#with a subtle aftertaste of

[chlo-le-mouton]

Yeah

[morkaischosen]

Potentially a miniature-modelling hobby blog with a rather admirable "but like, the main one" swagger, this offering is truly intriguing when read as a more conventional personal blog. One imagines a knowing wink towards the work of Tumblr itself- here in the famous microblogging website for freaks, we find a small and carefully-constructed recreation of the blogger's own life, and one that may (per the adjective) in fact be the blueprint for that life, rather than its image.

[hoshifighting]

— jihoon + roomates to lovers — mrs. lee might think her son is focused on his books, but the truth is, jihoon’s attention is entirely on you.

— synopsis: mrs. lee is a strict, no-nonsense mother determined to keep her son, jihoon, focused on his studies. her only condition for letting him have a roommate in his dorm is that it has to be a boy—no distractions allowed. when jihoon reveals that his new roommate is you, a childhood friend she remembers as a sweet, innocent girl, mrs. lee is ultimately relieved. surely, you wouldn’t do anything inappropriate with him… right? — WC: 2.6k — WARNINGS: smut, clit stimulation, dirty talk, penetrative sex, oral (f.receiving) pervert!jihoon, mentions of another, making sex on the couch jihoon's mom bought being mentioned, them almost getting caught, jihoon's mom being strict. 

you were sitting across from mrs. lee, the woman’s gaze piercing as she stirred her tea with a delicate clink. she hadn’t changed much since the days you rang her doorbell with scouter cookies in hand—still the same sharp eyes, still the same subtle judgment wrapped in a soft smile. “you’re not going to do something like that with him, right?” she asked, her voice dripping with the kind of sweetness that left a bitter aftertaste.

you could feel jihoon shifting awkwardly beside you, his discomfort almost tangible. he hadn’t said a word since his mother had started this impromptu interrogation, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand clenched around the arm of the chair. he was too old to be treated like this, you thought, but still too young in her eyes to make his own decisions.

“of course not, mrs. lee,” you replied, your voice as innocent as you could muster, though the irony wasn’t lost on you. you had grown up, after all. “i’m just here to help out with rent. that’s all.”

“good girl,” she murmured, taking a sip of her tea. “i knew i could trust you. you always were such a sweet little thing.”

you forced a smile, but inside, something coiled tight. it wasn’t the first time someone had underestimated you, but there was something about the way mrs. lee did it that made your skin itch. maybe it was the fact that she was right, in a way. you weren’t here just to split rent with jihoon. no, your reasons, or his reasons were far from innocent, but they were none of her business.

[...]

“you’re not going to do something like this with him, right?”

BZZZZZZTT! HAHA! DAMN WRONG.

mrs. lee’s voice was just a distant memory now, drowned out by the heat of jihoon’s mouth on yours, his grip tight on your ass as he pushed you up against the wall in the dorm hallway. the sweet, shy boy she thought she knew? long fucking gone, replaced by this guy who couldn’t even wait to get inside before pawing at you like an animal. the taste of alcohol was heavy on his breath, mixed with the remnants of the cigarette you’d both shared earlier, and the way he was devouring your mouth left no doubt about what was coming next.

if only she knew this was your routine—every time he came back from a night of drinking and smoking with you, his hands were on you before the door even closed behind him. you’d barely made it through the door last time before he had you bent over the arm of the couch—the very couch she’d picked out and bought for his dorm—fucking you so hard you were sure the neighbors had heard every slap of skin against skin.

“jihoon,” you gasped against his mouth, but the sound of his name only seemed to spur him on, his grip on your ass tightening as he ground his hips against yours. “can’t even wait, can you?”

“fuck no,” he muttered, lips trailing down to your neck, his teeth scraping over your skin in a way that made your knees weak. “need you now.”

you didn’t protest when he practically dragged you to the couch, his hands already tugging at your clothes as he pushed you down onto the cushions. the look in his eyes was wild, nothing like the shy boy mrs. lee still saw in her mind. this was a man driven by pure, unfiltered need, and you were more than willing to let him take what he wanted.

“she’d lose her mind if she knew,” you teased, voice breathless as you wriggled out of your clothes, your eyes locked on his as he yanked his shirt over his head.

“don’t care,” he growled, and the next thing you knew, he was on you. his hands were everywhere—tracing the curve of your waist, squeezing your thighs, rough fingers brushing over your nipples.

oh, you two were damn lucky that this couch couldn’t talk, because if it could, it’d be the first to spill the beans to mrs. lee. blabbing about all the times jihoon’s had you spread out on it, making you cum on his mouth like it was his favorite fucking meal. this couch had seen more than its fair share of your moans and gasps, had felt the tremors of your body when he made you melt in his pretty little mouth, and if it could, it’d give mrs. lee a full report—every dirty detail.

too bad for her, though, because this couch? it kept secrets like a vault, and tonight was just another deposit.

jihoon had your clit in his mouth, sucking on it like it his life depended on it. the way he worked his tongue made sure you couldn’t form a single coherent thought. every flick of his tongue against that sensitive nerve was so fast, so precise, it felt like he’d turned into a human vibrator, leaving your mind completely scrambled. he had you quiet, reduced to nothing but gasps and moans, and fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing.

and jihoon was downright filthy. he’d pull his tongue away just enough to show off the slick, glistening line connecting it to your clit, a blatant display of how much he was enjoying every second. the sight alone was enough to drive you wild his nasty face + his greedy mouth.

jihoon took his time eating you out, like he was conducting a symphony. every flick and swirl of his tongue was calculated to build you up, to make sure you were more than ready for when he’d finally shove his fat cock inside you. 

he made damn sure you came enough to be completely dazed, your mind a foggy mess as if every coherent thought had been wiped from your head. when he finally pulled away to grab a condom, you were left sprawled on the couch, still in the same position he’d left you in, utterly wrecked. he’d bite his lip to hold back a laugh, clearly amused by how out of it you were.

you prop up on the couch, your ass practically waving at him. he gave you a playful slap on your ass before sliding the condom on, his eyes sparkling nastily, but his mouth had a cute smile.

“good girl,” he muttered, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

you shot him a half-hearted frown, shaking your head. “don’t tell me your momma used to say the same thing?”

he chuckled, sliding in with a slow, deliberate push. “well, she might’ve. but i’m pretty sure she wasn’t talking about this.”

“yeah, i’d hope not,” you retorted, letting out a breathy moan as he filled you. “because if she was, i think we’d have a whole different family dinner conversation.”

“can’t argue with that,” he said, pressing deeper, a grin tugging at his lips. “but, you’re still my favorite good girl.”

you tightened your pussy grip around his cock, a playful warning. “yeah? well, you better remember that. you only have me.”

jihoon’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he felt the squeeze. “a-ah! okay, okay, true, true! you’re the only one—no one else gets this much of me.”

you grinned, feeling him twitch inside you. “oh, really? because i could’ve sworn you said that to your last—”

“stop!” he interrupted, laughing between his moans. “no more exes, i swear! it’s all you, babe.”

“glad to hear it. i wouldn’t want to share my favorite toy.”

he laughed heartedly. “believe me, i wouldn’t let anyone else near it. you’ve got exclusive rights.”

“damn right i do,” you said, giving him another teasing squeeze. “now show me why i’m the only one who gets to enjoy this.”

jihoon groaned, sliding in deeper with a satisfied grunt. “you got it, babe, and this”—he thrusts just a bit harder—“is all yours.”

you felt your ego swell with his confession, knowing it might be flattery, but it was in these moments—when he was deep inside you—that you could unlock jihoon’s secrets. a well-timed squeeze or a slick suck was all it took.

“jihoonie it feels amazing… you’re making me lose my mind.”

“losing your mind, huh?” jihoon’s voice was a low, teasing purr. “do you like it when i hit that spot, make you shake like this?”

you could only whimper in response, your body trembling with each thrust. “yes, fuck… don’t stop.”

he chuckled, his hips snapping forward with intentional force. “what’s it gonna take to make you admit i’m the best? more of this? or maybe you want me to keep making you come so hard you can’t even think?”

your breath caught in your throat, escaping as a breathy gasp as you throbbed around him. you cursed under your breath, realizing that if you had known this shy guy had such a filthy side, you would’ve jumped his bones way sooner. 

just as you were about scream his name, you heard a series of knocks on the door, making both of you freeze. you glanced back over your shoulder, eyes wide with panic. jihoon’s face was a mask of concentrated silence as he put a finger to his lips, shushing you—like it wasn’t painfully obvious what was happening.

he then clasped a hand over your mouth, pulling you flush against his chest. starting to roll his hips deep and slow, your eyes rolling back. 

“don’t you dare make a sound, babe. if you want me to keep going, you better stay quiet.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, cursing the person at the door for the awful timing. all you wanted was to scream his name, let the whole building know how fucking amazing jihoon was making you feel. and he was as into it as you were, if not more.

“you’re gonna stay quiet and take every inch.”

“i want to come so bad, jihoon. i wanna scream it.” you mumbled through his hand.

jihoon’s breath turned into a desperate whine against your ear, the knocks at the door growing more insistent with each passing second.

“fuck, i swear if they don’t shut up,” he muttered, his breath hot and ragged against your ear. despite the distraction, he kept his movements steady, his cock still sliding in and out with the perfect pressure.

you shivered, clamping down on him, your body quaking with the effort to stay quiet. “jihoon, i need to come so badly,” you whispered through clenched teeth. “can’t you just…”

“shhh,” he murmured, his voice a seductive growl. his grip on you tightened, pulling you even closer, as if trying to drown out the unwanted noise.

“goddammit,” he whispered fiercely in your ear, his voice trembling with and irritation. “i can’t believe this shit. i’m gonna make you come anyway. just stay with me.”

you could only manage a muffled whimper in response, your hips still moving in sync with his. 

jihoon could feel your warm puffs of breath on his palm, your breath coming faster as you clenched the couch rest, eyes squeezed shut in desperate frustration. he kept his hand over your mouth but gently turned you to face him.

“open your eyes,” he whispered.

you slowly opened your eyes, eyebrows furrowed, silently pleading for mercy. a thick tear slid down your cheek, coming to a halt on his hand. jihoon’s gaze softened, a flicker of pity in his eyes as he felt the tight clench around him.

“i know, baby, i know,” he murmured with empathy. “i know it’s rough, but you gotta hold on for me.”

you spasmed around him, your body trembling uncontrollably. jihoon’s eyebrows furrowed in response, his own expression mirroring your pain and need. he could feel your struggle, the way you were trying so hard to hold on, and it made him ache for you even more.

“i’m so close,” you whispered, barely managing to speak through the muffling of his hand. “please, jihoon.”

“just a little more,” he whispered back, his voice strained with longing. “i’m almost there too. i need you to come for me, baby. let go and let me take care of you.”

you clenched around him with renewed strength, your body shaking with the effort. jihoon let out a low, pained groan, his hips grinding into you with a desperate rhythm.

jihoon’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his movements becoming sharper, trying to offer as much relief as he could while still keeping quiet.

“fuck, i can feel how close you are,” he continued, his voice desperate. “i’m right here with you. i won’t leave you hanging.”

he adjusted his position slightly, angling his hips to hit you just right, hoping to push you over the edge despite the interruptions. 

jihoon’s other hand, slick with his own saliva, moved to your clit. he sucked the tips of his middle and ring fingers, then placed them against the sensitive spot, making you flinch. he could feel your body reacting eagerly to his touch.

you loved it when he fingered you, no matter how he did it, and he knew it well. your eyes squeezed shut, and you arched your back, head falling against his shoulder.

as the tension built, you finally let go, your body trembling violently against his. jihoon’s face contorted in pleasure, fighting the urge to moan out loud. he bit his lip hard, stifling the sounds he loved to make, watching your fucked-out expression combined with the way you were swallowing his moans, was all it took for him to lose control.

jihoon’s jaw went slack as he felt the condom growing wetter, his cum trapped inside the rubber. the knocks on the door sounded muffled and distant, like they were underwater, barely registering through the haze of post-orgasmic bliss.

you felt his sweaty body pressed firmly against you, anchoring you in the moment. his hands, still warm and slightly trembling, roamed over your tits, giving them a gentle, affectionate squeeze. a satisfied smile spread across your face.

you whispered against his skin, “aren’t you going to answer the door?”

jihoon sighed, his breath still heavy. “it’s stopped now. probably just someone being nosy.”

just as he finished speaking, his phone buzzed loudly. he glanced at the screen and saw it was his mom calling. jihoon cursed softly under his breath and grabbed his phone.

“hey, mom. what’s up?”

“jihoon! i’ve been trying to reach you. i need to know if you’re okay. there were some noises, and i—”

“yeah, everything’s fine. just a little noise from the neighbors, you know how it is.”

“oh, okay. i was worried. you didn’t answer earlier, and i thought something might have happened.”

“nah, it’s all good. just dealing with a bit of stuff here. i’ll call you back later, okay?”

“alright, but make sure to take care of yourself. call me if you need anything.”

“will do. talk soon.” 

as you lay on the couch, you mimicked jihoon’s voice in a high-pitched, exaggerated tone. “oh, it’s just a little noise from the neighbors, mom!”

jihoon rolled his eyes, a playful grin extending across his face. he stuck his tongue out at you, waggling it just enough to make you laugh.

you raised an eyebrow, catching his teasing gesture. “oh, is that the same tongue you used on me earlier?”

jihoon’s grin enlarged. “pftt, come on. you’re not telling me you didn’t like it when i used it on you?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “keep that tongue to yourself.”

jihoon leaned in. “what, you don’t want me to give your pussy the same attention?”

you playfully smacked his arm “jihoon!”

quick fic based on friends > roomates > lovers anon request. ❤️

[noyasmashing]

Daichi getting dommed by his girlfriend?! Since he's in the police maybe his girlfriend is a detective or some form of government official that works with the police all the tine!!!

★ BAD BOY. daichi!

౨ৎ :: masterlist. reblogs are appreciated.

• warning: daichi + fem!dom reader, male penetration/fingering, mommy kink, cum eating, daichi has the “asian flush”

Daichi really wasn’t the one to drink. Actually, he shouldn’t be drinking. He lacked the enzyme that broke down alcohol once consumed. He wasn't suited for it, plain and simple. However, there were exceptions to his rule.

More often than not, he found himself holding a drink at parties, and tonight was no different. After months of tireless investigation, the combined efforts of the police officers and detectives had finally paid off, solving a particularly complex case. As a well-deserved reward, the team decided to treat themselves to a celebratory night out. They reserved a cozy private room at a highly-regarded restaurant, famous for its exceptional craft cocktails.

Their boss, in a thoughtful gesture, had arranged for everyone's drinks to be pre-ordered and paid for, ensuring that the team could relax and enjoy each other's company without worrying about the bill.

Daichi's concern about his metabolic issue flared up as he was handed a cold drink. However he disregarded it. After all, it was only natural that he felt compelled to partake, he didn’t want to seem stuck up, or rude. He started out with small sips, attempting to feign enjoyment.

No one had even noticed, he had gone almost the entirety of the party without even finishing half. Fortunately, everyones attention was diverted by a heartfelt speech from their respected superior officer, acknowledging the team's hard work and dedication.

As the party continued, Daichi's attention was divided between the celebratory speech and your persistent touch. Initially, the gentle rubbing of his thigh was a reflexive response to his coworkers' congratulations. But as the atmosphere mellowed, your hand remained, sending sparks of sensation through his body. The fleeting touches near his upper thigh were maddening, making him feel like he was losing control.

You couldn't help but notice his gaze lingering on you throughout the night, his eyes drawn to the subtle details of your attire - the short skirt, the blouse that teased just enough to hint at what lay beneath. It was clear you were deliberately drawing attention to yourself, and Daichi couldn't help but be captivated by your presence.

“Shall we take care of your issue in the bathroom?” you whispered in Daichi's ear, your voice dripping with teasing intent.

As he tried to maintain a stoic expression, you couldn't help but giggle at his failed attempt to hide his emotions. His temples flexed in frustration as he remained silent, his grip on your hand tightening under the table.

“You know we can’t do that.” He reasoned, tuning to meet your gaze, just for a moment.

You purred out, “Suit yourself,” in response, your eyes never leaving his face. Before smoothly turning to another detective and launching into a conversation about a different case you were working on together.

Daichi turned to look at his own friends, but struggled to process any of their words, his mind consumed by a maelstrom of inappropriate thoughts. In a desperate attempt to shake off the tormenting sensations and clear his mind, Daichi turned his attention to his drink, downing the remaining contents of his glass with a swift motion. The sudden rush of liquid warmth doing little to calm his racing thoughts.

As he struggled to clear the unpleasant aftertaste of his previous drink, Daichi's eyes fluttered open to find the group surrounding him, refilling their glasses.

Before he could process the situation, the room erupted into a chorus of cheers and toasts, and someone was pressing another glass into his hand. With a sense of obligation, Daichi reluctantly accepted the offering, not wanting to be rude or spoil the celebratory atmosphere. As he added the new drink to his already-lively mix, Daichi couldn't help but lament the fact that he had now consumed two cocktails.

As the surprise toast came to a close, the room began to empty out, with many people saying their goodbyes and departing the restaurant. Daichi noticed your growing impatience, and he felt his own unease mounting. He tried to sound nonchalant as he suggested, "Uh, m-maybe we should get going?" His words were laced with a subtle sense of desperation.

Your hand had been resting on his knee for a moment, but then it drifted away, your gaze flicking to your watch as if checking the time.

You nodded curtly, responding with a, "About time," and turning your attention back to him. "Do you have the keys?" you asked, your tone tinged with a hint of concern as you took in his flushed appearance. Without argument, Daichi handed over the keys, preparing to bid farewell to his coworkers and make a hasty exit.

As you both rose from your seats, Daichi's hand instinctively reached out and grasped the back of your jacket, his fingers digging in slightly as he struggled to steady himself. The sudden movement left him feeling lightheaded, and his face flushed with embarrassment as he realized his mistake. You, however, merely raised an eyebrow and tried to stifle a chuckle, indulging in a discreet caress of his backside as you did so.

You were well aware that Daichi was one of those people who didn't handle his liquor well, and the signs were all too clear. "It was nice seeing you, Chief," you said with a charming smile, shaking his hand firmly as you bid him farewell. Daichi nodded mutely, his eyes fixed on yours with a mixture of fear and distraction as your wandering hand continued its gentle exploration of his body. He was too intimidated to say anything, too preoccupied with the sensation of your touch to speak up.

Once you two were out of the restaurant the cool night air hit Daichi like a train. His breathing came in short, ragged gasps, and he stumbled slightly as he walked to the car. “Why did I park so far away.” He groaned, facepalming when he remembered his decision from earlier that day.

“What’s up with you?” you asked, your voice low and concerned as you raised an eyebrow in inquiry. The crunch of gravel beneath your feet was the only sound breaking the silence as Daichi hesitated.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Daichi stammered, finally turning to face you with a flush rising up his cheeks.

You shot him a concerned glance. "Did you drink too much or something, Sawa? You're breathing heavier than normal," you remarked, wrapping your arm around his waist to steady him as you walked towards the car in the dimly lit parking lot.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "I felt rude not drinking, and then...of course, there was you..." He trailed off, his words hanging in the air as you approached the car, the silence between you thickening like fog.

But before he could break free and make his way to the passenger seat, you pinned him against the sleek, freshly washed car you had purchased together. The new sedan's gleaming surface reflected the dim parking lot lights, creating a sense of intimacy as you leaned in, your breath warm against his ear.

"What about me?" you whispered, your voice husky with desire. "Don't tell me you were turned on in front of your coworkers." you cooed, your knee gliding up to nestle against his groin, the movement deliberate and sensual.

His breath hitched, and he found himself grasping onto your jacket with an anxious intensity. "So-so what if I was?" he questioned, his voice trembling as he felt his heart pounding in his ears, his body burning with a sudden, intense heat.

His eyes widened as you made the bold move of pulling open the second-row door, revealing the dark interior of the car. "I can't wait till we get home," you whispered, your voice low and seductive, "and I don't think you can either." With that, you guided him into the back seat, the motion smooth and deliberate.

The effects of the alcohol were plain to see on him once you sat down beside him. You could almost hear his racing heart, his face a deep crimson, and the most captivating sight of all was his ragged breathing, as if he'd run a mile.

It was the most intoxicatingly vulnerable you had ever seen him, and by God, it was incredibly attractive. Once you closed the door behind you both, your lips crashed together in a sloppy, frenzied kiss. One that was full of fervor and desperation on his part.

Without hesitation, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt. "I think you're going to need a little discipline for overindulging, don't you?" you whispered into his ear, taking a gentle moment to nip at the lobe.

He let out a soft moan, his head nodding in agreement as you spoke. His apologies tumbled out in a slurred, endearing manner. Daichi was typically contrite and apologetic for his mistakes, so it was unusual for him to receive punishment like this, it made him excited.

"Actually," you said, pulling back to gaze at him with a playful smile. His eyes, still glassy from the drink, met yours, and he stared at you with a dazed expression. "You know what? You're adorable when you're tipsy. Kinda like when I finish fucking your brains out.”

He felt his body flare with heat at your words. The only thing his mushy brain could get out was a “please!” His whole body starting to tremble with anticipation as the desire burned within him. Your words conjured vivid images in his mind, leaving him breathless and unsure of himself. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of emotions, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts: plead, sob, or surrender. Your gentle teasing was torturous, leaving him helpless and at your mercy.

"Please? What do you want, sawamura?" you asked, your tone softening as you reached out to gently push him down onto his forearms.

He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and wet lips. "F-fuck... fuck me.” he forced out, his breath catching in his throat as your hands ran gently along his chest, tracing the curve of his nipples.

“I don’t have my strap with me, darling.” You sighed, your hands tracing a gentle path along his torso. His abs contracted and relaxed, shifting beneath your touch. As you spoke, he let out a disappointed sob, his head tilting back in surrender.

“Don’t be greedy, my fingers will do just fine.” And with that, he was suddenly being flipped on all fours, his perky ass presented to you, the fabric of his clothes now inches from your face.

“Y-yes.. yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” He relented, arching his back in attempts to appease you. You released a contented hum, then unfastened his belt and slowly slid down the zipper of his dress pants.

As soon as his undergarments were removed, his throbbing cock sprang free, glistening with precum that dripped down onto his dress shirt, a rather unfortunate turn of events.

Not to mention his hole, which clenched in eager anticipation of whatever you had in store. Your initial move was to spit on it, which was fortunate, as you would have needed lubricant anyway. He let out a soft "Ahh" of pleasure, sinking deeper into position as he did so.

You leaned forward, your body pressed against his, as you guided two fingers into his mouth from behind. "Open," you commanded, and he complied.

He struggled to resist the urge to suck on your fingers as you roughly explored his tongue, making him gag. A muffled string of moans escaped his lips, accompanied by a gasp as you withdrew your fingers.

"I'm supposed to be punishing you," you scoffed, "but you're responding like this is some kind of reward." you added, scoldingly. You then proceeded to line your now-wet fingers with his tight hole.

"Relax," you instructed as your fingers slid into him. Ordinarily, you would have taken your time to ease him into it, inserting just one finger to begin with. But the circumstances didn't allow for that level of finesse. Instead, you established a rough and demanding pace, one that had him groaning and whimpering into his palm.

"Slow down!" he pleaded, his words slurred with a mixture of protest and pleasure. Despite his plea, his hips continued to move in tandem with your pace, practically fucking himself on your fingers.

You couldn't help but laugh at the drunken scene unfolding before you, one hand rising to make a harsh, stinging contact with his exposed ass. His skin was hot to the touch, and his entire body seemed to vibrate with excitement.

His light pants were now a canvas of moans, his cries of pleasure and pain mingling in a chorus of ecstasy. The stifling air in the car grew thick and heavy, the windows fogging up.

"I wonder how the team would react to seeing you like this," you sneered, your voice dripping with disdain. "Knowing that I fucked you in the back of your car, and you took it like a good slut."

You dug your fingers deeper, searching for his most sensitive spot, and he winced in response. "Stoppp," he drunkenly begged, his voice muffled by his hand. You couldn't help but snort in derision at his demand.

"If you want me to stop, then why are you dripping allll over the seat?" You taunted, your gaze flicking down to the damp fabric. "Somebody's going to have to clean this up, you know."

He paused, his mind processing your words as a wave of tension washed over him. Though you couldn't see his physical response, you sensed it with certainty - his cock was twitching at your rather harsh degradation.

"I'm gonna cum, mommy." he whimpered alas, his voice trembling and nasal, in a tone that was foreign to you. He rarely addressed you with such endearments, so you knew that the alcohol must have loosened his inhibitions. "I'm gonna cum b-because your being so mean to me." he stammered, his words punctuated by sniffles.

"Hmmm," you murmured, slowing your movements deliberately. You couldn't help but appreciate the way his ass looked, supple and inviting as it yielded to your fingers. You didn't want this moment to end too soon. "Perhaps I should make you wait until we get home," You suggested, your voice low and sadistic with a hint of amusement.

He let out a despairing "Hmph" and a muffled string of "no"s as he struggled to force your fingers deeper inside him. To his frustration, you took a firm hold of his hips, preventing him from generating any friction through his own movements.

"You tell me, sawa, how bad do you want to come?" you asked in a calm, measured tone, tracing small circles on his hips and barely pumping him with your fingers.

As you gazed at him, you could see his Adam's apple bob up and down, his ear that angled towards you flushed a deep red, while his face remained mostly hidden behind his arm. The tremble in his voice was palpable as he hesitantly spoke up. "I... I want to so badly. I need to. My head feels all fuzzy, I can't take it! Please. P-please. Please, Mommy. Let me have this."

It was an understatement to say you were surprised. You had rarely witnessed Daichi so beset by neediness. Maybe his “Asian flush”, a hallmark of his vulnerability, only added to his desperation. You were certain you wouldn't be treated to this sight again anytime soon, so you intended to savor every moment of it.

"Lay on your back f’me. I wanna see your face." You urged in a gentle tone. He almost let out a sob when you detached from him, but your words steadied him. He shakily flipped onto his back, propping himself up on his forearms to gaze up at you. The agonizing seconds it took to reposition yourself felt like an eternity to him. As you finally resumed the motion, he let out a guttural moan, as if begging you to accelerate the pace. Unbeknownst to him, you added a third finger to the mix. Your gaze was transfixed on his face, drinking in the sight of his features twisted in a mix of pleasure and strain.

His labored breathing morphed into soft moans, his nose wrinkling as a single bead of sweat slid down his forehead, tracing the messy contours of his hair. The sight was almost mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but notice that your gaze was heightening his arousal. "You're so pretty, sawa, go ahead and come for me," you coaxed, abandoning any notion of this being a punishment.

But how could you be cruel to your lover when his throbbing cock quivered against his abs, as if begging for release? It was a pitiful yet endearing sight, one that tugged at your heartstrings. Just as your other hand reached out to claim his cock, he burst forth with a ragged cry, his semen coating his torso and the open expanse of his shirt.

A soft, whispered "Thank you, mommy" escaped his trembling lips, as his eyelids remained tightly closed, his gaze shut off from the world.

It took him a moment to collect himself, his breathing still ragged as you withdrew your hand from his under side. He anticipated a trip to the baby wipes, so his tiny whimper of surprise was all the more adorable when your warm tongue made contact with his skin instead. His eyes flew open, taking in the sight of you lapping up his semen.

His initial reaction was a gasp, which turned into a stunned silence as you pulled him in for a kiss mere seconds later, the taste of his own come mingling with yours on his tongue.

He eagerly swallowed everything you gave him, determined to prove he could handle it, just like he handled three of your fingers.

You pulled back, leaving a trail of saliva connecting the two of you, your mischievous glint hinting at the tease that was to come. "I should make you lick the seat clean," you said, your tone playful and unrepentant. Though he winced at the humiliation of the task, he couldn't deny the desire to submit to your whims.

[yumeboshi]

congrats on 100 omg !!!! may i please order a sickly sweet sprinkle sundae? <3 your vibe is simply incredible

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @bunn3333s .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡

𐙚SICKLY SWEET SPRINKLE SUNDAE：sickly sweet it makes you throw up!

𐙚 dish desc。．a not so romantic dinner sunday made for you after you tried running away.

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。 general yandere themes, manipulation, filthy, mentions of aphrodisiacs, no i promise i write for other characters too, heavy brainrot, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。sunday

WAS HE ANGRY?

it was hard to tell by the way SUNDAY smiles at you with eyes hollow like shells, gesturing for you to take a seat at the lavish dinner table. your fiancé, although more of a forced engagement, was undoubtedly a good cook. the dishes set across the spacious wooden table cloaked with heavenly silk were straight from a 5-star course meal at the Reverie, each one tingling your nostrils with an exquisitely savory smell.

the situation might have been very flattering if you haven’t tried to run away from him moments ago.

“please, take a seat. i made it just for you, you know.” he laughs shortly at your hesitance, but his eyes pierce through you, like a predator waiting for its prey.

you feel your heart thud against your chest as you sit down tentatively- the scrape of the chair only scratching your nerves even more. although the scent around you tempted your stomach, your mouth felt paradoxically dry and you felt like throwing up. you felt uncomfortable, as if a thousand ants were crawling over your skin by his stare that never once leaves you.

“you deserve to eat,” he breaks your discomfort with a gentle hand that guides your own to the silver utensils that are far too expensive for you. “you’ve been such a good girl.”

the way he says it tells you he doesn’t think that at all. but how can you possibly deny him, when you’ve already done it once? you should be grateful he’s even allowing you to eat.

but as the steak reaches your lips, you feel a sudden churn in your throat that tells you you really shouldn’t eat it. sunday taps you with the other hand on your shoulder- a subtle warning, but when you don’t do as he says, he sighs in condescension and pries your mouth open to force it in, caring little about the way your saliva stains his pristine gloves.

the meat surprisingly melts on your tongue like heaven- it’s juicy and just so right. it’s the most perfect bite of meat you’ve ever tasted, which shows on your surprised expression which makes your fiancé scold you—

“what did i tell you, dear? I didn’t put anything in there. this indeed says something about how little you trust me.”

and when he removes his and from yours, telling you that he’s not going to cook anymore- you beg him that you’re sorry for mistrusting him. oh, what a sin you’ve committed— how dare you even doubt sunday, who always showers you with such love you don’t deserve after your attempt to run?

he pretends to give in to your pretty pleas when you hug him while sobbing about how delicious it is, all the while telling you that you’re such a stupid little dove he has to teach constantly until she learns he manners.

little do you know, the meat you’re chewing has an oddly sweet aftertaste. the more sunday feeds you with his hand over your own, subtly coaxing you to eat the entire thing, all the while making you think it’s your own choice to eat it, the more your brain fuzzes, your vision blurry, slowly drowning your own coherent thoughts with such a primal need that builds itself to the surface, a desire that morphs into a cacophony in your head that chants that you need him so badly.

and he’ll drag out the drugged thoughts of yours, acting as if you’re the one who badly wants him to bury in his thick cock inside you- when in reality, sunday is the one who desires it so bad. he’s wanted to stuff you full with his own cum- make you his, trapping you with his children since the day he’s laid eyes on you, but a true manipulator always plays the longer game, and he was willing to wait.

now, his long-awaited fantasies are fulfilled as he watches your hole gushing around his cock, whimpering his name as you clutch the sheets- pretty bite marks decorating every nook and cranny. and fuck, oh it makes him feel like he’s finally flown to his desired heaven. he feels complete.

he feels like his twisted paradise is near.

[bigification]

Spiked

Friday,

I feel strong, but these protein shakes haven't been helping my bulk as much as I want. I'm still too skinny. Maybe I should give them more time though, I've only been taking them for a couple weeks after all. I'll try bumping it up to two a day, and I'll eat more, that should help.

I pick up my phone as I leave the gym and stare at the Grindr app. Should I? Is it fair to Dean that I keep bringing back guys to our place. This would be the fourth time this week, I think I can hold off for his sake. Anyway, I put away my phone and head back to my apartment.

"How was the workout?" Dean asked when I got home. I'm shocked, he's never really been interested in my workouts before. We used to go together before we were roommates but now that we live together, the gym is a rare activity we do apart. Besides, he hasn't really been going that much recently.

"Oh, it was good... I'm just not bulking as much as I want to." I reply.

"That must be why you got those protein shakes, huh?"

Why is he taking so much notice of this stuff now? We can share the shakes if he really wants to, he might just be trying to motivate himself to get back in the gym. But he could just ask if that's what he wants. "Ya, I'm gonna try to drink more, maybe that'll help." I say as I go to the fridge and grab one.

"That's good." Dean says in a flat tone, he usually does this when he's lost interest in a conversation.

I get distracted from the conversation anyway as I drink the shake. Something seems different about it, it's got a bit of a bitter aftertaste now. I figure it's probably just me getting tired of the taste and shrug it off.

Saturday,

I wake up in a cold sweat. This was unusual given that I get up every day at this time to go to the gym. I look to the clock and it's... 10 o'clock. Holy shit, I slept in. I'm usually at the gym by 8. I calm down a bit when I remember it's Saturday, so I have nothing to do anyway.

I roll out of bed and hobble my way to the bathroom. My head is spinning and my stomach is growling, I felt hungover. I didn't drink last night did I? I don't really remember. However, all of that leaves my mind in an instant when I look in the mirror. I rub my eyes and look again. Where do I even begin. An itchy beard now covers my face, despite the fact that I shaved yesterday morning. My sweat glistened on my distended stomach, my six pack buried under a soft bloat. My pecs are swollen and slightly rounded.

What the fuck. My mind is trying to process what's happening, but it can't. I turn to the side and see the subtle S shape in my stomach and my ass. Was it the shake? It couldn't have been, it hasn't done shit for me in weeks and now it does this! You know what, this is fine. I pinch my stomach. It's mostly bloated, just a small layer of fat, nothing I can't work off in a couple weeks. If anything this will give me a head start on my bulk.

I throw on some of my loose gym clothes that do a decent job at hiding my physique, but I still look different. I grab my gym back and try to sneak out, I don't want Dean seeing me like this. I quickly try to rush out the door, but I stop dead in my tracks when I hear Dean.

"I didn't know you were still home, you usually leave before I get up." He says nonchalantly.

"Oh ya... I just decided to sleep in today." I pull my bag to cover my stomach.

"Okay, have fun at the gym. Nice beard by the way, when did you decide to grow it out."

"I've just been a bit lazy with shaving it, that's all." I'm sweating buckets.

"Well it looks good, you should keep it." He smiles at me.

I can feel myself blush, so I smile and get out as quickly as possible. I chug a protein shake on the way to the gym, noting that bitter aftertaste again. It's probably nothing, I have bigger issues to deal with.

Once I start my workout, I feel pretty self conscious about my body. I know no one else could know that something is off, but I still feel off. But as the workout goes on, I start feeling more and more comfortable. I start hitting more reps than I ever have before, though cardio is a bit of a slog. It doesn't matter, I feel surprisingly great. I finish off the workout great, and flex in the mirror for a bit of a confidence boost.

I drink another shake on the way home. As I get home, Dean seems to be waiting for me. He asks how my workout was again. He's acting so weird again. I decide to spend the rest of the day out, drinking the night away. I am bulking after all.

Sunday,

I wake up feeling like I got hit by a truck, with no memory of how much I drank last night. I've never felt like this after a night out though. The more I think about it, the more my mind points me to the shakes. They have to have something to do with this. I don't have time for this right now though, I have to get to the gym.

I brush my teeth and shave, I'm shocked at the beard I grew in just two days. I try throwing on some clothes, but I feel some resistance. My largest gym shirt no longer fits, there's always a sliver of skin showing and it goes past my belly button when I reach up. My shorts fit a bit better, but they hug my ass very tight. I think I'll have to buy some new clothes on the way home.

The workout goes similarly to yesterday. I start self conscious of the fact that my belly is showing and my shorts look like they're about to rip. But the worry escapes my mind when I destroy my routine. I feel so strong.

I feel great by the time my workout ends. I head to the locker room and take off my shirt. Yeesh, I have a full on beer belly now. This is no longer just a bloat, my stomach is covered in a thick layer of fat. I didn't even know you could gain this much fat in only a couple of days, and I'm not even eating that much. And what's with the beard, I shaved this morning and it's already coming back in. Although my arms are looking massive, I could even feel my sleeves stretch from my biceps when I was working out. I stare at my belly a bit as I think about what to do.

I throw on my shirt again and head out. I pull up to a clothing store and pick out a few loose gym clothes that should fit me if I bulk even more.

"Hi, where are the change rooms." I ask an employee.

"Oh.." he pauses for a moment, looking at my belly. I notice that my shirt is riding up more than it was this morning. I instinctively cover my exposed belly with my arms and shrivel up in embarrassment.

"Just over there sir." He awkwardly points to the back of the store.

I grab a few larger clothes on the way out and leave the store as fast as humanly possible. I instinctively down another shake on the way home. Dean didn't say anything to me when I got home, but he glanced at me and then looked away. He is acting so strange.

I woke up in the middle of the night, there was a rattling coming from the kitchen. I walk out to investigate and see Dean doing something with the protein shakes. Is he secretly drinking them at night? He could just ask and I would give some to him. But I see him pour something into the shake and then close it back up again before putting them back in the fridge. What the hell? I try to think of what he could be doing. He stashes something away in the bottom of the cupboard and starts walking back to his bedroom. I quickly hide in my room until I hear his door close, and then I go back to the kitchen to investigate. I look at the protein shakes in the fridge and notice their seals have been broken, I can't believe I never noticed that. I move over to the cupboard and find a small bag with white powder in it. It looks like coke, but why the fuck would Dean put coke in my shakes. And besides, I don't think fat, muscle, and hair growth are symptoms of coke. Maybe I'll give him a taste of his own medicine. I go back to the fridge and pull out the jug of orange juice that Dean drinks every morning. I have no idea how much he put in my shakes, so I just pour a bunch in. I kind of feel like a secret agent, sneaking in a mysterious powder into his drink. I would feel worse, but he already did this to me so I'm fine ignoring my morals this time.

I head to bed, lying awake in my bed for a while. Thinking about what I just did, thinking about the results. It's making it hard to fall asleep, but I eventually do.

Monday,

I wake up feeling better than I had the past few days. I go through my normal routine, throw on my gym clothes, and grab a bite to eat. When I open the fridge, i see the orange juice and protein shakes and I'm reminded of my situation. Every morning I get a few moments of blissful ignorance before it's ripped away. I think for a bit, then grab a couple shakes and put in my bag. I'm kinda liking this new me, the strong me, and the belly is definitely growing on me. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I head out, I'm really committing to this aren't I? I ask myself as I look at the bushy beard that has engulfed my face and the belly and moobs that are unmistakable under my shirt. I smile and then head to the gym.

Every day that I spend at the gym, I get less self conscious. I almost forget about the fact that my hairy gut I exposed to the world whenever I reach up. I only care about the fact that I have been increasing the weight on my workouts every day and it feels amazing.

I take a shower and get dressed for work... Oh shit. I never bought work clothes that fit me, I'm reminded when I try in vain to button up my dress shirt. I stop by the store again and grab a couple shirts and pairs of pants. The thought of the protein shake in my car makes me think of the future, so I buy a few clothes in larger sizes too.

I barely make it to work on time. The day went by fast, but all I could remember were the stares and the comments from coworkers. "You forget to shave this morning Santa?" "Might want to lay off the doughnuts in the break room buddy." "We're concerned about your health." "Did you forget to stop bulking?" That was all I heard today. It was embarrassing at first, but it soon turned to encouraging. Each sly comment just makes me want to grow more. It honestly makes me realize how much I'm enjoying growing, and makes me even more excited to see what happens to Dean. It was hard to keep my dick in my pants today, I think the only reason no one noticed was because they were too busy staring at my gut.

I make it back home after work and dress down to my underwear first thing. Damn I am getting hairy, I run my hands through the forest of hair that has grown all over my body. As I'm doing so, an amazing idea runs through my mind. I'm gonna surprise Dean. There's no way I can hide the changes in my body regardless of how baggy my clothes are, so I'm just gonna show it off. I lay down on the couch by the front door, still only in my underwear, and I wait for him to show up.

"I'm hom- Oh hey..." Dean stutters as he sees me.

"Hey bud, what's up." I say nonchalantly.

"Just tired from work, where are your clothes?"

"I had a crazy workout today, just figured I'd air out a bit. Ever since I started this bulk, things have really taken off for me at the gym." I say while I rub my gut. In trying my best to make him uncomfortable and it seems to be working.

"Okay, well if you need me I'll be in my room." He quickly scurries into his room.

I just chuckle to myself and continue rubbing my belly. I wonder if there's any leftovers in the fridge?

Tuesday,

Same old same old. Get out of bed, get dressed, shave, grab a shake and head to the gym.

I feel so imposing at the gym now. I think I've gotten taller, because I look down on almost every now. I have a beard and a deeper voice than I used to, and not to mention the big gut and strong biceps. I'm like the biggest guy here, and people treat me like it. Women and men stare, and people tend to let me use the machines I want. I also notice myself grunting when I work out, I wonder if the entire gym can hear it. Anyway, the point is I feel amazing. This is the first day I dropped cardio because who fucking needs it, I sure don't. Now I focus purely on mass gain. I'm tired of holding back and I don't care what other people think, I want more.

I arrived at work, rocking far more confidence than I did yesterday, and people noticed. I don't care if they stare or comment, and I don't care that my dress shirt is already too small for me. People even asked me how I gained as much muscle as it did that fast. I just tell them to eat a shit ton and drink protein shakes, but maybe once the jig is up with Dean I'll ask him how to get the powder. I certainly wouldn't mind seeing some of the men at work blow up like I did. This is not the time to think about it though, it's getting hard to hide my boner at work. The only thing hiding it when I sit down is my gut.

I get home and notice Dean is home too. He must have stayed home, I wonder if it's because of the powder. He won't seem to leave his room though, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow to see the results.

I just decide to change into some comfortable clothes and eat my heart out. Though I'm shocked at how small my once 'baggy' clothes are. They barely fit past my stomach, and they ride up past my belly button when I lift my arms.

Fuck I'm getting fat. There is nothing hotter to me right now than the thought of my body growing. I make my way to the kitchen and grab a few more shakes and start chugging, feeling my dick harden with each gulp. I feel like a fucking pig, what has come over me. The shake is dribbling down my beard and onto my shirt, but I can't stop. Once I've had enough protein shakes for a lifetime, I stumble to my room and promptly fall asleep.

Wednesday,

I wake up in a pool of sweat, similar to a couple days ago. My mouth tastes awful and my body feels heavy. I question what happened last night as I roll myself out of bed. I drag myself to the bathroom and freeze in shock at my image in the mirror. Holy shit. I pull up my shirt to see a massive ball belly, covered in a thick layer of hair. I pull my shirt up further and see a pair of soft man tits that now lay on my gut. Every part of my body looks swollen, my arms, my hands, even my face looks puffy.

I let out a loud burp that reeks of protein shake, and suddenly I remember last. I walk to the kitchen and see six empty protein shakes on the table. I chuckle in a surprisingly deep voice before opening the fridge and grabbing a shake. I down it before getting ready to head to the gym. I put on my largest gym shirt and it only reaches halfway around my gut, I try to put on my shorts but I can't get them to cover the top of my ass crack. That's alright, I don't particularly care if anyone sees, it's their fault for looking.

I spend the day at the gym enjoying all the attention from shocked gym goers. They watch in amazement or contempt as this fatass walks around like he owns the gym.

I go to work with a similar energy, though I do have a dress shirt that still barely fits me so at least I'm not half naked going to work. My clothes still leave little to my coworkers imaginations, as I confidently strut my fatass around the office.

I get home and stand in shock as I walk through the door. Is that Dean!? Across the living room stands a morbidly obese man wearing nothing but boots, a baseball cap, and a ripped towel around his waist.

"You did this to me!" The man yells in a gruff southern accent.

"Dean, is that you?" I respond.

"Yea, you dumbass! You gave me some of that powder didn't ya." He turns to face me and reveals the damage the powder did to his body.

"Hey you did it to me first! I was only returning the favour."

"I only put I bit into your shakes, how much did'ya give me!? Look what it's done to me!" He grabs a handful of the fat on his belly, and it jiggles like jello.

"Well I didn't know how much to give you."

"And you're only s'posed to take it when you're workin out, otherwise it only grows fat and not muscle. Beside, why d'ya keep drinking it after you knew?" He asks

"Because I like me this way, it just felt good to get revenge. Why did you even do it in the first place?" I ask in return.

"Because I thought if you got fat you'd stop hooking up with so many guys, and you'd notice me. It was only s'posed to be a bit, but then you started drinkin the shakes like crazy and now look at ya." He responds in a genuine voice. I don't know what to say, so I stand silent. He grabs his phone and approaches me. "This is what I looked like 2 days ago!" He shows me a picture of himself. "I was so happy that I could finally grow a beard. Little did I know why."

"This is what I looked like yesterday." He shows me another photo. "My hair was falling out and my hairline was receding. I woke up looking like I was pregnant, and my pants couldn't fit anymore."

"I was so scared that I ate some of that powder, but I didn't know what to do, so I stayed in my room all day and drank nothing but orange juice. Then I woke up this morning as a bald 350 pound man. That's when I knew you put that powder in my orange juice." He seems frantic.

I didn't know what to do, so I grabbed him and kissed him. "I never realized how hot your accent is until now." I say as I pull away from the kiss, he smiles in return. In the moment, another terribly amazing idea comes to my head. I grab the bag of powder he had left on the table and pour some of the powder into his mouth before snorting some myself. He looks at me in shock for a moment before swallowing it. I smile before dragging his fatass to my tiny king sized bed.

Then next Monday,

I just hit 300 today. I still go to the gym everyday, so that keeps my gut from growing out of control. Though I have had some interesting conversations with my family since. But the shocked faces of my family when they see me and their concerned comments if my weight gain only fuels the fire. Though my dad seems to be the only one who says he likes the new me, says I look manlier. It's funny coming from the next fattest man in the family, only behind me of course.

The scale stopped working on Dean after last Thursday, but he has to be pushing 500. I really gave him an insane dose of that powder, and the more fat he got the less capable he was to workout and thus reduce the fat gained. He just sits around and pigs out all day now, and I wouldn't want him any other way. I usually bring home a few meals from a couple fast food restaurants for his first dinner, and when I feel up to it, I'll add a little bit of powder to his meal.

I'm also enjoying work far more. I told all the men at my work about the powder, and within a few days I was seeing results. Some became as fat as Dean by the end of the week, clearly they neglected the part where it said to workout while consuming the powder. Some look like me, with big arms and an even bigger belly. And some have just become muscle beasts, almost like they spent hours a day at the gym. I also feel more imposing at work, people respect me more, even if half of them are bigger than me now. It even helped me get a raise, which funds all of the fast food trips for Dean and I. One day I hope to be the big boss with a silver bushy beard and hulking gut that spills out of my suit.

[therealmrsgojo]

Last Kiss

And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are

pairing: geto suguru x reader summary: geto suguru had no remorse for his decisions, yet deep down, there was a flicker of regret; if only he had changed his mind - about leaving you behind. content: MDNI, NSFW, canon compliant/divergence, fem!reader, established relationship, aged up characters; will be 18+, oral fem!receiving, mating press, heartbreak, longing, angst, regrets, death, inspired by a song called last kiss (taylor s.) wordcount: 10.7k

The room was filled with a serene silence - two bodies lay intertwined on the soft bed.

The air was thick with the sweet scent of passion and love, mingling with the subtle fragrance of lavender from the scented candles that flickered softly on the nightstand.

Moon shone brightly on the horizon, glimmering their skin as if blessing their love. Limbs were entangled in a graceful dance, each move a symbol of pure affection for one another.

Heartbeat as one, the world around faded into nothingness; the clock on the bedside table displayed 1:58.

Geto Suguru lay there, his heart overflowing with contentment as he gazed into your sleeping face. The soft glow of the moon cast a gentle light on your features, enhancing your beauty and filling him with awe. "So beautiful,"

He held you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his and the softness of your skin under his fingertips. Memorizing the rhythm of your breath, its gentle cadence brings him tranquility.

He traced the outline of your face with his finger, taking in every detail as if he were seeing you for the first time.

Your eyes were closed and he longed to get lost in them; lips gently brushed against his skin, emitting a comforting warmth. His arms around you gripped tighter, as if afraid that you would slip away from him.

At that moment, he was wholly consumed by you. The world outside didn't exist, and all the worries and hardships that awaited him in his reality faded away, the bitter aftertaste of the curses he had consumed the day before long forgotten.

The only thing that mattered to him was you, and the way your sweet scent lingered in his nose.

He saw you open your eyes, squinting as you tried to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. "Suguru?" you mumbled sleepily. "Is it morning yet?"

"No, sweetheart," he replied softly, brushing your hair back and cupping your cheeks. "It's just past midnight. We can still rest."

You let out a contented sigh, grateful you could stay in his arms a little longer. "Hmm, good to know," he heard you chuckle. "Don't want to do anything yet or later."

Suguru grinned at your lazy comment, admiring your sleepy expression. "What a sleepy girl," he teased, tracing your closed eyes with his fingers. He couldn't resist the urge to touch you, to feel the smoothness of your skin against his fingertips again.

His hands moved down to your nose, gently bumping it before traveling further down to your lips. You somewhat knew what his next steps would be.

As his lips met yours, you felt a surge of pleasure coursing through your body. His kisses were always so gentle and tender, yet so passionate at the same time. You kissed him back, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his breath.

His tongue pushed against your lips, asking for entrance, and you eagerly obliged.

Your heart raced as you felt his lips move down to your neck, planting kisses and leaving behind small, purple bruises. "I'm sorry, baby," he slurred, his words muffled against your skin. "I need you so bad."

Now wide awake, you watched as he slowly tugged the duvet covers over your naked body, his lips trailing down to your chest.

He took one of your nipples in his mouth, his delicate licks making it harden. His other hand teased and tweaked the other nipple, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Relax, pretty girl," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to take care of you. You don't need to do anything."

Suguru continued to suck on your nipples, twirling his tongue around them and moaning softly. His cock grew hard as he switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

"I want to taste you," he mumbled, his lips moving down to your stomach. His long fingers caressed your womanhood, eliciting a soft gasp from you. He positioned himself between your thighs, using his thumb to part your cunt and expose your clit. "Can I taste you, Y/N?"

"Yy-yes." You moaned as he began to lick and suck on your clit, his tongue moving in circles and causing waves of pleasure to wash over you. Your hands gripped the sheets as he continued to pleasure you, his fingers slipping inside you and making you writhe with pleasure.

He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts untouched by his warm mouth. He was licking every drop.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and then you were tumbling over it, your body convulsing with pleasure as Suguru continued to pleasure you with his mouth and hands.

"Mm, Suguru," as his skilled tongue continued to explore every inch of you, sending shivers down your spine.

Your eyes were now wide open, taking in every sensation as he delved deeper. His tongue continued lapping at your most sensitive areas, sending electrifying pulses of pleasure throughout your body.

As if that wasn't enough, his fingers began to apply gentle pressure, adding to the intensity. You felt your legs start to tremble uncontrollably as the pleasure built inside you. "Tastes so sweet."

You could feel yourself getting close to the brink of orgasm. Your breath quickened, and your cries became louder with each passing second. You knew that you were on the verge of release, and he seemed to sense it too.

"I'm close," With one final push, he pressed harder, driving you over and into a world of pure pleasure. As you exploded in ecstasy, your body shook with the force of your orgasm, and you cried out in delight.

Suguru continued to lavish and clean you, his tongue working tirelessly to taste your release. "So fcking sweet,"

Panting and gasping for breath, you feel him move his body on top of yours, his lips pressing against yours as he positions himself at your entrance.

You can feel your heart racing as your body responds to his touch. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer to you, and feel his body shudder with pleasure.

He lifts your legs and places them around his waist, slowly sinking his length inside you.

"My sweet girl," he whispered into your ear, his voice low and husky. "So warm." He moved in and out of you, his grunts and moans filling the air as he lost himself in the pleasure of your body.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he thrust harder and faster.

"Mm-more, Suguru," You arch your back and push your hips up to meet his, feeling his length still sliding in and out of you with increasing speed.

He responded by picking up the pace, repositioning himself deeper inside you, and placing your legs on top of his shoulders. He pressed you into the mattress, giving kisses to your face and neck as he continued to rail you, his movements becoming more urgent and intense.

"Shit, I'm going to come, doll." he cursed, his hands gripping your body tightly as he felt his orgasm building.

You could feel his length pulsing inside you, his release painting your walls white as he continued to move, putting back his spilled seed with each thrust making you gasp as you feel your second orgasm.

Basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, Suguru excused himself to the bathroom. You heard the sound of running water and assumed that he was cleaning himself up. A few moments later, he returned with a warm, damp cloth in his hand.

You watched as he approached you, eyes full of love and tenderness. His touch was gentle as he used the cloth to clean away any remnants.

He took his time, making sure to clean every inch of your body with utmost care.

He wiped away the last trace of sweat from your skin and looked up at you with a soft smile. "I love you so much," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I love you too, Suguru," you replied, your voice filled with emotion. You reached out to stroke his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and gentle against yours. You melted into the kiss, savoring the taste of him on your lips. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice with a hunger that only you could satisfy.

He brushed a strand of hair away from your face as you pulled away. "I'm so lucky to have you," he said, his eyes shining with emotion.

"You earned it," you replied, a playful tease in your voice. "Especially after the way you fucked me like that." You couldn't help but grin as you saw him blush, the tip of his ears slightly red.

"You know I'll always give you everything you need, Y/N." he whispered.

Your boyfriend was the kind of lover who could make you forget your name with the way he moved, but despite his confidence in the bedroom, there was a surprising shyness to him that only you seemed to be able to coax out.

It was the little things you did that made him blush and stutter.

A gentle touch to the back of his neck, a whispered compliment in his ear, or even a coy smile as you looked up at him through your lashes - all of these things could turn him into a mess.

Seeing this vulnerable side of him was endearing for someone so confident and powerful in other aspects of his life.

"You always know just what to say," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't ask for a better lover than you."

Suguru's smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead softly. "You're my everything," he murmured. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Geto Suguru stood by the VIP lounge, watching you with amusement as you drunkenly danced happily with Shoko in the middle of the crowded bar.

His eyes never left your figure, following your every move, making sure that you would not be approached by anyone else. With a drink in his left hand, he chuckled softly at your carefree dance, your face red from the alcohol, enjoying the bar's lively atmosphere.

His legs were spread out wide, giving off an air of confidence and strength that seemed to radiate throughout the room.

People glanced over at him every now and then, drawn to his commanding presence. But he paid them no mind, his attention solely focused on you.

His babygirl.

Satoru held his phone on his right side to record your fun moment with Shoko, capturing and laughing as he cheered for the joyous scene. "Look at them,"

It was one of your slip-away-from-Yaga-nights, sneaking out to enjoy a drink or two on a Friday evening, knowing there would be no classes the next day.

Satoru, being the wealthy boy he was, always sponsored your getaways, generously denying any complaints from the rest of you.

"Aren't you going to dance?" Satoru's teasing voice broke through the haze, returning Suguru to reality.

Suguru's watchful gaze shifted from you to Satoru; as he had been keeping a protective eye on you all night, the mere thought of losing sight of you even for a moment made him uneasy.

"I don't dance." Suguru replied nonchalantly, "You all know that, so stop bugging me."

The Gojo heir laughed heartily, undeterred by Suguru's dismissive response. "Well, good luck saying no to your Y/N." He then stood up, going to the bar to fetch more drinks. "But don't make out on the couch," He hollered back playfully.

As if on cue, you began walking towards him, a smile on your lips and a bounce in your step. You expertly navigated through the sea of people, avoiding collisions with ease.

Shoko, who had been walking with you, saw Satoru and went in the opposite direction with him, leaving the two of you alone.

He couldn't help but admire your beauty and grace as he watched you approach.

The way your dress hugged your curves, the way your hair cascaded down your back in loose waves, the way your eyes sparkled with mirth and mischief… It was all too much for him to handle.

"Hi, pretty girl," he said, his eyes drinking up your form.

He extends his hand towards you, planting a smile on your face. You gracefully accepted his invitation and seated yourself on his lap.

His sturdy hand wrapped around you, feeling the plush of your thighs on his. Unable to resist himself, he placed kisses on your cheeks.

"Come on, Suguru," you said, pouting at him. "I want to dance with you."

At first, he hesitated, unsure of his answer. However, when he met your gaze and saw the glimmer of hope in your eyes, all of his reservations disappeared.

He gave in to your request with a slight nod, hearing you cheer and pump your fist in the air dramatically. Sighing, he let you lead him onto the dance floor.

Cheers and laughter erupted from Satoru and Shoko, who were clapping and encouraging. It was a momentous occasion, as it was the first time that Geto Suguru had danced since the getaways started.

He wasn't much for dancing, but for you, he did.

You danced with each other, your body pressed against him as you led the taller man with your movements. The music was upbeat and lively, and you could feel the energy coursing through your veins.

A slower song filled the room, and Suguru's eyes locked onto yours. He felt more drawn towards you if that's even possible. You were a sight for sore eyes to him.

Placing his hands on your waist, he pulls you closer to him. He could feel his heartbeat fasten as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment, not caring about anyone else around.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, sealing the moment with a kiss.

Geto Suguru laughed when he caught you blushing as his father shook your hand warmly. His mother stood next to you, her fingers tenderly caressing your hair as if you were already a part of their family.

"What a stunning young lady," his mother exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine admiration. Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red at the heartfelt compliment.

After holding onto his father's hands for a moment, you finally let go and lowered yourself into a deep bow. Your eyes glistened with a sense of gratitude as you spoke. "It brings me great pleasure to meet you both. I cannot thank you enough for bringing Suguru into this world."

Suguru's heart constricted with overwhelming emotions as he listened to your sincere words. He was aware of your deep love for him, but your expression of gratitude towards his parents for bringing him into this world was truly heart-rending.

He tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill out and quickly blinked them away to avoid showing his vulnerability.

"Your words are too kind, my dear child," replied with a warm smile. "Please, let's go and enjoy the supper that I have prepared for the both of you." His mother beamed affectionately and led the way into the grand Geto estate, adorned with cozy furnishings and decor.

The delightful dinner was spent in blissful contentment, with a wide range of dishes laid out meticulously on the table. The tantalizing aroma of the scrumptious, home-cooked food permeated the air, making your taste buds tingle with anticipation.

The flavors were exquisite, each dish bursting with its unique blend of spices and seasonings. You savored every bite, feeling grateful for the love and care that went into every dish.

The lively atmosphere was filled with jovial conversations, jokes, and heartwarming stories, as people shared their experiences and feelings.

Throughout the evening, Suguru's mom shared stories about his childhood years, much to his embarrassment. But you listened intently, laughing and smiling as they recounted tales of his mischievous antics and rebellious streak.

The memories of this beautiful evening were etched in your heart forever, reminding you of the warmth and love surrounding you.

"Suguru, when do you plan to stop being a sorcerer?" His father's tone was abrupt, catching you off guard. It appeared that his father was not particularly fond of Suguru's sorcery.

"Let's just talk about that when I go back, Dad. Not now." Suguru then turned towards you and gestured towards the door, indicating it was time for you to leave. "Thank you for the dinner, Mom and Dad. We'll be going now."

His gaze drifted away from you, avoiding any potential conflict that may arise from the topic at hand. "I'm sorry for that, Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

You squeezed his hand, understanding his body language and respecting his wishes.

"I promise to visit you soon," You bid Suguru's mom farewell, hugging her tightly. You then bowed deeply to his father.

Suguru watched with a sense of delight as you walked hand in hand with his mom towards the door.

As you turned to leave, Suguru took your hand and whispered in your ear, "I love you. Thank you for coming with me and meeting them." You turned to face him, your eyes brimming with tears of happiness. "I love you too," you replied before leaning in for a tender kiss.

Unbeknownst to you, Suguru's mom had stepped back a few paces and were now watching your encounter with awe.

She could see how deeply in love Suguru was with you and how much you meant to him. She had always wanted their son to find someone who would love and cherish him, and she could see that he had found that in you.

Finally reaching the estate's gate, Suguru's mother called out to you, "Take care, dear. We'll be waiting for your next visit."

You turned around and smiled, replying, "See you soon,"

Strolling hand in hand through the calm and quiet streets, the radiant moonlight shone down the path ahead, enveloping the two enamored souls in a warm and welcoming aura.

The silver light beams cast a gentle yet enchanting glow over the lovers as they continued their romantic stroll under the starry night sky.

You gazed up at Suguru; you couldn't help but remark how much he resembled his mother. "I love your mom, you look so much like her, Suguru, you just managed to get your father's height," you said with a smile.

"I can't wait to meet them again, maybe I should bring them in return right? I want to meet them soon again, they just bring so much happiness to me, it's like - " Before you could finish your sentence, Suguru cut you off with a chaste kiss, his lips silencing your ramblings.

"Marry me once we graduate, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Geto Suguru leaned in and planted a tender kiss on the back of your hand. He looked deeply into your eyes as you whispered, "So, you're leaving?"

"It's just a two-day mission, doll," he reassured you, sensing your unease. He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soothing and reassuring. "Tengen-sama's Star Plasma Vessel needs some protection from us."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation, and pulled him in for a warm hug. You didn't want to let him go, but you knew that duty called, and as Jujutsu sorcerers, your responsibilities always came first. No matter what.

"Okay, please update me every time," you whispered, trying to hide the fear in your voice.

He turned back to look at you, his intense gaze locking with yours. "I'll be back before you know it, baby. And when I return, let's cuddle for hours," he said, his voice filled with determination.

You watched him stroll away with his hands tucked in his pockets, a sense of anxiety creeping up within you. This was the first time he would be responsible for protecting someone and not just killing curses like he used to.

You knew him well, and you knew that the weight of responsibility always hung heavily on his shoulders, which worried you deeply.

What was the worst thing that could happen?

It had been a year since the Star Plasma Vessel had been brutally killed.

Geto Suguru was a changed man, a shadow of his former self. His infectious smile was replaced by a permanent frown, and his eyes lacked the spark that once made them shine.

He had become detached from the world around him, lost in his thoughts, and unable to find consolation.

Despite your best efforts to help him, to talk to him, and to make him open up, nothing seemed to work.

You tried to distract him with different activities, take him out for dates, and even cook his favorite meals, but he remained closed and distant. You watched as he drifted further and further away from you.

You thought that time would heal his wounds, but it only made things worse.

The lack of his appetite, his disconnection, and his quietness were all new to you. The man you once knew was now a stranger, and you struggled to understand what had happened to him.

The thought of meeting his parents again soon became a blurred line as you wondered how they would react to seeing their son in this state.

As time passed, you noticed a change in his behavior. His physical urges became more frequent, and he would often seek you out when you were alone in your room.

At first, you welcomed his advances, hoping it would help him forget his pain. But as time passed, you began to realize it was only a temporary relief.

Every time you tried to talk to him, he would shut you off with kisses and passionate lovemaking, leaving you feeling frustrated and confused. You longed to connect with him deeper, understand what he was going through, and help him heal.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

You hoped that one day, he would find his way back to the person he once was, the person who was open and vulnerable with you, who trusted you with his heart.

The small, cramped room was far from the lively and vibrant spaces you and your boyfriend, Suguru, usually frequented before this all happened.

Instead of the warmth and comfort of each other's company, you were both surrounded by an eerie silence that only emphasized the coldness of the room.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of being utterly alone in this space despite standing before him. The darkness enveloped everything around you, making it difficult to see anything clearly.

The stillness of the air was deafening, and you can't help but feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

As the tears started to form in your eyes, you spoke up, "Don't touch me, unless you tell me your problems."

"I don't have any problems, Y/N," Suguru lied, avoiding your gaze. He couldn't let you see how miserable he was.

To him, you were the only constant thing in his life, and he didn't want to taint that. He feared you would see him in a different light if he opened up to you, and he didn't want to risk losing you.

Despite his efforts to shield you from his pain, you persisted. You shouted at him, begging him to open up to you. "I know something went wrong," you cried. "Why won't you tell me what it is? I can help you, Suguru. Please, just let me in."

"Y/N," Suguru's voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't want to burden you with my problems. You have enough on your plate as it is."

"Didn't we promise we would be there for each other?" You sobbed, your voice choking on your tears. "I'm still here for you, Suguru. Can't you see that? Please, just let me help you. Do you even still love me?"

You were a woman who could easily challenge and counter Satoru's witty remarks without breaking a sweat. The sight of you, who was always so put-together, now crumbling in front of him.

Seeing you, the love of his life, in tears, broke him down like nothing else could. It was too much for him to handle.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as he cried. "Of course I do. I'm sorry, baby," he whispered. "I never meant to hurt you. I promise I'll try to make this go away, okay? Just give me some time."

His warm fragrance envelops you as you hold onto him, his embrace secure and unwavering.

In the midst of this moment, you can't help but ponder if the rift between the two of you will ever fully heal.

If only you knew.

Geto Suguru saw two small children, twins, who were bruised and beaten, tied up with ropes, and covered in dirt. He could hardly believe his eyes.

"What's going on here?" his voice trembled as he spoke.

"Isn't it obvious?" replied one of the villagers. "These two cause the incidents we've been experiencing lately."

Suguru was completely caught off guard by the accusation thrown his way. He was taken aback, stunned even. He simply couldn't fathom that these two small, innocent-looking children standing before him could be capable of anything that would warrant such harsh treatment.

There was a gut-wrenching feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach as he looked at the children once again. Memories of Haibara Yu and Riko Amanai flooded his mind.

He couldn't anymore.

"Everyone, let's step outside."

"Like hell he did!" Satoru's rage boiled over at the mention of Suguru's alleged actions. The principal, Yaga, was visibly stressed and struggled to explain the situation to the two of you.

"Satoru, I don't understand what's going on, either," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

You were hyperventilating, trying to process the news. "H-his parents?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The thought of what Suguru had done was too much to bear.

"Y/N," Satoru's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you turned around to face him. His knuckles were white with anger, and you could see the fury in his eyes.

You turned away from the two men, your hand clutching your shirt as you tried to steady yourself. The last words of Suguru's mother echoed in your mind.

"Take care, dear. We'll be waiting for your next visit."

You had never seen them again after that day.

The thought of never seeing them again sent you reeling. The memories came back, and you fell to your knees, clutching your stomach as you almost vomited up the lunch you had just eaten. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to understand what was happening.

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of your sobs. Satoru's anger had dissipated, replaced by a look of concern and empathy for you. Yaga, too, looked worried, and you could see the weight of the situation on his shoulders.

"I'll talk to him," You said in between sobs. "Please,"

The unspoken truth answered you. Geto Suguru, the man you had trusted and loved for so long, was now a wanted criminal. He had been sentenced to death for his heinous actions, and he was nowhere to be found.

All you knew was that the situation was far from over and that the truth was yet to be revealed.

The hours passed, and you sent countless texts and missed calls to Suguru, demanding his answers.

Nothing came back from him.

You cried uncontrollably, holding yourself tightly as if to protect yourself from the harsh reality. Your face was now puffy and red from all the tears you shed, and you called out for his name, wishing that this was all a dream.

But deep down, you knew that he wouldn't come back. His parents wouldn't come back. If only you had known, you wouldn't let him go on his mission. You would have begged him to stay, to just spend the day with you.

But now, all you had was yourself, sitting amidst the dark walls of your room that you often shared with him and the weight of misery that surrounded you.

The only sounds you could hear were the sobs escaping your lips and the breath you no longer wanted to take.

Taking in the familiar surroundings that were once filled with hope that he would return to his old self like he promised you. But now, it all seemed impossible and shattered.

The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room. You hardly noticed the changing light, so consumed were you by your own turmoil. Only when darkness finally descended did you snap out of your reverie, realizing with a start that you had missed the entire day.

You heard a gentle knock on your door and the voices of Satoru and Shoko calling out to you. But you didn't want to face them, didn't want to let them see the chaos that was consuming you. So you turned them away, retreating further into yourself.

You felt utterly paralyzed by the weight of it all, unable to move or even speak. You can't even imagine a life without him.

Spending hours crying your heart out, your mind was left in a state of turmoil, plagued by endless what-ifs that seemed to offer no reprieve.

"Please let this all be a dream." Exhaustion finally took over and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the comforting embrace of sleep.

Geto Suguru approached your window with utmost care, his movements calculated and soundless.

The night was still and silent, except for the occasional rustle of leaves and crickets chirping in the distance. The moon cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his features and the intensity of his gaze.

As he arrived at your window, he paused, steadying his breathing as he peered inside. The sight of you curled up in a fetal position, hugging yourself tightly as you slept, caused his heart to stop.

He could feel the weight of guilt and remorse settling heavily on his chest, knowing that he was the source of your recent pain.

His eyes scanned your features, lingering on the faint glisten of dried tears still clung to your cheeks. It was a stark reminder of the hurt he had caused and the damage he had inflicted.

He struggled to control his own breath, forcing himself to inhale deeply in an attempt to calm his racing heart. The moment was fraught with tension and emotion, as he stood there silently, watching over you.

He felt a surge of protective instinct, wanting to shield you from further harm. But he knew that he was the last person who should be allowed to come near you.

His actions had caused irreparable damage, and he would have to endure the consequences.

"Y/N," He was captivated by the sight of you. His eyes lingered on every feature of your face, wanting to commit it all to memory. He listened to the sound of your breathing, a rhythm he had become so familiar with, and his heart clenched tightly at the thought of leaving you.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered as he knelt beside you. He wanted to hold you, to feel your warmth and your breath on his skin. He knew he couldn't, but his resolve weakened with each passing moment.

With heart-wrenching tenderness, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, his touch soft and warm. "My Y/N," he murmured, pulling back to gaze into your face. He ran his fingers gently over your cheek, forgetting his promise to himself not to touch you.

He knew that if you woke up, he would stay. He would change his mind, he knew, and there would be nothing to stop him once he saw the pleading look in your eyes. He knew that he would take you with him.

For a moment, he forgot about everything else. He forgot about the dangers that awaited him, the risks he had to take. All he could think about was you and his love for you.

You stirred slightly, causing his body to freeze again, but you remained asleep. He let out a small, defeated sigh. That's it.

"I love you." His lips wobbled slightly as he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, taking a few moments to savor your sweet scent before finally pulling away.

He stood up slowly, his hand trembling slightly as he placed an envelope on your desk with your name written on it.

His eyes roamed around the room, taking in every detail as if he wanted to engrave it forever in his memory. His gaze lingered on the Polaroids that adorned your mini-board, which you had collected over the years.

He picked one of them up, the edges worn from frequent handling, and his heart ached as he gazed at the picture of you blowing out your 19th birthday candle. It felt like he had been there only yesterday, by your side, celebrating your special day.

Suguru clutched it tightly in his hands, as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He placed the picture in his pocket and walked away, footsteps echoing through the empty room.

He fought the urge to turn around, knowing that if he did, he would run back to you as fast as he could. But he forced himself to keep walking, to leave you behind, because he knew there wouldn't be a way to repair the damage he had wrought.

"Suguru!" The sound of your own voice echoed in the silence of the night, waking you up abruptly. You gasped for air, your heart beating faster than ever before. You tried to slow your breathing, but it was difficult.

You felt like you were suffocating, like the air around you was too heavy to breathe with. You glanced around the room, trying to grasp the reality of your pain. The darkness made it impossible to see anything clearly, but you could feel the tears streaming down your face.

"Fuck." Realization hit you hard. You knew that you weren't dreaming, that this was real. Sobs escaped your throat, and you tried to muffle the sound with your hands. "When will this end?"

In the dim light, you noticed a white envelope on the bedside table, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the name written on it in familiar handwriting.

It was Geto Suguru's; you knew he was in your room.

You couldn't believe it. You bolted out of bed, your heart racing with fear and panic. You ran to the window and looked outside, hoping against hope that you could catch a glimpse of him, but there was nothing there except the darkness of the night.

"No, no, no." Your anger and frustration boiled over as you thought about how you could have missed him. "Why couldn't you wake me up?" you shouted, tears streaming down your face. You felt the weight of your helplessness and began to cry uncontrollably.

You check the hallway, barefoot and desperate for any sign of him. You know it's a long shot, but you can't help it. After a few moments, you realize that he's not there. You feel defeated and broken as you walk back to your room, locking the door behind you.

You sat down at your desk, wiping away your tears with shaking hands. You knew what you had to do—you had to read the letter. But the thought of it filled you with dread, for it would only mean that you accepted the fact that he was not yours anymore.

Your heart was heavy with dread, and you opened the envelope with trembling hands.

My dearest Y/N, I cannot express the depth of my love for you. You are my soulmate, my partner in every sense of the word. I have never and will never love anyone else as deeply and purely as I love you. You have been the light that shines in my darkness, the reason for my existence, and the beating of my heart. Every day, I thank the universe for bringing you into my life. You have been my rock, my support system, and my confidante, and I cannot imagine my life without you. However, as it pains me to say this, I can no longer ignore the fact that I am not the right person for you. You deserve so much more than what I can offer you. You deserve someone who can give you the love and support you need, be there for you, hold your hand in public, and stand beside you. I'm afraid that I am not that person. I am now a criminal. I know that you have been patient with me and endured my flaws with grace and kindness. You have done so much for me, but deep down, I know I cannot offer you the life you deserve. It breaks my heart to leave, but I want nothing but the best for you, and if that means letting you go, then I will do it. My greatest wish is that you will find the happiness you deserve. Please know that I will always cherish the memories that we have shared and that you will always hold a special place in my heart. I am sorry that I have burdened you so much with my decisions. I hope that one day, you will find it in your heart to forgive me, my sweet girl. You don't deserve to live a hard life with me. I will always love you. It will be only you. So, with a heavy heart, I say goodbye. Please know that I will always cherish the moments we shared, and I will always hold a special place for you in my heart. I can only hope that I will love you again in another life. Goodbye.

You hold the letter in your trembling hands, feeling your grip tighten around the parchment as if trying to hold on to the words written on it.

The texture of the paper feels delicate as if a mere touch could crumple it. You draw the letter closer to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but you can't help the overwhelming emotions.

You whisper his name softly as if he's standing right beside you. His words flow through your mind like a gentle stream, each sentence etched deeply into your heart and soul. You can feel the weight of his love and the ache of his departure in every word, as if he's pouring his heart out on the page.

"You idiot man," This might be the last time you hear from him, and the thought tears at your heartstrings. The reality of the situation is hard to accept, but you know that you must face it.

You struggle to come to terms with the reality of the situation, but one thing is clear: there is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.

Shoko was frantically searching for her lighter but to no avail. Just when she thought she had lost it, a voice interrupted her.

"Need a light?" Geto Suguru asked, walking towards the brown-haired woman. "Hey."

She was surprised by his sudden appearance and jolted lightly. She looked up at him with one eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation.

He stood beside the brown-haired woman as she lit her cigarette. "Just testing my luck, I guess," he replied, his eyes fixed on her.

Shoko took a drag from her cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Luck with what?" she asked, eyes asked for an explanation, and he nodded in agreement.

Suguru stood beside her and returned her gaze. His eyes were pleading, and he spoke with urgency.

"Please keep me up with her," he said. "Without anyone else knowing,"

Shoko's eyes widened in surprise. "And why would I do that? She's suffering," she pointed out, limiting her words; she knew who he was exactly talking about, and she hesitated momentarily.

Suguru's face softened as he looked at her. "She's the strongest woman I know, and I know she'll overcome this. With you and Satoru around, she'll forget me. But I can't do that. I'll never survive without knowing if she's okay," he confessed. "You know this is for the best for her."

Shoko listened to Suguru in silence, considering his request. Her mind was racing, thinking of the possibilities. "What if she finds another?"

It was indirect, but Suguru knew clearly what she was referring to.

"It'll kill me, Shoko."

After a few moments, she took a deep breath and nodded. "One update, a year," she agreed, staring at him with pity.

The statement made Suguru smile, and he thanked her profusely while she dialed on her phone.

"Hey, Gojo? I found Geto,"

The news of Gojo and Shoko's encounter with Geto Suguru came like a bolt from the blue, leaving you feeling helpless and anxious.

In the aftermath of the letter, you found yourself sequestered in your room for several days, grappling with a profound sense of heartbreak. The weight of the world seemed to be crashing down on your shoulders.

Suddenly, a familiar voice reached your ears. Shoko's voice called out to you from behind the closed door. The sound was clear and distinct, and you could feel the urgency in her tone.

"Y/N," she called out with a hint of worry, "We're all concerned about your well-being and want to make sure you're okay. If you don't respond and open the door by tonight, we're breaking in to check on you."

As you gradually uncoiled from your fetal position, you managed to sit up slowly, feeling the weight of exhaustion upon your shoulders. You rubbed your bleary eyes, trying to shake off the somnolence that had clung to you.

It was only then you realized just how much time had passed. The days had blurred together, and you had lost track of it.

Standing up, you walked towards the mirror in your room, hoping to catch a glimpse of yourself; Your reflection only served to reinforce the sadness that you felt inside. You looked pale, devoid of any colors of life, with dark circles under your eyes.

Facing the world without Suguru was daunting.

You had previously been crying for what felt like an eternity, tears streaming down your face as you tried to process the overwhelming emotions that were consuming you. Your mind was a jumbled mess, thoughts and worries racing through your head at lightning speed.

Your hair was messy, strands sticking out in directions and tangled. You couldn't bring yourself to care about your appearance, not when your heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces.

It was hard to believe that everything had been relatively normal just a few days ago and that you might never see him again.

Although you did not agree with his actions, you still held a tiny understanding of his imperfections, and you made it a point to honor his choices, despite any reservations you may have had.

You felt like you were drowning, unable to find solid ground to stand on. An absolute wreckage.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to compose yourself before facing the outside world. You knew that Gojo and Shoko were also struggling hard, and you didn't want to add to their worries.

Gathering what's left of your courage, you slowly twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. To your surprise, Gojo was standing right before you; his tired eyes widened in shock at the sight of you.

Despite your pain, you managed to muster a small smile for your friend, hoping to convey some semblance of normalcy. But as soon as you looked into his eyes, you knew he could see right through your façade.

You cannot hide it from him, for he knows it all too well.

You felt a lump form in your throat as you struggled to hold back the tears. You knew you couldn't put on a brave face for long, so you decided to retreat to your room. "Hey, come in."

Their frantic footsteps echoed behind as they followed you closely and shut the door after entering. They were afraid that you would change your mind and lock yourself up again.

The sound of your shallow breaths echoed in the quiet room. You tried to control your breathing, to hide the pain that was eating away at your insides, but it was no use. Your body shook with each inhale, and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Um,"

"You don't have to tell us anything," Gojo's face showed concern as he approached you, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Just let us be with you."

You then felt Shoko's arms wrap tightly around your torso, pulling you into a sideways hug. You could feel her relief in the way her body relaxed against yours, and you heard her whisper, "Thank goodness." It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into her embrace, to feel the warmth and comfort that her presence brought.

It was difficult to express the pain and sadness you were all feeling, but you knew that you needed to talk about it, process your emotions, and find some semblance of peace.

"He left a letter," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "He said goodbye." The words caught in your throat, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It was still so fresh, the wound still so raw.

As you spoke, Satoru and Shoko listened intently, their expressions pained and sympathetic. It was clear that they were feeling the same things as you, struggling to come to terms with losing their friend.

"Oh, Y/N." And then, as if a dam had burst, the emotions flooded. Tears streamed down your faces, and you clung to each other, seeking solace in one another's embrace.

"Don't leave us, too," Satoru whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. It was a sentiment you all shared, a fear that in the wake of Suguru's defect, you would also lose each other in the same way.

The three of you cried and hugged together, the memories of your time with Suguru flooding back.

It was supposed to be the four of you, and now the group felt incomplete, a hole left where Suguru should have been.

As the tears subsided and the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the world, you all sat silently, lost in your thoughts.

It was a bittersweet moment filled with sorrow, anguish and hope.

As the night wore on, three teenagers huddled together in bed, their eyes heavy with exhaustion. The sound of their sobs echoed in their ears, a constant reminder of the harsh verity they were trying to escape.

They clung to each other tightly, seeking consolation and reassurance in each other's presence, hoping to find some respite from the pain that threatened to consume them.

Sleep eventually overtook them, and they drifted into a fitful slumber, still clutching each other tightly as they sought refuge from the outside world.

"Marry me once we graduate, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

The night air was cool and crisp as Geto Suguru stood in front of you, his voice wavering in nervousness as he posed his question.

Under the dim light of the lampost, the pavement seemed to come alive with a warm and gentle radiance, casting a soft glow on the surroundings.

The subtle interplay of light and shadows created a dreamy atmosphere as if the world around you were a painting that had come to life.

You looked into his eyes, getting lost in the hues of his pretty orbs, and teased him, "Are you sure? Well, I mean, I just met your parents, and you haven't met mine yet."

But Suguru was resolute, his velvet voice smooth as he replied, "I can't imagine anyone else being my wife or the mother of my children." As he cupped your warming cheeks, the mere mention of children caused your heart to race.

You semi-shouted at him, pouting as you tried to swat his hands away from your face, "Hey! I haven't even agreed yet, and you're already talking about children!"

Suguru's eyes crinkled with amusement as he gazed at your blushing face. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you, his body melding with yours. "And I'll get us a lovely house," he said softly, "one that you can decorate to your heart's content. We'll even build a little tea shop in the backyard since you've always had a talent for them."

His warm breath tickled your ear as he continued, "We'll have a beautiful garden, too, and we can adopt a dog or two if you'd like." Suguru's voice was filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. "And then," he said, "Satoru and Shoko will come to visit us with little Y/Ns running around in the backyard."

Overwhelmed with emotions at his endearing statements, you hugged him back tightly, feeling your eyes tear up at the imagery he laid out for you. "S-Suguru,"

Maybe we can retire being sorcerers before we turn 30?" he suggested, a hopeful note in his voice. He reached out to wipe away the tears that had formed at the corners of your eyes, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"I promise I'll earn as much as I can so you will live a comfortable life," he continued, his voice tinged with determination. "You'll never lift your finger to work again, and I'll be the happiest man in the world to watch your hair turn white as we grow old together."

You felt the warmth of his lips on yours; tears streamed down your cheeks. He pulled back slightly and looked down at you, chuckling as he teased, "You're such a crybaby."

"Stop it," You smiled through the tears and added, "Fine. I'll marry you."

Geto Suguru's heart raced as he sat up in bed, his mind still reeling from the vivid dream that had just jolted him awake. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and he wiped them away with a trembling hand.

It was a memory he had once cherished, but now it haunted him, reminding him of the promises he had made and broken.

In his dream, he had seen you again - see the way your eyes sparkled with joy and contentment as he made promises to you that he knew he could never keep. However, now it all seemed like a distant memory, as the happiness that once adorned your face was nowhere to be seen.

He knew that he would never have you in his life again.

The dreams he had once held dear were now shattered - the children he had imagined with you would never be born, the cozy home where he had envisioned handling your tea shop would never be, or play with the dogs he had dreamed of. Satoru and Shoko, the names that once brought a smile to his lips, now only brought pain.

As he lay there, the sight of you growing old beside him played out in his mind. He knew that his words were now hollow promises, and the weight of this realization crushed his heart into a million pieces.

Tears flowed down his face as his body shook with sobs, and he cried out your name repeatedly. His regret and the realization that he could never unbind his past missteps consumed him.

His heart ached, longing to turn back the clock and make things right, but he knew it was impossible.

Utahime greeted you with a bright smile, wearing a birthday cap on her head. "Happy 22nd birthday, Y/N!" she exclaimed as she approached you with a cake.

Standing beside her, Gojo Satoru clapped his hands in triumphant celebration, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. He reached over and swiped his fingers across the luscious cake, leaving a trail of frosting on your cheek.

"Gojo!" Utahime chided him, though the playful antics of your friends brought a smile to your face as you laughed along. Utahime scolded him playfully as you laughed at the playful antics of your friends.

"Gojo Satoru," you shouted, trying to avoid his teasing attacks. "I swear Megumi is more mature than you are."

Shoko, who had been standing nearby, chimed in with a chuckle. "That goes without saying," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "Y/N," she continued, gesturing towards your house's backyard. "Come with me, I have something to show you."

You smiled at her and followed her, still feeling the effects of Satoru's teasing. After graduating, you had recently bought a house, and you were finally able to call a place your own and create a space that reflected your unique personality and style.

Although the memories of your school days will remain etched in your mind forever, it is difficult for you to fathom the idea of living there again.

You took each step, and the ends of your shoulder-length hair gently brushed against the sides of your face. You remembered how it used to be longer, reaching down to the small of your back, but you had bravely decided to chop it off for a more manageable length. As you walked, you could feel your heart beating faster and faster, almost as if it was trying to escape from your chest.

Even though you were well aware of what would happen, the anticipation of the event still never failed to make you feel nervous.

Shoko approached you with a stunning bouquet of fresh crimson flowers, their sweet fragrance wafting towards you and filling your senses with delight. She spoke in a hushed tone while handing them over to you, "He says happy birthday."

Gratefully, you accepted the gift and looked at Shoko with a warm smile. "Thank you so much, Shoko," you said, admiring the vivid colours and delicate petals. After taking a deep breath to savour the sweet scent, you carefully cradled the flowers and said, "I'll put these in a vase first and follow you."

You ascended the stairs, your feet creaking against each step. You reached your room and unlocked the door with a sense of relief. On your desk stood a vase you had prepared earlier in the day. As you carefully arranged the flowers, your eyes were drawn to a framed picture resting against the wall.

It depicted a black-haired man, his hair tied up in a man-bun, grinning widely as he posed with you in the photo. Your heart ached as you gazed at the picture, memories flooding your mind and threatening to spill over in tears. You felt a pang of longing in your chest, wanting to reach out and tell him how much he still meant to you.

"Not today, girly," you told yourself firmly, blinking rapidly to dismiss the tears.

This has become an annual ritual since the day of your 20th birthday. Without fail, every year, a fresh and vibrant bouquet of stunning red roses would arrive at your doorstep, always at the same time, like clockwork. The gesture was an act of Geto Suguru, the man who still has your heart.

You couldn't help but wonder what he was up to now. Did he ever think of you the way you thought of him? You pushed those thoughts aside, knowing that dwelling on them would only lead to heartache.

You knew instinctively not to question the gesture, particularly since Shoko was involved. For she might be in trouble of being in contact with him.

The first time it happened, the gesture moved you to tears, but as the years passed, it grew into something you anticipated with great excitement, eagerly looking forward to the arrival of the cherished bouquet.

Shielding oneself from harsh reality is often the safest and most prudent course of action. By not acknowledging the truth, one can prevent oneself from being hurt by it.

Deep in your heart, you just knew that it was his way of expressing his eternal love for you, and it never failed to make your heart flutter with emotion.

"I hope you're doing okay." As you finished arranging the flowers, you stepped back to admire your handiwork, smiling as you whispered, "Thank you, Suguru."

His name is bitter on your lips once again, with your wound that cannot be mended even with time; tears start welling up in your eyes as you turn around and walk towards your door to be with your awaiting friends.

Geto Suguru felt his heart racing as he paced back and forth in his dimly lit room.

Tomorrow would be your 25th birthday, and he was eagerly waiting for his instructions about your flowers, which he usually gave by now. But for the past couple of days, he hadn't heard back from Shoko, who was responsible for delivering them to you.

Despite trying to contact her several times through messages and missed calls, Suguru received no response, which made him increasingly anxious. He couldn't help but wonder, what if he failed to send the flowers this year? It was the only thing he allowed himself to do for you, and now it seemed like it was falling apart.

He sat on the bed, staring longingly at your smiling face on his phone screen, and suddenly, Shoko's name flashed on the screen. He quickly accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. "Shoko, I've been--"

"Geto," Shoko cut him off, her voice trembling with emotion. She took a deep breath and said, "I apologize for not getting back to you. Things have been hectic for me. I'm sorry to tell you this, but…she's gone."

The words hit Suguru like a ton of bricks. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Gone?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean, gone?"

"It was a special grade curse on one of her missions." The two individuals had a quiet moment before the connection was abruptly cut off.

The phone slipped from Suguru's trembling hand and hit the floor with a deafening clang. The sound reverberated through the barren room like an ominous bell tolling in the distance.

Overwhelmed by a visceral surge of emotions, Suguru collapsed onto his knees, struggling to catch his breath as he wept uncontrollably.

His body convulsed with each convulsive sob, and he clenched his fists so tightly that the tendons on the back of his hands stood out like cords.

"No, no!" He clenched his fists so tightly that sweat started trickling down his palms. "Bb-baby." He had convinced himself that leaving you behind was the right decision, but as he cried, he wished he could turn back time and take you with him instead.

Geto Suguru stood solemnly at the freshly placed grave, feeling the weight of his grief like a physical ache in his chest. The trees swayed gently in the background, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze, creating a peaceful atmosphere that was at odds with his pain.

With a heavy heart, he reached out to wipe off the dirt from the marker, making sure to clean the words engraved on it.

Y/N L/N Too well loved to ever be forgotten. May you rest in peace, angel.

Sitting beside the grave, he took a deep breath and reached for the bento box he had brought. "I've bought your favourite food, my sweet girl," he said softly, holding back his tears. With trembling hands, he opened the box and placed it gently in the grave.

Suguru continued to speak, his voice quivering with emotion, "That's absolutely correct. You are an angel, my beautiful angel." he said, his voice filled with sadness.

"I'm sorry," he added, his voice choking on his tears. "I'm sure you hated me so much. I deserve that for leaving you behind… and I'll live the rest of my life in regret because I should've snatched you away, baby."

His tears flowed freely now as he continued to speak. "Mimiko and Nanako would have loved you," he said, his voice breaking. "I told them about how kind you were, and they always admired your pictures in my room. It was painful, but it must have been more painful for you. I hate myself for allowing this. I hate myself twice as much as you hated me."

Suguru put his hands on his face, sobbing uncontrollably. All the pent-up years of restraining himself from approaching you after receiving a single picture from Shoko had freed themselves, as had all the pent-up frustrations about how he missed and longed for you.

"Can you hear me, baby?" he asked, his voice barely audible. I'm so sorry, okay? This is all my fault. This happened because of me. It was all me."

He paused for a moment, wiping away his tears. "Did they put socks on your shoes?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "I know how whiny and cold you get if you don't have them while you sleep there."

The moment those words left his mouth, fresh tears welled up in his sorrowful eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

The gentle wind carried the scent of blooming flowers and the sun's warmth as it caressed the tear-streaked face of Geto Suguru, who stood heartbroken.

"I love you," With a quivering voice, he whispered, "I love you forever." His words were heavy with grief, and his heart was filled with a sense of loss that seemed infinite.

Gojo Satoru spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Suguru."

Geto Suguru looked up, clutching his bloodied arms tightly. He felt the pain surging through his body, a constant reminder of his injury. As he watched the white-haired man approach him and sit down, he braced himself for the worst.

He deserves it.

"She never hated you," Gojo whispered, his words cutting through the silence. Suguru stared at him in disbelief, wondering how he could be so naive.

He might have made you cry almost every night, but Gojo knew the truth: "She loved you until her last breath."

Suguru's eyes widened in surprise, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest; hurting him more than his physical one.

He knew that he had wounded you deeply and always thought you hated him for it. But now, hearing Gojo's words, he realized he had been wrong all along.

Tears started to well up in his eyes, and he struggled to keep them from falling. He had always loathed himself for what he had done to you, but now, for the first time since he parted ways from you, he felt happy even at the steps of his death.

I want to see you soon Y/N. I'll see you soon.

He smiled at his best friend, replying the last words in his mouth. "At least hit me with some curses at my end."

I'll see you soon.

note: I contemplated a lot about whether I should write this or not, knowing there are tons of cannon stories like this rewritten for him. Geto Suguru's story was just too much. Thinking that he was bound to his demise from the start still makes me emotional. His impact on me made me mourn for him - and that enough was my deciding factor to write his story in my own version.

thank you for taking the time to read this,

Aurora.

[smuttyaf]

You Can Be My Daddy

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐞.

wc; 10k | part one

lil bit of submissive!h. implied age gap! don’t read if it makes you uncomfy!!

Fingers dripping in saliva swiftly zip Harry back up, your rising chest settles down from its previous movements with heels taking steps back to create space between your teacher.

And as he swallows heavily with hands going to his belt and looping it around his waist, the door knob is turning and eerily creaking open, little time to comprehend the sudden intrusion.

Harry tries to focus on fixing himself back up but can’t help catch sight of your movements.

Palms swiping across your skirt heavily, tongue peaking out of your mouth to catch whatever aftertaste of him lapped around your lips just as you lean over to grab your things. His boss is stepping through the door making the atmosphere strained yet, that sight alone has Harry wanting to bend you over right then and there.

“Oh! Hello miss, surprised to see you!”

Wobble of a smile tugs on the ends of Harry’s lips, but bunny, she’s beaming. Flush of pink roaming amongst her cheeks accentuating her happy smile, steps swaying with subtle lifts of beat as if not touching him a few seconds ago.

“Yes! Well, I was just asking Mr. Styles this question about Marie Antoinette, our term paper is coming up.” Voice not wavering with eye contact stern when she passes him.

And Harry, he can’t help but notice how quick you are to lie; how you’re so good at it. Almost too easy to believe but you’re doing it, because the expression over Mr. Bennett's face is one of being intrigued.

“Ah, yes! Marie Antoinette, so misunderstood.” His body stepping back as he holds the door open. “I’m sure you will do well. I read your piece in the school paper; I must applaud you for your insight on Maslow, I never would’ve thought you’re familiar with his work.”

“Yes, I am. His argument on self-actualization is said in such great detail, his work is truly something.” Innocence shining through your expression of doe eyes and nodding head. The fact he’s even commenting on your published column only adds to your sweet image. “I should really get going now, goodbye Mr. Bennett.”

Harry’s thankful you don’t acknowledge him as you leave. Beer belly principal nodding his head stiffly as he goes to close the door.

Now without you by his side does he begin to sweat; knuckles flexing, jaw tensing, and lips still smiling tightly. He tries to reel it in for the sake of his job that he put on the line.

“Such a lovely girl,” He compliments as Harry makes his way towards his desk. Fingers fumbling over his paperwork looking for the report.

“Y —Yes, an excellent student.” Harry sighs once your name comes into view. He twists towards the gray haired man trying to conceal his worked up nerves.

“Thank you!” He smiles, head bowing delighted that it’s finished before stepping closer.

Mr. Bennett’s gaze is heavy as it roams over Harry. The nervous twitch of his nostril, diverating eyes and shallow breath. Inspecting every inch of him looking to catch anything off about Harry’s appearance.

“May I ask what her question was?”

His fingers curl in on each other at the sudden request catching him off guard. His boss can probably see the distress written all over his face, especially with the way he clears his throat and shifts on his feet.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, green eyes squinting to look at the principal with a confused glare.

“The question about Marie Antoinette, what was it?” Mr. Bennett responds, his bushy brows perk up as he leans on the desk.

The charm that bunny has, the one that graced this very room now leaves it empty, having him hanging by a thread. You managed to get away with your lie, but Harry, he has to continue it thinking fast on his feet to catch up.

“Uh, Marie Antoinette… her uh, saying…” He clears his throat, hand raising to his mouth coughing tensely trying to get rid of the strain on his throat. “Let them eat cake, I was explaining to her that it was just hear-say, actually coined from Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a book created way before the existence of Marie.”

The older man relaxes, tongue swiping across his dry lips as he nods once more. Satisfied smile stretches deeper amongst his features, index finger tapping into the wood of his desk as he leans off.

“Just testing…” Wink dropping before he’s turning around on his heels. Harry relaxes tremendously with shoulders subsiding and heart easing in pace as he watches him retreat to the door.

“Don’t need any new rumors, especially with parents' interviews coming up, now do we?” Mr. Bennett turns towards him, gaze running down Harry’s frame, stern sight yet delighted grin.

“Of course not sir.” He replies, nodding his head as he tracks the door swinging shut.

Harry can’t help the way his body twists around, hands combing through his hair as he tries his best to refrain from hitting himself.

How stupid can he be? That was too close of a call. If you were on your knees any longer he would’ve been packed up, sent away, and forbidden to even show his face again.

If you weren’t so passive about the situation he would have given up the facade and begged to keep his job… yet, you made it so easy covering up the moment with a shining grin and persuasive small talk. This time you both got lucky, but what about next time?

Should he even think there is one? Is he crazy to think that? Probably. He shouldn’t be fascinated or find you appealing, but he does.

He wants the sweet taste of you back on his lips… and the feeling of your hands drawing down him with that warm wet mouth just covering him all over. God, he’ll do anything to feel you again and that’s fucked up to think, but now that he’s finally had a taste he wants more. He can’t help but want more.

Harry knows it’s foolish, purely stupid, but even you yourself said it; he’s your daddy and you’re his bunny.

And, you do what you always do, be a tease.

You’re so tempting it’s hard not to notice. With your cherry lips and adorable giggle heard when passing in the hall.

Your skirt is rolled up even higher now, breast more sheen through your button up, and when you sit in front of him in class always focused with tongue glossing over your lips. It reminds him of the weeks prior, how his bunny sucked him up deliciously… how you loved every moment with dirty words and welcoming throat.

He can’t get you off his mind bunny, you’re all he thinks about in his mundane life of teaching and lacrosse. You make things so exciting, so thrilling, he likes knowing the fact he finally has your attention.

You continue to dip your back letting him see your panties, a different colour everyday of the week; sometimes lacy, sometimes plaid, but either way he enjoys the view. Harry especially likes it when you begin signing your nickname at the top of your page for tests, risky, but it entringes him even more.

It’s like right now, your eyes are following his every move when speaking about The French Revolution. Showing how attentive and perfect you are. He tries to ignore your plush mouth and drawing gaze, but he can’t help to float back over your appearance for a little while.

He wraps up the end of the class thirty minutes early, introducing the homework to be done by tomorrow and also suggesting if needing any help for the upcoming paper, that he’s all ears.

And of course, his bunny is by his side. Captivating smile shining to the bounce of your mary jane’s. Harry bites down on his lip, catching sight of your thigh highs and prominent tits. You sure know how to get his attention.

“Mr. Styles,” Long drawl of his name singing in your sweet voice. Leather clad foot resting along the heel of your shoes when leaning into the desk.

“I couldn’t understand this excerpt from yesterday.”

He knows you're lying, knows you’re way too smart not to understand something so easily explained in the textbook, but he can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes him when leaning forward in his chair.

As you place the book onto the desk he catches sight on the folded paper stuck between the spine. His throat clears, eyes shifting towards you who smiles softly at him.

His hands peel away from his arm rest and collects the thick book in his palms, shoulders turning towards you looking down at him curiously.

“This part over here, it states Marie betrayed France by telling the Austrian invaders, why would she do that?”

As the words you speak trail out as foolishness your finger points to the large text box pertaining to your question till it soon slides between the middle and lets the note fall down on the desk. Harry watches it all, his eyes trained on your finger dragging across the rest of the glossy page with fake confusion.

You want his attention so bad, look at you.

Leaning over his desk with flirty gaze and teasing smile, your breasts sparkling in his vision with the way your back curves. It’s sickening how you get away with it, how no one realizes how persuading you are at this moment but him.

“Well, yes, she betrayed the battle plans of the French in hope that they would be defeated and the monarchy restored.” He responds swiftly, hands closing the book while turning to look at you. “Does that answer your question?”

Plump lips curve against the beaming smile of your teeth, slow bob of your head lightly shifting your breasts that Harry can’t help but lick his lip at the sight. Your hand reaches out and accepts the book, hugging it into your chest before stepping away.

“Yes, thank you sir.” Heels retreating back to your desk in a sway of suggestive hips.

Harry watches you take your seat, skirt twisting with eyes tracking back to him, another tug of your lips following before you’re opening your textbook and starting the assigned work.

And he waits a few moments, letting himself look busy flipping through his agenda of drills for the lacrosse practice this afternoon. Fingers fiddling with the ends of the page before taking the note up and unraveling it.

You’re all I can think about…

His heart goes all warm, stomach clenching and veins pulsing to his dick. The neat cursive written in the middle of the torn piece of paper is a kept secret between you and him. Harry can't help but look up at you.

Completely focused on the question at hand, brows pushed together and pen breaking through your lips. You’re concentrated on keeping up your grades, you’re perfect image.

Harry has to sit back in his chair and simply just applaud you. You disguise your true self so well bunny, being the good girl that you are, the one you pretend to be.

But, it’s with his eyes trained on you does he catch Calie passing a note towards Finn. The red head laughs to himself over it before it’s passing behind him to Emmet. The telephone string of the paper from sender to receiver a mess between rushed hands.

He watches closely as it shifts throughout the room, polished nails or bitten ones taking it and passing it onto the next. From Emmet to Astrid, and then Bella to Gabriel until it’s being poked on the elbow of you.

Bunny? What’s this? Someone else on your mind and not him… you should know better than that. Who else races your mind if not him?

Harry can’t stop his nose from flaring as he sees you take it with a smile on your lips accepting the sheet.

“Y/N, would you like to share the note with the rest of the class.”

Your head picks up; eyes wide, fingers curling around the paper, and cheeks heating up noticing that you’re caught.

Snickers of students and grinning faces fill the air over the interruption of free time. They’re just as intrigued with who could’ve been the source just as much as Harry is.

“Hmm?” He continues, sight watching heavily on the way you bite your lip before looking between him and the note.

Your throat clears with fingers peeling it open, deep breath floating in the ruffle of chairs and whispers.

“Um, w —will you meet me after dinner tonight, Luca,” Voice wavering as you swallow heavily, sight catching between Harry and the blonde boy. He sits in the front right hand corner of the room shuffling in his seat, brows raised with the same expression written over his face like his bunny.

So, he’s the one who has your attention, not Harry who should be front and center. His own right wing of defense spending time with you. It’s comical and everyone in the room thinks it’s funny too.

Harry cracks his knuckles in the teasing atmosphere of you distraught that you got caught. You were just sweet talking your way with him minutes ago, and now your mind is elsewhere. Don’t you know better than that?

“Please remember that there will be no passing notes in my class.”

Your lashes flutter at him before turning to look at Luca. Chummy grin with back slouching against the chair, his eye drops into a wink that leaves you tugging your lips into a smirk.

You don’t care… of course you don’t. You have anyone that desires you hanging in front of your face by a thread while you pull the strings whenever bored.

Harry tries not to be mad, tries to reel in his nerves as you flash your eyes at the shaggy blonde as if it’s just the two of you. You’re so naughty toying with him.

This isn’t his bunny. The one who’s so attentive and pleasing. No, you’re doing more to prove how smart you truly are, the tease you love to be.

Thick blades of grass squish amongst the feet of intense movements. Cleats cutting through swiftly as they pick up from the bodies charging down the field, yellow tinged ball crossing in the air as blue and green jerseys drift by.

It’s a beautiful day outside, the trees rustling against the subtle wind from the spring breeze transitioning into the summer season. Colleagues roaming amongst the grounds on their own destinations to distinct quarters, or students still lounging in their uniforms watching the school team practice and you just so happen to be there.

Academy gym shorts with matching t-shirt relaxing on the field, badminton rackets by each of your friends as you giggle looking towards the team.

Harry can’t help his eyes glazing over your taunt frame. Perky backside and charming aura working for not only him, but the player on the team who just so happened to score in the scrimmage at hand.

He watches the way you smirk before turning to your friends who bump shoulders with you, teasing each other with pointed glaces and twisting feet.

Look at you, so happy to give your attention away; to show you have other options, one that leaves Harry jealous and fighting to regain focus.

“Alright, I’m calling it in.” Ed nods to him once checking his watch. That’s his cue to trail across the field while the head coach draws the team in.

The nylon of his pants swishes with each stride before he’s leaning down collecting the pylons. His body makes its way across the field picking up the yellow plastic, white lines shifting his version that he doesn’t realize he’s near you. Close enough to see your gleaming smile and hear little about the conversation in the group.

It’s when leaning down to pick up the equipment do your eyes catch on each other. Head swishing to the side as you smile happily. Your finger twirls the ends of your hair with body shifting against the grass as you ignore whatever words are being said.

Harry watches clearly the way your head twists around and slowly, but subtly nods towards the array of trees that comb over the grounds of the school. Your eyebrows raise in question before listening to your friends.

Was this your plan all along? With your friends too distracted with each other to realize your actions to lure him out there. Was this what you were plotting this whole time? Low waisted shorts and dreamy eyes simply directing him where to meet once practice is over.

You’re too good at this, too conceited and happy to get whatever you want. Even if you were just delighted to have Lucas' attention you still want more.

Harry trails his view off you when picking up the remaining equipment before joining the team for the cool down of the practice.

He puts all the pinneys and pylons together, palms securing everything in their respective bags until he’s tugging off towards the equipment room. His body carried him down the flight of stairs while looking out towards the window just parallel to the steps.

Harry watches your body stalking into the woods and he can’t help the smirk that tugs at the end of his lips as he goes down the rest of the stones.

Leaves and sticks crunch below your Converse, fingers feeling over the light green blades that feels like velvet against the pad of your skin. The tug at the end of your lip is hard not to resist with your veins pulsing at what could possibly happen if you see Mr. Styles again.

This game of cat and mouse was your specialty, being able to have your way with teachers and peers so attractive and delectable. You could always tell with their breath catching and shaky voice that it was right to purpose the match.

Your perfect grades and kind attitude shines over your deeper thoughts, your favorite desires, the ones that have you tugging your way into the forest of the school right now.

Your head twists up to catch shadows of the trees as your steps still venture out east of the school, far from the usual make out spots on the property.

Will he even come? The way he turned away from you on the field was giving he wasn’t even interested, and all because of Luca and his dumb note; the one you got called out on.

You like having your secrets unknown to each other, all your lies being covered with pearly white teeth and bending spine. You were subtle with handing your own note off to your favorite teacher, if it all went well then you were certain he would show up to meet. But your boy toy around school had other plans when deciding to get you tangled in your tactics.

Stuttering and looking up at Mr. Styles caught in the aftermath of flirty eyes and bouncing breasts. You hate that he had ruin your chances, you’re not quite sure when you’ll be near your teacher again without it being so obvious from friends and peers. It was such a risky game that you loved to play despite having yourself caught up last semester.

It’s a good thing you’re so good at batting your lashes and talking so sweetly you managed to get away, but now it was a tab left in your mother’s mind and it certainly wounded your step-father. Your right hand goes to your mouth and begins to chew on your nail from the anxiety festering from the memories. You need to be sharper and have all your little white lies arranged better, you can’t manage to slip up again.

Steps finally come to a halt, body twisting around to rest along the wide tree with unruly bushes growing around it. Perfect. Your back slouches against the stumb as your hand tears away from your mouth.

You could barely see the field or the school's architecture from your place. You can only hope Mr. Styles would find you if he was still interested.

He has to be… he still stares at you longingly especially on your lips. Bet he’s remembering your moment together, the one that you can’t stop thinking about. How he made your throat swell and voice all raspy… how you had to pretend in front of the principal you didn’t just swallow your teacher's load.

You want more of him. He’s all you think about when Luca would he kissing down your neck or when your step-father is in your ear whispering how much he misses you, Mr. Styles was the only one on your mind when everything would be happening.

When the thick Bradford accent on the other end of the phone describes everything he would do, all you can think of is your teacher and what he would do in his place. Where his hands would spread amongst your body, or where his lips would find themselves on your skin.

The cracking of branches brings you out of your thoughts, your fingers running over the ends of your shorts as you see brown hair come into sight.

So he did show up, trialing after you like you thought he would. The ends of your lips curl up as you relax deeper into the wood. Mr. Styles continues his steps into the space, his eyes darting around until you whistle sweetly to catch his attention.

“Fancy seeing you around,” You perk up, feet crossing over each other as you watch him make his way over.

His body covered in a black tracksuit certainly making him appealing with his bulky frame. Humming softly your tongue peeks out to swipe along your bottom lip. The thoughts of him manhandling you from your teasing ways makes your clit begin to swell.

“Bunny…” He greets with hands wrapping around your waist. Tall frame pushing you deeper into the stumb as he looks over your face.

“Daddy…” You utter, peering up at him through doe eyes, the same ones that have him falling every time.

“I missed you,” Whispering up at him sweetly. Your hands leave your shorts to pull at the band of his track pants.

Those words have the teacher surveying your every feature with fingers curling tighter around your hips. Mr. Styles is so handsome with his grainy stubble and board chest. The way he’s pining you into the tree has you moaning quietly as you straighten your back.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” His words send a wave of annoyance through you. The eye roll you find yourself doing is completely unintentional as your head knocks into the wood.

“That wasn’t my fault,” You huff, fingers snaking along his boxers while looking up at him.

“Oh, really?” Playful cheer in the teacher’s voice as his palms venture down your hips and feel over your cheeks. The motions so possessive from his huge hands that the moan that trails from you has him groaning as well.

“It wasn’t, because you know…” Mr. Styles' face draws closer with each word as he towers over you. “You’re all I can think about.”

The pads of your fingers gaze across his happy trail, mouth parting slightly as you lift yourself onto your toes closer to him, the taste that you’ve been craving just inches away.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

His teasing tone and rough hands have you begging just to close the space around him. It’s why your nails leave scratches against the older man’s skin, whining high in your throat so desperate for him.

“All the time,” Warmth of your movements draw deeper down his pelvis. “I think about you when I shower in the morning… touching myself thinking you're there with me.”

Deep growl rumbles through Mr. Styles, his teeth biting into his lip as he steps closer. His hips parallel with yours as you curl your hand around his cock, thick bead of pre-cum smearing along his crown as you keep your gaze strong.

“Having me up against the wall, water between us… daddy, I always imagine how good you would fuck me.” Torturing him with your lewd thoughts whenever alone and thinking about your favorite person.

“Just stretching me out all nice and wide… you’re so big… all nice and thick, I still remember how you fucked my throat.” The older man can’t stop himself from landing a furious smack against your ass. Tiny squeak leaving you as you fall to your heels.

“What else do you think about princess?” He ask, lips so dangerously close your breath is wavering.

Your hand grips tighter around Mr. Styles cock, his hips inching closer to you as he palms over your backside. Happy would be an understatement about how you feel at the moment. He’s finally here and under your spell again, just the way you like him.

“I think about you beneath me…” Tongue skimming across your flesh as you slide down him with ease, the fluid drawing from him makes the twist of your movements much easier as he leans in deeper.

“Kissing down my stomach, feeling up my thighs, licking where I want you the most,” Lashes flutter as his mouth inches closer and closer to you. “Don’t you think about my pussy daddy?”

Those very words have him capturing your lips with his. The muted taste of peppermint lingering along his tongue rubs against yours, spit being exchanged with haste as he can’t help his fingers from slinking between your thighs and feeling over the very place you want him.

He’s rubbing the spot there, rough ends of his digits massaging over your clothed area. It’s harsh and swift as they draw down your folds, an electric surge tingling down your spine feeling him around you all over again.

Mr. Styles is all rugged with his growing beard and bulky frame. He could easily manhandle you any kind of way but he treats you so delicately. You couldn’t imagine how he’ll spread you nice and wide, it’s all that’s been on your mind when you pass by him in the hall or stare up at him in class. Those very thoughts that have you breaking away from the kiss with a whimper.

“How I’ll feel around you…” Fingers contracting around his length as you bow your eyes at him slowly. “How I’ll stretch around you…” Lips curling in on each other savoring the taste of him on your buds. “How I taste… don’t you think about that a lot Mr. Styles… how my pussy would taste on your tongue?”

And he’s groaning in his throat, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip as his hands leave their position and drape to their previous one. His head cranes down to press wet kisses along the expanse of your neck, your hips being held strongly against the bark.

“Yes bunny… I do.” Your head turns against the wood from the adrenaline coursing through, his breath drapes warm and heavy amongst your skin that you moan at the feel.

In his new position you retrieve your hands and place them on either side of his face, your eyes watching closely as he breathes over your belly button with sight connecting to yours.

His hands drag up and down the expanse of your stomach before his fingers catch onto the band of your shorts, head wandering deeper down and staring up at you while doing so.

The lined cotton shorts that once grace your hips draw down swiftly with your panties, they pool around your feet with his hands drawing back up your naked thighs, feverish pecks roaming over your abdomen until pressing into your love handles.

“Oh daddy… won’t you make me feel good?” Fingers curling into his hair and ruffling with it. You always wanted to do that. Feel his hair rubbing against your stomach and kisses littering your inner thigh, it’s finally happening and you couldn’t be more excited.

Mr. Styles is looking up at you, sun highlighting the green in his eyes and his long lashes that blink up. And with the soft breeze whisking itself through the forest do you whimper at the feeling of it passing through your lower half.

“Yes, bunny.” Said so deep and husky that your fingers scratch along his scalp. His hand that dragged along your thigh urges your leg up, you don’t hesitate to prop it up your side with his help to keep it there.

Mr. Styles breath floats along your inner thighs, light smears of his wet lips pressing along the skin that you whine high in your throat. You don’t know how much time you have, but you doubt anyone is looking for either of you or going further past the school grounds to come look. You’re sure you’re safe but still, there’s always the possibility of someone seeing or finding you.

It’s why all movements are so rushed yet lucid, his tongue dragging sloppily along your thighs as he moves towards your pussy. A relieving sigh leaving when his tongue skims over your folds, eyes still locked on each other as his grip tightens over you.

“Daddy,” Soft call of his name trailing out as he leans in again to lick you, a pleasant hum vibrates over you that your eyes bat slowly at the feel.

The delicious drag of his tongue lying flat against your pussy as he draws his head up in lengthy strides makes your foot bend in your Converse. This is what you’ve always dreamt about; his tongue eating you out, and it’s even better that you tell he’s enjoying it with his fingers scratching into your skin all hungry.

“Like how I taste, daddy?”

A deep groan pulsates throughout you to answer which has your head knocking back into the tree. Sweet moan falling from your lips as your knee against the stumb bends a bit, pussy sinking deeper against Mr. Styles tongue as he draws up your folds.

One hand leaves his curls and goes towards the one holding your thigh up, his head rocking up and down in rush strides that you begin following his movements. Wet muscle flexing against every swivel and drag, his forest orbs loving the way your lips fall apart and moan from his touch. He lets you take charge and ride his tongue just the way you like if that's the attention you need… the attention you deserve.

His tongue drags up along your clit and in the moment you don’t hesitate to tug his head back and circle your waist along him. The width of his tongue swallowing your clit up so beautifully that it’s better than everything you imagined, and the fact he’s a grown man letting you ride his face, god he’s the best daddy ever.

Your head leans forward, teeth biting down on your lip as you gently move him against your circling hips.

“You’re so good to me daddy.”

Mr. Styles' eyes close slowly even more aroused from your words and the fact you taste like honey. His nails leave crescent moons into skin as he lets you drag yourself all over him. Just as hot as it is to be getting off using him, Harry was a slave to your tactics getting off to your sweet nectar and melodic voice dripping in sex.

Between the slurps of him eating your pussy to the moans expelling every time you swivel your hips harder against him, the scene is one of greed. Pure old fashioned greed of wanting nothing more than to ruin each other. It’s such a dangerous game but it’s so fun, luring him in and pulling at his heart strings all because it was entertaining to you.

“Like the way I ride you?” His tongue tenses against your movements, his head bobbing shallowly that leaves you to let out a breathless sigh.

And to think after calling you out hours ago when catching you with someone else Mr. Styles is here right now eating your pussy, and loving it.

He’s the daddy you need, the one that goes over and beyond to prove where your eyes should be focused on. He’s really the best, doing all this just to prove to you the place he wants in your life.

“Do you want me to ride your cock like this?” Lazy smirk tugging at the end of your lips with brow raising slightly, your motions losing momentum as you look down at him.

His mouth flexes against your folds, lips pressing open kisses back along your thighs. Wet juices dragging along your skin as your grip over him relaxes. Your thigh falls lucid by your leg, his touch drawing back up your skin as he finds his way up your body.

“Bunny,” Mr. Styles breathes against your clothed stomach. The sweet exchange that once coats his mouth disappears once dragging along the shirt. His lips trailing back up your neck and pressing onto your cheeks.

“I don’t know how much time we have left.”

You shake your head confidently, hands now drawing up his shoulders and stepping closer to him. You’re sure there’s nothing to worry about, almost positive you had enough time to have him the way you want.

“Please…” Lips pout slightly as you get him to peer into your eyes, your canine tooth catching on your lip before you’re smiling innocently at him. “I’m all nice and tight for you, don’t you want to feel daddy?”

Mr. Styles groans lowly, his face shifting amongst yours as he slots your lips against each other. The sweet taste of yourself flows along your tongue and you love every bit of it knowing that he adores it even more at the moment. The juices that you expel with the mix of your saliva, it’s a delicious brew that you're sure he wants forever from the way his fingers grip onto your hips.

He’s thought of this moment so many times yet can’t believe it’s happening, and the words you speak, he’s nearly coming from the sweet sound and the way you say his name.

Tongues dance along each other in a rushed frenzy not knowing how much longer it’ll be till this moment happens again. Your lips feel over the soft pricks of his stubble, hands drawing along his chest and moaning at the possessiveness over the kiss. His tongue flows against yours with such dominance you moan against him before pulling away with a bite at his lip.

“Just lay down for me, please?” You ask all sweet and doe eyed, nails dotting against the nylon of his jacket as you stare up at him.

And he’s unsure, with sight looking between you and the scenery around. A gentle sigh escapes as he nods his head lightly. “Okay.”

The grin that shines across your lips is bright and cheery, your eyes watching him closely as his knees begin to bend and you don’t hesitate to follow. Your hands fitting themselves on each side of his head, hips resting along his stomach with your face becoming parallel to each other.

“Been thinking about this since I met you.” Head leaning forward and dotting kisses against his chin, his hands by his side tug at the top of his track pants to pull them down.

“Looking at you in class… thinking about you fucking me on my desk.” Rush breath combing over his neck as you litter him with love. “Or yours.” Giggle trailing out so adorably that Mr. Styles moans at the sound. His hand draws away from the fabric of his joggers and lands a scolding slap amongst your ass.

“Dirty girl.” He mutters, fingers spreading you wide while rocking you over his erection.

“Only for you daddy.”

Leaning back on your knees, your hands slide towards your t-shirt and tug it over your head. Your breasts on display as you balance yourself amongst his waist, arm going behind your back and palming his cock.

“Want you inside me.” You say while blindly releasing him from his confines and twisting him slowly.

Mr. Styles rests on his elbows as he watches you raise up, the beautiful sight of his bunny bare and ready to take him, this is too good to be true.

His teeth poke out from his mouth and catch on his lips, stomach dipping with heavy breaths as he watches you lower yourself. Your puffy folds spread wide as his cock fills you up slowly, long whine tearing from your throat as he swallows you up inch by inch. The stretch of him has your body leaning forward with other hand curling around his jacket anxiously.

“Jesus.” Mr. Styles breathes with hand steadying your hips as he leans up, the tight feel of you around him makes his fingers curl deeper into your skin while you sink further onto his lap. “Bunny, fuck.” Your knees clench around his waist as you sigh pleasantly.

Plush walls nestle his throbbing cock gracing your sweet spot so heavenly that you’re shuddering against him. Your hips rubbing against his pelvis only increasing the fraction that has you crying out in satisfaction.

“Daddy, you fill me up so good.” Both hands gather up his arms and to the nape of his neck, your mouths lean forward breathing in each other's moans.

“You’re so tight bunny.” He follows your motions as your head knocks into his forehead.

You hum with your mouth going dry, eyes batting at him slowly as you find the strength to rise up on your knees and slowly grind yourself. Delicious spread of your pussy accepting every stride of him.

The combination of his spit and your juices leaves a squelching sob sound every time your hips meet. Walls flexing around every loving rhythmic stroke, whine high in the back of your throat as your fingers press deeply into his skin.

“So sweet, so dirty, just the way I like you.” Mr. Styles breathes over your lips. Your mouth catching his filthy words and swallowing them up loving the taste.

His grip over your hips guides your movements, eyes hanging low and watching every bounce of yourself riding him to the way your nose twitches. The thickness of him swells every crevice that succumbs to him filling you up. It’s leaving you numb with pleasure allowing him to draw you down in repetitive motions.

“I love the way you stretch around me, bunny” His lips curving the slope of your nose when you bow your head.

This moment was more than your dreams. The man that’s been fucking you in your every thought now helping you slide down his dick with such ease. Telling you just how he likes you, and how he loves the way you expand around him, he’s the best teacher. Your favorite one.

Lips collide in messy motions, slipping across each other with moans and groans trailing out. The hands of both of you sinking deeper and deeper as you both chase your highs.

The crinkles of leaves shift under your bodies, shadows of trees gracing across your bouncing breasts as Mr. Styles continues to guide your movements. Mouths catching along each other hurriedly with thighs twitching to curl deeper against him, the shock of stabs running down your neck causes your spine to bend at the feeling.

“Daddy… m’gonna…” Mouth parting away from him as your forehead drags along his cheek, breath coming out rushed as you feel your climax making itself known.

“Gonna come on daddy’s cock? You love my dick, don’t you?” His words deep in your ear making you lose all sense in your knees when going silk around him.

Your head twists deeper across his skin, eyes barely staying open as the squished grass amongst the floor bobs in your vision. Mr. Styles takes complete control over you as his hands keep your waist flexing around him.

Your pussy quivers and trembles from his words, adding fury to the spikes of arousal barreling down joyously. Your mouth hangs open, nails scratching into his skin as you continue feeling his cock tagging your cervix each time.

“Oh, fuck,” You moan completely distraught with stomach twitching. Your jerking hips take control of your weak motions as you find the strength to runt yourself into his lap.

Clit rubbing beautifully against the light bush along his pelvis chasing your high. You groan pleasantly at the head of his cock dragging across your sweet spot, your climax welcoming itself with your pussy contracting around him.

And instead of Mr. Styles guiding you back up his length he’s following your movements and thrusting into your hips. Piercing jabs adding to the sensation of pulsing shocks spreading through.

“Feel so good bunny,” He moans into your bobbing head, lips trailing down the hair matted to your shoulder. Sweet smell of your perfume gracing his nostrils that leaves him growling against your skin.

Fingers shake against his flexing shoulders, lips bitten and cracked letting air shallowly fill your lungs. Your pussy is bruised and sore from the girth of your teacher assaulting every inch that welcomes him.

“You’re so deep daddy,” Sweet voice running across his blushing skin. It’s damp with tiny strands connecting hair against his temples, his adam’s apple bobbing heavily with his fingers digging deeper into your skin; clear that your words affect him.

It’s your favorite thing to do with this game you play. How your words are so angelic yet dirty, leaving Mr. Styles, your boy toy and step-father vulnerable messes every time you're around. Cracked voices and growing erections always being your sight at just a simple bat of an eye. It’s so easy to have whoever you want be able to play.

It’s why you continue being alluring; dreamy moans carrying into his ears with hands sliding up into his hair, tousling every lock as you rotate your hips against his thrusts. The change in rhythm and pulsing beats of your pussy around Harry makes him hiss. Head dropping swiftly against your shoulder till you catch him quickly, nails tugging his head back as you peer into his eyes and ride his cock.

“Fuck me nice and wide,” Waist swiveling against his grip trying to strain your movements. Green eyes look up at your lips while his part in bliss accepting your heavenly pussy gracing him. “Stretch me so good daddy.”

Teasing breath fanning over his face as your breasts rub against the material of his jacket, your scent showers over him with your pussy wrapping around his cock deliciously, the sight clear of how he’s a slave to you and the way you make him feel.

“Don’t you want to fill me up?” Harry moans with eyes blinking slowly, his fingers beginning to loosen against your motions.

Your pussy coats his dick in creamy fluid adding to the pleasure of your walls dragging down him. Your fingers itch at his scalp, lips leaning towards his and nearly connecting as you smile.

“Don’t you want me to make you a daddy?”

Words having Mr. Styles whining high in his throat, hands twitching against your hips just as his seed spills into you. Fingers twitching and jaw tensing as he stares up in complete admiration. His waist stills against yours, eyes blinking slowly in a daze as you still grin at him, swiveling your hips and whispering sweet nothings.

“Such a thick load, sir.”

Hands relaxing around his curls while his fall from your waist, Harry’s sight completely enveloped by your words that he can’t help the lazy smile that tugs along his lips when you giggle at his expression.

“Mm… you’re really the best.” You hush, hips moving slowly as your chest begins to relax.

“It’s clear that’s up for debate.” Mr. Styles smirks, fingers feeling over the blades of grass below. But even if it’s a playful tease, his words taint your heart.

“It’s only you, I’m so serious sir,” You sigh, head shifting with bottom lip jutting out.

He gives you a pointed glare as if not believing you — not that he should, but it’s entertaining to make him jealous… teasing him just how you like. It’s why you find yourself rolling your eyes and raising up on your sore knees. The motion of you sitting off his lap and slipping him out turns his attention. His come drips out and flows down the expanse of his cock.

Humming delighted at the site, your hand trails out of his hair and between your legs. Fingers seeping into your pussy and catching the reminder of him onto your fingertips to carry into your mouth. Tongue welcoming the muted taste of your teacher and moaning playfully.

“Bunny.” He whines, eyes watching closely as you dip back between you both and collect the rest running down his cock and sucking them off your fingers again. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

The laugh that escapes you is adorable when you lean into his chest, hands moving to his shoulders and forcing him to fall back against the grass which he does gently. His own hands run down your spine as you shift around on his body.

“Wouldn’t that be amazing?” You sigh, fingers trailing up his neck and drawing along the definition of his jaw as he looks up at the sky.

The laugh that leaves the older man is light and cherished, one that has you smiling as you let his touch roam all over your skin.

His heart beats against your ear, lungs rising steadily with your bodies fitting together. The sun is still shining brightly with the breeze passing by every few moments. The quiet atmosphere of this area makes it feel private and safe.

“Sir?” Voice raised in question as your fingertip glides against the bridge of his nose just in time for him to hum in response.

“You never did tell me why you call me bunny?” Lips piercing together tightly as his touch begins to draw circles up your spine in swirls.

“Your eyes,” He whispers as he looks at the clouds passing across.

Your brows perk up at that. Your eyes? You knew they were quite alluring but not to that extent. Yet, that was the nickname that he gave you, the one feature that stood out the most to him. Not cherry, or baby like your other two flings.

“My eyes?” You reiterate. Head trailing off to the side as you pass your finger across his lips. The motion has him playfully biting on your nail till you’re retreating back to draw along his cheeks with a giggle.

“Yes… there so doe and soft, like a bunny. My bunny.” You hum acknowledging his words in admiration.

So that’s what he thought, that’s what stuck out the most. It was adorable and unique. So different compared to what you’re familiar with.

“When do you think we can do this again?” Your voice mutters against his chest. It makes Mr. Styles draw his hands away and lean up on his elbows.

His eyes go towards your shirt and grabs it, the material falls into your grip and you don’t hesitate to lean back and slip it over your head, sight still caught on the older man.

“I don’t know… it’s too risky,” His view looking over your naked thighs that hold his abdomen to the poor expression turning up over your face.

“Oh come on,” You huff, rolling your eyes and drawing away from his body. You twist off him with hands leaning towards your undergarments inches away.

“W —What are you getting all upset about? Even right now is pushing it,” His own actions cover himself back up as you scoff in response. “Don’t act like this.”

Another exaggerated sigh falls from your mouth before fixing your shorts around your hips, sight narrowing on the green streaks across your shirt before turning to look at the teacher now standing.

“I’ll act however I please,” You mumble, teeth clenching down on each other as Mr. Styles groans with annoyance, his hand stretching towards you but you’re quick enough to retreat back.

“So, even if it’s this spot for the exact same time?” You rephrase, heart knocking against your chest as you tangle your arms together.

“No Y/N, god… don’t you get it? Don’t you see my job on the line just to be here right now?”

“Fine.”

“Would you stop?”

“No.”

Your eyes watch every frustrated movement from the body parallel of you who bows his head in disbelief of the situation.

Of course he wants to see you again, of course he wants to wrap himself all around you but this puts too much stress over everything on his plate.

“Let’s just talk this over?”

“No, I’m good.”

Your teeth shining happily as you shift your head to the side and watch Mr. Styles inhale deeply. his body stepping closer still attempting to hold you.

“I’ll walk my way around to the front… you can go back from where you came from.” Simple nod of your head before your gracefully turning around beginning your departure. You’re trailing off so quickly he doesn’t even have the chance to catch you slipping through his fingers.

He just had you and now it’s already over.

Harry should’ve really expected this though. He should’ve anticipated your stubborn reaction to his words, he should’ve really thought over them because now you’re making his life a living hell.

You couldn’t wait a week, or even a couple days, you really couldn’t wait at all. Because the next afternoon you showed up to class five minutes late, walking through the door with a simple smirk on your lips and “sorry!” so sweet and delectable that he let you get away with it, of course he would, far as he knows he’s on punishment.

But, when you cut your eyes in a wicked glare did he realize who else was missing from the class, his own lacrosse player. Your heels echoed to your seat eerily to him amongst the shuffling of the other students, and when you sat in your chair with lips now a teasing grin did Luca soft knock sound on the door before he stepped in.

His collar was obnoxiously up high, clear what was litter amongst his skin. The sight had Harry clenching his jaw unbearably tight, his eyes going to you who conceitedly winked at him. It didn’t help that the other students began to snicker, adding to the fury of Harry turning his fingers in on themselves while continuing the class.

That was only the beginning though; now when passing in the halls you completely ignored him, acting as if he wasn’t there. When seeing you in the pillars of the school with Luca by your side, you made sure to wink at him, or sometimes Harry will see him drop you off to class, catching sight on his hands grabbing the skin he doesn’t deserve.

You continue showing up late; sometimes your boyfriend trailing behind, sometimes not. You stop raising your hand and involving yourself in class discussions and begin to pay attention to the birds outside or doodling in your book. Notes start being exchanged even more between you and the blonde classmate, one time you even left one on your desk that Harry took up.

Can I eat you out tonight?

Luca

His messy writing covered the paper that Harry closed his fist around. His feet stalked over to the garbage and threw it into the trash.

You’re fucking with him so badly, so terribly, why are treating him like this?

He doesn’t feel any better that he tried to be reasonable, trying to get you to understand that your endeavors couldn’t be consistent, it would be too much for the both of you.

But, it’s tempting… so tempting to want to pull you in after class and tell you that he’s done with your antics and to take him back. Go back to being his sweet bunny with doe eyes and bitten lips, go back to writing his nickname across the page of your test and showing him your sweet plump cheeks.

It’s already bad enough he’s coming into his hand every night just thinking about your pussy around him again. Your sweet voice telling him your dirty thoughts, the ones that have been on your mind since meeting. He wants more of you, he needs more honestly, and the way you’re acting isn’t helping him at all.

He can deal with you being with Luca because Harry knows deep down he doesn’t satisfy you the way you like. He’s certain you don’t fancy him much and is just using him to toy with his feelings, but he’ll accept that.

It’s Friday night and it’s the annual parent teacher meeting. Students in their pressed and polished uniforms standing alongside their parents as they walk across campus displaying to them their life while here.

Harry hasn’t seen you yet and he’s thankful, he’s suppose to meet your mother and he’s trying to keep his nerves at bay. His fingers are tapping timidly inside his pocket as he smiles at Gabriel's mother who boasts about the upcoming lacrosse tournament.

His eyes watch the way her skin folds over in wrinkles when she smiles happily, while her son looks annoyed and Harry can’t help the breathless laugh that leaves him when noticing.

“The boys have been putting in great work this year, I’m sure we’ll be getting the trophy.” Harry beams while Gabriel rolls his eyes at his teacher.

“It’s all he talks about when I call him… but, let’s me not keep you, we still have to see Mrs. Randall.” Fading auburn hair shifting with each nod of her head as she leaves the community hall looking for the science teacher.

It’s when the loving mother exits the door does he see his bunny slip in. Manicure and dazzling accessories shining over your shoulder as your mother walks into the room, and it isn’t the sight of her that has Harry shocked, no, it’s the man that steps through right after with tattoos littered in the revealing parts of his suit. All over his hands and up his neck, if Harry were to assume, he would be around his age, with thick beard growing in and slight tiredness swelling around his eyes.

He can tell from his appearance you don’t look quite similar, you resemble your mother more than anything but he doesn’t stare too long. Not with the way you begin to walk towards him with both parents on either side.

The chatter in the room is filled with other guardians and teachers making small talk either about the curriculum or the school's pretentious history, and somehow in all that noise it doesn’t seem to drown out the footsteps of bodies making their way over to him.

“Mr. Styles?” Thin lips of your mother sing in a cheerful tune as she sways from side to side.

He remembers you telling him about your mother. How she sent you to school once given the chance, yet she’s all bubbly and happy as if you have a place in her life, as if all the words you spoke were nothing but pure lies.

“Yes ma’am, that’s me!” Harry smiles softly, hand reaching out and she takes it genuinely. Soft touch enveloping him in a strong shake as he bows his head.

“You must be Y/N mother,” He continues, their hands parting as he looks down at you. For once your sight is looking up at him, your attention actually focus on him, and it makes Harry swallow heavily.

“She has told me so much about you, all good things! Saying how you’ve made her enjoy history even, she was never quite fond of it in her past schoolings but, you’ve made it her favorite!”

His brows raise up at that, mouth parting slightly in shock before grinning happily looking between you and your mother. So, you’ve been telling her about him? And saying his teachings are your favorite subject. You’re confusing him with your hot and cold games, but it’s even worse that he enjoys being in the middle of it.

“I never knew she said that? I’m so happy to hear,” Harry smiles before his hand is turning towards the man to the left of you. “And you must be Mr—”

“—Malik.”

His words cut off the teacher to correct him but doesn’t stop them from their hands meeting, strong grip over each other as his brown eyes look over him longingly, examining every inch of him.

“My apologies…” Harry sighs before turning to your mother to divert his gaze from your step-father. “But yes, she’s doing amazing in class. I'm glad it’s become her favorite.”

And he sees the way your face begins to heat up, how your eyes watched every motion of him shaking your father’s hand as if stunned this moment is happening. Harry wants to laugh, he wants to chuckle in your face because of course he’s caught you again, lying about having a father figure, this is cold bunny.

“Oh! Mom, they have that sparkling juice I was talking about, the one you should use for the dinner?” Your voice enters the conversation nervously as you look towards her. Hand going to her elbow as you direct her to the assortment of drinks and snacks on the table under the bulletin board.

“Just one second!” Your mother smiles at Harry before letting you lead her away.

Before Harry can even admire the sight of you all flustered and caught up from your parents meeting the teacher you’ve been tormenting for months, the laugh next to him has his direction turning towards the heavily tattoo man.

“Isn’t she funny?” Mr. Malik asks, lips tugged to the side as he shuffles on his feet. Harry can’t help but take one of his hands out of its confines and cough into it.

“Yes, she has quite the humor,” He agrees, fingers running over his hips smoothly as he shifts his posture.

Your step-father is looking up at him with such a questioning glare that Harry can feel his ears begin to beat with warmth, his eyes dying to break the fight over whatever is crossing his mind.

You always have tricks up your sleeves, always have another way to shine your dazzling teeth to get away with something else, and it’s another one of those moments. Body turned away from your daddy and father ignoring the fact they’re in the same room.

Aren’t you a nervous little thing when all caught up? It’s quite adorable.

“Are you playing?”

The question draws Harry’s eyebrows together, lips parting and sight concentrated heavier on the man next to him.

“I’m sorry?”

“With cherry? Are you playing with her?”

Cherry? His bunny is cherry to him. Oh? So this is why you’re so nervous and looking more distraught than when he caught you with that note.

You’re not nervous at the fact Harry knows you lied about your parents, but the fact you already had a father figure in your life, one that plays with you already and does everything that he wants when given the chance. That’s why you ran away.

“Oh? I —I didn’t… I haven’t…” Harry’s voice trails off as his sight goes towards you pouring another glass of the grape juice for your mother to try.

“So, it’s true then?” His eyes trail back to the older man who holds a smug grin, and when his hand pats down on his shoulder roughly, it makes Harry let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“I must say… she does get what she wants.” Mr. Malik sight combs over the teacher before releasing his hold.

It has Harry relaxing and throat clear as his nose crinkles up. His bunny with someone else? He could get over Luca, he really could care less… but the man in front of him —the one you lied about so innocently— is standing before him not even surprised by the teachers place in your life, you’ve broken his heart bunny.

“Is she always like this?” Harry finds himself asking without thought, his brows relaxing as he tries to collect all the memories of everything you said from the first encounter.

“If you’re who she likes, yeah I guess… I’m not sure how it works in her head, she got me a few years ago…” Mr. Malik admits before breaking their gaze and looking over at you, and Harry can’t stop himself from doing it also. “You know, it really did catch me off guard when I found out about what she did first semester.”

Harry’s fingers curl in on themselves from hearing the truth. So it was all true, you did try to seduce a teacher, that’s why you’re at this school. That’s why you play this game with him, because you like this attention… you like having your way with the people you desire, you’re so dirty bunny.

“I didn’t know that,” He says, with hands crossing over his chest as he now leans against the brick wall. The relevance of the news has Mr. Malik turning, his eyebrows furrowed with a cheesy grin.

“Really?” He says with a shake of his head, body relaxing next to the teacher.

“I also didn’t know about you… I mean, being her father and all.”

“Step.” He emphasizes giving a pointed look, and Harry nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Yes, step-father.” He confirms before whistling weakly.

Your lies are finally spread out for the both of them to see. It really took today for him to see past everything and get the real information about you that he really wanted, the one he’s been seeking from the beginning.

His mind is a whirlwind of emotions and memories of what you both shared in such little time. “It’s only you, I’m serious sir.” Those were your words, said with such purity he believed you. But now it’s so clear how you like to be shared, how you like to be passed around for everyone.

Harry thought all this time that what you really needed was mentorship, soon that turned into some well deserved attention, but now, he thinks he sees your true intentions, the real reason why your eyes glimmer with happiness every time.

“I purpose we make some changes to her game,” Mr. Malik remarks, his white teeth showing as his lips stretch, and Harry can’t help but nod in agreement.

“I think we should make some new rules.”

[mangocustard16]

📁....Seventeen as display of affection ♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

genre: fluff warnings: skinship, lmk if i missed something w.c: 490 a/n: heart goes brrrr hours...

Seungcheol is a steady hand on your shoulder, offering silent support; a grounding presence in life's chaos. He's a knowing look from across the room; a connection that speaks volumes. He's a guiding touch, a promise of protection and encouragement.

Jeonghan is a feather-light touch on your back, a subtle expression of care and empathy; a delicate assurance that he's attuned to your feelings. He's a gaze filled with understanding and kindness.

Joshua is a subtle thumb caressing your hand, an unspoken reassurance. It's a reassurance that silently conveys, "I'm here for you," It's a gesture that carries the weight of shared experiences and unspoken camaraderie.

Junhui is a comforting presence at your side, offering support with a soft assurance; a gentle reminder that he's there to navigate challenges together.

Hoshi's a genuine smile that crinkles his eyes, a warmth that reflects his genuine joy in your company; a quiet acknowledgment of the positivity you bring.

Wonwoo is a gaze that lingers, a prolonged and thoughtful study that makes you feel known in a way words can't capture. He's the comfortable silence, a presence that feels like a refuge, allowing you to be fully yourself without explanation.

Woozi is the subtle interlocking of fingers, a touch that conveys a sense of calm and assurance; a grasp that assures you that, in this moment, you are not alone. He's a mosaic of quiet gestures and meaningful touches.

Seokmin is a comforting embrace that unfolds like a gentle symphony. His arms always find their way around you, encircling your waist with a warmth that feels like a familiar melody.

Mingyu is the chin that rests gently on the top of your head. His actions carry a sense of ease as if he's uncovering the mysteries of your essence through a simple, affectionate sniff.

Minghao is bodies leaning into one another, close enough that the space between feels insignificant. Two pairs of hands find a shared refuge in the warmth of a pocket, fingers intertwining effortlessly as if they have always known each other's touch.

Seungkwan is a flurry of warmth and care, his fingers deftly wrapping a scarf around your neck with a meticulous touch. The fabric unfolds like a protective cocoon, shielding you from the chill in the air, each loop a testament to his thoughtfulness.

Vernon is a gentle kiss on your cheek. His kiss is a punctuation mark in the narrative of your connection that says, "I'm here, and you matter." It's a gesture that lingers in the air, leaving a sweet aftertaste of affection, a reminder of the closeness and warmth shared in that fleeting touch.

Chan is a soft touch, a brush of warmth against your skin that transcends the need for explicit communication. He is the subtle hand on your thigh tracing mindless patterns. His touch is gentle, a manifestation of comfort and familiarity.

[levilxvr]

levi loves giving you oral. But if you ever offered to give him oral? he wouldn’t mind at all.

It truly is a pleasant sight, seeing you on your knees between his tensed legs while your lips are wrapped round his wet, thick cock. He just loves seeing your head bobbing up and down as you struggle to take his full length, fingers tangled in your hair as his strong hands push your head further down until you’re tearing up.

“That’s it.. be a good girl and take all of it. Yeah, just like that.. keep going pretty girl.”

The moment his spongy tip hits the back of your throat you can feel him pulsing in your mouth as he struggles not to cum right then and there. You’re doing such a good job at sucking and licking off every dribble of salty precum oozing from his swollen head as your hands stroke his balls gently.

When you look up his abs are clenched, thighs trembling as he throws his head back in pleasure. It feels so fucking good he’s mumbling curses and praises- only you can make him feel this way. Still, levi somehow manages to keep his composure, taking deep breaths as you drag your tongue along the underside of his tip. Over the past few months you’ve grown to realise how sensitive he is there, using it to your advantage every time you’re giving him head.

And when he cums, he lets out the loudest moans you’ll ever hear from him. He ends up thrusting his hips in rhythm with your movements, fucking your mouth as he reaches his orgasm. Levi basically loses himself and bottoms out as he releases load after load down your throat.

It’s mostly salty with a subtle, sweet aftertaste- he’s aware, because every time he finishes in your mouth you’ll reach up to kiss him with his cum slathered all over your lips. A faint blush creeps up his cheeks whenever he gets a taste of himself, and within seconds you’re pinned to the mattress below him as he gets ready to pleasure you as well as you always do to him.

[anika-ann]

Restless Hearts - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 6,2k

Summary: Moving in together with Steve is the dream come true – or it should have been. You didn't exactly have the chance to benefit from that since he shipped off to a mission for days and is only now coming back.

You grow restless. And to make it worse, you only get to reunite with him on this stupid pompous party instead of your home. Well. Just few more hours of socializing to survive.

You could handle that, right?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, semi-public sex if you squint, unprotected sex, language, Steve being a menace, two idiots in love who can't keep their hands off of each other

A/N: written for the Smutty September Fest hosted by @mercurial-chuckles . Thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to f* and quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Sparkling lights. Sparkling drinks. Elegant gowns and sharp suits. Subtle polite laughter and conversation occasionally interrupted by a louder exclamation and a genuine burst of laughter from the groups forming around those who knew how to charm a crowd. A non-descript music, one song bleeding into another, a few couples trying to find space on the dancefloor that had mostly changed into an agora, a space for conversation rather than for moving in well-practiced sync.

The dress skirt brushing over your knees and ankles, a slight chill on the back of your neck as someone opened the balcony doors, letting in fresh April air of New York City. The light stink of alcohol and sweat amongst the hundreds of expensive perfumes and colognes. The rich aftertaste of the sting of bubbles, sweet and spicy on your tongue.

The golden lights shone bright but intimate, reflecting in your champagne glass and prompting you to finish your first – and likely one of the lasts – drink of the night.

You weren’t much of a drinker. You indulged every once in a while, more of curiosity about what fancy brand the host had chosen for the occasion and a thing of courtesy, using the glass like a required social prop.

Such was the case tonight too – a fancy evening for investors and associates of the Earth’s mightiest heroes. Politicians, diplomats, government officials, high-ranking military officials and filthy-rich entrepreneurs – mostly not your crowd, to speak plainly. There was a slightly better company too, even if scarce: former agents and other colleagues – well-vetted beforehand, of course – scientists, non-profit representatives, veterans. Several Avengers too, of course.

But your favourite – the one who had brought you deeper into the world of superheroes – was yet to be found.  

Steve Rogers most definitely was your favourite; nearly flawless moral compass, loyal, protective of the less fortunate ones and his own. A fighter who had won and lost all too much; an artist, who saw beauty around him nevertheless. A kind soul with an enormous heart, perhaps a tad too big for his own body despite his impressive physique. Larger than life and yet somehow humble enough in his insistence that he was just a man, ordinary, like most; just lucky enough to had been given a chance to fight and to defend.

And to love.

Steve Rogers certainly was your favourite, as he should be; the goodness of the world distilled into one man, with a face and a body of worth of being sculpted by the masters of ancient arts, the warmest smile and a sparkle to his eye a testimony to his brilliant mind and wicked humour. All that at your fingertips; all that supposedly yours, as incredible as it seemed at most times.

He was yours.

Your boyfriend of four months and seventeen days.

Not that you had been counting; perhaps just a little. You were innocent in the matter, however; it was mostly your and Steve’s friends, teasing you about taking things slow. According to Bucky, had you been taking things at Steve’s desired pace, with how smitten he apparently was, he would have already had a ring on your finger.

You didn’t dare to judge, afraid of raising your hopes a little too much; however, there was something to be said about Steve Rogers in love. He made it clear; so painfully and blissfully clear, letting you feel his much-reciprocated adoration in hundreds if not thousands of little moments.

In his touch. In his words. In his actions.

Your demanding jobs perhaps did slow down your progress a bit, making even the settling on a day of your first date quite the feat; but it was one of those good things that made the waiting worth it.

If Steve was smitten, so were you; and while a proposal would feel rather rash, you certainly not at all thinking about how you’d probably say yes anyway, because you simply knew, you’d settle for moving in together.

You had moved in together, thirteen days ago.

And the move in that had left you with half-unpacked boxes, cold bed and an apartment lacking the true aura of a home, because the person you wished to build it with was godknowswhere in a middle of Siberia, having left after a passionate welcome-to-our-new-home and a message delivered at three damn forty a.m.

Steve had left the pleasant warmth of your bed at four, with a profound sleepy apology and a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Left for an off-grid no-contact mission. Lasting for days.

For all the faith you had in his skill and strength, the worry that came with him being away for so long without as much of a short text was eating at you; and then there was the matter of simply missing him, the empty feeling only accentuated by having expected to be nearer to him at last and getting this instead. You were an independent woman and you could live your life without a man just fine, but goddamn were you also a woman madly in love, missing your boyfriend.

And you were growing impatient.

You were still at your first drink, yes, but knowing Steve should appear at any moment did not help calm your nerves, the slightly uncomfortable but exciting swirl of anticipation of seeing him again – in a suit no less – as intense as the yearning for comfort of actually seeing for yourself that he was safe and sound.

He had texted you, at last, about four hours ago, that he was on his way, nothing but a couple of bruises already healing, looking forward to seeing you.

You had agreed to meet at the venue; he would be running last minute, or perhaps even fashionably late, grabbing a quick shower and a shave at his at-hand quarters at the Tower, just throwing on a suit he kept there for such occasions. You had offered to help – for the completely selfish reason of seeing him sooner and in private instead of in front of hundreds of watchful curious eyes – but he had sweetly refused, argumenting that at least one of you should be on time and promising he would find you first thing upon his arrival.

You would have grumbled if you hadn’t been soothed by the Love you, can’t wait to hold you again, he had texted after. He was a charming loveable bastard like that.

As the infamous murmur of excitement arose around you, bringing you back to the present, your eyes easily found the source of the commotion: Steve Rogers himself.

Your heart rate accelerating reminded you that not being able to meet Steve before the event might have been a blessing. Had you had the chance to get your hands on him, you two would probably end up being very much unfashionably late; a welcome home kiss would have simply not sufficed.

He was breathtaking.

The traditional black suit with navy blue glint was fitted for certain; tight where it should be, accentuating Steve’s absurdly broad shoulders and thin waist, pants no doubt hugging all the right places from behind somehow complimenting his long muscular legs too, pristine white shirt with a bowtie matching the suit; the soft blue reflection emphasized the colour of his eyes as they scanned the room without ever stopping his progress, his polite smile spreading wide when his gaze found yours, the blue of his irises turning warmer; the most beautiful feature to his face battling the magnificence of his sharply cut jaw.

The instant relief washing over you screamed of how anxious you had actually been before you had seen him alive and well; the warmth spreading through your veins whispered of comfort, a tidal wave of feeling at home after a long travel; the heat curling in your belly and sending sparkles through every nerve ending reminded you that your body had been missing him in all different ways.

Your gaze zeroed on his every step. He seemed to move too slow and too fast at once; and suddenly he was standing in front of you, one hand gently grasping yours, the other lightly laying on your waist, a chaste kiss to your temple lingering as your body naturally sought his and carefully leaned into his entirely publicly appropriate greeting. The familiar woodsy notes of his cologne and aftershave had your heartbeat pick up and instinctively move closer into his embrace and breathing in deeply, the scent going straight to your head; but following his lead, you didn’t get too close, letting the gentle timbre of his voice soothe your need for connection instead.

At last; he was home. He was here, with you, and his love, while contained in socially acceptable gestures, seemed to draw a protective circle around your pair, shining brighter and warmer than the lights and all the luxuries around combined.

“Hey sweetheart. It’s so good to see you,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek this time, his eyes lit alive as he retreated, a hint of a smile still playing in the corner of his lips. “And you are absolutely stunning. Almost tripped over my feet the moment I set my eyes on you.”

Resisting the urge to tenderly slap his side at the exaggeration, at making your face burn hot – and something inside you purr with satisfaction since you had chosen your outfit with care, much like your makeup and hairdo – you gathered your composure, straightening your posture and charming a smile for him in return.

In one of many late-night conversations, when he had revealed his artistic side to you, he had admitted he loved to feast his eyes on all kinds of art from the most ordinary ones to the rarest; you had understood then that while a fighter and just a man in his core, his soul was a thing seeking beauty and goodness everywhere. In both things and people. A doodle could make him smile and hum in delight as much as a painting or a sculpture, he had said shyly; a building, an arrangement of flowers, a beautiful dress too. The last one, however, he had appreciated most on a woman as bewitching as yourself, he had told you, a tender finger on your jaw, a glint of dark mischief in his eye, lips slanting over yours and stealing your breath in a matter of a second; proving he was appreciative of you just as much when you were wearing nothing at all.

This time, however, you liked to believe he enjoyed the sight of you in the dress indeed; the top was hugging your curves like a second skin, the dark crimson fabric bled into a breeze-light skirt, shorter at the front, longer at the back, offering a less-than-scandalous but still teasing peek of your legs and clear view of your matching heels.

“It’s really good to see you too, love. And you look quite handsome yourself… I nearly dropped my drink upon seeing you,” you reciprocated with a small smirk, pointedly finishing your drink at last, heat flaring in your core when you caught Steve’s gaze lingering on your lips as they barely touched the edge of the glass, not leaving an imprint despite the dangerously red colour of your lipstick.

As you set your glass on the nearest table, you took a satisfactory note of Steve’s gaze flickering even lower, and bit back a smile.

As high as the neckline of your dress was, actually reaching half-up your throat and barely but chastely covering your shoulders, the oval-shaped cut stretching from between your collarbones down over your sternum was a rather intentional trap.

And your Captain had fallen right into it, his Adam’s apple bobbing before his gaze snapped back to your face, pupils wider, irises having gained just a tad darker shade. The fresh surge of confidence was almost as intense as the swoop of desire in your lower belly, sending your thoughts spiralling far away from a behaviour socially acceptable at an event like this.

It made you want to abandon the event and let it sort itself even if Steve had just barely arrived.

Who cared anyway? Steve deserved a proper rest after a taxing mission; rest and more, whatever his heart desired. And maybe not only his heart; if you were honest with yourself, you were only a hot-blooded human being like the rest of the world and were looking forward to truly greeting Steve home in all the ways imaginable.

You could control yourself in the public, of course, and you genuinely understood the importance of networking. But you should bring up simply taking Steve home for his own good; and you could profit from it all the same. From his proximity, from the privacy of your home, from getting your hands on the insanely handsome man’s body.

Whether he sensed the sparkles in the air you weren’t sure; but he leaned towards your face, his voice dripping slow and rich like honey from his lips brushing your ear, sinful despite the words being perfectly innocent.

“It works well then, honey.” He offered you his elbow, straightening his posture as if he was so damn proud to show off what kind of a woman he had on his arm. “Let’s go fulfil our duty of mingling so we can excuse ourselves as soon as possible.”

With his last words carrying alluring notes of an intimate promise, you conceded.

Nodding, you arranged your face in a polite smile, crafted to nonchalant perfection.

“Let’s go mingle indeed.”

Indeed, let’s work so we can sneak away and go home as soon as possible.

Your plan had gone a little awry.

In the glow of delight at Steve’s arrival, you had underestimated the number of people who found it their crucial mission to meet and greet and catch up with Captain America.

You had kept up the pleasant façade through all the conversations, nodding and chuckling politely when the situation called for it; but you were growing weary and you could feel tension gradually building in Steve’s shoulders as well, the way you remained connected by at least an inch of a touch at all times permitting you to observe the change.

You had thought it would help when you subtly nodded towards the dance floor; his smile turned much more genuine as he asked you for a dance, earning your pair a breather and a moment of shared intimacy for a few songs.

But you had been wrong in your strategy; if it were possible, Steve’s jaw appeared locked even tighter than before once your reprieve was deemed to last too long and you agreed to return to socializing. His touch grew into a hold; at moments, it was but a grip, until you felt him forcefully relax and ease the pressure.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

He must have been exhausted; away from home for so long, physically and mentally drained after an intense, albeit successful mission, forced to put on a mask for everyone else’s benefit, because Steve Rogers, to a point, was a poster boy. As much as he was trying to change that, working on allowing himself to show and accept his humanity, he remained the embodiment of a hero who never gave up and raised others on his own shoulders despite scratching the bottom of the barrel of his own energy.

He remained cordial and polite and a gentleman; he offered to get you a drink as you excused yourself to the bathroom, returning only to find him – visibly annoyed, for once – trapped in a conversation with Tony. A conversation which was probably not at all important, but apparently couldn’t wait, at least in Tony’s mind.  

“Such a charming woman, standing here all by herself. How is that even possible?” questioned a voice from your left just as you pondered rescuing your boyfriend, causing you to waver.

It was a very male voice. An unfamiliar voice.

And had it been Clint or Sam or Bucky, you’d laugh at the poor line, which would no doubt be told with a drop of teasing; or in Thor’s case, entirely genuine and fitting to Asgardian but not Midgardian ways. Hearing it from a stranger, though, that made you want to roll your eyes.

You were a strong soldier of God so to speak, however; you turned to the source of the voice with a smile with just a slightly sharp edge – one the tall lanky man was oblivious to, as it turned out – and greeted him with a measured Sir.

As he introduced himself, you learned that Mr. Doctor Bowers PhD. might have had two PhDs but none of them was in taking a goddamn hint. Because now you were sort-of trapped much like Steve was, the written and unwritten rules of courtesy not permitting you to make up an excuse of needing to go to the bathroom after you had clearly just come back.

You counted seconds, pondering how soon you could leave the man behind without appearing too rude. You got to a hundred when your patience truly was wearing thin.

He was still not taking any of the hints you had dropped. Worse, even. You weren’t presumptuous enough – unlike some people in the mostly one-sided conversation – to imagine the flirting. He was clearly attempting to flirt and was failing miserably. He was shameless about it too, even if a little condescending.

Ninety-four seconds later, you had enough of him and far too little of Steve; your skin seemed to be already burning where Steve had last touched you, yearning for the contact to return in a perhaps clingy, but entirely honest way.

And suddenly, as if some miracle provided by Asgardian magic, the touch was back.

Steve’s arm was curling around your waist, his side pressing to your hip, his lips making a gentle – and strangely electric – contact with your hairline.

“I’m sorry about the hold-up, sweetheart. Who’s your… friend?”

It was a little funny, really. The man matched Steve in height, but at the biting note in Steve’s voice, he shrank at least a foot and a half.

He introduced himself after clearing his throat, maintaining the remnants of his composure which all of sudden carried no hint of the wannabe seducer. You wanted to kiss Steve right on the lips right there for that alone.

Mr. Doctor PhD also probably regretted extending his hand for Steve to shake; because at Steve’s grip, no doubt stronger than necessary despite his entirely nonchalant mask of politeness, he actually winced.

You were no supporter of violence, much like Steve, which might seem ironic to some given his profession – but the lick of heat at seeing Steve put the guy into back into his place sent a shudder of undiluted want down your spine and straight into your core, your posture involuntarily shifting in response. Steve’s hold on you tightened.

“I have to talk to my girlfriend now, if you excuse us. See you around,” Steve said, already spinning you towards the exit to drive his point to the end.

You didn’t resist.

If anything, you couldn’t walk fast enough, regretting wearing heels and wishing for a pair of sneakers instead to sneak away from the party altogether at last.

Only when Steve led you further and further away from people, deeper into the complex, your heart began thundering in your chest; you noticed that the tension in his muscles you had worried about had grew tenfold and realized that his announcement about needing to talk to you might be more than an excuse.

“Steve, are you alright?”

“Fine,” he responded flatly, yet in a voice carrying hundred times more warmth than just a moment ago.

Right. And the Sun is blue, the pigs can fly and tachyons had always been proven particles of matter.  

You swallowed the snarky response, glancing at him as you barely kept up with his long strides; still, you could tell he was holding back, having seen him march with much more hurry and relentlessness.

“Thanks for the rescue, by the way. Really,” you pipped up, one corner of your lips rising despite your stomach turning tight at the unreadable expression on Steve’s face. “Guy simply couldn’t take the hint that I only have eyes for my Captain.”

An uncomprehensible grumbly noise vibrated in Steve’s chest, his arm sliding from your waist in favour of taking your hand in his instead.

Apparently, your attempt at cheering him up failed; you should have known.

The corridor was now completely devoid of people; you had arrived to the part of the floor with three small conference rooms, one an each of them dark and empty – because everyone was at the party.

Your smile turned truly nervous at that point, your mind racing as much as your heart. Steve wouldn’t have led you here unless he wanted to urgently talk about something important. You were a little baffled as to why hadn’t he opted for the elevator and his former quarters instead; but you didn’t question it as he placed his palm on the scanner and practically threw one of the doors open and all but pulled you in, some of the lights automatically flickering to life.

That was all that your ordinary human brain had time to register.

Because then Steve’s hand found firm purchase of your neck, cupping your jaw, lips slanted over yours with ferocity and passion that had your mind snap blank and set your body on fire, your hands limply landing on his firm chest.

Oh. O-okay.

More than okay.

You were forced to walk backwards, Steve’s other hand pressing against your hip to lead your step and steady you at once; an anchor you desperately needed in the whirlwind of puzzlement and madly stirred desire. Your lips parted in invitation just before your ass hit the conference table, an unvoluntary whimper escaping you when Steve’s body aligned with yours, every single part of him bare his lips tight and wound up, his hardness brushing against your thigh.

At the small sound so willingly consumed by his demanding kiss, he squeezed your hip harder, tongue exploring hundred-times explored with delight, air stolen from your lungs, your hands scrambling to grab his suit jacket to pull him even closer.

Who needed breathing anyway?

You didn’t. And you didn’t care how you got here either, be it desire fuelled by impatience or jealousy or the endless time apart, your choice of a dress or your lipstick which you knew Steve liked so much. You didn’t give a damn.

He was the spoilsport, releasing your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, his quick breaths fanning your face, hand from your neck sliding lower, an almost inhuman sound pushing through his teeth when his fingertips found the exposed skin on your breastbone, petting the soft spot adoringly.

You had not known until that moment how much you craved his touch precisely at that spot and how weak in the knees it could make you.

“Please say y-“

“Yes,” you gasped, instantly rewarded by his mouth on yours again with a muttered but hearty-

“God, I missed you-“

-dextrous fingers sliding under your skirts and hiking the fabric up as they travelled up your thigh, Steve’s pelvis rocking against yours, creating delicious friction against your core.

“I missed you too.”

Your hands went to roam over his freshly shaven jaw, over his shoulders, pushing the jacket off just to make him growl in frustration when he had to stop touching you for two full seconds to get rid of it.

“Sorry, want to feel you,” you apologized nonsensically, every single moment of his touch going straight to your head like a strong sweet wine, intoxicating and addictive, much like his scent, his taste, consuming all of your senses.

“Need to have you-”

“You have me,” you said breathily, a plea and a promise at once, thoroughly appreciated by a squeeze to your ass, fingertips wandering towards where you needed him the most--

And then Steve halted in his progress, body turning into a statue as he came in contact with bare skin, lips stilling on yours.

You gulped, trying to judge his reaction despite your haze.

You had had… a little incident when dressing up to the nines. Your broken nail nicked your thigh-high, sending a run up your calf. Uncharacteristically unprepared, you had found out if was your only pair. And sure. You could have run to a store. You could have express-ordered; stores would trip over their feet to deliver to Ms. Captain America in need. You could have worn a pantyhose.

And yet, your mind had steered you towards the drawer where you had kept tights specifically bought for a wholly different occasion than a social outing.

Why not? Your dress was long enough. And having hoped Steve’s mission would bring him home victorious and excited, having missed all of him terribly, you thought you might at least save some time once you two would be home.

Except you weren’t at home now. But that wasn’t on you – you were completely innocent in that matter.

Except you weren’t and your tights were conveniently sewn with a large enough opening to have Steve fit his hand or other parts of his body through, leaving but a flimsy lace panties in his way.

“Sweetheart?” he rasped, licking his lips as if to tempt you further, to confess your sins born of love and lust. He pulled back just an inch, to meet your gaze, his own pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of your beloved blue remained.

You gulped; not ashamed, not truly, perhaps a little apprehensive of his judgement. You had worn what was pretty much an erotic prop to a high-class event and had you not been careful and had had an accident, anyone seeing or god forbid snapping a picture…

“I… wanted to greet you home… and feel you as soon as possible,” you admitted silently, heart thundering in your chest, in your ears, in your temples, in your fingertips fisting the collar of Steve’s shirt.

A beat of silence.

Several wild beats of your heart.

“Christ, I love you-“

You were hoisted up on the edge of the table in a lightning speed and a mouth-watering display of strength, lips devoured by Steve’s with enough force to bend you backwards, the line of your soaked panties pushed aside to not waste time indeed as Steve’s fingertips dipped into your slick with a mutual groan of pleasure.

“Steve-“

“That’s right, honey,” he whispered, lips teasing the soft skin of your throat now, “I’m here now, all yours.”

He teased your lower lips back and forth, once, twice, three times too many and then he finally entered you with two fingers, a dark chuckle coming deep from his throat at the gasp of his name, stepping closer between your spread thighs to press your legs further apart.

He pumped his fingers with ease, driving you towards the stars at a dizzying speed, pressing a soothing kiss to your sternum when you cried out at him curling his fingers just right.

“That’s it, honey… sing for me. Just for me,” he pleaded, contradicting his plea by claiming your lips again and pushing deeper, faster, wicked,your whimpers swallowed greedily, all his, just like you were, on the brink of ecstasy.

You were trembling; in pleasure, in anticipation of absolute bliss, with Steve’s hand firmly pressed to your lower back to hold you close and annihilate you in the most exquisite way known to man. His words, his touch, the husky notes of his voice, the sheer need radiating off him and still making sure you were to steal the first round of fireworks just for yourself.

It exploded through your body without warning.

You broke with a cry of his name, lips freed just so he could hear the delicious sound, so beautifully seconded by his harsh breaths and so filthily accompanied by the wet sound of your pleasure you had no capacity to be ashamed of but revelled in instead.

You knew he did too. Because he had done that to you, for you. It was his and yours and both was a privilege; and lust incarnate, as he brought you down from your high gently as it be, his hand disappearing from your back in favour of undoing his fly and zipper.

Feel as soon as possible; no time to waste. Pants shoved down only as little as necessary, boxers following, a peek of a mouthwatering – and always a little intimidating – sight was all you got.

A small startled sound escaped you when you were being pulled further towards the edge of the table without a moment of reprieve, a chuckle bubbling in your throat at Steve’s impatience – but with no malice. God knew you understood; the moment the head nudged your entrance, coating him in your slick, your orgasmic bliss was long gone, replaced by even more acute need.

You wanted him. Now. All of him. Wanted to feel him deep inside you, wanted him to fill you so completely as only he ever could, devoured by him, desired and loved.

And you wanted to make him feel as delirious with pleasure as he had made you a moment ago, wanted to make his world so hot it turned white for a moment, make his knees buckle with the force of his release.

Your gaze met his, eyes feasting at the beautiful panting mess he already was, all pristine in his suit and bowtie and ready to ruin and be ruined, lips crimson and kiss-swollen and parting with a groan as he slowly pushed into you.

“Look at me, Steve. Want you to see what you do to me,” you whispered, the little broken sound pushing past his lips the only warning you got before he snapped his hips forward with a curse on his lips and sheeted himself fully inside you at once. God, so fully and suddenly that all air got knocked from your lungs.

His hand grasped your jaw, tender but firm, a dangerous glint in his eye, thumb running over your painted lower lip.

“Oh I’m looking, honey.” His gaze flickered down as he retreated almost all the way out, shining with your arousal, and thrusted deeply again, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “And there’s nothing prettier than you falling apart for me, so let. Me. See you.”

He accentuated every word with a sharp snap of his hips, stroking and stretching your walls over and over, setting a rhythm, teasingly slow and punishingly quick, hand and lips roaming, grabbing and caressing, kisses all teeth and all soft, grip on your hips keeping you still to assure he could take you exactly as he liked and encouraging you to roll your hips at your pace as you balanced on the edge of the table all the same.

“Missed you.”

“Love you.

“Need you.”

“So good for me.”

“I’m so damn lucky.”

“Please.”

“Look at me.”

“Give it me, honey.”

Your head was spinning as you were consumed by bliss, spiralling towards your peak so fast you couldn’t tell anymore which words were yours and which were his, where you ended and he began, clinging to each other as you were carried higher and higher, your ears ringing and still allowing you to hear the clinks of the belt buckle and the sinful sound of your rapid love-making; like a lightning running through yours very being, you shattered with a high-pitched whimper of Steve’s name, an echo of a hoarse voice stringing curses and praise barely reaching your conscience.

You panted against Steve’s shoulder as he curled around you, minuscule movements of hips to ride out both of your highs, soft words spilling from his lips as he was barely caching breath himself.

You took a minute, maybe two or five, still, clinging to him all the same, the heady scent of sex and sweat weighing down the air, your tongue heavy and throat parched, fingers carding through Steve’s damp hair softly.

And still, you chuckled breathlessly as Steve kept running his warm hand up and down your back, the sound causing him to press a kiss to your lips that tasted of apology for some reason.

“Well…”

“I’m sorry for pouncing on you, sweetheart,” he muttered, a genuine note of regret nearly lost in the pleasure carried over to his voice.

Your smiled must have looked exhausted, you thought; but blissed out.

Oh, your sweetheart of a boyfriend. As if you hadn’t just both enjoyed this tremendously. Surely, he didn’t really mean it, did he?

“I’m sorry for sort-of setting a trap then…” you followed suit, the words feeling simply wrong on your tongue. “Except I’m not.”

At that, Steve lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire still.

“Me neither.”

You grinned, trying not to be acutely aware of his hardness still stretching you to your fullest.

Of course he wasn’t entirely satisfied. One round had barely even been enough.

“That’s what I thought. Good.”

He mirrored your expression, his grin a little boyish and devilish at once, his expression soft but somehow everything but innocent.

Yet, he caressed your face with his fingertips with tenderness, from your damp temple over your cheekbone to your jaw, gently pressing against your lips.

“I love you. And I missed you. So much. I swear I just wanted to go home – take you home, the moment I walked in,” he admitted, causing your smile to turn sympathetic.

You knew all about that; it was all you had been truly thinking about the whole evening.

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh…” you trailed off, sensations slowly returning to your body outside the all-consuming pleasure. You felt like you were burning; sweaty and fucked-out for the lack of a better term, most of your body tingling… You chuckled self-deprecatingly. “God, my legs shake so much… what did you do to me?”

Steve’s hands moved to your thighs as if he needed to feel it and steady the trembling, to help, teeth worrying over his lip, just a hint of guilt – and a whole lot more of something you didn’t dare to decode, because those were some dangerous waters.

You expected him to pull out and help you stand then, clean up; after all, he was a gentleman like that, always supporting you.

He did the former, tenderly so as not to hurt you; but not the latter. When he carefully left your body and you tried to stand, he halted your movements with tightening his hold on your thighs, his gaze roaming all over you as you glanced at him all with puzzlement.

“Steve?”

“Maybe you should lie down,” he suggested lowly, his gaze flickering from your still quaking legs to the opening of your dress on your chest and to your lips and then back.

You swallowed against your dry throat.

The dangerous waters you hadn’t dared to explore roared in the back of your head, a shudder of scalding heat running through your body.

He hadn’t cleaned up. He hadn’t tucked himself in. He was still… as always---he-

You licked your lips, your heart stumbling so hard in your chest it was almost painful.

Wordlessly but with his blown pupils observing you like a hawk, one of his hands moved to your shoulder, gently pushing, encouraging you to lie down on the desk indeed.

And who were you to protest? His gaze was once again pleading and challenging you.

Please, say yes.

Like a fallen angel coaxing you to sin; and you’d all but follow hm straight to hell, because you knew he’d show you heaven unparalleled.

The table was cold and unforgivingly hard against your back, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was Steve looking at you like that, like you were a goddess and a prize he had sworn to win, guiding your leg up to rest your ankle against his shoulder, his hot mouth pressing a kiss to your calf. His other hand pushed his pants and boxes down his legs this time, before he reached for your other leg and wrapped it around his waist, once again nudging your sensitive opening.

“Just one more, honey,” he coaxed you, as if you needed convincing, as if the tremble of your body hadn’t turned from blissful and exhausted to one of anticipation. “Just one more and then we’ll go home…”

He pressed another kiss to your calf and met your gaze as he slowly sank back in with ease, something devilish and painfully alluring flashing in his eyes as a shudder ran through your body, sensitive from your earlier activities.

“And when we’re there, I’ll take you once more… once for every day I would have made love to you, had I been in our home with you as I should have.”

In the haze of your mind, the math didn’t seem to math or even matter, even though you felt it should.

But for now, all you could focus on was Steve, finally with you, and soon coming to your shared home with you, at last.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

The event's masterlist

*chuckles* I’m in danger🥹

I hope Steve makes sure she’s hydrated and eats something in between🤭 And maybe gets some sleep; not all of us are supersoldiers 🥹

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading! Drop feedback if you're willing and may September bring you many smutty cozy evenings and peace 💕

[dear-tortured-adam]

" 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐲 𝐦𝐞 "

— "your defiance only adds to your allure" ft. lucifer x gn!mc | somewhat suggestive, repost! | i actually heavily don't really like this piece until now, but, I am not putting this one to waste so... yeahh ; wc: around 1.3k!

Your pride was taunting; he hated it.

Lucifer felt himself earn another wrinkle watching you mingle once more with Mammon’s antics. Sat in the dim lit candlelight of his study, his hand whisking the dram of blood-red liquid sitting idly at the bottom of the glass.

He could've just asked for a more subservient exchange student had he known this was how you’d care for him and his brothers. Frankly, he’d swore to banish you off in front of everyone before Diavolo even welcomed you in the Devildom. You were an annoyance: a red herring added to his workload.

His fur trimmed coat had hung to the wooden armrest of the lush velvet seat. With a sigh, he took a sip.

For your schemes were admirable to the point that they were terrifying.

Lucifer spat out his drink, slamming the glass atop his desk while he wiped the residue off his lips. The distinct 'clang' echoed through the room, slicing through the heavy silence that had settled like a thick fog.

Breaking his chain of thought was whatever random concoction replaced his most expensive set: sour with a bitter aftertaste that hadn't left his tongue.

“That human…” was all he could muster, swiftly taking and clutching his fist around the glass. 

The liquid inside appeared normal, catching the light with the same glistening shimmer as always. But as he lifted the it up to his nose, he recoiled. What should have been a fruity aroma was reeking off a rancid odor of a burnt mix of spices, diluted in burgundy and million's grimm worth of demonus.

It was not amusing in the slightest.

He stood there, cursing himself for being foolish enough to fall for a stupid prank. The sound of slow, deliberate clapping filled the room, each clap a taunt. A provocation. His bloodshot eyes snapped to the source, his rage intensifying at the sight.

There, sitting on his velvet chair with the stance of an unamused audience member, sat you. A subtle grin spread across your face, fully taking in the satisfaction of yet another prank. You remind yourself to tally this off to show the others — your ideas were simply astonishing, after all.

“You should’ve smelled it before drinking it,” you spoke nonchalantly. Popping a cherry grape into your mouth.

Lucifer could only look in your eyes as  your expressions got more smug. "Do you find this entertaining?" he hissed, cursing himself.

"Favoritism is not a good look, hm?"

The avatar lowers his taking, stepping closer towards you. "And you hate my preferences?"

"I've hated you," you shrugged, eating another grape. "Past tense."

You really were annoying; worse that your words never made an ounce of sense. He supposed it's with how his own pride was wounded in the process, as he watches you lack even a hint of remorse for your actions.

"You're despicable."

With a hum, you bat your eyes at him. "Do tell."

Truly, 'despised' isn't a proper word to describe this situation. Whatever happened during the discourse instead shifted into a more compromising position.

You looked back at him, mockingly expressing your disdain for his discipline turned sultry remarks. Even if he pretends not to be so, it is certain how he plays favourites with his human. 

If anyone were to make this plan, they would've never lived to tell the tale.

You smirked, sarcastically saying, “You, sir, will not taunt me any longer!”

No one could deny the taunting tinge of royal blue that swirled within your irises. It's adorable how you took pride in your actions even if you were trapped between him and the velvet chair, though you couldn't deny that it wasn't from a stroke of ego.

Your words were stubborn, but the face you focused solely on him with a half-lidded gaze as you took note of his features. Dark hair framing a sculpted face and deep, red eyes that beckon you into giving in to his sin.

As Lucifer caught sight of your longing gaze with an enchanting expression of love, a rush of warmth coursed through his veins.

Flustered.

He couldn't help but curl up a smile, mirroring the affection that danced within his heart. The depth of the human’s gaze had enraptured his attention, a meek challenge if it came from anyone else. He couldn’t resist the small yet tender laugh, whispering his voice softly for his darling to hear. He rarely ever does that, only saving it for more special moments. 

"For someone with a lack of discipline…" He trailed off just a bit as he smirked. "You… your being makes me feel like the luckiest man alive."

“I thought you liked being the one in control?”

He finds your comment amusing, trailing his finger along your jaw. His gloved hand feels as soft as leather can get. Lucifer’s red eyes locked into yours, he stood at an intimidating height. A hand resting on an armchair, leaning closer towards his precious human. 

"Ah, my dear," he spoke, his hand lowering from your face, taking the grape from your hand and eating it.

How sweet — as sweet as what any fermented liquor aspires to be. After that, he tries to mask his ever growing admiration, but his words couldn't suffice for the ever growing blush that adorned his cheeks.

"Don't be such a fool.” Lucifer’s words had an edge to them. As the authoritative man he is, the way he spoke in an assertively gentle tone felt softer. This was no longer an act of hatred nor, authority, slowly shifting to an act of newfound adoration for this human.

You looked at him with a puzzled expression, only able to tilt your head as he barricaded all forms of movement. The human was stuck in his grasp, at his very mercy. Though while your gaze held a lovestruck pool of hearts, it stayed strong. Determined.

Not once faltering your authority. Lucifer finds it endearing how such a little human could greatly embody his sin.

“Though I must say,” the fallen angel leaned closer as he had you trapped between him and his velvet chair. You looked so enticing, feeling small under his intimidating stature.

To him, you were simply enchanting. Your recklessness was a nag to his schedule but your presence wasn't unwanted.

Never unwanted. 

For in his eyes, blue suits you best. He admires how his sin started to waiver as your gaze gets flooded with stars. Lucifer only wishes to savor the moment, softly kissing the corner of your lips.

"Your defiance only adds to your allure.”

For all pathetic moments, you showed him more than typical kindness. You've felt his gentle caresses like soft butterfly kisses, a finger gently running across your jaw. The kiss felt feverish, swirling his tongue in the cage of your mouth.

His other hand settled on your waist as he leaned towards you — inching his body closer, knee deep between your legs. Lucifer couldn't help but deepen the kiss. It was ecstatic. He’s had many experiences with kisses in the past yet none can ever compare to the soft feeling of your lips against his.

Lucifer lets go of the kiss with a small pant. He never thought a mere human would be the one pulling his heart strings. Granted, you were his and his only; but ever the lovestruck demon, he was willing to flip the script.

To bow under servitude for you. That smile is something no amount of control can ever muster.

Your pride felt electrifying — he loved it.

check out my masterlist! | divider by toadtoru [<3]

[nubsdolls]

cautiiioooon!!,, slighty touchin, hobies real sweet, some gentle teasing, reader gets high with hobie, jus some fluff slash smutt, i also do not smoke so i apologize if any of the smoking parts arent true!!! but other than that enjooy!!

your back's pressed up against hobies chest, nicely placed atop his lap, in one of his, definitely way to big in size, band tees and some boxer briefs, the warm skin of your thighs rubbing against him, one of his hands resting on your hip.

he listens as you ramble on about your day and how miguels an absolute dick as he takes a long drag of his blunt before tilting his head up to blow out the cloud of smoke, not to blow it into your pretty little head.

you kind of pause, youve seen him smoke before, but you had never tried it, straying away from the substance, for no reason in particular, you didnt have anything against it, but just watching him made you a little curious.

you shuffled around in his lap a little before he firmly held onto your hips, holding you down.

"luv?, whatcha doin?" hes not sure if your aware that your grinding on him just the slightest. "hey um, bie'.. do you think i could try smoking with you?" you mutter, kind of embarrassed, of never having had smoked before.

so a few minutes later, you were seated across from each other, hobie explaining what to do, and what not.

"you dont wanna keep it in too long, yeah? but dont exhale immediately." he explained, his hands gesturing and practically talking along with him, sliding the blunt into your hand.

bringing it up to your mouth, you take a sharp drag, before exhaling, coughing from the effect, it was sweet yet a little bitter, it had a strange aftertaste to it.

he chuckled, rubbing your back and patting it gently, "you did good f' ya first dove."

leaning back a little for stability, his hands propping his up as he watched you.

"it has a weird taste, its not bad but like its kinda bittersweet." explaining, smaller coughs escaping you, your eyes stung a little. hesitantly, you took another drag, a little deeper, but softer. waiting a moment before exhaling, to your surprise, not coughing.

your eyes lit up, turning to him, hands slightly raised. he sat up, eyes glistening in admiration, seeing you excited over something so small made his heart beat a little faster.

"i forgot to tell you, this is probably gonna hit tha' hardest since its ya first.. id suggest only 2 to 5 hits.." tilting his head to look over at the blunt in your hand, then back at you.

"nah i can handle it."

yet a few minutes later, it had hit. and it hit hard.

"how d'ya feel?" he mumbled, you guys were back on your bed and his hands were on your waist, playing around with the band of your boxers. "has i' kicked in yet?"

"mhhh, i dunno, like im floating, and.. im here.." only small sounds escaped from you from here on out, inaudible babbling and giggling as you practically sank into his touch.

he genuinely laughs out loud from the state your in. "christ, ya absolutely baked luv." he mumbled through giggles, his long slender fingers making it onto the skin above the boxers, simply tracing little shapes onto your skin.

impulsively, out of nowhere, you flip over and make it so your facing him, he lifts his hand up confused, but not stopping you, your hands around his neck before you just collapse onto him.

"ya' need me so bad love? coulda jus' said so." he mumbled, his voice teasing, he moved one of his hands to your hip while the other gently ran up and down your spine.

you just spoke nonsense into his collarbone, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, almost nipping at it.

maybe you hadnt noticed it but hobie noticed the way you started gently straddling yourself on him, he could feel the ache between your thighs, the sheer fabric of your boxers not dismissing any subtle feeling. the high combined with the grinding sensation made it so so much better, the waves almost melting your brain.

"baby.." he whines, almost pitiful, his girl's trying to get off by just pushing her hips against him. he plants the sweetest kisses to her neck, his teeth gently biting down but not breaking skin. his hands inching farther up your shirt, hands cradled around your tits.

he could feel his tip leaking with precum, she was just too precious like this, your eyes tearing up from the neediness or from the high, maybe both. you left out a frustrated whine, and who was he to deny his girl?

a few minutes of just straight, slow, sloppy, panting thrusts, filling your needy cunt all the way up, his hands on your waist, guiding you back onto his dick, your face up against the couch and holding onto the pillows to ground yourself.

while hes fucking you hes also slowly taking drags of a blunt. blowing the smoke onto your lower back as he picks up the pace, earning pornstar—worthy moans out of you. "bie—" you shuddered, so incoherent and tears almost spilling from how much pleasure you were taking in.

"cmon baby.. use ya words, yeah?" he grips onto your waist a little more, his nails digging into your skin, the warm blunt in his hand as he gently pulls out before slamming back into you, the sound of your juices and skin slapping almost a rhythm.

and when he finally cums into you its almost an out-of-body experience, like your floating, back arching so far you thought you were gonna snap. finally, he pulls out, your evident orgasms rushing down your thighs. he flips you over, gently placing kisses on your heated face.

hi guys!!! im sosososos sorry ive been gone, whole lotta school work nd i just got back from nyc.. also im not vry creative so pls send requests:( (im goin crazy)

[adarkandmagicalforest]

he who would be king

summary: free from kings landing to braavos with lord larys, aegon only wants one thing

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/Reader, Aegon II Targaryen/Original Female Character (unnamed)

warnings: post Vhagar!Aegon, Face-Sitting, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Subtle Mommy Issues/Mommy Kink, Mentions of Aegon's Injuries, Reader Works in A Brothel

"Are you most certain you wish to be here, Your Grace?" Larys Strong asked him.

Almost as soon as they'd arrived in Braavos, Aegon had wanted one thing.

The brothel was a fine one. Expensive, with three floors of depravity. And yet - he could not feel it. Oh, he felt desire. He felt it everytime he saw the exposed skin of a pretty girl, everytime his thoughts wandered back to when he had a girl between his legs, his cock in her mouth. He could still feel the throbbing ache of want, needing that pleasure, that satisfaction.

But satisfaction could never be his again. His cock was gone, dead and cut away from him after Vhagar's fire made his skin go taut like that of a fat pork sausage. And it had been fat. Thick. It had always been heavy in his palm and the girl's who'd had him always gasped when he presented it to them to suck. But it was gone. Aegon felt another wave of shame and mourning wash over him, driving him to force his arm out and pick up his tankard of beer. 

Beer, not wine. Lord Larys would not even allow him a sip of anything stronger. The beer was sour and had an aftertaste of piss in his mouth after he swallowed, but if he drank enough when Larys wasn't looking, then maybe his head would finally begin to buzz pleasantly. Maybe his aching body might finally give him peace.

So Aegon drank it down. He finished half of it, but even then, a larger portion spilled onto his robes.

"Careful now, my King." Larys said, noticing. He took at a favor from his sleeve and handed it to him. He would do nothing for him but give him the chances to better himself, or so he'd said blathering weeks ago before they left Kings Landing.

He forced his hand to change position, picking up the hankerchief and dabbing it on the bad part of his face. It smelt like home, the cotton. No - he realized. It smelt like his Mother.

Larys took back his Mother's favor and tucked it away - and Aegon, wanting nothing more than to forget about it, casted his eyes to the brothel from beneath his hood.

Whores and their patrons sat on plush seating made of the most luxurious velvets and silks. Some of them, most of them actually, were still dressed. Silks in fine brocades, innocent shifts of sheer cotton. One whore, a very very expensive one it seemed, wore a gown made entirely of pearls, draping over her body while two men knelt before her, their ugly broad hands rubbing up her legs and between her thighs. One of them was licking over her knee.

This gave him an idea.

His cock might've been gone, but his tongue wasn't. His fingers weren't. He could still have a woman.

He'd had a mild interest in the acts before. Mostly he only did it because it made a woman extremely wet very quickly, which meant he could get on with it sooner.

But now, if it was the only thing he could do? He'd try it again, Aegon thought. And do it properly this time. Perhaps if he did it very, very well, he might trick his body into thinking his cock wasn't gone at all. Even the ghost of a cock would be better than no cock at all, he decided.

"I want one of these girls, Larys." He told his companion.

Larys looked at him, a neutral expression on his face. Odd little man. Aegon thought he looked like a blunt-faced weasel, even if he was the most dangerous man in the room. Had he fucked his Mother? Was that where the favor came from? Or had he stolen it away like a freak, keeping it with him while it still smelled of her? He didn't know how to feel about either possibility.

"A girl, your Grace?" He asked him quietly, his dark eyes flickering from him to the rest of the room. Aegon expected him to ask something cruel, like he might've. 'With what cock?' came to mind. But Larys didn't say that. He only wished for clarification. "Which girl?" He asked.

"Any of them." Aegon said. His hands were empty, so he reached for his beer again. "No - one with auburn hair." 

"As you wish, Your Grace." Larys said agreeably. Then, standing tall, even with the hard boot on his twisted foot, the Master of Whispers turned to find what he asked for.

Larys found him a quarter of an hour later, informing him that he'd found him a girl and a private room on the first floor. Stairs were no use to either of them.

The room was in the back of the brothel, shaded with colorful scarves and lit with ornate lanterns blown with thick glass. It smelled of sweet cherries, almonds and beeswax, all of which served to joustle his arousal. Arousal but no cock. It was a bizarre sensation, but more clear somehow.

"Your Grace, the girl you wished for is waiting inside." He told him.

They were several steps from the door, and it had a handle.

Aegon grimaced. Even then, Larys was trying to rehabilitate him. Perhaps that was why he'd allowed this. Whatever forced him to move.

The prince stepped forward, leaning heavily on the thick, white yew cane he had in order to reach his best hand out to the handle. His fingers were stiff, but once he gripped it hard, it moved easily for him.

Inside of the room was indeed a girl with auburn hair.

Long, auburn curls like autumn. She was small, delicate looking and pale, and seemed to be a similar age to him. And pretty, very pretty, especially in the pale blue dress she wore, one that had a low neckline but long flowing sleeves. 

"My lord." She greeted him with a non-accent, her voice soft and humble.

When he got closer, he saw her eyes were doe-like and warm, like the richest oak. 

"If you have need of me," Larys said from behind him, his voice sounding a hundred miles away. "I will be outside. Merely knock and I can retrieve you."

When the door closed, the whore's eyes flickered to him. To the most obvious parts first. His leg, made all wrong. His unsteady gait. His face, half melted. He was ugly. A monster. Just as Larys was, it was no wonder to him if he had stolen what he needed from his Mother, for no woman would give him what he needed willingly.

"You look like you're in pain." The girl said to him, her pretty, soft features looking sad. 

Aegon's chest twisted in an ache. "I am." He said.

To his own shock, this caused tears to well up in the girl's lovely brown eyes - and at once, she came to him, her touch as gentle as a kiss, wrapping around his waist and another to his arm. "Please," she begged him. "Come to the bed, sit. Would wine please you?" Her tears might've been falsehoods or they might've been real. But he loved them either way. Her tears made him feel seen.

"No wine." He rasped, allowing her to fuss over him as he, with her assistance, laid down onto the bed. It was covered in pillows, and without needing to be asked, the girl reached for a long plush cushion and placed it beneath his neck before he laid his head down.

Her hands were small and gentle, as if by touching him, he'd break. 

He felt small and weak. And sad. But somehow, nice.

"Come here. I want you." Aegon said then, moving himself. The bed was huge, but he wanted her next to him. He lifted his right arm, his better arm, as an obvious signal. He wanted her there, snuggled into his side. 

The girl looked hesitant, but she smiled when he gestured with two fingers at her. The motion hurt his wrist, but her smile was nice enough to be worth it.

The weight of her lithe body was even more so. The feeling of her arm wrapped around his waist while her head rested on his shoulder, fitting there neatly and perfectly - right down to her leg, which had immediately risen to rest carefully on top of his bigger one. It made him feel big and protective. Aegon moved his arm until he could place his bare hand along her waist. Petite as she was, she was soft and warm, even through her thin blue dress. He held her as close as he could, lowering his head down until his nose was buried in her loose, autumn curls. She smelled like cinnamon and black tea and warm, loving hugs.

He kissed the top of her head and the girl sighed softly, almost so he couldn't hear it. Did she like that, he wondered? Would she like him touching her more? She already seemed to like that he was holding her.

Aegon kissed her again, on her temple now. He did it gently, while his hand left, damaged hand, reached forward so he might brush his fingers along her cheek.

The girl was smiling at his kisses. He used his fingers to tilt her head up, and without needing to be asked, she turned and met his lips.

He was sure it wasn't too unpleasant to kiss him. He still had control over his mouth, so moving his lips against hers was easier than using his hands. The kisses were good, slow and deep like he'd never experienced before. And the ache returned. The ache in his ruined loins, the ache in his heart. Her lips tasted like sweet honeyed wine, intoxicating and warm - but he wanted to know what her pussy tasted like now.

"Come up here." Aegon whispered to her, distracted temporarily by the string of saliva that still connected them, the sight making him all the more eager.

"I'm already right here, my lord." She said, her hands rubbing lightly over his chest, careful not to press too hard on his burn scars.

"More. I want you here on my shoulders."

The girl blushed. The tips of her fingers paused their circles on his chest. He wanted her cunt on his tongue. 

"Oh," She said timidly. Her doe-eyes looked to the ruined side of his body, concern in their depths. "Are - are you certain, my lord? Won't I hurt you?"

"You won't," Aegon said immediately. He didn't know if it would, he didn't care. "I'll tell you - please. Please come up here." 

The girl looked into his eyes, and his heart began to thunder in his chest when she reached for the ties to her dress.

Before he had any proper thoughts, he croaked out, "No. No, just come here. Pull your skirts up."

She did as he asked. 

Aegon looked eagerly, hungrily as she got up onto her knees, moving up the bed until finally she was straddling his shoulders. That low want in his pelvis had become a full inferno, and he wanted to satisfy it. 

He kissed at her thighs as his hands moved to her hips with more haste than his left shoulder appreciated. But she sighed again, a private sigh of enjoyment that he hoped desperately was not faked. His lips moved along the tops of her stockings and closer to her cunt, which smelled heady, but was yet still too far for him to reach.

Aegon gripped her waist, pulling her slightly so she would sit.

"But - my lord, will you be able to breathe?" She protested, resisting him.

"Let me." He pleaded, desperately. He could see her - her pink pussy lips were small, but they opened like petals that were just begging him to latch onto like a  honeysuckle flower. "Please, I need you, please. Let me make you come." His fingers pulled on her skirts again. This time, she listened, lowering herself onto his mouth.

It might as well have been honey. Golden honey, caramelized and poured into mulled wine, even if it did not taste as such.

The phantom of his mutilated cock had taken root in him, just from one taste of her.

Aegon moaned, his fingers gripping her skirts tightly as he lapped at her with his tongue, every long swipe over her pretty pink pussy sending another wave of aching, needy pleasure through him. It was duller, not as fresh or forceful, but it was pleasure and he liked this. 

And it seemed the girl did too. She was squirming on his mouth, her hips moving beneath his grip as he licked her. But it seemed like she needed more, needed maybe something else.

When he had a girl between his legs, he liked his cock sucked. Not just deep, thrusted in her throat, but sucked. Suckled by the tip, until her cheeks were hollowed out, tongue sometimes swirling around the thick, mushroom-shaped head until he was ready to fuck hard.

So Aegon tried it. His tongue found the head of her pleasure, a little bud above her entrance and he focused on it. Licking and circling around it, sometimes kissing it firmly before he held her tightly and sucked. Immediately, a loud, startled moan of pleasure came from her, so much that her hand had gone to his hair, as if to hold his face hostage against her cunt. He did it again, his phantom cock sending him towards her pleasure as he hungrily continued. He'd never thought to do this much to a lady before, but now that he'd gotten a taste for it he found himself to be a voracious eater.

She'd moaned so, so loudly, her hips even beginning to rock, rubbing herself against his mouth for more. 

His right hand fumbled beneath her skirts while he suckled at her cunt, his fingers probing at her entrance awkwardly until he slid them between her petals. She was soaking, slippery, but the angle was all wrong. He couldn't do anything more but rub at her. His whine made her yelp, the vibrations making her tremble.

"O-Oh -" The auburn-haired girl whimpered. "Perhaps - my lord, I could move?"

"No!" He resisted. Even without his hands, he wanted her to come. He wanted her to soak his face and suck on his fingers and maybe find a nice blunted candlestick and fuck herself with it while he nibbled at her breasts.  

"But - please, my lord, trust me." She begged of him, moving despite his gripping hands so she could kiss him. The kiss was imploring, and he nodded his consent if just so he could keep touching her.

Her dress stayed on, as he liked. But it was pulled up, and soon she was turning around. Her leg went on the other side of his torso, and now her pussy was fully on display for him, along with the curve of her ass and the tight puckered hole just between her cheeks. She was right, this was better.

Aegon moved his hand back thrusting two of his fingers inside of her cunt. She was hot and tight, and he wriggled his fingers around to make a feel for her, readying his wrist to start pumping.

But it was then that he felt her trying to pet him.

In this position, her cheek was resting on his pelvic bone. And her hand now was petting - trying to pet, where his cock was. And it seemed she was getting disappointed with him, as there was nothing hard for her in his breeches. There was nothing at all. 

"Don't." He begged, moving his leg up. "I -" He didn't know what to say. But if he was her, he'd feel - bad. Rejected. If she hadn't been wet when he touched her, he wouldn't like it. Then, he'd know it was false. Fake, that she was pretending.

She was a whore though, no matter how talented. Of course she was faking.

But her body wasn't. Her body liked him, her body wanted him.

And his wanted hers. Badly, so badly. So, he decided to tell her, since his cock wasn't there to prove it.

"You're so beautiful," He started with. His fingers kept rubbing her from the inside, pushing in and out. "So fucking - gods you're wet. I loved tasting you. Better than any pussy I've ever tasted, I could do it all day. Just keep you with me, all day and night, and I could eat your pussy until you couldn't take it anymore."

Her fingers had gripped at his breeches at his words. And he knew she liked them, because he could feel the clench of her core around his fingers and she rocking of her hips again.

He kept going.

"I wish I could fuck you. Wish I could've come here sooner. You're so good. So fucking good, I wish I could be inside you. So warm and tight, gods fuck." Aegon's words were spilling out faster now, because she'd moaned again. His hand moved faster, fucking her with his fingers. She was getting so much wetter now, so wet that the sound of them began to get so filthy. Wet, squelching noises were coming as he thrust into her, even as the muscles in his wrist resisted it, but all that mattered was that tight, wet grip and that needy pressure in his cock and oh gods -

"I want you to come for me. Come for me, come for me, I want you, please please please - !" His lustful babbling only cut short when the sound of her moans became more and more unrestrained, when she began trembling and shaking and now more needily thrusting herself back against his fingers, urging him for more force, which he eagerly gave her.

Aegon shoved his face back between her legs, just in time for her to come. Her ecstacy filled cries at his fervent, hungry devouring of her cunt as she peaked were just what he needed to force his eyes to roll back into his head as pleasure erupted from him. If he still had his cock, his cum could've shot to the ceiling with the force that came through his phantom member. At least he still had her wetness on his face. 

And, he thought as the girl shakily rolled back to curl into his arm, on his fingers.

Aegon was still licking his digits clean when Larys knocked on the door to retrieve him.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ

Summary: You make for a good distraction when things get tough. Sukuna's fingers may be bitter, but your kisses are sweet.

Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader

Tags: fluff, light angst, hurt and comfort, developing relationships, sfw

-----

The fingers of Sukuna are an ugly sight; burnt burgundy and twistedly decrepit, crowned with a pointed black nail that scratches at Itadori’s throat whenever he swallows one. The taste is even worse, akin to someone soaking an old cigar in cloudy mop water before clumsily preserving it in candle wax.

It takes all his strength to not pucker his face and dig his nails into the column of his neck whenever the soapy wax flavor hits his tongue. Every fiber of his body would react to reject the intrusion. The lingering aftertaste was another issue. He couldn’t erase it by scraping his tongue against his teeth; burying it with sweet or spicy foods after a mission only helped so much, leaving him to wait until it disappeared on its own as the hours past. He thought it would get easier every time; and for a while, it did.

Until it didn't.

He wanted to stop. But he couldn't stop, not after all this, not until he eats them all, not until he makes everyone's suffering mean something.

So, when he’s about to eat another finger after a grueling, emotionally draining late-evening mission, he braces himself.

As always, the flavor is waxxy, almost non-existent, then putrid when he accidentally bites down. His body knee jerks to react, gag reflex hiccuping and stomach bile rising to reject it, to tell him to spit it out. He closes his eyes tight and squeezes at his throat to loosen the straining muscles, begging his body to hurry up and accept it so it would end faster. Sukuna and everything that comes with eating these cursed objects. It doesn’t want to give in this time, and he squats as if it could help and also because he's so tired of this.

Suddenly, there’s a subtle sweetness, like fruit on the tongue, cutting through the taint. It’s an easy succor to chase and mold to while a comforting force travels up his neck and over his hands, gently forcing them to drop so it can replace them. This touch eventually settles under his bottom eyelids, smooth crescents drawing right along his cheekbones.

This taste is not exactly as strong as the sugar and spice that he normally uses to cover up the filthy flavor in his mouth but there’s something relaxing about the warmth that accompanies it and settles against his lips. Prayers answered, his clenching throat relaxes, allowing him to swallow, and his body quickly adapts to the new addition. 

When the sensation stops, Itadori can finally open his eyes.

It’s you.

You’re here, kneeling in front of him and glowing against the dark backdrop of the night that you’re a little blinding to his lagging mind. 

How could he forget that you came here with him?

There’s a soft silence flowing between you, and he only now notices that you’re holding his face. However, he doesn’t feel the need to make you let go as heat creeps up his skin and his heart begins to echo in his chest, temporarily numbing his mind from the sour aftereffects of eating Sukuna’s fingers.

“Better?” you ask with a small tilt of your head.

Itadori is caught off-guard by the question, feeling a bit dazed and more than a little confused.

“It’s…better,” he eventually mumbles so quietly that his voice gets buried under the breeze. “Thanks.”

His eyes drift lower on your face, finding your lips. He fights the blush threatening to overtake him as he takes in the reddish shine on your lips and pieces together what happened.

“Strawberry?” he hoarsely asks, half-jokingly and half because he feels as if he needs to say something, or else it would be awkward, wouldn’t it?

“Cherry, actually,” you correct with a tiny smile.

“Oh,” he exclaims, his cheeks still a pretty pink as he wonders if the kiss was something you wanted to do. He wonders why it made him feel so much better. He wonders if that would be something you do next time or if this was simply a one-off action thought of in the heat of the moment. He also wonders, for a moment, if he deserved it.

“Could you…” he begins then hesitates.

Is he even allowed to ask such a thing?

“Do that again?” He requests and shamefully palms at his chest for daring to ask for something so personal. “It’s uhm, the aftertaste.”

It’s partially the truth and partially because he wants to figure out why.

Nodding, you give in more readily than he expects and lean in to kiss him again. This time he dares to press the tip of his tongue against your lips, too nervous and confused to breach between them.

You’re right. It’s sweet, slightly tart, blatantly artificial, but so much better than anything else he can imagine right now. Yet he doesn't think it's the gloss causing his body to ease, if only a little.

When you pull away, he finds his mind finally catching up and blushes at the fact your lips are still so close to his. Exhaling slowly, he tries to ignore the dull ache still bubbling in his chest in exchange for thinking about the taste you left behind, the one that makes soft emotions emerge from his heart like a butterfly from its cocoon when he looks at you.

“Yeah…" he reinforces dreamily, letting the wind once again carry away his words, "It’s cherry.”

[spurbleu]

few lucky men ✤︎

[ken sato x afab reader]

S. he convinces you, in the exchange of a drink, to be his luck charm, a rabbit's foot sewed in saccharine smiles.

warnings: mdi, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, hookup

word count: 3.2k

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

Drenched in ecstasy.

Partygoers moved in short bursts- their silhouettes collapsing and repairing in a drunken frenzy. Sudoric air settled in the pockets of in-between (gaps among a kissing couple, an open mouth smile, the space separating fingers), stealing the hot breath from the masses.

Did it make you better- to be an observer rather than a player? To watch from the ‘dimly lit bar’ (everyone writes about it one day- you’ve seemed to find it in penthouse of stranger), neck wet from your intervals on the dance floor.

You tried finding the answer at the bottom of a shot glass- so many times you’d forgotten if you had. The bartender seemed to have a taste for your saccharine smiles, charmed as he handedken you yet another drink.

Martini glass- even in the low light you could see the blushing pink of the liquor, an orange film resting on the surface. On a stick, a raspberry, which you popped in your mouth with relish.

“What is it?”

He shrugged, saying something you couldn’t hear as he corralled a drunken man off the bar table. You take an eager sip.

You could hear the liquor burning your throat, the acid settling in your stomach with a content thrum. The aftertaste came with a buzz- subtle tinge of berry and orange- sweeter than the liquor. You let yourself giggle over the drink- perhaps childish, but all the more honest.

“Oh my god…that’s so good.” It had been a long time since you actually liked the process of getting drunk over the feeling.

“Glad you like it.”

You turn slowly, partly because you needed to, partly because it felt sexy in the moment. The curve of your lips gave away your tipsy- an askew smile creasing the plush of your cheeks. It complimented the soft flush under your eyes- make up flaking. You were hopeful, positive, that it didn’t dissuade him.

Dark hair fell lopsidedly on his face, the roots flat with sweat. The curve of his cheekbones was sharp, but promising. They creased over his smile, sideways and charming. It looked familiar- then again liquor can do that- handsome faces always looked the same under dim lighting and vodka.

“Hey.” You said casually.

He chuckled, shaking his head. There was an air about him- definitely drunk- but not enough to make you nervous. “Hello.”

“I assume you bought this drink for me?”

“I did,” He leaned on the bar, and you caught the way his eyes ran up your figure (it felt like he was already undressing you- not that you minded), as he held out a hand, “Ken. Ken Sato.”

There was an attitude in the lilt of his voice. Confidence- borderline arrogance. He was definitely famous- judging by the way he carried his broad shoulders and low tone. He wanted you to know who he was.

You ran the cap of your tongue over the roof of your mouth before introducing yourself and shaking his hand. “Charmed.”

You took another sip of your drink, not loosing his eyes, “How did you know I liked fruity drinks?”

He laughed- a pretty sound. It swelled into the lighter timbres of his voice, harsh around the edges like the salt on a cocktail glass. You sucked in your bottom lip- you wanted to hear it again.

“Lucky guess.”

You took another sip, humming in reply. “You a lucky guy, Ken?”

There was a glint in his eyes then. The grey was sharpened (knife against a whetstone) into something more. It wasn’t more of anything- just more. Like when you breathe and you feel your chest expanding, or you look at the view from your window from a different angle, and it swells.

More.

“Depends…” A long finger came to trace the rim of your glass. The groove of his knuckles had you mused- observing the vein that crept from his wrist. You tilted your head, leaning further into the bar as you crossed your legs.

“On…?”

He gave you a wry smile- and for a foolish moment you thought it looked unpracticed. Genuine- a contentment pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“…if I get to take you home tonight.”

You blinked. It was rare for you to be caught off guard- and your laugh might’ve given it away, if you hadn’t turned towards the bar, your hair covered the deepening tint on your cheeks.

“So bold.”

“Is that wrong?” he asked, a subtle anxiety obvious in the falter of his shoulders and the shake in his voice. You gave him a smile, taking a final sip of your drink before placing it back on the bar.

“No, no I never said that. Just an observation,” you hummed, “in fact, I’m flattered that your luck relies on me.”

You could tell by the shift in his shoulders that he had regained his confidence, eyes meeting yours again. “Well,” his hand came up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. The moment felt strangely domestic for a bar in the middle of a party, the music in the background sounding much sweeter than you remembered it last, “want to make me a lucky man tonight?”

His hands rested by your ear, waiting for you to answer or for you to swipe it away. You did neither, and instead leaned in, nose to nose with a complete stranger. You saw the way his hand twitched (nervous- cute), and how his eyes remained unmoving but hopeful.

“Alright.”

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

“Fucking finally.”

He lifted you, holding your thighs and resting them on his hips as he pulled your face up to his and kissed you.

There was a frustration on his lips- undoubtedly caused by the way you palmed his trousers in the car, watching as he gripped the steering wheel in thin patience. But beneath it was fervor- not in the slightest sloppy.

But it wasn’t practiced, either. The plush of his lips against yours- the way his teeth occasionally nipped at your bottom lip or grazed your top one. It lacked a coordination that would have felt unnatural. He kissed you like he was sober- like even if liquor hadn’t been in your guts- he’d still want you.

The thought made you pant into his mouth, kissing him with a new ferocity as he carried you through the hall.

He laid you down on something soft. You watched him as he stripped, ignoring the urge to call out something filthy.

Wide shoulders capitalized his broad chest, held up by a collection of muscles- breathing in a hungry rhythm that made you clench your thighs. He looked taller than he did at the bar, pronounced by the reel of his shoulders and the way it rippled down his spine.

He must be some kind of athlete, based on his build. God, he looked near indestructible- even the small of his waist promising a reckoning. You bit your lip- mind wondering if the other parts of him held a similar weight.

He turned towards you, bare to his boxers, stepping over the bunches of clothing that rested on his feet.

There it was again- that lopsided smile. It was harsher now, the ends of it pulled tight into his cheeks, plump in red desire. The base of it wet and swollen- your doing. A surge of pride fuzzed at the base of your hips.

He crawled towards you, arms coming to rest by your shoulders, eyes curiously roaming you figure- still dressed. You swallowed.

You were no virgin- but men always moved fast. Hands shoving up your dress, clothes still on as you fucked half-minded and antsy. Their breath always reeked of alcohol or something stronger- forcing you from the sheets in the early morning before the light found your face.

You weren’t used to leisure- it felt near painful. Watching him see you- lacking a hostility and haste found in most sex. It was graceful without calculation- living in the way he kissed you (evidence enough in your bloated lips) and in the aphrodisia that fanned from the base of his nose.

It was all sobering- and you were still trying to figure out if you liked it.

“Do you like this dress?”

His question grounded you, and you glanced down before nodding slowly. “It’s my favorite.”

He grinned, pulling you forward by the small of your back as his hand found the zipper, eyes still searching yours. “I’ll be gentle with it, then.”

He slipped the zipper down and you shivered- unsure if it was the surge of cool air that assaulted the dip in your spine, or the way his fingers traced the curve of it.

He had that effect on you- it was maddening. To be unsure was unfamiliar. Night after club after party, expectations were met. Sloppy intimacy, driven by the liquor, hot on your tongues as you navigate the unlikelihood of orgasm.

It was the way he looked at you. Stealing (almost preserving, a romantic thought), eating precious time, knowing exactly what he was going to do and how aroused you’d be. He had the upper hand, held the cards, whatever analogy made it easier to swallow.

Your dress was off now, and he sat back on his heels, hands coming to hold the dip in your waist. His thumbs pressing into the supple of your skin, the pad of his print searing into the tender parts of you. Again, domesticity, falling somewhere between appreciated and perturbed.

“You’re beautiful.”

You laughed weakly, unwilling to admit his words tied knots in your stomach, “Then why aren’t you kissing me?”

He laughed (Martini- salt rim. Softer now, warm rum, firewood), coming off his heels before hovering inches above the plunge of your abdomen, leaning on his right forearm as he came face to face with you. “Impatient?”

“No,” you corrected, voice hoarse, “I’m just not used to men being this slow…”

His eyebrows rose, arch carving surprise masked by amusement, before his mouth came to kiss the space between your jaw and your ear, sensitive pulse thrumming humiliatingly fast under his palate.

���Slow? What’s wrong with slow, sweetheart?”

You closed your eyes, resisting the urge to moan as he made his way down your neck, kisses slowly becoming more intense, leaving bubbles of red and pink in their wake. A hand came to brace the base of your neck, holding you still as you tried to keep a semblance of sanity. “W-Well you…it takes you longer to…get to the point.”

He hummed, lips tugging into a smirk on the slump of your collar bone. His hand slipped down from your neck, palming your back as he unclasped your bra. The motion was done delicately, fingers fluttering over the gap in the center of your posture.

How easy it would be, you thought, for him to pull you from the seams.

Unravel the thick knots of arousal that held you together weakly as he cupped your breast with his free hand, navigating the sensitive flesh with eager teeth and tongue. You let a sigh escape the cavern of your lungs- relief. You felt his chest rumble over your stomach- laughter.

“You seem to be enjoying the slow approach.”

Your jaw clicked, your head lifting up- face chastising. He smiled, sitting between your breasts with a proud smile. You glared at him- secretly amused with his antics, “If I knew you were going to be this slow, I would have-hhhuu…”

You were quickly silenced as his tongue padded against your nipple, teeth grazing before moving down your stomach. You let yourself lean back into the pillows, soft fabric cool against your burning muscle. Maybe slow wasn’t…terrible.

His lips drifted until he met the base of your pelvis, a single hand coming to play with the band of your thong, the other sitting teasingly at the small of your back. You grit your teeth, blowing frustrated breath through your nose.

“Ken.” You said, warning.

“Magic word, sweetheart.”

His cadence was conceited- reeling in his own indecency- facing your wet cunt and deciding to wait. It was beyond you- to be patient. Anticipation wasn’t friendly. But the tug in your gut- the beat between your breaths as you watched him smile at you- wanted you to try.

You rolled your head back, avoiding the gaze that brought it out of you. “Please.”

He smiled, satisfied. He pulled the last remaining fabric aside, revealing your sobbing cunt.

You sucked in through your teeth. Cold air, vicious in degree, nestled in the clandestine cavity between your legs. It only amplified the slick, dripping from vulnerable corners in pleas of sticky respite. It leaked, rather unevenly, to the inside of your thighs, covenant to your impatience.

Despite the display, there wasn’t humiliation- only a rapacious desire as you bucked your hips.

Please.

You felt his nose grind into your mound, his tongue finding the fold of your lips. You gasped, rolling your hips forward. Shit.

Weighted lips on the base of your cunt, you scrambled for your dignity. Out of reach, knocked out of your hands- with each new wave of pleasure sent from the base of your spine to the tip of your head. He hummed against you, the vibration against sensitivity pulling your stomach forward in an arch spelling your surrender.

“Oh s-ssshit. Ohsh’it. Ken-fuck,” You were left damseled under his tongue, exploring the early sponge of your walls, “P-please don’t stop…feels…sogood.”

He tilted his chin, tougher bone now grinding against the polish of your lips, his mouth now entirely centered around your defenseless clit.

White knuckles came to grip his hair, a breathless moan rattling behind your teeth, digging into your bottom lip. Patience paid its due, your libido only expanding from your hips to your gut as he continued his slow assault.

Swallowing every ounce of you that slipped through your own breached barricade, staining his mouth with the stench of yielding. He must smell it- your admission of defeat, you confession that God, patience has taught you. Secretly, you hope he’s enjoying it- maybe even addicted.

“Oh fuck- Ken-“

Strangers- saying his name like a chorus. Repeating it until the syllables are sore and it doesn’t taste as sweet. Until it rots your teeth, palpable when your own name starts to sound unfamiliar. Until the underside of your tongue- soaked in drool, has it etched.

Your legs felt your oncoming orgasm first, the familiar shake in your ankle coming up to tense your calves. You pressed them into his cheeks, before he slotted his digits around the pudge of your thigh and pinned them to the bed with a gruff groan.

Don’t do that. It said.

It started to rise to the bed of your spine, and you moaned his name louder with each reckless kiss he laid against your swollen lips. “Ken…I’m close please….close…close...”

The grooves of his tongue worked harsher against the peaking bud, Go on, he wrote, do it.

Blooming in the filthier parts of you. From its spoiled roots, you can feel your orgasm rising and collapsing within the gardens of your stomach. It grows between the liquid bones of your legs, vines beneath coiled veins. In haphazard gasps, you can feel the coolness of petals slip along your tonsils.

Eventually, the garden withers- beautifully. Leaving you, shaking and bare in its wake. You crumple under the lost weight, whimpering when you feel the heat you had wished to memorized separate from the cleft between your legs.

You held a clarity in the moments after- free of allergens and bothersome thoughts- left in a still state of bliss. Where the body numbs, accepting the blunt of orgasm. Or, the state of complete fragility.

In it, you hardly noticed the way Ken stood, wrapping the plush of his palm against your ankle- until he yanked you forward, now flush against his hips.

He leaned over you, the curve of his back now abandoning the lesson he had seemingly been teaching you- patience. Instead, it held the virtue of a man starved- famished. He took a hand to cup your cheek, wiping the sweat that collected under your lashes.

“Sweetheart- you didn’t think we were done, did you?” To accentuate his point, he rutted his hip against you, and you felt the crest of his cock against your puffy lips, and you moaned, feeling the spindles and buds from the garden unearth themselves again.

His had came to grab your chin, squeezing your cheeks as he continues the torturous clothed rhythm against your beaten pussy. It was so vulgar, contrary to the gentleness that had your legs pressed together minutes ago- that, hilariously and pathetically, they began to spread.

(Patience has its limits, even for its preachers).

You bucked your hips, and he shook his head, grip tightening on your sore cheeks. “Use your words, what do you want?”

“M-mmore.”

Unsatisfied. “Of what?”

“Yyou…’ock in m’pussy…pleaseuh…”

There it was again, the sharpening of a knife. The more in his eyes- the lull of normalcy into something larger than words, feral and unkept. You knew he was famous in that moment- no man of the regular vitality would have so much to keep hidden behind the iris of his eyes.

He tore the band of his boxers down to his thighs, his cock flattening on your belly and you hissed, its pulse feverish against you. As he leaned his hips back, he took it in his hand, the other still holding your chin (albeit, tamer), pressing the tip against your weeping lips, still stingy from your orgasm.

You let out a strained gasp. “Fuck, Ken- j-just please fuck me al-“

The sound of him bottoming out was borderline obscene, his length slowly plunging into the stiff dough of your walls, his shuddering breath devolving into a husky moan. Your back arched into him, as if your body was trying to fill you up more than he already did.

Your cunt acted as your hands- feeling around the thick basin of his cock, memorizing the fat vein that slithered up the right side- the shroomed tip hitting your cervix. Just how full you felt then.

As he fell into a slow rhythm, you felt as though he was forcing you to rememorize every patch of flesh and ecstasy in your own cunt. Refamiliarize yourself with your walls as he battered them, the sound of your own body as it’s severed in two- it was all so crude.

His hips rolled into your own, heavy grunts peeling from the roof of his mouth. Empty mumblings and moans thrummed from your lips- nonsensical aloud- but it all felt right with him bruising your insides.

“Hah- this is what you wanted right? To be fucked? You feel good sweetheart?”

His voice was tilted, the grasp of your cunt slurring the modest inflections, defaulting his words to a shameless, pussy drunk husk. He knead the base of his palm against the cushy flesh around your pelvis and you nearly screamed- hand pressing his own cock deeper into you.

“Yes, please please don’t stop- feel so gooodd…so full…”

His pace seemed to push the honesty from your gut to your throat, coming out in spurs of confessionals. Tears pooled at the lining of your eyes, snot dribbling in an immodest drop over the crest of your lips.

Ken took his hand off your chin and swiped a thumb over the veil of sweat and tears from your cheek. “Look at you- such a mess. Such. A. Fucking. Mess.”

He punctuated each word with a particularly harsh thrust, and you could barely hear him speak over your own babbling. Your eyes struggled to see anything of detail, mind foggy in its own relish.

“Ken…Cu…cumm..uh..uh..”

He slowed his pace and you whined in protest, before he grabbed your hips, thumbs digging into the bluntness of your bone. “Not yet.”

Your mind was too murky to collect the next several seconds of movement, but suddenly you were on your face, shoulders hunched over your cheeks, your ass arched in a flattering angle. And before you could process any change at all, he pressed his cock deeper than you’ve felt it.

He must have been deaf to your moans at this point, you gripped the sheets in front of you- the white fabric memorizing the timbre and pitch of your voice as you screamed his name and other useless curses.

The sound of his hips connecting with the pudge of your ass was near sickening, and he bent down, holding your hands in one fist to splay in front of you. He leaned by your ear, his free hand digging a plum grip on your hips.

“Come’n, Sweetheart. Cum for me…you can….hah….do it.”

You did.

The garden was gone. Scorched by something so fiery hot you could barely see. It burned the tendons and muscles beneath your pulsing skin, renewing the flowers for stars. Spots in your vision- comets eroded into something rougher (beautiful, still), the constellations spilling from your drool as you muttered something incoherent and unimportant into the mattress.

He rode you out through your high, whispering your name, capitalized by curses and mutters.

“Hah…shit- fuck oh god I'm cu-uhmm..”

He slipped out, an unflattering sputter echoing somewhere behind you as you felt him drip out on the gaps of your back.

Your ass fell limp to the side, legs crumpling under the weight of your own pleasure- searing. It wasn’t a broken feeling however, being split in two. Your cells buzzed with a ferocity you had been unfamiliar with until now, euphoric, frayed ends playing at the fringes of your mussed hair, the corners of your mouth- lifted.

You shuddered. You weren’t sure what to feel- if anything. Exhaustion and arousal leaked from the intimate parts of you- but anywhere else it was a mystery.

It wasn’t until you felt a warm hand cradling your face that you registered what it could-should be.

Comfort.

“You alive?”

You snorted, sinking into the grooves of his palm. “It wasn’t good enough to kill me.”

Ken raised a brow, body curled next to yours in a position that felt, yet again, domestic. “Oh yeah? I recall you screaming my name loud enough that the neighbors might think I d-“

You placed a hand over his mouth, gentle enough that he could pull it away if he wanted too. You let out a quiet sigh, snuggling closer and laying your head on his arm.

“Shh. Don’t ruin anything by talking. You’re right- whatever…” you yawned, peaking one eye open, a butter smile creasing the base of your cheeks, “you feel lucky yet?”

His hand came to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear- a movement familiar enough you’re beginning to think he had a habit of it. He smiles at you, drowse pulling at the edges of his eyes.

“Yeah. I do."