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tonycries · 1 month ago

Text

Sweetener - C.K.

Synopsis. You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Choso, heats, best-friends-to-lovers, pining, creampíes, bréeding, Choso goes FÉRAL, OMÉGAVERSE AU, overstím, knots, MARATHONS, making him cúm blanks, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, first times (Choso), pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem), proposals, p talking, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“Open up f’me, beautiful.”

Choso Kamo was approximately four seconds away from kicking down your front door and tearing your apartment down in search of you. Or, at least, he would be if he didn’t know how much you’d huff at him afterwards.

Because it’s not everyday that his precious best friend wakes him up at 3AM with a hazy, six-second call. Mumbling nothing but an adorably sleepy “Cho— come over?”

So what if Choso had instantly thrown on the first t-shirt he saw and broken about seven traffic violations on his motorbike here?

“Come on, come on-” he’s hissing underneath his breath. Weight shuffling nervously between his two feet, he raps on your door once more. Twice. Thrice. “D-don’t make me use that spare key again.”

It was a half-threat - really, it was.

But the louder your answering silence grew, the tighter his fingers curled around his own metallic key. Breathing out a low, “I’m- I’m coming in.” And slowly - ever-so-slowly - he’s cracking your door just an inch open before-

Oh.

It hits Choso like a wave - hard enough to knock him down onto his knees.

“What-” he’s gasping, heaving. Words tumbling out drunkenly in rasping ahs! that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even register the bright, blossoming pain sweeping his knees with the way his lungs felt like they were scorching - and Choso just couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t a new candle of yours, and Choso already memorized every one of your perfumes for this to be one. This was just so…carnally sweet.

He was drinking in every drop, every ounce, every waft of that candied air inside your cozy apartment like he couldn’t breathe if it wasn’t that.

And something in the sugary scent makes Choso twitch.

Oh, shit.

Hastily swiping away a translucent mess of drool that’d somehow made its home by the rosy corner of his mouth, he’s straining out once more. For his sanity, more than anything. “Beautiful? Anyone home?”

Still no answer.

Absolutely nothing.

It takes him a few more sloppy seconds swimming his melty mind to even consider stumbling back up onto his two unsteady feet. Blinking away the bleary film over his gaze, Choso slams! your door shut with the back of his foot - cutting off the heady perfume from emanating into the corridor.

Noise complaints from your neighbors be damned - he’ll apologize to them all personally later.

But right now, something about the way that mysterious essence was all his, his, his scratched at such a dangerously primal itch in his brain.

Shit- what was he even thinking?

Choso was here for you and only you.

He’s running a jittery few digits through the sweat-dampened valleys of his hair, tugging in a stinging little pull to try and snap some sense back into him. Clearing the strangled mess in his throat, Choso smacks! his palms against his burning cheeks before calling out once more, “I’ll be coming in–”

Because it’s not as if Choso’s never been in here before - he has. Many, many times, in fact. And during every one of those hangouts you’d made it a point to pout about how he should really “let loose” and treat this home as if it was his own, too.

Honestly, it was hard to feel anything but comfortable after knowing each other for so long - even despite those embarrassing, mushy feelings that he always drowned in around you.

But that was a conversation for another time.

And right now, Choso couldn’t even dream of any “comfort” when every step deeper into the saturated cloud of scent made Choso gulp. Every blink had his eyes watering even more - and his pants- fuck- Choso’s biting down on his rawly worried lower lip, eyes flickering anywhere but where he could feel his achy cock stirring.

Something about this smell was so…hypnotic.

And if he didn’t know any better then he’d have sworn he was practically floating down that familiar pathway to your bedroom. Feet padding down anxiously along the mahogany-covered floors, it was becoming so much harder and harder to breathe in the fragrant air without getting fucking addicted.

Or, Choso swallows, one arm balanced on the wall, the other feeling for his thundering pulse. He probably already was.

But what if you were sick? What if you needed help? Fuck, if he didn’t live every waking moment dancing along to your heartbeat.

That is, when he hears it. That.

Filtering from inside your bedroom…a moan. ”Ch-Choso–”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, forgetting to take your monthly dosage of suppressants - you’d blame it on all the time you’d been spending studying for finals with Choso lately, but you’d never put the fault on your sweet best friend like that.

After all, he was a fellow omega like you at the end of the day. Right?

“Fuck” You’re scrambling to clasp onto a sodden sweatshirt of his on your bed, nose burying into the slightly sunny vanilla scent. You knew it was wrong to think about him this way, you knew it was made even worse considering his second gender. But- but fuck, if he didn’t have your hands slipping and sliding guiltily down towards the slick-lathered spot between your legs. Concentrated puffs of heat stifling from between your lips, “Ch-Choso–”

Honestly, you wanted him so badly you could reach over for your phone and call-

No, no, no, no - your fatigued eyes flick over to the winking clock by your bedside. 3:26AM.

You couldn’t call him over for help now. Choso was so sweet that he’d probably rush over in his pajamas and rack up a fair few tickets on his motorbike.

Which was why you preferred to spend your heats without his help - it had been that way since you’d both presented back in high school.

You’d met Choso after your family had moved to the cutest little suburb in Tokyo, stumbling across the tiny boy-next-door with wide honeypool eyes and a chubby hand that waved shyly your way. Even at the wise old age of eight, you remember thinking how he was so pretty.

Pretty enough that something your health teacher had taught in your last school clanged throughout your mind - this boy was probably an ah…what was the word? Omega.

A quiet, comfortable understanding - and it wasn’t something that the two of you never quite had to talk about too in-depth. At least, outside of sneaking the answers to pop quizzes on secondary genders, and giggling when another classmate sauntered to school with a garish bitemark on their neck.

But, often, you wondered whether you’d ever see Choso with that type of mark.

He never looked at another alpha - not even another omega, or beta, for that matter. You knew that society was stepping towards a more accepting environment for rather “unconventional” pairings - but Choso Kamo seemed well and firmly intent on rejecting every single one of them.

Instead, staying by your side. Unpaired.

Even when he followed you all the way to university - two peas in a pod, so tightly intertwined that most wondered whether you two were mated for life. And he never bothered to disagree - but then again, neither did you.

Even when the years treated him well and he grew so tall, so unfairly attractive. All prettily timid smiles, glinting piercings marrying his ears, and dark, droopy eyes tinged with the slightest kiss of dark eyeliner. Rivalling even the most cocky alphas on your entire campus with his sheer stature and ambience.

Like he was right now.

Towering at the very edge of your unlatched bedroom door.

And only one word registers in your mind - alpha.

Choso - a Choso that was so utterly real and in the flesh - jumps once those startled syllables spill from your mouth.

Fuck, you didn’t even realize you said that out loud.

Not until he’s slamming! one massively spayed-out palm by the side of your doorframe. Shattered pieces of wood crumbling beneath him, you’re unabashedly ogling the flex of his curvaceous biceps. Another hand covering the lower half of his handsome face, Choso rasps. He whines, “You called, m-my omega?”

Oh.

Your entire shivering body bolts upright, like you were being electrified with a thousand voltages of bliss that make your drooling cunt gush. Treacly wafts of pheromones clouding out from you all over again - and the look on Choso’s face is just drunk.

Thick lids so heavy that they were practically falling half-closed, it’s as if his entire body was flushed a prespired red. Lips all ruddied and laminated thinly with spit, his teeth were drawn back into such a wild snarl.

Like he was about to tear something into bits and it might be you.

So…pretty.

It almost hurts you to dart your eyes away in an urgent glance at your suspiciously open call log - did you…really call him in your haze? Fuck.

“Y-you’re-” You swallow a few times - and even then, the words don’t come to you. They can’t. Too stuck on what a delicacy your best friend looked all slumped over by your doorway like he was begging for you. Like he’d crawled all his way to you and would do it all over again. “You’re an alpha, Cho?”

As if you had any doubt now. You could smell the sheer power on him, the thrumming strength threatening to rip through that clingy white undershirt of his. So transparently thin that you could still count every ridge of his washboard abs. And his velvety black boxers hung low-

“Shit-” he gulps. “Yes- fuck! Y-you’re an omega?”

You can only nod. Brows raising when Choso plants another slam right onto your doorframe, indenting all slender lanes of his digits onto it this time. “And is that…mine?”

With a sudden inhalation, you’re snatching behind that sweatshirt of Choso’s that you’d still been holding. Heart thumping - but there was nothing more to say. What could you say?

Turns out, Choso is the first to break. “L-Let me prove it.”

You’re blinking, squeezing your thighs together at the bittersweet throb. You didn’t know what had your honeyed head reeling more - the sudden reveal of Choso’s secondary gender, or his answer. His sheer need. “Prove it?”

Choso’s head hangs low, chestnut bangs covering his greedy gaze, but you could tell that he was looking at you. Really, really looking at you.

Words dripping with something you’d never heard of before. Hoarse. Tight. “Can I…can I come in, beautiful?”

You know you should say no to letting him inside your nest - you know it.

But oh, how it looked like it was taking him every shred of will to keep standing there. To not fucking collapse at the way your gooey pheromones have him spellbound. And he likely would have had it not been for your small, trembling answer, “Yes.”

Choso whimpers - if there was ever a singular moment that would have him crawling back from the afterlife just to re-experience all over again, then it would be this.

When he feels something in the back of his mind switch.

Senses sharpening almost painfully with one step inside your humid bedroom. Two.

Until Choso’s stalking so languidly towards you like a predator cornering his prey, foot by foot. He takes his dreamy time prowling towards you - all the way up until your flushed best friend is looming across the foot of the bed.

There’s something vicious in his eyes. Something that has him salivating, “Can- can I?”

You’re breathing out, “Y-yes.”

Slow, sultry fingers unfurl out to draw a steady line along your ankle - he walks. Fingers blazing up your twitchy thighs, up your drenched excuse of shorts, up, up, up to smear that delirious line of your dribble.

“T-tell me what you want, beautiful.” He pecks an innocent kiss on your forehead, then another to your throat - heaving in your perfumed air. “Anything- I’ll give ya hah- anything.”

His words are low. Hot against your face.

And just about the only thing you can do is slither your unsteady hands down to toy with the hem of your pants. A sight that makes Choso swallow thickly with a rasping grunt.

“I want you to…” you’re trailing off. Fingers dipping down to where you haven’t been able to satisfy for hours now. Your inner omega yelling - screaming that nothing was enough, but he might just be. “-touch me here, Cho.”

SWAT!

Instantly, you’re letting off a saccharine mewl at the way your hand is being oh-so-rudely thwacked away by one of Choso’s own. The slight sting throbbing - but not as much as your poor cunt is when meeting his digits.

Sliding just between your cottony shorts- oh? Choso’s heart stutters. No panties? You really are going to be the death of him. He’s lingering a dewy stroke down your teary slit, honeying his ringed fingers in all your slick juices.

For a second - just a second.

Lightning-fast, Choso’s trailing away with a slew of spatters left behind, and it makes his skin feel ten times hotter. Ten times dirtier in only the best way.

Even more so when those very digits end up slipping easily into Choso’s mouth. One by one. Eyes trained darkly on yours, his long pinkish tongue ends up lazily lathering up and down up and down up and down every beaded gleam of your juices.

“Y-you’re so-” your voice cracks embarrassingly - pathetically, in a way that makes every copious ounce of blood in his body sprint south. “-filthy.”

Pulling off with a waterlogged pop! Choso’s tongue probes between his two long fingers, smacking his lips open and shut with the sticky dredges. And you swear you catch a whiff of smugness in his scent. Yet, he’s blushing, “All for you- only for you, my girl.”

And you can’t even complain - you can’t even tease him about the way that just another mere touch up against your feverish pussypound has Choso gasping. Eyes crinkling with something like delight and sheer awe.

Because he’s crashing his mouth into yours, suckling on your lips like his favorite berry lolly-

“Sh-shit-” Choso’s rich tone cracks into shattering lilts, and you can hear him laugh against your lips. Laugh. Humorless and crazed - pure desperation bleeding out with every swash of his intoxicating vanilla scent. “Beautiful— you taste even sweeter than in my ngh- dreams, y’know that?”

No, you didn’t - you didn’t even know that Choso dreamed of you in the first place.

And you don’t get to pay it any mind because before you know it, the swirling edge of his rounded fingertips tuck just past where your puffy folds were pursing in a ready pucker. Cold metal rings making you gasp.

And Choso’s greedily snuffing out the sound with a sinking bite of his sharpened canines into your wobbly bottom lip. Drinking in every noise from his pretty girl. His pretty girl.

Cratering dimples notching prettily at the ends of his lipbite, he’s practically begging them out with every slow gyration of his fingertips around and around your peaked clit. Tracing over every tiny ridge and sensitive bundle like he was trying to fucking memorize it. “H-has any other- fuck-” Ringing out a thundering growl at the back of his throat that makes your skin coat in tiny goosebumps. “-has any- other- made you feel this good?”

No no no - your inner omega purrs, and you can practically feel yourself groaning lowly at the back of your throat when you pull away.

Trying - failing, when Choso’s chasing your kiss-bitten lips like he was hooked. Slurring after the syrupy strings of spit that smear the traces of your mouth, he’s meshing his lips in a dramatic smooch. Again. And again. And again and again-

“L-look how wet ya are…” And it wasn’t even a command, but you can’t help lolling your head down to blink at the way his pale wrist was glistening with all your laminated juices. Musing, “Gonna make ya feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

Two deft fingers pinch your clit. Hard.

“Ah! N-no!” Your spine bends into such a pretty curve off the bed, perfectly in position for Choso to slide his massive palm underneath and massage away your tensely knotted back. Your fingers are trekking up the clamoring hike onto his broad deltoids to feel the droolworthy jolt of his back muscles. Babbling belatedly, “N-no other alpha has made me feel s-so…”

So…what?

Hypnotized? Addicted? Gone?

But whatever it was, the sight of you being ruined into a few shattered jumbles of limbs is enough to make Choso’s alpha hum.

Whispering out, “Can I…” And with a steep inhale of the thick surrounding air, he’s gulping. “C-can I-”

Before you’re gracing him with an answer, you’re helping inch those sleep shorts down. Snailing an almost-blasphemous slicked coat that seeps into your skin. He’s twirling his thumb over the remaining excess left behind - not wasting a single drop.

And it takes only one saturated hit from where your pheromones were the most concentrated - only one shy peak down at your drooling cunt - before Choso can feel his mind shattering. Gasping.

The top half of his body all but collapsing on top of yours.

It’s not even on purpose the way he flinches at the thick curve of your thumb floating upwards to tenderly glide away the swab of drool that was flooding Choso’s mouth right now.

His neat brows quirking upwards, heaving chest choppy - you’re so lustily trapped against the bumped-up planes of his pecs. Feeling the rumble of his heated words, “I-I’ve never…”

Sounding so utterly worn-out already, Choso’s planting a few firm pecks at the corner of your chin. He’d meant for it to reach your lips - but he couldn’t. Too in a trance to even think about it. And as if to make up for it, he’s kissing your neck, the valley of your thighs, your tummy. Every and any inch he hasn’t been blessed with reaching for the past few years.

Shuffling all the way until he was practically lips to lips with your sloshing pussy, eyeing down directly at the way your sloppy entrance was welcoming him with another fresh bout of clingy slick. Choso heaves in a long breath.

“Been waitin’ a looong time f’you, y’know? Can I make a mess?” Choso’s whining sweetly, greedy gaze still trained firmly downwards. Tenderly rubbing over your glossed-up folds, “Can I m-make you break?” And those grasping begs of his are barely even audible over the sheer squelching resonating from your slobbery pussy. Your jaw falls slack at how they only make Choso nod. “Y-you’re right- s-so right–”

Talking. And before you know it, the filthiest French kiss is being placed right on your cunt.

He’s not even hesitating, not even easing you into it - because Choso Kamo has waited so long for this. And he was going to have his fill.

“This is what y-you taste like- this good?” Dragging the very pointed tip of his pretty button nose down your plump clit, he’s smushing it in place with a firm kiss at the very edge of your snug hole. “Th-think this cute cunt can take my fuckin’ cock, beautiful?”

So fucking impatient.

You’re tangling one set of fingers into the stray strands of his hair, bucking up to drag a slow glide down the lower half of his pretty face.

And, usually, with an alpha you could be expected to be snapped at with a snarling command. An instruction to just stay put.

But Choso’s only letting his sharp jaw comfy against the silken sheets, head nuzzling drunkenly into your thighs when you’re pushing and pulling him as you please. Leveraging the vice-like grasp on his scalp to drive steady grinds just the way you like it.

Whining, “Need you so bad, baby–”

“Yeah- yeah, use me-” Choso snickers around a teasing bite against the fattened edge of one of your pussy lips. Sucking. “R-reach your pretty high on my face, omega- need you to cum all over me till I-I’m dripping.”

Fuck.

Was this really your nervous, sweet best friend? His words were so dirty, as if he didn’t even realize he was saying them. And they almost make you embarrassed. Shying way just an inch-

“Oh- no. No no no-” His words come buzzing around your clit, and with a final bite of his elongated canines, Choso’s frantic. He’s scrambling. He’s grasping his powerful arms to loop your thighs and dragging you to him like some ragdoll down the protestingly creaky bed. “S’gonna go to waste- can’t- can’t let it.”

And it’s only about then that you’re dredging up the courage to angle your head further downwards - immediately hit with the sinful sight of Choso in heaven between your limp legs.

His hair a disheveled curtain, eyes narrowed and smudged with eyeliner. Damply bleeding down onto the regal apples of his high cheekbones at the way your meady slick was reaching his blushing cheeks. It masks his coral pink lips, his jaw, his fucking chin.

So sopping wet that it’s forming a little puddle down below him that Choso could never even imagine being disgusted by. No, in fact, he was disappointed with himself for not lapping it up even sooner.

Pumpish lips jutting out in a pout, Choso’s pushing away the hair from his eyes sexily. “Wh-why are you runnin’ away- don’t run away, my girl.”

With a slight giggle, you’re veering your scent to tinge with something comforting. And oh, does it do the trick - because Choso’s eyes swoop downwards drunkenly. Almost closed, almost ruined, he’s huffing out a drawled-out mantra of your name, “Lock it.”

“Wh-what?” You’re choking out.

Soft palms massage gently down your legs, wrapping them around the back of his head. “Lock it.”

Oh.

That was a command, and it has your body pulling taut. Every sensory spot all down your skin screaming to obey - yet, this is something you would have done anyway. Ankles tying together, it’s jostling Choso’s hotly open mouth against your pussy so deeply that you wonder whether he doesn’t have to breathe.

Whether he doesn’t even want to.

Because your dear best friend looks so satisfied to die right in the heaven between your legs right now. And he would go such an utterly happy man, too.

Rosy red lips rubbing rawly against your clit, you’re left a puddle of a needy mess when the roughened tastebuds of his tongue swirl in meticulous little circles. Cheeks hollowing as he sucks, your whines can’t even be heard over the most oozy squelches.

“Heheh- she’s talkin’ back ta me-” Choso’s sputtering out peck after peck. In awe. “She’s talking. Th-think she wants ngh- more.”

More.

More, more, more.

Choso’s beginning to think that your dripping pussy’s speaking for himself with the way that’s exactly what he wants right now. Teasing the mushy outer lips of your puckered hole with his fat fingerpads, before bullying in. Inside.

You’re taking him so well - hips careening even further downwards when he’s feeding your greedy cunt with every long inch of his digits. Slow enough that you could count it - just about six, ringed inches all the way to his knuckles.

Shit- it’s so hot inside, as if your pretty pussy was practically melting around him. Molding to his every shape as Choso’s driveling swirling around in rummaging little stripes down your gummy walls. Slow. Slick.

Slender cylindrical intrusions that bump up deftly against your battered g-spots. The chilling stretch of his banded metal rings was too much. Your eager cunt is splattering out a pornographic little gush of your sweet, sweet juices all over again at the way he’s teasingly fondling over that magical spot.

“J-jus’ a little higher, baby–” you’re spewing out. Deprived.

And oh, Choso’s darkened eyes are practically lighting up. He doesn’t pull away from your bruised clit to answer - not even to breathe before vibrating out a keening, “Here?”

So desperate.

Even needier than you.

You’re blinking through large, globular tears that occupy the space behind your lids. Nodding, “A little more- jus- oh!”

And Choso didn’t need to hear it from your lips. Hell, he didn’t even need to hear it from the way your snug channel was all but milking his fingers dry. Clinging on in a soppy kiss when he’s probing into your g-spot harder. Meaner. Because the way your intoxicating scent changes - concentrating ever-so-slightly makes Choso realize that you’re cumming before even you register it.

Slamming headfirst into your high, you’re plowing out a belated cry of “I- fuck- m’cumming, Cho. M’cumming, m’cumming-”

Sparks of white splinter your vision, and your knees find themselves just wrenching free from the lecherous comforts of the bed - but Choso won’t let you escape so easily.

No.

Barely batting an eye, he’s straining his biceps deadlocked around your legs. Pinning you to the bed until you could barely squirm, barely do anything but take his punishing little clashes against your g-spot head-on. Bumping in. Over and over.

Choso suckles on your clit like his favorite little gummy, stretching and nibbling until you see stars with your orgasm.

“Don’t run away-” he’s puffing out into your cunt, the very idea of parting with drizzling pussy making him yelp out a pained grunt. “P-please don’t run away- I promised to make a mess. O-one more f’me, beautiful?”

You’re just molten at his touch. Ravenous and overwhelmingly greedy for you as much as you were for him. Something carnal inside you screaming for more-

“H-hear her?” His eyes are drifting closed at the pulpy little noises your cunt mashes on. Dangling ear piercings twinkling when he’s leering even closer to hear. “Tellin’ me she’s gonna give her- hngh- alpha one more.” Fuck, Choso’s features decorate with the most blazing blush at his own words. How embarrassing. “Wontcha use my mouth all over again? I didn’t get fuuuuck- messy ‘nough last time…”

And as if to prove his point, Choso traces a slow glide of his worked tongue across the sloppily wet coating that drips down his lips. Just for a second.

Your veins bubble sensitively with need at the broken whine sounding from the back of Choso’s throat when you drag him even snugger between your legs. Puffs of leaky pheromones driving the two of you wild, making your hips stutter out a slurring pace up and down his face.

“Th-this pussy is all f’me- isn’t it, my girl? S’all f’me?”

Even sloppier once you battle out a nod.

Your cunt is extra slobbery because of your heat anyways, but Choso’s making such a mess on purpose.

Eyes running away to the back of his head, tongue lolling out even messier. He’s planting such dousing draws of saliva, lathering your sweet spots mercilessly. And his fingers- oh, his fingers were relentless. Shovelling up in solid, wet nudges until you’re able to feel every circular indent of his digits on your g-spot.

Every run of his manicured nails across where you’re sure you were beginning to get bruised. And every-so-often whenever his eyes glaze green with raw greed - with slight, stupid jealousy over his fingers - you’d peek at Choso plunging his digits into his mouth and sucking.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Matching the lecherous sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can feel yourself squeal at the overstimulating touches. Sobbing out the cutest little whines that make Choso chuckle, “Easy– easy there, my girl.” Letting your cunt free with a sodden pwah! only to spit. Once. Twice. A sticky wad of his thick saliva that blusters its way to coat your puffy pussy lips, “You’re cumming again, right? A-all over my face?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard, but that wasn’t enough for Choso Kamo.

He wasn’t satisfied until a slow pull of your clit right from between his pearly whites had you bawling out. The backs of your hands dipping upwards to hide your face - which he quickly, and calculatedly spanks away with his free hand. “M’gonna cum soon- ngh- please- Cho- don’ stop.”

Hah, if this was any other time then Choso might’ve laughed.

Might’ve teased you until you were begging for him in that cute voice once more. But maybe it’s the way his alpha was clawing at his chest from the insides to give you whatever you want, maybe it was the way seeing you fall apart on your heat like this all over him had his cock twitching-

Because Choso only smiles - drunk. Dazed. “Cum f’me, p-please. Ruin me, ma’am..”

He was ruined alright.

Absolutely sugar-coated with your overlaying juices - it’s dripping down his bed and disappearing into the now see-through fabric of his undershirt like a badge of honor. A badge to say that he’s made you cum for the second time on his mouth.

That he’s made you squirt.

Splattering out all over his face with every slurping taste - and yet, Choso still couldn’t get enough. Sweeping up the milky droplets, Choso’s boring his heady gaze right into your widened eyes when he’s leering his mouth agape to make you spy the way each splash slides down his throat.

God- you’re seeing white all over again. You’re seeing spots, having you gulp in necessary gasps of the soiled air to once more regain your steady heartpace.

“Ch-Choso-” you’re struggling, voice brittle and gone. Frantically trying to haul - to force - Choso from his favorite home between your cunt, to stop his greedy tongue. “S’enough- can’t cum anymore can’t- ngh-”

“But, beautiful–”

Shit- it would be so easy to get swept up all over again. Because Choso was parched, and he was still far from having his fill.

Words tinting with a slightly commanding tone, you’re making something dark and primal rear its head when you manhandle him upwards with one hand in his locks, and another on his undershirt. So heavy but pliant.

Up, up, up-

“Choso–” you’re mumbling out. And before you know it, Chosos hands had toppled you over into the cushiony mattress, and yours were tracing the edge of his too-tight boxers. Tugging. Needy. “I-I want these- off-”

“Anything.” He’s echoing, like it was all that he could right about now. Dewey brows scrunching up into something of a beg, you’re catching the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Deprived. “Anything f-for you-”

Fuck- in your currently woozy state you’re not sure if Choso removed his pants or if he ripped them off. Stumbling and tripping to let the few scarce tatters droop into the floor in a sullen pile.

With a gulp, your fingers skitter across the planes of his useless undershirt - letting his pretty, bulging muscles peek out at you from underneath when you slide them off of him. Palms smearing in gluttonous little touches across his push pecs, down his rippling abs, down that lusciously dark happy trail and oh-

“S-something the matter, beautiful?” Choso’s heaving in a struggling gulp at the way your gorgeous eyes widen, maw slacking into a soft oh! Head tilting innocently, “M’your hah- best friend, you can tell me a-anythin’.”

“You’re just so…” Comes the whirling answer, your voice slow and alcoholic. He was getting drunk on your words already. “...big.”

Not only was Choso big - he was massive.

The fat, rotund circle of his head ruddied a strawberry pink, gradiating all the way down his shaft to meet blend into his creamy base. He was so hard that it looked painful, visibly throb! throb! throbbing, bumpy lightning bolts of his veins hammering up at you cheekily. He was so pretty - thick enough that you’re feeling your cunt clench already. Even the burn of your stare has Choso’s reddish divot weeping out a few ropey spurts of pre. Making you dizzy with the incredible size and that musky vanilla scent of his.

And was that-

Oh. Fuck.

It was.

Through the honeyed slew of precum pooling at Choso’s thick tip, you’re gasping at the slight wink of something metallic.

Without thinking - without even breathing - you’re drifting your hand down to thumb those syrupy globules thin. Discovering the absolute treasure chest that was a studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the weepy edge of Choso’s shaft.

“I got if for- you- Gotta a-another one, y’know-” His gentle rasp jolts you out of your sinful reverie, engulfing hands guiding your own to wrap around his flushed tip and peek under. Right on the slippery sliver of his slit, “A ngh- matching one. Th-thought you might like it…”

Oh- two.

And, embarrassingly, you can feel the way your scent turns headier. Hypnotizing. Enough so that Choso can’t help the way he’s hanging by a bare thread, head falling into the crook of your neck to breathe in. “Y-you act so innocent but…”

“But m’only l-like this for you.” He’s tucking your tender earlobe between his teeth. “P-promise. I haven’t even…”

Ah, a virgin.

Sweet and absolutely gifted.

And something about it was so cute the way Choso was acting exactly like it. Every wordless toy of your fingers up and down his sensitive glans, making him snarl a lipbite. Girthy length fucking up in shuddering slams into the cushiony tunnel of your palm. Weightily muscled abs flexing with heat when you’re running a thumb under his head to press down on that silver piercing.

“S-so tiny- heh- your pretty hands are so tiny takin’ my cock, beautiful.” he’s giggling - giggling. Perspiration-simmered forehead knocking into yours, Choso’s letting his tired head loll there and bore into your eyes. “You needa ngh- fuck! Needa slow down, my girl, m’already so close jus’ from making out with yer sweet c-cunt out.” Already close. Just from eating you out. “Else m’n-not gonna be able to control it-”

“I can handle it–” you’re pouting stubbornly. Soft digits clenching even tighter around his cock, and shit, Choso lets his head fall into the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

Finding himself growing more needy. More feral. Tight, hot curdling in his stomach building up and up.

“M’serious.” His lilting voice breaks, teeth skimming over the pulpy flesh of your sweetened pheromone glands. Nibbling. His incredibly shaky fingers wrap around your shoulders, “Please- ngh- please m’gonna break ya.”

And it’s like you wanted him to.

Dick twitching at those filthy fingers of yours - the way they only pump him faster. And faster. Tighter around the hefty base, more teasing up the slippery slope of his tip - like you were trying to milk out something delicious.

And you can already feel the way your mouth lathers with a fresh coating of saliva, face inching closer and closer to the bawling peak of his swollen cock. Wanting oh-so-badly to taste the silver of his Prince Albert’s.

“But I want you to, Cho.”

SMACK!

You’re left stupidly stunned when Choso’s behemoth palm coils like a tight shackle around your tender throat. Pulling you away from his achy cock in a flash, you’re being thrown around like his own personal ragdoll.

And Choso snickers at the way you’re bouncing cutely on the plush mattress, legs drooping wider and wider agape with every sleazy second he really can’t help but leer over you. Wrangling those boneless legs of yours over his shoulder with a sharp click of his tongue.

“I-I already told you, beautiful–” he’s bending down, down down to nose along your sweat-dotted cheeks, your skin stark hot against the icy chain of his silver necklace. Chest grumbling with a slight purr. “M’gonna make such a mess of you- can I?”

And that drunken look in Choso’s eyes made him look like he would absolutely shatter if you let your lips shape into a teasing no right about now. Like those warm, salted tears spattering from the corners of his half-lidded eyes and right onto your cheeks would only hasten.

“Can I- please, my girl- jus’ wanna-” His lips wobble adorably when his sobbing cock glides a slow line between the mushy lips of your pussy. A graze for a graze of his mouth down your own. “-wanna make you mine.”

And just the tip - just a single fat inch shoved into your gummy hole is all it takes for Choso to whimper.

You’re brushing over his precious cheek, “Ch-Cho, are you okay?”

And Choso can’t answer - hell, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Because that gushing little clench of your clingy walls all around his sodden wet tip absolutely ruins him. Delicate rivulets of slobber streaming down the smiling edges of his tongue, he’s puffing out an open-mouthed, “No- fuck- d-do I look okay?”

He didn’t.

He seemed like he was burning up - fucked-out already, practically. Pecs rippling with a bolting flex, muscled body shirking with violent shivers when with a low keen of your name - Choso’s cumming.

“No-” he’s crying out, head flailing backwards. Just from putting it inside for the first time. “No no no no- m’not s’pposed to- yet-”

But he was. Hips recklessly meandering again and again into yours - slight, tugging grinds of just his thickened tip like Choso was afraid of sinking into your heavenly pussy anymore. Like he knew it would break him even more.

Have him flooding out voluminous ribbons of thick seed, splattering against your spongy channel, and smearing around in dripping vertical patterns with every one of his animalistic ruts.

“Give it t’me–” you’re locking your ankles even tighter. Prattling out such filthy nonsense that you’re sure you’d get embarrassed about had you not been in your heat. “I-I need your cum, baby- wan’ it allll inside me-”

“Ngh-” Choso’s letting off a broken sound at the back of his throat, squeezing your own with that one hand of his happily making its home there. Blocking off your airway, your heady pheromones only struggle to waft out even more. Saturating. “D-don’t talk like that- n-not outta ya pussy, beautiful.”

“But I w-ngh! want it-”

He gulps, “A-are you sure?” Because this is his best friend - this is the one person he’d never even dreamt of having because that was too dangerous. Too fanciful. The one person he’d written about in every diary, and gotten teased for it by his family just the same. Perfect.

Yet, you’re so stubborn when you’re in heat. “Mhm– wan’ you to…breed me.”

And he loved it.

Couldn’t get enough of it - or you.

Choso’s scrambling up one of his jostling hands to latch your hips into a perfect almost-semicircle. Lower lip worried underneath his canines when he’s wiping his fat thumb over the dewdrops of seed treacling from your soppy slit.

That digit finds its way rummaging between your lips, “Lock it.”

This time, you don’t need it said twice - you don’t even need it to be a command.

Because Choso’s reigning up his own hand to pin both your ankles behind his head, and you think you’ll forever remember just how hot he looked this way. Biceps bulging with the strain, simmering with a slick sheen of perspiration, and his hips-

Oh, it’s like any and every slip of restraint in Choso’s hulking body snapped.

Because with a loud, saturated squelch! you’re being filled up to what it feels like your lungs with every solid inch of his engorged girth. Inflating your tender insides, buttering your poor cervix with a thick stream of pre when he’s kissing it with a wet thwack!

“Oh- oh.” Choso’s head pushes into the crook of your neck, into your pillow until you were sure that it was soaked with tears of absolute bliss. “Th-this feels nothing l-like my ngh- hand. S’so much more heavenly-”

Yet, you weren’t in the right state of mind to be paying attention to the utter filth that was spilling from your innocent best friend’s mouth. Breath choking up in a lead ball in your throat, you whisper, “Ch-Cho…s’that your knot?”

Your slicked-up folds puckering up in a wet snog against the overinflated ring ballooning around his thick base. The sheer thumping circumference of it makes you squeeze-

“Y-yes–” he’s humming out. The sodden base of his cock thwack! thwack! thwacking your bruising entrance when he’s rutting in and out. Sloppy. Slow. Still trying not to see stars. “God- s’even softer than I ngh- imagined.”

And soft you were.

This is what your sweet pussy felt like? This good? This should be fucking illegal, he was babbling out - but wouldn’t realize until much, much later.

Being spearheaded open with every unapologetic rifle to fill you up, the leftover dredges of Choso’s seed trickle a slippery pathway leading him to ambush your g-spot head on. Stubbing his cool metal piercing into your sweetened bullseyes so hard, you swear you could feel the indenting divot of that sinful Prince Albert’s.

“There?” Mesmerized, his eyes grow wide. “R-right there?”

And he’s hot - so feverish.

Glissading body on top of yours burning up with radiating heat, fracturing our rationality just as much as the sweet vanilla scent of his pheromones were. That tiny heart friendship charm on his necklace hitting your collarbones in a dirty staccato.

You can feel yourself start to drool with how stupid Choso’s cock was fucking you, curling a few neat raking lines down his statuesquely muscled back. It makes him just arch his cock even deeper to jostle your snug insides riotously.

“I-imagined about me a lot?” Ah, you’re finding it in yourself to smirk.

Something that Choso’s jackhammering out in quick, increasingly sloppy juts of his hips. Slathering the entirety of his cock with your slicked juices.

“O-of course.” He’s shifting his eyes gingerly away from yours with a boyish blush. But now that Choso had started talking, he couldn’t stop. “Always wan’ed to f-fuck you through a rut or h-heat like this- to-” Couldn’t keep from hiking up a flattened foot to angle his pierced cockhead into every untouched inch inside you. The special upright curve of his shaft driving you mad. “-to absolutely ruin you and-” The hand at your legs hover right over where he was plummeting your insides with gluey kisses - your womb. “-and make you mine. Ours.”

Ours.

God, just the mere act of confessing those embarrassing little words had Choso’s hulking body practically melting into yours.

It’s like his abs were made of adhesive, massaging up and down your front. Drowning you into the plethora of wrecked sheets and him when he’s collapsing on top of you - but still going. Still placing pound after pound.

“I-I want that too-” And you think you hear Choso sharply gasp, but you can’t confirm over your popping ears. “Always wanted it- ah- wanted you to fuck a baby into me, Cho.”

SLAM!

The slowly-splintering bedframe creaks when one particularly harsh rut has the headboard slamming into the wall behind.

And that’s all he needed to hear.

A baby - he wants a baby. He needs one - and this wasn’t just his alpha talking - and he was going to get it.

All that Choso thinks he ever could hear all through his honeyed mind for the rest of his life. Replaying it over and over in his mind like his favorite catchy tune.

You don’t miss the way that he looks so in love above you, gaze practically heart-eyed and gone. Choso’s raw, swollen lips meteor shower your face with peck after peck - just in time with the collisions of his rounded tip into your sweet spots.

“Boy or girl?”

“H-huh?” you’re questioning, barely-lucidly.

“Boy or girl.”

And after those senseless little answers are falling from your lips, Choso’s brushing a hand over your lower tummy. Pushing. Hard. Until his twitchy knot was covered in buttery residues of cum, “Ah- a-always wan’ed a daughter with ya first. With your c-cute smile and ngh- eyes.”

Huffing out an embarrassed, “Choso.”

And he’s only scooping back in the leaky sediments of seed that he’s responsible for making a mess of. Turning a slow thumb right over your tight ring of muscle, “Gonna have my- ngh- style of course, heh- you’d be the best momma. D-don’t care if you’re my best friend, m’gonna breed ya until you’re overspilling, beautiful.”

You needed it so badly. Your heat turning up a notch until it felt like you were boiling from the inside out, candied scent drifting more.

He’s giggling out, dark lashes batting without his permission. “M’gonna- ngh- take care of you-”. The hand caressing your elastic entrance flies upwards to get cleaned off by his own tongue - before prying your jaw sagging open to spit. “Goood fuckin’ care. N’ hopefully you’ll end up p-pregnant…hopefully.”

He’s encircling the dip in your waist and dragging you forwards to smack against his washboard abs. Unable to squirm. Unable to run away. “Gonna be the p-prettiest momma- the ngh- most beautiful.” Other hand restricting your throat so cozily that your vision tinges with black, “Gonna be mine.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words in mind.

The way your sopping walls were milking him for all he’s worth - so greedily - shoving Choso to tip over the edge, too.

Choso’s letting his body sexily cave into yours, not breaking even a mere inch apart when he’s got you trapped and overfilled with every dollop of his cum icing your insides. And right now you could already feel the way your scents were mixing, the way Choso turns slightly cross-eyed-

Before sharply turning to your glands and biting.

Hard.

His predatory canines break through your epidermis layer like butter, a crimson lipstain gushing from the wound and staining his lips a handsome rouge.

And - only belatedly, once your omega’s snapping at you with her teeth bared - do you realize that it’s your turn to do the same. As if you would want any other.

Locking your jaw to dig into his pale, dampish throat, Choso sucks in his cheek to muffle the slightest whine when you’re wringing him through every speck of bliss he could possibly ever feel in a lifetime. Furious cock stuttering out a few more lazy wisps of cum at the mingling feeling of finally being yours.

“Not ‘nough-” He’s eyeing the leftover ring of cum painting his knot, “Can I fill ya up m-more? Please? Please- my girl.”

You’re pulling away with a woozy nod to rub your thumb over the dug indents of your teeth, gently soothing slow circles over the feral sting.

Filling you up over and over with each pound, he’s fucking you into the mattress like he hates you. And he’s fucking you like every shuddering ram had a creamy ounce of cum pouring into your gummy walls. Glueing in wet splats against your g-spot, your cervix, like a second sloppy skin.

Generous helpings of cum drifting into almost blanks-

“Heh- haaaah- y’know tha’s makin’ me still c-cum, beautiful.” Choso’s leaving sodden kisses on your own mark, your lips. “M’sorry m’sorry I- I can’t stop- I just- can’t.”

And it’s sheer animal nature in you that’s screaming at you that you don’t want him to stop until you’re sure it takes. That’s bending down a hand as much as deftly as possible to wrap around Choso’s slightly softening cock - that only tuts in impatience.

“Wh-when I said inside-” You’re pumping his soaked base as much as possible, feeling the stiffening twitch at his tip buried inside you. “-I mean- inside-”

It’s like you’re being split-apart - like you couldn’t be any fuller if you tried.

And, yet, only the very curvaceous top of Choso’s inflated knot had bullied its way in-between your lewdly stretched hole. Gaping a pathway so incredibly girthy that it makes you scrunch your brows, head tumbling backwards.

“Oh- oh, my greedy, greedy girl.” But Choso doesn’t look one bit admonishing - not one bit. Slithering a hand down to your cunt, he’s steamrolling two thick pads of his fingers. Rubbing up against your squeamish walls, scissoring your tight entrance so amply open. “I can put it…inside. R-really, really inside?”

Oh, Choso doesn’t know what blessings he’s received in his past lives. But absolutely nothing could have prepared him for how swelteringly hot and cushy you were around his fat knot.

Swallowing up the bulging circlet, plugging up your seeping slit safely so that you’re not spilling a single glutinous splotch of his cum. So that it will take. It’s such a tight fit. Such a burning stretch. You felt so full you could burst with every throb of his swollen knot probing your walls.

Ah, you look so pretty this way.

And Choso’s half-wishing he had a camera to capture this moment. With his lips pressing a few syrupy kisses along every inch of skin he could reach. Somewhere near your tummy - so full and slightly inflated with the copious amounts of cum that were dumped inside you.

He’s murmuring something drunken - something you probably weren’t even supposed to hear. But at the curious tilt of your head, your best friend chews over his lips nervously.

And a giddy smile plasters across your face at the saccharine love in your best friend’s eyes - the way he was probably mulling over asking you out on a date. There was no turning back at this point, and your omega purred in agreement as you got ready to say yes. For him to say a sweetened-

“Marry me.”

A/N. You show up at the next Itadori family dinner with a ring and Sukuna has an actual heart attack.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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s0dium · 6 months ago

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Warning: Gojo has really bad breeding/pregnancy kink

You have an inkling that Gojo Satoru is trying to get you pregnant.

You weren't sure at first, but the subtle clues began to add up. The way he insisted on being close to you during your most fertile days, his knowing smiles whenever you mentioned the future, and the way he would tenderly ask about your health and if you were taking any medications. And then of course, the fucking.

He is absolutely relentless. He reels his hips back just enough so his fat tip barely leaves your warm cunny, the anticipation building as you brace yourself. In an instant, he slams them forward, hard and fast right into your cervix. It's like he is trying to bring you and himself to the edge as fast as possible. And what you don't know is that he is, and after that, he will start all over again.

At the start he is able to keep his composure. But as he thrusts deeper, Jesus, when he feels, like, really fucking feels how warm and tight your pussy is, he starts to crumble like sand. Seeing you beneath him, your eyes glassy with tears from the intensity, your lower lip trembling as soft moans escape you, stirs something primal within him. It makes his body kick into auto-pilot as his head fills with thoughts only on filling you.

"F-feel so good baby," Gojo will groan into your ear as he rolls his hips into you. "S-shit I cant-" he gasps when you squeeze his length, your pussy squeezing him in a vice grip. That's when the babbling starts.

His mind is too hazy with euphoria to actually realize what he is saying but once he starts he can't stop; "Gonna cum in you baby, gonna cum in you and make you a mommy yeah?" He groans and throws his head back, sweat dripping now his neck, Adams's apple bobbing and mouth open as he pants for air.

"Come on answer me baby" He's not a whining man but here he is stumbling over his words like a school boy because of how good he feels right now. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how you wanna be a mommy, how you wanna have my babies"

You know you should say no. You really do, but you just cant stop yourslef. "I do, I do I do" you babble, the words strung out on your lips from how good he is fucking you. Each of his thrusts sends electric shocks through your veins, the delicious friction of his cock setting your nerves alight. He fills you completely, stretching you to a blissful fullness that borders on too much, yet exactly what you crave. The way he moves within you, deep and relentless, drives you to the edge of sanity. His intensity, the raw power behind each movement, makes you feel cherished and claimed all at once. The euphoria builds, each stroke stoking the fire within you, each moment of fullness punctuated by a hunger for more. The collision of his dick against your cervix has you seeing colors. His motions are fluid due to how wet you are and his pelvis rubs against your sensitive clit so so so perfectly, driving you closer near the edge.

He moans at your words. God you were so perfect, you were going to be the perfect mother he can practically see it now; your cute belly bump, your tits round and plump with milk. He thinks that you would have to pry him off your nipple because god once he gets a test of you he won't be able to stop. Everything feels so good, he is practically seeing colors, oh god he is close he is so close-

"Fuck!" Gojo's hip stutter and his grip tightened significantly, a loud moan of your name slipping from his lips as his own orgasm washed over him, coming so hard he sees white. As the warm, sticky liquid fills your cunt, a surge of intense pleasure washes over you. The sensation is both overwhelming and deeply satisfying, and enough to bring you over the edge. Your pussy spasms from the pleasure and a white ring of cum forms around his dick from how tight the fit is.The warmth spreads, a comforting yet exhilarating feeling that envelopes your senses, leaving you awash in a blissful glow.

Maybe a baby with Gojo wouldn't be so bad.

#jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader

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rowarn · 1 year ago

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EXPERIENCE (m.)

könig x inexperienced!reader

tags: age gap, acquaintances to lovers, afab!reader but gn

cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, fingering, hand riding (hear me out), pussyjob, talking u thru it, praise, pet names (liebling, little one), size kink/difference, handjob, reassurance/encouragement kink, wet&messy, konig is uncut hehe, squirting

note: konig is in his 40s and reader is in their 20s!

;in which you live in the same building as a really hot, older, military man

9.5k

When you met König, you never expected the harmless interactions to ever evolve into anything substantial. He lived somewhere in the same apartment building as you did, though you didn’t know where exactly. Most times, you would find him in the elevator or cross paths with him in the lobby.

You knew he was in the military, most of the people living in the building were. It was close to the nearby base and had rent for a damn good price. The way he carried himself, back straight and body seemingly always at attention gave him away.

He was massive, standing much taller above you with broad shoulders and thick thighs. A lot of the time he was wearing a hood over his face, mostly when he was coming or going from work – which was seemingly all the time.

On the few occasions that you caught him without the hood, you could tell it was him solely by his build. There was no one else in the building who looked anything like that.

He was handsome, in a rugged, tired kind of way. He was a lot older than you were expecting him to be – probably in his early to mid forties, you guessed. He had salt and pepper hair, fine lines etched onto his face, and stern eyes from (no doubt) many years in the military.

You had never properly spoken to him before. Hell, you didn’t even know his name. You greeted him when you saw him and smiled in passing when you made eye contact. Occasionally, he would respond in an accented voice that you longed to ask about.

The event that changed everything was a fun little night out you had with your friends. You had maybe had a bit too much to drink before finally conceding at your friends’ behest to call yourself an Uber.

By the time you reach your apartment building, you’re still very buzzed and starting to feel a little nauseous. You stumble to the elevator and impatiently slam your thumb on the button over and over again, losing count as you do.

“It’s not going to come any faster,” an accented voice drones next to you, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you wheeze, hand over your racing heart.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings then,” he says, “Especially when you are intoxicated.”

You huff through your nose, growing annoyed at the prospect of being lectured. The elevator grants mercy and dings before slowly opening. There's a rowdy group of men inside who quickly walk out of the elevator, seedy eyes immediately finding their way to you, scanning your body up and down as they pass by.

You feel that nauseous pit in your stomach twist as you finally step onto the elevator. Nothing to ruin your jovial mood from a nice evening more than a group of leering men. Living in an apartment building filled with soldiers, it wasn’t unusual to have them stare at you – didn’t mean you liked it.

You cross your arms over your chest as König steps on, the elevator creaking and groaning under his immense weight.

“What floor?” he asks softly, glancing at you over his shoulder as he stands in front of the button panel.

“3,” you mumble, leaning against the back wall. You watch him punch in the 3 but not anything else, making you raise a brow, “You live on 3 too?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say another word. You narrow your eyes at his back, if he feels you looking, he doesn’t give it away. The elevator is plunged into silence aside from the quiet sound of the shaft moving up and up until it dings and the doors slide open.

He steps out first, standing in the threshold to keep the door from closing as you push yourself off the wall. Your head swims for a second and you stumble past him, keenly aware of his eyes on you.

You wander down the hallway, glancing over your shoulder to see him slowly stalking behind you. His arms hand limply by his sides, his fists clenched into fists but he remains a respectable distance.

“Why are you following me?” you ask, unable to hide the nervousness in your tone, “You said you don’t live on this floor.”

“Young recruits are tools,” he supplies simply, “I am making sure you make it to your door without any problems.”

That causes you to hum and for a little flutter in your stomach to manifest. You brush it off and pause at your door, pulling your keys out so unlock it. You push it open and step in, letting it hit your back to keep it from closing as you turn to look at your companion.

“Thank you…um…” you clear your throat and look at him expectantly.

“König,” he supplies simply, arms tucked behind his back, making him look even wider.

“König…” you repeat, feeling the words on your tongue, “Interesting name. Where are you from?”

“Austria,” he replies almost mechanically, “I will be going now.”

You don’t get to say another word before he’s stalking away and down the hallway, heavy footfalls practically rumbling the ground beneath him. You slowly close your door and lean against it, hand placed over your racing heart – when did that start up?

You blame it on your inexperience when it comes to men. You’d had a couple boyfriends, pretty standard for someone in their 20s. Your problem was none of them were ever good enough. The over-zealous types who wanted their dicks sucked as gratitude for paying for dinner. Then would turn around and either give you the most lackluster head of your life, barely any foreplay before trying to shove his dick into an unprepared hole.

You had never given them the chance, once they showed they were only interested in their own pleasure and would more than likely not even think about touching your clit or angling for your g-spot, you stopped them and kicked them out. More often than not, you woke up to a break-up text because of course you did.

So that was how you were still a virgin and more or less, at this point, given up on dating. You’d been single now for the better part of 6 months and had no intentions of giving any men your own age a shot at it.

But…you hadn’t considered an older man. Like König.

At that thought, you pushed yourself off the door and kicked your shoes off, intent on taking a shower to hopefully wash these drunken thoughts out of your head. So he’d been nice and walked you to your door, no questions asked, so what? Didn’t make him any different from men your age.

As you made it to the bathroom, you felt your stomach finally churn for the final time and found your head buried in the toilet. You cursed yourself for not listening to your friends, who apparently knew your own limits better than you did.

The next time you see König is just a few days later. You walk into the apartment’s gym on the ground floor, and there he is – sitting lifting weights. You pause when you see him, feeling that traitorous flutter in your chest you were sure you puked out that night you had learned his name.

You watch the way his biceps flex, bulging so large you’re sure not even two of your hands could wrap around the girth of it. There were some scars littering his skin, most of them white and raised from age but a few that still had that new tissue pink color. You also noticed some fading tattoos encircling his forearms. Fuck, he was hot.

You hung your head and scampered over to the treadmill, intent on getting your cardio up.

As you run, you notice a group waltz in, laughing and shoving each other. You glance over at them, rolling your eyes when some of them make eye contact and nudge their buddies. They lean in close and whisper to each other with shit eating grins on their faces and you find frustration building up so you try to ignore them.

“Quiet,” you hear an accented voice snap, full of authority, “You are disturbing everyone.”

The rowdy young men quiet down immediately and clear their throats, “S-Sorry, Colonel,” one of them utters.

‘Colonel? Is that high ranking?’ you find yourself wondering, making a mental note to look that up later.

Either way, König manages to make the gym peaceful once again and you finish your workout with no other hitches.

You grab your towel and dab at the sweat on your face and neck as you swiftly make your way out of the gym, completely unaware of the shadow following closely behind.

You slow to a stop at the elevator, punching the button to call it as you sip on your water bottle, mindlessly going over what else you need to do with your day. The shadow behind you remains stagnant, still and silent as it lurks behind your unsuspecting form as the elevator opens and you step on.

He follows, hefty weight causing the elevator to groan as usual. That gets your attention and you jump, placing a delicate hand over your racing heart just like you had before, eyes wide in shock at his appearance.

“You’re doing it on purpose now!” you whine at him and he has to fight back a smile at it.

“I told you that you needed to pay more attention to your surroundings,” he replies smoothly, pressing the 3 button for you before pressing 5 for himself.

“How is a guy as big as you able to be so quiet?” you ask softly, making note of the floor he lives on.

“Years of training,” he gives a quick response that you hum at. There is a beat of silence before he finds himself speaking again, “You never gave me your name.”

He sees the way you look at him in surprise and he almost wishes he could rip the words from the air as soon as he says them. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea that he actually wants to get to know you.

But you smile softly and give him your name with a kind nod of your head before the elevator grants him mercy and dings at the arrival on your floor.

“See you around, König,” you say as you step off.

He doesn’t respond.

Once back in the safety of your apartment, you find yourself going through the entire interaction in your head over and over again. Your heart races as you think back on him.

It's as you’re making dinner for yourself that you finally have the coherent thought of revelation that you may have a crush on König.

The revelation is almost enough to have you groaning out of frustration into the quiet sanctity of your apartment but you manage to refrain. But you can’t deny you don’t quite know what to do about it now. You had sworn off of men but…that was men your own age. König was…older than you, surely at least 15 years your senior, possibly more. You figure it couldn’t hurt to ask him out for some coffee one of these days.

Except, the next time you see König is almost 2 weeks later. You don’t see hide nor hair of him at all. It definitely puts a damper on your confidence and you almost think your crush was just a fleeting little thing and for that you’re grateful for.

Until the elevator opens one day and there he is. He’s wearing his hood but his eyes look even more exhausted than usual – beyond the general tiredness that comes with age. You carefully step on, joining him in the downward descent to the lobby. It’s just the two of you and feel that fluttering in your chest start up again and your hands begin to sweat. You scour your brain for something to say — anything to start up a conversation after so long of not seeing him.

“Haven’t seen you around,” you mutter softly. He hums softly in acknowledgement but doesn’t supply much of a response beyond that, “Where have you been?” you try again.

“Deployed,” he finally responds after several seconds of silence.

You can’t find any way to respond or keep the conversation going but it’s sure that he has no intentions of doing so anyway. Still, it surprised you that he had been deployed, you hadn’t considered that. It made sense now that you thought about it.

The elevator opened and you both stepped out. He walked much faster than you, beelining out of the apartment and you briefly considered letting him go but another part of you wanted to stop him and ask him out.

You cursed to yourself and jogged forward, calling his name. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of you calling for him. He looks down at you over his nose, a burning gaze that makes your nervousness spike. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good time after all.

“What?” he snaps, clearly impatient.

“Oh um…” you clear your throat and slow to a stop, “N-Nevermind…”

He huffs through his nose and resumes storming out of the apartment. You find yourself sighing deeply, following his lead. When you get outside, he’s nowhere to be seen and you once again find yourself wondering how a man of his size is so good at not being seen.

A few nights later, the weekend rolls around and you find yourself standing in that damned elevator with him once again. He’s maskless and it gives you pause before stepping on.

It’s silent for a few seconds before he says, “I am sorry for the other day.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, “Um…what do you mean?”

“I was not polite towards you,” he answers, casting a soft gaze towards you that makes your heart flutter, “I took my bad mood out on you and I should not have. So…I am sorry.”

“Oh…” you clear your throat and give him a smile, “it’s alright, König. I shouldn’t have bothered you with something silly.”

He frowns at you, “Something silly?”

“It’s nothing,” you assure him, smiling kindly at him.

He wants to ask you what you mean but the elevator door opens and you step out, making him realize that you reached your floor. You wave your goodbye to him as the doors close and he lets his head fall back with a sigh once he’s alone.

Yet another bad day weighed heavily on his shoulders when you came waltzing into the elevator, bright eyed and happy. His fists were clenched behind his back and he did his best to avoid looking at you, hoping you would take the hint and not speak to him like you usually did. It hadn’t been but a day since he had apologized to you for making an ass of himself in the lobby and he didn’t want to do the same thing so soon after.

But then you say something that sends it all crumbling down.

“Hey…” you start, fidgeting your fingers in front of you, “Would you like to get coffee sometime? Maybe lunch?”

You ask it so sweetly and softly. For some reason, that grates on his nerves even more than anything.

“What?” he snaps, cold and sharp in a way that makes you visibly freeze.

You look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, “Um…w-well, I just…it’s…I would like to…”

Your nervous babbling only serves to piss him off even more as his glare narrows down on you, making you shrink in on yourself where you stand. Suddenly, the elevator feels much smaller than it had ever before – even with him filling most of the space as usual.

“You want to go out with me?” he spits, his accent growing stronger with every venomous word that he can’t seem to stop from spilling from his lips, “I am twice your age, what the hell makes you think I would want to date you?”

You swallow thickly around the lump forming in your throat and bite back the tears that threaten to form. He hears you sniffle and promptly snaps his head to look at you. Under the ugly, yellow light of the elevator he can see the tears trickling down your cheeks and he suddenly wants to slap himself into the next decade.

He wants to open his mouth so badly and apologize for being so cruel to you. He knows he could have told you no in a much softer way rather than making your feelings seem like something revolting or stupid. But the elevator doors open and you’re slipping out before he even has a chance. He decides not to chase after you.

It’s for the best, he assures himself.

It only takes a few days before he’s vehemently regretting not stopping you then and there.

It happens on a Friday night, the elevators are closing just as a hand jumps between them, sending them opening again. You step on, giggling in a way that tells him you’re just a little inebriated. You freeze when you see him standing there, maskless and cold gaze as he watches you tug a young man into the elevator behind you – clearly a little drunk himself.

You pointedly stand in front of König, keeping your back to him to show that you’re not even willing to look at him. König feels his heart clench painfully in his chest before it’s replaced by a wash of anger as he watches the young man paw at you. He slips his hand down your back to grope at your ass, making you giggle breathlessly before you’re batting his hands away with a little bat of your lashes.

König wishes he had an excuse to step off the elevator at the same time as you – anything to prolong his time with you. He’s never felt the desire to cockblock someone more in his whole entire life.

But he doesn’t move. He just watches you step off without a single glance in his direction before you’re vanishing around the corner and the elevator doors close silently, leaving König alone with his thoughts.

You couldn’t believe you brought this guy to your apartment. You especially couldn’t believe you were letting him strip you of your clothes and paw at your body like some kind of mindless dog. You had sworn to yourself that you were not going to fall into this trap again – a 20-something year old guy buying you a drink, complimenting you a little, teasing and groping you in the club until you caved and brought him home. It wasn’t your first go around – and it always ended the same way.

But you were drunk and you needed to get your mind off that stupid, giant Austrian military man that lived in your building. And wouldn’t you know it, he was on the elevator as soon as you got in. It was almost enough to sober you up, your wounded pride and feelings still so prevalent even after a few days of nursing the hurt.

You could only hope that this would relieve you of your hurt feelings.

Unfortunately, you quickly realized that this was a mistake.

As soon as he started groping you, spreading your legs and trying to stuff his cock inside you without so much as a single finger of prep – you knew this wasn’t going to happen.

You tried to lead him, thinking maybe he was a little too tipsy to actually think about it.

“How about a little prep, hm?” you ask softly.

He pauses what he’s doing and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, “Oh…you’re one of those…”

He says it in disgust and you feel yourself bristle in annoyance, “One of what?”

“You want me to eat you out, right?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “That shit’s gross, c’mon just let me stick it in, already.” It was that moment that you felt any minute desire you had to have sex evaporate.

You don’t even bother walking the guy out, leaving him to limp to the elevator in shame with a hard cock and blue balls.

It takes you a few days to find it in yourself to crawl out of your apartment. The only reason you actually do leave is because you’re in need of food – your little supply of ramen has depleted and you have to bite the bullet.

After your little shopping trip at the nearby convenience store, you find yourself waiting for the elevator when a dark shadow looms over you. You feel a pit of dread in your stomach as you smell the musky, sweet scent of his cologne. But you don’t dare acknowledge his presence.

He doesn’t give you long to ignore him, however, before he’s talking to you.

“How was your little date?” he asks, voice dripping in a tone of condescension that immediately puts you on edge.

“What’s it to you?” you hiss, still not daring to look at him.

He scoffs, “You went and found yourself a little toy to play with awfully fast. Seems your interest in me wore off quickly, no?”

That gets you to finally turn around, meeting his cold, indifferent gaze with your hot, teary one. You miss the look of surprise that flashes over his face.

“What is your problem?” you snap, “You rejected me, what the hell do you care what I do? And for your information, the date was shit. He was shit, like I should have expected any difference. God, I really am a fucking idiot,” you find yourself rambling, a lamenting spiel that you can’t seem to stop no matter how badly you want to, “Just like every prick before him, he was selfish and revolting. I thought I could finally get fucking laid and just call it a day but no, my stupid standards are too high and I find myself asking out the hot older guy in my building only for him to find me revolting!”

By the time you’re done ranting, the doors open and you storm out of the elevator, angrily gripping your bag of groceries. König is frozen where he stands, watching you leave as the doors slowly close – almost begging him to put his hand between them and stop them so he can chase after you.

But he doesn’t.

It’s creeping up on midnight when there’s a knock on your apartment door. You’re curled up on the couch, watching some random show that you weren’t really invested in but couldn’t be bothered to change.

The knock makes you jump, startled, but get up nonetheless. A quick peek in the peephole tells you exactly who it is before you even open it.

You briefly consider not opening it period but find yourself opening it before you actually settle on a decision.

König stands in front of you, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand, looking comically small. The sight is almost enough to get you to crack a smile. Almost.

But the residual hurt from the last few interactions you’ve had with him is enough to keep you stoic. You raise a brow and you practically see his confidence falter. A pang of guilt goes through you at the sight and you step aside, waving him in with a quiet huff.

He closes the door behind him softly, kicking his boots off as he watches you wander into the living room. You take a seat on your couch, covering yourself with your throw blanket once again as you watch him wander in, gazing around at your decor before finally settling on you.

“Um…” He clears his throat nervously and places the flowers on your coffee table, “I think that we should talk…”

“Should we?” you quip back.

He sighs, broad shoulders heaving with the movement before he takes a seat beside you, taking up a hefty amount of space on your small couch.

“I want to apologize,” he says softly, folding his hands in his lap, “When you asked me out…I-I should not have spoken to you like that.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “If that’s all this is about, König, then you can go. I-I don’t really want to hear a half-assed apology about the way you rejected me. You’re not interested, let’s just move on from it. I’ll get over it.”

He shakes his head quickly and curses under his breath, a word you don’t understand – German, your brain supplies, helpfully.

“You are wrong,” he says, “I do not want you to get over it because I am interested.”

The gets you to perk up, eyes wide, “What do you mean? You said you–”

“I know what I said,” he mutters, “I am…twice your age…”

“So you mentioned before…” you reply.

“I do not think…you should be with someone old like me,” he continues softly, “You should be with someone your own age. That is what I thought. It is not that I don’t find you attractive; I think you’re sweet and lovely. But it's just…our age difference…”

“König,” you stop him from continuing, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

“I understand that but…” he trails off, casting a sideways glance across the room, away from you.

“I’ve tried dating men my own age, König,” you say, “It always ends the same – I send them home blue balled.”

He huffs out a laugh through his nose and finally sets his gaze back on you, “Why do you do that?”

“I don’t plan to…” you begin, running your hand along the soft fabric of your blanket, “it’s just that...I bring them home and then we start getting into it and it fucking sucks!”

“Sucks..?” The question is soft and drawn out.

“He wants to fuck my throat and won’t even give me his fingers before trying to stick his dick in,” you spit, angrily glaring at the tv as you remember all your shit encounters, “I’ve never even let one of them go all the way.”

“You’re a virgin…?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “I guess. I mean I’ve had shitty oral and stuff but…”

“I see…” he trails off, shifting in his seat, hands still folded in his lap, “Well, I would like to take you out for a date after all.”

You find a smile spreading across your face faster than you can stop it. You jump to your knees and throw your arms around his shoulders with a squeal of happiness, “Really? You mean it?”

He laughs breathlessly, a husky little sound that makes your heart race, “Does this weekend work for you?”

You eagerly nod your head and lean in. You catch the way his eyes widen briefly before your lips meet. You think he’s going to pull away from you but instead he cups the back of your head and deepens the kiss.

You feel a shiver go through you at the feeling of his big, strong hand holding you there in the kiss. You couldn’t keep yourself from getting wet even if you wanted to.

With your hands pressed against his firm chest, you toss one leg over his lap and find yourself seated on top of him. He breaks the kiss at that, hands migrating to your waist where he mindlessly strokes his thumb over the skin exposed by the way your shirt rode up.

You lean down and kiss him again and he groans against your mouth. You grind down against him in response to the throb that makes your pussy clench around nothing. You whimper into the kiss when he suddenly stops your movements with a firm grip.

“We shouldn’t, liebling,” he whispers softly.

“Why not?” you whine, settling in his lips. You briefly realize that you can feel something hard beneath you and that makes you start dripping in your panties, “Don’t you want to?”

“I-I do…” he assures, “I just…want to properly court you…”

He couldn’t get any sweeter if he tried. Still, you quip back with a teasing little smile, “Wow, you are a lot older than me, huh?”

You feel giddy when the sweet look in his eyes melts away into something darker. One hand clasps the back of your head before he pulls you in for a much rougher kiss. You keen as you feel the way he exudes experience – the kiss like nothing you have ever experienced before.

The way he moves his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth to taste your mouth, it’s not gross or too much the way it sometimes is with men who don’t know what they’re doing.you find yourself moaning into the kiss before you even realize it.

He pulls away at that, a heady look in his pretty, blue eyes. You find yourself briefly lamenting the loss of his mouth but that thought disappears quickly when he moves to begin peppering kisses along the length of your neck, making sure to nip at your jaw and kiss your shoulder.

He tugs the hem of your t-shirt down just a bit so he can have access to your collar bones, nipping and kissing there as well. Your head falls back as you surrender yourself to him completely.

“Oh,” he coos softly, lips brushing against your ear, “You are just so sweet for me, aren’t you, little one?”

You practically whimper at his words as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, fingertips barely grazing your skin. You squirm in his lap as his touch tickles you on his way up to your breasts, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his roughened palms.

You sigh into the quiet room, arching your back to press deeper into his hands. His thumbs graze over your nipples and you moan.

Sure, you’ve had guys grope your tits before but it had never felt like this. The mindless squishing and squeezing was replaced with soft cupping and gentle brushes over your nipples until they hardened followed by pinches and flicks that left you absolutely dripping in your panties.

He takes mercy on you quickly, one hand sliding down your body to slide under your sweatpants and beneath your panties. Your hands grip his shoulders, blunt nails biting into them when one broad finger slides down, the sticky noise of your folds separating enough to send heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers in a tone so soft you almost think it wasn’t meant for you, but then he tacks on, “Do you hear it?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, embarrassment flooding through you at the sticky, clicking noises that come along with his prodding, “N-Never been this wet before, König…”

That causes him to pause, blue eyes gazing at you through his eyelashes, “Is that so..?” You desperately nod your head, slowly beginning to rock your hips against his hand, but he doesn’t move again and you whine, “Has anyone ever made you cum on their fingers?”

“J-Just me,” you answer breathlessly without a second thought.

He hums thoughtfully and after a second, he begins moving his hand again. This time he introduces more fingers, spreading your folds apart with his index and ring so he can pet your hardened clit with his middle. The feeling makes tremors run through your body and he huffs a laugh, “I guess I will show you what it feels like then, yeah?”

He doesn’t give you a moment to think let alone answer before his middle finger is sliding into you. The one digit alone is enough to stretch you, given how massive he is in whole. He crooks his finger forward and a moan rips from your chest when he hits that gooey little spot inside you.

“A-Another, please, König!” you beg shamelessly.

“Shh,” he hushes, shaking his head, “Let me work you open on this and then you can have more.”

You practically wail in despair, letting your forehead drop forward onto his shoulder. You suddenly wish you had rid yourself of your clothes so you could see the way his hand worked against you. All you could see now was the faint movement under your pants but the mental image of that thick finger inside you, slick with your juices was enough to have you clenching desperately around him.

After a moment, he adds a second finger and you feel like you’re in heaven. The stretch is phenomenal and his palm bumps against your clit every time he sinks them into the last knuckle.

However, before he can set a rhythm to really start getting you off, he stops. You angrily lean back and glare at him – the sight has his lips quirking up.

“Ride my fingers,” he orders you, leaving no room for arguing.

You can tell he’s not going to give you anything unless you take it for yourself so you sit up higher on your knees so you can have the clearance to move. Your hands remain on his shoulders, clinging to him for stability as you clumsily begin to rock your hips. The only time you’ve ever done these movements is when you tried humping your pillow once after seeing it in some porn. It didn’t really do much for you so you never tried again.

König can tell your movements are clumsy and it makes his cock throb against his thigh. He helps you along, crooking his fingers just right to grind the tips against that sweet little spot inside you. It makes you moan beautifully and he files the noise away.

His other hand comes up to grip your hip, steadying you as you continue to hump his fingers. You’re growing more and more frustrated as you quickly realize that you’re not able to make it feel as good as he had earlier. The tearful little gaze you give him has him breaking, using the hand on your hip guiding you into more seamless movements.

“Like this, liebling,” he directs softly, “Grind down like that, mhm, give that little clit some love, yeah?”

You become increasingly breathless as you work yourself higher and higher under his expert guidance. He can feel your juices dripping down his wrist, the snug hold around his fingers growing even tighter with every little rut of your hips.

“You’re so precious,” he coos, feeling the way you clench up at the sound of his voice. Your body is so honest, telling him what you like without you having to say anything, “You’re going to cum, I can feel it. Be good and give it to me, yeah?”

You surge forward and desperately kiss him, one hand reaching down and gripping his wrist. It takes only a few more, desperate thrusts of your hips for you to topple over that edge. Your body trembles on his lap and you cry out in pleasure.

He moans alongside you, watching with rapt attention as you cum all over his fingers just like he told you to.

You slump against him as you come down and he pulls his hands out of your pants. He presses a kiss against your temple in silent praise, hands rubbing your back to soothe you through the aftershocks that run through your body.

You lean back and meet his gaze, an opportunity he takes to slip his cum-soaked fingers into his mouth. At that, you surge forward and kiss him, running your hands down his body to pull at the button of his jeans. He grunts into your mouth, brows furrowing at the release of pressure when you tug the zipper down.

You’re absolutely speechless when you finally pull his cock free. He watches in poorly concealed pride as you gawk at the length in your hand. You give him a slow and tedious tug, watching the foreskin roll over his head, forcing a bead of precum from the tip.

“You’re so…big,” you whisper breathlessly.

“I know,” he grunts, unable to hide the ebbs of pleasure you give him as you play with his cock.

“Cocky,” you tease softly, continuing with your soft touches.

“N-Not cocky,” he whispers, licking his suddenly dry hips, “Just aware of my size.”

You drop your eyes back down to his cock, hot and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don't even touch each other when wrapped around him. Precum drips from the tip, leaking down the side to meet your palm and aid in the movements.

He leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows. It wasn’t often that he got to indulge in someone else’s hand. Your palm was so soft, much softer than his own, and delicate in your inexperience.

He reaches down with one his hands, wrapping around yours to make you squeeze tighter, “Just like that, little one, that’s how I like it.”

You could have drooled as he said it. His hand dwarfed yours and the sight made you clench around nothing, more slick leaking into your already ruined panties.

“Let me see you, liebling,” he whispers breathlessly, fingers hooking on the hem of your top.

You release his cock to lift your arms, letting him tug the fabric over your head. His hands are on your tits immediately, mouthing at your nipples without wasting a second.

“So pretty,” he coos with his mouth full, rolling his tongue over your nipple before nipping the bud with his lips.

He switches to the other one, wrapping his mouth around it, sucking sharply before pulling back, taking your nipple with him before releasing it with a pop. You watch with lidded eyes as he drools all over your tits. His cock flexes and twitches against your thigh as he plays with your tits.

Suddenly, with a firm grip on your waist, your whole world flips and you find yourself on your back on the couch with König on top of you. You lick your lips at the sight of his big, broad form hovering above you, caging you in as he leans down to kiss you again.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth, threading your fingers through his short, messy hair, using the grip to pin him against you. He lets you kiss him to your heart's content, only pulling back when you need air – a string of spit connecting your lips that breaks when he leans back between your thighs.

His fingers took into the band of your pants, tugging them down, taking your panties with them until you’re completely bared before him. He’s still completely clothed aside from his cock that rests against his abdomen, occasionally twitching as his eyes rake over your nude body.

“Tell me, liebling,” he says, strong hands running up the length of your thighs, “Has anyone ever eaten you out?”

You clumsily nod your head.

“Was it good?” he asks, biting back a smile when you shake your head.

“Guys always think it’s gross or something…” you whisper softly.

He hums softly, “That is because you’ve been messing with stupid little boys.”

“You gonna eat me out, König?” you ask him, biting your lip in a poorly concealed excited grin.

“Would you like me to?” as he asks, he slowly spreads your legs open. The position causes your folds to spread apart, opening you up for his greedy eyes.

You feel your breathing speed up as he kisses down your body, starting with your lips and ending right above your clit. You feel the little bud twitch in anticipation as he tongues the skin above it, giving you a sneak peek on what is so close to it.

“Tell me,” he says.

You whine, “Y-Yes, I want you to eat me out, König!”

He chuckles softly but doesn’t bother teasing you anymore. He meets your gaze and moves his tongue lower finally, sliding the flat of the muscle of your clit. You gasp and toss your head back into the cushions, eyes rolling back as he noisily slurps at your cunt.

“O-Oh god!” you wail, hiccuping out noises of pleasure that you can’t seem to quiet.

König is in heaven. It’s not every day that he gets the opportunity to eat such a pretty, inexperienced little cunt. Your reactions to everything are so strong and loud. Your pussy is loud too, squelching in the room, making an intoxicating melody with your moans. He moans against you, swallowing down everything your messy little pussy drools out for him.

“Th-That feels so good, König!” you sob, kicking your feet mindlessly against his back as he captures your clit in his mouth, suckling at the bud, “You’re so good, so good, oh god!”

Never in a million years did you think being eaten out could feel this good. The mindlessly, halfhearted licks and kisses you had received in the past did nothing to prepare you for what it felt like to really have a man’s tongue on you.

He pulls away suddenly, giving you a moment to actually breathe, “You taste so sweet, liebling.”

“König…” you whimper, looking up at him with lidded eyes, “Please, please don’t stop.”

You tug at his hair and attempt to pull his mouth back down on your pussy. You don’t care how pathetic and desperate it is, he has given you a taste of pleasure you’d never experienced before.

He has the audacity to laugh at you, brushing your hands away so he can sit up straight again. He scoots closer and you realize then that he is not planning to continue and it practically draws a sob out of you.

“We can focus on that another time, liebling,” he promises, making you clench around nothing, more slick dribbling out for him to see, “You are so messy, you know that? Never had someone make such a mess all over me before. You must really enjoy being eaten out, huh?”

You feel your face burn hot with shame at his words, shyly hiding your face away. He smiles softly at that, “Nothing to be ashamed of, liebling…I love it, I do.”

“Really?” you quiver out the question and he nods his head.

“Yes, little one,” he coos, “I’m glad that I can make it feel good for you.”

You practically feel hearts in your eyes as he says that. You don’t think you’ve ever had a man tell you that he actually cared and enjoyed your pleasure. That was the final nail in the coffin for you – you really should have been going after older men all this time.

He disrupts your thoughts by suddenly stripping his shirt off. Your mouth goes completely dry at the sight of his bared skin – firm muscle, hair speckled all over his torso, and numerous scars from untold stories of his time in the military. You take note of the faded tattoos that become visible on his pecs and biceps; you’d always noticed the tattoos on his arms but you’d never really been given the opportunity to look.

“You’re so handsome,” you whisper.

He pauses while ridding himself of his jeans and smiles, “Thank you, little one.”

When he’s completely bare to you, you slowly rake your eyes down the entirety of his newly exposed body. His cock hangs heavy under its own weight, glimmering at the tip with his precum. You’d never been with a guy who was uncut but the sight made you drool.

“Now, liebling,” he says suddenly, getting your attention. He scoots closer, spreading your legs as wide as he can before laying the hefty weight of his cock against your cunt. It’s hot and throbbing and your entire body trembles at the sight, “You have to understand something.”

“What..?” you ask, breathless and unable to look away from his cock.

“I am not like those little boys you were running around with,” he explains, hips slowly beginning to rut against you, length parting your folds and rubbing over your clit, drawing a sweet little moan from you, “I don’t stick my cock in a tight little cunt and blow my load, do you know what I’m saying?”

You shake your head, too lost in the sight and feeling of him practically fucking the outside of your pussy. He doesn’t stop the mind-numbing rolls of his hips, letting you get lost in the feeling of him stroking over your clit, saturating him in your cum.

“That means,” he sighs, reaching up to grip your throat, forcing you to look at him as he leaned over your body, sandwiching his cock between the two of you, “I don’t cum easily, liebling. I am a grown man, I will fuck you until you cannot cum anymore. Are you prepared for that?”

The fact this man was so confident in his abilities in bed has you clenching around nothing again. You were sure the guys you almost slept with would never have been able to have the pure confidence that came from König. He knew what he was doing – he knew how to make you cum and he was going to use that experience well. You knew his age played a factor in how long it would take him to cum and you couldn’t wait to experience it.

“I want it so bad, König,” you beg softly, “Please?”

“Very good,” he praised, “You’re so good for me.”

He finally gripped the base of his cock and you watched excitedly as he pressed the tip against your entrance. You reached down and wrapped your arms around your knees, pulling them back for him so he could comfortably begin pressing into you.

The stretch is beyond anything you’d ever felt before. You knew his cock was big but watching the bulbous tip press against you and slowly spread you wide open was something else entirely. It burned in a way that had you wincing, furrowed brows making your face pinch up, making König pause.

“It’s okay, little one,” he whispers, bringing a big thumb up to roll over your hard little clit, “Just relax for me, don’t clench up or it will hurt more.”

“I-It’s so big, König!” you wail helplessly, tearily staring up at him as he methodically works you open on his cock.

“I know,” he assures, still stroking your clit with the pad of his thumb, “But you can take it.”

You tearfully nod your head and do your best to relax your body, letting yourself sink into the couch.

“Good, liebling, very good,” he coos, “Just let me in, nice and slow. Doesn’t it feel nice? The little burn of being stretched open but the pleasure of having this pretty little clit played with? Just lay back and enjoy it, little one.”

He’s right, of course. The burn aches, yes, but the pain and pleasure mixes the more he rubs your clit. You clench around him, an involuntary reaction that causes the head of his cock to finally pop in. Your eyes widen as you watch your cunt swallow it and with a perfectly timed tap against your clit, your back arches and you’re cumming.

“O-Oh König!” you squeal, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum around the head of his cock and nothing else.

“Oh, that’s good,” he grins, “That’s perfect, little one.”

As you come down with a tremble in your thighs, you finally fix your gaze on him once again.His eyes are lidded and pupils are blown so wide you can’t even tell they’re blue anymore.

“That looked like a good one,” he comments almost flippantly before he rolls his hips forward, “Now you’re nice and ready for me.”

You choke on a gasp as he rolls his hips forward, fitting half of his cock inside your still spasming cunt. Your cum coats him in a slick sheen that aides in allowing him to pull back and slide back in, settling on fucking you on half his cock.

Your mouth falls open and you watch as a thick, milky ring forms around that fat middle part of his shaft, “M-More, König! Please!”

He knows you want all of him, want to know what it’s like to feel all of him stuffed deep inside you. But he knows you’re not quite ready for that yet, fucked out of your head from the intense orgasm he had just given you with ease.

“Not yet, liebling,” he coos, keeping his pace slow and steady, “Let’s work you open a little bit more, yeah?”

“No,” you whine, “Please, I want it all, König.”

“Aww, I know you do, little one,” he pants, already feeling dizzy from spearing you on his cock, “But I know what’s good for you, just listen to me and be good, okay?”

“Okay…” you pitifully whimper, sinking back into the couch.

You abandon your hold on your legs, letting them rest around his hips limply now. He continues moving like that, inching deeper and deeper into you with every thrust. Your cunt makes embarrassingly loud squishing noises the move he works his hips against you.

Before you know it, you’re watching with wide eyes and an open mouth as his pelvis presses against yours. Your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl in pure pleasure as you finally experience the entirety of everything König has to offer.

You’re speared wide open and the head knocks against your cervix painfully but the little bit of pain only makes the pleasure that much sweeter.

“There we go, little one,” he coos sweetly, “I’m so proud of you, took all of my cock so well.”

He’s so big that he presses against every sweet little spot inside you without even trying. But, oh, his experience is crystal clear in the way he moves. He may be naturally gifted with a nice, fat cock but he knew how to use it.

Seamless, rhythmic thrusts had your brain going fuzzy before you even knew what was happening. You wouldn’t have been able to be quiet even if you wanted to. You knew you would be absolutely horrified to face your neighbors later because it would be impossible for them to not know you got fucked real good.

Suddenly, König leaned over you, resting one forearm above your head to hold his weight off of you. The position caused his pelvis against your clit every time he sunk balls deep. Sticky strings of your cum stuck to his skin but he didn’t seem to even notice how wet you were.

But, oh, he did. He was absolutely obsessed with the way you creamed and gushed around him. A nice, pliant little pussy that was more than eager to swallow every inch of his cock.

The change in position had you grappling onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you wailed into his shoulder. Every mind-numbing snap of his hips hit that gooey, tender spot inside you that had your entire body twitching from the pleasurable stimulation. Your nails bit into his back and he briefly thought about the prospect of his recruits seeing them.

“Are you going to cum for me?” he whispered in your ear, pressing a sweet kiss underneath your ear.

You nod your head, “Y-Yes! You’re gonna make me c-cum again, König!”

He chuckles under his breath, “I know I am, little one. I’m going to make you squirt.”

“C-Can’t,” you heave, twitchy legs kicking against his back.

“Yes, you can,” he assures, leaning away to sit up once again, “I can make you squirt, trust me.”

The whine you emit pitches into a squeal when he presses his palm against your lower stomach. You reached down in a panic to grab his wrist, not used to the strange feeling of him pressing down while he fucks you.

“W-Wait!” you wail.

“Wait for what?” he asks, but doesn’t slow even a bit in his movements.

“F-Feels weird!” you gasp, hiccuping as you squeeze his wrist.

“I know,” he grunts, brows furrowing at the feeling of you clenching around him, “It’s supposed to. Just lay back and let it happen, liebling. I’ve got you.”

Your whole body trembles and your jaw drops as you meet his gaze, a look of wonder crossing your face as you feel an orgasm like you’ve never felt before crash over your body. It’s long, drawn out and almost painful from how good it feels. You squeeze tight around him, your clit twitching and pulsing, completely untouched as he makes you squirt. It splashes against his abdomen and drips down his thighs.

“There we go,” he laughs, a sound that sends a flush of embarrassment to your face, “See? I told you you could do it.”

“König…” you slur, feeling as if you’ve been fucked completely braindead.

It finally dawned on you that you would never, ever be fucked by anyone as good as König has fucked you. The first cock you’ve ever been stuffed full of and he made you squirt with terrifying ease. You were completely ruined, no dick would ever be able to compare to his.

He sees the way your gaze turns completely enamored, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. He grins, sharp canines poking out as he leans down again, kissing your temple.

“What is it, baby?” he coos, “Dick so good it’s got you in love?”

You keen at the pure condescension that drips from his voice. But he’s not wrong, you can practically feel the hearts in your eyes as you gaze up at him.

You have no idea how long you’ve been pinned beneath him, speared open on his cock while he fucks you absolutely stupid. You notice the change in him quite suddenly. His deep, concentrated thrust changed into something less calculated, messy almost. He loses his rhythm and falters in his pace.

“I’m going to cum, liebling,” he grunts, tone pitchy and gruff, “Where do you want it?”

“Inside!” you immediately cry, not missing a beat. He sees your eyes light up at the prospect of being filled up completely by his cum. You’re so sure it’s going to be a lot, you want to feel it drip out of you as a reminder that he had claimed you.

“Is it safe?” he huffs, but you can feel his cock twitch inside you at the idea of cumming inside you.

You desperately nod your head and he allows himself to fall over that edge. He teeters on his knees before collapsing with his hands on either side of your head. He no longer tries to thrust, settling for desperate, deep grinds that stirs his cock within your walls. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling, another orgasm washing over you before you even realize you’re that close.

“Oh, fuck,” König gasps, voice breaking as your orgasm sends him over the edge.

You’re panting and whimpering, trembling as you feel the heat of his load filling you up. His cock twitches with every spurt of cum. It’s the best orgasm he’s had in a long time, his balls throbbing with every pump of cum his cock spits out.

It oozes from around the tight seal you have around him, dripping onto the couch. He’s trembling by the time the intense orgasm comes to an end. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them, to see you sleepily staring up at him with a dazed smile on your lips.

“Mein Gott…” he huffs out, lowering his body to press his lips against yours sweetly, “That was incredible, liebling.”

You beam under his praise and wrap your arms around his neck, “It was, wasn’t it?”

He chuckles and strokes his thumb against your cheek, “Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you agree.

The care he gives you afterwards is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. He wipes your body down gently, careful not to rub your skin too hard. He stands with you in the shower, towering over you as he lathers your exhausted body with soap.

“Can we do that again sometime?” You ask softly when he crawls into bed beside you – which you were shocked about, but didn’t complain.

He raises a brow and chuckles, “Yes, liebling. But not right now, I could not go another round so soon.”

You giggle and snuggle into his broad chest, practically preening when he wraps you up snug against him. You sigh softly and speak up again, “Can we…still go on that date..?”

He’s quiet for a moment before you feel a kiss on the top of your head, “Of course, liebling. I would love to.”

You smile to yourself and close your eyes, content to fall asleep wrapped up in his arms. The last thing you feel before you succumb to sleep is another soft kiss against your head. You realize, sleepily, that you’ve never felt more cared for by a man in your life.

property of rowarn; do not modify, repost, or translate.

#könig smut #könig x reader #konig smut #konig x reader #cod x reader #cod smut

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pucksandpower · 21 days ago

Text

Drunk in Love

Max Verstappen x fiancée!Reader

Summary: in which Max gets drunk, forgets that the two of you are literally engaged, confesses his love for you, and then gets reminded that his ring is on your finger … in that order

Based on this request

The lights from Jimmy’z spill out onto the sidewalk, a dizzying kaleidoscope of reds, purples, and blues. You stand just outside, arms crossed, as your phone buzzes for the third time in five minutes. It’s Daniel this time.

“Hey,” he says, voice just slightly too cheerful to be innocent. “So, uh, Max is-”

“I’m already here.”

“Oh, perfect. He’s …” Daniel hesitates, and you can practically see him scratching the back of his neck. “He’s just a little … spirited tonight.”

Spirited. That’s one way to put it.

You hang up before he can add anything else and glance toward the club entrance. Max stumbles out a few seconds later, propped up by Lando, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Max’s head lolls to the side, and when he spots you, his entire face lights up like you’ve just walked out of a movie.

“Hey!” He yells, voice loud enough to make a couple passing tourists glance over. “It’s you!”

You sigh, stepping forward to take him off Lando’s hands. “Thanks,” you mutter to the younger driver, who just grins.

“Good luck,” Lando says, clapping you on the shoulder before disappearing back into the club.

Max leans heavily on you, his arm slung over your shoulders. “You came for me,” he says, slurring slightly. “You’re like an angel. My angel.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, guiding him toward the car. “Let’s get you home, Max.”

He stops abruptly, digging his heels into the pavement. “No, wait.”

You look up at him, exasperated. “What?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Can it wait until we’re in the car?”

“No!” He insists, voice rising. “It’s important.”

You glance around, feeling the curious stares of a few people lingering nearby. “Okay, fine. What is it?”

Max wobbles slightly, gripping your arm like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes are glassy but serious as he looks at you. “I’m in love with you.”

You blink. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats, louder this time. Then, almost conspiratorially, he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Like, really love you. You’re … you’re perfect.”

“Max …” You hesitate, unsure how to respond.

“No, listen!” He says, pulling back to look at you. “You don’t understand. I’ve been in love with you for … forever. But I didn’t know how to say it, and now it’s too late, because you probably think I’m some idiot who-”

“Max,” you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. “We’re engaged.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“We’re engaged,” you repeat, holding up your left hand where the ring glints under the streetlights.

Max stares at it like he’s never seen it before. “No way.”

“Yes, way.”

His face splits into a grin so wide it’s almost childlike. “No. Way.”

“Yes, Max. We’re literally engaged. Have been for months.”

He takes your hand in his, squinting at the ring. “Holy shit. That’s a nice ring.”

You snort despite yourself. “You picked it.”

“I did?” He looks genuinely astonished.

“Yes, you did. And you cried when I said yes, remember?”

“I cried?”

“Like a baby.”

He lets out a delighted laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and bubbles all the way up. “I’m a genius,” he declares, throwing his arms in the air. “I got you to say yes!”

“Yes, Maxie. You did.”

He pulls you into a hug, nearly knocking you off balance. “I’m so lucky,” he mumbles into your hair. “Like, stupid lucky.”

“You’re also stupid drunk,” you point out, but there’s no bite to your words.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes wide and earnest. “Do you love me?”

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Of course I love you, you idiot.”

He beams at you, his happiness so pure it’s almost contagious. “Good. That’s good. Because I’m going to marry you.”

“Yes, Max. You are.”

“And I’m never going to mess it up.”

“Not if you keep calling me to pick you up from clubs at two in the morning.”

He looks horrified. “Wait, did I call you?”

“No,” you admit, “Daniel did.”

Max groans, burying his face in his hands. “That traitor.”

“Come on,” you say, tugging him toward the car. “Let’s get you home before you pass out on the sidewalk.”

As you help him into the passenger seat, he grabs your hand again, his grip surprisingly firm. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says, his voice softer now.

“I know,” you reply, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

He closes his eyes, a contented smile playing on his lips. “I’m going to marry the hell out of you,” he murmurs as you buckle him in.

You shake your head, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You already are.”

And as you pull away from the curb, he’s still grinning like he’s just won the championship all over again.

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rafesangelita · 7 months ago

Note

pogue!sweetheart!reader meeting rafe for the first time? 🍰

warnings: jealousy, topper calls you ‘doll’, a lil bit of flirting, slight fluff

“girl scout, two o’clock.” kelce cleared his throat, topper and rafe following his gaze. you stood at the receptionist desk, chatting with the director about your plans for the week. “is she really a girl scout?” rafe’s eyes trailed down the soft curls of your hair, stopping just above the neckline of your top.

“nah, we just call her that because she sells cookies and shit. ‘really good by the way, highly recommend.” kelce leaned back in his seat, forgetting all about the cards in his hands as you started making your way towards the three of them. rafe would be lying if he said the way his friends ogled you didn’t bother him.

“hey! what game are you guys playing?” you sat your basket down on the hardwood table, eyes flickering over to rafe. “just some solitaire.” topper shrugged, removing the cloth that covered your treats. “what do you got for us this week, doll?” if rafe was bothered earlier, he was even more so now.

you smiled, tilting the basket so they can all steal a peek. “shortbread and chocolate chip.” rafe didn’t care to look at anything else other than your face, his gaze sweeping over your features. “i’ve never seen you before.” he finally spoke up, his voice immediately drawing your attention.

“uhm, i don’t think i’ve seen you either..” you extended a hand, “what’s your name?” rafe didn’t hesitate to return your gesture, taking your hand in his. “rafe, and yours?” your heart skipped a beat when you felt his thumb stroke your skin. “y/-” kelce chimed in before you could answer his question.

“i’ll take two of each. and one of you.” rafe’s head shot in his friends direction, his grip on your wrist tightening. laughing nervously, you brushed off kelce’s remark. “actually, he’s not taking anything. i, however, would like the whole basket.” shaking your head, you waited for rafe to say he was kidding.

“oh! you’re serious-” rafe got up, taking the basket in his free hand as he led you two outside and away from his obnoxious buddies. “what the hell!” topper shouted. without protesting, you allowed rafe to take you to a more secluded space, your dainty heels clicking against the pavement.

“is everything okay? i-” rafe stopped in front of the country club’s garden. “do you have a boyfriend?” he blurted, making you stumble over your next few words. “uhm, well! no, but..” taking his wallet out of his pocket, rafe took a couple hundred dollar bills before cutting you off.. again.

“not that it matters if you do, cause i’ll just take his place.” the certainty in his voice made your face flush with a new profound sense of shyness. he placed the folded bills in your palm, a smile forming on his lips at your smitten expression. “how are you so sure that you’ll be my boyfriend?” you asked.

“because i always get what i want.”

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rainrot4me · 6 months ago

Text

Return The Favor

Summary: Stumbling in on your neighbor’s chopped up body, an unlikely friendship forms between you and Toby. Striking a deal, you agree to help the killer and his friends, buying them necessary prescriptions. But when one visit turns to multiple, Toby becomes curious, finding a not so subtle love note hidden away.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mentions of death, explicit description of a dismembered body, decomposition, death, gore, obsession, vomit, throwing up, blood (non-sexual), blood (sexual), vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, vaginal, choking, gagging, somnophilia, rough, Toby literally goes insane about you, virginity kink, first time, desperation

Words: 9.4k

A/N: This shit long asl I'm so sorry... Characters in this story are not canonical!

It’s said that when there’s a dead body nearby, your body can sense it before your brain can.

It’s almost like instinct, a survival nature programmed into your brain. It’ll start with goosebumps and chills running all over your body as if you were being watched, this uncomfortable sensation that you just can’t rationalize. Then the anxiety sets in, body aching and sweating for no apparent reason but it just knows there’s something wrong.

Finally, when you’ve finally choked it up to just being your imagination, that’s when you’ll smell it. Throat instantly closing and nostrils flaring at the putrid stench of rot and gore. It’s incomparable, no amount of food poisoning or disease compares to the sickness you feel in your stomach at the smell of a human body decomposing. Every instinct in your body pleading and begging you to get out of there, run as far away until you can’t breathe anymore.

You would know. And it seemed like the boy huddled in front of you did too.

There was no real reason for you to even be in this house in the first place, but your all-too-good heart guilted you into it. You had just come home from work, mind tired and body sleepy as you unlocked your front door, tossing your bag onto the kitchen table inside. It was well past midnight, the diner you worked at closing way later than normal, but at least you made some good tips.

Sliding into your bedroom, you changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your hair back before stepping into your kitchen. You gripped the tiny journal lying on the counter, cracking the worn pages open to where you left off, scribbling your thoughts onto the paper. It was your nightly routine, journaling things you saw or did, a coping mechanism suggested by your therapist. It wasn’t for anything intensive, just minor anxiety and self-image problems, always having negative thoughts about yourself. It helped. Glancing up, you looked through the tiny window above your sink, a clear view of your neighbor’s back porch, Mr. Higgs, an older man who made it very difficult to be friendly. He was a hateful guy, always nitpicking your choice of decorations or specific outfits he didn’t find appropriate. A real sweetheart, obviously.

But compared to his usual eight PM lights out, the living room lamp was still bright, shining directly through his open back porch door. That was odd. As long as you had known this guy, it wasn’t like him to be up this late, let alone be outside. Every instinct told you to just clean up and go to bed, his angry ass probably scooting off a raccoon or something. But you just couldn’t pass up that nagging feeling, your kindheartedness overpowering you. So, sighing, you tossed a hoodie on and slid out your back door, stepping down the porch steps into the cool grass.

You flinched as a flash of brown passed your vision, small and thin against the dark grass. Cooing, you kneeled down, holding your fingers out as Mr. Higg’s old cat, Addy, sniffed the air around you, pressing against your bare legs as she purred. The man was way too protective of his cat. Something was definitely wrong.

Standing again, Addy pranced away, meowing loudly behind you as your bare feet became wet against the midnight dew, grass sticking to your ankles as you walked, arms hugging yourself against the cold. This would probably just end with you getting told to mind your business and stomping back to bed upset, but it was the thought that counted. Gripping onto the porch rail, you stepped up his creaky wooden porch, knocking against the wooden frame of the open door.

“Mr. Higgs? Everything alright?” You called into the room, refusing to go in. There was no response, you knocked again after a couple of seconds. Still nothing. You gulped, rubbing your arms against your sides, nerves wracking you. “Okay. I’m coming in. Don’t get mad 'cause you didn’t answer me.” You called again, pressing past the door and wiping your wet feet on the welcome mat.

The house was quiet, the only light being the lamp sat on a coffee table adjacent to the old couch. All the furniture had an older look like something out of the eighties, it made you cringe. “Mr. Higgs, are you home?” You shouted down the dark hallway, all the doors shut except for one at the end which you assumed to be his room. Hugging yourself, your legs felt anxious, your mind racing with all the reasons you shouldn’t walk down there. There was no reason for it, this was all just probably some old guy who forgot to shut his door, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

Taking a step down the hallway, that’s when it started. Those feelings, like your body can feel shouldn’t be there. The air suddenly grew thick, a nauseating feeling setting in against your chest, pressing down like a conscious weight. But you shook it off, telling yourself it was just you scaring yourself with all of those crime shows, but you should’ve known better.

The door was cracked, moonlight from the open shades pressing against the doorframe, your hand flat against the wood as you pushed the door open. Then came the smell. It was stout, a putrid funk that wafted against the walls, souring the room. The room was dark, pupils blown wide as they fought to see, hand sliding against the wall and searching for a light switch. Your body was tense, senses on high alert against the dark, breathing ragged against the awful stench filling your senses. Your eyes were beginning to water, wondering what in the hell could be stinking this terribly, until you felt the switch, flipping it on.

Your first instinct was to throw up, throat constricting and stomach tightening, but you just couldn’t move. You were petrified by the scene in front of you. Mr. Higgs was there, at least, what you could recognize of him. His head had been cleaved from his body, intensive amounts of blood staining his beige bedsheets. His cheeks were bloated, a gnarly purple color as his veins poked against his forehead, skin wrinkled and soaked in blood as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. They were yellow now, dark veins contrasting against the orbs as puss leaked from every hole on his expressionless face. The rest of his body was scattered, chunks of muscle shredded from his arms and hands like they had been cut off, legs more or less the same. His wide stomach was completely visible, his skin swollen and dark, bloated against the same liquids spilling from his pores. The blood was the worst part. It was just everywhere. Splattered on the sheets, the nightstand, even the walls, specks reaching the roof. You were so lost in your racing thoughts, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you gripped the door tightly, knuckles white on the frame. You could feel the cold sweat drip down your brow, utter fear chilling your body.

You wouldn’t have even noticed the tall boy standing in the corner if he hadn’t flinched, eyes wide and locked on you. He was lanky, easily taller than you and pale. No, not pale, more gray. He had curly brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, his freckled cheeks flushed against the bandages across his jaw. A pair of goggles rested amongst his curls, a dark mask covering his nose and mouth. He wore dark wash jeans loose around his hips and a heavier brown hoodie that was stained with dark blood. Oh God. The boy didn’t look much older than you despite his bruise battered skin. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just watching.

His hands were behind his back, shoulders scrunched against the corner of the dark walls as you pressed back off the door frame, breathing ragged. “Who the hell are you?” You grimaced, tone coming across a lot more confident than you felt. The boy flinched, not out of fear, more like a bodily reaction. He refused to answer, eyes scanning around quickly until he pressed off the wall, sliding to the shuttered window and pinching the blinds open, scanning the night without explanation. That’s when you heard loud boots stepping up the porch steps, head spinning quickly down the hallway. “Shit.” You heard him, the boy’s voice panicked and rough, his boots stepping quickly across the hardwood and into your vicinity. Panic strained you, head spinning back quickly before your vision was filled with his arms wrapping around you, palm slapping over your mouth as he pressed you to his chest.

You tried to fight back, mumbled pleas against his hand as you shouldered his arms, your back pressed firmly against him. He was dragging you into the room, your feet dragging as you struggled, clawing his arms away but he never budged, practically unaware of the scratches you were leaving on his hands. “F- Fuckin’ quit-” He growled quietly, pressing open the small closet doors and dragging you both in, quickly shutting the door as you heard the boots grow louder down the hallway. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door, leaving you just enough room to see the gorey scene as you pressed off of him, his muscled arms refusing to let you go.

“Toby?” A scratchy voice called into the room, the figure stepping through the door frame and into your line of sight. At his appearance, you froze completely, your body tense against the boy behind you. His arms gripped tighter, bandaged fingers digging into your cheek as he kept you quiet. He was horrifying.

This man was taller than the one in the closet with you, pasty skin a sharp contrast against his dark messy hair. His eyes were wide, pupils dark against his reddened scleras. He wore a white hoodie, dark jeans covered just the same with Mr. Higg’s blood. But the worst part, the part that made your heart pump in your throat, was his smile. It was etched in, flesh torn upwards into a mocked smile, teeth exposed from the side of his cheek. The area was mangled, seemingly unhealed as blood dried against the cut. He almost made Mr. Higgs seem not that bad.

“Twitch, come on,” He called again, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket as he strolled around the room, kicking Mr. Higg’s severed foot out of the way. “I’m gettin’ tired. This guy had some good beers and I’m tryna get back home and drink ‘em.” He snickered, turning back out of the room and back down the hallway, his loud boots stomping against the old floors. Who you presumed to be Toby didn’t let you go, arms just as tight around you as you gripping his hoodie’s sleeves tight. “Fine then! If you’re gonna play fuckin’ hide and seek then I’m leavin’ your ass here!” He called throughout the house, your body only untensing when you heard the back porch door slam shut, loud boots thunking down the porch and out of earshot.

You both waited a couple of seconds, heart thudding in your ears as arms slowly released you, palm unclasping from your mouth. Panicked, you slammed out of the closet, turning around quickly and facing Toby, back pressed against the nearest wall as you searched for something to defend yourself with. “D- Dumbass.” He grit, pressing out of the cramped closet and facing you, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. The stench of the room pressed harder than ever, making your head dizzy as you pressed out of the room and down the hallway, Toby quick on your heels. “Whoever the fuck you are, whatever the fuck you want, I’m sure Mr. Higgs didn’t have it. Why in God’s name is he in pieces in his bedroom?” You hissed, gagging as the image replayed in your mind, turning into his kitchen and wracking the cupboards. When you found a small plastic cup, you ran water in through the sink, chugging the stout liquid down as you calmed your breathing. Toby stayed in the doorframe, crossing his arms. You probably shouldn’t have let your guard down, knowing full and well what he had just down to your neighbor, but you figured if he was going to he would have already.

“It’s none of y- your business. I don’t k- kill innocents, so you s- shoulda just stayed home, m- missy.” He growled back, stuttering through the words. You tossed the cup in the sink, the plastic clattering against the metal as you turned to face him, running your hands through your hair. “Hard to when you guys so obviously left his door open. The bastards hounded me for years, you’d think I’d be happy about his death, but not fucking like that.” You hissed, leaning back against the counter and crossing your arms, bare feet cold against the porcelain tiles. “I mean, Jesus. And I mean, thanks and all for the save back there, but how is killing him and saving me any different? It’s just favoring one innocent over another.” Toby shook his head, sliding past you and tugging a drawer open, shovelling through old receipts until he found the stack he was searching for. He passed it to you, paper crinkling as you skimmed through, old pharmacy receipts for prescription medicine.

“H- Had the old bastard bu- buying our meds. Paid h- him off and everything. Un- Until he started g- giving us coun- counterfeits, sellin’ u- us out. He h- had to pay u- up somehow…” He huffed, shoving his mask down off of his nose and under his chin, his thin lips chapped against the bandages hugging his cheeks. And of course, he was cute.

“So he gets shredded?” You had to breathe through that sentence, throat tight with nausea. Toby nodded, a small smirk crooking at the corner of his lips. You grimaced, pressing off of the counter and through to the living room, the old furniture seeming a lot less homey now. You were going home, filing a police report, and praying to God these fuckers didn’t come back to get you instead.

“U- Uh, might wa- wanna clean up, t- too,” Toby chuckled from behind you. You paused, confused as you looked around, stomach twisting as you looked down. Bloody footprints trekked through the kitchen behind you, a trail leading to your bare feet as you lift your knee, gagging at the sight of Mr. Higg’s blood coating your soles. Toby was laughing, the noise muffled against the ringing in your ears as you hunched over, stomach convulsing as you puked on the hardwood floors, your lunch from work coming back up. Head straining, you panted, wiping your lips. “Oh, s- shit, okay.” Toby hissed, sliding to your side and raising you up, hugging you close to his side. He drug you through the door, stomach still churning as you watched your footprints faintly appear beneath you, purposefully dragging them through the grass to get the blood off. You felt disgusting, giving no fight as Toby brought you to your porch steps, helping you up. He was so bipolar, angry and distasteful for one second, then cautious and endearing the next. It really was like you were dealing with a teenager.

Addy circled your ankles, her dense fur tickling your skin and making you jump, Toby gripping your arms tighter. “Oh, hi kitty.” You cooed, breathing deep as you kneeled down, scooping her up into your arms as Toby helped you up the rest of the steps. Without asking, he slid open your screen door, helping you both inside as Addy purred against your chest, Toby wary as he stared at her. You dropped her on the floor gently, Toby sliding the door shut as you hunched over your sink, cleaning your mouth and grabbing a rag for your feet. Toby still eyed Addy, fidgeting his nails as he followed her. “Ever seen a cat before? She was Mr. Higg’s.” You chuckled, cleaning the soles of your feet off and tossing the rag into the sink, still feeling unclean. Toby nodded, rubbing his arms nervously as he looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Us- Used to have one. T- They kinda sc- scare me now.” Smiling, you scooped Addy up again, petting her soft fur as you brought her close to the boy, his neck twitching nervously.

How could this guy shred a man to pieces, but petting a cat was too frightening for him? You couldn’t understand. Digressing, you gripped his wrist, steadying the twitches as you placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently as Toby flinched, breathing quickly. Addy purred, unbothered by the action as he became more comfortable, fingers playing with her fur before he pulled his hand back, breathing deep.

You were too nice for your own good, too easy at giving the benefit of the doubt. Of course, you would find the redeemable traits in a murderer, heart hurting for this boy who was more or less the same as you. Groaning, you dropped Addy, crossing your arms. “Listen. What you did, it’s… For my own conscience, I can’t let it happen again.” You grit, circling your countertop and sitting on a stool, your journal tucked in front of you as you fidgeted with the pages. “If we can agree, I’ll buy your meds. I have a friend who can write me prescriptions, no questions asked. But I need you to understand, under no circumstances, are you allowed to harm me. I’ll call the cops.” Like the cops could stop these lunatics. But, you needed some type of leverage.

Toby thought quietly, eyes narrowed as he flinched uncomfortably against Addy rubbing on his shins, purring loudly. If you could hold your end, there would be no trouble, but he had to know he could rely on you. “Th- The meds aren’t for m- me. My f- friends, they need ‘em to function, m- mentally… You g- gotta realize this is- is serious.” Even stuttering his voice was stern, arms crossed as he thought, contemplating. You nodded, brushing your hair from your face as you groaned, realizing how desperately you needed to learn to set boundaries. “I can get them. But you have to keep your end, too.” You hissed back, pinching your fingers nervously. Toby smiled, crossing his heart, literally. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, rubbing your face as you groaned. What the fuck were you even doing?

“I’ll have them by the end of the week. Come later at night, cops’ll be swarming for weeks thanks to you.” Toby nodded, sliding over to the counter and gripping your journal, tearing a page out as he wrote the list of prescriptions you would need to get. It was a hefty list, some of that shit intense. “Abou- About that,” He slid his mask up over his nose, sliding the screen door open as he stepped out, chuckling. “Do- Don’t go outside. Gonna ma- make it look like a g- gas leak.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he shut the screen, sliding his hood over his head and peeling down the porch steps. Finally taking a deep breath, you stared at Addy, wondering what in the absolute fuck you were doing. Rest in hell, Mr. Higgs.

He made it look like a gas leak alright. The house was on fire in minutes, the bright orange flames lighting your room as you heard sirens in the distance, your other neighbors gathered outside their houses as you climbed into bed, groaning your displeasure. Cops and firefighters swarmed for days afterwards, investigating the area thoroughly, but never finding any remains of Mr. Higgs, his body buried somewhere far away. They eventually grew restless, the city quickly cleaned up the charred remains of the house and a new plan for construction was set in soon. It went over smoothly, no one even suspecting a thing.

The days passed slowly, nervousness building as the end of the week grew closer, feet shuffling as you stood in line at the pharmacy. You got the doctor’s notes easily, already called in and waiting to be picked up as you were handed a small paper bag, the pharmacist eyeing you closely as you hurried out. Once in your car, you rummaged the sack, eyes wide as you read the dosage instructions on each little pill bottle. You read each bottle carefully, cringing at the names of the contents: Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, and even Aripiprazole. They were all high-end antipsychotics, the list of treatments for schizophrenia and mania, along with treatment-resistant depression. The last bottle caught your eye, a quick Google search told you it was for tourette's. So his twitching wasn’t just nervousness, huh. Shoveling the sack into your bag, you sped home, Toby well on his way as the sun set low.

The first week was easy, Toby in and out without so much as a hello, nodding his thanks as he bolted back into the woods, eyes dark and heavy. It was easy for you, moving along with your life despite the one night of the week. You felt easier, the boy quick about his stops with some chat, but never hanging around for too long, eyes always scanning the tree line nervously.

As weeks passed, he grew more comfortable, you learned that he was quick about stopping due to his friends, their curiosity about you making him nervous about losing his ‘dealer.’ You learned to leave his meds on the counter, sometimes not even present when he would sneak in at the late hours of the night, your job taking precedence over your sleep schedule. But with all of this money being spent weekly on medicine, you had to pick up more time at work, everything being paid for out of pocket not to raise suspicion. You were sleeping more, journaling and your hobbies taking less importance until they were practically nonexistent. It was hard, your serving heart refusing to let you rest, making sure Toby got his medication is the most important thing. You were strained, to say the least.

However, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks, Toby wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He had slid in like he always did, you sat at the counter eating your dinner as you scribbled through the pages of your notebook, summing up the previous days. You were exhausted, Toby making you jump slightly as he shut the screen door, rummaging through the paper sack. “G- Got any more?” He grinned shyly, sliding his mask and goggles off and tossing them onto the counter. You nodded to the fridge, an extra container of leftovers from the diner quickly opened in front of him as he shoveled it into his mouth. “It’s better heated up,” You laughed, shutting your journal as you slid off the stool, gripping the to-go container from him and popping it into the microwave. You both sat there awkwardly, Toby kneeling down to rub Addy’s back as she appeared beneath him, soft purrs echoing. He was still nervous, never petting her for too long before standing back up, the microwave beeping. The food came out steaming, sliding open a drawer and handing him a fork, Toby continued to shovel the food into his mouth. You hissed, holding his arm as the steaming food sizzled inside his mouth, it had to be burning him. “Oh. Y- Yeah, I don’t fe- feel pain. Th’s good, tho- though.” He grinned, slurping up more of the food. He acted like he hadn’t had warm food in forever, stuffing his face and barely giving himself time to chew. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he ate.

The stays became longer after that, his excuse being he was hungry, continuously raiding your fridge until you began to have food ready for him, prepping his meals along with your own. Thirty minutes turned to an hour, to two hours, and then eventually through the night. He would crash on your couch, Addy curled in his lap as the television blared some old movie. That was one of the only times you didn’t see him ticcing, the cat acting as an anchor against his restless body. He looked truly comfortable, using your blankets and pillows to his advantage, beginning to invite himself to stay the night after a while.

You sat at the counter, Toby snoring loudly as he laid face first into the couch pillow, scribbling into your journal. It was the one thing you had time for, having to get up early for work as the soft glow of the kitchen light lit the pages. Toby was practically pushing himself into your life, his lack of manners and curious mannerisms leading him to take initiative. You were grateful for his friendliness, giving great detail of his missions with his friends and explaining that whole situation. Even still, you were wary.

But against your better judgment, your relationship with the killer was becoming less transactional. He brought you things to make for dinner, talked with you through your mutual sleepiness, and even took care of Addy when you were too delusional after work. For lack of a better word, he was becoming a friend, showing up for more than just his medication, even sometimes forgetting the bag and having to chase him down. He was infesting your life, arriving earlier than he should and leaving later than you cared for. The end of the week was becoming optional, the screen of your porch door sliding open nearly every night of the week Toby didn’t have a mission. It was annoying but in a comforting way, like you both were becoming closer naturally despite your differences.

As you heard his snores, you groaned, rubbing your tired eyes as you began to write, letting your pencil guide on the page numbly as you wrote your thoughts. It wasn’t directed at Toby on purpose, but the further you got down the page the further your heart sank, hand fisted in your hair as you rested your elbow on the cold marble counter. “Ah, Jesus…” You grit, scribbling the final few words as you lean back, rubbing your head. The words weren’t lies, more of a hard truth you weren’t willing to accept, chalking it up that you were just tired and desperate. The words could have been about Toby, or they could have been about anyone, you didn’t really care. Sighing, you tore the page out, folding it and shoving it into the back of the book, closing the pages quickly. Sleep sounded much easier as you flipped the kitchen light off, turning the volume of the television down as you trudged upstairs to your room, giving one last glance to the snoring boy and his matching cat.

Toby knew his mishaps with you, his moral compass long forgotten the more time he spent inside your home. He told himself it was just easier, food and shelter at his disposal whenever, but he knew better. It was so much more than just picking up medicine for Tim and Brian now, it was a solid relationship, a bond that was forming in his eyes.

It had been almost four months since the unfortunate death of your neighbor, a smile creeping every time he saw the charred flecks of wood buried in the overgrown grass. You had begun to leave the back door unlocked, reasoning that someone breaking and entering would be less of a hassle than him. That was what Toby really hooked onto the most about you, your humor about everything. Despite your hardships and the emotions you had to overcome, you held a caring heart, compassion always lacing every action. He found it admirable, your humor through your busy life. And, likewise, he did feel bad for making you work so much, tired eyes always hurting his heart whenever you were around. But, it wasn’t like he could get a job, so he helped where he could, cleaning and learning to cook for your sake. He needed this medicine, for his friend’s and his own stability, even at your expense.

You were already nestled at your spot on the counter, writing your thoughts in that damn journal. You barely even looked up as he entered, diving for the fridge as he scooped up Addy with one arm, her purs a nice vibration against his shoulder. Popping the container in the microwave, he leaned in over your shoulder, trying to catch a glance at your scribbling before you shoved him off, closing the book quickly. “Ah, ah, mind yours.” You smiled, forking your own food into your mouth. “O- Oh come on, [Y/N], just a pe- peak.” He smiled back, gathering his food as he began to eat, sliding onto his familiar spot on the couch. It was routine now: where you sat, what he watched, what you both talked about. He explained his latest mission with Masky in more detail than you enjoyed, pushing your food away as you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You both laughed throughout the night before you whisked your food into the fridge, calling your goodnights before heading upstairs.

Toby continued to watch the television, brushing Addy’s back with his bandaged fingers as he sat his empty container to the side. His curiosity nudging him, he raised up, tossing his trash before he slid to the counter, you all too confidently leaving your journal there. Slipping back onto the couch, he began to flip through the pages, listening closely for your footsteps as he read your entries, smiling as they dated all the way back to your high school years.

It seemed as though everything you thought spilt onto these lines, emotions erratic between every page as he realized just how much of a people pleaser you really were. All through your recent years, it was nothing but service, acting through the goodness of your soul until it felt sickening, fake almost. He cringed, flipping quickly through but finding nothing juicy, no deep dark secrets that he felt were interesting. Sighing, he closed the journal, standing to set it back onto the counter, until a slip of paper fell from between the pages. Smiling, Toby leaned down, arms twitching as he slid the journal back onto the counter, leaning against the marble as he flipped the paper open, reading carefully.

“Sometimes, when I think about it too hard, I get all emotional about myself. I know I put on a front, like everything I do I’m in charge of and can handle, always putting everyone around me first. But what if I wanted to be put first? I do so much for the sake of others but it never seems to be returned, never compensated for the mental strain. Well, maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be loved like I see others, rough and real. I have no clue how I even would, I can barely handle touching myself before I'm overwhelmed. But I just want someone else to take the reins, show me that I don't have to work my brain so hard and can just numb out. That's not too much to ask, right? Just someone who can love me, not some creep or one night thing, someone who cares. If I never ask for anything again, that would be it. Someone who wants me for me.”

He could have died. The brunette’s cheeks dark as he re-read the crumbled page, excitement coursing through him. In his mind, he wanted to storm upstairs and just rattle you then, showing you how good he could treat you. It was like a bomb had gone off, Toby having to pretend like him having a crush on you wasn’t achingly obvious, convincing himself he just didn’t know how to act around women. But now it was clear, his mind racing with a million wants and needs, body spasming under the excitement.

Convincing himself to leave, he slipped the note into his pocket, body buzzing with excitement as he slid out your door. He would be back, like always. But this time, he would show you what you truly needed, what only he could give you.

Like always, Toby left a note for the medication you needed to pick up, it sometimes changing week to week. Everything looked normal, the usual combination of pills reading off. But as you scanned the bottom, you groaned, shoving the paper into your pocket. Trilafon, Saphris, and… Plan B. As if your desperation for some affection couldn’t have gotten much worse, your heart twisted, a lump growing. Whether it be for some girl he was laying or a girlfriend he already had, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to get the medicine and go. Crawling into your bed sounded like a much more exciting activity than dwelling on the brunette, heart saddened in all the way you knew it shouldn’t.

To make your night even better, Toby didn’t show. It wasn’t unusual, for him sometimes not to show up for days due to extensive missions. But a part of you longed to see him, especially after today, just to help your mind with the whole morning-after pill situation. So now, instead of imagining him surrounded by his friends on a mission, you imagined him towering over a girl. Strong arms holding her, body contorting to fit against hers… You could’ve been sick, shaking your head as you ate quickly and pressed upstairs, barely petting Addy before you slinked into bed, hauling the covers over your head.

It was lonely on nights without his presence in your house. But especially tonight, thoughts racing uncontrollably to the point of tears, thick droplets streaking down your face as your chest hurt, longing for a body, any body, to hold close to yours. Maybe you really were just a transactional thing.

Toby smiled as he trekked through the familiar stretch of woods to your house, heart racing in his chest. He had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to do, his cock already twitching in his jeans.

He hadn’t shown up tonight on purpose, hanging back at the mansion to take the best shower he could, Ben teasing him about how good he smelled as he was leaving. You had to be well in bed by now, body tired after working all day just for him. He would take care of you, showing just how grateful he was for how much you were giving up just for his friends and him. Pressing past the tree line, he smiled, pulling his hood down as all the lights in your home were out, signaling your retirement.

Pressing up the steps, he slid the screen door open quietly, careful not to alert you as he clicked it shut. Stripping his hoodie, he tossed it onto the couch, Addy purring light against the cushions. It was warm in your house, black t-shirt hugging his arms as he untucked it from his jeans, climbing up the steps, his mask and goggles quick to come off next.

He was too excited for his own good, boots stepping quietly against the old hardwood as he slinked to your door, fidgeting with the knob. A rush of your scent blew into his face, your perfume stout in your small bedroom, eyes searching around in the dark space for your bed. It wasn’t hard with your breathing, quiet snores making him smile as he leaned against your mattress, admiring your unawareness. You looked so peaceful, his bandaged fingers tracing your cheeks and brushing your hair from your face, your skin flinching under his touch. “Hi, baby…” He whispered, the pet name sounding right against his tongue as he referred to you, tugging the sheets down.

Toby always knew how nice of a body you had, you sometimes sauntering around the house with shorts and a t-shirt and making his eyes trail just a little longer than normal. But now, under his cold hands, you were even more gorgeous. You were wearing an oversized shirt, a slight tug at the fabric revealing that you only had panties on underneath, you slightly stirring as his nails brushed your skin. The brunette was excitedly jittering, kicking his boots off as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at your curled body sound asleep. You shifted, rolling onto your back as you breathed deep, stretching your arms before settling back into yourself. Toby could have died, your legs stretching out to rest around him, his cock twitching with interest against your now visible panties. A quiet sigh breathed through your lips.

That was all the invitation he needed. Running his cold hands under your shirt, he felt your warm skin and goosebumps rising as you squirmed under them. Your brows scrunched but Toby pressed further, running his fingers along your waist and up to your tits, palming the mounds gently as he smiled. It was crazy to him just how soft your skin was, not weathered or bruised from missions or nature, perfectly smooth under his axe-calloused hands. Pushing your shirt up to your chest, he gasped at your round tits, the weight so perfect in his hands as he pinched at your nipples, rubbing the nubs gently. Toby was never very sure of anything, always brushing through life at the command of others. But the one thing he was sure about? His love for boobs, especially yours.

Nudging closer between your legs, he rested your knees on his thighs, leaning down to your chest as he popped a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently. The nub was hard against his tongue, slowly circling as he massaged the opposite one in his palm, pinching your nipple gently. That’s when you began to stir, hands sliding against the bed and unconsciously searching for the cause of your sensitivity. Lazy hands pushed against his face, soft groans echoing in the boy’s ears as he popped off your nipple and moved to the next one. Your hands fingered through his hair, tugging lightly until your eyes were beginning to flutter, your mind slowly coming alive. Toby let off your tit, kissing along your chest and licking a stripe between your tits, humming as he watched your eyes slowly blink open, confusion rocking you. He kneaded your tits gently, tugging at your nipples as you realized what was happening, eyes slowly widening as you strained to sit up against him. “Toby? Wha-” Your voice was scratchy, ridden with exhaustion as the brunette kissed up your neck to your cheeks, pushing you back down as he slotted himself flush between your legs. Slowly realizing what was happening, your cheeks flushed dark, hands pressing against his chest as you squirmed, nervously babbling as your body was still half asleep. “Lay b- back, baby… You’re so ti- tired, let me take c- care of you…” Toby sighed, running his hands back down along your skin, relishing in the way your body nervously shook under him.

You physically could not believe what was happening. This had to be a dream, some sick trick your mind was playing as you felt cold fingers hook under your panties, sliding them down. Heavy eyes wide, you grabbed his arms, clenching your thighs together against his waist. “No- No, wait- I don’t even, I mean, I’ve never-” Toby was already shushing you, gripping your wrists together and kissing your palms before pushing them back down to your sides, resuming his tug down your thighs. “I’ve go- got you. Don- Don’t gotta worry about a- a thing…” He smiled, raising your legs up to slide your panties down the rest of the way, hooking them off of your raised ankles before pulling you down closer to him, pushing your shirt over your head. “Read y- your journal, you don- don't gotta act protective, ba- baby. I know this is what y- you want…” If you weren’t already panicking, you definitely were now.

You wanted to hound him for snooping through your journal, mouth opening to tell him off. But as his fingers brushed against the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds, you lost all train of thought. He was watching you, eyes excited in the darkness of your room as he swiped his thumb closer again, your thighs flinching shut. “Anyone else e- ever touched here before?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb against your plump lips and tugging them open, getting a nice look at the wetness that was already forming between your folds. Shaking your head, Toby lit up, cock pushing hard against his jeans as he had to adjust his position, using both hands to pull your lips apart, sighing at how pretty your cunt was. Just something about knowing that Toby was claiming his stake on you, imprinting his touch for the first time before anyone else could, made something deep inside of him burn. It wasn’t like the brunette got much play himself, hooking up with a girl here and there, but being your first? That already made this so much better than any other girl could even try.

Sliding his fingers through your wetness, you gasped, hands clutching the pillow behind your head as he groaned, spreading your arousal across your lower abdomen. You whined, thighs begging to clench together as he purposefully slid your juices over your cunt, pressing his thumb down against your swollen clit and jolting your back off the mattress. You had only ever masturbated here and there, your body getting too overwhelmed after one orgasm and forcing you to stop, but would Toby stop? As he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, you doubted his restraint.

“Please be gentle…” You warned, hands planting on the mattress as you sat up, resting on your elbows as you watched Toby bring his digits back down to your cunt. He rolled his eyes playfully, tugging your folds open with his opposite hand as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your entrance, pressing in slowly. “I’ll try…” He laughed, your fingers gripping the sheets tight as you watched his fingers sink in slow, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. His index and middle fingers screwed into your tight walls gently, twisting his wrist to draw a moan from your lips, digits spreading against your gummy walls and making your entrance ache. “Just i- imagine my dick in here…” He cooed, eyes darting between your nervous face and your pretty cunt fluttering around just his fingers, barely even handling them.

Pressing his opposite thumb against your clit, he began to rub in small circles, dragging your hips further and further off of the mattress until you were practically rolling your hips against him. His fingers probed in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, just enough to make you comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion, but his arms ached to go faster, curl his fingers until you spasmed. “Toby…” You sighed, his hands moving in time with other as he screwed his fingers inside of you, angling them just enough so they pressed against your tight walls. His name sounded like heaven against your aroused tongue, so quiet but so desperate, secretly drawling for more. “Tell me w- what you want, ba- baby…” The pet name made your face hot, your stomach fluttering as you pressed back into the pillows, running your hands down to your thighs and squeezing the flesh. “I want… more…” You sighed through your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around Toby’s cold fingers, sucking them back inside every time he drew them out. The brunette laughed, pushing his feet under him to push his hips up against your ass, your hips raising off the bed as he fingered down into you. You could feel his cock straining behind his jeans below your raised ass, twitching needily with every tug of his fingers and moan that whined from your throat. His size was overwhelming, making your heart pound as Toby began to curl his fingers, making your eyes shut quickly.

His fingers pressed so deep in your cunt, curling against your sensitive walls and making your jaw hang, beginning to press against your walls at a steady rhythm. It was like a new fire had lit under Toby, fingers screwing in at a quicker pace and making your stomach clench, face screwing into an overwhelmed feeling. His fingers pumped in, knuckles sinking in through your wetness and gripped by your gummy walls, curling his fingertips just right as he got deep. It was so intense, so rough, just a mess of slick and your wet cunt sounding through the room with every squelch as he abused your clit, swiping left and right quickly. Your thighs twitched and ached with every curl, trying to close around his hand practically fucking you into sensitivity. Your hands wrapped around his forearm quickly, begging his wrists to stop curling abusively inside of you as you tugged your nails into his skin. Toby wouldn’t, continuing to pump his fingers as he stared at your flushed face, cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. “Just a l- little more… Co- Come on…” He groaned, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milked moans and whines out of you, his fingers glistening with your arousal every time he tugged them out. He couldn’t feel you clawing at his arms, loud groans begging him to let up as your cunt clenched, molding around his thick fingers.

You could feel your orgasm rolling through you, Toby huffing as the veins in his arms popped, his shoulder muscles straining against his shirt as he watched your face carefully, picking up as your moans became louder. “Gonna come f- for me? Yeah?” He teased, clothed cock twitching against your ass, pushing your cheeks apart as he rutted against you. He curled his fingers quicker, mumbling his arousal as he watched your cunt swell around him, clit throbbing under his thumb. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, stomach tightening and forcing you to sit up, Toby was quick to let off your clit and wrap his arm around your back, holding you up as he pumped your through your cunt squelching, tightening around his digits. Your eyes rolled, teeth grit tight as he palmed your clit, slowing his pace to a slow thrust as you became undone against him. No orgasm of your own had ever compared to that, head light and chest heavy as you breathed quickly, gripping Toby’s shirt tight.

Refusing to let you go, Toby leaned in, pressing kisses against your neck and licking at your sweat, relishing in the warmth around his digits. You whined, cunt sensitive as he tugged his fingers out, his skin raw and pruned against the wetness coating his digits. Your folds were absolutely drenched, Toby spreading his fingers through your lips and pushing his sopping fingers over your warm thighs wrapped around him. “God, y- you’re so wet-” He gasped, pressing his fingertips back against your clit as he laid you back, gripping your tit. Your mind panicked, cunt flashing with sensitivity as he began to rub against your clit, swiping left and right against the rub quickly. “Toby- Stop- Toby, please-” You cried, breath catching in your throat as your stomach clenched, his fingers pressing hard as he pinched your nipples, eyes trained on your wet pussy. “You e- ever squirt before?” He smiled, transitioning fast between digging his fingers into your cunt and pulling them back out to swipe against your clit. It was nauseating, cunt crying desperately for relief as he dug nails into your tits. Gasping loudly, you gripped his arms, knees screwing tight against his sides as you cried out, hips bucking up against his hands.

Every time his fingers slipped into your entrance, they squelched loudly, fluttering around the intrusion before desperately aching as they tugged out and moved onto your clit. “Squirt li- like a whore, m- mkay? Quit fightin’.” He hissed, letting his hand off your tit and scooping under your left knee, pushing it back to open your cunt wider, spreading your legs further apart. Your head was dizzy, heart pounding as you gasped for air, panting at every push of his fingers. You were already quick to cumming, but it felt weird, not that normal clench you felt in your stomach, more of a strain against your cunt itself. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as he forced your pussy against his will, ruining you.

As he swiped his fingertips down hard against your clit, your entrance clenched, mouth opening wide as you cried out, hips bucking up as you felt your cunt squirt, thighs trembling hard. There was literally nothing to compare it to, mind hazy as you sprayed onto his black shirt, his fingers digging into your entrance and pushing more juices out of your swollen folds. Toby was smiling, moaning his approval as he rubbed your clit softly, pushing the last of your orgasm out as you strained against the mattress. “Gunna fu- fuck you dumb, baby…” He growled, tugging the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down and off his legs as his cock hung heavy against your drenched cunt. You couldn’t even react, head spinning as Toby gripped your hips, pushing you onto your side as he grabbed your ankle, pulling it onto his shoulder and straddling your other.

Neck craning with excitement, he teased the tip of his swollen cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your ruined juices. “This is wh- what you wanted, is- isn’t it?” He smiled wildly, pressing his cock into your ruined cunt, groaning loudly as you swallowed him in, warmth gripping tight as he gripped your leg, other hand stable on your tit. You groaned, face turned into the pillow as he began to thrust deep, giving you no mercy as he tugged at your nipple, biting at your calf as he fucked into you. You felt so full, your body so exhausted already as stretched you further, your entrance burning against the sting of this new girth. You squeezed him so tight, cock forcing itself deeper with every tug of his hips as you began to cry, tears staining your pillowcase.

“Fuckin’ tal- alk to me, baby. Gunna mak- make me cum al- already.” He sighed, teeth chewing against the meat of your calf as he pressed your cunt wider, sweat dripping from his nose as his curls clung to his forehead. He let off your tit, left hand slinking up to grip your jaw and turn your face back to look at him, your eyes heavy as they blurred with tears. Toby looked so good right now, cheeks dark against his freckles as he towered above you, cock pushing against your gummy walls and making your mouth hang. “So pretty…” He smiled, slinking his hand down to your throat and squeezing, cock pulsing as your face tightened, mouth gasping out as he clamped tighter, refusing you air. There was something so orgasmic about cutting your airway, watching your body react as he fucked your virgin cunt, holding your life in his hands. He had to breathe deep to stop himself from cumming, his violent brain spasming out.

He pushed your ankle over his head, pulling out roughly as he rolled you onto your stomach, you gasping from the wave of air hitting your lungs. Pushing himself against your ass, Toby swore, pushing his cock back into your cunt as he pushed your back down, making you arch against him. “Just a l- little more, m’kay?” He growled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and squeezing hard, pressing your face down into the pillow. With a new pace, he fucked down into you wildly, hand kneading your ass hard as digging his nails into your skin, little welts forming across the soft flesh. Your muffled cries sounded against the pillow, head light and static filled as you gasped for air, Toby’s cock ramming down against your g-spot. “Never s- seen a bitch so willing, so des- desperate for my dick you’d gi- give it up so easily.” He teased, growling as he let off your neck, neck sore as he leaned down, pushing your hair off your neck. Toby hadn’t felt like this before, wanting to mark you, fucking you so desperately he wanted to carve his shape deep inside. He couldn’t let you go without knowing exactly who you craved, corrupting you, ruining you, molding you to fit only him.

He licked against your shoulder, sucking onto the skin before he pressed his teeth, digging both hands into your hips as he sunk them in, groaning at the pop as your blood soaked his teeth. You were crying, screaming into the pillow as your entire body begged for him, craving him, mind going blank as your blood dripped from his chin as he licked at the wound. He pressed on, nibbling into the crook of your neck and sucking revolting hickies into your skin, marking you like an animal. “Wan- Want you to come on m- my cock, baby. I got- gotta fill you full, want y- you ruined for everyone b- but me.” He mumbled quickly, cock begging to spill inside of your warm cunt as you reached around, gripping his hair as he sunk his teeth in again, walls fluttering around him. You pulled his hair, dragging his mouth off of your neck and to your lips, smashing your swollen, tear-stained lips against his as he groaned, kissing you roughly.

You were cumming again, back arching onto Toby’s cock as you moaned into his mouth, walls holding him tight inside. He tried to move, to continue thrusting, but you were so tight all he could do was rutt his hips, begging for friction as his own seed spilt, his brows screwing tight as he came deep inside of you, warm cum seeping deep into your cunt. Your mind was blank, eyes rolled as you cried into his grasp, his nails digging into your hips until you were nearly bleeding. Your cunt squelched, milking his cock as he finally pulled from your lips, letting the last of your orgasms fizzle out before he pushed off of you, slowly tugging himself out as you whined. Looking back, his cock was soaked, glistening with your arousal and streaks of blood, Toby’s eyes wide. “Ah… Yo- You tore…” He hissed, wiping his soft cock with his shirt before pulling his boxers on, quickly trotting out of your room. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, cunt aching and body ruined as you sat in your sweat and each other’s cum, mind tired as you slowly blinked.

Toby was back in seconds, a water bottle, a wet rag, and a small bag all in tow as he climbed back onto the bed, flipping your lazy body onto your back. You smiled, sipping the water bottle slowly as he began to clean you up, gently running the warm rag between your folds and against your thighs until he was satisfied, gently rubbing your skin. Finally, he grabbed the bag, your confusion evident as he tugged out the prescription bag, rummaging for the plan b he made you buy and popping one of the pills out, handing it to you as he smiled. Your chest welled, previous anxiety dissipating until you began to tear up, taking the small pill before reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down next to you. Toby went easily, body cradling against yours as he kissed against the bruised spots on your neck, rubbing your bite mark gently.

As you began to doze, Toby mumbled something about your note, your mind too dizzy to hear the rest. The last thing you saw was a subtle flash behind your eyelids, sleep overtaking you as Toby held you close.

Morning came quickly, your body stirring, reaching for Toby but finding the bed empty. Confused, you sat up, eyes heavy and head still pounding but you pressed off the bed anyway, searching for the boy. Downstairs, on the countertop, laid his hoodie neatly folded, with a small piece of paper resting on top. Sauntering over, you reached for the top, sliding it over your head, it falling before your hips as you gripped the paper, reading its contents.

On a mission. Be back later tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy ;)

Flipping the paper over, you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth. A small picture was taped to the back, a polaroid-type photo of the two of you cradled together, your bare body pressed against his, bruises and sweat on full display. Smiling, you tucked it into his pocket, breathing the scent of his hoodie deep as Addy circled your ankles, begging for breakfast.

Staring out your back porch door, you made sure it was unlocked, always open for him. Killer or not, that boy was yours now, accepting his every mishap the same way he did yours. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted.

Rest in Hell, Mr. Higgs.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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teamred · 6 months ago

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any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.”

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him.

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.”

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…” You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—”

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.”

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?”

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine.

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle.

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—”

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.”

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.”

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.”

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions.

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from?

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again.

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other.

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver.

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next.

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position.

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head.

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out.

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?”

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.”

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—”

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?”

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core.

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!”

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything.

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down.

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.”

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.”

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech.

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.”

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words.

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.”

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door.

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.”

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.”

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment.

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?”

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.”

“Great, I’ll call you later.”

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls.

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise.

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.”

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?”

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.”

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always).

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace.

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring.

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fluff #logan howlett fluff

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roturo · 1 year ago

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⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK!

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! ₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.

A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.

It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and he’s already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitch– Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.

He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesn’t sound that bad.

“Daddy! Daddy!,” His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. “Miss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!”

Your name wasn’t unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasn’t seen you yet- from what he’s been told you’re the kid’s favorite, including Yuuji’s. “I had to talk about who’s my hero, and I chose you!” If this day wasn’t going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.

“Oh look dad!” The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/N!” Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of what’s how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.

“Daddy? Are you paying attention?” The little boy gained Gojo’s attention back, face now looking at him again. “I’m sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?”

“Uhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?”

“Yuuji!” His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. “I’m so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didn’t intend to say-”

Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing “It’s okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.”

Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.

You swear it wasn’t your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call ‘mommy’ and give him a sister.

That made you blush.

Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dad’s idea.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.” Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofa– waiting for Yuuji’s mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and ‘see Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in love’

Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.

Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you.

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

“Ffffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?”

“yesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-”

He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” Your poor fucked up mind couldn’t think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.

“Yeah?,” His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. “Gojo? I’m almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and… your new girlfriend?” His chuckle interrupted his ex-wife’s conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.

A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.

“Finish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.” Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could’ve been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard.

“Shit. Can you walk?”

PART 2

#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #toji smut #gojo x you #smut

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rafesweetie · 25 days ago

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need a jealous bsf!rafe x reader where he is possessive and doesn’t want other guys touching her even though he touches other girls, so she is basically over it and at a party, she dances on another guy and he gets mad

౨ৎ in which bsf!rafe just can’t help wanting to protect you.

you were done with rafe cameron. you’ve decided it. he was your best friend, sure, but he was controlling, mean, overly protective, and he acted like he owned you or something. so you were completely done with him, forever.

this is the third time you’ve promised yourself that, and news flash — you never dropped him.

it wasn’t your fault, you try to tell yourself every time. he just wouldn’t let you leave him, shutting you up whenever you’d even try and be reasonable with him, yelling louder than you or slamming his palm over your mouth. but a little part of you knows that you like the attention. you like that rafe cares so much about you, even if it does ruin your chances of getting a boyfriend. today is the day that you break the pattern though, and rebel against his constant authority.

parties are where rafe thrives. he’s like a celebrity, it always wonders you how much people love him. during parties, he keeps less of an eye on you, assuming you’re just busy gossiping with your friends. but little does he know, you’ve found a boy — it wasn’t often you’d get the opportunity to chat with a boy that wasn’t rafe, and you were loving every second of it. you felt so free from your friend’s gaze, listening to the boy talk, his deep voice vibrating your brain.

but the issue was, the boy was boring. he didn’t talk about cool things, like dirtbikes or his life or death adventures or money. you hated to say it, but he just wasn’t rafe. your mind kept flashing back to him, how much more you smile and enjoy his company. maybe rafe was right. you just didn’t need boys when you have him.

you’re so close to excusing yourself from the boy, going back to rafe’s arm and giggling with him and talking with your faces really close together. you glance back to where he is, ready to retreat, until you see it. you see her.

you’re not sure who she is, but she bothers you. her hair is so gorgeous and healthy, and you can’t see her face from behind but she must be gorgeous. her arm is on rafe’s bicep — your bicep, the one you always hang onto while you’re walking with rafe. you hate that you’re jealous. rafe’s your friend, not your boyfriend, you have no reason to be. but it’s like you can’t control it, your rage, and before you know it, you’re blinking back any potential tears and touching on this boy — this stranger — like there’s no tomorrow. tyla is blasting through the speakers, and yours and these boy’s hands are all over each other’s bodies. you really hope rafe sees you like this, drunk off the smirnoff pink lemonades and enjoying another mans company.

it really doesn’t take long for him to notice. he’s so predictable. shrugging the girls hand off of him, rushing over to his dear friend to get her away from this lowlife.

usually he’d reason with you. coax you away from the boy nicely and lecture you. but he’d had a few beers and a line of coke and he was in no mood for politeness. a rough hand pushes the boy away by the chest, and rafe isn’t muttering a word to anyone, grabbing your wrist and stomping away with you stumbling behind.

he pushes you into a spare bedroom, the first private place he could find. sitting you on the edge of the bed, he starts pacing in front of you and rubbing his face as if this was hurting his head. it’s like your brain flicks a switch, back to “rafe rafe rafe” as you’re sat there with tears brimming your eyes, fiddling with your manicure as you bat your eyelashes up at him, remembering the girl flirting with him, and now you making him mad, and now he’s got you in a puddle of guilt.

“shit— it’s like, you never do what i say, huh?” he mutters, still pacing. “you know i do everything to protect you, kid. you even know who that fuckin’ guy was? no, m’sure you don’t, cause you don’t think. thought by now my voice would be in your pretty head, there to help you make some smart decisions every once in a while. but nah, nah, you see one other boy and it’s back to square one with you,”

you go to speak, glossy lips parting, but he shuts you up with a quick “no”, and stopping pacing to go kneel in front of you.

“everything i do — for you, okay? for you. my girl,” he often calls you that, it makes you weak every time. he grabs your hands. “stop fiddling, paid for this polish.” you stop instantly. “i know— i know you think that my protectiveness is, uh, stupid, but i need to be like this, or you’re gonna get hurt. i know you, baby. i need to be all over you for you to even have a slight awareness to not do stupid things. so i do take some ownership over you in that sense—“

you cut him off, muttering a, “don’t want you to take ownership.”

he huffs. “yeah, but i do, so…” he shrugs. “you’re mine. my friend, my girl. so i don’t like it when someone else touches my girl, or when you’re the one intiating it. makes me so fuckin’ angry, kid, makes me wanna, like—“ he cuts himself off. “so i need you to knock it off.”

you wanna argue so badly, but your brain turns to mush around him. so you sniffle and nod hesitantly.

“no, i want a ‘yes rafe.’ need your words.”

“i just think that—“ you try.

he cuts you off. “yes rafe. say it with me.”

“..yes, rafe.” you both say.

he squeezes your hands and gets up. “yeah, there you go, good girl. now do you, uh, need a minute, fix your makeup, or d’you wanna go back down there and hang out with me?”

your hand goes to his bicep as you stand up with him, and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “wanna go with you,” you say softly, leaning into him a bit.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”

#౨ৎ isa writes #mm can u guys tell i love his biceps!!!#sorry i wouldve made her more of a bad bitch but thats not who i am #if rafe was near me id start drooling and nodding to whatever hes saying idk #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx x reader #rafe cameron obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron prompt

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loves0phelia · 3 months ago

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Hi! I don’t know if you’ve watched part 2 of outer banks yet, and if you didn’t this request is a spoiler!!

Can you do JJ Maybank’s sister seeing him die and Rafe is just watching her break down and he’s comforting her while she cries in his arms? I’m sobbing over JJ right now 😭

Thank you!

Gone

Summery: outer banks season 4 episode 10/the anon

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: SPOILERS, death, grammar mistakes.

A/N: i also sobbed, i cant believe it and thank you for requesting love youuu.

The sandstorm hit suddenly. The air was thick, nearly solid with dust. You stumbled forward as the wind blew strongly, You screamed, begging JJ to come down before something terrible would happen but even if you pulled the scarf tighter across your nose and mouth every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass making it hard to speak.

Everything was clouded and your goggles were smeared with sand dust. It was impossible to see your brother who was up high on that statue trying to find the blue crown you, the pogues and Rafe have been risking your lives for.

“Come down JJ!” You screamed as loud as you could, hoping he could hear you over the screaming wind.

A surge of panic rose in you, he wasn't listening, only going higher and higher to reach the top.

“Hurry please!” You screamed again as the sandstorm was getting worse and worse. Squinting your eyes you could see JJ finally descending the statue after a while, carefully holding on to the rock.

“JJ, holy shit are you okay?” You rushed forward to him as he stumbled around frantically.

“I'm good! I'm better actually, I'm great. Look!” he yelled over the storm and held up the blue crown, it felt like a dream having it in front of you.

“No way, you found it” You both looked down at the dusty historical crown in silence for a second, sinking in it the victory that was so rare when it came to you and your twin.

“We got it!” He cheered, pumping his fist, jumping into place from all the adrenaline. The victory cheers didn't last long though, the next thing you knew shots were fired at you from the group who wanted to steal what was rightfully yours.

“Run, run, run” JJ shouted behind you as you ran through the sand blindly and desperate to find shelter.

The sandstorm roared with life around you, Yours and JJ's footsteps vanished almost as quickly as you made them, erased by the wind.

You coughed, your lungs stinging as you struggled to run down the stairs you had found leading inside the monument.

But suddenly, a shadow appeared out of the storm. A strong hand gripped your forearms and in a sudden movement, your back was pressed on your “father's” chest, an arm around your neck holding on tightly, cutting your airflow and a sharp blade pressed into the side of your face.

“JJ!” you called out, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Let her go!” JJ shouted, his voice trembling with anger. He lunged towards you trying to rip you away from him but he only pressed the blade harder making you cry out. But Groff only shook his head.

You cried, struggling, and your heart pounding as Groff’s grip tightened. You fought against him, but his hold was unbreakable.

“You’re just like your mother,” Groff hissed, his gaze cold and unmoved. “Always standing in my way. Well, this time, you’re not going to stop me. Give me what I want”

“Let her go” He begged.

“If you had listened, we wouldn't be here JJ, you could have had everything. WE could have had the life we deserved as a family. All three of us. But now you get nothing. Nothing at all” Chandler pants like a maniac.

“I already have everything,” JJ says, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have everything I ever wanted. You want the crown? Sure, take it. I don't want it. Just let my sister go.”

“Give it to me, hold it out” He reached toward JJ for the precious object, his grip on you not loosening.

In a swift moment, an exchange was made. Groff grasped the crown, and JJ pulled you out of his arms.

“I got you” JJ breathed out with relief, like a weight was removed from his shoulders. He hugged you protectively. Holding your head against his shoulder like a shield. But then again, the victory was cut short.

“JJ, y/n” you were interrupted by the voice of your father, his call made both of you separate and turn to face him, JJ’s body still shielding you from further harm.

“It's a shame…you and I” You furrowed your brows and a gasp came out of your mouth when the sound of flesh being pierced rang out.

“You should have given me the rope” Time was moving at a slow pace as the scene unfolded. Groff twisted the knife in JJ's stomach before pulling it out rapidly and running out into the desert.

"JJ!" You screamed, your voice raw with terror. You saw JJ stumble back, his hands flying to his side. Dark red blood was spreading through his shirt and across his fingers, and the sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

The world narrowed to the scene in front of you as you watched JJ fall, his face contorted in pain.

“No, no, no” you cried, desperation thick in your voice.

You rushed to JJ’s side, catching him just as he stumbled. He looked up at you, his face pale and stained with tears.

“It's okay JJ, it's okay” You pressed into his wound, shaking terribly, sobbing when he let out a pained groan.

“No, please” you murmured, pressing your hand over the wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”

“Hey, hey,” He whispered, his voice breaking. “Take care of the others for me, okay?”

“No! No” Your breaths shakes, your chest tight with sadness.

“I love you, y/n. You're the best sister anyone could ever have.” His gaze was beginning to drift, his eyes unfocused, and the strength in his grip was fading. Panic clawed at you.

“I love you, please don't go” you begged, but it was pointless he was already gone.

“No! No, no. Please! JJ, please” you shaked his shoulder weakly.

“John B!” You screamed, your chest burning from the lack of oxygen your lungs were getting.

“Pope! Rafe!” Your hands gripped your brother refusing to let go.

“Please JJ!” Your heart shattered completely, a part of you gone forever. Your brother, your twin, your best friend, the other half of your soul, gone.

“Please” You pressed your forehead against him, your tears falling over the blood-soaked shirt.

The pogues came running towards you, sinking to their knees, calling out to him, crying, sobbing, mourning.

Everything in you gave out as you held onto him, you couldn't even fight when hands grabbed onto your shoulder to bring you away from your brother's corpse.

Your body fell limp into Rafe's lap. His hands held your body up as if he was your lifeline.

“It's gonna be okay” He whispered against your forehead but you barely registered any of it, only sobbing, and screaming in pain against him.

The Pogues stood in a tight circle, all eyes fixed on JJ as if somehow their stares alone could bring him back. But no one spoke, and in the heavy silence, the truth crashed over them, settling deep in their bones. JJ was gone.

Kiara’s shoulders shook, a small, trembling motion that quickly overtook her entire body. She fell to her knees, hands pressed to her mouth as she fought to hold back the sobs.

Pope was beside her, his eyes frantically looking over the scene, he didn't want to believe any of it, as if it was a cruel joke.

John B stood, rigid. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, and his jaw was set, teeth gritted as he tried to hold it all in, to keep the pain from breaking him apart.

Rafe's arms wrapped around you gently, his hand resting on the back of your head as he let you fall into his chest. You buried your face in his shoulder, the grief and sorrow pouring out in waves as he held you.

He didn’t speak of the rivalry, the old wounds and the bitterness between your families; none of that mattered now. At this moment, all he saw was your pain, and he was there, his own heart breaking a little as he watched you crumble.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you weak and exhausted, Rafe pulled back slightly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with something you’d never seen in him before—softness, understanding.

“It's okay,” he murmured, his voice a promise, his hand gentle as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “I’ve got you.”

You sat on the sand as a fire crackled in front of you, you had just buried him, the silence was thick nobody wanted to believe the truth.

Your head pounded, even when you were softly laying on Rafe's legs using them as pillows. His calloused fingers gently rubbed your hair and you tried to concentrate on the movement in an attempt to forget about the previous moment but you failed.

“Groff said he was going to Lisbon” Rafe whispered above you, making your eyes open and looking up at him. His eyes met yours and he continued.

“If he was my friend or my brother… I would go after the guy that just killed him” The mention made your heart burn but he had a point.

“He's not wrong” Kie whispered, agreeing with your inner thoughts. You snuggled against Rafe's legs one last time before sitting up and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“JJ would already be on his way to kill him if it was one of us,” you said and everyone's eyes snapped towards you, those were the first words you had spoken since it happened.

“He'd get even,” John B added.

“Let's get revenge,” you said, your voice more confident than it was before, you felt a hand grasp onto yours and slowly you turned your head to face Rafe. He nodded and tightened his grip in a comforting way, never letting go.

Send request please xx

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #rafe outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron outer banks #jj maybank x you

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always-just-red · 4 months ago

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A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #lads #lnds #l&ds

2K notes · View notes

tonycries · 2 months ago

Text

SCREEN QUEEN! - G.S.

Synopsis. To see a movie or to make one? Four times Geto Suguru absolutely ruined you for the cameras, and the one time outside of them.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pórnstar! reader, pórnstar!Geto, he is so DOWN BAD, exhibítionism, breéding, Geto’s tattoos, Geto’s PIERCINGS (d, tongue), THREÉSOMES, some Gojo x Reader x Geto, streamer!Gojo, vóyeurísm, Geto gets one taste is PÚSSYDRÚNK, mast. (Geto), oraI (fem + male rec.), spítting, p slapping, some Toji x Reader, PÚRE SMUT, húmping, matíng presses, semi-public, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.1k (woah)

A/N. Have a lovely week <3

“Ch-chin up, honey–” Geto’s drunkenly half-lidded stare sticks to you like a greedy second skin. And it makes him snicker, curling his thick fingers around your neck to force your glassy eyes upwards. “Let the camera see that hah- pretty face of yours.”

You mewl, batting your teary lashes up at his towering figure. Pretty glossed lips pressing the most sinful French kisses up his sensitive shaft, “Like this, Sugu?”

And god, that makes him throw his head back with a whimper. It makes him dredge up everything left of his sanity to remember those next few lines of his, praying that those babbling messes of his groans pick up on the microphones.

“Y-yeah, got that right.” he jostles his muscular thighs even more heavily manspread, baring you with a sopping wet swipe of his angry tip against your pout. Poking the bulbous curve of his cool metal piercing just barely- “So you can listen, brat.”

Damn. Geto’s already sure he’d stumbled over his script a few too many times. Already sure he’d forgotten what the next scene was with how he was too dangerously close-

CUT!

Shit.

He had a feeling this would happen.

Because Geto Suguru rarely ever had to take multiple takes whenever he was filming - he was no novice in this business. Far from it, in fact.

Bearing the title of one of the most-watched porn actors in history - and the five-time crowned winner of the most beautiful, as well - the audience loved him, and the directors loved him even more with just how many big, fat cheques he’d rake in easily.

And you?

That gorgeous newbie paired up with him today that was absolutely ruining him.

“Sorry-” Your honeyed tone snaps him out of his syrupy reverie, and the little smile on your face is so innocent compared to just a few seconds ago. “M’still new to this, so I think it was my fault.”

Yeah, ruining him.

“Not at all. S’cute.” Geto’s plastering one of his suave grins all across his mean mouth, and without a second thought, he’s thumbing away that translucent little splatter of precum at the edge of your kiss-bitten lips. Wetting the curvaceous pad of his thumb, “Besides, don’t worry yourself, pretty lady. I don’t think a uh- what was it- clan leader would stutter as much as I did.”

And oh, he wished he could sneak in a few more glimpses of your laugh, music to his ears. Wondering what it’d feel like to have it vibrate around his still rock-hard cock. But alas, swiftly, the director’s clapping a hand down on Geto’s broad shoulder.

“Suguru- my star! What happened back there?” the older man bares him with a toothy grin that said it wouldn’t last there much longer if he made any more mistakes at today’s shooting.

It was the first time in years that he had to have a word of reprimand. And he wasn’t even fucking you today-

“Nothing.”

“Are we sure-”

“Nothing.” Firmer, this time, with a dangerous tinge that no other actor would dare have. His glassy eyes - still foggy from the slide of your tongue, still aching for more of it - fixate sideways on you getting your make-up retouched right beside him. Clearing his throat, “I won’t fumble next time. Promise.”

But shit, only a few seconds before the next take - the high-definition cameras rolling, the heady lighting fixated on the two of you - and he already feels like he’s about to lose it.

“Said you were a rookie, right? You sure about that, screen queen?” he’s leering a slightly-smug grin down at you, the curved edges of his lips twitching at that little industry nickname of yours.

He’d heard it here and there - mainly whenever Gojo was raving about you, but never did he think you would end up being so…so addictive.

Of course, he’s going to brag to his best friend as soon as this is over.

You’re gifting him with a bratty huff, “I’ve only been making videos for a few months, y’know? So I’ve never had to have a blowjob scene with someone so-”

And with a gulp, your syrupy eyes flicker downwards at his achingly hard cock - famed for just how massive Geto was. Already so creamy with a glistening coating of precum drizzling down his thumping veins, standing so thoroughly and thickly upright that it made your drenched thighs squeeze. Yearning to steal another taste of that furiously strawberry-blushed fat tip. “-so big.”

Shit, Geto could feel his fattened cock jolt already.

Hissing, “S-save it for the camera, honey.”

“Okay! Take 2, Act 1 of 1 from Cult Leader Geto.” A ringing voice cuts through your saturated air, and he’s settling back into his poised seated position on that decadently throne-like chair, you on your knees. “ACTION!”

“Messing up such an important mission, hm?” Geto spits, stern voice targeting you at your very dripping core. Sear-like grip making your throat burn, fuming, “Y’know there’s only one way to make up for it, right, honey?”

Your lips wobble oh-so-adorably when he hits them with a splattering smack! smack! smack! of his painfully hard length. Making you mumble, “Wh-what do I hafta-”

And maybe because it was part of the script, maybe because Geto couldn’t last hearing another melodic note of your sweetened voice - he’s shoveling all girthy inches of his swollen cock past your velvety lips.

Unapologetically.

Filthily.

God…it was so easy to forget all the cameras with your tongue.

Pressing the reddened curve of his weepy cockhead to nestle hot and heavy on your tastebuds, your jaw aches with the sheer weight of his hefty shaft throbbing away comfortably on your tongue.

And you swear you can feel big, bulbous tears welling up behind your eyes with how every ounce of blood in Geto’s body comes rushing down into his steaming length. Expanding his rotund head to grow even thicker-

“Shit.” he gasps. “Shit shit shit shit-” Brows scrunching, drooling maw falling slack. Every muscle in his hulking body bows to hunch forwards in his chair, until your tight throat was choking around the thick curve of his swollen tip. One attractively tattooed hand splayed out firmly on the back of your head, “Take it- y-yeah, take it why dontcha? If ya wanna make it up to your leader.”

God, he didn’t know if the cockdrunken way you were nodding was even real - but it made him groan just the same.

Sobbing out a swelteringly hot squelch! of syrupy precum that drips teasingly down the already-messy walls of your mouth. “Heh, maybe ya can even be my s-second-in-command with a mouth like this.”

And he’s giggling out in an almost hysterical way, head throwing backwards when his powerful hips rut up in slow grinds. Back and forth back and forth- that have your now-puffy lips stretching around so widely around his fat cock.

Struggling. Shit, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had.

Geto already knew his agent was going to be on his ass for veering just the slightest degree off the script.

But he didn’t care about that right now.

How could he? Not when the drag of your tongue was swirling around his steamingly hot girth in languid swivels, over and over fighting to trace every one of his prominent veins thumping angrily inside your mouth.

You whine at the saccharine sweet taste of his precum shooting down your throat in wet sputters, “S-Sugu-”

Fuck.

Geto hears himself whimper a pathetic noise as soon as you’re tugging yourself off of his leaky cock, pressing wet peck after peck up the underside of his messy shaft. It’s glossing in glinting lip-prints that he half-wishes he could tattoo. Slipping and sliding to sloppily plant your mouth along the bawling divot at the very end of his rosy pink head.

“Mhm–” he’s drawling, movements as slow as gliding through molasses when one of his strong legs comes to circle around your body. Muscles flexing so tight that if he angled just right he could squeeze that pretty throat of yours. He bites his lip, “Suck on my ah- tip- c’mon, gorgeous. Heheh, yeah gimme a pretty peck, why dontcha?”

With a smug smirk, he’s guiding through trembly digits to thwack! thwack! thwack! his thick hilt in wet splatters across your lips. Only to figure out that he didn’t even have to bother.

Because your sweet mouth was so ravenously reattaching back onto him, starkly raw lips glissading down the bulge of his Prince Albert. Your deft tongue swivels in such a filthy way down the underside of his slit, cheeks hollowing as you suck.

“Spit.”

“S’this-” you hiccup, widened eyes pleading. Spitting out a silvery glob of saliva onto the very edge of his tip, “S’this good, sir?”

Fuck, for a second there he almost forget that every one of your lines are scripted. And he deliriously wonders what if would be like if you called him that for real

“Hmmm, dunno.” His thumb smears across that pool of precum beside your lips - popping it into his mouth tastefully, “Jus’ a bit deeper to make sure. You can do it- c’mon.”

Swallowing up those solidly girthy inches of Geto’s so deliciously. Your nose presses against those drenched tufts of black at his toned pelvis, jittery fingers coming around to massage sultry little circles around his tight, cum-filled balls.

“Heh, think I prefer ya like this-” he’s restless now. Close. Knitting his brows rudely together, abs clenching mouth-wateringly at every wet gyration of his cock hitting the very back of your throat. And he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop, not even if the director yells cut this time. “-all pliant, n’ shutting up that bratty mouth of yours.” Geto arches his spine so flexibly - a specialty of his - all the way enough to whisper in a hoarse pant of feverish condensation against your ear. “All mine.”

Geto can barely even finish his line - or his train of thought, before with a wracing shudder, he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life.

Oozing out the wettest wads of his thick cum, so much of his wispy white seed gushing across in dripping glides into the cavern of your mouth. Back and forth with every jackhammer. The money shot smearing all down your pretty chin.

And fuck, just the way he can feel it sloshing around in a tidal wave inside your mouth makes him groan out your name.

Barely even registering the way it’ll have to be cut out in editing later, no- all he can think about is how heavenly you were milking him. Twisting your tongue to drag out his hazy orgasm, to swipe up even more of it from his piercing, you blink up in satisfaction.

Letting it overspill.

“Heh, fuck-” Geto’s tongue was dangerously loose now, mouth curling up into a simpering smile down at you when he’s bursting out in even more velvety ribbons of cum. It drips halfway down your jaw, washing a perfectly milky lipstain on you. Muttering, “Wish I could fuck you- god, I would-”

He’s cutting himself off with a dampened gasp, just as the chilling air on-set hits his hard erection.

In urgent moves, Geto’s pulling out of your silken soft mouth to drag you upwards with the hand tightened around your throat, crashing his lips into your own with sudden need.

Unsteady. Sodden. French kisses.

This wasn’t in the script - and you whine at the cool metal against his cushy mouth. A tongue piercing. Shit, he had one to match his dick.

Swirling it across your own lips, Geto hears you moan in that sweet voice of yours just as you taste him - taste yourself on him - and he’s sucking on your tongue just as you did with his cock. Pooling all the dredges of salty seed on his own, before spitting it back out-

“Tell yer agent-” he murmurs throatily, two fingers roughly wrangling your mouth shut. To make you swallow. His popping ears ignore the calls from the director for the scene to be cut. Finally completed. And Geto licks up the excess remnants of cum down your lips. “-to let me have ya again sometime, gorgeous.”

CULT MEMBER SLUT GETS TAUGHT A LESSON BY HER LEADER!

37 million views 1.5 million likes

Top comments:

satoruxstrongest: holy shit idk who im more jealous of ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱

unicorny: I VOLUNTEER FOR THE NEXT MISSION CULT LEADER GETO

hj.eromytits: guys is it just me or does geto sound EXTRA extra whiny in this video~?

tonykrier: No cuz I totes agree

---

Now, it wasn’t normal for Geto to run home freshly after a shooting and…research his scene partner. To spend what seemed like hours upon hours pouring over every single video and picture you’d blessed his obscene mind with.

You.

An up-and-coming new actress, but already dubbed the nickname of screen queen. Loved by many for that sultry sweet smile of yours and just how gorgeous you were when you were all fucked stupid.

Everybody wanted you.

And Geto - oh, Geto was out of his mind.

Shit, he’s thinking through his saturedly needy thoughts, eyes locked on the two sweat-sheened bodies on-screen. It was an earlier one of you and legendary veteran porn actor, Toji Zenin, and the more he eyed the way your bugging pussy so readily swallowed each of his greedily girthy inches - the more he was fucking jealous his agent only booked a simple blowjob scene. Peering at the title-

DILF-NEXT-DOOR GIVES SCREEN QUEEN AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT.

That should be him.

The wet schwf! of clothes upon skin emanate throughout his penthouse bedroom when Geto unthinkingly drags the soft mountains of his palm down his throbbingly hard erection. Eyeing at how Toji was smearing your sopping pussy lips open, giving Geto the perfect view-

Shit, that should be him.

Holding back a low moan, “Fuck-” he scrambles to hit the camera icon on his trembling phone, all but ripping his pants down to set free his ravaging cock. “God- m’so fuckin’ hard-”

He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to right about now - the audience, or you.

But all he can think about right now are those sparking stars behind his lids as soon as he runs the solid curve of his thumb along the bump of his swollen head. Still not fully hard, Geto squeezes his fat hilt just the way he remembers you did earlier today.

“S’all because of y-you, y’know?” he’s gritting through clenched teeth, batting those long dark lashes of his right up at the camera. “Why’d you hafta look at nhgh- m-me that way.”

God, his digits were only half as soft as yours were. And he keens at the rough drag of his fingerprints down the sensitive spots at every ride and curve. Melty mind stumbling through every mindless half-thrust into his fist.

Over and over.

God, he felt like a hormonal teenager all over again.

He’s panting - gasping. Every rutting fuck up into his hand leaving his heavy balls clenching painfully, teeth clamping.

Geto’s never been this needy - this desperate to try and graspingly remember what your moans had sounded like through his phone speaker not too long ago. It’s all he can do to sink his sharp canines down onto his fist, desperately holding back whimpers upon whimpers that threaten to spill out into the open.

Yet, they do, anyway.

“M-make me so fuckin’ horny, honey-” he’s swiping at the lazy trickle of drool down the edges of his drunkenly upturned grin. Puffing away the long, inky hair curtaining his eyes to splay out across the bed. “Such a perfect body ya have- such a perfect pussy. Wish I could fuck it.”

Because that delicious arch in your back was practically burned into Geto’s mind, how your slutty cunt was slobbering down gloss after gloss of your sweet, sweet juices down Toji’s fat cock. He’d been massive - rivaling Geto, honestly - and he couldn’t help but muse whether you’d take him that well, too.

Would you cry out and beg for more?

Would you bat your lashes and tell him to slow down- only to huff and puff in that naughty way of yours when he does?

You were…you were so pretty. And all he ever wanted to do was wreck that equally pretty pussy of yours, and ruin your makeup, and you.

You you you you-

Geto’s wrist aches down his tall shaft, stuttering up and down, he flicks his thumb wetly underneath his sensitive slit. Neatly grazing his manicured fingernail underneath the glazed bump, “I’d ruin ya, y’know?” Geto chokes out, and he doesn’t even have to fake the purring moan in his tone. The way his voice lilts embarrassingly higher in volume and pitch, gliding all the way up to nudge in wet peppered kisses across his chilling piercing. “Would make ya shut up on m’cock- hngh- until ya can feel my piercing branding into ya. Ruin everyone else f-for ya.”

God, the camera was so shaky right about now - and he half-wonders whether he wants to post this. Nothing like the usual professional set-up you’d usually see on Geto’s promotional tweets.

And then shit, just the thought of you actually seeing this video has him almost dropping his phone onto the dampened silken sheets below. His overly saturated mind liked to think that you’d like it, that you might even slip your own soft hand down into your flimsy excuse of panties.

“Fuck- fuck.” Geto bounces his head back onto the plush pillows, thighs shuddering even further open, catching every pearlescent bead of precum being smeared down his thickening length. Filthy. So fucking filthy. Making him arch- “Look what you do- look how you’ve got me- fuck-”

He was practically humping up like an animal now. Out of control. Each moan breaking into a whine in a way that Geto can’t stop even if he wanted to.

And the more he thought about you the more-

“Oh h-honey-” One of Geto’s thumb trails their way down to press down at the very middle of the twitchy curve of his balls. Hard. Hiccuping back a mewl of your name, he’s nodding like he doesn’t even realize. “M’gonna cum hah- m’gonna cum, okay? You’ll hafta take it all t-take it hngh-”

And it’s just a few more merely sloppy grinds before Geto’s spurting out in thick streams of cum. So much of it.

He’s fucking his fist like he wishes it was you. It’s making such a mess down his greedy fingers, coating down to his wrist in a gleaming sheen of creamy white. Easier to make him slip up, up, up, and down his swollen, red shaft trying to dredge up something delicious from the very ends of his weepy divot.

He lets his phone drop, thick thighs straddling upon each side of the screen to jerk his achy cock off like your pretty face was just underneath him. Furious. Fast. A low ah! ah! ah! rasping through each breath.

God, his fingers weaken around his cock. Moving as if on auto-pilot when he circles his trickling wet fingers around his own rosy pink nipples - all glistening down his tattoos as if they’d been laminated, they made for the perfect wet dream - then all the way up to suck on them. Cleaning. Tasting himself.

Fuck, wishing it was your hand.

Wishing you were here.

All Geto could think about is if you were here right now, then he’d swipe his blushing tip down your lips, instead - reel you into a dripping wet kiss just like before. He grunted at just how badly he wanted to taste on your candied tongue again-

Still so sensitive from the shoot with you before, Geto’s breathing out in heaves, pants. Tears prickling at the very ends of his bleary eyes, he bites down furiously on his coral pink lips, trying for the fucking life of him to not cum in blanks right now.

He does, actually.

Again. And again and again- spazzing cockhead jerking out a few wispy wet ribbons of his seed, before giving way into nothing. And if you listened closely to the crackling audio, you could almost hear Geto whimper.

Yet, he doesn’t even notice until his thumb swipes shakily onto that red end button on the video.

Doesn’t even register until he’s pulling up his infamously lewd Twitter account, the voice of his agent ringing in his pounding ears from today on something about “promo for your upcoming video” with every few hasty clicks on-screen.

Geto posts.

And he doesn’t even glance a second time at the screen before darting back into his browser history, searching ravenously for any more morsel of you he could dig up.

Because Geto Suguru might just be addicted.

@GetoTheCursed: For @ScreenQueen

2.6 million views 364k likes

Top replies:

moresenpaimore: holy shit the lighting? the shakiness? the whimpers? ITS ALMOST LIKE HE POSTED JUST AS HE CAME DADDY YOURE SPOILING US!!1!111!!

tjzenin: Good taste, kid. - Toji x.

ScreenQueen: <3

---

“Y’look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” Gojo’s angling your head just enough for the blinking camera to drink in that milky trail of slick trickling down the corners of your puffed-up pussy lips. Musing at how it probably couldn’t capture half as how pretty you are with his massive cock bullied snugly into your strugglingly bulging cunt. “Isn’t that right, Suguru?”

“Heh-” The other man only shifts his legs to manspread more comfortably on Gojo’s plush mattress, leaning back on two elbows. “Don’t I know.”

hj.eromytits: ahhh~ a suguru and satoru stream my life is complete~ screen queen is so sexy too~

444stayze: WE NEED MORE COLLABS LIKE THIS SATORU PLEASE

chocho: she’s so…beautiful

*chocho donated 690 chestnuts*

If Geto Suguru was the king of videos, then Gojo Satoru was the king of streaming. Wracking thousands upon hundred thousands - perhaps close to millions - that watched him strip down and bare the winking camera with his cocky, girthing inches. And today, he just-so-happened to have a special guest.

Two, actually, after hearing about your latest film with each other.

His long-time best friend, and the rookie actress he’d been just as obsessed with lately. And the tons of viewers right now were loving this combination.

Your greedy hips squirm ravenously, jostling Gojo’s cock to swirl in syrupy, circular swivels inside your gooey walls. Yet, you couldn’t do anything with the thick, black blindfold wrapped around your two wrists - a staple of his persona. “G-gojo-”

Smack!

All five of his splayed-out fingers come down harshly in a swat against the curve of your ass, and Geto can’t help but gulp heavily at the sinful way it makes your flesh jiggle.

Gojo’s tangling a vice-like grip into your scalp - eyes wide, wild, where he’s leering down at you. “Now now, you’re s’pposed to look at hah- me.” he whines. Shit- when had you even turned to look at Geto. “And what was it I told ya to call me?”

“T-To-”

Smack!

“Louder.”

“Toru!” you squeal, feeling his leaky tip brush up in a wet nudge against your bulbous g-spot. Expanding even girthier to hit at that little bullseye over and over-

“Such a s-slutty voice ya got on ya.” His sharp hipbones mashing against tender skin, stifling balls stinging your ass, juddering knees bouncing even faster. It was so fucking addictive sheathing himself inside the tight channel of your cunt. So hot and cozy inside that Gojo has to force himself to rip his line of sight onto Geto just behind you, “Does sh-she always sound so sweet, Suguru?”

And Gojo’s not surprised - not even the tiniest bit surprised - to find that his best friend already has his silken button-up ripped open, ringed fingers stuffed into his too-tight pants.

Addictive…you were so addictive.

And he’s almost jealous that he’d introduced you to him on this stream.

Tearing away his clinking belt to knead over his rock-hard erection, drawling the very rounded edges of his fingers down his cupped balls. Squeezing. Hard. Geto looks so utterly like he has to force himself to breathe out something even slightly coherent, “Hmmm, hard to say with the way she was on her knees last time- heheh-”

“Such a dog ya are-” Gojo’s rolling his watery eyes, before pecking a wet glissade of his lips down onto yours. The woosh of donations flood the chat as soon as Geto’s letting out a roughened growl, “Dontcha ngh- a-agree, sweetheart? So mean, hm? The chat certainly seems ta think s-so.”

“Mhm–” you’re crying out - difficult, with the way he was sunken in so solidly inside of you. At Gojo’s sheer mercy.

Mercy that was slowly dwindling away with each and every slobbering fuck up into your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but let your jaw drop into a needy oh when his ragged thrusts get faster. More desperate.

Peppering damp pecks along Gojo’s innocently pink lips, “S-so mean, Sugu.”

“Ya hear that?” Gojo swipes his thumbs across your sloppy folds to bear you even further into the camera, and with Geto’s lolling gaze he could just peek the way your sodden hole was gaping widely. How his peaking veins massage your entrance through and forth- “Our girl says you’re a meanie, Sugu~”

candybah: GETO LOOKS MADDD

k-en.j: she looks so cockdrunk already honestly idk who i want to be here

pumk1nhe1d: Love how Satoru winds him up. Wonder if her poor cunt can take both??

And Geto knew that your voice was absolutely dripping with teasing want, he knew that it meant nothing more than a simple line to get him worked up. But the way Gojo’s jittery arms were engulfing you to stick to him so closely, his knowing smirk flashing Geto’s way had him huffing out a pointed few profanities.

“Fuck that.” he’s spitting getting up onto two unsteady feet to shuffle even closer to where your bodies were rocking the decadent bed violently. Tying back his dark tresses urgently - and oh shit, that’s when you know he’s serious. And one of Geto’s fingers smack! away Gojo’s, searing his own possessive grip onto the blindfold to haul you against his washboard abs. “Open.”

Fuck, it’s just about all that you can do.

Slopping out your tongue to present your glistening tastebuds - right on par for Geto to be splattering a thick wad of saliva.

Letting the translucent slick sift across your mouth, and with years in the game, Geto Suguru already had perfect aim. He could’ve already made an easy, clean work of spitting in your mouth.

But, no, he’s speckling wet little messes around your lips on purpose. Swiping it away with the very back of his slender fingers, “Now, would you care to repeat- that?”

Every truncated drag of his moans is punctuated by a ragged rut of Geto’s hips against the globes of your ass. The remainder of his free hands being sure to press your arched body even further backwards into him.

You feel him throb against your heated skin, his fat girth jostling to make you hump down on everything from the very globular edges of his tip all the way down to where his fat balls were kissing up into you stickily. Gushing out steaming hot wave after wave of precum that formed delicate strings to snap!

Smack!

“C’mon now, sweetheart~” Gojo’s slow tut makes you squeal. “S’not nice to leave someone hah- hanging.”

Batting your teary lashes up at Geto, you’re struggling through your relentless restraints to try and crane up into a kiss. And Geto - ever the bully - makes you work for it, barely moving. “M’m-sorry-”

“That’s not what I asked-” his hot breath puffs up dangerously to fan your ear. Cool rings on his digits burning a blazing pathway up to your neglectedly hardened nipples, making you keen out such whiny sounds when he pinches. “Tell me what you said.”

“S-said-” you’re sobbing out. The double stimulation of Gojo’s ravaged cockheadbumping up into your spongy cervix, and the way that Geto’s thumbs were swirling over in pressurized circles over your tits too much. “-said you were m-mean hngh- didn’t mean i-it ah fuck-”

“Are you sure?”

“You really are s-such a hngh- bully, Suguru.”

“Tch, shut up-” And Geto would never admit the way that he was humping you like such a dog. Panting - heaving, practically - with every sodden grind, his teeth tug harshly on your precious ear lobe. “-at least I’m gonna be the one t-to make her cum.”

Gojo’s rolling his eyes, pecking a sudden crash into the very same spot of your g-spot. “No I will.”

“As if, ya had to borrow my camera t-today jus’ to capture how gorgeous she is.”

Both Gojo and Geto’s lips mesh into yours now, tongues bumping into each other, swirling across yours so lewdly. Sucking and nibbling along any inch of yourself that you would give them. Anything that they could take.

He’s bucking his hips sloppily, drawing wet gashes between your pre-soaked lips, and nudging against where Gojo was buried so deep. Too much.

Murmuring into your lips, Geto giggles - giggles every-so-drunkenly in a way that made the stream chat flood. “Heh, if ya really mean it then cum f’me, honey.”

Fuck- then, you do.

It’s hitting both you and Gojo like a sudden semi-truck.

Yelping out a saturated mixture of what sounded like both their names before your gushy walls squeeze tightly. So fucking cozy that Gojo has to stuff one of his long fingers into your quivering hole just to scissor your entrance open, to fuck you through your high.

His fat girth edging you through peak after peak of bliss, your toes curl, mouth still latched firmly with Geto’s. Spazzing cock bawling out a few silvery strings of white down your back - just barely. “My good girl- good- hah- fuckin’ girl.”

“Awww. Look, Suguru-” The other man titters, bringing up his free hand to swipe across your now freshly wet cheeks. “Ya really are a meanie, huh? You made her cry.”

Geto only rolls his dark eyes, that particular remark making him take it out on you - because oh, he might not be fucking you tonight, but it was so utterly fun to rip out those whiny syllables from your pretty mouth. He’s tugging on your nipple with one hand, the other dipping slowly to swat! at your plump clit. “Well, I also made her cum.”

“Hah? No way, that was me-”

“I’ll beat you up right here, right now, Satoru.”

#1 RANK satoruxstrongest: got two special guests! tonight is going to be fun ww `⎚⩊⎚´ -✧

51 million views 4.8 million likes

Top donors:

unicorny: WOAH when Geto SPIT?? And when they were arguing?? My apologies, sir, I did not know you were about that life (she’s so lucky me next)

honey.bunney: LITERALLY MY WET DREAM OH MY GOD BI PANIC I LOVE THEM

king0fcurses: lmfao weak. Invite me on the next stream and i’d show her a better time.

---

God, times like this, you almost hated your profession.

Because yes, despite everything, the pay you received was staggering - but absolutely no amount of money was enough to compensate for the complete and utter asshole that was Naoya Zenin.

And especially not filming with him.

A nepo baby that had climbed his way through the ranks with the help of his family name; most of his audience came to watch him fail utterly pathetically at trying to boss his co-stars around and ultimately end up whining with just the slightest little squeeze of your cunt.

To watch him be broken and sobbing for mercy - exactly the way you preferred him.

Anything but this-

“-c’mon- just one night, baby-” Naoya’s purring voice sleazes across your ears, and you ignore him to clutch your thin robe even tighter around your body. Thankful that the filming and clean-up was finally over. “Promise I’ll have you seeing stars.”

When he didn’t even have you seeing your climax? You want to ask, but unfortunately hold back - for your agent’s reputation, if anything else.

Plastering on an almost-painful faux smile, “I think we spent more than enough time together on-set.”

With that, you shift off the bed to weave determinedly through the bustling camera staff and the director calling out for the editing crew - you didn’t even know where you were going, at this point.

But Naoya Zenin was persistent, if not anything else.

Catching up hurriedly, his fingers tap down the side of your shoulder, gliding over the peaking strap of that pretty pink bra you’d worn just for the shoot today - something special your very own viewers had picked out.

You stand stock-still in the middle of the room when he murmurs into your ear, “Playin’ hard to get isn’t cute, y’know. Just give in-”

SWAT!

“Excuse me-” You’re grinning through the slight sting at the back of your hand - because oh, it was impossible not to smile at the utter look of shock on Naoya’s sharp features the very instant his hand had been smacked away mercilessly. Fuming. Undeterred, your eyes shift down warningly between his legs, “-before I make sure you can never work in this industry again.”

“W-wait-”

But who would bother to wait before making their escape? Not even looking - not even caring - about where you make your sudden strides to.

SLAM!

The door closes. Hard.

And you breathe out a shuddering sigh of relief when the cacophony of noise from outside bleeds away into nothingness, like a stifling little cocoon inside.

Fuck- where had your feet even taken you?

It takes a few blinking seconds at the rows upon rows of skimpy lingerie and outfits for you to realize that you’d shut yourself in the costume room just outside of your current set. And a few more seconds to realize that you weren’t alone-

“Oh!” you gasp. And you don’t even know whether to look - where to not look at the absolute wet dream in front of you.

Geto Suguru was standing unabashedly in the middle of the room, long hair splayed out across his back - and you could count every swirling tattoo of his. Because he was painfully shirtless. Showing off the sculpted ridges and curves of his muscles that flexed a just a little tighter whenever your greedy gaze was dancing down his bulging biceps, his inked hips, his-

“Cat got yer pretty tongue, honey?”

“Wh-wha-” you sputter. Fingers scrambling upwards to cover your eyes - before realizing how futile that is with how you’ve seen everything already. “Cat got your ability to change in the changing stalls instead of where everyone can see, Geto?”

He cocks his smug head, grinning down at you. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re complaining, though?”

“You’re too much.”

Throwing that thin cotton t-shirt grasped within his digits somewhere off to the side - perhaps to toy with your sanity even more. He crosses his thick forearms, showing off every bumpy vein of his. “Besides- I was here first- helping out ol’ Nanami with a costume. The more important question should be why the Screen Queen of all people is barging in here?” Lips quirking attractively upwards, “Wanted to see me shirtless again so badly, hm?”

You did.

“You wish.”

You’re rolling your eyes, and you never knew how close someone could get to you just within that split-second. Because you’re already feeling the feverish rush of his ragged breath against your features, skin burning mere inches from yours.

Close.

With a gulp, you’re careening back against the velvety walls. “More like wanted to run away from Naoya Zenin and his dates so badly.”

So close.

“Ah.” Geto’s nodding with understanding. Running a hand through his hair, he easily slips that tiny black tie into his mouth. Moving to bunch up his strands into a ponytail, “Need me to beat him-”

You cut him off, “No no no-” Frantically waving your hands about - partially because you really didn’t want him to leave right now. “I took care of it, anyway.”

“That’s my girl.”

And something about the honeyed way he hummed those words made your stomach lurch, it had you panting out a needy breath into the almost non-existent space between you two. One of his palms splay out on the wall beside your head, caging you in. Geto’s greedy gaze daring for a mere split-second to the CCTV camera by the far corner of the room - eh, Ichiji is probably on break, anyway. “Then I guess, my next question is…”

God, he’s so mean.

So teasing.

Reaching up to trail down the very end of his pointer finger in-between the seam of your robes - doing practically nothing to hide the way that Geto licks his lips at every sliver of your skin revealed.

Down between the valley of your breasts, down to your navel.

Down, down, down.

“-did he take care of you?”

You’re stammering your head into a half-delirious shake, “H-he didn’t make me-”

Geto makes an almost primal snarl at the very back of his throat, darkened eyes widening. He sounds so out-of-breath already. “Make you what?”

“-didn’t make me cum!”

And oh, those words changed everything.

“Then I guess I better make up for my colleague’s incompetence, right?”

Because not only did they have Geto Suguru’s sanity snapping, it had your poor, drenched panties as well - stumbling around your ankles in a useless pile of fabric with only one thorough pull of his deftly curled digits.

“So flimsy.” he’s raising one dark brow, sharp canines glinting against the dim lighting in amusement. “Yet it still wasn’t broken- Goes ta show what a hah- great time ya had with Naoya, huh?”

“Please- D-don’t tease-”

What did you even mean to say- don’t tease you? he wonders. As if he ever could. Half-drunkenly, half-deliriously because Geto couldn’t get fucking enough of anything but the way that your pretty pussy was winking up at him with a glistening sheen. So puckered and ready for him that he wanted to give her a little kiss.

A French kiss.

“Shhh- better keep ‘er quiet f’me, gorgeous-” he’s chuckling, hurried now that his knees clatter to the floor with a loud bang! Maybe it hurt, maybe it didn’t- Geto didn’t fucking care. “Because m’not going easy on you.”

And with a raw drag of his heaving inhales, he’s drinking in your mouthwatering essence. Greedy.

Glissading up the very slit between your puffy pussy lips, he’s curling his thumb meanly into your sloppy hole. Circling around in practiced, purposeful little swipes.

“G-Geto–” he’s quietly admiring the way it rolls off of your tongue, and fuck he’s never been one to be cocky over his own name but right now it was so fucking impossible not to be. Batting long, dark lashes from between your trembly thighs, “So mean, y’know that?”

Oh, you little minx. Geto’s brain flashes back to the stream with his best friend-

And he can’t help the sultry rasp of your name at the very back of his throat, the way his ringed fingers come branding down in such a dangerous swat! right against the plump edge of your clit- barely grazing your sensitively beading peak.

A warning.

“What was that?” he spits. Followed by a literal wad of his syrupy saliva right onto the slope of your hole watching the splatters speckle across your drooling cunt. It felt so possessive. “If I’m so mean, then you should find it- heh, sooo fucking easy to stay quiet, hm?” Wild eyes locked with yours - you’ve never seen this look anywhere in Geto’s films. Anywhere. “Wouldn’t wanna be caught with the big- bad- meanie-”

Shit, it was something to tease him - something to get on your longtime idol’s nerves. But you’d never have expected the effect that it would have.

Because Geto was ravenous when his lips are placing a messy kiss onto your own - your other ones. Meshing a sultry glide of his tongue between your swollen folds, his tongue piercing so cold against your tight ring of muscle.

He wasn’t easing you in.

He wasn’t showing you any mercy or regret when Geto stuffs his face as deeply into the heaven between your legs as he could go. And it almost hurts him when his nose smushes harshly into your sensitive nub, when his jaw aches with just how much farther he couldn’t sink into your pretty pussy.

Groaning, one of Geto’s splayed-out palms wrangles your ever-weakening legs onto his broad shoulders, the other toying taunting circles sailing all over your clit. Because he wanted more more more-

“Ngh- fuck!” Your unsteady fingers dangle their way through his silken strands - as soft to the touch as they looked. And you tug when you feel the silvery cold metal dart against your melty walls - not that it moved him even an inch. “Fuck that feels so good-”

“I know-” he’s smirking up at you. “N’ it sounds like e-everyone out there s’gonna know, too- heh. I don’t mind.”

God, that’s when it hits you to lower the volume of your honeyed moans. Biting down on the knuckles of your free hand, you level him with a glare.

“L-look who’s talking-”

Geto only chuckles through the sopping wet squelches he’s reeling out from your cunt. Fingers now dripping downwards with a final pinch to your clit and onto your hole. “S’not my fault your p-pretty pussy’s so talkative, honey.”

“G-Geto-”

“Shhh, lemme hear her talk. Please?”

You gasp when you feel him plowing a trail of his thick digits into your already snugly-filled channel. Such a tight fit with both Geto’s rummaging fingers and his toasty tongue slurping up every bead of your juices.

They’re swirling around you with reckless abandon, no longer the expert methods and tricks you were used to. No, Geto was pumping his fingers into you solely because he was addicted to the feeling.

To the loud slurps and squelches resounding from down below with his miniscule movements.

“Heheh, yeahhh- so fucking mouthy she is. Might as well have s-someone overhear her.” He grunts, feeling your gummy walls clamp down on him so vice-like. And it takes him every shred of willpower to finally part his sinful way with your cunt, to drag his lips in a final kiss down your wet folds. “Hold on- got an idea.”

Fuck.

An idea from Geto Suguru would never bode well for your sanity.

And you were completely right in assuming so, because in a split-second, he’s reaching down to his pants pocket - pulling out a glinting silver lip ring. One that finds itself placed so prettily near the very edge of Geto’s rawly rubbed pink lips.

One that finds itself wrapped oh-so-deliciously around your clit. Sucking.

More.

“Heh, you’re the first one to hah- see me with this new lip ring- congrats-”

“L-lucky me-” you manage to choke out. Hips rutting up and down up and down from the wall, dragging your slobbering cunt all down to make-out with his gorgeous features - and Geto doesn’t look like he’s anywhere but heaven. “It feels- so so- mmpf-”

Without warning, his thorough digits find themselves rudely shoved between your jaw-dropped mouth. Metal rings cold. Thick. Pressing down at the back of your tongue-

“Heheh- what did I say-” he’s dragging his mouth backwards to tug on your weepy clit. Other set of fingers picking apart your sweetest spots inside, ruthless cadence picking up. “Quiet, honey- be quiet f’me like my good girl why- ah- why dontcha?”

Truthfully, Geto himself is finding it so fucking difficult to concentrate.

He’s so sloppy. So loud.

He feels like he could combust with every shuddering gush of your sweet, sweet juices down the lover half of his face. So much of it that it’s dripping down into a lewd puddle onto the floor.

And he’s forced to swivel his free hand punishingly into your mouth to stop himself from traveling it down to his pants and creaming all over it like some loser. God- no- he had to make you cum. And fast. Before he loses it.

“C’mon, my pretty lady-” Geto bursts out in feverish hot pants breathed into your cunt, mouth rearing everywhere. And the stark contrast between his cool lip ring and his mouth made you shiver down your spine in white-hot pleasure. Hot and cold hot and cold- “Can ya hear that?”

Ah, damn. Just your luck - both your ears perk up at the distance resounding of footsteps. Close.

You tug on his long strands. Through muffled syllables, “G-geto–”

Closer.

“S’alright s’alright-” he’s snickering, sounding for all the world as relaxed as ever like he wasn’t two seconds away from being caught with a fellow actress in one of the most scandalous positions for even a porn company. “-jus’ cum f’me. Cum f’me, honey.”

Your cunt was so sensitive. You’re whimpering through his fingers once Geto presses in deeply onto that magical spot. Stars bursting behind your eyes- “M’gonna cum, Geto- so close. M’gonna- m’gonna-”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence.

Because with only a few bustling thrusts of his digits into that very same bullseye, you’re cumming all over Geto’s pretty face. Splattering his chiseled chin in a sheeny gloss of you, so filthy.

And he lets you - oh, he lets you. Why wouldn’t he?

Not when this is all that he’s been dreaming of ever since he had you that one time on set, not when you tasted so sweet spurting your juices down his tongue. Kittenish kisses lapping up every wet gash of slick, his fingers strain with how furiously he’s fucking you through your high.

“Oh- oh, honey— ” The only mantra that Geto can babble out pussydrunkenly, quirking up his hips to grind his rock-hard erection against your thigh. God, he felt like he could cum in his pants right now. “Tha’s right- use me- use me.”

Forcing his jittery fingers down to your hips in a rough restraint, he’s dragging your drooling cunt up and down up and down up and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Hey- ya in here?”

Click! In an instant, Geto’s long arm span is reached over to lock the door.

And god, Naoya’s voice was grating enough that he almost lost his rock-hard erection - if it hadn’t been for that sweetly startled mewl ripping from your throat, that is.

You scoff, fully ready to give him a piece of your - albeit syrupy, orgasmically hazed - mind to the man outside. But with a sneaky finger signaling you to be quiet, he stands back up to his hulking stature. Growling out a biting, “Only one in here’s me, fuck off.”

Only then comes the sputtering, “Wh-why I’d never-”

“Unless ya want your lil’ idol Toji to hear about how you’ve been nothing but a prick to his favorite actress.”

It’s barely even a second later when you hear those footsteps walking urgently away, and not even two when Geto’s hot breath puffs up against your ear. Words slurring and stumbling over one another, gliding his tongue across his lower lip to snatch up every ounce of you. “Don’t you worry-” Before sucking on the very same fingers that were buried inside you, “M’gonna ruin him.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remember something else you’d said about that very man just earlier. Something about a date…as if.

“Kiss me- kiss me kiss me please-” Geto’s mouth hovers over yours. Gingerly placing peck after peck- “Fuck- s-suck-” Not even having to finish his sentence with how your heated lips wrapped around his icy lip ring, dripping with your slick. “N’ I was th-thinking- would ya- only if you’d like- wanna make a movie-”

“Yes.”

Hah, Geto grins. Take that, Satoru.

LOCATION: CCTV room, Jujutsu X company building.

Employee count - 1

“Fuck- fuck-” Ichiji’s struggling to push up his condensation-fogged glasses with one of his slippery hands. Fingers trembling on the keyboard when he’s rewinding the camera footage in the costume room by just a few more seconds. “Oh god- m’gonna get f-fired-”

Again.

And again.

And again and-

“Shit-” he’s shuddering out, head woozy at the sheer overstimulation. Belt clattering against the plastic of his chair for about the nth time this hour. “-she really is a screen queen.”

---

Geto Suguru planned everything meticulously - till every detail was checked off on his seasoned mental list of making the perfect homemade…movie.

Not exactly something that he’d tried out personally before but- but who better to do it than with you? And he swears with every bit of insincere honesty inside of him that this was totally not because he’d been yearning to feel you cumming all over his cock for months now.

Yeah…totally not.

So he planned.

And he had everything - the heady candle-lit bedroom, the fresh silken sheets, the soft music playing from a speaker somewhere across the room. The only undecided thing being the name of your little tryst. Prowling over to you sat on the bed - all it takes is a simple shove to spread you out the way he’s been dreaming of. Humming, “You ready?”

Well, everything except-

“G-Geto, how are we gonna make a movie with no camera-”

Shit, that was the last thing on Geto’s mind right now - just about the furthest thing, despite being the very epicenter of his entire career.

Everything he needed.

But no fucking camera.

Oh.

“Shit.” he’s chuckling - somewhat gingerly, somewhat pussydrunkenly with just a glimpse of you splayed out like this on his plush bed. In another one of you gauzy lingerie sets, leaving barely anything for his overdriven imagination to obsess over. He’s scratching behind his neck, “We can st-”

“No-” And Geto looks just as shocked as you feel right now, skin heating up with embarrassment at your hasty answer.

But oh, that only makes him take it in stride - makes him slide his hand underneath his velvety boxers to knead greedily at his thumping hot erection. Grinning, “The Screen Queen doesn’t want to be on screen? How shocking.”

But it wasn’t.

God, because he could already see that darkening splotch at your silk drenched panties. The way your lower lip wobbled with so much want - he’d already watched enough of your videos to recognize it by now.

He’s nosing down your neck, drinking in each of your little shivers. “How do you want me?”

And all you can say is- “I just want you-”

Swat!

The rounded tips of Gojo’s fingers find themselves placing a pretty peck right on your pulsating clit, sending obscene shockwaves bowing your spine. Right into his arms, “You a-always say the sweetest things, honey.”

You hiss at the cool clash of his proud Prince Albert - and the way that one of Geto’s dangling silver necklaces knock into your chin softly.

And he’s groaning, just throwing his head back at the flurry of stars bursting behind his eyes. Hands gripping onto the edges of his sheets, Geto slides his hips in a slow back and forth against your own. Sandwiching the circular girth of his cock between your sodden folds, they make such a pretty scene.

“Tell me, pretty baby–” His fingers smear at the wet drizzles seeping from either side of your slit. “-do ya get this wet for the c-camera too or s’it jus’ for me?” But you’re only spewing out a few nods and syrupy yeses, gushing all around him that he can’t help but wonder what it would like bursting with him inside-

He doesn’t have to bother waiting long.

Now, usually Geto liked to take his time - would prefer to see you crying and breaking while you beg for his cock more than anything else.

But shit, right now he thinks that a second longer he isn’t buried inside your cunt might make him die-

“C’mon c’mon c’mon-” he’s hissing at the elastic stretch of that first ring of muscle. Easing his way in to bulge your sloppy entrance all full with just the very ends of his bulbous tip. “Take it- please, please take it-”

Geto can’t keep the slight tremble out of his tone even if he wanted to - not with the way your gooey cunt was molding around his shape to suck up every inch of him. And god, was there so much of him. It’s like it was never-ending.

“Shit-” your nails reel red, red marks down the milky plane of his deltoids. “I-I can feel you in my hngh- lungs, Geto-”

He chuckles - all the way into your lungs and he’s not even halfway in, yet? Hell, fuck halfway in, he’d just managed to smear past your swollen pussy lips to rut his fat head inside. Hissing at the clench of your walls around his sensitive slit.

“Suguru-” he gasps, eyes still wrenched down on the way your cunt was greedily gobbling him up. “P-please if you can call that hah- fuckass ‘Satoru’, then call me Suguru, please-”

It’s all that has to come out of your mouth - a sweet, syrupy “Sugu-”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You feel yourself gulping down every one of his solid inches, a sheer circumference that you never even thought possible- the friction between your gummy walls and his furiously jackhammering cock having you squeal-

Smack!

Finally fully inside you, your pussy lips kiss his thickened hilt like long lost lovers, and his heavy balls shift against your ass.

“Don’t- don’t run-” Geto’s sputtering out a slightly broken plea, pure desperation wafting off of him like a heady perfume. It was contagious. And his rough fingers grip tightly around your waist, jousting up the dampening blankets all around your body when he pulls and pulls and pulls- “Fuck, where’d you think you’re going, huh, honey?”

His tone was just dripping with something dark, something you can only sputter and drool to match when every nook and spongy cranny inside is being filled up with Geto’s fat cock.

And it twitches inside you happily - if heaven was real then it felt like this, Geto muses already thoroughly pussydrunk.

“M’m-not running away-” you’re pouting a slick-glossed pout up at him. One that he can’t help but crane his neck down in an instant to kiss away. “You’re just s-so big- bigger than on camera-”

Fuck.

You would’ve shut your babbling mouth sooner if you’d known what would happen.

Because the rotund edges of Geto’s cockhead only swells up wider, squirting out even thicker wads of his steamingly hot precum with every mindless, saturated grind. Ones just to fit in- more and more, even after he’s finding himself kissing a wet glide down the ends of your cervix. Making sure to brand that edge of his piercing onto every gooey wall.

“God- y’really know how to drive me c-crazy-” Geto’s dark hair curtains either side of your head, and you almost don’t notice the way he swipes up two hands underneath your thighs to press you into a mean mating press. Letting you latch on limply while he leaves to swat at one of your hands cupping your pussy, “N’ move that hand- fuck- m’gonna fuck that outta ya.”

And he does.

The mattress creaks in loud protests when he’s pummeling you with stupidly rude clashes of his weepy tip onto the edges of your g-spot - already expertly mapped out by him now - he’s feeling the sloshy mixture recoil with each thrust. So much of it. “Such a pretty pussy- such p-pretty moans, makes me wanna keep it t’myself-”

God, he’s wanted you for what seems like forever - and he was going to take it.

Panting hotly against your mouth, heavals. Drunk on your messy kisses and the way your pussy lips were bulging with the struggle to take him - but still milking him so needily. “Tie up my h-hair, honey, wanna see that pretty face of yours proper.”

All you can do is blink back the wall of tears that’d made its home in your eyes, trembly fingers taking ahold of Geto’s thin, black hair tie.

But you didn’t expect it to be so difficult.

Because any moment you were even slightly close to bunching up enough of his locks, he’s planting a thorough trail of kisses down your cervix. Before ending with the very showstopper - at your g-spot.

And one look up into Geto’s half-lidded eyes told you one thing…he was doing this on purpose.

Your legs knock-knee in an almost engulfing way around his heavily swallowing throat, muttering out in a tone that you probably thought was threatening - but that Geto found so cute. “I’m onto you, sir-”

Fuck.

Fuck, maybe you were threatening.

He didn’t expect that evil little nickname to slip past your lips - and you didn’t expect Geto to swipe up a devious thumb up your clit in retaliation. Pretty, puckering lips trailing up the valley of your breasts, “I have no idea what you oh- mean, Screen Queen.”

And despite how you were huffing and puffing, your pussy was so clingy all around him. Hips bumping up in slight bucks fully off of the bed in a pathetic attempt to match Geto’s sloppy cadence.

Completely starstruck at the sheer pressurized thrusts you were being ruthlessly dealt with - and you half-lucidly swear you could count stars over your head.

“Do it-” His lips kiss down your winking eyes, ringed fingers cold against your own now. “-do it, honey- you can do it. Might be the Screen Queen but you’re my slut, arentcha?”

God, it’s like his words were hypnotic - maybe they were.

And you dredge up every single bit of will in your trembly body to push past the way that he was absolutely ravaging you inside.

Pound after pound of his swollen cock, the chilling cold metal of his dick piercing helping you discover forbidden sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even realize existed.

So merciless that he’s slipping out a few inches by accident- only to let out a shuddering gasp, eyes shooting almost-comically wide open before sheathing his way in again. Even deeper - you’re being crushed with the weight of one of his knees pressing down on your body.

Over and over-

“Wanna- hah- wanna cum so badly-” your words prattle out delicately. Fingers searing across his scalp, and the way that you tug makes him hiss. It makes him rut, it makes him slam his hips down bruisingly. “Please-”

He leaves a slurping wet kiss on your neck - and another with his fingers onto the hood of your clit. Rolling over with the angled curve of his thumb. Obviously, having you drop a few tresses of his hair- “Heh, maybe t-tie my hair properly n’ I’ll let ya cum- you know s’a staple of my hngh- videos.”

So infuriating, it makes you clench.

That sleazy grin plastered across Geto’s face was unfairly sexy, and so was the way his body was wracking with sudden shivers. Boasting down every curve and muscle, forcing him to fall onto his elbows-

“Hngh- n’ you call me the rookie-” Your smug grin curves upwards at the way that Geto was so tangibly pussydrunk, the way his hips squelch sloppier into your own. The dripping wet noises so obscene that you could feel your cunt drenching even further with each emanating one.

“God, you’re in for it-” he’s spitting out a few slews of swears against your dangling open mouth. Pinching meanly at your clit. “You’re in- hah- you’re sooo in for it-”

But then Geto sees white - and so do you.

Whether from the crashing pleasure of your orgasm, or the way that he was suddenly pumping out thick ribbons of cum into your snugly filled cunt, you have no idea. And you don’t even have the rational brain capacity to even wonder right now.

Because Geto was fucking you through your high like he hated you, rutting up like an animal. And you were sure that if his canines were just a tinge sharper, they’d be drawing blood with how hard he was sinking them into the crook of your neck.

Only deeper, more feral, with every pump of his spazzing cock - gushing out in boatloads of syrupy cum. It thwacks! against the utterly bruised and battered wet surface of your cervix, before dripping down, down, down to your g-spot.

And there’s so much.

Such velvety volumes that ooze down in creamy dredges from the very purse of your pussy lips to form a milky ring around his ruddied base. It inflates your constricting walls from the inside - and yet, still not enough.

He presses one hand down to feel for that bump where you’d been filled to the brim. Sure to add more - to paint your dripping insides white until he was shooting blanks the same way he’d done to simply the thought of you. The idea makes him moan-

No, it makes him whimper.

“Still haven’t hngh f-finished tying my hair, honey.” Geto’s mouth leaves possessive marks down your neck. And his sensitive hips dart with a simple, sullying gyration, smiling, “Either you hngh finally do it properly like a good girl th-this time n’ we make a movie or- we go see one. This weekend. You and me. Your choice, Screen Queen.”

A/N. This got LONG but OHH PIERCED GETO MY BELOVED.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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