Art References in Jujutsu Kaisen s3 opening: The Kiss - Gustav Klimt // The Scream - Edvard Munch // Ophelia - John Everett Millais // Dead mother l - Egon Schiele // Two Sleeping Children - Peter Paul Rubens // Camille Monet and a Child in the Artist's Garden in Argenteuil - Claude Monet
Synopsis. Dearest gentle reader, The Ton are aflutter - and so are our hearts - for, this season, Lord Geto Suguru seeks a wife. Yet be warned, dear reader, whispers abound that Lord Geto has an eye for a particular lady that bites - you. And his lordship knows how to bite back.
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!viscountess!reader, viscount!Geto, BRIDGERTON AU, enemies-to-Iovers, regency AU, he’s a rake, scandal sheets, The Ton, PlNING Geto, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, spítting, p talking, síxty-nine, chokíng, he’s BIG, making it fit, full neIsons, arguing during it, tummy buIges, pressing down, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, teasing, PÚSSYDRÚNK GETO, creampíes, overstim, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 9.4k
A/N. Hehehe I told you babygirls I’d do it-
“Are the young ladies of this season truly so easily won by a pleasing smile and absolutely nothing more?”
A chuckle. “So you find my smile pleasing, My Lady?”
A few gasps. “I find your opinion of yourself entirely too high.” The scandal sheets were practically writing themselves. You could envision it already: ‘The Rake and the Spinster—the most unpromising match of the season!’
Of course, it was entirely Viscount Geto Suguru’s fault.
All because he simply had to saunter up to your little group at this evening soirée; he simply had to leave them swooning with a mere bat of his lashes. Feline eyes meandering down your body, you could catch the exact moment that his lips curled for a fight.
“And-” You sniff, hand urging to pull back as he presses a lingering kiss on the back of your palm. “-only in your most fantastical dreams would I be ‘your’ lady, Lord.”
You can feel Geto’s grin curl on your skin, “For now.”
You balk—what was that supposed to mean?
Geto huffs out in priggish laughter like he could read that exact sentiment on your face. Instead, turning back to the group surrounding you two, clutching feathered fans and flutes of champagne like it would hide the way they were listening in.
And oh, were they listening in.
The twirling couples on the dance floor were ebbing themselves closer and closer towards your corner of the gathering just to overhear. Dukes upon ladies upon elderly merchants were stuffing themselves behind the draperies and seasonal lilies - all to bear witness to your brush with him.
It was common knowledge among The Ton that the viscount of the Geto Estate and the viscountess of yours - well, you - would rather trek through mud than even bear to stand in the same room. Something about old family disputes and a few business dealings gone wrong - as long as you two didn’t have to speak to one another, then all was…tolerable.
Which was impossible when it just-so-happened that you both were debuting yourselves in the market for marriage this season.
Coincidentally.
And it’s a wonder that you can stare up into his handsome face and not want to slap it. Scowling, “If you believe that for even one second I would consider being bedded by you-”
“Of course not.” The dark-haired man waves off, baritone lilting into that teasing purr it does whenever he knows he’s about to leave you seething. “The Ton might know me to be a rake, but not even I should fall so low.”
A few whispers pluck up, even louder than the orchestra. But you only raise a challenging brow, meeting Geto’s half-lidded gaze head-on. “Is that why you stare at me so?”
“Hm?” Geto tilts his head, and his long, long braid of inky hair sways behind him. Leaning in with an almost-believable look of confusion, “How so?”
“You’re aware how so, Lord Geto. You’re doing it at this very moment.”
“I fear I am befogged, My-”
Another step.
Out of pure pride, you physically stop yourself from taking a step back- “Not-”
Another.
“My Lady.”
And another.
Geto Suguru was fully in your line of vision now, obscuring your sight of the wide-eyed aristocrats around you both. And you could hear your etiquette tutor screaming bad manners at you inside your head as you freeze, almost chest-to-chest with the most alluring bachelor of this soirée. Perhaps even this season, though the sane part of you would not admit that.
And you could take in each and every detail of him.
From the broad, towering stature of his body, fitting out his intricate black n’ gold suit so sensually, at least a head above most of the audience- to the strands of raven hair framing his cheekbones. He had plush lips that were so rude, and delicate features that might have been carved by the devil himself. You almost understood why it was claimed that several ladies fainted each time he stepped into a room.
Geto Suguru was beautiful.
And he was staring down at you like he knew of his effect, so close that you could count each inkling of grey in those amethyst irises.
“Enlighten me.” Geto hums, scorched breath heating your face. His tone dips low—“How do I look at you, pretty lady?”
You have to force your larynx to strangle out, “Like- like you wouldn’t mind if I boxed your ears for calling me that.”
He looks like he expected no less of you. “What a dangerous mouth.” And could not be any happier than he was now. Before you can even think, Geto sweeps your right hand into his and plants a second, soft kiss. “Yet, indeed I would not mind, My Lady.”
Somewhere behind you, you’re hearing a few elderly ladies laugh fondly, as if the pair of you were the sweetest courting couple.
And Geto straightens his tall figure back, tipping his head in a bow. “I bid you the most excellent season.”
You narrow your stare, “And to you, Lord.” Under your breath- “Uncouth fellow.”
Under his- “Bluestocking.”
“Rake.”
“Prude.”
“Cease it.”
He bats his lashes innocently, volume raising just a pitch. “May you find a husband just as…charming as you, pretty lady.”
You smile back, “And may you find any wife at all, Lord Geto.”
His dark brows raise, cheeks tinting red just slightly—before Geto waltzes back into some other corner of the heavily-decorated hallway - surely to sweet-talk more débutantes than he can possibly remember.
You’re left, slightly breathless, as you turn back to your little group. Now tittering amongst themselves as the crowd begins to disperse, whispering.
This season was undoubtedly in full swing.
“Well…” You’re starting, more to cut through their nonsensical rigmarole than anything. You tip back your glass of champagne in one gulp, “With that blessing, I believe it is certain that I shan’t find a husband this season.”
Oh, how mistaken you were.
.
.
.
Dearest gentle reader,
While you may have been reading Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo & Juliet’, the most fortunate Ton attending last night’s soirée were living in it. And where scandal waltzes, Viscount Geto Suguru is most sure to ask for a dance.
Handsome, alluring, and sly as a cat; this author’s reliable informants have whispered that only one feigns allergy to his lordship’s charms. Yes, gentle reader, our one and only headstrong viscountess found herself pulled into the midst of Lord Geto’s courtship, despite their famous family feud.
Those who happened upon the interaction shared sordid details of the blossoming couple’s plans to—forgive my forwardness—bed, and the viscount’s notorious flirtations. Gentlemen, this author kindly suggests that you surrender your bouquets, because witnesses claim that Viscount Geto was all the viscountess could speak of all night.
Of course, his lordship was no better with her. It leaves no question why both heads of estate have debuted in unison.
I, for one, cannot contain myself at the thought of perhaps the most promising match of the season.
Yours Truly,
Lady Whistledown.
.
.
.
“Quite the news this fine day, don’t you think?”
“Of course you would be the type to read a washrag such as those papers.” You don’t greet Viscount Geto Suguru at the horse races, and he doesn’t seem inclined to greet you, either. “Does it help memorize your prospects?”
Whether it be out of pure petty regards, or the fact that the crowd surrounding you two was gawking at the conversation, you were unsure. And you find your fist clenching into the fabrics of your silken riding robes, realizing that so many onlookers had scrambled and piled to seat themselves next to you. And that left only one open seat - next to him.
With as much of a dignified huff as you can muster, you sit next to Geto and swear you hear a few gasps from behind. Training your eyes firmly on the ready line of horses ahead, perhaps if you pretended that he was a tree stump you were seated beside and nothing more-
“How should you know they’re washrags unless you’ve read them, too?”
Your head snaps towards Geto- only to find that he was already looking at you. Rosy lips curled till there was a dimple at the edge of his smirk, eyes twinkling.
You sputter hotly- “Wh-what?”
He’s repeating, despite it behind a rhetorical question. “How should you know they’re washrags unless you’ve read them, too?” The viscount tips his high hat back so he can twist his features with mock curiosity, leaning in. “Does it help memorize my prospects, My Lady?”
“Your prospects are of no concern to me, Lord Geto.”
“Is that so?”
“My Estate was simply in uproar at my association with such an ignoramus fellow such as yourself, of course.” You’re looking down at him somehow, even though he managed to tower his frame above yours. Shoulders against shoulders. Scoffs against scoffs. “My poor ears had no choice but to be punished with those fibs this morning.”
And it was quite true…almost.
With the mantle of head falling on you, your family weren’t ones to question your choices in dalliances. No matter how…questionable.
So when you’d been delivered your copy of Lady Whistledown’s society papers, you’d expected to see yourself in it. Perhaps a line or two about the altercation with Geto - at most, a paragraph.
But finding the story spun to last the entirety of the scandal sheets left your poor Estate rumbling at the impact of your scream. Hell, one of your attendants had sent urgent summons for the palace healer - and your friend - Shoko.
Only for her to smack a cold washcloth over your forehead and threaten you to stop reading.
Too late; you’d already flipped through all there was to - and so had half the kingdom, certainly. You had not found yourself in the middle of Geto’s courtship, you had not talked about plans of bedding.
And you had most definitely not spoken of him all night - it was miffed complaining! Only complaints! You two were far from the most promising match of the season. And at this rate, you would find yourself unwed and squabbling with a certain viscount till you were aged.
In fact, the reason you found yourself early at the horse races was for the sole purpose of forgetting that those papers ever existed - and Geto.
Unfortunately for you, he seemingly had the very same idea. And here was the pretty, buttoned-up problem, startling you out of your whirlwind of thoughts with two fingertips tracing the shell of your ear.
Pointer and middle, tracing the shape like a frigid breeze.
“Poor ears. Poor ears indeed.” Geto tuts, and you could catch the snicker threatening to break across his maw. “So it was merely a soirée tale that you were speaking of me all night, My Lady?”
Something at the pit of your stomach lurches, and your words come out higher than they usually were. “But of course. Surely you can’t be that involved with yourself to believe that you were all I could think of all night?” You’re sure that you’re being watched now, instead of the awaiting race.
And at his shrug you find yourself almost incredulous - almost wondering. “Why, then am I to believe that you spoke of me all night, like the papers claimed?”
Another infuriating shrug - and you don’t know whether it’s the mere action or the absence of an answer that leaves you biting back an audible groan. A strange part of you almost wanted to know.
“Fear not, you will find out, I assure you.” Almost like he was reading your face, Viscount Geto glances at you - then back at the race.
You hated to admit it, but he had chosen the perfect seat. It was in the very first row, with your line of vision optimally falling upon the kicking horses, readying for sprint. It was one that you would have chosen yourself - and, often, you did. Except for the days that Geto Suguru had arrived first to the races, and you had to situate yourself yards away, of course.
The dark-haired man stands up and continues, “In a bet.”
“A bet? And I am to trust you?”
“Believe it to be but business.” Strong arm stretching out to point, you reluctantly follow his finger to the stark white stallion in the far corner of the starting line. Keen eyes yellowish, long mane coiled. “I wager that the Geto Estate’s Rainbow Dragon shall beat yours in this race. In the rare instance I lose, I shall share the answer you seek.”
You, of course, would never be left behind. And you stand up yourself, toe-to-toe.
You’re staring at your own estate’s horse - your short-haired, cream Manta Ray. It would be a close one. You’re feeling anticipation bubble up inside you as the announcer raises his pistol to the sky, finger tracing the trigger in a signal to start. “And if, heavens forbid, you win?”
Geto’s lips curl up in a smile. “The two of us shall cross that bridge when we come to it, pretty lady.”
.
.
.
Dearest gentle reader,
Yesterday’s races ended in a sweep-all for the Geto Estate’s Rainbow Dragon, as my avid horse-racing readers may already be aware. But like all good gossip of the season, it doesn’t simply end there!
Lord Geto Suguru was witnessed not only basking in the victory of his stallion - but also his latest blossoming courtship. The Ton was positively abuzz at the presence of the viscountess, and it is rumored that the very special pair were discussing the announcement of their engagement. Why, this author has her pen at the ready if the lord and lady wish for a certain set of papers to report on their romantic activities.
However, some of my informants swear that the couple was seen in a muddy squabble towards the end of the race, and it is certain that agreeing upon wedding decorations is difficult for even the most fated of matches. Isn’t it a passion that just makes one swoon?
But patience is a virtue, dear reader. And, for now, we will have to wait to see this wedding come to fruition.
Until then, I suggest you don your finest silks, tinker your most exquisite embroidery, and practise those curtsies - for this author has reason to believe that Her Majesty’s watchful eye will soon gaze at The Ton in search for her new Diamond of the season!
Yours Truly,
Lady Whistledown.
.
.
.
It was not a bridge that should have been crossed.
It was a bridge that should have been deconstructed, made a mull, and absolutely burned.
At least, Viscount Geto Suguru imagines that’s what you must have been pondering that day after the races. After all, there’s not much else that would provoke the notoriously level-headed viscountess into storming away so fast that you’d nearly planted right into a spectacular pool of mud.
(You had, in reality - and so had he, in his valiant attempts to save you. But there was a silent understanding between the both of you to pretend that didn’t quite happen, and that neither had been drenched in clumps of mud that day.)
But it was all to be blamed on his immediate request upon winning the wager, as if he had kept this in mind all along. His request: for you to join him at the upcoming Royal Diamond Ball.
Join him.
Not simply as a reluctant acquaintance, not even as an unlikely cordial friend. But on Geto Suguru’s arm.
But that was a week ago. And here you were.
Your fingers quivering on his firm, bulging bicep through his velvet jacket. Being escorted inside the ball by the very man you’ve despised for so long.
It was gorgeous, and even more. Spirals of florals cascaded from each nook and cranny of the enormous chamber, lit with flickering candles that illuminated the ballroom like miniature suns. It was Spring, diamonds, and the thrill of heady romance. The dazzling silks of each débutante fought for attention - and yet, it was stolen instantly by you.
It was like the orchestra had suddenly drowned their music underwater the moment you two made your grand entrance; every dancing couple misstepped, every mouth gaped mid-sentence or mid-bite, every pair of eyes snapped to you.
You swear, by the far end of the royal ballroom, you could see Her Majesty the Queen straighten upon her throne to steal a closer look.
Fuck.
“Why, as expected, we’re all The Ton shall gossip about for weeks, My Lady.” Geto’s confident croon graces your ears, and he suavely leads you to one gilded corner.
Standing beside you, he bears no hesitation before leaning in- shoulders brushing shoulders, the viscount’s deep voice curling around your eardrums. Slow. Almost sensual. “You shine everyone else down, pretty lady.”
“Shamming it with flattery won’t win me over.” You’re massaging your temples, weary.
“I could never lie to you.”
It had been a week of this.
A week of having the notorious Geto Suguru make each of your attendants swoon with his mere presence inside your Estate. A week of him driving you positively crazed, teasing you with that coy mouth until you snapped. A week of him observing you, hard enough that once Geto had presented you with a dark blue satin gown for tonight, studded with tiny diamonds - it had your perfect measurements.
It was tailored to you, and it tailored him to you.
And he was proudly running his thumb down the sleek fabric of his waistcoat, the same shade as your dress. Long hair tied back, medals dazzling. “I believe I always have been honest with you, My Lady. In every instance but one.” Silently, he stares at the dancefloor behind him as the orchestra muses out a slow, romantic waltz. Then back at you, with an open palm and a deep bow- “May I have this dance?”
“You wish to dance with me?” Almost balking.
He pretends to give a sweeping look around the hall, “I see no other prettier lady, nor one I would like to dance with.”
“And I see no gentleman I wish to dance with. At all.”
“Oh, my apologies.” Geto edges closer, and you already know the next words to befall from his mouth won’t bode well for you. “I have failed to realize that you are frightened.”
Scoffing, “Frightened of dancing with you? Oh, please-” You’re carefully watching the playful raise of his dark eyebrows. The way his palm curls open in your direction ever-so-slightly - yet, still not completely, as if he was the one almost frightened.
And you can only nod. “Fiend seize it- but only because it wouldn’t do well for you to go without dancing the entire night, your prospects shall be rather put off.”
“I am honored by your benevolence, My Lady.”
“Charmed.”
“Smitten.”
“Cease.”
Tentatively, you’re led to the middle of the ballroom.
Where Geto was slowly - almost agonizingly - stepping into your heated proximity. His near-trembling hand falls upon your waist, the other clasping your hands.
And, sweetly, you’re being twirled. Your feet instinctually find their rhythm with the lilting melody, forming little boxes as you’d been taught during dance classes upon classes - never touching, constantly orbiting each other.
“Curious.” You’re the first to speak, staring into Geto’s lowered, questioning eyes, “I believed you would be more…” Trailing off at the gentle, gentle drag of his hand down the back of your bodice. “-uncouth.”
He tugs you even closer, “Would you like me to be?”
“It would be better if we leave the scandals to the wed.” Squirming in his arms, you somehow manage to burrow yourself even deeper. And you can feel the whispers, the eyes-
“Should you wish us to be?”
Breath catching, “What?”
“F-forgive me-” And there’s something you can’t quite understand in his pupils as he looks away, though that only displays the burning rouge of Geto’s high cheekbones. “I jest-”
“You find amusement in enraging me, don’t think I haven’t noticed, Lord Geto.” His predatory eyes widen. You dare to tuck a palm onto his cheek and make him look at you, an action that sets the gallery alight with whispers. “But right now, I do not believe you jest. Or should the reputed rake of the season fear speaking his mind with a prospect?”
It was in the way his face was scarlet, in the thud-thud-thud of his heart beating through his chest. And in the way that you had made Geto Suguru of all people stutter.
The crowd bustles ever-closer, craning their bedazzled necks to spy a better look when Geto tucks his sizzling face into the crook of your neck. Whispering, “Of course I fear you.” Scandalous, and yet, neither of you could bring yourselves to care at this very moment. “Of course. Oh, you’re no prospect, you’re the bane of my existence.”
And then the viscount hums gutturally - drinking in your scent, your slight gasp. He lets it all out into the skin of your throat—“But no. No, I do not jest at all, My Lady.”
.
.
.
Geto Suguru has been in love with you since the very moment he laid eyes on you.
All those years ago. Since the moment he’d attended the horse races as the all-new viscount of the Geto Estate- only to wind up seated next to you, the equally fresh viscountess who won the race that day and didn’t hesitate to goad in his face. To challenge him. To scoff at his flirtations.
But, right now, he believes himself to be almost as deeply in-love with the pretty, pretty wet noises he was pulling out of you.
“N-ngh, mmm, Lord Geto-” Skirts pooling around you. Thrown over the armrest of a couch in some hidden-away gazebo of the royal gardens. “Fuck!”
All Geto has to do is drag the rough, honed edge of his thumb between the swollen lips of your pussy before you’re gushing. The slimy stream of slick that makes the viscount lick his lips greedily, “You utter my last name even whence I’m between your legs, My Lady?”
Barely - just barely - you manage to raise your head mere inches off of the dampened cushion.
Whirling it over your shoulder to where Geto was kneeled on the floor from behind, “W-would you rather I call you a hngh- ‘buzzard’ or a ‘chit’, then?”
“Now, isn’t that simply hurtful—” He’s crooning out, and something in his voice was dangerously husky. And the next few syllables escaping his smoky throat were barely even audible past the embarrassing squeeeelch of your thin undergarments being tugged to the side. Snapping the side of your thighs- “What do we say, hm?”
“S- oh! S-” Strangling out moans at the feeling of the chilly night air tickling your slope.
He’s edging even closer, tendrils of his breath heating up your wet pussy. He was so ravenous that specks of Geto’s dewy drool dripped down onto your legs. “Yeeees–?”
“Cease it!”
The very moment that response is being mumbled from your lips, Geto’s departing something from his - a large, sticky wad of spit that splashes between your sultry pussylips. He’s sticking a thumb between your folds and watching as his mess webs up your entrance.
“Forgive me, I must clean that mouth o’ yours up, pretty lady.” Before striking your cunt with yet another wet hit of saliva. “Again.” And another. “Again-”
You’re whimpering, spine arching into the perfect curvature on top of the loungechair. And Geto only swabs his thumb on the fleshy insides of your pussylips, teasingly. Grunting, “Such a wanton mouth on ya.”
“Please-” You could feel his flicking lips reaching closer, mere millimeters away just to make you sob in need. “Please- I only have so much patience-”
“I’m well aware-” And before you know it, your pussy’s being stained with another knotted glob of saliva. And as you moan, he’s snickering- “Consider that revenge for the harm you’ve done to my- oh, heart. And this…”
The way that he’s then easily sinking in nose-deep was just pure greed.
Raw, primal; the minute that Geto’s scratchy taste buds hit the front of your cunt, he’s slickly slipping and easing his tongue in everywhere. Anywhere.
Poking n’ prodding.
Lapping up every ounce of slick clinging to your pussy like he was a man dying of thirst- and he was addicted to your hot core. Oh, he was addicted. Your knees drag on the couch cushion once Geto takes ahold of your waist and hauls you deeper down onto his handsome face.
“Mmmm–” His glossy, puckered lips slurp at the wet folds of your pussy. You’re feeling the underside of his tongue slither down to flick at your clit and makes you drool - from both sets of lips. “She’s more hah- honest than you. Aren’t you, pretty lady?”
The straight line of his nose bridge tucks in even deeper, in such a lecherous way you feel so stuffed. “I-I’m not-”
“Not you.” And you could almost hear the roll of his hazed peripherals.
The smug, sleazy grin across his face as Geto tickles your glistening hole with his tongue. You were clenching ‘round nothing, feeling such a delicious streeeetch once he’s pumping inside. Muffling out- “Her.”
And the Lord Geto Suguru that you knew was suave. He was smooth.
But the man between your honeyed legs was simply messy– just thrust after aching thrust of his maw. Geto’s attractive jawline was stretched so wiiide open, damn near swallowing you whole. He flattens his tongue just to pry apart your walls - again.
And again. “Aren’t you?” And again. Letting off some of the most sinful noises that make your heart race, “Aren’t you, pretty lady?”
Calling your treacly pussy by that nickname that drove you wild.
“Who’d have thought that you’d be oh- hiding suuuuuch a gorgeous, gorgeous lady under all that snark and mouth.” Almost grumbling at the fact that he wasn’t granted this chance earlier.
“Heavens- you’re f-fast-” And Geto’s rovering his gaped mouth all over, not leaving even an inch of your outer pussy.
Mercilessly, he’s thrashing his textured tongue on the roof of your cunt and you have to throw your hand behind you and shove back at his forehead.
Unsure whether you wanted to hold him or push him away.
But you didn’t have to choose - Geto’s making the choice for you.
In a swift instant, he’s fighting against your strength and gnawing down on the thin fabric of your underwear. Murmuring, “And- these-” Soon enough you’re hearing the sharp rip-rip-riiiip of him tearing your undergarments with his mouth. “-skirts.”
“Suguru–!” You’re trilling out, watching as Geto spits out the tattered remnants of your panties.
Quickly, both his hands smear open your bloated pussylips. And he doesn’t waste a second - not even a nanosecond - before diving deeper.
All bared open for him, he’s flopping out his lengthy tongue to soften up your tight hole. Making you feel his flicking, wet crown with thrust after thrust- “You’re so- soooo fucking wet.”
“You’re- hah!” Choking on both sobs n’ whines as his perky tastebuds sizzle against the sweet spots of your walls, Geto was fucking you with his tongue the way he was aching to with his cock. “-talking f-far more than you should, Lord Suguru.”
“And what shall you do about it, My Lady?”
He was about to find out.
Oh, he didn’t have a clue.
The viscount was practically stunned as you immediately lurch your hips away, chasing your pussy with a pathetic whine.
But you’re holding firm- dragging him up by the intricate, posh lapels of his jacket. You’re helping Geto impatiently lay himself down on the couch, face straddled between your two thighs. Backwards.
So his mouth was hovering underneath your pussy, and yours was gulping impatiently as you struggled with the buckles of his dress pants. Such a lewd sixty-nine position that made him crane his head up n’ lick between your tender folds with a whimper, “Mmm, let me partake in my dessert at once, My Lady.”
“Patience is a virtue.” You tut, finally succeeding in undressing his lower half. And oh-
Oh, fuck.
You gape.
Geto Suguru…was huge.
About eight, perhaps even nine solid inches that throbbed even fatter the more intensely you were staring at him. Huge and pretty- the first thing you’re making out is the ruby-red cap of his shaft, glossy with a syrupy layer of precum.
Your needy thumb wipes it off, only to have Geto’s leaky orifice weep out even more of his sticky sap. Drip-dripping down the ridges of his thick cock, travelling between his four prominent veins, disappearing into his slightly unruly tuft of jet black at the base. They looked like they’d positively ruin you from the inside out.
And Geto was bucking up like he wanted to do exactly that.
“‘Nough-” He’s cutting himself off with a gasp, “Enough admirin’, fuck! Just- oh.”
So, so sensitive. You’re blowing your heated air down on the mushroomy tip of Geto’s erection, and watching as he sprays out in pre.
Grinning, “Language. Seems like someone was on the verge of cumming in their pants, Lord Suguru.”
“I’ve fucked my fist raw to the image of your furious face at the- hngh, races that day, My Lady. Have mercy.” He’s babbling out, such pure honesty from just how pussydrunk he was. With your pussy mere millimeters away and dripping like a waterfall into his mouth.
The top of Geto’s tongue spanks down on your teary slope the very moment that he perks his hips up. Pre-glazed tip swabbing your lips like those shimmering lipstains you’ve seen some other nobles wear.
He feels the hot cavern of your mouth plop! down on the thickness of his cockhead and titters, “I should do well to wax that chatty mouth of yours shut, yes?”
The only response you can force your body to even do is to bully your hips down in a lewd attempt to suffocate the rude words spilling from Geto’s mouth.
Pushing down. Dragging your cunt sloppily. You think he might sputter, you think he might even choke out a slight protest- but what you certainly didn’t expect the viscount to do was to anchor your grinding hips with his two hands.
Shoving you deeper down his ajar maw. And you swear you feel him gasp out a little—“S-suffocate me.”
Groaning into the flared ridge of his dick, you’re swirlin’ your textured tongue around a few times. Before having done enough damage - because Geto was simply left rutting his hips primally. Unlatching, “Wh-what-”
“Suffocate me, My Lady.”
He doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t even set himself free for air—he’s only forking his tongue between that first rim of muscle. Licking up your walls, reaching for your heart. Again n’ again until it’s all loosened up enough for two of Geto’s slender, doughy fingertips to bludgeon against.
Pap after slimy pap of his fingerpads, “Open up, pretty lady.” Wheezing against the outer part of your pussy, “Since you like- ngh- talkin’ so much- fuck! Open those pretty lips up for me, I beg.”
Sensually, ever-so-sensually, his knobbly digits are stirrin’ inside.
He’s pricking his crowned fingers against each and every spot inside you, half-thrusting back just to fit even deeper. And it sounds out just deafening squelches.
Spurred on - you couldn’t fall behind to Viscount Geto. In a split-second, your lecherous tongue dangles out, tracing the pulsating veins simply covering his cock.
The patterns of his length scrape spots inside of you that you weren’t even aware existed, and Geto didn’t have to fuck his mazing cock up into your mouth to have you choking. To have you cryin’ at the probe of his merciless cockhead.
“H-hck!” Sobbing out, you’re suckin’ a few inches of his ramrod erection like your favorite ice cone. And he was just so big that the insides of your cheek streeetch out farther than you ever knew possible, “Two can play ngh- games like so.”
“Just like I claimed. How daaaangerous this unlady-like mouth of yours ngh- is.” As his middle and his ring finger pump into your velvety insides, Geto twists his thumb ‘round to press on your throbbing clit.
All at the same time.
Watching with a grin once you’re shrilling out in utter pleasure, white flashing behind your eyes. He’s spitting once more, letting a fragile string of spittle connect your cunt to each lick after lavish lick. You whine, “P-please, My Lord.”
Ah-
Geto’s glassy eyes roll to the back of his skull.
He keeps trying to breathe- but his body won’t even let him. Geto’s suffocating himself on your pussy, cock twitching right near the back of your throat.
You’re relaxing your neck to lodge him even deeper as you constantly moan and moan those very same words - My Lord - and he feels like he’s on the verge of fainting. Fast.
He has to do something. Faster.
Before you can brace yourself, the viscount swiftly slips off the family signet ring on his left hand. Pushing it onto the index finger of his right and bullying it between your folds.
Making sure that your cunt walls feel every frigid groove, “F-fuck! Feels good, huh?” At your dazed moans, “Accept my betrothal and I shall don more than one ring. And if you can- hah, take me on, pretty lady, you can take this-” He’s bucking up meaningfully, buttery tip bruising the roof of your mouth. Watching you flutter ‘round his ring, he can’t help but lap at your sloppy hole once more. “And then….fuck…”
And then he’s pumping his ravenous fingers inside even harder. Rough enough that the mountains of his knuckles sting, being slammed red on the folds of your pussy.
Geto’s cocktip pummels the soft back of your throat and you buck down in need- accidentally rovering his ringed fingers ever-deeper. Pushin’ his golden ring against the splotchy area of your g-spot, “O-oh my god, Suguru—”
“Th-there.” He’s breathing out, raggedly. Eyes widening. And as soon as Geto discovers your most favorite spot, he’s obsessed. “This is for the way you’ve been- been driving my screws loose for, ngh, years.”
He’s jerking his slick-soaked wrist into the perfect angle to swab your cute insides, you’re just crying out prettily after each scratch of his fingerpads. “This is for all the horse races I’ve oh- lost to you.” Pump after pump. He spits once more on your wettened pussy and growls, “And mm- this is for the way you make a fool of me, without even trying.”
“C-can’t help it-” Gurgling, the deepest corners of your throat were all flooded with the caramel salt taste of his precum. And yet, you were indignant despite the dizzying movements of his tongue.
Another slap of his scratchy underside, Geto was rovering his mouth so deep that you’re struck with the point of his chin. Almost punishing. “This is for how insatiable you leave me.”
“Please-” You’re jerking atop him at the flashes of bliss, hands struggling to cup his swollen balls. They’re so heavy in your palms as you massage, struggling out- “I believe I’m…”
“Ohhh— what’s that?” And it takes a few more squelching noises, a few more nods of Geto’s flushed face for you to realize that he wasn’t even talking to you. It was back to your sopping wet pussy, plugging each orifice up with both his fingers n’ his flicking tongue. “Yeah- yeah, and this is for how long you’ve held this pretty lady out from me.”
“Please-”
Three-more repeated slams, you’re pushed so close to the edge by now that even the slightest motion makes your pussy weep. Geto huffs at the pearly slick coating him, tongue gifting a fat thrust just to feel your cute clenches. “And this is for making me fall in, ngh, love.”
“I shan’t last-”
“Why don’t you apologize, viscountess Geto?”
You’re practically ripping yourself off of his strawberry-red tip, your maw stupidly opening ‘round a few wanton syllables- “I’m s-sor-”
And, in reality, Geto doesn’t let you apologize. Of course, he doesn’t let you.
Why should he make you apologize for putting him in a position like this? One that was precisely where he carnally desired to be.
Your voice breaking mid-sentence, within a few seconds he’s forcing in a fourth finger and straightly rummaging your g-spot. Racing straight towards where your hot, puffy core needed him the most. And you’re feeling the four thud-thud-thud-thuds against your bundle of nerves, skirting down your slippery walls to reach for your womb.
It’s enough to push you over the edge, your abdomen bursting with white-hot pleasure. Babbling, “I’m orgas- oh, mm-” Body wrenching stupidly on top of his muscular core, “Cum—ing, My Lord.”
Your toes curl, mouth wafting down to the very tip-top of Geto’s veiny cock without even realizing. It’s as if your entire body was set alight with just how good you felt like this.
And he’s just so focused on fucking you through peak after peak. Mentally counting the seconds between each lurch of your hips, you’re riding his pretty face sloooooppily.
So hypnotic that he barely even registers it once your swollen, puckered lips reach for the rock-hard tip of his shaft. Placing such a sweet, loving peck—“S-Sugu—”
The first thing you see is white- buzzing inside your vision after each bang of Geto’s fingerpads on your g-spot. And then the next creamy white you’re spotting is from the leaky end of his cock- spurt after spurt of ribbony cum.
The viscount completely drenches the lower half of your face, just from you kissin’ on him like that. Over and over- you half wonder whether it hurts for him to stuff out such sheer volumes.
Thick, gooey clumps of seed stick to your lips, and Geto groans as he feels it splatter down onto his toned pelvis. Creating a little puddle that you’re smearing with your thumb, after his spraying cockhead was finished. You plop your glazed fingertip into your mouth and shoot Geto a look over your shoulder, “Wh-what was that about- hah, revenge, My Lord?”
His half-lidded pupils dilate, practically heart eyes by this point.
“I-I…”
Throat husky, voice botched. The suave, swift smooth-talker barely gets out two syllables before tearing off his coats, his layers. Swiftly wrenching you upwards onto his naked body: your back against his flexed abs.
He was just Herculean, from the naturally chiselled ridges of his core, to the blush that was taking over his pecs. The long tendrils of his raven hair tickle your spine as you’re pinned backwards.
Geto’s hands twitch where they clung onto your waist- almost as if they were about to flip you over. To bend you down, down, down in half like he’s always wanted to.
But one look at your beautiful, shaken features and the viscount is sure he won’t last.
And he did want to make a good impression, after all. He could cum just from seeing your face too close up.
So Geto’s pryin’ apart your shaky legs with a swat of his palms, buttering up your soppy slit with the crowned edge of his shaft.
“O-oh.” Your mouth drops at the sheer size difference, you swear he must have swollen even bigger since pliably manhandling you into this position. Because the massive girth of Geto’s reddened, rock-hard cock was intimidating in comparison with the circumference of your slick hole.
As red as a few luscious strawberries, and just as plump.
His glistening cocktip slides down your folds, struggling to stuff himself between them - and you wonder whether you could even take him.
“Nonsense, pretty lady.” Did you dare utter that out loud? He spanks your sap-flooded cunt once with the curve of his length and makes you squirm. “You shall take it. You shall.” Unsure whether he was talking to you or your pussy. And yet, he sounds so reassuring.
So breathy.
So ruined.
You’re swivelling your head behind to look at Geto, and his cock twitches at the eye contact- oh.
It’s only then that you realize it’s not high, needy reassurance seeping into Geto’s rough tone - it was primal need. And you can’t help but press back into his glissading pecs, cushioning his heated length with your thighs. “And what if I shan’t?”
Geto wheezes, “But-”
“Where are those lordly manners?”
Geto near-sobs, “Please!”
So complacent. There’s no other fight, you’re only gasping once two greedy palms wrench apart your thighs and immediately sinks his ravaging cock inside.
And you ponder whether you might have to be the one begging for mercy at his sheer size.
The globed, fleshy knob of Geto’s shaft unsticks your gummy walls, clinging onto him like bubblegum. You’re being molded to his very size without even trying - with only a few rapid, urgent half-thrusts just to fit inside.
He wasn’t even pounding up into you properly, and yet the viscount already had you stupidly drooling with a few strokes. Pump after pump- he grips onto your thighs and glues you to his muscular body.
“Please- p-please.” The haughty noble simply couldn’t stop, crushing you to him. Holding you still just to bump your entire body up with pressurized pumps.
About two more inches of Geto’s veiny cock gets sucked up by your cunt and he finds his temples sweating. Dark brows scrunched, face flushed. “I desire to be- inside- all of it, haaah.” The overworked edge of his tongue darts out and tastes the tears trailing down your face, ones you didn’t even realize were there yet. “So- so incredibly. You don’t understand, I’ve a-always desired to be inside you like this, My Lady.”
And the line of Geto’s slit was so pretty when you gazed closely at it earlier, but right now it just felt so mean engraving up n’ down the roof of your cunt.
As if that wasn’t sinful enough, one of his palms unlatches from where he was spreading your unstable legs apart. Flattening on top of your tummy, and feeling for the proooobing push of his fat cock easing inside.
Geto presses down on that cylindrical outline with a groan, “I believe you’ve finally- hah, beaten me, viscountess.”
Although it certainly didn’t feel that way.
Geto Suguru had you cornered. All wrapped up in his big, beefy arms- you were seeing stars with every slight buck of his ravaging cock.
Filling you up from the inside - and as if his staggering size wasn’t enough, cobwebs of precum n’ cum were sploshing around your innards by now. Filling up your tiniest crevices, his cockhead spears into you like a flashlight in search of your g-spot. In search of the bottom of your pussy.
Twitching, leaking, blushing.
You’re reaching your hand out and half-blindly intertwining them with his. Squeezing- and that makes Geto flush.
It makes him instantly drill his toned hips upwards in a singular, rigid jackhammer. Geto immediately skids his plump cock against your sweetest spot, hard enough to make you bawl. Hard enough that the rickety lounge creaks in protest.
“I-I’ve sunken in…” He’s breathing, something airy in his tone. Something akin to disbelief.
As if to make sure, your viscount rovers his length even deeper- feeling for that slimy trailway by pressing down on your stomach. Your toes curl, the dual pressure of both his palm and his girth making your mind spin. “I’ve really- really-”
“Yes- hck!”
He can’t even have you speak like this. Can’t even let you breathe.
The muscles of Geto’s hips strike your bottom with a stinging smack! of skin-on-skin - bottoming out. Ruggedly, he weeps out a generous few dollops of precum near your spongy cervix.
Probing in deep-
“H-heavens!” You think you’re seeing the pearly gates with his sloppy, driving cadence, “Why in the heavens are you this- oh, big?”
“I hear no word of her complaining.” Geto has the audacity to hover his plush lips near the shell of your ear and bite. He almost chuckles, “See? Honest.”
Purposefully, his ringed fingers drag on the perky nub of your clit. Toyin’ in sultry hearts like he yearned to hear those dewy squelches, like they were now his favorite song.
Again and again. Geto’s trying to synchronize the bruising pumps of his cock with each swivel of his thumb.
“Your walls cling onto me like they- hah, never wish to let go.” He’s whispering in your ear, snickering at the way your poor cunt was swallowing him up. Sucking him impatiently back in, he’s forced to fight back against your pretty pussy just to fuck you crazy. “Is this how you really- ngh, feel inside? Do you think she’s falling for me, My Lady?”
And the only thing you can do is clamp down your velvety walls until he whimpers—“Honest.”
Just then, Geto cranes his neck over- targeting the slippery slope of your cunt with a glittering stream of spit. Aim so precise from all those noble hunting trips, and yet, he’s making just enough of your mess that your inner thighs are left with a sheen of slobber.
It startles you into a yelp, body restless. “I-in your most- ngh, fantastical- oh, dreams.”
“Is that so—?” Something dark was crackling at the back of his throat, and it’s enough to make your hips falter in their bucking pursuit.
For a split-second- before Geto throws a forearm over your front and pins you to him. He was pounding you cleanly into midair by this point, stopping you from escaping. Stopping you from even thinking of running from the frenzied motions of his fingers.
Ruthlessly, he’s pinching your clit and slightly draaaagging. “Was it in my most hah, fantastical dreams that you would gaze upon me like that during every soirée?”
You’re looking away, veins boiling with heat. “I-I have no notion of what you prattle on about-”
He cuts you off by letting go of that cute lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you, immediately gripping your throat and manhandling you into a kiss.
The glossy edges of Geto’s lips suck on your whiny tongue, moaning. “Mmm, make no fuss, pretty lady. You and I are one- oh, fuck. I can barely even recollect how many shallow, strait-laced suitors I wished to brawl for simply looking your way-”
And oh- oh, there was something in his tone that was jagged. Dark. Low.
“-for I was looking at you like that, too.”
You didn’t even think it was possible - but you feel him engorge even bigger from right inside of you. So swole, the curvy tip of Geto’s cock pokes into the entrance of your womb and makes you keen.
Hiccuping through tears, “Please- fuck.” You were drooling like a spring, every whipping lash of his erection against your g-spot made your taste buds sizzle. Humping back into him as if you were in heat- “Fuh-fuck! I didn’t know it could feel this- ngh, good.”
But the more, more, more you were grinding back into his racing tempo, the lazier he was dragging his cock down your cunt.
Faster and slower.
Faster and sloooower, making you recount the pattern of his mazing veins. He’s sensually rubbin’ your g-spot raw, and it’s rendering Geto himself absolutely pussydrunk. “Were you aware that it makes me i-impossibly harder to have you blustering around me? To have you yell at me?”
And now he was fixated on a sloppy staccato.
Your toes curled after each pathway of his globular, glazed tip - from the very forefront of your hole to target your battered g-spot. And then allllll the way back to rest against the spongy platform of your cervix.
It was a voyage he was repeatedly thrusting over and over and over.
“To- to have you…” Still continuing on with his inebriated conversation, after every slimy clench you were blessing him with. “To have to pretend your eyes weren’t- oh, falling upon my lips each time we argued- it killed me, My Lady.”
One of his rolling thumbs slips inside your damp hole like he was trying to pry you even wider open. Bottomed out and still rutting against the very back of your cunt- if Geto could bury himself even deeper then he already would have.
“Killed me to- to pretend I didn’t want to silence that gorgeous mouth right in front of The Ton, hah.” He almost giggles near the corner of your ear, writing his name on the very tip-top of your clit and feeling your body go limp at the sensation. “Killed me to not- mmm, really give them gossip for the entire season.”
Your head falls against his firm clavicle, the area of Geto’s pecs were so firm n’ cushy. Again and again, your poor lower half was a complete mess, flooding with heat. “S-Suguru- mmpf.”
Before he’s spitting straight between your unfastened mouth.
“Forgive me, my mind is not at the place to- oh, handle that smart mouth.” Drag after drag. Your pretty, breaking tone was what was sure to have him shattering before you did - and he didn’t want that. Not at all.
So concentrated on the gift of unravelling your honeyed pussy that Geto doesn’t even realize he’s said that out loud-
“Before me, hm?” Grinning behind you, his trembling hands are nothing against the gyrating bounces you start up. Fucking back into his spearheading cock, all you have to do to disarm his strong arms is to clench– and Geto was all yours.
All ruined.
You’re smugly declaring, “How about a- hah, a wager?”
Murky amethyst eyes widen, “A w-wager?”
“I wager I will make you orgasm first.” The filthy words are pouring out of your mouth before you can stop them, “In the instance I win, I- oh, claim the first row at the races for two months.”
“And in the instance I win…”
You’re peeking up in curiosity, “Yes–?”
But Geto only leans in, gravelly tone grating sexily against your ear. “You will remember it, I assure you.”
His long, silken hair was messy now- numerous Stygian strands plastering across his forehead, others, thrown over both your shoulders. And you can’t stop yourself from clawing behind and tugging- enough to make him groan.
Prolonged cockhead stirrin’ inside of you, he’s jostling you up, up, up–
Thwack!
“Cum.”
Perhaps it’s the utterly lecherous feeling of Geto’s plump, heavy ballsack spanking your cunt. Perhaps it’s the way he pinches out your clit after drawing such a cute heart on top. Perhaps it’s just him- but you’re crashing into a high you weren’t even aware was simmering.
But as soon as it bursts - it’s fiery. It’s frying the ends of your nerves with pure bliss, it’s leaving your vision a kaleidoscope of tears. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, cumming—”
You can only hold onto Geto’s muscular frame for dear life and let him ride your own orgasm out.
Spitting through solid, rovering paps of his cock, “Hah! What did I- oh, it’s my victory lap, is it not?” Still milking himself in vicious jackhammers, Geto streams out yet another wad of saliva down onto your pussy to hear the wet noises as you cum.
To hear the way he was thoroughly dragging you through the bursts of your high. You claw onto the couch and shriek- “Inside, I beg of you- I wish to feel you- hngh, inside, My Lord.”
“P-pardon?” His voice breaks. Breathily disbelieving, the primal pumps of his prolonged inches only accelerates - as if Geto was aiming to fuck the answer out of you. Inside. Inside.
In and out in and out in and- “I wish for it all here- inside.” You’re guiding his free hand to claw back down your front, feeling for that bump of his globular cock. Babbling against Geto’s mouth, it takes you no longer than a split-second to spit- “Always have, Suguru.”
And that’s enough for his weeping, rawly-red orifice to burst into the hardest orgasm of his entire life.
Geto doesn’t stop until he’s dragging himself dry on your walls. Filling your creamy cunt up with so many knotted ounces of seed that you can feel it slickly sliiiiiding down your walls. Trickling out from between your legs.
You squeeze your thighs together and squeal at the hot glue of cum sticking them together, “Fuck- fuck! Just like that-”
“I’m s-so fond of you. I’m so in love…” You hear his confession whisper against your eardrums like the viscount had nothing more left to lose.
You’re still tender, and each unsteady spurt of his cum sprayed inside makes your spine zap with something carnal. Your own high still a few tingles, you fist your fingers into his night-dark hair, pulling him in.
And something in his hoarse breath catches- and Geto finds himself biting his honed canines into the skin of your throat.
Making you moan, head unfogging ever-so-slightly. “A-are you aware that we are still obliged to attend Her Highness’s ball, Lord Ge-”
“Suguru.”
“Lord Suguru?”
“No, nothing but Suguru.” He finishes off for you, finally finished marking after a few more bite-shaped indents of his teeth. He’s still sluggishly jerking his cock inside, completely splashing n’ trickling sap over your tender spots. “And are you aware that I have ha-hah! reaped the victory of our little oh, wager?”
Your mouth parts, “And is this what you wish for? To bite me?”
“Not at all.” Biting you a few more times after then, Geto finally angles his head to face you fully. To take you in. To memorize. To slip his drenched family signet ring onto your left ring finger. You’ve never heard him sound so sincere- “All I wish for is for you to marry me, My Lady.”
“Suguru…” You shiver, his overstimulated cock pulses at the sound of that. Rutting harder. “You don’t require a wager for me to marry you.” And it’s just astonishing how pretty he looks when he flushes.
As he whines, you smile. “I shall do so anyway. And you can’t stop me now.”
Somewhere in the back of Geto’s mind, he knows there is much to plan - a proper engagement ring, first of all, with the biggest diamond of all the land, and then the family proceedings, The Ton announcement, the honeymoon.
But, for now, Lord Geto Suguru is content curling up in your arms. “I should expect no less from you, viscountess Geto.”
And his ravenous hips are still squeezing against yours, still needy.
Still feral.
You didn’t think you’d be escaping from him that easy, did you?
“Now, about my reward for that wager…”
.
.
.
Dearest gentle reader,
One might just ponder whether the speculations from last week’s royal gathering hid a divine ability to read the future. For the absence of both Lord Geto Suguru and his viscountess beau did little to quell the suspicions of a blossoming romance, particularly when neither party was in attendance once Her Majesty the queen announced our viscountess as the Diamond of the season.
And yet, my trusted sources fervently claim that the most scandalous noises were heard deep in the groves of the royal gardens where both disappeared.
But perhaps daring whispers are of no import - however, this author must note that both were observed meandering back late into the ball, guiltily satisfied, thoroughly marked in bites. Yes, of no import at all, certainly…
And I am delighted to share that this is not the mere extent of the romantic antics between our beloved viscount and viscountess.
Why, it is this author’s greatest honor to impart to you: the Diamond couple of Her Majesty’s Diamond Ball has officially announced their union with the most enormous diamond seen this season!
You have most certainly read that right, as Viscount and Viscountess Geto safely arrive from their voyages across the sea, The Ton may look forward to the wedding of the year.
Cease those shattering hearts at once! Who would have imagined that the most charming, handsome bachelor would transform from ‘rake’ to ‘Romeo’—with a capital ‘R.’ Shakespeare should weep!
It is said that Lord Geto is positively enamored with his fiancée, and I personally hear from sources close to the happy couple that this romance had been blooming for a long time, for none other than each other. How delightful that it should blossom right for us to gossip about.
Now, I don’t know about you, dear readers, but this author will be hastening to the tailors at once - and I suggest you do, too. We have a wedding to attend!
Yours Truly,
Lady Whistledown.
A/N. Also watched Superman and suddenly I believe in love again so here’s this.
"If I could tell my younger self one thing, it would be this: There are many things in life you can postpone, but love isn't one of them." - The Nature of Love (Lang Leav)
Simon Riley with a user who basically kidnaps herself.
CW : Masturbation, mentions of oral
It started with the little things. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise more frequently. You heard heavy breathing and a slick sound at night coming from your slightly open window. A blank account following your public instagram account.
You then started seeing him. A tall burly man that seemed to always appear In the corner of your eye. You never saw his face because of the balaclava he wore. And that frustrated you.
Hell, if a guy is going to stalk you, the least he can do is not hide his face.
Eventually, you got sick of it. You let the brute of a man follow you home as usual. Let him watch you 'sleep' through your window while he fisted his cock. And then when he went home, you followed him.
You honestly thought he'd catch you. Feel you watching him. Following him home. But it seemed that his post orgasmic haze rendered him vulnerable.
You followed the man to a nice looking home. Not huge or anything, but It was cozy.
You then watched through a window as he drank a glass of whiskey, before walking through the home to his bedroom.
You quickly rushed to the bedroom window, glad the blinds weren't fully shut.
The man then sat down on his bed, pulling something from his bedside drawer-hey wait, are those your fucking panties you lost? Sneaky bastard. Those are your favourite.
And now he's fisting his cock again. Only this time, he's taken off that stupid balaclava to sniff them and-oh.
Oh.
Fuck, he's hot.
Those scars, the dirty blonde hair, the slightly crooked nose from being broken so many times, Jesus H Christ.
Yeah. To say you were thinking of this mans face between your thighs was an understatement. He might genuinely be one of the hottest men you've ever seen.
You quickly went home, going to the blank account that had followed you, and with a few clicks, you found the guys private instagram. Simon Riley. He's not the only person who's good at stalking.
You then found out that he was in the military. A Lieutenant. Seemed to be really private. No matter though, you already knew where he lived.
The following day, you took the day off work, and broke into Simon's home. Moving almost all of your stuff in. He wouldn't mind.
Then, when Simon walked into his house he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw you, sipping from one of his mugs, on his couch.
The woman he'd been stalking for nearly a year.
"I-what-what are you doing here?" He muttered, eyes wide as he took off his balaclava.
"You should have shown me your face earlier. I would have moved in ages ago" you shrugged.
"Moved in?" Simon almost squeaked.
⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧
before you all panic, yes. There will be a part two :p
