#he just has a smile on his face head lolling back hair falling over his face

[wri0thesley]

i think sampo and welt and gepard are such closet pervs btw

[yueebby]

4:36am – gojo satoru

synopsis. satoru is dying (he has a fever) and he needs his darling wife (you) to nurse him back to health 

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, even in sickness gojo can still flirt, he yaps a lot abt marriage and he’s kind of perverted, but he’s just so in love why dont you just give him one chance?

notes. i tried to make this very shoujo-esque. cant have a good shoujo anime without a fever episode!  this has also been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. enjoy yet another fic of me showering satoru with affection (sigh).

the cold wooden floors of your dormitory creak underneath your waddling feet. your sleepy haze does not deter you from the strong desire for a cold glass of water.

surprisingly, the usual dark communal kitchen is illuminated by the small lightbulb inside of the fridge. you hear shuffling of some items from the white icebox, removing any ounce of sleepiness from you. it was unusual for anyone to be up at four in the morning.

a tuft of white hair peeks over the refrigerator door, giving the culprit’s identity away.

“satoru? i thought you were still on that mission in sendai?”

the sounds of digging pauses. satoru’s rises to his full height, towering over the rundown refrigerator door. he gives you a crooked smile that you rarely see. it’s dopier than one of his signature cocky smiles.

“missed me? don’t worry, i tried to speed run it since i knew i had such a beautiful woman waiting for me back home.” 

you placed a hand on your hip, scoffing at his pathetic attempts to flatter you. a snarky response was about to fall from your lips, but a series of painful coughs from the lanky male stopped you. 

you recoil back to avoid his germs. “gross. are you sick?”

satoru sniffles, pointing his nose in the air. the same nose that was starting to turn pink from irritation. “i can’t get sick. it’s physically impossible.” 

“don’t be stubborn, satoru. why didn’t you call for help?” 

he huffs, eyes trained to the floor. “it’s too early. shoko’ll kill me for waking her up.”

sometimes you forget that satoru had an image to uphold. he was the great gojo satoru, after all. 

but if you don’t take care of him, then who will? and despite your disdain at the thought of coddling his ego, it was only basic decency to take care of a fellow peer (or that was what you’d like to convince yourself).

silently, you place the back of your hand to his forehead. you’re not surprised by the warm sensation that you feel. 

satoru’s hazy eyes watch as you move your hand from his forehead to his cheek.

you purse your lips in concern. with the way satoru was stubbornly denying that he wasn’t sick, you were nearly certain that he was indeed not fine. without warning, you grab the collar of his white t-shirt and pull him to your room.

“at least take me out to dinner before~”

“shut it.”

it wasn’t hard to get satoru to settle in your bed. in fact, he seemed giddy at the opportunity. while he was happy cuddling with your rilakkuma plushie, you came to two conclusions: either satoru had a wound from his mission that got infected, or he was simply sick.

knowing his pride, you lean towards the former.

the boy in question winces when you grab his shoulders to inspect the damage done to him. the sounds of furious pats and heavy breathing is the only thing you can hear over your rapidly beating heart as your hands run down his body to check for any injuries. satoru sucks in his breath when your hands cup his cheeks to loll his head to check for any damages done to that pretty face of his. 

his body tensing up doesn’t go unnoticed by you. your imposing hands immediately retract, afraid of inflicting any more damage on him.

“where is the wound?!” your frantic eyes meet his blissed out ones. 

satoru sighs happily, lazily grabbing your hands to bring back onto him,  “there isn’t one, this just feels nice.”

your chest angrily puffs up before you shove him into your soft mattress. he grunts, but you know it didn’t hurt.

“[name]!” he whines, rubbing the arm that cushioned his fall.

you cross your arms angrily, “you scared me!”

gojo mimics your actions, crossing his arms while weakly glaring at you. his efforts to intimidate you prove futile as he shivers uncontrollably, resembling a newborn kitten.

sighing, you delve into your closet, emerging with an oversized black sweatshirt that you toss to him.

he catches it with ease, a chuckle escaping while he inspects the sweater, “i never took you for the type to wear this.”

“....that’s not mine.” you give a nod in the direction of the men’s sweater. the sparkle of amusement vanished from satoru's eyes, coinciding with his jaw dropping.

his grip on the dark sweatshirt tightened while his head darted back and forth from you to the clothing item. “then whose is it?!” 

“suguru’s.”

you think that you’ve broken him when his face scrunches up in disgust. it’s laughable how his mouth had managed to stay wide open the entire time.

“sugu-suguru?!” he splutters. you slowly nod, careful not to make any sudden movements that could provoke him any further. “why– how– explain yourself!”

you cast an uneasy glance at the sweater, finding it challenging to summon any recollections of how you obtained it, especially with satoru's piercing cerulean eyes fixed on you. his scrutinizing stare has the power to reduce you into a puddle.

“well? go on,” he urges you when you stay silent. 

“it’s nothing, really. i believe it was from that mission i had with suguru a while back. somewhere up north. i had packed light and suguru offered me his sweater.” you tap a finger on your chin to recall the memory. “i guess it just slipped my mind to return it.”

“slipped your mind, huh…” satoru sniffles before letting out a sneeze loud enough to wake up japan. you nearly jump out of your skin.

“suguru was just being friendly… and be quiet! yaga will have our heads if he finds you in the girls’ wing!” you warn the weary boy in front of you, prompting him to respond with a dramatic sigh.

“how mean!” he whines before making a pained expression. you quickly rush to his aid. when you make it to his bedside, satoru weakly hands you a clean tissue.

you stare at it blankly.

“be a darling and help me blow my nose?” he gestures for you to hold the tissue up for him. all you can hear are muffled whines when you shove him underneath your plush covers. 

when your flurry of attacks ends, he cautiously lifts his head from beneath the sheets. to his surprise, a steaming bowl of bitter melon miso soup is presented to him. while the broth isn't your personal favorite, shoko appreciates its bold flavor, spurring your decision to prepare it the night prior. despite its bitter components, the concoction had a perfect track record of treating illnesses. you have your brown haired friend to thank.

perhaps it was cruel of you to take enjoyment while he eyes the bowl in horror. you know his sweet palate couldn’t handle it.

he looks up at you with big pleading eyes while shaking his head. you roll your eyes.

“c’mon, it won’t kill you.” the bowl inches closer to him by your doing. “please?”

satoru's pallid complexion contorts into a hesitant frown. "i’ll eat it…” he concedes reluctantly. however, his gaze lingers on the bowl with a mixture of uncertainty and reluctance. you respond with a hopeful smile, but it fades when he adds, "on two conditions."

“this is for your own health, not mine satoru.” you remind him.

“doesn’t it pain you to see me suffer?” he brings up, eyes glittering in the darkness.

you suck in a breath. “...not really.” lie.

“you wound me, love.” he clutches his shirt like he has been critically hit. 

you bite your lip, tired of his theatrics. “what are the two conditions?”

just like that, gojo comes back to life.

“condition number one! you have to feed me.” he points one finger into the air, paired with an innocent smile. “and two: i want you to warm me up like that night in our first year.”

an unflattering appalled expression is cast over your face. no words leave your mouth for a good minute. “y-you’re disgusting. why are you the way you are?”

“love,” he sighs. “anyways, what kind of wife wouldn’t feed her husband while he’s dying?”

“satoru,” you warn. he was starting to babble nonsense again. “if i accept your conditions, will you shut up?” your eyes were starting to feel heavy. it was the middle of the night, after all.

he nods fervently.

carefully with the bowl of soup in hand, you gently squish yourself next to satoru on your full sized bed. the tight fit left you little room to move, forcing the two of you to nestle closely to each other. with a gentle maneuver, you rest your head on his chest. his arm slowly drapes itself protectively over your shoulder.

“your heart is beating awfully fast.” you whisper, tilting your head upward to take a glimpse of satoru’s feverish face. his breath hitches.

he takes a hand and holds your head back onto his chest to prevent your movement.

“shut it. i didn’t think you would actually accept my conditions.” he mumbles.

“don’t get used to it. this is another moment of weakness.”

you stir the spoon in the broth, basking in the silence of the night, save for satoru’s erratic heartbeat.

“this is very intimate isn’t it?” he gushes. “it’s almost like we’re married—”

“keep your side of the deal,” you remind him, lifting a spoonful of broth up to his mouth. satoru looks straight into your eyes as he opens his mouth to receive it.

his adam's apple bobs when he swallows, “i’m going to tell our grandkids that we were written in the stars.”

you shove another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

extra notes

satoru magically recovered from his fever the next morning.

his second condition (for you to warm him up like that night in your first year) refers to this fic from earlier on in the series.

satoru also made you promise to never accept another hoodie from suguru. if you needed one, satoru was more than willing to give you his! (you halfheartedly agree, only because he was acting all delirious because of his fever).

as of right now, there have only been three occasions where satoru has fallen asleep in your presence. he can testify that those were the best nights of sleep in his life.

shoko went into your room for a spare pair of stockings the next morning only to find you tucked into gojo’s chest. she chases him out of your room all while calling him a pervert . bless her heart.

[chocum]

COMING DOWN !

— bunched up, sweet little whimpers, he always gets so sensitive under your touch feat. choso kamo

WARNINGS. femreader (she/her) x goodguy!cho :3 mentions of violence/death, sub cho, dom reader, overstimulation, begging, blowjob, premature ejaculation ;( crying + 1.2k wc note. i’m so insane abt choso it’s actually scary, he’s all i think about. tysm for all the support on my first post. love u all! feedback + reblogs are appreciated! also art by @/swag_yay on x. ty again & enjoyyy ᡣ𐭩

choso hated missions with a passion that pierced his very soul.

his cursed energy manipulation and combat skills are unrivaled, making him crucial to a mission’s success, but the relentless nature of them drained him beyond words— both mentally and physically.

they feel so repetitive: eliminate curses, protect civilians, prevent damage. eliminate curses, eliminate curses, eliminate.

he has always been driven by a deep desire to protect everyone he could, especially those who were unable to do so themselves, but the constant cycle of violence and death confused him—wrestling with self-doubt, doing mental gymnastics, trying to justify his actions. the cognitive strain became a heavy burden that compounded during missions, further exhausting him like heavy buckets of water dousing an already flickering flame.

and after meeting you — his sweet, sweet girl — his hatred for missions only grew.

the ache of missing you constantly gnawed at him. your homey scent. your taste still fresh on his tongue, preventing him from concentrating because, in his mind, he’s still tangled in your sheets, stealing sweet kisses that linger on his lips long after they’ve left yours.

when out scouting, he would catch glimpses of couples hand in hand in the streets sporting deep smiles, making his stomach twist— his brows pinching together, deepening the ridge between them.

his sole solace was the thought of returning home to his pretty girl once everything was over— it pushes him to keep going, to keep fighting, even avoiding shoko because he preferred your clumsy little hands to patch him up.

finally done with his latest three-week mission — a seeming eternity away from you — he was being driven to your place, to you, home.

head lolling back against the car seat, he spreads his legs wider, rolling his hips to adjust himself, before sinking, letting the leather seat swallow him whole. he tilts his head to the side, deep purple irises flickering, to watch the familiar scenery— large leafy trees crowding the darkening highway under evening skies.

after he waved his goodbyes, giving thanks to his driver, he stumbled up to the door, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the keys underneath the dim light of the porch. on the other side, the distinct sound of the lock clicking open causes you to bolt up, rushing to greet him.

he pushes it open and there you are. looking up at him with that big smile he adores so much lighting your face— pretty eyes sparkling with relief. you squeal and fling your arms around him without hesitation and he does the same, burying his face into the side of your neck, feeling your hair brush against him, inhaling deeply.

you always smelled so good— a blend of your natural scent and hints of vanilla from your body wash. he’s been craving that scent for so long, growing dizzy now that it finally embraces him, his body falling limp, so weak in your smaller arms.

you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, fingers gently tracing the smooth lines on his face— lines that seemed deeper since you’d last seen him.

“i missed you so much” you hummed faintly as he cupped your face, nuzzling your warm cheeks against his rough hands.

“i missed you so much more”

he leaned down to find your lips. they felt so much softer than he remembered. kissing you deeply, his calloused hand cradling the back of your neck, drawing you closer into the warmth of his embrace.

and when you moan against him— oh, it sounds so sweet, the blood rushing to his cock so quickly. next thing he knows, he’s rutting against your thigh, pressing against you so, so desperately, almost mounting you.

“what’s wrong cho?” a soft whine escapes him at the sudden loss of contact, “tell me, baby, use your words”

“i’m sorry,” he breathes, a pretty blush crawling up his neck, “just missed you so much— got excited”

“i know, my pretty boy, but ‘m here now, okay? let me take care of you. i know you missed it.” you take his hand, drawing him to your room as he follows obediently, shutting the door behind him, “did you touch yourself without me?”

he shakes his head, his fluffy hair cascading down to rest on his shoulders. “you .. you told me not no”

“good boy”

you push against his shoulders, gently guiding him to sit on the bed, his breath hitching so sweetly watching you lift yourself to straddle his waist. connecting your lips once more, hips grinding against him so slowly— rocking back and forth. his mouth now tinted pink and tenderly swollen from your ardent kisses, you move down to his neck planting a trail of light ones along the sensitive skin, each touch eliciting subtle little quivers and soft exhales. his fists bunch up the sheets, he—

“sorrysorrysorry” he babbles breathlessly— endlessly, his pants turning damp, material darkening as his cock twitches and pulses so cutely, cum drooling out his sensitive slit, “just feel so good against me. been so long. couldn’t even touch myself when you sent those pictures. it’s so sensitive”

“shhhh ‘s okay, cho.” a finger pressed against his pout— pushing its way in for him to suckle on warmly before you slide down to your knees. trailing your hands down his thighs, tugging on the hem of his pants, “i’ll clean you up”

he’s still so hard— his tip blushing, crying white cream, and when you take him in your hands, his hips jerk up for you— body still coming down from his high and you’re already taking him in your mouth, cruelly, licking fat stripes up his twitchy length.

“fuck ‘s too much baby, i just- wai, wait, please.” he’s pawing at you, pushing against your head, but he sounds too cute, crying and whimpering around you for you to stop— looks too cute with the prettiest pink blush shrouding his body from the tips of his heated ears to his curled toes.

you gargle and gag around his cock— exaggerating the sounds because you know it drives him insane. he loves when you get so nasty and messy for him, foamy spit bubbling around where his cock plugs your mouth up. your hands move to cup his warm balls, caressing and squeezing gently, coaxing him to cum for you again.

“ah f- baby, i’m so fucking— please. wanna cum for— you. gonna be so good, gonna—”

he cums salty, thick stripes straight down your warm throat with a whine so pretty you wish it was recorded so you could play it over and over and over.

and he’s crying— it’s too much, feels too good — sweetly hiccuping, sniffing as he hides his face behind his hands. such a pretty boy. he’s growing limp in your mouth and you pull off with a whine before kissing up his shaky legs.

“did so good for me, cho, missed having you like this” lightly moving his hands to pet at his damp cheeks, watching keenly how he leans into your touch, wiping pretty doll-like tears with your thumbs.

knowing that he has you to take such good care of him once he’s home will forever ease his mind while he’s away, a comforting thought that lingers like a soft embrace, even in your absence.

[sceletaflores]

A Different Kind of Compensation.

part two!

pairing: mike schmidt x fem!reader

prompt: you’ve been babysitting abby for mike nearly three months now. he constantly apologizes for not paying you yet, you constantly tell him it doesn't bother you. one night he comes back from his shift at freddy’s and has a different idea on how to compensate you for all of your hard work.

warnings: 18+, oral (fem receiving), vaginal fingering (kinda???), munch!mike.

word count: this was supposed to be a short dirty work that somehow turned into a 2.2k monster. told you i love to ramble.

authors note: remember when i said i might write smut if i was just so moved by an ask? well turns out my very first ask moved me. y'all are nasty, i love it. mike, of course, is a munch because why would he be anything else? i never, with a capital N, write smut so please bear with me if it sucks. i hope whoever requested this loves it! i wrote it instead of finishing my scientific article for bio so it better be decent hehe.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

The sound of the front door opening followed by heavy footsteps woke you up from where you were dozing off on the couch. You gazed at the clock on the side table near you and sure enough, 6:10 blinked back at you. Mike was finally home. You heard him shuffling around in the kitchen, most likely shedding his work vest and hanging his keys on the little hook by the door.

You yawned, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you sat up on the couch. The blanket you used to cover yourself falling to pool around your waist. Mike finally made his way to the living room, sitting on the couch with a soft grunt. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice rough from lack of use. “Abby eat anything?”

“Yeah, a little,” You mutter back through a barely concealed yawn, head lolling to rest on the back of the couch. “You know how she is.”

He hums in acknowledgement but stays silent apart from that, keeping his gaze trained on the infomercial playing on TV. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. You sit up even further on the couch, leaning against the arm rest facing Mike. The blue/green hue of the TV bathed him in light, his hair was unruly with curls sticking out at awkward angles. He had deep bags under his eyes. Just as you thought about getting up to take off, he spoke up again. 

“I promise I’ll get you the money,” he says softly, not taking his eyes off the TV, “I…I just need some time.”

You scoff in mock annoyance, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Mike, you know I don’t care about the money. I don’t mind doing this for you.” You reply, nudging his knee with your foot softly then just leaving it perched on his lap.

Mike finally turns to look at you, there's a strange look on his face that you can’t quite place, but you give him a small smile all the same. He stares at you for a few beats, you can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“You deserve something,” he whispers, his brows furrowed in frustration. “You do so much for me, it’s only fair.” As he speaks, he slowly moves his hand off the couch to your ankle still resting on his thigh, he starts rubbing slow circles over the skin there. His eyes never left yours as he touched you, a very obvious question in them. Asking if you wanted this.

Heat instantly rushed to your belly, cheeks turning a light shade of red at his touch. You’d always thought Mike was attractive, but you never would have imagined he’d want to be anything more than friends. Since he was already so busy with taking care of Abby and his hellish new job.

You swallow once before speaking, your throat feeling dry all of a sudden. “What are you suggesting?” You ask so softly, wondering if he even heard you. Mikes’ fingers stop in favor of trailing his hand up your calf in a featherlight touch, disappearing under the blanket to seek out more of your soft skin. Your heart is beating so fast you think you might die, the sound of it echoing in your ears loudly. 

Mike's big brown eyes stare into yours with a newfound intensity, visibly shocked that you're reacting so viscerally to his touch, his pupils are blown to hell. Chocolate brown being swallowed by black.  His tongue coming out to sweep over his top lip.

“How about you,” he says slowly, scooting closer to you on the small couch. He crowds into your personal space like he belongs there. Mike’s lips inches away from yours. He smells like old leather and dust from being cramped in the security office at Freddy’s. Your chest heaves as your eyes flit back and forth from his eyes to his lips. Seconds drag by like hours as you painstakingly wait for him to finish his sentence. “Stay right there while I make you feel good.” He finally says, his breath fanning over your face hotly. You can’t even speak, afraid of how desperate you might sound, just nodding your head roughly, not looking away from his hungry gaze.

Mike’s hand runs up your leg quickly after you give him the green-light, slipping further under the blanket and higher up your leg until he reaches his destination. He rubs you gently through your shorts, your breath hitches sharply at what should be just a simple touch, but you’re still so worked up from earlier that it feels ten times more extreme. You grasp the blanket still strewn over your lap tightly in your fists, it's the only thing keeping you from seeing Mike’s hand at work between your legs.

Mike reacts to touching you for the first time like he can feel it too. His breath stutters out of his chest, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your already wet folds through your thin cotton sleeping shorts. “Fuck.” He breathes out quietly, so quietly you doubt he even meant to say it out loud. He opens his eyes again, breathing slightly rougher as he stares at you through his arousal induced haze and heavy eyelids. 

Seeing your face must spur him on because he starts rubbing with more fervor than before, his clever fingers applying more pressure making you moan softly. You cut yourself off quickly, eyes darting down the hall to Abby's bedroom door. It's still closed, there's no light leaking through the crack between it and the floor.

"Shit, Mike." You whine quietly.

Mike groans softly at the sound of his name leaving your lips, body trembling slightly with the feeling. Suddenly he wrenches his hand out from under the blanket, and rips it off your lap frantically. You gasp sharply at the cool air breaking through the bubble of warmth the blanket provided, involuntarily closing your legs.

Mike pushes up from his position on the couch next to you, knee walking over so he's kneeling in-front of your clenched thighs. You're still slightly sprawled across the cushions, leaning on the arm of the couch.

"Do you know how crazy you make me?" He asks roughly, putting both his hands on your still closed knees. It takes a second for your brain to catch up to answer him, after a few moments you finally manage a faint shake of your head.

"No?" He asks, tilting his head to the left slightly. "Let me show you then."

Mike grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him, and leads your hand down into his lap. Your breath catches in your throat when he places your hand directly over his clothed erection, but it gets drowned out by Mike's louder whine thanks to you touching him for the first time. You drag your eyes downward, his dark grey sweatpants leave little to the imagination. He got more worked up touching you than you first thought, if the wet patch forming near the tip of his hard-on was anything to go by.

As soon as you started to rub him with purpose, Mike grabbed your wrist, halting your efforts. "No," He said breathlessly, practically panting. "No, this is for you tonight. Just wanna focus on you."

He let go of your wrist, turning his head in your direction. Both of you failed to realize how close you'd gotten when he dragged you to him. Your noses practically touch when he turns, catching you both off guard. His eyes travel down to your lips, staring at how red and puffy they'd gotten from you biting them to muffle your moans.

"How sweet of you, Mike." You whisper, leaning in just a tad closer. He lets out a guttural groan and closes the distance between your lips, claiming your mouth with his own. He leans forward, gently guiding you to lay back on the couch. His body completely covering yours as the two of you makeout, his arms on either side of your head and his hips slotting against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock against your cunt. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up to meet his.

Mike breaks the kiss with a whine, trying to muffle the noise by shoving his face in your neck. You bring your hands up to tangle in his curly hair, yanking it roughly as he starts littering kisses all along your collarbones. Nipping and sucking in-between his gasping little moans as you twist and pull his hair in your grip.

He tears his mouth away to stare up at you through his lashes, his lips are swollen and red. “Please,” He gasps out, his hips unconsciously grinding down into your thigh. “Let me eat you out. Please. Tell me I can, say I can.” He babbles, hips rutting faster every second you don’t answer him.

“Yes.” You exclaim as quietly as possible. “Do it, Mike. Eat me out.”

Mike’s whole body shudders at your words, eyes falling closed for a second before he quickly slides down your body, leaving an odd kiss here and there as he goes. He brings his hands up to grip the waistband of your shorts, pausing to take a single steadying breath, then he tugs them down along with your panties and tosses them aside. He stares down at you in awe for a good few moments before he lays on his stomach, right in front of your dripping cunt.

Mike kisses along the inside of your thighs for a bit, licking everywhere but where you want him to the most. “Thank you.” he mutters, tone way too earnest for the situation at hand but you don’t have much time to think about it before he’s diving face first into your thighs.

“Fuck!” You let your voice get way too loud in the quiet atmosphere of the house, but you can’t help it. You didn’t think Mike had lots of experience because of some late night drunken talks before, but he was either lying or holding out. He works his tongue expertly along every inch of you. Every swirl, flick, or suck has you catapulting to the edge way faster than you’d imagined.

It doesn't help that Mike keeps letting out these noises. Small needy whines or deep guttural groans that you can feel. He’s moaning like he’s the one getting head, unashamed and authentic. It’s so fucking sexy.

“Shit Mike, I’m close. I’m so close.” You whisper too quietly for him to hear with his head trapped between your thighs, but it doesn’t matter. Mike brings his thumb up to lightly circle your clit as he laps against your entrance, and you're gone.

Your thighs shake as you release, grabbing on Mike’s hair for dear life as you go through the most intense orgasm ever. He moans into your cunt, working you through the aftershocks. He laves his tongue along you until the overstimulation gets to be too much and you drag his face away by his hair.

He sits up, the bottom half of his face covered in spit and slick. That visual alone is almost enough to get you ready for round two. It’s silent except for the heavy breathing coming from you both.

After he catches his breath, Mike retrieves the blanket from behind his back somewhere to cover the lower half of your body. Your thighs are still shaking as he lays next to you, it’s a tight squeeze but neither of you seem to mind. He kisses the side of your face sweetly, throwing his arm around your waist to pull you in even closer.

You finally regain enough conscience to speak. “Are you sure you don’t want to get off?” You ask, “I mean I can’t feel my legs but I’m sure we could think of something.” Mike only laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, this was about you.” He said, beginning to rub his fingers back and forth on your hip. “Plus I, uh, I already sort of…” He trails off, a flush forming on his cheeks.

It took you a second to realize what he was saying, but when it clicked you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your mouth. You lifted up the blanket covering the two of you, and sure enough Mike had an impressive wet patch seeping through his sweats.

He pinches your hip lightly, offended by your giggling. “Don’t laugh at me,” He complains with a smile, yanking the blanket back up. “I couldn’t help it.”

You stifle another laugh to the best of your ability, though your shoulders still shake ever so slightly. You turn your head to press a kiss to his lips. It’s different from the previous kisses you shared tonight. It’s slower and softer, full of a new emotion that you both feel, but know that it can wait to be talked about later. For now you’re both just basking in the afterglow.

You break the kiss first, pulling back only slightly to lean your forehead against his. You both smile at each other for a second.

“Okay,” You give in, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away from his face. “But believe that tomorrow is all about you.”

[oepionie]

HIS COMPLETE DEVOTION: THE AFTERMATH. malleus draconia

Synopsis: A week after the spell incident, Lilia tells Malleus about all the things he's done to you when he lost his memory. Horrified at his actions, Malleus locks himself away in his room to brood.

Character/s: Malleus Draconia x GN! Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Crack-Fluff, Malleus is really dramatic, Intense love, Lilia drags Malleus' ass, Lilia turns into his true form, Malleus has gargoyle bedsheets lol, Flustered Malleus, Malleus kneels for u

A/N: Might have went a little bit overboard here loll, I just read a bunch of sagau zhongli fics and it inspired me eheg

WordCount: 800+ | 💌Masterlist | PART I HERE

Malleus Draconia was in love with you. There was no doubt regarding that.

Every bit of your affection, no matter how small or big makes Malleus melt. In the aftermath of your love, he has trouble keeping his heart still as it bounces and dances around his chest. His face blossoms a bright red and a wide silly smile remains on his face for hours, leaving his cheeks burning and strained.

The dragon fae always clung onto you, standing by your side like a devoted knight - so vigilant and attentive that it would put his own retainers to shame.

Though, why is it now that you find yourself eating lunch all alone, with your dragon nowhere to be found?

Well…after the incident last week, Malleus dared not to show his face to you.

Lilia had told him about everything that had transpired that day and oh, how he hated to hear about the sorrow of his cherished treasure. It trod on, tore at, and beat at his poor heart. Even more so once he found out he was the cause of your pain. Such an unpardonable act that Malleus, overcome with grief, shut himself in his room.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't visit him. Every time you entered the area around his room, a push of wind magic would always carry you away; it was gentle enough to never hurt you but firm enough to never let you get past.

After days of trying, you decided to simply give Malleus his space, hoping that he wasn't taking it too seriously…

Guilt.

Such a twisted, dreadful feeling which gnawed at his bones and mauled his conscience.

Malleus sits in his bedroom, glaring down at his feet. After locking himself up, the young prince refused to speak to anyone and only came out when it was time for class.

When he was in school, he avoided you like the plague; immediately teleporting away as soon as he caught sight of your figure.

It was safe to say that he wasn't taking the situation so lightly and after a week of his dramatics and Sebek's mourning, Lilia eventually had to step in.

"No!" Malleus growls, tugging his gargoyle themed blanket away from Lilia's grasp and burying his head underneath it.

Lilia sighs and yanks it away from him once more, glaring at Malleus with a stern look. "Do you plan on going about the entire month sulking like this?"

"Yes. Yes I do." Malleus huffs, a puff of fire floating into the air before dissolving into ash and smoke. He turns his back to his guardian and shuts his eyes tight. "Leave."

Silence falls over the room as the two stay still. Lilia squints his eyes, slowly rolling the sleeves to his shirt up. His hair grows, draping over his shoulders and cascading down his back. Malleus turns to glance at him, eyes ripping wide open as he recognises Lilia in his true form.

"I may be old but that doesn't mean I've grown brittle." Lilia rushes forward, tackling Malleus in a vice grip. The dragon writhes in his arms but Lilia's hold doesn't falter one bit. He carries the wriggling fae out the dorm, along a path Malleus was all too familiar with.

"Now, let's go to that darling treasure of yours."

Despite Malleus' protests, the bat fae dragged the poor withered dragon all the way to your dorm.

Once they arrived, Lilia made sure to switch back to the form that you were familiar with.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Malleus stood uncomfortably behind him as the bat fae rapidly knocked on the old rickety wooden door.

There you appeared, disheveled and drowsy with Grim hanging off your shoulder. For the first time in weeks, Malleus' eyes fell upon your figure, and his heart hammered heavily in his chest. Lilia pushed him towards you. "Go on Malleus, I believe you wished to tell them something."

You looked up at him in anticipation, a bright smile on your face. With a trembling sigh, Malleus strode forward.

"I-I'm sorry." He dropped to his knees and bowed deeply, his head striking the ground hard. His shoulders were locked and tensed in a straight line, posture stiff and rigid.

"Malleus!" You gasped, rushing forward. Despite your hasty attempts to urge him to stand, he remained anchored to the ground like stone.

The dragon fae grabbed onto your ankles, his forehead pressed against your feet. "My treasure, I a-am so sorry."

"Oh Malleus, love, you're being a bit too dramatic. It's okay." You shushed him, stooping down to take him into your arms.

Almost immediately, he melts into your embrace, curling up against your chest. His head lay against your shoulder, an arm draped over his eyes. Apologies flowing out of his mouth in an uncommon display of vulnerability.

Sighing, you cast a glance at Lilia who only shrugged as if to say 'Well, he's your problem now.'

"I'll make it up to you." He whispers, throat burning after his numerous confession of guilt. You smiled, burying your face into his hair. "I know, Tsunotarou, I know."

" Though I must say…" You trailed off, and Malleus peered up at you, his eyes wide with curiosity. "That locket you had of me was really lovely."

Malleus coughed, his cheeks turning slightly red. "I hadn't intended for you to ever see it."

"Khee hee~ Ah yes, the locket." Lilia sniggered, grinning impishly. "Prefect, did you know he had a box of true gold specifically custom made for it?"

"Lilia."

"He was so protective of it, always growling if someone dared to touch what was his."

"Lilia, please."

"There was even an enchanted silk pillow! He would always place the box atop it. I'm quite sure both the box and the pillow were embedded with a protection spell.

"I beg of you, stop."

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas , @spadecentral , @crypticbibliophile ⤷ (want to be added?)

[emmylksblog]

SLEEPY CLOSENESS // MARC GUIU

request: Can u do a Marc guiu we’re he’s being really clingy and cute with you in front of his family ?

content: almost cringy fluff

warnings: just overly sleepy marc

words: 1350

a/n: i’m so sorry it took me this long to post but my life got busy and i’m almost never home 😔 be patient with me with your requests i’m not ignoring them just figuring out how to elaborate each of them 🤌���

The Guiu family had invited you over for dinner, and you sit with your boyfriend Marc, he sits with his shoulder against you. His parents, as usual, are chatting amongst themselves, as Marc lets out a huge yawn. His head then lolls onto your shoulder, and despite the fact his parents are right there, he wraps an arm around you and snuggles into your shoulder, not caring if they see.

Marc's mom glances over as her son rests his head on your shoulder and his arm over you, then a small smile crosses her face. She clears her throat "Marc, I know you're tired but please try and stay awake while you have a guest over!"

Marc half opens one eye and glances at his mother, before burying his head back into your shoulder. He mumbles quietly “But I’m comfortable here.”

"Please sit up properly at least." His mum says with a sigh. Marc just burrows down further into the crook of your shoulder. He has no intention of moving.

You chuckle to yourself quietly at Marc’s antics, and he looks a bit like a sleepy puppy. His mom shoots you an exasperated look, and you decide to intervene, gently ruffling his hair a bit and giving a reassuring smile. “Baby, your parents are going to think I'm a bad influence on you if you keep falling asleep on me.”

Marc grunts, opening his dark eyes again and peering up at you. “Oh they know you’re a bad influence on me already.” He lets out another yawn and sits up a bit more, though still leaning against you

His mom rolls her eyes but smiles at you. “He’s always like this when he’s tired. A right nightmare when he was a toddler!” Marc shoots her a look, and you grin.

He sighs, not denying it. “Ma eso no es verdad. (that's not true mom)” He mutters quietly, burying his head in the crook of your shoulder again.

He yawns again and lets out a sigh. “And I’m just really tired cause the match today took a lot out of me. We barely won, it was 2-1.”

You nod sympathetically. “That’s fair. Good job on the win by the way.” You say, running your fingers through his hair again.

Marc makes a hum that sound like he's quietly purring, letting out another yawn. His eyes are half closed as he's curled onto you.

His mother chuckles as she watches you stroke her little boy's hair. "You two are adorable." she says affectionately.

As dinner finishes, you both head to the door. Marc is obviously exhausted and looks like he might fall asleep on the way home. His family calls out their goodbyes, and you and Marc reciprocate promising to come back soon.

You steer Marc over to the car since you don't trust him at this point to drive. So you coax him into the passenger seat and fasten his seatbelt, before getting into the car yourself.

He leans his head on the window, eyes closed. At a red light you turn to look at him. "Stay awake a bit longer amor, I love you but I'm not carrying you into our apartment."

He grunts something unintelligible. "Love you too." He mumbles, keeping his head on the window. "But just let me sleep...."

You roll your eyes affectionately and poke his arm to keep him from falling asleep. "We'll be home soon enough, okay? Then you can sleep as much as you like."

You pull up at your shared apartment and climb out of the car, then go the other side to get Marc out.

You're already standing next to the car, trying to coax him out. He's leaning against the seat and doesn't look like he's going anywhere. You roll your eyes, then grin and crouch down next to him. "If you get out the car, I'll give you a kiss."

That seems to get his sleepy mind working, as he opens one eye to look at you. "Promise?"

You nod, and he lets out a huff. "Fine." He grumbles and drags himself out of the car, and you keep your promise by leaning up to kiss him as soon as he's standing upright.

He melts into the kiss, though is still half asleep. After a few moments you pull away, and he blinks sleepily. "I'm sleepy though. Carry me." He demands, opening his arms.

You laugh at his pouty face, shaking your head at him. "Oh yeah, you think I'm gonna carry you all the way to the apartment?" You teased him, wrapping your arms around him instead.

You quickly wriggle out of his arms, a grin on your face as you dart away towards your apartment, laughing all the while.

He gives a small growl, and his competitive nature sparks awake. "Hey!" He calls after you, before giving chase.

You run for the front door, hoping to get to the sanctuary of your apartment before he catches you, but he's quickly on your tail.

He catches up to you and wraps his arms around you from behind, holding you in a tight bear hug. "Thought you could out run a footballer, eh?" He says with a smirk, his chin on your shoulder.

You're doubled over in laughter, and try to catch your breath. "You're- you're a- a damn- cheater. Unfair." you manage between laughs. He grins down at you and holds his hand out for the keys. "No I'm just good at what I do."

You hand over the keys, and he unlocks the door with a flourish. "After you." he says, grandly holding the door open for you.

You roll your eyes affectionately and step past him into the apartment. "Such a gentleman."

As you come out of the bathroom, he's already stripped to his boxers and sitting on the bed waiting for you, looking half asleep again.

He gives a cute yawn and holds his arms out again. "Come here~" he murmurs sleepily.

You roll your eyes affectionately, letting out a laugh. "Baby, you didn't have to wait for me in your boxers. You could've gone straight to sleep."

He pouts and shakes his head. "But then I wouldn't get to see how nice you look before bed." He whines, beckoning you towards him again.

You walk over to the bed and climb up to straddle him, settling yourself in between his legs. He grins up at you sleepily and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto him.

He gives you a warm smile, nuzzling your neck. "Can I get my reward now?" he mumbles, his breath warm against your skin.

You chuckle quietly, running a hand through his hair. "And what reward is that?" You ask, though you already know what he's asking for.

He yawns again but keeps his head on your shoulder, burrowing closer to you. "A goodnight kiss, please?" He says, his voice still soft and sleepy.

You smile at his sleepy request and tilt his chin up towards you, before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. He smiles against your lips and kisses you back, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you nearer.

The kiss lasts a few moments before you pull back, and he pouts up at you. "Only one?" He asks, his eyes still half closed.

You laugh gently as you pull back, and tease him about the fact that now he's fully awake again with a smirk. "What happened to being tired, hm?"

He huffs playfully and glares up at you, though the effect is spoiled a little by the fact that he's still holding you close against him. "You can't blame me for wanting my goodnight kisses." He defends himself.

You shake your head at his pout and press another kiss against his lips. "There, there you big boy. Goodnight kisses delivered."

He grins and buries his head in your shoulder again. "Goodnight, I love you." He mumbles against your skin.

You run your hand through his hair and smile. "I love you too, you sleepy idiot."

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi! I had this idea for the As you wish - series. What if reader finds her first grey hair or maybe spot the first lines on her face and panics because she thinks "Eddie was drawn to me because I was so young, what if he won't be drawn to me anymore?!"

Ah, the signs of aging. As someone who has had a line across her forehead for years now, I felt this lol. Despite what society tries to tell us though, aging is good! Never forget that.

Words: 2.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Waking up before your alarm clock used to be considered a sin to you. It’s not like you were always out partying all night in college when you were younger, it’s just the principle of the thing. How dare your body naturally wake you up just as the sun is making its first appearance over the horizon? The words “early morning” left a sour taste in your mouth, and you’d do whatever you could to get a few extra hours of sleep.

If growing up and becoming a productive member of society didn’t get your body accustomed to waking up earlier than in your teenage years, being a mom of three certainly did. 

The boys are both teenagers themselves now and won’t get up for school willingly, which means you’ve had to learn a few tricks over the years. But one of those tricks was seemingly fading as time ticked by as well. Eliza used to be up before the crack of dawn, her cries or laughter beating the rooster’s crow to the punch. Now that she’s pushing four years old, she often sleeps later than you or Eddie, which means she’s not readily available to bother her brothers into a wakened state. That still leaves Eddie though, and he considers it a joy to annoy his sons awake—payback for all the years they did it to him. 

But this morning you’re awake not only before your alarm, but before anyone else in the house as well. A few emerging beams of sunlight shine through the gaps in your blinds and warm the side of your face as you turn towards it. A content hum leaves your lips as you open your eyes, blinking away the bits of sleep still clinging to the corners. Your heavy head lolls to the other side and comes face to face with your sleeping husband. 

It’s impossible not to smile at his open jaw dotted with scruff, just a hint of drool pooling in the corner. Telling yourself to get up out of bed and not bury your face in his chest and cuddle back into the blankets feels like a Herculean task as you gaze at his handsome face. 

With a sigh, you push yourself up and stretch your arms up over your head. The bright side of being the first one up is that you can go through your morning routine in peace, you suppose. 

The plush carpet is warm on your toes as you slip from bed and pad over to the en suite bathroom. A fierce yawn erupts from your mouth as you turn on the faucet to wash your face. The back of your hands rubs against tired eyes as you wait for the water to heat to an acceptable temperature. The house is quiet and still around you, giving you a sense of calm that you’re sure won’t last once the kids are awake. 

A green washcloth hangs on a hook next to the mirror above your sink and you lather it with your apple blossom-scented soap before rubbing it over your face. The scratch of the cloth on your skin feels good, taking any remnants of the full night’s sleep off and preparing you for the new day. 

You let the wet swatch of fabric fall back down into the sink and grab the matching towel to pat your face dry. As you hang the towel back on the hook, you lean in towards the mirror above the sink and let your eyes roam over your features. Luckily, it seems like that small breakout you had last week has finally cleared up and your chin is blemish free. Your eyes trail farther up and once they get to your forehead your hands grip the side of the sink with enough force to crack the white porcelain in half.

There is a line across your forehead. 

Immediately, your hand goes up and tries to rub it away. Still there. Maybe it’s a smudge on the mirror. All your hand does is smear fingerprints across the glass surface, but the line on your face is still there. 

Gently, you rub the tips of your fingers over the crease in your skin. When you can feel the indent where it used to be firm, an involuntary whimper falls from your lips. Your forefinger traces the line back and forth from the left side of your face to the right. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes and your arms drop down to your sides.

You have a wrinkle. 

The ugly word has the tears spilling over your bottom lids and you squeeze your eyes shut. This is ridiculous, you try to tell yourself. It’s perfectly normal. Aging is a good thing. You force your eyes open and glare at the unwelcome addition to your face. But why does aging mean you’ll start to feel insecure about how your body changes? Wasn’t puberty enough of that bullshit?

A sharp inhale of breath and your hands fly to cover your mouth as a thought occurs to you. What is Eddie going to think? He was drawn to you because of your youth, so what now? Is he going to find this wrinkle gross? Will he find you unappealing now? Are younger, hotter girls going to turn his head?

The thoughts come on too quickly and you're flooded by a wave of panic and grief. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and you make a conscious effort not to scrunch your face up, lest you get more wrinkles. 

A small sob wracks your body, and you tighten your hands over your mouth. Part of you knows this is an overreaction, that Eddie won’t care, but the irrational side of you has its claws too deep in you now to let go. 

“Babe?”

Eddie’s groggy voice calls out and his footsteps approach the bathroom door. As if it will keep him from seeing you, you press your back against the bathroom wall and keep your hands firmly clutched over your mouth.

A mop of frizzy bedhead pops in the doorway and Eddie looks in the other direction before swinging his gaze around and spotting you. Instantly, he’s more alert as he takes in your body language. He comes to stand in front of you and places his hands gently on your upper arms.

“Princess, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks. 

Not trusting your voice, you shake your head, hands still covering your mouth.

“What?” Eddie asks. “You’re not okay?” Gently, he pries your fingers from your lips and holds them securely in his own hands. “Hey, come on. Please talk to me.”

Try as you might to find the right words to say, nothing comes to mind. Too much is rattling around your head and the only thing that comes out of your mouth are whines as your sobs pick up. Instinctively, you step in towards Eddie and bury your face in his neck. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to his warm, solid frame. 

“Hey…” Eddie coos as he rubs a large hand up and down your back. It’s a tone you’ve heard him use with Eliza a hundred times before when he’s trying to get her to take a breath and use her words. “Sweetheart, talk to me. Please?”

It takes a lot of your strength to pull back and wipe your eyes and nose off on your arm. The concern in Eddie’s eyes damn near sends you into another fit, but you manage to keep it together. 

“I-I…” I have a wrinkle is what you plan to say. “I’m s-scared.”

Your husband’s eyebrows pinch together as he studies your face. He’ll probably spot the problem on your face on his own if he keeps looking at you like this. 

“Scared? Baby, what are you scared of?”

At his question, a new round of tears does come. You try to ward them off though, shaking your head and wiping your eyes. I’m scared you’re not going to be attracted to me anymore. I’m scared you’re going to think I’m old. I’m scared I’m freaking out and don’t know how to stop it.

None of those words form on your tongue though, so with a shaky hand you reach up and point to the crease above your eyebrows. Eddie’s gaze drifts to where you’re pointing but this only seems to confuse him more.

“What is it? What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asks. When you jab repeatedly at your forehead with your finger, Eddie gently grabs your wrist and lowers your arm back down. “Angel, you’ve gotta talk to me.”

“A-A wrinkle,” you manage to squeak out just above a whisper. 

Eddie frowns and looks at your forehead again. He squints his eyes and shrugs his shoulders.

“I see a faint line. Why does that scare you?”

“Because it means I-I’m old.”

Laughter is the last thing you expect to hear from your husband. But when you look up at him there’s an amused look on his face as he shakes his head. 

“Babe, you’re twenty-nine. If you’re old, then I’m the damn crypt keeper.”

“M’not like when you met me,” you mumble, looking down in embarrassment. 

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says plainly. “And neither am I.” When you look up at him in confusion, Eddie sighs and gently tugs you closer to him. He takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and pulls you into his lap. “Pretty girl, we’ve known each other for about a decade now. Neither of us are the same. I’ve got gray in my beard now and these crow’s feet around my eyes.”

“They’re sexy,” you’re quick to inform him.

“What makes you think I don’t think your changes are sexy?” your husband asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“This isn’t sexy,” you say with a sigh as you rub your hand across your forehead. 

“Is to me,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’ve got more tattoos now. You’ve given birth. Jesus hun, I’m in a different decade than I was back then. We’re not a couple in their twenties and thirties anymore—it’s twenties and forties.”

His fingers gently dig into your sides, making you squeak in laughter and squirm around in his lap. 

“Until I turn thirty in a few months,” you say. Words burn at the back of your throat, and you know you shouldn’t say them. But they need to come out and make themselves known. “You’ll still want me, right? When I’m thirty? With these lines starting?”

Eddie stares at you for a moment, his doe eyes scanning your face. You see the moment something clicks in his mind.

“Wait, don’t tell me that’s what you’re scared of?”

When you still avoid looking him in the eye and remain silent, Eddie lets out a long sigh. 

“There is no line or wrinkle that could make you anything less than the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Not a damn thing in this world could make me not want to be with you. I love you. Always have, always will. Wrinkles or not. Acne or not. Scars, gray hair, injuries, sickness, it doesn’t matter. You’re my girl and that’s all there is to it.”

Emotion swells within your chest and it’s difficult to keep it contained. Hoping to convey what your voice can’t, you lean forward and rest your forehead against Eddie’s. 

“Actually,” Eddie adds softly, “I think wrinkles and gray hair are pretty great things. Because it means we’re growing old with each other. No one else I’d want by my side, to go through this with.”

“I’m so lucky to be your girl,” you manage in a hoarse whisper, trying to quell the tears that build up—now for a different reason. 

A soft chuckle has Eddie’s breath ghosting across your lips.

“It’s absolutely me who is the lucky one, princess. I love you so goddamn much.” 

“I love you too—”

“Mama!”

Little hands beat on the wood of the closed bathroom door. You and your husband share a whispered laugh as you drop your head down to his shoulder. 

“What’s up, sweet pea?” Eddie calls back.

The banging stops and there’s a beat of silence before your daughter replies.

“I called for Mama.”

A snort of laughter leaps out of you at Eliza’s tone. Eddie shakes his head in amusement and lets out an overdramatic sigh.

“See?” He speaks softly to you. “None of us can live without you.” The banging starts up again, a little faster this time. Eddie winces and squeezes one eye shut. “Even for a second, apparently.”

[violetsiren90]

Arms Around Me

(A Light of Your Eyes universe drabble)

Pairing: best friend's younger brother!Changbin x f!Reader

Genre: drabble; established (secret) relationship; smut/fluff/angst

Summary: Three months after you show up on your best friend's doorstep to find her brother instead, Changbin thinks it's time to let Nari know that things have changed.

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, DNI); explicit sexual content; seated cowgirl; intimate sex; eye contact; unprotected vaginal sex; internal ejaculation; cock warming; praise kink - because we all know he has one, okay??; showering together; a little sexy joking; nudity; kissing and embracing; teasing (non sexual); mentions of reader's hair being washed; FLUFF 🥰; some guilt and anxiety; tough conversations; Binnie goes off script (but he's also just the sweetest and realest); Binnie down BAD; a pretty intense argument; cursing in an argumentative context; minor panic attack symptoms and disassociation; crying (hurt/comfort, honestly), emotional intimacy and vulnerability for the win 💕

Word Count: ~5000.

Author's Note: I did NOT expect to drop this today of all days, but here it is nonetheless! You know, just in case you needed any more reason to lose your mind over this man...🤪. It turned out longer and angstier than I initially imagined, but once I started they took over entirely and now we have the second part of their little love story! I apologize in advance for how many times I mentioned Changbin's big buff arms, they are my current Roman Empire, and I will honestly never be normal about how much this guy makes me wanna just bite him.

To anyone who reads, thank you! I hope this story brings you something soft and sweet.

And as always, if no one has told you yet today, please know that you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

“Look at me, beautiful,” Changbin’s breathless voice pleads as your eyes flutter open from where he’s tilted your head back to take you in.

His hand cradles the back of your neck with a tender strength as it lolls against his grip with each roll of his hips where they press up to meet yours. From under heavy lids, you drink him in.

His handsome face, inches from yours, is flushed with his efforts. Thick dark hair clings to his damp brow above hooded eyes that look as desperate as you feel. Your arms are curled around his neck, your soft body flush with his sturdy one where he sits on the edge of the bed wrapped in you. Arms clinging to his shoulders, legs bent at the knee on either side of his hips as he grinds up into where you stretch around the thickness of him. Your quads burn as you raise your hips the few inches you’re still able before letting your ass fall with a slap to his muscular thighs again and again.

He must be close, you think, as you try your best through your fucked out haze to focus on the intensity of his gaze - he always wants them when he comes, your eyes on his. Your lips are parted by a groan as his left hand leaves your waist to splay over your lower abdomen between your bodies, this thumb pressed to your clit. You’re close too.

“Bin…” you whimper softly, and he pulls you to his lips, salty with sweat.

You gasp into his mouth, swallowing each other’s cries as the knot in your core bursts and you come, squeezing around his cock. He follows you over the edge, releasing inside you with a cry as you quiver against him, parted lips still hovering over his own.

You kiss him, sweet and slow and spent, and he flips you onto the bed so his body lays over yours, still inside you though growing soft. His weight presses you into the mattress and you sigh, so utterly at ease, body and soul, when he shields you from the world. His head raises from where it collapsed to your breast and you take his face in your hands as he beams down at you with twinkling dark eyes and his little crooked grin.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, stroking over his full cheeks with your thumbs.

“You came with me again,” he murmurs, still half out of breath. Your lips stretch into a smirk.

“Can’t help it, you’re too good at getting me there,” you answer, leaning up for another kiss before nipping at his plump bottom lip. 

His smile widens and he drops his face to nuzzle his nose into your neck below your ear. 

“I’m too good, huh?” his voice comes in a raspy hum against your skin. You drag your fingers through his damp, curling locks.

“You know you are, Seo Changbin. You know what you do to me,” you chide.

“Say it anyway.”

You smile, your eyes pressing into crescent moons, and you tilt your lips toward his ear.

“You make me feel like nobody else could ever,” you whisper, your mouth ghosting his lobe.

He twitches inside you. You chuckle quietly as you press another kiss to his neck.

“God, I’m so lucky!” you murmur teasingly, but he presses himself up to meet your eyes, not a bit of jest in the ones now gazing down at you.

His beautiful face is grave and lovely as his eyes trace yours with a reverence that only ever seems to grow with time.

“Nah,” he shakes his head, bringing the backs of his fingers to gently drag across your cheek, “I’m the lucky one.”

Your breath catches in your chest.

It’s been three months since you lost a dozen games of Super Smash Bros Brawl and your whole entire heart. Three months of rediscovering yourself in the unfamiliar and beautiful context of deep and sincere adoration. Three months of giddy laughter and quiet vulnerability and the safety of strong, gentle arms.

Three months of heaven.

Three months of Changbin.

“I have a confession to make,” his voice comes from over your shoulder and the patter of water against the shower floor.

You hum in response, eyes closed as his fingers lather shampoo against your scalp, filling the humid air with the scent of lemongrass and lavender. His other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close so that your bare back leans flush with his chest.

“…I told Chris.”

Your eyes open, droplets clinging to your lashes like dew.

“About us?”

His hand skims up your side and moves to cup your forehand and tilt it back as you feel the warm spray of the showerhead through your tresses. When the suds are gone he turns you around, hands on your hips. He looks like the cat who caught the canary as he nods and smirks, and you can’t help but smile yourself, even as you attempt to harness an expression of disapproval.

“How’d that happen?”

“He basically called me out on it. Said only one thing could make me so stupidly happy.”

“Mind-blowing sex?” you murmur, pressing your slick skin to his.

“You,” he corrects, his eyes glimmering as he leans down to press wet lips to yours. When he pulls away, you consider for a moment.

“You mean…he knew you liked me? Before?”

“You think my best buddy wouldn’t?”

A pang of guilt twists in your stomach at the remark. Your best friend is still very much in the dark about…well, everything where you and her brother were concerned. You chew your bottom lip as he helps you out of the shower. Absently reaching for the towel he holds out, you blink into focus as your hand clutches at air when it’s drawn back out of your reach.

“What…hey, why are you…?” you glance at Changbin, who is now holding the towel over his head, a victorious look on his features as his eyes rove your form.

“I like you naked. Five more minutes!” He whines with a chuckle as you swat his bulging pectoral and snatch the towel cradling his hips to wrap around your own damp body.

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble with a smirk, but you adore it - how taken he is with every part of you. How he always wants to touch you, hold you, be close to you in any way he can. And how he never shies away from saying just exactly how you make him feel. 

Though, you’ve noticed a shift in that particular respect over the last few weeks.

You watch him rumple the towel over his hair.

Sometimes he holds something back. You can always see it, lingering behind his eyes and at the corners of this mouth. You can feel it on the tips of his fingers and at the end of each sweet kiss. But it’s grown with time, and you feel the weight of it each time his eyes rest on you when he thinks you’re not aware. 

You suppose it’s only natural that there should still be some mystery between you. Even after all the years you’ve known him, these were uncharted waters, and ones you’d strayed into more than a little clandestinely.

Keeping your relationship secret has had its benefits. It’s given you time to grow without the judgements and perceptions of others playing a part in your gentle discovery of one another. It’s also taken the pressure off of things - not having to answer questions from anyone you haven’t even had the chance to ask yourselves. And it was fucking sexy, to be honest, all the sneaking around. Inconvenient at times to be sure, but still deliciously indulgent to the rebel in you both. 

But as you watch him open the mirrored cabinet to grab the toothbrush he keeps in your bathroom your heart skips a beat and you wonder if it’s time the jig is up.

You settle behind him, slipping your arms around his middle and resting the side of your head against his broad back.

“What did Chris have to say? About me and you?” you ask softly.

Changbin spits into the sink.

“He was stoked for us.”

You smile.

“He did ask if Nari knew.”

You sigh.

“I think she should by now,” he says, turning to speak over his shoulder. “I think it’s time.”

You hum into his skin.

“The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be. A few months of privacy is alright, we’re still in the clear.”

He’s right. You know he is. You press your damp forehead into his back and sigh.

“It’ll be fine,” he says around his toothbrush.

“She’s gonna freak,” you groan.

“She’ll get over it.”

You sincerely fucking hope so. The faucet squeaks shut and he turns, wrapping you in his big arms, to press a minty kiss to your lips.

“Stop fretting, beautiful,” his dark eyes sparkle down at you, “We’re gonna be okay. Nari too.”

Your heart melts as it settles and his mouth seeks yours again. Yeah. You were gonna be just fine.

You take a deep breath as you ring the bell, and you look down at your feet, shuffling them nervously as you wait for Nari’s door to open. You think back to that night, to Changbin standing on the doorstep with a dish towel over his shoulder. You think of everything that’s changed, and you hope that your best friend can see the beauty in what they’ve become.

You had both wanted to tell Nari yourselves, but you ultimately decided that together would be best. You arranged a hang-out and she suggested dinner at her place. Changbin would show up too, and you’d drop the news after spending some time together.

You raise your eyes.

“Hey, girl!” Nari chimes as the door swings open for you. She’s in joggers and a tank top and she eyes your sundress with an impressed air. “You look cute…” she murmurs as she walks back into the living room and collapses into an armchair. “Oh, and Bin showed up so he’s having dinner with us, alright?”

You nod, swallowing as you dump your purse and sink onto the couch.

“So you feel like Thai or - hey, what’s wrong?” Nari frowns as she looks up from her phone, eyes darting over your face.

Dammit. You shake your head and shoot her a smile. 

“Nothing. Thai sounds great.”

You chew your lip. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You look at Nari. She’s so tiny, but she’s got more fire than anyone you know. You know that whatever happens, this won’t break your bond - nothing could - so why do you feel like you’re about to hurl? You glance over your shoulder, not seeing any sign of Changbin, and you turn back to look at your friend as she scrolls, legs tossed over the arm of her seat.

“Hey, Nari…” 

She hums, not looking up.

“Nari.”

She looks at you and for a moment you just hold her gaze. Things are about to change, and you’re scared - no, you’re terrified - so you just memorize the feeling of the space between you and everything it's been until now. She swings her feet forward and abandons her phone.

“Dude, what’s wrong?” she presses, her pretty features schooled in an expression of concern.

“Look…just know that…” you begin to stammer. And then you hear him.

You usually hear him before you see him. The deep resonance of his voice calling through the house from the garage door. He emerges from the hall, wiping oil stains from his hands with worn cloth. He’s in a white tee shirt and jeans. He’s got a smudge on his cheek. He’s adorable and handsome and you have to stop yourself from running to him.

“Someone just blue torqued your oil cap on, that was all. Next time y—” he catches sight of you on the couch and his eyes go softer and warmer and the smirk on his lips is almost bashful. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets you, and your eyes go wide.

“What the fuck?” Nari says, looking up from her phone at her brother as he takes a seat next to you on the couch. 

“Seriously?” you whisper at him in pleading distress, “That’s not how this was supposed to go.”

“What I was saying,” Changbin gives you a reassuring smile and continues, abandoning the rag on his knee to take your hand in his, “Is that whoever changed your oil screwed the cap on too tight.” He’s looking his sister dead in the eye with an air of total placidity and just a hint of defiance.

You whip your head toward your friend, who has frozen where she sits, staring with narrowed eyes at your joined hands.

“Why are you doing that? Stop it.” The tone of her voice seems to offer you one last chance to pull away from him and say what she’s witnessing isn’t what it looks like. What it is.

“What the hell am I looking at right now?” she mutters lowly, her tone just short of acidic.

“We wanted to talk to you…” you press out, not meeting her eyes, “To tell you…”

“We?” she snaps incredulously.

“Hey,” Changbin intercedes, “Let's not lose our heads…”

She stands and scoffs.

“Lose our heads?!” she grits out, “Have you lost your fucking minds?” She blinks, glancing around in disbelief. She looks at you, her face etched with anger and confusion. “He is not the guy you’ve been…” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

You take your shot in the moment of silence that follows.

“It’s not like that, I swear. We didn’t mean for it to happen but—"

“But you got dumped and decided that my brother’s dick was the cure for your sorrows?! Unbelievable.”

“Yah, don’t bring my dick into this!” Changbin protests.

“You are the one that did that, buddy!” she shouts, hands balled into fists.

You barely hear them. You’ve gone mute since her last remark and your ears ring with it. Is that what she thinks of you? Lonely and desperate and selfish? Doubt starts to tighten like a coil in your chest, a little voice you haven’t heard from in a while whispering that she’s right. Your breath starts to come quickly as Changbin and Nari’s voices ring in the air above you.

It isn’t until you feel two strong hands on your shoulders that you realize you’ve spaced out.

“Hey,” he murmurs, brow drawn in concern, “Hey, look at me.”

You blink up at him as your pulse hammers in your ears.

“It’s okay, hey…” he says, pulling you against his chest and you sigh softly. You see Nari for a split second over his shoulder before you shut your eyes, catching her expression waver for a moment as she regards you in his arms.

“This isn’t gonna fly,” Changbin says firmly over his shoulder, and then he pulls you back to meet your eyes. “Let us talk for a second, yeah? Just for a minute. Can you wait in the guest room?” he asks gently.

Your mouth is dry, but you try to answer him.

“I…this is about me too, I…”

“I know,” he interrupts you softly, “But just trust me on this. Just a couple minutes. Okay?”

You nod, and as you back away from him, you glance at Nari. She’s sunk back into her chair and if her body could speak it would tell you to get the fuck out. She’s turned as far away from you as humanly possible without facing the backrest, her hands white-knuckling the arm. You let out a shuddering breath, willing yourself not to let your adrenaline swallow you whole as you head for the guest bed. Silence hangs over the house, your blood still rushing as you click the door shut and sink back against it. After a few moments you hear Nari’s voice. The Seo siblings never did know the definition of the word quiet, and you should move away, you know, but human nature prevails and you tilt your ear against the door.

“My best friend, Bin? Out of everyone in the goddamned world?” she mutters, her voice cold.

“Why is that a bad thing? Shouldn’t you be happy for us?” he insists. “And don’t cut her down like that, you’re gonna hurt her.”

“The truth hurts sometimes.”

“Not like that, it shouldn't.”

You hear her sigh in exasperation.

“We’re family, Bin. We’re part of each other’s lives, for good! When this ends in a fucking dumpster fire what then?”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“As if you can guarantee that?! Don’t let some schoolboy fantasy ruin—"

“That’s not what this is. I care for her.”

Nari lets out a huff.

“Yeah, so end it then. This isn’t right.”

“No. The only thing that could ever convince me to let her go would be if she wanted to walk away from this,” he counters firmly.

“You know, she might.”

“Stop it.”

“Bin, you don’t know her as well as I do! She just got out of a really serious relationship - they were probably gonna get married. Can you see that happening with you? Marriage? A family? This is a fling for her.”

“No, Nari.”

“A young guy giving her attention when she’s low?” Nari’s voice goes high and tight. “Fuck! I hate this for both of you! It needs to stop before you really hurt each other.”

Changbin is silent for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice shakes a little, and it makes you want to cry.

“It’s too late for that. If she leaves it will tear my heart out, and you know what? I don’t even care. Because she was dying inside. That asshole was killing her. And she let me hold her. She let me tell her she was beautiful and strong, and she believed me. So even if this has an expiration date for her…fuck, I’ll just be grateful for the rest of my life that she let me be the one to pick her up and put her on her feet.”

The room goes silent as the words that fell from his mouth sink in, and when his voice cuts through the thick of it again, you can hear his wet eyes and drawn brow.

“Nari, I love her.”

Your heart stops in your chest.

“Changbin…” Nari’s voice is softer in its surprise. 

You hear him draw in a long breath and sniff.

“Does she…fuck. Does she feel that way too?” she asks, much more gently.

“If she does, she’ll tell me when she’s ready.”

Another silence stretches between them.

“Shit…” Nari whispers, and you hear her get up and cross the room.

When no one speaks for a long time, you peep through the crack in the door to see your tiny best friend with her arms wrapped around her brother, and his face buried in her shoulder.

And suddenly, they’re twelve years younger, and Nari is crying on your bed - something she never does - telling you that Changbin blames himself for their parents’ divorce. Your ears echo with her worries, after a few drinks one night in grad school, about how her little brother carries a childishness with him because emotionally he never got to be one, always supporting their mother’s cares and then trying to be the man of the house when their father left, mourning that she doesn’t know how to set him free of it. You think back to three months ago on the floor of Nari’s living room where he saw you and held you as you shattered.

You catch your own gaze in the mirror above the bed across the room and you want to smash it to pieces - its reflection just another selfish person indulging in this precious soul’s exhausted strength and resilience while he continues to refuse himself permission to be weak.

Your purse and phone are still in the living room but you don’t care. You slip out and through the garage. You walk. And then you run.

You notice, when you come to a little park a few blocks away that your cheeks are wet. Trudging through the grass and onto the playground, you huddle yourself into the mouth of a tube slide.

You’re not going to hurt him anymore...and maybe Nari's right. Maybe caring for him means it means wounding him one last time.

After crying into your knees for what feels like an eternity, you hear the wood chips crunching under heavy steps.

You look up and see Changbin, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he approaches you. He crouches down in front of you, close enough that his thighs brush your knees where they hook over the edge of the slide, and hands you your phone.

“You took off,” he murmurs, sounding a little wounded. “Don’t leave your phone like that, it’s not safe.”

You pull a hand over your swollen eyes.

“Sorry,” you whisper pathetically.

“Come on,” he tugs you up and out of the slide, but you don’t make it far. You collapse onto the low platform of the jungle gym.

“I…I can’t do this to you,” you choke.

“Do what?” he murmurs, sinking down beside you and pulling you into him.

You sob.

“Nari’s right, Bin. I’m so s-selfish. You’re always everyone’s r-rock, even when you shouldn’t have to be. Always the s-strong one. And I…I’m just dumping all my p-problems on you just like everyone else…I…”

He pulls your face back, hands on either side of your head as he gazes down at you, his brow drawn and his eyes searching your face.

“You think that’s what this is?” he asks in a raspy whisper. His lips curve up at one side and he huffs. “Dumping your problems on me?” He shakes his head. “Do you even realize…”

You blink up at him, sniffing. He draws a deep breath, his eyes flicking skyward before they meet yours again.

“When my dad left, who’d come over after school? Who brought me a candy bar and sat on my desk in my room and drove me crazy while I was trying to sulk over algebra homework every damn day for two straight weeks?” 

Your lips quirk into a ghost of a smile, you’d forgotten about that.

“And then when I graduated,” he continues, “And my family didn’t want me to chase music,” he runs a thumb over your cheek, “Who told me that they believed in me? That if anyone could do it, I could?”

You sigh, and bite your lip to repress another sob as you lean into his touch.

“Who is the prettiest, funniest, kindest woman in the world, who for some reason wants me to hold her and kiss her? Tells me her secrets…makes me feel…” his big strong hands are trembling as they cradle your face, “like I’m already the man I want to be?”

Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks.

“Bin…” you whisper in a desperate plea as you lean up to kiss him.

He presses his lips to yours again and again. 

“You’re not a burden…”

A kiss. 

“…You’re an angel.”

Another.

“You’re…”

“Changbin, I love you.”

His lips are suspended over yours where you whispered the confession, and for a moment he doesn’t move, as if refusing to disrupt the beautiful centimeters of space into which they had been uttered. He pulls back and stares at you, and for once, his eyes don’t sparkle. They crash over you, drowning you in the depths of their unchecked emotion. And you see it, what he’s been holding back - the strength and weakness, courage and fear, joy, sorrow, confidence, insecurity, passion, doubt - all of him, his whole heart, for you. 

“Me too,” he whispers, and you lean up on your knees and crush him in an embrace, bringing his head to your breast.

His arms wrap around your waist as he anchors himself to you, and you hold him.

You hold each other.

Glancing out of the kitchen window your eyes scan over dirt and cement of the backyard as you sort the last of the glasses into the cupboard. The landscaping of your new condo’s fairly sizable outdoor lot wasn’t much, but you could change that. You mentally schedule a trip to the nursery tomorrow - you’ll take Nari. She’s still warming up to things, but she’s getting there. Two days after the big conversation she’d taken you out for drinks and you’d tearfully hugged it out after a pitcher of margaritas.

You hear footsteps behind you, then a hand slips into your back pocket and lips press themselves below your ear.

“Chris says he’s sorry he couldn’t be back to help out,” Changbin mumbles against your skin.

You hum, moving toward the last box as your boyfriend follows your steps, hand still tucked into your jeans, as if he were a built-in attachment.

“I would have hated for the poor guy to have to use his first weekend back helping us move anyway,” you muse, opening a drawer and to find silverware tossed in a haphazard pile. “Who did this?”

“What?” Changbin looks over your shoulder. “Should it be somewhere else?”

Apparently having a bunch of twenty-something-year-old dudes help you move had its pros and cons. You open the box on the counter and fish out an organizer, handing it to Changbin.

“Chris actually extended his trip,” he says with a smirk, releasing you to stack spoons into one of the plastic slots.

“Oh?”

“Met a girl in the UK. Apparently things are moving kinda fast.”

“Yeah?” you smile over at him, “Good for Chris! What’s he said about her?”

“The usual Romeo stuff. Jisung calls her HP,” he snickers.

“Umm…Hewlett Packard? High priority?” you raise a brow at him, shrugging your shoulders.

“Hot piercings.”

You grin. “Nice.”

“Finished the studio,” he remarks, sliding the organizer into the drawer.

“Yeah?” You break down the cardboard box and toss it onto the stack of others. “Give me the tour!”

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

“I don’t think you should be allowed in there.”

“What! Why?” you huff, hands on your hips as Changbin turns and crowds you back against the edge of the sink.

“Because, I’ll never get anything done but you…” he growls, leaning in for a kiss, but you push him back.

“But you said I helped you pass algebra!”

He lets out a hearty laugh.

“I said you cheered me up - I almost failed that class.”

“Seriously?”

He smirks, raising a brow at you.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to do math while a hot girl is sitting on your desk licking chocolate off her fingers?”

You roll your eyes theatrically.

“So where exactly am I allowed, hm?”

“My bed, for starters,” he quips, hitching onto the rim of the sink.

“Our bed,” you correct him with a grin, weaving your arms around his neck.

“Yeah…” he murmurs dreamily, leaning in to kiss you as your fingers tangle in his hair.

He pulls you off the counter, arms under your thighs, and you giggle into his mouth.

You don’t mind when he carries you these days. You don’t feel like a burden, and not just because he can take it. Because you know you’re holding him as much as he’s holding you - that in each other’s arms you’re safe.

In each other’s arms, you’re strong.

-Fin-

[eelnoise]

dawnlight

a/n: a soft continuation of this fic. we luv fluffy zoro and reader!!! c/w: nothin' it's just fluff n cuteness cuz this boy needs to be comforted!! zoro x gn!reader 🥰 🥰  now this one has a sequel!

Zoro stretches, yawning loudly as he slowly finds his way back into the waking world. With a groan, he moves just enough to feel your arm across him, chest pressed to his back and forehead lolled into the conclave between his shoulder blades. You’re still dead asleep, deep breaths falling from your slightly parted lips that ghost the flesh of his back.

Zoro would never admit it aloud, but he likes being the little spoon - the nightmare from earlier ebbing away as you cradle him in your arms. He looks down at your sleeping form, twisting his head just enough to see you curled around him, a subtle warmth blooming in his chest. He’d never even entertained the idea of such intimacy, but somehow you’d managed to sneak your way under his armor. And you fit perfectly.

His movements rouse you, a soft groan of befuddled consciousness followed by a stretch against his body comes from your small form at his side. “Good morning,” You whisper, voice rasp with sleep but a smile clear in your tone. 

Zoro rolls over and reaches across you, pulling you into the crook of his arm, pressing your body against his and replying with a hum. He smiles ever so slightly as he nuzzles your forehead, careful not to jostle you about. The smile keeps up, the heartfelt emotions inside his chest beginning to radiate all over.

You grin - a small, soft, and wispy giggle meeting his ears like a melody composed just for him. These fleeting moments of peace between you both are something to be cherished; that even on this dangerous voyage well within the furthest reaches of the Grand Line can one feel true calm within the arms of another. 

He rolls once more onto his back, shifting you atop his body. In this position, he’s able to fully appreciate all of you. Your beautiful hair, plush lips, soft skin seemingly glowing in the morning sun, your gentle breath tickling his bare chest, and that subtle smile painted across your face - god, it’s all too perfect. A tingle makes its way down his spine, and he’s grateful for your company. No amount of admiration or gratitude could make up for the way you make him feel.

You lie across his chest, one leg draping over his waist as you reach out to entwine your fingers with his. “Did you sleep well?” You ask quietly, eyes on him - twinkling with adoration and gazing into his very soul, cutting through his heart with an affectionately shaped knife.

He nods. “Yeah,” Your eyes, how deep they go. And your fingers, how delicate and soft they are in his hand. Zoro could find himself at this moment very easily letting your bodies stay coiled together and never let go. The knife cuts, but with it comes a pleasant warmth, like the sun’s touch on a cold winter’s day.

You murmur in reply, nuzzling your head into him with a satisfied sigh. You both lie there for a while in a comfortable and cozy silence - the gentle rock of the sea against the ship not doing much in the way of spurring your bodies from the tangle of the sheets.

The moment is almost perfect. One could sit here in eternity, just like this, enjoying the comfort and relief. But Zoro is unfortunately not a creature of patience. He slowly moves a hand in the sheets, working it up under your back and drawing you up toward his face. He softly plants a kiss just to the right of your nose and just above the corner of your mouth. His other hand goes to work and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, better exposing your neck.

His large fingertips leave clear goosebumps in their wake, and he can feel a shiver go down your spine at his touch. Zoro’s breath hitches when you respond with a tender peck of his lips to your own - a gesture that ends far too early for his liking. When you pull away, he locks you in place with a hand to your cheek, prolonging and intensifying the kiss in a wordless proclamation of his love.

Zoro holds and caresses your face, savoring every moment as your lips meet. Tongues entwine, breath deepens, and hearts begin to race. His arm slips around your body, pulling you firmly against him and into a tight embrace. For a moment, every worry, every care, every problem of this grand, vast world falls away. The hand on your back gently traces patterns into your soft flesh. This is where he belongs. With you.

There are times when words fail, and Zoro realizes that this moment is one of them. He breaks the kiss and softly places his forehead to yours and breathes in, sighing in content. With your bodies tightly pressed together, he whispers your name. And that’s all that needs to be said. This is Zoro, a man not so easily coerced into forays of affection even under normal circumstances. In this moment, he’s finally free to truly express himself in his own unique way, the love that fills the pit of his stomach is more powerful than any blade he’s wielded.

You can’t help but melt into his touch. You feel safe with him. Whole. Private moments like this are rare, most nights sleeping next to his empty spot while he’s on night watch and stirring just enough to welcome him into your open arms when he slips into bed in the early hours of the morning. Dawn peers through the cabin, drenching it in the sun’s warm light and catching onto Zoro’s hair beautifully. You consider him for a few seconds, admiring him as if looking upon a work of art.

With the warmth of the sun against your body and his embrace surrounding it, you feel truly at peace. It’s the most calm and serene thing you can seek out on this ship - the serenity always drawing you to him and him to you, even if the most you get outside of the confines of the cabin is his head in your lap while he naps. His way of loving you in the most subtle of gestures is something you had to get used to, but now find yourself unable to live without. He gives you the kind of warmth that not even fire can match, and with no words spoken, you look deep into his eyes once more. A smile paints its way onto your cheeks, and as far as you’re concerned you need nothing else in this life but to wake up by Zoro’s side each morning, to be held by him every night, and to be with him for every day that comes after this.

This intimacy, these feelings for you… it had taken a long time for him to allow them. And now, he feels no need to protect himself, his guard is down with you in his arms, relaxing on the mattress. His arms and legs encase you, body pressing against yours. Zoro softly kisses various parts of your neck and face, working his way up to your ear.

“Let’s sleep in.” He whispers, breath tickling your neck. “Not ready to let you go yet.”

[mysicklove]

Pairings: Drunk! Bachira x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Just a silly little fic where reader has to take care of her lovely, very intoxicated (and horny) bf

A/N: Very self-indulgent. I had a lot of fun writing this, even if its a little pointless and I have little ppl reading my bllk stuff

Bachira is a lightweight. Sure the muscles he gained from the years of soccer helped him just a little, but other than that, after three drinks he is a goner. Some nights he cries about everything he sees, others he's laughing till he physically can't anymore. You'll never know what you'll get, but either way, he has to be watched 24/7.

And of course, his friends like to use this against him. In a couple of days it is his birthday, so the boys took him out drinking to celebrate. You didn't mind, it's not like your boyfriend would ever do anything too bad while intoxicated. Besides, you threatened Isagi enough to watch over him.

Of course, the knocking on your apartment door did not sound like a good sign. Nor Isagis slightly slurred, "Y/N! Open up!"

You sigh, and stand up from your spot on the couch to hear Kunigamis gruff, "Dude be nice!"

"Please open up?"

"We are at Y/Ns house? Woaahhhhh!"

You open the door to see Kunigami, Isagi, and of course your boyfriend. He is being held up by the two, his head lolled to the side and a lazy grin on his face.

You raise your eyebrows at Isagi in particular. He knew how easily Bachira gets drunk. "Really?"

"Hey don't look at me! Kunigami was the one who gave him shots!"

Your mouth flies open and you turn to the orange-haired man. "You gave him shots? Are in insane? He gets tipsy off a sip of alcohol!"

"Y/NNNNN," Bachira whines, trying to wave at you from the hands on the two's shoulders. You half-heartedly wave back, looking back to the other two for an explanation.

Kunigami leans forward to get a look at Isagi. "How was I know he was a lightweight?"

Isagi points a thumb at you. "He was crying about how he missed her after two drinks!"

Before Kunigami could argue, Bachira tries to reach out for you, and goes toppling forward. All three of you guys catch him, your hand on his chest to try and steady him. "You caught me!" He giggles to you, smiling as his forehead bumps yours.

"Yeah no, we caught you. Y/N, do you think you can handle him?" Isagi says glancing at you, hoping you aren't too mad.

You sigh, and manage to wrap an arm around your shoulder. He leans his head onto your shoulder, trying to get as close to you as possible. He was so clingy when drunk. "Yeah yeah. I'm fine. He isn't too heavy."

The boys both sigh in relief and help pass him on to you. You turn around and wave them goodbye. They nod and apologize before you shut the door. You hear Kunigami mumble something about how this trip was sobering him up.

"Let's get you to clean up and to bed, hmm?" You sigh, rubbing his hair affectionately and beginning to drag him to the bathroom. It was harder than you thought, considering he was basically putting all his weight on you, and cuddling up to you.

"I had fun tonight!"

"Yeah?" You respond, maneuvering him to sit on the closed toilet seat. He nods his head, it's slow and wobbly, but cute.

"But I—But then I was like.....Like where is Y/N? I miss Y/N." Both of his hands are planted in between his slightly spread legs, and he's swaying from side to side. "And they were getting mad at me!"

An amused smile pulls at your face as you open the cupboard and pull out a soft light blue headband. "What did they say?" You say, placing the headband over his face, and then back up again to remove his bangs from his face.

He touches the headband, while his eyebrows slightly furrow. "Hmmmm...They said—Oh! They said I was being dramatic! And I was soooooo confused. Because I am not dramatic, Isagi is the dramatic one!"

You bark a small laugh as you use a wet rag to damp his face with water. "I like your laugh," He mumbles, head falling forward onto your stomach. You prop him back up and he pouts at you but doesn't say anything.

You grab the face wash and foam it up, before turning back to him and spreading it on his face. He blinks up at you and smiles at the proximinity. "You are so pretty, Y/N"

"Thanks, Meguru. Can you close your eyes for me? I don't want to get soap in them." He obeys with a hum and begins to sway again, but this time it seems more purposeful as if he was just happy to be there.

'Y'know, I think I like you. Like really really really like you," He chirps, leaning into your touch, and allowing his face to get massaged by the soap.

You laugh at him, a grin plastered on your face. "Weird...Cause I happen to really really really like you too." His eyes fly open with his smile. "Close them."

"Oooooh so demanding. I like that too."

You ignore him, instead grabbing the washcloth and beginning to remove the soap from his face. "So I was thinking....." He opens his eyes when he feels you dab at his forehead.

You can tell he is looking at you to prompt him. "Yeah?"

"Wellllllllll, I think tonight. Well actually! And tomorrow and after tomorrow and the day after—"

"Meguru," You warn, cutting off his ramblings.

He giggles at you. "We should have sex!"

You pull off his headband and set it back away, trying to fight back the smile. "You are a horny drunk. It's not happening tonight, that's for sure."

He lets out a loud dramatic whine and stands up, wobbling over to you. "But whyyyyy. It's my birthday! And I am not drunk!"

You watch him stumble over his feet and raise an eyebrow. Before he could fall you grab at his side and lead him back down to the toilet. You hand him a glass of water. "Drink."

He takes a couple gulps of water under your watchful gaze, before cringing from the lack of air, and slamming it back on the counter. He immediately goes back to the conversation before. "Whyyyyyy. But I like—No love you! This is what people who are dating do!"

"Because you are drunk. Your breath smells like straight alcohol. And your birthday is not for another two days, egoist."

"I am going to brush my teeth. And then—You!" He jabs a finger in your face. "Will meet me!" Finger flips around to point at himself. "In the bed in five minutes. Where we!" He rotates the finger back and forth between the two of you. "Will make love."

You nod at him, patting his head in a teasing way. "Lets work on the first task. And I will think about it."

He seems to like this answer, eyes lighting up. "Really?"

"Sure," You say, knowing its definitely not happening. You grab his toothbrush and lather it with toothpaste.

"Oh my—I just remembered something."

"Hmm?" You mumble, putting water on the bristles.

"I got hit on at the bar!" He giggles, looking up at you with a grin.

You narrow your eyes and cock your head to the side. It's not like you were worried about it, but still, it was not something to hear about it. "She said—Wait. What did she say? Oh! Oh! She said I was "totes adorbs" Isn't that funny, Y/N? She was a foreigner!"

You didn't think it was too funny. You hand him the toothbrush, but he doesn't take notice to it, still immersed in the story. "But hey! Guess what."

"What?"

"I said I was married. And coming back home to my wife. My wife as in you! You are my wife. Er-um, pretend wife, who will be my real wife soon!" He rambles on, leaning forward toward you to hopefully coax out some approval.

You indulge him, smiling at him. "Good job, my pretend husband," You tease, ruffling up his hair gently. "Now, brush your teeth."

He nods, plunging the toothbrush into his mouth and getting to work. You lead him to the sink and he spits it out and turns to you with approval. You nod at him, and he gives himself a thumbs up in the mirror.

ust when you are about to lead him out of the bathroom, you watch a frown begin to form. Not a good sign. The waterworks were coming. "I missed you so much," He whines gripping onto your shirt, as tears begin to prick at his eyes.

"Wow, Meguru. You really are drunk. C'mon, let's get you to bed," You sigh, hoisting him up and helping him toward the bedroom.

He sniffles at you, leaning into your neck. "Did you not miss me?"

"I missed you desperately," You tease, smiling at him and wiping away the dramatic crocodile tears.

He seems to like this answer, nodding to himself. "Good. Cause I missed you."

"I know, love."

"A lot. I was so so sad." You cover your mouth to hold back the laugh. You didn't want to encourage him even more or make him cry again. "But don't worry! I am happy again!"

"I'm glad." You say as you begin to undress him.

"Woah. Woah. Woah. You said—You said! We weren't doing it tonight. But look at you." You glance up at him in amusement and then tug his sleep shirt on. Once he realizes it, he pouts and looks away.

Then you pull up the covers for him and lead him into bed. He more like trips into the sheets, but you throw a pillow on him, not worried about it.

Finally, you get on your side and tuck yourself in next to him. "Goodnight Meguru, let's hope the hangover isn't too bad."

"I really want to have sex," He turns to you, blinking at you in the dark.

You sigh, pushing a pillow in front of his face. "Maybe tomorrow, you drunk. Goodnight Meguru."

He groans one last time, and you hear him mumble, "Worst birthday gift ever." into the pillow. He falls asleep in less than thirty seconds.

[yanderenightmare]

literally anything with nasty nasty nasty Shigaraki and Dabi fucking anything they can get ahold of PLEEASE

BNHA ! THIRST

SHIGARAKI x darling x DABI

TW: NSFW, anal, oral, virgin reader, degradation, bondage, misogyny, double-penetration, a couple of empty death-threats, they’re both really mean and nasty in this

Just thinking about Dabi and Shiggy fighting over which hole is better…

Both agree that it depends on the bitch.

For example, if she’s feisty or prissy – Shigaraki tends to go for a nice deep ass-fuck to put her in her place. Because nothing breaks a bitch faster than breaking in her tightest hole – and taking an ass is like telling a stupid slut she belongs to him. Because bending a whore over makes her thoroughly understand, without any room to disagree, that whatever she was, whatever she might have been before becoming his, now means nothing – because now she’s his filthy fucktoy– and his fucktoys live to please him – and a fucktoy’s own pleasure means nothing.

He enjoys seeing her fingers sprout before curling in on themselves, wrists wringing in their bonds, forming firm fists splitting her palms on her nails where she digs them in deep – while he warms himself with that tight hole that tries hard to keep him out, only to tense up and grip him even tighter when he starts to pull out. 

He’ll look at her pretty face as it twists in pain and panting, biting the pillow as he sinks inside with a smile on his face. Mounting her while she has her ass raised for a pounding and her head down in a bow with her wrists tied to each ankle. Slapping his heavy ball sack against her ignored cunt as it begins to weep for some attention.

He'll shove in deeper for every thrust as though he’s blowing out a tunnel one heavy dig at a time until he’s all the way through. Letting drool fall from his tongue to where he watches himself disappear, fucking his own spit inside with a grunt – speeding up with another groan at the sight of her ass wiggling when smacking brutally against his hips, hitting her fast and hard from behind while his hands bury into the plush domes with only one pinky raised.

If she mouths off, he’ll place a foot on her face and stomp her down with a series of slaps to her ass until all she can mouth is but pretty pitiful pleas, muffled into the mattress, while her hole starts to squelch – fucked open and surrendering to his size. 

He'll flip her over then – have her on her back missionary style. Watching her soaking cunt beg for some love – splitting a grin while granting none of it other than a mean slap to make her seize up and squeeze him even harder. He’ll watch her titties bounce with each deep thrust while she wears his hand like a collar – enjoying how that once defiant look turns to chagrin before further devolving into true humility – watching her tongue loll out as she pants like a bitch in heat for him – looking a happy mess getting fucked hard up her ass.

A bitch becomes submissive fast when he leaves their butt gaping. After taking him balls-deep and raw, emptying his thick load inside her and leaving it to trickle out the slowly closing cavity – going cold as it drips down to those puffy glossy pussylips, left stinging in the chilly air, welted by the cruel slaps given it by his hand. 

She goes especially meek and sweet for him if he yanks her hair and fucks her face afterward – making her gluck around the fatness while steadily bumping against the back of her throat – telling her to lick up all the sticky cum and swallow, slapping her face with its heavy weight while it slowly grows limp in satisfaction. 

A slut is best tamed when left unable to walk – when made to crawl on all fours – with an ass marred and marked by tough handprints and spotted rings where he’s bitten into it to make her scream.

That’s Shiggy's point of view, at least.

But Dabi disagrees…

He thinks there’s no better way to dominate a brat than by making her twitch with pleasure in spite of herself – by making her soak his cock with shame while pretty tears run down bloated cheeks as she pitiful shakes her head in whines and choked moans – aimlessly trying to deny she likes it despite kissing his fat cock with flutters and milking him tight for cum – visibly thankful to be treated like a sweet and silly breeding-toy. 

Anyone can fuck a bitch, but not many can make her like it. Because making a silly slut enjoy it is true domination. 

An art form Dabi has thoroughly mastered.

He’ll laugh at her in soft demeaning chuckles, keenly watching her sink guilty teeth into her bottom lip with thighs quaking as he roughly fans through her slit with gritty fingertips, flicking over her clit until she bursts and wets the sheets – ripping that moan so sweetly wet with defeat from her when sheathing himself back inside her again, now into walls tensed up with orgasm, somehow even deeper than before – tired from keeping him out – stormed into surrender, allowing him to sink all the way inside, nudging tight and right against her womb. 

A slut is so cute like that. After he’s proved that she’s but a needy carnal thing in desperate need of some good fucking. When he’s rubbed her clit for so long, she’s gone numb and tingly – with hooded eyes blinking up at him so softly, resting sweetly in the palm of his hand while he slowly fucks into the puff of her wet warmth suckling him in all manners of gratitude.

That’s a housebroken pet in Dabi’s definition – a sweet thing who’s thankful for what he gives her – one who’s so blissful, overrun with pleasure, she moans out an ever so adorable thank you despite having her wrists tied tight behind her back – one who willingly drops her jaw open to receive his spit with a moan, swallowing so sweetly before opening her mouth up again. Pink love hearts pumping in her eyes.

A good submissive thing who prettily kneels at his feet, tongue rolled all the way out like a welcome mat, hungry for the cum he pours onto it – preciously sucking his cockhead clean afterward, kissing it with spit-slicken lips sticking to it in glistering bridges.

He enjoys that sweetly compliant look on a cute slut’s face – eyes doe-like and sparkling, cheeks swelled with the dew of sweat, tears, and cum – soothing words of devotion on her plump and pretty lips that kiss on his scars. 

It’s the type of shit that makes him feel complete.

Shigaraki can agree with him on that part. 

It’s nice to get a little comfort, but only if the tiny thing is cute enough. If she flinches in fear with shy eyes fluttering – anxious to even look up at him. If she spreads her legs and shows him her pretty clitty on nothing more but his say-so, offering herself in hopes he’ll be kind. 

He enjoys driving a scaredy-cat crybaby like that over the edge – making her go cross-eyed and whiney, trembling beneath him with pretty tits strutting out tender and sore, shaking as he forces her over the brink yet again – splitting her mind apart the same way her cunt stretches over his fat veins.

Licking the tear stains off her cheeks with his teeth and tongue as he makes her hop like a bunny in his lap, whispering hotly upon the shell of her ear that he’ll turn her pretty body into a sorry pile of dust if she doesn’t hop a little faster and moan a little loader for him – wrapping both arms around her waist, drumming dry fingertips upon her hips in ever so ticklish threats while feeling her cunny clench him harder in return.

He enjoys watching his fingers bring a girl to her end in different ways than the usual one. Rubbing into her clit to make her pout and buck her hips or twisting a little nipple to see her gasp and whine. Putting his digits down her throat to shut her up, making her suck on them, worship them in hopes he won’t use them to hurt her.

Dabi likes doing that too – to make little threats with heated fingertips stroking over terribly sensitive skin, whispering at her softly that he’ll burn some notches into her if she does anything but be a sweet obedient cock-sleave for him. He’ll smile, kiss her a bit once she starts bleating – chanting in warm ticklish breaths, warning her of how it’s way worse than having a cigarette put out on her skin and that it’ll leave a mark that won't ever quite heal – so she should really do her best to make him happy before his patience runs thin.

They both love how a girl begs – how she clings around his neck and rubs herself into him for comfort, promising him that she’ll do whatever he says. 

But some sluts need no threats to play nice. Some sluts need no convincing. Especially dumb ones. Those who walk around in wet panties and giggle at the sight of a jumping cock. Those masochistic braindead things who happily accept a feral night of being treated like nothing but a blow-up doll. 

They’ll enjoy a silly slut with no sense of self-worth like that every now and again, but both agree it becomes a little tedious after a while. 

After all, it’s most fun when there’s a little fight in her. Like those bitches and brats who glare at them with defiant eyes – those they can really enjoy forcing onto their knees.

Oh- that and virgins…

Not that a virgin has so much fight in her per se, but she’s just so cutely unwilling and shy that it becomes fun to watch her struggle – so adorable, pleading with them as though they give a shit that she’s been saving herself for someone special. Asking them to be gentle, to give her a moment, to wait.

It’s the way she seizes up and ripples around the stretch – unsure whether she likes it or not and further unsure if she should be enjoying it even though it hurts a little. How she preciously begs them to use a condom, shaking her head with a pout when feeling that ruining warmth fill her up for the first time. Pitifully whimpering all cute as they fuck their cum into her.

And further flicking her clit to make her swell up on the inside before gushing on them. Shigaraki grins like none other when making an innocent cutie cum on his cock as he drives it up raw, buried deep between her soft thighs with her precious moaning face squeezed tight between four fingers – her own panties stuffed in her mouth, keeping her soft, mewing for him while sucking on her own sweetness as she soaks his cock with virgin juices so sweet and luscious – trembling on him with delightful orgasmic shivers that pleasure his cock so snug.

But it’s not only her cunt that deserves a good ruining… A virgin deserves cum in all her holes on her first time – that’s why they tag-team. Sweet and pretty virgins who barely even know how to touch themselves.

Sweet and pretty virgins like you.

You don’t want anything inside you, but silly little virgins like you don’t have a choice. Their meat is going inside you every which way, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them. They’re going in, and they’re going in sweet and deep in all your tight holes to fill you up with thick heavy cream until you can’t remember a feeling unlike it – until you don’t know anything but what their sweetly salty acid tastes like.

“She sweet?” Dabi asks, holding a stitched hand in your hair – woven between your soft locks as he shoves his cock in and out of your open and struggling mouth – smiling some at how your tongue curls, unsure of where to place itself when his length takes up all the space.

“Like ripe fruit,” Shigaraki answers in a muffled groan, his mouth on your slit, sliding his tongue through the folds in ticklish kitten licks with two of his fingers kneading knuckle-deep in your pussy, twisting about themselves to explore your squishy wet insides while you worm beneath him – hips shaking at the foreign intrusion as you whimper around the thickness in your mouth.

“You’re terrible at this….” Dabi chuckles, fingering your hair to hold you steady, fucking into the pocket of your cheek, watching it bulge from the inside out – his other hand twisting and pulling on your chest, rubbing your poor nipple into a firm nub between rough fingertips. “Don’t worry your pretty head, though- I’ll teach you to be a good cum-swallowing slut in no time~”

Shigaraki curls his digits – you moan, and they laugh – and Dabi shoves in deeper until you scream for air around him while Shigaraki holds your budding clit between lips and teeth, softly gnawing on it to make you squirm – and then his fingers disappear, dripping with slick, leaving your hole fluttering on something that seems to rivet your entire body – leaving you shivering in soft numb fuzzy warmth.

And then his fingers come back, only now prodding your other hole – his mouth chuckling hot breaths on your drippy cunt, enjoying the way you shake in the aftershocks while he skewers one long finger inside your tight ass. Biting his lip at how your firmness clenches around him in a pulse – his cock rising with seeking ambition, impatiently awaiting the feel of that tautness on himself.

You whine as he starts messaging your insides, gasping with a yelp when another finger joins the first. You feel the warmth of his spit smear your cheeks before being fucked into you, squishy with squelches, while you loosen up and start accepting the way he aims to slide them in and out – pounding the sore soft hole until it simply gapes open.

“There you go, good anal-slut~ open up wide for me~” Shigaraki teases, giving your hip a slap. Burying his hands in your plush domes, he spreads you wide and takes a dive with his tongue first – eagerly slurping both your stretched holes, from your dripping pussy over your taint to mouth kisses to your puckering butthole – both places loose and ready for their thick meat. “It’s time.”

Dabi grins, popping his cockhead from the corner of your mouth – slapping the spit-dripping heaviness on your face. “You ready to lose your purity, little slut?” He taunts, jerking his meat against the softness of your dewy face. “I’m gonna fill your little virgin womb up with my filthy cum until you start to bulge.”

You cry at the promise in his threat while Shigaraki slides his cock between your asscheeks, fucking the plush crack with fingers curling around the small of your waist – digging his fingertips into you with greed, only his pinkies raised while he pulls you closer.

Dabi holds you at the hips, tugging you onto his lap – his wet cock slicking your belly while your tits strut forth, pretty and perky above him – one of Shigaraki's hands slithers about your waist to grope one of them, making you gasp before you choke on the sound – forced down on both cocks breaking in your holes, stretching you so bad tears immediately well, coming pouring down in fat streams.

“Please- ah- please.” You wince, but none of them listen. 

Shigaraki grabs the rope that ties your wrists together at the small of your back and pushes you down until your face squishes against Dabi’s chest, where he begins to patronize you in soft coos and shushes.

“Don’t fuss, baby virgin.” He soothes in a softly dark murmur, feeling you clench – gripping the veins of his cock while he forces himself in deeper. “Milk me for cum like a grateful slut, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

You shudder at the stretch, feeling close to tearing – while Shigaraki sinks inch by inch inside your narrow butt with a hand holding you down, keeping you bent over with your ass up to receive him. He hisses at how you clutch him in a chokehold, trying so hard to keep him out only to take him balls-deep with his heavy ballsack smudged tight against the puff of your pussy where Dabi soon has himself swallowed down to the hilt.

You whine openmouthed and loudly once Shigaraki starts to drag himself out again, holding onto his cock tightly in fluttering spasms. “You’re moaning like a real anal-slut now~ happy for a big cock in your ass~” He laughs, lolling only the tip of himself inside your open hole – dipping inside it in shallow fucks to make you wider.

Gleefully watching your face twist in pain, with spit and tears wetting your mouth, drooling onto Dabi’s chest as he keeps himself nice and warm, stored all the way up to your cervix – his cockhead giving it a tight and painful kiss, nudging against it in a way it feels as though he might break through into your stomach – his long cock so big it has to bend inside your cunt for all of it to fit, making your back want to arch – though kept in a pretty slope by the hand pushing you down flat while they stretch and fuck your holes with sadistic smiles glistening on their sharp teeth.

You go numb in pain after some time, after your butt starts to gape and accepts the fat cock shoved inside it with a gushy squelch – wet with Shigaraki’s spit and the juice pouring from your cunt being fucked nice and tight where Dabi never fully pulls out more than halfway before fitting himself deep again – more enjoying the way your walls squeeze him soft and tight like a loving hug more than the motion. 

Besides, the friction of feeling Shigaraki pound the other hole on the opposite side of your walls and the way it makes you tense and seize up is enough to soothe the ache in his balls.

He puts his hands around your head and holds you where you lay, sniffling against his chest, giving your temple a kiss along with a couple of sweet nothings whispered gently at your face. “You’re so soft now… taking it so good~” He pets your head in slow strokes in contrast to the heavy hitting your poor ass receives from behind. Hammered deep and raw and unrelenting. “Good sluts like you deserve your reward….” He coos, and you feel Shigaraki’s hand slither to rest on your stomach, messaging tight and greedy circles into the place where the two of them bulge inside you.

“My anal pet is gonna get her reward right here real soon~” He singsongs. “Warm and thick right in your little belly.”

tip-jar: Kofi

[hbojoel]

18+ minors DNI! dom!richie jerimovich x sub!reader, established relationship, impact play, face slapping, subspace, crying, pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, pet), richie refers to himself as your old man, titles used are daddy and sir, more foreplay than anything

a late happy birthday to the old man himself who plays the asshole who rots my brain ❤️‍🩹 long live ebon (not proofread so pls let me know if u find any mistakes😭)

Richie's apartment has a balcony.

And thank fuck it does, because he lives in a no-smoking building, and God only knows what would happen if that man didn't have his six cigs a day. A longer life span, certainly. More people with their heads bitten off. He guesses the pros outweigh the cons, no matter how much you try to talk him out of it; he has his vices.

So when you come home and find the apartment seemingly empty, the only light coming from behind the curtain, you know where to find him. He sits on the padded armchair, hunched over in his work clothes, a few buttons of his shirt undone, his hand cupped around the cherry to shelter it from the wind. Something about the crease in his brow or the turn of his lips lets you know it wasn't an easy day. He doesn't look up at the sound of you sliding the door open, or the latch clicking into place. He tenses, minutely, at your hand dropping lightly on his shoulder, your thumb rubbing back and forth to try to ease the tension away.

"Good day?" You ask, letting the sarcasm drip from your voice.

Richie's sardonic laugh turns into a grimace as you circle the chair, kneeling down so you're face to face. "Yeah, shit. I guess you could say that, baby." He raises his arm slowly to tilt your chin upwards with him thumb, soft and slow. "What about you, hm?"

You shake your head and scrunch your face up. "Not important."

You angle your head downwards, catching his thumb in your mouth. Immediately, his posture shifts. His shoulders lift, and, unconsciously, he seems to straighten, puffing his chest out as he rests his half-smoked cigarette on the ashtray. He entertains you for a while, letting you suck and nip and kiss at the skin of his thumb before he withdraws it, smiling cruelly at the whine that found its way past your lips.

He cups your face in both of his hands, encompassing what feels like your whole head, his fingers grazing the curve of your skull. "You wanna help your daddy feel better?"

You don't get a chance to respond because he uses his grip on you to nod your head up and down for you. Like a doll. Like a toy.

Richie smiles. The city skyline reflects back at you in his blue eyes, boring down, searing through your skin and searching your very soul.

You remember through the thick fog of your impeding submission, somehow, to give verbal consent. Your voice is small and weak and sounds far away, even to your own ears, as you say, "Please, daddy."

Richie lets one hand fall down to the back of your neck and you can't even think to hold back your moan of pleasure as he squeezes with just enough pressure, setting stars shooting across your vision just from the feeling, just from the knowledge of what he has proven comes after this.

He inches himself further off the chair, boxing you in with the width of his legs. You shiver, and it's not because of the wind. And he laughs. Because he knows.

"Barely touched you yet, sweetheart," he croons, his thumb gently rubbing the bump of your jaw. "Open."

Like a dog trained, you let your jaw slack and tongue loll out of your mouth, saliva building at the corners of your lips. Richie smooths your hair back in the same moment as he spits into your open mouth.

Your face screws up, tears beginning to cloud your vision, because he hasn't given you any orders yet. You sit there, knees digging into the rug you picked out, trying not to let his spit fall out of your mouth.

Richie watches another few seconds, delighting in the agony on your face as you try not to disappoint him while trying not to make any decisions he hasn't cleared for you. A tear begins its slow descent down your cheek and he takes pity on you, taking your chin in his hand and forcing it closed.

"Swallow," he orders, voice hard and unforgiving.

He looks down at you expectantly, and you once again open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out to show that you behaved.

"Good girl," he says sweetly, and your blood turns into molten lava in your veins. "You doin' okay so far? Your knees hurtin' at all?"

You blink dazedly for a second before you realize he's expecting you to answer. "A little, sir," you breathe, just above a whisper.

Richie considers, for a moment, letting his hand rest on your throat while he does so. "You wanna stay down there for me and get comfortable, or you wanna come up in my lap?"

The options weigh heavy in your mind, but one thing ultimately takes precedence, and that's staying here, where Richie makes you feel small and safe and taken care of.

You nod to yourself. "Down here, please."

Quick as a whip, the palm of Richie's hand makes contact with your cheek and your whole body jolts from the impact. You try to bring your own hand up to ease the sting, but he catches your wrist with ease. "Please what?"

Tears are flowing freely down your face, no doubt ruining whatever mascara still clung to your lashes after a long day. "Please, daddy," you hiccup. "I'm sorry, sir."

"That's okay, sweet thing," he tells you, voice soft as butter as he releases your wrist and cups your cheek in the same hand he slapped you with. "Dumb pets can't be expected to remember rules, can they?"

You shake your head miserably, sniffling even as Richie catches your tears with his thumb.

He shifts slightly and you whine, eyes following his movement intently. He grabs a pillow from the chair next to his, scoots his back, and places it on the floor in front of you. He snaps his fingers and points to the center of it. "Come. Now."

You crawl over obediently, rearranging your legs so they're crossed over one another, giving your knees a break.

"Better?" He asks, picking up his forgotten cigarette with deft fingers.

"Yes, sir," you nod eagerly, staring up at him with glassy eyes. "Thank you."

Richie takes a drag and tilts his head back to blow out the smoke, his adam's apple bobbing with the movement. You lick your lips. "You ready to get yourself off, pretty girl?"

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. Get yourself off? You were supposed to be making him feel better. But he laughs, again, so amused by you and your mind moving as slow as molasses once he gets you here, in the space carved only for the two of you.

"Yeah, you heard me right. I thought it over and decided, watching my baby grind on my boot would really make your old man feel better."

Fuck. Your breath comes out in trembles, but it's lost to you, because you can't hear anything over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Immediately you're dizzy, swaying in the air like nothing more than a dandelion in a field.

"Sir?" You ask. Your lips try to form words but you can't articulate them, not through the fog in your mind, not when Richie threw you for this big of a loop.

"What?" Richie asks, a smile playing on his lips. "You think you know better than daddy?"

Immediately, your head shakes so fast your vision gets blurred, and Richie has to take your face in his hands again to stop you from moving so erratically. "Good. That's what I thought."

For a moment the furrow in his brow unfurls, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to the skin between your brows. "Your safeword?"

"Cleaver," you whisper.

Richie nods in approval. "And if you can't speak?"

You will your limbs to listen to your mind, and see rather than know that your hand has found Richie's calf and squeezed once, twice, three times with all the strength you can muster.

"Good girl, sweetheart. Very good." He leans down and catches your lips in a kiss, not letting your tongue go past his lips, pulling away before it got too deep. You try to follow him, your eyes closed in bliss, but the hand on your neck makes you stop.

"You ready to get to work?" Richie's tone is bored and he leans back and lets his arms fall on the rests, but you know better. It makes it even sweeter when he acts disinterested, like he's only doing it because you need it. It burns and it stings but it hurts so good, and you want more more more.

You wrap your arms around his thigh, lift your hips so your clothed clit sits right over the toe of his boot. "Yes, Richie."

And this time when the hit comes, you laugh, dazed by pleasure.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Ruler of the Abyss.

Kneel to the Thorn Fairy, who shall make manifest one’s dreams—the wishes made by the heart.

He promises happy endings for all. Woe to those who doubt and defy his vision.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Alone.

He has always been alone.

But alone he is no longer—not when he is in his castle, surrounded by hordes of his people. He will never be alone again. No one will, all thanks to his efforts.

Never, never, never.

Malleus easily traverses the thorn-crusted lounge, floating across them like a specter. The bodies of school staff and fellow students lie limp in chairs and couches. Eyes closed, chests rising and falling rhythmically.

As he passes, he runs a hand along their scalps. Brushing their hair, patting their heads. Tender touches wishing them well.

Here is a king's domain, and here are his subjects. He, the dragon guarding his trove of invaluable treasures.

Malleus turns to face his captive audience, arms spread out toward them. “Today is something of a special occasion: Night Raven College’s Founding. I do believe this warrants a celebration—and, of course, all are invited to the festivities.”

A wave of magic washes over the room. Conical party hats manifest on each person's head, decorations appearing from thin air. Banners drape across the walls, streamers spill from black-clothed tables laden with food, and balloons tuck into the corners, safe from the needle-like thorns.

He projects applause, stunned oohs and aahs. Here, he is not a monster, but fellow man.

"Hmm, we're still missing something." Malleus strokes his chin, deep in thought. He snaps his fingers. "Ah, that's it! Music. It's not a proper party without any music."

With the wave of his hand, he summons a series of floating instruments. Bass, cello, viola, violin, harp, each bathed in an eerie green glow. They start playing by themselves, as if being handled by skillful, invisible hands.

Soft orchestral song fills the venue.

The guests rise, puppeted by the strings of his magic. Thorns on the floor retreat, allowing his peers to spill over onto the area repurposed for dance. Heads loll over--Malleus frowns and fixes them.

"There we are."

A glittering assemblage.

He smoothly conducts the bodies into neat pairs.

A waltz, he thinks, is ideal. It is also one of the few forms of dance he is familiar with. A waltz it shall be.

Palms link, fingers intertwine. Hands upon shoulders and upon backs. And then they are set to the hypnotic swing of the music, slow and sweet and intoxicating, like a steady drip of honey into one's mouth.

Malleus threads past the avid dancers and to the one person that has not been matched. The little bat who had almost flown away, far out of his grasp.

"Lilia," Malleus breathes raptly, "look at how happy everyone is. No one was left out. No one was forgotten. No one has to be alone anymore."

With this gift... my blessing... I've protected their smiles.

The duty of any Draconia.

He's proud--elated--but Lilia, alas, does not share the sentiment. Instead, the ancient fae wears a placid expression, eyes sewn shut. The same as all the other guests.

Malleus chuckles. No one hears it but himself.

"How exciting your dream must be. Action and adventure, at the best of your strength... I'm afraid this humble gathering cannot compare."

He’s sure Lilia would agree with him, were he awake.

“Never mind that," Malleus says, dispelling the thought. No more what ifs, only there ares. "Would you care for food? You'll need to keep your energy up for the celebration--it just may last all night."

He beckons with a finger, and a platter with a large cake hovers over. It is an extravagant seven layers, each a different flavor. Details are piped on in buttercream icing, invoking the image of each dormitory. A chocolate raven, wings open and prepared for flight, crowns the dessert.

A cake knife slides into Lilia's hand. His fingers slowly closer around the handle. With Malleus's guidance, he cuts into the topmost layer--Diasomnia--of the cake.

Something thick, red, and sticky leaks from the insides. The knife is coated as it is pulled back, freeing a slice. The violet crumb is fine, the frosting neon green with a dark chocolate drip.

Devilishly decadent.

"Come, you must try this," Malleus insists, stabbing a fork into the cake. He stuffs the bite into Lilia's mouth--but it doesn't stay, just rolls out and lands with a squishy splat on the ground.

Malleus eagerly waits for Lilia to beam at him, to praise him for its deliciousness.

It never comes.

Malleus laughs as though Lilia has responded as he imagines him to. He's drunk with delirium.

The strings abruptly screech, the dancers ceasing in their revelry.

He lets the unfinished slice fall. The plate shatters, reflecting one hundred Malleuses, one hundred Lilias. So many realities, and yet this is the one he has been dealt.

He guides the corners of Lilia's mouth upward, forcing a smile.

"Happy Night Raven College Founding Day," Malleus whispers, "and may you all have the sweetest of slumbers."

To his guests, to Lilia, to himself. And to the world that will soon be joining them in this delightful, never-ending dream.

Raising a hand, he unleashes fireworks from his palm. They explode in wild shapes and colors, emitting warmth and dazzling lights. The display is beautiful but fleeting--long shadows running along the walls before they blip out of existence and return to the darkness.

Every dream is like a firework, he surmises. A fiery flower frozen in time at the height of its bloom. They shall never wither nor fade.

Malleus reclines into his seat--a spiked and scaled throne, mounted high above the party venue. A lone king, untouchable.

Seated upon a mountain of lies, he looks out at his twisted kingdom. It’s a scene of his own creation, props lovingly places and toys carefully posed, acting out situations in his head.

The average school day at Night Raven College: students bickering, teachers watching over them. They see him, smile and wave. Talk with him, invite him.

Stay with him.

A loop playing, forever and ever.

Malleus sighs contentedly.

This is his happily ever after—from now until the end of eternity.

[messylustt]

fluff being stuck in chains with leon. for a visual aid at marker 1:50.

your head is slightly lolling from the injection, eyes blurring into consciousness as you spot a blonde haired man opposite you. with brows furrowed, and lips parted you take in his dirty leather jacket, and matching cuffed wrists. you look up at your own, the situation finally sinking in.

“haven’t seen you around.” the man speaks, his voice a fraction hoarse and low, redirecting your gaze, as your throat feels dry all of sudden. his eyes are scanning you, as if he’s trailed your body before. he must have woken up before you. your legs feel weak, but you straighten your back, the metal chains clinking together.

“i’m not exactly a resident on this island.” you reply, shifting your gaze to his lingering cuts, and then down his body, taking note of his well equipped clothes. “and you don’t seem to be either.”

“what gave it away? the fact that i’m not trying to get you to join a cult or by the way that my hands are chained?” his gaze is lazy, but focused, his muscles tensed and clearly ready for anything and more. “i was gonna say your clothes, but yeah, that too, i guess.” you reply, the smallest of relieved smiles edging your lips. so this one wasn’t crazy. a rarity on this island.

the man’s stance and gaze has stayed wary, almost expecting you to reach over and stab him. his mistrust in you is valid, and something you seem to possess too. “though now isn’t probably the best time to make conversation, but what brings you here of all places?” he asks, experimentally tugging on the chains. you get pulled forward slightly, your arms raising higher. you seem to both realise as you look up at the ceiling, to see how your restraints are connected, one chain looped around a rolling hook.

“no harm in making conversation.” you mutter, you now tugging on the restraints, seeing sprinkles of dust fall off the ceiling. “i wouldn’t exactly call this a charming getaway spot.” he mutters, wrapping his hand around the chain fluidly, both your gazes still eyeing the rolling hook.

you slightly chuckle at that, despite the raw rubbing on your wrists. “then why are you here?” you reply, finally shifting your gaze back to him. he copies, meeting your eyes. “is it petty to say ‘i asked first’?”

“a little.” you reply, licking at your dry lips. “but i think considering our circumstance, ‘petty’ should get a free pass.” you slightly smile, though weak, still a smile. “i’m here…looking for someone.” the blonde man almost nods in understanding. “i think that’s the only reason someone would come here.” he replies, just as you both hear the scratching sound of shoes on rock. both whipping your heads to the door, an anticipating silence fills the rather dank underground room.

you stance grows instantly ready, facing the door as much as you can as it slowly creaks open. a follower. that’s who walks through the door, hood up and veined, grey skin partially on show, making your teeth clench together. “hey.” the blonde man speaks harshly, eyes trained. “where the hell did you put my stuff?”

“this child will be blessed soon.” the infected mutters more so to himself, before repeating it a few times, almost in a prayer. then before you can react he’s grabbed you, disgusting hand by your neck. but then you’re getting tugged forward, arms raising above your head as you come into a few inches of the blonde haired man.

your breath gets caught in your throat, your gaze looking down to the fellow unifected’s hands, wound tight around the chain. he had pulled you. away from the follower, and towards him. you can feel his heavy breath against your skin, as his eyes stay locked on the infected being, shooting daggers, that you were wish were real. “thanks.” you mutter quickly, as you feel the being approaching you. your leg kicks out behind you, landing in his guts, as he’s forced to stumble back.

“if we get this chain off that hook we can use it.” your now…ally you could say quickly speaks, as he loosens the grip on the metal, letting your arms drop. use it. as a weapon. at this point it was your best chance. you both grip the chains, yanking hard as the sound of clinking and grinding fill the room. you can spot the follower standing, an arm forming into something oozing and fleshy as it shoots out towards you, your feet stumbling back. the rolling hook is loosening, one more harsh tug and you end up free. well, as free as you can be, considering your still bound wrists.

the blonde haired man swiftly and rather accurately wraps the chain around the approaching being’s neck. you quickly follow, aiding him by pulling tight against your end of the chain. in what feels like a mix of agonising long moments and quick breathless ones, the man’s knee bends down against the chain, the metal successfully snapping the followers neck. you’re both breathing hard, adrenaline coursing through you both. “shit.” you mutter, now feeling the heavy weight of the chains. you watch as the blonde haired man grabs at the follower, finally pulling out a key. “who are you looking for?” you ask.

his precision showed skill. which meant training. training most likely meant an agent of some sort. he looks up, undoing his wrists binds, before standing, hands free and walking over to you. “a girl.” he says, grabbing the end of the chain and tugging you forward. you make sure not to stumble into his chest as you dig your shoes into the dirt. “a girl…you were assigned to?” you inquire. his hold is still on the chains as he meets your gaze.

he pulls you a fraction closer. “who are you?” now his mistrust is coming to play. his hesitance in unlocking your chains clear. “y/n.” you reply, staring back. you can see a question of ‘who do you work for’ in his eyes. “just…y/n.” he let’s his tongue graze the roof of his mouth as he keeps his gaze on you, his hands slightly moving to now grasp your wrists.

“can i get your name?” your voice holds a steadiness that is making the key in his hand draw closer to letting you free. he grabs your chin suddenly, making you tense as he tilts your head to the side, brushing your hair away he looks at your ears, before doing the same to the other. ear pieces. he was looking for a form of communication. “leon.” he finally says, seeing none, and clicking the key in place, allowing the chains to drop to the floor.

“and you wouldn’t just…be leon, right?” you ask, rubbing at your red wrists. he pauses, gazing towards the door, as he spots his bags and items through the walls crack, before glancing back to you. “you travelling alone?” he asks. “is that an offer, agent?” you reply. you can spot the smallest, the smallest, of smiles edging his lips, his expression bordering amusement. “if you’re that observant, then you might come in handy at some point…’just y/n’.”

“that’s a bit petty.” you reply, your sarcasm clear. his answer has his own mouth twitching up. “which means i get a free pass.”

[mint-yooxgi]

Desperation - San X Reader

Genre: Mature, Smut

Pairing: Sub!San X Dom!Reader

Words: 1,025

Warnings: Implied established relationship, Dom/Sub themes, Mistress Kink, Pegging, Asphyxiation, Degradation (Slut & Whore used once each), Overstimulation, Marking/Biting (Male rec.), Possession Kink, Slight Dacryphilia, San gets a bit Manhandled :)

A/n: Just a little drabble I thought (thot) of before bed :)

“Who do you belong to?” The words are but a low growl on your lips as you tug harshly on his hair.

“You, Mistress.” A loud moan escapes San’s lips as he meets your every thrust.

Desperately, he grips the sheets beneath him. The way your strap feels buried in his tight little hole, your hips meeting his ass as you set a ruthless pace has his eyes watering. Never before has he felt such overwhelming pleasure course through his veins, and it’s all because of you. 

What you do to him. 

What you’re doing to him.

“Fuck- please, Mistress,” he nearly chokes on a sob, not quite sure what he’s begging for right now. 

Already, you two have been going at it for hours, his thighs trembling and cock twitching with yet another release that creeps closer with every passing second. 

“Please.” He gasps.

“Please, what, Baby Boy?” You purposely slow your hips, rolling them into his ass as he begins to babble incoherently.

He hiccups, reaching behind him blindly in attempts to get you to start moving again.

“Ah-ah,” you tut. “Remember who’s in control here.”

A sharp thrust is given to emphasize your point, his whole body jerking forward at the impact.

His back muscles tense, barely steadying himself with his hands on the mattress.

Slowly, teasingly, you drag the hand that you have tangled in his hair down his spine. The way he shivers beneath your touch has you smirking as your nails rake along his skin. Already, you can see the faint red lines littering his tanned skin that you’ve given him throughout the night, recalling how he continuously begged you for more.

Who are you to deny your baby?

In the blink of an eye, you’ve lifted him back onto his knees, supporting his body with an arm wrapped around his delicate waist as you resume your brutal pace. Your fingers dig into the skin of his opposite hip, your other hand coming up to rest just below his throat.

The whines that escape him are unlike any that you’ve ever heard from him before. The high pitched moans gradually increase in frequency, his lips parting as his tongue practically lolls out of his mouth. His chest heaves with every breath that he takes, letting you use him like the toy he is, and loving every single glorious second of it.

San would not want this any other way.

As long as it’s him you use, you can do whatever you goddamn please to him, and he’ll thank you every single time with a large smile on his face.

“What a fucking whore you are, Sannie.” There’s an air of condescension to your words which make him moan. “Letting me use your tight little hole like this. Coming all over my sheets untouched like the slut you are.”

A garbled moan of your name slips passed his lips, one hand reaching back to you in order to seek purchase on your hip. Desperately, his nails dig into your skin, attempting to draw you in closer with every thrust.

“I’m yours.” He pants, tilting his head back to give you easier access to his neck. “I’m all yours.”

You do not need to be told twice.

Immediately, you’re shifting your hand that you have placed at the base of his throat to rest around the column of his neck. At the same time, the arm you have wrapped around his waist for support moves to grasp at his weeping cock. Delicately, you squeeze the base, giving a few pumps over his length as he moans loudly.

A movement of which is synonymous with the tightening of your fingers around the sides of his throat.

A strangled whimper escapes him, whole body trembling in your hold.

“You’re mine.” Your hold is downright possessive as you bite the skin of his shoulder for emphasis.

“Yours.” The word falls like a mantra from his lips as he feels his eyes roll to the back of his head. A second later, and a feeling of complete and utter weightlessness settling throughout his body as his orgasm washes over him for the nth time this night. 

You feel his cock is twitch in your hand, spurts of his white, hot come painting your fingers. Yet still, you do not relent your pace. Not until he’s a shaking, whimpering mess do you begin to slow, rolling your hips into him slowly as you hold him close.

High pitched whines and moans escape him as you help to ride him through his high, your fingers finally loosening their hold over his throat as he attempts to catch his breath. The moment you feel him collapse forward onto the bed, barely holding himself up by his arms, you still. Gently, you remove your hold over his weeping cock, his release coating your fingers in a sticky mess.

Softly, you stroke the hand that had been previously wrapped around his neck down his spine. All the while, you coo sweet nothings at him, feeling him shiver beneath your touch.

“Such a good boy for me, Sannie.” You hum, caressing the length of his spine once more before pulling out of him.

He shudders from the loss of contact, feeling empty as he fully collapses onto the bed beneath you.

Tenderly, you pull him into your arms.

“You did so well for me, Baby.” You coo, gently brushing some of his hair that clings to his forehead out of his eyes. Softly, you press kisses to his face, smiling all the while. “I’m so proud of you.”

A content hum is all you receive in response, feeling as he buries himself deeper into your loving embrace.

“That’s my Sannie,” you comb your fingers through his damp hair, allowing him to bask in the afterglow.

Slowly, you bring your opposite hand still covered in his come up to his lips. You watch with a dark gaze as they part almost subconsciously, beginning to suckle gently at your fingers. The way his tongue begins to swirl languidly against your digits has you humming contently.

You smirk, “Good Boy.”

[goszixx]

Just a kiss

✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞

Notes ❈° ≫ i couldn’t sleep so I had to write this.

Part 2

Warning ❈° ≫ Oral fixation! Choso is needy, dom reader, teasing, begging, I think that’s it?

✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞

The sleeves of his light tan robe fell further down his arms, showing off his pale skin. You could see the blush splatter down his neck, the pretty pink contrasting with his skin. Admiring the curves of his muscles, you crossed your legs, leaning back against your arms that supported you. The sheets of your bed shuffled a bit under your weight.

Drops of sweat rolled down his chest, swiping over his perky nipples only to disappear into his clothing. His chest tensed, causing the muscles to flex a bit when he heaved. His teeth grind together when the cold air of the air conditioner sparked on.

Whines broke through his lips for a moment before biting down on his bottom lip harder. The cold air caressed his nipples, only reminding Choso of what he could be doing to you right now, if only you’d let him. “Please.”

Again he muttered the plea, eyes now fixated on the hands in his lap pulling at the clothing other his thighs. He sat on his knees, shuffling on the carpet to keep his stimulation to a minimum. The bulge in his pants is too visible to go back, the thought only added more red to his cheeks. Giving the mark running across his face a pink hue.

Deep pants parted from Choso’s lips as he tried to gain a little control of what he was feeling. You watched, intrigued and amused by the older man. A smile graced your lips when your boyfriend’s eyes squeezed shut, teeth tearing at his bottom lip. Seeing him trying so hard only made you want to tease him more.

You pushed yourself off the bed underneath you, bent as you leaned over Choso. His eyes snapped open only for him to be paralyzed by the smirk laying on your pretty lips.

The man flinched when one of your hands wrapped around his wrists. More heat spreads across his body from the contact. Your eyes never leave each others as you slowly raise his hand.

Seeing you lick your lips before parting them ever so slowly sent shivers throughout Choso’s body. His eyes became dazed when he felt the warmth of your lips on his fingertips. “What are you…” Choso’s words trailed off in a sluggish manner. As if he was intoxicated. The only thing keeping him from pinning this all on a dream was the throbbing of his cock.

It ached, so much so that he felt like he could cum on instincts. He could feel the stickiness of precum pressed against his thigh. His tip no doubt a pretty pink and begging to be stimulated among other parts of his body.

Lips parting as you brought his fingers close, you rolled your tongue out. That look alone made more wetness surge through Choso’s underwear. When the heat of your mouth and the sloppiness of your mouth surrounded his fingers, Choso lost it.

“My love p-please don’t tease me like this.” Choso stuttered his plea, eyes glossy and in need. You were well aware of your boyfriend’s oral fixation. How he needed to put something in his mouth whenever you guys did the deed.

Bite marks littered your shoulders, along with fading hickeys. His mouth was his biggest erogenous zone and the fact your taunting him with something he’s been begging to do to you for days has him on edge.

Your supple tongue sliding between the digits made him light headed and babbling. His voice only muffled by his own tongue lolling out. Drool trailed down his chin, mixing in with the sweat gathering on the dips of his chest.

Choso felt dirty. Whether from how the sweat and drool or from the overwhelming stickiness in his pants.

It doesn’t stop. The wetness kept pooling in the more you sucked on his fingers, letting them shake as they poked and prodded your mouth. Your lips slid from the fingers, dragging along them until you reached the tip. Your stare lingered on Choso. His head was tossed back, hair falling undone and sticking to his neck. The top half of his robe fell, showing off the dips of his arms and shoulders. Your eyes flickered to the hard nipples laying on his chest. They were perked up and attentive, wanting any attention but you didn’t want to touch them just yet.

The noticeable wet spot growing on his robe made a dark chuckle leave your lips. Your free hand clutched the best holding his robe together at his waiting. You were able to flick it open, showing a better outline of the man’s cock confined to one layer of clothing.

“I wasn’t trying to tease you love.” Lier.

Choso eyes flickered to yours slowly, “ca-can my tongue…” Your boyfriend’s embarrassment grew. “I wanna suc-k on you.”

“I know, I know.” You cooed sweetly, even though your next words weren’t as kind. “If you let me kiss you, then you can suck on me all you want.”

Choso’s eyes glowed as he struggled to adjust his body on the back wall of the room. “Thank you, thank you-“

“But.” You cut off that wicked grin of yours rearing its pretty head. “You can’t cum until I’m done kissing you.”