#when you get a box and it quivers

[seiwas]

atsumu’s pr team the type to put him into every possible thing—sports ads, energy drink endorsements, hair care commercials, tiktok trends, the whole thing.

at some point the miya twins try to start a podcast but it’s 30 minutes of them bickering, so it ends after 5 episodes. a youtube channel doesn’t do any better.

but it’s in his mid-late twenties that a movie is pitched to him and his pr team is all over it, marketing him as the up-and-coming romcom heartthrob of the next decade.

atsumu has never acted a day in his life, and sure, he’s hot, has a charmer of a smile and the physique of a god. but the moment he speaks, all of that gets thrown out the window immediately.

[hoseoksluna]

LITTLE JUICE | JJK

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut, pwp

rating: 18+

summary: when you get insecure about being constantly needy for your boyfriend, jungkook shows you that it's okay.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: the plot is TEENY TINYYYY in this one, pure filth, mirror sex, dd/lg, little space, new roles for the wine universe omg, jungkook is a caretaker, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, dry humping, they're so in love it's sickening, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), fingering, squirting, daddy issues, heavy dom/sub dynamics, handjob, penetrative sex without condom, cowgirl, plushies used in a sexual situation.

luna's note: i'm so sorry i couldn't get this out for you on xmas day since i was so sick, but let this be a gift for the new year! i missed writing smut sooooo much, and i can't wait to get back to it starting january. this was so fun omg. i missed wine sm. my daddy issues be daddy issuing so this has something new in it, i'm super excited abt it!! i hope you like this and that you enjoy reading. make sure to let me know what you think in my ask box!! mommy luna is baaaaackkkkkkk. HAPPY NEW YEARRRRR. <3 (one day early but i felt like saying it idc) BIG MWAH.

luna's necessary side note: i missed u all so damn much wtf. OH, AND HAPPY BDAY TAEHYUNGGGGGG.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

The mirrors, lining the walls, are nearly all fogged up once you take a step inside the vast rehearsal room. A certain mellow, yet familiar song led you towards the right door—one that made your ears perk up in curiosity because it reminded you of something you’d heard a long time ago, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Not until you rearranged your bobas into the crook of your elbow and slid open the door. 

The stuffiness of the room only added to the sensual aura of the song, and your legs nearly gave out on you. 

No BS by Chris Brown.

The song that started it all.

Jungkook, clothed in black from head to toe, seems to be locked in his own world as he moves his body in the center of the room, his chest and feet hitting each beat without a singular mistake or a misstep. And when the chorus of the song flows in, his whole figure follows suit. It rolls into the rhythm like the slowest, most passionate wave of the sea that splits in the middle and begins to course down your sternum. Your cheeks darken with a feverish tint. You feel every inch of his movements inside you as if he were there, and when Jungkook spins and sinks to his knees, propping only one Nike-shod foot on the floor, and he hip-thrusts before he continues those rippling motions to the last beats, the muscles of your thighs quiver on reflex and your dampened private parts flutter.

You did not expect to see that when you texted Jungkook you were going to visit him just because you finished work early and you could get boba before your favorite shop closed. You feel as though you just got blessed twice. 

TGIF, indeed. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d celebrate the work week ending like you are right now—with two bobas in your arm, cooling your heated skin, and with your eyes witnessing erotically angelic artistry in a humid room. And with your sensitive parts outright dripping, too, because the song ends, enveloping the room in a silence that welcomes in Jungkook’s heavy breathing as he slumps back onto his back, his chest lifting and falling in the air. 

You feel fuzzily faint. He made you wet in record time and he hasn’t even touched you. Nor has he looked at you. 

Instinctively, your hand grasps your mango boba and you press it against the side of your face. Smile to yourself as a lightbulb flicks to life in your mind. 

Leaving behind your purse, you take both of the delightful treats and walk over to him. His eyes are closed as he’s absolutely unaware of your presence, your steps soft and sly. His round, sweat-splotched nose puffs out hard breaths that move through you and you coo to yourself silently before you place both of your feet on either side of him. You squat down, careful not to let your bum touch his lap, and you get his boba ready, placing your own on the ground. And with the loudest roar you can muster, you press the drink to his glistening cheek. 

He yelps. His fear-filled eyes fly open, his hands quick to catch you as you tumble down on him in reaction, your lungs submerging the room in your obscenely loud giggles. Tears of laughter cloud your vision, preventing you from seeing the horror twisting his face, but the little you saw was enough to douse your body in extraordinary elation. The tapioca inside the long cup swirls as it swims ferociously in the thick, violet liquid, mimicking the roundness and the blackness of his pupils with utmost perfection. 

You swipe a finger under your eye, speckles of your glitter smearing its pad. You lean down, your laughter subdued as it slowly fades out, and you can see the horror smoothing out and transforming, seamlessly, into a relieved adoration that taps against your heart. You kiss him with the boba now cooling your cheek as well. Leave behind a hard peck on his perspiration-coated mouth that makes him softly hum into this physical exchange of love, and just before you draw away, he breathes out against you with his nose. And that doesn’t just tap on your heart, it knocks on it most warmly. 

You love him so much. Too much. So much that the simplest of his body and human reactions make you feel things. Things that normal girls don’t normally feel. 

Good thing you’re not a normal girl. 

You’re a messed up girl. And you’re a girl in love. Have been for the past year. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” 

Your mouth widens into a pleased grin, and the light bulb that shone in a bright yellow melts into a warm, dusky pink tinge that floods your spine—only because he squeezes the dip of your waist that you’ve been working hard at carving out. A new thing you’ve implemented into your daily routine after you’ve gotten a new job that doesn’t allow you to fuck him all day long like you used to. The sex has gotten even better with time as the wine of his love ripened and matured. To such an extent that you found yourself craving it more than you had in those times when you were just seeing him for sex. Two rounds aren’t enough for you—and you remember well that after two rounds you were usually too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. Now, because you have matured too, your vessel for his love and his liquid stars has grown, needing more to feel satisfied to the fullest. The new job kept you away from him, the long hours teased you. So much that your bathroom breaks were too frequent and obvious and you spent them locked in a bathroom stall with one hand in your panties and your other holding your phone to your ear while Jungkook guided you, his hand, too, in his pants, locked in the same place on the other side of the line, whispering encouraging, lewd instructions that sent you shaking over the edge in mere minutes. 

Instructions that got him in trouble at his workplace, hence why he had to come up with a solution. Because your thirst was never quenched in minutes. His voice was too pretty, and too soft. 

Gym five times a week for you, dance lessons for him, physical distance for the both of you. A perfect solution for a perfect problem. All that sexual frustration was released during those exercises filled with delicious pain and you went to work the next day free of that carnal lust swishing in your veins. You focused on your work, and you didn’t have to take long bathroom breaks. You didn’t even need a spare pair of panties in your purse anymore.

It worked—and it’s completely crazy to you that all it took for you to break your public purity streak was seeing him dance like that. 

You sit up and with your swift movement, the squelching sound of your cunt rubbing up against your juices sounds out across the room. Your cheeks heat up with a different shade of red as embarrassment runs down your spine, especially as Jungkook’s brows twitch upwards and his eyes widen, his large hands lowering down a little, following the curve of your figure that leads to his favorite part of you. 

Your hips. 

A blush scatters upon his cheeks, too. He heard it. 

He calls out your name, sweeping his tongue across his abruptly dry and chapped bottom lip. Your name, not princess, not baby. Your government name without any embellishment of adoration. 

You’re in trouble. 

Your embarrassment pinches you at the two dimples on the small of your back. “Y-yeah?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, but he pauses for a moment. As if he could sense where the emotion touched you, his long and warm fingers find its icy traces that it left behind while still keeping the crooks of his thumb anchored on your hip bones. 

“Did you get wet for me?” 

A shiver cascades down the slender column of your back, a visible one for his eyes to see that coax out his softness for you, evident in the roundness of his bottom lip that he juts out, triggering your unprecedented shyness. What a drastic shift of dynamic in your relationship you perceive this to be. All along, for a year long, the atmosphere of your shared love has been nothing but an environment of safety, where you could unfold your sexuality as naturally and confidently as you wanted to without an ounce of coyness. Introduce an unyielding desire and a well-meaning solution for it into the equation and watch the change bloom. 

For some reason, you’re reminded of his past, now distant, liking of a certain degradation kink that once grew like vines across your intimate relations with him. The memories travel along your veins—the vulgar pet names, the calling out, the rough handling—and crest at your core, moistening the center of your panties even more as your walls pull in. And the way Jungkook takes that bottom lip between his teeth divulges to you quite clearly that he feels it. 

Which is a bad thing because you can’t lie about it. 

But… you can’t divert his attention from it. 

You slosh his drink in your hand. “I got you your favorite,” you chirp, the boba twirling beneath your hand while his identical pupils remain unmoving, unblinking, fixed on you. You manage a smile, but its staticness crumbles as soon as you realize that Jungkook isn’t really influenced by your change of topic. “Taro boba. I got a milk one, too. Mango. You wan—”

His hands descend down to your thighs, squeezing, halting the tide of your words, the progression of your trick. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt and before you know it, he lifts you just a little bit to maneuver you and make you sit on the shaft of his semi. A low gasp gushes out of your throat as well as a leak of your dew not only onto the fabric of your underwear but onto the material that now clings to his manhood. 

He twitches, hardening beneath your pussy, and gooseflesh pricks your skin. 

“Mango? You always get Taro with me.” 

The glitter from your eye make-up that you smeared across his cheek during your kiss twinkles underneath the dimmed light and he doesn’t guide your hips to move against him. No, he rolls his own—ever so slowly, ever so discreetly. His hands merely hold you down, but nothing about it is forceful. Subdued pleasure springs up your sternum, pooling in your head, making you woozy as quickly as if he were pouring booze down your throat. And when he heightens the pressure enough that he twitches again, you recognize he’s doing the same move that is a part of the choreo he was practicing. 

Your heart hammers against your chest. Your nipples pebble against your cotton top, and Jungkook’s eyes fly to them, catching and taking in their aroused state, perhaps even coaxing it out of them. 

A sigh leaves his mouth. He fists the hem of your skirt, dipping his head into the current of the pleasure he’s giving both of you, and so do you. 

You just can’t help it; you can’t fight it. When your toe touches the surface of the wine of your shared love, nothing can keep you from taking a dip. And the same applies to Jungkook, too. In this case, he’s dripping in red, having slipped entirely into the current, one arm out of the water, fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling you into the water. 

And something about his desire lessens your strange coyness. His lack of solution offering brings down the stigma, setting you free. And you missed him. You missed him terribly. Haven’t felt his dick in five fucking days. 

You place your hands on top of his. 

A small fire begins to burn within the snug blackness of his eyes. All of a sudden, the noises he stifled come out in soft, almost inaudible growls that cause your clit to throb and your nails to dig half-moons into the skin of his hands. A green light from you for him to enjoy this—and he does. Jungkook throws his head back, his pretty chin pointing to the ceiling, and his big chest heaves. 

It is only at this moment that his eyes leave yours just to bask in this forbidden pleasure. 

Anyone could walk in—the doors aren’t locked, nor are they shut at all. Anyone could think the practice room is available for personal use, without a single soul present. And anyone could see you riding the horsey because the sight of him lost in the vivacity of it all forces you most carnally to give him more. 

You hump him. 

“My friend got it the other day and she said it was delicious,” you breathe out, speaking of your unordinary choice of boba. The movements of your hips are small, minuscule, but hard enough that his knuckles get painted with a shade of ivory that sprinkle your chest with little shocks of joy and pride. A thick vein bulges on the side of his throat as Jungkook tries his best not to let out the entirety of his noises that his body is brimming with—and for that very reason, you grab his hands and place them very brattily on your perked, full breasts. “I wanted to try it and see for myself.” 

This feels good. This feels like the time before you got older and greedy. And the feeling is validated when Jungkook whisks his eyes back at you and grapples your tits, squeezing them so hard that it’s you who bites their bottom lip until you nearly draw blood, your body set on fire with a blue desire that kisses his big hands with such roughness that he whimpers. 

But the moment is ruined all too soon. 

A myriad of high-pitched voices is carried through the thick air, accompanied by giggles. You gasp, looking behind you, and before you know it, you’re up on your feet and Jungkook’s unopened boba is knocked to the side, now rolling sideways towards the mirror. 

You go to fetch it, but a strong hand on your arm prevents you from doing so. You spring back to your place in front of him and you glance up at him in confusion just to see him frowning down at you. 

Sweat drips down his temple. The tips of his brows almost meet in the middle, but swim away and relax at the sight of your puzzlement. The voices grow louder, your breath hitches in your throat and Jungkook’s hand lifts and pets down the back of your head, awakening the butterflies in your tummy as if he’s done it for the first time in your life. 

A yearning to kiss him consumes you. 

“Stay here,” Jungkook murmurs, keeping his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. “If they see us like this, they’ll walk away.” 

You nod, understanding if you were to do as you wished, the girls would’ve taken it as a sign to enter the room and perhaps mingle. But if they see you stuck in an intimate moment like this, they quietly and quickly leave without any unnecessary fuss. 

Smart man. 

“I’m also so fucking hard that I can’t even hide it,” he continues, lowering his tone even more. It penetrates you, making your clit thrum, and as your grin blossoms, so does a romantic shade of blush across your cheeks. You envelop your arms around his torso, propping your chin on his chest, radiate your love up to him, and Jungkook smiles down at you. “As per usual.” 

He kisses your forehead, lingering there for a beat longer before he lifts his head and focuses his gaze at the situation at the door. You don’t care much because you dwell on the hot and cold sensation he left in his wake from the warmth of his mouth and the iciness of his lip ring—something you’ll never get used to and something that will always ruin your panties. 

“They’re gone.” 

And so is he. Off to shut the door and lock it, peeking through the little rectangular window to check if anyone is around. Once the coast is clear, you sense him behind you as you bend to pick up his knocked off boba and you stumble upon his gaze in the mirror as soon as you straighten your spine. 

A hungry look is wrung into his features. 

The corners of his eyes droop in arousal, narrowed as they are. His pupils are blacker than the tapioca in your hands. His teeth nibble on his bottom lip impatiently and you flutter all over, taking in his state and his large stature towering above you. You could melt into him and never be found again, hidden in the crevices of his body that you still believe are there for you. Hidden forever, safe and sound. 

He’s delicious through and through—and it’s been five days since you last had a taste of him. 

Five torturous days. 

“You must be thirsty after all that dancing,” you say, breathless and thirsty yourself. His chest heaves, colliding into your back, and all those soft crevices of him touching you brings you back into that ravenous, greedy state you can’t get out of so easily. Dangerous, he is. Utterly, utterly dangerous. Erasing your clean streak like that. “Let me open it for you.” 

You go to turn around and fetch his straw from your purse, but he doesn’t let you. He encages you where you are by a mere placement of his hand on your hip, fingers back to gripping the fabric of your skirt. He can rip it off if he likes—he can buy you a new one and make your heart elated anytime. 

The idea hardens your nipples, making a show for him all over again. 

He pushes you flush against him, earning a sultry gasp from you. The fingers that gripped your skirt elongate across your mound while the other graze your chin, elevating it a little, ensuring a strong eye contact. 

You flutter. Can’t take it anymore. He has to take you home and fuck the shit out of you before you— 

“I am thirsty,” he purrs, his lips borderline touching yours. “But for something other than bubble tea. Care to guess what it is?” 

Your breath lodges in your throat. You know well what he means, but out of habit and out of personal pleasure you pretend to be dumb. You want to hear him say it—you want him to be as detailed as he was during those naughty afternoon phone calls that got him in trouble with his boss, who told him off for having long work breaks. You want him, his filthy mouth and even filthier, condescending manners. 

You want the old times—and for the sake of your desire, you remain silent. Twist your brows in feigned confusion. Widen your eyes a little. Puff out your cheeks. 

Your adorableness makes him twitch against your hip. Jungkook sucks in a breath. Takes the hand that caressed your chin and glides it down your neck, your chest, your stomach that flexes under his touch until he winds up at the waistband of your skirt. There he stops and he tilts his head to the side, sweeping his tongue along the pillow of his bottom lip. 

“What I want,” he starts, his breathing quickening. “Is the little juice that is in here.” He skims the pads of his fingers down your mound, beneath the hem of your skirt and along the sopping surface of your clothed feminine flesh. You mewl, your hips instinctively riding his fingers, following the sailing, back and forth motion. Your adorableness deepens with the influence of the sudden pleasure by the way it scrunches up your features and Jungkook whimpers again, stopping his motions when he feels you timidly soak his fingers. “I want it so bad that I can’t go one more minute without it.” 

You glance down more to see how big of a mess you’re making on his hand, but as attuned as he is to his role, brought about by his arousal, Jungkook takes your breath away with his following actions. 

He moves you closer to the mirror. Bunches up your skirt even higher so you have a perfect view of your panties, which have a large wet spot in the middle. Little rivulets of your juices flow out of their confines and down your inner thighs, proceeding to make a puddle on the hardwood floors beneath your feet. Jungkook’s fingers are shiny in the light, coated in your lustfulness, and he drifts them up and down that stain—over your swollen clit and sensitive lips. 

“See? Here. This little wet princess part of you is what I crave.”

And just like that, owing to his words, you flourish into the little girl you haven’t been safely dwelling in for months, sliding into that role as easily, tenderly and meekly as if you were slipping your feet into your fluffy slippers. You regress, beautifully, making sweet little noises into his neck as you go to hide in there, poking his drink into his hand, silently telling him to take it while you rub your sticky thighs together, eager to get the uncomfortable throbbing feeling away. And he does, solid in his own caretaker role, sinking down onto his knees, placing the drink on the floor against the mirror. But he remains there, looking up at you, eyes big and round, yet still steady, sure, mature and irrevocably dependable. And you sense those eyes to be telling you to take your panties off and give the Daddy what he craves. 

You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear and drag it down past the middle of your thighs, letting him handle the rest, but you catch his eyes watering ever so gently—and the discovery causes your heart to skip a beat. He’s taken in the role you’ve slipped into, having watched it happen in real time in all its glory, and perhaps he’s nostalgic, or perhaps he’s just euphoric, but he takes the time to bask in it all. 

And he kisses the cotton fabric of your panties first before he kisses the soft flesh of your thigh. Drags it down. Lets it pool in his hands at your ankles. Peeks up at you. 

“The way you willingly give yourself over to me never fails to mesmerize me,” he purrs, pressing another kiss to your thigh without taking his eyes off of you. Your stomach jumps, energy-charged butterflies scurrying to the front of your stomach in longing to kiss him, too. “You’ve been feeling bad about being needy for me. Worked hard for weeks to be a good girl, but what you don’t know, princess, is that you were a good girl even when you called me up at work asking for me,” he continues, lips brushing against your skin with every pronounced vowel. He edges around your knee and begins to pepper gentle, wet kisses there. Your mouth falls open—and you discover this place is a spot of more sensitivity than your neck. You double over, grabbing a tight hold of his tousled, yet soft hair, and Jungkook moans against you. “And you’re a good girl right now for giving yourself over to me, even when you’re so careful about being horny for me in public.” 

Your body forces out the same kind of noises, so tender and pained, your heart rapidly kicking against your ribcage. Your arousal is heightened by his words carrying such devastating praise, even when the most inert core of you aches for such different debauchery—the very opposite of what he’s giving you. 

You leak for him, nonetheless. 

Unable to take it anymore, Jungkook cradles your ankles and carefully rids you of your ruined panties, half-stuffing them into the front pocket of his jeans. A tiny bit of the pink fabric sticks out of it and the sight intoxicates you, pulling you deeper into your little space. Even more so when he finishes his praise because he wasn’t done yet. Not quite. 

“And to see you be little for me so prettily again after such a long time,” he husks, spreading your legs far apart enough to see that gleaming rivulet make its way down the inner of your thigh. “That makes me the happiest man in the world, princess. I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

Jungkook leans in and, with his tongue flat against your inner thigh, he collects the little juice you leak for him. He moans at the taste, but the sound is broken by a cry marked by yearning for more. He doesn’t stop there—he delves immediately, without sparing a second, into your lap with such a verve that your back crashes against the still fogged up mirror. His mouth seizes your clit, making kissing sounds as he laps and sucks at it with a hunger that could never be replicated in the arts. You grip his hair tighter for support, almost sliding down the mirror while struggling to contain your noises, the pleasure permeating every inch of your body that is ultimately submitted to him. The pressure of the delight he’s giving you deepens when he places one of your thighs on his shoulder, helping you take it while he continues to moan into your pussy and eat her like she deserves. 

But you can’t take it. Not at all. Not when he begins to flick his tongue on your clit in a way that he does. 

Your foot slips, but Jungkook is in control. He makes sure you land on your bum safely and painlessly, not once ripping his mouth off your cunt. His eyes continue to be steady, fixed on you, narrowed into such thin, alluring slits that it hastens your sweet release. You hiccup as you take little breaths, overwhelmed by it all. Your cheeks burn, and the fire spreads down your limbs, leaping over to your boyfriend at work, who glows with a rosy tint. Jungkook pulls away a little bit, dripping in arousal and perspiration, and he allows you to see his technique in all its glory. 

The tip of his tongue stimulates your engorged clit with rapid, hard flicks. 

Your orgasm inches closer and closer. Jungkook pushes your legs all the way back until you’re a squished mochi that he can’t get enough of, and when he puts a bigger pressure on your little bud, it is your absolute undoing. 

Closer and closer, the orgasm takes over you completely. From the top of your head to your little toes that flex in your sneakers, you begin to shake uncontrollably as the highest level of the delight bursts upon your body. Jungkook’s noises grow in volume simultaneously, enraptured as he is by the view of his created paradise unfolding over you—and he never stops looking at you. 

Not even as you come down from your high. 

Not even as he, with your little juice dripping down his chin, turns you around and stacks one of your feet on the mirror while he keeps the other leg back with his hand. His limbs surround you, and as you blink through the blinding fog of your orgasm, you realize that you accidentally managed to match your shoes with his. High Nike dunks, black. The ones he got for you as well when he bought a pair for himself. 

Your hole clenches in the mirror. A stream of your little juice makes a larger puddle on the floor beneath you. 

“Look at you dripping for me, fuck.” 

Hooking your leg over his right limb, he strums your entire feminine flesh with the four of his fingers, the squelching and squeaking sounds of your pussy pulling a tortured groan out of him as if he hadn’t gotten a taste of you a mere minute ago. His other hand sneaks to your tits to feel them up, stopping at your pebbled nipple, which he fondles as he breathes against you, inhaling your scent. Your hips buckle, your drenched seashell sensitive from his feast, and Jungkook lets out a pleased chuckle. 

“My pretty little pussy. Always so sensitive from all my love, huh?” 

You nod, meeting his gaze in the mirror, and Jungkook grins before he places a fat, rewarding kiss to your cheek, the two of his fingers, middle and ring, one of them adorned with that white Miffy plastic ring, starting a series of circles on your clit. 

Your hips buckle again, the pleasure soft yet dizzying, overwhelming your senses. Jungkook tightens his grip around you, squeezing your breast. 

“Whose pussy is this, princess?” 

In the middle of it all, a light bulb flicks to life once again in your woozy mind. And a pleased smile, just like his, begins to grow on your mouth. But Jungkook is impatient and you’re not responding fast enough for his taste, so he lifts his soaked fingers and uses them to grip your mouth. 

There it is. 

“I asked you a question. Whose pussy is this?” 

You’d bite your lip if he weren’t squishing your cheeks together, but your satisfied smile reaches your eyes, crinkling them. That causes him to relax his hold and give you a chance to give him the answer he seeks. 

Little does he know you’re about to manipulate him into giving you the sin that you desire. 

“This slutty little pussy is yours. Yours and no one else’s, Dada.” 

His brows twitch and light unrolls across his face, softening his features in a way you’ve never seen before. He curses, momentarily rolls his eyes back, and he plunges his wet fingers into his mouth before he seizes your mouth in a compulsive kiss that thoroughly shuts off your brain. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you comprehend he licked off his fingers and didn’t swallow only so you could get the treat he had himself—because he busies his fingers by burying them inside your fleshy heat. 

And he fucks you hard and doesn’t stop even when you begin to make intense little noises into his mouth. 

You struggle to kiss him back when he curls his fingers and pistons into you with rapid jerks from this angle. His other hand tugs your top upwards, finds its way into the cups of your bra just so he could pinch and rub your nipple in the way that you like. And when his tongue flicks against yours and his mouth purses softly against yours before he deepens the kiss, your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly that you’re as surprised as him once you come apart all over not just his hand, but the mirror, too. 

You splatter it with your little juice and even then, Jungkook doesn’t stop. Growling with heavy breaths, he strums your clit as fast as he can until there’s nothing left you can give to him. 

You slump against him, high on the complexity of yours and his aphrodisiac love. Specks of your glitter—your small shooting stars gravitate down to your flushed cheeks, and then his fingers are in your mouth, traveling far down and deep until you grace him with the sound he likes. You gag around them and he nods, pleased, smirking. 

“Good girl. Your slutty little juice tastes good, doesn’t it, baby?” he asks, and your stomach springs, your drunken feelings intensified by the fact you finally got what you yearned for. “Your mouth makes me fucking crazy. Dada, slutty pussy. I’m gonna lose my mind.” 

You mewl, your eyes heavy, but you want more—you want his cock, and he can feel it, he knows it. He knows it when he pulls out his fingers and kisses you as if the world was meant to end in the next minute. He knows it because he withdraws and he tells you. 

“Dada’s gonna fuck that slutty little pussy of his, hm?” Jungkook murmurs, and then his zipper is down, and just like the old times—he doesn’t rid himself of his clothes and gives you a brand new world with his strokes just the way he is. 

Fully clothed, with his hard drooling cock poking out of his unzipped jeans. 

He presses you against your wet juices on the mirror, spitting on his hand and lubricating the tip of his manhood. He enters you and you gasp, fogging up the mirror with your breath, and the hand that holds your head steady against the mirror buries into your hair while the other wraps around your hip. He sheathes himself inside you slowly whilst your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of finally being stretched out by him and once he bottoms out, it’s over. 

Your life is over.

“Dada’s pussy always so tight.” 

He pounds into you religiously—creating a new order for this brand new world. Hard, merciless strokes that scramble your brain and turn it into a mush. Your ass ripples with each collision and his noises melt into yours, a hymn for the utopia he’s fucking you into. And then he’s lifting you from the mirror and keeping you flush to himself, staring at you in the reflection while your tits spill out from your bra, bouncing, and Jungkook can’t get enough. Both of his hands drag down your straps, freeing your breasts, and he’s groping them, pinching your nipples without ever stopping the entrancing snapping of his hips. 

“Pretty princess getting fucked. Look at you. So pretty and all mine.” 

And then his Miffy-adorned finger is back on your clit, rubbing hard circles, and your personal world is finished—because your pleasure is his ultimate undoing. 

The smacking of skin quietens and his hips begin to roll—a languid, staccato version of his choreo that got you all needy and wet but an hour ago. Jungkook whimpers into your ear how much he loves you, over and over again, as he stuffs you full of his cum, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your swollen little clit until you come all over his twitching cock. 

And he doesn’t pull away. 

He holds you like this, panting into your neck, his grip still tight, still evoking a sense of safety you won’t find anywhere else. Your drowsy eyelids flit, consider yourself well-spent, and the thought begins to sing a celebratory song in your chest—because all that hard work paid off. 

You’re no longer greedy; you’re gratified after the first round. 

Jungkook kisses the nape of your neck. “We should go before Bunny and Vinny start wondering where we are.” 

The song wraps around your heart, which dissolves at his words. Jungkook pulls himself out of you, but you swivel around and throw your arms around him, catching him off guard. His still erect and wet length brushes against your thigh—and the contact makes you quiver in his arms.

“I feel good,” you explain into his ear. “I don’t need more.” 

Jungkook chuckles. Wants to look at your face and he smooths your hair back, grinning at you. “I’m proud of you, princess, but look,” he says, glancing down. You follow his gaze down and perceive he’s talking about his private parts. “I’m still hard.” 

His cock twitches at his words and twitches once more at the sound of your giggles—happy, happy giggles because the stigma behind your neediness withers and completely disappears, never to be found again, only because Jungkook isn’t embarrassed or afraid to show you he needs more. Your chest becomes light, light enough that you think you grew a pair of wings to fly around the room with.

“Gym, Gguk. You have to hit the gym more often,” you joke, knowing his work out schedule transcends beyond the five days you spend at the place. 

The corner of his mouth curls as mischief twinkles in his eyes, divulging to you that he likes the way you challenge him. 

“Oh yeah?” he questions, lifting his arm, pulling back the oversized sleeve of his T-shirt to flex his biceps. Your cheeks heat up at the strong mountains that appear and your hand can’t help but to knead it. “These aren’t big enough for you, huh?” 

You scoff and shush him at the same time, leaning over to plant a singular kiss to his muscles. Jungkook uses the opportunity to hide you in his embrace and you both sputter into laughs and giggles. He pecks your hair, but something interrupts your sweet moment. 

“Look at the mess you made,” he says, pointing at the mirror, and you gasp when you turn around. 

An imprint of the side of your face is left behind on the reflection. Foundation, mascara and glitter amidst the little pearls and rivulets of your juices. You worry what you look like now if your make-up is smeared to this extent, but it soon is washed away from your mind when Jungkook crawls forward and makes a heart on the wetness of your slick. 

He takes a picture of it and then he cleans it off with his gym towel. The floor, too. 

At home, you fuck him hard for it. 

With his Taro boba in his arm, Vinny on his chest and Bunny in the crook of his other arm, you ride him until your thighs burn and he resembles the prettiest rose you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Having come more than enough on his cock, you jerk him off while you flick your tongue on his tip, and he moans, flushes and convulses until he spills all over your hand and his stomach. Ropes of him cum reach the plushies, too, as he can’t stop coming and, growing feignedly jealous, you swallow him, longing for him to drip down your throat. 

He comes so much that your belly is full and he’s as gratified as you were in the practice room. 

And after a quick shower, you both drift off to your brand new world unexpectedly, the events of the day having exhausted you enough that you fall asleep within the next heartbeat. Vinny and Bunny tumble on in the washing machine while you and Jungkook dance in the new paradise, having stepped into the role of parents having a date without the kids. No stress, no stigma—just the freedom of being loved right. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist

[harzilla]

More self aware concepts but humorous.

You end up in the world of Twst but every time you try to tell somebody your actual name you get censored out by some random background noise, a car horn(why is there a car on campus?) a random student running into a tree, Sebek yelling, Kalim's carpet crashing into the person you were talking to, etc... to the point that the others notice and certain troublemakers like Ace, Floyd, and Jade start doing it on purpose because they want to see how the universe censored you. About the fifth time it happens you turn into a mess of explicit language, much to the horror of Vil or Riddle. It turns out the only name you can give them is your in-game name. If you used your own name. You're good. Used the name Yuu? Not so bad. But if you have some hard to say or random numbers? Good luck. You're going to get mocked by Ace especially. Like you couldn't pick something cool at least?

Explaining the friendship system to them. Like trying to explain how the guestroom and sticker system work. The guys you give the stickers vary in reaction. The liars who act like it's no big deal but the stickers end up somewhere safe. The ones who react happy. Thank you, they love them! Then you got the "I would die for these stickers" group. They're gonna protect them so hard.

You got guys like Azul who openly brag "Why yes of course I have more stickers, the prefect is quiet intelligent when it comes to strategizing... blah blah blah. A couple people about ready to shove the stickers down his throat. Stickers end up in odd places. Trey's hat stand, Jack's dumbbell, Rook's quiver, one of Jade's terrariums, etc... Some of them have them tucked away in a box. Floyd walking around with one on his cheek because you drew an eel on it for him.

The guys being stuck doing the same dance routine five times in a row. What do you mean this is a game mechanic? Do they HAVE to perform this much?

You: Oh no I actually have all week but I like to get it all done in one go. Now we gotta do the "piece of my world" set three more times. Chop chop.

Them: Mercy....

You: Mercy is for the weak. Now keep dancing.

The guys be acting up and you're just tired of it.... So the particular trouble makers you pick for lessons. Azul or Jade pissed you off? Welcome to Hell flight class. The two start getting nervous because you know how much they dislike this class right? Then you look them dead in the eye as you bust out the candy jar from your pocket that extends the lessons. The smile you give them. There's no mercy behind those eyes. Azul is trying to figure out a hundred different ways to get you to sign a contract to never torture him with flight class again after you extend the time twice. Everybody knows that if you bring out that jar, nobody is spared. May the seven have mercy on their souls.

[writersdrug]

Bartender Simon and reader compilation of them having physical contact throughout the day? Like brushing fingers when handing off drinks, or him putting a hand on her hip in the walk as he says,” behind,” to stop her from freaking out as he grabs something overhead, etc .thank youuuuuuuuuu

You guys are making me jealous of reader I swear-

You're the one who starts this game, even if it's unintentional. You ask him for a pen one day, yours is empty and you've got a six top in the corner that's ready to order. He gives you one from the bar, and you tap his forearm twice. "Thanks, Simon!" You say, skipping of to your table.

Simon Simon Simon... he stares after you, replaying your voice and your touch in his mind. It's so nonchalant for you, but it's got him derailed from whatever he was doing. Oh, right. Bartending.

But he makes a point to make you understand what you're doing to him. You're punching in a payment at the POS when you suddenly feel a hand on your upper back, and you freeze.

"Behind ya." He mumbles, reaching over you and into the cabinet to grab a to-go box. "Sorry, stealin' your boxes. I'm out."

You feel his fingers slide across your back until they retreat, and it takes everything within you to suppress a shiver. You look back at him once he leaves, feeling your face heat up and your lips quiver. Behind the bar, there's a fresh stack of to-go boxes.

Sneaky bastard.

You get him back, though. On a busy night, you jog behind the bar, nearly colliding with Simon. He stills and raises his hands. "Careful, Christ-"

You worm your way past him, ever-so-slightly pressing against his front, giving him the perfect angle of your tits. He can't breathe as you wiggle through - the fabric of his shirt and yours do little to quell the blazing heat he feels from you.

"That soda gun's broken!" You call out, filling the two glasses in your hand with the gun at the opposite end of the bar. You then trot back over and squeeze by him again - this time, your ass barely graces his cock, and he swears it nearly leaps to life just to feel the brush of your backside. "Thanks!" You call over your shoulder, disappearing into the restaraunt.

Simon takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders, staring at the bartop and trying not to go feral. (You're making it very hard for him). He picks up the soda gun and pushes all of the buttons - they all work fucking fine.

Come the following week, Simon decides to be bold. You sit at the bar on a slow Tuesday evening, watching the game on the telly, occasionally reaching over the bar to snag a fry (they're Simon's, but he hasn't touched them in a while - they would get cold). Your two tables are talking amongst themselves, waiting for their food. You would glance back into the kitchen window and check the warmer for their orders, but so far, Soap's still working on them. So you relax, having nothing better to do.

You're hoisted out of the barstool when two, large, meaty hands grab you by the waist. You shriek, dropping your fry, grabbing onto Simon's forearms as he lifts you up and deposits you onto your feet.

"Stop eatin' my chips, stop slackin', n' go roll silverware." He grumbles - he gives you two, sharp pats on the small of your back, the tips of his fingers on the curve of your ass.

You can't find it in yourself to turn around and gripe with him. You can't even look at him. You scurry off and run upstairs in search of fresh napkins, face red as a tomato and your stomach fluttering nicely. This is normal, right? This is what waitressing lis like - flirtatious behavior everywhere, both giving and receiving. It doesn't mean anything. Right?

Simon chuckles. He'll take that as a win.

[lucyandthepen]

get you alone | ljn ( m )

ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.

pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k

a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !! 

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway. 

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. 

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable. 

and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire. 

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more. 

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you. 

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.” 

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.” 

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”

“hm?” 

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.” 

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.” 

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.” 

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily. 

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at. 

it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it. 

sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together. 

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try. 

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features. 

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question. 

by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors. 

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips. 

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.” 

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles. 

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.” 

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.” 

“what kind of rewards did she give you?” 

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused. 

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.” 

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is. 

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile. 

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly. 

“you were serious about that?” he laughs. 

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next. 

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.” 

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so. 

when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking. 

“sunbae, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.” 

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that. 

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused. 

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours. 

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact. 

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you. 

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one. 

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features. 

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?” 

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins. 

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.” 

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading. 

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.” 

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.” 

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand. 

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words. 

“tell me what you really want, then.” 

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert. 

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later. 

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it. 

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders. 

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced. 

“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.” 

in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more. 

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth. 

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him. 

“sunbae, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it. 

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force. 

“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt. 

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue. 

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you? 

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you. 

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis. 

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?” 

“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.” 

“proud enough to give me a reward?” 

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be. 

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?” 

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —” 

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.” 

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do. 

“please, sunbae?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.” 

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you. 

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.” 

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips. 

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come. 

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”

“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered. 

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?” 

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance. 

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit. 

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm. 

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.” 

“but—” 

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.” 

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you. 

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.” 

“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—” 

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.” 

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.” 

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head. 

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly. 

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice. 

“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.” 

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.” 

“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can. 

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.” 

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume. 

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—” 

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you. 

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?” 

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.” 

“m’close, so close —” 

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.” 

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out. 

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off. 

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down. 

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck. 

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

[reignpage]

The Other Side

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Satoru doesn’t want to go home. 

There’s an unbearable pressure within those walls, pushing further and further in until he feels his cheeks touch the cold surfaces. Within himself, there’s also a pressure pushing further and further out, and he’s worried he’ll burst at the seams, stuffing flying out, leaving only a voice box that echoes an apology on repeat. 

He hates disappointing people. Despises that shaking of heads, the hands on the hips, and that disapproving gaze which penetrates the message that he isn’t good enough to his very soul. And he loathes even more the fact that you do none of that. Instead, you smile. 

It doesn’t reach your eyes, doesn’t make your cheeks all round or teeth to be on display. Having lived a couple decades now, Satoru’s aware of the polite customs of humans; the harmless ‘how are ya’ and ‘looking good’ that no one really means, and no one ever responds to. So, he knows when you’re simply fulfilling your role, doing what you think is best. 

Your favourite colour, the shape of your body, biggest fears and weaknesses are all things he might not know, or rather does not remember, but he does know that you cry yourself to sleep at night. 

He knows that because he stands outside your door, fist just about to hit the wood but something always holds him back. There’s an instinct inside that urges him out of bed, feet padding on the floor, and begs him to say something, anything. Even if it is just to ask if you’re okay. 

But Satoru doesn’t. Because he knows it’s stupid. Of course, you’re not okay, who would be?

And he’s selfish. 

He wants to protect himself from that cataclysmic ache in his chest that comes from witnessing you try to hold back tears, for him. The way it makes your eyes red and your lashes to flutter, bottom lip quivering. It’s all his fault, he knows that. How dare he get hit by a curse? 

How could he possibly call himself the strongest if he had been so weak as to destroy himself, and you, his wife? Or rather, old Gojo’s wife. 

No, you’re still his. 

That’s what the ring on his left hand says. He has to remind himself of that.

“You should go home, Satoru.”

She sits beside him, sipping from her glass, as they loiter by the bar. They’ve been there for hours, making idle small talk about nothing in particular. Their history is long but has been severed for years now, even before his memory loss. Satoru doesn’t really know why he asked to meet up; it’s wrong to see your ex-girlfriend as a married man, he’s aware. 

But he just needed to speak to someone he’s close to, someone who knew him intimately, as a partner, so that he can navigate this new reality he woke up to months ago. No one else would understand because they’re your friends too, and they’ll be disappointed in his choices, he’s sure. 

He sighs. “Would she even want to see me?”

“Of course, she does. She loves you. Even if it hurts, she’ll still want to see you come home, safe and sound.”

Satoru sighs again, a deeper, more strained exhale. He already knows the right answer, but as strong and experienced a fighter as he is, at the very core of his character, he’s still a coward. Was the Old Him braver? Is that what you loved about him? Is that why you can’t bear to be too close to New Him?

Tracing the rim of his glass and watching the liquid shake, he ponders his situation. He does that a lot these days, just thinking and mulling and wondering. Sometimes, he finds himself reaching for your hand at the dinner table, his eyes searching for yours first in every crowded room, and in bed, he’ll be woken up by his arm yearning for your body only to find nothing.

He doesn’t know what all of that means. 

And he supposes, without his memories, none of it matters. Even if he does press his lips against yours like he finds himself daydreaming, you’ll still be kissing the wrong man. Because you fell in love with a more mature, wiser, loving man. And what stands before you every day is but a cheap replica of that, all hollow and dull. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he acquiesces, and then, almost like an afterthought, he asks, “Do you think I’ll ever get my memories back? That should fix everything, right?”

His companion hums, fiddling with her hair as they both watch the people pass by. 

“Maybe. But I think it’s important you prepare for the possibility that you’ll never get it back. That’s just as likely, don’t you think?”

Satoru shrugs. It’s not the answer he was hoping to hear, though it certainly is what he was expecting. Truth is, he doesn’t think it’s possible; it all feels just a little too late, like you’ve all already strapped into the car, it’s speeding towards a cliff, and you know the height is too great. 

The gold band shines under the lights, and it feels hot on his finger, like a brand. It kind of itches the more he thinks about it, but he doesn’t dare take it off. Fiddle as he might, it’s a part of him, representing his past, present and future. He finds no fear in that. 

His phone pings. It’s you. You’re asking when he’s coming home. 

His chest aches again. You’re alone, at home, sat on the sofa wondering where your husband is, and Satoru’s trying to find him, for you. Even if it means losing himself, disappearing into the void, and being held up on strings by a different version of him, a better version. 

Of course, he won’t find the love of your life at the bottom of a glass, and certainly not at a bar with another woman. But he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s flipped through the photo albums, watched all the videos -- the wedding ones, and the ones on his phone, where you’re reading, and you have no idea he’s filming you. You laugh and he finds himself, at night, holding the speaker of his phone up to his ear to listen to it again and again, his lips twitching.

You weren’t laughing at him nor were you laughing for him. But he ultimately doesn’t care, because he gets to hear it, nonetheless. And he wants to hear it again and again.

It’s wrong to fall in love with someone else’s wife, wrong to wear someone else’s shoes, and someone else’s ring, and wrong to walk in someone else’s house. Though, it all technically belongs to him. None of it is right; he’s living the life meant for someone else. And if Satoru was a better man, a kinder, more fair man, he would work harder to give it back.

But Gojo Satoru is none of those things, not in this moment. No, right now, he’s settled into the role of a selfish man. Because he’s decided he wants this life, and he wants it with you. Even after all the pain, the anxiety, the grief, you’re still asking where he is, still craving his presence. And even though you’re not his and he doesn’t know you the way he should, he still thinks of home as being with you. 

Does that mean he loves you?

He doesn’t know. But he wants to find out.

So, he pushes his chair back and says goodbye to his friend, strolling out of the bar without looking back. Whether or not he gets his memory back, doesn’t matter. Not really. He can’t keep waiting for that to happen, to keep your life and his on standby, praying for a miracle to come. It’s not fair on anyone. You, especially. 

Whatever happens, he’ll deal with it. He always has. He’s Gojo Satoru, for goodness’ sake. He’ll bear the consequences, face your disappointment, and your tears however many times he has to, until you’re seeing him for who he is. 

Not the Him from before, or the Him that he could be, but the Him that you have. 

The one he’s offering. 

He just hopes it’s good enough.

[alchemistc]

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Treat You Better » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Ex Boyfriend’s Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky explains how much better he would treat you compared to how his son treated you.

Warnings: Smut (18+), Fluff, language, age gap (reader is in her 20s), crying, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, female receiving, unprotected sex, size kink, praise kink, vibranium arm kink, daddy kink, Bucky’s dog tags, aftercare, pet names

A/N: I wrote this a little over a year ago, but I accidentally deleted it so I wrote it again. Enjoy!

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Bucky has noticed that you haven’t been coming over lately. You always come over to hangout with his son Aiden, your now ex boyfriend. Aiden broke up with you, because he found someone prettier than you. Now, here you are, with a box full of Aiden’s stuff that he left at your house and standing outside of his dad’s house. Bucky smiles after he opened the door when he seen you.

“Hi, Y/N.” Bucky greets with a smile, stepping aside to allow you to come inside the house.

“Hi, Mr. Barnes.” You say.

Bucky knew something was off with you by the sound of your voice. It doesn’t sound like your normal cheery and sweet self.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Can you tell Aiden that I dropped his stuff off please?” You asked, completely bypassing his question and putting the box on the table.

Bucky gently grabbed your arm before you could walk away. He knows something’s wrong with you and he’s going to figure out what it is.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again with worry in his voice.

“I don’t want to unload my problems onto you.” You muttered, your voice cracking.

You looked down at your feet, avoiding eye contact. Bucky gently tilted your head up so you were looking in his blue eyes.

“Talk to me.” He says softly.

You didn’t say anything. Bucky didn’t miss the way your bottom lip quivered. He seen a couple tears roll down your cheeks.

“Did my son do something to hurt you?” He asks.

You nodded your head yes.

“Did he cheat on you?” He asked. “I swear if-” You cut him off.

“Aiden didn’t cheat on me.” You finally spoke up.

“Then what did he do that has you so upset?” He asked.

“He found a girl prettier than me and broke up with me.” You tell him.

That’s when you broke down into tears. Bucky immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. You laid your head again his chest as you cried your eyes out. He rubbed your back soothingly to help calm you down.

“Look at me.” Bucky whispers.

You sniffled and looked up at Bucky with teary eyes.

“I want you to listen to me when I say this.” He wipes your tears away. “You are beautiful. Don’t ever say you’re not.” He says softly.

“Thanks.” You sniffled again. “You’re just saying that to be nice.” You say, looking down and fiddling with his shirt.

Bucky tilted your head up to get you to look him in the eye.

“I’m saying it cause it’s the truth.” He caresses your cheek softly. “My son is an idiot for not seeing that.” He says softly.

You stared in his beautiful blue eyes, getting lost in them. Before you knew it, your lips were on his. You realized it after a few seconds and pulled away.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologized. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Instead of saying something, he kissed you passionately. You were caught by surprise, but kissed him back. Your hands grasped his shirt, clutching the fabric in your hands. You melted into his touch.

“Let me show you how beautiful you are.” Bucky says against your lips.

You nodded your head, giving him permission to do so. Bucky picked you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You carded your fingers through his soft brown hair and kissed his neck as he carried you to his bedroom. He kicked the door shut with his foot before he gently laying you down on his bed.

Bucky hovered over you, his Army dog tags dangling above your face. You grabbed the chain of it, giving it a tug to pull him down for an eager kiss. He lightly chuckled at your eagerness. This kiss was more eager, but also passionate. Bucky’s lips were soft against yours. The stubble of his beard scratched against your skin as he kissed you, which you loved.

Bucky’s hands trailed down your body, disappearing under your shirt. One hand warm and one hand cold against your skin. His hands rubbed up and down your sides. His hand then found the bottom of your shirt. He pulled away from the kiss, looking at you for permission, which you gave him. You sat up just enough for him to take it off and throw it somewhere in the bedroom. He got quickly entranced by your beauty.

Bucky leaned down, kissing along your skin and marking it up. You sighed contentedly while running your fingers through his soft hair.

“You’re so beautiful.” Bucky softly murmurs against your skin.

You blushed when he called you beautiful. You haven’t been called that in a while.

One of his hands slid to your back, expertly unclasping your bra. He took it off of you and dropped it on the floor. Bucky eyed your breasts before marking them up with hickeys. He slowly kissed his way down your body, stopping at the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you for permission, which you gave him. He unbuttoned and unzipped them. You lifted your hips so he could take your shorts off. Your panties are now exposed to him. The wet spot on your panties was now visible to him.

Bucky couldn’t help but admire the lace fabric on your body. His fingers traced the floral pattern on your panties. He then kissed your hipbones through your panties before placing soft kisses on your inner thighs after spreading your legs apart so he could get in between them. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and stopped, looking up at you for permission. You nodded and lifted your hips just enough for him to take your panties off.

You shivered when you felt Bucky’s breath against your wet pussy. His vibranium thumb rubbed your throbbing clit. A gasp left your lips when you felt the feeling of the cool vibranium of his thumb. As Bucky continued to rub your clit, his tongue licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit. He moaned at your taste. Your hands found their way to his head. Your fingers began tugging on his soft hair when he started eating you out.

“Oh, Bucky!” You moaned loudly.

The sound of your moans was music to his ears. Bucky loves the way his name sounds when you say it and moan it.

“Does that feel good, babydoll?” Bucky asks gruffly.

“Mhmm, yes!” You moaned, nodding your head.

You gasped when the tip of his tongue prodded your entrance as he licked from your entrance to your clit again. Bucky brought his vibranium hand to your pussy, one of his fingers circling your entrance. He took his mouth off of your pussy momentarily so he could watch his vibranium finger slide in your pussy.

“Fuck…” He mumbles, watching his finger move in and out of your pussy at a slow pace. “I can’t wait to feel this sweet pussy around my cock.” He practically moans.

Bucky added another finger, moving his fingers faster. He curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot perfectly, making you moan loudly.

“Did I find your little spot, doll face?” He asks teasingly.

“Yes.” You nodded your head vigorously. “Please don’t stop.” You begged.

Bucky latched his lips back onto your clit, sucking on it as he fucked you with his vibranium fingers. Pleasure took over your body quicker than ever before. It’s like Bucky has known your body long before this. At least, that’s what it feels like for you and him.

“Daddy!” You blurted out in a moan without realizing it.

He took his lips off of your clit and looked up at you with a smirk on his face. You looked down at him, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you realized what you just called him.

“Mr. Barnes, I-” Bucky cut you off by curling his fingers and hitting your sweet spot, making you moan loudly.

“So I’m daddy now, huh?” He asks teasingly.

“I didn’t- I mean-” You couldn’t figure out what you wanted to say due to the pleasure you were receiving from his vibranium fingers.

“Say it again.” His voice sounded husky and low. “I want to hear you fucking say it again.” He says, curling his fingers again.

“Daddy!” You cried out in pleasure.

Your moans went straight to his cock, making it uncomfortably hard in his jeans. He was jonesing to feel what your pussy feels like wrapped around his cock.

Bucky put his mouth back on your clit, sucking on it while his vibranium fingers continued to fuck you. You could feel your orgasm building up faster than ever before. You felt like you were about to fall over the edge. Bucky could sense it too.

“Cum for daddy, babydoll.” Bucky says.

You did just that. You came so hard that you soaked his face and vibranium hand. His vibranium fingers fucked you through your orgasm. His vibranium thumb gave your clit one last rub before he took his fingers out of your pussy.

You laid there trying to catch your breath from the mind blowing orgasm your ex boyfriend’s dad just gave you. It felt like you were on cloud nine. You’ve never came that hard before. Not that you remember.

After a moment, you lifted your head to look at Bucky. A pouty formed on your lips when you noticed that Bucky was still fully clothed and you were completely naked on his bed.

“What’s with the pout, pretty girl?” Bucky asks, caressing your cheek with his right hand and rubbing his thumb across your pouty lips.

“You’re still fully clothed.” You say, the pouty staying on your face.

Bucky chuckles before hovering over you and kissed you. He then got off the bed to take his clothes off. You watched with hungry eyes when you seen his perfectly sculpted body. A shiver shot through your body when he unbuckled his belt, along with unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. You were practically drooling when he pulled down his jeans and boxers in one go, revealing his hard cock.

“You want daddy’s cock, babydoll?” Bucky asks, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroked it.

“Yes I do, daddy.” You answered, almost whining.

Bucky chuckles lightly before getting on the bed in between your spread legs. He put your legs on his thighs before lining his cock at your pussy. He rubbed his cock against your pussy, getting it wet with your slick.

“Daddy…” You whined.

“Alright, alright. Daddy will give you his cock now.” He says.

Bucky slowly slid his cock in your pussy, inch by inch. A soft moan fell from your lips the more his cock entered you.

He’s the biggest you’ve ever had. He’s definitely bigger than your ex boyfriend.

Bucky allowed you to adjust to his size when his cock was fully inside of you. You nodded, giving him permission to start thrusting. Bucky pulled almost all the way out, only leaving his tip inside of you and then thrusted back into you.

“Oh my god!” You moaned, throwing your head back against a pillow. “You’re so big!” You moaned again.

Grunts fell from his lips from how tight you are.

“Fucking tight…” Bucky grunts lowly. “He didn’t fuck you good, did he?” He asks.

“No.” You shook your head and pouted.

“I’ll show you how a real man does it, babydoll.” He says.

“Yes please!” You begged in a whiny voice.

Bucky’s right hand grasped onto the headboard while his vibranium hand put one of your legs over his shoulder and started fucking you at a pace you’ve never experienced. You sure as hell know that you love it.

Your hands scrambled to find something to hold onto. One hand held onto his sheets beneath you, clutching the fabric in your hand while you put your other one on his abdomen just to feel it. His abs flexed against your hand every time he thrusted into you.

Pleasure took over you. You felt like you were on cloud nine. You never wanted it to end. You were loving everything about this and so was Bucky.

“You feeling good, doll?” Bucky asks.

“Mhmm, yes!” You moaned.

Your moans were like music to Bucky’s ears.

He increased the speed of his thrusts. His cock was hitting all of the right spots. You arched your back in pleasure. Bucky got an eyeful of your breasts when you pushed them up towards him. He dipped his head down, kissing along your soft skin. His teeth nipped on your skin to mark up your breasts. He then kissed his way up to your neck and kissed just below your ear, a soft moan leaving your lips.

“You’re being a good girl for daddy.” Bucky praises, whispering in your ear.

You moaned at his praise. Praise kink… unlocked.

“You like it when daddy praises you, doll?” He asks.

“Yes, daddy.” You answered in a moan.

You grasped onto his bicep, digging your nails in his skin. Bucky moans when he felt your pussy squeeze around his cock.

Bucky then readjusted the two of you. He took your leg off of his shoulder and wrapped it around his waist, along with your other leg. His right hand left the headboard and he hovered over you, caging your head in between his arms and his dog tags dangling just above your chest.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” Bucky demands softly.

You looked up at him in your pleasure filled state. Lust clouded his blue eyes. He had a soft expression on his face. His vibranium hand gently cupped your cheek, caressing it. His vibranium thumb rubbed against your bottom lip. You voluntarily parted your lips for Bucky to slide his thumb in your mouth. You closed your lips around his thumb and began to swirl your tongue around it like you would do to suck his cock. Bucky watched intently.

“Fuck…” He grunts softly.

You grinned around his thumb innocently. That made Bucky want you more. He sped up his thrusts at the sight of the innocent grin on your face.

He took his thumb out of your mouth and kissed you hungrily. You moaned against his lips. Your hands found their way to his head, carding your fingers through his soft dark brown hair.

You felt like a coil tighten in your stomach. Your second orgasm was building up quicker than your first one.

“I’m close again.” You whimpered softly.

Bucky’s vibranium hand snaked its way down your body to your clit, rubbing it in fast circles to help your orgasm build up even more.

“Cum for me, gorgeous.” He pants.

You moaned his name loudly when that coil snapped, coming harder than you did the first time. Your legs were trembling against his sides. Bucky gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm. He could feel himself close to coming too. He tried to unwrap your legs from his waist so he could pull out of you and not cum inside of you, but you weren’t haven’t it. Your legs tightened around his waist.

“You gotta let go, doll.” Bucky coos, gently tapping your thigh with his vibranium hand.

“No!” You whined.

“I can’t cum inside of you.” He pants, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

“I want you to.” You tell him. “Fill me up, daddy!” You moaned.

“God damn…” He moans.

Bucky leaned his head against your shoulder, his face in the crook of your neck. You kissed his neck softly before nipping on his skin to give him a hickey.

Bucky finally came, coming inside of you and painting your walls with his cum. His thrusts slowed down before he pulled out of you, his cum leaking out of your pussy. He laid down next to you and covered the two of you up with a blanket. You snuggled yourself against his side and he wrapped his arm around you. You laid your head on his chest, his fingers playing with his dog tags.

“Be mine?” Bucky asks after a couple moments.

“What?” You asked, lifting your head.

“Be mine?” He repeats. “You deserve to be loved and treated the right way by a real man. You obviously didn’t get any of the from my son. I can give you that and more.” He says.

You stared in his blue eyes for a moment, thinking about it. Bucky has a point. His son never gave you one ounce of love. You need that from a real man. That man happens to be Bucky.

“I’ll be yours.” You finally said with a smile.

Bucky smiles and kisses you passionately.

“Let’s take a shower and cleaned up.” He whispers against your lips.

You hummed in agreement. Bucky stood up and carried you to the bathroom, setting you on the sink counter. He turned the water on in the shower and waited a couple minutes for it to heat up. He walked back over to you and stood in between your legs, rubbing the tops of your thighs with his hands.

He then carried you to the shower and cleaned you up gently, pressing soft kisses against your skin as he did so. You leaned against his body, looking up at him with a smile on your face and the look of adoration. You reached up, putting your head on the back of his head and carded your fingers through his wet hair. Bucky smiles at the feeling. He then leaned his head down, kissing you sweetly and passionately. He wrapped his arms around your midsection, holding you close to him. After a few seconds, he pulled away from your lips, looking deep in your eyes with love and adoration.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky murmurs softly.

“I love you too, baby.” You softly murmured back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[bunny-jpeg]

kink-o-ween - day eleven

toto wolff - daddy kink

cw: smut/pwp, daddy kink, dirty talk/degrading language, fingering, size difference/kink, age gap (20s/50s), punishments

kink-o-ween: formula one edition - call of duty edition

"oh my god, you're such a dad!" you chirped as you almost fell back into your seat. lord, you were drunk.

toto was trying to make sure that you didn't spill wine all over yourself. he was painfully close in your space with a napkin trying to help. he knew he should've watered it down a little for you.

you giggled as he wiped the napkin across the corner of your mouth, "aw, does someone like being the big strong dad in their relationship?" then squirmed a little under his touch.

and maybe it was because toto wolff was a perverted old man. but when you called him 'dad' as a joke, he swore he heard 'daddy'. and he wanted to hear it again. he wanted to hear it while you were struggling to take his cock. but the way you were acting with your dress showing off your body and a glass of wine in hand, he knew that if he was going to be your daddy. there were going to be punishments.

it wouldn't come together until days later. when you were struggling to put something back on top of the fridge. the rational thing would've been to just grab a chair and got on top of it. but instead, you whined and tried to get what you needed down.

your much taller boyfriend came up to grab it for you. he even wrapped an arm around your waist as he snatched the box off of the fridge. he handed it to you and kissed you on the cheek.

"thanks, daddy." you said, the second half of the sentence was quieter. but, toto wasn't deaf and heard you loud and clear. it even rang in his head for a moment.

"oh... schatzi." he chuckled as he held onto you with both hands now. he kissed the top of your head, "does someone need their daddy?"

you swallowed and nodded which was met with a kiss on the cheek. you melted into his touch a little. you always felt a little more flushed when toto was around. especially now that he was holding you so close.

"i'm sorry, toto." you said.

he chuckled and said, "schatzi. it's daddy." then slowly took the box out of your hands and you listened by holding onto his arms. he was strong under your touch and it made you stomach twist a little.

you remained in his arms, standing there in the middle of your kitchen. his hand soon snaked down the front of your shorts. long fingers dragged across your clothed pussy for a moment before he sank his digits under the panties too.

"that's it." he said softly, "perfect for me." he felt you tense up as he started to finger you. while he would've happily taken you over the counter, he loved feeling you quiver in his arms.

you tried to stretch out your legs a little as he started to finger you. you felt painfully hot around his digits. he slid too in before you were squirming against his touch. he kept you pinned to him with his arms and you moaned loudly.

"daddy." you moaned as you held onto him tightly. his nose was against your neck and his clothed cock against your back. you could feel his erection against your back. you squirmed a little and tensed up with his played with your clit against his thumb.

"shh, shh, schatzi." he said as he loomed over you like a comforting shadow. you whined a little bit, "you're such a good girl for me. i know that you are so good. even when you're drunk and call me your dad. you know you have your father, am i his replacement? or do you want a daddy?"

you swallowed, "please."

he chuckled a little, close to your ear, "see, i know what you want. i know how i make you feel. you tell me every night when i'm finished with you how much you love it." he started to move your fingers faster, he leaned over you and bent you over a little.

"daddy, please."

"like music to my ears." he chuckled, "you love when daddy teases you, don't you? tell me, use your words." his voice was domineering. even without his fingers stuffed in your achy cunt, he was in control. and you were the younger woman he kept pinned against him.

you swallowed, "please, daddy. fuck. it's not fair that you make me feel so good!" you tensed up a little more and toto thought it was adorable. to see you struggle the way that you did. you were an angel, sent from a higher power to bless him. with your soft lips and softer cunt, how you easy bent and twisted yourself for him. how you'd let him bully his fingers into your cunt in the middle of your kitchen. it was erotic. you were painfully hot.

"shh, shh. behave, schatzi. good girls behave, bad girls don't get to orgasm. but, you'll always be good for me." he played with your further and headed your heavy pants. you were like an eager puppy for him.

you could be as loud as you wanted in your home. you whined against your lover as he continued to tease your poor cunt. his fingers felt amazing inside of you, paired with his attention to your clit. your legs were starting to see like jelly. you held onto him tightly, his arms tightened around your middle.

"i drive you crazy, don't i? you think about me when i'm not home. i bet playing with yourself isn't the same as when i do it? you can't reach all the places i can. it's always better when someone else makes you feel good." he kissed your heated cheek and curved over you further.

you tensed up further and felt the heat radiate from the core of your body. it was hard to keep a straight head while his fingers worked their magic against you. you could hear your heavy breathing and you felt hyper focused on the pleasure in your body.

your noises became more pathetic as you got closer to orgasm. your tongue stuck out a little bit as you tried to take in as much air as possible. you could feel your legs becoming close to jelly and you clung to your lover more.

"hold onto daddy, schatzi." he said as he worked your pussy further, your wetness got all over his hand as he pleasured you. you felt warm all over as the pleasure began to wash over you. toto's voice was in your head, which only added fuel to the lust, "so beautiful like this. perfect for daddy. you know that." when you came around his fingers he exhaled deeply.

your mind went blank for a moment, and when your legs gave out a little from the intensity, toto was there to hold you in his arms. he supported you and helped you back upright. he held you for a moment and pressed kisses against your cheek.

"good girl." he gave praise. he felt your breathing slowly even out and peppered more kisses against your face. you melted in his grasp easily. he softly said, "now, why don't we get to the couch and you can really show daddy how much of a good girl you are for him."

you nodded dumbly, daddy would always take care of you. and you would always take care of him. and for now that meant being on your knees and sucking his cock. <3

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 320+, 600+, 940+, 1,200+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Law, Penguin, Shachi.

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, masturbation, slight yandere: law-penguin-shachi, dub con (masturbating while you're unaware and in the same room, using your image to masturbate to), all individual 'x reader', headcanons, you can sense my favouritism and bias, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Had to get this out, it was driving me nuts. Brought to you by my obsession with the heart-pirates lately. Please read the warnings. Kid-Pirate Version. Art link.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff

Cries of bliss fell from your throat as you allowed the unbridled lust overtake your body. You writhed, overcome with grinding and circling your hips to use his thick cock to chase your high, clenching around him tightly to tether yourself to him. Looking up at your face, witnessing its contortion in pleasure was all it needed for him to immediately bark out a string of curses, spilling his hot cum deep within your core.

The contractions of your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock prompted him to cry your name and chase his high with more intentional bucks and thrusts. You whine his name, gripping onto his shoulders while you allow him to use your body for his pleasure. Your own high propelled his to linger longer, his hot spurts splashing up within you as he molded your body to the shape of his throbbing cock.

“I-I’m cumming,” he whispered, his brows furrowing as the tension in his stomach snapped, “Oh, I’m f-fucking cumming.” The soft, smoky image of your body crying atop him scorched into his memories. He couldn’t get enough, his eyes glazing over as he witnessed you take his entire load deep within you. The whisper of his name on your tongue, the soft smile on your lips, and body glistening in the soft glow of lustful sweat had never had him so transfixed on a single moment before.

His body suddenly jolted awake, the images of you fading away from his mind as he immediately sat upright in his dimly lit bedroom. Lips parting, he threw back the sheets and growled at himself as he looked to his lower abdomen. The white, translucent cum coated his still quivering and throbbing cock: the sticky fluid pooling over his stomach, down his shaft and dampening the sheets beneath him. He groans, wiping his face and pinching his brow before falling back and wallowing in his own embarrassment.

“Fuck.”

Trafalgar Law

He snuck another glance down at his body, clicking his tongue to reprimand himself.

“What a fucking mess,” he growled, his lips curling up and frown furrowing in the middle of his forehead. He hastily reached for his bedside tissue box, swiping a square napkins from the slot and began violently wiping at his skin to rid itself of the cum spent below him.

He was so in control of himself, every aspect of his life being refined down to a fine art. His schedule never differed, he even jotted in when he had the opportunity to masturbate to rid himself of his pent-up stress. He had even stepped out of that routine and managed to relieve himself before falling asleep last night.

So why did this happen?

Overcome with complete embarrassment and shame, he hastily stood up and began peeling off his stained bedsheets and folded them into his laundry basket. Reaching for his linen closet, he growled under his breath while he redressed his bed with his fitted sheet, top sheet, and new cover for his plush duvet.

“The fuck is wrong with me?” he growled at himself, looking down at his cock while he snapped the buttons in place to contain the duvet. Lying back within the sheets, he growled at himself, rolled over onto his side and folded his arms over his chest.

“Law, I-I'm so close,” your fictional and illusionary voice rang in his ears, prompting him to clamp his pillow around his head to muffle the thoughts.

��Shut up,” he scolded his mind, grimacing as he felt a rush of blood pool in his cock. He attempted to ignore it, but the images of you wrapped around his cock prompted his knob to begin twitching at the thoughts.

“Just like that,” your voice called to him, face beginning to contort in pleasure as your illusionary body contracted around him in his mind, “Fuck, don't stop. Please don't stop.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he barked, immediately peeling the pillow away from his head and throwing it on the mattress. He folded it in half, immediately slotting his cock between the silken material.

He ground his hips down into the pillow with his left hand holding the stuffed material down firmly atop his throbbing cock, his right gripping the headboard of his bed. His cock was so achingly hard, thick veins began throbbing with desire as his mind conjured what you looked like beneath him.

Your legs would wrap around his hips, your lips crying out his name as he hit that spot deep within you that had you scream for him. He imagined pressing down on your stomach, feeling how deep he was within your abdomen while his thumb stimulated your clit.

As he imagined you reach your high, he manically drove his cock harder within the plush pillow: the satin shroud feeling slippery against his steely cock. He pictured you sobbing as you came undone beneath him, your eyes glistening as he had you reach your peak.

He gently cried your name, sobbing as his hips staggered in an unsyncopated rhythm. His voice caught in his throat as he let out a final lengthy groan. Ribbons of his release coated his pillowcase, his forehead thumping against the wall beyond the bedframe as he shot the last spurt of cum into the material.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he mourned his sanity, moving away from his prior position and opening up the folded pillow. He grimaced at the mess, berating himself for not only making another mess he had to clean up, but angry at the fact he used the thought of his crewmate to seek out his own pleasure.

“Fuck.”

Penguin

After quickly snapping up from his sleeping position and locating his shirt from beneath his bedside table, he wiped at his cock and stomach with it to rid it of his sticky cum. He rolled onto his side, hastily scrunching his eyes shut and pouting as he tried to fall back asleep.

His thoughts were swimming with the image of you in the thralls of bliss, riding his cock as you used his body to coast through the waves of passion. He could barely halt his roaming hands snaking down his abdomen and clench around his already hardening cock.

Praying that Shachi was still sleeping in the twin bunk beside him in their shared crew-quarters, he pricked his ears up and listened for the steady rise and fall of soft snoring in his ears. Once he deemed Shachi was sleeping deeply enough, he clapped his left hand over his lips and used his right to piston his cock within his fist.

If he was forced to cum within his dreams at the thought of you, he would intend on using that image to cum of his own volition. The way you bounced on top of him, flipping to wrythe beneath him, the soft slaps of hips meeting, the ripples of your ass as he bucked in from behind you; all of these images had him whimpering into his palm while he fucked his hand to reach his high.

He whispered your name, his eyes pricking at the corners as he spilled himself into the same shirt he used to clean himself up with moments prior. He was immediately overcome with disgust at himself. He had violated the image of you as his crewmate and turned you into his own muse to reach his orgasm.

Throughout the entirety of his shift with Shachi, his pout never left his face. His brows were furrowed, his eyes were shrouded even further beneath his hat, and his soft pout quivered into a deep frown the moment his eyes met with your body across the station. His red-haired crewmate beside him noticed his change in demeanor, giving him a soft nudge with his elbow.

“The hell is wrong with you, man?” Shachi arched his eyebrow, scowling with his upper lip curling into a soft snarl, “You’re actually doing work. And you’re so damn silent.” Penguin chose not to engage his workmate, picking up the pace with adjusting a panel on the Polar Tang.

“This got anything to do with...” Shachi leant forwards, whispering a soft moan of your name into Penguin’s ear, followed by a mocking tease of, “...I-I'm cumming. Oh, I’m f-fucking cumming.” Penguin’s face turned a deeper shade of red than Shachi’s hair, the blush flooding down his neck and igniting his skin beneath the burn.

Having a shared bunk with Shachi had its benefits: his closest friend being right there for him when the night terrors got too much for one another. He usually enjoyed having him there, but now that he was throwing his intrusive dream back in his face by mocking his sleep-talking, he was livid.

“Chill out, Penguin,” Shachi jokes, giving him a clap on the shoulder, “Happens to the best of us-.”

“-I’m not some prepubescent teenager who can’t control their fucking thoughts!” Penguin barked, prompting you to turn from your desk and look towards the two men. Penguin hushed his tone, whispering quietly to his friend. “I-I just-...” he snuck a look over at you, his breath hitching as he noticed your stare.

You shot him a puzzled look, glancing at him up and down before returning to your work. Shachi shook his head, clapping over his shoulder to support him.

“You know,” Shachi whispered, “They probably won’t bite,” he nudged him, urging him a little closer to you, “Why don’t you go ask ‘em if they wanna make your dreams come true.” Penguin snapped his head over to Shachi, who had already begun sprinting away from an enraged Penguin.

“Get back here, asshole!” Penguin roared after him, his blush deepening within his cheeks. Shachi chortled, reaching around your body and shielding himself behind you.

“Oi, don't bring me into whatever this is!” you chastised him, attempting to break away from Shachi’s grip. Penguin attempted to reach behind your shoulders, just as Shachi pushed your body into Penguin's.

As your chests collided, the angle of Penguin’s head trying to reach Shachi had his lips knit immediately with yours. You squealed in surprise, humming against his lips as Penguin's own surprise gasped against your own.

You both remained equally surprised at the fact that neither of you pulled away. In fact, Shachi reached for your wrists and clamped them around Penguins neck before he quickly scuttled away, almost forcing you to give into your mutual craving for one another. You felt the rise in heat on Penguin's cheeks, the warm burn causing you to smile against his lips.

Humming gently, you angle your chin up to deepen the soft kiss. You cradled his cheeks, squeaking in delight as he wraps his arms around your back and hoists you up into his chest. You break away from his lips to gaze deeply into his blushing face.

“Sorry ‘bout this,” he murmurs before giving you a soft peck on the lips, “Can we hold this thought for a second so I can go kill him real quick?”

“By all means,” you giggled at him, watching as a mischievous grin drew over his lips. As he releases you and begins to turn away, you draw his attention back with a soft hand atop his cheek. You draw him in close, giving his unoccupied cheek a soft kiss.

“Good luck.”

Shachi

Growling, he immediately threw himself into his shared lavatory with his bunkmate, Penguin. Never had he been so thankful that Law put Penguin on night shift with Ikkaku tonight without him. He aggressively scrunched at some tissue paper, cleaning up his spend all over his red happy trail. He groaned as he fisted at his semi-firm cock, ensuring all of the cum was out of his shaft and firmly squelched into the tissue.

Looking over at his bedside analog clock, he groaned and flung his head back. The small arm of the clock was barely touching the four, the larger one slowly moving to flick onto the ten. He slung his pajama pants over his hips, the material hanging limply and exposing his chiseled adonis belt.

“Not even 4am, for fucks sake,” he shook his head, peeling back his sheets and throwing them into his laundry basket. Weighing up his options, he decided it was not worth attempting to fall back asleep after remaking his bed with fresh sheets, and instead chose to use his time to have a lengthy and uninterrupted shower. He might even indulge in taking a lengthy, relaxing bath afterwards.

Considering the time and crew rotation, he chose the bathroom furthest away from crew quarters to not disturb those remaining in blissful slumber. As soon as he entered the room, he heard a soft humming melody echoing within the tiled walls and joined with the flooding water from the tap filling the large spa.

He turned the corner just as you dropped the towel from your body and stepped within the large bath. His eyes roamed over your thighs, hips, ass, stomach, chest and shoulders until he met with your gaze.

“Oh!” you shrieked in shock, gawking at him as he arrived in nothing but his uniform pajama pants, “Sorry, Shachi. I hope I didn't wake you!” A soft blush rose to his cheeks, looking away from your form and walking over to the shower.

Bathing together was not something uncommon with the heart-pirates. All members of the crew would often indulge in dipping into an onsen together, sharing a ceramic cup or wooden box of sake and joking with one another. It was never anything other than platonic, purely getting joy from being warmed within the water as you shrouded uniformes and became of equal stations and standing.

But now that his mind chose to corrupt the image of you naked, he couldn't help but to turn away from you and ready himself for a very cold shower. Stripping himself from his pants, he placed them in a neat pile beside your clothes. He took off his hat and glasses, rubbing his hands through his hair and placed them on top of his pants.

“You didn't wake me,” he muttered with a straightened, tight-lipped smile, “Couldn't sleep, thought I'd start early. What about you?" He turned on the tap, wincing as the ice-like shards hit his skin.

"Pretty much the same, unfortunately," Shrugging, you gathered several items to scrub at your skin, "I'm on the early shift, too. Thought I'd have a bath." Washing your face first, you lathered the suds atop your cheeks and eyes before dipping yourself in the hot water.

You sighed, leaning back and submerging your hair to lather in foamy shampoo. Your eyes were closed as you arched your back to gather the appropriate angle to dip the crown of your head within the water. Shachi snuck a look at you from behind the tiled wall of the shower stall, immediately clamping his eyes shut as he took in the sight of your bare chest with peaked nipples dripping with opaque suds of soap. He hid his face behind the wall, his forehead resting on it as his cock sprung to life.

“Fuck,” he whispered, turning the cold tap on more to freeze his body out of the thoughts overcoming him. His cock refused to let up, immediately pooling with blood and twitching with anticipation.

“Shachi?” you called to him, brows knit with concern, “Shach, you okay? You hurt?” You attempted to peer around the ceramic wall, but ultimately decided to give him privacy and an opportunity to talk.

“‘M fine,” he grunted out, his right hand grasping his cock and attempting to choke the life from it, pleading with it to fall back to its usual, flaccid state, “Just got soap in my eye, s’all.” The lie was easy enough to believe, causing him to grimace at the fact he could so easily get away with this.

“Oh, I hate it when that happens!” you comment with a soft laugh, lathering up your scalp and groaning as you massaged your fingertips within the damp strands.

Shachi flinched beneath the icy water, his arousal now heightened as soon as he heard your groan. He clenched his teeth tightly shut, his hand moving of its own volition as he circled his thumb over his tip.

“Hey, Shachi?” you hummed in thought, dipping your hair into the water and removing the soap from the ribbons of soaked locks, “Ikkaku, Bepo and I were gonna go to the bar in-land after our shift ends tomorrow. Bepo was gonna ask Penguin if he wanted to come too.”

Shachi hummed in interest, his voice breaking a little in the middle as he listened to your statement. He couldn't help it, his hand began pistoning his shaft and strangling his knob with each crude thrust. He sucked in his bottom lip and clamped down harshly on the flesh.

“It's got that one cocktail I'm obsessed with there,” you added, gathering some conditioner and layering your hair within prayer-like hands, “Did you wanna come too?”

Shachi’s eyes went black with lust, hearing such a simple word as he worked at his cock behind the shroud of the tiled screen. His breath hitched as he felt his end reach its peak, precum beginning to pearl at his slit.

“Shachi?” you call to him, unaware that he was picking up the pace of his hand beating his cock to the sound of your voice, “Do you wanna come?”

Shachi whimpered, nearly reaching his high as his eyes rolled back to your innocent suggestion. He was right there, he just needed one more little push.

“Wh-What was that?” he tested, using the volume of the pelted water within the shower to mask your question from reaching him, “Can you speak up a little? Ask me again?”

“Shachi?” You asked him, your question so innocent, yet Shachi allowed his thoughts to run away with him the moment you asked your question, “Do you wanna come with me?”

“Y-Yes,” he whined, “I wanna come. Let me come with you. I wanna come so bad.” Shachi painted the wall of the shower with hot spurts of his sticky cum, his eyes rolling back as he chased his orgasm as silently as he could. Ropes of spattered cum wrote his sinful desires against the tiles, his toes curling and his hips lewdly bucking. After coming down from his high, he clicked his tongue to reprimand himself.

“Fuck, Shachi,” you giggled, “I've never heard you so enthusiastic about a cocktail before! You sure you wanna come with us?” Your teasing voice prompted Shachi to chuckle from behind the wall, his voice was breathy and filled with humour.

“I would love to come with you,” he panted, immediately wracked with guilt about using your voice and image to reach his climax for the second time today, “Just let me know when you're heading out, and I'll be ready.”

"Okay, great!" you giggled, rinsing the conditioner in the water and remaining blissfully ignorant to Shachi's orgasm erupting on the wall so close to you.

[lovscb97]

tags: han jisung x fem!reader, college bf jisung (yes this needs a tag of its own), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, pussydrunk jisung, nicknames (sungie, baby, babe, princess, etc), dirty talk, begging, spit, cum eating, implied multiple orgasms/overstimulation, squirting, basically pwp

wc: 1.16k

add. notes: for my luvr @hyunsvngs :3

. . .

han jisung is a lot of things.

top of his class, head of the newspaper club, regular volunteer at the university's animal shelter, that one friendly yet reserved senior everyone feels comfortable talking to, and so much more.

to your smug satisfaction, he is also your boyfriend. your sweet, lovely, lovely boyfriend of six months. he’s the type who dotes on you like no other, the type who holds your bag when it’s too heavy (although he complains about it the entire way), the type who tries his best to open the door for you even when he always gets mixed up between push and pull signs, the type who does his best to cook for you even if the only food he can manage to make is a box of overly soggy cup ramen.

the type who’s currently got your legs hooked over his shoulders as he buries his tongue inside your cunt.

“ngh, sungie.. ’s too much!” you whine as his cherry lips wrap around your swollen clit for the nth time, sucking it into the warm confines of his inviting mouth like it’s the sweetest treat he’s had all day. even with the way your legs kick up at the spiking pleasure shooting through your core after the multiple orgasms you’ve had, he still continues his ministrations, too fucked out to think or budge away as his wet muscle swipes across your folds and dripping hole. it really was favourite pastime to eat you out.

“just a lil’ bit more, baby. please? ’s so good, i can’t stop.” he whimpers into you, pulling away momentarily so his big, brown, doe eyes can stare back into yours, wet eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his lip quivers. you bite your own at the sight in front of you, letting out a sigh because if he keeps looking at you like that, you fear you might let him get away with murder. “but ‘m sensitive.” you huff, looking down expectantly at the boy between your thighs in hopes he’d beg for you just a little more. to which jisung seems to catch your drift because once the words leave your mouth, he’s kicking up a fuss, puffing out his chest between choked complaints to resume his previous activity.

“i’ll make you feel so good, princess. wontcha’ let me?” he pleads. “love eating this cute little pussy, ’s the best thing i’ve ever tasted.” he licks his lips, heavy breathing filing the air as his eyes drift down to the mess in front of him. your essence coats the soft skin of your inner thighs, a mix of arousal and spit dripping onto the couch he’d gotten you laid back against when he stumbled through the front door, not even bothering with a greeting before spluttering out if he could go down on you right now. without warning, jisung laves a finger through your folds, drawing a yelp from you as he gathers the combined liquids of his own saliva and the remnants of your previous releases on his sole digit before popping it into his mouth. the taste has him moaning out with closed eyes like it’s truly the best thing he’d ever tasted, and that only causes you to clench around nothing as your clit throbs for further stimulation. 

“just one more time, i guess.” you mumble, unable to hide your own temptation as jisung flashes you the widest, most accomplished grin you’ve possibly ever seen him sport. it’s only a matter of mere seconds before he’s diving in once again, flat tongue back on you and meeting your hardened nub as you groan. “so fucking good. my girl has the best cunt ever.” he growls, continuing to lick and suck, alternating between drawing shapes on your clit and bunching your folds up with his fingers to suck them into his mouth. he continues mumbling phrases into your wetness that you can hardly make out, something about how he’ll never get enough of this and how there’s nothing as good as you out there. you think he’s exaggerating honestly, but with the way he’s so enthusiastically slurping at you, you reckon he might be telling the truth.

“fuck, sungie! w-wait!” you exclaim when he suddenly shoves two fingers inside of you, the pads of his digits rubbing against that rough spot deep inside of you, massaging it as if his life depends on it. you can feel the burn of what’s potentially your 3rd orgasm of the night creeping up on you, churning in your stomach as your boyfriend proceeds to brush the tips of his fingers against your wet walls all at the same time as he eats you out. 

“can’t. gotta make this cunt cum.” jisung grunts, pulling away to smack his lips so he can taste you better on his mouth before going back in. “you want that too, right baby? wanna cum for me? make a mess for your sungie?” your moans only egg him on further, fingers hammering inside you repeatedly combined with the suction of his mouth surrounding your engorged bundle of nerves. it doesn’t take very long after that for you to release, clear liquid spurting out of your tight hole against jisung’s fingers and mouth as you cry out in ecstasy. “shit, that’s it. cum for me, baby. keep squirtin’ f’me.” your boyfriend murmurs against you, continuing to lick at you as you shake through the duration and aftershocks of your orgasm, hands reaching out to grip his hair between them as you tug on it harshly.

“fuck..” you breathe out once you’ve come down from your high, laughing incredulously to yourself as jisung gives one last peck to your cunt. he pulls his fingers out slowly, admiring the way your hole clings to them before shoving them into his mouth, obscenely moaning at the taste of you coating his digits. you flush a dark pink at his reaction. “you do too much when it comes to my pussy, babe.” you grumble, visibly embarrassed whilst your boyfriend just chuckles, lifting himself away from his position between your legs to come up and press a sweet kiss to your lips. you kiss him back of course, nose scrunching up at the taste of yourself on his lips, but nothing compares to the feeling of jisung’s plush mouth on yours, so you bear with it.

“i can’t help it, baby.” jisung shrugs once he pulls away. “it’s not my fault that i’d have you for breakfast, lunch and dinner if i could.” there’s a wicked glint in his eyes as he speaks, and you meekly shove his shoulder at the teasing smile he gives you, suppressing your own when he burst out into melodious laughter that always fills your chest with warmth.

after all, han jisung is a lot of things, but the best one of them all is definitely the fact that he's your precious boyfriend, the type who will always fall to his knees for you whenever you desire.

. . .

reblogs & comments are always appreciated! <3

[thef1diary]

Does ghost!max use plugs on reader? Or does he use himself to fill her up all the time? How does he punish her? Figging, spanks, edging, overstimulation👀👀👀👀

— why not a bit of everything 🤭 treading new territory here w figging but the thought isn’t leaving my mind. bear w me here cuz fuck that’s hot. 18+ content below

The punishment started slowly, deliberately, as Max preferred. A plug had been his opening move, filling you for days with no relief, teasing your body into a desperate need you couldn’t ignore. Each time you clenched around it, the emptiness beyond its unyielding length was a cruel reminder that this was all you would get. Not his hands. Not his cock. Just the plug, stretching you wide, leaving you wanting. He repaid you with the same amount of attention you’d given him for the past few days—nothing.

But when he finally decided you’d endured enough of that, he upped the stakes. He materialized beside you with a smirk and although he wasn’t fully visible—he never was—lately, you’d started to notice more of him. It was like a faint outline of his form, like shadows meeting mist.

He held a ginger root in his hand, peeled and roughly carved into the shape of a plug—larger than the one you had in you—the jagged, raw texture making your stomach twist.

“You’ve been ignoring me for days,” the spirit box crackled with his distorted voice as his invisible hands stroked your trembling thighs. “Now you’ll see what that gets you.”

You whimpered as he pulled the plug from your stretched hole, leaving you empty for only a moment before the ginger replaced it. The burn wasn’t immediate but once it hit, it was brutal, your muscles clenching and unclenching around the foreign intrusion. The heat spread like wildfire every time your hole tightened around it, making you cry out.

“Keep this in,” he commanded, his tone sharp as you squirmed, your legs trembling.

Your panties were pulled up snugly to hold the ginger in your ass, pressing it even deeper. The friction of the fabric made the burn worse, every tiny movement igniting sparks of unbearable heat deep inside you.

“I want you to feel it,” Max purred, his voice low and wicked. “Every single step you take, every chore you do, every moment you try to pretend you’re not dripping for me.”

He left you like that, the ginger stretching you, the fiery sensation building with every motion. You tried to focus on your tasks, but Max wasn’t going to let you get off that easy.

Invisible hands slid over your hips as you folded laundry, a cold, ghostly touch circling your clit through the damp fabric of your panties. The contrast of the icy fingers over and inside your cunt and the burning ginger in your ass made you whimper, your knees buckling as he teased you.

“You stop working, I stop playing,” the spirit box relayed his warning, his fingers pulling away as soon as you faltered.

You whined, your legs trembling as you forced yourself to continue, folding and stacking as best you could while his hands returned, teasing and tormenting you. He alternated between feather-light touches and deliberate thrusts, never enough to let you tip over the edge.

The minutes turned into what felt like hours, your body quivering with need, the ginger still lodged deep inside your ass, the burn mixing with the relentless ache of arousal.

When Max finally grew tired of your pitiful attempts at household tasks, he pushed you over his knee, holding you steady as you trembled.

“You thought you could ignore me?” his voice came through the device but you could almost feel his cold breath brushing against your ear. “You think I’ll let that slide?”

The first slap landed, sharp and stinging, making the ginger shift inside you. You cried out, the pain from his hand mingling with the unbearable heat inside you. Each strike made you clench around the ginger, the burn intensifying as he alternated between spanking you and twisting the root, pulling it halfway out only to shove it back in.

“Look at you,” he sneered, his voice laced with dark amusement. “A shaking, moaning mess, all because you thought you could ignore me.”

When he finally pulled the ginger out and tossed it aside, he circled your tight, puckering hole that had turned red and sensitive, making you squirm. You barely had time to recover before his fingers replaced the root. They slid inside your ass with ease, the cool touch a welcome contrast to the heat that lingered.

But Max wasn’t done. Using his other hand, his fingers curled inside your cunt, finding the spot that made you see stars, stroking it relentlessly. He brought you to the brink of orgasm by thrusting in and out of your ass and pussy simultaneously, only to stop just as you were about to tip over, leaving you sobbing and pleading.

“You’re not getting off that easily,” he hissed, dragging his cold fingers over your swollen clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body.

Again and again, he edged you, pulling you back from an orgasm each time, leaving you trembling and gasping, tears streaming down your face as you begged for release.

“Please, Max,” you sobbed, your voice broken. “Please, I’ll never ignore you again. Just—please.”

“Next time,” he whispered, the spirit box almost failing to pick up his voice. His cold lips brushed against your ear, “you’ll think twice before ignoring me.”

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[w1ll0wray]

Alternate universe! Powder with Ekko's twin sister, smut and getting caught going down on her

RELAX ft. powder au x ekko’s twin sister fem!reader

⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: on top of her work, powder reveals that she’s struggling to sleep well. you offer her some help in relaxing but end up getting caught.

⊹₊⟡⋆warnings: sub!powder au x dom!femreader , smut, slightly nsfw, reader is ekko’s twin sister, getting caught, powder!receiving head, minors or men dni, other characters mentioned.

wc. 600

𐙚 note | I’d really appreciate it if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you:)

this was a request; I hope this reached your expectations!

“I reckon you’re going to pull an all-nighter again?” 

You lean against the doorframe, your arms crossed at the sight of Powder focused on constructing some type of object. Her head snaps up towards you, a faint smile spreading across her face, “Probably.” She hummed out, turning her attention back to her project.

Sighing, you take slow steps towards her, glancing at the fairy lights lit up over the hideout. Once you arrived right behind Powder, your arms wrap around her, “But doesn’t sleep sound really good right now?” Powder only giggles, but she still remains seated and fixated on the objects. Frowning at her concentration, you groaned, leaning your hips against her working table, “I’m not joking— go get some sleep.” 

Powder shook her head, not bothering to spare you a glance, “Shouldn’t you be working down at the bar?” She twisted a screw, brows furrowed in determination. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “My shift ended— Vander wants you to rest.” His name prompts her to halt, inhaling deeply to collect herself, “I….. can’t sleep.” Her words drive you to grimace. 

“Why can’t you sleep?” You pulled out another stool, sitting beside her, your palm resting on her bare shoulder. Powder takes off her gloves, violet blue eyes finally meeting yours, “I uhm— get nightmares.” 

A glimmer of vulnerability danced in her eyes, hesitance evident. But to her relief, you offered a warm smile, rubbing her shoulder, “I can help you with that.” 

“Shit.” Delicate toned thighs looped around your head, nails scratching your scalp. Licking in a circular motion, your tongue glides over her clit, coaxing her to whine louder. Her pleasures moans echoed around the hideout, Powder’s body laying beneath you on the peach-colored sofa. Her legs twitch, indicating that she’s close. 

Her chest heaved, rising and falling in a quick rhythm, her soft stomach quivering under your palm. Her fingers guide you closer, slightly grinding against your lips like a touch-starved animal. Humming against her pussy, she whimpers, “Don’t stop—please.” 

Chuckling, you suck on her clit, your tongue assaulting her bud. Her leg hooks on top of your shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. The more her back arched, the closer she was getting. You wanted to help her relax, help her get a good night sleep. When you had pushed her onto the couch and took off her pants, she had obeyed and spread her legs like the good girl she was. So, you let her force your head in deeper. 

“Fuck— Yes!” She cried out as you ate her out like your life depended on it, lips hugging her cunt. In the midst of her pleas for an orgasm, a rough cough interrupted you both.

Instantly pulling away, you hid Powder’s body behind you, eyes widening when you face two flabbergasted people— Ekko and Vander.

Powder scrambled to hide her lower body with a blanket, cheeks flushing a deep crimson. 

“We—” Your voice wavered, visibly mortified by the sudden interruption. 

The box Ekko held fell to the ground, objects scattering everywhere, his jaw hanging low, “Oh my god.” He turned his head towards Vander — who had his eyes nearly flying out of their sockets. 

Not knowing what to say in this situation, you glanced at Powder, who narrowed her eyes into sharp slits, scowling at them both, “Get out—both of you.” 

They didn’t move.

Her gaze hardened, her brows knitting together before yelling, “Right now!”

hope you enjoyed reading this! :) reblogs r highly appreciated!! (sorry it’s shorter today)

creds to banners.

requests r always open for ur ideas btw

[hatsukeii]

ring pop! / bsf!ushijima wakatoshi x reader

genre(s): heavy on the crack and fluff, dumb and dumber, ushiwaka is dense but loveable! childhood bsf to lovers! yay! sunshine! rainbows! candy!

warning(s): nothing, implied fem reader for fluency's sake, but please interpret this as you'd like!! i myself am non-binary, so at the very least you know the person who's writing has you in mind!! i still tried my best to keep everything gender neutral to the best of my ability!!

wc: 1490

tldr; “boyfriend? but i thought we were already dating?”

“Wakatoshi, can I have your second button?”

Petals of blooming sakura flowers replace the grey pavement beneath your shoes with a mosaic of dusty pink as you stand beneath Shiratorizawa’s famous confession tree. It’s a ritual that has been done for many graduations before your own, students would act nonchalant as they drag their romantic prospects beneath this very tree, all to ask for their second shirt button. This year, it’s your turn, your hands clenched behind your back as you rock forward, backward, forward, backward.

“What do you mean? My second button?”

“Yeah, your second button.”

Wakatoshi’s nose twitches in confusion and under the blanket of pollen from the flowers above. What’s so special about his second button, that you’ve dragged him under the Shiratorizawa tree for? His hand shoots up, picking at the thread sewn between each hole in his second uniform button. It doesn’t budge as he picks and pulls, until finally, he rips it off with force, handing it to you between pinched fingers.

“Here.” He reaches for one of your hands, linked with the other in anxiety and anticipation, and pushes your fingers apart, before dropping the button into your palm unceremoniously. You stare blankly at the small round in your hand, then at Wakatoshi’s deadpan expression.

“Toshi, that’s…that’s not how it works.”

He tilts his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowing as if trying to search your head for clues. The petals shuffle beneath your feet as you mindlessly grind your shoe into the ground, not sure what to make of this situation.

“I’m not sure what you mean. I gave you the second button, like you asked. Did I do something wrong?”

“Wakatoshi, I’m asking you to be my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend? Do you hear yourself? What nonsense, what has he been to you for the past six years, if not that?

“Boyfriend? But I thought we were already dating?”

You mind empties its contents as your jaw goes slack, a dumbfounded hum escaping your windpipe. You’re not too sure- no, you have not a single idea when that idea planted itself into his head. You’ve been subtle enough, right? And careful too! No love letters, or secret gifts, or bento boxes, just day to day, regular best friend interactions between the two of you. What could have possibly gone wrong?

“Dating? Where did you get that from??”

Wakatoshi frowns, hands moving to his pockets. A spring breeze whizzes by, filling the stale air between himself and you. That’s not very nice of you. Wakatoshi knows close to nothing about relationships, but he does know one thing: You probably should remember how you got together in the first place.

“You…forgot?” After all these years of tailing behind you at grocery stores, and weekly dinners at your house, and running to your place at a text’s notice, only to end up watching dramas all night and crying with you, and you forgot that you were dating? His voice quivers, a rush of betrayal in the gleam of his eyes stabbing at your chest as he grimaces at your confused expression, then back at the second button he just ripped off his chest that sits in your hand.

“I think I would remember if we‘re dating…but we aren’t.”

“How could you forget? I still have the ring pop from that day!”

What?

“Wakatoshi, the ring pop? From sixth grade?” At the mention of the ring pop, the fuzziness of an afternoon six years ago is wiped clean. You can almost taste the disgustingly artificial grape flavour that tingled and fizzed on your tongue, before sending you into a sugar high for hours, feel the cheap plastic ring that hung a size too big from your ring finger. You’re fairly certain that the company had discontinued that line of ring pops by now, the two pack too costly of a production for the cheap price they sold for in convenience stores.

“Yeah! I asked you to be my girlfriend with the second pop, and you said yes! You even wore the ring on your ring finger!”

His hands leave his pockets now, pointing accusingly at your ring finger that lacks a humorously large plastic ring. You’re not sure whether to be shocked or to laugh hysterically, not when Wakatoshi’s accusations of your…infidelity? are rooted in the sanctity and candour of a discontinued ring pop, until it all hits you at once. All the nights that he would drop off bags of groceries at your doorstep, your mother gleaming at his persistent service, and the afternoons of watching his volleyball trainings, his eyes glancing at you for approval at every legal point he makes, all the little times that led up to your eventual confession weren’t “best friend interactions.”

They were the actions of a boyfriend. A boyfriend, who (rightfully so) thought he was dating his girlfriend.

“Toshi…did it never occur to you that we’ve done absolutely NOTHING in all these years of ‘dating’? I mean, wouldn’t you have wanted to, I dunno, hold my hand? Or like, kiss me?”

Wakatoshi jolts backwards by an inch, hand travelling towards his jaw as he rubs it introspectively, trying to fan off the heat that is crawling from his chest to his neck. You stifle a giggle, before clearing your throat guiltily. No, you shouldn’t laugh at him. He’s trying his best to process the past six years of unrequited ‘dating’, how could you interrupt him? Do you have no heart, or shame?

“W-well, my dad’s always taught me not to do anything with anyone, partner or not, unless they asked for it first… and you never asked to. So, I never did.” He finally responds, as confidently as his stuttering voice could seem. “Besides, I assumed you weren’t the type of person to be into super-romantic dating, so I just never questioned it.”

You shake your head, smiling at the ground as you take a step towards him. Your hand grips his uniform button by your side, afraid that it might get lost in the petals if you drop it. Wakatoshi’s head darts from left to right, as if piecing together red herrings on a cork board, pinning down every interaction from sixth grade to now with thumbtacks as the strings tangle and twist.

“What about our drama nights? Was that also just being best friends?”

“Yes, Wakatoshi. That is what best friends do.”

“The grocery runs?”

“You offered to do them, and I assumed it was because you were always training late and wanted to help a friend out on the way home.”

“And the weekly dinners at your place?”

“We’re neighbours!”

You watch him groan, his face shoved into his now clammy palms. This is information overload, and Wakatoshi’s processor is melting down in front of your very eyes. He shakes his head frantically, his hair becoming disheveled. His hands run through his green locks, and land on his hips as his feet tap at the petal-covered ground.

“So, we have not been dating for six years, but you want to start dating from today onwards?”

"That is exactly what I'm asking."

Finally. He’s finally got it. The button weighs heavy in your hand, and you duck beneath his face to look him in the eye. He glances away, visibly repulsed by his embarrassment. He should've caught the signs...well, earlier. It somehow has never occured to him that a ring pop proposal might not be the most legitimate way to one's heart, and it certainly has never occured to him that it might have come off as an ingenuine attempt at securing a relationship.

"I meant it when I gave you the ring pop though."

Your face morphs into an effortless smile, the towering boy looking more timid than he ever has before. You haven't changed one bit since the day he's 'proposed' to you, from the smile lines that adorn your face, to the little pout of your lips when you grin. And as you look at him, eyes shimmering under the shade of the infamous Shiratorizawa confession tree, Wakatoshi is twleve years old again, missing a canine tooth on the top right side of his toothbed. He's pinching a long discontinued ring pop between both thumbs and index fingers, getting down on one bandaged knee earnestly to pop the big question.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

And suddenly, you're twelve years old, standing right there, in front of him, tiny hands covering your mouth as you gasp and tell him yes, a million times over and more. Wakatoshi is 5'2 here, a whole foot shorter than his now eighteen year old self, slotting a ring pop that's two sizes too big on your ring finger, the candy diamond shimmering in the sunlight on the walk home. Except now, the ring pop has transformed into the second button of his soon to be forgotten Shiratorizawa shirt, residing in your clenched fist.

"I know. I know you did."

His eyes refocus as he snaps out of his thoughts, and he wonders if you still have the plastic ring from the ring pop, the one that means to him doing groceries for your household before his own, and showing up at your door to watch dramas all night in your bed, and helping your parents with the cooking before your weekly dinners. His eyes soften, the probing frown long gone from his face as he returns your smile with his own, cheeks pink and teeth threatening to show through his suppressed grin.

"Does this mean I get to kiss you now?"

"Yes, Toshi. Yes it does."

His hands spare no time to cup your face, pulling it up to his own as his fingers draw lines across your cheekbones. Wakatoshi's brain bursts in sparks of gold and red, and he genuinely ponders how he has lived until now without ever doing this once. He pulls away, unsure what else to do after, before sneezing in your face.

"Sorry, pollen, gross."

"Let's get out of here then, quick."

You grab his hand in your own, another sensation he isn't sure how he's lived without until now, and pull him away from the tree as you run to the school exit. He jogs behind you, and you turn around, your fingers interlocked with each other's.

"By the way, happy sixth anniversary, Toshi!"

author's note:

@catsoupki here's your long overdue ushiwaka prompt baby i hope you like you like ;P i had so much fun writing this omg i cracked myself AND my sister up like twenty times running her through what my plan was LMAOO

i too need ushiwaka btw i actually love him SO MUCH it's not funny anymore I NEED HIM SBSBSBSBSB the only other fic i have of him is genuinely some of the worst situations i've put any haikyuu character in recently so i have to treat him to a good one here ofc

anyways tags!!

@starlysama @chuuya-brainrot @fiannee @bailey-reeds

ok love u guys see u next fic bye bye

[lovelywyenn]

★☆«“First Time”»☆★

★Mitsuri Kanroji x Obanai Iguro x Virgin fem!Reader★

Synopsis★Obanai and Mitsuri are absolutely smitten with you. Of course they’d love to take your relationship to the next level and make you theirs★

Includes★Threesomses, Cunnilingus, fingering, sloppy sex, missionary, vaginal penetration, deep throating, tip sucking, neck kissing★

★W.C★4.6K

Being a Hashira took a lot. Brains, strength, determination. All traits that a chosen hashira must possess to have a hope of surviving the japanese nights. 

You had all of these things. A smart and capable young woman you were, you rose the ranks fast. It left everyone shocked. It was rare for a new Hashira to be appointed. Especially one as sweet and shy as you. You were strong, no doubt. The evidence was all in your accomplishments. Starting at the bottom and working your way to the top in only two years, inventing your breathing style developed from water breathing on the way. 

All your hard work had paid off, which is what landed you where you were. Standing with people you have looked up to for years as not only the first ice hashira but a colleague of theirs. 

The hashira were friendly to you, and even if they weren’t the nicest they didn’t give you too hard of a time. But for the most part, everyone was kind to you. Especially two in particular.

You had known that Mitsuri was a bubbly person before you had met her so it wasn't a surprise to you when she clung to your side the first time you officially met. Pressing close to you and showering you with compliments. 

The love Hashira's boyfriend was the same way with you. Obanai was equally if not more clingy with you as Mitsuri was. His behavior surprised everyone, especially you. You had heard so many rumors about how it wasn’t typical of him to show kindness to people, especially new people. But you welcomed the kindness from both of them. Enjoyed the way they showered you with gifts and money for seemingly no reason at all. And loved how sweet they were.

It took you a while before you realized why they were so friendly with you, they wanted a third. They confessed to you one night when they took you out to a nice dinner and got you dressed up all pretty for them. They had drowned you in accessories, gold earrings, floral headpieces. You would have to be crazy to say no. So that night you went home with a kiss on the cheek from each hashira, and a handful of gift boxes that were sure to never stop.

Life with them was a dream, sure it was scary sometimes. There were times all of you were afraid. When you would go out to slay demons there was always a fear one of you wouldn’t come back. 

But the good times outweigh the bad. The times they would smile at you when you made dinner when they got home late, enjoying meals and deep conversations. The times the three of you would train together, pushing each other to your limits and laughing about it afterwards. 

And times much like this, when they had you pressed against the futon, both of their soft, warm hands gripping all over you. Obanai had his lips pressed against yours in a sloppy kiss. The feeling of his tongue slipping into a tangle with your tongue makes your legs quiver. Your girlfriend had her hands glued to your tit, finger flicking and teasing at your nipples, pebbled from the constant stimulation. She sucked pretty purple marks along your neck that were sure to get worse in the morning.

While Mitsuri’s hands were busy, Obanais free hands started groping over you, he slid down to play with the band of your underwear hidden below your silk robe. 

You shivered at the touch, your hand quickly came to grab at Obanai’s when he attempted to slip under the fabric clad against your cunt. “W-wait,” you said breathlessly.

Obanai’s hand immediately halted. This was usual when the three of you got like this. You would always stop it when it got this far. They never pressured you into anything, they were just curious as to why this was the point you stopped at. You had already assured him you wanted to have sex with them, they just never understood what the hold-up was.

Your boyfriend pressed an apology kiss to your lips, “Sorry doll, I got carried away. ” he said, hand sliding back up your body to gently stroke across your abdomen, gaze sliding down to watch the way your muscles fluttered at the light touch. 

"It's okay, I-I just”, Mitsuri sat up at your own words, her full tits practically spilling out of her robe as she took the chance to look at you. “Just what sweetheart? Tell us.” she spoke, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. 

It feels impossible to keep ahold of her gaze as your cheeks flush, eyes glancing away from hers. Obanai tuts at this, “Don’t be shy doll, you can tell us anything and everything.” he says.

You sigh as silence washes over the three of you. Your lovers don’t rush you to speak, they wait patiently until you’re ready to continue. “...I’ve never done this before.” you said, feeling your heart thump a little faster in your chest. 

“Done what?” Mitsuri questions, “Had sex?” She asks.

You silently nod, embarrassed by the truth. To your horror, Mitsuri and Obanai give each other a look before chuckling. “Please don’t laugh at me,” you said. As a frown took shape. The two immediately stopped laughing, each placing a comforting hand on your body. 

“Sweetheart we would never laugh at you, it was just funny that you were embarrassed. Did you think you being a virgin would scare us off?” Mitsuri asks after assuring you. 

The sigh you let out was one of relief at your girlfriend's reassurance, “Yes, I-I thought it would make you all see me as if I was immature, when in reality. There just…. Isn’t enough time for sex when you’re constantly working to get to hashira status.” you say.

“That’s perfectly fine.” Mitsuri assures, Obanai then chimes in, “After all, we have plenty of time right now.” 

 “We can make good use of it.”

“You guys want to have sex?” you ask, eyes wide as you feel a tingling sensation between your legs, the same feeling you always get when they kiss and touch all over you.

You close your eyes as Mitsuri leans down and presses kisses on your lips, sloppily trailing kisses down your neck, “Just say the word Y/n, say the word and we’ll make you feel so good.” she muttered between kisses. 

Obanai grabs your chin and your eyes shoot open as he makes you look at him. “C’mon doll, let us give it to you, make that little cunt feel good, what do you say, hmm?”

You nod and are immediately overwhelmed with the sensations of their hands all over you again. Mitsuri’s tongue suckled around your tits, while your boyfriend was kissing you so rough you could barely keep up. His strong hands somehow trail gently down your body, toying with your panties again before running a finger along your covered slit. Your body jumps and your boyfriend presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Relax doll.” he says, backing off from the kiss as he continues his feather-light touches, it felt like so much more to you. Gentle strokes turned into defined circles around your sensitive clit. Still a gentle feeling, but overwhelming at the same time. 

“Oooh, why d-does it feel like that” you moan, hips slowly grinding up into the pleasure you were receiving.

“Like what Mama? Is it too much?” Mitsuri asked, cupping your cheek so you would look at her. 

You nod at her question, “It’s a lot but I-I like it. Feels good, really fuckin good. ” You moan surprising your lovers, it was rare for you to curse. “Am I supposed to feel. . wet down there?” you ask.

Mitsuri nods, “It’s natural baby, which means Obanai’s making you feel just right”

“Can you take my panties off? They feel sticky now.” you ask sheepishly. Obanai pulls his hands up as Mitsuri slides the fabric down your legs and throws them across the room. Your girlfriend crawls off your body and sits on her knees right in front of you. 

She gasps and you get a little shy, closing your legs to cover yourself. Mitsuri shakes her head, pushing them open. “Don’t hide such a pretty thing from me sweetheart. Obanai look how pretty our baby’s pussy is.” she said, pulling Obanai to stare. You blush as they stare at you, hands spreading your cunt to get a pretty look at you.

“She’s so pretty, wet too.” Obanai stares in awe. You watch as your lover spreads your legs wider, leaning in closer. Mitsuri can’t help but lightly drag her tongue through your folds and you whimper, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. Obanai’s tongue soon follows, stroking through your slit to get a taste of the wetness leaking from your sopping cunt.

Your moans grow louder and louder as they both start to make out with your pussy, taking turns sucking on your clit and fucking their tongues into you. It made your toes curl and your cunt clench, you hadn’t felt like this ever before. 

But nothing made you wetter than seeing the two of them end up kissing each other. Tongues tangling together as they made out with each other right in front of your cunt. They sat up, giving you the delicious view of the tent in Obanai’s pants and the wet spot staining Mitsuri’s panties. They were so incredibly sexy. 

An experimental hand trailed down your body as you gently rubbed where Obanai had touched you earlier. You shivered as you circled the spot your boyfriend had earlier, eyes watching as Mitsuri’s hands reached into Obanai’s pants, pulling his fat cock out and stroking it with expertise you were sure to never have. 

You fastened your pace as she jerked him off, loving the sight of precum leaking out the tip and down her pretty hands. When they glanced back at you, seeing their pretty girl playing with her pussy, they drew their attention back to you. 

Mitsuri’s lips press one last kiss To obanai’s before she leans down and grabs the hand you’d been touching yourself with, her other arm never stopping her tugs on Obanai’s cock. She slowly sucked your digits soaked with your juices in her mouth, making your clit twitch from how arousing the situation was. 

She let your fingers go with a lewd pop, “God you taste good sweetheart.” she sighed before moving back to Obanai to press a kiss to his tip. “Why don’t you let our girl take care of this for you, teach her a thing or two.” Mitsuri suggests. “I’ll focus on making her feel good”.

Obanai nods, enjoying Mitsuri’s idea. He pressed occasional kisses on your stomach, moving up your body until he was straddling your neck. He gently slapped his cock against your cheek and you moaned at the heavy weight of it.

“Open up pretty girl.” he says and you eye him wearily. But when his soft hands grasp your chin you open up. Obanai slips the tip of his cock in your mouth and you try to mimic what you think Mitisuri would do. Sucking on it. You suppose your choice was right as your boyfriend threw his head back with a groan.

As you suckle on your boyfriend's swollen tip. Your girlfriend has settled between her legs. Nimble fingers toying with your slit. Just dragging them through, playing with you like she would a toy. 

You moan around Obanai's cock, the sound sending a fat glob of pre cum rolling down your throat. He grabs the back of your head, hands pushing himself farther down on it. You swore you were choking, it was just so thick. 

Your girlfriend marveled at your pretty little cunt, juices just oozing out of you. Mitsuri finally leans forward and flicks her tongue on your clit. The feeling makes your legs twitch, and your thighs would be sure to close if it wasn’t for the love Hashira’s strong hands spreading you apart perfectly. 

Mitsuri was nastily skilled with her tongue. Quick and nimble movements were sure to be the death of you. She was practically making out with your slit, her tongue sliding into every crevice of your pussy. You could barely keep up, the only thing grounding you from the pleasure was Obanai’s meaty thighs, which you had a death grip on. 

Your long nails left red streaks along the skin as his cock stuffed your mouth full. Tiny tears creased the corner of your eyes as you tried your best to take him down your throat. Gagging as he moved you through the motions. 

Back and forth back and forth, back and forth. 

Until your chin was a slobbery mess. But you weren't the only one. Mitsuri's face was soaked, spit and slick covering her face as she ate you out. Her nose nudged your clothes as she forced her tongue as deep into you as she could manage. And it was toe-curlingly good. 

Obanai peered down at you, smiling at the fucked outlook in your eyes. He tapped your cheek, “You still with me baby?”

You nod your head, eyes focusing on the pretty sight above you. He was just as handsome as always. Cheeks flushed, panting as his hips thrust down your throat. 

If he didn't know you were too sweet to ever not be honest, he would call you a filthy liar. You were a natural. Sucking his dick deep, tongue licking underneath the prominent vein on the underside of his cock. 

It was taking everything in him not to blow his load right now. 

His head turned to look at Mitsuri, calling to her over his shoulder, “Think she's ready for me?” He asks. 

“Hmm,” Mitsuri ponders, pulling away from your needy clit. You were pretty soaked, but she had barely prepped your hole yet.

A slim finger slides into you with ease, and when it curls your whole slit twitches. 

“Oooh, she's a tight little thing” Mitsuri chuckles as she starts to thrust her finger in you, keeping its curve. Your mouth went slack around your boyfriend's cock at the feeling. It had your mind going blank. 

Every time your girlfriend's finger pulled out of you, the pad of her finger dragged deliciously over a spot inside you that drove you crazy. 

Obanai couldn't hold himself back anymore when Mitsuri's tongue joined in the mix. The muscle mashing against your clit, the nasty noises running straight from his ears down to his cock. 

He grabbed your hair without thinking, forcing you all the way down on his shaft as he came.

You could barely keep up with what was happening, just. Swallowing the thick liquid he gave you no choice but to taste. 

When he pulled out of your mouth, the heavy weight of his cock pressing into your cheek you could finally moan freely. 

And fuck you were loud. But your noise was warranted. After all, Mitsuri slid another finger deep into your pretty pussy. 

She must've wanted to kill you, that's the only reason you could find to explain the mean way her lips were latched on your clit. It was so harsh, the Inescap pleasure driving you the same. 

The hands-on Obanai’s thighs gripped onto him for dear life as you squeezed your eyes tight. 

He had seen it countless times when he had gone down on Mitsuri. 

“Open your eyes doll, let me see how pretty you look when you cum.” he says. 

It was all just so much. You wail loudly as you feel pleasure building up in your gut. Different than what to have been feeling so far. It felt like you were tumbling down a hill, pleasure building up and up and up until… you finally came. 

Your whole body froze up and you swore your vision went pure white. Your back arches up into Mitsuri's Mouth until the pleasure hits you. 

The thick of your thighs closed around Mitsuri's face, legs shaking terribly as your toes curled in. But your girlfriend, ever stubborn, didn't let you stop her from prolonging your orgasm. Her licks were gentle, just. Prodding at your clit. She pulled her fingers from your country, focusing on working through it with your tongue. 

Obanai had his eyes glued to yours the entire time, a dark look in his eyes. 

It felt like forever had passed before Obanai crawled off of you, gently pushing at Mitsuri's head, doing what your tired arms failed to do. Reluctantly, the girl pulled away, a pout on her shiny lips that was quickly kissed away by l. 

Just like that, the two were all over each other again, kissing, tongues down each other throats. Obanai loved kissing his girl, but there was something about the taste of her mouth that was driving him crazy. 

Your eyes trailed down their bodies, Obanai, already naked and hard again, his cock twitching every which way, desperate for a hole to find refuge in. 

Mitsuri’s hands desperately took hold of her robe, pulling the fabric off. You moaned as her soft body was exposed.

Heading that, she pulls away from Obanai, leaving him chasing her lips. She crawls next to you and you think you're gonna die. She's so sexy, an absolute wonder of a woman. Thick hips, huge tits with a cute face. Sometimes you wonder what you did to get so lucky. 

You sit up weakly on your elbows, smiling up at her. Obanai’s hands reach for his cock as he watches Mitsuri grab your cheek and kiss you. Her tongue immediately takes control of yours. You moan into the kiss, the feeling of love Hashira’s tits pressed against your side sending your brain into overdrive. 

You almost don't register Obanai moving between your legs until you feel his dick prodding at your clit. You pull away from Mitsuri's kiss with a moan. It felt different than before like every little touch to your clit was overwhelming. 

Obanai smiled, tapping his too to your clit a few times just to hear you whine. “You think you can take me baby?” he asks you. He sees the wide look in your eyes and he knows you're nervous. After all, you could barely fit two of Mitsur's fingers. And now you were moving on to seven girthy inches of cock. Your boyfriend was not a small man. 

He places a comforting hand on your stomach, “you don't have to if you don't want to baby” he reminds you. 

You nod your head, you know but, “I want to” you express, “but how is it supposed to fit… inside”*you say. 

Mitsuri pressed a loving kiss to your shoulder, “he's gonna go slow mama, give you time for that pretty pussy to adjust, okay?” She tells you and you cling to the calmness the words bring you. 

“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly and Obanai can't help but lean forward and press a kiss on your pretty lips. 

“Only a baby,” he says honestly, then it'll feel good, just as good as earlier, he tells you. And you nos, nervously biting at your bottom lip. 

“O-okay, m'ready”* you say and Obanai crawls back, positioning your legs wide for him.

Mitsuri’s soft hands come to caress your tits, rolling your nipple around to distract you. Her lips pressed kisses to your throat, as you moaned. 

The distraction worked until you didn't, when you felt Obanai position himself at your entrance, pushing his cock in as slow as he could. 

You let out a pained wince as his head slipped in, letting out an uncomfortable sigh. Mitsuri's quick to shush you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “It's okay baby girl.” she tells you. 

Obanai watches your face as he pushes farther in. His heart aches at every pained whimper, grateful that Mitsuri was comforting you 

“It's almost in Mama, good job,” she tells you, and you moan when you feel Obanai's pelvis flush against you. It was a weird feeling. Almost uncomfortable but not as bad as it was at first.

You only grow louder when Obanai leans forward to kiss your lips, his cock shuffling inside you. “I knew you could take it, proud of you baby.” he tells you. 

The pain is bad at first when he pulls out of you and pushes back in. It hurts no matter how gentle he tries to be. But the pain turns into stinging. That stinging starts to make your back arch. And soon he's thrusting into you with no resistance. His thrusts feel as good as Mitsuri's fingers curling inside you. 

It was such a new feeling. Having something so thick and big inside you. It was weird, but it felt good, really good. 

“F-fuck” you curse under your breath, lidded eyes staring at the man stuffing you with his cock. You were a mess, body sweaty, hair disheveled. 

Not that Obanai was any better. He didn't know someone could be this tight. You had to be doing this on purpose, pussy trying to milk him for all he's worth. And it was taking an embarrassing amount of effort not to let go right now. 

Mitsuri was smiling, watching you make Obanai's dick disappear. It was such a pretty sight, hearing the sounds your pussy made. 

The pleasure was intense and you turned to Mitsuri, grasping her arm to ground yourself. 

“How's it feel mama, you like it?”Mitsuri asks you, a gentle hand caressing your torso. 

You nod your head, “I-I like it. ” you tell her, biting your lip and Mitsuri smiles as she leans in to kiss your pretty lips. She always takes your breath away when she kisses you. Conveying everything she feels for you with a battle of your tongues. 

Obanai draped one of your legs over his shoulder and you were keen as his cock seemed to plow deeper into you. 

Mitsuri pulls away with a smile, watching you try and take your boyfriend's cock, “it's deep, isn't it baby?”

You nod your head, looking over at her with the most adorable look on your face. Eyes laced with need and hazed with pleasure. “I-its so deep” you stutter out. 

Obanai smirks at that and Mitsuri catches it, rolling her eyes at him with a giggle. 

Her hands trail down your stomach, pressing down right over where Obanai was inside you,” yeah, you feel him right here mama?” She asks and you can barely respond. The pressure on your stomach makes your legs quake a little. 

Obanai's hips only fasten their pace and you swear every time his fat tip slams against that perfect spot inside you you're gonna die.

Your boyfriend above you is lost in pleasure, low groans of your name tumbling from his lips as he pounds your pussy. Pressing kisses up your ankle, sucking one of your toes into his mouth. 

The feeling made you giggle, but ain't nothing funny about Mitsuri's sneaky hand trailing down your stiffened clit. 

You let out a whimper, reaching to grab Mitsuri's wrist. But you would never be stronger than her, not in a million years. You swore the laughter she let out was evil as she swirled mean circles around your clit. 

But all Obanai saw in front of him was a pair of angels. It was such a gorgeous sight, his two girls in front of him. Blissed out together. The body's rocking with the weight of each of his thrusts. 

The hand that wasn't busy spreading your legs apart reaches to spread Mitsuri's. The girl let out a soft gasp, her hand stuttering on your clit as Obanai thumbed hers. 

Her moans were loud as her boyfriend played with practiced expertise. Fingers rubbing side to side on her slit before he presses two fingers deep into her. They slipped right in, the love hashira's pussy a soaked mess.

“Shh” he shushes both of you and you both do. Biting your lips to restrain the pillowy moans leaving your lips. 

Now with the two of you quiet, you could hear the filthy sounds of your pussy, squelching and soaked. Making the prettiest noises. Mitsuri's fingers seem to regain power as she goes back to swirling your clit between her fingers. She playfully bites at your ear, “you sound so pretty mama” she slurs in your ear. 

You turn and press a kiss to her lips, your hand moving to play with her clit. Mitsuri's tongue goes slack as pleasure shivers through her. 

The faster the two of your hands got on each other the closer the two of you got. And it wasn't long before you were squirming, feeling something different for the first time Mitsuri made you cum. 

You cling onto her with one arm, the other gripping Obanai’s flexed arm. “I-I think I'm gonna cum!”*you gasp out. 

Obanai nods, “go on baby, you can do it,” he says. 

“M'close to baby, s-so close” Mitsuri moans. As if reading each other's minds you both speed up your hands, rubbing mean circles against each other's clits. 

“Ooooh, i-i'm cumming!” you whine and you barely have time to process what's happening before pleasure hits you from the ends of your ears to the tips of your toes

Mitsuri wasn't far behind you, her creamy pussy making a mess on Obanai's hand. He curled his fingers within her, smiling as she screamed, thighs squeezing around his hand. 

His thrusts into you never ceased, it felt like you were floating. 

You were still in a daze but Mitsuri came down from her high before you. Getting the honor of seeing Obanai Iguro break. 

He was barely holding back, just trying to fuck you through it so he could cum. And at this point, he didn't care about where. In or out. But your pussy was gripping onto him for dear life. He wasn't gonna last any longer. 

“In or out doll?” Obanai gasps. 

But you could barely answer, too fucked out to think. The overstimulation was so much to take, and you couldn't squirm, not with the death grip your boyfriend had on your leg. Humping into you as he pants, waiting for your answer. 

A swift slap to your clit has your eyes wide and open in no time and the fast circles that have you moaning out a jumbled-up string of pleas. For what exactly? You weren't sure. 

“Did you hear him mama?”Mitsuri asks and you shake your head. “He asks if you want him to cum in or out of you?”

The question brings heat to your cheeks and right down to your clit. It was getting hard to focus. The constant stimulation makes another orgasm build up in you. But this one felt like it might break you. 

“W-which one do you like? ” you ask Mitsuri. 

And she smiles, “I like it when he cums inside me.”

“T-then that, inside.” you say, eyes rolling back in your head as her fingers speed up on your clit. 

Mitsuri turns to Obanai, giggling at his blushed red face. “you heard her, baby, go on fuck it deep in her.“

Obanai groans loudly as he cums, and you gasp as you feel his loud shoot into you. You cum with him, the white load painting your walls sending you over the edge. 

It takes a long time for you to come to and by then, Obanai had pulled his stick cock out of you, and Mitsuri was stroking your forehead with her clean hand. 

They each press a kiss to your cheek, marveling at how fast you had fallen asleep. Chest rising and falling peacefully. 

“She can't go to sleep, we have to clean her up. ” Mitsuri says softly. 

But Obanai shakes his head leaning to press another kiss to your forehead, “I'll run her a bath in thirty.” he says. 

“Let our pretty girl rest”

First one down, 14 more to go!!!!!!!~ Kinktober Masterlist|2024»☆★

Taglist: @nousija, @miiiturix, @kittylovecatssuff,

[allfearstofallto]

Ok so, I've been having this taught of reader falling into a coma and not remembering anything from what happened before waking up. Which yandere do you think would take advantage and which would feel bad about doing so?

And why is it Diluc?

You were told you told a nasty fall. Right down the stairs at that. You're quite the clutz, one of your maids joked to you, but it's not like you'd remember. Everything about yourself, other than your name was blurry. Your name and something else. Red hair. Long red hair flowing down his back. Other than that, your mind was empty of memories, like you'd been reset with nothing.

"Master Diluc will be here shortly," the maid said with a smile as she used a wet cloth to dab the knot on your forehead. Swollen and painful, you could see the water in her bowl turning red from the dried blood, but she still smiled. Almost as if she enjoyed tending to you, "He's been dying to see you. You've had him worried sick, my lady,"

"Diluc...?" You repeated his name back, it felt foreign on your tongue, yet all too familiar at the same time. You forced yourself to think on that name as you'd done your own and nothing came up. Just empty, hollow, and blank.

She chuckled at your response, "Your husband! My boss. Master Diluc?" She tested these words while staring into your eyes, waiting for any sign of familiarity, but that flicker never lit in your eyes, and you grew more and more confused as she spoke. She watched your face change and in turn, hers did as well. You recognized the expression she was making. A look of worry and fear, that she tried to mask.

"I-i...have a husband?" You asked. The idea sounded crazy even to you. You'd gotten married and completely forgotten the person, forgotten the wedding, forgotten yourself.

Her little bowl was sat to the side and she dusted her hands on her apron. Moving quickly, she gave you a weak, worried smile as she marchd to the door, "I'll go get master Diluc." She said hurriedly, and she was gone. Leaving you in an unfamiliar room, with a strangely comforting ticking of a clock.

It wasn't long before the door opened again and he stepped in. He looked serious, almost scary, but also strangely remorseful. His eyes danced over to your forehead, where the bump was, then back to your face. His lip quivered as he knelt down at your bed side, reaching out to take your hand and being surprised that you allowed it. But his touch was gentle, he traced his thumb up and down the back of your hand, testing words on his tongue before he finally asked, "What do you remember?"

A weak smile formed on your lips. How could you tell him nothing? Or that all you had were bits and pieces of memories and even then, they weren't anything to go by. Yet that little shy smile was more than enough to tell him what you were thinking. He grimaced a bit before taking your hand and squeezing it, his touch was warm, borderline hot against the back of your hand.

"I'm your husband, Diluc Radnvindr and you're my wife. We've been married for two years," he spoke slowly, as if he were explaining this all to a child who wouldn't understand, "We live just a little bit outside of Mondstadt, I own a winery and the surrounding land as well."

At his mention of marriage, you looked down at your hands. Bare. Not even the indent of a ring on your finger.

"We don't have rings?" You questioned curiously, but sure enough, when you looked at his hand, he was wearing his wedding band dutifully. A plain gold band that wrapped around his finger.

Diluc's face tensed when you asked the question. It was an odd expression, not the type to face you expected your husband to make. But he still reached into a table at your side, opening a velvet box and showing you a similar gold band, only this one sparked with jewels and gems. It looked practically brand new. Not even a scratch or fingerprint on it. Almost like it'd never been worn.

"You always told me you weren't too fond of rings," he muttered, but his face looked sorrowful, "I couldn't force you to wear it so you never did."

You looked at that ring and you saw pure beauty. It looked like it was forged with love. You couldn't imagine why you didn't wear it, it was to pretty to not be seen. When you slipped the ring out of the box and onto the finger, Diluc made a face that was a mixture of surprise and horror. You gave him a questioning glance, but only was met with a stiff, but reassuring smile.

Days went by with you being a doting wife to Diluc, but the back of your mind something always felt wrong, like you were doing everything wrong. When you questioned why Diluc always ate his meals in his office, he did sit and eat with you at the table, but the maids looked confused at the sight of him. When you mentioned that it was strange that you and Diluc had supposedly been married so long, but didn't share a room, he allowed you into his bed. But even seemed uncomfortable by your presence.

Your dreams were restless that particular night. You dreamt of memories that you'd forgotten like you were living through them again. It was pouring rain and your heart was pounding. As you ran through the gardens, your feet bare and filthy with mud, all you could think was that you had to get away. But away from what?

Your heart thumping in your ears seemed even louder than the rainfall, your clothes soaked, fear being the only thing that pushed you further. When your wrist was grabbed, you screamed. Screamed harder than you had in your entire life. You expected to see a stranger when you turned, but instead you were met with familiar red hair, and angrier red eyes. Diluc.

He struck you. Hard across your cheek. It was a stinging slap, only calmed by the cold rain water hitting your face. Before you could even get the chance to fight, Diluc was dragging you back the way you came. Towards the manor. Towards your prison. You dug your feet into the mud, but you didn't stand a chance against his superior strength.

When you awoke in a cold sweat, chest heaving and eyes threatening to cry, his arm over your waist felt more like a restraint than a comfort. He slept peacefully right next to you as your mind tried to make sense of your dream, your memory. A pit formed in your stomach, a feeling of fear and worry as you thought about every strange thing about your marriage. About the strange way the maids looked at you. About how Diluc himself seemed almost surprised by what you assumed was typical martial affection. You swallowed hard as faint memories came flooding back. And the sudden realization of the fact that you were being lied to. And the liar, the cause of all of it, was nuzzling his face into you side.