edge. “you’re damn right i’m not. you think i’m gonna just let you keep thinking about him when i’m right here?” he grips your hips a little harder, pulling you closer and grinding against you in a way that makes your breath hitch. he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he continues, his voice low and dangerous.

“i’ll do whatever it takes to make you forget about him. you’ll be screaming my name before the night is through, i promise you that.”

second thought is far away in the back of his head, and geto pulled his cock out from the sweatpants he wore— already hard and throbbing— pre-cum leaking from the swollen tip, red and angry, like how he is. his other neat-handed hand is lifting the only oversized t-shirt you’ve had wearing and your little lace panties filling his violet hue pupils. his index finger poking the fabric aside, and, in one push, his cock was already deep inside you.

a deep, rumble groans tears from his chest, having the raven-haired man throws his head back against the cushion while you gasp from the sudden feeling of fullness inside your cunt— both feeling like a cloud nine just drape its hands on you both, making cocoon of pleasure. your nails dig into his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

geto’s hands grip your hips ever tightly, holding you still as he savors the feeling of being buried deep inside you. he can feel your walls clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to his size— every single fucking time. a low groan rumbles in his chest, his breathing heavy with barely restrained lust and flame of jealousy.

he tilts his head, looking up at you with those intense purple eyes, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “that’s it, take every inch of me,” he purrs, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “this is where you belong, wrapped around my cock like you were made for it.” one hand slides up your side, under the oversized shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach and ribcage. his other hand remains firmly gripping your hip, keeping you impaled on his thick length.

you moan softly, your body relaxing the way geto’s hand glides over your skin, sending shivers down your spine like twinkling stars dancing around your skin. the sensation of being so deeply filled, stretched to your limits, is almost overwhelming. you bite your lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threaten to spill free.

you look down at geto, seeing the raw hunger in his gaze, and it sends a shiver down your spine. his words, laced with possessiveness and dominance, make your cunt throb around him. your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging gently as you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. tongue tied, a heady mix of arousal and something uniquely geto. breaking the kiss, you nip at his bottom lip before whispering hotly in his ear, “don’t move yet, baby. let me feel you for a moment.”

a guttural growl escapes geto’s throat at your whispered command, his hips twitching involuntarily as he struggles to obey. unlike gojo, geto is a man of patience and a single words coming from you, he will bent down and fighting his will to do as you say— even when his cock buried deep inside your perfect, beautiful cunt he is nearly explode. he wants nothing more than to start thrusting into you, to claim you with every fiber of his being. but the need to please you, to surrender control to your whim, overrides his own desires.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his forehead pressing against yours as he tries to calm his racing heart. “you’re killing me, you know that?”

his hand tightens on your hip while the other grasps a fistful of your breast, the only part of him not trembling with restraint. he can feel the pulse of your heartbeat, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, and it’s intoxicating, really. being still, being patient, feels foreign to him—but for you, he’d endure anything.

after what feels like an eternity, he manages a strained nod.

a sight of his struggle nod bring a satisfied smile curves your lips as you watch geto struggle to maintain his self-control, even if it’s clearly costing him. you press a gentle kiss to his temple, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath your lips. the tension in his body palpable. you can practically feel the heat radiating off him, the primal urge to claim you, to dominate and possess. it’s intoxicating, addicting knowing you have such power over him.

“good boy,” you praise softly, your voice dripping with affection. you lean in, nuzzling your nose against his, inhaling the scent of his skin, musky and masculine. “i love watching you try to rein it in,” you murmur, your voice husky with desire, “it’s so sexy, seeing you fight for control.”

geto’s chest rises and falls rapidly as he fights to maintain his composure, his body thrumming with pent-up energy. the praise from your lips sends a jolt straight to his cock, making it twitch within you. he grits his teeth, trying to focus on the sensations you’re evoking rather than giving in to the overwhelming impulse to move.

your hand trails down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, until you reach the hem of his shirt, tugging the material upward, a silent command to banish the material, exposing his toned torso to your appreciative gaze, and geto lets out a low hiss. his abs flex beneath your fingertips, the defined muscles a testament to his strength and dedication. he knows every dip and curve of your body, has worshipped them with his mouth and hands, and the knowledge fills him with pride.

“you’ve got no idea,” he rasps, his voice strained with effort, “how much i want to fuck you senseless right now.”

a pleased hum vibrates in your throat at geto’s admission, your fingers dancing across his exposed skin, tracing the lines of his muscles. you lean in, placing open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, tasting the salt of his sweat. the confession ignites a fire within you, your inner walls clenching around his thickness. “what’s with the rush?” you murmur, your voice a sultry purr, “we have all week for ourselves, no need to take things too fast.”

your fingers trace the lines of his chiseled abdomen, marveling at the sheer power coiled beneath his skin. you can feel the heat emanating from him, the raw energy simmering just below the surface. it’s exhilarating, knowing you have the power to unravel him completely. “let’s just enjoy this together,” you continue, hands roam lower, squeezing his muscular thighs as you grind against him, your clit kissing his pelvis. you nip at his neck, leaving a trail of love bites as you mark him as yours, tearing a low, animalistic groan rumbles in his chest, follow you. the air is thick with tension, the promise of unbridled passion hanging precariously balanced.

the possessive act sends a surge of heat straight to his groin, his balls drawing up tight. he can feel the coil of tension building within him, the warning signs of an impending release.

with that, you begin to slowly rock your hips, rolling them in a slow, sensual rhythm. each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering around geto’s thick length. you keep your pace deliberate and controlled, not wanting to overwhelm him, but instead coaxing him deeper into the blissful haze of lust and possession.

geto’s entire body shudders at the first deliberate roll of your hips, his cock throbbing in response. the sensation of your slick heat enveloping him, combined with the erotic dance of your grinding, is nearly unbearable. he clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to buck wildly into you, to lose himself in the primal need to claim you utterly. “fuuuck, baby,” he gasps, his voice strained, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

----

your hips continue their languid undulations, each movement designed to tease and tantalize, to draw out the exquisite pleasure for both of you. you can feel geto’s resolve crumbling, his body tensing, straining for release. the thought sends a thrill through you, knowing you hold such power over him.

you lean back slightly, changing the angle of your connection, allowing geto's thick length to brush against your sensitive spots with each roll of your hips. a soft moan escapes your lips as the new position sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you. your fingers dig into the firm shoulder, urging him to meet your movements, to sink deeper into your welcoming heat. “fuuuck,” you whimper, your voice a husky whisper, “hold me, baby.”

geto’s arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you flush against his heaving chest. he cradles you close, his large hands splayed across your back, fingers digging into the supple flesh. the intimate contact only fuels the growing urgency between you, his hardness pressing insistently against your softer curves.

geto meets each roll with a slow, deliberate thrust of his own, driving into you with measured strokes. his breath hitches in his throat, a low growl building in his chest as he loses himself in the rhythmic dance of pleasure.

“god, you feel incredible,” he pants against your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “so fucking perfect, so fucking beautiful.” his words are a heated promise, a vow to cherish and worship every inch of your body as he makes love to you.

a contented sigh escapes your lips as geto’s strong arms enfold you, holding you securely against his solid form. the feeling of being cherished, adored, and desired washes over you, filling you with a profound sense of belonging. you melt into his embrace, your body molding to his as if you were made to fit together perfectly.

geto’s deep, rumbling words send tingles down your spine, his praise and devotion igniting a fierce passion within you. you tilt your head back, offering your mouth to his, and he claims it in a searing kiss— it was intimate, warm and gentle. the taste of him, the feel of his tongue exploring your depths, sets your very soul ablaze.

breaking the kiss, you gaze up at him, your eyes shimmering with adoration and lust. “i love you, suguru,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, forehead bound against his.

geto’s eyes darken with emotion as he looks down at you, his face etched with tender adoration. a soft, choked sound escapes him, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“i love you too, my beautiful girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sentiment. geto’s heart swells, his love for you burning brighter than ever before. he captures your lips once more, pouring all his devotion and longing into the passionate kiss. the kiss tender and loving, a sweet expression of the depth of his feelings for you. his tongue delves deeply, savoring the sweetness of your mouth as he loses himself in the tender intimacy of the moment.

as you break apart, geto gazes down at you with an expression of pure adoration, his purple eyes shimmering undeniable love and happiness. slowly, deliberately, geto begins to move within you again, his thrusts slower now, more measured, as if savoring every moment of your intimate connection. he rocks into you with a soothing rhythm, the subtle undulation of his hips sending waves of pleasure rippling through your core.

“we’re home, aren’t we?” he whispers against your lips, his breath mingling with yours. his hands slide down to cup your ass, kneading the supple flesh as he deepens the embrace.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes as geto professes his love, the sincerity and depth of his emotions overwhelming you. you cling to him, your fingers threading through his hair as you press your lips to his, relishing in the tender affection he pours into the kiss.

when you finally part, you rest your forehead against his, basking in the warmth of his presence, the comforting beat of his heart against your own. “yes, we’re home, we are always home,” you agree softly, a contented smile playing on your lips. “right here, with you.”

geto’s renewed lovemaking is a symphony of slow, sensual movements, each deliberate stroke stoking the flames of your desire. his heartbeat syncs with yours, a powerful drumbeat that resonates deep within your soul. he gazes at you with unabashed adoration, his purple eyes drinking in every detail of your radiant beauty— from the sparkling tears clinging to your lashes to the blissful curve of your lips. in this moment, he knows he would move heaven and earth to keep you safe, to make you happy.

you arch into him, meeting his thrusts with eager rolls of your hips, the friction sending sparks of pleasure dancing along your nerve endings, having geto’s breath catches in his throat. the way you welcome him, the eagerness with which you meet his thrusts, ignites a wildfire of passion within him. his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he loses himself in the erotic dance of your bodies.

“fucking perfection,” he groans, his voice raw with desire. his grip on your ass tightens as you meet his movements with equal fervor, his control wavering under the onslaught of your passion. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your mutual gasps and moans of pleasure.

he breaks the intimate seal of your foreheads, instead burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he nips and kisses a trail down to your collarbone. geto’s hot breath fans over your sensitive skin, sending shivers coursing through you.

“mine,” he growls, the word a possessive declaration as he marks you with small, open-mouthed kisses. “all mine, forever and always.” geto’s hands roam your body, mapping the curves he knows so well, his touch reverent and hungry all at once.

your body trembles beneath geto's intense ministrations, every nip and kiss sending electric jolts straight to your core. the possessive growl vibrating against your skin, coupled with his fervent declarations, only serves to heighten your arousal. you feel owned, treasured, and utterly consumed by this man who holds your heart in the palm of his hand.

reaching up, you tangle your fingers in geto’s silky locks, guiding his head back to capture your lips in a searing kiss— his lips, oh, you could never have enough of his lips on yours. the clash of tongues, the battle for dominance, is a thrilling prelude to the explosive climax you both crave. breaking away, you pant heavily, your chest heaving against his. “i’m close,” you mumble, your voice husky with need.

geto’s eyes blaze with unbridled hunger as he watches you writhe on top of him, your desperate pleas music to his ears. he can feel your walls fluttering around him, tightening with each thrust, signaling your impending release. with a feral snarl, he redoubles his efforts, pounding into you with relentless ferocity.

his hands find purchase on your thighs, spreading them wider to accommodate his punishing pace. the lewd slap of flesh echoes through the room, a primal soundtrack to your frenzied coupling. geto’s breathing grows ragged, his vision tunneling until all he sees is you— your flushed cheeks, your pleading eyes, the exquisite contours of your body as it yields to his possession.

“you’re mine,” he rasps, his voice a guttural animalistic growl. “never forget it.” overwhelmed by the intensity of geto’s lovemaking, you can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. your mind goes blank, replaced by a haze of white-hot pleasure that consumes every fiber of your being. each brutal thrust sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, threatening to shatter you into a million pieces.

geto’s dominant claim, spoken with such raw, primal authority, snaps the last threads of your self-control. a scream rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your inner muscles clamping down on geto’s pulsing length in rhythmic spasms. stars burst and your head spinning, and you’re certain the room spins, but all you can focus on is the overwhelming sensation of release.

as the aftershocks ebb, you collapse against geto, your body limp and spent. your legs trembling on his lap. “fuuuck, i’m cumming,” and geto follows shortly after, letting out a guttural roar as your velvet walls milk him dry. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath puffing against your sweat-dampened skin as he fights to regain his composure.

panting heavily, geto refuse to extricates himself from your cunt, so instead he collapses onto his back on the couch pulling you into his arms. his touch gentle and tender, having you nestle into the comfort of his embrace, your body still humming with the afterglow of your shared passion. he nuzzles into your hair, savoring the intoxicating mix of your scent and the lingering traces of their shared passion.

“i love you so much,” he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction. the sound of his voice, hoarse and satisfied, rings like a soothing melody in your ears as he whispers those three words. geto peppers feather-light kisses across your forehead, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, each one a silent vow of eternal devotion.

gently, he strokes your hair, his fingers tangling in the silken strands as he holds you close. you bask in the soothing sensation of his fingers raking through your hair, each stroke a soft, intimate caress that ignites a wave of warmth and contentment within you. your chest heaves against his, breaths coming in short, laboured gasps as you both try to recover from the raw intensity of their passion.

you can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your hands, the way his body trembles slightly from the residue. “i love you, too,” you murmur back, your voice soft and reverent, barely above a whisper.

still joined together, geto’s arms wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you close as he shifts, finding more comfortable position against the couch and settling you on top of him. his embrace is steady, his touch lingering, as if he never wants to let go. you rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you, its warmth radiating through every inch of you.

he runs his hands slowly up and down your back, still covered with your shirt, tracing gentle, soothing patterns as he holds you close. the room is silent, save for the soft sounds of breath and the steady rhythm of geto’s heart beating beneath you. his fingers continue their tender journey across your back, tracing invisible patterns and sending warm shivers down your spine.

he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, his arms holding you closer, a silent declaration of his unwavering love. you snuggle into his chest, your body perfectly molding into him as you bask in the comfort of his embrace.

geto’s hand pauses for a moment on your back, and a playful smirk tugs at his lips. he tilts his head down to look at you, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, mischievous spark. “think you’ve finally forgotten about satoru now?” he murmurs, his voice a soft tease as he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. his fingers resume their gentle path, tracing soothing patterns along your spine, as if grounding you in this moment with him.

before you can respond, he presses another kiss to your forehead, holding you even tighter. “good,” he whispers against your skin, “because i plan on making sure you don’t have a single thought left for anyone but me.”

you roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips as you lift your head to meet his gaze. “not yet,” you tease, voice laced with a playful challenge, sitting up abruptly before taking your shirt off— your breast on full display to your boyfriend’s eyes. a soft thud could be heard once the material landed somewhere.

geto lets out a low, appreciative whistle as you take off your shirt, his gaze darkening impossibly as he takes in the sight of your bare skin. he can’t help the way his eyes roam over your curves, a mixture of hunger and raw desire flashing across his face.

his hands slide to your hips, his touch firm and possessive as he pulls you closer, forcing you to straddle his waist. he leans back against the couch— prop his elbows, his expression intense, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and determination.

his lips part, breathing a wee bit heavy as he looks up at you through hooded eyes, “not yet, huh?” he echoed back to you, voice a little rougher than before, his gaze heated and intensely focused on your perky nipples, “oh, you’re not making this easy on me, you know, baby?” he growls, his voice a low, husky promise. the sound low and deep in his throat, as if he’s struggling to control himself.

a mischievous glint sparks in your eyes as you hum softly, trailing your hands down his bare chest, fingers tracing over the lines of his muscles with teasing slowness. “i thought you were going to make sure i forgot about ‘toru,” you murmur, voice laced with playful defiance. you tilt your head, meeting his darkened gaze with a smirk.

“because, honestly, right now…” you pause, leaning in closer, your lips a mere breath away from his. “my mind’s still pretty full of my beloved ‘toru, and he’s all i can think about,” you tease, each word a deliberate challenge.

geto’s grip on your hips tightens, his eyes narrowing as he lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound full of dark amusement. “is that so?” he mutters, his voice now a dangerously low whisper. “guess i’m not trying hard enough, then.” his hands slide up, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine, as his gaze turns sharp and possessive.

without warning, he pulls you even closer, his lips brushing over yours in a tantalizing, barely-there kiss. “let’s see if i can change that, hm?” he challenges, his eyes locked on yours with unwavering intensity, daring you to hold on to the thought of anyone else but him.

lifting you effortlessly off the couch and carrying you to the nearby window seat. they way he hold you, you can feel the possessive strength in his grip. the cool glass presses against your front as geto settles you onto the hard surface, his hard length still nestled inside you. the change in position allows him to delve even deeper, his pelvis grinding against yours as he starts to move once more.

geto buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he nips and licks at the delicate skin. “one way or another, you will forget satoru even exists for a whole fucking week, i’ll make sure of that,” he grumbles on your skin, hips one after another start to thrust into your cunt. big hand grip a fistful of your hair, face push to the hard surface while his other hand kissing your ass, harder each kiss. no gentleness, no tenderness like earlier, only a maddening, desperate thrust to drive his point dick to your brain.

and when geto says something, he means it.

[g1rlken]

I'm so excited you're taking requests for Rupert Campbell-Black!!

Do you think you could maybe fo #15 from your prompt list about him showing up for the reader bc they don't have anyone else?

Idk if just love that trope and I think it works with him.

If you don't feel inspired by that one no worries!

Someone in the crowd

prompt15 Rupert Campbell Black x fem!reader

word count: 5.3k+

warnings: parental neglect, mild swearing, hurt comfort, FLUFF

AN: Ahhhhhhh ANON I love you this is my fav prompt I was initially planning on the same one anyways thanks for platform ing my Rupert obsession you’re the first one

The chronicles of the country side for a veterinary sciences PhD student included more than just animals, main reason she selected a university so far from the hustle and bustle of the city. Peculiar animals in their natural state, she came across more than just peculiar animals.

Trespassing loses its meaning for the engrossed researcher, she didn’t realise when she passed the forest to a private estate land whilst following the slow worm. The most advanced high end camera, that Rupert had only seen with those media folks and proper film production. However he assumed the girl in a camouflage jungle vest to be an intern in a tabloid firm, trying to prove herself to be ever so efficient to her superiors by sneaking in to his property for a few pictures. Too naive to realise he could sue her for all her fortune perhaps. Rather an amateur at her job perhaps, she was there to snap him yet her attention didn’t avert to him on his horse before he approached her himself, “Young lady” he cleared his throat sternly “You do realise you’re trespassing here?”

“Oh?” She looked out of her camera lens to the voice that called out her and in an instant she lost sight of the slow worm she was following. “Fuck!”

“And if you don’t delete the pictures and get off of this land right this second I will be suing you for all the jobs you don’t already have.” Rupert threatened, he truly misliked this breach of his privacy to no end. But because the girl seemed unskilled and gullible to her supposedly first job he felt he could let her get off easily.

“I’m not deleting any pictures I barely got two” she said with a heavy sigh, her eyes frantically searching for her subject within the grass again not too bothered by his threat. “And I don’t have any job as it is”

“Oh” he amused, getting off of the saddle of his horse to level with her, “are you one of those fans then? How many times do I have to tell you people-“

“What?” Her attention broke from her subjected reptile to the man this time, “a fan? I don’t even know you…”

“Oh right” he scoffed placing his hands by his hips, “surely you don’t.”

“I truly don’t. I was following my subject for today from the forest lands and I ended up here it was an honest mistake” she explained herself as she opened her camera to show him the pictures, they were all reptiles and not…him.

“You were following a snake?” He asked rather confused and somewhat intrigued as to what would bring her to this.

“It’s not a snake, it’s a is a legless lizard. Anguis Fragilis” she corrected the man, ever so casually as if it were the most common of knowledges to attain.

The man just burst into laughter letting go of the horse chain to contain it, his hand on his chest he could find the joke in the name and the scenario extremely comical. “You have got to be kidding me!”

Y/n felt a bit embarrassed as if she’d said the wrong name so she went through it in her head again and she wasn’t, wrong. It was perhaps like college again, info dumping on the wrong set of people who poke fun at peculiar passions. But the man seemed to be too old to be like those immature college kids who mock others so she was left rather confused “what is so funny?” She asked hesitantly, “it’s rather rare and native to this area we don’t come across them in the city…” she trailed off trying to fill in his boastful laughter with something to feel less uncomfortable.

“Oh is it now?” Rupert asked as his laughter subsided and he realised the girl was an enthusiast in a true fashion. He just found the name of the godforsaken reptile to have a double meaning to it, he thought she made it up but when she got awkward and explained further he realised she wasn’t joking. “My apologies, are you new here?”

“Yes Ive actually moved here for research, I’m studying veterinary sciences for PhD… ” she said still feeling a bit self conscious after he’d laughed like that.

“Anus Fragilis huh?” He repeated trying his best to suppress another set of laughter but he failed at it ever so evidently.

“Anguis…er-slow worm.” She cringed as she picked up on the joke that had him loosing his composure like that. Perhaps she judged him to act his age which he looked so fast. “It’s also called slow worm. I lost him regardless, so I’ll get going. Sorry to bother you.”

“No, no hang on a second darling” he said gripping her elbow as she attempted to leave but as she returned to face him again he left it just instantly. “Since you’re already here, allow me to indulge you in a coffee or so? It would be very disappointing if I don’t get to learn more about…” he wanted to say it, the joke. But the awkwardly offended look on her face of feeling small wasn’t worth it so he kept it to himself “slow worms and legless lizards”

“They’re the same.” She briefed him feeling his ignorance, the PhD aspirant did not seem to have time to entertain his indulgence. “Forgive me but I have to go, I’ve walked too far from my car.”

“Well then allow me to drop you?” Rupert offered with his usual charm which didn’t leave to phase a lot.

Not her perhaps, “It’s not that far” she said curtly. Packing her camera equipment in a hurry. “Thanks. And sorry for trespassing.”

Rupert watched as she hastily packed her lenses and the rolls. Just when he thought he could work on himself to not offend people on first impressions, he generally didn’t do so with ladies so perhaps this was a first. “I’m Rupert Campbell Black” He put his hand forward for a handshake, “Sports Minister.” He introduced himself.

She had both her hands full with her books and camera, which she could rearrange back in the bag to accept his handshake but she’d rather not so she just nodded shortly. “Yes, Mr. Rupert, so nice to meet you.” She said with half a smile, then paced away not even waiting for his reply.

“I suppose I’ll see you around?” He said with his usual grin but she was already pacing away back to the path she’d come from.

That is how the two first met. Not her most memorable nor pleasant interaction but surely intriguing for the minister. The next time he met her, late early evening at a cafe. It took a second to recognise her with her head down in a book but there was enough lighting cast on her against the window where she sat. “Slow worm!” He exclaimed as he approached her causing her to avert her attention from the book to him.

“You…” she trailed off however her tone didn’t match the same enthusiasm as his. “Hi.” She said as he gestured to the chair across her on her table, asking if someone was there but she shrugged and nodded “Please, go ahead” she said being polite, internally bracing herself for another awful interaction.

“I was hoping I’d run into you” he told her leaning forward on the table crossing his arms, “turns out, your little bugger is a frequent visitor of the stable sheds back at the estate.”

“That explains yeah” she nodded closing her book, the size of it gigantic and hardcover it made a small thud, “it eats slugs and snails, spiders too…”

“Wonderful aspect” Rupert complimented, under informed on the subject he didn’t know what to say. “Did you get proper observations for your research?”

“Superficially yes” she nodded, “I’ll run into more of those one of these days.”

“You can always just visit my place again…I would be honoured to help out a bright mind.” Rupert offered leaning back in the chair, unbuttoning his blazer.

“That is so kind of you, I’m very sorry for trespassing that day” she said it again, obviously not friendly enough with him to take him up on that offer.

“Well you could make up for it by telling me your name.” He shrugged as his lips formulated a smile.

“Y/n.” She told him. As the conversation progressed, learning more of him, telling him more about her research and the subjects she’d come across so far. For someone in a vastly different field he was such an attentive listener. She’d told him a lot, about the animals, her thesis, her lectures and sessions, being a TA, moving here.

“And what of your friends?” He asked her over his second cup of coffee in the same conversation because he wanted to keep it going.

“I don’t live on campus so I don’t have roommates to be friends with, then I’m a TA but everyone else is a bachelors and third year student. Had I done college here I’d have those friends…I do have friends from college back home but as of now it’s only my professors.” She informed him, very casual with it but as she formulated the picture in his head it seemed to be a rather isolating experience.

“And what do you do for fun around here?” He asked her to see if it was as isolating as he realised.

“Trespass estates.” She joked with a small giggle, but in truth she did absolutely nothing for fun because there wasn’t anything.

“Greatest hobby ever” he joked back. But as she didn’t follow up with another activity he realised that if he pried about it he’d just force her to admit she led a boring and somewhat lonely life. He wasn’t judging her, she was fresh out of college and had to move a whole place and seemed to have no friends here. Well except for him if she’ll have him. “Are you struggling?”

“Of course not. I love my work, I can easily afford rent too it’s not a problem.” She replied honestly, if only financial was all of her struggles.

“Don’t you think you’d save more if you lived on campus?” He questioned unsure of her choice to stay in a boutique flat in one of the most expensive neighbourhoods.

“My father wouldn’t allow it. He’s a bit of a tone deaf classist that way.” She admitted, rather casually.

“Allow?” He repeated, surprised. He didn’t know her precise age but by her educational status and the looks of it someone in their early twenties didn’t need their father’s permission on how to live.

“It’s just a bit complicated, he wants all of his children to take the right step that is work in our family business, his company. I tried, it’s soul draining and very unlike me” she sighed “So I just extended education.”

“To get far from him?” He perceived, perhaps not the way she saw it.

“—To explore my options. I don’t want to disappoint him when I can avoid it.”

“And is this the way to be?” He asked, his tone guarded and expression curious.

“Perhaps.” She replied, but on the inside she was so hyper aware that anywhere farther from the family business as all the way to be. She didn’t want to distanced from her father nor her family, she may not be the golden child but she wanted him to be ever so proud of her even though she didn’t walk on the road he chose for her.

“Your spirit likes the fight doesn’t it?” It was more of an observation than a question.

“I don’t indulge in self awareness that well” She replied with a bemused shrug and he just let out a low laugh that. And that was her first friendship in Rutshire. To Rupert’s likeness the cafe was another one of basil’s side quests but he visited there less frequently given the bar was his primary. Regardless, Rupert got him too. The prime customer and his newest friend, studied there most of the time because she lived close by and Rupert felt drawn to her company.

She had no other and he found her growing to be his favourite one. He fancied the conversations with her so much, in her absence basil teased him about it. This one afternoon, Rupert visited as his usual time, or perhaps y/n’s usual time which he picked up on but she wasn’t there. “The coffee can’t be that good.” Basil said with a small scoff, as he found Rupert with a disappointed expression in the girl’s absence.

“I’m just trying to reduce the alcohol intake” Rupert said nonchalantly, well aware he didn’t the caffeine he’d been consuming just for the conversations with her.

“I wasn’t talking about the coffee” Basil added with a devious grin hinting at the double meaning joke he was referring for.

“Piss off” Rupert rolled his eyes at the man with a heavy sigh of irritation sitting down at the table, rolling up his sleeves and facepalming. “This is her usual time to come and study here” he mentioned.

“Which you don’t let her do.” Basil said, the entire time indulging the poor girl in conversations and spontaneous outing plans. “She’d have to be extraordinarily brilliant to keep up with her courseworks with all the detours you put her up to.”

“She is extraordinarily brilliant.” Rupert briefed him.

“I suppose you’d know.” Basil shrugged leaning against the table where he was sat, “Does she have a boyfriend?”

Seemingly offended at the mere thought of that Rupert’s expression disgusted, “Of course not!”

“Of course not?” Basil repeated surprised with his affirm expression. “So you are sleeping with her.”

“I’m not sleeping with her.” Rupert emphasised on the word ‘not’ and it was probably the tenth time that Bas had asked him that this moment.

“Of course not” Basil humoured him mimicking his tone when he said that.

“I’m not, it isn’t like that with her.” Rupert tried to explain that to his friend who found that to be such a foreign concept. It was a very strangely unknown and unspecific feeling for Rupert himself too.

“You don’t want to sleep with her?” Bas questioned not believing nor understanding the prospect “she’s rather pretty.” besides he’d sleep with anything.

“She isn’t just pretty Bas, she’s beautiful, a bit too much even on the inside.” He paused “She is precious.” Rupert spoke with such genuine passion that basil had to lay off of the joke he was brewing.

“And what of you?” Basil asked, it was something Rupert hadn’t even questioned himself for well not yet anyways.

“What of me?” He answered the question with a question feigning innocence. Before basil could further explain himself, even though well aware that Rupert understood him. The bells of the door jingled announcing upcoming presence in the nearly empty cafe causing the men to turn at the voice.

“Hello-Hello, Gentlemen!” Y/n exclaimed in the most enthusiastic Sunday morning tone possible but it was a cloudy afternoon on a Tuesday. To Rupert she always sounded like a Sunday morning with her little giggles and all the mannerisms but today she seemed way more lifted with spirits.

“Want to bet a tenner she ran into a coyote.” Basil said as she made her way to their table sitting across Rupert whilst basil was still leaning against the table.

“I bet you a twenty its a pine marten.” Rupert said, he picked up on everything from their conversation. This week she was in search of that specific animal from her list or so, he kept track somewhat subconsciously.

“It’s neither” She said with a smile still plastered on her face as she sat her bag down to the side placing her hands on the table. “I’ve got great news, well not great but perhaps good, great to me.” She went in an adjective discourse and shook her head coming back on track “My professor submitted my thesis to this government honorary publications department and I’m getting an in-kind research grant!”

“The government is giving you money?!” Basil matched her enthusiastic tone leaning forward on the table.

“No, no it’s an in kind grant…as in-they present me with an award but the big thing is that I get policy access, lab space, government authorised datasets…” she explained further with her eyes so lit up Rupert wanted to bottle this warmth of emotions he felt in just seeing her happy like this and drink it like water.

“You are getting an award?!” Rupert said with loud earnest passion for her excelling. “Y/n! That is marvellous news!”

“You fucking genius!” Basil added further, giving her a side hug and kissing the top of her head, giving her hair a ruffle as he walked across the cafe, “this calls for a celebration!”

“Thank you” She replied with a toothy smile. Feeling very heart warmed. Then Rupert took both her hands in his, he looked just as lit up as if it was his award.

“My darling, you absolute mastermind. Your mind is a wonder, y/n I am so so proud of you!” He said, he didn’t have to reaffirm or reassure more so because out of everyone she’d come across, Rupert had been so supportive, a subject and felt so unfamiliar yet he’d reassured and let her know it so constantly that she’d always have him to be cheering so hard for her. “You deserved this!”

“Rupert, that is so kind! Thank you, seriously” she replied with a glint in her eyes he could feel coloured by. Just about on time, basil blasted the confetti cracker he happened to have lying around. He turned the open sign to closed at the door of the cafe and returned to the table, slowly she let her hands out of Rupert’s.

“Didn’t have champagne in the cafe but this should do” Basil said as he presented their table with a small cake.

“You didn’t have to close the place” y/n said with a small giggle as she saw the cake, a sign in red jam crossing out the name ‘Einstein’ and Y/n in its place. Classic Bas.

“Oh please love, I deserve this celebration.” Bas said with a dramatic roll of his eyes, any reason to not work was reason enough.

“Right of course since he worked so hard.” Rupert joked clearly forgetting he owed the man in staying the cafe for him to keep it open just in case y/n might come in. They kept congratulating her over and over again as the trio dug into the cake.

“So when exactly is the award function?” Rupert asked, it was going to be event of the week for him more than it was for y/n.

“It’s on this Friday, I get one visitor pass and my father is flying out to attend it!” She said, ebullient. It did irk him somewhat because he’d wanted to see her receive the award but he knew how much her father’s approval meant to her so he was happy in her happiness regardless.

“That is great news, what did he say?” Rupert asked keeping his disappointment for not being able to see her at bay.

“His assistant put me through in the very second call so he must really be impressed, he asked me about the function and he sounded very positive of it.” She told them about the seemingly brief phone call.

“You have to talk to an assistant to get to your fath-“ basil was quickly interjected with a small shove on the leg from Rupert to take a turn in that observation. Rupert didn’t want it to rain her parade, “It’s so nice he’s coming all this way.”

“He’d probably stay a day or two after that you should meet him!” She added, it seemed as if she was somewhat more joyous with the fact that her father was pleased than the actual award to her name. It was a grey line.

“I would be delighted to.” Rupert said, he would be. At least for her sake despite having his internal doubts towards the man.

-

The award function was an extremely formal event, you could barely tell apart the professors from the bureaucrats. Rupert could tell the difference easily though, he simply knew the later group, almost all of them. But he wasn’t there for any of those people. Taking his seat at the round table, next to the faces he knew very well but he was way too focused on the happenings of the stage to indulge in small talk. And then there it was.

The lady of the evening. At least for him, her research dissertation was called out and he recognised it was her turn before they presented her name as well. White shirt with several pins of animal welfare and her educational institution. Simplicity and grace, ever so precious. As she received the medal and the award plate Rupert clapped perhaps the loudest, standing up even. The stage wasn’t so far but she didn’t spot him because her eyes were searching another direction and the procession was short lived before she could avert her gaze.

Finally after all the names were done, she was free from the stage back to the softly mingling crowd. “There she is!” The enthusiastic exclamation caught her attention from her lost trance.

Adhering the man in suit with flowers in his hand, surprised and radiated expression, “Rupert?!” She was baffled and so relieved she didn’t understand the later feeling. She rushed to him, their distance getting closer as he opened his arms for her.

“Congratulations, darling” he said bringing her into a tight embrace both of them so joyous, hers was rather infectious. He easily lifted her from the ground out of glee, kissing the side of her face. “You were wonderful out there!”

“When did you get here?” She asked once he put him down and she pulled away yet kept her arms entangled with him. Enough to just see his face, “also how?”

“I’m an MP you thought I wouldn’t be able to get into a government function?” He amused, surprised she did not see it coming, perhaps she wasn’t expecting him but her reaction seemed as if she would rather prefer him. “I got here an hour before yours was announced.”

“I am so glad you made it!” She told him, the effort was so heartwarming to her. He’d came to an event which wasn’t initially his, making more arrangements to even get in for her. She didn’t want to voice it because he’d always reply with such a strange concern as if being loved more than to be sustained wasn’t optional, she wasn’t used to this concern nor sentimental support.

Rupert could tell her kind, wide eyes in a sort of turmoil of something she couldn’t figure out by even herself but he didn’t pry on it, “where is your father?” He asked looking around shortly.

“Oh he…he isn’t here. He could not make it.” She said with a small shrug, that is how casual his absence was to him.

“—How come?”

“Probably his flight, I forgot to notify him about our time zones or so. If he were skipping he would’ve called prior” there was a small hope tugging at her heartstrings trying to believe this wasn’t like the other times. “He would be here anyways, would just be missing the event.”

“I suppose” he replied curtly, being presented with two choices of either being truthful with her of her father’s harsh and uncaring constitution or hold the hope she held out for the man with her. None of the two seemed befitting to him. As the event progressed she introduced him to some of her professors and people that she worked with, he did the same with the other officials that he knew of. She grew tired of the socialising and asked him if they could leave the event, she wasn’t as tired as she was growing disappointed of a man who wasn’t even in the room.

Even though Rupert and her came to the event from a different place and were going back in difference directions it was a given that they leave together. At least to him it was, she’d just informed him she felt like leaving and he stood up in an instant. He was dropping her back to her place because she didn’t driver herself to the function. The two were walking, to his car in the chilly night with his suit blazer draped over her shoulders, flowers and his hand in her hand, he carried her award with her bag for her and a light hearted conversation. Serenity which ran away once they came across a pay phone call booth. “Do you mind if I go make a call?” She asked him, he nodded but he was well aware who that call was intended for.

Rupert leant against the phone stand with the small door of it open, close to her as she pressed the numbers inserting coins. Anxiously awaiting the other line to answer she replied when a voice answered “Hello, this is me, y/n. Did dad leave yet?” She asked, he hated to see her in such distress and was afraid the conversation ought to make it worse. “What? What do you mean—the event, my award he was going to be here for…like he promised.” Rupert could only hear y/n’s side of the conversation but he could pan out the other side, which wasn’t even her father just some office assistant. “Just let me talk to him…please…two minutes perhaps?” It was difficult to watch, begging for the scraps of her father to an assistant. After a few moments the call ended and she couldn’t even stomach the courtesy of a goodbye.

As she walked out of the booth he searched for her to meet his eyes, narrate to him the happenings of the call. “His plans changed” she said but nothing further. He could tell she didn’t feel like talking so he stopped walking and also held her back from the track, pulled her into his arms. Resting his chin on top of her head as he held her, enlacing his arms around her tightly. He could definitely stay like this for rest of the night. Even life? A small voice suggested and he quickly dismissed it as he was pulled back to her, she didn’t feel relaxed in his arms even though she hugged him back and her face so steady, he felt his shirt getting sprinkled with dampness, as if in smallest portions.

“Y/n…” he trailed off pulling away to confirm if she was crying, “are you crying?” He asked as she lowered her face so he couldn’t see it but he leant in her direction to see. “Hey..hey, it’s alright” he pulled her back to him letting her weep onto his chest as he ran a hand through her hair.

“I don’t understand why I feel so bad” she said through her tears, holding onto him like she would fall apart even more if he let go. Perhaps she would.

“It is alright darling just let it out” Rupert said as he continued to sooth her in his arms, trying to provide a present, grounding support.

“He promised me…” she trailed off crying harder, all those events where her father should’ve been present but wasn’t came back to her. Fancy dress competitions at school where the chauffeur that dropped her off would have to attend the show out of pity for the child, birthdays where he would have to be bothered a multiple times to come attend cake-cutting, evidently sad over a test but he simply couldn’t be bothered to ask his daughter if she was alright. So much life spent in I-promise-you-I’ll-be-there. So much disappointment and you’d think one would learn. “I just feel stupid-I thought this time would be different.”

Rupert held her face in his hands “look at me” he said forcing her to meet his gaze. “You are not stupid for what you feel, you are not at fault for someone so detached and irresponsible towards their own child.” He spoke whilst wiping her tears, “he will forever be an incomplete, deficient man for the kind of father that he is. But you my love are beyond him and how he treats you, you’re brilliant and kind and funny and you have a heart big enough to hold a planet. You are going to go so far, your suffrage of his conditional love and inflicted anguish will heal for the better. I promise you that.”

This was a better hope than the one she was always latched onto, hoping that he would change, come around for once. But letting go and a promise for a softer tomorrow seemed so much more beautiful. “But I am so tired”

“You have been so gentle through so much…you must have been tired too. But persevering is constant and you, you always do. There is so much life within you, those around you are infected with it, I know I am.” He confessed, he hadn’t voiced it out especially not like this even to himself but she was more than a lively feeling, more than a chase or a rush for attraction. No. She was life.

Such admission made her heart flutter, she felt the drumming in her ears and it wasn’t the anxious kind. This felt like a sunrise after a good dream, but she had no words for it because her eyes spoke enough and so did his that wandered down to her lips and back to his. Reciprocating the course of gaze when he leant forward, face so close she didn’t move even by the slightest tired of awaiting him to inch to the closest extent she caught a soft grip of his shirt, lowering her gaze right when he crashed his lips onto hers. She kissed him back and it felt heavenly, as the kiss deepened he felt like he had reached there.

Smiles glued to their faces once they pulled away to catch a breath, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear he said “you are not the only one who’s won something tonight.”

“That means I’ve won twice” she said with a small giggle adding to his exaggeration that kissing her felt like a win.

“That isn’t the same.” Rupert corrected her, going in to kiss her again with a slower passion, taking his time letting the sweetness of it linger “for me this is centuries worth of wins.”

—

IVE SO MUCH MORE OF HIS STUFF COMING SOMEBODY SEDATE ME…next his enemies to lovers let me know if you want to be tagged

PLEASE comments are my fuel I am HUNGRY for validation please if you like this please please let me know

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

In which, a girl tries to flirt with one of the MHA boys. Part 1 Part 2 here

Characters included: Denki Kaminari, Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima, Hitoshi Shinso Side Note: The reader is a badass chick 🤤

Check out the reverse (someone flirts with the reader) here

Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t the sweet romantic type to anyone but you. He was the kind of guy who, in public, showed love in his own way—by pulling you into his side possessively, scowling at anyone who looked at you wrong, and grumbling curse-laced insults that somehow still made your heart flutter. In private? Yeah, I’ll leave that to your imagination.

He didn’t need anyone else. He had you. And that was enough.

Unfortunately, not everyone seemed to get the memo.

Like the new girl.

She had transferred into U.A. a few weeks ago, and from the moment she laid eyes on your man, she had been on a mission. At first, it was subtle. Asking him unnecessary questions in class. Laughing a little too hard at his brash remarks. Finding excuses to sit near him during lunch.

But then it got bolder.

She started showing up outside the gym when he was training. Bringing him extra snacks. “Accidentally” tripping in front of him so he’d catch her. Touching his arm and marveling at his muscles.

You could tell it annoyed him. Bakugo wasn’t exactly the patient type, and the way his eye twitched whenever she got too close was proof enough.

Yet, she kept pushing.

One day, she took it too far.

You and the Bakusquad were hanging out in the common room when she waltzed in, making a beeline for your boyfriend.

“Bakugo~” she sang, plopping down beside him, far too close for comfort.

You leaned against the couch, watching with mild amusement as he immediately tensed.

“The hell do you want?” he muttered, clearly uninterested.

She giggled, completely ignoring his irritation. “I made something for you!” She held out a scarf���black and orange, his colors. “I knitted it myself! I noticed you don’t wear scarves, so I figured I could give you one of mine. Now every time you wear it, you’ll think of me!”

You snorted. Oh, this girl was bold.

Bakugo just stared at the scarf like it was an insult to his entire existence. “The fuck? I don’t wear scarves.”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” She pouted. “Just try it on for me—”

Bakugo's eye twitched. "I ain't wearin’ that."

Her smile faltered for a split second, but she pushed on, lifting the scarf toward him. "Just try it on! I promise it’ll look great—"

Before she could finish her sentence, you snatched the scarf right out of her hands.

"Wow," you hummed, examining it. "Soft, warm… a nice shade of orange." You nodded thoughtfully. "You know, I think I know the perfect use for it."

She rolled her eyes at you, her happy-go-lucky personality disappearing instantly. “Really?”

With a sickly sweet smile, you turned on your heel, walked straight to the common room’s fireplace, and—without a moment’s hesitation—tossed the scarf in.

The flames swallowed it instantly.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"WHAT THE HELL?!" she shrieked, eyes wide with horror.

You dusted off your hands. "Oh, sorry. Did you actually think he was gonna wear that?" You gave her a pitying look. "It was just taking up space."

Katsuki, who had been sitting in stunned silence, suddenly let out a loud, barking laugh. "Damn, babe."

Kirishima was struggling to hold back his own laughter. Kaminari? Nearly choking on his drink. Even Mina was giggling into her hands.

The girl looked between you and the burning scarf; face twisted in disbelief. “Y-You—”

"You seriously thought he’d wear something you made?" you cut her off, tilting your head. "I mean, I get it. You tried. A for effort and all that." You shrugged. "But he’s already got everything he needs."

You turned back to your carmine-eyed boyfriend, who was still smirking, and leaned down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to his cheek.

"Right, Kats?"

His arm immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. He rested his chin on your shoulder, crimson eyes locked onto the girl as he smirked.

"Damn right."

The girl stood there, fuming, hands clenched into fists before she finally let out a frustrated huff and stormed out.

He chuckled against your neck. "Damn, that was brutal."

You grinned. "She had it coming."

He squeezed your waist, his voice low and amused. "Shit like that makes me love you even more, y'know that?"

Outcome: Scarf? Incinerated. Girl? Humbled. Relationship? Stronger than steel.

Denki Kaminari

Denki Kaminari had always been a flirt. From the start, he was a natural charmer, but when he met you, something changed. You grounded him. You made him feel loved and appreciated. You weren’t just another fling—you were the one who tamed him.

And when you two started dating, his flirtatious ways disappeared—at least, with anyone but you. Still, his naturally friendly personality sometimes sent the wrong signals, especially to girls who didn’t know any better.

Take a recent example. A new girl had just transferred to U.A. on recommendation. She was pretty, sociable, and quickly made friends with everyone—including you. But it was obvious she had a thing for Denki. She was always flirting with him, running her fingers through his hair, applying lip gloss the moment he walked in, dousing herself in sickly-sweet vanilla perfume so he’d notice whenever she passed by.

But you? You weren’t insecure. If anything, you found her antics hilarious. She actually thought she had a chance. Maybe she missed the lipstick stains on his cheeks and neck. Maybe she overlooked the way he whistled whenever you walked by, how he absentmindedly played with your hair while you talked to Mina, how he cornered you during lunch, hugged you from behind, or kissed the top of your head. Maybe she hadn’t noticed the matching promise rings, the shared bentos, or the inside jokes.

Oh, who were you kidding?

She knew.

She knew, and she was still trying.

One morning, while you and Momo giggled over your new matching nails, you caught sight of her in your peripheral vision. She was strutting over to Denki again. But something was different this time.

There, dyed into her perfectly shiny black hair, was a bright yellow lightning bolt.

And that was it.

You watched as she twirled in front of him, eyes sparkling. “Do you notice anything different?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet.

Denki looked uncomfortable. This girl was a whole new level of delusional.

“Uh, Amai… I have a girlfriend,” he stated flatly.

Her smile disappeared for a second before she stepped closer, recovering quickly. “Well, I don’t see her. Besides, she doesn’t have to know.” She tugged at his tie, pulling him from his standing position so that their faces were centimeters away, but he immediately placed a hand on her wrist, pushing her away. You took off your shoes and quietly strode closer to them.

By now, everyone in the room had gone silent, eyes locked on the three of you, waiting to see what would happen.

“Turn around,” you said, voice flat yet filled with annoyance.

Before she could react, you grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. Her body arched, and she locked eyes with you in shock.

“Now you see her.”

In one swift motion, you pulled her to the ground and straddled her, delivering a solid punch to her nose. Something cracked. You hoped it was her nose—but then you saw something else.

Your nails.

Your beautiful, fresh, matching nails.

Broken.

“You bitch! You broke my nail!” you gasped in outrage.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stammered something, but you weren’t interested. Instead, you landed another punch.

It took both Denki and Sero to pry you off her—but not before you got in a good kick to her stomach.

Let’s just say one of you ended up in Recovery Girl’s office, and the other got detention for a week.

Mr. Aizawa, being the legend that he was, let you use your phone during detention. What an amazing teacher.

Eijiro Kirishima

You were used to people liking Eijiro.

It was impossible not to like him—he was strong, dependable, kind, and had the kind of energy that made everyone feel included. He wasn’t just a hero in training, he was a damn good person.

But Kanna Fukuda? She wasn’t just crushing on him.

She was competing with you.

Kanna was a Support Course genius—a prodigy when it came to crafting hero gear. And for whatever reason, she had convinced herself that you were just a phase, a distraction, something Eijiro would eventually “grow out of.”

She thought that if she could prove she was more useful to him—more essential to his future—he’d eventually choose her.

Too bad for her, Eijiro wasn’t choosing anyone but you.

At first, you ignored her attempts.

The custom gear. The constant requests to work with only Eijiro. The way she always “just happened” to be around whenever he finished training, ready with some new, “perfectly designed” item that would “enhance his performance.”

She was always hovering. But Eijiro never gave her any attention.

He was polite, sure, but he never went out of his way to talk to her. He never lingered when she spoke. Half the time, he didn’t even realize she was there because his attention was always on you.

And that? That drove her crazy.

One afternoon, in the middle of the U.A. common area, she made her biggest move yet. Eijiro had just finished an intense sparring session, sweat still dripping from his forehead as he leaned back against the couch beside you, resting his hand on your thigh.

And then, out of nowhere, Kanna appeared. How the hell did she get access to the 1A building?

She placed something onto the table in front of him—a brand-new pair of hero gloves.

“I made these for you,” she announced, smiling like she’d already won. “They’re impact-resistant, reinforced with carbon fiber, and custom-fitted to your exact hand measurements.”

Your eyes narrowed. Hand measurements? He sure as hell never gave her those. Eijiro blinked at the gloves, looking more confused than impressed. “Uh… thanks, but I already got a pair.”

“These are better.” She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “You should let me take care of you—I mean your gear, Kirishima. I mean, it’s kinda my specialty, right? I can make sure everything you use is perfectly tailored for you.”

And then, she had the audacity to glance at you—like she was proving a point, like she was winning.

You sat up straighter, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. “Ohhh, impact-resistant, huh?” You grabbed the gloves off the table, turning them over in your hands. “That’s so impressive, Kanna. Really.”

Her chest puffed up. “I know, right?”

And then, before she could say another word, you used your quirk. A white light emitted and them you ripped the hideous pair of gloves in half.

The room went silent.

Kanna’s smug expression shattered. “YOU—WHAT THE HELL?!”

You tilted your head, examining the torn gloves. “Huh. I thought they were impact-resistant.”

“You—” Her hands shook as she pointed at you. “D-Do you know how long that took me to—”

“They weren’t gonna last,” you interrupted, tossing the ruined gloves back onto the table. “They were never gonna be strong enough for him.” You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Her lips pressed into a tight line.

You smiled. “You can make all the fancy gear you want, but he doesn’t need it.” You glanced at Eijiro, who was watching you with awe and admiration in his eyes. “He’s already strong enough on his own. And he sure as hell doesn’t need you.”

Kanna looked at Eijiro. Waiting. Hoping. Begging for him to defend her.

But all he did was sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… yeah. Listen, Kanna, I gotta agree with her on this one.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I really appreciate the effort, but… I already have everything I need.”

And then, right in front of everyone, he turned to you—grinned—and kissed you.

It wasn’t just some quick peck.

It was slow, deliberate, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing your skin—a clear, undeniable claim.

Kanna’s face flushed deep red.

She didn’t say another word.

She just grabbed the ruined gloves, turned, and walked out.

The moment she was gone, chaos erupted.

“OH MY GOD, YOU JUST DESTROYED HER!” Mina shrieked.

“THAT WAS SO FREAKIN’ HOT,” Kaminari howled.

Bakugo smirked, arms crossed. “About damn time. I was gonna blow her ass to America if she continued.”

Eijiro just chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. “Damn, babe,” he murmured, pressing another kiss against your temple. “That was seriously the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.”

You grinned, curling your fingers into his red hair. “Had to put her in her place, didn’t I?”

He laughed, pressing his forehead against yours. “Heck yeah, you did.”

And if anyone still thought they had a chance with your man?

They sure as hell didn’t now.

Hitoshi Shinso

The late-night café was quiet, the air filled with the scent of coffee and pastries, soft jazz playing in the background. You and Hitoshi sat in a cozy corner booth, enjoying your drinks, his violet eyes half-lidded as he stirred his coffee.

It was calm. Relaxing. Until some idiot thought they had a chance.

A guy, cocky and clearly feeling bold, slid into the booth beside you, completely ignoring Shinsou’s presence.

"Hey there," he smirked, resting his arm along the back of your seat. "What’s a cutie like you doing all alone at this hour?"

You blinked. Alone?

Hitoshi let out a long, slow sigh, taking a sip of his coffee before finally looking up.

"…You must be suicidal."

The guy frowned. "What?"

Hitoshi tilted his head, eyes dark and unreadable. "I mean, you have to be, right? Walking up to someone else’s girl and pulling this kind of shit?"

The guy scoffed. "Relax, man. She can make her own choices—"

You snorted. "Yeah. And I choose to stay with my boyfriend."

Hitoshi leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm. "Tell you what," he murmured, voice low, almost hypnotic. "Why don’t you walk out of here, forget this ever happened, and go rethink your life choices?"

The guy blinked. His body stiffened.

Then, without another word, he stood up and walked straight out the door.

You raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t even have to activate your quirk, did you?"

Shinsou smirked, lazy and satisfied. "Didn’t have to. He was already an idiot."

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. "That was kinda hot."

He grinned, violet eyes glinting. "Damn right it was."

[vaguely-concerned]

the things it adds to both of the characters involved that lucanis used to have a thing for viago could not have been more tailor made to be for me. literally the ideal thing to come out of this game for me personally and specifically and spiritually. I mean I'm teia x viago trash until the day I die and nothing will ever change this (and with the best will in the world and even the power of lucanis' big beautiful soulful eyes, that would never have worked out even if viago DID somehow understand he was being propositioned. which I'm not convinced he did. the mutual 'so. snakes are pretty cool huh. and. knives. also' awkward energy without someone of teia's charisma and people skills involved to mitigate it... it would have been dire), but on so many levels I find it so incredibly charming for what it says about them both that the (one-sided) attraction was there once.

what's more, it means the man about whom this legendary paragraph was written:

Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood.

has got some of the hottest coolest deadliest people in thedas down so catastrophically bad it's got them acting unwise. teia had to wait a UST-drenched decade for him to be ready to take his fucking gloves off for her. and she did!! the tetchiest most neurotic least approachable little vetinari knockoff of a man you ever saw has game for days and days and lives rent free in heads for years. in eight little talons viago consistently feels so inadequate up against dante and it's like. man I'm shaking you by the lapels you have what he'll never have. the ability to bewitch body and soul with your terrible personality and long thin legs. do not waste the gift you've been given go get her she's waiting!!!

(lucanis is really good at reading people, so I wonder if maybe he saw through all of that to some of the steadiness and incredible capacity for warmth and tenderness in specific interpersonal relationships you see viago have with teia when he finally opens up enough, and maybe that was part of it. either way it's so perfect that both he and teia have regarded viago with this affectionate intrigued amusement. lucanis still seems pretty fond of him in a 'viago continues to be exactly himself no matter what else happens or goes wrong. comforting universal constant' sort of way, he brings him up quite a lot in party banter.)

you've seen lucanis' game in this day and age, arguably or at least hopefully older and wiser -- can you imagine how catastrophically bad it must have been back when he presumably handed viago, most paranoid man in thedas all years running, a knife like this expressed everything it needed to. people give him so much shit for the cake moment being his big romantic lock-in, but considering where we started that is GROWTH and I for one am so proud of him fhsdkjaf.

also I wonder at what point vis-a-vis that whole Situation teia and viago met for the first time, leading us to ask... just how much was it a matter of lucanis simply being ignored out of a lack of interest on viago's part (tbf, not entirely unlikely). how much was it lucanis truly not managing to make himself understood. (all but certainly. literally how would one understand that. I think it says some sweet things about rook and lucanis' dynamic that they -- somehow -- DO pick up what he's putting down in a similar scenario presumably b/c they know him pretty well by then haha.) how much was it viago interpreting the romantic move as a death threat from one of the most dangerous people alive and freaking out. (1000% and indubitably.) and how much was it andarateia steal-your-girl cantori turning up and thus setting off whatever spectacular, volatile, awesome-in-the-original-sense chemical reaction between the substances of her and viago's souls that goes on to this day and makes everything else kind of a side note at best. a gentle mix of several of these things, perhaps. ...god I love all these characters so much

[frostimochi]

resolutions

(logan howlett x reader)

summary: You and Logan attend a New Years party hosted by Wade. With the countdown to midnight, you both get caught up in the moment and share an intimate moment with each other.

word count: 2.4k

author's note: i unironically had a dream about this the other night, so of course i had to share with the class, days earlier than planned. this takes place a year after deadpool & wolverine. enjoy! :>

find it on ao3 here

. . .

New Years was awfully unpredictable for you. Every year seemed to bring a different mix of highs and lows, leaving you wondering whether the holiday was even worth celebrating. This year, you didn’t even plan to—until Wade showed up with an invitation to his apartment against your will, promising the "social event of the decade." Against your better judgment, you agreed, dragging Logan along as your buffer for whatever insanity awaited. After all, how bad could it be?

It turned out, predictably, to be very bad.

The party was chaotic, as expected when Wade was involved. Streamers hung haphazardly from the ceiling, balloons were scattered across the floor, and someone had already popped open a bottle of champagne—two hours early. The stereo blasted a mix of '80s rock and whatever Wade had decided was "party music," which helped to create an unforgettable experience. And not in a good way.

Surrounding the room, couples were unable to keep their hands to themselves, unflatteringly in your direction. One group of friends were drunkenly laughing as they took selfies under a sagging strand of broken lights, while others swayed together to the mismatched beat of Wade’s horrendous playlist. You watched everything unfold, while Dogpool sat on your lap, constantly begging you for more cuddles.

Logan sat on the couch beside you, opening a bottle of beer, his expression a mix of irritation and mild amusement. He never wanted to come, but you’d convinced him. And of course, how could he say no? The promise of decent company and free booze was enough to get him to tag along. And though he wouldn't say it out loud, he also secretly loved spending time with you.

As Wade danced dramatically in the corner among the rest, Logan shot you a look that said, "This is your fault."

You laughed at his expression, your hands still on Dogpool as you nudged his arm. 

"Come on, admit it. You’re having a little fun."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Watching Wade do... whatever the hell that is? Sure, a riot."

"It’s interpretive dance," Wade called out, spinning in a circle before collapsing dramatically onto the floor. "I’m expressing the tragedy of running out of nachos."

Logan rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a barely there smile. You caught it and grinned.

“Come here, Mary Puppins! Daddy has a surprise for you!” Wade shouted, diving toward you and grabbing Dogpool out of your lap before you could protest.

You blinked, hands still frozen in mid-air. "What the hell, Wade? She’s comfortable!"

Wade cradled Dogpool dramatically, making kissy faces at her. "Oh, but I have something better," he said in a sing-song voice. "A little treat she’ll never forget."

Logan raised an eyebrow from where he sat, grasping onto his beer bottle while watching the scene unfold. "Oh boy.”

You sighed, already knowing this wouldn’t end well. "I swear, if you try to feed her something weird—"

"Don’t worry," Wade interrupted with a grin. “I made her something special, to dedicate my first year with Puppins here, of course.”

"Let me guess," you said, crossing your arms. "You’re feeding her leftover pizza crusts and ranch dressing?"

Wade’s face lit up. "Are you shitting me? I’ve got something way better than that!" With that, he dug into the pocket of his absurdly tight pants and pulled out a tiny, half-melted sandwich. You swore that you could see a tiny bit of mold in it.

 "Behold, a hot dog sandwich! You know, for dogs, because they deserve the best."

Logan stared at the sad creation in disbelief. "That’s just a hot dog in a bun. For you."

"Fuck no!" Wade grinned, holding the sandwich up like it was the Holy Grail. "This is an exclusive Dogpool meal—made with delicate care!"

Logan let out a low chuckle as Dogpool tried to squirm free from Wade’s arms, clearly more interested in anything but what her own owner had in store for her. 

You grinned at Logan. "It’s a shame. This could have been a bonding moment for the two of them.”

Wade, completely unfazed by Dogpool's lack of enthusiasm, tried to coax her into taking a bite, which ended up with him chasing her around the apartment.

 "Come on, sweetie! You can’t say no to this!”

"Guess Dogpool's smarter than all of us," Logan muttered, taking a swig of his beer as Wade continued his one-dog food fight.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched Wade flailing around the place, bumping into others without a care in the world. Logan’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, something that only appeared when he knew you were genuinely amused.

"Well, looks like I haven’t completely ruined your night," Logan remarked dryly, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip of his beer. His eyes stayed on you, still holding the faint smile on his face.

You nudged him gently with your elbow. "You’re enjoying this more than you thought you would."

His gaze flickered away for a moment before he gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching again. "Maybe a little," he muttered, clearly not wanting to give you the satisfaction of admitting it outright.

. . . 

As the night rolled on, a few more guests trickled in, and the energy of the room continued ebbing and flowing. Wade was missing for a bit, which kept things steady for a while. Logan stayed close to you, content to observe rather than participate. You didn’t mind; his dry commentary on the festivities kept you entertained.

You checked your watch for a moment. It was 11:48 pm. Leaning back in your seat, your eyes drifted back to Logan, wanting to start a conversation amidst the awkward silence.

"So, what’s your resolution?" you asked him as the clock neared midnight.

Logan’s gaze flicked to you. "Don’t do resolutions."

"Why not?"

"What’s the point? People make ‘em and break ‘em in the same week."

"Not everyone," you said. "Some people actually stick to them."

"You?" he asked, tilting his head. "What’s yours?"

You went into thought for a moment. You? A new year's resolution? Every time you’ve attempted to stick with one, it always ended up blowing up in your face. If there was anything you wanted more than anything to succeed in, it would probably be to get with Logan. Of course, the concept of it was foreign, but you fell for him the minute you met him. You knew that under the circumstances of what the two of you have been through, there was no chance you could tell him how you felt, or know if he reciprocated the same way.

But maybe it was time to put that all behind. A new year was approaching after all.

There was a long pause before you responded.

 "To... take more risks, I guess."

Logan’s lips quirked. "Risks, huh? Like coming to a party with this crowd?"

"Sure," you said with a laugh. "Your turn."

He shook his head jokingly. “Same as you.”

Before you could press him further, Wade appeared, clapping his hands loudly. "Alright, people! Ten minutes to midnight! Time to get your New Year’s smooch plans in order. No shame in making deals, folks."

Everyone around the room had somebody close to them for the big countdown. It made you glance back at Logan. "You got a lucky someone?"

He gave you a look that made your stomach flip, but he said nothing. Instead, he took another sip of his beer, shaking his head.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you stood up, glancing around one last time. It seemed like nothing was going to change tonight. You made your way towards the kitchen, grabbing a drink to settle the quiet disappointment that had settled in your chest.

. . .

As the countdown began, the room filled with excitement. People paired off, others grabbed sparklers from a box Wade had inexplicably found, and you felt a small pang of awkwardness as you realized you didn’t have a plan for the midnight kiss. You hadn’t thought much of it; you’d figured it wasn’t a big deal.

"Ten!" Wade’s voice boomed over the music, causing the entire room to erupt into excitement. 

People cheered and clinked glasses as the countdown began in full force. You could hear the muffled echo of it coming from every direction, but your focus remained on the drink in your hand, the sudden unease gnawing at you.

"Nine!" Wade continued, getting even louder. You shifted uncomfortably, your eyes darting to the couples already pairing up, lips ready for the tradition. It was just a kiss, right? A simple tradition, nothing more. But why did it pang your heart this much?

"Eight!" 

The countdown sped on, the crowd growing louder, more energized. Your heart rate picked up in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Seven!"

 You turned your head, glancing over your shoulder to the bar, then to the group by the windows, still holding your drink. But your mind was far from the surroundings. You hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t thought much about it until now. The idea of a midnight kiss had always felt trivial before, but tonight it seemed to matter for some reason you couldn’t grasp.

"Six!" 

You looked around for something to distract you, anything to break the tension building in your chest. But as your gaze shifted around the room, you realized that Logan had somehow made his way closer to you, inching his way through the crowd, his quiet presence unnoticed by you as you remained lost in your own swirling thoughts.

"Five!" 

The countdown ticked on, but your awareness narrowed to just the space between you and Logan. You felt a presence beside you, and for a moment, you didn’t even realize it was him until you looked up—his steady, unreadable eyes meeting yours. The air felt different, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol or something else entirely.

"Four!" 

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. You felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach, but there was a softness in his eyes that made everything else fade. The crowd continued to cheer, to count down, but all you could hear was the steady beat of your own heart, drowning out the noise.

"Three!" 

Logan's hand brushed against yours. Deliberate, yet gentle, and the contact sent a small spark racing up your arm. You couldn’t help but look at him, a question in your eyes. Was this... real? 

"Two!" 

Logan’s face was in front of you, his hand reaching up to your face, his touch warm and steady against your skin. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, your heart racing at a pace you hadn’t expected. His thumb gently brushed over your cheekbone, a tender gesture that only made everything feel more overwhelming.

The countdown faded into the background as his face inched closer. Your thoughts scrambled, but there was only one certainty you understood. The way Logan was looking at you, the way everything seemed to quiet around you. 

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t need to. For the first time that night, you felt grounded.

“One!”

The room erupted in cheers, but all you felt was Logan’s lips on yours. Warm, firm, and completely unexpected. The kiss was brief, but it lingered, a moment suspended in time.

 When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, an expression of quiet uncertainty mingled with something more. His lips were slightly parted, as if he was trying to process the same rush of emotions you were. Neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, close enough to feel each other’s breath, the world around you seeming to slow down even further. His gaze softened, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. But he didn’t say anything—not yet.

The noise of the room swirled back into focus, but it felt distant, like a muffled backdrop to what you both were experiencing in that exact moment. Logan’s hand was still resting against your cheek. Warm, like it had always belonged there.

"Didn’t think I’d be here, doing this," Logan muttered under his breath, his eyes still locked onto yours. There was something vulnerable in his voice, and it made your heart beat faster.

Before you could respond, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as though trying to dismiss the weight of the moment. "Wade’s probably gonna never let us live this down," he added, the ghost of a grin curling his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. "You don’t have to worry about him. I’ll take the blame," you said, the tension between you easing slightly.

Logan looked at you, his gaze more serious now, though there was still a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes. "I’m not so sure I mind…”

There was a pause of silence, but neither of you moved.

“Guess this is what happens when I let you talk me into things,” he said, his voice teasing but warm.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “I’m not complaining.”

He gave you a half-shrug, a small, hesitant smile pulling at the corner of his lips. " I’ve been thinking about this. Longer than I should’ve."

A mixture of surprise and warmth flooded through you. You could feel your cheeks flush, but the sudden honesty in his words was enough to settle the fluttering nerves in your chest.

"I’ve been thinking about it too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the truth coming out more easily than you'd expected. "Longer than I realized.”

His thumb gently traced the edge of your jaw, a gesture both comforting and intimate, as he let out a smirk.

"Guess we’ve been a little slow on the uptake, huh?"

“Let’s leave that for last year.”

You smiled, a soft, genuine thing, and his gaze softened in return. Neither of you needed to say more. You were here now, standing close, hearts open in a way they hadn’t been before. And maybe that was enough.

As the noise from the crowd picked up again, people shouting and celebrating the turn of the new year, Logan leaned in a little closer, his voice just for you.

 “Happy New Year,” he murmured.

"Happy New Year," you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. The rest of the world seemed to fade away again, the cheers and music just background noise.

 And you were right where you needed to be.

[k4vehrtz]

WHORETICULTURE. various jjk men / sub gn. reader

synopsis. filled with lust for some fucking guy.

who. nanami kento / satoru gojo / toji fushiguro / heian era! sukuna . ✦ . what. one night stand / unprotected sex / mild religious themes/ thigh riding / slut shaming / against a wall / mean dom (or just brat)! satoru / exes with benefits / exhibition / recreational drug use + alcohol consumption ergo dubious consent / oral (r giving) / body betrayal / brat! reader / implied cnc kink + masochism / domination loss / mild degradation + nipple play / double penetration

notes. terms are kept general thus gender neutral reader but it’s entirely up to your interpretation. a mini compilation of thirsts i had while attempting to fight writer’s block and an unforgiving schedule.

⸻ ## I KNEW IT WHEN I. . .

MET HIM !

[ NANAMI KENTO ]

nanami kento was the embodiment of the traditional man in every sense. he was a businessman — clad in a white button–down, black slacks, and a matching tie hanging around his collar. five days a week, monday to friday, nine a.m. to five p.m. a true provider.

that much you can assume from observation alone. he’s not like the usual crowd; the man stands out. so, it’s only natural that you become curious.

“i’m not above sex before marriage,” and when he speaks, he takes his time to carefully enunciate each word with practised precision. something you didn’t know you were attracted to until now, straddling his thighs.

“somethin’ tells me you’re not just a—” he presses a finger to your lips, interjecting, “if you’re suspicious of me we can always stop,” and you quiet down, rocking your hips back and forth as you feel his erection grow beneath your crotch.

the backseat of his car is a tight fit but it makes it all the more intimate. remnants of nicotine on his breath waft across your face, warming your skin.

“the windows are tinted,” he murmurs, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb, “it’s as private as it’s going to get,” before inserting the aforementioned finger into your mouth.

you smile to the best of your ability, wet muscle swirling around the salty digit as you maintain your grinding. slow and steady, purposeful movements that prompt just the right amount of friction between the two of you.

“isn’t this—” nanami interjects once more (you can barely get a word out), by way of pressing his thumb against your tongue thus causing a copious amount of saliva to cascade down your face. it’s wet and messy and done entirely for his own amusement. “we’re not celibate.”

[ SATORU GOJO ]

“do you—” he pauses mid–sentence, startling blue eyes fixated on his cock sliding in and out of your puffy entrance before continuing, “usually sleep with the stranger that saves you from a creep at the club or am i special?”

if you could’ve, you would’ve rolled your eyes. he’s talkative — too talkative but you find yourself enjoying the sound of his voice anyway. your hole quivers and tightens, gripping him like a vice at the implication that hangs between the two of you.

“i’m not easy ‘toru,” you protest in a weak attempt to sound firm though it leaves your parted lips as a breathy whine instead. and satoru smiles at that, chest rising and falling rapidly as he laughs.

“when did i say you were easy, stupid?” he asks, feigning innocence as he tilts his head to one side, bringing one hand up to your face to pat your cheek.

the action being somewhat degrading in its own sense. but ‘toru — satoru — was just like that. saying one thing and meaning or doing another. you couldn’t wrap your head around him.

and he revels in the fact, his smile continuing to grow; the type that meets his eyes and makes them crinkle ever so slightly.

“you wound me,” he tsks, bringing his lips closer to your ear as your body jolts upwards against the wall in sync with his cock bullying your hole, “all i meant by it was that we just met and look where we are now.”

‘it’s the same thing’ you think, but that’s all it is — a thought. when your lips part, you only vocalize a string of  moans. satoru was a labyrinth and you were lost in him — or rather the pleasure he provides.

“bet you’re already justifying this in your head.”

⸻ ## I LOVED HIM WHEN I. . .

LEFT HIM !

[ TOJI FUSHIGURO ]

“what —” he lifts the shot glass to his parted lips, “are you thinkin’ about?” before swallowing a mouthful of cheap liquor, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he does so.

it’s a good question; one you don’t know the answer to, but a good question all the same. you’re thinking about everything and anything while simultaneously not thinking at all — a blunt dangling haphazardly between your lips.

“you want to know what i’m thinkin’ about?” so you answer his question with a question like a smart ass instead, leaning in until you’re nose–to–nose with the man you swore you’d never see again. and he doesn’t hesitate, a half–smile playing on his lips as they ghost yours. they’re warm, lighting a fire beneath the surface of your skin in its wake.

“no, i don’t want to know,” he sing–songs in response, catching you somewhat off guard. what blindsided you though was him lowering the waistband of both his grey sweatpants and his boxers. his cock, exposed to the cool air of the alleyway, standing at full mast—a vein running from the base to the tip.

suddenly your mouth feels dry and your knees feel the slightest bit weaker. it’s muscle memory — or its evil cousin that encourages your body to betray you.

you’re sinking to your knees, blunt discarded somewhere on the concrete (for god’s sake, you don’t care). your lips part, cheeks hollowed and throat relaxed. quiet anticipation coursing through your veins as you feel the weight of his cock in your palms.

“you know what to do,” he rumbles from above you, picking at the beds of his nails. and he’s right, you do know what to do; how he likes it.

you take him into your mouth, dragging your tongue along the outline of his piercing some ways below the head of his cock. and toji lets out a satisfied groan. once, twice, and then a third time before you focus on taking his full length into your mouth inch by inch until he’s hit the back of your throat.

from there, you move your mouth along his length, tracing every inch of it with your tongue — imprinting its shape in your mind all over again. it’s more like refreshing an old memory rather than creating a new one.

“knew you’d—” he clenches his jaw, cock throbbing in your mouth as saliva mixed with his pre–cum slips past your lips stretched to capacity around him, “come back t’me.”

 [ HEIAN ERA! SUKUNA ]

“i’m—” your breath hitches, catching in your throat in sync with the rise of your shoulders, “many things my lord, but sorry isn’t one of them,” as your hips stutter.

momentarily. one hundred and twenty seconds.

it takes sukuna less than thirty seconds to capitalize on your fault. two hands wrap around your hips, nails pressed into the tender skin forming crescent-shaped indents. you’re forced to move to his rhythm now; cruel and unforgiving.

“should’ve focused on what’s important little one,” he clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment. he’s far from disappointed though, his cocks — both of them — buried to the hilt throb inside of you. and an onslaught of tears blur your vision; your mind is clouded by a myriad of sensations.

you’re somewhere between excruciating pain and unbelievable feats of pleasure.

“this isn’t—” you try, albeit with great difficulty as your words come in between gasps. but sukuna interjects, the corners of his lips curling upwards: “fair? stupid, this game of ours was never meant to be but you know that already.”

two more hands make contact with your skin after that exchange; two fingers on one hand pinching your nipple whereas the other holds your face in place so that you maintain eye contact with him.

and sukuna rolls his eyes as soon as your gazes meet though it’s a somewhat playful gesture. something most would find difficult to picture. but not you — never you.

“stop pretending to be a damsel in distress i’m not a—” he pauses mid–sentence, smile growing as he thrusts his hips, “well, i’m not that kind of monster,” the sound of his skin colliding with yours echoing throughout the room.

you whimper, staring at him through half–lidded eyes and a curtain of lashes wet with unshed tears: “i like what i like.”

 © k4vehrtz — all rights reserved. do not, under any circumstances, plagiarize / repost / translate my work.

[starmapz]

RATIO OVERTIME

𓉸 kento nanami x f!reader

𓉸 kinktober smut oneshot

❝ your new boyfriend recently revealed his technique to you and it's had you wondering- exactly what else could he do with that technique? after all, it was meant to create a weak point, right? ❞

𓉸 warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. soft dom!nanami. oral (f! receiving). fingering. nipple play (f! receiving). masturbation (m! receiving). praise. choking. mild dacryphilia. begging. pet names (darling, sweetheart, love). overstim. kento is so so careful n sweet w reader.

𓉸 words ; 3.7k.

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

“Pardon, darling? I think I misheard you,” your boyfriend places his book in his lap with a furrowed brow. He’s been sitting quietly reading his book on the couch while you watch TV since he got home, but you’ve hardly paid attention to the screen; Your thoughts were completely occupied by one thing and one thing only.

“Well, your technique creates a weak spot, no?” You continue, knowing very well that Kento did in fact hear you.

“That’s correct,” his mahogany eyes examine your expression, contemplative of what it is that you’re implying.

“Sooo, could you use it on me in bed?” You ask again.

He rubs a hand over his face. “Sweetheart, is our sex life not enough for you?”

“No no no, I swear I’m very happy and not bored,” you promise, tilting your head as your gaze travels off to the side. “Just… curious if that’s something you could do.”

“No,” he decides with a stern shake of his head. “My technique is intended to cause harm. I won’t use it on you.”

“It’s meant to find a weak spot,” you try to reason with him. “My pussy is my weak-”

Your boyfriend’s brow furrows harshly as he puts his hand over your lips. “Vulgar,” he comments, eyes narrowed in a scolding manner. He sighs as he lowers his hand. “Darling, I can appreciate where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to risk causing you any harm.”

“You won’t!” You insist, scooting towards him on the couch. “We can test it first. I mean, you usually use your fists or a blade anyway, what if you use a finger?”

To your surprise, Nanami does actually seem to contemplate this for a moment, his gaze trailing down to stare blankly at the open pages of his novel. He supposes that theoretically you could have a point, but the thought of bringing you any amount of harm makes him uneasy.

“What are we testing it on?”

Your eyes shine as you bound out of the living room in an instant to the kitchen, bringing over a T-Bone steak. Understandably, Kento sighs. “You want me to use my technique on our dinner?” His tone suggests he’s barely putting up with your nonsense, but there’s a glimmer of amusement twinkling in his eyes regardless.

You nod, grinning as you set the slab of plastic-wrapped beef on the coffee table by Kento’s knees. You plop down beside him as he leans forward and-

Shockingly enough, just using the tips of two fingers does split the plastic, but that’s about it. The steak jumps somewhat but it doesn’t cause it any physical harm. This seems to shock Kento as well as he inspects the beef.

“Pleaaase, Ken?” You beg, sidling up to him. He casts you a glance before giving in with a sigh, an easy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Your pussy throbs at the realization he’s giving into your request.

“Very well, darling. But you need to promise me you’ll use the safe word if it’s even slightly uncomfortable,” he insists, looking deeply into your eyes.

“I will.”

“Please put our dinner away,” he adds with an amused chuckle as he gets to his feet to go wash his hands, setting his book aside.

With a grin, you bounce to your feet, returning the steak to the fridge before excitedly making your way to the bedroom. Kento enters the room shortly after you, shutting the door behind him as you approach, tugging on his sweatshirt.

“Needy, my dear?” He asks, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he brings you closer, the other softly stroking your cheek in a gentle and loving manner.

“I honestly just didn’t think you would agree,” you admit, your eyes shining as you look up at him.

His mahogany eyes take in your features with a soft hum. “Whatever makes you happy, my love.” Your grin is his entire world, like the sun in the sky it brightens his life, and the way your body presses to his as you cling to his shoulders to kiss him lights a flame of lust within him. Your breasts press to his chest, and he catches the way you subtly grind your hips into him. He softly kisses you back once before that same hand that was so gently brushing your cheek mere moments ago applies pressure to the sides of your throat, lightly choking you.

You whine, your lips parting as Kento pulls back from the kiss. Your eyes have already glazed over with need as your boyfriend smiles, his expression darker as he purrs “I need you to be a good girl for me tonight then, can you do that, my dear?”

You nod, gripping his shoulders tightly as he kisses your forehead softly once more before he removes his hand from your throat as he picks you up with ease. You gasp in surprise as you’re tossed over his shoulder before he lays you down on the mattress. Laying on your shared bed, you eagerly watch as he pushes his sleeves up past his elbows before making his way over your body with one knee on either side of your waist.

Kento leans into your neck, pressing a soft kiss below your ear as he sucks softly at the sensitive skin. You whine as he teases you, fingers tangling in his hair as you attempt to get him to move a bit further south as your walls flutter at the thought of having Kento’s fingers buried deep within your cunt.

Kento tuts, clicking his tongue. He pulls back, grabbing your hand by the wrist and pinning it, along with your other hand, to the pillow above your head. “Eager, hm? I plan on taking my time indulging you, my dear. You told me you would be a good girl.”

Trapped beneath his weight, you can’t move. You shuffle your hips beneath him in search of friction, whining. “I’ll be good, Ken.” You bat your eyelashes at him, relishing in the way his pupils blow out purely from your obedience.

He hums in approval, keeping your wrists pinned in place as he kisses down your neck. You pliantly tilt your head to give him better access, your breathing hitching when he reaches your collar. He shoots you a glance before moving his hands to slip them beneath your shirt. In one movement, he slides the material up over your breasts, not covered by a bra in the comfort of your home.

The flat of his tongue presses to your left nipple before he sucks on the hardened bud. You feel the way he subtly smiles as you gasp, arching into him. He releases the bundle of nerves with a pop, turning his attention to your other nipple as he pulls your shirt over your head. “Arch for me, love.” He instructs, his teeth grazing your nipple. He slides his hands down your body, pressing a kiss between the valley of your breasts as you obediently arch your back so that he can slide your pants- along with your panties- down your hips and legs.

You shiver beneath his attentive eyes that drink in every inch of your skin. Kento is a man who gets off on your pleasure, his eyes darkening as you squirm and whine from only a brush of his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He tugs your ankles until your legs hang over the edge of the bed. Getting down on his knees, he pulls your legs apart and admires the sight of you laid bare before him. His favorite sight.

“So gorgeous, darling,” he hums affectionately, pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs so slowly that you can’t help but squirm. He moves so languidly, fingers gripping at the plush of your skin as he keeps your legs parted.

“Ken, stop teasing,” you whine, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair but he pulls back before you can.

“Patience.” The tone he uses is scolding and sends heat straight between your legs, pooling in your stomach. He smirks knowingly as your cunt pulses around nothing, dripping in anticipation.

“Kennnn,” you whine desperately, bucking your hips in search of friction as he gently but firmly grips your wrists and places them at your sides with a stern look.

“Be a good girl for me, dear. Keep your hands above your waist,” he instructs. With blown pupils, you stare down at him and nod, gripping at the sheets as he hums in approval and throws both of your legs over his shoulders.

He leans in, licking a long, slow, stripe up the length of your slit. Your lips part in a soft moan before you pull your lower lip between your teeth as you watch the way your boyfriend’s deep oak eyes watch your reaction, savoring the way you melt into him. He follows up his movements with one more slow stripe before he sucks your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You grip the sheets harder, toes curling as your heels dig into Nanami’s shoulder inadvertently. He rolls his shoulders in an attempt to ease the pressure you’re putting on his back, but he’s willing to put up with the feeling if you feel good.

He releases your clit with a pop and begins to lap at your folds, circling your clit with a thumb. Your back arches in pleasure at just how well he knows you as his tongue dips into your entrance and pulls a needy whimper from your lips. Everything about the way he moves sends pleasure coiling into your stomach and, completely caught up in the bliss of his tongue, you move to tangle your fingers into his hair again.

Kento’s quick to react, catching your wrist with his hand, but you don’t expect the way he grabs your ass and lightly flicks the skin, setting his technique off. You jolt and yelp in surprise, not expecting a simple flick of his fingers to feel like that, and certainly not expecting the way your walls clench around nothing.

Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow as he observes your widened eyes. “Did that hurt?” He asks, though given the way you’re dripping for him, he already knows the answer.

You shake your head. “No it felt… a bit like a spank,” you describe it. He sets your wrist on the blanket at your side, nodding.

“You still want me to do this?”

Again, you nod. “I do,” you grin, staring at him with lidded eyes. You look so gorgeous and he relaxes knowing he isn’t hurting you and that you do like it.

“Good, darling. You remember our safe word spectrum?”

“Mhmm.”

He places a gentle kiss on your inner thigh. “Tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

“Green,” you smile, using the heels of your feet to pull Kento closer to you.

He softly smiles back, pressing your thighs back down and lapping up the juices that drip from your folds, relishing in your moan. You ball your hands into fists, letting out a gasp when he slides a finger between your folds. Your walls squeeze him tightly, fluttering with each minute movement of his fingers.

Slowly, he pumps the digit in and out as he works you open for him, his tongue still relentless on your clit. He slips a second finger into your squelching pussy, still working his fingers in and out as your walls stretch for his long digits.

“Ken,” you breathe out, “please.” You feel him smile against your clit as he stands up, leaning over you while he continues languid ministrations of his fingers. It feels good, but it’s as though he’s keeping you on edge, continuing to tease and toy with you for his own pleasure. Your suspicions are confirmed when he continues watching your pretty and desperate expression while pulling his thick cock from his sweats.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is an octave lower than usual, commanding your attention. Glossy eyes meet his, dazed and drifting in a fog of pleasure that he’s causing.

“Want you to- hah- use your technique.” You breathe the words out eagerly. He curls his fingers once against your sweet spot, watching as your jaw hangs ajar with pleasure, but he immediately stops. “Ken, please,” you whine.

“Where do you want me to use my technique?” He asks, his voice strained as he fists his cock, slowly pumping up and down. Your glassy eyes watch the way he pumps his cock, barely hearing or making sense of what he said as you buck your hips, chasing pleasure. You almost go to grab his wrist in an attempt to get him to move, but stop yourself just in time, throwing your head back in frustration as you grip at the blankets again.

“Inside, inside me, please Ken, please- need you, need you so bad-” you babble, squirming as he slowly continues to tease you, the knot in your stomach remaining tightly coiled but never bursting and allowing you what you need.

“Good girl.” Nanami hums, sitting at the edge of the bed with his cock in one hand and fingers plunging deep in and out of you as he observes your expression. Your walls pulse and flutter as he curls his fingers, meanly bullying your sweet spot, only to relent and slow when your legs begin to quiver.

“Ken,” you whine as he keeps you right at the edge of your climax but never allows you to cum. He knows your body well and he knows how to get exactly what he wants from you, so when he picks up speed and sends cursed energy straight into your core, your eyes widen and you gasp as he sends you over the edge in the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

Heat pulses in your walls, lightning running straight up your spine as your body tenses and quivers, wave after wave of your orgasm crashing over you as Kento much more gently works you through your climax.

When your muscles finally relax around his fingers, he slows his movements and pulls out. Your body slumps into the bed, lips parted as you pant heavily. Your mind is so foggy you barely register the way your boyfriend brings his fingers to your lips, watching with a hum as your tongue works around the digits obediently without a second thought. Hell without even a first thought.

He groans at the sight, continuing to pump his weeping length as he throws his head back. Once you’ve licked his fingers clean of your arousal, he gently brushes your cheek, making sure you’re still with him.

You smile at him with lidded eyes, your head tilting to watch the way he spreads pre-cum over the head of his swollen cock. He smiles back at you. “How did that feel, darling?”

You blink a few times. “Like-” you pause, searching for words. “I don’t know. Heavenly?” You chuckle lightly.

“Hm. I’ll take it,” he nods, his eyes soft despite the way he’s slowly pumping his length. He gives you a moment to catch your breath when you drop your head back before he breaks the silence. “Can you give me another, my love?”

He sees the fire light in your eyes again as you eagerly nod. He firmly presses your thighs into the mattress, pushing them open as he eyes your sopping folds again.

“Be a darling for me and keep your hands above your waist,” his voice lowers an octave again and you nod obediently, gripping the sheets once more. His pupils blow as he watches you jolt when he pushes two fingers deep into your gummy walls, curling them slowly as he begins to work you back to the precipice of an orgasm.

You arch your back for him, tilting your head to the side to watch Kento jerk his erection, his eyes glossy with desire and lips parted. He doesn’t see you watching him, focused solely on his fingers buried deep within you.

“Kentoooo-” you whine his name breathily, gripping the sheets harshly. You want nothing more than to cling to your boyfriend, whimpering as he works your g spot, sending sparks up your spine with each movement. He hums, moving his thumb to rub slow circles into your clit. Your walls harshly clamp down on him, your muscles tensing as he intensifies the feeling of pleasure. Your pussy drools around him, your slick coating his fingers down to his wrist as he works you towards an orgasm.

He could push you over the edge right now easily, your walls continually fluttering as the muscles of your abdomen visibly clench and contract with each movement of his digits inside you. But he wants this drawn out, he wants to watch you fall apart on his fingers, all for him.

“Ken, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it,” he commands, his voice gravelly as his eyes snap to your expression. You whimper, squirming as your walls clamp down on him again. He knows you love being at his mercy, his cock twitching in his hand at the sight of your obedience. He loves to see you laid out beneath him, only able to think of him just as much as you like being in this position. Hell, he knows he could cum just from the sight of you looking so gorgeous with his fingers to their hilt in your cunt.

“Ken-” you gasp when he begins bullying your sweet spot, his fingers curling perfectly for your pleasure. “Ken,” you whimper and whine, squirming beneath him as you feel the edge quickly approaching. “Please, please let me cum baby, please,” you beg breathlessly as Kento slows his fingers once more, keeping you from the climax that’s making your legs tremble as you teeter so dangerously over the edge.

“Good girl,” he purrs softly, his voice hardening as he shifts to watch your expression. “Cum on my fingers, darling.” With one last pump of his fingers, he releases his cursed energy into your sweet spot, sending shocks through your body as you cry out and cum hard over Nanami’s fingers again, your arousal coating him and the sheets. You shake hard, grasping desperately for your boyfriend and dragging your nails over his forearm as you attempt to push his hand away, trembling hard from the sensation of your overwhelming orgasm. Kento doesn’t relent, keeping his digits firmly buried within you as he works you through the orgasm.

“Too much, s’ too much,” you babble, squirming until he finally pulls his fingers out of your pussy. Your head falls back on the pillow as you catch your breath.

“Good, sweetheart?” Your boyfriend checks in with you. He pulls your hand from his forearm and sets it back on the bed, willing to forgive that you didn’t keep it above your waist when your mind was clearly a mess.

You nod. “Still good, Ken. Green.”

“Good, my love. I want you to give me one more, okay?”

“Oka- aah-! fuck-!” Before you have the chance to prepare yourself, he plunges his fingers back within your walls that still flutter with the aftershocks of your previous climax. You cry out in surprise, attempting to shuffle back on the bed as overstimulation clouds your senses and tears prick in your eyes. “K-Ken-!” You stammer, jolting when he bullies your g spot not only with long, practiced fingers, but also with repetitive releases of cursed energy that makes your mind go foggy with thoughts of only Kento.

“Shit,” he groans as he watches you mindlessly babble, squirm, whine, and whimper, all from him and before he knows it, he’s finishing in his hand. He throws his head back as he finishes on his thighs, slowing his movements and giving you a momentary break as he focuses on his own high, pumping himself through it.

Coming down from his orgasm, he stares back down at your drooling pussy that continues to pulse around his digits. He picks up the pace, sending multiple zaps of cursed energy straight to your core and sending you over the edge before you can even register you’re there. You scream out your boyfriend’s name, fisting the sheets as you cum again. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, seeing stars from the sheer intensity of the orgasm.

Your body doesn’t just tremble, it shakes from the way you’ve been sent over the edge so suddenly. Your chest heaves as you pant, staring at the ceiling through tears. Your mind is foggy as you barely register Kento wiping away your tears and kissing your forehead.

“You did so good for me, beautiful,” Kento whispers. His voice is so soft in contrast to how his fingers bullied you only minutes ago.

You barely manage to hum in response, blinking as you focus on him. His hair is disheveled, evidence of your slick still on his chin from earlier. You smile up at him with lidded eyes, reaching out to hold his forearm.

He smiles back at you, placing a chaste kiss on your nose before he gets to his feet. He comes back a few moments later with a warm, wet, towel, bringing it to your soaked thighs. You jolt at the feeling, blinking as you sit up on your forearms, watching how softly he wipes the arousal from you.

Satisfied with his work, he cleans himself up and pulls on his boxers, crawling onto the bed behind you. He pulls you into his lap, peppering your cheeks, neck, and shoulders in kisses. He doesn’t relent until you’re giggling, his arms wrapped around your middle.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“I’m good Ken, I promise! Don’t worry.” You shoot him a lazy grin, kissing his jaw.

“I always worry for you,” he hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It seemed like you enjoyed yourself, though.”

“I did,” you hum, leaning back into Kento. “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.”

“I’m certain of it,” he agrees with a chuckle. “Why don’t we run you a nice bubble bath?”

“Ugh, that sounds heavenly,” you groan, your body still feeling as though you’re floating.

“Consider it done, my love. Anything for you.”

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

𓉸 a/n ; and that's a wrap on kinktober! thank you so much to everyone for all the love on these pieces, i had a ton of fun writing them ♡ college sukuna coming soon, i'll likely put up a teaser for that series once i'm back from my trip this weekend and have a bit more written. anywho- thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed! likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated as always ♡

𓉸 taglist ; @fushitoru @tojis-ball-sack @rathreads @sukunadckrider @nxcxllxsevens

@r0ckst4rjk

[moonstruckme]

Would you ever consider writing something with Remus x reader where she is at Hogwarts and gets her period but doesn't realize it and bleeds through her clothes? I feel like remus would be so sweet😭❤😛

(sorry if this is a strange request!!! thank you)

Thanks for requesting!

cw: reader gets a period, there's some mild teenage awkwardness

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 583 words

An unfortunate consequence of his plan is that Remus is likely going to sound like he was checking out your ass. 

The truth is only that you’re sitting directly in front of him, and when you stood to bring the vial of your potion to Professor Slughorn, Remus’ eyes merely happened to glance across the spot on the back of your skirt. He doesn’t think anyone else has seen—it would be much better for both of you, actually, if your potions partner or some other menstruation-bound friend of yours were to notice and clue you in—and it’s really a rather inconspicuous stain, but still. Remus thinks he’s ethically required to tell you. 

When class lets out for lunch, Remus lets his friends go ahead, catching you by the elbow when you start out of the room. 

“Hey.” He tries on a smile. “Could I speak to you for a moment?” 

You glance to your friend. “Just me?” 

“Only for a moment.” 

Your friend smiles at you as she turns to go, and at the entry to the classroom Remus can see James looking in his direction with a particular sort of knowing smile. Fine. They can all assume what they like. 

Remus watches everyone file out, and you stand in front of him, holding your textbook to your front. “What is it?” 

“Right. I’m sorry, I just thought you’d want to know,” he keeps his voice low, trying not to wince, “it looks like you’ve a stain on the back of your skirt.” 

Immediately, any suspicion goes from your expression. Your eyes flare and you take in a tiny breath, turning your head to try and see. “Really?” 

“Yeah, sorry. Just there.” Remus gestures feebly towards the spot, and you take the end of your skirt in your hand, pulling it sideways so you can see it. 

“Bollocks,” you breathe. “Thank you for telling me. Merlin, this is embarrassing.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says quickly. “I just wanted to…make you aware.” 

You press your lips into a sort-of-smile. “I appreciate it. Thanks, Remus.”

“Right.” He nods stiffly, starting for the door. “See you around, then.” 

Remus makes it halfway through the door before realizing you’re still standing where he left you. You’ve set your book down on the table and are chewing your lip, looking lost. He feels like an idiot. Of course, telling you about the problem didn’t fix it. You still have a stain on your skirt, and the only way to remedy it involves first walking through hallways full of students back to your dorm. 

“Here, let me…” Remus lets his robe drop from his shoulders, balling it up awkwardly before holding it out to you. “That ought to cover it long enough for you to get changed.” 

Your eyes are wide. “But won’t you get in trouble with McGonagall?” 

“She likes me,” Remus admits. He doesn’t mean for it to sound as boastful as it does, but luckily you look more amused than repelled. Your smile is a welcome sight. “Anyway, I can nip back to my room to get another before lunch is over.” He presses the robe into your hand. “Take it.” 

You do, sliding your arms through the sleeves. It doesn’t quite fit, but it works well enough not to look too out of place. 

“Thank you,” you say again, voice softened. “Really, Remus. Thanks a lot.” 

Something in Remus’ chest gives a giddy kick at the way you say his name. “Don’t worry about it.”