Armin—your sweet, nerdy boyfriend, had you sprawled out in front of him. Bare back to his chest and your legs shaking to stay open. And for what felt like eternity, you haven’t been able to let out a single sound. Any moans just came out muffled from the two fingers pressing flat against your tongue. His roommate was home, and “you wouldn’t want him to hear you, right?”
His other hand kept your pussy occupied, letting his fingers get sucked back in by your cunt at a rhythmic pace. ‘It was for research,’ he said. You didn’t push, you thought both parties would win, you’d get some special attention and Armin could finish his paper.
But as time went on, you started to reach your 3rd orgasm. You could feel the heat form a coil at the bottom of your stomach, ready to snap!
Armin let his fingers fall from your mouth, using the spit to tease your abandoned nipples. It just made matters worse. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer. One hand wrapped at his wrist, keeping his fingers buried in your pussy, the other fisted at the sheets. "f-fuck, min- 'm close..."
He swallowed hard at that, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You could feel his bulge press against your lower back. He was still rock hard and aching, pre-cum decorating his boxers.
You came with a hushed whine of his name, back arching and obscene squelching noises coming from where Armin’s fingers made contact with your cunt. He almost whimpered at the sight, his hand locking up for a moment. He pulled out with glossy fingers, your slick dripping down his hand.
The sound of banging on the door echoed through the room, “Can you two keep it down!?” It was Eren, apparently you didn’t keep it as quiet as you thought.
“If I have to deal with you and Mikasa, you can deal with this!”
“Oh for fucks sake.”
Might do another one with the roles reversed, wspppp
your hand rests loosely around the base of satoru’s throat, more unintentional than intention, but the second the word leaves his mouth you stop.
you freeze for half a second, hips stopping where they are straddling him, but he doesn’t let you pull away. his much larger hand covers yours, pressing your fingers tighter against the sides of his neck and encouraging you to increase the pressure.
his snowy hair is a wild mess on the pillow. color burns high in his cheeks, and his bright blue eyes turn glassy as he stares up at you. his chest rises and falls quickly as you apply slow pressure, feeling his pulse race beneath your palm.
“fuck… yeah, just like that.”
his hips push upward, driving deeper inside you and stretching you open with each thrust. a broken moan slips from his lips when you add more pressure.
“use me,” he breathes. “use my throat, baby. choke me while you ride me.”
you lean forward, bracing more of your weight on the hand around his throat, and his eyes flutter. another gorgeous broken moan spills out as you squeeze harder. his hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging into your skin as he helps you move faster, deeper.
“shit— that’s it. fuck, you look so pretty choking me out. don’t stop. ruin me. i want bruises tomorrow.”
every roll of your hips makes him groan louder, the sounds getting breathier the tighter you hold. his throat bobs under your palm with every swallowed gasp. you have never seen him like this, so eager to be used, and it makes you dizzy.
“harder, baby. make me yours,” he pants. he presses your hand tighter against his neck. “i’m so fucking close—use me. choke me while i come.”
ѕυммαяу： ♡ having a sex dream about your best friend is incredibly embarrassing but when he drags the information out of you and delivers something better than your dreams, it's hard to remember why you were feeling that way. . .
Having a sex dream about your best friend—Gojo Satoru—was not on your bingo card for this year but it happened and the result of it is you avoiding any and all eye contact with him. This would be significantly easier if he wasn’t always hanging around you, it would also be easier if his favourite pastime wasn’t invading your personal space.
Your odd behaviour must’ve reached a breaking point for him because he’s sat next to you on your couch, pouting out, “Why are you being so weird?”
“I’m not,” you deny despite your very obvious weird behaviour, still not properly looking at him.
Suddenly, his head is on your lap, eyes analysing your reaction to him, “You’re a bad liar.”
“Wha– What are you doing?” He has you fumbling and it only embarrasses you further. “Get off me.”
“Tell me why you’ve been avoiding me or I’ll literally never get off you, in fact… I will only get closer,” one of his hands moves to grab at your waist but you slap him away.
His head weighted on your thighs has you remembering your explicit dream of him and you can’t help but grow a few degrees warmer in temperature. “I can’t tell you.”
Gojo frowns at that and you hate how you’re noticing just how attractive he is even though he’s growing annoyed, “It involves me directly, but you can’t tell me?”
“That’s right,” you cement, like it shouldn’t even be an issue.
He sits up again and stares at you dead on, “Tell me or I’ll tell all our friends about… the incident.”
A small breath of disbelief leaving you, “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” his eyes stern, he’s completely serious.
You try bargaining, “It’s not that deep, Satoru… give me another week or two and I’ll be completely over it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“So, you’re blackmailing me?!”
“I wouldn’t call it that, that’s such an ugly word,” he shakes his head.
Your brow raises at him, “What would you call it then?”
“I don’t know but not that,” he shrugs easily.
“You’re so annoying, I can’t believe I even—” you cut yourself off, realising you were about to freely give away that you couldn’t believe you had a sex dream about him. It’s frustrating that it was such a good dream too because he’s so annoying in real life.
Despite you stopping yourself, he clings to your words, “‘You can’t believe you even’ what?”
Playing dumb is your only defence but to be fair, you aren’t entirely convinced you’re playing anymore, “I don’t know.”
He stares at you for a moment before speaking again, “Okay, well, I’m calling it blackmail now, I’m officially blackmailing you.”
“Evil, evil man,” you accuse.
He motions at himself with his hands, dismissing your words, “Mhm, now tell ‘Toru all your problems.”
“Ew,” you grimace at him, “that was almost as bad as when you referred to yourself as ‘daddy’.”
Smirk on his face at your response, “Would you prefer that? I didn’t know you were into—”
“—I said almost as bad!”
“Sure, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “now tell me what’s going on, I won’t let you wiggle your way out of the main issue at hand.”
“Fine,” you groan, giving in, “but you have to promise to not be weird or make it a big deal.”
His head tilts at you, “What? Like you mean how you’ve been doing?”
“Just promise, stupid,” you grumble at him.
“I promise,” he pauses, “sort of.”
“Seriously?”
“I said I promise, now come on,” he leans in, ready to listen, “lay it on me.”
Ignoring his giddy attitude, you take in a deep breath before carefully letting it out, “Well… the other night, I was sleeping—”
“—Truly groundbreaking stuff.”
“Don’t interrupt me or I will never tell you,” you glare at him.
“My bad,” he raises his hands in surrender.
“Anyways,” your heart is hammering in your chest because it’s so embarrassing to be looking at him as you try to confess. It feels like you’re being crushed under his intense gaze, it’s making you even more nervous.
He must be able to tell you’re working yourself up, “Geez, calm down, sweetheart, whatever it is it’s not that big of a deal.” He moves to pat your head as a means to comfort you, but you flinch away.
And before you can control it, you’re suddenly blurting out, “I had a sex dream about you the other night and now I feel really funny around you.”
The reaction from him isn’t immediate, only blinking back at you for a moment before suddenly turning his head to the side as he tries to hide his laugh but the snort he lets out gives it away. Your lips are downturned as you suffer through the agonising moments of mostly silence, the embarrassment you’d already been feeling growing tenfold at his reaction.
Wordlessly, you rise from the couch and go to walk away, to go away to anywhere but here in this moment. Gojo stops you though, his hand on your wrist pulling you back to the sofa. Now closer to him than you had been before, something you’re overly conscious over. Keeping your head turned from him, annoyed at his reaction and also your lack of tact.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologises, “I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”
“You need to get out of my apartment.”
“Don’t be so harsh,” he whines, “I have follow up questions.”
You pull your wrist from his grasp, still refusing to look at him, “I don’t wanna answer them, you only want to torture me.”
“Not true!”
He tries to get back in your line of sight, but you keep turning your head away. Your arms cross over your chest, almost like you’re trying to shrink in on yourself.
“I’m curious about a few things now though,” he hums at you, “since your reaction to having sex with me has been so cute.”
His phrasing is so poor that it has your head whipping to look at him and his overly pleased expression, “I did not have sex with you.”
“Right, right,” he waves off, “you dreamt about having sex with me.”
“I dislike you so deeply right now.”
“If you agree to answer my questions, I will literally never bring up the fact that you had a wet dream about me ever again.”
You point at him angrily, “It was not a wet dream! What the hell is wrong with your phrasing of things?!”
He smiles sweetly as he grabs your finger, using the hold he has on you to unfurl your hand and loop your fingers together to hold hands, “Are you gonna answer my questions or not?”
“If I do… you’ll never speak about this again, right?” You try pulling your hand from his but his hold on you is firm.
“Sure,” he agrees all too easily.
You glance down and away from him, “Fine.”
“Perfect!”
And at his incredibly joyful tone, you can’t help but feel like you’ve made a misstep somewhere along the way. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him… or maybe you should’ve concealed your reactions more effectively… or better yet, your stupid brain shouldn’t have conjured the image of you and him having sex to begin with.
Glancing at your interlocked fingers, you ask, “Can you let go of my hand now?”
“Why? Is it making you uncomfortable?” His tone isn’t upset or accusatory, only curious.
Sighing at him in response, “I’m embarrassed to even look at you right now, of course it’s making me uncomfortable.”
He, thankfully, releases his grip on you. Choosing not to taunt you any further but you have a feeling it’s only a small reprieve. Just as your heartrate is finally calming, he asks, “Was I good?”
You’re completely taken aback, knowing what he’s asking but still confused by his bluntness, “What?”
“Was I good?” He repeats shamelessly. “I’d be a little offended if I weren’t.”
If you have to answer his ridiculous questions then you’re going to be purposefully vague, “You were… fine.”
He hums thoughtfully, “You won’t even look me in my eyes, and you said you’re feeling funny around me so I was either horrendously bad or really great, which is it?”
“I don’t like your questions,” you grumble at him.
“I wanna know though,” he whines, “It’s your fault for being so weird about it.”
Your body droops into the couch, head resting against the back of it, “A normal person and good friend would take this information at face value and let me live quietly with my shame.”
“I disagree,” you can feel his eyes on you, but you still won’t look at him, your own eyes closed. He continues on, “I’ll let you live quietly after you tell me everything I want to know… probably.”
You squint your eyes open at him, “There is literally nothing in this for me, you’re blackmailing this information out of me.”
He grins at you, “Are you saying you’d respond better to positive reinforcement?”
“I’m saying I’m still reluctant to answer your embarrassing questions and it’s starting to feel like if I do, I’m only giving you future blackmail material.”
“This is untrue, I’m blackmailing you, yes but I also agreed to never bring it up again if you answer my questions.”
“Oh my god!” this is getting annoying, steeling your nerves, you decide you’re just going to answer everything so you can end this quickly, “You were good, it was a good dream.”
A stupid and happy smile takes over his face, you don’t bother reading too far into it. “You said you were feeling ‘funny’, what do you mean by that?”
“Huh?”
“Funny could mean any number of things, I’m asking for specifics here,” he’s still too happy and it’s annoying you because you don’t really understand why.
“Hmm, like…” you look at him intently to better think about how you feel, your heart fluttering as you do, causing you to close your eyes as if you’re in thought, “…I feel embarrassed to have had a dream like that about you.”
He pushes back on your answer, “That’s all?”
Cracking an eye open at him as you chirp, “Yep.”
His gaze is already trained on you, apparently never having stopped looking at you, “You’re such a bad liar.”
You deflate at your failed deception, “I think we’ve just known each other too long…”
“You’ve always been a bad liar though?” He claps his hands together suddenly and it makes your heart skip a beat, “Now, out with it.”
Quiet as you start your explanation, “Every time I look at you…” he nods his head as if to encourage you, “…I think about the dream and it makes me feel funny, that’s all, can you leave me alone now?”
His lips purse as he mulls over what you’ve just said, “You sure you’re not just horny?”
“Satoru!” you chastise him, shocked and also frustrated that he’s pretty much hit the nail on the head. Ever since your dream you can’t help but look at him differently. Mind feeding you images of what having sex with him might be like—what having sex with him was like.
“I’m being genuine.”
“That makes it worse,” kicking your legs a little about it all.
He starts giggling, “You had a dream about getting fucked by me so good that just being around me turns you on.”
“Stop!” you move to sit in front of him properly, face clearly unhappy, “I did not say that.”
“You basically did,” he dismisses, “So… what did I do to you?”
It’s a bit ridiculous that he’s going in this direction, but you should’ve known he was going to do this. You need to shut him down because just his words alone are affecting you more than you care to admit, “I’m done answering your questions.”
It’s his turn to groan and grumble, “Aww, but it was just getting good.”
Rolling your eyes at him, you say with the intention of ending this interaction, “Satoru… It doesn’t matter what you did in my dream because there’s no way you’d be that good in real life.”
The smile on his face drops, “I can’t help but take that personally.”
“Take it how you will,” you shrug, “there’s no way you could live up to the dream version of you, it’s not logical.”
“Wanna find out?”
“Don’t be childish,” you brush him off, overlooking the way those words send a shock through you.
He pushes, “Treat it like an experiment, I wanna know what’s better.”
Blinking back at him, “You’re so weird.”
Quickly pointing out, “Maybe, but you’re the one who dreamt about fucking this weirdo.”
“Yeah, dreamt, it was a dream.” You shake your head in disbelief at him, “Why are you acting like you’re jealous of dream you?”
“Maybe I am jealous of dream me.”
“That’d be stupid.”
“You’re always telling me I’m stupid.”
Gojo’s eyes keep flitting to your lips every time you speak, the look in them suddenly much darker than the glee that was held in them when he was teasing you earlier. Trying to be stern but not entirely convincing when you state, “I’m not going to have sex with you for a reason as stupid as that, grow up.”
“But you’ll have sex with me for a good reason?”
“Stop putting words in my mouth,” you tilt your head at him in exasperation, “why are you even acting like this?”
Ignoring your question and instead posing his own, “You sure you’re not curious, not even a little bit?” His hand cups the side of your face, his thumb pulling down on your lower lip, “I know I am.”
That simple touch has your heart leaping bounds, suddenly so hyper aware of how deep the effect he has on you is. It scares you, how much you want him, how much you want to say yes. You shouldn’t get carried away, he’s being ridiculous, this is all so ridiculous. Your years long and best friendship could be ruined because of this moment.
All things you’re worried about, all valid concerns, all thoughts that slip from you so quickly when he leans in and licks teasingly at your lower lip. The gasp you let out is his entrance into your mouth, his lips plush and demanding against yours. Eyes falling shut as you let yourself get lost in his kiss, full and delightful and something you’ve never felt before.
It’s messy and uncoordinated, like he’s not really focusing on how to kiss you and more on the fact that he gets to kiss you. You’re getting dizzy, body buzzing pleasantly at how he sucks on your tongue. String of saliva keeping your lips connected when he pulls back, snapping as he wipes his lower lip with his thumb, only to then push it into your mouth. Your immediate response to suck, feeling depraved but enjoying the look on his face you get when you do.
He speaks under his breath, eyes a little dazed, “Fuck.”
As soon as your tongue licks against the tip of his thumb, he’s pulling it from your mouth and hurriedly slotting his mouth over yours again. Barely giving you a moment to think before he’s kissing you so completely, consumed by his need and the delicious way he partakes in your lips.
It’s so overwhelming, to be desired like this is foreign and has your thighs clenching together. Gaining confidence when you finally wrap your arms around his neck, a move he appreciates if his groan and grabby hands are anything to go off of.
The way he parts from you is full of huffed and short breaths that only ends in him kissing you again, like he’s fighting with himself to say something, to do something more but ending up not strong enough to move on from your lips.
A pathetic moan that you don’t even recognise as your own leaving you, the sound only spurring Gojo on. Using his body to push against yours until your back is on the couch, not bothering to explain what he’s doing, far too busy and far too fixated on how you taste.
Filled to the brim with thoughts about how good his kiss is, how kissing can’t possibly be this good, how you’d let him do more. Fingers threading through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a way that pulls a shudder from him.
What feels like far too soon he’s properly pulling back, quickly putting distance between you both so he’s not immediately gravitating back. Arms holding himself up, hovering over you, taking his sweet time to appreciate the look on your face. Pride exuding from him at what he’s reduced you to with a few kisses.
“Stop staring, Satoru,” your voice comes out more whinged and unfortunate than you were hoping.
“No.”
It’s a simple response, one that’s weighted with meaning and intention. Maybe if you weren’t only concerned with how good of a kisser he is, of how you want more, of how he looks indescribably good over you, you’d ask him why he’s acting this way. Maybe you’d even ask what this means for your friendship but when you’re in this deep and enjoying it this much, thinking that deep slips from you all too easily.
“I’m gonna touch you,” his gaze wanders over your body before looking back to you, “okay?”
Already nodding back at him, “Okay.”
And only when you verbally affirm him does he let his greedy hands travel your body, sitting back on his knees so he can grope at your thighs and hips. You can tell he’s enjoying your squirming immensely, eyes simultaneously lidded low and lit up.
Quickly glancing to meet your eyes when he asks, “What did I do to you?”
It takes your brain a second to catch up to his words, stuck on his big hands resting against your hips, his fingers digging into your plush skin. “You mean…”
“In your dream,” he slips into your waistband and starts to slowly pull your pants off, “what did I do to you in your dream, sweetheart?”
You feel your skin heat, his fingers tickling against your thighs. “I’m not answering that.”
A low hum sounds from him as your pants are finally removed and tossed to the side, “Why not?”
Keeping your legs together, self-conscious of the fact you’re in your underwear below him. Though he’s not bothered at all, groping and massaging at your thighs, “What happened in that dream is private.”
“That hardly seems fair,” his eyes bore into your own, “since I was there and all.” Paying no mind to your small protests as he manoeuvres one of your legs to rest against his side, feeling much more exposed now that he’s spread your legs.
“Satoru, you can’t just!– mmph—”
Further protesting cut off abruptly when he places his palm on your lower stomach, thumb drawing over your covered slit. His touch there was unexpected but not unwelcome, small shocks of pleasure thrumming through you.
“Did I use my fingers?” he keeps stroking your cunt, touch light and nowhere near enough to satisfy. “How about my mouth?” pausing to blatantly stare at your pussy, not even really addressing you when he adds, “please tell me I used my mouth,” his last words come out pitchy, almost like he’s begging for it to be true.
“I don’t know why you keep bothering to lie to me,” he murmurs low, using both thumbs to pull apart your folds, pressing into your hole only to be stopped by the material of your panties.
His action has you shooting up, face to his chest, your hands grab onto his shirt and all he does is chuckle at you. “Stop playing with me,” you huff at him.
Leaning down, he drags his lips over your skin gently. Leaving behind soft kisses all over your neck and chest, blowing air by your ear just to make you twitch. Voice almost a whisper when he asks again, “What did I do to you?”
“You’re embarrassing me,” you look through your lashes at him.
His smile is pleased, “Yeah, well, you’re turning me on.” Grabbing you by your hips and pulling you into his lap, your cunt pressing right into his erection, “Feel that?” He can’t help the way he gives small grinds into you, your warmth too enticing, “All your fault, so tell me what I did to you.”
The grinds he’s giving you feel too good, he’s big and so hard and couldn’t he just, “Can’t you just put it in?”
He laughs airily, surprised by your need and shifted focus, “I think you can feel enough to know that I can’t.”
“You were nicer to me in my dream,” you pout at him.
“Somehow, I doubt that—” his head drops back and a soft groan leaves him, getting lost in how you’ve started to rut down into him.
Thinking back to your dream, you decide to mention, “You did.”
Distracted reply coming from him, “Hmm?”
“Use your mouth, I mean—”
Just as you’d gotten the words out, he’s pushing you flat on your back again, not even pausing to think as he pulls your panties off in one movement. Settling between your thighs impatiently, eyeing up your cunt, “You been holding out on me.”
Your legs thrown haphazardly over his broad shoulders, “Wait just a sec—”
“—Why?” Tongue already hanging from his mouth and hovering over your pussy, just about drooling onto it.
The sight of him has your brain rebooting, “No– nothing.”
Keeping his eyes intently on you when he licks your whole pussy, smiling at how your mouth drops opens and hips squirm, “You’re cute.”
“You– you’re– hnn—” you don’t get to retort properly, his tongue flicking at your clit each time you try to say something.
“Mhm,” he’s enjoying this, you can tell, his tone too amused. “You’re so wet, practically begging for me to put my mouth on you.”
And then he shoves his tongue inside you, holding your hips down so he can fuck you with it. Delighting in the moans tumbling from your lips, cunt syrupy sweet and begging for him to stuff it full. Swallowing down all you have to give him, shudders running down his spine as his cock jerks in his pants. He’s been horny ever since you admitted to having had a sex dream about him. And if he’s being completely honest, maybe since he had his head in your lap.
It feels a little cruel that you kept it from him for so long, he would’ve gotten on his knees for you the second you asked him to. Groaning into your pussy when your hole tightens around his tongue, pressing his face closer to you. Nose stimulating your clit with how desperate he is to taste your cunt.
He’s messy in how he’s devouring you, sloppily making out with your pussy. Small groans leaving him as he relishes in it, like he’s getting just as much out of this as you are. It’s too good, back arching and thighs fighting to close, held open by his wide frame between your legs. This is the first time someone has gotten you so close so quickly, it’s almost embarrassing how easily he’s about to make you cum.
Gojo knows you’re close, it excites him, he wants your cum in his mouth, he wants to feel how you shake underneath him. But there’s something wicked inside him that wants to tease you a little more. Choosing instead to wait until you’re just about to finish before suddenly pulling back.
You whine at him, eyes wet when you look at him in confusion. He only smiles back at you, tongue licking his lower lip before he asks innocently, “I forgot to ask, did you cum like this?”
Brain taking a moment to catch up before realising he’s still asking about that damn dream, “I don’t– I think so?”
Pressing open mouthed and wet kisses over your inner thighs, remarking, “Not very memorable, was it?”
Somehow, it feels like he’s trying to compete with his dream counterpart, and the thought is just ridiculous. “It was very memorable,” you’re only hoping to be a little teasing but by the look in his eyes he takes it personally. Opening his mouth wide and chomping down onto your thigh, biting you enough to nearly break skin. You jump at the shock, “Hey!”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, licking over the impression of his teeth before pressing a kiss to it, “try remembering this instead, yeah?”
It’s a little bit cute of him to be so jealous of your dream, “You’re stupid.”
He knows he’s stupid, he’s all too aware of it but that changes nothing to him, “I’d be more careful with your words if you wanna cum,” blowing air onto your clit, reminding you of how close you were.
“Satoru…” you don’t really like how he’s got you backed into a corner right now.
He hums in acknowledgement at you, “Need something?” Head leaning against your thigh as he smiles smugly up at you.
How frustrating of him, to know exactly what you want but choosing not to give it to you for his own enjoyment. “You’re a tease,” you huff at him.
“Hmm… not usually,” his hand slides up your inner thigh, single digit slipping inside your hole, “I think that’s something you bring out of me,” pleased with the small sounds you let out at his finger stuffing you.
Gasped moan leaving your lungs, trying to tell him how unbearable he is, “You’re– hnn!—”
A sound of awe leaving him as he drags his finger out, “How obscene, you really are so fucking wet.” He says it like you should be ashamed of yourself but he’s smiling too big, eyes full of loving obsession. Clearly incredibly happy with how dripping and soaked your cunt is, “Basically drooling for it, sweetie. How embarrassing~”
You might have to kill him because he really is embarrassing you. Hell, it was already embarrassing doing this with your best friend and now he’s teasing you for his own sick pleasure, “Stop…” not able to help the completely pathetic look on your face, “…stop being so mean to me.”
Gojo feels his heart drop and then start beating a million miles an hour, you’re so cute that he can’t help but breathlessly laugh, “My bad, will making you cum make up for it?”
“Yes,” you assert.
Ah, his head is spinning, you might be too much for his poor heart to handle. He can’t bear having you upset with him though, pressing soft kisses to your pussy lovingly. It’s as if he’s apologising for being so cruel to you, deepening his kiss to your cunt by stuffing you full of his tongue again.
The way you twitch and moan under him really does drive him wild, how he’s going to stay sane while fucking you is beyond him. Lapping at your sopping cunt so devotedly, eyes dazed and pussy drunk as he watches how your eyes roll and brows pinch. Giggling to himself at how surreal it is to be tongue deep inside you, to have you this needy for him.
When he suddenly pushes your legs back, you squeak. Damn near folded in half and bent for him, “Satoru, you can’t just– mmph!—”
He doesn’t grace you with the kindess of listening properly, simply going back to eating your pussy like it’s his last meal. The way he’s holding you is pornographic in nature, a position you’ve never even thought to be in, and he’s easily manhandled you into it. Lower back no longer even touching the couch, held up by Gojo.
With how he’s positioned you now, all your dewy slick and his saliva slides from your cunt and drips crudely onto your poor couch. Head dizzied as he gets you closer and closer to finishing, building you up so much faster after the loss of your last orgasm.
“I– ah!– so close– mmph—” you don’t want him to stop, hand holding onto one of his on your hip tightly, begging that he doesn’t pull away again.
Lucky for you, he desperately wants you cumming for him. He barely brought himself to deny you the first time, there’s no way he could do it a second. Completely and whole heartedly dedicated to making your pussy cream for him, salivating at the thought alone.
Moans you don’t even register pulling from your lungs as he finally pushes you over the edge, hips shaking as you try to ride out your own high with little success. The position you’re folded in keeping you at his mercy. Orgasm feeling oh so sweet after he denied you, lashes fluttering as it washes over you.
Gojo hums happily into your pussy, drinking down all your creamy slick and then still not parting from you. Too addicted to your scent, to your taste, ignoring all rationality as he keeps licking and sucking at your cunt. Whining when your weak fingers dig into his hair and pull him back by force, shaking underneath him from how he’s nearly forced you into overstimulation.
“Too much,” your voice trembles with your words.
His lower face is a complete mess of you and you’d feel bad but the stupid smile and dazed look he’s wearing tells you that you don’t have to. “You got a great pussy,” he compliments, moving his thumbs so he can lewdly pull your cunt wider for his greedy eyes.
“Ah!– stop staring, have you no shame?”
Eyes flicking to yours when he states seriously, “None.”
You’re feeling far too exposed in this position, “Can you let me move—”
Ignoring you and instead musing aloud, “—How many fingers do you think you could take?”
“What?”
“Your hole was tight around my tongue so maybe only one?” Slipping a single finger inside you and stroking against your walls. Your back fights to arch and a soft mewl sounds from you, “ahh, that’s a nice reaction. Let’s stretch you out yeah?”
“You’re so– hnn!—” barely biting out, “You’re such a pervert.”
His head tilts at you, “Did you expect anything else?”
Managing to babble out, “Weren’t so– hah– perverted– hnn– in my dream– mmph—”
“I take pride in that,” his chest vibrates with his words. Of course he takes pride in it, why wouldn’t he? Stuffing another finger inside your snug cunt and scissoring them, trying to open you up enough to be able take him, “This sweet pussy might fucking kill me, I don’t know how you’re gonna take me.”
Could he have a bigger ego? “Don’t be ridiculous– hah!—”
“I’m not just being cocky, sweetie.” Fingers brushing up against so many spots you can never quite reach on your own, “You might actually struggle to take it all.”
Eventually giving you a third finger, spread wide around his digits and leaking into the palm of his hand. He’s got you a squirming and moaning mess under him, mind melting from the mouth-wateringly sinful way he’s playing with you.
“Satoru– hnn!—”
“Something wrong?”
Now he knows damn well… “Please, just– hah—”
He laughs at your whimpered neediness, completely aware of how bad you want him inside of you. “Being real cute right now.”
“Don’t—”
“—Don’t what?” Using his fingers to tease your most intimate spots.
“‘Toru– hnn– please,” lower lip wobbling as you pout at him, “I want you…”
That’s not fair, you’re not playing fair at all. “You’re evil,” he mumbles at you, cheeks and tips of his ears flushing red with how turned on he is, “but I’ll give you what you want, since you’re so adorable.”
Thick fingers drawing from your cunt, the loss of him pulling a whine from you; it makes him smile. You’re genuinely so pathetic right now and aside from how horny it’s got him; it’s also got his heart stuttering in his chest.
“Take your shirt off,” he points at you, letting you finally lower your bottom half to the couch.
Grumpily following his instruction, feeling especially docile right now, “You’re being too bossy.”
His words come out a little muffled as he pulls his own shirt off, “Your pouting would have more effect if you weren’t also listening so well.”
“Maybe I’ll stop listening then.”
He stands from the couch to tug down his pants and boxers, brows drawn together and head tilting, “When you’re this close to finally taking it all?” Holding the base of his hard cock, tone smug.
Embarrassed for yourself at how your cunt throbs for him, desperate in a pitiful way that you’ve never imagined yourself being over him or anyone. “Are you in any position to be this big of a tease?”
“For you? Always,” he taps your thigh and leans onto the couch again, “now spread your legs for me.”
Already opening up to give him room before really thinking twice on it, hating that you’re this willing to follow his instruction. His hands on you are gentle, almost reverent in how they trail along your inner thighs.
Gojo can’t help himself, touching you as much as he can, wanting to prolong this whole experience. Your skin so soft and delicate under his touch, fingers digging into your flesh just to see proof of him touching you. Completely bare and willing under him, heart hammering in his chest at this fact.
Dragging his cock through your sopping wet pussy, shivering at just how gooey your cunt is. Not intentionally trying to torture you but doing so anyways, squirming and impatient under him the more he plays with you.
“Satoru,” voice pitchy, “please.”
Not moving immediately, only cursing as he gazes at you all lost.
You wrap a single leg around his waist and pull him forward, encouraging, “C’mon.”
Smug expression suddenly back on his face, “Alright, here we go,” tapping at your entrance a few times first. “Ohh, biiig stretch,” word drawn out and provocative as his cock head slowly slips inside you.
Big stretch is fucking right, chest squeezing as you struggle to adjust. Hands gripping onto his biceps for dear life, needing to be grounded.
One of his hands reach out and strokes against your head, you keen into his touch and he chuckles. Leaning down to whisper, “You need to breathe, sweetheart.”
His hips have stopped moving forward but it hardly seems like it, already feeling obscenely full. “H–how much– hnn– more?”
Gojo dips his head down to look at where your cunt is bulging around him, teeth digging into his lower lip as he stifles a strained laugh, “Not much at all.”
“Are you lying?” Unable to help the way your lip wobbles a bit with your question.
“Yeah,” he thrusts just a little bit more into you, “but you’re doing so well, feel fffucking fantastic.”
You’re clawing at his shoulders, feeling like you’re being stretched to your limits, “Why– ah!– why is it so big?” Somehow, you feel annoyed at him for it.
“I’m God’s favourite,” is how he chooses to reply, ego growing tenfold at how you’re falling apart just from the shallow thrusts he’s delivering.
How the hell are you meant to take all of him, “How– hah– how much?”
He can’t take his eyes off how you’re sucking him in, hands gripping your hips and thumbs drawing circles into your skin soothingly, “Why don’t you just watch for yourself?”
You shake your head at him, eyes scrunched shut, “No.”
“And why not?” Still, he’s feeding you more of his cock, your pussy pulsing around him making him dizzy, “It’s a good fuckin view.”
“Don’t– hnn– don’t torment me.”
Blinking your eyes open to give your best glare, it only comes across half hearted. Completely taken with the look on Gojo’s face, flushed pink with his pupils blown wide, teeth digging into his lower lip again to stop from whining. Eyes flicking to yours and he’s completely melting when seeing just how pathetic you are under him, moan stumbling from his lips so suddenly that it takes him by surprise.
He's just as big of a mess as you and it has your cunt positively creaming around him, turned on by the fucked out horny look on your best friends’ face. Gojo shudders at your pussy getting slicker around him, his dick jerking inside you.
“Getting this– hah– wet over your best friend…” fucking his hips quickly, pelvis now flush to yours, “…how shameless of you.”
You’re quivering around him and writhing under him, the feeling of being completely stuffed full overwhelming on its own. His taunting cruel and mocking and unfortunately turning you on that much more, upset that you’re letting him get away with it.
Lips downturned when you fire back, “You’re more shameless– hnn– pervert.”
Gojo can only be charmed by your weak insult, especially since he’s pretty sure you’re unaware of how your hips are twitching under the weight of his hold. Fighting upwards for the hope of getting fucked but kept frustratingly still by him. Your neediness has piqued his interest, now wondering how long he can stay still until you’re shedding tears out of pure frustration. Quickly growing addicted to the idea of teasing you like this.
He's so still it’s driving you crazy, able to feel his dick twitching inside you, veins throbbing against your sensitive walls. Obviously wanting it just as bad as you but still not moving, shifting one of your hands to tap at his on your hip, gaining his attention.
Eyes on his, “What are you waiting– mmph– for?”
God, the look on your face is killing him, so sweet under him. It’s almost like you’re coming apart already, his hands dig into your thighs and it has you keening under him. Pitiful whine leaving you as your hips start grinding into him quickly, trying to alleviate some of the desire you’re feeling.
“Now why on earth…” he straightens his back up more, pulling your lower half up with him, not giving the chance for his cock to slip from you, “…are you this touch starved?”
“Huh?” it’s the only response you’re capable of giving, having finally seen just how he’s shoved inside you. Cunt stretched obscene around his fat dick, dripping happily and syrupy sweet around him. Chest fluttering at the shock and excitement.
“I’m so sorry for not noticing, sweetie,” he coos at you, “I would’ve helped you if you’d told me.”
Complaining back at him, “I am not touch starved.”
“You definitely are,” he trails his hand from your hip, up your side, just to show you how you twitch into it, “it’s okay though, I’ll take good care of you.”
Pussy shivering involuntarily around him, giving away that you’re lying. How he managed to know you were deprived, you have no idea but the fact he did is embarrassing to you. He doesn’t need to be aware of how long it’s been since you were last touched so intimately.
“I—”
“—Don’t bother lying again,” he keeps caressing you where he can reach, “I’d much rather hear about how much you like when I touch you.”
Maybe he’ll start moving if you’re honest, “I like when– hah– you touch me,” pouting slightly and barely fighting off the shudder running down your spine at his touch.
“Good,” he smiles at you, all glib, “‘Cause I’m gonna touch you. Lots.”
Eyes sparkling at him, hoping, “Does that mean you’re– ah– hnn– actually going to fuck me now?”
“Why?” his head tilts at you, “Do you want it?”
Giving your best glare back at him, he’s proven to you sufficiently by now that he can read you incredibly well, much to your dismay. Muttering out, “Dream you was– hah– much more indulgent of me.”
“Ouch,” though he says that, he doesn’t seem hurt at all, “Dream me was a fool then ‘cause you’re much more fun to play with like this.”
He’s being so evil, “Can’t you just give me what I want?”
“I might,” his gaze is lecherous as his eyes rake over your body, “if you ask for it properly.”
“Satoru…” you try to call out to him as sweetly as possible, “…please fuck me?” lip quivering slightly as your neediness bleeds through your façade of togetherness, “please?”
Gojo’s heart squeezes in his chest, he’d planned on tormenting you a little more but he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep his sanity any longer. Already he feels like he’s a second away from cumming, caught between wanting to give you everything you want and teasing you until you cry. He guesses he’ll just have to settle for fucking you until you cry this time, next time, he promises himself he’ll tease you properly next time.
“Satoru?”
Your voice breaks him out of his reverie, grin back on his face, “I heard you, pretty. I’ll give you what you want.”
Dragging his cock from you slowly, so slowly, the heavy weight of him pulling out driving you up a wall, insides shuddering. Broken and gasped moans leaving you, rushing out quick, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, oh—”
The laugh that leaves him is too attractive, amused by your gratitude for something like this. It’s cute how the thank-yous just keep tumbling from your lips over and over as he keeps pulling back to the tip of him.
“Don’t thank me for that…” his hands dig into your hips more, “…thank me for this,” slamming into you all at once with his last word.
The wind is completely knocked from your lungs, shocked whine louder than you’d want it to be. Desperately clawing at any part of him you can reach, struggling to take it and keep it together. Feeling like you’re completely melting, head spinning as pleasure thumps through your veins.
“Mmph– I– ahh—” barely coherent as your eyes fight to not roll to the back of your head, “thank hnn– you.”
Small giggle leaving him at just how adorable you’re being, heart hammering in his chest as he sets a consistently mind ruining pace. He can’t wipe the fucked out smile off his face as he keeps pounding into you, giddy with how he gets to have you under him like this.
Babbling varied compliments, “You’re so adorable,” he huffs out a whimper, “hnn– and you’re so fucking tight around me,” less coherent as he carries on, “God, and so fffucking wet– hah– what the– so hot– I—”
He feels insane, how you’re this warm and perfect around him has him at a loss. Almost like you were made just for his cock, something he’ll let himself believe because the idea of you being with anyone but him breaks his heart a little bit.
Hypnotised by how you’re sucking him back in, clinging onto his dick desperately. It’s almost like every time he pulls out, you’re begging him to fuck right back in, and of course he’ll comply. The idea of pulling out before he’s finished with you a painful thought, not willing to give up this moment even if someone walked in on the two of you.
Such a genuine thought, he’s completely certain that someone could walk in on you both and his thrusts wouldn’t even slow down. If anything, they’d speed up, finally he’d get to show off how you’re his. Possessiveness tumbling around restlessly in his head, his dick only getting harder.
All you can do is take it, take all of the jaw slacking and toe-curling pleasure he’s delivering you. Your pussy making obscene sounds as he fucks into you, skin hot from how depraved it all feels. Gojo looks so completely wrecked, eyes glazed over, lips still moving as he continues to mutter out sweet praise. Praise that would probably have your insides flipping and body growing hotter, but you can’t hear anything but your heart thumping in your own ears.
Delirious grin making its way onto his face as he’s struck with a wicked realisation, large hand sliding its way from your thigh to your stomach. Pressing down the littlest bit and watching how you squirm and shudder under him, gasping for breath and hands slapping at him, trying to speak.
“Don’t– hnn– don’t do that– ah!– too much– it feels too—”
“What? Good?” He hisses out, still managing to be taunting.
“It’s too much– hah– mmph– I’m too sensitive,” your eyelashes feel wet, like you might’ve started crying but you can’t even be sure of that right now.
His hand presses down more into your tummy, “I know you are~” he giggles a little, “it’s turning me on.”
“Seriously– hnn– don’t– I’m gonna– ah!—”
He’d completely ignored your pleas causing you to cut yourself off with a moan, orgasm suddenly washing over you. Spasming hot and snug around him, so sinful that he’s shocked by his own high, cumming deep inside you as you shake and shiver around him.
“Ohh, you’re– haah– you’re killing me sweetly,” Gojo’s head feels like it’s spinning, swimming in so much euphoria as he grinds into you.
You’ve slumped under him, trusting him to keep a hold of you, not even thinking to chew him out for making a mess of both your cunt and sofa. Brain feeling all fuzzy and melted in your skull, blissed out from how good you’re currently feeling.
Busy basking in the afterglow when your world is suddenly spinning, Gojo’s taken advantage of your rag-dolled state and flipped you over onto your stomach. Quickly realising that he’s still hard when your hips are being pulled up and his cock is sliding through your folds.
“You gotta stay with me, pretty,” he groans, positioning his tip at your hole, “we’re– hnn– not done yet.”
“Satoru– ah!—”
Both your moans are debauched and loud as he stuffs you so fucking full all at once, lungs seizing in your chest. If he weren’t holding your hips so tight, you would’ve collapsed to the couch. Your fingers dig into the cushions below you, biting back pitiful sounds that so desperately want to leave you.
“Don’t– don’t do that,” he shoves inside you somehow that little bit more, “let me hear you, sweetie.”
Sulking back, “Noo– hah– it’s embarrassing—”
“—It’s arousing,” he counters, skin on fire with how badly he wants to hear you moan for him.
He supposes it’s fine though, he’ll just have to drag those sweet sounds from you himself. Giving sharp and angled thrusts, purposefully driving right into all those delicious spots he found earlier while playing with you. Grinning wide, overly pleased with himself when you squeak out the cutest moan he’s ever heard.
He’s falling apart inside you, wrapped around your little finger and you don’t even realise it. He didn’t even intend to cum earlier, you just felt too good. All sticky cum and clingy walls, he couldn’t help himself.
Able to feel how his cum leaks out around his shaft, hear how your pussy gushes with his cock inside you. He feels borderline feral, something deeply possessive dancing around in his heart at how your cunt squelches around him, stuffed full of his hot semen.
The desire to see his face hits you, remembering just how good he looked as he got lost in how pleasurable everything felt. Whining pitifully below him into the couch, feeling far too shy to tell him how much you enjoy looking at him while he fucks you stupid.
“Satoru– hnn– it’s—” drooling onto the couch as you moan out to him, “it’s good– hah– it’s too good– it’s good~” nearly sobbing with just how damn good it feels.
“I bet,” he chuckles, loving your reaction.
Biting at him, “Hnn– shuddup—”
Easily ignoring you, “Now be honest… what’s better?”
Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head; you can’t focus on whatever the hell he’s saying when he’s fucking your gooey sweet spot so perfectly that you’re in bliss.
“Focus,” he fills you completely and stills his hips, refusing to move, “what’s better? This or your dream.”
Cunt so creamy and cock drunk for him, throbbing and pulsing so lovingly on him. He’s a little bit annoyed that he has to stop but he needs your answer. Hips twitching back into him, small noises of frustrated and deprived pleasure slipping from your lips.
He purrs low at you, “If you want me to move then you gotta answer me,” hand smoothing down your back, “you know I will torment you until you do.”
If you weren’t so turned on and delirious you’d recognise it as the bluff it is, he may have been able to torment you earlier, but his patience is barely hanging on by a fucking thread at this point. But you are that turned on and delirious, so instead you answer earnestly, “This, this is better. It’s lots better, now please. Move.”
“There ya go,” he pats your ass a couple times, “such a sweet little thing when you’re fucked full of my fat dick.”
Words meant as a warning but failing to hold any weight, “‘Toru– don’t—”
“—Don’t stress, pretty,” giving you a single thrust, “I’ll give you what you and your pussy are begging me for.”
Your response is smothered into the couch cushions, “Please.”
Groaning a giggle at how you reply, finding it cute that you’re displaying manners you don’t usually bother to with him. You must have it bad for him right now because otherwise you would not be so docile under him.
Fucking into you so you can feel it, really feel it. Intending to pull you apart so perfectly, wanting you to feel this just as much he is. Pelvis smacking into your ass obscenely, admiring the way your back arches for him, damn near presenting yourself to him.
“More– hah—” you stutter out at him, trying to explain what you need, “I want– hnn– I want you to touch me more.”
His eyes close and he intakes a deep breath, controlling himself as he registers your words. Arm reaching around you to pull you up, his chest to your back. He’s pressed so close to you, warm and comforting. You’re keening into him again, relishing how close he is to you, how much of him you can feel. Butterflies dancing in your stomach at how intimate it is and how it’s so much better because of it.
His hands grope at you, your hips, stomach, tits, anywhere he can grab, “Someone’s being greedy.”
Huffing back at him, “Hah– I am not.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” amused with himself as he breathes into your ear, thrusting desperately into your dripping cunt.
You grab hold of his hands and tug, encouraging him to wrap his arms around you properly. All too easily, he gives into your will, holding you tight. His face tucked into your neck and breathing in your scent, lips delicate as they trace your skin.
Brain hazy and muddled as you babble out your feelings to him, “It’s good– I like your dick– hnn– I like– hah– I like you.” Head turning to the side to press a small kiss to his head.
He’s quick to move so he can capture your lips with his, groaning into it. His dick grows impossibly larger inside you at your small confession, throbbing and leaking inside your tight heat.
Pulling back with a last suck to your lower lip, “Don’t say such sweet things to me, pretty,” tongue licking your ear, teeth nipping you, “or I’ll never leave you alone.”
“You– hah– you– hnn– do that anyways– ah!—”
“I’m about to become much worse,” it’s more of a promise than anything else, you thought of him as clingy before but he’s about to become so so much more worse.
The idea of that alone should probably be less appealing but while stuffed full of his aching cock, you can’t find it in yourself to feel anything other than pathetically whipped for him. Pussy weeping around him, begging for more, for it to never stop.
His dick so deep it feels like he’s in your lungs, spasming around him as your high gets closer and closer. Pleasure climbing up your spine as you melt around him, loving his touch on your body, his breath by your ear.
Gojo moans, head tipping back before he leans forwards again, “You’ve got me obsessed with you, sweetheart,” voice cracking with a whine, “both you– hnn– and this sopping wet pussy of yours.”
Sobbing out your warning, “‘Toru– hah– ah!– I’m gonna cum—”
“Hmm?” his chest vibrates against your back, “Gonna cum because I told you I’m obsessed with you? That’s pretty lewd of you.”
Cheeks wet with your shed tears, “Don’t– hng– don’t tease.”
“Just let yourself enjoy it,” hand pressing into your stomach like he had earlier, “your cunt sure does.”
Long and pitchy moan leaving you, orgasm knocking into you like a tonne of bricks. Trying to curl forward but unable to, Gojo’s arms are firm around you, not letting you go anywhere as he keeps fucking into you. His pace suddenly much quicker as he doubles his efforts from behind, chasing his own high.
It doesn’t take him long at all to follow behind you, face burying into your neck, teeth biting into you as he shudders. Muffled whimpers vibrating against your skin, his hips jerking shallowly, he can’t bring himself to stop fucking into you. You’re too stupid to think about telling him off, not even sure you’re able to process thoughts let alone talk coherently.
Eventually he stills to a complete stop, planting kisses over his bite mark. He doesn’t want to let you go, content to hold you up like this but you’re on the verge of passing out. Gentle in how he lowers you down onto the couch, the pair of you groaning when his cock slips from you. Shared cum connecting his dick to your stuffed hole obscenely, he has to bite his lip to stifle the most pathetic sound at the sight.
While you gather yourself, he kneads your back, his large hands digging into the knots there. The massage nice and calming, helping to soothe your aching muscles after the way he manhandled you to his hearts content. Almost feeling like you could fall asleep like this, feeling so safe and warm under his ministrations.
He leans over to check you, “Stay awake,” fingers brushing against your cheek, “you’re gonna need a shower.”
“No moving,” you protest.
“Yes moving, I know if you fall asleep like this you will be pissed when you wake up,” he brushes down your spine delicately, “and you’ll be pissed at me… which I’d personally like to prevent.”
“Can’t do it.”
“I’ll help you,” he hops off the couch, “Come on.”
Groaning dramatically the whole time as you sit up, standing in front of him with the help of his hands on you. Legs wobbling under you, balance precarious. As soon as you’re on your feet, his cum leaks from your cunt and down your inner thighs. It catches Gojo’s attention who crouches down to get a better look.
“Wooow,” he comments.
Shy at his reaction, “Wh– what?”
He glances up at you and looks deep into your eyes, “I came a lot inside you,” eyes dropping to stare at your pussy obviously, “sorry but this is really turning me on…”
Barely finishing his sentence before his tongue is lolling out of his mouth, head tipping forward to lick up the mess. Mouth swapping sides to travel up each of your thighs, eyes locked onto yours as he does. It’s overwhelming you, feeling beyond embarrassed at the lewd display. His grip the only thing keeping your wobbly legs from completely giving out from under you.
Gojo’s actions are ravenous and simultaneously dazed, somehow both feral and on autopilot. Moaning into your pussy as he licks and sucks your cunt clean, tongue hitting so many over-sensitive places. Your hands dig into his hair to pull him back only to see the completely pussy drunk look in his eyes. If it had been possible, he’d probably have hearts in his eyes, so far gone.
“Stop– hnn– you need to stop,” legs shaking much more now, “too sensitive,” grip more forceful with your last tug.
He pouts back at you, “But you’re so cute when you’re overstimulated.”
Pulling back from you to stand to his full height, smirking down at you. All self-satisfied and also blissed out on the taste of your shared cum. Your tummy is full of butterflies from how he’s been treating you today, legs still weak under you as your knees cave. Thankfully, he’s quick and catches you, effortlessly picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom to wash the both of you up.
Letting yourself be wiped down by him in the bathroom, sitting on the sink as he uses a warm cloth to clean you up better than his tongue could. “I was serious you know,” he says unprompted.
Head fuzzy and a little lost on what he means, “About?”
“I’m obsessed with you.”
α.η. THIS IS A REPOST .. a repost from my old account @/lovelivision, if you feel like you've read it before, maybe you have !
a-knee-wayssss .. i hope you liked it ! i didn't change much about this one since it was basically just pure smut and also i still fucked with it teehee (๑•̀ <๑) ✧
꒰꒰. all works are the intellectual property of aliienangel .. do not plagiarise/translate/reupload/feed to ai ♡. 。
♡ summary: after two terrible days, all you want is to use your boyfriend as a mattress. unfortunately for you, gojo satoru is very easily distracted.
♡ warnings: 18+ mdni • explicit sexual content • established relationship • oral (f!receiving) • multiple orgasms • piv sex • praise • possessive language • dirty talk • creampie • fluff
♡ author’s note: this was inspired by a post from @silentlunarkiss based on this fanart 😭 i screenshotted it immediately because i knew i wanted to write it, then somehow lost the original post before i could tag them. finally found them again!! ♡
banner by @pixopix
The apartment is quiet when you finally drag yourself through the door, your work bag feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. Your feet are killing you, your brain is fried, and all you want is to collapse into bed and not move for approximately twelve hours.
You kick off your shoes and shuffle down the hallway, already pulling your hair out of the bun you'd done up that morning, now mostly falling out on its own. The bedroom door is cracked open, and when you push it wider, you find exactly what you were hoping for.
Satoru is sprawled across the bed like a starfish, still wearing his teaching clothes—black pants and a rumpled button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His blindfold is tossed carelessly on the nightstand, and his white hair is an absolute disaster, sticking up in every direction like he's been running his hands through it all day. His eyes are closed, one arm thrown over his face.
He looks as exhausted as you feel.
"Rough day?" you ask, and he groans without moving.
"The first years tried to fight a curse three grades above their level because Yuji said it 'looked easy,'" he mumbles into his arm. "I had to bail them out. Again. Then Megumi and Nobara got into an argument about mission protocol that somehow turned into a full-blown screaming match about who ate whose leftovers from the fridge. I had to separate them like they were toddlers."
Despite your exhaustion, you snort. "Sounds about right."
"And then," he continues, finally moving his arm to peek at you with one brilliant blue eye, "Yaga cornered me about paperwork I was supposed to file last week. Do you know how much I hate paperwork?"
"I'm aware." You're already moving toward the bed, unbuttoning your work pants. "You complain about it literally every time."
"Because it's the worst. I'm the strongest sorcerer alive. I shouldn't have to file incident reports."
"Mm-hmm, very tragic." You shimmy out of your pants and leave them in a heap on the floor—a problem for future you. Your blouse follows, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. "My day was also shit, for the record."
"Yeah?" He's watching you now with lazy interest, too tired to even sit up but still tracking your movements.
"My boss is an idiot, the coffee machine broke, I had to sit through a two-hour meeting that could've been an email, and Janet from accounting passive-aggressively cc'd the entire department on an email about someone stealing her lunch. Which, for the record, I didn't do, but she definitely thinks I did based on the way she was glaring at me."
"Want me to hollow purple Janet from accounting?" he offers, completely serious.
"Tempting, but no." You crawl onto the bed and without ceremony, flop directly on top of him, your full weight pressing him into the mattress. You bury your face in his chest with a long, dramatic groan. "I'm dead. This is me, dead."
"Hi, dead. I'm also dead." His arms come around you automatically, wrapping you up even though you're both too tired to really move. "We're both corpses now. This is our life."
"Our death," you correct, muffled against his shirt.
"Our death," he agrees solemnly.
For a moment, you just lie there, breathing in sync. He smells like his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the training grounds—sweat and grass and something distinctly him. It's comforting in a way you can't quite articulate. This exhausted, collapsed-together moment feels like home.
His hand starts moving on your back, slow and gentle, rubbing up and down your spine. It feels incredible, and you make an embarrassing sound of contentment that you'll deny later.
"You're tense as hell," he murmurs, fingers working at a knot between your shoulder blades.
"You try dealing with Janet's accusatory emails and see how relaxed you are," you mumble, but you're already melting into his touch.
"I'd just block her."
"You can't block coworkers, Satoru."
"You can if you're powerful enough." His hand slides lower, still rubbing your back, and you feel some of the day's tension starting to ease. "This okay?"
"It's perfect. You're my favorite human pillow."
"Just human pillow? Not devastatingly handsome boyfriend who you're lucky to have?"
"That's implied," you say, but you're smiling against his chest.
His other hand joins the first, both of them working at your tired muscles, and you honest-to-god almost start purring. This is exactly what you needed. Just this—him, the quiet apartment, his hands on you, the weight of the day slowly lifting.
But then his hands start to wander.
It's subtle at first. His fingers drift from your back to your sides, tracing the curve of your waist. Then lower, skimming over your hips. And then—
He grabs your ass. Both hands, full handfuls, squeezing appreciatively.
"Really?" you ask, lifting your head to look at him. "We're both dead, remember? Corpses don't grope."
"I'm a very motivated corpse." He squeezes again, shameless, and there's a grin tugging at his lips now. "Can't help it. You're lying on top of me in your underwear. What did you expect?"
"Self-control? Restraint? Basic human decency?"
"Baby, you know me better than that." His hands are still kneading your ass, and despite your sass, you can feel heat starting to pool low in your belly. "Besides, you love it."
"I love that you can't even wait until we've recovered from our respective terrible days before getting handsy?"
"Exactly." He's fully grinning now, that cocky, insufferable grin that makes you want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. "Your ass is the best stress relief. It's science."
"That's not science, you idiot."
"It's my science."
You snort, but you're not moving away. His hands are warm and familiar, and honestly, after the day you've had, this isn't the worst thing in the world. You let your head drop back to his chest, eyes drifting closed.
"Comfortable?" he asks, voice softer now.
"Mmm," you hum in agreement. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it."
For a while, it's just quiet. His hands keep moving—sometimes squeezing, sometimes just resting there, thumbs drawing lazy circles. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong. The tension in your shoulders is almost completely gone now, replaced by a different kind of warmth, something slower and heavier.
You're half-asleep when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness pressing against your hip.
"Satoru," you mumble, not even opening your eyes.
"Hmm?"
"Are you seriously getting hard right now?"
There's a pause. Then he says, "...Maybe."
You lift your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised. He has the decency to look slightly sheepish, but there's heat in his eyes now, that familiar hunger that never really goes away when it comes to you.
"We were having a nice moment."
"We still are."
"You've got a boner."
"I do…That doesn't cancel the nice moment."
You stare at him for another second before letting out a laugh.
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"I come home exhausted, use you as a human mattress for ten minutes, and somehow I'm the problem?"
"You are absolutely the problem."
"I literally haven't done anything."
"You climbed on top of me, got all comfy, made that little happy humming noise, and then fell asleep on my chest."
"I hummed?"
"You hummed."
"I don't hum."
"You do when you're really comfortable."
You narrow your eyes. "I've never noticed that."
"I have."
You glare at him.
"…Baby." He exhales dramatically, like he's carrying the weight of the world. "You're makin' me so hard."
You snort. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm trying to be respectful."
"Are you?"
Silence.
"…No." He grins without an ounce of shame. "Not really."
Despite yourself, you laugh again, dropping your forehead back against his shoulder.
"You're ridiculous."
"I know."
His arms tighten around you just a little. "But you look so comfortable."
His voice is quieter now. "So happy."
You burrow your face further into his shoulder.
"…I like when you're like this."
You feel yourself smile before you can stop it. "You're such a sap."
"Only for you."
There's a comfortable silence. Then his hands drift just a little bit lower again.
"…Okay," you mumble. "Now you're definitely not being respectful."
"No." He gives your ass another shameless squeeze. "I'm definitely not."
Before you can respond, he's sitting up, keeping you in his lap, and capturing your mouth in a kiss that's hungry and demanding. You can taste his desperation, feel it in the way his hands grip you like he's afraid you're going to disappear.
When he pulls back, his lips are already swollen, his eyes are dark with want. "I need to taste you," he says, and it's not a request. "Get up here."
"Up where—"
But he's already moving, sliding down the bed and pulling you with him. "On my face. Come on."
"Satoru—"
"Please." And there it is, that needy edge that makes your stomach flip. "I've been thinking about this all day. About you sitting on my face, riding my tongue until you come. Please, baby. I need it."
How are you supposed to say no to that?
"You're ridiculous," you say, but you're already moving, letting him position you. He's lying flat on his back now, looking up at you with such raw want that it makes you shiver.
"Not ridiculous. Desperate." His hands come up to grip your thighs, pulling you forward. "Now stop stalling and sit on my face."
"Bossy," you mutter, but you're lowering yourself down, and then—
"Oh fuck," you gasp as his tongue makes contact, sliding through your folds in one long, deliberate stroke.
He groans under you, the vibration going straight to your core, and his hands tighten on your thighs. "That's it," he mumbles against you. "Right there. Don't move."
But you're already moving, you can't help it, grinding down against his mouth as he licks and sucks and devours you like a man starving. His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, holding you exactly where he wants you, and when you try to lift up, worried about suffocating him, about being too much—he just pulls you back down harder.
"Satoru—"
"Stay," he demands, voice muffled. He pulls his face back to look up at you. "Fuck my face. Come on, baby, I can take it. Give it to me." Then he lowers his mouth to you again.
It's obscene, the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the way he's completely lost in it. His tongue circles your clit, then dips inside you, then back to your clit, and you're already shaking, already so close.
"That's it," he encourages, and you can hear the smugness in his voice even now. "You're dripping, baby. such a mess on my face."
"Shut—up," you gasp, but there's no heat in it because he's right—you can feel how wet you are, can feel it on his chin, his lips, and it should be embarrassing but it's just hot.
"Make me," he challenges, and then he's sucking your clit into his mouth, hard, and you cry out.
Your hands fly to the headboard, gripping the edge to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. You start to really move now, riding his face with purpose, and he moans underneath you like this is exactly what he wanted all along.
"Fuck, yes," he groans against you, the vibration making you gasp. "Just like that. Use me, baby. Take what you need."
His hands guide your hips, encouraging the rhythm, and his tongue is relentless—circling, flicking, pressing flat against you in a way that makes your thighs shake. You can feel yourself getting closer, that coil of heat tightening in your belly.
"Satoru, I'm—fuck—"
"Do it," he demands, voice rough. "Come on my face.”
His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, and that's all it takes. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, pleasure rolling through your entire body. You're grinding down against his mouth, riding it out, and he's groaning underneath you like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.
When you finally come down, shaking and oversensitive, you try to move off him, but his hands tighten on your thighs.
"Not yet," he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, your hip bones, anywhere he can reach. "Just—give me a second. You taste so fucking good."
"You're gonna kill me," you pant, but you're smiling.
But he's already diving back in, and you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again. Your whole body jolts at the sensitivity, but he doesn't let up—he's relentless, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he works you over. The pleasure is almost too much, bordering on overwhelming, and you're already moaning his name.
"Satoru—fuck—it's too much—"
"I know, baby," he groans against you, the vibration sending another wave through you. "But you can take it."
He's eating you out like he's starving, like he can't get enough, and your whole body is shaking. Your hands grip the headboard tighter, your hips moving against his mouth almost involuntarily. The pleasure is building again, impossibly fast, and you're gasping and moaning as he works you toward another orgasm.
"Oh god—Satoru—I'm gonna—"
"That's it," he encourages, his tongue flicking faster.
Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, even more intense than the first, and you're crying out as pleasure crashes through you. Your thighs are shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up, and he's groaning underneath you, clearly getting off on how much he's affecting you.
When you finally collapse, completely spent and oversensitive, he finally releases you, and you fall onto the bed next to him, breathing hard and trembling.
"And I'm dramatic?" He's grinning like he just won the lottery, his face wet, his hair a complete disaster. "That was—fuck. I love you, baby."
"You're insane," you say, but you're pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.
"About you? Absolutely." His hands are already roaming again, cupping your face, then sliding down your sides. "But I'm not done with you yet."
"Oh really?"
"Really." He's kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. When he pulls back, there's something vulnerable in his expression beneath all the confidence. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Then show me," you challenge, and his eyes darken.
"Oh, baby."
He's fumbling with his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers, and his cock springs free—flushed and hard and already leaking. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length, and he hisses.
"Fuck, baby—"
"What?" You stroke him slowly, base to tip, and he's already trembling.
"Your hands—shit—they're so much smaller than mine. Look so good wrapped around my cock."
"Yeah?" you tease, giving him another slow stroke.
"Yeah." His voice is strained.
He gently removes your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, and then he's pulling you against him. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip possessively. You can feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, and he's just... holding you there.
"Satoru—"
"Give me a second," he murmurs, his voice already rough. His breathing is uneven against your neck, and you can feel the tension in his body—the way he's trying to maintain control. "Just—fuck—you feel so good.”
His hips shift slightly, and you feel the length of him drag against you—not entering, just the pressure of him sliding through your wetness. The friction makes you gasp, and he groans.
"There it is," he breathes. "That sound. The little gasp you make when I—" He does it again, a slow roll of his hips, grinding against you. "When I touch you just right."
"Satoru, please—"
"Please what?" His hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. "Tell me what you want, baby."
"You know what I want."
"I do." Another slow grind, and you can feel how wet you are, how easily he slides against you. "But I wanna hear you say it. Love the way your voice gets all breathy when you're desperate for me."
"You're killing me—"
"Good." He's kissing your neck now, teeth grazing your pulse point. "You've been killing me all day. All week. Every time you look at me with those eyes, every time you smile at me like I'm the only person in the world—fuck, baby, you have no idea."
His voice is shaking now, and you realize he's not teasing anymore—he's barely holding on. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, and you both freeze.
"I can't—" His forehead drops to your shoulder. "I can't think straight around you. Can't control myself. You just—you exist, and I'm gone."
"Then stop trying to control it," you whisper, and you feel him shudder.
"Fuck." He shifts, lining himself up properly, and then he's pushing in—slowly, so slowly. The stretch is intense, pleasure edged with the sweetest hint of pressure as he fills you inch by inch. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good. So tight. So perfect."
"Satoru—"
"I know. I've got you." He's only halfway in, taking his time, letting you adjust. His forehead is still pressed to your shoulder, and you can feel how much restraint this is taking him—the way his muscles are tense, the way his breath comes in short gasps. "You're taking me so well. You always take me so well."
Finally, finally, he's fully seated inside you, and you both just breathe for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being completely connected.
"Okay?" he asks, lifting his head to look at you.
"Yes baby," you manage. "You can move.”
"Thank fuck." He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you gasp, and he groans. "That sound. Fuck, I love that sound."
He sets a steady rhythm, deep and deliberate, each thrust making you feel impossibly full. His hands are everywhere—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, gripping your hips—like he can't decide where he wants to touch you most.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, watching your face. "All flushed and breathless. The way your eyes get all hazy when I'm inside you—fuck, it drives me crazy."
"Satoru—"
"I love you so much." His voice is rough with emotion now, not just desire. "Love everything about you. The way you feel, the way you look at me, the way you let me have you like this—"
"I love you too," you gasp, and his hips stutter.
His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, there's something raw there.
"Say it again."
"I love you."
"Fuck." His pace falters, becomes less controlled. "You can't—you can't just say it like that when I'm inside you. You're gonna—shit—"
"You feel so good," you tell him, cupping his face. "So perfect. You always make me feel so good."
His breath catches, and suddenly he's kissing you desperately, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, less measured.
"You're everything," he gasps against your mouth. "Everything to me. The way you trust me, the way you look at me like I'm—fuck, baby, I can't—"
"You are," you insist, and his composure cracks completely.
"Fuck—" He's moving faster now, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Love how you fit around me. Like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other."
"We were," you gasp, and his eyes flash with something fierce and possessive.
"Damn right we were." He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust is devastating. "There it is. That's the spot, isn't it?"
"Yes—fuck—right there—"
"I know, baby. I know." His voice is breaking now, emotion and desire tangled together. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna watch your face when you—fuck—when you come because of me."
The pleasure is building so quickly you can barely breathe. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, his back, trying to anchor yourself as he drives into you again and again.
"That's it," he encourages, watching your face like he's memorizing it. "I can feel you getting tighter. You're close, aren't you? So fucking close."
"Don't stop—"
"Never." One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it. Let me see you."
The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot and his thumb on your clit is too much. Your orgasm hits you hard, pleasure crashing through you in waves that make your whole body tense and shake. You're clenching around him, and he groans at the sensation.
"Fuck, yes," he breathes, still moving, fucking you through it. "That's it. That's my girl. You're so good. So beautiful. Fuck, I love you so much."
When you finally start to come down, gasping and trembling, you expect him to follow you over the edge. But instead, he slows his movements, pressing soft kisses to your face.
"Satoru—"
"Not done with you yet," he murmurs against your lips.
Before you can respond, he's pulling out and lifting your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The new position opens you up completely, and when he pushes back in, he's somehow even deeper than before.
"Oh fuck—" you gasp, and he groans.
"There we go." He starts moving again, and this angle is devastating. Every thrust feels impossibly deep, hitting places that make your toes curl. "How's that, baby? That good?"
"Yes—fuck—Satoru—"
"I love you so much," he says, his voice rough. "You know that? I'm never letting you go. You're mine. Always gonna be mine."
"Yours," you agree breathlessly, and something in his expression goes even more intense.
"That's right." His thrusts are harder now, more purposeful. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna love you for the rest of my life."
His hand moves to your stomach, pressing down, and suddenly his eyes go wide. He can feel himself inside you, the bulge of his cock with each thrust, and something feral takes over his expression.
"Holy shit," he breathes, completely mesmerized. His hand traces the outline, feeling himself move in and out of you, and he starts fucking you even harder, unable to look away. "Look at that. Look at you taking me so deep."
You're already building toward another orgasm, the intensity of this angle and his words and the way he's looking at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen—it's all too much.
He's transfixed, watching his cock disappear inside you again and again, feeling the movement under his palm. His breathing is ragged, his movements becoming more frantic.
"Can you feel that, baby?" he asks breathlessly, his voice completely wrecked. "Fuck—I'm so fucking deep—you feel that?"
You look up at him with half-shut glazed eyes, your mouth parted open, completely fucked out. "Yes—fuck—yes, Satoru, I feel it—"
He groans at the sight of you—at how thoroughly wrecked you look, at the way you're falling apart beneath him. "You're so hot. So fucking hot. The way you look right now—fuck—I'm obsessed with you."
He's fucking you harder now, more urgently, his hand still on your stomach feeling himself move inside you with each thrust. The visual seems to drive him wild, and his movements become almost desperate.
"Come for me again," he demands, his other hand finding your oversensitive clit. "I know you can. I know you've got one more in you. Come on, baby. Give it to me."
"Satoru—I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." His thumb presses harder, circling your clit. "You can, baby. I need you to.”
The pleasure is building impossibly fast, almost painful in its intensity. You're so sensitive from your first two orgasms that every thrust, every touch feels magnified.
"That's it," he encourages, watching your face. "I can see it. You're right there. Just let go, baby.”
His voice is breaking, his control completely shattered, and then something raw escapes from him.
"I want you—" His hips snap forward harder. "Fuck—want all of you.”
His composure finally snaps.
"They've been on my ass my whole life about the bloodline. About heirs. About duty." Another hard thrust, his voice is cracking. "And I never—fuck—never wanted it."
He's breathing hard, almost gasping between words.
"Not until you."
His forehead drops closer to yours, his movements becoming more frantic.
"Only you. Want to marry you—want to wake up to you every day—want to call you my wife and—ah—know you're mine—"
Your orgasm crashes through you even harder, triggered by his words, by the desperation in his voice, by the sight of him completely undone above you. You're clenching around him so tight he gasps, your whole body shaking with the intensity.
"Fuck, yes—" He's just… staring at you, still moving, still feeling himself inside you. "So beautiful—The way your face—the way you sound—fuck—"
The sight of you completely wrecked under him, the feeling of you clenching around him, the way you gasp his name—it pushes him over the edge.
"Ah—fuck—fuck—fuuckk—" He buries himself as deep as he can go and comes hard, spilling into you in hot pulses. His whole body shudders with the intensity of it, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel the warmth spreading.
He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you but clearly boneless. For a while, you just breathe together, sweaty and satisfied.
"Holy shit," you mumble.
"Yeah." He's pressing kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. He can’t seem to stop touching you, his hands running over your skin like he needs the contact. "You're amazing. Incredible. Best girlfriend in the entire world."
"Best girlfriend, or best pussy?" you tease, and he pulls back to look at you with mock offense.
"Both. Definitely both." He's grinning now, that soft, genuine smile that he only gives you. "But mostly you. I love you. Like, so much. An embarrassing amount."
"I love you too, you needy disaster."
"Your needy disaster," he corrects, and he's still touching you, hands running over your skin like he can't bear to stop. "Mine now. No takebacks."
"Wouldn't dream of it," you say softly, and you mean it.
He pulls you closer, tucking you against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat starting to slow. The exhaustion from earlier is creeping back in, but it's different now—satisfied, content, the good kind of tired.
"We should probably shower," you murmur, but you're already half-asleep.
"Later," he mumbles into your hair. "Right now I just wanna hold you."
"Clingy."
"Yep." He doesn't even sound ashamed. "You're stuck with me. Forever. Hope you're ready for that."
"I think I can manage," you say, smiling against his chest.
And as you drift off in his arms, you think that yeah… you can definitely manage. This ridiculous, needy, perfect man is yours, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
The Sun God had never been in love. Until he saw a lovely nymph, whose beauty made his heart race with a feeling impossible to capture in the sweetest words. Until he was struck by Cupid's arrow of love, sending his mind spiralling into an obsessive lust. Until he decided to... soothe you a bit, like a true, filthy scum. But well, Satoru Gojo was truly just a man in maddening love!
included in tales, myths, romances
˖𖤓 ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Apollo!Gojo Satoru x Nymph!Reader ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ content & warnings: ꒰ MDNI 18 + :: Greek Mythology AU :: half mythologically accurate :: MY WIFE FEMJO MENTIONED :: yandere Gojo Satoru :: obsessiveness :: possessiveness :: virgin reader :: masturbation :: strong reader :: she's also meannn :: Satoru is a SCUM in love :: drugging (with aprodisiac) :: lose of virginity :: Suguru is a scum too :: we're fucking on the beach :: posessive sex :: breeding :: mating press :: oral sex :: pussydrunk Satoru ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ words: ꒰ 11.4k ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ notes: I need to learn how to write short fics, because it was supposed to be 6k. Anyway, it is half-mythologically accurate, as I, of course, added a few changes. There's not much said in mythology about Daphne's (nymph's) character, so I played with it a bit. Enjoy!
The common truth seemed to be that Apollo had been stricken by the wicked arrow of love by Cupid himself.
During the fight of sorts, Apollo, always so proud and pugnacious, killed the serpent Python. He slew him with a thousand arrows as the beast wrought devastation across the lush lands of mankind.
And so the God defeated it grandly, with his handsome cheeks and eyes kissed by the Mother Sea itself, shining majestically beneath the golden rays of the Mediterranean sun.
The end of the story it could be, yet the God of Music and Poetry and Sun, to put it bluntly, did not know how to shush a cheeky mouth of his that boasted round and round.
One day, flushed with foolish pride, he saw a God of Love, Eros, bending his bow, arrow drawn taut. A boy of young age who seemed too sweet not to tease, and as Apollo was known for his wicked, playful mind, he poked the little divinity with a laugh.
A laugh it was supposed to be, yet he went too far.
He joked a few too many times, laughing at how Eros shouldn't handle a weapon reserved only for the truest men. After all, who killed the serpent Python if not Apollo himself?
He had every right to be arrogant, yet the Gods and Goddesses couldn't stand the wicked smirk and unwavering haughtiness that always clouded his mind. He was beautiful and sleek, yet no one on Olympus's peak could ever match his arrogance and boldness.
Apollo was powerful, yet Eros was unkind. After he poked and played and had his fun, Apollo left Eros alone in the forest, giving him no mind. He didn't know, however, that the God of Love would prove far more wicked than he had thought.
As with his hurt pride, Eros plucked a few creamy feathers from his wings and prepared two arrows. They were completely different, one creating love, the other banishing it entirely. A savage decision, truly, yet how could a prideful man of Eros's sort leave Apollo without the fruit of his wrath?
So he drew the arrow of love and shot it right through his bones. Letting it seep deep and gravely, spreading the lustful obsession of the most wicked charm. The utterly deadly one, making one obsessed and wretched over the darling of their desires.
Usually, his arrows were meant to strike those who wished to be deeply in love. Yet, as the rage was ravaging Eros's mind, he decided to make Apollo the most obsessed yet unhappy man in the entire world.
As for the other one, meant to banish the love, he shot at the daughter of the River's God.
The most beautiful nymph of all, with a face carved by the waves themselves. A chin utterly kind and cheeks wholly sweet, as eyes carried a gentleness of petals' peppered kisses. A wild birdie she was, basking carefree beneath the searing sun, as she lay and drank and danced without giving a mind to no mankind nor other little divinities. Nothing plagued her cheeky mind, and no worry could ever haunt her velvety forehead.
After all, she was the River God's most precious child, and he allowed her everything, guided by a parent's blissful love.
Her giggle bloomed in the nearby trees, and tender gaze lit the powdery midnight sky. A true beauty of utterly rare sight, so impossible it seemed too not be caught in Apollo's sight!
The God of Sun and Music and Poetry had never been in love. He enjoyed the bodily pleasures rather often, yet had never come upon a thing so deadly and wicked called love.
He knew that Gods and mortals joyed in it with the passion seething in their blood – for there were Hades and his Persephone, Aphrodite and Ares, even Orpheus and Eurydice, too, although it seemed that love of humankind was of a rather cruel sort.
Apollo, or, well, Satoru Gojo, as his true name was, never gave it much thought. The Goddesses and Gods were utterly beautiful, true, yet none of them had ever made his heart race with the swell and tenderness that all the poets wrote of.
He had never felt this tickling pinch his spine, nor the sudden blissful pain puncturing through his heart. No lover had ever bewitched his soul in an almost maddening way, and so he thought that the thing called love was simply not a part of his fate. Even if, that was rather fine too.
And yet… the serpents of fate are wicked.
Another summer evening it was, while Dionysus threw a joyous party as Gods usually liked to do. With wine spilling all over the golden cups and jolly laughter swirling through the tall grasses of the midnight land.
Gods there were of all sorts – trees and rivers and plants, each with loveliest offspring too, joined the grand feast.
It happened thirty moons or so before Eros shot Satoru with an arrow of maddening love. One evening, when the God who devoted his mind to no one set his eyes on… you.
A Goddess? Dearests, no.
As if you were the Goddess, he would fear that Aphrodite, driven by jealousy, would quickly pluck your eyes out. For the moment you entered the banquet held on the hidden beach, where waves rolled in deep foams, and moonlight spilt its cold kisses onto the heavy stones, Satoru needed to hold his breath.
This feeling, which he had read – written – about so often, suddenly bloomed in the swells of his heart. His hand flew towards his chest, crumpling the ivory tunic that covered the sizzling skin. His mind was struck, as if by a trickery spell, making him lose interest in the men and women chirping by his side.
The lyre in his hands felt heavy as he plucked the crystal strings, producing an unpleasant tone. But how could he not, if his eyes were devouring a beauty he'd never seen before?
And that evening, he followed you like a lost pup. With an ocean gaze lingering longer on the swells of your body, wrapped in a flimsy dress, and on your sweet cheeks, giggling foxily as the salty breeze smooched them. The flicker of the candles peppering long tables cast a lovely flame upon your skin, basking it in gold and warmth, as he imagined licking it clean.
Satoru Gojo was a poet too. A God of Poetry, after all, yet his mind was miserably empty whenever he tried to put your beauty into words. No one had ever shone brighter than you, and no giggle forced this weird, foreign feeling to seep through the marrow of his ribcage.
He was always responsible for the music and jolly, while his dearest friend Dionysus spilt the wine into guests' cups. The merry atmosphere tickled him in a pleasant way, and the mere thought of going back to one of his temples with a few little birdies forced a cheeky smile upon his brazen lips.
The women, Goddesses, and little divinities who didn't wish to be smooched by Satoru's muscular arms were indeed few. Yet the nymph who bewitched his mind in the utmost wretched way didn't bestow him with lovely eyes even once.
Dionysus noticed Apollo's frown crumbling, so he jumped to his side with a whisper, "Hm, isn't she your type, my dearest God?"
Satoru glanced at the slyness on Suguru's lips and bit the inside of his soft cheek. "That's the problem. And yet it seems I'm not quite hers."
Suguru pushed a raven lock of his hair back behind his ear, and lavender eyes oogled your giggling body with a slight grin. "Do you wish me to give her a bit of my special wine?"
The special wine was simply spiked with an aphrodisiac. Some Gods loved to use it to heighten their own sexual pleasure, while others too… made the object of their desires a bit mellow. A bit more balmy and sweet, and so Satoru already imagined your body melting beneath his fingers as he held it dearly within his delicate grasp.
Feeding you the special wine would be easy. And yet, Satoru didn't wish to be a bastard.
"Oh, but you are," Suguru chuckled, sensing the thought in his friend's mind. "I don't think there's any God more selfish than you."
Satoru knew it was the truth, for his character was rather… oh well… let's simply say he wasn't known to be the kindest and most lovable pick among the women. The most beautiful one? Surely. The best in offering sexual pleasures? Indeed. Yet he was the most arrogant bastard on the Mountain's peak, and every creature living beneath the Midetarrean sun knew of it far and well.
You most likely knew it too, so that's why the stars bouncing off your eyes did not look his way even for a second.
His head fell against Suguru's shoulder, the heavy wine coating his tongue with a sweet taste. His mind buzzed with a clash of drunken and desperate thoughts, a pulsing desire already flowing like liquid through his veins.
"I want to approach her in a nice way," he muttered, feeling Suguru's body tremble with wicked laughter.
"You can only dream, my God. She had rejected all attempts to woo her. The men and the Gods were rebuffed before they could grasp the weight of her eyes," Suguru hummed, feeling Satoru's head suddenly grow heavy on his shoulder.
"Is it her father's fault?"
Suguru shook his head. "The River God wishes for nothing more than to see his grandchildren's blooming cheeks. It's she who sniffs at all her suitors. After all, she is a virgin huntress, bound by Artemis's chastity laws." Satoru's head grew heavier. "You'd better forget about her, my God."
But how could he! His heart raced for no one but her. And even if she was a virgin beauty, Satoru didn't mind it at all, for he truly believed in the power of his charming soul. The arrogant confidence of the Sun God was truly impossible to dim!
And so that evening, Apollo decided to fulfil your father's deepest wish and become a man worthy of his daughter's hand. The one who would turn the virgin huntress into his most delicate, lovely petal.
At first, he began strolling around the meadows you usually spent your time in. Where the river curved and bent like a serpent's snake, and crystal droplets smooched your body, immersing you deep. You often sat with other sisters, and Satoru would approach you all with his foxed smile, dripping with a few sweetish words about your utter charm.
The other nymphs giggled, blushing gently at the lyricism spilling from his lips, as if the words of the most passionate, heart-throbbing kind were meant for them indeed. They looked at your unfazed face with a sly smile, knowing that their sister would reject Apollo's advances as she did with all her other suitors.
The Sun God knelt on the riverbank, looking down at your naked body hidden beneath the water's gentle swells. He could see nothing but the swell of your breasts, with perked nipples smooched by the river's kisses. You were meant to stay a virgin, true, but no one said you couldn't use the charms of yours to make the men spill miserably right beneath your feet.
So you glanced, for the first time, at God's idyllic face and waved your hand with a soft sigh. "I don't need your courtship, my God. There's nothing you can say that will force my mind to change. And to answer the question you most anticipate – no, I won't marry you."
Other suitors would back away instantly, feeling the intimidating air your glance carried across the lush plains. Your head tilted wickedly, lips curving into a playful beam, as if you knew the wretched state you always left them in.
Because a man's nature was to challenge his luck. Who didn't think that maybe their fate would be to change the virgin's mind? As all of them thought of you as the gentle, timid petal, not knowing that the virgin huntress was indeed a true beast hidden beneath the loveliest female cheeks!
But the Apollo, of course, couldn't be more turned on by your harsh rejection. The truth was that he almost didn't hear a word. No, instead he focused on the way your lips curved into a tricky smile. How crystalline droplets clung to your half-dipped breasts, with liquid sun spilling all over your warm skin. He traced them one by one, dripping from the damp hair and down the chest. His eyes seemed to be enamoured by your heavy gaze, slightly squinted and teasing, as if you already knew that your rejection would pinch his wretched heart.
And so a truthful, "My Goddess, you're ethereally beautiful with this wrath-wrinkle of yours," fell with his deep, obsessed sigh.
The nymphs gasped, covering their lips with gentle hands. Their mingling eyes glanced between your squinted gaze and the God's wretched sigh, as they awaited how this concern would unfold.
"I'm not a Goddess, and I don't need your praise," you said, your voice dripping with disinterest. "Find yourself another muse, my God. There's no need to waste your precious time on a simple nymph."
You bounced off the river's edge and swam to the other one, where the Sun God knelt. With the golden halo smooching his pale cheeks and ivory tunic crumpling on muscular shoulders. Feet clad in long, serpent sandals, golden laurel laying high on frosted head.
You've seen men of his sort, yet he was the first to look down on you with such a wretched gaze. Like a doomed lover, trapped in a circle of unrequited love, as if his heart had never swelled for any beauty but your gentlest soul.
He watched you carefully as you swam his way, unhurriedly, slowly. Water flowed over your body in soft waves, and warm wind shook the sole strings of your hair as it fell.
Your arms rested on the lush grass as you looked up at him through a curtain of wet lashes. "My God, I think it's time for you to go."
Satoru smiled – foxily, slyly, yet truthfully – before his hand reached out to cup your lovely cheek. You quickly pulled back, letting the tips of his fingers only catch a whisper of your soft lips.
His head tilted, a few creamy strands falling loosely over his straight brows. "I don't wish to hurt you, my Goddess." He grabbed the hem of his tunic. "I simply hope you'll grant me a chance."
He was kneeling, propping himself on his toes, as his fingers itched to grab a single lock of yours.
"I won't. I pledged Artemis my virginity. I'm a huntress, not your silly muse. Leave this place, or you'll taste the blood of my arrows."
And these words had indeed been bold, as all three realms of this world knew that no man had been more skilful in archery than Apollo himself.
If anyone else had spoken them in such a daring manner, the wrath of Apollo would bring painful consequences.
Yet when he heard it in this lovely yet viper-like tone of yours, a shiver ran down his spine. His hair stood on end as if electrified, and an ethereal aura smouldering around his figure suddenly intensified.
He wasn't afraid, oh surely no.
But rather, the swelling enamour, pinching his fingertips, washed over his heart. Your wicked personality wasn't an issue of any sort, but rather made the Sun God burn with an unexplainable desire. Heat that seeped down to his loins as he took a whistling breath.
"My Goddess, do you know who you're threatening to?"
You knew, of course, yet the urge to play with his boastful ego suddenly proved stronger than the choice to simply leave him be. You've met men like him before – too proud, too arrogant, the ones who'd never heard the word no. Yet of all you'd rejected, Apollo – Satoru Gojo – was the worst of all.
He was the Sun God, after all, who took satisfaction in the fact that the world, indeed, revolved around him. A personification of vanity and smugness, surpassing even Narcissus's pompous pride.
He knew what spell his wicked beauty cast over the nymph's petal cheeks. He knew the virgin maiden would fall for him most pitiably, needing only a single glance from his lustful eyes. His touch was soft, and his hands roamed over the women's tender bodies in the most loving way, yet never leaving them with the true tenderness that should fill his heart.
Satoru Gojo was a simple scum you wished to have nothing to do with. A cheeky smile tugged at your lips as you rested your arms on the river's edge and lifted half your body out of the water.
He didn't try to hide the ocean gaze, immediately snapping down towards your perked nipples, with crystal droplets dripping down the lush glass. Your head tilted, eyes turning kitty-like, as the blessed kisses of sunshine, of his sun, peppered your wet cheeks.
"To just yet another miserable man," fell almost mockingly, prompting a sudden movement around his hips. You've noticed it, and so you turned your lips into a disgusted grimace. "Go away, my God, and know my mercy. I won't be that nice next time."
You fully lifted yourself from the water, standing next to his kneeling body, naked. His gaze followed up your thighs, the mound of your pussy, the plush of your belly, tracing every crystalline line carving into your body. When it finally met your eyes, his throat bobbed.
"My Goddess, you're truly underestimating my feelings for you."
A scoff slipped past your lips as your eyes rolled. "For the God of Poetry, I expected more flowery words."
And so, ignoring whether he wished to say anything next, you simply passed him by. Going deeper into the woods, leaving the Sun God with nothing but the lingering fragrance of your blooming skin in the air, and the painfully, wickedly wretched pleasure bubbling in his loins.
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
You truly thought that he would give up.
That the Sun God, like any other man, wouldn't wish to pursue a woman who looked at him with nothing but a deep scowl between her beautiful brows.
And yet, for the next thirty moons, he always seemed to be there. Somewhere around, following you like a shadow, with eyes and lips and mind always speaking loudly, giving you neither peace nor serenity among the quiet fields of your home.
Whenever you went hunting, his arrows sliced through the air faster than yours, striking the animals and beasts with power that crumbled the heavens themselves, and a gasp always slipped past your lips.
Quiet, voiceless, yet somehow leaving you speechless upon seeing the strength the Sun God possessed.
He found you every single day, appearing like a spectre by the riverbank, a bow slung over his muscular shoulder, gold and softly feathered, mingling beneath the rising sun.
"Where are we going today, my Goddess?" He jumped to your side with a smile, immediately sniffing the fresh, flowery scent that clung to your sparkling hair.
You gave him no mind, simply following deeper into the warm, moist woods. The sun was barely high, and so you watched the trees wake from the slumber's tight arms.
"I'm going for breakfast, and you can do whatever you want."
Yet you knew that no matter how mundane your day was, Satoru Gojo would follow you nonstop. Just to steal a glance at your lips as you wrapped them around the orange's sweetest juice, the sugary stickiness dripping down your blooming cheeks. To watch the way your back bent whenever you drew yet another deadly arrow. How muscles beneath your flimsy tunic worked, and the sweat bubbled at the back of your neck as he traced it with a hungry gaze.
A few weeks had to pass before you started to tolerate his daily company.
He still acted bold and proud, often boasting like a peacock right in front of your irritated eyes, yet tried to keep his hands away, even though you'd noticed how his fingers curled whenever your tunic brushed their tips.
But then one day… something had changed.
You didn't know what, but well, he did.
Eros's wicked arrow had struck his bones, making his gut leak with maddening love. He was aware of the wretched ache in his heart, yet only after being struck by a love-spell of sorts did something beastly unlock in his mind.
As for the arrow meant to banish love, Eros shot it towards Apollo's dearest one. As all the Gods on Olympus already knew of his wretched state, Eros played his dirty trick, ensuring that the sweetest nymph would never glance at Apollo again.
But… well. A man in such haunting love is truly a hellish creature himself.
When the love-bound arrow struck his back, he took it with a wicked pleasure. Yet, when he saw another one flying boldly towards the curve of yours, he grabbed it swiftly, before the leaking peak could ever brush your skin.
It was a sudden movement as he stepped closer, his hand shooting toward something over your shoulder.
It happened yet another day, as you both walked the serpentine paths through his temple's lush garden. There's a little cove I wish to show you. How about a quick dip? After spending a month in his presence, you sighed and nodded, as nothing gave you more wicked pleasure than seeing him lose his mind at the sight of your naked body in fresh mountain waters.
And so, while your tunic fell to the ground and a warm wind brushed your hair with a soft tickle, he suddenly stepped closer.
Too close. Before a sudden crack of splintering wood sounded behind you, he drew an arrow, his long fingers clenching it.
"What is it?" you furrowed, looking at the long wooden arrow crushed in his strong grip.
He threw it to the side, taking the ivory tunic off his body. "Nothing, probably someone's lost arrow. Give it no mind."
But how could you, when something deep in your chest panged? You were a huntress, after all, so how could you not notice an arrow slashing at your side? There was never a moment when you would let your guard down, and yet, being in Satoru's presence somehow pulled a blissful laziness to seep into your mind.
He was always there – looking, watching, carefully observing each of your moves. Swooshing away a few men who dared to approach your side while he kept his eyes on you for too long.
To tear their limbs apart and unleash plagues across their lands with a single arrow. Something… you didn't know about, since there was no need to trouble your sweet mind. To reveal a sinister side of him that would shatter the gradually improving image you held of him.
His mind was already wicked. Heart wrenched by the pull of love so strong that it seeped into him from the inside. So the moment the love arrow struck his back, the feelings he had tried to keep within his heart suddenly burst with brutish, uncontrollable force.
He simply needed to make you his.
So you hummed softly, taking the first step into the little cove, with water slipping in from the nearby sea. A crisp chill hugged your limbs as you took a deep breath.
He watched you with a smile before dipping into the water too. "Rather good, isn't it?"
You nodded, leaning your arms over one of the sizzling stones. "Mhm."
Your bashful eyes roved over his ethereal body, lingering a moment longer on the broad, muscular back and meaty thighs. A warmth seeped through your loins, so you quickly looked away.
But he saw it. Of course he did, and so his body drifted a little closer, just to feel the saltiness wrapping your skin. Your hair fell loosely over your wet shoulder, and warmth crept up your soft neck.
The slight ache from the morning's hunt still pinched your muscles, so you turned to him again, only to see that he had suddenly come far too close.
A soft cough escaped your throat as you pressed yourself closer to the stone. "Could you, hm, give me a quick massage, my God?"
Satoru chuckled. "A massage? Is that how you wish to use the powerful Sun God?"
A scoff slipped past your lips as you turned back and rested your cheek against the warm stone. With eyes slightly lidded, you knew he, anyway, would give you whatever you wanted.
"Is there anything else you're good for?" A cheeky question slipped past your lips, followed by a low sigh.
He stood mere millimetres from your arched back, and the heat radiating from his body was smouldering your drenched skin. Long, thick fingers settled gently on your shoulders before he began pressing the muscles. Your body melted beneath his strong touch, and your mind went all fuzzy – nothing but soft moans and sighs would fill the little, hidden cove.
"I'm sure you can find a few things you could make good use of," his voice dripped with seduction, tickling your hair-covered cheeks.
A tsk fell past your lips. "You have only filth in your mind."
Well, how could he not? When your back arched so deliciously, with water hugging solely your slightly dipped hips? He could see the swell of your ass almost brushing his thighs, and if he took a little step forward, the tip of his leaking cock would surely brush your skin.
It was a blessing that you lay pressed to the stone in a blissfully unaware state, not knowing that the Sun God was going through pure torture right behind your back. With the fat, long cock sticking to his abdomen, little pearls of precum dripping down the veiny curve.
"You make me act filthy, my Goddess."
A month ago, you would have smacked his cheek and left him be. But now, with his fingers digging deep into the muscles of your back, a lovely laugh slipped past your lips.
"It's a pity I'm a wretched virgin, hm?" You straightened your spine, as if trying to give him a better view. "My God, you truly have extraordinary restraint."
Oh, how he loved this cheeky side of yours. The pure filth spilling from your virgin lips, eyes taking on a nasty look whenever you caught him staring at your nipples peeking through the tunic. The way you always undressed yourself in front of him without blushing like a birdie, taking full pleasure in the fact that he couldn't touch you as he wished.
Who said that a virgin should be timid and cowardly? If you could keep your chastity while still enjoying the wretched state you put men in?
And which God would be more fun to tease than the one who slipped through numerous affairs?
Satoru hummed, pressing your back a little harder. Slipping lower, and lower, through your ribcage and waist, rolling the little dimples just above your hips. "Have I? I'm afraid this restraint might one day snap."
A shudder ran down your spine as you tried to keep your head steady. Your bow lay still on the river's bank, and if he tried to misbehave even a bit, you would simply shoot him clean.
And yet, your hips rolled, as if trying to chase the pleasure his touch gave. "I'll be there when it happens." You looked over your shoulder, not missing the squint he gave you… "And I'll make sure to bring you to your senses," …and the reddened tip sticking to his hips. "I think you might wish to take care of it. Maybe with one of your muses?"
Or whores, as you actually wanted to say.
His cock trembled as you looked at it, and Satoru could only chuckle. Nastily, mischievously, with the fingers pulling your hips a bit closer. Yet not close enough for your wet pussy to feel the meaty shaft graze her lips.
"You are my muse, Goddess," he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing your cheeks. "Do you wish to hear the poems I've written about you?"
The sizzling sun licked your spine, eyes followed as his plush lips leaned to your ear. "Are they as filthy as your mind?"
He nodded, fingers slipping down towards the swell of your hips. Rolling deep circles, loosening the tightness in your muscles. "How could they not?" Snowy hair almost tickled your ear. "Who do you think I pleasure myself to? You may be a virgin, my Goddess, but I have my needs too."
With a sudden movement, he flipped you over, pressing your back to the warm stone. His thick cock stuck to the white trail of his abdomen, yet still not touching your dripping cunt.
You may've pledged chastity, yet you couldn't control your body's simple needs.
"You can't do anything to me," you said, yet something in your voice quivered.
His head tilted wickedly, and his eyes shone as he gripped the fat shaft. "But you can watch, hm?" A thumb swirled over the pearly tip, smearing the sticky cum over the reddened head. "Or is it also against your chastity?"
Maybe it was. Yet your head shook as back pressed closer to the stone. The water swelled over your hips, leaving your breasts bare to his starving gaze.
"Hm, thought so." His fingers slipped to your cheek, brushing a few wet locks away. "My Goddess, you truly are a wicked creature."
Pleasure, distress, haunting desire clashed with each other in your mind, yet your body froze in place. Lips fell only slightly open, eyes bulging like porcelain plates, seeing the fatness he gripped. Leaking with creamy droplets of precum, soaking his long fingers and veiny thickness.
Saying he was large would be an understatement.
Something in your belly squeezed, imagining his bulging head hit the deepest–
"Stop," the word slipped out in a shudder as you turned your head away. With warm cheeks and a trembling lip, as if the Sun God's look of himself pleasuring himself solely on your blooming face were against every pledge you had made. "Go and find one of your filthy muses."
Satoru chuckled before his fingers pinched your chin, turning your head back. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing yours. "I can't think of anyone but you, my Goddess. Look what a wretched man I am because of you." His thumb brushed your lower lip, then slipped boldly onto your tongue. "Do you truly wish to put your Sun God through such a tor–"
Yet before he could finish, your hand met his cheek. A slap bounced off the water, turning his face left. To bring it back to face your wrath, you slapped it again.
His creamy face bloomed like the softest rose, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Excitement pinched his heart as fingers clenched around the fat shaft with a low, groany moan.
He bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at your face, burning with rage. "Slap me again, my Goddess, and I'll make you arch that pretty ass of yours for me again."
You didn't know where this sudden change had come from, yet the man standing in front of you was not the one who had pestered you for the past thirty moons.
No, as Satoru Gojo, who now stood mere millimetres from your body, with his musky scent clouding you tight and his fat cock trembling at the sheer look of yours – look much, much madder.
Wretched, obsessed, with the flame dancing behind his watery eyes and a wicked smile tugging at his rosy lips
Another shiver ran down your spine when he started pumping his shaft faster. Smearing the creamy cum all over the bulging veins, throwing his head back yet still following the gentle rise of your trembling breasts.
The rage bubbled beneath your heart, and a tiny thread of heat smouldered on your cheeks. He leaned a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until his forehead rested against your shoulder. He didn't touch you in any other way, yet the sole impact left you breathless.
"My Goddess, you smell so good," he took a deep breath close to your neck, letting another groan escape his lips. "So delicious, ah, I can only imagine how sweet the scent is down there."
A shuddered breath escaped your tightened throat, feeling his muscular, massive body looming over yours like a deathly threat. Long fingers pumped his cock faster, breathless moans hit your drenched skin, before he finally stilled.
With the gentle, petal kiss upon your shoulder and his cheek nuzzling against your skin.
Something warm spilt over your belly. And you didn't need to look down to know what it would be.
"You're disgusting," fell in pure wrath, as you pushed him away. "Nothing but filthy scum. I hope this satisfied your hunger, because the next time I see you, my God, not even your wicked arrows will be able to save you from my rage."
You left the water with a shuddering, vexing tremor washing over your spine, and this little, agonisingly rubbing feeling that spilt hotly all over your mind.
Satoru followed your body with a slick smile, the saltiness of your skin still tasting heavy on his lips.
The Sun God was of a cunning nature. Wicked and wrathful, always doing things one way. His way.
Three weeks had passed before he had a chance to see you again.
His heart heaved in agony as he couldn't find you anywhere. As always, he came at the first break of day to join you on the morning hunt, but you simply weren't there. Waiting for him with a scowl, yet still giggling at all his foolish jokes and accepting a bit of help.
He was waiting by the river's bank from morning till night, yet you hadn't appeared even once. As if the waves themselves had trapped you beneath the surface.
He asked around – the nymphs, the Goddesses, the plains – yet everyone said they hadn't seen you for days. Or maybe they simply lied to him, as you couldn't simply disappear.
And so for the next three weeks, he walked through the lands like a shadow. He barely enjoyed anyone's company, sitting in his temple only to get drunk on the sweetest wine, letting his creamy skin be scorched beneath his own, merciless sun. A shadow of a man he was, as his heart simply couldn't bear the separation you imposed with such anger.
After two weeks, he met his twin sister, Artemis, to whom you pledged your chastity. He loved his sister dearly and knew her like the back of his hand. Thus, with a single glance, he could tell she knew everything that had happened between the two of you.
And based on her furrowed forehead and tsk that fell when she saw his grinning face entering her temple – she wasn't happy.
"I won't tell you where she is," she murmured, brushing her long, creamy hair aside as she enjoyed the warm kisses in the sun.
She lay on the sofa by her pool, with nothing but a long tunic gently wrapped around her body. Satoru hung over her wrinkled forehead and pressed a finger to satin skin. "My sister, such a beautiful woman you are, and yet you always seem so angry."
Shihori smacked his hand, glancing up at his brother with the same blue eyes. "Because you always make me angry, fool."
Satoru lifted her legs and rested them on his thighs as he joined her on the sofa. "Tell me where she is."
Shihori couldn't care less about her brother's wicked wish, so she shook her head. "You know she pledged her virginity, hm?"
Satoru hummed, playing with the long tunic as he brushed his sister's ankles. "I do."
"So you also must know what will happen if she breaks her vow?"
Of course he knew. That's why he came here.
"What if I told you I love her?" he asked, drawing his sister's attention. "I want to make her my wife. Give her to me, and I promise I will be in your debt forever."
Shihori propped herself up on elbows, letting long white hair brush her rosy cheeks. She was as beautiful as her younger brother – by a minute only. Possessing the same archery skill and a power that trembled the heavens.
With a slim chin and wicked eyes, matching the proudish smile. Strong and bold, with neatly carved muscles bulging beneath her satin skin and an authoritative tone that always made Satoru slightly squirm. But she was his older sister, after all, so how could he not feel the utter love and respect for the same blood?
"And why would I do that?" Shihori lifted her straight brow. "Why would I change my rules for this little nymph?"
"Because you love me," Satoru grinned. "And I suppose it would be rather proper to remind you that enjoying women's company also counts as losing one's virginity. My dearest virgin-goddess sister."
Shihori squinted, kicking his side with her foot. "Whatever I do with my nymphs is none of your business."
Satoru grabbed her ankle before biting her big toe, just as he used to tease her when they were children.
"I suppose some Gods would be interested in how the protector of young women and their virginity fucks with her dearest followers," he chuckled as she kicked him again. "You're no better than me, my sister. The same scum-blood runs in our veins. So let me have her, and I won't say a word."
Shihori glared at him. Morality and the need to give her little brother everything were clearly at war in her mind before she waved her hand and lay back down.
"Fine, I won't punish her. Just don't do anything stupid," she laughed, feeling Satoru's sweet kiss on her cheek. "She'll join another feast in a week. Just wait for her there. Oh, and bring me some of this Suguru's special wine."
Satoru tilted his head, another wicked grin already tugging at his lips. He knew his sister wasn't the saint everyone took her for, yet he had no idea how coy she was.
"And what do you need an aphrodisiac-spiked wine for?"
She opened one eye, shooting a set of daggers straight at his heart. But before another bark could pass her plush lips, Satoru chuckled once again. "Ah, what was this rumour, hm…" His eyes gleamed with a foul grin.
"What rumour?" Shihori asked through her teeth, yet the rosy warmth hit her cheeks.
Satoru stood up from the sofa, giving his muscular back a long, groany stretch. He scratched his chin before looking over his shoulder towards his sister. Oh, her anger only fueled his playful mind.
"Nothing, just that our dearest stepmother has been surprisingly benevolent lately," he observed, another wave of warmth wrapping around her neck. "I suppose it's because Hera truly enjoys the company of her stepdaughter. I wonder what makes her so happy that even Zeus no longer gets scolded for all his affairs."
Shihori slipped a pillow from beneath her head and threw it at his head. "Go out, before I change my mind!"
And so he left, with a crackling chuckle bouncing off the temple's walls and his older sister burning from embarrassment.
Yet now, with his sister's blessing, there was nothing that could stop him from pursuing your love.
And so he knew that the next time you met, he would make you his, whether you liked it or not.
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
The moon spilt coldly over the feast's heavy tables as the Gods and Goddesses gathered around the flickering candles. The night was warm, as the summer breeze tickled the cheerful cheeks of the giggling nymphs, who listened to Satoru playing soft harp tunes.
An ivory tunic, as always, fell down his muscular shoulders, as the moon spilt dripping kisses on the lightened side of his face.
Finger played softly through the harp's gentle strings, yet lingered on your laughing cheeks. Something panged deep in his chest at how carefree you were with other divinities. You sipped your wine without giving Satoru much thought, as if you hadn't disappeared from Earth for the past three weeks.
Your laugh sliced sweetly through the air, tickling his ears. He desperately tried to force eye contact, yet you gave him nothing but the lovely side of your cheek.
An irritated tsk escaped his lips, an unpleasant anger bubbling deep in his chest. A few Gods approached you with a smile, forcing another wave of rage to wash over Satoru's spine.
Before he could step in, seeing how you slowly warmed yourself to some small God's side, a low, chuckling whistle slashed through the air.
"It seems like things didn't work your way," Suguru said, brushing Satoru's arm with his. "What? She rejected you?"
Satoru sighed, rolling his tense shoulders. "She's just a little nervous."
Suguru squinted his lavender eyes, clearly dissatisfied with such a roundabout answer. Raven hair tickled Satoru's cheek as he tilted his head. Satoru rarely saw his friend concerned with anyone but him, yet his forehead furrowed with a gentle wrinkle.
"Give her some of this wine," Satoru mumbled.
Suguru drew in a long breath, shooting his head towards Satoru. "But you said–"
He started, but Satoru quickly added. "I know what I said." He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes squinting furiously. "Give her a little. Just to soothe her a bit."
Suguru chuckled, hitting his friend's back. "As you wish, my God."
"Ah, also, prepare a bit for Shihori."
Looking over his shoulder, Suguru rolled a laugh. "Your sister? What does she need it for?"
Satoru gestured with his chin towards the start of the table, where three of the brothers and their wives sat among the elite. With Persephone straddling Hades's hips, a quiet goddess wrapped around Poseidon's arm, and Hera… sitting utterly bored and giving Zeus's drunken laugh no mind.
Suguru followed his gaze before a devilish laugh escaped his throat. "Don't tell me she fucks with the queen mother herself?"
Satoru crossed his arms over his broad chest and let out a soft hum. Suguru tilted his head, admiring Hera's gentle cheeks. "Well, she's quite beautiful. No wonder she's stopped going crazy over Zeus's affairs lately."
Satoru watched as his friend took another pot of wine before rejoining the Gods. His golden tongue whispered the sweetest secrets, and the divinities laughed and blushed beneath Dionysus's soothing lines. After all, a God of Laughter, Wine and Theatre, he knew exactly how to play on people's minds.
You weren't an exception. As he approached and wrapped his arms around you and your friend, a gentle laugh made your eyes lift. Satoru bit the inside of his cheek, catching Suguru's sly glance, while his fingers clenched around your soft arm.
But still, he poured you another cup of the sweetest wine, watching you close as you took a sip. And another, another, another, before humming softly about how delicious it tastes.
A few minutes passed before something warm began to spill across your chest. A kind of fog clouded your mind – sweet and gentle, yet sizzling like the sun.
The nymph sitting right next to you grabbed your arm, looking at your hottish face with a furrow. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need some water?"
You drew in a sharp breath, feeling her cold skin against yours. Your head shook as a soft "I'm fine" barely passed your lips.
Excusing yourself, you rose from the chair and headed to a quieter part of the beach, where gentle waves lapped inside the small cove. Surrounded by the forest and shielded by tall trees, the spot offered a peaceful retreat. The salty breeze gently touched your cheeks, while your throat felt parched, and you scratched it with long nails.
The fog clouding your head was getting thicker, denser, spreading all over your body till the fingertips tingled with a pinching pleasure.
Something wet dripped down your inner thighs, and as you hid yourself behind a tree and slipped a hand beneath the long dress, you felt the stickiness coating your sizzling skin. But more so… the moment your finger brushed your swollen folds, a low bounce of the softly rolling waves.
"Fuck," slipped in a whisper, as you felt the burning pleasure fill your lower belly.
You looked around, seeing that neither mortal nor God peered into the little cove. The bay seemed completely private, with nothing but moonlight spilling onto the smooth sand and soft whispers rolling off the crystal waves.
You took a deep breath, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together. Just to feel a faint friction, yet too embarrassed to slip your finger up again.
You've never felt it before. This… sensation.
Pleasure.
Or maybe you did, yet your mind refused to accept that Apollo, or Satoru Gojo, was the only man who woke a dangerous flame deep in your chest.
Maybe you simply wished to forget about the warmth that boiled deep within your lower belly when his muscular body stood right in front of yours. The look on his handsome face, lost in utter pleasure, and his long fingers wrapped around his filthy cock.
You tried not to think of it again, as the moment the image of his shaft slipped again into your mind, another moany sigh rolled past your lips. Your pussy clenched around nothing, letting another batch of stickiness coat your thighs. Trickling down the skin, till you've noticed a little, wet drop landing on the sand.
"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," you cried, feeling the burning sensation pinch your skin harder. Perking your nipples, softening your body, as if preparing you to accept the pleasure that needed to be spilt.
Bracing yourself against the stony wall, you took a few steps. On trembling legs, you felt the weakness slowly seep into your marrow. You walked slowly, trying to go deeper into the nearby forest, just to reach the river.
Somewhere safe.
You moved slowly, with wetness dripping down your legs and heavy breaths escaping your burning lungs. Your eyes were misty, nearly teary, as the feverish, floral heat enveloped your entire body.
Waves rolled past your bare feet, sandals long forgotten somewhere in the back. Your burning body couldn't bear the dress clinging to your skin, so you began to undress unconsciously.
One cloth after another, before falling down your knees, to crawl towards the river's banks.
"Do you need help, my Goddess?"
Someone's voice filled your balmy mind.
No, not someone's.
His.
Of the God whom you wished to see the last, as the sole fragrance of his skin pinched your senses in an utmost sinful way.
And, oh, he must've watched you now in such an embarrassing stance!
Kneeling with your sizzling body, you shed the sea-drenched dress behind you. The intense desire overwhelmed your reason as you presented yourself fully before his daring gaze.
"Go away," you barely breathed. "You can't see me in such a state."
But Satoru merely chuckled before you heard his heavy footsteps coming your way. Ocean eyes hummed at all the garments you'd left behind before settling on your clenched thighs and slightly arched back as you tried to crawl towards the nearest river.
He squinted, seeing the wetness dripping down your thighs and a gentle shimmer from your swollen pussy.
"My Goddess, it seems that you do feel unwell," He chuckled, taking another step your way. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Your head shook as you tried to crawl faster, only to get away from him as fast as you could. An attempt to stand up ended in a miserable fall onto the sand, drawing a soft giggle from Satoru's lips. He knelt by your side, brushing away a few strands of hair sticking to your cheeks.
"Oh my," he hummed, seeing the utter loveliness of your drugged face.
With cheeks sweet as fresh cherries and eyes softened by an alluring scowl. A gentle pout tugged at your lips as you unconsciously nuzzled against his skin. Another hand cupped your cheek as he held your face in a possessive grip. His big thumbs, tight yet delicate, brushed your skin.
"What is it, my Goddess?" He whispered, allowing a lenient sigh to spill past your lips. "What happened here, hm? Are you a bit too drunk?"
You nodded, thinking of nothing but the pleasant grip of his fingers.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were slowly giving in.
A miserable attempt to push him away ended solely with you even more pathetically landing on the soft sand. Your back hit it with a dull thud, as Satoru placed his fingers on your knees. Thumb rolled gently in circles, as if he knew how much pleasure your body took from each brush of his skin.
"Say it," he muttered, leaning closer. Plush lips brushed one of your knees, eyes never leaving your fogged face. "Say that you want me to help you, my Goddess. I know how to make you feel good."
Oh, and you knew too, which is why your knees tried to close again. But his grip was too strong, and he brutally forced them forward, folding you in half.
With your bare pussy dripping filthy onto the sand and perked nipples waiting to be softly brushed by his thumb.
The moonlight kissed his handsome, sharp side as he leaned in once again. To hang right over your face, observing with wicked pleasure the tears forming beneath your lids. As if he could see the fuzzy mess of your mind, with morality and a simple, human need drawing a brutal tight.
"I c-can't," you mumbled, feeling the heat drip down your tongue. It felt much heavier than before, barely touching your feverish roof. "Stop, I can't, the chastity–"
"Shhh," Satoru cooed, pressing your thighs to your chest. Till the swell of your ass glued off the drenched sand. "Artemis will forgive you."
His nose traced the plush of your cheek. Lips peppering your skin softly, leaving traces down your chin. His tongue swirled sweetly around one of your nipples, through the burning neck, perked breasts.
You wished to fight it – you truly did, yet a sugary moan slipped past your lips.
"No, she–ah!" you cried, as he softly bit your nipple.
"It's alright, my Goddess. Don't resist it," he murmured, with one hand feeling your breasts as his lips traced a path down your body. He gently bit, grazed, and nipped your skin before resting his cheek against your mound. "Allow me to take care of you. Just say you want it," he whispered, as his finger rolled your nipple, causing another cry to escape your lips.
"I'm a v-virgin, wait…" Your hand landed on Satoru's head, tugging softly on his hair.
Satoru groaned, feeling your gentle finger scratch his scalp. "I'll take good care of you. It won't hurt, I promise," he mumbled right into the drenched mound of your cunt, as the fragrance of sugary juices already hit his senses. "Fuck, my Goddess. Just let me have a taste. I won't put it in…" promise?
You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling his warm breath almost brush your core. Not quite, yet the mere sight of him, lying so handsomely between your thighs, was enough to force a nod.
A nod, which would never happen if your mind wasn't on the verge of spilling. If your body wasn't melting beneath his touch, thighs spreading even wider, just to open your cunt to his starving mouth.
It was utterly embarrassing, humiliating, mostly sinful act and yet… when his tongue finally licked the juices off your clit, a shuddering moan bounced off the cove's stones.
He didn't waste a time, pushing the drenched muscle right inside your spasming cunt. Slurping, ravishing on the waves of wetness that spilt from your hole in unnaturally large bursts. Droplet after droplet, trickling down his chin and landing softly on the sand.
"My Goddess, fuck, I knew you would taste so good," he slurred, letting your juices stick to his lips. "My sweetest love, mhm, I was waiting a month for you."
Your fingers clenched around his hair as you tried to slightly pull him back. "W-wait, that's–nghhh–too much, my God!"
Your body had always been much weaker than his, but now, with neediness running through your blood, it seemed impossible to do anything but allow yourself to be wrapped in his lips.
He took your hand, slipping it down your belly. Down to your clenching cunt, only to press your two fingers against the swollen clit.
"Do you feel it, my Goddess?" He chuckled, looking up at your warm cheeks. "Do you feel how wet you are? That's what you wanted to take away from me."
He directed your pads to press softly, pinchily, till another moan spilt past your lips. His tongue slurping on your tight core, fingers of one hand rolling your nipples. Squeezing the plush breasts, till a painful pleasure tickled your spine.
And the other hand…
"Wait!" You screamed, quickly catching his wrist. "N-no penetration… just…" Oh dearest, how embarrassing it was to say out loud! "… use your tongue. I can't lose my virginity."
My sweet foolish nymph, Satoru thought, before an innocent, "Of course, my Goddess," fell past his plush lips.
The waves and waves of ethereal pleasure washed over your spine as he devoured your sweet pussy with a starving need. Nose all glued with your juices, cheeks nastily squeezed by your trembling thighs, tongue working on your clit and hole, trying to stretch her as much as he could.
His creamy forehead furrowed with a wrinkle, brows tight, as you pushed a few soft strands of his hair away.
"My God, please t-take a breath," you cried, yet the spilling lustfulness seeped like a flame through your skin. "I'm–mhmm–t-there's something…" Before you could point at your lower belly, his hand pressed right there.
Squeezing your little pouch, as if trying to feel the slick, filthy cum splashing beneath your skin.
"You need to cum, my Goddess," he mumbled drunkenly, sucking on your plush clit. "But for that, I need to put my finger in."
You bit your lower lip, looking down at his wretched face.
His cheek nuzzled against your soft thigh, kissing the clit softly. "Please? Just a finger. I promise, it'll be fine."
Oh, he looked stunning. With those alluring eyes and innocent pout, as if aware that his angelic face alone was enough to make your head spin.
So you nodded, rather unconsciously, and watched him push one finger in.
"Oh," slipped moany at the new feeling. "Oh, my God, mhmm, i-it's–"
"Now you can cum for me," Satoru whispered, going back to sucking your clit.
He knew where your sweet spot was – how couldn't he? – so within a second, you started squirming beneath his grip.
One of his hands rested on your belly while the other was deep inside your tight, clenching walls. He kissed, brushed, and lightly peppered your most sensitive spot with his finger until your thighs finally clenched around his head.
Locking him in a tight, shuddering embrace as he drunkenly moaned over your spilling juices. With a single flick of his tongue, you melted beneath his maddening touch, squirting all over his cheeks, chin and nose, till the Sun God was left nothing but a wretched man, hugging nastily to your velvety skin.
Your head felt a bit less feverish, with the crimson fog finally clearing from in front of your eyes and fresh summer air finally filling your lungs.
For a mere second, you felt normal again.
Satoru still lay between your spread legs, kissing the slippery skin of your inner thighs softly.
"Welcome back, my Goddess," he muttered, licking the last juices dripping from your pussy.
You watched him with pure terror swirling behind your eyes. "I… this feeling…"
"Mmm," he hummed, softly biting a plush of your thigh. "Someone must've spiked your wine, my Goddess. Have you angered anyone recently?"
Oh, he was such a scum.
Your lovely brows furrowed, a drop of sweat slipping down your temple. "No, I… I don't know. There was…" you, wanted to slip, yet you bit down on your tongue.
Satoru pouted, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "My Goddess, I vow to find that bastard and slash his throat," he whispered, kissing your thigh and moving upward, even biting gently into your calf. "But for now, brace yourself for another wave."
And true to his promise, the heat once more kissed your cheeks. It climbed up your neck, seeped into fingertips, curled beneath lower belly, and caused another slick to slide down your cunt.
A fogginess once again swirled in front of your eyes, and an anxiety bubbled somewhere deep in your tightened throat.
Satoru flipped you onto your belly, with a soft, "Shhh, it's fine, my Goddess. You'll be fine."
Gentle, wet kisses landed on your shivering spine, leaving hottish traces down the skin.
"What a-are you doing?" fell shuddered.
But you didn't catch his reply. Truly, you heard nothing at all but the swoosh of his tunic as it landed close to your sand-plastered face.
"My God–ah!" Slipped in a pitched moan, as something fat poked on your swollen pussy.
The heat was teasing, gently pinching your damp folds, rolling waves of intense pleasure whenever Satoru stirred your cunt. His fingers spread the heat in a soft hum, and something heavy, round, pressed against your tight entrance.
"My God, what–"
"My love," Satoru let out an utterly innocent whimper, as if trying to stifle the tears wracking beneath his lids. You couldn't see the devilish smile tugging at his lips, his face tightly pressed into the sand. "Allow me to make you feel good. I can make the pain go away, just let me…" His swollen head slipped in a little, forcing a shattered moan from your throat.
"Wait!" You tried to crawl away, but he pressed a hand between your shoulder blades. Keeping you tight in place, with his massive body fully resting on yours.
"It's okay, my love. It won't hurt, I promise," he hummed, another hand massaging the swell of your hips. Spreading your drenched folds a bit farther to see the tip of his cock getting sucked by your weeping cunt. "My Goddess, don't make her wait any longer. She's just wishing to get fucked, ahh."
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop your hips from slamming against his. As, dearest heavens, the way his sole head stretched your cunt brought an unparalleled, maddened pleasure, bubbling deep inside your belly. The pledge you made re chastity was trying to fight the aroused, lustful thoughts. The thick, warm fog that made your body liquefy beneath his touch, and your mind go all hot.
"My virginity–" You started, yet Satoru quickly snapped back.
"I talked to my sister, love. She won't punish you," he whispered, leaning down to lick a long stripe down your spine. "Because now you're mine. So say you want it, hm? Say you want me to fuck your tight cunt and fill her up."
He bit, licked, kissed your skin, while slowly, oh so painfully slow, poking your drenched hole.
"Just the tip, my love," he whispered, brushing away a few strands of hair hiding your lovely side. "I don't want to hurt you, my Goddess. I'll slip just a little tip."
And with an arousal fogging your mind, you nodded. Forcing a wicked laugh past his plush lips as he kissed your cheek.
"Mhm, that's right, my love," his cock slid through your tight walls, snugging inside your plush warmth. "Oh fuck, my Goddess, you truly are a fucking virgin."
You drew in a sharp breath, feeling his heavy cock slip into your belly. It was anything but the tip, forcing a sudden burst of tears to roll down your cheeks.
The pain mixed with pleasure as his shaft forced its way deep inside your pussy. You could feel every pulsing vein throbbing against your walls, the pumped head smooching your sweet spot, as he pushed and pushed, while pressing your body to the sand.
A moany cry bounced pitifully off the crystal waves before he quickly rolled you again.
This time, your back hit the sand, thighs folding up to your chest.
And when you looked up at his face… oh.
The Sun God hung over your crying cheeks with nothing but an utterly wicked, handsome smile. Eyes shining beneath the cold moon, adding to their ocean-blue hues a kiss of sin. He giggled, kissing the single tear that soaked your cheek.
And an angel, no, rather a demon, keeping you in his tight, possessed embrace.
Your hands pressed to his chest, as he pushed harder. "My God, you said just the tip," fell harshly, seeing a grin coiling in his gaze.
"My Goddess, you truly are ruthless," he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips. "How could I ever lie to you? I'm barely in, I promise."
Yet when you tried to look down, his strong fingers grabbed your chin, keeping your eyes fixed on his.
"You don't trust me?" He pouted, peppering your skin with soft kisses. "Don't look down there, my love. Focus on me."
Your head lulled right as he bit the side of your neck. Licking, sucking on it gently, while still forcing his cock through your walls.
It wasn't just the tip, and although you should be angry, the way he kept you folded left little room for movement. With his single arm pressing your legs tight, fingers keeping your chin up, and massive, heavy body leaning on yours.
He started to move faster, faster, faster, pumping you poor, weeping cunt with his heavy cock. It hit every inch of your lower belly, brushing past the sweet spot and smooching up to the slowly swelling womb. You could feel his round head nuzzle deep inside your pulsing warmth, as your tight walls wrapped around him, as if trying to lock him in.
A low hiss slipped past his rosy lips as you cried out in painful pleasure. Your blood ran hot as he tried to fuck each drop of aphrodisiac from your veins, pushing your body deeper into the sand.
The nasty squelch bounced off the water, spilling deep into the cave and catching in your scattered hair. He brought your face back, giggling at the sight of your utterly fucked eyes.
"My beautiful Goddess," he whispered, before slipping his hand down your belly. At this point, with heat bubbling in your belly, your thighs stayed open, pressed to your chest, as if your body was freely inviting him in. "My sweet, beautiful Goddess. Tell me how good you feel."
His demand forced wrath and balmy submissiveness upon your fucked mind, and so a sweet, honest, "G-good, ahh, you're filling me s-so good," fell embarrassingly past your lips.
As no matter how much you wanted to refuse, it did feel good. Dearest, it felt amazing, handling his hefty cock fully sliding inside your warmth, till wet balls hit your lifted ass. Head kissing your womb, veins pulsing in rhythm with your plush walls, as they pushed out waves and waves of fresh cum. Coating his full length in your juices, till whenever he pulled out, a crystal thread formed between your cunt and his creamy, happy trail.
His hands kneading your softness turned your mind to balm, and fingers playing with your swollen bud forced a moan, so you truly, shamefully so, allowed your body to give in to his touch.
"My God, nghh, I'm going to–"
Before you could finish, he crashed his lips against yours. He slipped a groan deep inside your throat as he started to fuck you faster. More relentless, brutal, forcing upon your virgin cunt a strength you weren't used to.
"My God, p-please–ahhh–slow down," you cried into his lips, yet received only a low chuckle.
"I know how to make you cum, my love. Your pussy needs to be fucked properly," he licked the tears dripping down your cheeks before capturing your lips again. "You're close, hm? I can feel it in your belly."
His hands pressed to your lower pouch, feeling his cock hit the soft skin, before slipping down to your cunt. Rolling your clit in mean, squelching pinches.
"S-satoru," his name finally escaped your throat, as you wrapped your arms behind his neck. "So good, you're–ngh–filling me–ahhh."
He chuckled, seeing your lidded eyes and messy blabber falling past your lips. "I know, my Goddess, your–ahh–pussy feels so fucking good. My sweetest, I promise to take good care of you."
He hid his face in the crook of your neck before finally going still. Your back arched, nipples pressing to his chest, before a soaked cry ripped from your throat. Juices gushing all over his abdomen, cock, as he hit your womb painfully, filling it with sticky ropes of cum. Till you felt the heavy creaminess sticking to your walls, stuffing you heavily, madly full.
A filthy fog once again seeped into your mind, and for a single minute you felt your strength return to your body. For a mere moment, it allowed you to smack his fair cheek. It left him fully unfazed, with a cheeky grin still plastered to his handsome face and a low chuckle forcing its way past his lips.
"My Goddess, is that how you should treat your future husband?" he asked, then brutally turned you back onto your belly. You tried to crawl, kicking him back, but he simply smacked your ass. "Come on, my love. Don't try to fight me. If I hadn't found you, who knows who would?"
Your breath hitched when you felt his cock harden again. Still snuggling deep inside you cunt, as you felt his shaft stretch your poor, weeping walls.
"I–ahh–I fucking hate you," you snapped through gritted teeth, your hips slowly rocking against his. Whatever you'd drunk still flowed in your veins, forcing another fog over your mind. "I hate you, so, s-so–mhm Satoru, just, fuck, p-please–"
His fingers dug deep into your perked-up ass, ocean eyes glimmering at the sight of your arched back. Sweat beaded on your neck, and your teary gaze looked over your shoulder in a furious, desperate, pleading manner.
He chuckled, taking a little vial from his tattered tunic. Opening it with his teeth, he handed it your way.
"What is it?" you asked, trying to sound at least a bit suspicious.
His eyes squinted, lips turned wickedly up. "Just a simple water. You'll feel a bit better."
"Drink it first."
"You don't trust me?"
You bit down your lip, shaking your head a bit.
Satoru hummed before taking a sip of the liquid without hesitation. It seeped warmly through his body, dripping down to the burning loins.
Seeing that he truly acted normally, you took it from his fingers and drank it all in one go. But… oh.
You shot head his way, seeing nothing, but a nasty grin. "This…"
He leaned closer, pressing his hand back between your shoulder blades. His face drew nearer, then he licked your lips with his wine-sweetened tongue. "Tastes similar, my love?"
A wave of heat was rolling faster, an even stronger aphrodisiac flowing through your veins. Breathing became harder, your mind already blind, as he pushed your melted body into a deeper arch.
"I love you so much, my Goddess," he whispered, peppering your sizzling cheek. "I'll make you feel so good. So fucking good, I promise. My sweet, beautiful wife. Just trust me."
͙͘͡★ A ROYAL LETTER FOR THE CONSORT Rumors have it that the queen has been searching for the perfect husband who could be the king, in response, she has given two men the chance to prove themselves to her judgmental eyes (..◜ᴗ◝..)
͙͘͡★ WRITTEN IN INK smut, porn with little plot
͙͘͡★ POSSIBLE CONSORTS Rafayel, Zayne (separate)
͙͘͡★ THE BLACK INK fem!reader | explicit content | no guaranteed spoilers of main/side quests | established relationship | possible grammar errors | not proof read | medieval era | mention of side character death | implied body worship | pet names | needy Rafayel | forbidden romance | marking | grinding | cumming inside | piv | unprotected sex | oral (fem rec) | fingering (fem rec) | author note at end (>_<)
A king can be everything, powerful and strong, without a missus— on the contrary, a queen is nothing without her king’s presence. . weak, frail, and delicate yet gorgeous and could gift a man the perfect heir. Well, that is what those unruly royal men and women dare to utter under their breath, vile and bold remarks were directed towards you. It has been nearly two years since the assassination of your mother and father, one from a delicious cup of tea mixed with sweet poison. . the other, a sharp knife piercing into skin until they collapsed onto the cold floor with blood pouring from the gash.
For those few years, it has been you who has become the strict ruler of your father’s kingdom; a woman who stands above the rest, represents herself. . not a pathetic royal man speaking for her. You have proven yourself well enough, more independent than your dear, poor mother. . more powerful than your blind, ignorant father. You swore to yourself that you would never let a royal man enter your castle with the intent of wedding you and if you had allowed such boldness, he shall never speak above your voice— less he wished for his head to be separated from his body.
Despite that silent promise you had made to yourself all those years ago, the chatter from those pitiful royal women and men has you completely reconsidering your approach to marriage. Why, you would do absolutely anything to finally silence those annoying pests. . and that is exactly what you plan on doing.
RAFAYEL
Master Rafayel; his family has served under your bloodline for ages, years after years they were recognized as more than excellent painters and were favored for their skills. Your bloodline has entrusted them as personal painters, each one of them were able to perfectly capture the pure beauty of your family— your purple haired painter was no exception to this. Although, compared to his family that kept a professional composure, he was quite comfortable and unapologetically bold when near your presence.
He was quite the gentleman compared to the other possible suitors on your list; happily dragging you away from stuffy conference rooms, sneakily adding a sweet dessert on your lacking meal plate, and even making you feel relaxing during one of his painting sessions. . with you as his personal and favorite muse. And even during the aftermath of the assasination of your parents, he became a shoulder for your tears and sorrows— truly it is no suprise that there are quite some chatter about you and Rafayel’s more intimate relationship, and even less that your considering him to be a name in your list. Although, the royal men and lady may sputter rumors about how unbecoming it is for you, the queen of the kingdom, to take a mere, poor painter as her consort.
Not that you could care about their mindless gossip, after all, it is you who is the queen. . not them.
“Hmm. .” You hum to yourself, heels clanking softly against the cool marble floor, puffy dress dragging agaisnt the surface with every step you take— eyes darting to glance at each portrait of you hanging on the wall.
You were taking a relaxing and alone walk, it was well deserved after spending hours after hours discussing critical problems in the kingdom. Alongside your steps, there is another. . steps that are much quieter and softer than yours as shoes click agaisnt the marbled floor.
“M’lady. . your presence is utmost important in the discussion room. The utter chaos can only be cooled by your order, it’s recommended you come back sooner rather than later” a voice says in a polite and respectful voice, tone lacking any sort of emotion— it has you scoffing in frustration as you reluctantly turn to face the person.
Catching your sharp gaze as you glance over is Master Rafayel rather than your personal chamberlin, you exhale in relief of being able to avoid that god forsaken room.
“Mmh. . you’ve been spacing out more than often naught, your majesty” Rafayel muses out in a velvety and gentle voice, fingers tenderly catching a stray strand of your hair to slowly tuck it behind your ear in a smooth motion.
He smiles teasingly when you briefly look at those gorgeous eyes of his, calloused hands readjusting your crooked necklace as if it was something natural that happens between you two. And it was, Rafayel has done this so many times it was uncountable.
“I’ve just been spending more time thinking. . that’s all” you lie through your teeth, tone dismissive of all his worries.
Instead of Rafayel acting wounded, offended, and overdramatic after hearing your harsh tones. . he just chuckles while wrapping his arms around your mid section, resting his chin onto your shoulder. You click your tongue, melting into his sweet touch. Oh how it would be troublesome if someone was to stumble across the queen and her trusted painter embracing each each other so. . intimate and far too close to be professional.
It’s perfect.
“Ooh please, my sweet beloved. That expression on that beautiful face of yours I far from ‘just thinking’” he teases in a light tone, mocking your voice perfectly for extra emphasis to his point.
He leans close, closer than you anticipated, fingers gently peeling the fabric from your neck. Hot breath ghosts agaisnt your flesh, warm and glossed lips press agaisnt the faded away bite mark on your neck— eliciting a breathless gasp from you, a shiver coursing through your body. It isn’t the first time you’ve embraced Rafayel in a intimate manner, forbidden romance was a concept you never truly cared about, you doubt it would be the last time you and him sneaked off to satiate each other’s desire.
“Bold as ever, aren’t we? Who gave you permission to kiss upon my flesh?” You laugh out, sighing when he presses more light kisses to the skin of your neck, collarbone, and shoulder with such passion.
“Ahh. . apologies, m’ladly. I can’t help but become eager and bold around you. .” Rafayel murmurs again your neck, arms wrapping tighter around your stomach, lips suckling at your skin until bruises blooms on your flesh.
“Is that so. . ? Well, you are not permitted to touch my until I’ve have given you my permission” you breath out between shivers and jolts of your body, biting at your lips to muffle that moan that tries to escape when he licks a broad strip along your neck.
“Of course, you majesty. .” His lips curl against your skin in a cheeky smile, completely unbothered or unfazed by the assertion in your tone.
“Good. Now, quickly. . follow me to my chambers” you mumble out, swatting him away when he continues to press kisses against your shoulder.
Rafayel interlaces your hands together sweetly, happily letting you guide him further down the hall to your chambers— the quiet sounds of shoes hitting the floor slowly dies down as the door of your bedroom locks behind you.
Oooh, it would be quite terrible if someone happened to stumble by the queen’s chamber. They would be able to hear the breathless moans and gasp shares between you and Rafayel, the rumors would become quite bothersome if so.
“Haaah. .” Rafayel pants out against your kiss-swollen lips, battered breath fanning on your flesh, that tongue of his gently tracing along your glossy lips.
“Mmhp. . nngh, R- Raf’” you moan our against his lips, arms wrapping around your shoulder to tug him closer and closer to your body until your chest was flushed against his.
“Mmhp. . you beauty is to be admired, my beloved” he mumbles out softly, agile fingers unclasping your necklace and pulling the jewerly from around your neck, placing it on the bedside to be forgotten.
“You say this every time, my dear. .” You whispers out breathlessly, nibbling on his bottom lip to elicit a delighted groan from the painter.
“And yet, I still speak the truth” Rafayel teases, fingers tickling agaisnt your ribs
In a quick motion, Rafayel grips at your plush hips tightly— lips trailing down from your lips to your neck, suckling noisily at the flesh until you let out a moan of approval. Your fingers cards through the purple strands of his hair, taking one step at a time as you guide him to your bed. You gently push him to lay onto your bed, climbing into his lap, straddling him while your hands rest on his chest.
“O-oh my gods. . your highness, you look absolutely radiant from down here. .” He pants out, hands tightening their grip on your hips.
His fingers, flexible, skilled, and fast quickly pull each bothersome piece of clothing off your body— layer after layer until you lay with only garments on. And you do the same for Rafayel until his bare chest is rising and falling agaisnt the palm of your hand and a noticeable bulge agaisnt the swell of your ass.
“Eager. . mmh?” You moan softly, letting him slowly slidee his hand from your waist to your back, gently pushing until his face was buried between your clothed chest.
With a quick flick of his index fingers, Rafayel tugs away your chest restraints and tossing them aside to the floor to be forgotten. One of the hands on your back drifts to your exposed chest to press the mounds together— lips suckling at both of your nipples hungrily, tongue smearing and slowly dragging agaisnt the sensitive bud in a worshipping fashion. You shiver in delight, dragging your fingers through his hair again to earn muffled moans from the painter.
“Oh heavens. .” You gasp out, unconsciously rolling your hips to grind your clothed pussy agaisnt his crotch.
The wet slurping sound of his mouth, shamelessly lapping at your puffy nipples fills the room now— along with your breathless meals each time your clit bumps against his clothed cock. You can feel the wet spot of Rafayel’s precum, cock leaking and bobbing against the sensitive folds of your pussy.
“Nnghh. . mmh! Haah. . en- enough, let me have you, my love” you sigh out, rolling your hips one last time to feel him groaning into your chest, the vibration coursing through your body.
You lift your hips up, one of your hands reaching down to tug down his garments until it reached to his knee— peeling your soaked panties to the side. Your cunt is still overly sensitive, puffy and swollen from the overload of attention he gave you not too long. While in your chamber waiting for the rest of the royal men and women to fill the conference room, Rafayel’s slender fingers found themself dipping and thrusting deep into your creamy pussy— leaving you feeling warm and needy during the meeting.
You’ve had quite enough of Rafayel’s teasing, pent up and annoyed. He’s still fondling, sucking, and pinching at your breasts, moaning when you slap his pretty cock agaisnt your slick folds with a wet plapp. In an agonizingly slow pace, you drag his long cock through your syrupy folds— pressing the bulbous tip of his cock agaisnt your slick cunt, rolling your hips to feel the pressure on the hood of the sensible bud even better.
Through hooded eyes, you attempt to peak between your thighs. . only being graced a small peak; his cock rutting through your fat pussy lips, over and over in a dizzying manner. Even though the lack of penetration is slightly frustrating, this was just far more arousing and passionate; Rafayel moaning and groaning into your chests as you use his body to make you both feel wonderful.
“Nngh—. . he- heavens, this feels too good —mmhp” you moan out, letting him grip your hips for support.
The heavy dragg of Rafayel’s cock; through your sopping folds, against puffy and twitching clit, and against your drooling hole. You’re lathering his pretty cock in that creamy, syrupy slick, your arousal mixing up with the beads of precum he leaks. He’s dizzy, eyes rolled back as he nuzzles deeper into your chest— desperate to keep his mouth busy as he lewdly alpacas your nipples, even teasing you by tracing his teeth agaisnt the bud.
“Mmhp. . nghh” Rafayel moans out, breath fanning on your chest, nibbling on your flesh like it’s a toy.
There’s a familiar tingle in your lower abdomen, brewing up fast and quick. Perhaps it’s the perfect weight of your chest pressed onto his face, air doesn’t come easily, or was it the way you grip his dick while dragging him through your cunt it a addictive motion— he doesn’t know but it has him shivering under you, cock throbbing in your hand as he shoots his cum into your sopping folds while letting out a shaky groan.
“M’ladly. . nghh” he whines, bucking his hips up to have his tip slipping into your cunt— stretching you perfect.
You gasp out, whining out his name in a sweet voice, creaming around his cock while one of your hands dart to tug at his hair.
“Mmhp. . oh heavenss, I’m n- not quite finished with you yet” you pant out breathlessly, letting those long inches of his cock slip into your pussy with a wet squeallch.
. . . .
Your chambers are mostly shrouded in darkness, only the small candle lit by your bedroom brings light. In your hands rests a grey bird feather, the tip coated in black ink. The soft snoring coming from beside you is what tears you attention from important matters; Rafayel’s gorgeous face is smushed against your pillow, one of his hands holding yours gently but firmly saying “please don’t let go, stay with me. . just for a little longer”.
Your hands move faster than you expected; with the feather in hand, you quickly cross away five names of noble men. You blow out the candle, snuggling back into Rafayel’s side, just this time you will indulge in your own desires. In the paper, the name, Rafayel, is circled in thick black. . a simple reminder to consider the painter as your future husband.
ZAYNE
Doctor Zayne; he was truly the best doctor in your whole kingdom, spending years after years meticulously studying and thoroughly examining the human bodie’s structure, functions, immune system, along with identifying each job of tissues and organs. He was well recognized and respected for his great skills, often taught by the higher class for his talen fo miraculously heal even the incurable. It was your parents who were the ones who entrusted the dark colored hair boy the importance role as your personal doctor, your father personally ensured you had a weekly checkup by the doctor— frightened that his only daughter might suffer from an undiagnosed disease and would forced to hire an unskilled doctor to pathetically attempt to cure her.
While, yes, your father could be alright overdramatic when it came to your health, it gave you the perfect opportunity to speak to the quiet doctor. You quickly recognized that Zayne kept up a professional appearance when in the same room as your parents and the attendees your father hired, but when it was just the two of your the atmosphere switched from rehearsed to something much more than comfortable. He was the complete opposite of how you initially imagined; he was tender and sweet, gentle at your worst moments, and suprisingly teasing at certain moments.
The only word that would describe Zayne the best would be gentleman, compared to the other possible consorts on your list. . the doctor was far too intimate around you— easily excusing you from the stressful conference room, carful to not overwhelm you during one of his checkups, accompanying you on your walk through the castel’s garden, changing your meals to become more nutritious and flavorful, and even pulling you from your work room when you refuse to get sleep. And even the day after finding out your parents were assasinated, he became sturdy and dependable for you— while he could be strict, he was constantly encouraging you not to neglect your mental and physical health due to depression lingering ominously over your head like a guillotine. It truly was no surprise that there were some curious, nosy, and envious eyes watching your, downright, romantic interactions with the infamous doctor, and even more less that he had become on of the options to be your consort.
And while, yes, it was quite. . unprofitable for the queen to take her personal doctor as her dearest— it would become the biggest talk of the kingdom, surely those royal men and lady would finally utter a true rumor about you. Although you knew it was unbecoming of you to even consider Zayne as an option, the thought of marrying a snobby, egotistical, and bratty rich man just for the sake of your reputation. . why, you’d rather drink an oversized cup of poison.
“Mmh. .” You softly hum to yourself a tune that has been stuck in your head for what felt like ages, resting agaisnt the railing of the balcony— peering down at the different flowers and roses planted in your outside garden that seemed to strech of forever, drinking up the sight of the array of soft colors.
There is a sweet and gentle breeze that blows along through the fields, certain strands of your hair flows with the tender breeze. It’s been a few hours since you arrived at the balcony, though it felt only a few minutes of you standing and admiring in silence— the quietness was taken as a reward for surviving yet another long conference in your throne room about worries for impending problems with the kingdom’s lack of resources. In a slow motion, you slowly reach your fingers to gently drag under the ribbon around your neck to feel the abused, fender flesh of your neck, collarbone, and shoulder— you can almost still feel the feather-like lips gliding and pressing against your flushed skin, sharp teeth of Zayne teasing your poor skin until he finally decided to suckle on your skin until there was a pretty mark left behind.
As if your intimate relationship with Zayne wasn’t alreadly the most popular gossip throughout your kingdom; if they knew that you and doctor had embraced each other, locked in your chambers under the moonlight, more than a few times to finally satiate that burning sexual tension between you both. . why, you doubt you’d ever hear the end of it. Whilst you were in deep thought while gazing at the garden, you failed to hear the quiet steps. . shoes tapping against the marble floor softly until the sound goes silent, stopped directly behind you.
“M’ladly. . have you been here all this time? It has become quite late now, I must advise you to try to get as much sleep to prepare for yet another conference tomorrow morning” a soothing and gentle voice sighs out, mixed with exhaustion and perhaps something else— the familiar voice and tone has you quickly spinning on your heel to face the person, Zayne.
At the sight of the man, your body relaxes and melts against the railing unconsciously— your gaze turns back to stare at the lovly sight of the royal garden below again. Zayne joins you in resting agaisnt the railing, standing beside you. . much closer than you anticipated, though it wasn’t like you were going to push him away. Especially when he’s tender, roughed-up hands dragging through your hair in a gentle rhythm to scratch at your scalp; his other hand moves to capture the stray hair by your face to pull it closer to him, leaning in to kiss it sweetly while maintaining eye contact. . pushing the strand back behind your ear.
Your cheeks flushed in a pretty shade in the cool air, lips parted as you opt to silently stare at Zayne who’s treating you so tenderly unlike your other consort options. Catching your gaze, he sends you a tired but, netherless, pretty smile— his fingers drag against the soft skin of your cheek before retracting away. This feeling that bubbles intensely in your stomach, this felt far too natural, intimate, and regular. . and that’s because it was, you couldn’t possibly remeber the amount of times he’s gently touched you as if you were made of glass.
“Dearest? Are you feeling well. . shall I escort you to your chamber?” Zayne offers in a tone full of concern, those beautiful eyes of his peering down at you with such adoration.
“Mmh?” You hum out in a sleepy tone in response, he can practically see exhaustion bleeding from your relaxed form.
It takes you a few, silent moments to finally utter something else than a quiet hum in acknowledgment.
“Ahh. . yes. It has become quite late. . hmm” you hum, taking a quick glance to the moon high in the sky while casting a pretty glow on you both.
“I shall be fine here to linger, you must rest too” you remind gently, side eyeing the man when he moves closer until your shoulders brush.
You tear your gaze from him to look towards the fields of flowers, humming when he gently carries your shoulder to encourage you to look back into his eyes. . in which you do. Oh my, while you doubt any of your servants would be awake at such late hours since they have quite the strict schedule; the thought of someone catching the queen and her dead doctor lingering far too close to each other, and in such a non-professional manner too, has you smiling softly. It truly was a smart choice to have his name on your list, perhaps you’ll find a consort much sooner than expected. You smile mischievously, you really can’t help the feeling to tease poor Zayne, eager to gain a reaction from the reserved doctor.
“I must ask, my love, does sleep deprivation make you become more bolder?” You tease, darting your eyes to the closeness until he understood what you were referring to.
Instead of just brushing away your teasing remark like you originally expected from him, Zayne smiles softly and chuckles at your poor attempt to elicit a reaction from him— calloused hands tenderly pull you by your shoulders, embracing you in a sweet, close hug. Well, close was an understatement. . you could feel his heart pounding agaisnt your chest, his heartbeat is slow and rhythmic.
“No, I’ve always been like this around you, my beloved” he teases back, fingers carding through your hair.
“However. . my queen” Zayne interrupts the comfortable silence between you both, guiding you by your chin to stare into your eyes.
“The nobles will notice the lack of energy in your behavior, you must sleep” he urges, earning a scoff from you.
“If you must know, I feel no tiredness. In fact, I doubt they’d worry so much about me, they are far too busy pestering me about finding a consort!” You grumble out in frustration at the mere thought of being annoyed by those nobles, humming softly when he drags his hand down the expanse of your back in a soothing motion.
He leans in smoothly, with precise hands, he quickly unties the ribbon around your neck to let it slide down to your shoulders. Zayne’s warm breath pools agaisnt the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips ghosting your warm skin. . your breath hitches lightly. A shiver coursing through your body when warm lips softly press agaisnt the almost completely faded away bite mark on your neck— his lips dragging agaisnt your skin until he was just practically kissing and worshipping each inch of your neck.
“It’s almost gone. . hmm” he murmurs out, hooded eyes peering non-discreetly at your lips, there’s a hint of hidden desire buried in his eyes.
In order for Zayne to distract himself, he buries his face back into the warmth of your neck, dark strands of hair scattered along your skin. . lightly tickling you. You giggle softly, quickly catching onto what was bothering him— humming in delight when his presses kiss after kiss to your skin, dragging his tongue along your neck to your exposed shoulder, earning himself a gasp.
“Mmh? Is there something in your mind, my dear doctor” you tease between shivers and twitches of, moaning in ecstasy when he drags his tongue along your shoulder before suckling on the skin shamelessly.
“Ahh. . your highness” Zayne moans into your neck, greedy hands dragging along your back and hips, squeezing your flesh tenderly.
“— I fear I have become too comfortable in your presence. .” He groans into your skin, unable to tear himself away from the delightful taste of your skin.
“My oh my. . are you blaming me for your eagerness and lack of restraint? Perhaps all the rumors in kingdom about how stoic my doctor can be. . is wrong” you giggle, dragging your finger through his hair.
“Please. . do not tease me, beloved” Zayne groans against yours skin, sighing in relief when you gentle take his hands in yours as you walk off the balcony— shutting the glass door behind you.
With interlaced hands, you drag him by the hand through the long hallways of your palace— only the ring candles on the wall and the moonlight peeking through the curtains provided a spruce of light in the dark halls. The soft and gentle sounds of your heel smacking against the halls echos throughout, until it suddenly goes quiet as the lock of your chambers let out a soft click.
“Oh heavens. .” A soft gasp is muffled slightly by the thick door of your bedroom.
It’s quite late now, the night seemingly less dark as it was when you were standing on the balcony. You doubt anyone would be awake at this time, and perhaps it was a good thing that no one would be awake. If anyone was awake and walking around at such late hours they’d be able to hear the loud but muffled moans, whimpers of Zayne, and the barely hearable groans coming from inside your chambers.
Skilled hands tug and pry away the thin fabric of your clothes, discarding the silky fabric to the floor, forgotten until the morning. Your pressed against the bed, thighs parted to accommodate Zayne between them, his hands sprawled against the soft skin of the inside of your thighs to keep you open. You neck and shoulder is marked by his mouth, a slight shine on each hickey on your skin.
Your chest, mounds toyed, sucked, and lapped at until it was overly sensitive. There’s a loud gasp tugged from your lips, thighs twitching when he shamelessly slurps and moans into your cunt, practically worshipping you with his tongue that drags through your syrupy folds. Zayne’s glasses are fogged from the heat between you both, your juices coating the lower half of his face messily— and yet he can’t pull away form the addictive flavor of you.
“Nngh! Z- zayne!” You cry out loudly, nibbling at your bottom lip as you tug at the darkend strands of his hair.
Zayne’s tongue drags back and forth and an agonizingly slow pace, focused off parting your folds apart to lap at your swollen clit. The wet slurping sound of his mouth, shamelessly lapping at your pussy until your back is arching off the bed.
“Nghh! Haah. . enough, I need more” you whine out, eyes rolling back is ecstasy.
Reluctantly, he pulls away from your sopping cunt, a thin sticky string of spit and arousal connects from his swollen lips to your warmth.
Zayne pants out your name, dragging two thick fingers through your fat folds— pulling arousal from your drooling hole all the way to your throbbing clit. A gasp is torn from you when two slender fingers easily press deep into your cunt, slipping in and out with such ease— a loud squelch echoing throughout your bedroom.
“Haah. . heavens, you look delightful like this, m’ladly” he moans out, his fingers pistoning Ina nd out of your drooling hole— and he’s even curling them perfectly to where they reach nice and deep.
While Zayne is precise and skilled when it comes to using his fingers, he knows you body intimately to where he knows how to make you feel drunk of pleasure. Your gasp and whines is delight of loud, his name leaving your lips after each moan.
“Ngh! Mmhp! N- need you, now” you breathe out between moans and gasps, pressing him against your bedsheets while you straddle him.
His cock bobs and twitches against your exposed pussy, coaxing you to roll your hips— moaning when the rough texture of his pants grinds against your puffy bud. As quick as you can, you pull off the bothersome layers of Zayne that stays between you both, pressing his cock again your slicked folds, dragging back and forth.
With an obscure squealchh, Zayne’s thickened head presses into your drooling hole and dips in— fat inches sinking into your velvety walls until he was buried to the hilt of your pussy.
“Ooh. . nghh, my beloved, y- you feel wonderful” Zayne groans out, head tousled agaisnt your pillow, dark hair scattered like a halo.
Shakily, you raise yourself off his lap, slamming yourself back down on his cock with a wet plap.
Your thighs tremble as you set the perfect pace— not too fast, ensuring his cock reaches deep into your velvety walls. Zayne’s grip on your hips tighten, holding onto you as you ride him.
“Haah. . beloved” you moan, letting him drag you back down to his mouth. . lips lapping at your puffy, stiff nipples.
Zayne is messy, spit dripping from his lips, catching onto your skin. You can feel him bobbing and throbbing in your cunt, precum beading into your gooey walls.
“Nghh. . Haah” you whimper out, walls tightening around his slender length.
“Mmhp-! M- my beloved, please, cum around me, let me make you feel good” he moans out softly, chanting yes over and over again when you tremble in his hold. . walls milking him as you cream around his length.
He groans into your breasts, cock shooting thin ropes of cum into your walls, his grip tightening on your hips.
“Haah. . n- not done” you murmur, hips slamming into his as you fuck yourslef on his length again.
. . . .
Sunlight beams through your pushed back curtains, casting a pretty glow on the man naked in your bed, nuzzling into your pillow. You’re sitting at your desk, blinking tiredly as you dip the tip of your quill into the small container of black ink. The soft murmur of your name makes you curiously turn your head, smiling softly when you see Zayne; cheek smushed against your pillow, hair sprawled along your bed, a peaceful expression on his face, and a hand reaching out to find your warmth only for it to be gone.
Your write on the thin paper in front of you faster than before, the barley worth knowing names of noble men are scratched off by black ink, leaving only two names. You cover up the black ink with the cap, the chair making a soft screech sound as it glides against the floor when you get up. You shift under the covers of your sheets, snuggling close to Zayne which he grabs onto you instantly.
One of the two names on the paper included Zayne, just a sweet reminded to consider him as one of your top consort options.
͙͘͡★ All work belongs to only ME, jadestone2. Translating, plagiarism, copying, posting on another website, claiming as your work will NOT be tolerated, instant block ˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔
A/N Wooow, this took far too long and I only managed to get two characters done ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) Also, Valko??! Did Lads just give me a free excuse to continue making puppboy type of fics?! (˶>﹏<˶) also, he’s genuinely a cutie idk how some of ya’ll were hating on him Oml. . I know some ppl were mad at lads but then ya’ll just starting hating on him (˶˃𐃷˂˶)
obsessive, possessive & violent—they love you. they’d do anything for you. everything they do is for you because you’re all they need. you can’t leave them, you’re meant to be together always & forever. — wc. 5.8k
STARRING ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb
WARNINGS ♱ HEAVY YANDERE THEMES, DARK CONTENT, possessiveness, obsession, manipulation — (zayne) bsf!zayne, dacryphilia, love bombing, extreme jealousy, mentions of m*rder, cervix fking, rough!zayne — (sylus) needy, pssy drunk!sylus, lots of m*rder lol, cervix fking — (rafayel) STALKER!RAF, mean dom!raf, allusions to unaliving reader’s dates, overstimulation, fear play/kink, creamp¡e — (caleb) lovesick!caleb, established relationship, mentions of caleb unaliving people, secret cameras, MANIPULATIVE!CALEB, isolation, fear kink, use of good girl — (xavier) clingy!xavier, hoovering, established (enmeshed) relationship, baby trapping, false security, backshots — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+
KIT’S NOTE ♱ HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MY BEAUTIFUL LOVES. i hope u all enjoy my first attempt at writing yandere themes (i know some of it isn’t very yandere but whatever). PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE CONSUMING. if you see something that isn’t in the warnings and should be, please let me know :,). also special shoutout to @xinghuisknight for reading xavie’s part and making me continue writing this hc. i love u n happy birthday ior <3 — COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE SOOO APPRECIATED!!
#ZAYNE — MEANT TO BE YOURS
you love your best friend. he’s there for you through thick and thin, steady and unwavering—yet you’re completely oblivious. zayne has loved you for years, ever since the moment he met you. he was never meant to be just your best friend—no, he was meant to be yours. and you were always supposed to be his.
it took everything in him not to break when you got your first boyfriend. he’d fall asleep thinking of you being touched by another man and then he’d dream of all the ways he’d murder him with his bare hands. it drove him mad to share you with someone else, but he wouldn’t lose you. he could never lose you without completely losing himself.
but then you break up.
you show up at his place with swollen, red lips and tear tracks dried into your skin, eyes dull in a way that makes his chest cave in. he takes one look at you and understands everything without a word.
you don’t have to say a damn thing because he knows you and your boyfriend have been having issues lately—all his fault, of course—so he sets his jaw and lets you in and you tell him everything. you tell him all the mean things he called you, how he hated that you were friends with zayne, how he accused you of cheating.
and zayne’s never killed before, never even seriously imagined it beyond his dreams—but right now, it feels inevitable. that son of a bitch thought he could call you names? accuse you, the sweetest girl to walk the earth, of something so nasty, so despicable… the man that made his pretty girl look like this… he’s already sealed his fate. he’ll be dealt with, but for now… now he has to take care of you.
you’re weeping into his chest, hiccuping while he rubs your back. your broken sobs pull at his heart strings, “h-he said i-i was awful—that–ugh, that he deserved s-someone better.” your hands fist at his shirt in anger and hurt and confusion. “he-he told me to pick b-between you ‘n him.”
zayne freezes, throat running dry. he’d been quiet this whole time, letting you cry it out while he thinks of all the ways he could kill the man, but now, he can’t bite his tongue. “and what did you say?” his heart runs wild as he impatiently waits for the words to slip out of your meek little mouth.
you look up at him, staring into his jade eyes, noting the way his pupils nearly swallow the pretty color whole. unbeknownst to you, it’s the look of love. pure, unadulterated love.
“i-i chose you.”
his heart bursts, and he knows it’s wrong—knows he shouldn’t—but he can’t ignore it. years and years of yearning, of aching for even the smallest piece of your love, have made him greedy. he leans in, presses his lips to yours. you tense in shock at first, but he’s so gentle, so careful, that you almost immediately melt into him.
and the longer your lips linger against his, the needier zayne becomes. your mouth parts in a soft gasp, and he takes it as his chance, slipping his tongue into your mouth.
it’s so wrong to take advantage of you like this—that thought rattles endlessly in his mind. but then he hears your moan. then he feels the way you melt against him, comfortable, familiar, almost as if you’ve been imagining this moment for just as long as he has. and after that, he can’t bring himself to stop.
he can’t stop the way he flips you on to your back, or the way he hungrily devours your mouth or the sharp exhales through his nose as he tries to catch his breath without pulling off of you. he needs you. he’s needed you for years.
and now… now he finally has you, and he plans on making you his forever.
your clothes are off, tears still slipping out of your eyes as your heart aches for him. not your boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend—but for zayne. for the friend that’s always been so close, yet so out of reach.
he’s lining his thick, hard cock to your dripping entrance before he stops and looks at you. “i-is this okay?” he asks, voice gruff and heavy. his dark eyes burn into your bloodshot ones and they soften—just the slightest bit. “i know you’re sad, but i-i can make it better. i can fix it. i can make you feel better than he ever has, but you need to tell me it’s okay, sweetheart… please.”
he’s not sure if the beg is for you to say yes, or if it’s a plea for him to finally be let in. maybe it’s both. regardless, when you nod and whisper, “yes, please. make it better, zaynie. please,”
everything flies out the window.
all his inhibitions. all the restraint. all the times he bit his tongue and swallowed his wants—gone. along with his ability to be as gentle as you deserve.
“you’re mine.” he pants, cock thrusting into you with vigor. “you’ve always fucking been m-mine.” his hands push at the back of your thighs, pushing them back till your knees knock against your chest. “i’ve loved you—all these years, i’ve loved you.”
your arms wrap around his neck and you sob for a completely different reason now. because you feel so good—he’s so deep and he’s hitting every spot the way it was meant to be hit and he’s saying all these things you’ve wanted to hear for as long as you’ve known him.
“z-zayne—” you start but it’s cut off by a sharp cry when his cock rams against your cervix. “oh my god!”
“i don’t want to hear you say anything until i’m done—let me finish.” he warns, voice dripping with a newfound resentment. “you were always supposed to be mine, sweet girl. and that… that pathetic excuse of a man took you from me.” he rambles, pounding harder and harder.
“i took care of you… i-i—fuck, sweetheart, i just love you. i love you, i love you, i love you.”
and you can’t help yourself. his words make your stomach toss and turn and on his last syllable, you just break. like a dam that’s been filled to the brim, you fall apart right then and there, creaming his cock.
he groans and it only excites him further. he fucks you through your orgasm, repeatedly hitting the sensitive spongey part with his tip as he leans in close and murmurs. “you were meant for me… made for me.” he says.
“you were made to be mine.”
#SYLUS — IN MY ROOM
there’s no love purer than sylus’s. he’s said it before—multiple times at that. you were endeared by it. sylus’s gentle touches and soft words despite his frigid exterior.
but sylus isn’t always gentle touches and soft words. he can be mean, rough… nasty. especially when he finds someone to be a threat. you don’t see it, but he seethes when another person touches you. his heart aches when you’re away. his brain is infested with the thought of you.
mephisto is so special to him. yes, he loves the mechanical bird, but he loves you more. he’d die without the crow because without him, he can’t keep tabs on you and without his bird’s eyes on you, he spirals out of control.
your missions are especially hard for sylus. he always makes mephisto go with you because at least then he can tend to business in the n-109 zone while concurrently keeping an eye on you, but this time you refused. words along the lines of “i’ll be back soon–a week max. mephie doesn’t need to come with me.”
and sylus prides himself in being a man that gives his partner the autonomy of choice. he’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to—but he wishes he could. he wishes he could keep you at the base within arms reach. he wishes he could make you leave the association and move out of your tiny, shitty apartment so that you gave him all your attention. he wishes to never be apart from you.
he never says these things, though. he never wants to be too much—too suffocating, too overbearing. but moments like this make him unravel. when you’re away on missions in distant regions, not answering his calls or texts, and mephisto isn’t there to keep an eye on you, something in him snaps just a little. and sylus gets… a bit unhinged.
or maybe very unhinged.
sylus is level headed in every sense until it comes to you. he’s even tempered until you’ve gone two weeks without contact. then things get messy.
every one of his “business” meetings over the two weeks you’re gone ends in bloodshed. sylus kills everyone who looks at him wrong. everyone that tries to lowball him. everyone in his fucking way.
he’s disheveled when you arrive back at the base. you’re not much better—stress and fatigue etched into your features. you trudge inside, dropping your bags by the door, and when you blink, sylus is suddenly right in front of you.
and you see it. the fear in his eyes.
everything he refuses to say is written there—in his gaze, in the tension of his body, in the way his breaths come uneven, almost staggering, like he’s been holding himself together by sheer will alone.
“where were you, sweetheart?” he whispers, hands cradling your face as he tilts it up to meet his gaze. “when you said a few days, i didn’t think you meant sixteen.” it’s meant to be a joke—but it doesn’t sound like one. not even close.
“the mission ran longer than we anticipated, and there was no cell signal, so i couldn’t get back to you. but i’m okay…” you smile, teasing despite the way the usual light in your eyes has dulled just a bit. “don’t tell me you were worried about me. did the big, bad leader of onychinus really not have anything to keep him busy while i was gone?”
you probably shouldn’t have poked fun. not when he’s this raw. not when he was worried half to death, haunted by the thought that he might never see you again.
it’s exactly how you end up folded in half, knees touching your ears while he fucks into you. it’s not too fast, not too slow, but it’s at the perfect speed. his fat cock fills you to the brim and stuffs your hallowed out stomach. you’ve missed this stretch, this undeniable full feeling and he’s certainly missed you. you can tell in his expression… his words.
sylus is finally being honest.
“you can’t just leave me like that, sweetie,” he pants, hands on both sides of your head. “you don’t even know what i’ve been through these past two weeks.”
you feel every ridge of his cock, every inch of him and it drives you up a wall. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you.
“i can’t be good without you… i won’t feel whole without you,” his breathy whispers fan across your face as his red eyes bore into yours. his right eye burns brighter than the darkened left, and you can’t help but stare. “i am nothing without you, my love.”
you inhale sharply—partly from the way his thrusts grow deeper, rougher, like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. and partly from his words. from the rawness of them. the desperation. you’ve never heard anything like it before—never from him.
“sylus…” you whimper.
“i need you.” he says, repeating it like a mantra. he needs you to understand it. “i need you… i need you. if i could keep you in this bed forever, i would. i never want you to leave again.”
that’s when he loses it. the pace of his thrusts pick up and he’s ramming against your cervix, eliciting a sharp sob of pained pleasure from you. he’s completely out of his mind, fucking you sensless like you’re some type of rag doll.
“you’re not allowed to do that anymore.” he grunts, eyes struggling to stay open as they keep rolling back in the delicious pleasure. he could just fucking die in this pussy and he’d be so content. as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t care what happens. “you can’t leave, i won’t allow it.”
your garbled words lace in your words, “i won’t—i-i, i won’t leave—fuh, fuck, sylus—” you promise, your nails digging into his back, leaving red crescents in their wake. “please, s-slow down.”
“shhh, baby, you can take it—you take it every time. so pretty and perfect, all for me.” he presses his forehead against yours and stares at your screwed shut eyes. “my perfect girl.”
you tighten around him, and the sound that tears from both of you is raw and guttural. it’s almost too much—so intense and so good— you can’t help but melt beneath him as your orgasm crashes over you, powerful enough to leave you shaking. sylus keeps whispering about how much he needs you, voice breaking in your ear while you convulse and whimper under him.
he presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as your legs wrap tight around his slender waist. he comes deep inside you with broken groans of “i love you” against your mouth, hips stuttering as ribbon after ribbon spills into you.
afterward, he collapses on top of you, cock still hard, but exhaustion has claimed you both. so you just lie there—bodies pressed together, breath slowly evening out, your mixed cum leaking from between your thighs as the moment settles around you.
“i’ll never let you out of my sight again.”
#RAFAYEL — SHE
you’re not usually like this on first dates. you don’t let them take you back to their place and eat you out till you’re in tears. you don’t usually let them fuck you till you pass out. you prefer to take things slow, steady. really get to know someone inside and out before you even let them kiss you. you’re the opposite of easy—you’re hard to get, practically unattainable, but tonight is different.
you’re first date with rafayel makes you feel away you’ve never felt before. it’s like he’s known you for years. he’s already aware of all your ticks, your mannerisms and the things that piss other men off? he welcomes them. he calls it cute. he finishes your sentences like he’s reading your mind. he guesses what your order is at the restaurant you brought him to—your favorite ever—and he guesses correctly. you call it a coincidence, saying he’s perceptive. observant. he’s just into you.
if you were a little less oblivious, you’d know it’s more than a coincidence. you’d know that rafayel has been watching you since long before you met on the stupid dating app. the first time you met wasn’t on bumble. no, you met a year prior—well, he met you.
you’d spilled your coffee outside a cafe next to the art gallery that housed his paintings. you were beautiful. more than that—you were perfect. the way you cursed under your breath. the way you apologized to the asshole who bumped into you in the first place. he was captivated. it was almost like he’d known you in another life.
that’s what had him following you. it was innocent at first—just watching you from afar. you happened to be a regular at the cafe and he took note of that. he’d watch you for hours type away at your laptop, drank in the way you’d gnaw at your lip and the pinch of your eyebrows every time you got frustrated, or every time your lips would twitch when you would find something amusing.
innocent.
then it turned to something more than that. rafayel found himself following you home. watching you change in your window, blinds wide open like you want someone to catch you.
and then he got addicted to it—watching you. following you. memorizing your schedule and routine. it made him hard to watch you. to think about what you smell like… what you taste like… how pretty you’d look crying on his dick. every night he’d go home to his place, wrap a hand around his leaky, aching cock and stroke himself to the mental image of you he’s burned into his brain.
he barely slept. he’d stay up late into the night and paint you. he’s memorized you. every curve. every strand of hair on your head. every feature—they’re all filed away in his brain.
his last straw comes when he watches you go on date after date, jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides. thanks to him, you’ve never gone on more than one date with the same man. they’re nobodies. wastes of space. he’s looked into every single one of them, and not one is worthy of you—so they don’t deserve a place in your life.
he knows you’re meant to be with him. he’s always known. and that’s when he finally takes matters into his own hands and downloads the dating app.
that’s essentially how you end up in your current position, throat hoarse from all your screams of pleasure. you’re overstimulated, pussy sore, but he keeps going. fucking you into oblivion. after all, he’s waited for this for a whole year.
your ankles rest on his shoulders while your hands cover your sweaty, heated face, his cock fucking you fast and deep the same way it has been for the past hour and a half.
“raf—hgnh, rafayel! p-please, oh my god,” you cry, your voice breaking as you beg for mercy. “i can’t take it—please, please.”
he groans, length twitching inside of your sensitive pussy at the sound of your pleads. “but you feel so good, cutie,” he responds breathlessly, a teasing lilt in his voice before it drops—lower, darker. “do you know how long i’ve waited for this?”
you whimper, panting out a confused, “wh-what? you waited all night for this?”
he laughs, but there’s no humor in it. it sounds strained. almost pained. he shakes his head and leans in to whisper, “no, silly girl. i’ve waited months for this.”
your eyes shoot open and you look into his. the twinkle that was there when he’d introduced himself to you earlier this evening is replaced with thunderstorms. newfound darkness. it makes your body lock up in fear, pussy tightening around him. this brings a wicked smile to his face.
“don’t be scared, pretty. i’ll take good care of you.” he swears, wrapping his hands around your ankles, fingers so gentle on your skin. “i’m the only one who can take care of you… the only one who deserves you.”
you’re not sure why your fight or flight never kicks in. it should—everything about this is fucked beyond belief. your date—the one you’ve only just met—knows you. has known you for months. maybe longer.
but your stomach still flutters. maybe you like it. like whatever… this is. maybe you’re drunk on the feeling, but his words only sink deeper, winding tight and turning you on even more. your back arches, a sharp, helpless moan tearing from your throat, loud enough to mix with the wet sounds of his hips snapping against yours.
“you like that, huh?” he taunts. “‘m gonna make you fall for me. take such good care of you that you’ll never be able to think of anyone but me ever again.”
“oh, fuck,” you sob. “oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. raf, fuck!”
“yeah, go ahead and cream my cock again, princess. it’s yours. i’m yours.” the pace of his thrusts quickens, each snap more frantic than the last, and his words hitch on a breathy whimper—an unmistakable sign that he’s close too. “i’m all yours—and you’re mine now. i-i won’t let you get away that easy.”
the knot in your stomach snaps, exploding all at once as you drench his cock in syrupy arousal. your body jerks uncontrollably for the nth time, thrashing beneath him, and he’s the only thing keeping you steady—anchoring you as it rips through you.
“i’m gonna cum inside—i’m gonna fill this pretty pussy up with my cum and make you mine,” he doesn’t ask—it’s a statement. he’s just telling you, and you don’t protest. not even a little.
you take it. you let him fill you all the way up, feel his cock throb and twitch wildly and take every drop of cum, giving it a home in your cunt. he groans so prettily and you whimper at the warmth blooming inside of you.
“you’ve always been my girl and now i have proof.”
#CALEB — STOCKHOLM SYNDROME
caleb is sick. so lovesick it’s twisted him into someone almost unrecognizable. he’s no longer the sweet boy from your childhood—no. now that caleb is yours and you are caleb’s, you’ve seen what lives beneath the cracks in his carefully kept exterior. he hides cameras in your apartment. he tracks you constantly. he’s planted a fear so deep in you that if you’re ever caught with someone else—friend or not—while ignoring his texts or calls, something very bad will happen.
in short, caleb would kill for you. you’re pretty sure he already has.
you love him—you love your caleb more than anything. he’s your sun. he treats you like a princess. he makes you feel whole. and yet, his actions terrify you. you can’t leave him, even though you know, deep down, you probably should. you should run. people have told you to run. simone, especially. but leaving would break both of you.
you make it a rule not to talk about caleb in your home when friends are over, because you know he’s listening. but when simone comes by, she can’t help herself.
“you need to leave him,” she says out of the blue and your blood goes cold. “[name], he’s basically holding you hostage—you only ever talk to caleb, i haven’t seen you outside of the association in weeks.”
“he’s not holding me hostage, simone,” you sigh, praying she drops it. you know she wants the best for you, but you don’t want to have this conversation right now. “can we not talk about him?”
“i’m just saying, [name], he’s sick. i think there’s something wrong with him and i just want you to be careful.” she says before grabbing her bag to leave.
—
caleb’s eyes are red when you see him at your doorstep two hours later. you pull him in and you know what’s wrong… you know he heard your chat with simone. you know he’s in his head, spiraling out of control.
“baby,” you murmur, pulling him by the wrist inside your place. “come on, come inside.”
he doesn’t even let you explain—the second he’s inside and the door is shut, he’s on you. his big, strong arms hoop around your body and pull you against him. your inhaling his natural musk and he’s buried in the crook of your neck apologizing profusely.
“i’m sorry i can’t be what you need,” he says, shakily. the words breaking your heart as you run a soothing hand up and down his broad back. “i don’t deserve you, pips, but please… please don’t leave me. i need you.”
you embrace him tightly, “oh caleb,” your sad voice just barely above a whisper. “caleb, ‘m not—i won’t leave you.”
he pulls away from your neck, violet eyes turned dark purple when you see them for the second time. “promise?”
you nod wearily, but still, with no hesitation, reply with, “promise.”
and then he’s kissing you. soft at first, then it’s rough. so rough that it almost gives you whiplash. he’s kissing you, tongue roaming your mouth while he guides you to your bedroom, whimpering into your mouth.
you’re thrown off when he gently shoves you against the bed. you stumble with a gasp and take in the shift in his demeanor. caleb looks mean. the boyfriend that was crying into your neck, begging you not to leave him looks nothing like the man that towers over you.
he’s slow when he unbuttons his pants and when he pulls off his shirt. he stares at you, clocking every movement of your body— the increasing rate of which your chest rises and falls, the way there’s a sense of fear paired with excitement swimming in your pretty eyes—his eyes never leave yours..
“you understand that you can’t leave me, right?” he says, voice low. “that you can never leave me?” he says, stalking towards you slowly.
you nod and he shakes his head. “say it.” his sweet voice drips with dominance. “fucking tell me you understand.”
your breath hitches as his hands begin to strip your clothes off. “i-i understand. i won’t leave you.”
“good girl,” he murmurs, continuing to work your clothes off till you’re in nothing but cotton panties. “you wanna know why you can’t leave?” he joins you on the bed, spreading your legs open and occupying the space between them.
you nod and he simply slips your panties to the side, gathers your arousal on the tip of his cock—effectively leaving you breathless in anticipation—before he presses into you, the fat tip of his length stretching you open.
“because you need me.” he grunts, shoving himself inside of you and watching you crumble so pathetically. “your heart needs me, your body needs me… and this pretty pussy, baby? yeahhh, she needs me the most.”
“caleb!” you gasp, feeling his cock deep in your stomach. “oh, fuck, caleb, w-wait— ‘s too deep.”
“it isn’t,” he growls, thumb catching your swollen clit. “nah, just fuckin’ take it, pretty girl. take this dick ‘n tell me you need it.”
your eyes roll to the back of your head as you let out a guttural moan. his cock pulls all the way out till his tip is the only inch that peeks inside your tight cunt, before he slams back into you, getting you addicted to him all over again.
“oh my god, please!” you beg when he does it again and again at a monotonous pace. “please, please, caleb, i need it—i need, hah! i need it—need you, caleb.”
the sound that erupts in his chest is practically animalistic. his hand wraps loosely around your throat before his lips press against yours again. is sloppy, uncoordinated—a string of spit connects your lips when he pulls a few centimeters away.
caleb leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper as he moves against you, each word timed with a rough, unrelenting thrust. “you. need. me.” his grip around your throat tightens, certainty ringing through him as he repeats it like a promise—or maybe… maybe it’s a warning. “you need me. you’ll always need me, no one else.”
tears prick in your eyes at the pained pleasure shooting through your body. he squeezes your throat tighter, watching your eyes roll in ecstasy. so pretty and so fucked out and so his. you’re perfect. he can never let you go. he won’t.
how could he when you were meant to be together forever?
#XAVIER — ALWAYS BE MY BABY
you knew xavier was a little… toxic, to put it lightly, when you agreed to be his girlfriend. you knew he was possessive by nature—clingy, territorial, cruel to every man who so much as looked at you for a second too long. and you told yourself you were okay with it. you thought you were okay with it.
but lately, it’s gotten worse. suffocating. you feel like you’re shrinking inside your own life, like there’s no space left that belongs solely to you. every choice, every breath, every step forward is taken with xavier beside you—and it’s too much. it’s all too much.
so when you finally sigh, the words slipping out before you can stop them—“we need to take a break”—he cocks his head, confused.
it’s like a predator’s curiosity.
because… what does that mean? a break from what, exactly? from work? from the hunter’s association?
“what do you mean?” he asks, all wide-eyed and innocent—and that’s what upsets you the most about xavier. he doesn’t realize there’s something wrong with him. he can’t see that the way he feels about you, the way he claims you, has long since crossed the line from devotion into something deeply almost frighteningly abnormal.
you let out a shaky exhale and avert your eyes, sight landing on your feet. “i mean… i think i need to take a break from… you. and you need a break from me…” when you look up, his confused face is gone, replaced with a hardened glare. “we just need space to be our own—“
“no,” he cuts you off, voice nearly robotic when he responds. “no, i don’t need space—i need you. i don’t need a break… i just want to be with you.”
you knew this was coming. you knew he’d try to convince you that you were inevitable—meant and written into each other’s bones. so you sigh and choose honesty, even though it hurts him.
“i love you, xavie. i do. i want to be with you, but…” your voice wavers despite yourself. “…you’re scaring me.”
and something in his eyes goes dark. the familiar starlight you’re used to seeing there fades, thinning until it’s almost gone. “i…” he swallows, disbelief softening his voice in a way that unsettles you. “i scare you?”
“w-well, no—you don’t scare me, scare me,” you rush out, already trying to soften the blow. “you just… you worry me. i’m scared you’re too dependent on me. you chase off every man that looks my way, you’re everywhere i am—” your breath stutters. “it’s just too much for me.”
he stalks towards you and every step he takes forward, you take one back till your back hits his kitchen island. you gasp as he cages you in, arms on both sides of your body. he leans in, cobalt blue eyes swallowed by his dilated, black pupils.
you try to hold your breath, but it’s useless—your senses are flooded with him. he’s all you can see, all you can smell. his scent rattles your brain in a way nothing else ever has, too much of it sinking into you like a drug. and no matter how hard you try to keep your thoughts clear, your resolve unravels when you feel arousal pool low in your belly, heat blooming as it glues your panties to your core.
“you’re all i need… and i should be all you need,” he says, voice dark as it drops octaves lower than its usual range. his eyes bore into yours, lips tugging up ever so slightly. “don’t be scared, angel. you know i’d never hurt you, right? you know all i want is to love you. i’d do anything to keep you all to myself.”
it feels like he’s putting you under some kind of spell. you dig your heels in mentally, forcing yourself to remember why you came here—to stand your ground, to leave, to not fold.
you try to break eye contact, but he won’t let you. his fingers close around your chin, firm and unyielding, pulling your attention right back where he wants it. “no, look at me, honey.” he says, voice low. “answer me: you know i’d never hurt you, right?”
he makes you nod with the grip on your chin. “i-i know.” you reply, voice cracking and stomach jostling.
“you’re safe with me. you’ll always be safe with me.” he says, a smile touching his lips. he leans it, nose brushing against yours as he says, “we’re going to be together forever and ever. i’ll show you.”
—
xavier wastes no time flipping you over and bending you over the island, your face smooshed against the cool marble. your leggings are pulled down and his cock is inside you, exploring every single inch of your cunt with no barrier. you can’t find it in you to protest for him to wear a condom when you feel fuller… when he somehow feels even bigger.
drool seeps from your lips, pooling on the smooth surface as he fucks you senseless almost as if he has something to prove in his thrusts.
he pushes deep into you, grinding his tip against your sweetest spot. “you feel me, honey? feel how i’m fucking you raw?” he grunts the words out, one hand on your waist as the other splays between your shoulder blades. “this is how we’re gonna do it from now on, got it?”
your eyes roll, pussy clamping tight around him. the veins of his cock brand themselves into your walls. he’s ruining you for everyone else. marking his territory.
you can’t even respond—the only noises that can be pulled from you are garbled moans of his name and choked sobs. you’re a complete and utter mess, reduced to nothing but tears, drool and arousal.
he resumes his thrusts, pulling out and ramming back into you. “fuck you raw, fill you with my cum and get you pregnant.” he whispers and it has your eyes shooting open, your stomach hallowing out and your cunt gripping him like never before.
“w-what?” your broken voice rings in his ears and it elicits a little moan from him. his cock twitches wildly inside of you, balls drawing up by the lilt of panic in your voice. “wait—wait, xavie, ‘m, hah! shit, ‘m not on the pill. y-you can’t cum i-inside!”
he lets out a soft, breathy chuckle. “don’t worry, honey,” he says, voice steady. “i’ll take care of you—of us. you just take it. be good and take it because it’s what you’re made for.”
and you do. you give in just like he tells you to, fingers digging into the edge of the countertop as your body betrays you. each movement pulls a sharp, helpless sound from your throat, clipped moans spilling out of you as easily as the warmth gathering between your thighs.
“i promise, this–this… will make us closer,” he pants, thrusts getting quicker as he gets closer and closer to letting go. he’s on the precipice of an orgasm, length throbbing, tummy knotting up. “just hold still.”
then you feel the sudden warmth flooding your pussy. he’s shooting into you, ribbon after ribbon of warm cum while he groans prettily in your ear. it triggers your orgasm, your body convulses as your walls spasm and drench his cock in your slick.
oh no! today just happens to be peak ovulation day...
STARRING: caleb, sylus, zayne, xavier, & rafayel [separate] x f!reader
CW: needy bsf!caleb, dry humping | husband!sylus, breeding | lots of reader solo play (sorry snow girlies i failed us w this one), mirror sex | light somno?, eating out | teasing, orgasm denial
happy late valentines day <3 i hope i proofread good enough lol
✮⋆˙— caleb
The soft glow of the tv is the only light in the room, flickering blues and golds across the walls. Rain taps gently against the windows in a soothing beat, an excuse you happily use to curl a little close to Caleb on the couch. Best-friend movie nights were a ritual. You never missed them. Caleb never missed them. One night a month where the world didn't exist and it was just the two of you, uninterrupted.
And tonight just happened to be the night for your body to betray you.
You’d been squirming for the last five minutes, trying to find a position that doesn’t make you hyper-aware of the stickiness that won't stop gushing into your panties. First you’re to hot, then you’re too cold. Every brush of the blanket feels like too much.
You huff and pull back from Caleb, slumping into the cushions and pretending to watch a scene you haven’t followed for the last twenty minutes.
He glances sidelong. “You alright?”
You nod too fast, cheeks heating as you tug the blanket higher, squishing your thighs together, praying the movement looks causal.
“Are you sure? You’ve been… I dunno… weird tonight.”
“Weird?” you squeak. “What do you mean?”
Caleb turns fully toward you, and you stubbornly keep your gaze locked on the screen. Something shifts in the air under his attention, the room warming and suddenly shrinking two sizes too small.
“Hey,” his voice is gentle. “Look at me.”
You swallow hard, finding your will, and turn your head.
Caleb’s eyes are wide, but not with concern alone. They drift over the blanket wrapped around your body, then back to your face, soft but intent.
“You don’t have to lie,” he murmurs. “I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not!” you defend quickly. “I could never be uncomfortable with you. I’m just… having one of those days…”
“Yeah?” His voice drops then, like he already knows. He shifts just an inch closer and it makes everything worse. “Y’know you don’t have to lie to me, pips.”
You close your eyes, exhaling. He’s not going to let it go.
“It’s just… that day during my cycle,” you mutter, fingers twisting in the blanket. “It… makes me all flustered and…” you trail off, never more embarrassed.
“Can I help?”
Your eyes snap open. “W-What?”
“Can I help?” he repeats, already moving closer to crowd your space. Large arms brace on either side of your hips. His gaze goes hazy, hungry in a way you’ve never let yourself notice before. “Please?”
You choke on a gasp, the sound breaking into a needy whine. Your mind pulls in two opposite directions–your pussy throbbing helplessly at the offer while your heart twists at how much could change if you give in.
The decision is made for you. Caleb sees the hesitation, but the desire in your eyes win. His lips crash onto yours.
You melt instantly. Of course you do. Your fingers tangle in his hair, dragging him close while you pant into his mouth like you’ve been craving this for far longer than just tonight.
Your heart pounds in time with the pulse between your thighs, completely soaking you through the dainty fabric.
No more words. Caleb's hands do the talking, rough and impatient as they yank your shorts down your legs. His gaze immediately darts to your panties and he groans low in his throat.
“Oh my… fuck…” he breaths, already shoving his sweats down. “Why didn’t you let me help you earlier?”
“I–I was embarrassed.” You admit, failing against the cushions.
“You never have to be embarrassed, baby…” the pet name curls around you, warm and possessive. “Never for this.”
He settles over you, sweats pushed low but boxers still on. His cock is painfully hard, straining against the fabric, but he doesn’t touch himself—just presses the thick length right against your soaked, cotton covered core.
You gasp, the contact is electric, exactly what your pussy’s been begging for. Caleb dips down and captures your lips, the kiss turning messy almost instantly. You cling to each other, exhaling loud out of your noses to not separate. His hips drag, pulling sweet little whines from your throat.
Caleb’s lip part as a raw moan slips free, his lips still dragging wet kisses across yours. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded and completely fixated, like he can’t believe this is real. The hard line in his boxers grinds against the thin cotton covering your heat again.
Best friends definitely weren’t supposed to be doing this. But the forbidden edge tastes so sweet, and the simple, devastating fact that it’s him, only makes it more addictive.
You lift your hips aggressively, chasing friction when the head of his cock brushes your swollen clit through the layers. Your panties are drenched now, letting him slide easily, every drag spending sparks up your spine. The wrongness of it, the rightness of him, is intoxicating.
Your sweet, protective best friend, reduced to nothing but a man desperate for any form of contact from you.
“Pips…” he groans, pressing harder. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
A wicked smirk curves your lips before you pull him back into a messy, open-mouthed kiss that's full of a hunger neither of you wishes to hide. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, then your tongue soothes the sting.
His large hands roam up from your hips to squeeze your breasts through the thin fabric of his t-shirt you’d stolen tonight. You–all bare legs, skimpy panties, and his shirt–has him twitching in his boxers.
“Fuck…” he pants, pulling back from the kiss, but never stilling his shallow thrusts. Conflict suddenly flashes in his eyes. “We…we shouldn’t be—ah!—doing this.”
You manage a sweet, dangerously innocent voice, slowly rocking your hips—just once, over his throbbing need. “W-Why not, Caleb? You’re just helping me. We’re…mmph…not doing anything wrong.”
He groans at the obvious lie, bracing himself on his forearms to suspend his weight over you. His muscles are wound tight, straining against his restraint, which crumbles with his next sentence.
“I need to… see you,” he grunts. “See what I’m doing to you, pretty girl.”
Before you can think, his trembling hand hooks your panties aside. The choked sound he makes at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy, goes straight to your core, then he’s slamming his still-clothed cock right over your directly exposed wetness.
His hips lose rhythm, jerking wildly in a desperate, uncoordinated rut. His cock throbs violently in his boxers, chasing a release he can’t hold back. The friction is filthy, intoxicating, your whimpers mixing with his wrecked moans.
“So beautiful…” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “God, you’re so beautiful, honey.”
The most captivating sounds spill from Caleb’s lungs, a mix of whimpers and guttural moans as a sudden warmth blooms and soaks the material of his boxers, seeping out onto your puffy core. He collapses forward, breathing ragged against your ear.
“Did you just–”
“Mhmm…” he hums, voice shaky but completely unashamed. “All in my boxers. I couldn’t help it.”
You huff a gentle laugh, still trembling with want, thighs slick and aching. “Wanna do it inside me now?”
✮⋆˙— sylus
Your bare feet pad into your shared bedroom, steam spilling out behind you and curling along the ceiling like a lingering sigh. Droplets cling to your skin, sliding down the curve of your throat and between your breasts before disappearing beneath the collar of your robe. You tug the fabric tighter, shifting your hips as the restless heat returns low in your belly.
The bath had meant to ease the tension that haunted you all day, yet all it’s done is make you more aware of it.
To your surprise, Sylus sits propped up against the headboard in nothing but a pair of black pajama pants, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, a book open in his hand. He must have returned home while you were submerged.
The second you step into the room, his gaze lifts slowly and pins you in place. The pupils in his eyes widen, something soft but hungry in his gaze.
He knows exactly what today is.
“Come here,” he says sweetly, patting the mattress beside him.
You oblige without hesitation, climbing onto the bed and crawling up the sheets before flopping onto your stomach with a muffled groan. The cool fabric against your flushed skin makes you shiver.
“You didn’t enjoy your bath?” he hums, palm gliding over your robe-clad back in slow, soothing passes that only only makes the ache worse.
“No, I did,” you mumble into the pillow. “I’m just…” your voice trails off, embarrassment tangling your tongue. The words feel too exposed, even to your husband.
“I know.” His tone drops, husky and threaded with quiet amusement. “You’re so warm.”
The mattress dips as he shifts to settle behind you. Strong fingers slip to your front to find the tie of your robe and loosen it, peeling the damp silk from your shoulders. His lips follow the path of exposed skin, pressing hot, lingering kisses along your shoulder blades.
“You even smell sweet today,” he murmurs against your skin.
Heat floods all over again, a slick gush seeping from your sweet hole and onto the mattress. A quiet whimper slips free as you lift your hips, brushing your ass back against the firmness straining beneath his pajama bottoms.
“Sylus…” you breathe.
“Yes, kitten?” his hands slide down to your hips, thumbs kneading the soft skin. “Use your words.”
He rolls his hips forward in a slow grind, letting you feel the heavy weight of him exactly where you’re aching most.
“I need you…” you whimper, voice small.
Sylus smirks, peppering kisses just beneath your ear. “And why do you need me?”
You're grateful your face is buried in the mattress because your cheeks burn instantly. His teasing is gentle, but relentless–he wants to hear it.
“Because…” you swallow. “you know… ‘m ovulating.”
Sylus groans as he presses his cock deeper against you. Your robe is peeled down your arms, the silk whispering against your skin as it gives way before it’s tossed aside. Cool air kisses your heated skin, replaced quickly by the warmth of his body hovering over yours.
“Is that so, kitten?” his hands trails down your bare back, fingers tracing every dip of your spine. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”
“Please.”
A kiss is pressed to your head before he lifts himself long enough to push his pajamas down. You feel him a second later, the gentle tap of his cock once against your ass, a bead of precum smearing onto your skin. The sensation makes you shudder, hips instinctively pressing back for more.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with admiration as his hands spread over your lower back, keeping you still. “You’re so wet for me.”
His cock drags slowly between your slick folds, the glide torturously slow. You can feel every vein, every pulse, your pussy clenching around nothing as he coats himself in your arousal. Praise falls from his lips in soft murmurs—good girl… so sweet… so ready for me—each word sending another wave of heat through you.
When he finally lines himself up and begins to push inside, it's agonizingly slow. Sylus wants you to feel every stretch until you’re gasping into the sheets, fingers curling into the favor. His hand rubs soothing circles into your hip while his forehead presses between your shoulder blades.
At first, it’s gentle. Deep, steady thrusts rock your body forward, the headboard tapping the wall in rhythm. But your soft, broken mewls and the way you push back against him, smearing your slick heat across his abdomen, wears down that compose.
Fingers dig into your hips, tightening until you’re certain the marks will linger. The pace quickens, each thrust landing harder than the last, the quiet room filling with the wet sounds of skin meeting skin and the desperate hitch of your cries. He has you exactly where he wants you.
Well, almost.
His arm snakes around your waist while his other hand splays possessively across the top of your spine. The weight of him forces your body into a deep, supplicating arch that maximizes the depth.
There.
He grunts a low, satisfied sound as your walls flutter around him in reply to the new angle. “You like that, sweetheart?”
A round of sharp, breathless inhales answers his question. “Y-yes–hicc–y-yes!”
His hips surge forward violently at the sweet sound, losing any remaining gentleness.
“I’m so deep like this, kitten,” he gasps, each word punctuated by the heavy slam of his cock driving into you again and again. “Could stuff you so full right now…”
A needy whine spills from you, drool dampening the pillow as pleasure muddles coherent thoughts. “C-Could you n-now?” The question tumbles out with a desperate sincerity between gasps.
Sylus leans forward, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “I could. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
A shudder runs down your spine as he pulls you upright against him, your back flushed to his chest. Your head falls onto his shoulder, baring your throat. He takes immediate advantage, slowing his frantic rhythm to deep, punishing thrusts that make your toes curl while his lips work at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking dark love bites onto the supple skin.
“You’re already so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with affection as he drags himself out to the tip before slamming back in, forcing a sob from your lips. “Imagine how beautiful you’d be swollen with me right—”
His hand slides from your waist to your stomach, palm spreading wide as his fingers splay possessively over the skin there.
“—here.”
Your eyes flutter shut as the image floods your mind—round and full of him. The thought alone makes your pussy clench, slickness leaking down his length in a fresh rush.
“Oh, you’d let me, wouldn’t you, kitten?” His hand glides upward, fingers curling around your jaw, firm but tender as he tilts your face back towards his. He needs to see you, need to see the honesty in your eyes. “You’d let me fuck a baby into you?”
The words ignite something molten in your core, spewing a string of moans from your lips. Your gaze locks with his, and the seriousness in his expression steals what little breath you have left.
His grip on your jaw tightens just enough to keep your focus as his thrusts pick up again. “Words. Use them.”
“Y-Yes,” you sputter.
“Yes what, sweetheart?”
“Yes I’d l-let you—hah!—fuck a b-baby into me, Sy!”
A strangled growl tears from his throat. Your answer unlocks something feral in him. His pace turns ruthless, ramming his cock into you with one intention.
“Gonna fuck you so full, sweetie,” he promises hoarsely. “I’ll make sure it—nngh—takes.”
He’s already throbbing inside you, completely captivated by the sheer thought of getting you pregnant. His lips crash against yours in a heated, desperate kiss, swallowing your moans as his movements grow sloppy with need. With a groan that rumbles through both of you, his tip slams against your soft cervix, releasing hot pulses of his seed. He doesn’t stop, rolling his hips in slow thrusts to ensure it took.
When he finally stills, he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, a dazed smile tugging at his lips.
“We have to ensure it takes, kitten,” in a smooth motion he flips you both, letting you sit atop him. “Show me how badly you want it.”
✮⋆˙— zayne
You watch the clock tick past, the small hand resting on the hour, officially signaling that Zayne is off shift.
Unfortunately, he still won’t be home for at least another hour. Judging by his lack of reply to your texts, there’s probably mountains of paperwork, last-minute calls, and traffic standing between him and this house. You’ll be lucky if you see him before nightfall.
You groan, slumping against the edge of the bed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. The one day you really need Zayne, and he’s nowhere in sight.
Your body aches with need, each pulse a reminder that ovulation has turned you feral. Heat blooms in your lower belly, soaking your panties, and you can't stop pressing your thighs together to try and relieve it.
Your gaze flicks to the mirror. Your reflection stares back with flushed cheeks. You bite your lip and glance at the clock again. There is a solution.
Zayne will probably be exhausted when he gets home. If you take care of yourself now, you can tend to him later.
Fuck it.
With zero ceremony, you kick off your shorts, the fabric of your soaked panties clinging to your pussy. Your cheeks burn an even deeper crimson as you push them down, peeling away the damp material and leaving your lower half exposed to the reflective glass.
Desperation makes your movements sloppy. Your fingers dip inside your dripping cunt, index and middle finger instantly slick with your need. You twitch as they withdraw, then drag up to twirl them in gentle circles over your swollen clit, shivering at the surge of pleasure.
A tiny moan escapes your lips, high and breathless. It's been a while since you’ve touched yourself solo—because you usually have Zayne. But tonight, he’s just an image in your head, and that thought alone is enough to make you squirm.
You mimic his touch, spreading your folds and teasing your swollen bud just like he would. Stop. Start. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the delicious burning building in your core.
“Z-Zaynie…” you whimper to the air, eyes flicking to your reflection, watching your pussy flutter around what would be his cock if he were here. Your thighs threaten to slam together, but you force them apart.
You lose yourself in the sensation of your fingers' newfound rhythm. Pressure builds, threatening to boil over the edge. Your breath catches, lips parting in moans that are muffled but urgent.
And then—
Your eyes snap open and they aren’t just seeing you in the mirror. Zayne is in the doorway, tie loosened from work. His expression is unreadable, but dangerously hungry. His arms are crossed, like he’s trying to seem annoyed—but you know that look. He’s definitely turned on and fully amused by your shame.
“Shit—mmgh—Zayne—!” you squeak, yanking your hand back and slamming your thighs together as if that could hide the evidence of your crime.
He steps in slowly, never breaking eye contact as he sets his glasses on the nightstand.
“It’s not—” you start, then stop, as you realize it is. “I’m sorry, I just… ugh.” You bury your face in your hands, cheeks burning hotter than ever.
“There’s no need to be ashamed,” he says evenly, taking a single step in the room. “Continue.”
You glance at him, confused. “But Zayne—“
“Did I misspeak?” His voice is unnervingly calm.
“N-No,” you stammer. “B-But I don’t understand. I only did it because you weren’t here, and now that you are—”
“That doesn’t change anything.” He interrupts, voice low and commanding. “You were doing it when I wasn’t here. You couldn’t wait. So go ahead. Finish without my help, just like you intended all along.”
A shiver runs through you. His words are cold, but utterly thrilling. You stare at him, searching for a crack in his expression that isn’t there.
Swallowing your embarrassment, you part your thighs again and place your hand back between your legs. The time you look at him—not at the mirror—as your fingers slide inside yourself. Your slick folds glisten under the bedroom light, fully displayed for him, yet he doesn’t even look. Zayne moves around the room, loosening his cuffs, rolling his shoulders, and going about his normal post-shift like you’re not bare and dripping a few feet away.
The normalcy of it makes your stomach twist. He’s doing it on purpose, and every second he doesn’t look is a silent command to keep going.
So, you continue. The pressure builds, unbearable now, and you bite your cheek to hold back a moan. “Zayne…” you pant, eyes fluttering shut as you buck helplessly into your own hand.
Before you can register it, he’s crouched beside you. His presence is sudden, the faint scent of soap and hospital antiseptic clinging to his skin. When his voice comes, it’s soft, but firm. “Are you going to come?”
You nod, breath hitching, unable to answer. His hand darts out, cradling your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek as he tilts your face towards the mirror.
“Watch.”
You whimper, locking onto your reflection in the glass. Your fingers move of their own accord, gliding across your puffy clit as you push yourself over the edge. Your body trembles and tips sideways, instinctively leaning against him as the waves roll through you.
But he isn’t done with you.
You can’t even fully recover, because suddenly he’s pushing off his pants, his cock springing free before he’s settling in right behind you. One hand tugs greedily at your shirt, dragging the fabric up and off so your tits spring free, nipples tightening instantly in the cool air at the heat of his stare in the mirror.
“C’mon,” he orders quietly, fingers digging into your hips as he guides you back. “Ride me.”
You flush as you move to hover over him, still sensitive from your release. The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your entrance, smearing the sticky precum as you line him up with shaky hands.
“You get so needy when you’re ovulating,” he murmurs, amusement threading through the lust as he fixates where you will be joined. His hips raise once to poke your entrance in impatience.
“H-How do you–”
He chuckles under his breath, nipping your shoulder. One hand slides up your side to pinch your perked nipple, then swipe the bud of his thumb over it to soothe the sting. “You think I don't know my sweet girl?”
You whine and shake your head before you sink slowly onto his length, a lewd moan spilling free as the stretch makes your thighs tremble all over again.
But the pace is too slow for Zayne. His fingers flex, then grip your hips and pull you down until you're seated flush against him, his swollen tip nudging your cervix.
“Is it better than your fingers, love?” he asks, lips brushing the curve of your spine as his hand smooths up your back, pressing lazy kisses against the overheated skin.
“Mmm, y-yes. F-Fuck, yes,” you whimper, rolling your hips while your eyes stay glued to the mirror. Your breasts bounce with every motion, your juices slicking his pelvis. The obscene intimacy of watching yourself take him making your stomach flutter.
A breathy, almost strained groan slips from him. Zayne’s grip tightens, just shy of rough, as his thumbs dig into the soft flesh of your lower back.
“That’s it… look at you,” he mutters, voice dipping darker, a little mocking. His cock twitches inside you as he leans in, lips grazing your ear. “I love how you feel like this. When your body’s begging for me.”
You clench at the words and ride him harder, chasing the friction. The mirror shows everything—your flushed face, his hungry eyes, the way he watches you fall apart for him.
“Next time,” he groans, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts, never once breaking eye contact with your reflection. “You’ll wait for me.” His hand slides up to your throat, not squeezing, just holding. “Or at least send me a picture. Understood?”
Your pussy throbs in time with your heart, moans punching out from each snap of your hips colliding. “Y-Yes! I understand—!”
“Good. Now come for me again.”
✮⋆˙— xavier
Your eyelids flutter to the barely-there presses of his lips.
It starts on your cheek, then trails to your jaw. You keep your eyes closed as he buries his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent before peppering a few more kisses along the sensitive line beneath your ear. His breath is warm and uneven as he savors you before you fully wake.
Your body reacts subconsciously, shifting closer to him and giving a tiny shiver at the affection so early in the morning. If you had to guess, the sun hasn’t even risen. The world feels dim and soft, wrapped in the stillness.
You’re aware you lie on your side. Of the weight of the comforter. Of the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back.
You’re also aware of his stiffness pressing against you—but it floats through your mind like a distant thought, something you register without fully grasping.
“Good morning, angel.” Xavier’s voice is a hoarse rasp near your ear, signaling that he too just woke. His hips subtly shift, pressing him more firmly against you before he exhales. “You can go back to sleep, lovely.”
You hum in reply, still drifting. His hand glides down the curve of your waist, slow and absentminded at first, like he’s memorizing the shape of your curves. The touch keeps you suspended in the blissful space between dreaming and reality—where every sensation feels warmer, heavier, and sweeter.
You almost sink back under. Until his kisses don't stop.
They linger longer now, and his fingers toy with the hem of your waistband as if testing whether you’ll stir. You inhale softly, something incoherent slipping from your lips when his warm hand slips beneath the fabric, his palm settling on your abdomen. His thumb traces patterns that send quiet sparks up your spine, each pass making your thighs tighten just a fraction more.
You should wake. You should turn and face him, acknowledge the warmth that you are suddenly very aware is pooling in your panties—and fast. But you're so comfortable, so pliant against him, letting his touch wander while your thoughts drift like mist.
“Do you know what today is?” Xavier murmurs, breaking through the haze.
Your blink your eyes open slowly, the dim room slowly taking shape in blurred outlines. You search your memory, but nothing important surfaces. Only the steady rhythm of his breathing and the way his hand stills, waiting.
But your body seems to know before your mind does. There's a heightened sensitivity humming under your skin, every brush of his fingers sending a ripple through you that feels unfairly intense for how half-asleep you still are.
Oh.
“It’s a good thing,” he continues softly, his words threaded with a gentle hunger. He finds the hem of your panties, gently rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re extra sweet today… softer. Smell so good…”
Heat creeps into your cheeks even in your drowsiness, and your legs part slightly without conscious thought. The small movement draws a low breath from him, a quiet surrender to how much he wants you. His forehead rests against your shoulder as his hand dips beneath your panties.
He finds you wet and murmurs out grateful praises into your skin, kissing you again and again like he can't help himself. His fingers instantly begin a gentle dance against your clit, making you arch back into him with a soft, sleepy moan.
“I saw the calendar… that cute little app,” he pinches your bud softly, soothing the action with slow passes of his fingertip. “So you’re super sensitive for me. Especially in the morning.”
You whimper, clutching your pillow as you let breathless sounds slip free, your body melting into the pleasure despite how foggy your mind still feels. Even though his touch only abandons you for a second, a needy whine escapes your throat. He pushes your pants and panties down just enough, the material pooling at your ankles.
“Just stay where you are, star,” he says softly as the warmth of his body leaves yours.
Xavier trails a path of wet kiss along the back of your thighs, unhurried and worshipful. You shudder but stay curled like he asked, fingers tightening in the sheets. When he reaches your pussy, finding it dripping and open, he lets his warm breath ghost over you first, making your hips twitch.
He inhales deeply, his hips shifting mindlessly against the mattress at your sweet scent. He doesn’t wait another second before his mouth finds you.
You grasp a handful of blonde hair, whining as his tongue licks a stripe from your entrance upwards, then settles to circle your clit. He continues to lap at your heat, devouring how syrupy you are today, sucking you into his mouth and burying his face deep between your thighs like he never wants to come up for air.
“Feels s-so good, Xavi…” you moan, trembling.
Your orgasm is already hovering. He groans against you, one hand gripping your ass, kneading the skin encouragingly. Each swipe of his tongue is a silent plea.
Come for me. Let me taste you. Let me make you feel good.
You break seconds after, squirming against the sheets as pleasure takes over you in warm waves. Pants leave your lips as he doesn't let up, his mouth relentlessly working you through the euphoric waves, and long after they pass. His face is sticky with your cum, dripping down his chin, making him look as if he’s the one who just finished.
“B-Babe–” you cry out, trying weakly to push his head back. “Honey… ‘s too much…”
He presses one last lingering kiss to your puffy pussy before finally lifting his head. His cheeks are flushed, blue eyes dark and thoroughly satisfied. “Sorry,” he breathes, brushing his thumb along your thigh. “I couldn’t help myself.”
His hands are gentle as they turn you from your side onto your back. Your gaze drifts downward, catching the darkened patch of precum blooming against the front of his tented sweatpants. The sight sends a fresh pulse of heat through your still-sensitive body.
He follows your gaze before palming himself through the fabric.
“Think you can handle a bit more for me?”
✮⋆˙— rafayel
The car ride was silent.
You knew you’d pushed Rafayel’s buttons a little too far at his gala tonight. But honestly… could he even blame you?
He’d shown up dressed like sin in one of his sharpest suits, hair styled to perfection, eyes gleaming the entire duration of the exhibit. And all of it—all of it—on the exact day you were ovulating.
Of course you were going to touch him.
Of course you were going to kiss him.
Of course you were going to corner him beside a marble sculpture and slide your hand a little too low.
“Raaffff,” you drawl into the thick quiet of the car, leaning over the console with a pout that’s half apology, half provocation. “C’mon. Please don’t be mad. I said I’m sorry!”
Rafayel’s brows turn downwards, but there's a sparkle behind the annoyance. “Sorry for kissing my neck while I was speaking to that artist,” he replies coolly, “or sorry for grabbing my dick before I had to greet the commissioner?”
You smirk, entirely unrepentant. “Both. And you liked it! You were hard when I touched you.”
He scoffs, but the sound melts into a quiet laugh under his breath. He isn’t mad, he never really is, and when you poke his side to confirm, he squirms just enough to betray himself. The twitch at the corner of his lips is your victory flag.
You think you’ve won.
That is, until you get home.
The moment the door clicks shut behind you, he moves. There's no warning. One second you’re toeing off your heels, the next his arms are around you, sweeping you up bridal-style. A startled laugh leaves you as he carries you down the hall, his hold possessive and unhurried.
His lips find yours before you reach the bed, and they are soft but insistent, pulling quiet gasps from your chest. The heat that’s been simmering in your belly all day flares hotter, burning brighter.
You land against the mattress with a muted thud, sheets cool beneath your back. “Undress,” he tells you, already slipping open the button of his shirt with graceful fingers.
You obey immediately, giggling as you shimmy out of your dress, fabric clinging to your hips before you kick it away. Anticipation hums under your skin like static.
Rafayel, meanwhile, is still mostly dressed. His shirt hangs open just enough to reveal his toned skin, a teasing glimpse of chest that makes your fingers itch for a touch. You reach for him instinctively, only for his hand to close around your wrist mid-air and guide it back to the mattress, pinning you there.
“Raf–”
“Do you really think I’m going to let you have your way after tonight?” His voice is playful, smug, and dripping with amusement. The smirk he gives you is pure trouble. “You’re so cute.”
You squirm, a fresh gush of warmth gathering between your thighs. “But… I said ‘m sorry.”
“Oh, I know you did, cutie,” he hums, leaning down to brush a single kiss against your cheek. Then your jaw. The column of your throat. Each one is soft and savoring.
“So then…” you mumble, tilting your neck to give him more space. “Why are you still dressed?”
His lips curve against your skin as he trails lower, the gentle presses of his lips turning wetter, slower. Goosebumps rise across your body when his hands find your thighs, and ease them open for him.
He pauses, eyes settling on the soaked material clinging to you. His thumb presses against it, just once. You squeak, and arch into his hand, sensitivity dialed painfully high today. He chuckles, rubbing your pussy through the panties in lazy strokes, up and down, just enough to make you ache.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he coos, but his eyes are dark. “But you teased me all night… so I’m getting my revenge.”
You gasp when his thumb circles firm over your swollen clit through the fabric. The friction is electric and not enough all at once.
“Raf… please, this isn’t fair,” you whine.
“Not fair?” he juts his lip in a mock pout. “I didn’t think it was very fair when you were handsy in public.”
Before you can argue, he hooks a finger under your panties and slides them aside, revealing your dripping cunt. He huffs in amusement, admiring the slick evidence of your arousal like its art he curated himself. (He did)
His finger drags through your folds, collecting the sticky mess. He spreads you open, glides over your clit, circles your entrance, but never lingers enough to satisfy.
Your thighs twitch. Your hips lift. Your fingers clutch the comforter.
It’s torture. Sweet, earned, torture.
And just as a complaint forms on your lips, his fingertip settles over your clit and begins slow, gentle circles. Pleasure sparks outward, instantly bowing your back and spewing moans from your lips. Every sensation feels amplified.
“R-Raf… Raf, fuck—baby,” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure builds, winding tighter and tighter.
Rafayel laughs softly, continuing to play with your pussy, admiring how much more wetness gathers at his touch. “You close, cutie? Gonna come?”
You nod in rapid succession. “Y-Yes…yeah ‘m gonna—“
His fingers stop.
The sudden absence makes you gasp, blinking your eyes open “W-Why did you stop?”
He lifts his gaze to yours, expression all polished mischief and arrogance. His thumb is still resting maddeningly close to where you’re throbbing. “Did you really think I was going to let you come?”
Your frustrated whine only makes his smile widen. He leans down, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, taunting kiss.
“After the way you behaved tonight?” he murmurs against your mouth. “You’re going to beg for it.”
His fingers return before you can even form a reply, and they're faster this time. The slick sounds of how wet you are fills the room. What started as gentle coaxing turns into purposeful rubbing that makes you fist the sheets and sob out. When your legs try to close, he simply prises them back open.
“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he whispers. “All worked up and needy… yet you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.” His thumb presses just right, drawing a broken sound from your throat.
“I do… f-fuck I really do…” you whimper, hips chasing him without shame. The pressure builds once again, and just as the waves begin to crest, he stops.
The absence is devastating. His words following are cruel.
“Poor thing,” he murmurs, brushing his slick finger against your thigh. His cock strains against his pants, a visible twitch he pointedly ignores as he keeps his attention on you. “You’re soaking our sheets.”
You lie there in the heat of it, trying to gather yourself. When your heartbeat finally slows enough to think, he starts over. Fingers dragging through your warmth, starting slow, then faster. Each time he brings you near the edge, letting desperate cries and whimpers that you’re close spill from your lips, he stops again.
By the fourth time, tears sting the corners of your eyes. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, pleas dissolving into half-formed syllables that barely resemble words.
“R-Raf… p-plea–suh–ahh–” his fingers slide into your gummy walls.
“Think you’ve been good enough?”
“Y-Yea–mmgh–yes–!”
He exhales through his nose, finally satisfied. His fingers curl to your sweet spot, and this this they don’t pull away.
── you tell your boyfriend not to mark up your neck!
suggestive. interact at your own risk. includes (slight) dry humping & biting
starring: vivian hugo, teddy knight & michael kaiser
boyfriend! hugo who tries to listen but ends up losing control without realising.
“mhh— vivi..” you stifle a moan, shifting slightly on his lap in the backseat of his car. you laid your head on his shoulder, facing his neck while he ravaged yours. “not too high up—“
but your words were blurred into hugo’s ears. far too distracted to even bother. his hands firmly held your hips down, trying to reduce the constant movement and grinding against his hard. however you were much more persistent, trying to
after the both of you were done and back in your bedrooms did he realise how ruined your neck was. but it was too late.
“sorry cheri.. got carried away again..” he mumbled into your neck, hugging your waist.
boyfriend! teddy who is very aware of your words but couldn’t care less to listen.
your wrists were bounded by a neat light blue ribbon, your arms rested on teddy’s shoulders. meanwhile, teddy was comfortably holding you by the waist, slotted in between your thighs that wrapped around his hips.
“teddy—” his lips pressed against your neck, bruises from weeks before that were in the process of healing were marked again. teddy deliberately licking the same spot again, knowing you could feel the heat of his tongue tracing your neck.
despite your attempt in trying to stay quiet, you whimpered— giving him exactly what he wanted. he gave your waist quick squeeze before reaching for another mark below your jaw.
before he headed out for training the next day, he tossed you a bag full of designer clothes, most of them having turtlenecks high enough to cover his traces.
boyfriend! kaiser who just makes things worse, showing no remorse for his actions.
“kaiser you—!” without much time to react, your back was slammed against the wall. your legs wrapped around his waist in support. in retort, you pulled his hair hard.
he hissed, glaring at you from the corner of his eye. he sunk into your neck and bit down hard. you flinch and whine, that was his que to let go and swallow your noises with a kiss. you could feel him niping at your lips— asking to be let in.
he only moved back to your neck once you were out of breath. not even turtlenecks will be saving you from this one.
no thoughts… just henry winter watching you debate, could be anything, even the simplest things, and he’s just getting super turned on by you arguing with someone. and then… yk.
a/n: i cannot believe i’m posting a full fic after so long, but this has been in my drafts for a year and i want it out
cw: unprotected sex, mentions of rough sex, cowgirl, praise, intellectual foreplay, me infodumping and calling it dialogue
“that’s totally ridiculous.” you insisted, leaning back in your chair and pointing your cigarette at francis. “it’s sexist, too.”
“since when did you concern yourself with such modern opinions as that?!”
“would you like to see my vagina?”
that made henry laugh quietly, which made you remember that he was watching you argue. he was sat next to you, around the cast iron table that resided on the patio outside the kitchen at the country house.
it was cold, late november, so the french doors were closed to keep the heat in. the only reason you and francis were braving the frost was because your mothers had told you to take your arguing outside. henry was along for the ride, just as he always was. you couldn’t shake him if you wanted to; but you didn’t.
francis leaned across the table towards you to ash his cigarette in the little ceramic dish as he spoke. “i’m sorry, but i’ll stand by it, freud’s a genius.”
“i’m not sure if genius is the word,” henry chimed in. “his research was terrible.”
francis groaned, half-heartedly glaring at henry. “thank you for your unwavering support.”
henry just laughed, shaking his head, and you picked the argument back up. you pulled one of your legs up on to the chair, holding your knee to keep it there. you lit another cigarette.
“tell me then, francis, what psychosexual stage are you stuck in?”
“oral.” said francis. “and so are you.”
you laughed, shaking your head as you exhaled a lungful of cigarette smoke. you brought your hand up to your mouth as you listened to francis speak, using your teeth to round off your nails, cigarette smoke drifting up into your face.
“what are you doing?” said francis. “right now, what are you doing?”
you felt confused, and then even more so when a smirk started to spread across henry’s face. he just watched you.
“you’re biting your nails; hell, you’re biting your nails and smoking at the same time.”
you furrowed your eyebrows. the disbelief was evident in your tone as you spoke. “and how does that relate to my sexual development in childhood?”
“because we didn’t have pacifiers as infants.” said francis, expecting that to be the end of the argument. you scoffed, henry laughed, and you both shook your heads at francis. you flicked your cigarette away, lighting another one as soon as your hands were free.
you adjusted your position in your seat, sitting up slightly more straight. your leg was still up on the chair, and your arm was now wrapped around your knee.
“there’s a new concept emerging called an interactionist perspective,” you began, taking a drag of your cigarette. “it combines two different approaches of the discipline: one from the nature side of the debate, one from nurture. like behaviourist theory and, say, a biological perspective. genetic mutations, maybe.”
henry watched you as you spoke, eyes trailing freely up and down over your figure. you knew undoubtedly what you were talking about. you waved your hands around as you explained, pointing your cigarette at francis occasionally, but not once did you falter.
francis interrupted your debate and henry’s train of thought by saying “no, surely you know that’s ridiculous, to pick and choose-”
“it’s not ridiculous if it works.” you insisted, tapping the table to emphasise your words.
“i think that’s quite enough of that.” henry sighed. he was obviously growing bored of the debate, having already made up his mind. you rolled your eyes as he stood up, but you followed dutifully, and let him lead you back into the kitchen.
everyone else had gone to bed. the wine had hit francis as soon as he stood up, so he kissed you on the cheek and trudged away to go to bed.
“you’re remarkably well informed on psychological approaches.” henry told you as soon as you were alone. you brushed off the admiration in his eyes at first, attributing it to a trick of the light. but when he moved closer, tipping your chin up with his index finger, you caught it again. there was no denying it that time.
you just laughed, shaking your head. trust henry to flash you the come to bed eyes because he was impressed with your performance in a childish debate.
“and you are predictable.”
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” he replied, and the dim light of the kitchen was playing up like a real trickster tonight, because you were sure you caught the ghost of a smirk. henry was teasing you.
you raised an eyebrow. this was really doing it for him. it was inherently fascinating, that all you had to do was flaunt your knowledge on a particular subject for long enough to win an argument. it was such a uniquely henry thing to fixate on, but it was evident from the hunger in his gaze that you had positively enraptured him.
“upstairs.” he told you, following closely behind you as you started walking. as you made your way up the stairs, you heard him speaking again from behind you. “tell me some more about this emergent approach, if you’re so insistent on it.”
you laughed. you could play that game. even you were self-aware enough to note the pretentiousness of using academic debate as foreplay, but you indulged henry anyway.
“well, it’s devised from the arguments on either side of the nature/nurture debate,” you began, reaching the top of the spiral staircase and starting down the hallway, turning off every table lamp and sconce that francis had left on for no reason whatsoever.
“i mean, the debate has been raging since the birth of the discipline. since darwin, really. you’ve read the theory of evolution?”
“don’t patronise me.” henry answered, opening the bedroom door for you. that was a yes.
“well it was his cousin, francis galton, who coined the term for the debate. early intelligence tests argued the case for inherited traits, and that aligned with all of darwin’s findings.”
henry nodded along to what you were saying as he clicked the door shut behind you. as you continued, clearly carried away, he reached out to drag down the zip at the back of your dress.
“but then- and this is the really fascinating part, are you paying attention?”
“i’m listening.” said henry, a low rumble into your ear. “take off your clothes.”
you nodded, rambling on and on as you slipped out of your dress, leaving it on the floor. your bra was next, also discarded to the ground, leaving you only in your underwear and heels.
as you explained further, you turned around to face henry, unbuttoning his shirt as he slid his jacket off. he watched you carefully, especially as your fingers nimbly unhooked the lower buttons, drawing closer to his rapidly stiffening length.
the way you spoke faster when you were explaining something you were more informed on was making henry increasingly reckless. his body was urging him to throw you on the bed and take you then and there, but he didn’t ever want you to stop demonstrating your intelligence. he was totally enamoured with the way you were divulging all of this information, backing yourself up with evidence from studies, even going as far as to evaluate the research you were referencing.
it was like you were speaking an essay out loud. henry had never been so aroused in his life.
“so the introduction of behaviourism could still be argued with, but it was the humanistic approach that really threw a spanner in the works. personally, i think that humanism’s tree-hugger trash, but it works, i suppose- do you want me to ride you?”
“yes.” henry answered, far too quickly. he sat down on the bed and pushed himself up against the headboard, waiting for you to climb on top of him. when you distracted yourself with a one-woman debate about the empiricism of positive psychology, he sighed, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and tugging you into an undignified heap on the bed.
you squealed, toppling over, and when you put yourself right, your hair had fallen over your face. you tucked it behind your ear, and that was the first time you snapped out of your academic trance to see the effect you were really having on henry.
his cheeks were flushed with a rosy red that crept down his neck, and his pupils could be mistaken for those of a hippie on acid. you tilted your head to one side, studying him.
“would you like me to continue?” you mused, swinging a leg over henry’s hips to straddle him, feeling the hardness of his cock even through the fabric still separating you.
“i’m waiting for you to tie all of these points together.” henry remarked innocently, tilting you forwards so that your faces were inches apart- but mainly so that your hips were lifted away from his, just enough for him to slide the rest of his clothes off.
you hummed in amusement, then reached down to align henry with your entrance. he hissed as you sank smoothly down onto his length, quicker and harder than he’d anticipated.
“well, it’s only in the last few years that people have started to- ah, realise,” you said softly, starting to rock your hips back and forth. “that the interactionist perspective makes the most sense. no one decided at any point it was the best. it’s just worked its way into pop-psychology.”
“mhm.” henry nodded, lifting you off of him only to sit you back down, finding the angle that make you squeal. “well, that’s fascinating, duchess, i must admit.”
you laughed breathlessly, bracing yourself with a hand on each of henry’s shoulders. you set a pace at which it felt best for you to grind your aching core over henry’s length, burying it deeper inside you with each snap of your hips.
your breaths matched your rhythm once it had been established, and you let out a soft little moan of pleasure every now and then. henry’s breathing quickly fell into synchronicity with your own, and he met your movements with thrusts of his own, fucking up into you from underneath.
“did you know?” he huffed in your ear, pausing to press an open-mouthed kiss to the crook of your neck. “what it does to me, hearing you debate so skilfully? were you indulging me intentionally?”
“well, i know now.”
“you should. fuck, duchess, you need to know.”
the sound of henry swearing in hushed tones sent a shockwave of arousal straight through you, and you dropped your head onto his shoulder, the desperate mewls falling more freely from your lips.
you were folded in on yourself at such an angle that every rock of your hips put pressure on your clit, bringing you closer by the second to reaching your edge.
“you are so beautiful,” said henry, leaning up to close his lips around your breast. his tongue darted out to swirl over your nipple. “you fascinate me. i’ve never known such beauty as you exercising your intelligence.”
henry’s hands roamed your curves methodically, leaving no inch of you untouched, and spending slightly longer on parts of you that weren’t in his immediate reach. you realised suddenly that he was mapping you- committing the feel of your whole body to his memory, and attempting to do so as thoroughly as possible. all the while, he was guiding your hips rhythmically over his cock and whispering praises of your cleverness against your skin, along the lines of:
“such a smart girl for me, duchess.”
“take it, my little genius.”
“so clever. so bright.”
the praises were what spurred you towards your end, and you found yourself losing your dignity a little bit more by the second. your moans became more languid, your movements less precise, almost as if you couldn’t possibly control yourself when you were feeling so thoroughly destroyed.
henry didn’t let up, not for a second, and it had you wondering if he was ever going to let you go- which then had you wondering if you even wanted him to.
he was still muttering against you, but less frequently now, and he had taken to punctuating his words with rough kisses, all over your chest, up your neck.
“henry, don’t stop.” you breathed, your nails digging into his flesh wherever you could.
“why, are you going to cum?”
“yes-!”
henry breathed out a little laugh, a cocky one at that, clearly amused by how rapidly you were falling apart on top of him.
your orgasm started as a low rumble, deep in your stomach. then it grew, and grew, and with every snap of the hips, the tip of henry’s length brushed your cervix and nudged you a little bit closer to the edge. the clouds crept rhythmically over your mind, more and more with every thrust, until the pleasure was hazing your vision and stealing your breath.
and it hit like a tidal wave. prompted by your own hand, that slipped between your bodies and pressed hard, synchronised circles into your clit. once, twice, three times, and you were cumming.
“oh, fuck!” you wailed, dropping your head onto henry’s shoulder as your hips spasmed with the force of your climax.
“stay there.” henry instructed you sharply, his own voice growing rougher with closeness. “do not move. fuck-”
his hands clamped around your wrists, holding them together behind your back as he slammed his cock up into your cunt. he wasn’t attempting to show even the slightest shred of mercy for you, despite the way you wept into his shoulder and trembled from the overstimulation.
before you could react, henry released his grip of your wrists in favour of your hips, and he lifted you off of him in one swift motion, as if you weighed nothing. he moved you back just a little, only enough so that you were safe from the thick ropes of cum that spurted from henry’s swollen tip, onto his stomach as he gasped for air.
“ah- ah- ah-” he breathed, and both of your gazes were transfixed, laser focused on the sight of henry’s cock twitching to squeeze out the last of his cum. you didn’t realise until you came to that you were watching with your jaw hanging open.
henry reached out to knock it shut for you, using the knuckle of his index finger, curled and tapping the underside of your chin. you took a deep, cathartic breath, and you could almost feel your nervous system working overtime to regulate itself and bring you back down to earth.
“okay, duchess.” said henry, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “lay down. i’ll clean this mess.”
you nodded, lifting yourself shakily off of henry’s hips and rolling over onto the bed, legs trembling. you watched him clean himself up, and then it was your turn.
“henry,” you piped up. he looked over at you. “did you retain any of the information i told you?”
henry laughed under his breath. he shook his head.
18+ mdni | situationship!rafayel has commitment issues…until you start seeing someone and have to break it off with him!
TW. rough sex, he slaps ur face, degrading, he calls you a bitch and stuff during sex (with consent!), choking, daddy kink (sorry), a lil angst like he’s a dick but it’s miscommunication a bittt, dating apps, shitty dating app behaviour, face fucking (m rec), cum eating, he grinds against ur foot and cums like that💔
“how bad do you want it?”
rafayels hands tightened on your waist as he stilled his cock between your walls, throbbing at the sight of you trying to fuck yourself onto him. you clamped down tighter on his cock, earning a groan from the man above you.
“p-please, raf…need you so bad” you whined, once again trying to grind your hips against his in search of stimulation.
he smirked at the desperation in your voice, letting go of your waist to lightly slap your face. “keep your fuckin’ eyes open, want you to look at me when you cum on my cock”. immediately resuming his previous pace, rafayel harshly thrusted into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room alongside your moans. “yeah you like that? huh? needy fuckin’ bitch”
you gripped the sheets below you as he spit degrading words into your face. as much as you hated to be that person, hearing his usually gentle voice speak such belittling terms only brought you closer to your climax. “fuck, raf—ngh”, your clit throbbed with each grind against the hairs on his pelvis, slick leaking from your cunt as the coil in your belly tightened. “please can i cum? need it so bad, raf please—”
his hands released your middle and tightened around your throat to cut you off, words lost on your tongue as he spit into your open mouth. “you wanna cream on this dick then you address me properly”
he gripped the underside of your thighs and folded them against you, putting you into a mean mating press while shoving his cock impossibly deeper. tears streaked down your face with every brutal thrust, a shiny ring of white circling the base of his cock. “p-please daddy, wanna cum for you, wan’ feel you fill me up”
he smirked at your fucked out cries, finally bringing a hand to circle your swollen bundle of nerves. “go on then, show me how good it feels”
the rasp in his voice pushed you over the edge, cunt throbbing around his length as he fucked you through your high, leading to him following soon after. he collapsed above you as his cock twitched inside your hole, cum filling you up. pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, rafayel slowly pulled out with a wince, immediately moving to grab a warm rag to clean you with. you spread your legs for easier access, giggling when he leaned down and whispered what a ‘good girl your pussy has been’ for him.
“was it too much today?” he murmured, throwing the towel to the side before pulling you into a hug and wrapping the two of you in a blanket. you shook your head, nuzzling against his chest and pressing a tender kiss on his ribs.
“felt perfect”
he sighed contentedly, holding you close for a few minutes before grabbing his phone. you watched him scroll and tap away while responding to messages, clearing his throat after a while and tapping your shoulder.
“you should use the washroom before heading out baby”
your chest ached as he began to pull away like usual, nodding and walking to the bathroom while he giggled at messages on his phone.
“hey could you pick up your laundry from last time since you’re here? just easier than me having to bring it over.” he shouted from the bed, going silent once more as you finished cleaning yourself up.
you scoffed at his request, washing your hands and immediately walking out of the room. he finally spoke once more as you zipped up your jeans, patting yourself down to ensure you had everything with you.
“you upset or something?”
your eyes burned with tears at the ignorant question, wondering if he even knew how shitty he was being. “no, raf. i’m fine.”
he called out your name as you practically ran out of the house, nearly gasping for air the second you reached your car. you sat behind the steering wheel for a few minutes, contemplating whether it was worth it to continue this ‘relationship’ just as another girl walked to his door, her features similar to yours being highlighted by the moonlight.
filled with rage, you opened your chat with rafayel and typed out a paragraph saying how unfair he was, calling him selfish and a dick before deleting it and simply saying:
we’re done.
hours passed before he finally read the message, not even dignifying you with a response. at first his indifference had only caused more strife, your mind hating how long you let him disrespect you until you realized he likely hadn’t spared a second thought on what you two had (or more what you didn’t have).
in an attempt to get over him, you downloaded one of the many dating apps your friends raved about, swiping for hours before meeting a match that actually felt real. just as you were getting ready for your first date, your phone began to buzz with a call.
rafayel.
you let it go to voicemail before he called again…and again, and again, finally prompting you to pick up.
“hey cutie” he spoke in his relaxed demeanour, completely disregarding your last text and his blatant lack of response.
you scoffed before responding, deciding to tell him through voice that you were over it. “what, raf. i’m not gonna give you any more time to play me so just say what you want and leave me the fuck alone.”
“fuck is up your ass? i didn’t even say shit, just calling to see how you’re doing” he replied, tone incredulous as if he couldn’t possibly fathom your words.
“really? that’s what this is? you’re not just calling for a hookup?”
a beat of silence passed before he answered, a seductive lilt now lacing his voice. “is that what you want it to be?”
you laughed at his sheer audacity, picking up the phone and gesturing wildly as you spoke, imagining you were in front of him. “since you don’t seem to have gotten the message, we’re done. i’m tired of letting you fuck me like all the other whores you use. i’ve already moved on, so you should too.”
just as he began to respond, you hung up, not allowing for any of the bullshit excuses he could give you. he called several times after, forcing you to put your phone on silent.
another 20 minutes passed while you put the finishing touches on your makeup, opening the dating app to text your date before seeing they had unmatched you.
a cold wave of reality washed over you, your heart beginning to ache as you questioned if you were the problem.
before you knew it, tears streaked down your face along with mascara, sobs tearing from your throat right as the sound of your doorbell rang. you considered ignoring it until the beeping went on relentlessly, your figure stomping to the entrance and ripping the door open only to find rafayel standing ahead of you with a rolled up canvas in his hands.
“listen baby, i’m—hey, hey, what’s wrong?”
the gentle sound of his unfortunately comforting voice had your tears starting up again, streaming down your face as you walked towards him, throwing yourself into his arms. “t-tried to g-go on a date and stop thinking of you, but they unmatched me j-just before we were gonna meet up.”
your makeup smeared on his linen top, staining it with mascara and the rest of your hopeless effort of seeing someone who put you first. rafayels hands immediately wrapped around you, throwing the wrapped up paper into your house and walking you backwards so he could step inside. he locked the door before walking to you once more, wiping your endless flow of tears as each drop fell while tenderly shushing you, saying how sweet and pretty you were, and what a dickhead that person was.
when your cries finally eased into little sniffles, rafayel lead you to the couch before going to the sink and filling a cup of water, placing it before you and sitting in front of you. “okay?”
you nodded while gulping down the water, occasional sniffles coming out while you stared at him, noting how good he looked even in a (now) dirty shirt.
“first off, i’m so sorry, baby. they’re a fucking loser and you look so gorgeous. i’m glad i got to see it even if it wasn’t for me.” you laughed and rolled your eyes at the comment, leaning your head on one hand as he continued.
“second…i know you said we’re done. i know—listen, i fucked up. i was scared of how much i liked you and i just—so much stuff has been temporary and i wasn’t sure if you would be permanent so i thought if i pretended to not care then it wouldn’t hurt if you left but fuck, baby it hurts. it hurts so fucking bad.”
your eyes widened at the sincerity in his voice, throat drying when he looked up with his sweet puppydog eyes, revealing bags under his usually well-rested lids. “i-i can’t even sleep without you, angel. you mean so much and…h-here look”
you watched as he scrambled to grab the rolled up canvas, unwrapping it to reveal a painting of you. sleeping.
“i hope you don’t think it’s weird, i just remember the first time we…y’know. um, i woke up and the sun was shining on your face and you looked so fucking pretty, like more than usual which is already a lot.”
a blush creeped up his neck with each word, ears tinging pink when he looked to see you already staring at him. “i…i don’t know. i don’t have anything else i guess. i just ran over here because the thought of you moving on from me hurt and i don’t want anyone else to see you like this.”
he gestured towards the painting with his final words, eyes staring down at the ground while waiting for your response.
you sat for a few seconds, simply taking in his monologue and the genuine action from the man you thought didn’t care for you. “then what about that girl? last time i was over i saw a girl walk to your door?”
confusion covered rafayels features before his eyebrows raised in realization, words immediately tumbling from his mouth to correct the mistake. “oh-oh god no. baby that was thomas’ sister—she came to ask if i would paint for her wedding.”
you nodded at his explanation, realizing your mistake but still being stuck on the way he had previously acted with you.
he shuffled his feet while standing before you, looking up when you stood and walked towards him, staring into his eyes as you took in the tired features adorning his face. “fine. i’m giving you one chance.”, rafayel immediately beamed at your words, dropping the painting to wrap his arms around you. you yelped when he picked you up, spinning around with you in his arms.
“raf! listen!” you shouted, looking at him sternly. “we can try again but you have to let me in. i can’t keep being a stranger in your life.”
he nodded at your words, a hand on his chest to show how dedicated he was to working on lowering his walls. finally, he knelt down and wrapped his arms around your thighs, nearly purring as you ruffled his hair with a hand. “thank you, baby. thank you, thank you, thank you” he murmured, pressing gentle kisses to your bare legs. you smiled down at him until he continued to kiss your thighs, nudging his nose against the apex between them. “can i make it up to you?”
your skin buzzed as he stared up in wanton need, biting your lip before giving him the go ahead. slowly, rafayel licked a stripe from your inner thigh to your cunt, dampening your panties with his spit as he gently pried your legs open. “can’t believe someone else almost got this” he spoke between kisses, inhaling your scent deeply.
you moaned at his eager behaviour, already dripping before he pulled the flimsy cloth to the side, immediately dipping his tongue between your lips with a groan. “fuck, you have no idea how much i thought of this angel. couldn’t stop jerking off just thinking of your taste.”
a shaky exhale left you as he began to lick and suck your cunt with fervour, focusing on your clit and moving down to tongue your hole every so often. the rapid stimulation had you bucking against his face, already close to your climax in just a few minutes. “cmon angel, know my cutie wants to cum for me, lemme see it, yeah?” he spoke against your pussy, the vibrations from his words adding to the building pleaseure of your high, the sight of him palming his cock through his pants finally pushing you over the edge. “yeah that’s right, fuck-taste so good” he moaned, a trembling hand grabbing your foot to step on his bulge while he slurped every drop of your cum eagerly.
you watched him spasm below you as his own hips twitched, a damp spot forming on his pants where he had been humping against your foot. the two of you caught your breath as he slowly stood up, pressing a kiss to your lips.
Beyond the thicket of whispering trees, there it lay before you, in all its sapphire grandeur.
The ocean.
You ran onto the beach, despite the countless warnings you’d received growing up. The golden fingers of sunset splayed across the rippling water’s surface, beckoning you closer. An explosion of pink stained the sky, with smears of orange, and the creeping promise of a dark twilight.
Digging your toes into the sand, you became rooted as the growing tide glided over your feet, lapping at your shins. With your arms spread wide, you soaked up those final rays, inhaled the breeze until you could taste its salt.
You loved the sea. Always had. You couldn’t understand why you were forbidden to swim in it.
‘You can only look,’ your parents had initially warned. Then it progressed to, ‘just stay on the shore, the sand is safe.’
They hadn’t permitted this, though. Peering down at your rebellion, you chewed your lip, intermingling both excitement and guilt. Despite the crawl of winter, the water was unusually warm, and you felt a strange stirring of emptiness inside.
The final flash of sunset, and then it was gone, swallowed by the horizon. You hugged your elbows, tears welling. It was foolish to be upset, yet you were. It wasn’t fair. How could the sun take so long to traverse the sky, but only give a handful of seconds before vanishing at the end?
You were obsessed with sunsets. They were your favourite colour in all the world, and this was the only place that gave you such glory. With a sulky pout, you retreated from the water, coming to sit where it was dry. Knees tucked and chin atop them, you stared out at the gentle swell for a while, more than content to listen to its lapping lullaby.
“You shouldn’t be here,” came a drawling, hypnotic voice.
Whipping about, you saw no one. Goosebumps rippled across your skin. Bolting onto your feet, fists weakly clenched, you called out, “Who’s there?”
“Out here, little one,” the mysterious voice returned, almost echoing, as if it were inside your head.
With a frown, you swept your gaze onto the ocean, heart galloping into your throat when you spotted him.
A Lemurian.
You stumbled away, but the sand was uneven, and you fell onto your rear, eyes about to fall out of your head as you gaped.
Lemurians never spoke to humans. They weren’t a myth, but they were certainly a mystery. One might consider them a sign of good fortune… or a terrible omen.
With a shaky breath, you regained your composure, then, with a bow of your head, you mumbled, “I’m so sorry I’ve disturbed you. I’ll leave immediately.”
How stupid of you. Of course this was the reason the beach was forbidden. You inwardly cursed, praying that you might slip free of this ethereal creature.
Humans weren’t permitted to cross Lemurian territory—no exceptions. It was just rather rotten luck that no one knew what those territories were. It all relied on tragic tales of drowned sailors or lured women.
You’d half-turned to run when the Lemurian’s honeyed voice ensnared you. “Don’t leave.” His tone was so sweet, yet his stare held sharp command.
Shivering, both from the cold and from a touch of fear, you accidentally met his gaze. He was extraordinary. Ethereal. You couldn’t believe it, and even as you pinched the skin of your inner wrist, the dream didn’t shatter.
This was real.
The Lemurian was a beautiful kind of masculine, the kind that only existed in paintings. A straight nose, pouty lips, sparkling eyes, and that lean, muscled build. His hair fell around him like swaying branches of wisteria, his glowing fins poking out of it.
A delicate crown weaved about his head, like golden coral, decorated with the occasional pearl. To match such a piece, his bared torso dripped with similar jewellery, complementing his Lemurian markings.
“Come closer.” He phrased it like a question, yet you knew it wasn’t.
With an outstretched hand, you felt your own drift up, a longing filling the centre of your chest to take it. With your other hand, you clamped down onto your wrist and jerked them both down your front, shaking free of his siren spell.
“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.
“And yet you are,” the Lemurian smiled, still awaiting you. “So come closer.”
When you slipped your hand into his, you gasped at how warm it was. Smooth, too. Like glass. With such tender politeness, he brought it up to his lips, planting a chaste kiss on the back.
“Is this the correct custom?” He rasped against your skin.
Your cheeks went pink. “It’s… well, it’s usually when—”
Your words fell short. At a distance, you hadn’t noticed the colour of his eyes, but now that you were standing in the water, holding hands with a Lemurian, you couldn’t breathe.
They were your colour.
“Your eyes…” You breathed at him, in true wonder. “They’re like sunsets.”
He laughed, the sound of it rich and tinkling. “What is your name, little human?”
You told him, or maybe you didn’t. You were too lost in that swirl of amber and amethyst.
“I am Rafayel,” he released your hand, and you nearly whimpered at the loss of contact. “And these are my shores.”
Reality rolled through you, and as if waking from a dream, you blinked a few times. “I didn’t mean to trespass,” you insisted, fear furrowing your face. “Please, I truly didn’t! I just like to watch the sunsets on the water. But I’ll never come back, I swear it to you!”
Not much was known about Lemurians, and you didn’t want to risk the wrath of one. Begging was not beneath you.
“Never come back? And break my heart? Surely you wouldn’t do that.”
Your breath failed you. “No… I wouldn’t…”
+++
Rafayel was fascinated by humans. He pried for every detail, from your language right down to bodily function.
“What do you eat?” He probed, resting his chin on a hand.
He had noticed your constant shivering as you conversed by the ocean shore, the nightly breeze laced with a southern chill. Guiding you along in the dark, you were surprised to find a secret cavern. Having you gather some old driftwood, he lit a fire, and there you sat by it, warm and comfortable, while Rafayel remained in the water, leisurely draped over a rock.
It was almost comical that a creature of the sea could control fire. Regardless, you were grateful.
“We eat all sorts of things. Fruit, vegetables, animals. Some things we cook, otherwise we get sick.”
“What is your favourite?”
You pursed your lips as you considered. “I like sweeter things. We have a dish that’s called cake. We can make it with all sorts of flavours, but I think orange might be my favourite.”
You had no idea why Rafayel had taken such a great interest in your knowledge. Surely other people out there had caught his attention—you were still young, yet to see the world, to take what it had to offer.
Maybe you really were the only one breaking the rule about the ocean.
Sneaking a glance at the Lemurian, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about that.
“How do your legs work?”
You giggled. “I suppose the same way your tail does. I don’t know. I just use them.”
He snorted, but you spied his amused smirk.
You were too shy to ask him questions about Lemurian things. This was a miracle, and you were terrified of scaring him off, or worse, angering him. There was still a risk here. These were his shores, he’d said so himself, and he had every right to do whatever he wanted to you, since you were a no-good trespasser.
But the more you talked with Rafayel, the more you felt secure. He wouldn’t hurt you. Well, not out of vengeance. Maybe out of curiosity, at most. To see how your human body differed from his.
“Can I touch your foot?” He asked, far too excited.
Your laugh was nervous, perhaps embarrassed. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Please? I will be very careful. I find them fascinating.”
Holding your breath, you slid your foot closer until it was within his reach. He leaned in and, with those warm hands, began to inspect it. You couldn’t suppress your shiver as you watched him, unsure whether it was apprehension or enjoyment.
It was endearing to see him so enraptured by something so simple as a foot. “So bizarre,” he murmured under his breath.
Your breath hitched as one hand began to sculpt higher, caressing the muscle of your calf. Cheeks growing hot, you pulled out of his grasp. Rafayel’s brows fell into a harsh scrunch. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
You cleared your throat. “Oh, no. It’s just… Well, humans don’t normally touch each other’s legs. I’m not used to it.”
“I had no idea they were sensitive,” he nodded, intrigued.
No longer as flustered, you let out a breathy laugh. “They’re not. Well, sometimes. It… it really depends on the circumstance.”
Rafayel cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
The tips of your ears were scorching. “Um, oh. It’s… Uhh—”
“Your face is very red. Are you alright?”
You snapped your eyes shut, vibrating with embarrassment.
“Some parts of us are naturally always sensitive, other parts aren’t. But they can be, depending on the type of touch.”
Rafayel pursed his lips, and after a long moment, he lit up. “You mean like a mating ritual?”
“Exactly. Yes.”
Rafayel then frowned again, slowly considering you. “But we are not the same species. Your body still responds?”
You needed to change the conversation. Immediately. Before you melted away out of mortification. You swore your neck was a vivid shape of crimson right now, the heat that was coming off you.
“Yes,” you managed to splutter. “It’s not that I, uh, want to. Sometimes our bodies just… react to things. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”
“Don’t be foolish. I am very intrigued. In fact, I’d love to see more.”
You choked on a surprised yelp, fully flinching at his words. “What!”
He merely shrugged. “Lemurians can only mate once a year, and it isn’t through touch. I’d like to know more about humans and their mating rituals.”
“You don’t… touch each other?”
He shook his head. “We could, but it’s not something we do.”
“Humans… well, we touch each other. A lot. In many places. It’s like what I was trying to explain before.” Your humiliation ebbed away, just like the tide. Here was simply a mind that yearned for knowledge. For whatever reason, this beautiful creature was trusting your explanations and took every word as fact. You had a duty to do this properly. This could be the beginning of a cultural connection! The possibilities… and if all it meant was you had to explain what sex was, well…
“We can mate whenever we want. And it’s not always just to have children. Most of the time, it’s for fun.”
Rafayel’s brows nearly shot off his face. “Truly?”
You nodded, smiling now, finding his curiosity oddly cute. “The body parts that we use are very sensitive. And it feels very good. That’s why.”
“Can I see?”
And just like that, your stomach twisted.
“Your face is red again. What does that mean?”
“It…” with a shaky breath, you tried to smile through it. “I’m embarrassed. Those parts are very private, Rafayel. We don’t show them to anyone.”
Rafayel nodded. “So you only use these special parts for sex? Fascinating.”
Your mouth parted, the words stuttering from you. “Well, no. We can use everything. The main part of sex does involve those parts. But it doesn’t have to.”
“Explain.”
“Humans sometimes use their hands or mouths. There’s really… Um.” You bit your lower lip, far too self-conscious to continue. “Rafayel, this is… I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you these things. I’m not very experienced.” You mumbled the last part.
Alarm flashed over his face. “Oh, I am terribly sorry. I thought you were an adult.”
Way to inadvertently twist the knife. “I am,” you sighed. “I’m just… undesired. No one wants me.”
Rafayel shifted, face contorting into the most bewildered pout. “I’m very confused. You are an adult human, and you are beautiful. How are you undesired?”
A warmth spread through you at the sincerity of his words. “You… think I’m beautiful?”
“I have seen many humans. I would consider you stunning.”
A chesty, sorrowful laugh escaped you. “Thank you.”
“If only I were a human man,” Rafayel murmured, something flashing behind his eyes. “You have given me a taste of your life, but I can’t help but long for more.”
“There’s really not much else I can offer you, though.” You tucked your chin down, hiding from his intense gaze, like he was trying to pry something from your head.
“You have enthralled me,” his voice crawled along your skin like velvet. “I want to give you everything.”
Everything froze but your rapid heart, which lurched up into your mouth. Your eyes followed his movements as Rafayel reached to touch you.
“Show me how,” he rasped, coming into contact with your ankle. His ascending hand left a smoldering heat in its wake, your skin tingling something fierce in response. “Show me how to give you pleasure.”
You whimpered as he approached your aching core, not that he knew it. But he was observant. He knew that his touch was stirring things within you, eyes narrowing with satisfaction as your eyes fluttered closed and your breath grew shallow.
“Tell me to stop,” he said softly.
“I don’t want you to,” you admitted with a moan.
Standing up, you removed your garments, and as he stared up at you from the water, you felt electric. He tilted his head as his sunset gaze devoured your naked body, partly curiosity, but the other something darker—sinful.
Rafayel slipped off the rock and sat in the shallow water, and with the flare of his hand, ignited his flames beneath, warming it for you. Slowly, you stepped in, coming to sit beside him with a twist of nerves, but also exhilaration.
Wrapping an arm about your waist, he secured you against him, hand resting on the plush of your thigh.
“Guide me,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. With a shiver, you placed your hand atop his, and your chest tightened at the size difference. He was lean, sure. But he was much larger than you’d anticipated.
With scalding slowness, you guided Rafayel until those gorgeous, long fingers brushed against your slick core, softer than moth wings. You arched up with a whispering gasp.
“Tell me,” his voice had dropped into a rasp, almost husky, scraping against your cheek now. “If I were a man, is this where you’d take me?”
You nodded weakly, eyes rolling back as with one slow push, his finger sank into you.
“So wet,” he murmured, heavy with lust. “How does it feel?”
“So good,” you moaned, grinding your hips for some friction, to have him go deeper. “But you can give me more, if you want.”
Obeying your plea, he slipped in a second, and beyond all reason, Rafayel knew exactly what to do. Curling his fingers just right, he fucked you. Braving a peep at him, your cheeks grew aflame, for he was staring right into you, lips parted and a heavy-lidded expression on his face.
“Your thumb,” you gasped at him, astonished at how easy he worked you, fingers plunging in and out in a languid pace. “Press… here…” your hand slipped back down to show him your clit.
When he pressed down with delicious pressure, you choked on your scream, your orgasm rising within you, promising to be a blistering, white-hot release.
“Not too much, but not too little,” you panted at him, your pleasure threatening to burn you from the inside out.
“You’re squeezing my fingers,” he observed, a sinful smirk tugging at his mouth. “Am I doing well?”
“Yes,” you whined, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder, falling away into bliss. “So, so good, Rafayel…”
His increasing pressure had your vision blurring, mouth agape, senses drowning in bliss. He didn’t need any more of your guidance; your expressions and reactions were more than enough to push you closer to the edge. With a final moan, you plunged into an electric wave of pleasure, ripping through your body like lightning.
Circling your clit, Rafayel earned a needy sob from you, and you clenched hard around his fingers, riding out the final wave of your release.
When he withdrew from you entirely, you whimpered, slumping against his large body. A new kind of heat bloomed through your abdomen when you watched him suck on his fingers, tasting your slick.
The glimmer in his eye had your mouth go a little dry.
“I’ve used my hands,” he stated, a slight drawl to his voice. “Now I’d very much like to use my mouth.”
sae says looking down at you as you both sit comfortably on the couch the soccer game on the tv background noise at this point.
your hands squeezing the soft muscle. pressing soft kisses to his skin making his nose scrunch.
“dunno. they just look nice. you look good.”
you say not even lifting your face to meet eye to eye. your eyes glued to his toned muscular bicep. he lets out a long sigh, though he secretly loves it.
“i’m distraught. my own girlfriend loves my biceps more than me.”
he says looking down at your face emerged into his bicep. but that caught your attention.
your eyes finally flick up to meet his. furrowing your eyebrows. “you’re one to talk. you’re like this with my ass.”
he scoffs before shrugging as you go back to playing with his bicep.
“touché.”
you press your lips to the skin before softly sucking on it.
leaving a mark along the way. he hisses at the sensation the sting oddly felt good.
“…baby. careful.”
he murmurs quietly you nod before licking the reddish purpled mark on his bicep.
your eyes glance down and notice the imprint of his bulge through his sweatpants smirking against his skin.
your free hand moving to palm at his hard on making him jolt his hips.
he leans down towards your neck licking on the skin before softly nipping at your ear.
𓏲ּ𝄢 featuring 𓂃 XAVIER, RAFAYEL, ZAYNE, SYLUS & CALEB — how lads men would give you head.
𓏲ּ𝄢 content warnings 𓂃 lots and lots of cunninglingus, they EAT it (that's the main point here), pwnp, somno in xav’s part, lots of focus on female orgasm, praise & degradation, clitplay, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering, sixty-nine position in zayne’s, oral for both f&m in his part too, riding nose for sylus, caleb is stealing panties (.... again), whimpering and begging for him as usual... (I don't know what else)
𓏲ּ𝄢 cherry’s note 𓂃 I've spent embarassing amount of time and effort into this. so, if this flops I'll blow up with everyone here. thank you @lunarkyn & @beatricetonguedi for helping me sorting out xav ’n raf’s part...also, this ask right here....you guys saved me there. big kisses for y'all <3
沈星回 ⛦ XAVIER !
Xavier slips through the door just past three a.m., the apartment dim and quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. His shoulders sag under the weight of the day —endless missions, blood, light-blades, paperwork— but the moment he sees you curled in the middle of his bed, everything else fades.
You’re wearing his favorite oversized sweater, the one that smells like him even after a wash, sleeves slipping over your hands, hem riding high on your thighs. Nothing underneath but a whisper-thin pair of panties—pale blue, already darkened at the center with the faintest hint of want. You’re on his sheets, in his clothes, breathing slow and sweet… it’s the only reward he ever needs.
He exhales, long and shaky, kicking off his boots. Doesn’t bother with the light. Just shrugs out of his jacket, peels away the holster, and crawls onto the mattress like a starving man finally allowed to eat.
You stir when the bed dips, murmuring his name in that sleepy-soft voice that makes his cock twitch painfully against his zipper.
“Shh, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your knee as he settles between your thighs. “Go back to sleep. Just need my dessert.”
He starts slow—god, so fucking slow—like he has all the time in the world. Mouth warm and lazy, kissing over the damp cotton first, breathing you in through the fabric until the panties are soaked twice over. Only then does he hook a finger under the gusset and tug it aside, humming at the sight of you make—swollen, glistening, already fluttering for him.
The first lick is a long, flat stripe from entrance to clit, deliberate, savoring. He groans like he’s tasting something forbidden and perfect, the sound rumbling straight into your core.
“Fuck… missed this all day,” he mumbles against you, voice thick with exhaustion and hunger. “Missed this pretty pussy waiting for me.”
His thumb settles over your clit, pressing in slow circles—just enough pressure to make your hips jerk—while his tongue pushes inside you, slow and filthy, curling like he’s trying to drink you dry. Every tiny reaction you give him—the gasp, the whimper, the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head—he catalogues it, stores it, uses it. He learns you like he learns constellations: reverent, obsessive, permanent.
Hours. He stays down there for hours.
Sometimes he pulls back just to watch his thumb work you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, lips shiny with you. “Look at you leaking for me already… such a messy girl.” Then he dives back in, lips sealing around your clit in a tight, perfect “O,” sucking soft and steady while two fingers slide in to stroke that spot that makes your back arch clean off the bed.
You’re close—so close—when he suddenly changes.
It’s like a switch flips.
The lazy worship turns feral in a heartbeat. Tongue flicking fast and hard, thumb grinding rough circles, fingers curling and pumping with ruthless precision. The wet sounds are obscene—loud, sloppy, echoing in the quiet room. He growls against you, hips grinding into the mattress because he’s so hard it hurts, chasing his own edge just from the taste of you.
“Give it to me,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “Cum on my tongue—wanna feel you fall apart, baby, please—”
You shatter—sobbing his name, thighs clamping around his head, whole body shaking as he drinks down every pulse, every gush, licking you through it like he’ll die if he misses a single drop.
When the aftershocks fade, he doesn’t stop. Just slows again, gentle now, soothing, pressing sleepy kisses to your swollen folds, your inner thighs, the soft crease where leg meets hip. His lower face is drenched—chin, lips, even his nose glistening—and he doesn’t care. Wipes it off on your thigh and smiles, drowsy and satisfied.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.
He gathers you close, pulling you into his chest, your back to his front, legs tangled. His cock is still hard against your ass, but he ignores it, nuzzling into your hair.
“Love you,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Love how you taste… love how you sound you make when you come for me… love you in my sweater, in my bed…”
You feel him smile against your neck, hear the soft, contented hum as he finally lets sleep take him.
“Just needed my dessert,” he mumbles, already half-gone. “Best part of the whole damn day.”
And with your taste still on his tongue and your body limp in his arms, Xavier drifts off—happy, full, and utterly yours.
祁煜 ⛦ RAFAYEL !
Rafayel comes to you pouting.
You hear it before you see him— the dramatic sigh, the keys tossed onto the counter with theatrical flair, the soft thud of his shoes kicked off one by one.
“Cutie ignored me all day,” he announces to the empty living room, voice lilting like he’s wounded. “Left me to rot in that boring studio while you were out doing… whatever mysterious human things you do.”
You’re on the couch in nothing but his silk button-up—three buttons done, the rest hanging open) and a pair of lace panties he bought you “as a joke.” The joke’s on him; they’re already ruined.
He stops in the doorway, eyes narrowing, lips curling into that dangerous little smirk.
“Oh. Look who decided to dress up like a present.”
You don’t even get to answer before he’s on you, knees hitting the rug, hands sliding up your thighs and spreading them wide like he’s unveiling a masterpiece.
“Missed this pretty cunt,” he murmurs, voice velvet and venom. “Bet it missed me too, hm?”
He starts slow, cruelly slow. Kisses everywhere except where you need him: soft presses along the crease of your thigh, the delicate skin just above your clit, the lace edge of your panties. Every time you twitch toward his mouth he pulls back, laughing under his breath.
“Rafayel—”
“Shh. Good art takes time, baby.”
He drags the flat of his tongue over the soaked fabric once, just once, then blows a cool stream of air right through it. Your hips jerk; he pins them down with one hand like it’s nothing.
“Sensitive tonight? Cute.”
Finally, finally, he tugs the lace aside with his teeth. The first real touch is just his lips: plush, warm, closing over your folds in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. He makes out with your pussy the way he kisses you when he’s trying to ruin your lipstick: deep, lazy, filthy, lips sliding and catching and sucking like he’s trying to drink you through them. A soft, wet sound every time he pulls away and dives back in.
You feel it in your spine.
He hums some annoying pop song that’s been stuck in his head for three days, the vibration rolling straight into your clit. Your hand flies to his hair on instinct.
“Yes—fuck—pull it,” he breathes against you, tongue flicking out to trace your entrance. “Use me, cutie, c’mon.”
You do. You fist those soft violet strands and shove his face exactly where you want it. He moans like you just gave him a gift, nose bumping your clit, rubbing it in messy circles until it’s shiny with you. Then he pulls back just far enough to spit, once, twice, watching it drip down your folds with half-lidded eyes.
“Pretty,” he whispers, and seals his mouth over you again.
He edges you twice. Brings you right to the cliff with that wicked mouth and those long artist’s fingers curling inside you, then stops, blowing cool air over your throbbing clit until you’re shaking and cursing his name. The third time you sob, actually sob, he laughs softly and gives in.
“Alright, alright. Greedy baby.”
And then he doesn’t stop.
He sucks your clit between those sinful lips and flutters his tongue so fast your vision whites out. Fingers scissoring, stroking, spitting again just to hear the wet sound when he pumps them back in. You come with his name cracked in half on your tongue, thighs clamping around his ears, and he just groans like he’s the one unraveling, drinking every pulse like it’s paint and he’s starving.
You’re still trembling through the aftershocks when he starts again.
Second orgasm. Third. Fourth. By the fifth you’re crying, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his forehead while he licks you open like he’ll never get enough.
“R-Raf—please—too much—”
He pulls off just long enough to flash you a lazy, smug grin, lips swollen pink, chin dripping, eyes glassy with lust.
“One more,” he coos, voice hoarse. “You can give me one more, can’t you? For your poor neglected boyfriend who missed you all day?”
He waits until your hand falls limp against the cushion, until your body going soft and trusting again.
Then he dives back in.
By the time he finally lets you breathe, you’re boneless, tears drying on your cheeks, his silk shirt twisted around your waist. He crawls up your body, kisses you slow and deep so you taste yourself all over his tongue, and smiles against your lips.
“Best welcome-home ever,” he whispers, nipping your bottom lip. “Next time leave the panties off. Save me thirty whole seconds.”
You’re too wrecked to even roll your eyes.
He just laughs, tucks you into his chest, and hums that stupid song again, content, smug, and absolutely drenched in you.
黎深 ⛦ ZAYNE !
You come home dragging your feet, shoulders knotted, temples throbbing from twelve straight hours of deadlines and idiots. Zayne is already there—white coat traded for a charcoal sweater, sleeves pushed to the elbows, glasses low on his nose while he reviews charts on the couch. He glances up once and immediately closes the tablet.
“Bed. Now,” he says, voice calm, clinical, final. “You’re presenting with acute sympathetic overdrive. Heart rate elevated, trapezius spasming, cortisol through the roof.”
You groan. “I’m fine—”
“You’re not.” He stands, towering, gentle but immovable. “Doctor’s orders: you need to relieve yourself properly. Thoroughly.”
You flop face-first onto the mattress still in your work clothes. He follows, fingers already working the buttons of your blouse with surgical precision.
“And you?” you mumble into the pillow. “You pulled a double shift yesterday. You must be just as tense.”
A low hum behind you. “I am. Which is why we’re going to treat both of us at once. Efficiency, darling.”
Before you can ask what that means, he’s sliding your skirt and panties off in one smooth motion, lifting you like you weigh nothing, settling on his back in the center of the bed. His cock is already hard against his slacks—thick, flushed, curving slightly toward his stomach when he frees it. He pats his chest.
“Straddle me. Face down.”
You know the position. You love the position—sixty-nine. Still, your thighs shake as you climb over him, knees bracketing his ribs, hands bracing on either side of his hips. He guides you back until your soaked cunt hovers an inch above his mouth.
“Good girl. Now lower yourself. Let me take care of you.”
The first touch of his tongue is precise—one long, deliberate lick from entrance to clit that makes your arms buckle. He groans, deep and satisfied, hands clamping on your hips to pull you flush against his face.
“Labia minora engorged,” he murmurs, voice muffled, vibrating straight into your clit. “Clitoral hood retracted. Perfect autonomic response.”
You whimper around the head of his cock as you sink down, lips stretching wide. He’s thick, hot, pulsing against your tongue, and the taste of him—clean skin, faint salt, pure Zayne—makes you dizzy.
He starts slow, academic, like he’s mapping you. Tongue tracing every fold, cataloguing every twitch.
“The levator ani is fluttering beautifully,” he says, breath ghosting over your clit. “Pelvic floor tension releasing already. Excellent.”
Then his fingers slide in—two at once, no resistance because you’re dripping for him—and crook upward in that cruel, perfect angle that hits your front wall dead-on. His mouth seals over your clit, sucking in steady pulses while his fingers pump slow, deep, relentless.
You choke on his cock, eyes watering, throat working to take him deeper. He rewards you with a throaty moan that you feel in your spine.
“Sexual release triggers oxytocin and prolactin cascade,” he lectures between licks, voice wrecked now. “Reduces serum cortisol by up to thirty percent. You’re going to come for me at least three times. Minimum therapeutic dose.”
You try to pull off to breathe and he growls, hips flexing up, fucking shallowly into your mouth.
“No. Stay. Breathe through your nose. Relax your soft palate—yes—like that.”
His fingers speed up, scissoring, curling, while his tongue flicks your clit in tight, merciless circles. You come the first time with a muffled scream around his cock, thighs clamping on his head, entire body seizing. He doesn’t stop —just switches to soft, soothing licks while you ride it out, murmuring praise against your folds.
“First orgasm achieved. Heart rate one-thirty and climbing. Preparing second.”
The second hits harder, faster, because he adds a third finger and sucks your clit like he’s trying to leave a bruise. You sob around him, tears streaking into his trimmed hair, hips grinding helplessly.
He’s leaking steadily now, precome painting your tongue, cock jerking every time you swallow around him. You can feel him getting close—his thighs tensing under your hands, breath ragged against your cunt.
“Cum with me,” he orders, voice cracking for the first time. “Third one. Now.”
He curls his fingers hard, tongue lashing your clit without mercy, and you shatter again—vision whiting out, whole body locking up. The clench of your throat around his cock drags him over with you; he spills hot and thick down your throat with a broken groan, hips stuttering, fingers buried to the knuckle inside you while he licks you through both climaxes like he’ll never get enough.
When it’s over you collapse forward, cheek against his thigh, panting. He gently maneuvers you off him, turns you around, gathers you close. His face is flushed, lips swollen and shining with you, glasses fogged and crooked. He kisses your temple, voice soft again.
“Cortisol levels should be negligible now,” he whispers. “Sleep. I’ll run a warm bath in twenty minutes. Hydration and electrolytes next.”
You laugh, hoarse and wrecked. “You’re such a nerd.”
He hums, already half-asleep, arms locked around you like steel bands.
“And you’re cured,” he murmurs against your hair. “For tonight, at least.”
秦彻 ⛦ SYLUS !
Sylus is sprawled on the couch in nothing but low-slung grey sweatpants and that infuriating little smirk, scarlet eyes flicking across the tablet in his hand like the numbers on the screen are more interesting than you.
You’re curled against his side, wearing his black dress shirt and literally nothing else, pretending to scroll on your phone. Except you’re not pretending very well. Your gaze keeps sliding to the sharp, arrogant line of his nose, the way it cuts through the dim light like it was sculpted for sin.
The words slip out before you can stop them.
“Your nose looks so rideable.”
Silence.
Then the tablet lowers, slow and deliberate. Those crimson eyes lock onto you, amusement and pure danger swirling together.
“Come again, sweetie?”
Heat floods your face. You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified, but it’s too late. The smirk spreads, wicked and slow.
“Didn’t know my kitten was so obsessed with my nose,” he drawls, voice velvet and smoke. “How long have you been thinking about grinding that pretty little cunt all over it, hm?”
You squeak. Actually squeak.
He tosses the tablet aside, stands in one fluid motion, and scoops you up like you weigh nothing. Two strides and you’re in his bedroom, the city glittering through floor-to-ceiling windows behind the massive bed.
Sylus drops onto his back, arms folded behind his head, looking like a king waiting for tribute.
“Well?” He arches one brow. “Ride it, then. Ride until you’re satisfied, kitten. I’ve got all night.”
Your thighs are trembling before you even straddle his chest. He watches, hungry, as you crawl forward, knees settling on either side of his head. The moment your slick folds brush the bridge of his nose he inhales, deep and filthy, eyes fluttering half-shut.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re already dripping for me. Greedy girl.”
You sink down slowly, gasping at the first contact (his nose is perfect, straight and firm, slotting right between your lips, the tip nudging your clit). The groan he lets out vibrates through your entire body.
“Move,” he orders, voice rough. “Use me.”
You do.
It starts tentative—little rolls of your hips, testing, savoring, but his big hands slide up to grip your ass, spreading you wider, guiding you harder, faster. Every forward drag smears your wetness along the sharp ridge of his nose; every backward glide has the tip bumping your clit so perfectly your vision sparks.
“That’s it,” he growls against you, tongue flicking out to lap at your entrance between breaths. “Fuck my face exactly how you want. Make a mess.”
You lose it.
Hands flying to the headboard, you start riding him in earnest—hips snapping, thighs burning, tits bouncing under the open shirt. His tongue spears inside you every time you glide back, nose grinding your clit mercilessly when you rock forward. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds and your broken moans echoing moans of his name.
“Sylus—oh god—right there—”
He laughs, dark and filthy, the sound muffled against your cunt. “Not God, sweetie. Just your very devoted boyfriend letting you ruin his face.”
You’re dripping everywhere—down his nose, his cheeks, his chin, pooling in the hollow of his throat. He drinks it like wine, tongue thrusting deep, nose rubbing hard circles until your legs start shaking uncontrollably.
“Close,” you sob, nails scraping the headboard. “Sylus, I’m—”
“Do it,” he snarls, fingers digging bruises into your ass, forcing you to ride faster. “Come all over my fucking face. Mark me up, kitten. Want to smell you for days.”
The orgasm slams into you so hard you nearly collapse. Your whole body locks, a silent scream tearing from your throat as you gush against his mouth, hips jerking helplessly while he keeps licking, keeps rubbing keeps you riding the peak until you’re crying from overstimulation.
When the tremors finally fade, you try to lift off, legs jelly. His arms lock around your thighs like steel.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he rasps, voice hoarse, face absolutely drenched and gleaming. “I said until you’re satisfied. We’re nowhere near done.”
You whimper, because you’re still pulsing, still empty and aching in the best way.
He grins up at you, wicked and adoring, nose shiny with you, lips swollen and red.
“Round two, sweetie. And this time I’m setting the pace.”
He flips you effortlessly, pinning your thighs open with his broad shoulders, and dives back in like a man possessed.
You’re not leaving that bed until the sun comes up—and neither is the smug, perfect, rideable nose that started it all.
夏以昼 ⛦ CALEB !
You can’t even remember how you got here.
One minute you were storming into Caleb’s room, cheeks burning with second-hand shame embarassment—finding your favorite pair of panties balled up under his pillow like some dirty little secret. The next, he was on his knees in front of you, sunshine smile gone, pupils blown wide, begging in that cracked, desperate voice you’d never heard from him before.
“I’m sorry, pipsqueak—fuck, I’m so sorry, I just—your smell—”
And now it’s been hours.
Hours of him on his knees between your spread thighs, face shoved into the soaked cotton of the panties you didn’t even bother taking off. Hours of his tongue dragging slow, worshipful stripes over the fabric, nose buried so deep he’s practically suffocating himself in you. Hours of him whining like a kicked puppy every time you let him up for air.
You’ve got one leg hooked over his shoulder, knee locked around the back of his neck, heel digging into his spine to keep him exactly where you want him. His hands are fisted in the sheets because you threatened to stop everything if he touched himself.
“Please,” he mumbles again, voice muffled and wet against your crotch. “Please, I’m sorry—”
“Please what, huh?” You tug his hair hard enough to make him gasp, forcing his red-rimmed eyes up to yours. “You thought you’d just get away with stealing my panties like some gross little pervert? Look at you now.”
A broken whimper spills out of him. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, grinding against nothing, and you feel the wet spot on his sweatpants brush your ankle.
You laugh, mean and sweet. “Licking my cunt through my own panties like a dog. Pathetic.”
He sobs—actually sobs, hot breath fanning over the soaked fabric. His cock is outlined obscenely in his pants, flushed angry red at the tip, a steady drip of precome darkening the grey cotton. When his hand twitches toward it you kick it away with your free foot.
“Oh no no no. This is a punishment, remember? You don’t get to touch that filthy cock of your’s.”
Caleb’s whole body shakes. He leans forward again without being told, tongue flattening against the gusset, licking broad, desperate stripes like he’s trying to drink you through the barrier. You reward him with a slow roll of your hips, grinding your clit against the bridge of his nose, and he moans like he’s the one coming undone.
“You humiliated me, Caleb,” you sigh, threading fingers through his hair just to yank harder. “Ruined everything we had. Our friendship, everything. Least you can do is feel a fraction of it.”
You glance down and, oh. There’s a fresh, darker patch spreading at the front of his sweats. He came just from this. Just from tasting you through cotton and being called a pervert.
You laugh again, delighted and cruel. “Aww, did you just come in your pants? Already?”
He whimpers, nodding frantically, hips still twitching through the aftershocks.
“Poor baby,” you coo, and finally, finally hook your thumbs into the waistband of your ruined panties. “Guess I’ll be nice—ah!—wait, wait—ahhh, fuck!”
The second the fabric is pushed aside Caleb snaps.
Hands shoot up to grip your thighs hard enough to bruise, spreading you open like he’s starving. There’s a sharp rip as he tears the panties clean in half, and then his mouth is on you, no hesitation, no teasing, just pure, sloppy desperation.
He buries his face so deep his nose is flush against your clit, shaking his head side to side to coat himself in you. Tongue plunging inside, curling, licking up every drop like it’s the first time he’s ever tasted anything good in his life. The noises are obscene, wet, animal, his moans vibrating straight into your core.
You cry out, back arching, fingers tightening in his hair until he whines. He doesn’t care. He’s humping your leg now, cock still hard and leaking through his soaked sweats, dragging himself against your leg like he can’t help it. You twitch at the sheer size of it, the feeling of it dragging against your skin through his pants.
“F-fuck—Caleb—”
He pulls back just long enough to gasp, “Taste so fucking good, pipsqueak, please don’t stop, please—”
Then he’s back, sucking your clit between his lips, tongue flicking fast and messy while his hips rut helplessly against your calf. You can feel how big he is even through the fabric, thick and ridiculous, and the thought alone makes you clench around nothing.
Your thighs start shaking. You’re close, so close, and he can tell because he doubles down, licking into you like he’s trying to crawl inside and never leave.
When you come it’s sudden and brutal, a full-body spasm that has you yanking his hair hard enough to hurt. He moans like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, drinking you down in greedy gulps, hips stuttering as he spills again in his pants just from the taste of you cuming on his tongue.
When the haze clears you’re both panting. He’s still on his knees, face shiny and wrecked, eyes glassy with devotion and shame.
You loosen your grip in his hair, petting gently now.
“Friendship’s not the only thing ruined,” you whisper, breathless.
Caleb just smiles, small and sheepish and utterly fucked-out. “Good,” he rasps, voice raw. “Was getting tired of pretending anyway.”
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꒰ summary ꒱; kaiser begs you to not use a condom today, and despite it being risky, how can you refuse his pleas?
꒰ content/warnings ꒱; 18+, afab reader, coercion, dubcon, kaiser's kinda toxic, breeding (can u tell i like breeding)
requested from this ask!
"c'mon baby," he pleaded, rubbing gentle circles on the plush skin of your inner thighs, the same ones he'd pried open just moments prior, eyes full of lust.
he was attempting to get your permission for him to fuck you raw.
but obviously, you weren't very keen on taking up the offer.
as good as it'd feel, so many risks presented themselves when not using protection.
"just this once? make me happy, pleasee?" he coaxed, batting his lashes.
"i'll pull out immediately, seriously," he added, desperation festering in his tone.
"mihya, i-it's risky," you murmur, struggling with the task of denying him.
despite the obvious fear in your expression regarding the topic, he still pushed, huffing when you'd refused again.
he wasn't exactly looking for no as an answer.
"fine then. we don't have to do anything at all," he grumbled, strategically pulling away from you.
after trying (and failing) to accept the absence of his tantalizing touch, you'd gone back on every reason you'd recited in your head on why you couldn't agree.
"w-wait," you call out, unable to take the loss of his warmth.
"yeah?" he turns around the moment you utter a word, unable to hide the shit-eating grin plastered on his face even if he tried.
"j-just this once," you say begrudgingly, concern still apparent in your furrowed brows, unsure if allowing it was the right decision.
he'd known you'd fall for his coercion, you always did without fail.
no matter how many times you'd try to be strict and say no, you'd always fold less than 5 seconds after.
"that's my girl." he grins, running his tattoeed hand through his messy locks, making his way back over to you.
・・・・・
not too long after, he was in you balls deep, your leg slung over his shoulder.
no condom on, this time.
"f-feels so good in you raw, liebling."
"look at how she's clamping around me, she thinks so too, hm?" he drawls, cold fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit.
you'd shuddered at the feeling, lips parted, gasping at the overload of sensations.
"h-hnghh, d-does feel– good.." you whine out, still reluctant to admit the change was significantly better, worried it'd become a regular occurrence
the only sounds audible were wet slaps of skin against skin, save for the high-pitched mewls you'd let out whenever he thrusted too deep.
"f-fuck, squeezing me so tight, it's like this pretty cunt wants me to cum inside, mein liebe." he groaned, captivated by the sight of how your weeping pussy seemed to suck him back in whenever he'd pull out to slam into you deeper.
you could only whimper beneath him, sharp nails digging into the supple flesh of his back, pleasure overriding any other feeling.
"h-haah, scheiße, y-you can't expect me to pull out," he purrs, pressing your knees up against your chest, forcing you in a mating press.
he knew your one and only rule was pulling out, but how could he?
how could he when you looked so drunk on his fat cock, moaning as he stretched you out deliciously.
"g'nna cum!" you gasp.
kaiser held your legs firm, not giving you a chance to squirm as he rammed into you deeper, relishing in the sound of your cries.
"yeah, cum f'me, schatzi." and you did, hard. you'd babbled incoherently as your nails dug deeper into his flesh, leaving red crescent marks in their wake.
"thaat's it, there you go," he spoke in a low, soothing hum, massaging gentle circles on your knee, a harsh contrast to how mean he was about to get.
"'m c-close too, hold on for me," he slurs, thrusts growing desperate.
you bit down on your lip, near strong enough to draw blood, the overstimulation from your previous orgasm leaving you a whiny mess.
kaiser doesn't respond, a cunning, lop-sided smirk curling his lips.
"m-mihya-"
he drew his pounds to a slow end, breath hitching as he felt his dick twitch in you, more than ready to go against every boundary you'd set
"jus'- stay still, m'kay?"
you wanted to refuse, to prevent him from stuffing you full, yet every word died in your throat, unable to deny the fact that you wanted it too.
he let out a guttural groan, throwing his head back as he felt you milk him dry.
"verdammt, schatz, y-you tell me you don't want it inside, yet you take it like this?" he mutters, pulling out, fingers making a mess of your now leaking hole.
"s-so pretty like this. see how good it feels?"
your chest heaves with every breath you take, unable to muster up the energy to respond.
he sighs, feeling a tad bit of remorse, thumb tracing your jaw, touch gentle. it was as if he was taunting you.
"i'll take care of you, get you pills n everything," he reassures, voice hushed, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
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