#creamy afternoon

[porcelain-seahorse]

★

[muu-kun]

none of yall thought to inform me if the newest sanrio characters coming out and how these three hold an uncanny resemblance to muu, neff of @cosmicdreamt, and Sully of @tximidity.

[the-pardon-my-french]

They said “When you don't have dessert, just think of the pavlova and you will be happy.” Yes. 

[konigsblog]

sundress season with könig ☀️

it shouldn't surprise anybody that könig is perverted with a libido through the roof and that the sight of you in your little sundress leaves his hard cock pulsating inside of the warmth and confines of his tight boxers, thinking about all the pornos he'd watched with women wearing sundresses, just like you.

könig believes fully you're taunting him with these skimpy dresses, walking around without a pair of panties beneath the flowy dress to cover you, leaving you vulnerable in the presence of horny könig. how can he keep his filthy hands to himself when you're teasing him like this? he'll blame his quick breathing, flushed cheeks, and the sweat running down his forehead on july's burning heat, the sunshine shining through the curtains on a sunday afternoon, the sun setting and fading to a deep, bold orange and red ombre.

you're irresistible, and könig's hungry for what you have to offer him. he can't just let you off scot-free when you're acting so naughty yet so innocent and oblivious all at once. he notices that grin curling the sides of your mouth, pretending not to have a clue why he's become so horny and depraved ever since you began wearing these short, revealing dresses that hug your breasts a little too well.

könig will lift your skirt after pleading with you frustratedly, his hot breath hitching in his throat at the sight of your bare rear and slicken, wet cunt. your thighs have your arousal smeared all across them from rubbing your thighs together at his reactions, soaked enough for könig to sink inside without any lube. he bends you over the kitchen counter and begins sliding his bulbous, hot cock into your drooling pussy, driving his sturdy, broad hips back and forth as he feels your walls clamp and clutch down around him. the tightness of your gummy walls leaves könig with his breathing heavy and restricted, his eyelids heavy with ecstasy and pleasure dripping from his wet, creamy tip.

fuck, his perverted mind wanders at the fantasy of impregnating you and getting your stomach all swollen with his offspring, so that it's obvious and noticeable that you belong to him. each thrust leaves him thrilled, unable to control the way his dick pulses and throbs inside the tightness of your wet heat, his hands pulling your skimpy sundress up as he rocks into your tight hole.

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAKE HER REGRET IT

A/N: i was really in the mood for some smut and the neighbors trope popped into my head, so here we are!

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your freshly divorced, insanely hot neighbor needs your help: you have to pretend to be his new girlfriend when his ex-wife comes over, however your little stunt outdoes your expectations in a lot of ways.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It's a basic instinct for you at this point to look up at the balcony whenever you’re approaching your apartment building. However you’re not looking at yours, but the one next to yours that belongs to one hot, freshly divorced guy who moved in next door about two months ago. 

You remember the morning the moving truck appeared and you knew someone was taking the vacant apartment beside yours. You just arrived back from your morning run and you jumped right into guesses about who it will be. Maybe someone your age? A girl you can go to yoga with? Or a sweet old lady you can have tea with on warm afternoons? Hopefully not a noisy family, because the walls are way too thin to endure the screaming of a child. 

Then you saw him. Carrying a heavy looking box up the stairs, a simple white shirt stretching on his torso, tattooed arms flexing under the weight of the box, you knew you were fucked the first time you saw Harry Styles. 

It took you no time to lurk over the next day and introduce yourself as his neighbor. 

“If you need suggestions for coffee spots around the neighborhood, I’m your person,” you smiled at him charmingly as he stood in his doorway in gray sweats and a black t-shirt, hair messy but so delicious, it was screaming for your fingers to run through his locks. 

“I will definitely keep that in mind. I can offer to fix anything around your apartment, I’m kind of a handyman,” he chuckled and your knees almost buckled hearing his creamy british accent. 

Fate played on your hand, because you kept running into each other so it didn’t take long for you to go out for a coffee run together and it was smooth sailing from then. You learned about how he just got divorced, his wife cheated on him and he found out on their second anniversary, tragic story and you still can’t quite understand how any woman could cheat on a man like him. You practically drool every time you catch a glimpse of him arriving back from a run in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tanned skin glistening from sweat. You definitely love to move out to the balcony around the time he can be expected to appear in the late afternoon, you watch him stretch and breathe heavily and the sight alone makes you break a sweat as well, but for a whole different reason. 

You’ve been trying to flirt with him every possible occasion, but you also make sure you don’t come off too pushy. After all he just got out of a marriage, it must be hard on him to recover from being cheated on. There’s also a slight age difference between the two of you, not that dramatic, but that eight years could easily be a deal breaker for him, so you’ve been playing it safe. 

When you’re lying in bed late at night and sleep is not coming to you, you can’t help but think of how he is on the other side of the wall, you imagine him sleeping without a shirt, maybe thinking about you the way you like to think of him… But it’s all just a fantasy, one you fancy very much. 

The door to his balcony is open so you know he is home, but he is not out. You take your time walking up the stairs, your legs are definitely tired from the run you just had and just when you reach your floor Harry’s front door swings open and you stop, watching him walk over to your door. He didn’t notice you, so you stay still and watch him take a deep breath as he lifts his fist up to knock, but then it falls back to his side and he shakes his head, stepping backwards before returning to his spot on your doormat and that’s when you decide to put him out of his misery. 

“Are you out of sugar, neighbor?” you ask, slowly walking towards him. Harry spins around with a stunned expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t–I didn’t see you.” You catch his gaze running down your body and legs and you’re thankful you decided to wear your shortest shorts. 

Playing with your keys in your hands, you finally reach him. 

“What’s up?”

“Um… I have a bit of a situation on my hands and you might be able to help me.”

Unlocking the door you push it in and gesture for him to follow you inside. 

“Do tell me.”

Rounding your way into the kitchen you step to the fridge to grab some water. Harry hesitantly follows you and stops by the kitchen counter. 

“So, I talked to Rory this morning,” he starts. You’ve heard enough about Rory, his ex wife to know that if she’s involved, it’s for sure something messy. “You know that painting in my living room?” You nod. “Well, she insists it’s hers, because a friend of hers painted it, but I was the one who paid for it. Whatever. She’s been trying to get me to give it to her and honestly I’m over it so I gave in. She is picking it up today.”

“When will the part where I can help come?”

“Right here,” he chuckles nervously. “We got into a fight, no surprise. She screamed at me over the phone and told me I’ll die alone because no one can put up with my shit.”

You need to force yourself to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. That woman sounds very much like the spawn of the devil, because who would say that to anyone? Especially to Harry? Aside from being insanely hot you’ve also learned just how kind, passionate and funny he is, basically the whole deal. Rory is the biggest loser in history for letting go of a man like him. 

“One thing followed the other and I just… Um, I told her that I have someone.”

The light bulb switches on in your mind, because you already know where this is heading. And you like it, very much. 

“I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she can meet my alleged girlfriend when she picks up the painting so she can see herself that I’m not the loser she thinks I am. And… as you might now, I do not have anyone…”

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend,” you finish for him, saving him from having to say it out loud. You can see just how awkward he is, having to ask you for such a thing. 

“Basically, yeah. Only if you don’t mind being part of this shitshow. I understand if you find it weird and I don’t expect you to–”

“When should I be over at yours?” you simply ask and watch his eyes go wide. 

“Y-You will do it?”

“Sure, sounds fun. Besides, I’m curious to see the stupidest woman on earth,” you add smirking and he finally lets out a relieved laugh as well. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Really, I owe you big time. She’ll be here in about two hours.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

For the next two hours, you do everything you can to bring out the hottest version of yourself. Hair, makeup, dress, everything is on spot when you step out of your apartment and walk over to Harry’s door, ringing the bell. 

When the door swings open and Harry sees you his mouth hangs open, giving you that one last ego boost you need to be the best possible fake girlfriend ever. 

“Satisfied with your girlfriend?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“I-I uh–Yeah! I’m… yes.”

“Can I go inside then?” you ask with a chuckle and he steps aside in a hurry.

“Sorry, yeah come inside.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask, walking into his living room and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Harry follows, but he takes the armchair across you and you can tell he is still struggling with not ogling you, especially your exposed legs and deep cleavage the dress teases him with. 

“I don’t… I have no idea, I have never done this before.”

“I have.”

“Really?”

“Just once, in college. One of my friends broke up with a girl who did not take it well and I was his fake girlfriend for a week to get her to stop harassing him. It worked.”

“Then… I trust you with anything.”

“What’s the goal?”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, as if he is embarrassed to say what’s on his mind. 

“Harry, say it. I’m happy to help with anything.”

“I want to make her regret it.”

“Regret what she said?”

“Regret everything,” he corrects and when he looks you in the eye a shiver runs down your spine from the determination that’s behind his green irises. 

“Consider it done,” you smile at him devilishly. 

At your suggestion you both take a shot to ease your nerves and make it easier to lie. It seems to loosen him just enough that he doesn’t look like he is about to attend an interrogation. 

And then the bell rings. 

“Show time,” you smile at him and as he walks over to the door you take your place on the couch again. 

You hear the door open and then a female voice mixes with Harry’s before the footsteps follow. Harry comes into view first, but then Rory steps out from behind him and you see the pure shock in her eyes when she finally spots you. 

“Oh, hi!” you smile at her almost disgustingly sweetly as you stand from the couch and walk closer. “You must be Rony. I’m Y/N.” You hold out a hand for her and watch as her mouth twitches when she hears you mess her name up. 

“Rory,” she sassily says and shakes your hand at last. “So you’re the… girlfriend.” The disgust in her tone is apparent, she is not even trying to hide it and it just makes it way more enjoyable. 

“Yes and you must be the cheating ex-wife.”

Harry coughs beside you, he was not expecting you to be this blunt, but the look on Rory’s face is priceless, because she can’t deny what she is. Moving closer to Harry you wrap an arm around his waist and though at first he freezes at your closeness, he is quick to recover and join in on the act, his arm finding your waist as well. 

“The painting is over there, just take it and let’s get over with it, alright?” Harry nods towards the painting he already took off the wall, now it’s leant against the console table that’s been underneath it. 

“You didn’t even wrap it?” she scoffs. How am I supposed to take it like this?”

“Rory, I’m not a fucking gallery. You wanted the painting, take it.”

“It’s gonna be ruined if I just put it into my car like this!” she argues. 

“That’s none of my business.”

“Harry, this is so not okay! I can’t–”

“Jesus, Rory fine! I think I have some bubble wrap,” he grunts, heading into his bedroom to find something to wrap the painting in, leaving the two of you alone.

Rory gives you another long, dirty look, as if you were the woman Harry cheated on her with when she is the culprit of this mess here. 

“So how long have you been together?” she then asks, pretending like she is just chit chatting, but you know she is eager to know everything about you.

“A little over a month now. You know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Harry is just the perfect guy and I couldn’t stay away from him.”

“Oh, he is not that perfect, little girl.”

It’s obvious she tried to derogate you by calling you a little girl, she must be around the age of Harry, not more than thirty-six for sure, but she can’t find anything to use against you other than the fact that you’re clearly in your twenties. How mature. 

“I know. But everything he can give me makes it worth it. And the sex, ah!”

She gives you a puzzled look. You knew this would stir her up, Harry mentioned how distant they grew in the last few months and sex wasn’t the same anymore. Looking at the timeline she must have started her affair around that time and Harry couldn’t perform the way he otherwise could because she wasn’t open to him anymore. It was a vicious cycle, but you also know Rory is the kind of woman who must have humiliated him because of that. Harry never said, but you just feel that she criticized his sexual performance when she left him even if it all happened because of her. 

And now hearing that he is giving his all to another woman is definitely something that can drive her nuts. 

“Oh please, he sucks in bed,” she scoffs.

“Not with the right partner. He is so good, I honestly don’t know how you could let go of him.”

“He couldn’t make me cum for months!”

“That’s unfortunate. I get an orgasm basically after every meal. He is so good at it, honestly, it’s like he just wants to please me every possible moment. I mean, I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake up with his head between my legs, he loves quickies, I have to sanitize the kitchen counter like twice a day.” You let out a chuckle and just watch as her face grows redder while staring at the kitchen counter, raging jealousy swirling in her mind for sure. It’s clearer than daylight that she didn’t cheat on him because he wasn’t manly enough, this woman is simply a stupid loser who couldn’t appreciate what she had, maybe panicked that she can’t mess around with others and then simply chose to ruin everything. 

You’re more than happy to remind her what she lost. 

“Alright, this is all I got,” Harry emerges from the bedroom with some bubble wrap he probably had left from moving, but when he sees you and Rory staring each other down, he stops. But before he could speak up, you decide to push that knife into Rory’s chest as your final move. 

Stepping over to Harry you push yourself up against him, he drops the bubble wrap and his hands grab you by the waist instantly, though you see confusion in his eyes before you take his face in your hands and pull him closer, lips pressing against his hungrily. 

It’s not a sweet, shy first kiss. This is the perfect show off, messy, passionate, full of tongue and eagerness as you practically devour each other. For a bit you forget about the show you’re putting up and it’s your real desire you’ve been fighting for weeks now. Every time you try to pull back Harry just keeps demanding more and you happily give him what he wants. He bites into your bottom lip when one of his hands moves down to your ass, giving it a not-at-all shy squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

It feels like it takes forever for you to stop, when you open your eyes you’re met with Harry’s hungry eyes, his lips are slightly swollen and shiny from your kisses. 

And then you remember you’re not alone. 

“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you both!” Rory pops the bubble around you and when you turn to look at her, she is already grabbing the painting, not even bothering to wrap it. 

“It was nice to meet you!” you call after her.

“Fuck you!” she repeats, marching towards the door and you’re just smirking like an idiot, pleased with yourself for pissing her off so badly. 

Harry follows her to shut the door behind her and you let yourself bathe in the sweet victory you just earned. 

“This went amazing, right? She was so mad, oh my God!” you laugh, but your smile quickly disappears when you realize the serious look on Harry’s face as he is walking back towards you. 

Shit, maybe the kiss was too much. He didn’t want it and now he is pissed at you.

“Are you mad about the kiss? I-I’m sorry if it was too–”

The words die down on your lips when they crash against his again, his hand cupping the back of your head while the other returns straight to your ass, groping you so hard your whole body smashes against his. 

Your mouth opens in surprise and it gives him the chance to push his tongue against yours, he is demanding, rough and so much more raw than what you imagined him to be like. 

“What did you tell her?” he asks against your mouth, moving you around until the small of your back hits the kitchen counter. “What did you tell her that made her so pissed?” he demands, his hand already eagerly moving underneath your dress. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“I said, ah–I said I wake up every day with… your head between my legs, and… Oh fuck!” You’re losing your ability to speak your thoughts as his fingers start circling, the fabric of your underwear is so drenched, if you could think straight you might be embarrassed just how aroused he made you so fast. 

“And?” he urges you to continue, but at the same time he pushes your underwear to the side and pushes two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp so loud that people on the street must have heard it through the open balcony door. 

“A-and that you fuck me on the… the kitchen counter all the time.”

He curls his fingers inside you as he keeps talking.

“Then that’s what I’ll do to you now. Are you okay with that?” he asks and you nod eagerly as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 

The next moment he pulls his hand back and you whine, feeling empty all of a sudden, but then he lifts you up and makes you sit on the counter, he lowers himself and places your legs over his shoulders with careful, but confident moves. You grab onto his hair as he pushes his head between your thighs and his mouth meets your clit. 

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you gasp out, tugging on his hair as he swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, his fingers teasing your hole again. Then they push into you and he sucks on your clit, making you see stars. 

You imagined him to be skilled, but whatever it is he is doing to you, it feels out of this world and now you know you weren’t wrong when you praised him that much to Rory before. 

You’re totally out of breath when he comes up, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, your hands impatiently tug on his shirt to get rid of it. Soon the fabric lands on the tiled floor and you map out every inch of his hard chest with your palm and while you keep kissing like there’s no tomorrow, you faintly hear the zipper of his pants come undone. 

You look him in the eyes when you reach down and take his hard length into your hands and you can’t hold back a gasp when you realize just how big he is. 

“I know you can take it, baby,” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth and you’re ready to take him right then and there, but he moves back, making you reach for him in panic. “Condom,” he says and you lean back onto your elbows with a sigh as you watch him disappear in his bedroom. You have just a few seconds you process that here you are, on top of Harry’s kitchen counter, with your dress bunched up around your waist, your drenched pussy on show, waiting to be fucked properly. You definitely did not expect this outcome when you woke up this morning, but you’re not complaining. 

Then Harry appears and he is walking over to you, completely naked, his dick in his hands as he rolls the condom on while moving and you bite into your bottom lip, hoping to remember this view until the end of time. 

When he reaches you again he simply curls his arms around your thighs and tugs on you so you get closer to the edge. His erection wedges between your wet folds and the tip pokes against your clit, making you clench around nothing. 

“I have to admit, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this counter since the day I moved in and saw you for the first time.”

“Just on the counter?” you ask teasingly. 

“Every surface of this fucking apartment,” he admits with no remorse.

“Make a list then and I’m more than happy to do them all. But let’s tick the counter off first.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He reaches down and circles his thumb against your clit a bit before grabbing his dick by the base and dragging it up and down your cunt a few times before pushing the head in first, letting you adjust to his thickness first. When you claw at his chest he takes it as a sign to go deeper and he keeps pushing until you take his whole length, feeling fuller than ever before. 

“I want to go hard,” he breathes out, staying still for now.

“Go hard then. I can take it,” you assure him, though you do have doubts feeling just how stretched out you are now. 

“Of course you can. You’re my good girl,” he praises you and before you could get a word out, he pulls back and slams into you hard. 

There are moments when you actually think you’re about to burst, Harry did not joke when he said he wants to go hard, his thrusts are fast and rough and he makes sure he buries his whole length into you every time he pushes into you. At one point he pulls your legs over his shoulders and it allows him to reach a point in you no one has before and it pushes you towards the edge rapidly. The counter is painfully hard underneath you, but you somehow forget about the pain and only focus on how hard Harry is railing into you. His stamina is incredible, your body already feels like goo and you’re not even doing the actual work. 

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan and his fingers dig deeper into your thighs at your words. 

“Come around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

You cry out his name again, a tear rolling down your cheek, because you’re so desperate to let go. Harry moves a hand to where you meet and his thumb returns to your clit and that’s what throws you over the edge. 

Your back arches and you squeeze around him uncontrollably, gasping for air as he ruthlessly keeps fucking into you. 

“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock.”

You can’t stop moaning as you ride out your orgasm. The last waves are washing over your body when his movements fall out of rhythm, he slams into you hard and he sucks on his breath before moaning out your name over and over again, pushing into you a few more times as he comes. He falls forward, his face burying into your heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath along with you. There’s a long minute of silent bliss, his cock is still inside you, his lips peppering soft kisses onto the skin that’s exposed on your chest while you’re mindlessly playing with his hair. 

When he straightens up he pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting you again. He carefully helps you off the counter, but keeps his arms around you, because when your feet hit the floor you wobble. 

Nuzzling your nose against his chest you take the cross pendant on his necklace between your teeth and pull back, looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t do that, or we’re moving to the next place on the list.”

Giggling you let go of it and push yourself up to steal a kiss. 

“Give me some time to recover, but I’m all in to check out another place.”

“Jesus, I knew you’d be the death of me the moment I saw you,” he breathes out, before his mouth claims yours hungrily. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: alastor being a bit egotistical

↳ song: si j'étais blanche—joséphine baker

↳ notes: got any ideas for stuff i should do next? reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It wasn’t your fault you’ve always had a messed up sleep schedule

• Even while living, nighttime had never been able to tame you. It was just your luck that the habit carried on into hell. Figures that the world wouldn’t give you a break even in death

• You weren’t exactly an insomniac, per se. It was quite the opposite in fact. Just a simple case of falling victim to spontaneous naps in the most random of places. Yet never at night

• Narcoleptic & nocturnal were the terms that your friends used to use for you. With grins, they’d compared you to an owl; always up at night wandering aimlessly. Sometimes for days on end you’d carry on doing this and that, only to curl into a ball the next day and remain that way

• The habit never was anything more than a nuisance until you’d started living at the hotel. The place was just so big, with so many places for you to lie down before the thought of your bedroom even crossed your mind

• Angel Dust was the first person to find you passed out. He had been strolling into the kitchen, looking for something to consume that wasn’t drugs for once, when he spied you hunched over the counter snoring softly

• In your hand was a wooden spoon covered in a creamy batter of some sort, a bowl beneath it with the same concoction. Almost as if you had been making something before passing out

• Briefly checking his phone, the spider confirmed that it was only two in the afternoon, and approached you with a sly smile

• You were promptly startled awake by a loud shout directly next to your ear

• “I’m sorry—“ Angel laughed wildly as you fumed, not sounding sorry at all. “—but you should have seen your face.” He clutched his stomach as he fell into another laughing fit

• “Hey! Watch it!”

• He ducked with a frown as you sent the spoon flying at his head, just barely missing the porn star’s styled hair

• Everyone quickly made their own discovery about your weird sleeping habits soon after. Each in their own embarrassing ways

• Vaggie witnessed you lying on the stairs looking positively drained one morning, and Charlie even found you face first on the bar counter while Husk wiped away at a cocktail glass

• “Too much to drink?” She asked the cat, lifting up one of your arms between her thumb and forefinger carefully, almost as if you’d wake if she pressed to hard

• Husk laughed to himself at the question, remembering how he had turned to make you a shot before coming back to the sight before him now

• “Not exactly.” He huffed

• Perhaps best example of just how bad your timing was came in the form of an impromptu staff meeting

• Alastor had called everyone— more like demanded them —into the main parlor for an announcement one day. A mere week after the kitchen incident with Angel, in fact

• With a flourish of shadowy magic and a twirl of his hands, the overlord presented some sort of home made commercial on the age old TV the place had, looking very amused with himself as he did so

• You tried to pay attention, you really did. But at one point the actors and stray blood splatters started to look like the back of your eyelids

• By the time it was over, Alastor was tapping his fingers along the top of the picture box rhythmically while everyone looked at him with awkward smiles

• But you? Well—

• “So!” Alastor cheered with a cheesy grin as he spun on his heel. The rest of the members in the room watched him awkwardly, not noticing that your head had hit the back of the couch at a rough angle. “What do you all thi— are they asleep.”

• Static bled into the demons voice at an alarming rate as you let out a half jolt at the shift in mood, falling off the couch with a yelp in your wake

• You took a moment to swipe at your face wildly before blanching at Alastor towering over you nervously

• “Uh, my bad?”

• Alastor’s smile strained itself so thin, you thought it would split his face in half

• “Glad to know I’m keeping you entertained.” He all but laughed happily. But the white knuckled grip on his microphone told you otherwise

• You recall Charlie telling you something about ignorance being one of Alastor’s least favorite things. Especially when it came to his little spectacles

• “Maybe we’ve had enough peer feedback for today—“ Vaggie cut in cautiously

• “I concur.” Came your quick agreement

• You made sure to avoid Alastor for a few days after that

[pseudowho]

18+, pwp, Authoritative!Higuruma

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Ever since he could remember, Hiromi needed to fiddle, with his hands or his mouth. Since taking up, and then quitting, an unsavoury smoking habit (the perfect solution for a man who liked something between his lips, and something to excuse himself from unwanted social gatherings for), he had, instead, a pile of chewed pens, and overclicked pens, and ties with frayed ends.

In the evenings, and the dark blanketing night, however, his fidget toy was you. The living room was dark, and warm, the dull orange glow of a vintage Edison bulb in the corner, the only illumination. With your back to Hiromi's chest, and your knees draped apart over his spidery legs, what he did to you beneath the blanket was a mystery to anyone but the two of you.

Hushed, heavy breaths, and weak little moans broke through the gloom. Any time you squirmed too much, Hiromi selfishly restrained you, trapping you back against him. One of your fingers was trapped within his mouth, being licked, licked, licked, by the hot flick of the tip of his tongue.

Hiromi watched the documentary intently, his face cast in stark shadow. His fingers moved constantly, his thumb and forefinger pinched softly around your clit, rolling and flicking over the little nub with gentle insistence. Pleasure pooled hot and deep between your legs, climbing up your thighs and belly. He barely seemed to hear your cries, simply resting his chin on your head, and yanking you back to him whenever you squirmed yourself out of his grip.

Hiromi had lost another case, that afternoon. One that wounded him, deeply. After arriving home with taut shoulders, and exhausted, angry eyes, you had had to rescue him from the shower, where clearly, he was trying to drown himself. He hadn't spoken a word to you. But, he had been intermittently clicking his fingers, rolling a stress ball in his hand...and you shivered, knowing where that stress would be directed.

"Does that feel good?" Hiromi whispered, deep voice husky against the side of your throat, his eyes still fixed on the television. His tone was lazy, emotionally blank after the extreme stress of the day. As if, somehow, your pleasure was secondary to his need to relax. It was so unlike him...except, for when the cracks appeared, and he became selfish, convicted, authoritative in a way that sent shivers down your spine. He never looked at you with such cold disregard, as he did when he was emotionally spent from fighting the unwinnable fight.

"...f-fuck...Hiro...need to cum, don-don't leave me like-like this, haaaaahhh...please..."

His response to your whimpers was visceral, though; his cock twitched, fat and thick in his pyjamas, against the small of your back. It annoyed him. He was too stressed to cum. His orgasm would be dry, and painful, and would force him to fuck you again, in a way he didn't have the energy to, just to rid himself of that creamy poison.

"Need something inside you too, I suppose." Hiromi mused, pissed off. "Shit...don't wanna move. Just need...need to relax." His other hand slid under your top, locating your hypersensitive nipple and rolling, flicking, twisting, just as he did to your poor, aching clit. You cried out, colours fizzing in your vision as your back arched, and Hiromi slammed you back against him with a grunt of irritation. He sighed, heavy and resigned. You were letting him use you. He supposed he ought to return the favour, and did so only begrudgingly.

"Get my cock out for me. There's a good girl." You felt Hiromi's breath hitch as your trembling little hand grabbed the silky length of him, his cock heavy, throbbing in your palm. Hiromi shifted you on his lap, your pussy slick and wet with arousal as Hiromi continued to overwork you. You saw stars to feel his cockhead nuzzle at your entrance. Hiromi still watched the television, his eyes dark and seething, so tired of catering to the needs of others.

"Get it in," Hiromi mumbled, his lips and tongue working at your earlobe, "and fuck yourself on me as much as you need to. I don't care. Just don't make me work, please."

You did as you were told, sliding yourself down onto Hiromi's cock, deliciously filled and stretched, belly deep. So close already with how he pinched around your clit, selfishly holding you down so his anxious fingers could continue working, just a few frantic bucks downwards had you reeling. You came with a guttural moan, twitching and convulsing around him, your pussy milking at him, hungry for his seed.

Hiromi felt a sharp, aggressive peak approach, and hissed, teeth gritted, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. "--shit-- SHIT-- too much, fuck-- not gonna-- gonna be no cum-- arghhh ffffuck--"

Hiromi's balls clenched tight, his cock leaping and bounding...but nothing came, just a dry orgasm with no milky spend and no release. Hiromi was blinded by dreadful pleasure, fucking upwards hard into you, desperately trying to make his balls release something, anything.

Riled now, with an overbearing need to cum, Hiromi threw his head back onto the sofa with a growl, while you panted, plugged and spent, impaled on his cock. Hiromi pulled out, turning you round to face him. His hand stroked his cock, lubricated by your juices, with slick little plap plap plaps. Still hyperstressed, needy and commanding, he tangled one strong, gentle hand in your hair. The fire in his eyes broached no argument.

"On your knees," Hiromi ordered, trying to masturbate himself to orgasm, but failing, "and let me fuck your mouth."

[hellokittyisangel]

Creamy Afternoon, were recently known as Fluffy Afternoon, the friend group consists of Marmalade (brown bow tie), Scone (blue bow tie) , Pistache (green hat) , Rosehip (pink bow tie) , Citron (yellow bow)

[porcelain-seahorse]

★

[moraxsthrone]

◊ title — scent (phase 2)

◊ pairing — zhongli/morax x f!reader

◊ wc — 3.3k

◊ notes — guys. the way it took so long to write this bc horny. sorry not sorry. hopefully you'll find that it was worth the wait. also, i lied. this will be a 4-part series (not a 3-parter) - the ideas are coming faster than i can get them out. how fitting that i finally finished this on mother's day - just a fortunate coincidence.

◊ be warned — nsfw. mdni. feral!zhongli/morax. heat/rut. dragon features/anatomy/instincts. oral/tongue fucking (f. rcv'ing). squirting. cum drinking. rough, animalistic sex. biting/marking. knotting. breeding. scent marking. light aftercare.

← phase 1 ◊ phase 3 (wip)

...end of phase 2 (48 hours before you ovulate)...

“hey babe!” you greet your husband cheerfully while closing the door with your foot. 

zhongli is sitting at the little breakfast nook that sits adjacent to your kitchen, reading a book and enjoying a cup of his favorite afternoon tea. he’s so engrossed in his novel that he doesn’t look up, just answers you with a low hum as you set the shopping bags down on the countertop. he’s mid-sip when you lean down and give him an innocent little peck on the cheek. his teacup is still pressed to his bottom lip when you twirl around and walk away from him to start putting groceries away. 

he’s still looking at the book that he holds in his ungloved hand, but is oblivious to the words in front of him. his gaze slowly lifts from the pages, looking over the top of the book to watch you move around the kitchen, putting the provisions in their respective places. you’re wearing those cute little shorts and he’s willing to bet mora that you’re not wearing anything underneath if the intensity of your scent is anything to go by. 

you bend over to place a couple of items in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator, unwittingly giving him a little peep show when the crease of your butt cheeks peek out from underneath those scandalous shorts. zhongli is looking closely, and sure enough, you’re not wearing any panties. what began as a small spark of heat at the base of his spine when you gave him that innocent kiss a minute ago has been ignited and is now a raging wildfire that is rapidly spreading to his loins. 

you’re fertile. he can smell it, and the delicious scent of your heat has triggered his rut. it’s not something he has any control over. similarly to how he’s clenching his jaw, he’s only partially cognizant of it. 

he just instinctively knows that you smell of unhad sex.

and he must have you. he must fill you with his musk and scent you. but before he does any of that, the ghost of your earthy scent is haunting the back of his tongue.

first, he must taste you.

you say something but it’s gibberish to him when all he can hear, see, smell, or taste is your heat. it must’ve started somewhere around mid-day. when he woke up next to you this morning, he could faintly smell you, which is typical. but now he is all but drowning in the rich, ripe scent of your pussy. and you aren’t even aroused yet.

but if zhongli has anything to do with it, that’s about to change.

deep down he knows that you need to be wet to receive his cock. more than that, though, he wants to smell your arousal. 

you’re still busying yourself with putting away groceries, humming the song that’s been stuck in your head all afternoon, having no idea that your husband’s dick is hard, his balls are aching, and he’s about .58 seconds away from bending you over the nearest surface. 

“what would you like for dinner tonight, li?” you ask, standing on your tippy toes to reach the top shelf in your pantry. but he’s too ensnared by your creamy thighs to have noticed; he couldn’t hear you over the blood pumping furiously through his veins. when you don’t get a reply, you turn around to look at him. “li?”

he blinks and clears his throat. “wh-what?”

you repeat the question, to which he stammers out a response while loosening his tie. “whatever you want is f- fine with me, dear.”

you close the pantry door and furrow your brow at him, noting his flushed complexion. he appeared to be perfectly fine a minute ago. “zhongli, are you feeling okay?” you fret, making your way over to him. at his age, he could be having a heart attack or something… “darling, you look feverish…are you coming down with something?” 

you bring your hand to his forehead. he’s burning up. you’re close to him again - too close - and you’re ripe for the picking. 

before he fully realizes what he’s doing, he quickly stands up, the legs of his chair skidding across the tiled floor. your eyes go wide when he grabs you by the waist and in one swift movement, your ass and thighs are unceremoniously dropped onto the surface of the small dining table in front of him. your mouth opens, but before you can say anything, it’s filled with the former archon’s tongue. 

his kiss is fierce, raw. animalistic even. there’s no romance behind it, only sheer need and passion. you feel like he’ll eat you alive…but he’s only just begun. as his hot muscle swirls around yours, he wedges himself between your legs, forcing them apart with his hips. his hands are everywhere - groping, pulling, pushing: your neck, your tits, your waist, your thighs. unable to get a word in edgewise, you whine into his mouth and he finally pulls away, mouth still open with a thread of saliva connecting your lips. 

“zh- hahh-” you whimper when you feel his teeth on your neck. 

he’s not biting you (yet). he’s merely keeping you where he wants you while he brands you with his mark. you wonder what’s gotten into him as his hand massages your naked thigh. he’s only like this when you-

oh.

has it been two weeks already? it seems like only yesterday that the two of you were talking about maybe starting a family.

a little mewl escapes your lips as the thought hazily occurs to you that you haven’t kept up with your cycle. but it’s okay…you haven’t had to because he has.

knowing your husband’s draconic rut has been triggered by your heat sends a pang of desire shooting to your core and you moan for him. his mating pheromones go undetected by your human sense of smell; however, the reptilian part of your brain is pinging like crazy, telling your body it’s time to breed. 

you’re frantically working to unbutton his shirt, your bare legs encircling his hips, but he pries them apart again with a low grunt. he hooks his hands behind your knees, making you yelp when you’re jerked forward, his forgotten teacup rattling against its saucer when your back hits the table. he’s looking down at you, lips parted, eyes glowing, dark scales appearing briefly above his open collar before diminishing again - evidence that as feral as he seems right now, he’s still able to hold himself back…for now.

zhongli never breaks eye contact with you when he curls his brilliantly glowing fingers into the waistband of your shorts, his rich amber eyes boring into your very soul as his chest rises and falls. he yanks on the cloth barrier so hard you hear the stitching surrender to his power as your ass is forced upwards off the wooden surface. 

the scent of your pussy is filling every one of his senses…it’s almost all he can even feel. he’s dying to taste you. needs to taste you as though your slick is holy water and he is a sinner. inside his tented pants, zhongli’s cock is glowing, leaking, throbbing. there’s a dark spot forming on the cloth as proof. he needs to shove his readied cock inside you like the desert needs rain, but first he’s dying to drink you. your scent is so palpable he can taste you on the back of his tongue and it’s driving him insane.

beads of sweat are collecting at his hairline as he picks up where you left off with unbuttoning his shirt. but he quickly loses patience and tears it away from his shoulders with a clipped growl, a couple of buttons flying off and landing gods know where in the process. he’s shirtless now, his beautiful arms glowing and carbon black scales emerging on the tops of his shoulders. 

he pushes your thighs back towards your chest and lowers his face to your cunt. he just hovers there for a moment and breathes you in, his eyes rolling back in his head as they flutter closed. the distinct scent of your arousal combined with your readiness to breed sends a new rush of blood to his cock and it jumps in his pants. 

“zhongli…please…” you keen for him, and he drops to his knees to worship at your altar. 

normally, he’d take his time with you - ghost his lips along your inner thighs, kiss around your labia, tease you just a little. but he doesn’t have the patience for that right now. 

he descends on your cunt, his open, watering mouth latching onto your aching clit, his long tongue circling it for a moment before he plunges it inside you. 

gods, your flavor. 

he tongue fucks you, filling you with a long, deep moan because you taste so fucking good to him. your hands fly to his earth-colored hair - something to ground you while he devours you. you can feel the hitch of his hot breath on your labia, not knowing that the golden tip of his cock is glowing and rubbing deliciously against the rough material of his trousers as he rocks his pelvis into nothing. pulling his tongue out, he licks a long, wide stripe up to your clit again. 

you hear your name in his deep, even voice and open your eyes. “look at me when i’m eating your cunt,” he commands, and you comply. far be it from you to go against your husband’s - your god’s - wishes.

zhongli’s diamond-shaped pupils have been replaced by serpentine slits that hold your gaze while he sucks your soul from your hard bud, growling and tugging at it with the suction of his lips as his hips jerk, rubbing the moist head of his cock against the front seam of his slacks. 

“hhhh~ li…fuck, feels so good baby, yes…” you praise him, but he already knows how good he’s making you feel. your husband mastered your body long ago. he knows your tells, the meaning behind every little sound you make. he can anticipate the way your body will move before he even touches you. but more than that, he can smell your growing lust. 

he hums in appreciation and gives your clit several hard flicks with his flexed tongue, making you whine before thrusting his long, wet muscle into your pussy again. you buck your hips against his face, but his strong hands are spread over the backs of your thighs, holding them back. he curls his tongue inside you, pulling it along your walls, lapping at your juices. 

you lightly pinch your nipples, rolling them between your fingers and pulling on them gently as zhongli returns his attention to your throbbing clit. he flicks it then flattens his tongue and drags it up and down, back and forth, the texture of his tastebuds rough against your tight little bundle of nerves. at the same time, you feel two of his fingers press against your hole. 

“ohh- oh fuck, li!” you whine for him as he slips them inside, working them knuckle-deep in search of the spot that he knows so, so well. he finds it quickly with great ease, and begins massaging it with his fingertips while his lips and tongue work your clit over. 

his hair is a mess in your hands; you’re a mess on your dining table. you can feel the cocktail of your need and your husband’s spit trickle down to your ass crack, knowing you’re about to make a mess in his mouth. but that’s exactly what he wants. he doubles down and starts tugging on your g-spot, moaning when he feels you tightening around his fingers. 

zhongli knows you’re close, so close. 

he continues to hump the air reflexively, sucking your clit harder, pulling it deeper between his wet lips as though he’s trying to swallow you whole. 

“haahhh!” you gasp. “fuck, baby!” you fist his dark brown locks between your fingers. “zhongli…ohgodyou’regonnamakemecum!” 

he releases your clit with a wet pop and you feel your abused little pearl being flicked furiously back and forth over the tip of his sinfully skilled tongue. your head rolls back on the table, briefly glimpsing your kitchen behind you before you squeeze your eyes closed. 

your pelvis is rocking helplessly against your husband’s soaked face but his lips are latched securely around your clit when your cum squirts inside his waiting mouth. his brow knits and he groans against you as he swallows again and again, drinking you down to the last drop. it makes him impossibly harder and his aching testicles are heavy, full of his sperm that he needs to release inside you.

with his craving for your juices temporarily sated, the raging need in zhongli's loins is now fueling his prime directive: 

breed. 

he stands and lifts you up, bringing you to your feet before spinning you around and pushing your chest down onto the table. you whimper, pussy clenching at zhongli's show of physical power. your pebbled nipples rake across the surface below when he ruts his hips against your butt, and you can finally appreciate just how hard he is. he could’ve taken you on your back, but he’s primally driven and compelled beyond reason to mount you from behind. 

zhongli the funeral consultant now more closely resembles morax the god of old. he’s even starting to show signs of his dragon form and operating purely on instinct at this point. your scent has become more complex, nuanced - the way you smell when you’re approaching fertility combined with your arousal, and now the mixture of his saliva and your cum…

there’s only one scent missing.

from behind you comes the tinkling of his belt buckle and the sound of his zipper. zhongli pushes his pants down just far enough to free his cock and testicles before he’s bending over you. you know his fangs have emerged when you feel them drag lightly across the back of your neck. his breath is hot and his cock is so hard, bouncing eagerly against your wet folds, drooling precum onto the floor below.

he spreads your ass apart with his strong radiant hands, kneading and pushing and squeezing bruises into your soft, sensitive flesh. you keen, bending lower, arching your back as you fold your arms and rest the side of your face on the hard surface beneath you. 

“zhong- hhhn fuck…” is all you can manage when the tip of his erection bumps against your clit. gods, the way your scent hits him when you beg him to put his cock in. 

his cockhead bounces along your slit a few more times before it finally catches on your hole and he thrusts in hard with a low grunt. the way it glides in, hard and slippery because you’re so ready for your mate to claim you, preening and presenting for him like a cat in heat.

his jaw flexes at the way you choke on your cries when your hip bones dig into the edge of the surface he’s fucking you into. it hurts, and there will be bruises later, but you can’t bring yourself to stop or slow him down. his cock feels too good filling you up so full, tugging at your gushy walls, the ridge of his cockhead peeking out every time he retreats, then splitting you apart when his hips slam against your ass again. 

he hunches over you, fully mounting you, his tail having emerged and wrapping around your leg to hike it up and hold your bent knee out to the side so he can break your pussy off harder, deeper. your cheeks are streaked with wet eyeliner when the fuzzy tip of his tail tickles your clit, your juices getting it wet. 

zhongli isn’t fucking you anymore - morax is the one driving his fat cock into your squelching cunt now. there are those who would clutch their pearls at the idea of being bent over a table and fucked by an archon, but your eyes are rolling back in your head at the feeling of being spread open by his celestial dick. for you, it’s a matter of course. he’s your husband - you’ve been in love with him for years and you adore him in every one of his iterations, even if you have your own special ways of worshiping him. 

your feral god-husband’s vividly glowing arms are wrapped tightly around your sweaty chest, the wooden legs of your dining table scuffing the floor as he grunts in your ear. “fuck, that’s my good girl. taking my cock so well. so ready to take my seed, yeah?…” 

“y-yes! need your cum, morax! breed me, my lord hahh~” 

he loves it when you call him by his ancient name. it reminds him that he’s still got it - the power and virility of his youth. he swears under his breath, digging his talons into your hips as he yanks you back on his cock. it’s too much. it’s too much and he feels his balls pull tighter against his body when he growls and snarls behind you. you whimper at the feeling of his knot swelling deep inside you, knowing it’s forcing your walls open so he can pump you full of his sperm. he opens his mouth and bites down on the back of your neck with a deep, guttural growl. 

you cry out the god’s name again and again, chanting for him, urging him to cum for you as his big, scaly tail tightens around your trembling thigh. the soft tuft of orange fur at the tip is matted with your juices. it licks and lashes against your clit as his humanoid hips dig into the plush of your ass, snapping against you in fits and starts. 

“ohh-oh, morax, gonna cum for you!” 

dark brown scales shimmer and separate along his spine as it curls with every frantic pump of his pelvis. 

“that’s it, my dear. cum on my cock…now!” he orders.

you tense and throw it back on him as you fall apart on his cock. his balls contract in their sac as you milk his ready, sensitive length, choking on your own sobs of his archon name when he throws his head back with a roar and cums hard. the first ribbon of his divine seed splashes against your clenching walls, his cock jerking violently as he empties his full balls deep inside your womb, coating your messy insides with his hot, sticky semen. 

◊ ◊ ◊

his sweaty chest is heaving against your back, his lungs filling and collapsing as the waves of his orgasm slowly fade. you can feel the heat of his labored breath as he licks and kisses the bite marks on the back of your neck, making you coo at him for soothing the pain. your husband can smell the oxytocin as it floods your brain; he instinctively knows to remain close to you in these crucial moments of bonding. dragons mate for life, so he’s biologically coded to crave the loving attachment just as much as you do. 

nuzzling his nose behind your ear, zhongli mutters his love and appreciation for you, making you smile weakly with the side of your face still resting on the table. he leaves lazy kisses on your neck and you feel his smile against your moist skin when you tell him how happy it would make you to be the mother of his young.

he still has a full erection, his balls filling up with more seed. he’ll need to release again soon. he slowly pulls out of you, a mess of his cum and your slick spilling onto the floor below when the bulbous head of his cock pops out of your tight ring.

you’re jolted from your dreamy afterglow, eyes opening wide as you yelp, suddenly finding yourself being carried bridal style towards your bedroom. now that he has scented you with his musk, zhongli wants to take you to your shared nest where he can begin breeding you in earnest. he can sense that you’re still hours away from ovulation, but he’s going to keep your womb so swollen with his seed, so full of billions of his sperm - ready and waiting to swarm your fertile egg the moment it drops.

← phase 1 ◊ phase 3 (wip)

◊ zhongli/morax m.list

this is dedicated to my zhongli sisterwife @crystalflygeo whose utterly fearless, shameless style of writing has filled my morax spank bank inspired me to write with bold and wild abandon. i can't even fully fathom the sheer number of ideas this wonderful human being has filled my head with. we share (1) singular zhongli brain cell and i love her with my whole heart. she literally begged me to write this fic so you all have her to thank for it.

[deesblanketfort]

5 of my favorite drink recipes for regressors ☆´ˎ˗ ︶︶︶

As someone who generally prefers non-solid food, I often find myself making drinks for my regressed self because they bring me a very unique kind of comfort.

So here's a small (likely the first of many) compilation of recipes that I usually make for myself when regressed!

🍓 Yogurt Smoothie🍓

This one is the simplest of them all, and one I make pretty often! Though I don't think I'm the only one who does this, I came up with the recipe myself!

Ingredients: 100g or 3,5oz of a yogurt of your choice; 2/3s of a cup of milk Method: Blend them together until it's all creamy and foamy Servings: 1 cup

🍎 Apple and Banana Smoothie 🍎

My mom used to make this for me when I was a kid! Has a porridge-like texture.

Ingredients: 2 slices of apple; 2 slices of banana; a cup of milk; a tablespoon of oatmeal; a teaspoon of sugar Method: Blend it all together and serve! Servings: around 1 1/2 cups

🍋 Swiss Lemonade 🍋

Funnily enough, the "swiss lemonade" is neither swiss nor a lemonade. I'm unsure if anyone here is familiar with this one, but for me it's the best creamy drink for a sunny afternoon

Ingredients: 2 whole limes, 600ml or 20oz of cold water, a can (395ml or 13,5oz) of condensed milk Method: cut the limes in 8 pieces, without removing the peel, blend all ingredients for less than 10 seconds (blending for too long might make the drink bitter!). Strain through a fine strainer to remove rinds and serve. Servings: around 3 cups

🍼 Burnt Milk 🍼

Another one my mom used to make for me before bed, she says it's good for sore throats. Has a unique burnt/caramelized taste.

Ingredients: 1 cup of milk; 2 teaspoons of sugar; a pinch of cinnamon (or a cinnamon stick) Method: Pour the sugar on a small saucepan, cook and stir on medium. Right when the sugar starts caramelizing (burning) add the milk and stir in. Serve and sprinkle the cinnamon on your drink! Cinnamon is also good for sore throats Servings: 1 cup

🍫 Hot Chocolate 🍫

Classic? Mayhaps. But this recipe has a little special ingredient that gives it a thicker texture

Ingredients: 1 cup of milk; 3-4 tablespoons of cocoa mix powder; 2 tablespoons of corn starch (the more you add the thicker the drink's texture); a pinch of cinnamon Method: pour the milk, cocoa and corn starch on a small saucepan, cook and stir on medium until hot. Serve and sprinkle the cinnamon Servings: 1 cup

[pin-k-ink]

brand // nakahara chuuya

tw ⇢ chuuya is absolutely down bad, possessive!chuuya, body worship, obsession, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, praise kink, pet names, mild exhibitionism

wc ⇢ 7k

The scent of coffee and crisp paperwork hung heavy in the stillness of the office, broken only by the occasional shuffle of files or tapping of computer keys. To most, it was the mundane backdrop of another workday morning. But for Chuuya Nakahara, it provided the perfect vantage point to quietly observe his favorite distraction.

You sat across the room, seemingly oblivious to the weight of his stare as you chatted animatedly with a cluster of admiring interns. A husky peal of laughter spilled from your lips, prompting a familiar twisting in Chuuya's gut. Like depressing the soul from a silk bag, your natural charm effortlessly drew others into your radiant orbit.

Yet you remained utterly blind to your own allure.

With each dulcet giggle and casually artless brush of fingers over an arm, Chuuya's jaw clenched tighter. He watched, jaw muscle twitching, as one particularly bold intern leaned over your desk, lips tantalizingly close to the curved shell of your ear as he mock-whispered some no doubt asinine quip. The way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you laughed should have been illegal.

A low, guttural growl rumbled up from Chuuya's chest as your head fell back, exposed throat a brazen temptation. The urge to march over and yank you against him, to scrape blunt teeth over that creamy column and renew the bruises already mottling your skin, was overwhelming. To stake his claim in the most primal way possible.

But no, that wouldn't do. Not here, not with so many prying eyes to witness his loss of control. He was the master of his realm, alpha and omega. The idea of such a public display of weakness made his stomach churn.

No, when he finally made his move, it would be on his terms alone. An exquisitely calculated gambit to conquer you utterly.

The game was finally in play.

From that moment on, your every interaction was needling beneath Chuuya's skin like shards of glass. He watched, consumed by that same gnawing hunger, as you unwittingly flirted and teased your way through the ranks of the office. So effortlessly you captivated them, stringing them all along without a shred of awareness.

It was delicious torment for Chuuya, stoked higher with each innocent caress and artfully arched look from beneath a heavy fringe of lashes. By all rights, you should have been his from the very start. His to possess, his to shelter from wandering eyes, his to mark as utterly his own.

The breaking point came one hazy afternoon as he stood in the doorway to his office, covertly watching you chat with the new postal clerk. The young man's eyes raked over your form with undisguised appreciation, shamelessly drinking in the soft curves and inviting swell of cleavage peeking from your top.

As if in slow motion, you shifted position, back arching ever so slightly in a subconscious invitation. It was a subtle motion, one you likely didn't even register. But to the hungry eyes watching you, it was a revelation painted in neon lights.

That was the moment the maddeningly elaborate plan solidified in Chuuya's mind. He would put on a masterful spectacle, one designed to snare you so completely that you had no choice but to finally see him as he truly was.

The following days were an exercise in brutally focused restraint for Chuuya. Each lingering glance, every casual brush of fingertips over your arm as you laughed at some inane joke, chipped away at his resolve. The urge to abandon all pretenses and simply take what he desired clawed at his sanity like the relentless ticking of a doomsday clock.

But he couldn't, wouldn't risk ruining everything now. Not when the final act was so close at hand.

So he maintained his carefully cultivated facade of disinterested composure, all while plotting out the finer details. Acquiring the dress was the first priority - a sinful creation of ruched crimson silk and daring cut-outs designed to entice and enflame. Next came the accessories, each piece painstakingly chosen to be a brand of ownership crying out to the world that you were well and truly his.

The final touches fell exquisitely into place with dizzying speed. Venue secured, travel arrangements made, loose ends methodically tied up until there was nothing left but to execute the plan.

Chuuya could scarcely focus as the morning of the event dawned bright and clear. The weight of the small velvet box tucked into his breast pocket was a lead talisman burning against his skin with every breath. This was it, the cumulation of weeks' worth of meticulous scheming, all leading to this one singular moment.

He forced himself to maintain an aura of unruffled nonchalance as he strode through the office towards your desk. You barely looked up from the stack of paperwork before you, attention wholly consumed by the tedious task at hand.

"We're going out tonight," Chuuya stated flatly, allowing no room for argument. "Clear your evening."

Your brow furrowed minutely as you raised your head, opening your mouth to likely protest the short notice. But whatever objections you may have voiced died on your lips as you met the subtly blazing intensity of his stare head-on.

In that infinite breath, the world seemed to judder to a halt, static electricity cackling along your nerve endings. There was no refusing him when he got like this, radiating an almost feral aura of raw dominance. So you simply nodded, temporarily robbed of speech.

The barest ghost of a smirk played about the hard line of Chuuya's mouth before he turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving you to stare after his retreating back. The man moved with the coiled power and easy menace of a snared panther, danger and sensuality rolled into one. It was utterly bewitching.

Those last few hours crept by at an agonizing pace, each minute feeling like an eternity. You struggled to focus, mind incessantly wandering to that scorching look that had stolen your breath and set your pulse rabbiting. Just what did Chuuya have planned?

By the time the workday sputtered to a close, you were near vibrating out of your skin with ill-masked anticipation. The not knowing, the delicious suspense, was a uniquely heady aphrodisiac all on its own.

Which was why the sight of Chuuya leaning against the building's front entrance, an inscrutable mirage in his crisply tailored suit, very nearly stopped your heart on the spot. How was it possible for one man to exude such commanding, darkly magnetic appeal?

"Took you long enough," he chided, voice terse but thrumming with an undercurrent of silken promise that made you shiver. "We can't be late."

Without awaiting your response, Chuuya spun on his heel, long legs easily outpacing your stunned shuffle to keep up. It was just one more tantalizing brick in the foundation of exquisite tension rapidly being constructed around you.

At last you reached the car - a sleek, purring behemoth of mirrored obsidian and buttery cream leather. Settling into the plush backseat, you couldn't resist trailing your fingertips over the velvety smooth upholstery as Chuuya slid in beside you.

"Where-" you began, only to break off when he leveled you with a look that could have been carved from granite.

"You'll see," was his only terse response before signaling for the driver to depart.

The ride passed in a loaded silence, the air between you and Chuuya thickening with each aching mile until it felt like inhaling smoke. You stole sidelong glimpses at him, admiring the severe masculine lines of his profile and the way the passing streetlights gilded his sharp cheekbones.

Finally, you could bear the suspense no longer. "Chuuya, what's this all abou-?"

"We're here."

The words were toneless, yet somehow still managed to ring with finality. You swallowed hard, suddenly uncertain if you truly wished to know where 'here' was.

Chuuya was already climbing out, leaving you to hurry after him with your heart lodged firmly in your throat. As you stepped out onto the dimly lit street, the first thing that struck you was the pervasive quiet. Not eerie, per se, but begging to be disturbed.

The second was the gorgeous, multi-story heritage building rising before you. More manor than mere residence, it stood wreathed in artfully maintained gardens with myriad stone pathways winding playfully through the manicured foliage. It was...certainly not what you had expected.

Before you could voice any of the thousand questions whirling through your mind, Chuuya's hand closed with definitive authority about your wrist, tugging you against the solid wall of his chest. His free hand delved into his suit jacket to withdraw a small velvet box which he pressed firmly into your palm.

"Open it," he demanded, voice low and edged with that same unnameable intensity.

You did, inhaling a shocked little breath at the stunning set of jewelry nestled within the box's plush interior...

With trembling fingers, you lifted the exquisite ruby pendant from its nest of black velvet. Even in the muted streetlight, the deep crimson stones seemed to smolder with their own inner fire. Wordlessly, you turned it over, only to have the breath punched from your lungs.

There, engraved in a flowing script upon the ornate metal, were the unmistakable initials 'N.C.'

You whipped your head up to meet Chuuya's burning stare, a silent question seared into your features. He simply held your gaze, expression inscrutable yet blazing with unspoken promises that made your pulse spiral dizzily.

"Put it on," he finally rumbled, giving you the barest of nods.

There was no room for argument or negotiation, only complete submission. Trembling, you fumbled with the delicate clasp until the heavy pendant rested against the hollow of your throat. It was cool against your feverish skin, a claim of possession both brazenly overt yet darkly intimate.

Chuuya's eyes went molten at the sight, raking over the barbaric accessory before flicking back up to snare you in his smoldering scrutiny once more.

"Perfect," he purred in a rumbling timbre that danced like sparks along your nerve endings. "Now for the rest."

With those cryptic words, Chuuya produced a sleek garment bag from somewhere behind him and thrust it against your chest. You clutched it reflexively, mouth working soundlessly as you sought to formulate a coherent question. But Chuuya was already turning away, striding towards the imposing manor with the unwavering confidence of a man bound for the inner sanctum of his domain.

Casting one last bewildered glance at the softly rustling gardens surrounding you, you trailed after him. Each clicked footfall across the immaculately tended grounds resonated through you with finality. Like an outrider steadily advancing to lay siege upon some uncharted keep.

The double doors yawned open at Chuuya's approach, allowing you both to sweep unimpeded into the cavernous foyer with its vaulted ceilings and exquisite architectural detailing. The manor's opulence was simultaneously breathtaking and disconcerting.

"Get changed," Chuuya ordered without preamble, gesturing to the ornate wooden doors several paces further within. "And don't even think about giving me any arguments."

The look he pierced you with brooked no debate, so you swallowed down your growing sense of trepidation and nodded. With the garment bag clutched between white-knuckled fingers, you slipped through the doors and found yourself in a decadently-appointed boudoir.

Plush chaise longues and silk draperies abounded, giving the room an ambiance of sumptuous seduction that was dizzyingly at odds with the Gothic grandeur of the manor itself. You shook your head, trying in vain to quell the mounting disquiet fluttering madly within.

Each rustling movement of the garment bag's silk lining only served to heighten your unsettled state. But you knew there was no use delaying the inevitable, no deterring Chuuya once he'd set his mind to something.

With that resigned thought, you freed the dress from its protective cocoon with trembling hands. A punched-out exhalation escaped your lips, swallowed by the abrupt roaring in your ears.

The gown was...magnificent didn't seem an adequate descriptor. In deepest, most ensnaring shades of claret and crimson, it seemed to writhe as a living, sensual thing. Sumptuous folds of rich satin caressed with glistening silken trails of embroidered roses. Sheer side insets carved revealing glimpses of toned curves and supple skin. The plunging neckline was positively corseted in its scandalous indecency, the dramatic sweetheart bodice sculpted to accentuate the most intimate of feminine assets.

You traced one finger over the sinuous line of the gown, cheeks flushing at the thought of donning something so overtly designed to stir the most primal of urges. But you were already in far too deep to consider turning back now.

With a fortifying inhalation, you quickly shimmied out of your work attire and stepped into the gown's silken embrace. It clung to your figure like a second skin sheathed in scarlet petals, trailing sinfully over the dips and flares of your body in a wholly indecent manner. A silent siren's call to avarice and covetous lust.

You twisted this way and that before the gilt mirror, admiring and scrutinizing in equal measures. The pendant lay in a plush pool amidst the exposed upper swell of your breasts, its dark crimson hue a bloody brand for any who dared let their eyes linger. Somehow, it felt as if the dress had been expressly crafted for this one accessory alone.

With one final bracing breath, you gathered your resolve and swept towards the door. Better to rejoin Chuuya and hope for an explanation than remain barricaded away like a shamed concubine.

He was lounging with deceptive indolence in one of the foyer's opulent winged-back chairs, long legs outstretched before him in an image of unconcerned elegance. Yet there was nothing casual in the unerring way his gaze locked upon you the moment you appeared. Like that of a serpent hypnotized by a clutch of trembling prey.

"My my..." Chuuya's voice was a raptor's caress, smooth and seductive yet edged with thinly veiled possession. "If I didn't know better, I might think you were trying to tempt me, doll."

You flushed hotly beneath his ravenous scrutiny, suddenly uncertain and deeply aware of your compromising state of undress. The satin caressed your too-warm skin in a simulation of covetous fingers, sending prickles of vaulting desire shivering along your nerve endings.

Chuuya rose from his seated position with leonine grace, eyes never straying from where they blazed scorching paths over your displayed charms. Each prowling step he took in your direction seemed to fill the air with static, raising the fine hairs along your arms and nape.

When at last he stood mere inches before you, near enough that his body heat lapped against you in smoky tendrils, you had to resist the urge to sway forwards. To seek the blistering burn of that intoxicating radiance you knew lurked beneath his composed veneer.

"Look at you..." he breathed, voice a graveled rasp of undisguised want. His knuckles grazed your jawline in a lingering caress. "A delicious temptation in scarlet and sin. Do you have any idea how utterly sexy you are right now?"

A tremulous shudder gripped you at his words, at the sinful admiration blazing from his darkened eyes. Unconsciously, you leaned deeper into the cupping warmth of his palm, chasing that delicious frisson of sensation.

Chuuya's lips curved in a devastatingly carnal smirk before he abruptly dropped his hand, leaving you starved for his scorching brand once more. You fought back the urge to whimper at the loss, cheeks flushing hotly as you recognized your body's dizzying desperation.

"We should get going," he murmured, the words at harsh odds with the smoky timbre of his tone that seemed to caress over your heated skin like a physical touch. "Our reservations won't wait forever, pet."

With that, he spun on his heel and began striding towards the still-open doors, clearly expecting you to follow on obediently stumbling footsteps. Which you did without a moment's hesitation, drawn after him like a reliably enraptured moth to a searing flame.

The limousine was awaiting in the circular front drive when you emerged, engine purring in anticipation. But it wasn't the plush leather interior or sparkling crystal tumblers that immediately captured your eye. Rather, it was the enormous cascade of crimson roses spilling from an ornate crystal vase positioned in the center of the seat.

Rich velvet petals unfurled in an exquisite profusion, each glistening with twinkling dew-kissed diamonds that glimmered with ethereal brilliance beneath the car's golden interior lighting. It was like glimpsing the secret, sinful heart of a fairytale forest come alive.

So enraptured were you by the display that you very nearly didn't register Chuuya's hand at your back, exerting firm pressure to guide you into the lush interior. With infinite care, he deposited you amidst the floral splendor before sliding in opposite with that catlike grace.

The heavy door sealed you both into the cocoon of velvet opulence with a sense of finality that resonated through your very marrow. Whatever game Chuuya was orchestrating was clearly reaching its dizzying crescendo.

You scarcely dared breathe, nerves thrilling with indecipherable tension as you watched Chuuya accept two crystal flutes from the cabine's mini-bar. The pale amber liquid sloshed enticingly as he handed one to you with a smoldering look of heated possession.

"A toast," he murmured, voice like lascivious sin poured straight into your ringing ears. "To an evening that will forever banish any lingering doubts as to whom you belong to, pet."

His glass knocked against yours with a delicate tinkling clink, the sound carrying the solemn weight of a death knell. Wordlessly, you tipped the liquor past your lips in a burning swallow, scarcely registering the flavors. You were anchored adrift atop a roiling sea of Chuuya's unfathomable intentions, awaiting his lead.

No sooner had you lowered the glass than Chuuya was reaching for you with rekindled intensity blazing in his stare. One broad palm cradled your nape as he drew you flush against the rigid line of his body, coaxing your knees to bracket his lean hips in a scandalously intimate straddle.

The sumptuous dress bunched and pooled around your thighs in a provocative tumble of scarlet silk. Chuuya's free hand traced the daring neckline, following the plunging curve to where the dusky hollow of your breasts was left enticingly bare.

Beneath his smoldering stare, each nerve seemed to awaken into blistering life, searing awareness streaking from nerve ending to nerve ending. His hungry exhale fanned hotly against your parted lips as his fingers drifted inevitable lower, tracing patterns of molten lust across the exposed flesh left on display.

"All mine..." he rasped, words interspersed with open-mouthed, scorching kisses along the thundering pulse at your throat. "Tonight, you'll see just how far I'm willing to go to ensure the whole city knows that truth."

With a groan, he dragged you harder against him, claiming your lips in a branding kiss of possession as the limo thrummed to purring life and pulled away into the night.

The limo carved through the city's pulsing arteries in a blur of neon and shadow. You remained utterly transfixed by Chuuya, drowning in the blazing intensity of his eyes as he held you immobile in his searing appraisal.

With each passing minute, the tension thickened until it felt like inhaling molten desire with every breath. Chuuya's hands roamed in unhurried exploration, igniting licking flames wherever his fingers grazed bare skin. You squirmed helplessly against him, silently beseeching for something more, anything to slake this new aching need coiling low in your belly.

At last, the limousine rolled to a smooth stop, the muffled thrum of music and voices spilling in from outside. Chuuya offered you a slow, sinful smile before capturing your lips in one more devouring kiss.

"Showtime, doll," he purred against your tingling mouth. "Try to keep up."

With a smooth flick of his wrist, he exited the vehicle in one fluid sweep, leather oxfords striking the pavement with muted clicks. You hurried to join him, breathless and flushed in anticipation of whatever depraved delights he had orchestrated.

The venue was spectacular, all vaulted glass ceilings and glittering contemporary opulence. Immaculately dressed attendants glided amongst the crowd, proffering crystal flutes of effervescent champagne from silver trays. It was the very vision of rarefied indulgence.

And at its throbbing epicenter stood Chuuya, an indolent panther lording over his sumptuous court. His arm snaked about your waist, pulling you flush against his side with blatant possession as his gaze dared anyone to so much as linger.

"Exquisite, isn't it?" he murmured, mouth brushing the curved shell of your ear in an electrifying caress. "Though perhaps not quite as exquisite as how utterly breathtaking you look in that dress, sweetheart."

His fingers traced the plunging neckline with bold defiance, allowing anyone keen enough to catch the implication. You flushed hotly, mortified yet undeniably thrilled by this new, unabashed dynamic unfolding between you.

For the rest of the evening, Chuuya remained your phantomlike shadow, perpetually orbiting just within your peripheral awareness. His eyes followed your every move, every laugh, with a smoldering heat that seemed to bore straight through muscle and bone. That collar of rubies glittered like a shocking wound against your throat with each breath.

You basked in the laser focus of his attention, a silent sun worshipper tilting to receive the benediction of its radiance. Never had you felt so fervently desired, coveted down to your very molecules. It was utterly, devastatingly intoxicating.

And as the night's dying embers sputtered towards its inevitable conclusion, Chuuya drew you close in a shadowed alcove, one broad palm cradling your nape as his lips brushed yours in barely-there whispers of heated promise.

"Do you understand now?" he rasped, the graveled words sending frissons of liquid rapture spilling through your veins. "There is no escaping me, no sanctuary from my passion. I will chase you into the very fires of hell itself, if that's what it takes to make you truly mine."

Helplessly, you whimpered against the scorching brand of his mouth, the need and naked adoration thrumming through your very marrow in answer. In that suspended moment of freefall, only one certainty reigned...

You were so completely, utterly his.

The crescendo of the evening had reached its feverish apex, suspending you and Chuuya in a gossamer bubble impervious to the outside world. His eyes burned with banked embers of undisguised want, rendering you breathless and utterly enthralled beneath their molten scrutiny.

"Come with me," he rumbled, the words both demand and seductive entreaty as he pulled you into the protective cage of his arms. You followed without hesitation, craving the scorching caress of his body like a moth drawn to the beckoning flame.

Chuuya led you through a discreet side door and into the velvet-draped intimacy of a private lounge area. Plush settees lined the perimeter, affording furtive glimpses into secluded little worlds of whispered secrets and sensual intrigue. Yet it was the massive picture window, revealing a panoramic vista of the glittering cityscape below, that enraptured you most.

With your back to the sparkling lights and Chuuya a solid immovable presence behind you, it felt as if you hovered betwixt two celestial planes - earthly rapture and heavenly transcendence. His hands found your waist, exerting gentle pressure until you swayed back against the unyielding strength of his chest.

"Look at them down there," he murmured, voice a darkly sensual caress against the sensitive whorls of your ear. "All those lost, empty souls going about their meaningless existences without the first notion of true passion."

You shivered at the stark devotion, the unvarnished ardor ringing in his tone. Chuuya's arms tightened around you in a possessive band, surrounding you in his scorching orbit until it felt like the only truth that mattered.

"They will never understand what it means to burn for someone the way I burn for you," he continued inexorably. "To have every waking breath consumed by an all-devouring yearning for just one perfect creature amidst the stars."

His lips branded searing trails from the fragile hollow beneath your ear down the slender column of your throat, each press of mouth to fevered skin both worship and carnal demand. You arched shamelessly into him, skin awakening in tingling waves of desperation for his touch, his mouth, his everything.

"You are my first and final ecstasy, sweetheart," Chuuya rasped against the thundering pulse at the base of your neck. "My religion, my rapture, my ritual of sanctification. Never forget that truth, no matter what sweet oblivion may try to tempt you."

He turned you then to face him fully, cradling your face between his calloused palms as if you were the most precious treasure to grace his world. For a suspended breath, you simply stared into the fathomless depths of his eyes, mesmerized by the eternal inferno of devotion banked within their crimson depths.

Then, as if pulled by cosmic tides, your bodies collided in a burningconflagration of hushed gasps and tangling limbs. Chuuya kissed you with all the passionate intensity of a man laying claim to his destiny, his universe. Lips, teeth, tongues - all merged into one searing brand of exquisite possession.

You clung to him helplessly, adrift on a roiling sea of desire and overwhelming reverence for this incredible man who cherished you so ferociously. If loving him was your sole purpose in this life, then you would count yourself among the luckiest souls in existence.

When the need for air finally became too urgent to ignore, you broke apart with trembling gasps. Chuuya immediately tucked you under his chin, rocking you both in slow, soothing sways as your ragged breaths slowly calmed.

"You're mine," he vowed once more, the words both fervent prayer and inviolable truth. "Every atom of your being calls to me, beguiles me, inflames me beyond the bounds of rational thought. I will spend eternity honoring that perfect siren's call."

Head bowed in reverence against the strength of his chest, you could only nod your wordless acquiescence, profoundly humbled and adored beyond your wildest capacity to comprehend. Safe amidst the sanctuary of Chuuya's ardor, you allowed your eyes to slip shut in serene contentment.

And somewhere within that transcendent moment, you knew without a shadow of doubt that you need never fear being lost again.

The world beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows blurred into abstract washes of light and shadow as you remained cocooned in Chuuya's steadfast embrace. In the whisper-soft atmosphere of the private lounge, time seemed to still to a gossamer trickle, each breath drawn out into subtle eternities.

Chuuya's fingers traced idle patterns along the exposed skin of your back, raising delicious frissons with every meandering caress. You basked in the exquisite torture of his wandering touch, every nerve ending alive and thrumming in hopeless supplication for more.

At long last, he drew back just enough to capture your rapt gaze, eyes blazing molten trails over the curves and hollows of your face.

"Do you understand now, my darling?" His low rasp danced like searing embers along your sensitized skin. "This rapture, this all-consuming ecstasy - it is both my prayer and my pyre. You are the divine flame to which I will gladly let my soul be immolated, again and again, until the end of eternity."

You could only nod, rendered breathless and incoherent by the sheer intensity of his veneration. But even that small acquiescence seemed to stoke Chuuya's ardor to blinding new infernos.

"Then let me worship you as you deserve," he growled, the words seeming to vibrate from that primal bassline resonating through his very core. "Allow me to pay tribute to your perfection in the only way that will ever suffice."

With agonizing deliberation, he sank to one knee before you in a stance of utter fealty. His scorching gaze roamed over your form, eyes glittering with unholyztradesty as they lingered on each newly bared expanse of skin revealed by the bunching fabric.

He pressed his lips to the ultra-sensitive skin of your inner thigh in a branding caress of reverence. "Every divine inch of you shall be adored as it deserves," Chuuya swore with hushed intensity. "Hallowed...consecrated...until you know nothing but the most exalted raptures this humble worshipper can provide."

A tremor of pure, potent yearning gripped you at his words, at the devoted promise woven through each sensual lilt and rumbling timbre. You reached for him with trembling hands, fingers tangling through his sweat-damp crimson locks as if to anchor him to you forever in this moment of transcendent bliss.

Chuuya's smoldering eyes flickered shut on a low groan of rapture as he turned into the caress. His palms mapped scorching paths up the curves of your calves and thighs in unhurried exploration, maddeningly drawing out each lascivious inch.

When his questing fingers finally brushed the apex of your thighs in a shockingly intimate caress, your knees threatened to buckle from the sheer intensity lancing through you. Only Chuuya's steadying grip on your hips kept you tethered against the relentless onslaught of sensation.

"So exquisite..." he rasped in awestruck wonder. "So utterly perfect in your rapture that I fear my insignificant skills are blasphemously inadequate to honor you properly, my goddess."

You struggled to formulate a coherent response, to beg and plead for him to take you past the dizzying precipice, but all that escaped was a tremulous keen of plaintive yearning. Instead you resorted to guiding his seeking hand with shallow, sporadic bucks of your hips, silently beseeching him for that elusive, maddening friction that would finally shatter you apart.

Even in your rapidly fracturing state, you felt the volcanic upheaval of Chuuya's restraint at the explicit demand. He actually growled against the satin skin of your inner thigh, teeth grazing harsh and unforgiving in clear punishment. Or perhaps rapturous benediction - with this man, it became increasingly difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

"Patience, my perfect temptation," he purred in a voice shredded by banked embers of desire. "The ecstasy I have planned for your undoing demands an eternity of exquisite suffering first."

Leaning forward, he lay another searing trail of open-mouthed kisses along the taut swells and shadowed valleys of your desire. Each brand of his lips stoked the inferno of your aching need higher and higher until you thought you would be consumed by the flames.

At last, when you thought the tension might shatter you asunder, Chuuya's questing fingers hooked the delicate silk of your panties, dragging the flimsy garment down your trembling thighs. The fabric fell away to a puddle of scarlet and ivory about your feet.

You could hear the hitch in his breathing, a stuttered inhale of sheer reverence and lust. Chuuya pressed another fervent kiss to the crest of your hip, the action a silent supplication to the divine. Then, with agonizing care, he slid the silken fabric of the dress up the curve of your hips until it rested high on your waist.

You gasped at the sudden rush of cool air against your feverish flesh, cheeks burning at the brazen exposure of your most intimate areas. Yet the momentary flash of mortification quickly dissolved beneath the heady rush of desire and the molten blaze of Chuuya's stare.

His pupils were blown wide, devouring any trace of blue in his eyes until they gleamed blacker than pitch. A low groan emanated from deep within his chest as he traced one long finger through the slick arousal glistening upon your quivering thighs.

"Exquisite," he rasped, the word a breathless prayer on his tongue. "Such perfect, unspoiled purity laid bare before me. Let us see just how far my goddess will let this humble supplicant push her."

Without preamble, Chuuya's hands curled around the backs of your thighs, lifting and guiding you into the cradle of his arms with unwavering certainty. Then, with a low growl, he pressed his open mouth against the aching swell of your desire.

It was the only warning you received before his tongue swept up the length of your folds in a languid, decadent caress. The searing contact ripped a cry from your throat, the sound swallowed in the plush darkness of the room.

Chuuya hummed his own rapturous approval, the vibrations resonating through your very core in waves of liquid heat. Then he was tracing teasing patterns along your swollen flesh, lapping up each fresh wave of moisture like a parched man at an oasis.

Every nerve was electrified, thrumming and humming with each lick and swirl and nip of his tongue. Chuuya seemed content to take his time, coaxing the most decadent sounds from your lips as you writhed against him, helpless and desperate.

His fingers dug bruising crescents into the soft skin of your thighs, keeping you in place for his ravenous exploration. And as his tongue delved deeper, sliding and thrusting against your throbbing entrance, you felt yourself begin to spiral higher and higher.

"That's it, my perfect goddess," he groaned against you. "Show me just how beautiful you are in the throes of ecstasy."

With those murmured words, he returned his focus to the pulsing pearl at the apex of your thighs. He alternated between suckling the sensitive bundle and laving over it with broad strokes. Each caress sent you spiraling higher and higher, closer and closer to the brink of oblivion.

Just when you thought you might combust from the sheer intensity of it all, Chuuya sealed his mouth around the pulsing jewel, fluttering his tongue over the straining point in rapid, unrelenting strokes. The added stimulation sent you hurtling towards the precipice, crashing and tumbling in a freefall of white-hot pleasure.

You shattered apart, vision going white as the force of the release crashed over you in endless waves. Somewhere in the distance, you were vaguely aware of Chuuya's rumbling groan of triumph, the feel of his fingers tightening into a punishing brand against your thighs.

Your muscles clenched and quivered in helpless spasms as the aftershocks shuddered through you, leaving you sated and spent. Slowly, Chuuya guided you back to earth, kissing and stroking until the world re-emerged from behind a gauzy curtain of euphoria.

He pulled you close as you came back to yourself, murmuring soft words of praise and adoration as he pressed reverent kisses to your temple. You melted into him, boneless and pliant as the blissful lethargy set in.

"My beautiful, exquisite angel," he rumbled in a graveled whisper, lips tracing the shell of your ear in a sinfully sensual caress. "Now it's my turn to show you how perfect you are in my eyes, just the way you are."

Chuuya's declaration resonated through you like the ringing echo of a divine proclamation. You turned to face him, wanting to drink in the raw devotion and passion burning in his eyes.

But the moment you met his searing gaze, all thoughts of sweet adoration and poetic worship fled, replaced by a blistering inferno of primal desire. Chuuya's eyes raked over your face with such molten hunger, such naked want, that a frisson of electricity jolted down your spine.

In an instant, he was pressing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss of carnal possession. The taste of yourself on his tongue was both sinfully salacious and exquisitely erotic. You could do nothing but yield, helplessly enthralled by the raw intensity of his need.

Chuuya's hand wound itself into the disheveled locks of your hair, pulling your head back to deepen the kiss. He swallowed your keening moan of pleasure with a rumbling growl, devouring your mouth as if starved for the very taste of you.

His other hand fisted in the delicate satin, bunching the material in a vice-like grip until you could feel the cool night air dancing along the heated skin of your exposed ass. The sudden awareness of the scandalous, vulnerable position only stoked the inferno higher, sending new rivulets of slick dripping from your pulsing core.

"Such a good girl for me," Chuuya breathed, voice ragged and darkly sensual as he dragged his lips down the column of your throat. "Always so willing to spread those pretty thighs and offer yourself up to me."

The words resonated through your every molecule, echoing the primal rhythm thrumming in your very veins. You whimpered, arching against him in wordless supplication, desperate for him to take you and brand you as his.

Chuuya answered with a guttural snarl, the sound primal and possessive. He surged to his feet in one smooth motion, lifting you with him. You clung to him instinctively, legs wrapping around his narrow waist in a desperate bid to anchor yourself against the blistering tide of desire.

Then his cock was brushing against you, the velvet-soft skin stretched taught and hot against the wetness pooling between your thighs. Chuuya's hand slipped down, aligning his hard length with your entrance before slowly, torturously sinking into the wet heat.

Your head fell back on a moan as he buried himself to the hilt, stretching and filling you so perfectly. For a moment, all you could do was cling to him and try to regain a semblance of breath. But then Chuuya began moving, rocking his hips in shallow, experimental thrusts.

His pace was slow and measured, each stroke a delicious torment that left you trembling and gasping. Chuuya's grip on you was punishing, fingertips digging into the supple flesh of your ass. You could feel the tension in his powerful frame, the way each muscle strained and coiled beneath the onslaught of pleasure.

But no matter how desperately you writhed against him, how tightly you gripped his shoulders, Chuuya refused to relinquish control. Instead, he kept his movements infuriatingly slow and languorous, each unhurried glide sending you further and further towards the edge.

"Chuuya, please," you whimpered, shamelessly rutting against him in search of more. "I need -"

"Shhh, doll," he soothed, the words punctuated with a low grunt as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "I know what you need, and I'm going to give it to you. But I want to savor this perfect moment."

The raw emotion in his tone sent a shiver racing down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You tightened your hold on his shoulders, nails scoring thin lines into the muscled flesh.

"Look out the window," Chuuya commanded, voice a low rasp of lust-drunk rapture. "Watch as the whole city bears witness to how beautifully you come apart for me."

Dazed and dizzy with desire, you forced your gaze to lift, drinking in the stunning panorama before you. It was a glittering expanse of lights and shadow, an entire cityscape laid bare for your viewing pleasure. And it was then that the true weight of Chuuya's command sank in.

Every facet of your pleasure was on display, an obscene spectacle for the entire city to witness. Anyone looking up from the street below would be treated to the lurid sight of your flushed, debauched body, writhing and arching against Chuuya in a frenzied state of utter wanton need.

Your inner walls fluttered and clenched, a rush of new heat and slick coating Chuuya's throbbing cock at the thought. He groaned at the sensation, a sound both exultant and agonized.

"Such a perfect little angel, aren't you?" His words were a darkly reverent growl, sending a fresh wave of pleasure jolting through you. "Let's put on a good show for them, sweetheart. Show them just who it is you belong to."

Chuuya's words were the final catalyst. The coil of tension wound within you snapped, sending you crashing and tumbling over the precipice. You cried out, a sound of pure rapture, as the waves of release washed over you in shuddering, relentless crests.

Dimly, you were aware of Chuuya's answering snarl, the harsh sting of teeth against the tender skin of your neck. His movements grew frantic, losing all trace of that practiced control as he chased his own climax.

His cock pulsed and twitched within you, each jerk and spasm intensifying your own pleasure. You rocked your hips against him, grinding yourself against the hard planes of his body. The additional friction pushed you right back to the precipice, poised on that shimmering knife's edge.

A single, well-placed thrust was all it took to send you spiraling into the abyss once more. Your teeth sunk into Chuuya's shoulder, muffling your wail of ecstasy as a gush of pure, hot liquid sprayed from your entrance, coating his thighs and cock in a torrential stream.

"Oh fuck, baby girl!" he grunted, burying himself as deep as possible as he found his own release. "Did you just -"

"Yes!" You sobbed, the word a strangled half-whisper as another rush of liquid gushed out. "Oh god, yes!"

Chuuya swore, hips jerking sporadically as he rode out the last tremors of his own orgasm. Then his arms tightened around you, cradling you against his chest in a protective band. His breath ghosted across your ear, a soothing murmur of praise and adoration.

"You're perfect, sweetheart. So utterly fucking perfect in every way. God, the things you do to me..." His voice trailed off into a groan of satisfaction as he pressed his forehead to yours, gazing into your eyes with such profound adoration that you thought your heart might shatter from the overwhelming intensity of it all.

"Never forget who you belong to, pet," he vowed, the words resonating with solemn promise. "I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if I have to."

In the ensuing hush, the only sound was the slowing of your mingled breathing, the soft rustle of Chuuya's clothing as he adjusted his hold on you. Slowly, he lowered you until your feet touched the floor, steadying you with an arm wrapped about your waist.

You blinked up at him, a dreamy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The sight seemed to pull something loose within Chuuya's chest, the man giving a contented sigh.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, tenderly cupping your face. "Now let's get you home so I can continue worshipping this perfect body, just the way it deserves."

[seattlesellie]

ellie with a breeding kink is all i think about

it’s been a while. 💗🎀

cw: strap on sex (r!reciving), breeding kink, mating press, darcyphilia, semi-public sex, protective ellie. MDNI

her forehead presses onto yours.

her firm chest merges with your own, she squeezes down your breast, plays with the plushy fat and flicks your hard nipple with her thumb.

she’s sweating, face painted in a red hue, eyebrows scrunched together, a prominent line in between.

when her large hand intertwines with yours and squeezes it, you nearly cry. her thumb brushes upon your scorching hot, sticky and glistening skin and she caresses, she comforts.

“can’t t-take it” you hiccup.

oh, she knows.

she shushes you intently, smiling against your lips so big you can feel her teeth graze them, then she pecks your shaky bottom one and suckles your silly idle pout away.

“yes y’can baby, know you can”, her voice is raspy, quiet, velvety and nothing short of tantalizing.

a fat tear streamlines down your cheek, you whine, trembling voice breaking a pathetic screech.

you feel so full.

“mhm, keep crying, gonna make me cum if you keep crying”

you squeeze her hand and she squeezes yours again. hard. it nearly hurts, it doesn’t, though.

ellie lets out a throaty chuckle. “jus’ wet everywhere, huh?…” she slams her hips harder, harsher, she keeps on chuckling, her pelvis meets yours then her voice cracks. “cheeks wet, pussy’s—“ slam! “fuckin’” slam! “weeping”

patrol’s don’t usually go like this. hell, you usually don’t even go on patrols. she doesn’t like it when you do, she scoffs when you ask, and this time — this time she just nodded. “kay, grab the gun”, she spoke quietly, and then she opened the door. when you stepped out of her home, her chest pressed against your back.

you felt a bulge against your ass. she wore it for you. you didn’t notice it this morning, didn’t notice it in the early afternoon. only now, when you stepped outside to the gentle caress of a warm breeze.

“gonna be good though, right?” she rasped against your skin, you trembled, you nodded. she squeezed your hip then stepped aside.

“mhm, i bet” was all she muttered in response.

this wasn’t a regular patrol, that’s for sure.

so when your soaking, achy, red hole squeezes around her thick silicone shaft and sucks her in like she might run away if you don’t, ellie’s eyes go crossed. she bites her bottom lip hard, puffs hot air out of her lips and grunts out your name. you moan so sweetly, squeaking around her almost, ellie has to shake her head and chuckle in dismay. “never t-t-takin’ you on p-patrol again, filthy, fuckin’ girl”

you wail a “no, please!”

how terrible.

she fucks you harder.

spreading your legs forcefully with her palms, your thighs begin to shake and burn, ellie squats in between them and lowers her gaze to watch your cunt take her girth in. her pussy twitches in response, clit pumping and rubbing against the base.

she has her jeans down to her ass.

she’s so wet it streams down her naked creamy thighs.

she always fucking smiles, has that devilish twinkle in her eye, that cocky scoff leaving her lips when her ears catch on to the wet squelching noises coming from your abused and swollen cunt.

it’s disgusting, filthy and obscene.

then she toys and plays with your clit like it’s her goddamn ps controller, moving her thumb in calculated circles and it’s delicious.

“el-l-lie”

you squeak and wail like a dogs brand new chew toy.

“s’my name, mhm, louder” she commands, voice not as velvety now, not as smooth, not as sharp, only consumed by desperation. you utter her name again, louder, she agrees, she mewls. “ellie’s, fuuuuuuuh! ngh— sweet, fuckin’ pussy”

you recognize that tone. it’s fuckdrunk and pussy whipped and she’s closer than ever, the smooth milky and creamy ring your cunt formed on her dick a hypnotic show.

you egg her on.

“s’de-ee-p, so deep, ellie! your dick’s so g—“

ellie falls on her hands and reaches closer to your face. her hot breath overwhelms you, fans over your nose and your mouth, then her freckles overwhelm you, then her green orbs overwhelm you. you scream out her name, she shifts her weight on to her shoulders and slaps her hand on your mouth. you bite down on her flesh and ellie winces, then places it on your lips again with a slap.

she knows what game you’re playing with your filthy words and your whorish whines. attempting to make her cum before you do — it’s playful for you, for her… it’s so much more.

it’s an ego thing.

so she shuts you the fuck up.

and now she looks terrifying.

you have dirt on your scalp, grass stuck to your sticky and salty tears covered face, you don’t care.

so ellie picks up her pace, slamming her cock deeper and faster down and into your cunt, fucking her entire length into you, her tip kissing and grazing and kissing the bottom of your cervix each time she bottoms out. your moans are guttural even when blocked by her hand.

your tears are so beautiful, shiny and sleek and they keep on goddamn streaming down your swollen puffy cheeks, ellie moves closer to your ear and builds herself a nest there. then she whispers, sweet praises and sweet nothings till your thighs shake some more.

“m’gonna fuck a kid into you, huh? want my fuckin’ babies, yeah?”

it’s a juxtaposition.

how are her words so lewd and her voice so saccharin and sweet as honeycomb and vanilla cupcakes. how is she so quiet and so loud.

she grunts harsh.

you’re consumed by the sounds coming from her lips and the sounds of her cock slapping inside your cunt.

“fill you your cute pussy u-up with my fuckin’ cum, you’d like that, know you would, you’d love it, you’d fuckin— cream f-for it”

your moans grow louder and louder, she replaces her palm on your mouth with two salty fingers down your throat. you don’t bite them, you suck.

“good girl”, ellie rasps.

then ellie keeps on mumbling.

“t-then…” she sucks on your earlobe because she can’t help it, then she pecks your cheek and tastes your tear. she swallows, “no m-more fuckin’ questions about patrols, none of that fuckin’ shit, jus’— oh fuck, filled with m-my fuckin’ babies”

[shegetsburned]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | part ii ‧₊˚ 𓐐⋅

• — ft. shiu kong. kinji hakari. choso kamo. atsuya kusakabe. hiromi higuruma.

bon appétit !! @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐮 𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐠

so i think this man loves to try new dishes and makes you try new things with him with a giant grin on his face.

normally he’d take you to fancy restaurants, but this time he wanted to do something just the two of you in a calmer place.

hates for you to do anything so he’ll insist on doing everything himself so that you could relax while he cooks.

he already had an idea as soon as you guys agreed on doing this. and you can be sure as hell it involves cheese. man adores cheese, so if you do too, you’ll be served.

this time, just for you, he went out himself on his day off and bought the runniest cheese you’ve ever seen in your life. we all know these are just the best kinds.

this afternoon, you were served a burrata. it’s a soft, white, cow’s milk cheese made from mozzarella and cream. hard on the outside but filled with stracciatella on the inside which is more creamy. served with candied cherry tomato with a piece of buttered and grilled bread.

as you take a bite of the cheese he admires every expression of yours and a warm laugh echoes through the room when you show how tasteful it is.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢

honestly, i’m thinking fast food or something.

or maybe just take-outs but in an expensive asf place.

i feel like he loves food but prefers ordering instead of cooking. he finds cooking boring and we know how much this man hates boring stuff.

will buy you whatever the hell you want, doesn't slightly care how much you want to eat, he'd buy the whole restaurant if he could.

you can get whatever you want, there is no way you can be disappointed with the meal. in a way, he ensures you’ll eat something you like by letting you choose what you want, which certainly satisfies him.

also prefers to stay cozily at home with you to eat than actually go out. so expensive take-outs it is. you don’t even have to lift your butt off the seat. it’ll all come to you.

you’ll get your favorite meal and he won’t hesitate a second to buy it for you. might seem boring but he really would buy you anything you want and silently watch you hum with pleasure every time you take a bite of that dish. your happiness is what matters.

𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐨

i have a feeling he has no idea what humans prefer to eat in this day and age so he’d do a thorough internet research to know what you’ll undoubtedly like.

“what is the most liked dish in the world?” “what do humans prefer to eat the most?” “how do i cook chicken?” “what’s the easiest, but best dish to make?”

all of this research would make him think it’s either spaghetti or pizza. and he’ll choose spaghetti, because of you know which flashback with his little bros.

sticks his tongue out while he’s preparing your meal, trying to get every portion down to the tiniest milligram right. he wants it to be perfect. and he probably thinks it’ll ruin the whole dinner if the portions aren’t right.

i’m thinking of carbonara pasta. you know the real version using eggs and pecorino with a touch of lardons.

once you take the first bite, he stares at you, patiently waiting for any sign of distaste or displeasure. there’s no way he botched it. everything is right down to the tiniest detail. and he can tell he’s done it when you quickly finish your plate and ask for more. there’s nothing making him happier.

𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐛𝐞

he’s big on fishing so i’m thinking one of the fish he caught. his favourite.

something simple but still good and he’d find the freshest and best ingredients for you.

he’s been fishing for a long time and has acquired enough knowledge and skills to know which ingredients are best served which certain types of fish. you definitely won’t be disappointed.

will prepare everything in advance, removing the pin bones in advance and every part that isn’t edible. he does it just to be sure it’ll be ready for when you’re here. also, he knows it’s way safer that way, knowing he won’t be rushing to cook it later.

man does not want to mess this up and has never worked so hard to make a perfect meal, brows connecting as he works his tired ass off. he cannot mess this up considering you’ll be the one eating it.

how about braised alfonsino/kinmedai with some rice and avocado on the side? all gently simmered in a flavorful sauce made of soy sauce, sake, mirin and ginger.

he exhales abnormally loud as soon as you finally show a smile after having a taste. all the pressure now off of his shoulders. you don’t know how glad this man is that you enjoy the fish he personally caught for you. i know he’ll now think of you every time he goes out fishing, wondering which fish you’d like most.

𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐡𝐢��𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚

i just know in my heart, or at least believe, that he’s distinguished and the meal will cost him a fortune.

only the best and most expensive ingredients for you, dear.

don’t be surprised if you come back to a candlelight dinner prepared by your one and only, while he sips the most delicate wine, waiting for you.

by the way, he knows so much about wine and beverages. he knows exactly what you like and what would be a perfect mixture with the meal he prepared.

also when he cooks he likes to take his time, preparing the meal with love and attention knowing it’ll be for his one and only.

so for him, i’m thinking of seafood. he’ll serve you flamed cornish lobster with a yakitori marinade and a ponzu mayonnaise. there’ll be a garnish made of sliced radishes and nori strips. the presentation leaves you baffled. it looks like it came straight out of a five-star restaurant. it smells absolutely divine and you can’t expect less from this man.

when you start digging in, he can’t help but smile while he looks at you with tenderness and love. if he could, he’d look at you through the whole dinner and watch you enjoy that delicious meal he prepared.

© shegetsburned 2024. Please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[navybrat817]

Easy as Pie

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You bake pies for Andy, but you're still his favorite treat. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, cockwarming, slight body worship, sensory deprivation (blindfolding), established relationship, light D/s vibes, mention of insecurities, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #2 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Special thanks for suggesting soft Andy, @whisperlullaby (body worship and sensory deprivation) and @drabblewithfrannybarnes (cockwarming). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Baking was a hobby you enjoyed and what better time to make pies than in the fall? When you asked Andy that morning if he'd prefer to have a pumpkin or apple pie for dessert that evening, he told you to choose for him. It was tough for you to decide. For pumpkin, the earthy pleasant flavor and creamy filling was a wonderful contrast to the flaky trust. For apple, the sweet and tart combination was both delicious and complex.

After a quick mental debate, you decided to bake Andy one of each so he could have the best of both worlds.

“I guess I'll just have to surprise you,” you told him before he left for work.

“Either way, I'll still want you for dessert.”

You were looking forward to that.

It would've been easy for you to buy crust or filling from the store, but you preferred to bake from scratch. As tedious as it was to get the consistency right, it was fulfilling to see your progress from beginning to end. You also told Andy that baking engaged your senses, from touch to taste to smell. It relaxed you as well as energized you. It was almost like the aroma pushed you to the finish line.

By the time you finished baking and cleaning up, it was late afternoon. You were proud of how the pies turned out. Plus the smile on Andy's face when he walked into the kitchen was worth double the work.

“Right on time,” you smiled, removing your apron as he glanced over where the pies sat on display. “How was your day?”

“Better now that I’m home,” he said, loosening his tie before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. He brought his hands to your waist to hold you close, your body molding easily against his. “Did you have a good day?”

“I did, but it’s better now that you’re home,” you said in return.

“You had a good day baking a pumpkin and an apple pie for me?” He questioned as you nodded. “You spoil me, honey. Thank you.”

It was almost laughable that he considered you baking pies as spoiling him. He worked hard as a lawyer and was still a loving partner even with his often busy schedule. The least you could do was take care of him in some form, though you were certain you got the better end of the stick by being with Andy.

“Don’t thank me until you taste them. They may not be so great,” you teased.

The hands on your waist gripped you a little tighter. “Don’t do that.”

Self-deprecating was something Andy didn’t care for, especially when he knew how hard you worked. He understood that there would be days when you wouldn’t think the world of yourself, but he never wanted you to put yourself or your skills down. Even if you were joking and nothing more, he preferred that you saw the best in yourself. If you didn’t, he found ways to tell or show you how special you were.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” you said, shrinking slightly under his fierce gaze before you brushed your fingers along his thick beard. “I’m sure they taste great.”

“I’m sure they do, too,” he said, the blue of his eyes darkening as you moved your fingers to his hair. “Now say something nice about yourself.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you sifted through your thoughts, doing your best to find something positive to say that didn’t sound like you were bragging. “I put love into everything I do and that’s what counts.”

Andy’s piercing gaze softened as he gently held your chin, bringing a smile to both of your faces. “That’s how I know your pies will taste delicious. Because you made them with love.”

Praise was something you typically shied away from, but it was different with Andy. You welcomed the way warmth blossomed from your core and embraced how it spread from your head to your toes. “Double the love since you wouldn’t decide which one you wanted,” you said, his chest rising a bit as he chuckled. “Now you have to pick which one you want to try first. Unless you want to wait until after dinner.”

His brows pinched together slightly as he considered your question. He couldn’t go wrong with either. “I think I’d rather skip dinner and go right to dessert,” he answered, venturing over to the counter.

You watched as he carefully cut and plated a slice from both pies, your breath hitching when he licked some of the apple filling off his finger. He wasn't trying to seduce you at the moment, but it was working. “I don’t mind that at all,” you said as he went back to you, your fingers wrapping around his tie to have him close again. “And where would you like to have dessert?”

“In the living room,” he replied, running his free hand up and down your arm. “And there’s something else I want to try.”

“And what’s that?” You asked curiously.

“I want you to sit on my cock,” he began, bringing his hand back to your waist as you inhaled. It was always a good time for you when he wanted to play. “And I want to blindfold you.”

You whimpered, eager to give him what he wanted. Him robbing you of your sight as he stayed deep inside you would enhance everything else around you. Would his cock feel harder than usual? Would his hands and lips make you tremble more than normal?

“And you’re going to sit perfectly still while I have a slice of each pie,” he continued, his voice gruff as your breathing picked up.

“You want me to sit still while I keep you warm?” You questioned as he kissed your forehead with a smile.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he whispered, dragging his lips down to the tip of your nose. “You naked and blindfolded while my hands and mouth wander, letting me worship you as I eat those delicious pies you put so much care into.”

You made some sort of embarrassing sound at his words, wondering if was going to keep his suit on while you kept his cock warm. It was such a power move and one you loved exploring with him. While he was physically dominant over you, he was also verbally appreciative and tender. He loved you exactly the way you needed him to.

“Maybe I want to worship you, Andy,” you said. He deserved for you to love him the way he needed you to as well.

“Not tonight,” he said, a hint of dominance starting to seep in. There would be no arguing with him. “Not when I’m going to eat you out after I pump you full.”

Fuck.

“And what’ll happen if I don’t stay still?” You asked breathlessly, shivering when his mouth touched the corner of yours, his beard tickling your skin.

“You won’t come,” he replied, smirking when you took a step back and narrowed your eyes. “At least, not right away.”

“That's just mean, Mr. Barber,” you said with the smallest of pouts. He only edged you if there was a reason to do so. Though it wouldn't surprise you if he dragged it out for your self-deprecating comment earlier.

“I won't be mean tonight, but I will need you to be patient,” he said, nudging you toward the doorway. “Go to the living room and strip. I'll be there in a moment.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smirked as you said, “Yes, Sir.”

The smirk fell as you began to undress in front of the couch with shaky hands. Though the curtains were drawn, the light in the room was bright enough that you wouldn't have a chance to hide from Andy's stare. The thought had your heart racing faster because he cherished every part of you. Any imperfection to you was a thing of beauty to him.

“Fuck, you really do spoil me.”

The rich timbre of Andy's voice made your hands fall to your sides, the ache between your thighs stronger as he walked toward you. Your nipples hardened as his eyes swept over you, like he actually touched you. It was embarrassing how wet you were when he hadn't laid a finger on you yet. You didn’t even close your eyes until he moved close enough that his nose brushed against yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips almost touching yours before he set the pie down. “You ready to take a seat or should I check?”

“I think you should check,” you said, opening your eyes as you widened your stance.

His gaze moved lower as he cupped your pussy, his fingers brushing along your slit. You were patient, letting him tease you when what you wanted was for him to stab his fingers deep. Watching him bring his glistening fingers to his lips to taste you seconds later, it was a feat your knees didn’t buckle.

He didn’t beckon you any closer as he lowered his pants and underwear, his cock springing free. His gaze devoured you still as he took a seat, lightly stroking himself with a moan as you stood there waiting. Your mouth watered at the thought of dropping to your knees and swallowing him down. It was another way to keep him warm. But he was in charge and what he wanted was your pussy.

You wouldn’t deny him.

“Come here,” he urged, taking your hand to help you into his lap. He stroked your thigh with his other hand as you straddled him. “Take me in.”

Gripping the base of his cock, you stared into his eyes as you lined him up with your entrance. Prolonged eye contact was another thing Andy taught you to appreciate. Watching the swirl of emotions in his eyes as you began to sink down made your heart almost beat out of your chest. Both of you sighed as you continued to move down, not wanting to go too fast. It would hurt him if you got hurt.

“Good girl,” he praised as you took a moment to appreciate how good he felt. He removed the tie from around his neck when you tightened slightly around him. You almost forgot he planned to blindfold you. “You let me know if this is too much, okay?”

“I will,” you promised. You never had to use your safeword with Andy, but knew he’d stop right away if anything made you uncomfortable. Communication was everything to him. “I trust you.”

He paused, a raw expression on his face as he didn’t reply. You framed his cheeks, wordlessly telling him that he didn’t have to speak. Trust wasn’t something either of you gave easily. Something about him made it easy. Maybe it was how deep your love for him ran.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick as he covered your eyes with the tie. He didn’t make it too tight, but you couldn’t see a thing. “Now be good for me.”

You gasped when one of his hands closed over your breast, your back arching to get more of his touch. You had to bite your lip to hold in your moans when his mouth enclosed around your nipple, his tongue suckling the hardened bud. Your cunt throbbed as he switched, giving equal care to each side with his hand and mouth.

“So lucky to have you,” he rasped as he released your nipple, your breathing heavy as you heard the fork scrape along the plate. Your cunt throbbed when he moaned, the sound filthy and deep. “Have a taste.”

You breathed in deeply through your nose, but Andy didn’t bring the fork to your mouth. He kissed you instead, making you cling to him as you tasted the spices on his tongue. It was stronger than normal, the flavor exploding in your mouth. You practically saw colors dancing behind your eyelids, giving various shades to the sweet taste he shared with you.

“Sweet just like your cunt,” he growled, arousal pooling in your gut as he moved his lips down your neck. Your hands were free, but you felt completely at his mercy. Your pleasure was in his hands. “Doing so well. Just keep me warm while I eat.”

You were desperate for more, but you stayed as still as you could. He kept a hand on you as he took bites, between gently grabbing your ass or rubbing your thigh. His lips and tongue touched wherever they could reach, bringing little whimpers out of you. The one thing he didn’t touch was your clit, which was begging for attention.

How long would he tease you?

“Andy, please,” you whispered, almost shifting in his lap in the hopes to get some relief.

“Almost done, honey,” he assured you, drawing a soft cry from you when he suddenly thrust his hips up. “You need me to fuck you, is that it? Can’t wait until I’m finished eating the dessert you made just for me?”

His finger brushed your clit only once and it was almost enough to hurdle you over the edge. Each touch, every lavishness of his attention, was pure ecstasy. “I-I want to make you feel good.”

“Honey, this is making me feel good,” he said, rocking his hips again as your chest heaved. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his gaze was hungry. “Watching you like this, letting me touch you, praise you. Don’t you feel how fucking hard I am?”

“I do,” you exhaled. You felt every inch of him along your sensitive walls. “Feels good.”

He kissed your cheek, the scent of cinnamon filling your nostrils. “You feel good. So wet and tight and it’s all for me. So fucking lucky to come home to you. Love you so much, honey.”

The fabric of his tie felt damp and you realized it was your sudden tears causing that. Between his words and how sensitive your body felt, it was a lot in a good way. “I love you, too,” you whispered once you took a breath.

He dragged his mouth to your ear as he brought his finger back to your clit, rubbing gently as you both groaned. “You want me to feel even better? Show me how good I make you feel. Drench me and I’ll fuck you with my cock and tongue.”

“Please, please, please,” you begged, gripping his arms in an almost bruising hold, determined to give him what he demanded.

“Come.”

That was your undoing, the tide washing you away as you drenched him the way he demanded. He quieted your cries with his mouth, swallowing them down for himself. You whined as he stopped rubbing your clit, the spasms from your walls still strong as he whispered how much he loved you.

You loved him, too.

“Beautiful,” he commented as you came down, allowing you to collapse against him as you caught your breath. His heart raced against your chest, almost as fast as yours beat. Pleasuring you pleased him and you wondered how you hit the jackpot with him.

“The pumpkin was good,” he began, running a hand up and down your back. “But I think I prefer the apple pie. It’s sweet, like you.”

You laughed breathlessly, making your walls spasm a bit around him. “Noted,” you said, reaching for the blindfold.

He stopped you before you could remove it. “Leave it on. I’m not done worshiping you yet,” he said, shocking you by tracing a bit of whipped cream on your lips. “And if you want my cream, you'll behave.”

He deserves the world! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[allur1ngs]

✮ the glasses stay on✮

tw: unedited, smut, oral--r!receiving, possessive!bada, a bit of jealous!bada, bada's a teeny bit mean (not rlly she says sorry right after), bada wears her glasses while she eats you out, bada eats it through your panties and uses your panties to get you off, pussy slapping...., panty stealing, sex in bada's office & on her desk, ass grabbing, risky sex--possibility of getting caught

a/n: ib this and this ask, this one has a bit of an intro before going straight into the smut, and once again i'm telling everyone to say ty to my wife @bebeyue bcs without her motivation i would not be writing this😚🩷

Tick tick ticking, every second that passes by winds into an endless staircase of lost time. Bada stares down at her Cartier wristwatch with a mix of distain and guilt.

The hour hand on the clock reminds her that it's five in the afternoon, and she's completed little-to-none of the high-stacking papers in front of her. Truly, it's not Bada's fault. Although she can usually sit in her office and read documents for hours on end with little difficulty--beyond the annoyance that settles in after the third or fourth hour--for some reason, today she simply can't will herself to pick up her black and gold fountain pen, and read or sign any paperwork.

"Something's off." She thinks to herself, slowly picking her gaze up from her watch and staring at the blotted black words in front of her. "There's something I can't seem to get my mind off of, but at the same time I don't know what I'm thinking about--"

Like divine and heavenly intervention, the answer comes to her in the form of a beautiful woman entering her office...you.

"Hope I'm not interrupting you." You quietly creep into Bada's office, with a smile. Your eyes, which had only swept over her quickly when you entered, now take in her full figure, which surprises you.

Rather than wearing her normal black suit jacket and tie, she's wearing a light blue button-up shirt with red and blue stripes running across it, and her hair is tied up into a ponytail braid, wisps of her long side bangs frame her face, making her face shape look sharper.

"You're looking extra good today." You comment, walking up to Bada's desk with your hands behind your back.

"Oh," your fiancée breathes, suddenly finding it hard to concentrate, Her eyes are fixated on your outfit, which is a cute blouse and a short skirt. The lack of fabric allows her to eye the creamy skin of your legs with a hungry gaze. "Thank you. I noticed it was hot in the morning so I decided to wear a looser shirt."

"Well I love it." You say cheekily. Walking around Bada's desk, she immediately scoots her chair back, making space for you to stand in front of her. "I brought you something, by the way."

Your words make Bada look up at you, to which you take your hands from behind your back and open your palm, revealing a pair of silver-framed aviator glasses.

"I couldn't find your usual glasses--"

"I broke them while out on a mission." Bada gives you a sheepish look.

"That explains it then." You laugh. "But that doesn't give you an excuse to not wear your glasses."

"I'm sorry." Bada pouts. She takes her spare glasses from the palm of your hand and puts them on, then suddenly wraps her arms around waist and pulls you into her, pushing her head into your midsection.

You let out an instinctive gasp, but place your hands on top of her head nevertheless.

"Let me make it up to you?" She mumbles into your shirt, dragging her hands from your waist to your ass, grabbing them roughly before she gives them a squeeze.

"Bada--" You exclaim, surprised at her lustful behavior. "Where is this coming from--?"

"I can't focus on my work." Your fiancée huffs. She starts to grope at your ass more, pressing her head against your stomach even more. "Especially not now that you've walked in with this short skirt."

Bada suddenly pulls her head from your midsection, but moves her hands back to your hips to keep you at an arm's length distance. She bunches up the fabric of your skirt, slowly raising it farther and farther up your thigh, until the bottom of your skirt just barely covers your panty-covered pussy.

You take in a sharp breath, your body reacting to her touch by shivering.

"Did you wear this on purpose?" Bada hums, toying with your skirt but never completely flipping it upward...yet.

"Like you said, it's hot." You whisper, placing your hands on her shoulders. "I wanted to wear something fresher."

"But did you have to wear such a short skirt?" Bada looks up at you, smirking as she finally flips up the fabric of your skirt, revealing your panties, which are noticeably damp. "Oh, what's this?" She says, her voice low and cocky. She drags her finger up and down your slit, making more slick pool against the lace of your panties.

"Bada...we shouldn't." You whisper, but your body and heart betrays you. You start to roll your hips against your fiancée's fingers, hoping to get more pressure against your pussy.

"I don't know, it looks like you want it." Bada cocks her head to the side, hearing the way your breath hitches when she moves her fingers along your panties. "Do you want it? Do you want me to fuck you here, in my office, when any of the girls could walk in and see us?"

You gasp at her words, glancing at the door instinctively...but you don't stop grinding your hips against her digits.

Bada watches you with amused dark brown eyes. She huffs a laugh, "Do you like that idea? You want to get caught by the girls and let them see how promiscuous you are?"

You hesitate to answer, far too embarrassed to speak your mind--

"Say something." Bada pulls her fingers away from pussy, staring up at you with domineering look.

"...I--I don't want to get caught." You breathe, lies staining your tongue.

"Really?" Bada's voice pitches upwards in doubt. "Are you lying to me?"

You look away from your fiancée in shame. "N--"

"You know I don't like it when you lie." Bada suddenly uses her strength to push you down on her spread legs, making you let out a surprised noise. "But either way, it doesn't matter. I won't let anyone see you like this, whether you want them to or not."

She takes ahold of your legs and makes sure they're wound tightly around her waist. She starts to drag her chair closer to her desk until your ass is against it, then she pushes you down until your back lays on the desk.

Bada looks down at you, splayed across her desk like an angel--a sinful, debauched angel--but an angel no less. Her mind, which had once been foggy immediately clears into one single, concise thought. "I need her."

Bada leans down to capture your lips in a heated, and passionate dance. It's all tongue--your teeth clash against each other as your fiancée swirls her tongue against yours. At the same time, she pulls at your shirt, only breaking away from your lips to rasp out, "Take it off," in a demanding tone.

You stare into her eyes for a split second before you sit up, taking the ends of your shirt, lifting it upward, and off of you. You're left in only a bra, which makes Bada hiss in satisfaction.

She presses another kiss on your lips, laying you back down on the desk once again, before she begins her descent downwards.

Bada moves under your skirt, and hoping to give her more access you try to remove it, but she immediately stops you.

"Don't." She says, using one of her hands to pin down both of yours. "I like it." She smiles, taking the fabric between her fingers and rubbing it. "You look so pretty in it."

You don't fight against your fiancée, you allow her to touch you through your panties, cruelly giving you the mildest amount of pleasure so that you release slick, but aren't satisfied.

"Bada, you're being mean." You huff, wrapping your legs around her head in hopes of pushing her head closer to your cunt.

"I know." She says cheekily. "But you lied to me, so I think I'm going to have some fun with you."

And have fun she does.

Bada latches her mouth onto your panty-covered pussy in a sudden surge forward. She laps her tongue up and down your slit, just barely rubbing against your clit which makes you let out a loud, blissful sigh and half moan.

She rubs her nose against your folds--the combination of glass and silver frames of her aviators are cold--the temperature difference in comparison to your hot pussy makes it clench around nothing. Bada quickly flattens her tongue as she continues to practically slobber all over your panties. Your juices and her saliva ruin the lace, making them a sopping wet mess.

You start to let out increasingly loud moans, even the simplest of Bada's touches making you cry out for more.

"You're being so loud." She mumbles into your pussy. The words rumble against your skin, which gives you muffled pleasure. "I'm starting to think you really do want us to get caught."

You toss your head to the side, looking away from her. "I-I don't."

"There you go again." Bada tuts. She pulls away from your pussy and grabs the edges of your panties. She brings both sides together, creating a thin line of lace that she uses to rub against your clit. The action gives you a delicious amount of pleasure, your mouth falling open as a loud moan leaves your lips. "Do you enjoy lying to me?"

Up and down she moves the lace, using her fingers to separate your folds so she can properly see the way your pussy clenches, pulses, and releases endless amounts of slick.

"Should I make you cum like this? Make you fucking cum all over your panties as punishment?" Her tone takes a stern pitch, the sound of it making you wetter, but at the same time nervous.

"No." You protest, shaking your head side to side. "Please--"

Bada's strong composure shatters at your whines. She can't help but wear a fond smile as she looks down at you, small tears of frustration building in the corner of your eyes. "Don't cry, honey." She cooes, placing her thumb under your eyes to wipe away to clear droplets. "I'm sorry baby, I'm not mad at you. I'll make you feel good--always."

You sniffle a bit, but start to steady your breathing--wide eyes blown as you turn your head to place a kiss on the palm of her hand, silently saying, "I know."

Bada gives you one last fond look before she drags her nose down your stomach, until she reaches that sweet spot between your legs. Mesmerized, she leans down to collect your juices, moving your panties completely to the side to give her unencumbered access to your cunt. She presses her mouth up against it, her glasses bumping into the hood pussy. You watch with bated breath as she once again flattens her hot tongue, giving you one long lick before she dives right in.

Bada moves her head side to side along with her tongue, rubbing your clit deliciously. She catches the skin of your lips and sensually pulls them, then sucks hard on your pussy like it's a lollipop.

"Bada," you somehow manage to choke through your heaving breaths.

She hums against your cunt, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure up your spine and throughout your entire body.

"Your glasses."

"What about them?" She says, briefly breaking away from your pussy.

"You're going to break them--" looking downward, you would have been able to see your fiancée is staring at you through the hoods of her eyes--her gaze is unwavering, confident, and hypnotic.

But you can't see her eyes because her silver aviator glasses are foggy. They're entirely marked with perspiration, Bada's hot breaths catching against the sticky glass and clinging to it like a lifeline.

Still, as alluring and sensual that image is, the nail in the coffin is the globs of your juices dripping from the edge of Bada's glasses. They come together around the middle of the frames until they make a large dot, then drop down onto your fiancée's pink lips, where she quickly darts her tongue out to lick your saccharine slick into her mouth.

"The glasses stay on." She asserts, giving you one last, unseeable look before she attaches her lips onto your pussy again.

It's ridiculous, really. If you're unable to see Bada's eyes through her glasses, then they were entirely useless sitting on the bridge of her nose--she most likely couldn't even see through them.

But nevertheless, she fucks her tongue into you, drives it in and out of your hole, licks and swirls your clit into her mouth until you're screaming in pleasure, her glasses foggy dripping with your essence as she makes you cum.

Sucking on you one last time, Bada finally pulls away at the sound of your broken whines. She lets out a long breath, a smile instantly forming on her lips as she uses the back of her hand to wipe away the remnants of your orgasm from her lips. She licks it all up like it's a valuable liquid--the elixir of life.

Only then does she take her glasses off--well, she hangs them from the unbuttoned collar of her shirt--as she leans forward, giving your cunt an affectionate slap.

You let out a cute "ouch!" then glare at your fiancée, who only laughs in response.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself." She says sweetly.

"I think you could have." You huff, moving to sit up from Bada's desk.

She chuckles under her breath, before quickly taking ahold of your panties and slipping them off your legs. "Thank you for that." She grins. "I think I can finally focus."

You can't help but laugh as well, "Okay, I'll get going then." You hold out your hand and give Bada an expectant look.

She only stares at you with a cheeky smile. "What?"

You furrow your eyebrows and push out your hand further. "My panties?"

"Oh, these?" Bada holds up your lace panties, her saliva and a mixture of your cum making it wad together into a dripping mess. "I think I'll keep them." She suddenly shoves them into her pocket, completely unbothered by the fact that they'll surely dampen the fabric.

"Bada!" You exclaim, your mouth falling open in shock.

"What, you wanted to wear them?" She smirks. "They're ruined." Taking a step forward, she looms over your figure still perched on her desk, and leans in to speak right into the shell of your ear. "Come find me in a few hours after I've finished my work, and maybe I'll think about giving them back."

taglist:

@aericrys, @somerandomtinyperson, @bluebada, @dallaji, @luvjanexx, @hyejuwu, @diana-rose-25, @jjlovesbada, @prilux, @youknow1234, @fae-the-wanderer, @mightymyo, @aein-tings, @badasgirlfriend, @onlyyou-metanoia, @wiselight, @badasoneandonly @multiliker, @badabonita, @randomhoex, @justaharmlesspotat0, @sporadicfacebasement, @4bada, @seungxstar, @urlovebot, @neuftaeng, @hyunsllvr, @aixicl, @itzmy, @badasgff, @mikaleialt, @tthe-dark-ssoul, @m0r0s1111, @phoxey, @taruusmoon, @lovebtsforever24, @moonsvrse

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