Simp

[chiffonbunni]

still rocking your hoodie .ᐟ.ᐟ ۶ৎ

꒰ summary ꒱; you find your ex's hoodie after the breakup and decide on letting them know you'll return it. the both of you have something in common, though. you both miss eachother !

꒰ content ꒱; angst, they were assholes before the breakup or something

꒰ featuring ꒱; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, rin itoshi, bunny iglesias, hugo vivian, sae itoshi, alexis ness, michael kaiser

© chiffonbunni

[emiivzs]

not to mention that her boyfriend hates me ⸝⸝ fem!reader

a/n - reader is kinda oblivious...? AND HAS A BF

you sat at a small corner table in a downtown coffee shop, two ice lattes sitting in your hand. one was sweating condensation onto the wooden table while the other was left untouched.

your boyfriend was late. again. he’d texted fifteen minutes ago, telling you he was finding a parking spot. you sighed, chin resting in your hand, watching the ice slowly melt in his cup, diluting the flavor.

“you look too pretty to be sitting here all alone and pouty,”

the familiar, teasing voice made your head instantly snap up.

bunny stepped up to your table. he was dressed casually—a loose hoodie, messy hair, a cap that looked like it was thrown on last minute.

“bunny!” you gasped, face instantly lighting up. “what are you doing here?”

“just grabbing a coffee,” he lied smoothly. “until i saw you here."

in reality, he had seen you walking into the cafe across the street and couldn’t resist following after.

"who keeps a girl waiting this long?" he pulled out the empty chair opposite you—your boyfriend’s chair—and sat down without a second thought.

“he’s just finding parking!” you automatically defended.

he reached across the table, his fingers casually brushing against yours as he playfully tapped the rim of your cup. "if you were waiting for me, i would’ve abandoned the car on the sidewalk."

you laughed politely, a blush creeping up your neck. the touch felt a little too lingering, a little too much for just a best friend, but before you could think about it, a shadow fell over the table.

"can i help you?"

your boyfriend had arrived. he stood right beside the table, keys dangling from his hand. his eyes darted from bunny sitting in his spot to how close bunny’s hands were to yours on the table.

bunny didn't flinch. he slowly leaned back in the chair, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. a polite, entirely fake smile spread across his lips. "oh. you’re here. what’s up?"

"yeah. i am," your boyfriend said, his voice dripping with forced courtesy. he didn't want to make a scene in public, but the irritation in his eyes was unmistakable. "that’s my seat."

"right, right," bunny said, standing up and sliding the chair back into place.

he didn't look bothered at all. instead, he patted your boyfriend on the shoulder—a gesture that looked friendly but felt heavily patronizing. "just keeping her company. she looked a little lonely sitting by herself."

"she’s perfectly fine," he replied as he stepped into bunny’s space, subtly trying to cut him off from you. "we actually have plans today."

"of course." bunny hummed, turning his gaze back to you.

the cold indifference he just showed vanished instantly, replaced by that soft, melting look reserved only for you.

he reached out, his thumb gently brushing a stray crumb off the corner of your lips, “i’ll leave you guys to it. text me later?"

you nodded, completely oblivious to the silent, furious glaring match happening in front of you.

“try to keep an eye on the time,” bunny turned back to your boyfriend, his smile turning sharp and mocking. "it’d be a shame if someone else had to keep her entertained while you're looking for parking."

before your boyfriend could snap back, bunny gave you one last, lingering wink, shoved his hands into his pockets, and strolled out of the cafe.

[writerwhoalmostneverwrites]

♡ And all you had to do was stay mad

⸺ ft. Lane (BBD) , reader

⋆˚꩜｡ summary . an argument in the rain, a fever, and Lane showing up anyway. soft apologies, plastic bags full of your favorite food, and a side of him you didn't know existed. ౨ৎ wc . + 4.2k!

⋆˙⟡ tags . mature — mdni, reader-insert, second person pov, f!reader, no explicit content, angst, comfort, hurt/comfort, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, soft Lane, post-argument fluff, caretaking, reader being sick, domestic fluff sorta???

₊˚⊹♡ cw . mature — mdni, FUCKING LANE. AGAIN. also , sexism, misogyny, arguments between love interests, mild language/cursing, maybe a little out-of-context Lane but I just loved writing him being so caring <3 + Lane le fou du métro qui rentre chez les gens sans prévenir ?? wtf frérot

✧ a/n! . hi people! this is my second BBD fic ever and it's still about that same infuriating man smh. In honour of Shift 3 of Big Bad Dogs (a beautiful visual novel made by @where-spar0w-barks, go give her some love she’s been working hard and doing a wonderful job with the whole game!) releasing tomorrow, I decided to celebrate by writing a small fic about Lane! (yes, him again...) Also writing soft Lane after he’s been an absolute menace for 90% of the fic was healing. he’s still annoying though, don’t worry! As always, happy reading and hope you enjoy!

It’s raining. Again.

La météo a été capricieuse ces derniers temps.

But that’s not necessarily something you dislike, you who have always found the smell and sound of rain so comforting. Especially that evening; you feel you need it. It might even be the only thing that will comfort you.

The only thing you don’t like about the rain is the cold.

The convenience store is silent, apart from the constant sterile buzz of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, unpleasant to look at, almost blinding when you stare for too long. The one in the back, near the washroom, keeps blinking every now and then. When you started working here, you swore you could feel it vibrate behind your eyes. You’ve grown used to it now. And what better way to complement this horrible light than with the omnipresent smell of the store? The building smells like something rotten, maybe food. Or something else, you’re not sure. You wouldn’t be surprised.

The floor is sticky and you feel like the mop you used just a few minutes ago in an attempt to clean the floor actually makes it worse. Mopping spreads the smell, homogenizes it, gives it an even coat across the whole surface so every step pulls just slightly at your shoe. This floor has absorbed everything. Soda. Rain tracked in from outside. Other things you don’t name. One of the corners of the store smells like puke, just the residue of it, and no matter how many times you’ve sprayed bleach on it, the smell never seems to go. And somewhere near the bathroom, or maybe in it, something metallic. Blood has a smell like an old penny.

You started taking the habit of breathing through your mouth in order to reduce the smell you impose on your nose. It kind of disgusts you to breathe all this through in your mouth though. But it doesn’t matter. After a while you stop noticing. That’s the worst part—tu t’y habitues vite, très vite.

And, thankfully, it’s the end of your shift. Meaning cleaning the store, closing everything—

The stockroom door opens, and a familiar voice tears you out of your thoughts.

“So, babe, I was just thinkin’—”

Your co-worker leans on the counter next to where you stand, busy cleaning the chipped, damaged countertop with an old and dirty torn rag. You don’t react. Or rather, you wish you didn’t react, but your heart does a weird flutter thing at the sound of his voice.

“Not sure I wanna hear it, Lane.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m still mad. In case you haven’t noticed the look on my face yet.”

Lane scoffs, that infuriating smirk never leaving his lips. However, when his gaze finally settles on your face and he takes a good look at you, his shit-eating grin falters, without quite disappearing. Usually, when he does something that pisses you off, there’s annoyance and exasperation in your eyes. That’s the main reason why he loves riling you up, if he’s being honest. He loves seeing the fire in your eyes, the anger bubbling up.

This time, he sees disappointment. And even tiredness.

‘You gotta be a little toxic, just enough to keep ‘em hooked. And then, let them cry about it on Facebook.’ ‘Women like assholes anyway, right? Let’s give ‘em what they want.’

This time, he feels like he fucked up real bad.

“I’m sick of this, Lane. I’m sick of having to listen to your sexist bullshit every single day.”

“… Damn.” He scoffs and runs a hand through his black hair, and his gaze shifts on everything but her. “Thought you enjoyed the date.”

“I did. I enjoyed that shitty date in the stock room, those dumbass jokes of yours, until you said what you said.”

Cela fait trop longtemps que tu as jeté l’éponge avec lui. Tu n’as plus l’énergie de te battre face à ses propos.

You deliberately omit to mention that you enjoy flirting with him.

He swallows at your last words. Like he’s just understood that he could’ve gotten something, someone, but he lost it because he’d rather be an asshole than actually telling you how he feels.

“But the way you talked to me just now? While I was trying to calm you down, so that you didn’t end up getting your nose busted or some shit? That was the last straw.”

‘Shhh shhh. That’s enough girl words for today.’ ‘Let the men talk.’

You notice the way his jaw clenches and works as he looks away. But that’s always been Lane, hasn’t it? Always speaking before thinking. Regretting after. Except now you’ve grown sick of dealing with it and letting him get away with everything.

“… Fuck.” He finally starts, but it seems like he’s thinking about what he’s gonna say next. Which is, for Lane, a fucking achievement. But here he is, picking his words carefully. He waits a bit, leaning both of his elbows on the counter, head down ; the posture of a man holding something up — himself, maybe, or the counter, or the specific version of tonight that was still somehow salvageable, except it hardly was. He gotta play his cards right.

But at the end of the day, it’s just Lane, isn’t it?

“Women. So fucking fragile. Really can’t take a joke anymore.”

You pause in your movements, right hand still on the soaked-cleanser rag, left hand still holding the side of the counter. Your head is down for a few seconds, like his words are repeating on loop in your head, before slowly, very slowly, you start cleaning the counter again. The movements measured, processing his words.

Before you take a step back, suddenly throwing the rag back under the counter. You tug on your apron, before finally tearing the cloth off you, as well as your tag. In just a few seconds, you’re in the stockroom, throwing the apron on the shelf where it belongs and stuffing the tag into your pocket. You quickly grab your bag before stepping out of the stock room again.

He’s the one supposed to close tonight, anyway.

His expression completely shifts when he realises you are, in fact, leaving the store angry and upset, because of him. Because he kept running his mouth once more, but this time, you weren’t buying his shit.

“Bro, it’s literally pouring out there. What are you, a golden retriever? You’re gonna get soaked and get sick, just—stay, it’s not that deep.” But even as he says so, he can see it in your eyes. You don’t care anymore. “I mean, do whatever you want. I don’t care. But it’s nasty as hell outside, so. Just sayin’—”

The door closes behind you, and both its noise and the heavy rain pouring down manage, to your greatest delight, to block out the sound of his voice almost carrying outside.

You forgot your umbrella. Again.

And you really hate the cold.

“I’m sorry again, RJ.”

“It’s fine, shit happens. But—take care, yeah? Come back as soon as possible.”

“How about the store?”

“Why, Lane’s a big boy, isn’t he? Can take care of the store by himself, for once. You get some rest, yeah?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

You shiver as you press the ‘end call’ button, bottom lip shaking slightly.

The bus didn’t come this morning. You waited for what felt like hours—come to think about it, it was probably something like 30 minutes—before you decided to walk back home under the rain, without an umbrella. Because a little rain isn’t gonna kill you, right?

The walk managed to calm you down from your previous altercation with Lane, but you’d be lying if you said it made you feel any better. Actually, you sobbed. Hard.

Car existe-t-il un sentiment pire que de se disputer avec l’homme que tu apprécies ? Ce serait mentir que d’affirmer que tu n’es pas insensible au charme de Lane.

Lane made you laugh. He made the shift bearable. Easier. Lighter. And, to be honest, it felt good knowing that there was somebody in that damn store waiting for you, interested in you. But you also truly believe you deserve someone who respects you—that’s the bare minimum, isn’t it?

When you got back home, you didn’t even bother taking a shower. You were soaked to the bone, already starting to sniffle, but given the day’s events, you didn’t have the energy to do much except curl up under the thin covers of your bed.

La décision la plus stupide que tu as pu prendre jusqu’à présent, sincèrement.

Unsurprisingly, you had a restless and unpleasant night, the result of a developing fever, and you only woke up around 5 p.m. Thankfully—or surprisingly—RJ was nice enough to give you the night off and let you rest and recover.

You check the thermometer again and can’t hold back the groan. 101.2 ° F. It might not be the worst fever of your life, but it will keep you stuck in bed for at least the day. You only managed to get a cold, wet washcloth for your forehead, a bottle of water and some paracetamol before falling into your bed again, shuddering. You didn’t even—

vrrrr!

With half-lidded eyes, you grab your phone and unlock it. You stare at the notification for a few seconds, eyes still half-closed, processing the information before you finally read:

Lane: ‘yo’ Lane: ‘RJ just called me. said you werent coming to work tonight’ Lane: ‘u alright?’

You audibly groan, pressing a hand against your forehead, and the gesture makes some water dribble from the washcloth down your temples. For a few seconds, you contemplate answering him with a sardonic answer, like something in the lines of “yes i quit because of my co-worker’s sexual harassment”, before you finally settle with a less heated answer—frankly, you don’t have the strength to fight again.

*‘Got a fever, 101.2 F. Can’t really stand up without my head spinning, won’t be able to come tonight. Sorry’

As soon as your thumb presses the little ‘sent’ button, you immediately regret your message. You’re already expecting his answer, and knowing him, probably something that would sound like ‘told you so’ or ‘almost like someone warned you lol’, when your phone immediately buzzes again.

Lane: ‘shit’Lane: ‘ok’Lane: ‘hold on’

Your brows furrow. You reread the messages once, twice, thrice. Is this his way of telling you to hang in there? One hand holds the washcloth, the other holds your phone that you approach closer to your eyes, thinking the words would magically arrange and reorder into something you’d actually understand, but—

bang!

Your phone falls right onto your face, knocking your nose.

“Fuck—goddamnit!”

You immediately grab your phone and move it away from your face, before your gaze zeroes on the screen, and you stare at the ‘gblsjgfkkd’ message your phone just sent to Lane. Who, of course, immediately answers.

Lane: ‘damn babe fever got to your head or what’

You throw your phone at the bottom of your bed and close your eyes. And despite the migraine throbbing in your temples, the fever knocks you out, and you sink into the arms of Morpheus.

Knock, knock, knock.

You hate fever dreams. You could’ve sworn you heard somebody knocking on your door. Actually, you could’ve swore you heard somebody entering your flat—fuck.

Head spinning and still dizzy, you straighten up in bed, the motion making you feel nauseous immediately, and you throw one leg out of the bed before you hear a familiar voice behind your bedroom’s door.

“Yo, you asleep?”

“… Lane…?”

The door pushes open, and you immediately recognize your co-worker’s silhouette. It is Lane. Standing at the doorframe, each hand carrying a plastic bag, each of the two filled to the brim. He’s not wearing his apron nor his nametag, but instead, he’s got that one dreadful pink ‘white boy of the year’ shirt. The simple sight of him is enough to make you even more lightheaded… With a weird fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“Already in bed and waiting for me, huh? I like that.”

He shoots his usual cocky smirk at you, although something reads in his eyes. He’s not as confident as he was the night before. He’s almost… Hesitant?

“What are you doing here?” you mutter, pressing the now warm and almost dry washcloth over your forehead.

“Told you I was coming. By the way, would it kill you to answer my messages?”

“I was asleep.”

“I was waiting for an answer.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Yeah? Tough shit, ‘cause I’m here now.”

He approaches you, and, weirdly enough, you don’t try and move away. Maybe you’re too tired, too weak to tell him to fuck off. Maybe you still hate him. Or maybe you want him to stay. You don’t offer resistance as he reaches for the washcloth and lifts it off your skin.

“I’ll go freshen it again. Eat. Brought you your favorite.”

He disappears in your bathroom like he knows the damn place, and honestly, he kinda does. He already came by a few times before. But your brows furrow as your gaze drifts to the two plastic bags he set by your bed, and you reach for the one that seems to contain food, according to the familiar smell that emanates from it.

You fish the dish out of the plastic bag, only for your eyes to widen once you finally recognize the smell. At the same time, Lane comes back into the room, wet washcloth in his hands. He stares at you, and you stare back at him.

“… It’s my favorite. How did you know?”

“News flash, pretty. I listen when you talk.”

Ah. So he’d noticed, that one time you’d mentioned it offhandedly between two customers, almost to yourself, not even sure you were talking to him. He’d been scrolling on his phone, back turned to you. You’d assumed he wasn’t paying attention.

He takes a few steps towards you and sits at the edge of your bed, right next to your arm. Silently, he rearranges the pillows behind your head to make it more comfortable, before settling the fresh washcloth back on your forehead with a delicacy you hadn’t expected him to have until now. You let him, without a fuss.

He takes the plate and the fork from your hands, stabbing the food before raising the fork to your lips.

“You are not feeding me, Lane.”

“Seems like I am right now, though.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Eat.”

You look at him, then. Really look. You think he’s going to mock you, say some stupid bullshit, but he looks… Calm. Quiet. The smirk disappeared the moment he sat down next to you. So, reluctantly, your lips part and you take a bite. Chew. Swallow. He stabs the food again and brings it back to your mouth.

It’s… weird. Almost intimate, in a way—but you don’t mind it. Because even though you’re still upset, even though you’re still angry at him…

Lane is taking care of you right now.

And you’re not sure you want him to stop.

“… Was with Ludwig when you sent the message.” He finally speaks. “We were playing Call of Duty when my phone buzzed.”

“… He ok?” you reply, politely.

“Yeah.” A beat. “Told me to tell you to ’get well soon’.”

“He’s sweet, when he wants to be. Tell him I say thank you.”

“Will do.”

There’s a small silence, and you can’t help but talk again (et par la même occasion, balancer une balle perdue à Ludwig):

“And tell him to take a shower from time to time.”

“Right—”

“I’m sure he still stinks.”

“… Will do.”

You’re not sure you like this. Well, you can’t really complain. Not when someone’s taking care of you while you have a bad fever. But it feels strange. Lane’s behaviour is strange. He’s not his usual cocky, smug self, and that alone is enough to throw you off.

Especially after yesterday. You’d stormed out of the store angry and upset, and even though you hated the comments Lane threw around like they cost him nothing, you couldn’t stand being in an actual fight with him. Not just the regular, low-grade anger. You’d been angry at him plenty of times before, and it’d never felt like this. This felt like something with weight to it. Something that might not bounce back.

“Is this your way of apologizing?” you finally ask.

“Is it that obvious?” He replies, and you notice the self-deprecating tone in his voice. He seems to hesitate, then adds: “It’s also a way for me to ask you not to leave. Please.”

The honesty and fragility in his voice throw you off. You blink at him, surprised, searching his face for any trace of the usual bullshit—the smirk, the slight tilt of the head that means he’s about to say something that will annoy you—but there’s nothing. He’s completely sincere.

“Please.” He repeats, quieter this time. His cheeks and ears turn slightly red, before he adds: “Shifts won’t be the same without you. I enjoy spending time with you. You’re fun to be around.”

There it is.

Your jaw falls open.

You don’t recognize him. Honestly, you’ve never seen Lane with so much… seriousness. He’s always been fucking around before. The jokes, the flirting, the need to fill every silence with something loud. And now here he is, sitting on the edge of your bed in that dreadful pink shirt, holding a fork, asking you to stay. Like it matters to him. Like you matter to him.

You don’t say anything for a moment. The rain is still going outside. You can hear it against the window, steady and low. But inside your room, all you can focus on is Lane’s steady breath, and yours, slightly shaky.

“Lane.” Your voice comes out rougher than you intended. Not only because of the fever, but also because… Fuck. You don’t know how to react, you’re not used to this side of him. At all.

He waits. Doesn’t push, doesn’t fill the silence with one of his stupid one-liners like he usually would. Just watches you, fork still hovering between you, like he’s bracing for whatever you’re about to say.

“…Feed me the rest first. Then we’ll talk.”

Something in his face cracks open. Relief, you guess. Though he doesn’t comment on it, and doesn’t make it weird. He just brings the fork back up, and you eat. Slowly. Quietly.

Tu apprécies le silence, pour une fois, après une journée pareille.

He’s careful about it in a way you didn’t expect from him. He wipes a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb without even thinking about it, he scrapes the plate when you’re getting close to done like he doesn’t want a single bite left for later. As if feeding you the right amount actually matters to him.

When the plate’s empty, he sets it on your nightstand, fork balanced on top, and for a second you think that’s it. He’s done his good deed, he’ll get up, make some excuse, leave before things get too soft between you two—

He doesn’t.

“Move over.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Move over.”

“Lane, you’re not—”

“I’m not what? Staying?” He’s already toeing off his shoes—which, coming from Lane, surprises you, but you don’t comment on it—not even looking at you, like the conversation’s already over in his head. “Watch me.”

“You’re gonna catch whatever I have.”

“Honestly? Couldn’t care less.” He shrugs, like that settles it.

You want to argue, to insist, to remind him that he has to go to the store tonight, that he has a life, an apartment to sleep in—but a part of you, more tired than rational, doesn’t really want him to leave. So you move over. Just enough.

The mattress dips under his weight, and the whole bed feels… different with him in it. Smaller, warmer, despite the chill still clinging to your skin from the fever. He lies on his back first, hands behind his head, staring at your ceiling like it’s got something interesting written on it.

He’s so stupid. Sometimes. Well, all the time.

… Most of the time.

“… So. About yesterday,” he starts, and immediately you can tell he hates this. He hates apologizing. Hates the seriousness in his own voice, because he can tell as much as you can that this isn’t how he usually is. “I was an asshole.”

“You don’t say.”

“Shut up, I’m trying.” A pause. His jaw works the same way it did at the counter, except this time there’s no stock room to hide in. Just him, and you, and the rain that’s finally stopped outside. “I shouldn’t have said that shit. The fragile thing. Well, shouldn’t have said any of it.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“… You gonna make this easy for me or what?”

“Nope.”

He huffs, almost a laugh, and turns his head just enough to look at you. “Fair.” A beat. “I’m sorry. For real. Not the bullshit ’sorry you’re upset’ kind. The actual kind.”

You don’t answer right away.

You let him stew for a bit, just long enough for him to realize it was no small thing, that he really hurt you, and that apologies, even sincere ones, aren’t always enough sometimes... But you also know Lane. Know that this—the quiet, the honesty, the fact that he’s lying in your bed in that ugly pink shirt instead of playing with Ludwig while downing energy drinks—is about as far as he can stretch himself.

“… Okay,” you finally say. “Apology accepted. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The smirk immediately creeps back in, and God, how you’ve missed it.

“Though, for the record, I still think you can’t take a joke.”

“Lane.”

“Kidding! Kidding.” He raises both hands in surrender, then immediately drops one back down before you can call him out on the obvious deflection. “C’mere.”

“What—”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. His arm slides under your neck, around your shoulders, and he tugs. Not roughly, but with enough certainty that you don’t really have room to protest, not that you’re sure you want to. You end up half-tucked against his side, your forehead pressed just under his chin, the heat of the fever blurring into the heat of him until you can’t really tell where one ends and the other begins.

Smooth motherfucker.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and under the cockiness, the smugness of him, you’re sure you can hear hesitation. He sounds like… like he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask, like he’s still expecting you to push him off.

… You don’t, though.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.” He says it light, but his hand finds your shoulder and stays there, thumb moving in circles—he’s restless. “You’re rude when you’re sick, you know that?”

“… And your shirt makes me wanna bawl my eyes out.”

“Ouch, rude.”

“Accurate.” A laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. Small, rough, more air than sound, but real. He feels it against his chest and you swear you can feel him grin into your hair.

“There it is.” His voice drops to a quieter tone. “Was worried I broke something permanent yesterday.”

“You almost did.”

“… Yeah.” This time, he doesn’t joke. His chin tips down slightly, resting against the crown of your head, careful, like he’s testing how much weight he’s allowed to put there. “M’sorry.”

“I know.”

You can hear Lane’s heartbeat under your ear, slow and a little too fast at once, and his hand is against your shoulder, and the fever finally eases into something closer to sleep than misery. You blame it on the medication he brought you. Or maybe you blame it on the simple fact that he’s there.

You hate to admit it, but his presence soothes you. Especially when he’s calm and quiet like that, holding you against him. You allow yourself to snuggle even more against him.

“Lane...?”

“Mmh?”

“...Thanks for the food.”

He huffs against your hair. Almost a laugh, and then you feel his lips pressing against the crown of your head, giving you a small kiss. “Anytime, pretty.”

Tu fermes les yeux. And for the first time in a long while, you don’t resist the sleep that gently envelops you, cradled by his warmth and the steady sound of his breathing.

Translations!

— "La météo a été capricieuse ces derniers temps." = The weather has been unpredictable lately.

— "Tu t'y habitues vite, très vite" = you get used to it fast, very fast.

— "Cela fait trop longtemps que tu as jeté l'éponge avec lui. Tu n'as plus l'énergie de te battre face à ses propos." = It's been too long since you gave up on him. You no longer have the energy to fight his comments anymore.

— "Car existe-t-il un sentiment pire que de se disputer avec l'homme que tu apprécies ? Ce serait mentir que d'affirmer que tu n'es pas insensible au charme de Lane." = Because does a worse feeling exist than fighting with the man you like? It would be a lie to claim you're not susceptible to Lane's charm.

— "La décision la plus stupide que tu as pu prendre jusqu'à présent, sincèrement." = The stupidest decision you've made so far, honestly.

— "et par la même occasion, balancer une balle perdue à Ludwig" = and, while at it, take a random shot at Ludwig (literally "throw a stray bullet at Ludwig", means tossing in an unrelated jab/insult at someone in passing lol)

—"Tu apprécies le silence, pour une fois, après une journée pareille." = You appreciate the silence, for once, after such a day.

— "Tu fermes les yeux." = You close your eyes.

[hanakatsu-17]

Ahhhh new pics, OMG!! I can't believe these silly pictures are actually canon!! I was so scared they were just edits, but now they’re totally CANON!! They're SO CUTE AAAA KAKWJWJ, we'll get silly sprites like this for Lane too, right? yuyuyuyi~!!😙🔥✨✨

I literally died laughing at this!! Why is this 'work wife <3' so freaking cute?? 😭 And also, we'll get to peek at Lanes phone?! I’m dying of excitement right now...

Oh, and I noticed a little something...

Bomb?! So cute??😭✨🤏🏻

I’m not really attracted to BB, but this one is my fav right now. SO CUTE AGH! ... Our awkward puppy is swearing now, huh...?

Shift 3... I'm outside your door. Patiently waiting (This is a lie.)...SHIFT 3 PLEASE I'M BEGGING. TWOOO DAAYSSS AAAAJSJKW I'M SO READY IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE!

[neurthewanderer]

Hello, Neur! I love reading your posts—I used to think that because your responses were so detailed and thorough and often compiled evidence from the game itself as well as Laly's little facts that you were a part of her team 😂

I had a question regarding BB! On his chart thing, it says he has plenty of relationship experience, but in game he says he's never even been on a date. Is it referring to his sexual experience???

I've been wondering about this for so long and I haven't seen any info about that other than, like, what he WOULD do (aka what I wish he would do to me...)

If it IS regarding his sexual experience, then what do you think his body count is?? If he's supposed to have more experience than Laney-chan, then I know it would be more than six people, but... 😭😭😭😭 WHY IS BB LYING ABOUT HAVING NEVER DATED OR BEEN ON A DATEEE he's driving me crazy.

Hi!! 😭

Lowkey, Laly is basically a one-person development team. She's said before that she prefers working alone (or so I have heard), and... if I were on her team, I'd probably spoil every single plot point before she even finished making the game. I'd be a terrible assistant. So no, I'm not part of her team or anything. I'm just hyperfixated fan.

As for your question, yes, I'm pretty sure the "experience" on BB's chart refers to sexual experience, not dating or romantic relationships.

If you look through the masterpost of Laly's Q&As, she confirmed a long time ago that women approached BB, but it was only for casual hookups. He has never dated anyone, and he's never been in a relationship. The women always approached him first, and it never went beyond casual sex.

So when you see the experience chart or the NSFW alphabet, those are talking about sexual experience, not romance or dating.

That means BB wasn't lying when he told MC he'd never been on a date.

He's never experienced the romantic side of a relationship. No dates, no courting, no girlfriend, none of that.

His experience comes from casual flings and hookups, not from actually getting to know someone or building a romantic relationship.

As for his body count, I have no idea.

But I do think it's probably higher than Lane's.

Lane acts like he's slept with half the planet, but according to Laly, it actually wasn't that many, even though it was still a decent number.

So take everything Lane says with a grain of salt.

You only need to know that if Lane slept with one girl, he'd tell everyone he slept with 10.

Don't believe every bit of bullsht that comes out of his mouth.

With BB, I think it's easier to imagine why he'd have more casual encounters.

The guy is objectively attractive (his body I mean), built like a tank, and we already know women approached him, not the other way around.

He also admitted to MC that when he was younger, he thought about sex a lot, which honestly, is just a normal thing for a young man his age.

So I don't find it surprising that he had casual hookups when the opportunities presented themselves.

[neurthewanderer]

do you think lane will get even more jealous if he was in a relationship with mc?

Yeah, most definitely. Dating MC isn't gonna magically make his jealousy disappear.

I think he's almost more cocky than jealous 💀 He's the type to brag about MC so much that he forgets to be jealous for a few seconds.

Like, someone compliments MC and instead of immediately getting jealous, he's over there going "Yeah, I know. She is amazing, isn't she?" as if he accomplished something. 

The jealousy definitely kicks in eventually though. He's still Lane. But I think it'd come out more as him clinging to MC a little more, throwing an arm around her shoulders, or casually reminding everyone "Yeah, that's my girlfriend."

He'd be so busy showing her off that he'd forget he was supposed to be jealous for a minute eheheh. Unless you look at other guys or too close with some male friends/coworkers etc, he's gonna have problem with that.

[choivae]

ᝰ.ᐟ childhood bestfriend!suguru gets caught jerking off to you during a sleepover ⸝⸝ 18+ mdni

childhood bestfriend!suguru who used to practically live at your house, having sleepovers every weekend where you'd sleep on the top trundle bed and he’d pull out the bottom one underneath.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who started making up every excuse in the book to decline your invitations once you both hit your early twenties, all because he developed a massive, agonizing secret crush on you and knew his self-control was slipping.

childhood bestfriend!suguru is completely powerless against you when you use your charm and extra-persuasive "please, please, please" voice, forcing him to finally break his streak and agree to one more sleepover.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who feels an overwhelming wave of nostalgia mixed with nervous tension the second he sits back down on that pulled-out bottom bed, trying to act natural while his heart is hammering in his chest.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who has the absolute time of his life chatting, playing games, and joking around with you until late into the night, suddenly realizing how much he missed being this close to you.

childhood bestfriend!suguru is left sitting in complete silence when you suddenly fall asleep mid-sentence, leaving him down on the bottom bed just staring up at your sleeping face with an unbearable amount of affection.

childhood bestfriend!suguru feels his throat go completely dry when you stir lazily in your sleep, twisting the top blanket away to reveal the dip of your collarbones, the deep slope of your cleavage, and your shorts riding high up your smooth thighs.

childhood bestfriend!suguru undergoes an agonizing internal battle as his heart hammers against his ribs, his blood rushing south as his pants grow impossibly tight, every instinct screaming at him to turn away while his eyes remain completely glued to you.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who eventually breaks down under the unbearable friction and tension, quietly slipping a hand beneath his waistband to slowly stroke his throbbing cock, trying to keep his desperate breaths silent so he doesn't wake you.

childhood bestfriend!suguru gets caught in the absolute worst, most vulnerable position imaginable when you stir awake, your eyes fluttering open and landing directly on his frantic, rhythmic movements underneath the covers.

childhood bestfriend!suguru is utterly mortified, pulling the blanket up to his chest while his hand stays frozen over his aching length, stammering out a breathless, panicked "s-sorry, i didn't think you'd wake up..." as he braces for your utter disgust.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who panics even further when you lock eyes with him and plainly state, "you were watching me," only for his brain to short-circuit entirely when a slow, mischievous, teasing glint appears in your eyes instead of anger.

childhood bestfriend!suguru watches in absolute disbelief as you shift on the top mattress, intentionally pulling your blanket back to give him a full, unobstructed view of your chest and bare legs, whispering softly, "how naughty of you, suguru... you wanna look at me while doing it?"

childhood bestfriend!suguru is so utterly consumed by lust and desperation that he ignores every single red flag firing in his brain, choking out a humiliated, needy "c-can i?" the second you promise that this stays between the two of you.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who reaches up to the top mattress, his trembling hand gently stroking up your thigh and caressing your warm skin while his other hand pumps his hard dick at a faster, messier pace, completely undone by the sight of you looking down at him with an adoring, playful smirking face.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who loses what little sanity he has left when your eyes wander down to his tented covers and you softly offer, "do you need help?", causing him to hitch a choked breath and whimpering out a desperate, completely spent "y-yes, please."

childhood bestfriend!suguru who holds his breath as you climb down from the top trundle bed under the warm room lights, his heart hammering against his ribs so hard it rings in his ears. he can only watch, completely frozen, as you pull back his blanket and straddle his thighs, towering right over him.

from where he’s lying, exposed and completely raw under the soft overhead glow, the shift in your posture catches him off guard. he watches your eyes widen—a sudden, bright sparkle of genuine curiosity and dark amusement lighting up your face as your gaze drops down between his legs.

a fresh wave of heat floods his entire body, making his face burn a furious red. he knows exactly what you’re looking at. he can feel the heavy, humiliating weight of his own arousal—thick, throbbing violently with every pulse of his blood, and swollen so large that the veiny length twitches beneath your gaze. a hot, slick bead of pre-cum is already glistening at the tip, leaking down his shaft and making him feel agonizingly bare.

his thighs tremble beneath your weight as he tries—and utterly fails—to shrink away from the exposure. the raw humiliation of being caught like this by you crashes over him, but as he looks up at you from the bed, watching the playful smirk curve your lips, all he can feel is a terrifying, desperate rush of need.

childhood bestfriend!suguru is completely overwhelmed the second your soft, warm hands wrap around his slick, throbbing length, his hips involuntarily jerking upward at the unbelievable sensation of your touch after years of hidden longing.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who can barely process reality as your fingers slide up and down him with a deliberate, agonizingly sweet pace. the sheer sensory overload leaves him whimpering softly into the quiet room, his knuckles turning white as he grips the bedsheets tight, muttering hushed curses through a tight throat "nghh... oh god, you're—fuck..."

every movement of your hand feels like a deliberate torture designed just for him. he watches through half-lidded, dark eyes as you lean in close, using your thumb to slowly circle his swollen slit, smearing the slick bead of pre-cum all over his sensitive head until he hitches a sharp, ragged breath. you don't stop there; your fingers trace the heavy, pulsing vein running down his underside, following every hot ridge of his length.

when the friction starts to build under the warm room lights, you coolly lean lower and gather a pool of spit on your lips, letting a long, glistening string drop right onto his head. suguru's hips involuntarily jerk up off the mattress at the sudden, cool moisture, a desperate groan tearing from his chest as you rub it in, coating every inch of his thick shaft until your grip is slick, wet, and sliding smoothly over his most sensitive spots.

childhood bestfriend!suguru is so utterly ashamed by how good it feels that he tries to throw an arm over his flushed face to muffle his needy groans, only for you to gently pull his arm away and pin it loosely against the mattress so he's forced to look right up at you.

"don't hide from me, suguru," you whisper teasingly, your thumb lightly tracing the racing pulse in his wrist while your other hand keeps a steady, maddening rhythm on him. "does it feel good?"

"f-fuck..." he chokes out, his dark eyes wide, glossy, and entirely blown out as his head rolls back into the pillow. "you—you have no idea—ah..."

"i want to hear you," you command softly, tilting your head with a playful smirk as your grip tightens just a fraction. "look at me. i want to see every single expression you make, and i want to hear every sound. don't quiet down for me now."

childhood bestfriend!suguru who reaches a point of sheer, desperate need under the warm overhead light, stuttering out a breathless, embarrassed "c-can you use your mouth?"

childhood bestfriend!suguru who completely short-circuits the moment you give a smooth "sure" and immediately dive down, the sharp angle bringing your chest spilling out right in front of his face again and sending his brain into an absolute tailspin.

childhood bestfriend!suguru is thrown into a messy spiral as you take him in, his hips helplessly bucking up into your heat, his legs trembling violently as tears well up in the corners of his eyes while he babbles incoherent praise and pleas.

the heat of your mouth enveloping the sensitive tip sends an electric shock straight down his spine. his eyes go wide, staring down in disbelief as you push past your limits, taking him deep down your throat. the filthy, wet sounds filling the quiet room shatter whatever restraint he had left, echoing loudly under the warm lights. he feels your tongue swirling intensely around his slit before flattening out to lick up along his heavy veins, making his entire body shudder.

because you can't fit all of his thick dick, your warm, spit-slicked hand stays wrapped tight around the base, pumping in perfect, rhythmic sync with your mouth. a long, glistening string of spit rolls down your chin and drips onto his lower stomach, adding to the messy, humiliating sight. every wet slide, every pull of suction, and the heat of your cheeks stretching around him pulls a wrecked, tearful whine from his throat as he helplessly rolls his head back into the pillow, completely undone by you.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who gasps out a desperate warning "wait—fuck, i'm—i'm gonna cum—" his voice cracking, entirely wrecked and pleading, only for the low, rumbling hum of your vocal cords against his sensitive length to send a violent shockwave straight to his core, instantly snapping his final thread of self-control and pushing him completely over the edge.

childhood bestfriend!suguru who cums hard straight into your mouth, his mind going entirely blank with pleasure as he lies there teary-eyed, watching fat globs of his release overflow past your lips and messily drip over his skin and your hands.

childhood bestfriend!suguru is pushed to the absolute brink of blacking out as you slowly keep working your hand over him, lazily licking up his mess from your lips and his skin.

he lies completely helpless—his chest heaving, dark hair fan-spread across the pillow, and eyes glassy with unshed tears. he can barely breathe, let alone think, but his gaze remains entirely locked onto yours. you drag your tongue over your lower lip, gathering the slick white traces, before dragging a tongue up his shaft to clean him off—never once breaking eye contact.

a slow, wicked smirk curves your lips as you look up at his flushed, wrecked face, tilting your head slightly.

"look at all of this, suguru," you tease softly, your voice dripping with playful amusement as you trace a messy thumb over his skin. "you were holding out on me... didn't know my sweet best friend could make such a huge mess just from looking at me."

the sound of your voice—so casual, yet so utterly possessive—brands that exact image into his mind for the rest of his life, leaving his brain completely short-circuited as he stares back at you, entirely ruined.

[nano0o0]

Even with time...some things never change 😔🥀

[octopuswheels]

What would you choose?

[darkumbraspore]

Some Deiran doodles and things and things. Like things and things.

[I love my husband]

[sundriedsheets]

𓂃✍︎ 18+ mdni · pussy so good, sukuna taps in (longer ver.)

Loving Yūji comes with a package deal you don't necessarily know how to deal with. Granted, you've known and loved him first before this entire ordeal even happened — it still is a matter of when and never an if, per se, when it comes to his special situation.

However, as with everything, his predicament doesn't truly stop either of you from being intimate around each other. Where Yūji excels in control against what's residing within him, it seems that the majority of that said will, if not everything, is thrown out the door the second you beg to be fucked.

And fucked real good. Or badly. Whichever way one wishes to put it.

Maybe that's partly on you, or him, or even both of your asses to blame. But, really? Can you blame yourself when Yūji looks stupidly hot all the damn time? Stupidly, massively hot and bothered?

Especially when he wears a simple white shirt which accentuates how broad he is everywhere, when he looks like his brain stops functioning and he's looking at you with only the thought of fucking you bone-dry, and his dick decides to run on autopilot and take him to a blissful place right between your thighs. 

Yes, can you really blame anyone with how immaculate he is before you?

"So tight, baby," Yūji says between clenched teeth.

A vein appears in the middle of his forehead, contemplating whether he should start moving and ram his cock all the way in or give you a chance to adjust to his girth first.

"Ah, Yūji," you whine, "just go in. Stop teasing."

"T-Teasing? I'm not teasing, sweetheart." He manages to choke an incredulous and breathy laugh at your whining. "You think this is easy for me, too?"

You playfully slap his muscled arm. "Shut up! You know what I mean!"

"Damn, even after all that," Yūji grits. "Even after all the sex we had every night, you're still tight."

With a shuddering exhale, Yūji grinds forward, pressing himself deeper into your petaled hole until you whine and drag your nails up and down his back and coax him closer.

"Oh, yes, baby. Shit —yes, yes, — yes," he incessantly babbles. "You're sucking me in completely. I could come right here — ooohhhh,"

His lips head for yours and capture you in a heartbeat. Your nails drag to the front, then you lift his shirt to feel his toned stomach. A languid moan erupts from your throat, and Yūji relishes swallowing your sounds.

His name echoes past your lips when he breaks contact; each drawl of the consonant is like a song of reverent praise that effectively shuts him up from keeping things slow.

"You're taking me so well." He whispers. "Such a good girl you are for me."

The smell of sex and sweat permeates around the room, despite the window being cracked open. When Yūji leans down and noses his way around the hickeys he's given you littered across your body, you catch the whiff of his musky scent, and it sends you into a ripple of arousal — because why is everything he is doing to you just so fucking hot?

Everything about Yūji is too much for you. It's borderline unfair.

"Baby," you whine again, locking your legs around his waist.

"I know, I know." Yūji moans at the feeling, even when he feels your teeth teasing the crook of his neck.

It's so intoxicating; it leaves his already fogged brain even more fogged that he has to fight through your horniness to keep a steady, level pace. Otherwise, you'd probably not be walking for days, probably even resort to crawling to get to point B. Hell, that doesn't sound bad at all.

"Oh, baby, please don't do that. You know I'm sensitive there." He lightly scolds you, pulling at your hair in warning.

"But you taste so good, though."

He supposes if he's going to fuck you the way he wants to, how long he intends to, and the way you let him, then he's not going to deny you what you want to do with him, too.

In fact, if he isn't so gung-ho with you and your immaculate pussy that's still sucking him in greedily as he continues to stretch you, and if he didn't let his dick dictate his decisions, he will most definitely relish the prospect of you dominating him.

Oh, Yūji will submit. Maybe you doubt he would, given how he always wishes to be inside of you and tell you to do this or that for him. But honest to God, if you tell him to be on his hands and knees for you, he will get that shit done pronto. Put a collar on him or something — he doesn't care. Everything screams sexy and a lot of sex for him. So, who is he to refuse that?

"Harder," you find yourself begging for him, "please. Yes — yes, right there!"

Yūji's arms that are propped against both of your sides buckle before he rebalances and takes most of his weight off of you. "Shh, Fushiguro might hear you. You don't want him to hear us, don't you?"

"Then he should cover his ears!" You rebuke teasingly. "He knows better. Isn't he the smartest? He should put his brain to work. Chop, chop, Megumi!"

"S-Stop! Don't make me laugh right now." Yūji bites his lips. "I'm really horny, and I don't want to be un-horny because I'm thinking about other stuff that isn't you."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," You apologize, but it turns into a chuckle because you didn't think you'd be thinking about it, too.

"Relax for me," Yūji attempts to bring the mood back, salvaging what's left from your silly antics. "That's it, baby. Ease into me again."

Yūji's hold around your thighs changes until your legs rest upon his shoulders, and he pounds against you like an animal in heat. From your new position, his cock sinks further. Skin slaps against skin. While your breathing becomes coarse and ragged, Yūji sounds the same except for minuscule groans of pleasure now and then.

Then, he folds you in half, situates himself a little higher, and pistons his cock back into you. You don't realize you are drooling until he licks the side of your face and kisses you.

"Open your mouth." He says, and when you do, he spits twice. "Swallow."

There's a trail of saliva connecting you two when he pulls back. His eyes are transfixed heavily upon the bulge that's appeared at the base of your stomach.

"Remind me to buy a mirror next time. I want you looking at yourself like this. It's so hot, I swear." Yūji drools. "You're so good, baby. So, so, good. Oh — fuck!"

Just when he spills inside of you, and you're about to come down with your first orgasm, another voice pierces through the solidity of the room and breaks your release easily as if he had done this countless times before.

"Enchain."

Suddenly the ceiling becomes the bed sheets as you are flipped onto your hands and knees. Your muffled confusion doesn't go unheard, but other pressing matters come first. Your hair has been forcibly fisted and yanked until your head is pulled back enough to see your lover covered in tattoos, and a vitriol laugh teases the shell of your ears.

"Yū —?"

"Brat's not here," Sukuna's voice rumbles deeply against your skin.

This is the first time he's ever graced you with his presence. You have heard stories of how Sukuna would frequently pop on Yūji's cheek or his hands whenever he's got something atrocious to say (especially towards your sensei and Megumi), but not once has he ever manifested and broken through Yūji like this before — and right in the middle of fucking, too.

"Heh," he yanks you closer, forcing you to look at his hungry eyes. They look at you as if you owe him pleasure after refusing him for so long. "My vessel lost control. I want to know why."

Before you could have swung a cursed tool at him, to trap him within your cursed energy, enough to stall and ask Megumi for help or anybody else should he decline, Sukuna slams your head against the pillow and fucks you senseless.

Is it to your imagination, or did Yūji's cock grow bigger? For some reason, when Sukuna thrusts into your hole, it's fuller. He is far more brutal and ornery with his movements, too.

"Take it all like you are meant to do."

This is wrong. This is terribly, insanely wrong. Here you are in the mercy of the sadistic curse, cackling like the bastard that he is that he found something to entice himself with, and yet . . . it's wrong to feel how good you're being fucked.

Sukuna nudges your legs with his knees to spread wider for him. His hands busy themselves by mockingly kneading your ass before slapping each cheek hard.

You yelp and bite the corner of the pillow hard. Unfortunately for you, Sukuna notices. He pulls you by the hair again, and tosses everything that would muffle your voice aside. There is a buzz of mischief you can feel swirling around his energy, but you can't decipher it all too well as he shoves you down to the mattress.

"Y-Yūji —"

"My name, brat —"

"—Y-Yūji, Y-Yū—"

"— I said my name." He slaps your sloppily wet clit.

Your back arches unknowingly to the sensation, and before you think twice about it, your body yields and your mouth muddles the name, "S-Sukuna!"

"Good, little one." He mutters sadistically, inhaling the scent of pheromones pumping out from you.

His hands are everywhere that he can touch you, and even when he couldn't reach parts of your body, Sukuna merely bends you to his will and lets himself have you any way he pleases. Since the brat's been constantly denying him of you, it's only right that Sukuna gets to have fun with you now.

He fondles your breasts. He pinches your clit. Your thighs are scraped in a thin line of blood that brings him more arousal. Your asshole is gaping at each tense movement he makes out of you. His canines sink to the thin skin of your neck so deeply, he can taste your blood, fueling him into a messy plethora of moans and pleasure like he's drunk on his own aphrodisiac.

"Again." He orders.

"W-What?"

"My name. Only."

"Su-ku-na,"

"Louder. I won't tolerate what you refuse to give me. Say my name again, little one."

"Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna! Sukuna! Sukuna!"

"That's it. Keep calling my name as you come."

Your orgasm comes to you like a torrent — harsh and unforgiving. Still, Sukuna doesn't stop fucking you even as you try your best to squirm away.

When you barely manage to make him pull out of you, and you start crawling, he easily drags you back.

"Where do you think you're going, hm?" He lifts your ass and flicks your clit hard as punishment. "You do not run away from me, unless you want me to kill you."

"But, I need —"

"No."

"Sukuna, please!" You push his body away from you once more, desperately trying to get out of his strong grip. But damn, because of his strength and that it's also Yūji's body, and you know how sturdy he is, Sukuna doesn't budge. Not even a little. "Please, give me a moment."

"And what did I say?" He raises his brow questioningly.

He's fascinated by the way you react to him. When he lazily drawls his fingers around your inner thighs, you shake. When he lets his tongue graze the cup of your ass, you whine. And when he sniffs your cunt, and it smells promiscuously sour and preposterously sweaty, you sound like you're about to come again.

"N-Not there, not yet,"

"What did I say?" He challenges.

"I —" you sound close to weeping.

He pulls your hair. "What. Did. I. Say?"

"No!" You wail, moving restlessly. "You said, no!"

"You're close. I can tell."

And you are — were. You let yourself go with your orgasm. From your blurred vision, you can see the outline of Sukuna smirking at your writhing figure and how entranced he is by your submission. He taps your hips as if you have served him well, before you feel his hold around your body slackening.

There's an abrupt change between you and Sukuna. Once you've regained a better part of your vision and allow yourself to breathe better, you realize that it's because you've been flipped on your back and your legs are locked around his waist again.

"S-Sukuna?"

"No," Yūji breathlessly says. He leans his face closer until his lips brush yours. "I-It's me, baby. It's me. I'm sorry. I-I lost control. Are you hurt?"

You shake your head with a smile. "N-No, I'm fine. I'm more than fine."

"Yeah?" Yūji perks up. You feel his cock hardening by your entrance.

"Yeah, baby." You laugh dumbly. "That was . . . quite exhilarating."

Yūji presses his forehead against yours. The heat is visible in his eyes, but it is nowhere near as intense as the other pair you were forced to look at before.

"That was hot," Yūji admits. "Watching you . . . like that."

"It was," you breathe out.

There, beneath Yūji's hollowed eyes, your gaze lingers towards the triumphant gleam squinting at you in reds and blacks. It tells you exactly what is going through Sukuna's mind: that he's nowhere near finished with you yet.

You swallow dryly.

"Are you tired?" Yūji brushes your hair tenderly.

You shake your head. "I'll be fine."

"Let me fuck you next, then."

Yūji grabs your hips and plunges into you. He folds you in half, telling you to wrap your legs around his neck, and then proceeds to pound you as he promised.

"Come for me this time." He begs you. He places his hands flat on your stomach, feeling the bulge he caused. "For me. Come for me."

"Yūji — fuckfuckfuck — Yūji!" Something uncontrollable breaks out from you, and you realize a second sooner that you've squirted all over him. Your juices drip from his bare chest and down to his untrimmed bush. "I'm sorry, I —"

"Enchain."

"What the fuck, Sukuna!"

"Oh my God, Yūji, come back! Give Yūji back for the love of God!"

"Do that again. Squirt for me, little one." Sukuna growls.

"That was an accident. I — I — I didn't mean for that to happen." You admit, trying to regain proper breathing because, goddamn it, you won't be able to with this one in the front. "Just give me Yūji back!"

"Let me bring it out of you then."

It's obvious to you now that both of them have their preferences in terms of fucking you. While Yūji prefers that both of you are staring at one another and lose each other together in the art of fuckery, Sukuna does anything but.

He switches the position wherein he's lying down, and he angles you to his face. You grip the headboard for support before you realize Sukuna's hold on you is gentle yet strong. You aren't swaying, even when you feel him blow a warm bubble of air directly to your dripping mound.

Then, his hold tightens, and he buckles you down to his mouth and eats you out.

"Ah, Sukuna!" You squawk. You hear the wet squelches you make from his tongue.

"You're learning." He commends. The deep gravel of his voice vibrates past your pubic hairs and sends you a jolt of pleasure that goes straight to your spine.

And just as when you are once again teetering on the edge of another orgasm, he unexpectedly stops with a loud popping sound and watches your reaction.

You move, yet he keeps you at bay.

Of course, King of Curses be damned, when you're this high in being so aroused and utterly fucked by not one but two of them, the consequences of your actions are the least of your concerns. And not even someone who's feared by all is going to stop you.

You swat his hands that are holding you away and rock yourself against his mouth. Your hair hits his nose and grazes the top of his lips — but you hardly care. If Yūji doesn't care that you're growing your own little forest down there, surely Sukuna wouldn't either. And if he does, then that isn't your problem.

You're in a fit of moans, as you ride your pleasure away. With your palms braced against his pecs, you can feel the steady beat of his heart. It appears that Sukuna is granting you power to do as you please, as both of you know he can so easily pluck it from you like a candy from a child.

"Open yourself wider for me." He speaks quietly.

Your fingers spread your labia open. He sniffs you loudly, then he seizes your pearl between his teeth, rolls it around torturously, and licks you hard. Instinctively, you buck your hips down on him.

Sukuna pulls a few strands of your pubic hair; it's painful, but it does the trick when you finally squirt all over his face.

"Fuck! Please, I'm coming, Sukuna! SukunaSukuna!"

He slaps your ass in delight. "Good, little one."

Sukuna's control weakens again, and you realize Yūji's coming back. You laugh deliriously, because any person would be wondering what on earth is happening. Never have you thought that both of them would —

"Aw, baby," Yūji coos. "You taste so good."

"Yūji," you call out tiredly.

"Are you tired? We can stop, baby. It's okay."

"No, I want you to fuck me. Please, baby? I want you."

"I've been trying to all night, but someone just keeps —"

"Lift her, brat."

Your eyes widen when you see Sukuna smirking at you from Yūji's left cheek.

"Shut up!" Yūji slaps himself.

"She will love it. Lift her. Or I will."

Yūji growls, but obeys nonetheless. He hasn't had his own share of fill with you yet, thanks to some bastard.

He hefts you up with your back pressed securely against his chest, his arms cage you so that even if you move, squirm, or wiggle your ass against his throbbing, veiny cock, Yūji promises you within his hold that you will not be dropped.

"Fold her and raise her legs."

"Baby, I just want to ask if that's all right." He grinds himself to your ass.

"Yes! Fuck yes, Yūji! Just do it! Hurry up and fuck me already before he comes again!"

Yūji groans. He lifts both of your legs until his head is placed between them, and then his dick slides back into your entrance.

You become a sobbing mess for him.

"Did I ever tell you how glad I am that you're so flexible?" Yūji kisses your collarbone. "You're so hot, being folded like this."

In and out. In and out does the motion go. Regardless of whether you're exhausted or not, Yūji's stamina is unbecoming.

Your eyes roll back, your tongue lolls out, and all you can respond to Yūji or Sukuna or even both at this point — you don't care anymore who is fucking you — are all the jumbled slurs of their names, of you begging, of you wanting more, and more, and so much more.

"Enchain."

"Sukuna —"

"Submit to me, little one. Submit."

"I submit. I submit! I submit!"

"Heh, let that shadow brat hear you against the walls. I bet he's enjoying hearing you right now, too. My vessel is pretty turned on by what's happening. He’s not even complaining about the switch."

"Ah! Mpmh! Ah!"

"What is the matter? Where are your words?"

"Mmmh,"

"Oh? Are you enticed by the mere idea that somebody else, who is neither me nor your brat, is hearing you being fucked too good?"

"Nng — mphm — I —"

Sukuna pinches your cheeks and angles you enough to look at him.

"Speak."

"Y-Yes! I love this!"

"Well done. Rub yourself. The brat won't stop talking my fucking ear out, so do it for him. But I intend to make you come before he takes control again."

You nod numbly.

"Do not stop until you have come, you have squirted, or you have fainted. I care little what comes first or if all comes together.”

Sukuna licks the spot where he's marked you. "If you had been born in the era that I was, I would've taken you as my —"

"I-I'm coming!" You pull hard at his pink hair for support.

"Then come, little one. Come as much as you want."

For the last time tonight, Sukuna's control wanes. However, before he returns to his realm, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips caressing the side of your face like a lover he didn't mean to find.

"I got you," Yūji whispers comfortingly, "I got you. Just keep coming, baby. That's it. You're my good girl. You did so well. You're so perfect."

Yūji, with his dick still inside of you, slowly lowers you to the bed, tucks a stray strand of loose hair behind your ear, and nuzzles you comfortingly. "How are you feeling?"

"Baby," you try to speak, "too full."

After several pumps and his own release, Yūji pulls himself out from you. "I'm glad."

Cringing, you ask. "Sorry, was it . . . too weird for you?"

Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he admits, "I was surprised that it wasn't . . ."

"C-Can we do it again another time?"

"Baby, I thought you'd never ask." Yūji teases. "Although, maybe we need to set ground rules. Wouldn't want to complicate things, y'know."

With what's left of your energy, you manage to kiss the tip of his nose before nuzzling yourself into his warm embrace.

"We need to do laundry tomorrow. It smells."

"This is all from you, I hope you know." He pauses. "Wait, I like it. Can't I keep it for one more day?"

"Ew. No."

"Didn't hurt to ask . . ."

"Okay," you tap his arm to let you go, "gotta pee before I get an infection."

"Hmm,"

The calm silence between you two — or three — doesn't last long when someone bangs against the door angrily, and you hear Megumi's voice calling out to you and Yūji.

And Sukuna. You might as well drag him with you, too.

Megumi also must've summoned his dog because you hear a couple of growls and something scratching the bottom of the door.

"Whatever orgy you all are doing in there, take it elsewhere next time!"

"And he could've said that shit sooner?"

© ohfreshlinen — all rights reserved. do not modify, edit, steal, or plagiarize my content.

for the premise of this fic, "enchain" is not going to be a one-time used deal between sukuna and yūji — i need it to be used multiple times just for the plot 😗

taglist: @asian-woody, @tynaisjoiningthegame, @dum-dumshitposts, @seekingnirvana12, @lem-hhn, @keanureevessmile, @jesuschristofficialforreal, @ch1yukii, @iheartkentonanami, @urbbyfacedangel, @sweeetlottie, @fartimagines

[wiltedlily]

Sly fox, wise owl

Content : Smut, A date with death 2, possible spoilers, 5012 x reader, Sub 5012 x Dom reader, no reader gender mentioned, Smut with plot, under the table, slightly public play

Please do not read this if you're under age, as, if I'll catch you, I'll block you

Reblogs are highly appreciated and so are comments so please do yap about my content tehe :D

Author's note: I really fw this sexy ahh mans... Saw he didn't get much love yet regarding ffs so I shall give him some love alright to this wise owl~ Enjoy :3

You simply must be the most infuriating person 5012 has ever met in his "grandpa" reaper years.

You always challenge him, push his buttons, make him all hot and bothered without even acknowledging it.

You always manage to get under his skin.

And he hates it. He hates you.

It was to no surprise when your glamour form, your very soul essence, was indeed a fox. It suit you. He thought. He almost smiled at it.

And here you are again into his office, early, teasing him like always, trying to get to know him.

"But seriously what's your favorite color? I would guess its purple right? I mean your whole outfit is giving "I love purple!!" vibes"

"I do not have a favorite I think every color has its own meaning and importance and having a favorite would be irrelevant to my work"

"Gosh its always just work, work, work with you huh?"

"As if you expected anything different"

"Got me there...."

The edge of his mouth slightly twitched.

"So then you really don't care about anything besides work? Like some hobbies or I don't know-"

"I haven't really thought about it considering how busy I always am, especially now"

"Then after all of this is over...can I help you find any?"

He pauses at that.

"If you do your work well and everything is solved....maybe."

You gave a sly grin.

"Only if you do your work well."

"Fineeee I guess I'll take that."

Just then 0204 entered his office, probably late again because of some trouble downstairs, claw machine or something like that.

Honestly 5012 kind of enjoys it when you come early to chat with him or at least try to.

He gets really worried when you're late though.

Once you were late because of some trouble with the claw machine and were really sad that you didn't get the owl plushie.

You found the plushie on your bed that exact same night.

You don't know who it could be and 0204 keeps teasing you about your "secret admirer".

It starts out with the plushie but it quickly becomes a regular matter. A snack, a human trinklet you mentioned you liked during one of your missions, anything you remotely mentioned, it was yours.

You figured it was probably 0204 or 5012, that was the only explanation. But you were always with 0204 lately so he couldn't have done that... Which leaves 5012.

"You're early. Again."

"Oh admit you like it already."

"No."

"So cold for being my secret admirer, hm?"

He stiffened at your words.

"How did you-"

"It was too specific... And I spend too much time with 0204 to know it wasn't him."

He remained silent.

"Didn't know you wanted my attention this bad."

"I don't-"

He turned his back to you on his chair.

You quickly spun him and admired his flushed face.

He was blushing from his nose to the tip of his ears.

You remained stunned at the sight.

He cleared his throat and looked away, trying to hide his face.

You quickly caught his hand.

"Don't hide, I wanna see you right now"

"This is unprofessional, let me go this instant-"

"No."

He looked up at you and his lips slightly parted.

"Good"

You rubbed his chin slightly.

"Why did you give me all those things, hm? Do you like me Mister?"

"Stop spewing such nonsensical things!"

"Well then what's your explanation?"

"I was being a good boss and caring, that's all."

"Ah so you do care about me"

He turned his head again.

"Well... I suppose I should thank you for all of those things."

"Yes you should- wait wha-"

You dropped to your knees under his desk and started unbuckling his pants.

"This is my way of thanking you"

"You-"

"Can I?"

He looked at you for a second, gulping, before nodding slightly.

You took him out of his boxers and whistled at his pale and veiny cock.

"Is this your first blowjob, Mr Bossman?"

"Don't call me tha- oh"

He was cut off by your mouth sliding on his cock.

He bit his lip, looking down at you.

"If you must know- it is my first-"

You hummed on his dick happily at his admission.

He tilted his head back as his breathing quickened with every bob of your head.

Suddenly 0204 just burst into his office like always.

5012 stiffened and quickly hid his lower body (and you) under his desk.

"Heeeeeyyy- oh where is 0213?"

"I do not know, maybe oversleeping."

You continued sucking even as he placed a hand on your head, signaling for you to stop.

"Maybe, or maybe downstairs with the claw machine or socializing again"

5012 coughed slightly as you focused on his tip.

"You should perhaps check-"

"Bossman are you okay? Some kinda soul sickness or what?"

"I am fine"

5012 was gripping the table with his other hand, his knuckles turning white.

"Just go check 5013's dorm. I'll call and see if its something else."

"Okaaaay~"

0204 quickly exited the office.

As soon as the door closed he looked at you under the table, still happily sucking on his cock.

"You're such a fucking slut-"

You started stroking him with your hands as you took your mouth off him.

"You're the one who can't keep his noises in even as a co-worker comes in, who's really the slut here?"

He pursed his lips and gave a soft groan as you stroked the underside of his tip.

You grinned at his reaction and happily put your mouth on him again, placing one hand on his meaty thigh.

"Wait- there is this weird warm feeling-"

You looked up at him and started bobbing your head faster.

He wrapped his palm in your hair.

"Wait-"

He gave a few ragged groans before a moan slid out of his mouth as he came.

You continued on sucking through his orgasm as he clenched his thighs and his head dropped back.

"What was-"

"Your first orgasm I would assume. Or maybe you had more when you were a human, who knows."

You said, putting him back in his pants before getting up and licking your lips.

And, just in time, 0204 came back to find a flushed 0512 and a very smug you, as always.

"Ah there you are!" he exclaimed.

"Here I am indeed."

© 2026 wiltedlily — don't copy, translate, feed my work to ai please and thank you <3

[toyboxterror]

Grim Reapers vs. A Superglued Jar

w/ Grim, 0204, 5012

You ask them to help you in opening a jar, but you secretly applied superglue on the lid as a prank. How will they handle it?

Grim

He'll smirk at you and make a comment about how mortals can be too delicate. You glare at him in annoyance as a response and tell him to just open it.

“Impatient as always,” he says in a teasing tone. “Fine. I'll open it for you. You're welcome, Sunshine.”

He twists the lid, yet it doesn't budge. He blinks, and tries again. But the jar remains unopened.

“That's weird…” He quietly comments, and twists the lid harder. He's too focused on the task in hand that he won't notice your attempt in suppressing your giggles.

He adds more force each time he fails to twist the lid open. His brows furrow together in frustration, “What in the nine hells…” He mutters in disbelief.

It's a funny sight at first. You never thought in your life that you'd ever see a Grim Reaper struggling to open a jar. But you start to worry when you notice his face turns red and grits his teeth in irritation. He's taking this way too seriously. You try to tell him the truth, but he only shakes his head stubbornly, not giving you a chance to speak.

“No, Sunshine. I said I'll help, and I intend to keep my promise,” he glares down at the tightly shut jar sitting on his palm. His expression is intense and deathly. “To think of a measly little jar able to challenge my strength… I am the best of the best. Mark my words. One day, I will open you.”

Welp. You tried.

0204

He winks at you and cheerfully accepts your request. “Anything for my favorite Grim Reaper! Your knight in shining armors is at your service~ ;)”

He begins to twist the lid. When it doesn't even move an inch, he tries again. His face contorts into confusion. He puts more force on his third attempt.

“Hnngh… Where the hell did you get this jar…” He grunts while putting all his might into twisting the jar's lid. “It's… Tight as hell… Holy shit… Uh, not in a sexual, fun way.”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement at his words. He groans as he continues his effort. When the jar remains stubborn and unopened, he slumps his shoulders in defeat.

“Sorry, 0213. I don't think you'll be getting any of that [Favorite Jam] anytime soon,” he scratches his head sheepishly as he hands you the jar back. “What's that jar even made of? Sheesh… You think 5012 would hand us that if we fail a mission as punishment?”

He blinks at you when you explain that you glued it shut as a prank. Your friend pouts at you and crosses his arm in fake irritation. “How could you be so cruel! Pranking me like that… I thought we're friends– No, partners in crime!” He exclaims gloomily.

As if a lightbulb appears on top of his head, the corners of his lips curve upwards into a mischievous grin at the same time.

“Hey, maybe 5012 can open it for us…?”

5012

5012 is a very busy man. He's so busy with sorting and reading some important papers and documents you don't understand about on his desk that he doesn't bother to scold you from entering his office uninvited. It seems he has grown used to your antics by now.

When you voice your struggle in opening the jar and hope that your boss can aid you, 5012 lifts up his head and stares at you with a deadpan look. You feel his eyes searching for something in your expression, it makes you feel nervous and start to doubt if this is a good idea afterall.

You think he's going to scold you and kick you out of his work space, until he plucks the object out of your hands wordlessly. He looks back down at his work, his eyes not leaving the printed words on the papers as his hands work around the jar.

He twists the lid. After his first failure, he tries again, and again, and again, and again…

The Reaper finally looks away from the documents to confirm if what he's holding is a simple jar. His face twists into confusion for a moment, then puts the jar on his desk and faces you with a stern, disapproving look, like a disappointed father about to scold his child. His hand doesn't leave the jar as he glares at you.

“What did you do, 0213?”

Your mouth hangs open in disbelief. He found out already?

You stammer out explanations and excuses to cover up your prank. 5012 nods and hums at your every word. Once you finish defending yourself, he pauses for a few seconds thoughtfully before asking you again, “So what are you scheming this time?”

Gah!

No matter how many times you explain yourself, your boss still sees through your lies. It seems your prank has failed… This time.

[boonkiiboo]

Thinking about Casper..

!!NSFW!!

Casper who can't help but let his hands drift towards his cock as you ramble to him about your day. i mean how couldn't he? with your lips all plump and wet with the newest lip gloss you bought the other day.

Casper who stifles a groan as you continue to talk, his hand now pushing itself into his boxers as he lightly strokes himself, his pre smearing against his palm as he tries to look invested in whatever you're talking about. food maybe? clothes? he doesn't really care, just as long as he gets to hear that sweet voice he loves so much.

Casper who palms himself as you show him your new collectables, gushing about how soft they are. He pulls himself out of his pants, stroking as his mind wonders about how soft you'd feel on top of him, kissing his neck as you take him on your bed.

Casper who spares a second to look at this flushed cock, twitching pathetically in his hand. His hands, wet and slippery as his pre dribbles out of his cock. He lets out a hiss, his thumb pressing against the tip before resuming to strokes.

Casper who freezes when you call out his name, his hand going limp as he focuses back onto his monitor, seeing your beautiful face moving back into frame. Your eyes, looking through the screen towards what he hopes are his eyes. His cock twitches again, desperate for your touch.

Casper who as soon as you hang up, pulls off his shirt, moving one hand towards his pebbled chest covered in goosebumps before settling against his nipples, his fingers nudging and pinching at one as he lets out a strained groan.

Casper whose hand continues to stroke himself, speeding up and slowing down the way you'd do it, because all he wanted and needed in that moment was you. You and your soft hands, your swollen lips, your glassy eyes. The way you'd goad him on when he was close, the way you'd wrap your hand around his as he'd jerk off.

Casper whose lips let out small curses as he chases his high, his hand moving faster and faster as he strokes his flushed cock. His pre soaking his hand as it lets out a sinful noise, dripping down his arm. He bites his lip, his other hand gripping the arm of his chair as he brings himself over the edge.

Casper who comes with a breathy whine, cum trickling down his chest as he struggles to catch his breath. His hand slipping from his used cock as it brushes against his stomach. He lets out a hoarse curse as he closes his eyes, heading leaning back against the chair as he finds his bearings.

Casper who grabs his phone, texting you with wet hands,

"Are you busy?"

[theawfuledges]

was totally gonna save this for kinktober but fuck it, i’m too impatient. enjoyyyy~

MINORS DNI

ao3

tw: masturbation, accidental voyeurism, oral sex (reader receiving), frottage

your name (your heart, too) (casper/grim x gn!reader, a date with death)

He wanted to see you.

It was ridiculous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn’t stop Casper from casting his gaze towards his laptop screen again, fingers drumming on his raised knee as he glanced at your username. He made a face as the online icon nestled beside it remained just as frustratingly dark as it had been the last four times he’d checked, and rolled his eyes at his own juvenile behavior. Nine Hells, what was he doing?

You were probably busy; just as he should be, Casper reminded himself with a grimace, casting a glance at his scythe propped up against the wall. There were plenty of souls in need of reaping, after all. He should be out there, doing his job, not huddled at his desk awaiting your call.

Yet his mind was so far removed from any thoughts of work; pinpointed, as it had increasingly become of late, on you: on your ridiculous jokes, on the obscure, nonsensical nicknames you kept bestowing upon him, on your radiance. Gods, he could think of little else these days.

Blowing out a breath, the reaper ran a gloved hand through his lengthy fringe and frowned at his own restlessness. He had just spoken to you the day before, mere hours ago - nothing but a blip of time to a creature such as he, and yet he was practically insensate with impatience, his limbs jittery and a gnawing ache in his gut that he knew could only be satiated by a glimpse of your face.

Well, he thought with a guilty shiver, sinking down into his chair and feathering his fingers along his waistband, perhaps that wasn’t the only thing… 

Glancing balefully down at his lap, Casper sighed. He had refused to touch himself to the thought of you since the urge had first presented itself to him just days into your correspondence. It was untoward, inappropriate. Unprofessional. You were a job, he had continually reminded himself, and thus off limits. It would be wrong of him to indulge in such a vice.

And yet.

And yet he could not strike the events of the night before from his mind: the expression on your face as he had presented himself outside your window, the slow widening of your eyes as he had revealed the bouquet he had picked for you and the smile that had bloomed upon your lips as you gathered the flowers against your chest.

Would you wear the same expression, he wondered, eyes hazy with growing want, when he slipped inside you? The same slow, creeping shock, the same flustered glee? 

“Shit,” Casper sighed, using his teeth to tug one of his gloves free and slipping his bared hand down the length of his torso. Now that the thought had taken root in his mind he could focus on little else, a slave to his baser urges, and for once, just once, he allowed himself to indulge.

It took a moment of fiddling with belts and zippers - he could already imagine you pouting at the inconvenience, and withheld a laugh - but soon enough he was palming at his cock, feeding the length of it through the gap in his zipper and hissing gently as his fingertips caught against the glistening head. Hells, he was already dripping.

“Sunshine,” Casper sighed quietly, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he lost himself to the blissful drag of hot, hard flesh through the tight ring of his fingers. Would you touch him like this? Firmly, warmly? 

No, he thought with a hot gasp, arching into his grip. No, you would tease him first, drawing your fingertips up the length of his shaft and thumbing gently at the tip of his dick until he was all but begging for more. 

You would enjoy that, Casper thought with a trembling moan. His pleading. His desperation. His tears, once your endless teasing had wrung them out of him. You would drive him to the brink of madness before deigning to grant him even a hint of respite. Gods, he could see it now. Feel it. The hot drag of your gaze along his straining cock, the breathy laugh you’d exhale as he twitched against your fingers. The flick of your tongue along your lip as you drank in the proof of his need for you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, free hand slapping against his keyboard as he chased his approaching orgasm. He knew it wouldn’t take long, not with these thoughts of you driving him closer and closer to the edge: thoughts of your smile, your laugh, the warmth of your touch - because surely you would be warm, radiant, just like your aura. Thoughts of your body splayed before him, parting for him, urging him closer and begging him to come inside -

Casper gasped your name as he came, hips rutting shallowly into the ring of his fist and cock spurting pearly ropes of cum over the ridges of his knuckles until he was shivering with oversensitivity, breaths sticking wetly in his throat and ears ringing -

“… Grim?”

Casper froze, eyes popping open to stare rigidly at his ceiling while his mind hurried to reassure him that he hadn’t just heard your voice calling out to him, of course he hadn’t, there was no possible way - 

“Casper?”

Shit. Slowly, as though courting disaster if he moved any faster than a snail’s pace, Casper lowered his head, hardly daring to blink as his gaze settled on his laptop and your familiar visage filling the screen. Your eyes were wide, round moons in the center of your face, your mouth comically agape, and yet as his eyes met yours, laughing was the last thing on Casper’s mind. 

“Sunshine,” he breathed.

“Oh my god.” It was nearly a whimper on your tongue, your hands coming up to hide your face from his gaze. “Casper. Oh my god.”

Shame flushed through him, his fingers releasing his cock as though burned. Gods, how could he have been so careless?

“Sunshine, I am so - ”

“You said my name.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, muffled by the palms of your hands.

Casper’s heart leapt into his throat. He couldn’t place the tone of your voice, muddled as it was through the gaps in your fingers. Were you angry? Displeased? Disgusted? “I - ” His voice faltered as he floundered for some excuse; what could he possibly say to explain his way out of this? “I was just - ”

“You were doing that,” you clarified, eyes shooting down to the bottom of the screen, beyond which you both knew his cock lay, spent and softening against his thigh. “And saying my name.”

Casper nearly sighed. Idiot, he thought fondly. “Who else’s name would I call? My own? Even I’m not that full of myself, Sunshine.”

“Oh my god,” you breathed - you really seemed incapable of saying anything else. “I can’t believe you called me during - ”

“That was completely unplanned,” Casper interjected hurriedly, his cheeks burning. “Believe me, Sunshine, I am as mortified as you right now.”

You mumbled something, something too low for your mic, and therefore the reaper, to pick up. 

“What was that?” he asked, leaning closer to the screen to hear you better.

“I said - ” you mumbled, only half a decibel louder. “I’m not mortified.”

Casper’s ivory brows shot up towards his hairline. “You’re not?” He certainly was, after glimpsing that shell-shocked look on your face. “Then why do you look so… ?” He gestured vaguely toward your face with his gloved hand, keeping the other - still wet with his own fluids, how unseemly - tucked out of your sight. 

“You’d look a little flustered too if you had just caught me doing… doing… ” You trailed off with a whimper, seemingly unable to finish the thought. “Fuck, Casper.”

His name in that breathy tone of voice sent a shiver through the reaper’s frame. “Sunshine,” he murmured,  “You sound… ”

“I know how I sound,” you interrupted him, throat bobbing on a harsh swallow. “Wouldn’t you be?”

An image of yourself coming apart by your own hand flashed before his eyes and Casper clenched his teeth to restrain the moan rising in his throat. 

“What can I do?” he rasped, wetting his lips as he drank in the sight of your flustered expression. The urge to reach out and touch your face, to feel the warmth he knew must be boiling beneath your skin, was so powerful it nearly undid him. “What do you need?”

Lifting your head from your palms, you met his gaze and whimpered quietly at what you found there. “Can you come over?” you murmured, lips wet and eyes gleaming in the lamplight. “Please.”

Casper’s throat ran dry. Why you wished for his presence was no mystery, your need written clearly across your face, and his stomach burned with the desire to flee to your side, to touch you as he’d been aching to - dreaming of - for longer than he cared to admit.

To give you what you needed.

Lips firming, the reaper met your gaze. “I’m on my way.”

*

Your curtains were thrown open when he arrived, the room beyond bathed in the soft yellow light cast from your bedside lamp.

Casper lingered beyond the window, hesitant to encroach upon you just yet; you had not yet noticed his approach, and he marveled at the state of you as you paced back and forth in front of your desk, arms crossed over your chest and gaze distant, hazy. 

You were holding yourself so stiffly, he noticed, pausing every few moments to shift restlessly in place before resuming your harried trek across your bedroom floor. Had what he done - what you’d witnessed - truly affected you so much?

“Sunshine,” he murmured, his pulse leaping as you jumped and jerked your gaze to the window. 

“Casper.” His name was little more than a sigh on your tongue, your fingers trembling as you lifted the latch and raised the windowpane to usher him in. “You’re here.”

“Of course.” The atmosphere seemed to buzz as he slipped into your room, crimson eyes drinking in every detail of your face and form: the wobbling slant of your smile; the damp fullness of your lips, as though you’d been worrying at them with your teeth; the way you couldn’t seem to stand still, fingers curling fitfully at your sides and thighs pressing together, as though desperate to ease the ache building between them. Casper sucked in a breath and ventured, awed, “Sunshine, are you - ?”

“Really turned on right now?” you interrupted, wide eyes flickering from his fingers to his face before you nodded, voice thick. “Yep. Yeah. Yes.”

Casper’s fingers - still gloveless, he only now noticed; he’d left the Underworld so quickly he’d barely had time to do anything but clean himself up and button his trousers - clenched into a fist at his side. The thought that you were feeling like he had, aching as he had, just from seeing him in that state, filled his belly with a slow, creeping heat. 

“I want to feel it.” His cheeks flushed at his own daring, and yet there was no denying the want buzzing beneath his skin, the need. The thought of you wet and aching for him was almost too much to bear.

“Grim,” you breathed with a pained expression. “You can’t just say things like that. Not that I don’t want you to, it’s just - ” You quickly shook yourself, swallowing hard before pleading, “Fuck. Yes, please.”

Casper needed no further prompting, pushing forward and drawing you into his arms for a bruising kiss. You parted so easily for him, tongue wet and wanting against his own, and his bared fingers shook as he gripped at the soft swell of your cheek and nudged you gently toward your bed, following you down onto the mattress without breaking your connection and ignoring the minor flash of pain as your teeth clacked together.

You groaned against his lips as his hand traveled from your cheek to your waistband, nodding fervently whenever he hesitated and craning your neck to watch as his fingers worked your zipper open and slipped inside.

You both moaned at the first graze of his fingertips along your sex, the warmth and wetness enough to coax Casper’s cock into turgid fullness once more. The strength of his need was dizzying, the proof of yours even more so, and as his fingers reverently explored your most intimate flesh, the reaper found his mouth watering, suddenly desperate for a taste of your heat. 

“Need to taste you,” he found himself murmuring, lips fluttering along your throat and thrilling at the taste of your pulse. “Feel you against my tongue. Please, Sunshine?”

You moaned at his pleas, sex twitching greedily against his fingers and hands fumbling between your bodies for your waistband. It took a combination of your efforts, the both of you clumsy with desire, but eventually you were divested of all but your shirt, the whole of your sex bared to his hungry gaze.

At the sight of your flesh, slick and swollen with arousal, Casper was lost. 

“Nine Hells,” he cursed lowly, wrapping his bare fingers around your thigh and squeezing gently at your flesh. “You’re exquisite, Sunshine.”

You turned your face away at the praise, mouth parted on heaving breaths and fingers curling tightly within your bed sheets. “Casper… ”

Heat sizzled down the reaper’s spine at the gritty-want sound of his name in your mouth. 

“Say it again,” he breathed against the curve of your knee, dragging his cheek along your warm skin. 

Your eyelids fluttered. “H-huh?” you murmured, and Casper suppressed a laugh. It was a novel experience, catching you so off guard.

“My name,” he rasped, lips catching against your inner thigh. He could smell you there - the warm musk of your arousal already strong enough to coax saliva into the back of his throat, your sex gleaming wetly in the lamplight. Gods, you were perfect.

Your eyes grew liquid, welling with desire. “Casper,” you whimpered, one hand reaching down to tangle in the fall of his hair.

The sound of his name spoken so needfully from your lips sent a jolt straight to his cock. “Oh,” he moaned softly, lips dragging along your thigh, creeping closer and closer to where the glorious scent of your need grew strongest.

“Casper,” you mewled, fingers drawing taut within his hair, and the reaper could restrain himself no longer, hands gripping at your thighs as he lowered his head between your legs and licked a stripe up the length of your sex.

Your reaction was instantaneous, spine arching off your bed and a strangled curse spilling from your lips. 

“Oh my god,” you mumbled dizzily, words wreathed in panting breaths as his tongue continued to undulate against you, switching between teasing licks and long, lavish strokes along hot flesh until your thighs were tense and shivering beneath his grip.

Casper hummed in response, the vibration drawing a gasp from your throat. The taste of you was divine, a sweet, earthy musk that set his body alight and his soul on fire, but that was nothing compared to the sounds that you made: guttural gasps and needy whines that made his cock throb within the confines of his trousers, until his hips were rolling against your rumpled sheets of their own volition, desperate to ease the ache building in his groin. 

He needed more - more of that exquisite taste, more of those delectable sounds, and with a hungry growl the reaper fell upon you in ravenous fervor, gathering up swaths of your slick beneath his tongue and laving at your sex with wild, reckless abandon until you were all but shouting his name, one hand gripping tightly at the bed sheets and the other tangled in his ivory hair, each tug at the strands sending pleasurable tingles down the length of his spine. 

“Ca - ahh - asper!” you sobbed his name like a prayer, body writhing beneath his ministrations, and with an answering moan the reaper fitted his mouth to where he knew you’d be most sensitive and sucked, hard, tongue flicking madly against flushed, swollen flesh until you could withstand the torment no longer.

You came with a shout, hips twitching wildly as your orgasm shuddered through you. Casper clenched your heaving thighs with nerveless fingers and moaned brokenly at the gush of fluid on his tongue, laving at your throbbing sex until you were whimpering with oversensitivity and begging him for mercy.

Even as he released you from the torment of his lips and tongue, the reaper could scarcely force himself to retreat from your heat, his cheek smushed into the plushness of your thigh as you both struggled to catch your breath and his pulse hitching with each shuddering roll of his hips against your rumpled bed sheets. 

He would need so little to coax himself over the edge, Casper knew, his fingers - still slick and shining with your fluids - reaching down to free himself from his trousers for the second time that night. He hissed at the first brush of his fingertips along his cock, his flesh slick and swollen with need, but he had only just managed to wrap his palm around the base when you were tugging at his shoulders and urging him to rise, a new edge of desperation to your voice that Casper found himself impossible to ignore.

“Come here,” you pleaded, drawing him into an embrace and wrapping an arm low around his hips in order to coax him into a languid grind against your splayed, spent body.

The drag of his cockhead along your hot, damp sex tore a sob from the reaper’s throat, his hands clenching tightly around your hips and his head dropping to bury his nose against the warmth of your throat.

“Sun… Sunshine,” he huffed against sweat-damp flesh, the thrusting of his hips already losing rhythm as he chased his release. “Ah, g-gods, you feel so… so good - ”

You moaned his name, lips slack against his brow and fingers knotted in his ivory hair. “You too.” Your voice hitched on a sigh as he rutted against you, head tilting back and hips rolling in time with his. “So fucking good, Casper.”

Your blissful exhalation of his name, coupled with the muted hum of your throat against his lips as you spoke it, immediately tipped the reaper over the edge, hips hitching against yours and strangled whimpers muffled against your skin as he came. 

“Gods,” he shuddered, unable to quell a final surging of his hips and panting at the sensation of his release slicking your skin. He had made an utter mess of you both, he realized, cheeks burning at the muted squelch of fluids disturbed by all of his shifting, and upon feeling the heat against your throat, you laughed.

“You’re so cute,” you exhaled, your voice sated and sleepy.

Casper huffed against your throat, even as his chest warmed at the familiar praise. “So you keep telling me.”

“Because it keeps being true,” you counter, lips fluttering over his brow before you nudge at his hip with your knee. “Let’s go clean up, hmm?”

Casper groaned pitifully, allowing the full force of his weight to tether you to the bed. Mess or no, the reaper had no desire to leave the circle of your arms anytime soon. “I think not,” he breathed sullenly against your throat, startling a laugh from your lips.

“Cmon,” you coaxed sweetly, fingers raking gently through ivory strands and lips twitching against his brow as he groaned happily beneath the attention. “I’ll even wash your hair for you.”

Casper’s eyes blinked open, body perking against yours. He couldn’t deny the promise of it made him melt. “Lead the way, Sunshine,” he murmured magnanimously, and you snorted, knees wobbling a little as he helped you to your feet

“I had a feeling that would work,” you teased him, but Casper merely tugged you along, already envisioning the silken slide of your fingers through his wet hair.

[milkpup]

જ⁀➴ ad initia nova

⁺ . ✦ pairing. grim / 8394 / casper x f!reader ⁺ . ✦ sum. You and Casper return to the mortal realm, with a bond stronger than love itself. You live normal lives, but something is missing. You're too focused on the past, and need a new beginning to look forward to. ⁺ . ✦  tags ── ♡ ˚⊹︰mdni (18+), breeding kink, impregnation, casper wants to give u babies tbh, male whimpering, male moaning, switch, soft mdom, fsub, casper is not really a "dom" he's just more dominant, doggy style, bent over a desk, cúnnilingus/eat me out!(EMO), PIV, vaginal fingering, ending 8: interwoven ⁺ . ✦ wc. 2,390 ⁺ . ✦ an. i am OBSESSED with this game. i am genuinely not sane at all over casper. i wanted to write casper as a switch, because he definitely has moments where he would be a lil dom, even if he enjoys being bullied and told what to do. (trust me, i WILL be writing that side of him) also, i studied philosophy LMAO and i couldnt help but reminded throughout the whole game of plato's symposium, which is a dialogue on the nature of love. check it out! very interesting stuff! (i can talk more about it if anyone is interested XD) as always, feedback is always appreciated! i hope youre just as obsessed with grimmy as i am!!!!

"The pair are inseparable and live together in pure and manly affection; yet they cannot tell what they want of one another. But if Hephaestus were to come to them with his instruments and propose that they should be melted into one and remain one here and hereafter, they would acknowledge that this was the very expression of their want.  For love is the desire of the whole, and the pursuit of the whole is called love.” - Plato’s Symposium (Aristophanes)

[ It is said that lovers were originally one being, one soul. But the gods cut them apart and separated them. What we call 'love' is the yearning for the completion of oneself, the merging of two halves into a whole. It is the union of two beings, that can never be separated again. They would rather die than to be separated once more. ] ♡♡♡ Life is difficult to navigate for all people. There are trials, tribulations, problems, and things to overcome. There are new beginnings, new adventures, and new people to meet. But how many people can say they entered a soul binding vow with the grim reaper? Probably not many, you wager.

But it was through this completion of each other’s souls that you formed an even stronger connection, a union of two halves that perfectly complement each other. It is said that lovers are one soul, divided in half, always seeking the other. Perhaps the old you might have scoffed at the idea of fated lovers, but after meeting Casper, you can’t help but hold that belief to be true. You were designed to complement each other, you were made for each other; together, you are one whole.

And despite this otherworldly, ethereal bond, you two still lived fairly normal lives. Casper devoted his time to researching what he could about his memories, about reaper kind, and what it means to be human. You’ve taken on studying as well, learning what you can about the meaning of being alive and what love is.

Lately, Casper has been regaining some of his memories of his past life, pain, anguish, and sorrow all visibly on display. It’s bittersweet, knowing he was once a human and lied to.

While you think it is important for him to find himself, to remember and become the person he wants to be, you also don’t want him to be a cute little ball of sadness and despair. So naturally, you confront him with a proposition that is sure to distract him.

“Hey, Grimmy,” you start, sitting on the desk Casper is currently stationed at.

He doesn’t look up from his books and journals to reply. “I’m not a reaper anymore. And you know my name. It’s Casper.”

“Of course, Jeremy, how could I ever forget your name?” You tease as a slight chuckle escapes your lips, trying to pull his attention away from the books.

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he looks up at you, crimson eyes meeting yours. “Sunshine, is there something I can help you with?” He asks, motioning to your butt that is currently sitting on all of his strewn about papers, forcing him to take a much needed break from studying.

“Nope, all good!” You beam, crossing your legs as you look down at him with a wide, toothy grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, so you’re just sitting there for fun?” He mocks, not actually expecting an answer from you.

“Yeeeeppppp, I love sitting on your desk. Although, I’d probably prefer being bent over it—” You feign innocence, trying to keep up a clueless act.

His eyes widen as his pale skin flushes, a blush creeping across his cheeks to meet the tips of his ears. His delicate hand sets his pen down and closes the book, giving you his undivided attention.

“We can definitely make that happen, Sunshine.” He smirks, looking up at you.

You’ve caught him in a web of your own doing.

“Maybe, later,” you reply. “I have an important question for you.” Nervousness and anxiety balls in your stomach, unsure of how he will take your next few words. “I want to start a family. I think you need to create new memories that make you feel alive, instead of chasing a past life that has died.”

Your words hit him like a freight train. But you’re absolutely right. He needs a change, and while his past is important, so is his future, with you.

If he was upset, he didn’t show it, as a devilish grin overtakes his features. “Sunshine, that is not a question. Typically, a question is composed of—”

But he can’t finish teasing you as you blurt out: “Oh for fuck’s sake, Casper, will you put a baby in me then? Happy now? With your question?”

Yes, he’s definitely happy now. No further words are exchange as he shoots out of his desk chair and moves in front of you, still sitting on the desk.

“I love you, Sunshine,” he whispers as his mouth crashes into yours. His hand caresses your cheek, pulling you into his kiss. He whimpers against you as his tongue searches yours, electricity buzzing with every movement.

You can feel that rush of heat spread through your body like wildfire, amplified by Casper’s own desires. Every movement, every feeling, every sensation is shared and bounced between you two, creating an overwhelmingly pleasurable experience for both of you.

His tongue darts around your mouth, searching for yours. Spit dribbles from both of your mouths as you hungrily devour each other, nipping at his lips and eliciting a short, soft mewl from his lips. Your arm reaches around Casper’s neck, pulling him even closer to you and deeper into the kiss.

Casper’s free hand hastily unbuttons your shirt, impatiently waiting to feel your soft skin once again. His delicate index finger trails down your neck, lighting a trail of fire in its wake. Every sensation of your skin ignites flames in Casper’s body. His hands are so sensitive, and feeling you squirm beneath him is not helping the cause.

“You’re beautiful, Sunshine. Please, let me show you how much I love you.” Casper pulls away, breath warm as it tickles your neck. A small string of saliva connects you two before his lips attack yours once again. You can only whimper against him, a small sign of your consent and willingness.

With you still positioned on the desk, Casper drops to his knees. He starts tugging at the hem of your skirt, like a needy puppy, looking up at you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. You help him by pulling your skirt down, and Casper is now eye-level with your cunt.

“I will never get over this. Over you. I will savor you each and every time, like you’re the last meal I’ve been afforded.” But before he can sing more praises at you, Casper’s face dives right in, hands spreading your legs apart for easier access.

You hiss at the sudden sensation of his tongue lapping up your cunt. His tongue searches through your folds, looking for your most sensitive spot. He caresses it with his soft, wet muscle, and your eyes nearly roll back. As he licks you, Casper feels every jolt of pleasure sent straight down your spine. It’s a direct connection of your souls, but most importantly, it’s a direct connection to his already hard and leaking cock.

Every lick feels like you’re worshipping him too. Every flick of his tongue sends shivers down his spine, pushing him closer and closer without even being touched. Touching you, by proxy, touches him as well. And it’s the one thing you both use to your advantage.

Slick, wet noises hang in the air, accompanied by the sweet sound of your whimpers. Every movement is compounded by his pleasure. You feel him. You feel his desire, his need, and his pleasure pushing and intertwining with yours. This amplification only pushes you along harder and faster, until that oh so familiar knot in your stomach begins to unravel.

Your orgasm crashes around you like a tsunami, overtaking every sensation of your body. You try to close your legs, clenching around him, but Casper only forces them open.

“Not.. Done.. Yet..” He says, in between slurping up your juices. He doesn’t give you any break or recovery, riding your orgasm along with you, licking every sensitive spot as your orgasms repeat in an infinite loop. Watching you unravel under him back to back does something to him, it drives him feral, like a hunger that can never be satisfied.

As his tongue circles your clit, sending an electric shock down your spine, you feel him insert a slender digit into your throbbing cunt. The feeling of fullness elicits a sloppy mewl from your lips; you are unable to even comprehend the pleasure you feel in this moment.

Casper whimpers as his face is buried deep into your cunt, a finger twitching inside of you. The slick, warm, wet feeling of your walls against the soft, sensitivity of his hands only pushed him all that closer to his own impending doom. He might cum just from touching you, leaving evidence of his sin in his pants.

He inserts another finger as he moans, stretching your cunt open. His mind reels at the thought of just fingering you and cumming from this, from the holy perversion of your connection. His cock throbs with every movement of his tongue and every flex of his fingers. He whimpers as his cock weeps, leaving a cute wet spot on his pants.

Just when you thought you might pass out from the sheer pleasure of it all, Casper releases you, giving you a moment to catch your breath. You look down at him, his white locks tousled and messy as you make eye contact. A lewd mixture of your juices and his saliva coats his chin and mouth, dripping as he pulls away.

He grins as his crimson eyes glint, looking up at you. Your stomach does flips, like his gaze is enough to consume your very essence. And perhaps, it is. Your soul is his, after all. Despite all you’ve been through, you are his, and he is yours.

Casper does nothing to wipe away the remnants of your lust, and instead brings a finger to his chin, catching the lewd concoction and bring it to his lips. If he had it his way, he could literally live off of this. He would spend hours devouring you, tasting all of you, until you couldn’t take it any more. Perhaps, another time, though, as he has bigger and better plans.

Casper effortlessly flips you onto your stomach, bending you over his desk. You can hear the quick unbuckling of his belt and the sound of fabric dropping to the floor. You wish you could see the beauty that is his arousal, but the position you’re in isn’t the best for viewing. You make a mental note to make sure and watch him next time, committing everything to memory, lest you forget.

“Spread open and bent over like this for me, so naughty, aren’t you? Since when were you like this, my innocent sunshine?” He chuckles, but he knows the answer. You’ve always been like this, obsessed and delirious over him. Casper lines his throbbing cock against your used cunt, pushing it in ever so slowly.

Despite being prepped for this, and all the other times you’ve taken him, you will never get used to the feeling of him stretching your cunt out.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good, so tight for me~” He moans, pushing his cock all the way to the hilt. He sits there for a moment, allowing you time to adjust to his size before he pulls his cock out and slams it back into your needy hole.

You can feel the overwhelmingly powerful desire coming from Casper. The way he bottoms out into your cunt is sent directly to you, synapses and neurons firing in tandem with his pleasure. You cry out, a pathetic moan escaping from your lips as you feel his pleasure. You feel him fuck you as if you were the one fucking yourself.

Casper whimpers as you tighten around his cock, your pleasure already building. “I love you,” he purrs, before pulling his thick cock out and slamming it back into you. He can feel the way his cock stretches you how it fills you to the brim in the most pleasurable way possible. His hips pick up speed, working of their own volition, as he practically starts panting with every breath.

He can feel that into tighten in you, he can feel how perfectly his cock fits into your cunt. Like it was made for him. Like he was made for you. His grip on your hips tighten as he pulls you into him, slamming his cock as deep as it can go into your needy cunt.

“You feel absolutely divine, sunshine, if I can even say that. You take me, ah, so well, my love. So perfect,” he sings praises to you, peppering every sentence with little whimpers and moans of his own. You can feel yourself reach that edge for the nth time; you’ve lost how many times you’ve cum today alone.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he keeps repeating with every pump, almost like a broken record. His breathing is uneven, raggedy as his erratic hips fuck you full of his cock. His voice cracks on the last syllable as he reaches his own end, and unravels in tandem with you.

His orgasm sends you over the edge— you can feel the waves of pleasure spill out of him as Casper whimpers, spilling into you. It’s like your connection has linked you together, unable to exist without the other.

Still inside of you, Casper bends down, leaving a trail of kisses down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

Your breathing  stabilizes, and you turn over to face Casper. “Next time, it’s you bent over the desk.” You giggle, half-teasing, but also half-serious. And even though Casper just finished inside of you, a blush creeps across his features once more, and he is unable to meet your gaze.

“I’ll hold you to that, then.”

© all works are the intellectual property of milkpup. i do not authorize reuploading/reposting/translating/plagiarising my works, includingai training.. this includes all dividers and formatting images. all works are published on tumblr and on ao3, nowhere else.

⁺ . ✦ notifs. @vvxxccaa ⁺ . ✦ an. another translation of symposium, if you're curious! It has much more detail, and is a bit more poetic, if you ask me!!! (not me using my philosophy degree finally)

"These are the people who finish out their lives together and still cannot say what it is they want from one another. No one would think it is the intimacy of sex—that mere sex is the reason each lover takes so great and deep a joy in being with the other. It’s obvious that the soul of every lover longs for something else; his soul cannot say what it is, but like an oracle it has a sense of what it wants, and like an oracle it hides behind a riddle. Suppose two lovers are lying together and Hephaestus stands over them with his mending tools, asking, “What is it you human beings really want from each other?” And suppose they’re perplexed, and he asks them again: “Is this your heart’s desire, then—for the two of you to become parts of the same whole, as near as can be, and never to separate, day or night? Because if that’s your desire, I’d like to weld you together and join you into something that is naturally whole, so that the two of you are made into one. Then the two of you would share one life, as long as you lived, because you would be one being, and by the same token, when you died, you would be one and not two in Hades, having died a single death. Look at your love, and see if this is what you desire: wouldn’t this be all the good fortune you could want?”

Surely you can see that no one who received such an offer would turn it down; no one would find anything else that he wanted. Instead, everyone would think he’d found out at last what he had always wanted: to come together and melt together with the one he loves, so that one person emerged from two. Why should this be so? It’s because, as I said, we used to be complete wholes in our original nature, and now “Love” is the name for our pursuit of wholeness, for our desire to be complete." - Plato's Symposium 192 d - 193a

[neviye]

(18+) full nelson w kaiser

am i the only one that actually likes being called good girl orr… anyways ill lock in n finish my reqs now since theres only three

thighs spread wide, your leaking hole was completely exposed, wrapped around and dripping all over kaiser’s dick. the mess soaked the sheets below as his thrusts came up, sharp and hard, strings of slick connecting your ass to his pelvis as his pace stayed steady.

his forearms had your knees pinned all the way to your chest, hands clutching your head and fixing your vision to your cunt, which was shamelessly wet with arousal. sweat was glossed over your entire body, tits squished together by the position and sticky from moisture. your eyes were concentrated on where your bodies were joined, loud slaps of skin sounding out with every harsh snap of his hips.

“hope your eyes aren’t rolling too far back.” you heard kaiser’s laugh behind you, “better be watching how well i fuck you.”

“n-no, no i’m watching!” you tried to let the words out as a whimper, but they came out louder than expected, voice cracking and stuttering, overwhelmed by how amazing it felt.

and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn’t. not just physically, because the position literally prevented you from doing so, but because you were hypnotised — the way his dick buried itself in your soaking pussy, length disappearing as he fucked into you. he’d pull out as far as possible, then ram every inch back into you, perfectly striking your sweet spot each time.

you were twitching at the feeling, nails scratching down his arms as your feet swung beside you. “you’re, ohh— so deep!” you gasped, watching his big dick getting slick with your juices. “i feel soo fucking full!”

“this? deep?” he scoffed, leaning back and planting his feet down firmly, “don’t test me.” handling all your weight with ease, he was moving faster and harder — thighs slapping up against your skin and tip abusing your poor gspot, causing your thighs to shake in his hold.

“mmfphh oh shit!” you cried out at the shift, the slightest change bringing an intense wave of pleasure. you could hardly breathe, every muscle in your body crying out for relief but it was exactly how you liked it. “don’t stop please!”

“yeah? greedy fucking pussy won’t let me go.” his thrusts were merciless, not giving you a seconds rest. his hands gripped bruises into your neck and although you couldn’t see him, you knew you had that familiar cocky grin slapped across his face.

he had wrecked you stupid in a matter of minutes, your tongue lolling out as drool spilt out the corners of your lips, adding to the mess he’d already made of you. your hands had given up on marking his skin, hanging limp by your sides.

“fucked dumb already?” he grinded into you, drawing a jolt from your aching body.

“ngh nooo, no…”

yeah, you were gone.

he was undoing his grip, pulling out momentarily while you, still in your blissed out state, let out a small whine. arms now fully hooked under your knees, they were still at your chest as he kept you folded in half on his lap.

“you’re gonna cum on this dick, hear me?”

“mhmm.”

he was gathering all the slick on his tip, running it through your puffy folds and nudging your clit before pushing in. the stretch was still filling, even after the way he had just fucked you, cunt clenching tightly around the inches.

throwing your head back on his shoulder, his reaction was similar — groans coming out through gritted teeth, cursing at how you were already squeezing him when he had just bottomed out.

“shit i said it, your pussy’s greedy.” he hissed, “trying to milk my dick already.”

hips beginning to move, he was fucking you just as deeply as before, rolling and coaxing over your favourite spot again and again, till only the whites of your eyes were visible.

the only thing coming out of you now were moans and whimpers, pretty to kaiser’s ears. your abdomen was hot and wrenching, orgasm beginning to approach and clit throbbing.

“touch my clit please, please!” you begged, seeking the extra stimulation to reach your climax.

he did, surprisingly without mocking or teasing you, letting an hand lose to knead into the sensitive nub. your back arched off his chest instantly, orgasm getting closer and closer with each rub, legs shaking in his arms.

“i-i’m coming, oh my god!” you let out a high pitched moan, pressure in your stomach unwinding as your cunt clenched tight, spraying clear liquid and drenching the already damp sheets. your whole body felt lightweight, orgasm providing a much needed release after being agonisingly folded in half for ages.

“there you go, good fucking girl.” he groaned, cock jerking in your heat. the fat of your ass jiggled as he pounded, his own orgasm nearing. “i’m gonna make you leak my cum.” his hands were forcing you back into full nelson, your calves burning and arms tired. “you looking?”

“haah, y-yes!” sight transfixed on the filth he was making of you, you watched as he came with a hoarse moan — legs twitching slightly and balls tensing, emptying out into you. he pulled out and you watched it drip, cunt creamy as his cum ran down like syrup, glistening under the lights.

“mm..” you muttered dazed, “s-so good.”

“yeah?” he was letting you go and massaging your tender joints, gathering your tired body up. heading towards the bathroom, he sounded so smug — he was the one that had done this to you and he loved it when you stroked his ego. “is my pretty girl satisfied?”

“definitely…” you were slurring, eyes fluttering shut.