vividl3ss

[vividl3ss]

Thinking about how all you want is for Choso to just crush you. Like, fully lay his entire weight on top of you. Flatten you like a pancake. And he just… doesn’t get it. He’s a little dense, still new to the whole dating thing. Blinking down at you all confused, head tilted like the sad puppy he is.

“You want me to what? Baby, no, all of my weight??” He frowns, visibly distressed. “That’ll hurt you…”

You whine, tugging at his shirt. “Choso, crush me. It feels good.”

He’s still unsure, slowly lowering himself, but you can feel him holding back. Hovering. His elbows are locked like he’s planking over you. It’s frustrating. Edging you of your desire to be crushed.

“Stop hovering,” you grumble. “Be a man. Squish me.”

He makes a dramatic little noise of betrayal but finally lets himself drop, hot and heavy against your body, muttering, “I don’t get this whole human thing…” while you hum happily beneath him like it’s the best day of your life.

[vividl3ss]

Thinking about how Yandere Outlaw! Geto wakes up the first morning after he took you from your home, only to find you standing over him, barefoot and still in your thin little nightgown, with a pistol pointed right at his face.

Wasn’t quite the greeting he expected. But damn if it isn’t cute.

You’re trembling like a leaf, tears still clinging to your cheeks from last night. Puffy eyes, soft sniffles, messy hair. Poor thing. Still trying to act brave.

He blinks up at you from where he lies on the floor, shirtless, hair down, the loose strands falling across his face looking just like his wanted poster. Slow to sit up, arms raised just a little, he gives you that lazy, wolfish smile, all white teeth and trouble.

“Well now,” he drawls, voice rough with sleep and just a hint of amusement, “that any way to greet the man who gave you the bed?”

He watches the way your grip shakes, how your lip wobbles like you're about to cry again. The pistol in your hands, he recognizes it, of course. His own. Not even loaded. He saw to that last night. You really thought he wouldn’t plan for something like this? A little filly like you, spittin' and kickin'? He'd be dumb to keep a loaded gun around. Can't have you spookin' the horses.

“Don’t want a girl like you handlin’ somethin’ that heavy,” he murmurs, voice dipped in honey and warning. “Might hurt yourself.”

You don’t back down. Not yet. You glare at him with all the fury you can muster, arms quivering, teeth gritted.

“Take me home,” you manage to say. Cracked. Raw. Pleading.

And Geto just laughs, low and slow, a dangerous sound that curls in your stomach. Just like the first shot of whiskey you ever took.

“Take my sweet little filly home?” he repeats, cocking his head slightly. The dim morning light catches on the curve of his jaw, on the shadowed scar near his temple, the tousled strands of inky black hair falling around his face. He looks carved from sin, kissed by dust and blood. “Now sugar… that ain’t gonna happen.”

His gaze darkens just a touch, but the smile never fades.

“See, I’ve killed a man for lookin’ at me wrong,” he says softly, like he’s telling you what time it is. “And here you are - pointin’ a gun at my head. Ain’t that somethin’?”

Your face twists, confused and terrified, but still you don’t pull the trigger. Can’t. And he knows it.

“We all got our vices,” he continues, easy as ever, “and you just so happen to be mine.”

In a blur, the pistol’s out of your hands and clattering to the floor. You barely get a breath before he’s got you scooped into his arms like a bride, the scent of gunpowder and pine and leather clinging to him. He tosses you back onto the bed with zero ceremony, even as you wriggle and squirm against him.

“Oh, hush now,” he murmurs, one large hand pressing your wrist down against the mattress, the other cupping your cheek with almost painful gentleness. “Chickens ain’t even awake yet, and here you are throwin’ a tantrum.”

He presses a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth - soft, unearned, possessive.- and curls around you, a heavy arm wrapped around your waist. A man like him? He doesn’t worry. He doesn’t chase. You can kick and scream all you want Sugar.

You’re not going anywhere.

“You’ll come around,” he whispers into your hair, lashes brushing your temple as his eyes close again. Ignoring all your cryin'. You'll tire yourself out eventually. "Now I think you need some sleep, tame that little attitude of yours."

More yandere outlaw! Geto here!

[vividl3ss]

ring of fire

you forget to wear your ring and the boys start thinking the worst | requested

characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna

warnings: some are a teensy bit angsty, the boys panicking

[vividl3ss]

Cut Fruit

Thinking about all the care Suguru puts in when you stay over for the weekend, how it shows in quiet things. Little things. Like the fruit still sitting on the counter when he walks in, the soft click of the door behind him swallowed by the hush of the apartment. The air cool and dim against his skin, lit only by the amber glow of the under-cabinet lights and the faint hum of the fridge. The sun set a while ago, and the city outside is muffled by blue shadows.

Of course he notices that the fruit he picked out just for you - plump berries in neat cartons, golden mangoes, slices of dragon fruit sealed with care - still sit exactly where he left them. Berries are a little softer now, darker at the edges, despite the cooling of the refrigerator. The mangoes have softened too, their golden flesh a little too eager under the skin.

He exhales through his nose and leans back against the counter, arms folding across the broad span of his chest. The low kitchen lights cast a warm gold over the angles of his face, shadows catching in the curve of his jaw, the tired slope of his shoulders. The kind of exhaustion that lingers after a long day, but it’s already softening. Fading. Because he’s home. Because you’re here in his home.

And all he wants, really, truly, is for you to feel comfortable here. Not just visiting. Not just tiptoeing. Comfortable. The kind of ease where you’d eat what you want, when you want. The kind of comfort where his fridge isn’t his, it’s yours too. A home where you never have to ask for permission.

Oh, what is he going to do with you.

“Baby,” he calls out, low and smooth, his voice like dark silk with a smile stitched into it, “what’s going on here?”

You pad down the hallway a moment later, bare feet soft against the floorboards, tugging at the hem of one of his old shirts. You blink sleepily at him, confused and curious, just like a kitten.

“I got you fruit,” he continues, smirking now, opening the fridge to reveal the untouched cartons inside. The soft white light spills over his features, catching on the faint stubble on his jaw. “You love fruit.”

You don’t say anything at first, just shuffle in closer, slipping your arms around his waist from behind. Your face burrows into the middle of his back, pressed against the cool, work-worn fabric. He smells faintly of sandalwood, a little sweat, and the faint ozone sting of the train he takes home. It’s comforting in a way. It's odd how you grow accustomed to the scent of someone you love.

He sighs, quiet and fond, his large hand drifting down to find yours where they rest against his stomach, fingers interlacing easily. “You feeling okay?” he murmurs, softer now. “I just wanted to make sure you’re eating while you’re here. Can’t have my baby wasting away.”

Your voice is a mumble, muffled against him, somewhere between a whisper and a whine. “You didn’t cut it… You always cut my fruit…”

There’s a silent beat. Just a moment. Only the low hum of the dishwasher and the distant city sounds filtering in through the window.

Then he laughs. That low, velvety kind of laugh that curls around your stomach and makes the butterflies flutter. You can feel it in his chest before you hear it in your ears.

He turns in your arms, his smile smug and a little too charming. Violet eyes glittering like glass in the dim light as he tilts your chin up with two fingers.

“You didn’t eat it because I didn’t cut it?” he repeats, teasingly scandalized. “You’ve got two perfectly good hands, haven’t you?”

You pout. His grin only grows, thumb brushing along your bottom lip.

“God, I really did spoil you,” he says, voice lower now, tinged with affection that pools like warm honey in his chest. “You’ve got me trained like some pretty little househusband, huh?”

Then he leans in, presses a quick kiss to your pout.

“Go sit down, princess,” he tells you with a wink. “I’ll cut your damn fruit.”

You settle onto the barstool, legs swinging lazily as your fingers toy with teh fraying hem of his shirt, maybe you've stolen this one a few too many times.

Suguru washes the fruit and plates it, arranging the pieces by color, sneaking a few extras he knows you like. Then he brings it over, leaning against the countertop, holding the juiciest piece between two fingers.

“Open up for me, baby,” he says with a sly grin, and you do. He might even make a little airplane noise, just to mess with you.

But you don’t mind. Not when it gets you a bite of fruit and a kiss to your cheek. Not when you get to see that fond, stupid smile on his face every time you hum in delight.

Of course, he treats you like a spoiled princess. His favorite girl deserves nothing less.

[vividl3ss]

Sensitive reader cries happy tears

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[vividl3ss]

notes, changed the appearance little bit but hey, your favorite is back!

★ Roommate!Sukuna who brings you to a drive thru after the devils tango.

The sheets are still tangled, warm from everything you just did. Your hair’s a mess. His lip is a little bitten. The air’s heavy with what just happened, but neither of you says anything for a minute.

You’re curled up next to him, your cheek against his chest, listening to the dull thump of his heart under skin still sticky with sweat.

Sukuna stretches a little, groaning like a man thrice his age. "Shit. I'm starving."

You hum lazily. “You’ve got leftover noodles in the fridge.”

"Yeah, and you’ve got no taste. That crap’s soggy as fuck now."

There’s a pause before he mutters, like it's some great secret:

"...You wanna hit the McDonald’s drive-thru?”

You look up at him, blinking. “Seriously?” He glares down at you. “Don’t make me repeat myself, brat. Get your pants.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his car — no bra, hoodie stolen from his floor, your legs crisscrossed in the passenger seat. He’s shirtless with a flannel barely buttoned and hair still damp from a too-quick rinse. He pulls into the drive-thru like a menace.

You lean across him to squint at the menu. “Can I get the spicy—” "You're not getting that, you're a fucking lightweight," he cuts in. “Every time, your stomach dies. And guess who deals with it.”

You flip him off, but he’s already rolling the window down.

“Hi, welcome to McDonald’s, can I take your order?”

Sukuna leans halfway out. “Yeah, gimme a double cheeseburger, large fries, uh… the chicken nuggets—ten piece, not that pussy six one—and a Coke.”

You reach over. “And a McFlurry.”

“No. You always eat two bites and hand me the rest like I’m your damn trashcan.”

“I’ll finish it this time!”

“You said that last week, dumbass.”

You both keep bickering until the voice crackles again. “…You guys done ordering?”

A long pause. Then: "Yeah, we’re done,” Sukuna grits out, running a hand over his face. “Just throw in the fuckin' ice cream, whatever."

You’re halfway through your nuggets, bare feet on the dash, when Sukuna tears off a piece of his burger and hands it to you without looking. “Here. You like the way they grill the patties, right?”

You blink at him. “How do you even remember that?”

“Because I listen, dumbass.” He says it like you’re the idiot for not knowing. “Also, you always fucking moan when you eat it. It’s disturbing.”

You laugh, and he finally glances at you — a little sideways, soft for no reason at all.

Later, when your head’s against the window and your fries are tucked in your hoodie pocket for easy snacking, he glances over again. His fingers brush your knee, resting there casually, grounding you both.

“…Don’t fall asleep, idiot. You’re gonna choke on a fry and I’m not giving you mouth-to-mouth.”

But his thumb strokes slow circles on your leg the whole ride home.

divider by: @cafekitsune

[vividl3ss]

choso is whimpering and whining like a pathetic loser, little tears brimming in his eyes. his hands are fisting the sheets beneath him, trying his best to thrust his hips up but you stopping him from doing so. he whines, "baby, baby please. i-i wanna cum. i need to cum. please let me cum."

you hum in an almost bored tone, slowly stroking him, soft hands and grip tight around him. "hm i don't think you deserve to though."

he lets out an exasperated whine, throwing his head back in frustration. "baby please i can't hold back anymore. please please please," he whimpers, bucking his hips and body trembling underneath your touch.

before you can cover his shiny pearlescent tip with your thumb, he's spurting out ribbons of cum, splattering onto his lower tummy and some of it leaking onto your hands. his whole body quivers at the sensation, having been denied the sweet release of orgasm for far too long.

"fuck 'm sorry," he mumbles pitifully, bottom lip jutting out as he leans in and tries to give you a kiss. but you swiftly turn away and give his cock a rather harsh 'slap'. he gasps at that, legs jolting slightly at the hit. "such a bad boy," you tut, pinching his nipples.

[vividl3ss]

How I look after reading angst as if it was me personally in that situation

[vividl3ss]

Here, But Done

"in which you come back without a word"

featuring. satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen and choso kamo.

content warning. after incident of part one, we've been distant.

notes. i didn't expect that kinda response on part one! thanks a lot.. i hope this is up to the mark.

MASTERLIST

part one | part two

taglist - @flvvffy @lazydelusionsimp @yomama2089 @nina-from-317 @uluvlillypad @v1x3n @shokosbunny @han11dh @ciexuvia @i2s2m @tired-child00 @waywardfanwinner  @fiercedeception 

@emma-37 @deaf-yuri-lover93 @totallygyomeiswife @nekee-lilac02 @bigheartedmichelle @tartartagliaboo @justmare @phantom-101  @probablynotleahhhh 

(if i forgot to tag anyone, i'm sorry. i don't have laptop with me rn, i had to manually write a username and go back to comments. then come back here again)

[vividl3ss]

Just a friend?

"while you're on a long mission away, they get a little bit too close to their new friend'

featuring. satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen and choso kamo.

content warning. angst, sorry not sorry. we had too much fluff. it's time to get sad.

notes. who all do you think is redeemable or not? what should we do next?

MASTERLIST

part one | part two

[vividl3ss]

the digest. mdni, toxic sex/relationship-ish? heated sex with frat!gojo who doesn't wanna admit he's literally in love with you 🍓

he acts like your boyfriend in every way that counts, except for the title. he kisses you with a tenderness that surprises you, unlike anything you've felt before.

he remembers everything: your favorite snacks, colors, and the shows you binge-watch. he even recalls those little things you said once and then forgot. he’s, in essence, the perfect boyfriend – if only he actually were.

"oh, shit, precious," he groans, his fingers digging almost bruisingly into your hips as his thick cock slides deep inside you, filling you completely.

your eyes sting with tears, a near-sob catching in your throat because it feels so incredibly good. "ngh—fuck, d—don't call me that," you choke out, eyes squeezed shut.

gojo, though, is too lost in the moment, too pussy-drunk to deal with any of this right now. he can barely remember his own name, let alone rehash all his reasons for wanting to keep things casual.

"huh?" he mumbles instead, his plan to play dumb and maybe, just maybe, fuck the argument right out of you.

"everyone thinks we're dating," you moan, your eyes rolling back in your head. your nails drag down his back, a desperate attempt to keep yourself from unraveling.

"fuck what th—they think."

"yeah, b—god, but… boyfriends call their girlfriends pet names. we're not boyfriend-girlfriend." you're not quite getting to the heart of it, but you're exhausted from going in circles with him.

he lifts your thighs higher, shifting his angle, hitting that precise spot. your mouth opens, then snaps shut. the argument that was on the tip of your tongue dissolves into a dizzying haze.

"can… can we talk about this later, precious?"

later never comes, though. even then, you're too consumed by the present to truly care. you know gojo's serious about keeping things unofficial, but you crave that label. he's not ready to give it, no matter how long this has been going on. it hurts, but you stay anyway. and so, it continues.

but when he finally comes, shooting thick ropes of white deep inside you, he’s holding back from babbling the i love you that’s on the tip of his tongue.

[vividl3ss]

౨ৎ fratboy!gojo had been burning a hole through you with his stare all night. you'd been laughing with some random guy, acting like gojo wasn't even there. besides, the way that dude was looking at you? ew, he though.

you batted your lashes, tilting your head with what you hoped was an innocent smile, up at the stranger. one hand twisted a strand of your hair, the other clutched a half-empty plastic cup — a drink gojo hadn't bothered to get you.

honestly, it was grating on him, having to watch you like that. watching some other guy who was practically drooling over you. so, yeah, in his slightly-messed-up mind, his actions were totally justified.

now, your gaze was fixed upwards again — but this time, it was on him. where it belonged, in his opinion. your lashes were slick with tears, mascara smudged artfully across your cheeks, your hair mussed from his fingers tangling in it.

he'd cornered you in the bathroom, cutting the ridiculously long line and just barging in (scaring the absolute shit out of you without so much as a word). but hey, it was his frat house. his rules.

"j— jesus," he grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head. "you say you're virgin, huh? taking my cock like a damn slut, cherry." your hands were busy too, one sliding up and down his length, the other cradling his heavy balls.

you were practically choking on him, your moans and whimpers swallowed by his thick shaft. at first, he'd actually tried. tried to be gentle, remembering that you'd only he one other time you'd only done this one other time — with him.

but patience had gone out the window fast. now, he was using your face, each thrust of his hips sending the blunt head of his cock slamming against the back of your throat.

gojo thought he'd died and gone to heaven. your mouth was so hot and wet, eagerly engulfing every inch he offered. "you— you're doing s'good," he choked out, his jaw tight. (you might've heard a tooth crack.)

you were gagging, and a part of him was terrified you'd actually throw up, but damn, you were determined. and who was he to stop you? after all, the initial idea had been to take things slow, maybe learn a few new things. this definitely counted as new.

"w— was it worth it?" gojo asks, likely rhetorical. "whoring off to some idiot like that, huh?"

drool slicked your chin, followed by a stream of tears. your cheeks hollowed with each deep stroke, feeling the frantic throb beneath your tongue, the way he strained against your mouth. the pressure built, a dull ache spreading in the back of your throat as he thrust deeper.

you didn't get a warning, just a slight tremor in his grip on your hair before his heavy balls clenched, and he spilled thick, hot seed into your mouth.

it caught you off guard, but what really threw him was the way you swallowed every last drop. every single bit.

his eyes were wide as he helped you stand, watching you brush off your sore knees.

"ch— cherry, you know you didn't have to... i mean, i should've pulled out, i'm sorry—"

you give him a lop-sided grin, "don't be silly. i wanted to."

oh. oh.

gojo might not be your boyfriend, but he sure pressed a soft kiss to your tear-streaked, mascara-smudged cheek like one.

[vividl3ss]

sometimes gojo is actually just all talk.

sometimes, he'll spend the entire day teasing you about how mean he's going to be in bed that night. he has you drink a ton to stay hydrated, smothers you in affections to establish just how much he loves you, all because he has every intention of fucking you that night like he hates your guts.

he'll wash his eyes over your skin, take in the lack of bite marks and bruises, and lets his imagination run wild at how many different way he's going to wreck you come evening. maybe he'll tie you up, press a vibrator to your clit and fuck you through orgasm after orgasm until you're a crying, begging mess. or maybe he'll deny your orgasm altogether... edge you within an inch of your sanity just to ruin your sweet release. maybe he'll be really mean and make you watch him jerk himself off: no touching, or feeling, or cumming alongside him unless you're real sweet and wanna clean his cock up after.

and, in his defence, sometimes he does go through with these plans. he can be mean and cocky and a sadist at times and you do love him for it.

but sometimes, after building up for a long night of pain and pleasure, satoru gojo will get his pretty lover in bed just to change his mind. with every intention of fucking some tears out of you, he'll press his lips to yours and melt all too easily.

and before you know it, he's abandoning the ropes and restraints to instead hold your hand over his heart as he rocks his cock ever so slowly inside of you. eyes glazed over and the sweetest of praise dripping from his lips to your ears.

"i love you, you're so pretty, you feel so good. can't believe you're mine, baby, what'd i do to deserve you?"

and you, always swooned by satoru's sudden softness, let him pepper kisses all over your face as he makes love to you slow and deep. and you wipe his eyes when tears start to fall, because your man can sometimes be a sensitive one, who needs to lose himself in you before he can get back to the kinky shit.

not that you don't tease him for it. "thought you were gonna fuck me dumb?"

"can't. can't can't can't. i think i want to become a part of you, you know? so that we're always like this and i'm never apart from you. sound good?"

"sounds perfect."

[vividl3ss]

Networking Fun

Smau: in which no one is on their best behaviour pt3 Warnings: angsty, swearing, irrational/petty reader?, annoying/obtuse/dick-ish jjk men possibly, cursing, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

[vividl3ss]

Networking Fun

Smau: in which they quickly grow very close with your bestie pt2 Warnings: angsty turn of events perchance?, cursing, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

[vividl3ss]

Networking Fun

Smau: in which you ask them to befriend your bestie pt1 Warnings: fluff, kind jjk men...or are they?, not proofread (it's still a little hard for me to stare at a screen) Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

[vividl3ss]

notes, I can smell the requests from a mile away.

genre. smut, MINORS DNI!

★ Roommate!Sukuna after crossing a line as roommates.

You weren’t stupid.

You knew what happened that night on the couch wasn’t just about heat. It was months of tension breaking open — long stares, petty fights, tight silences that dragged on too long, and finally, him, on your lips and in your throat like he’d been dying for it.

You thought maybe it would stop there.

A one-time mistake. A line crossed, then never spoken of again.

But then came the next morning.

You were in the kitchen, groggy and still wearing his damn t-shirt. Sukuna walked in, shirtless, scratched red from your nails, hair a mess. He looked at you for exactly one second before pulling you in by the waist and kissing your neck without a word.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he whispered, “C’mere,” and dropped to his knees again — right there by the fridge.

Didn’t even ask.

Didn’t need to.

That became routine.

A few nights later, it was the kitchen again. You were making ramen, talking on the phone, completely unaware of him watching you from the doorway with that expression — dark, hungry, smug.

The second you hung up, he was on you. Bent over the counter, shirt yanked up, mouth on you like he hadn’t tasted anything all day. You came shaking against the cabinets, one hand gripping the edge of the sink, the other shoved into his hair.

He didn’t say anything after. Just smirked, tapped your thigh, and told you to finish your noodles.

No sex. Not yet.

It wasn’t some agreement you made. It just hadn’t happened. He hadn’t pushed. You hadn’t offered.

But everything else? Fair game.

Showers together? Happening.

You’d be rinsing shampoo out of your hair, and he’d slip in behind you, hands on your waist like he owned the space. He’d press lazy kisses to your shoulder while lathering your soap onto your skin — never crossing the line, but toeing it so hard you sometimes had to leave the shower early just to breathe.

You tried to play it cool.

Tried to act like you weren’t thinking about his mouth constantly, like your legs didn’t shake when he brushed past you in the hallway, like your thighs didn’t clench whenever he muttered something low and smug in your ear.

But the switch flipped when you brought up boundaries.

It was casual. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling. He sat beside you, hand on your thigh — not doing anything, just there. Like it belonged.

You cleared your throat. “We should talk.”

He didn’t look up from his phone. “Talk about what?”

“This whole… situation. Whatever we’re doing. We should set some boundaries.”

That got his attention.

Sukuna glanced over at you, lazy smirk forming. “Boundaries?”

“Yeah. Like… no jealousy. No acting like this is something it’s not.”

He laughed.

Actually laughed.

“Right,” he said, nodding like he was agreeing with you. “Not a relationship.”

You felt a knot twist in your chest.

But you didn’t argue. You just said “right” and got up to make tea.

That should’ve been the end of it.

Except it wasn’t.

Because two days later, Sukuna showed up outside your job.

Not just waiting outside — leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed, eyes scanning the sidewalk like a bodyguard with a grudge.

You blinked. “Did I ask you to pick me up?”

He looked you up and down, unimpressed. “Didn’t feel like waiting for you to Uber through creeps.”

The next day, it was his hand on your lower back when you were out shopping. The next, it was his arm slung around your waist in public. Then it was him glaring down a barista who complimented your smile.

You finally snapped.

“You’re being weird.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

You turned to face him in the hallway, arms crossed. “You said it’s not a relationship.”

“It’s not.”

“So why are you acting like my boyfriend?”

He shrugged, completely unfazed.

“Just making sure you don’t forget who you’re fucking.”

Your jaw dropped.

He stepped closer, mouth curling into a smirk, voice dropping low.

“Or do you want someone else to find out how good your legs shake when I’ve got my tongue in you?”

You shoved his shoulder. “Sukuna.”

He just grinned, eyes dancing. “What? I’m being respectful. Not like I’ve fucked you. Yet.”

You hated how your breath hitched at the word.

He stepped even closer, brushing hair out of your face with one ringed hand.

“When I do, though…” he whispered, voice like sin, “boundaries won’t save you.”

Then he kissed your cheek — slow, deliberate — and walked away.

Just like that.

Leaving you hot, bothered, and one hundred percent aware that your situationship had stopped being casual the second he got your taste in his mouth.

Taglist, @humeysaga @williamafton26 @aranisbaee @probablynotleahhhh @probablynotleahhhh. @beaniesayshi @levifiance @rinofcike @fushiguroooozzz @gojoscumslut @bellsoftheball @kunascutie. @after-laughter-come-tears. @minasuniverse, @chewiebee @ilovebeansya @drowsysausagedog, @shroomysstuff, @angel4-miba @paperalphys.