#sea bunny reader

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Twelve

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, smut. Handjob, praise kink, Simon talks you through it. Feelings of fear and anxiety, self doubt, self consciousness. Small panic attack. Comfort. Domestic slice of life. Penny lore. POV switch. A glimmer of morally grey. One step forward, two steps back.

You almost forget where you are.

Almost.

The struggle is brief, trying to acclimatize to the changes, dark green sheets pooling around you, emerald tones rich and ambient, the sage green comforter pulled up over your shoulders.

You almost forget, but Simon’s bulk is nearly suffocating, and you’re pushed up against Johnny, crowded between two immovable objects, two sky high walls.

He’s got you tucked into his chest, hand pressed firm against your belly, leg thrown over yours. Your hand still rests on Johnny, covered by his own, and you blink blearily at the bolts of morning light streaming in through the windows.

“Go back to sleep.” Simon’s mumbling right over your ear, ghost of his breath sending goosebumps down your arms. “It’s early.” He snuggles closer, shoulders curled over yours like a blanket, blazing heat bleeding from him to you… everywhere. His cock throbs against your ass, folded up against his stomach, nestled against your skin. Your mouth goes dry when you allow yourself to focus, to look, to feel, thighs squeezing together, a lust filled whine building in the back of your throat.

This is new. 

You don’t do this… your mind, your body, has always been trapped in a fight or flight, survival mode taking over your core needs and instincts, leaving no room for desire, or affection.

But this... this is different. This is safe. 

Your hand drifts lower on Johnny’s stomach. He’s shirtless, satin skin soft under your touch, and it’s almost on instinct when you settle your palm under his navel, a safe distance away from his sutures and graft, hovering north of the elastic in his sweatpants. He’s hard beneath them, outline mouthwatering in the quiet morning, and you lick your lips.

What are you doing? 

Simon’s fingers idly stroke that spot on your waist, where your hips fold into the space beneath your ribcage, swirling his touch down your belly and around, steady and safe, an anchor in turbulent seas. Your fingers dip beneath the band, mindful of his hip, sliding through curls, just barely grazing the root of Johnny’s cock.

What’re you doing? 

Are you really doing this?

You haven’t touched, or been touched, in ages. It’s foreign, and terrifying, and doubt clouds your head, anxiety rocketing through your veins to your heart, where it triple beats.

“It’s okay.” Simon soothes, sliding a hand over yours, guiding you to where he curls his fingers and yours around the base, tightening his grip into a squeeze.

“I-“

“Want to touch him? Like this?” He murmurs, keeping his voice low, scratchy and gritted against your ear. You’re breathing in time, chests rising and falling together, and you nod hastily, too afraid to lose the scrap of courage that keeps trying to flicker out.

“Y-yeah.” You whisper. You do want to, you want to so badly.

Johnny stirs. He tugs at his pants, not quite awake, trying to pull them down, and Simon helps silently, carefully tucking the elastic lower as to not put pressure on his injuries. He blinks sleepily, confused, before finding your face, impish smile spreading across his cheeks, eyes drifting shut again. He’s not wearing anything beneath them, his thick, uncut cock bobbing free at his partner’s urging, and you gasp at the sight. He’s already flushed, bead of pre-come glistening from the tip, and you hesitantly reach for it, Simon’s hand still covering yours.

“Need to start slow.” Simon coaches, both of your hands moving from root to tip together, squeezing at the base when he encourages you to do so. “Don’t want him tensing up, straining his injuries. Nice and- good bunny, just like that.” His cock is blaring hot in your palm, and you work him gently at Simon’s urging, watching his face twitch and eyebrows creasing, bottom lip tugged underneath his top teeth.

“Fuckin- hell-“ He hisses, hips trying to jerk upward.

“Relax.” Simon instructs, stilling him. You keep up the movement, iridescent spend slicking your strokes, slippery sounds filling the room.

“Ach.” Johnny moans, and you throb, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. Simon coos at him.

“Lucky boy, havin’ our bunny take care of you.”

“A-aye.” His fingers tighten in the sheets, eyes still slammed shut, and Simon squeezes your hip.

“You can go a little harder, like this.” He increases the rhythm, tightening his grip over yours, and your hips tilt back, pressing into the hardness settled against your cheeks, pressure returned with a flex of his own. “That’s it, that’s what he likes. Good girl.”

“Si.” His voice breaks. “P-please… d-d-“ He’s unable to get his words free, gasping for air like he’s just gone out for a run, haggard draw of his lungs stretched to the limit as you hold your own.

“I know sweet boy, you’re so backed up, I know. We’ll fix it.” You think you’re going to explode between them, heat and pressure and atmosphere all bearing down on your bones, grinding them to dust inside your skin. You’re not even sure you’re in your own body in this moment, watching from afar, mystified and impressed at your boldness, your courage, your abandonment of the wall you've so steadily remained perched on. “Breathe, Johnny.” Simon reminds him steadily.

The girl in the mirror is nowhere to be found. It’s just you, and Johnny, and Simon, together.

“You’re doing so well.” Simon hums. “Makin’ our boy feel good, what a good little bunny.” Jesus christ. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head, thighs like a vice, squeezing together so tight, desperate for friction against your clit. Your hips are rocking on their own now, small, micromovements pushing you into Simon again and again, Johnny whimpering and crying as the two of you stroke him harder and faster.

“Will you show our bunny how much of a mess you make, Johnny? Gonna come all over our fingers?” Simon pushes him harder, his legs twitching against yours, and Johnny gasps like he’s in pain, nearly crying, on the edge of a precipice.

“Ah, ah- ‘m gonna-“ He explodes in your hands, coating your fingers with creamy spend, rivers of it running down your fist, strokes slowing to a stop as he pants and shudders.

“Oh there it is- good boy, so good.” He tugs until Johnny is empty, and then raises your hand to his mouth, lips closing around your fingers to lick them clean.

You feel faint. Johnny smiles lazily. “Well, good mornin’ to ye too, bun.”

“I-“ What are you going to say? You don’t know what came over you? Sorry? Good morning? Everything evaporates on your tongue, happiness burning to ash.

“You alright?” Simon asks, rubbing your hip. Still, no words come. All you can do is stare at him. “Bunny? Hey.” He shifts, and Johnny tries to sit up, bliss morphing into concern.

“Pretty girl.” He holds your hand, thumb rubbing against your knuckles, and you try to remind yourself to breathe.

What are you doing? 

“Everything’s okay.” Simon is on his knees now, dipped down in front of you, cradling your jaw. “You’re okay, bun. Just breathe for us.” He rubs your back, and Johnny keeps his fingers curled against your pulse point. They steady you, anchor you, and you surface again, free from the wave of black water trying to drag you down.

“S-sorry.” You hiss, chest less tight. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“Lay back.” Simon urges. “I’m going to go get a towel to clean up, stay here.” You nod, cuddling close, your head resting on Johnny’s chest, his touch slow on the back of your neck.

“Ye’re with us, bunny. Ye’re safe.” You close your eyes with a whisper.

“I know.” 

The unsteady peace of the morning doesn't last very long. It’s not too soon after Simon gets Johnny cleaned up that Penny is awake, baby monitor sparking to life, dragging him from the other side of the bed and down the hall.

“How did ye sleep?” Johnny murmurs, still holding you close.

“Good. Great, actually. How are you uh, feeling?”

“Okay. Hip is throbbin’ but I imagine it’ll always be like that from now on.”

“It will get better. You’ll be right as rain in no time.” His thumb brushes your cheek.

“Come here.” You inch closer, bringing your faces together and he kisses you, soft and delicate in the early glow of the day. “Dinnae like ye being so far away. Need ye close. Helps me feel better.”

“You’re such a brat.” You tease, but can’t help giving him another kiss, basking in his warmth. He pushes back against you, flushed. Tan skin warmed bronze and rubicund on his cheeks, almost pink. His eyes are a brighter shade of blue, clear like Caribbean waters, lips swollen, and bee stung. He looks… so fucking hot. Like Hercules, a hero, tired after battle.

 “You sound like Si.” His hand lingers along the curve of your hip, inciting the riotous butterflies into a flurry, heat simmering in your belly. “I like these.”

“My sweatpants?”

“Aye. They fit ye well.” He peeks over, and you giggle despite yourself. He makes it so easy, to feel weightless, free, smiling as handsome as ever, long strands of mohawk falling into his eyes.

“Think you need a haircut.”

“I do. Si usually does it, but I think he’ll be nominatin’ ye this time around.”

“I can’t cut hair!”

“Ach, ‘ts not that hard. Ye just trim a little off the ends and be done wit’ it.” You roll your eyes, and the door cracks open, revealing Simon and Penny, sippy cup in hand.

“See? He’s right there.” He hums, holding her steady, her arms already reaching for where Johnny waits. “Da’s right here.”

“My wee lamb.” He cuddles her into his good side, kissing and cooing, letting her bounce on the bed. “Hey princess. Ye have a good breakfast?”

“She’s on another banana kick.” Simon sighs, kissing his forehead, and then turning to you. “Okay?” He checks in, focused and concerned, and you nod.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Forgot to ask how you slept…” He eyes the bed.

“Good, yeah. I… slept really well.”

“Guess ye’ll just have to sleep in here for now on.” Johnny quips, fingers preoccupied by being dragged towards Penny’s mouth. Sleep in here for now on? Like, with them?

Pen coos, tipping towards you with a chubby little smile. “Bunny.” She babbles, fingers straining.

Your hand finds hers, holding on to keep her upright. “Good morning to you too, little miss. Sorry I neglected you.” You sign ‘good morning’, one of the few you know from work, and she claps, thrilled. Simon beams.

“Yes, she’s terribly neglected.” He sits at Johnny’s side, mindlessly stroking his leg, massaging and working the muscle in his calf. “How do we feel about getting you downstairs?” He nods, and you roll over, sliding off the bed to lumber towards his crutches.

“Nice and slow.” His fingers brush yours as he takes them, and a shy smile works across his face.

“Ye’ll help me?” Simon tsks, but you sigh playfully.

“Of course.”

Getting Johnny settled is easy. You build him a nice little nest with the pillows from the couch, fluffing them for support, making sure he’s comfortable, until Simon reminds you to take it easy.

“You’re not at work, let me do this.”

“I don’t mind…”

“I do. Sit.” He leans you back into the cushions, settling you both, plopping Penny down between you. “If you keep an eye on her, I’ll get breakfast.” She crawls into your side with her sip cup, and you try not to tense when she curls up against your ribs. Her feet press against Johnny’s thigh, and he cups them both in one hand, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every little piece. Deep breath. You can do this. 

“Isnae she the bonniest thing ye’ve ever seen?” He breathes, and you nod.

“She really is. The cutest.”

“She looks like ‘im.” He murmurs, and you blink, glancing down at the baby. Like who?

“Like…” the curiosity falls out of your mouth in a hurry, and you grimace. He gives you a weird look.

“He didnae tell ye?”

“Tell me what?”

“She’s his. Simon’s.”

“Wait, I thought…” You don’t what you thought. You assumed she was adopted, or something else. “She’s…”

“We got turned down by every agency, ye know. Two dads, active combat roles.” He leans forward, tickling her arm, and her eyes light up, like she’d forgotten he was there. You help her straighten, and she scoots over closer to him, trying climb him like a jungle gym. “Ah, Penny. No. Da’s hurt.” He makes the sign for what you assume is hurt, his pointer fingers motioning towards one another. “Hurt, Penny. Da is hurt.” He does it again, and she cocks her head. “Here, sit here, there’s a girl.” She settles easily after that, completely captivated by the old Disney movie Johnny flicked on. “Anyway, no one would let us adopt a baby. Felt like it was goin’ be impossible, and we almost gave up. Then we met Pen’s mum.”

“You knew her?”

“Aye. She’s special. Gave us a chance.” Something green and snappish curdles in your stomach. It’s illogical, insane, and you try to beat it back. “We didnae know, obviously, who the dad was goin’ be but, I’m so glad it was him.”

“Did you…”

“Do it naturally?” He wiggles an eyebrow. “Nay. We both donated and she did it at home.”

“And... Simon said she's not in Penny’s life?”

“Not right now. She will be again, one day. She jus’ travels a lot and is really committed to her job. Has no parental rights, nothin’ like that. But she’s not against seeing Penny, the adoption is open.”

“That’s great.” Adoption is delicate, you know. There’s no one size fits all when it comes to nature of it, and you’re relieved to hear it sounds like they have something that’s healthy for Penny, and everyone involved.

“Sorry, thought he would’ve told ye.”

“It didn’t come up, and I didn’t want to… pry. He mentioned she was deaf when I asked about the sign language.”

“Eh, pry all ye want. Ye’re in our life, ye should know these things. And aye, she’s fully deaf. Travels as an interpreter for the U.S. military. Works with some important guy at the top. Dinnae know much about it.”

“That’s really cool.”

“We’re very grateful to her.” He strokes some of Penny’s curls from her forehead, and you look closer, watching for similarities, her chubby cheeks and chestnut dusted dark blonde hair now starting to look reminiscent of Simon, the longer you study her.

“I’m happy for you guys.” He glances from her to you with a beautiful smile, so handsome it makes your chest hurt.

“Me too.”

“I think,” Simon brings two plates with eggs and toast, handing one to Johnny before placing the other on the table by your knee. “We should have a bit of a lie in on the couch, easy day. Bun’s still on leave of absence, and you’re not going anywhere.” He shoots Johnny a pointed look, who holds his hand up as if to say, who me?

“A lie in sounds grand.” He postures, grimacing with a shift. You instinctively try to move towards him, a hand on Pen to keep her in place, but Simon beats you to it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ jus’ my hip.”

“Let’s eat something and I’ll get your pain meds.” You nod encouragingly.

“Better to take them with something in your stomach.”

“Is it goin’ be like this all the time? Two nursemaids cluckin’ at me?”

“Probably.” You laugh, and Simon shakes his head.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Johnny murmurs, voice low. Penny is upstairs, asleep for her morning nap already, both guys settled back on the couch, a tangle of limbs. 

“No.” you whisper. Simon’s head turns, drawing his eye, but the exchange is fleeting.

“How’s your shoulder, bun?” Johnny murmurs, and you half shrug.

“Better. The steroid helped a lot.” The room is heady, and you’re cocooned in its warmth, blazing heat radiating from Simon trying to lull you into a nap like Pen’s.

“Ye can sleep, pretty girl.” Johnny smirks. His legs are thrown over the larger man’s thighs, one gingerly cushioned, the other, lackadaisical and bent.

“It’s so warm in here.” You offer as an explanation, and he agrees.

“Aye. Si’s a furnace.”

“You run pretty warm yourself.” Simon chides, but nods encouragingly at you.

“I need a shower.” It is tempting, to curl up on the couch between them, slip away into safe and comfortable dreamland but… not without a shower. You’re overdue.

“Okay. We’ll be here.”

There isn’t much in this world a shower can’t fix.

Or at least, that’s how this one feels. It’s scalding, so hot the room steams up within a minute, and you relax under the spray, letting it wash over the soreness in your shoulder, cascade down your back.

You linger in it, soaking up the quiet moment, raising your face to the water over and over, letting it rinse you clean.

By the time you get out, you almost feel like a brand-new person.

If only… 

“How was yer shower?”

“Good.” He tries to fidget on the couch, rocking back and forth to make room for you. “Don’t Johnny, you’ll hurt-“

“I’m fine.” He grunts. “I’m still me, ye know. I know ye didnae know me, before, but I dinnae need help wit’ everything.” Your heart cracks.

“I know you don’t.” You think back to your vulnerable patient, the one who cried about being separated from his family, and how far he’s come. It fills you with pride, and something so foreign, so strange, you don’t even recognize. A massive swell of affection, of care. “I’m just… programmed, you know?” You try to soothe him, and he grumbles until you’re slipping into his side, turning to press your face in his chest.

“Sorry, bun. Didnae mean to get frustrated.”

“I know, Johnny.”

The baby monitor crackles.

Johnny shifts restlessly.

“What is it?” you murmur, and he huffs.

“I want to get her. Hate feelin’ useless to my own daughter.” You could…

“Do you… do you want me to grab her? Bring her down here for you?” His eyes light up.

“Would ye? Si’s just in the kitchen, dealing with some laundry. If ye could-“

“Yeah, I got her.”

“Ye’re sure? Yer shoulder…”

“It’s fine, promise.” He holds your jaw briefly, tongue dashing out to lick his lips, and then he kisses you, wet and messy, breathlessly.

“Thanks, bun.”

Penny’s room is dark. You’ve seen it in passing, but never really been inside, and when you flick on the light, she’s already standing in her crib, little face wet with tears.

‘Shhh, it’s alright!” You’re not sure she will calm for you since you’re not one of her dads. You’re practically a stranger in her life, but she reaches for you anyway, arms stretched out, hands grabbing in mid air. “Okay, okay, here we go.” You support her weight with your good arm, tucking her up on your waist, setting her easily on your hip.

At least they’re good for something. 

“There we go. Ready to go downstairs, see Da? Yeah?” You babble, surprised to feel her nappy still dry, and she tilts her head back, pretty eyes and gob smacked expression locked onto you.

Fuck. 

“Hi, baby girl.” You whisper, backs of two fingers gentle on her cheek. “You really do look like your dad, don’t you?” Something springs a leak, cracks slivering wide, a failsafe crumbling in your chest. It stops working, stops processing, because tears are suddenly flooding your eyes, making it hard to see.

Penny coos. You try to take a deep breath.

Get it together. You’re holding their baby. 

Deep breath. 

Pain long buried and forgotten clangs on the rusty iron encasing your heart. It bangs against it, pleads to get out.

For a second, it steals your breath. Almost forces a sob from your throat. Raw edged agony beats wildly through your veins, sharp and acidic, poisoning you from the inside out.

You shove it back where it came from.

You need some air. You need some space, some distance... something that will lessen this feeling, this despair. 

“Alright,” you croak. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

“Where’s…”

“She went up to get Penny.” Simon nods, thumb slipping the monitor’s volume crank higher, head cocked.

“Hi baby girl… you really do look like your dad, don’t you?” He glances at Johnny, who shrugs sheepishly.

“I let it slip.”

“Did you explain everything?”

“Mostly. Didnae want her to think we were together or anything like that.” Simon nods, satisfied, and Johnny’s toes curl a little. He loves seeing that expression on his face, the proud one, the nearly smug one, and he’d do anything for it, again and again. Johnny tilts his chin for a kiss and he obliges, deep and slow, gentle hand on his chest. “You were so good for us earlier. How’re you feeling? Anything sore?” The blood rushes back to Johnny’s cock from the praise alone, and he blushes.

“I feel good.”

“Do ya?”

“Aye. Wanna play with our bunny s’more.” He grows hotter under his clothes, but Simon shakes his head.

“Don’t push it. We’ve talked about this. You have to let her set the pace.” He knows, and he tries, but after this morning, all he can think about is your hand on his cock, your mouth on his, the dazed, lust filled expression on your face as your hips rocked in time with your strokes.

He wants to show you everything they can give you; the way real love is supposed to feel. Not painful and terrifying. But beautiful, and limitless.

“She’s ready for more.” He protests.

“She’s not, Johnny.” He’s using that tone, the one Johnny knows not to argue with, so he concedes.

After all, he doesn’t really want to push you. He wants you to trust them. Love them.

He wants you to feel safe and comfortable. He’ll wait as long as it takes.

“Alright,” your voice sounds heavy, broken. Simon’s head snaps up. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

Penny is dancing in your arms, clapping her hands together with some sort of sign you don’t seem to understand, babbling nonstop.

“Someone’s awake!” you declare, and Johnny holds his arm out, beckoning.

“There they are.” Simon ruffles his mohawk. You almost falter, stuttering in your stance, but your lips quirk into a tiny smile.

“She’s still dry.” You explain, placing her in his side. He wants to pull you down for another kiss, but Penny insists on one instead, open mouth seeking his nose like a bird.

“Ach, alright wee lamb, alright.”

“You okay?” Simon is cautious, trying not to encroach too much when you’re having a hard time, something he’s been instilling in Johnny too. Giving you space, giving you time.

“Bunny? Ye wit' us?” You’re in your head again, drifting. Here, but not really, and he tries to pull back towards them, to safety. To love.

“Yeah, I… uh. I have to run some errands.”

“Where?” Simon asks sharply, and Johnny tries to sit up.

“I have to go to the hospital, fill out some paperwork for leave, and I need to swing by apartment… get some clothes and stuff.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, no that’s alright. You guys hang out. I won’t be too long.” You look uncomfortable, twisting and turning, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Let me drive you, at least. I can’t stand you taking the train all over the city.” You laugh.

“I’ve grown up on trains and been fine, besides...” You motion to Johnny and Penny on the couch before your arms cross, sprinkle of defiance that has him casting a quick glance to see Simon’s jaw flexing. What choice do they have? 

“Alright. Well, text us to check in yeah?”

You’re gone for hours. Simon takes to pacing, and Johnny can’t soothe him, can’t hold him in the way he wants, can’t walk over and throw his arms around him the way he should be.

It hurts.

“What’s dad doing, hmm Penny? What’s he doing?” He coos, pointing to where his partner is checking his cellphone for the tenth time. She babbles something unintelligible back to him, chin tipped back, gazing in wonder.

Simon’s stress softens, hardness still lingering in worry lines, mouth taut. “‘M sorry.” He murmurs, settling on the couch opposite where Penny is sitting up against Johnny.

“It’s okay. I’m worried too.” He commiserates. It’s the same kind of agony in his heart, the same taste is his mouth, from when he was in hospital. Helplessly laid up and watching you work your way through whatever is chasing you. He clears the lump in his throat. “She’ll be back soon. Right? She wouldnae…” panic erupts in the bottom of his stomach. “She wouldnae just, leave.”

“We don’t know what she would do, love. She’s scared, and she’s smart, and we don’t know who she’s running from.”

“Maybe ye should’ve followed her.” He groans, and Simon gives him a look.

“Thought you didn’t want me doing that now?”

“I dinnae.” He chews on his lip. His abdomen is throbbing, and he reaches for Simon’s hand.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Simon soothes, rubbing a thumb over the back of his knuckles.

“Everythin’ would be easier if I wasnae like… like this.” He grits, frustration laden voice cracking. He’s a mess. A burden, can’t take care of his own family, help Si with Pen, or you. All he can do is lay here, and- 

“Shhh. Don’t say that.” Simon cradles the back of his head, mouth pressed against his forehead. “You’re alive, that’s all I care about. You came home.”

“Feel like I should be doin’ more.”

“The only thing-“ Penny grunts, and Simon plops a finger in her fist, letting her yank and tug on it. “The only thing you need to do is get better, focus on healing. I’m here for the rest, okay?”

“Okay.” He whispers, eyes heavy. The medications knock him out, but it’s better than before, when he was stuck inside dreams, bound to a bed.

“Get some rest, sweet boy. I’ll wake you when she’s back.” He’s already losing the battle, stupor dragging him back under, and bliss clouds his head as he begins to drift.

“‘Kay.”

[exhaslo]

Hiii！I love your stories!!But can you write about Miguel × hybridbunny！reader？that Miguel was a rich mafia or ceo and he bought reader from a black market or an auction.（ps：make reader sit on Miguel’s desk while he works and he ended up eating her out and fcking her hehehehehhehe）🐇🐇🐇🐇

Hehehehehehehehehehe

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were many pros and cons that came with being the CEO. Unfortunally, claiming ownership of Alchemax carried far more cons than the alternative. It did not help that Miguel took over the company from his corrupt father.

There were a lot of problems that needed to be fixed. Many were within the company itself; the associates to say the least. Miguel had to fire and clean up a lot of the corrupted associates' messes. This included having Miguel silently attend a black auction market.

Turned out, one of his former coworkers who worked in genetic splicing decided to test various animals on different people. While Miguel was so focused on Spiders that created Spiderman, his stupid coworker created hybrids and sold them on the black market.

Miguel just hoped that he could save as many people as he could. The work of tracking the others down was going to be a lot harder for him.

As Miguel sat in his VIP seat with a hood on, he watched the scum below him cheer with anticipation. None of these people cared. They just wanted new trophies. Miguel was going to buy as many hybrids were auctions and try to revert them back to regular humans.

-------

Miguel was about to lose faith. The auction was at the last bid and there had not been a single hybrid. Miguel did check and this was the only black market auction in the city. It was too dangerous for there to be anymore.

"Now! What you've all been waiting for, the most popular item during our shows! A hybrid!!" The announcer cheered.

Miguel nearly gasped, leaning forward as he watched the curtains unveil, revealing you.

"We got ourselves an adorable hybrid bunny!!! You know what they say about rabbits."

Miguel ignored the sea of laughter. You were standing on stand, shaking like a leaf. Before the announcer could even start the bid, Miguel yelled out an insane number. There were gasps in the crowd and barely anyone had the guts to go higher.

And just like that, you were bought by Miguel.

--------

You were hesitant as you followed your new 'owner' to his vehicle. The chain and collar still tight around your neck. Once you were seated in the back seat, you flinched as your tail got caught in the belt. You had to lower your ears, not wanting to hit the roof of the car.

"My apologizes, I'll get a bigger car." Miguel apologized as he entered the vehicle. You gave him a slight glare, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Just fuck me," You whispered.

"No," Miguel sighed as he took the collar off once the car started moving, "I'm trying to right the wrongs that the former CEO of my company did."

You touched your neck, watching Miguel very carefully. You had an inkling of where this conversation was going, and it started to make your heart and body shake.

"My name is Miguel. I have no intention of using you for any purpose, but to try and undo what Alchemax did to you, if you would let me."

"Hah, so am I the lucky test subject?"

"No. I want to find all those who were experimented on. You were the first one I saved." Miguel noticed your hesitation and offered you a bottled water, "I have a room set up for you. Anything you want or need, just let me know and I'll get it for you."

"I suppose freedom isn't an option?"

"You and I both know what will happen if I let you go."

"Yeah, I know. Just wanted to hear your answer." You scoffed and leaned forward slightly, "I actually worked at Alchemax as an assistant. I don't think it will be easy to undo my DNA now that its been changed."

"I can try."

---------

It had been a few months since you were bought by Miguel. It came as a surprise, but he did mean what he said. You were living comfortably and Miguel was trying his absolute best to cure you. As you guessed, nothing worked.

That didn't stop you from wanting to help Miguel with his endeavor. Miguel had even rescued a few more hybrids during your stay with him. You couldn't help but feel a little jealous that you weren't his only one now. There was a simple reason as to why you felt like that.

You fell in love with Miguel.

You wanted to believe that Miguel liked you too, but you weren't sure what was holding him back. Perhaps guilt? Needing to see him, you started to hurry to his office. Thanks to your rabbit DNA, you were a fast runner.

"Miguel? Can I come in?" You asked with a knock at his office door.

"Of course, (Y/N)." He said with a smile, opening the door for you.

Before entering, your nose caught whiff of something delicious. Sniffing around, you ended up next to Miguel. You gently gripped his jacket, sniffing against his collar.

"(Y-Y/N), are you alright? Do I smell?" Miguel cleared his throat, careful to hold you back.

"Hm? O-Oh, sorry. You just smelled really good." You laughed nervously, wondering what was coming over you.

Miguel patted your head, assuring you that it was okay. You could only feel embarrassed again. This wasn't the first time your rabbit DNA caused you to do something silly or embarrassing. You were still having a hard time getting over making a 'secret room' in the building when winter was coming.

"Want to help me with something?" Miguel offered, motioning towards his desk.

You hurried over, taking a seat on his desk as Miguel pulled out some paperwork. Since it was hard for you to sit in regular chairs due to your tail, Miguel allowed you to have a spot on his personal desk. It felt like you were a trophy for him. One you didn't mind.

"So, what are you working on?" You asked. Miguel chuckled towards you as he leaned back in his seat,

"Company business."

"So how can I help?"

"You already are," Miguel chuckled again and leaned closer towards you, "I feel better having you next to me. I'm not as stressed."

Your cheeks started to burn up at his confession. Your heart was racing and you could feel yourself getting hot. This was bad. Lately, whenever you thought about Miguel you would get into a small frenzy, needing to relieve yourself. It had to be because of your rabbit DNA.

"(Y/N), are you alright?" Miguel asked, his hand against your forehead.

"Mhm," You winced slightly, shaking from his touch alone, "M-Miguel, I should...g-go," You stuttered, finding it hard to keep yourself together.

Miguel furrowed his brows as he gave you a quick check up. He checked your eyes, noticing the glossy lustful look, then your heart rate. Miguel inhaled deeply once he finally noticed you rub your legs together and your nipples perk.

"You're in heat?" Miguel muttered lowly, glancing at your once more, "Let me take-"

"N-No, let me stay," You whined, holding onto Miguel, nibbling against his shoulder, "I-I'm only...like this because of...of you,"

"Oh," Miguel resisted a groan, gently pushing you back, "Then, I suppose I need to take responsibility for you, huh?"

Oh, how those words turned you on even more. You whimpered and moaned against his touch as Miguel took off your pants. Your panties were soaked. You swore Miguel mumbled something under his breathe, but you were so zoned out that you couldn't hear him.

Next thing you knew, Miguel had taken your panties off and laid you back against his desk. He brought your legs around his head, making sure your tail wasn't crushed under you. His head directly in front of your vagina,

"My, my (Y/N), you should have told me sooner about your little problem. I could have helped you happily,"

"B-But-Ah~ M-Miguel~" You cried out as his tongue started to swirl against your folds.

Your eyes widen and your body arched as Miguel feasted. His tongue touching you in ways that your fingers could not. His aggressive licks and swirls against your clit causing that knot inside you to grow tighter.

"Ah~ R-Right...t-there~" You moaned, crying out your orgasm.

Miguel cleaned up your mess, his tongue now threatening to enter your drenched hole. Your whimpers and moans were delicious. He wanted to hear more, but he also didn't want to take advantage of your state. Licking your insides, Miguel hummed at your sweet taste. Your legs wrapping around his head.

'Miguel~" You whined, grinding your hips slightly.

"Now, now my little bunny, if you don't behave I won't be able to control myself," He hummed, sucking against your clit.

"P-Please...f-fuck me...I need you~" You whimpered.

Miguel felt his restraints snap. He flipped you on your stomach and inserted a finger inside your cunt. Your body shock as you moaned louder than before. Miguel groaned at how your cunt sucked his fingers in.

"Does my little bunny want to be fucked that bad? Even using your tail to seduce me." Miguel huffed, using his free hand to play with your tail.

Unable to take the pleasure, you cried out another orgasm the moment Miguel touched your tail. It was so sensitive. Pressing your face against his desk, you whimpered, begging for Miguel to fuck you. You needed him. You wanted him to make you feel good.

"Alright, I'll give my bunny what she wants."

"Mhm~ Y-Yesh," You babbled.

A sharp gasp escaped your throat as you felt Miguel's dick push through your folds. His cock stretched you out and filling you so perfectly. Your body felt so hot as his tip threaten to push your cervix. You could feel his shape every time your pussy clenched around him.

"A perfect fit. My little horny bunny likes this right?" Miguel chuckled as he started to thrust his hips into you at a rough pace, "My little horny bunny going into heat because of me."

"Ah~ Mhm~ M-Miguel~"

You swore you started to lose your common sense. Miguel was pounding the life out of your cunt and the air out of your lungs. Your vision kept blurring as you just focused on the feeling of him filling you.

You gasped as Miguel lifted your hips ever so slightly. His dick hitting your g-spot with each thrust while his free hand was playing with your tail. You were losing count how many times this man was making you cum.

"Does my little bunny want me to fill her up?" Miguel leaned over you, whispering your ear,

"Mphm~"

"I can't hear you, are you too fucked out to answer?" Miguel nibbled against your ear.

You pressed your ass up, "Inside~" You begged.

Miguel complied as proceeded to fill you with his cum. He moaned lowly, giving you a few more pumps before coming to a stop. Miguel started to pull out, but heard you whine in protest. A chuckle escaped his throat as he continued to slap his hips into you.

Miguel continued to fuck you until your heat finally died out. By the end of what seemed like endless fucking, both you and Miguel were out of breathe. Miguel had you seated against his lap, resting your body against his.

You whimpered tiredly, cum pouring out of your cunt. Miguel rubbed your back, his hand nudging against your tail slightly.

"Mhm,"

"Shh, it was an accident, baby." Miguel whispered, rubbing your upper back, "You should have told me when these heats started. I can make some medicine to help you."

"You're fine," You whispered lowly. Miguel chuckled, kissing your head,

"If that's the case, then it would be easier for you to stay at my place. I have been looking for a wife,"

"Mhm...I'll gladly...take that role," You muttered tiredly.

Miguel resisted a chuckle. He waited for you to fall asleep before dressing the two of you. He had one of his assistants bring your stuff to his place as Miguel took you home. He was going to make you as comfortable as possible.

But first, you both needed a shower.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed!!!!

[gremlingottoosilly]

I know it's genetically impossible, but imagine if instead of a weird octo baby, monster könig and a bunny hybrid reader had a sea bunny baby?

Konig stares at the weird sea bunny baby. The weird sea bunny baby stares back. Honestly, he kinda likes this type of kid more. Like a decoration, obviously, he places it somewhere between the plushies he keeps buying you, and some statues that recruits are hauling to the base - the only exception is that the weird sea bunny baby is moving and sometimes can be very annoying. Still, it's less ugly than an octo baby, and Konig can see the features that he likes about you in the kid. If he squints. And if he gets beaten in the head a few times until he goes blind. The baby can swim and it swims well - unlike its mother. Konig would always laugh at the way you panic when you enter the water, clinging to him like he would ever allow you to drown - but he can see the way you are becoming more sad when you can't join your baby in the pool swimming sessions( you just look so sad and nervous, taping your adorable feet at the edge of the lake, not quite daring to come yet. Your ears are flat against your head, your nose is twitching - you're so stressed and worried, Konig simply scoops you up in his hands and forces you to swim with them, allowing the baby to sit on one of his tentacles. He doesn't like the presence of a weird sea bunny hybrid, but even he can't deny that the kid looks adorable. And you look cute too, smiling that he didn't force the kid out. You still don't understand how the weird baby works( you feed it with carrots and some tiny chunks of seaweed, hoping that it would be enough along with the milk. You're a mammal, you just don't understand that the baby is totally fine. It toxic too, and sometimes Konig has to drag you away because you tried to feed it and now you feel ill( Konig would have to isolate you from the baby because you're just dumb bunny who wants to spend time with her kid, but knows nothing about how to take care of sea hybrids(

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

lionfish, seahorses, and dolphins, oh my! | f. odair

masterlist

anon's request: noo bc i've been thinking about this for a while (all the time) imagine the reader from district 8 who's with finnick always sewing random fish patterns into his clothes or any cloth-related items bc of his district!!!

warnings: just some cutesy fluff, very very mild suggestive themes

notes: i couldn't not write this request it's so cute. very rushed because i've got another fic in the works ;) stay tuned my beautiful readers <3

word count: 800

Finnick would always invite girlfriend!reader to District Four because this man has major attachment issues, so you practically live at his house and are both attached to the hip. And one day he would find this little lionfish embroidered onto the cuff of his favourite sweater, which oddly resembles the colour of his hair.

His first instinct would be to call out to you. "Sweetheart?"

And you would respond with a "Hm?" from another room in the house, sneakily sewing something onto another item of his clothing. He would be curiously inspecting the little creature that had taken up residence on his shirt as he padded through the house to your whereabouts.

Just as he entered the room you were in, he would begin, "Why is there a—"

He'd cut himself short as he looked up and saw you sitting comfortably in a lounge chair, legs tucked beneath your body, a soft, knitted blanket draped over your lap, and a sewing kit lying on the side table. In your hands were a pair of his pants.

One of his eyebrows raised. "You've got my pants."

You looked up to find him standing in the doorway. "I do," you replied.

He took a step closer. "And you're sewing them."

"I am."

Another step. "And there's a fish sewed onto my sweater..."

You simply smiled at him—an adorable proud little smile. God, you looked so cute he genuinely felt to urge to lean down and pinch your cheeks between his fingers, but then he remembered he was your boyfriend, not your grandmother.

"Not that I'm not in absolute awe of your sewing abilities but—" He chuckled, shaking his head— "why?"

You shrugged, piercing a sewing needle through the waistband of the pants in your lap. "You're from District Four; fishes are kind of your thing, are they not? Plus, it's pretty," you said, then your voice lowered to a soft murmur. "Like you."

His stomach fluttered and he almost giggled like a little girl at your words. Once he got close enough, he kneeled beside the chair you were sitting in, watching as your delicate fingers manoeuvred the needle and yarn into the outline of a seahorse. He smiled to himself.

"Do you think I should start weaving clothes for you? Considering your district's all about making clothes and stuff," he said with a smirk.

"Like a dress made out of netting? It wouldn't leave much to the imagination."

"You won't hear this mouth complaining," Finnick said, the image of you walking around the house clad in a black net dress overcoming his mind.

Your cheeks warmed with a horrible blush and you decided to focus your attention entirely on the seahorse in the effort to overcome the sudden lewd thoughts involving his mouth.

Finnick continued watching in amazement as you managed to turn a few colours of yarn into a beautiful seahorse on the waistband of his pants. He wondered how many other pieces of clothing of his you had managed to infiltrate with various sea creatures. When his eyes caught on a bright blob of colour on the underside of the shirt sleeve he was wearing, he smiled, knowing he had gotten his answer.

His gaze flickered back to you, observing the look of concentration on your face as you sewed—the gentle crinkle of your furrowed brows, the subtle curl of your lips, and every now and then, the small twitch of your nose like that of a bunny, the pink of your blush adding to the image.

He couldn't help but prop his folded arms on the arm of the chair, chin resting on his forearms as he shamelessly and blatantly admired the changes in your facial expressions. He noticed as your eyes began to occasionally flicker toward him, your attention increasingly beginning to drift.

A few minutes later, you exhaled a heavy sigh. "You're so distracting."

"You're so adorable," he replied almost dreamily.

There it was again. The humiliating pink flush of your cheeks.

He grinned, humming a quiet laugh as he rose to his feet to plant a kiss on the top of your head.

"Can I make one request?" he asked.

"Perhaps."

His eyes fell to the lionfish on the shirt in his hands, eyes sparkling with child-like joy. "Sew some of these onto your own clothes so we can match."

A wide smile stretched across your lips.

Within the next week, you and Finnick were a giggling mess, sporting matching sweatshirts embroidered with big blue dolphins, each one's blowhole featuring a small red heart just above.

[explicit-tae]

Carnal Desire (1/3)

The last person you expected to see was an ‘old friend’ from nearly a decade ago, but you’re determined to show the man that you’re no longer the little girl he use to know. @bloodline1632 @seokjinkismet @babycandy111

Word Count: 2.070

Warning: smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, haegeum type vibes fr fr, grinding, finger sucking, the reader is down bad, but so is yoongi, kissing, sucking,

“You’ll do amazing, really!” Bunny - your co-worker - says as she pats the highlighter upon your cheekbones. “You’re already on your way to becoming a favorite.”

You take a deep breath and nod.

“Please stay focused. We have very important people tonight.”

And there it was, your nerves kicking back in once more.

You only been here for a week - the high end strip club is more than you imagined. You often thought it would be littered with creeps and smelt of cheap booze and cigarettes - but maybe you just chose the right one. 

Your name is being called now and from behind the curtains, you notice the lights dim, and the red spotlight appears. You clicked your heels, rounding the curtain and made your way towards the middle of the stage. It’s amazing how you were able to turn your nerves off when needed be - you were highly grateful that you didn’t need any liquid courage to do so.

Bunny was correct when she said it would be a busy night - and the important people she spoke of had to be front and center. You sway your hips to the pole, hooking a leg around it and swinging as you do - a routine you practiced for the past two days.

You often don’t look into the crowd while performing - you were a natural overthinker and the last thing you needed was to mess up in front of a group of men. However, this was different. You had important people here tonight and your boss informed each dancer tonight to “appear” available and interested.

You regret taking her advice.

You drop to your knees slow and sultry, crawling towards the edge of the stage. Smoking typically wasn't allowed, but important guests always got their way. Your eyes focus on the man smoking and you froze.

Those eyes - such cold and feline-like eyes. They flash in your mind and you were brought back to your childhood; specifically your teenage years. As the smoke clears, as does your vision on the man - pale, porcelain-like skin, hard eyes and a low smirk on his lips.

Yoongi.

Min Yoongi was before you. He was the important guest tonight - he looked it. Even in the sea of people, you can smell the expensive cologne mixed with the nicotine smell. He appeared clean shaven and had not aged since you last saw him a decade prior.

Yoongi brings the cigarette back into his lips, his fingers curling as he does so. Your eyes glance to his hands, large and veiny and full of shining diamonds. 

Your eyes begin to grow dry and you blink. You finally inhale to not have your head go any more lightheaded than necessary. 

You hear a hiss of your name and your body immediately reacts. You begin to crawl once more, your eyes on nobody but Yoongi now. He furrows a brow and appears amused and curious.

Min Yoongi was before you.

Your Min Yoongi.

The same Min Yoongi that your father despised - called him a thug and everything but a decent human being. Father’s never approved of their little girls being hooked on an older man - but he was only two years older; if that. The same Min Yoongi who you had once admitted to loving during too many drinks and even when you insisted on showing him you weren’t a little girl, he never took advantage of your advances.

Min Yoongi was before you now - and you weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a woman that grew into her curves and appearance, and you were determined to show him just that.

It’s crazy to think that just one look at him made you feel as you did as a teenager - shy, but willing, giddy and wanting to prove yourself to him.

Yoongi leans closer to the stage just as you lean forward. Your manicured hand grasps his large ones and grasps the cigarette. You were never a smoker - he knows this. But he only smirks as you take a puff of it and blow it at him.

Your time was up, but your eyes linger onto Yoongi’s longer as you exit the stage. You feel it all fall on you at once - the nerves and nausea. Yoongi was here. He had seen you like this - what was he thinking? Has he remembered you? 

“What was that?” Bunny heels slam against the floor as she rushes to you. “Do you know who that is?”

Yes. “No.”

Bunny’s eyes widened. “You don’t know who Suga is?”

Suga. Yoongi must have made another name for himself. He was once someone your father considered bad news and you can only guess what he was into back then - but Yoongi is a man now. He surrounded himself with men, him directly in the middle. He was an important member of whatever society he ran with; you didn’t really care much to ask.

“I was told to entertain the guests.” you shrug your shoulders. “Suga seems to be a very important person.”

Bunny nods with wide eyes. “Extremely. He dabbles in organized crime and is one of our biggest spenders here. You-”

“Y/N.”

You freeze, as does Bunny. 

“I’m dead.” you murmur to Bunny who slowly nods.

Your boss’ eyes are upon you when you turn. Her arms are crossed as she motions you to follow her. 

“I-I didn’t mean-”

“You aren’t in trouble.” your boss murmurs as you saunter towards her. “Seems like your little stunt caught Suga’s eye. He never pays for a dance.”

Yoongi did remember you.

Your heart races as your boss points to the back rooms, the further room in the back. The only room without a camera.

You look yourself over in the mirror. Your hair appeared to be in place still, as did your makeup. Your lingerie hugs you nicely and your heels were just an added bonus. 

It grows hotter and quieter as you make your way down the hall to the back room - a V.I.P section. You slide the door open and make your way in. Yoongi is seated upon the round, leather section. The room is surrounded with mirrors and low lights. On the table forward him is a large bottle of champagne - the most expensive there was at the club - and two glasses.

“Sit.” Yoongi says as you close the door behind you. He goes to pour both glasses of champagne, handing you one as you round the table.

“Thank you.” you murmur. It takes everything in you not to melt - but you are grown now and no longer the shy teenage girl.

You sit on his lap, legs swinging to trap him between your thighs. Your eyes meet his as you drink the champagne.

Yoongi’s pink tongue coats his lips as he leans back into the couch. He doesn’t go to move you from your laps, and even if you did, you wouldn’t leave without a fight. After all, he paid for your services - private dances weren’t cheap and especially not in the V.I.P backroom.

You discard your glass beside you without a care, licking your own lips.

“Y/N…Y/N…”

Your arms are fresh with goosebumps when you hear his voice say your name. He down the champagne, free hand rubbing against your thigh to your waist. 

“How much you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” Yoongi finally says as he finishes the champagne, discarding his own glass to the side.

“I can say the same for you…” you begin to roll your hips. “...Suga.” All the girls are informed to not be so close to a client. They paid for a certain amount of time - and in that time you were told to stall, only sitting upon them at the last few minutes of the dance.

Yoongi’s hands are as large as you know them to be, both now cupping your waist. 

“How is it that when my name comes from your lips it sounds sweeter than ever before?”

Yoongi’s eyes rack over your figure.

You were no longer the little girl who followed him around against her father’s wishes. No, you were now a woman - a full grown woman who grew into her chest and hips. He recalls the amount of times he (against your own knowledge) would have to assure no creep used your naivety to their advantage.

Yoongi’s girl is what they called you - even back then. No matter how much he told anyone that you were nothing but a close friend to him; someone he would protect because he had a heart.

“Where have you been?” Yoongi allows his curiosity to get the best of him. He was no fool in knowing the pure hatred your father had for him - even if Yoongi never took advantage of your feelings for him. When you were old enough to consider making your own decision, you were shipped far away from Daegu - and that was ten years ago.

You continued your lap dance, your hands placing themselves on his shoulders. Yoongi is but a man and his eyes rack your figure in the tight lingerie, large hands rubbing up your side with a lick of his lips once more.

“My dad sent me to live with my aunt and continue school there.” you respond. “I came back when he got sick.”

Yoongi furrows a brow. Your father was sick. He hasn’t seen the man since he last saw you.

“Dropped out of school to take care of him. Now I’m here.” you roll your hips against the bulge forming in his pants. “With you.”

Yoongi feels your hands rub from his shoulders to his torso.

“What about you, Suga? You seem to have made a name for yourself.”

Yoongi was being far too modest for your liking. You grasp his hands in yours, eyes staring right into his. You allow his hands to roam your body, setting them right onto your breasts.

“I have.” Yoongi murmurs, voice deeper. “I own this city now, baby.”

You swallow at the pet name, leaning closer. You want to capture his lips with your own - they were so rosy and soft. 

“I bet you do.” you murmur, warm breath against his lips. “Does someone run it with you?”

Yoongi tilts his head. He gives you a snicker. “You still got that crush, huh?” he teases. He squeezes your breast lightly before his right hand cups your check.

You grow hot at his words, swallowing thickly. You wouldn’t allow him to treat you like the same little girl you once were. You were an adult - you were in control of your own desires. 

“It’s more than a crush now. I’m not a little girl.”

Yoongi knows this - he wants to tell you just how much you’ve grown since the last time he saw you. 

“I can show you how much it’s grown.” 

Yoongi can’t take his eyes from you. Your tongue peeks out and wraps around his thumb. You suck on it, eyes boring into his own. His cock twitches at the sultry act.

“Y/N…”

You moved fast. From sucking onto his thumb to your lips upon his. Your thighs clenched him beneath you tightly, never wanting to let go. 

Yoongi loses himself in your touch, arms wrapping around your bare body, touching skin he never knew he would ever long to touch. 

Your tongue dances with him, his hands cupping your ass, guiding you to continue to grind against his bulge.

“I want you, Yoongi.” you murmur against his lips. 

“I know, baby.” Yoongi grunts. “I know…”

Your teeth clasps down onto his bottom lips, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “Then take me.”

Yoongi shudders, holding onto you even tighter.

“You can have me. All of me.”

Yoongi shakes his head, breathing quickening. Your words ring in his ears non-stop.

“I want to be your girl.” you continue - you refused to hear anything other than approval. “You can have all of me right now and forever.”

Yoongi lips are against the skin of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses. Your words are getting to him, his cock begging to take you.

But you weren’t a common whore - not just some pussy to wet his cock. You were someone he cared for deeply.

“You are my girl.”

Your lips meet his once more and your heart feels satisfied - it’s the same words you wanted to hear for years now.

Part 2 | Part 3

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves.

idol!jungkook x reader / angst, fluff / word count: 3.7k

content/warnings: they both cry, they’re so in love and anxious of being apart 🥲 pls somebody give my babies a box of tissue damn it!!! / making out :") might be one of my favs i’ve written heh cherry koo ily

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hiii this serves as a prologue kinda to the giving up drabbles <3 and as to not confuse the timeline, this one takes place in sept 2018 and the first giving up drabble june 2019 ^^ hehe reblogs/feedback are appreciated + as always i’d love to chat abt ur thoughts 🥺

—

“i’ll call you when i arrive at the dorm, baby. let’s pack the rest of my things together, hmm?”

you hum softly in agreement, hiding your face on jungkook’s chest so he won’t see you yawn.

you’re so adorable, he thinks to himself with a grin.

matching his outfits with you in preparation for his travels has always been one of the little ways you spend quality time together. yes, you will be physically apart for most of this year and the next… but if he just pushes that fact in the back of his mind for an hour or two so he can make you laugh with his purposely horrendous choices, he thinks he may be able to leave with a lighter heart.

one last kiss is granted to your forehead, and you nuzzle your cheeks against his warm hands to cherish every ounce of his touch you can manage to steal.

you peek from the small space of the door to smile at your lover, which he then returns rife with fondness. you wave and bid your silly bye bye’s to each other, and it’s you who ultimately closes the door despite the voice in your head bewailing its protests.

it creates a clicking sound as you push it all the way, and after that, the defeaning silence fills your apartment like a toxic gas that makes it impossible to breathe. with no other soul left to witness it, your walls involuntarily come crumbling down. your eyes become blurry with unshed tears, and they fall one by one, some getting caught by your eyelashes. they hang heavy until they inevitably roll down your cheeks, as if they’re desperate not to crash and break, as if they’re horrified of their fate towards doom… much like you are.

recognizing the sensation of your weak knees threatening to give way, you lean your forehead on the hardwood to relieve some of the weight burdening your shoulders.

your chores have piled up while you were recklessly spending every second you had left with your boyfriend. you have better things to do than to cry. however, you can’t control your face that contorts to express the pain of having your heart mercilessly squeezed in your chest, tighter and tighter as the distance between you and jungkook grows, and it will only continue to do so.

you wind up as a heap on the floor, an intricate collection of love yet to be given and shards of memories calamitous and beautiful, knees hugged to your chest as you weep.

you swore you wouldn’t do this. you fucking swore you wouldn’t do this to yourself.

since losing your family, you’ve been alone, trying to survive in this world like a leaf in the eye of a storm, carried by a raging river that travels to an unknown sea. you then promised that no matter how much you affection you’ve grown to have for someone, if there comes a time that they make you feel lonely (skin-on-skin or heart-to-heart), you will be the one to walk away first. even if it hurts, even if it leaves you empty inside. for one, you’ve never liked wasting your time. you know what you want and what you need— someone who will stay within reach. your day-to-day life is far too draining for you to find the energy to beg for love and attention… and for the love of god, there’s already too many people you wish were still by your side.

your friends have witnessed you annihilate hearts and egos, leaving behind a string of jaded lovers.

but jungkook, with his bunny-like smile and endless gestures of kindness… has somehow slithered his way into a space in your heart where no one has ever been.

the apartment feels too empty with him not around. he’s not knocking rhythmically at your door from the inside to announce his arrival. he’s not in the kitchen humming songs while chopping vegetables. he’s not in the shower yelling at you because you forgot that turning on the sink makes his water cold. he’s not in the living room watching a movie on your laptop. he’s not snuggled closely with you and snoring execessively by your ear.

it’s going to be like this for a while. it’s always going to be like this, you realize.

you’re so fucking lonely.

you’ve only gotten used to him being here, and now you need to re-learn what it’s like to be without him.

you’re forced to gasp for air as you sob uncontrollably, interrupted by occasional hiccups that make your body jolt. you taste the salt in your tears as they seep into the crevice between your lips, can feel them beginning to poison your skin.

you let jungkook come too close. he slept on your bed and he learned that you’re always cold. he enveloped you in the safety of his warm embrace and you couldn’t will yourself to leave after the first time. you’ve surrendered to him the control over your body, and also your heart, which you may be breaking alongside your rule but… walking away would mean forsaking yourself.

for the first time, you are crying not because of the absence of love, but the abundance of it. humans are essentially a collection of dead stars that are brought back to life when they are consumed by the electric ache of love and yearning. you are addicted to the antidote that is the touch of another body that burns the same.

you’re free falling.

if you were to choose the cause of your madness, you would choose this.

because for the first time, you are not cursing a name, but the universe and its twisted ways. in your one-bedroom apartment, you don’t feel small; your arrogance is as big as the sun that threatens to swallow the earth whole. the empty space on your bed is now in the shape of the man who loves you.

the back of your head hits the door, and you sigh at the new predicament that presents itself to you: the fluorescent lightbulb at your doorway is flickering as if to signal its impending death.

your bad vision begs you to look away.

it’s too high. it’s too high for you to reach. jungkook isn’t here anymore.

you bury your face in your hands, another wave of tears spilling over before you could get a hold of yourself. your cries are unapologetic; you sound like a little child who got their hair pulled at the playground.

you would much rather wait for him than find a solution. you want to bear the weight of him in every possible way there is. you want to have him in mind every time you flip the light switch, because you always seem to forget that it’s dying after a long day at school.

but for now, all you can do is sit on the floor and smell his perfume on your clothes as you wait for his call.

—

jungkook is still frozen on the driver’s seat, struck with a suspicion that he left something behind in your apartment, but he can’t figure out what else there is besides his heart in the palm of your hands.

he opens up every single compartment of his backpack, but he soon carelessly discards it at the backseat because he has no idea what it is he’s even looking for.

“what is it? what is it? what is it?” he mutters absentmindedly to himself, wide doe eyes still actively darting around the car as he mulls over what could possibly be missing. “am i an idiot? am i just making things up in my head?”

but he is leaving for tour after all, it would be a big headache if he forgets to bring something important.

something important such as…

proceeding with a final inspection, he starts patting around his body, from his chest down to the pockets of his sweatpants.

“ahhh-” he makes a noise of enlightenment when he discovers one of them to be completely empty.

it then becomes vivid in his mind— the memory of him lazily setting down his wallet on your study table before he crawled on your single-sized bed as if it’s his own.

“…shit. i need to go back.”

—

he has a smirk plastered on his face as he jogs his way up to your apartment floor. radiating with pure excitement unbeknownst to himself, he even begins to skip a step with every long stride he makes across the staircase.

thanks to his forgetfulness, he found an excuse to be with you for a few minutes more.

the fourth door straight ahead, he still remembers chanting in his head the first time he visited your building on his own.

he stands before it with the intention to surprise you, but ironically, he is the one who ends up freezing in place. your muffled sobs escape through the narrow cracks of the door, and his hand slowly slips away from the handle until it drops back to his side. his vision becomes unfocused, mind going blank, only registering the shortness of his breath and the powerful punch to his gut.

that sweet, heart-fluttering smile that comforted him must’ve killed you inside.

—

“i won’t forget to call after every show.”

“that does sound nice but…” you scrunch your nose cutely. “i won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re worried about. go straight to sleep when you’re exhausted. i know you won’t have much time to rest.”

“please! you can watch me sleep too.” he pouts. “you know i always make it work. while i eat, while i shower! that won’t change. i need to see you and gain strength… or else i seriously think i won’t survive this one.”

and jungkook hopes that he’s not too much of a burden for loving you.

although, you did tell him once in passing— that anyone can be passionate, but not everyone will bravely go on stage every night to showcase those passions, even if it means testing the very limits of the human body.

“i can’t allow that to happen, can i?” you click your tongue, copying the angry frown of your boyfriend, who you find so, so, so cool.

his features soften after you pinch his soft cheek.

“your hyungs might kill me if i make their little one mope around missing me too much.”

“w-what do you mean?” he becomes flushed with embarrassment. “what kind of things do they tell you?!”

“nothing much.” your eyes shine with a glint of faux innocence. “when we were trainees, jungkook did this… since meeting you, he’s gotten more stubborn… can you tell him to wake up earlier if he plans on showering for an hour? you know, just things like that.”

“aish! jimin-hyung!” he releases a deep sigh to express his exasperation, knitted forehead not doing much to diminish the roundness of his eyes. “i bet one of them is jimin-hyung! i’m right, aren’t i? you- you’re getting too close with him! i can’t allow this- really, i- ah! no! no!”

the burst of laughter that fills the room only confirms his suspicion. you roll over on the bed to cover your face, half of your body collapsing on top of his, and you clutch your aching belly when he begins to aggressively shake you in a joking manner.

“listen, you can’t become best friends! you hear me? don’t! my secrets… what’s going to happen to them? who else can i tell them to?!”

immediately recognizing his poor choice of words once they have left his mouth, jungkook purses his lips in regret, and it’s his turn to feel his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“oh, really?” you slowly sit up as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. “and what kind of secrets do you need to keep from me? huh?”

he doesn’t waste a second to reply, scrambling as to not leave any space for you to formulate more doubts in your head.

“nothing! nothing, baby!” he flashes a dreamy smile in return to your sharp glare. he gently cups the back of your head to pull you back closer, puckering his lips as he tries to meet you halfway. “come here- give me a kiss.”

you ignore his advances, moving away from him with a scoff you don’t even bother to hide. the annoyance bubbling up inside of you feels irrational, and yet you can’t stop it from controlling your body language.

his jaw slacks in disappointment. he despises being denied affection, more importantly, a kiss meant to be shared with you.

“are you mad?”

you turn your back against him, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, but jungkook doesn’t waste time in chasing after you.

“baby!” he whines, seizing your arm and tightly embracing you from the side before you can escape. “i was just joking- i promise- i swear. you’re even the first person i share my secrets with nowadays!”

you sigh in defeat, eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to caress your face and pepper your cheek with loving kisses. loud, and slightly wet, which you used to not be fond of when it came to the lovers you had before, but as for jungkook and his dewy lips, you weirdly don’t seem to mind.

“please don’t be mad.” he coos lightheartedly before ducking his head to press his lips against yours. “i don’t want us to fight before i go.”

“i’m not mad.” your reply is quiet, and it drips with hesitance. “i just don’t want to think about you having secrets while you’re away.”

you turn to communicate directly with his eyes. if you feel sick to your stomach imagining him as a person you’d never have the grace to forgive, you don’t show it.

“you understand where i’m coming from, right?”

he meekly nods.

this is another reason why he is eager to spend all his free time with you, albeit through a screen smaller than the palm of his hand, and perhaps buy you trinkets from every city that welcomes him because everything reminds him of you. he wants to give you the reassurance that he doesn’t have any plans on doing something that may hurt you. this will be excruciating, he knows, but it is also a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend worthy of your tears and sacrifices. this can’t end before it begins. he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear that. he just celebrated his first birthday with you. it hasn’t been long since you uttered the three words he’s been anxiously waiting to hear.

“i love you. please give me your trust for now… i won’t waste it. you’ll see, at the end of this, we’ll be stronger. i promise i won’t forget my responsibilities as your partner even if we’re physically apart.”

he tenderly strokes your hair, eyes filled with galaxies memorizing every inch of your face. he’s scared, too. he’s scared that he’s overestimating himself. too ambitious, too greedy for wanting both the world and the most beautiful person he has ever seen in it to love him. he’s scared of getting too exhausted. he’s scared that you won’t be there anymore when he opens his eyes.

“i will probably mope around, though, missing you too much…” he pauses, then he makes up his mind.

him getting more stubborn since he met you— it might just have some truth to it that he’s too sheepish to say out loud, especially if his members were around to hear it.

“yes, i will seriously be a handful.” he nods to himself. “so i’m already apologizing early.”

“what are those responsibilities exactly?”

“to show you that i love you!” he exclaims in a tone that screams obviously. “to make you happy, to keep you safe… to stay committed to you- yah, you already know these things!”

but still, it’s nice to hear him say it. this bed of roses is a bed of thorns; he has chosen to sleep on it with you.

you giggle heartily at the sight of his face getting flushed. “you’ve been doing a great job then, baby.”

the praise causes his doe eyes to sparkle with glee. “really?”

“really!” his heart skips a beat when you softly cup his face in your hands, wearing that kind smile he can’t help but fall in love with over and over again. “don’t worry, i won’t let you miss me too much. i have my share of the responsibilities too.”

—

he swallows the lump in his throat, shakily sitting on the floor with his back against the door. he doesn’t know how long he stays there. he only knows that it’s near sunrise because the lights across the hallways have gone out one by one.

with an elbow resting on top of his knee, he fiddles with the laces of his shoe with no rhythm or rhyme— silently crying with you, clueless as to what he should do. he didn’t learn about this in school, nor during dance practices. no one teaches you what to do when you hurt a person you love but there’s no fault to fix and apologize for.

every now and then, a tenant passes by, and he is overwhelmed with the urge to scream at them to fuck off and mind their own business.

adding to his frustration is his phone, which has been vibrating with calls and text messages. he only spares them a dismissive glance before clicking the off button. yes, he fucking knows it’s already 5am. yes, he’s still with his baby. however, he is forced to send a reply to his manager when asked if they could finish packing his luggages for him to save time. no. no, no, no.

on the other side of the door, the pitter-patter of mechanical rain tickles your ears. your nimble fingers doesn’t cease on tapping on the keyboard even as your eyes stray to the contact name above the conversation, just to make sure that it’s your boyfriend you’re texting.

to: my jungkook

babyyy the sun is about to rise

so i’m not sleepy anymore :(

you're not home yet?

wait. if you're still driving just reply later

be a good driver before a good bf for now ☺️

ohoh i don’t mind if you don't have time to call anymore. just text me rq before you take off pleaseee so i know you're safe and sound

and after the flight ofc!! 😭

i love you! ❤️

seconds later, a pounding at the door makes your body jolt in shock. you carelessly rush to stand up, the safety measure of looking through the peephole not even crossing your mind before you swing it open.

jungkook stuns you with his presence, chest heaving with every breath as he studies you in a fog of haze. your messy hair perfectly frames your pretty face. your parted lips are raw from the crime of your sharp teeth forcibly putting an end to your crying. your eyes are still damp with tears, and they shine every time the warm light hanging above your head flickers.

if you could only read his mind, you won’t have to worry about him wanting anybody else.

once again, he finds himself helplessly infatuated. why do you have to look utterly bewitching even when you cry? fuck, and your texts… how did he get so lucky? you fuel something carnal inside of him that he has difficulty putting into words.

and so, he allows his actions to speak for himself.

“jungk-” his name is interrupted with a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. your trembling hands desperately grasp the sides of his hoodie as you stumble backwards, struggling to recriprocate the unrestrained fervour of his kisses.

he’s out of control. he has never kissed you like this before. you don’t know if he doesn’t feel your weak fists punching his chest or he just doesn’t care. you feel dizzy… dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

you’re confused why he’s still standing at your doorway. you’re terrified of losing your balance. you’re crushing a pair of sneakers underneath the soles of your feet and it hurts. but his fingers are tightly tangled with your hair, the others playing a saccharine hymn along the keys of your spine, and for the pleasure he gives, you can endure to live with the pain.

the familiar taste of mint on his tongue is far too addictive for you not to indulge. you can’t stop craving for more of it, more of him, and you let your lungs burn.

but soon it mixes with the salt in his tears as his emotions crash on the shore like a tsunami. the seal of your lips is broken by a quiet sob, and in shame, he ends the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“____, what do i do? i don’t want to leave.”

your heart shatters into pieces as he sniffles, voice cracking as he musters up the courage to confess to you in between.

“jungkook…”

the words of sincerity feel heavy on his tongue. he’s never been good at this; always relied on his ability to feel. in spite of that, he wants to bare all of himself to you, and he prays that you believe him when he says- “i can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“so don’t. you don’t have to think about things like that.” you sigh as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, subtly swaying your bodies to soothe him. “come on, love. why are you crying…? you know where to find me, don’t you?”

you feel him nod before he mumbles pensively. “here… or school, or the restobar.”

“that’s right.” you chuckle. “just don’t lose your key. i’m not going anywhere.”

but he fears it’s his goddamn mind he might just lose. he squeezes his eyes shut, embracing you tighter as he counts the seconds in his head. he will let go after thirty, then perhaps he will stay for another ten.

in another lifetime, jungkook wishes that he could tell you the same.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[praisethesuuun]

First of all, I would like to say that I love your art! 🥺💕

Second, can I request how Buddha, Poseidon, and Hades would react if the (gn) reader teases them under the table in the middle of the gods meeting? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Thanks in advance because I know I'm going to love what you're going to write.🛐

You're really sweet anon☀️❤️ comments like this really melts my heart and lights up my rainy days💞 I really hope I did a good job, sorry if it's not good🙏

RoR characters being teased by their s/o under the table!

BUDDHA

🍬Okay, Buddha really didn't want to go to that meeting. But you forced him to go: it's been some time now that you've had the intention of spicing up your love life, something more risky, exciting. Buddha knows how to be lazy when he wants and often you have to keep the libido high, it was time to teach him a good lesson.

🍬Buddha always sits in the back, dark seats whenever the gods have one of their big gatherings: he doesn't want to stand out and wants to nibble on his snacks in peace. But not that day...poor Buddha didn't even know what he was getting into...

🍬You sat on his lap, your place of honor, eating a candy you'd stolen from your lover without showing up. Buddha wasn't entirely interested: he kept yawning, throwing some paper at the head of the minor deities, in short, the usual. But not for long. It wasn't too long before you shifted your position to straddle him directly. "What are you doing, bunny?" he will ask you, intrigued.

🍬His response came when your hips started to move slightly, using the excuse of getting comfortable. For a second, Buddha's eyes darted around him to see if anyone was watching, and then he thanked himself for choosing a fairly secluded spot; so, she decided to relax and let you do it, even though it was nearly impossible to hold back the moans.

🍬"Little bunny...someone may see us..." he whispers in your ear, breath hot and short against your skin. But in reality, he didn't mind being caught, on the contrary, perhaps the idea of being seen would prompt him to give the gods one last slap in the face, bragging about his fun with a grin, as his hands rest lazily on your hips.

POSEIDON

🌊The Zeus of the Sea had already left the temple annoyed: meetings between the gods were never one of his favorite ways to spend the day, especially if it meant enduring the shouts of the noisiest deities. You too seemed bored, especially given the judgment that others had of you, being a nymph and not a diety.

🌊Boredom was starting to set in, which wasn't showing up on the other Olympian deities, too busy arguing and gossiping among themselves to notice your arm moving slowly up and down under the table.

🌊Poseidon, sitting next to you, had his eyes closed, beautifully ignoring your soft hands wrapped around his penis; all he thought about was how long it will finish before you get tired. If you ignore her she will get tired, right? No, not this time.

🌊Your fingers danced gracefully, taking their time as they went up and down, again and again. Poseidon kept his eyes closed so as not to open wide them wide and glare at you, but what the hell were you even thinking? He hated performing romantic acts in public, even less sexual acts, but if he stopped you, the others would surely find out something's wrong.

🌊Once you return to his temple, as punishment the god won't even touch you with a finger, waiting for you to crawl back to him with an apology worthy of your crime. "Next time think about it twice, I won't repeat myself"

HADES

💀Hades sat serious, ethereal and focused on his throne. His gaze moved to everyone present, while he let his little brother Zeus take the reins of the meeting. The lords of Olympus had gathered as usual to discuss their realms; you and your husband had arrived early and Hades was about to turn around, before seeing his wife dive under the table.

💀He didn't even have time to ask you what you were doing, that the door of the huge hall swung completely open, announcing the entry of his precious brothers. Hades was shocked, but he pulled himself together instantly, sitting in his seat without saying anything to avoid embarrassing you. So, the king of the Underworld just decided to roll with it.

💀Everything was going well, at least until Hades felt the zipper of his pants come down. The god looked down, halfway between furious and frustrated, stiffening as your glittering eyes met his. He blushed noticeably as your lips began to leave soft kisses on his crotch and boxers, making him shiver slightly in anticipation.

💀"Brother Hades, are you all right?" asked Zeus, unaware of the other's difficulty in keeping silent. The king of Hellheim was biting his tongue, his cheeks were red and his breathing heavy, a light sigh sucked from his lips every time your lips massaged his cock; always leaving a trail of kisses behind. "Absolutely, dear brother..."

💀At the end of the meeting, Hades will forcefully pull you out from under the table, lay you down on the table and grab your wrists. His breathing heavy and his eyes misty with lust. "Did you enjoy yourself, little one? Such a cute face, but we'll have to work on that attitude of yours...bad ones deserves a punishment..."

[willownwisp]

love on me

iv. you're exciting, boy come find me. (di!leon x fem reader)

author's note: yayyyyyy, fourth entry !

cw: NSFW MDNI. love hotels. p in v. oral (f receiving and m receiving).

part 4 of ree's leon valentine's advent

If he had been born under different circumstances, Leon swears he'd surely become a beach bum. Better an idle man rather than get smacked by bioweapons day in and night out, not only that, but have the top brass of good ol' U.S of A breathing down his neck constantly. Yet, he's a man who has seen things, he'd already vowed to protect whatever and whoever he can. Cold and cruel this life may be.

So he loves the warmth of the sun on him, lying down on a sun lounger sipping on dry drinks. Enjoy the view in the tropics of crystalline beaches and white sand on his feet, letting loose and relaxing himself.

Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights.

So here he is, you in hand, his cute girlfriend clinging onto his bicep like a bunny that hopped in excitement at every interesting thing you see because you're adorable to him like that.

You were extra flirty too, Leon had chalked it up to you being over the moon because you were finally in Japan after so long of dreaming it, he's smug and pleased with himself, he likes the good boyfriend brownie points, but you had other things in mind.

"Bunny, aren't you cold?"

Leon cocked his head to the side to take a look at you, in your skirt, crop top, and cardigan combo. He's not the type of man to control women and their clothing. Come on, don't people listen to Beyonce? Girls run the world. He doesn't really know who the fuck Beyonce is but he does know Sherry listens to the song.

"Nope."

You give him a cheeky grin, shaking your head.

"Besides, you'll warm me up anyway."

You say this with a wink as you both card through the busy streets of Tokyo as Leon gives you an innocent grin, oblivious to your intent.

"Of course I would bunny. I take care of my pretty girl."

He coos, before giving you a chaste kiss on your forehead, you giggle at how he missed your innuendo before smirking.

"I wanna go somewhere."

You reply as you slide your hand to lace both your fingers together, his calloused ones enveloping your own as you all but drag him to the busy streets.

You turn him around to an alley, google maps pulled up on your free hand as you show him, what seems to be a rather flashy building illuminated by red neon lights and blinged up signs. It was like the establishment wanted to be purposefully flamboyant.

"What am I looking at bunny?"

You flash him a toothy grin, Leon knows that glint of mischief in your eyes as you reply.

"A love hotel."

Leon is floored.

"A what now? A motel? Bunny, if you were horny I'd be hauling your ass back to the hotel room right now."

He breathes out, smoke escaping from his lips as he quirks an eyebrow at you, but you giggle.

"This is different!"

No shit.

Leon thinks inwardly as sapphire eyes scan the building once more. Motels for sex used to be inconspicuous during his time. He really is getting old.

"You wanna check in bunny?"

You nod your head quite excitedly with a huge grin on her face, there's no mistaking it. Your eagerness, and Leon relents. Of course you would want a vacation and his cock. No surprise there.

Leon sighs and squeezes your hand, being the gentleman that he is, leading you inside of the garish establishment. He'd be lyin g if he says he isn't the least bit interesting, you were always the more exciting and free-spirited one.

On the reception counter, he waits for the key, with you standing just beside him, hands still entwined. As Leon grew curious, you grew embarrassed. The lobby was decorated with red. Red hearts, mirrors, sensual posters, and oh god, the brochures on a nearby rack that had photos of toys and costumes

You're fairly aware that love hotels are popular, but now that you're gonna experience this for yourself, bashfulness and your own eagerness had you blushing.

Leon could see you, feel how you'd gone and overheated in his arms and you both aren't in the room yet. He chuckles, squeezing you. You got him going now, as a shiver runs down his spine.

"Are you interested in a specific suite? You can take a look on our brochure here."

The receptionist asks and Leon shakes his head.

"We're fine with anything."

The receptionist nods, handing Leon the key as he cooly leads you to the designated room. Despite his laidback demeanor, Leon is already briskly walking, adrenaline in his veins. As you both reached the designated room, he eases the key in the lock as it opens with a low clicking sound. He leads you inside first, following behind but not before locking the door while you turn the lights on. Another clicking sound, the lighting is a kind of low red and Leon blinks as he follows in, you both inspect the room with amusement and fascination. There inside the center of the room is a queen round bed, with a heart-shaped headboard, covered in satin sheets and what seems to be a confetti of hearts on the foot of the bead, even the pillows were heart-shaped, and the most ridiculous part were the mirrors. Everywhere. Mirrors on the wall, on the ceiling, mirrors of various  shapes and sizes at each of the walls. Red, heart-shaped lounge chairs and a faux tiger rug. Gaudy as the room is, it certainly looks like a place to fuck alright. 

Your eyes slowly adjust to the light, but you were beaten by Leon, who is certainly not the least bit captivated by the interior choices. He did, however, wanted to fuck you in it. He's already dropped his coat on the floor before proceeding to toss his shirt away as he stares at you with an amused smirk while you stood speechless.

"You embarrassed now?

He asks while putting his hands on your waist before turning you around to face him. Face his smug face smirking at you.

"Who? Me?"

You reply with a cocky tone.

"Nah."

You wink at him and he chuckles, he takes your hand pulling you to him as he strides to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Figures," he shrugs "You always wanna fuck me. Don't you, bunny?"

He coos before kissing your palms, your fingertips brush across his lower lip, and he kisses your fingertips one by one, the small act only making you shiver.

"Is that a problem?"

You ask him as that familiar warmth pools in your stomach, he had just finished unbuckling his belt and is now rubbing his hands on your thighs, before peeling your skirt off of you.

He gives you that same handsome grin, there was a sparkle in his eyes and you blush. You take off the rest of your upper clothing to help him before Leon pulls you to sit on his lap, his pretty bunny.

He presses his lips into yours in a sweet kiss, before sweeping his tongue on your lower lip, a cue to open your mouth, proceeding to stick his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you and you sink into his lap. The kiss a passionate tango and as you both part for air, his lips connects to yours with a thin strand of saliva. He swipes it with his thumb before chuckling.

"You're so fucking pretty."

He breathes out before lifting you up, only to place you gently on the bed. Leon's eyes roam over your voluptuous figure, smirking at the dampness on your underwear, he kneels down, peeling that last pesky article of clothing off of you, already admiring how swollen your clit is already.

"So fucking hot too."

He murmurs against your skin as he trails kisses on your ankle, your knees, and up your thighs.

Your breath hitches on your throat, you feel yourself soaking the sheets with every kiss.

Your blissed out face doesn't escape Leon and he smirks, he presses another kiss on your pelvis, before he presses a kiss on your clit. It was like a greeting, in his silly mind.  

His cold breath against fans against your skin before he takes a long, languid lick on your pussy.

Your hands immediately reach down to grip fistfuls of his dark hair, pulling him closer as he licked over your slit, lapping at your essence.

"Fuck, Leon."

You whimper, tossing your head back and Leon smirks against your pussy. He always liked seeing you coming undone with his mouth. His tongue dips into your entrance, the wet appendage flicking and curling inside you.

He presses his thumb on your clit while his mouth still worked on you, relishing in your sweet taste and breathy moans while you could only shut her eyes closed and sob his name helplessly. He doesn't let up, he pulls his tongue out to wrap your clit in his warm mouth and sucking it, inserting two fingers inside your sopping wet pussy. Scissoring and curling inside you while his tongue flicks and sucks on the hood of your clit. It doesn't take look that you gush around his fingers in an orgasm and he smirks. He let's you breath, admiring your flushed face as he stood up. Takes his boxers off and his thick cock springs out, already erect leaking with precum. He stands beside your face. "Suck."

Despite his domineering voice, he looks at you with soft eyes and you turn your body to his direction, you sit up on the bed. With a lick of your lips, your fingers trail over his abs, before your tongue sweeps across his slit, swiping it clean with his precum and he grunts, his body tensing in your touch.

"Fuck yeah."

He hisses through gritted teeth as your tongue swirls around the head before engulfing his dick with your mouth. You dip your head, swallowing him deeper as your hands grab his waits, until his length reaches the back of your throat, knowing he was looking, you don't break eye contact and you suck his cock, thick on your tongue and rolling your eyes while he looks.

"Shit, bunny. So pretty sucking cock like that."

Leon's voice is throaty and you know he likes what he sees, his dick practically jumped in your mouth and you moan. The vibrations make him shiver violently, and he grunts.

"Goddamn."

He breathes, patting your cheeks, A signal for you to stop and you peels yourself off him with a pout like he had just taken your favorite lollipop. Which is true, he is after all, your favorite lollipop.

"Don't be upset now. You suck cock so good, I won't last long."

You both laugh in unison as he breathes in to calm himself, while stroke his cock, he twirls a finger around.

"Turn around for me, bunny. On your fours if you wanna be good."

You hum in response, turning your back to bend over for him. You arch your back, with your ass perked up against him. In that moment, you understand why Leon wanted to fuck you from behind. The image of you bent over and him standing up, his dick plush on your ass is reflected in all of the mirrors on the walls and you let out a scandalized gasp while Leon only chuckles, sensing your embarrassment.

"Wanna see you moan while I pound you into that fucking mattress."

Leon winks at you from the mirror and you see his smug expression reflected everywhere. He kisses your ass cheeks, he's too horny out his damn mind now. He's inside you with one strong thrust, his thick cock all the way inside and he shuts his eyes close. Stilling for a moment to let you adjust to his sized as you close your eyes and whimper.

"Jesus Christ… no matter how many times I fuck this pussy."

He groans, sweeping his auburn strands before steadying his grip on your waist.

"It never gets used to me. Poor little thing."

The fullness makes you squirm and he savors the addictive feeling of your walls clenching on his cock desperate to get him to just fit. You're pressed against the mattress, your pathetic moans muffled by the sheets.

When he starts to thrust, finding that rhythm, your body jerks forward with every rock of his hips. His body moves to cover your own.

"Watch us baby."

He whispers, his tongue sweeping on the shell of your ear and you could only whimper. Clutching the sheets as he finds his rhythm with his hips rocking against yours.

"Look. Don't hide."

He raps before tugging on your hair to forcibly lift up your face while his free hand tug on your arms. You find yourself feeling small with Leon's muscular body covering you. The muscles on his arm flex as both his hands are now grabbing your arms and your hair. The way his muscles pulled and flexed as his hips slams against her ass, the way your ass bounced on him, the thin layer of sweat that coated his torso, the way his mouth hung open in ragged breaths, the way your breasts bounce at every thrust. You feel so turned on at the sight it was crazy. It looked so erotic. This only elicits louder moans from you, while you move back against him, meeting his thrusts.

"Shit!" Leon groans, clenching his jaw. This positions and rhythm was blowing his mind, coupled with how your face twists into pleasure and the heat that coiled in his stomach. This was so fucking hot, he really wouldn't last long.

"Come here" He whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder, before pulling out which makes you whine in displeasure. He chuckles, both his hands grab you, picking you up. Manhandling your ass to pin you down the mattress. "Shh," he coos. "Not done with you yet bunny."

He chuckles before kissing your nose, guiding himself back inside your pussy. You chuckle as you look at the mirror on the ceiling.

"You've always had a nice ass."

You tease, despite the breathlessness of your voice and Leon only cocks his head to the side in confusion before following your line of sight, remembering that there was a mirror atop the ceiling and he chuckles, a rush of desire running through his veins with the sight of tangled limbs.

"Yeah, so?" His tone full of sass as he smirks. "Jealous much?"

You laugh as he places his fingers under your jawline, bringing your face close before crashing his lips down yours in a sloppy kiss, before moving inside you again. His pace rougher and faster, cock slamming down your pussy like a freight train as you lock your legs around his waist tight, bringing him close before you bite down on his shoulder and Leon hisses a curse.

He peels your legs off of him first before hooking your legs above his shoulders. He growls, this position slips him in deeper, and you squeeze his cock tighter.

"Holy fucking shit!

He exclaims, it's no secret that you both are vocal in the bedroom. You both love verbally assuring each other that the pleasure is mutual, you were always the louder one, but this time it was Leon. Completely pussy whipped with every clench of your walls.

"Got me drunk on this tight fucking pussy."

He grunts and your hands reach out to grab his hips, slamming down on you rougher with every thrust. Your nails digging on the flesh of his waist and he moans. His jaw slacked, sweat dripping down.

"I'm gonna cum inside yeah? Gonna fill this tight pussy up for making me this rabid."

He laughs as his thrusts become erratic. He knows you're close, just like you know that he's close as well.

"Goddamn, got me addicted to pussy."

He moans and your toes curl as he slams into you one last time. His body tensing up, shooting ropes of his cum inside you as you both climax together.

"Yeah, bunny. So good for me. Creaming on this cock like a good girl."

He soothes you, kissing your forehead as you tremble beneath him in the intensity of your orgasm, he looks at you intently. Rubbing your body gently. Not pulling out yet as you gush around his cock.

"You're so pretty when you cum."

He hums. You both cuddle up for a minute to calm down before he pulls out.

Much to Leon's surprise, you whine.

"Lovey… don't pull out yet…"

Leon chuckles, pulling you into his arms to cradle your body.

"Yeah? Give me a minute. Have mercy on the lil guy."

You giggle softly, you were feeling fuzzy and the throbbing in your pussy suggests you were not fully sated yet, and with the way Leon looks at you like a hawk, he wants another too.

"There's nothing little about that."

You retort, giving his chest a little slip and he has a proud look on his face.

"Yeah? Maybe I'll compare it with those next time. Gonna use it on you."

He winks, pointing at the assortment of toys just neatly placed on the bedside table that went unnoticed in the heat of your lovemaking, as you both share a hearty laugh.

[talaok]

The perfect bunny

Pairing: Joel Miller x ff!reader

Summary: Christmas with Joel and bunny (for context joel is the boss of a group of criminals in the Boston QZ, and you are his girl)

Warnings: rushed writing, unprotected p in v sex, and a whole lot of fluff

A/n: Happy holidays guys, I love you all so very very much❤️

This is part of a series but it can be read alone. If you wanna read more of Joel and bunny, click here

He had done everything.

Everything you asked for, he had made come true.

Your house was filled with every Christmas decoration he had found in the whole QZ, garlands, mistletoe, little raindeers and Santa clauses overfilled your shelves, and then right there, in the middle of the living room, was the centerpiece... the tree, filled to the brim with ornaments you had put up together, as a family, because that's what you were, you and him, a family.

He even went as far as finding an old cd with christmas songs, all because you mentioned once how much you missed hearing them.

You'll never know what you did to deserve him, to deserve such unconditional, pure love, but what you didn't know is that he felt exactly the same, that the reason he did everything you asked, always, was because you had saved him in more ways he could have ever explained.

And now, now in a world gone to hell, in a world that in many ways wasn't even a world anymore, where people didn't live, but survived, thanks to him, and thanks to you, you were alive again, and you were celebrating Christmas in a way you thought had become unimaginable.

"this is for you" you grinned, handing him his neatly packaged present.

You were sat under the tree as you had insisted, having ignored his protests about his achy back.

"for me?" he asked, his excitement piercing through his tone.

He hadn't gotten a gift in years if he didn't count you, so of course he was happy.

"yes daddy, all for you" You nodded eagerly

"mhh" he hummed, unwrapping it with care, his lips splitting into one of those huge, almost childish smiles he didn't grant himself often enough.

"20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" he breathed, grasping the book as if it was the most precious treasure on this earth "Where did you even find this?"

You chuckled, leaning closer to him "You're not the only one who people answer to around here Miller"

"'s that right?" he smirked, amused

"damn right" you laughed, leaving a quick peck on his lips "You like it?"

"I love it bunny" he answered in a second, still smiling wholeheartedly "I can't believe you remembered, thank you"

"of course I remembered" you grinned, shaking your head before he brought his lips to yours again to show you just how grateful he was, which according to the way he didn't seem in any way willing to lean away, was a whole lot.

You giggled, breaking the kiss

"I've got you something too, baby"

Your eyes widened, every feature of yours brightening with glee.

"you did?" you smiled "I thought the ones you gave me this morning were my gifts" you murmured giddily.

"Not a chance bunny" he shook his head, stroking your cheek "Making you come is just as much your pleasure as it is mine"

You hummed in contentment, biting your bottom lip as he fished something out of his pajama pants, handing you a tiny wrapped something.

You took it in your hands, looking up at him with joy.

"I know the wrapping's not great," he said, a little self-conscious now that he saw what a gorgeous package you'd made him

"What are you talking about?" you reassured him "It's perfect, daddy"

You held your breath as you opened it, remaining immobilized at the sight before you once the paper was all gone.

It was a necklace. A tiny silver necklace, with the cutest bunny hanging at the bottom.

Your eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him, your hands shaking ever so little.

"Joel" you whispered, at a loss for words "This is... this is beautiful" you breathed "H-how did you even get it?"

"had to make just a few people mad, but that's about it" he shrugged, relishing in the amazement on your face.

"A few people?" you couldn't help but laugh, a small tear fleeing your eye "I-I don't know what to say, baby, this is- this is gorgeous"

"you don't have to say anything" he promised, "c'mon, let's go to the mirror so I can put it on you"

And so, with wobbly legs, you followed him to the mirror a few feet away at the entrance of your home.

He stepped beside you, and you handed him the piece, watching as he put it on you with care, leaving a little kiss on your shoulder when he was done.

And of course, it sat perfectly right between your chest, a little piece of him to carry everywhere you went.

"Joel I love it" you whispered "It's-it's perfect"

He hummed contently, his chin on your shoulder as he looked at your reflection

"A perfect bunny for my perfect bunny"

A smile erupted on your face at his words, and you couldn't help but turn around, towards him, towards the love of your life.

"thank you" you murmured, your hands on each side of his face, "thank you so much"

And then again, you were kissing, kissing as if there was no tomorrow, your lungs burning from how much oxygen you were robbing them of.

"I love you bunny" he breathed, earning another kiss

"I love you too, Joel" you promised, looking into his loving eyes for another moment before deciding on something.

"sit down," you said

"sit down?" he frowned, watching you confusedly

"just do it daddy" you laughed, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch

he did as told, his legs spread open and his eyes trained on you.

You could feel his gaze burn a hole in the back of your head as you walked over to the stereo to turn the volume up, a Christmas song flowing through the room better now.

"whatcha doing bunny?" he asked "You sure as hell better not be planning on handcuffing me again"

You laughed at that, and at the memory of the despair in his eyes that night.

"I'm not, daddy, don't worry" You smiled walking up to him until you were right in front of him,

"no, then what are you doing darlin'?"

"I'm thanking you" you said sweetly, your hips starting to gently move in synch with the sound

"'s that right?" he murmured, his eyes falling to your chest as you started unbuttoning the falnnel oh his covering it "what for?"

"mh" you hummed, smiling as you let the shirt fall to the floor "for everything daddy" you explained, slowly turning around and shimmying your shorts off your legs, making a show of bending down to pick them up just to throw them to your left.

he groaned at the sight, and you couldn't help but giggle, spinning back around.

"goddamn bunny" he purred, taking in every inch of your body as you started playing with the straps of your bra, forcing them to fall off your shoulders painfully slowly.

You looked as he watched every movement of yours like a hawk, and you would have teased him further if it wasn't that you were supposed to be thanking him.

So without any further ado, you undid the clasp of your bra, and let it fall to your feet, a soft "fuck" escaping his throat.

Next came your panties.

Your hips were still moving to the music as your fingers seeped through the waistband, gripping at the edge of them and then slowly pulling down, until they pooled at your feet making Joel's cock feel a moment away from bursting.

You smiled, wordlessly placing a hand on his shoulders to prop yourself up as you straddled his lap, his mouth immediately finding yours.

"thank you daddy" you whispered, kissing his cheek "Thank you for the necklace" Another kiss, now on right below his ear "Thank you for the decorations" now down his neck, your breath tickling his skin "for sitting under the tree even if your back hurts" you couldn't resist the urge to chuckle, your hands now trailing to his pants "thank you for the cd" again, another kiss on his neck, before you freed his cock from his pants, and looked up at him "thank you for everything daddy"

His cock slipped into you with ease, and he groaned loudly as you started moving on top of him, a position he didn't get to feel much (by his own volition), and you moaned into his mouth as you kissed him.

"thank you daddy" you continued, your words messy and breathy as you picked up your pace "for everything you do for me everyday" you said, his cock feeling every bit as good as ever "for- for listening to me" you moaned "and taking care of me" his dick was so deep you could feel it in your belly, hitting your g-spot with each of your movements "and for letting me take care of you" you smiled, as he gripped your waist, savoring the sight before him "t-thank you so much daddy" you breathed, embarrassingly enough slowing down, your thighs on fire.

"you're tired" he murmured with amusement

"no 'm not" You shook your head, trying to pick up your pace and failing miserably

"no?" he asked, smirking like a bastard

"no" you denied again, smiling a little at your obvious lie

"lay down bunny" he tried to persuade you

"no way" you protested "I'm supposed to be treating you daddy, to be thanking you"

"trust me this pussy of yours is enough of a thank you for a million lives"

"daddy..." you pouted, trying to convince him

"what if I just help out a bit, hm?" he asked, watching your eyes brighten

"just a bit" you accepted, and in a moment, he was thrusting up into you, and only a moment later, you were moaning loudly at the feeling, the thought of doing all the work well out the window.

"thank you daddy" you cried, "I love you so much" you promised, your orgasm taking over you

"thank you babygirl" he grunted "for being in my life" he said, his words falling into your gaped mouth "for making everything better"

"for being you" he breathed, watching as you came all over his cock "for being the best thing that ever happened to me, bunny"

[sakkiichi]

YOU’RE A CRISIS OF MY FAITH.

You meet him under the brightness of ballroom lights and the vibrant colors of his mask. However, is it a good idea to let yourself be lead by infatuation?

feat. Childe, Kaeya, Kaedehara Kazuha, Lyney, Albedo x gn! reader.

cw/genre: romance, fluff, slight angst in kazuha’s and lyney’s, royal masquerade au. reader wears a dress, mildly suggestive allusions on childe’s (very soft).

i would like to dedicate childe, kaeya and albedo’s part to my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 albedo’s part is dedicated to the sweetest @ssilversiren too !

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ CHILDE

Crossed arms over his chest and a sharp edged smile peeking from underneath his mask. The prince is certainly amused, and not precisely by this gathering he himself hosted.

It’s this feeling. Being unknown; just another face amidst the ebb and flow of a sea of profiles.

What would it be like, to converse with others, with them being none the wiser about his royal status?

Running a hand through his ruddy locks, Childe leans off the wall, something, or rather, someone having caught his attention.

The person is standing on the opposite corner of the room, their skirts as if weaved out of seafoam and tides, cascading to the floor in silky waves of sky. They’re alone, the ornamented wall behind them making them look as an extension of it, a painting without frame; for they stare longingly at the swaying crowd, their frame still, anchored, yet without a harbor.

“Fancy a dance?” A voice you swear you have heard somewhere before asks, causing you to turn around.

Striking sapphire eyes lock with yours, the cheeky smile he sports weakening your knees for a second. He’s dressed finely, in white and red, silver accents decorating the lapels and shoulders of his jacket, matching with the scarlet mask partially concealing the constellations of freckles dusting his handsome face.

You swear you know him. But you don’t at the same time; a crystalline pond at night, argent starlight swallowed by the depths of its abyss.

“Quite the bold request, considering you haven’t even introduced yourself, don’t you think?” You prompt, the stranger’s magnetizing grin drawing one of your own from your painted lips.

“Oh, come on, humor me?” He pouts, drops of cobalt glinting in the previously dull ocean patches of his gaze.

“Hm,” you ponder, bringing a finger to your chin. “How about you give me your name first?” You suggest, tone taking on a playful lilt. He watches the light quality of your dress, sweeping around you, tendrils of a spring wrapped around the delicate curves of your figure.

“A name, huh?” He smirks, and no matter how much you know it’s a bad idea, you find yourself hoping to call his name often in the future.

He knows what he’s about to reveal is an equally bad idea as you swimming in the currents of his pull, and still, he finds himself uttering the appellative he hasn’t heard in ages.

“Ajax. My name.” He whispers, those lips that only promise trouble brushing the shell of your ear.

You smile, your stare glinting not unlike the azurite shimmer that decorates your disguise.

“Very well, Ajax,” you draw out the last word, your voice directing the incognito royal’s heart wildly against his ribcage. “Come and find me.” Is the lingering echo of your words, a seashell’s melody, as Childe watches shades of aquamarine mingling with the crowd.

Perhaps this was not a good choice; but maybe you like the rush that comes with wishing he asks your name, with wishing his hand catches yours.

From the corner of your eye, you spot a wisp of red as you turn a corner down the busy corridors of the palace. You certainly wouldn’t mind if you happened to take Ajax’s half cape off later tonight.

✧ KAEYA

Rows upon rows of glinting masks and flashy clothing fill the luxurious room, the space practically painted in molten gold.

If anyone were to ask you, however, you’d reply this place is hell. The palace’s corridors are labyrinthine as it is, twisting endlessly, the frozen images hanging on their walls unchanging to your widened eyes.

And certainly, the shoves and pushes of a too excited crowd are not helping your mood at all. Exasperated, you grunt for the thousandth time, bunching up the skirts of your lacy white dress, determined to elbow and step your way to the damned ballroom.

Alas, the distant stars had other plans for you tonight.

Just as you were going to decidedly advance a particularly rowdy crowd, a force collides with you from behind, sending you and your unstable high heels against the polished tiled floor.

Except when the impact comes, it is not hard at all.

“My, a beauty like you should be more careful to watch where they’re going.”

You rise your gaze to meet the owner of that smooth teasing voice.

Hair weaved of icicles at midnight, braided to one side, falling over the spotless bronze skin of the stranger’s pretty face. His eyes, or rather, his visible eye, is chilly blue, the biting touch of a sunny morning after a snowstorm. And, unlike the rest of the guests, he’s not wearing a mask. He doesn’t need one either, his mystery-exuding aura, paired with the eyepatch on his right eye, somehow disguise enough.

You clear your throat, trying to act as if you hadn’t been blatantly staring at the man in front of you.

“Why, thanks.” You let out, tone crisp. “I was watching, but apparently someone with no manners wasn’t.” You add, with disdain, glaring at the advancing multitude.

“I don’t disagree.” The enigmatic stranger smiles, a sliver of moon, icy eyes following over your figure as you straighten your skirt.

Then he hums, the crescent of his sultry lips morphing into a smirk.

“Why don’t I accompany you for a while?” He offers his arm to you. “I was just leaving, but seems I’ve found a reason to stay, at least for a while…”

You match his smirk, conflicted at how attracted you don’t want to admit you are to this man.

“Oh? Does it outweigh the reason you were planning on leaving for?”

“I’ll take the risk to find out.” He grins, looping his arm with yours.

In silence interrupted by the joyous multitude, you make your way to the ballroom. It’s odd, the way you feel comfortable next to him, despite secrets and starry nights concealing the truth of his nature. You don’t even know his name…

“Call me Kaeya, by the way.” He murmurs, as if reading your thoughts, his tan hand, adorned in gold and midnight, lacing with one of yours, his other around your waist.

“Pleased to meet you, Kaeya.” You find yourself whispering back, entranced by the mysteries frozen in that shady stare of his.

Perhaps this is wrong, to let your heart out in the falling snowflakes around the flickering spark of this igniting infatuation, and yet, maybe just this once, you feel like you can fly with wings made of ice under a blazing sun.

You don’t regret it. Not when you know you’ll dream of Kaeya’s voice for nights on end. Not when he twirls you around the room, a flurry of snowy clouds outlined by gilded twilight. Not when he pulls you aside, hiding both of you into an alcove, his smooth hand pressed against your mouth, as some guards pass asking for “the prince”.

He definitely looks like one, you think. You don’t have time to dwell on iit as you both run off, hands still laced, into a narrow torch-lit corridor, the night air beckoning you towards the exit.

Danger had never felt so right.

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

You should have known better.

Better than to trust that bastard.

The nobleman that was supposed to be your date tonight.

It’s not like he didn’t show up, oh, he did alright.

You wish he hadn’t.

Seeing that asshole arm in arm with someone else makes your blood boil, a cold, cruel anger seeping into your bones, its chill enough to burn white-hot.

And yes, perhaps stomping out to the too pretty rose garden was a childish decision, but maybe it was you just exercising self control.

Best to brood than let your tempestuous wrath strike the whole place down.

Storms were only beautiful from a distance, after all.

You heavily sigh, removing the bejeweled mask covering the upper half of your face.

No point in keeping it now, you observe, running a thumb over the faux diamonds embedded over the indigo surface.

How ironic, you laugh, humorless, for your mask to look like a bright starry sky, when all you see the moment you rise your gaze heavenward are dark clouds gathering.

“Pardon my intrusion,” a pleasingly gentle voice begins, just as you were plucking the fading petals of a dying rose, “but are you not feeling up to joining the ball?”

Suddenly, the gloomy night dyes moonlit and crimson: twin pools of sunset regard you, a soft flame, soothingly warm in the chill of the inauspicious night; threads of starlight seem to constitute the man’s hair, almost angel-like in the way it frames his candid face, in the tender way the locks fall over his shoulder, tied in a bright red ribbon, akin to a bouquet of lily of the valleys. Like you, it seems he has discarded his mask, a splash of vermillion held in between svelte fingers wrapped in pale silk.

You greet him with a smile, the previous gales of fury receding, replaced little by little by the nurturing caress of an early autumn wind through maple leaves.

“I could ask you the same question.” You offer, turning your body in his direction, the faint touch of moonlit clouds brushing against your skin.

He shakes his head, tendrils of silver swaying with his movement.

“Let’s just say I prefer the peaceful nature of the outdoors.” He chuckles, sincere, the sound almost transparent in its quality, tiny ripples by a dawn breeze over a mirror-like stream. Then, he tilts his head to the side, silken strands caressing the smoothness of his cheek in ways you know you shouldn’t be dreaming of so soon. “However, I do believe it could prove romantically irresponsible of me to deny someone else this dance, no?” He asks, extending a hand to you.

And you know you shouldn’t feel your face heating up at the protruding tendons over the callous softness of his skin.

“My name is Kaedehara Kazuha,” he finally introduces himself.

Kazuha. You can’t quite tell just yet why you somehow wish that to be forever the name on your lips, nor do you know yet why you find your eyes naturally drifting off to every lash and diminutive freckle so temptingly touching his cheeks.

You don’t know if it’s right either, to take this leap of faith. What if the jump ends in you downfall? Again.

But what if you could swim in a pool of starlight instead? Is the voice whispering in verse into your ear, when you find one of your hands entwined with Kazuha’s, the other resting over the shoulder of his black and red suit jacket.

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Kazuha.” You find yourself smiling back, before introducing yourself.

As your dance partner twirls you around, the warmth of his hand lingering on the small of your back, the overcast skies seem to part. Like a wrinkle in the mundanity of human life, endless sparkling stars cast their gaze over you two, even their moon coming out to take a peek into the couple’s hearts yearning for the fated romance to be.

Splashes of cotton candy pink and cherry crimson sweetly bloom under the argent lights of the enchanted night, even the wilting rose you had been tampering with earlier dyeing in shades of life anew.

Though, to you, in this moment, the only life that matters is the one held in Kazuha’s autumn stare, his tenderness tethering you to the gentle comfort of your head resting against his heart.

Maybe it had already started beating for you, much like yours.

Perhaps some charms begun at midnight.

✧ LYNEY

Throngs of people gather around the Opera Epiclese building and yet, you had never felt so alone.

A sinking feeling settles in your heavy heart, as you pat your now lackluster gown, check your purse, only to come up empty handed.

Your ticket for today’s masquerade ball, seemingly vanished.

Defeated, you sigh, turning on your heel.

What use will be lingering around, with no way to get into the opera house anyway? Things couldn’t have turned out worse.

Or so you thought.

For, seconds later, you would find yourself tripping over the hem of your long dress, ripping it in the process, one of your delicate high heeled shoes slipping off, clattering to the concrete ground, a few feet away from you.

The ruby tear embedded on your mask seems like a mockery right now, salty crystalline tracks streaming down your cheeks.

Luckily, no one will pay you any mind and you’ll save yourself the embarrassment, you try to console yourself.

Alas, the fates didn’t even want to concede you that small salvation.

“Are you alright?” a pleasant voice questions, causing for you to turn around.

And when you do, the man standing right before you is not unlike a spell himself. Violet eyes concealing the secrets of a lifetime spent on the edge of light and shadows regard you through his cat mask, the disguise leaving a maroon tear-shaped mark visible on his cheek, similar to the one on your own mask; his top hat is decorated in shades of rose and night, a purple ribbon around it, its hue almost in tune with the magic of his gaze. Silvery strands sweep over the stranger’s pale visage, slightly ruffled in the ebb and flow of the night’s balmy breeze. And in his hand, he’s holding the fine shoe that caused your fall.

With your face burning in shame, you look to one side, mumbling an affirmative response. You can only be grateful for the crowds starting to dissipate, leaving you and this boy mostly alone.

Kneeling, he carefully slips the shoe on your bare foot.

“Are you sure about that?” He prompts further, helping you up. “You look dressed for today’s ball, however, you were heading in the opposite direction…”

Rubbing at your face, you hang your head low.

“About that… I’m not going anymore…”

“Is that so?” He tilts his head to the side, gaze of iris settling on the torn skirts of your attire.

“I just… it’s embarrassing…” You admit. “I somehow lost my ticket to enter… and well, then I fell, and now besides not having the means to get in, there is no way I look presentable for the occasion anyway…” You chuckle, humorless.

He hums. Then:

“If I may be so bold, I do believe you look lovely.” The mysterious man compliments you, snapping his fingers.

You follow his gaze to your outfit. And when you take it in, your eyes widen. Where there used to be a tear on the fabric, now it’s seamlessly weaved together, sweeping over the nightlit cobblestones. And not only that, but its shade is an even more vibrant shade of carmine now, small sparkly flecks catching the silvery ripples of Fountain of Lucine.

“Wha- Thank you…” You breathe, awestruck, admiring the revived color of your clothes.

“My pleasure.” The magician chirps, with a wink. “Now, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ball? It’s starting soon, and I would be very happy if you said yes.”

“I mean… I would love to, but my pass is gone…” You answer, regret lacing your tone.

“Hmm…” He muses, holding his chin in between two fingers. “Can I ask you to look closely now?” He pulls out his ticket, and right there, in the blink of an eye, he slides a second pass from behind the first one.

You gasp, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

“How about now? May I, Lyney, have the pleasure to join you for the night?” He proposes, bowing.

Smiling gratefully, you take his arm, wonderstruck still.

Together, you make your way towards the Opera Epliclese, the tickets safely held in Lyney’s free hand.

When you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the clear surface of the fountain’s waters, a Rainbow Rose adorns your hair.

The magician’s doing, no doubt.

You silently thank Lyney with a smile, and he believes no beam of moon could ever hold a candle to the sight of you.

✧ ALBEDO

Above the hall’s music, an acute faraway sound pulls you out of the forest of masked faces.

The spacious room is lit in gold, luxurious lamps and chandeliers focused on a crowd disguised in velvets and lace.

But, that melody. You can’t quite get it out of your head. You’ve been hearing it all evening, every now and then.

Akin to a gelid river, cutting through blocks of stone-hard ice, making your every hair stand on end when its notes tantalize you with the promise of the gilded reflections of northern lights over the stream’s surface.

You can’t ignore it any further, the flames dancing from ornate candles against the walls seem to murmur.

And even though the impending rushed beat of your heart may be painting danger red all over this possibility, you decide to ignore it, listening to the unknown song’s voice, beckoning you out of the ballroom.

Flecks of gold seem to hang in the air as you make your way through twisting ample corridors, the otherworldly sound welcoming you through a set of double doors, their wood snow white, their handles, crystal.

When you push them open, frozen air appears to settle all around you. It is not unpleasant, though.

In the same way, even though the music has just stopped, the sight before you is not unpleasant either in the slightest.

Amidst the room, a blonde man stands. His gaze, resembling underwater lights at dawn, is set on you. A white shirt with blue and golden accents falls perfectly against his frame.

You don’t miss the way his sleeves are rolled up, nor the tiny multicolored splashes in them.

Which brings you to take in the space around you.

A multitude of paintings line every wall: landscapes of somewhere you can only dream of stepping into; portraits of people you have never met, or have you, in the distance of sweet sleep?; abstract brushstrokes, constituting colors you had never seen before, that you know you won’t see anywhere else.

“Hello,” a soft voice that can only belong to the man in the room utters. “I am Albedo, the court’s alchemist, how may I be of assistance?”

You clear your throat, stammering an apology. He smiles, that sunny sky gaze never leaving you.

“I-I uh… I just heard music and… it seemed to come from here… I apologize for barging in so rudely.”

He gives you a sweet smile. You wonder whether he’s a prince, instead of an alchemist.

“Not at all. Music, you say?” He asks, bringing close to his lips the flute he had been holding. “Did it sound anything like this, perhaps?” Albedo starts to play, notes filling the chamber, colorful blossoms flourishing along snow-covered plains.

You get lost in the sound. In the ethereal aura the prince-like alchemist exudes. He’s as magnetic and entrancing as the melody he plays. Unconsciously, you’ve started to sway, and perhaps a part of you wishes this song was a gift for your ears alone.

At some point, the symphony stops, notes of it, still lingering in the crispness of the atmosphere, despite the closed windows.

“Beautiful.” He utters, tender, the fall of snowflakes atop your open palms.

Warmth creeps up your neck when he steps closer to you, his elegant hands hovering close to your face, to your silver mask.

“May I?” His lips say, rose-colored in the careful lilt of his tone.

Nodding is all the answer you can manage, Albedo’s cool fingertips grazing the side of your cheek.

“Yes, lovely.” He repeats, studying the lines of your mask-free face, the wave of your hair, the sparkles in your wide eyed gaze.

You wonder if he’s ever looked into a mirror, because if he’s presenting you these compliments, no words could describe how utterly breathtaking you think he is.

“Would you allow me to paint you?” Is the question you find yourself nodding to as well.

Beneath the golden lighting of fabricated starlight and with the paradoxically warm caress of Albedo’s cool touch when his hands position you for his portrait, you enter a labyrinth of emotions you only want to brave deeper.

What lies beneath the sunlit layer of snow clinging to Albedo’s every movement?

Perhaps tonight, as he renders you in watercolors, you have already imprinted yourself in his golden encased heart.

[writeforfandoms]

Who Wants To Live Forever

Find my Ghost masterlist

It doesn't matter how many lives you've lived, you always find your way back to him.

The reincarnation au nobody asked for and my plot bunnies yeeted at me anyway! I have a lot of thoughts about this one that didn't make it into the fic. Like. A Lot.

Warnings: Swearing, past violence, blood, injury mention, canon typical violence, idiots in love, this is just for fun, I wrote this for me but you can read it too.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

The dreams started when you were small. Your parents at first attributed them to an overactive imagination and too much television. 

But as you got older and the dreams didn't go away, you wondered. Your parents got squirrelly about them, started muttering about things like psychiatrists and not normal and worried. 

So you stopped mentioning them. Pretended you didn't dream at all most nights. 

Reality couldn't be farther from the truth. 

You dreamed. Every single night. In some you were part of a village, living a harsh life by the sea. The men would go off to hunt and raid, and the women stayed behind to mind the village and raise the children. Those dreams always left you cold. Even in those dreams, though, dream-you noticed the beauty, the way sunlight glinted off snow, the magical lights in the sky, the blue of the sky after a storm. 

Some nights you dreamed of being a nurse, tending wounded soldiers in tents and buildings. Those dreams were always full of screaming and crying and horrors. Men wheezing, coughing up blood. Limbs shattered and mangled beyond repair. A stench like you couldn't describe. But there were little moments, moments of kindness. Holding a man's hand to comfort him through his last breaths. The way the sunrise broke through some of the haze of pain surrounding those places. The way a doctor or fellow nurse would sometimes thank you, buy you a drink, share scant meals with you. 

Sometimes you were a school teacher in a rural village, gently scolding children and keeping watch as they frollicked at break times. Those dreams were full of small joys. A flower one of your students brought you, bashful smile blooming into a grin at your thanks. Sunsets from the comfort of home. Warm meals at the table, often shared. With him.

He was a constant presence. Through all of your dreams, all of those times, he was always to be found. He didn't always look the same - skin tone changed, hair color changed. But you always knew him by those brown eyes. 

Sometimes the two of you married. Sometimes he was married before you met him. Sometimes you were married first. But you always, always found each other. In every time. In every life. 

By the time you were out of school, you had notebooks dedicated to your dreams, to the times, to the man. You kept them hidden away, for your eyes only. Just as a way to help you keep everything straight. 

As more time passed, you became more and more sure that these were glimpses into the past. Your past. Past lives, you'd guess. From the way the dreams felt… it always felt like you. No matter how many times you put pen to paper, you could never accurately describe why. 

But you knew. They were all you.

And they were all him. 

Which made you wonder… when would you find him in this life? You'd found him in almost all of the others. It seemed reasonable that you'd find him again. 

(Nevermind that you had no name, no description, no way of knowing what he'd look like or where he'd be.) 

Knowing that he was out there somewhere made it easy to bury yourself in work. Oh, sure, you had friends. People who knew you. You were well-liked at work, known to get things done. 

But you didn't date. You didn't look for people who weren't him. 

Everyone else, you knew, would pale in comparison. 

All the lives accumulated in your head did make it hard to relate. It was easier, sometimes, to sort of… float through life. You knew what was expected of you. You'd known people from every walk of life, just about. You knew a lot about people, could do well in social situations without working at it. 

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

You started dreaming of him more often. Of the times the two of you lived together. Of the long talks the two of you had. Of the walks, along the sea, along a grass-lined lane, along a lake. Of the times he was just out of reach, your eyes meeting again and again through crowds and dinners and company. 

Of the time he died in your arms, blood staining the both of you. 

You were tired when you got on the train. This was just a little holiday to a new place. 

Or. Well. You hadn't been here in this lifetime, at least. 

It was busier than you remembered the area being, more built up. Your lips twitched - that's what happened over time, after all. 

Nothing stayed the same for long. 

You didn't pay any mind to the people around you as you walked, taking your time. You didn't mind walking to your hotel from the train station. Gave you a better chance to look around and plan where you wanted to go later. 

Your eyes met brown through a coffee shop window.

You froze. You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes. 

He blinked, just once. You couldn't look away. 

The noise of the coffee shop finally registered when you stopped in front of his table, the chinking of mugs and flatware, the hiss of the machines, the babble of unimportant voices. 

“Hi.” You were a little surprised at your own voice, quiet and a little awed. 

He eyed you, black face mask obscuring most of his expression. For a moment your heart plummeted. Maybe he didn't recognize you? Maybe… he didn't remember? 

Then his lips twitched. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Took me long enough?” You tried for outrage but probably fell short, humor and elation buoying your heart. “And what about you, hmm?” 

“Been busy.” He nodded to the seat across from him, and you could just see the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“Oh, busy. Yes, how silly of me to not think of that.” You dropped into the seat, your bag landing at your feet a little harder than was probably advisable. 

“Holiday?” His gaze dropped briefly to the table, to where your bag was now hidden. 

“Yes.” Some of your elation faded at the dose of reality. “You?”

He paused, holding your gaze. “On leave.” 

“Ah.” You smiled a little, sliding one open hand across the table. “Going well this time, then?”

He didn't say anything for a long moment, staring down at your open hand. His fingers twitched. “Not particularly.” 

Your heart plummeted. “Oh.” 

“S'fine.” He shook his head once, short and sharp. “You want anything? Tea, coffee?” 

“Coffee is fine.” You started to stand but he waved you back into your seat. 

“Wait here.” 

You huffed out a breath and watched him go, broad shoulders easy to track up to the register. You finally had the attention to note other details about him. He was dressed casually, all in black, with his hood pulled up. You'd caught blonde hair under his hood. 

Taller than you could remember him being. Broad shoulders. 

It was just… so good to see him again. To see him now. With your own eyes, in this life. 

It would be nice to make more memories, for next time. 

The clink of a mug being set in front of you brought you out of your own head. You blinked at the mug and then at him as he sat across from you again. 

“How long are you here?” He folded his hands in front of him, gaze fixed on you. 

You shrugged. “I had only planned for a few days,” you admitted. “But I can make it longer.” 

He grunted once, thumb tapping against the side of his hand as he considered something. Then he nodded once. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, abruptly moving to grab a pen and a napkin. “1200.” 

You blinked once. “Tomorrow?” You couldn't quite keep the disappointment from your voice at that. 

“Got some things to take care of before then,” he said, barely glancing up at you as he finished writing on the napkin. “Got some people for you to meet, too. If you want to know me better this time ‘round.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. He'd married already. That was the only thing you could think of. He was already married and you were too late. “I see.”

“No. You don't.” He pushed the napkin to you, tapping it twice with one large finger. “Here. Tomorrow.”

“1200,” you repeated dutifully, mustering up a wan smile. “Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” He pushed back to his feet abruptly, and you startled a little. He was just so tall! “If you don't show, I'll assume you don't want to meet again.” The words were flat, even, but his eyes… his eyes hid pain. 

You nodded, too startled for words by all of this. In a moment he was gone, striding out of the coffee shop and away from you.

Every fiber of you longed to go after him, to beg him for answers. 

Instead, you sat and sipped your coffee with trembling hands, staring at the napkin until the blocky letters were burned into your memory. 

The walk to your hotel was a bit of a blur. You barely paid attention to the social interaction, though you must have done well enough. 

You ended up sitting on the bed, bag on the floor, staring at your hands. 

He'd been so close. So close. 

But he hadn't taken your offer. He hadn't touched you. 

You thought you might finally be going a little insane. Was this what insanity felt like? Was this some kind of fever dream? Had you finally lost all sense of reality?

But no. You had the napkin in your pocket still. You'd seen him. You hadn't learned his name this time around, hadn't learned much of anything really, except that he had people he wanted you to meet. 

People. He'd said people for you to meet. 

The words finally sank fully into your brain, and you weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. People. People to meet. As in more than one person.

As in he was not only married but had a family…

…or something else entirely. Something new. 

Even after so many lives, the world still had a way of surprising you. A lesson hard learned over time. 

You forced yourself to breathe through the weight of history on your shoulders, staring back at all the lives where things had gone wrong. 

And then you forced yourself to find some dinner, shower, and read for a while before bed. 

Not that you slept very well. Not with anticipation and dread wreaking havoc on your heart. 

You arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early, a little cafe on a square with a fountain in the middle. You stood outside, hands in your pockets, unsure what to expect. 

“You’re early.”

You swallowed once, heart thudding hard against your ribs as you turned to look at him. “Didn’t want to be late,” you quipped, only to falter. 

He wasn’t alone today.

Three other men stood with him, all of them looking at you. You lifted your chin a little, meeting the gaze of the closest man. You had just enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the memories slammed into you. 

A quiet life working the land, out beyond the edge of the “civilized” world, a husband with a rare but kind smile, eyes so blue you could drown in them. Rare trips to the nearest town gave you glimpses of your brown-eyed man, but no more than that. Cold winters and muddy springs and indomitable shoulders to lean on through it all. 

And a slightly less quiet life of some wealth, with a husband whose work often took him from home. But you’d had friends that time, your own societal duties. Dances. Events. Hosting. That life had not been devoid of its fun and beauty. 

“Oh.” You blinked at him, eyes wide. 

His lips twitched under his facial hair (muttonchops - unusual choice for this day and age) and he held out a hand to you. “Captain John Price.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer. If he was like the him you’d known, he was a good man. Time would tell if and how he had changed. “I married you before.”

He grinned for a moment, so close to the man you’d known that your heart ached. “Twice, but don’t hold it against me,” he joked before he stepped aside. 

The next man to step up also had blue eyes and a big smile. You knew him immediately - you’d seen him before, too. A few times in the shadow of your brown-eyed love, once or twice on his own. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been standing over the bed of one of his men, half-covered in blood and muck. 

There had been nothing you could do, then. 

Now you smiled. “Good to see you again.” 

“Ye look better this time.” He chucked you gently under the chin with two knuckles, grinning. “John MacTavish, call me Soap.” 

“Soap?” You raised one extremely unimpressed eyebrow. 

He laughed. “A story for another time,” he promised, winking at you before he stepped back. 

The last man looked at you, nerves in the pinch of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Darker skin and a ballcap met your quick perusal. 

You only had to meet his gaze for a moment before you threw yourself at him, hugging him as hard as you could, breath stuttering in your chest. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, arms immediately settling around you, one hand cupping the back of your head. “It’s alright, we’re fine.”

“You left,” you grumbled, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again.”

“Promise,” he muttered, voice low, just between the two of you. “I won’t.”

You sniffled, just once, before you pulled back to look at him. “I missed you,” you admitted before gently whapping his arm. “And if you disappear on me again I’ll hunt you down next life.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, not even a little abashed. 

“So, what ridiculous nickname have you gotten this time?” You smiled, finally taking a half-step back. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Gaz. Kyle, this time ‘round.”

“Gaz.” You tested it out slowly before shrugging. “Not the worst.”

“Oh? And what would be?” Soap snuck up next to you, looking eager for mischief. 

“Story for another time,” you shot back at him with a smile. You finally turned your gaze to him again, to your brown-eyed man. The only one who hadn’t given you his name yet.

“Simon,” he finally said, as if he’d read your mind. 

“Simon.” You smiled. “How did you…?” You made a helpless motion between the three men. 

“Price,” Simon answered with a little shrug. “Found all of us.” 

“Came across ‘em,” Price said, arms crossed over his chest. “Knew I had to keep ‘em close.” 

You nodded, a little ache in your heart. “It’s a good thing you did.” But your gaze didn’t stray from Simon, too busy basking in the sight of him, here and whole in front of you.

“He’s no’ married yet,” Soap said in a stage whisper. When you glanced at him, he was grinning. “Unattached. Available. Free to a good home.”

“MacTavish,” Simon growled, brows twitching in annoyance. 

But you? You grinned. “Well, that’s good, because it’s your turn this time,” you teased, chin tipping up and to one side. 

Simon’s gaze snapped back to you, eyes a little wide. “What?” 

“I asked you last time,” you said patiently, trying hard to not grin. “Almost kissed you in front of your fiance, too.” 

“Almost,” he agreed, eyes warm as his gaze swept the length of your body. 

“I spotted you yesterday, too,” you pointed out, completely reasonably and not at all like a little gremlin. (You liked that word a lot and had incorporated it as much as you could once you’d caught airmen using it during World War II.) 

“So, ‘s my turn?” He took one step closer to you.

“Mmhm.” You bit the inside of your lip hard to keep your grin to yourself. 

His eyes narrowed at you, which was the only warning you had before he pulled down his face mask and kissed you. Vaguely, you heard Soap cheering and Price grumbling. But everything fell to the back of your mind.

Everything that wasn’t Simon. 

A little piece of your heart clicked into place. 

When he finally pulled back, both of you were a little out of breath, holding each other tight. His lips twitched in a tiny smile and you all but beamed in response. 

And then yipped when someone yanked you away from Simon.

“Best friend dibs,” Kyle announced, already starting to walk you away. “Mine for now, I’ll give her back in a day or two.”

You cackled at the look on Simon’s face, like he was torn between murder and laughing along with the joke. 

“There’s no rush,” you couldn’t help but tease. “We’ve got this entire life, now.” 

Simon met your gaze again even as his long strides caught him up with you and Kyle. His mask was back in place now but his eyes were warm, smiling at you, even as his hand twined with yours. 

Finally. 

[reaveries]

▬  𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲

gif credit to @robpattinsongifs (much higher resolution on their account)

summary: late-night visits from your definitely human boyfriend

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (approximately 7 minutes reading time)

a/n:  I’ve had this baby marinating in my drafts since January, when I was going through my bi-annual Twilight Renaissance. I was actually in the middle of writing a RE2R Leon Kennedy fic today and decided to put on a twilight playlist, and then I just knew I had to finish this one. It’s my first *published* non-RDR fic heehee (I have so much in my drafts, it’s insane). Anyways, enjoy (pardners)!

masterlist archive of our own

It’s that dreadful time of year again. 

The sun is making its curtain call as students from the nearby elementary school trip over themselves running home. Little girls and boys have sticky remnants of lunch peeking from the corners of their mouths and the grass is still slick from morning showers. But dusk is impatient in February, and its eagerness is encouraged in a town hidden beneath perpetual overcast nine months out of the year.

The school children ran past her window minutes ago when the sky had been painted brilliant indigo. Now, when she looks up the only thing left to see is her own dark reflection and the warm orange glow from a candle on the sill. Its tall flame stutters, collapsing and rising with the damp breeze. 

A page turns, disrupting the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise that can be heard is a soft pitter of water dripping onto the floorboards from a coat hanging off the closet door. 

She reaches for a mug sitting on the corner of her nightstand and promptly sets it back down upon finding it empty. It returns to its spot atop crumpled receipts and library hold slips belonging to the growing stack of books accumulating dust at her bedside. These books tower over the permanent nightstand residents: lazily discarded beaded necklaces, a sample bottle of floral perfume from Christmas, two little ceramic bunnies purchased from an antique mall in Port Angeles last summer, car keys, and drugstore chapstick. It might be worth convincing her to let go of some of these post-object permanence discoveries, but that is a matter for another time.

In a desperate attempt to comprehend the words she’s reading, she rolls onto her back and extends her arms straight in the air so the book hovers a foot from her face—a change of perspective to freshen the mind.

It does not help. 

No matter how much she shifts or squints, the antiquated prose remains stubbornly uninviting. She can’t fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to something so archaic and convoluted and furthermore, recommend it as one of their favorite novels.

With a huff, she adjusts the headphones at her ears, hoping the music will clear her mind. But despite her best efforts, the book slowly drifts closer to her chest and her eyelids grow heavier as the music lulls her into a dreamless sleep. 

When she wakes to cold fingers grazing her jaw it’s impossible to tell whether she’d fallen asleep or if she just blinked. The weight of the headphones gently disappears as they’re pulled off and set down on the nightstand. She grumbles incoherently and stretches out her legs, not unlike a cat after a long, difficult day of lounging around. Her eyes begrudgingly flutter open and immediately find him only inches away. He’s watching her, peering down with a twinkle in his amber-colored eyes.

“Edward…” she whispers.

“Dracula,” he says, eyebrows raised as he makes the observation. “I thought you didn’t like Gothics.”

She reaches a finger into the book on her chest and folds the page over before tossing it carelessly into the sea of knitted and quilted blankets at the foot of the bed. With the haze of sleep still clouding her eyes, she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“I’m trying.”

He chuckles lightly and brings his hand to her hair again, brushing stray strands off her forehead and tucking them behind her ears before leaning down to place a chaste kiss above her eyes. Though his lips are soft, the icy touch of his skin sends a shiver down her spine. He’s always cold; a result of his anemia, he says. However, the downpour that's dampened his hair and clothes to his skin has chilled him even more so.

In an effort to sit up, she raises herself onto her elbows and catches a glimpse of the bright red digital numbers on her bedside clock.

“You’re late, you know,” she chides, watching him settle uncomfortably at the head of the bed. He sinks down among the pillows, their plushness contrasting humorously with the stiffness of his demeanor. He reaches behind his back and tugs free a stuffed rabbit lodged between him and the headboard, then sets it down softly beside himself.

“I had to make a quick stop. I hope you can forgive me,” he says in a hushed voice, so as not to make too much noise in the resting house. His eyes flit towards the nightstand and she follows them to see a new item sitting amongst the disorder. A tall styrofoam cup with steam rising thinly from the lid. Coffee. 

The mug she just finished sits right beside it. She’d considered brewing more but that was before being rendered unconscious by Bram Stoker nearly an hour ago. Her heart swells at his thoughtfulness, but a more pressing question comes to mind before she can voice her gratitude.

“How did you even climb up here with that?” She asks, reaching for the cup with both hands.

“I’m very…agile.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells her there’s more to it, but she chooses to ignore it for now with a shake of her head.

The taste is immediately harsh, significantly more bitter than how she makes it herself. Any trace of a smile dissipates and is replaced with a pronounced look of disgust.

“Good God, Edward,” she exclaims. “Decaf? What did I ever do to you?”

He laughs and takes it from her hands, leaving her still reeling from the unexpected taste. “As much as I love staying up with you, you need sleep,” he says, a hint of sternness in his voice. “You didn’t get any last night and you don’t hide it well.”

He says the last part sweetly, tilting his head to the side and following her motions with his eyes, watching her pick up the stuffed rabbit by its cotton paw.

“Don’t hide it well?” She repeats, the indignation in her voice contrasting with the softness of the toy as she raises it high into the air and brings it down against his chest with a soft thud. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to hide anything if you—weren’t—keeping—me—up—all—night!”

With every word, the rabbit hits his forearms poorly attempting to shield himself from the blows. Edward grins as she attacks him, the soft toy barely making a sound against his arms. He watches as her hair falls across her face in the midst of the unrelenting attack, the warm glow of the candle casting a soft halo around her.

But then, his amusement fades as he sees the exhaustion in her eyes. 

He gently takes the rabbit from her and sets it aside before grabbing her arm mid-swing and pulling her into his chest. She sighs heavily and surrenders, relaxing against him. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’ll let you rest tonight.”

Despite his tender words, a residual half-baked frustration lingers inside her. “How did you manage to stay awake in class?” she mumbles into his sweater, the words muffled. “I mean, you didn’t get any sleep either.”

He chuckles, as if privy to some inside joke.

“Well, someone had to take your notes for you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair in a soothing motion. “And besides, you looked so peaceful drooling away.” 

She looks up at him, a hint of a drowsy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I did not drool,” she insists.

He grins down at her, his eyes alight with fondness. “Of course not.”

She groans and buries her head into his chest, to which he responds by encircling his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“I’m never falling asleep in front of you again,” she grumbles.

His chest rumbles beneath her cheek as he laughs. “Alright, angel.”

He shifts his hand from the crown of her head to the curve of her back, tracing languid circles over the fabric of her t-shirt as the room fills with a comfortable silence. The rain outside grows heavier, tapping against the glass with a more insistent force. Her body is warm against his and he can feel the steady thumping of her heartbeat as if it's his own. A few minutes slip by, and he senses her breathing even out and deepen. Without disturbing her, he reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it over her, then turns his gaze to the candle on the windowsill.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, as the dwindling flame fades out of focus. 

This is his favorite part of the day.

Vague arrays of soft, muted hues and shapes swirl around in his vision, overtaking the warm surroundings of her bedroom. They morph into recognizable figures after some time, and he can hear them speaking when he focuses. For the most part, they sound as if he’s underwater and they’re conversing on the shore. But every now and then, a clear phrase emerges.

Suddenly, the floating shapes assimilate into a figure resembling him and he realizes what this dream is. It’s a recurring one he’s particularly fond of. He settles in and pulls her closer as the scene ebbs between reality and distortions of the unconscious mind. 

He can’t remember how he used to pass the night hours before he met her. Books, records, films--looking back, they feel hollow compared to nights spent like this. Part of him hopes he’ll never know what it's like to want for this. But these dreams, and her thoughts in the waking hours, assure him he won’t ever have to find out.

[lilac-5ky]

i wanna tie the knot (Satoru xFem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Forget me not

Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

Plot: Your boyfriend takes you on a romantic getaway that will potentially change the rest of your lives.

Themes: MDNI, Established Relationship, Vacation, Teasing, Bickering, Tooth-rotting Fluff, Comedy, Onsen Smut, Sensory Deprivation (bondage and blindfolds), Breeding Kink, Oral (f. receiving), Multiple Orgasms, Yukatas, Snarky!Fem!Reader who is done with Gojo's Shenanigans but loves him regardless, Soft!Dom Gojo, Unsolicited Digimon References, and Bucketloads of Pet Names (baby, princess, bunny, honeypie, sugarplum, and every other food nickname you can think of)

Word Count: 13.3k (i was inspired, sue me. rest of it will be smaller. i think.)

check a/n at the bottom

“Last one up the hill is a loser!” Those were the parting words you left your boyfriend with before you shot in the direction of the fields, wind in your hair and pollen in the air, Satoru’s voice barely audible over the light chuckle you shed behind.

You sprint across a sea of flowers in every shape, hue, and kind—from exuberant red poppies to bashful pink asters—spanning as far as the eye can see. You want nothing more than to spare a moment and halt; breathe into the combined aroma of the autumn blossoms before winter hushes them for good, but you can’t. The faster you run, the smaller his head becomes, until it’s a mere blotch of white on the faraway horizon.

You rest assured in your victory, a breathless smile forming on your lips as you reach the top. You glance over your shoulder, confident that the man who minutes ago (literally) flew you to Ikoma on another of his spontaneous 2-day trips is still there, lamenting ever giving you a headstart. However, no matter how hard you squint, you cannot seem to find him.

“What are we looking at?” A low-pitched voice scares the wits out of you, hummed near the shell of your ear in a way that’s exclusive to the cheeky tone it carries.

“S-Satoru!” You yelp, almost throwing yourself down the stiff slope.

“Satoru?” The man in question repeats his own name, cocking his head to the side with genuine curiosity. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“What are you—”

“I only know of a winner,” he points at his chest, successfully diverting your attention from the hand that rises to flick your forehead with such force that you stagger backward.

Both your fall and his punchline are postponed, one awaiting the other while you’re left floating mid-air, the infinity between your head and his boot serving as a safety net.

“And a loser.” Satoru concludes, his grin as bright as day, when he retracts his foot and lets you plummet into the fluffy flowerbed.

In the time it takes for you to blow a tuft of hair from your eyes and prop yourself onto your elbows, Satoru’s already taken his phone out and snapped as many pictures as humanely possible. You aren’t fazed. You’re used to his constant leg-pulling, as well as his 8895-picture collection of funny faces you’ve made over the course of your 7-year relationship.

Definitely in the 9000s now.

“Most guys would help their girlfriend up instead of calling her a loser.” You frown.

“Most guys wouldn’t date a slowpoke.” He gleefully chimes, zooming in on your face. “Come on. Smiiile.”

You poke your tongue out, and he snaps what is hopefully the last embarrassing frame of the day. Your frown resumes, downturned mouth and eyes narrowed at the wonderful azure sky.

“Good enough. Here, here.” He offers you his hand. “Don’t go crying on me.”

You accept only to give him a taste of his own medicine as you lock fingers and drag him down. He shouldn’t fall, but he does so anyway, collapsing beside you in a bundle of ridiculously long limbs he either sorts behind his head or splays on the grass surrounding him.

“Can’t believe you actually got me.” Satoru says in a pouty voice that goes against the complacent smile sitting on his lips. Idiot. “Woah, the view is much prettier from down here!” He marvels at the drifting clouds, pointing at one that resembles a duck. “Is this what it feels like to be you?”

You could do without his unnecessary comments spoiling the mood, but you’re willing to overlook them for the sake of your trip. With how hectic these past three weeks were—orchestrated curse attacks ping-ponging both him and his students across Tokyo—you doubted you’d have a moment to yourselves for the remainder of the year.

But keeping him on his toes is too much fun to pass up.

“You’d be more likeable if you weren’t such a showoff, Satoru.” You scoff, no malice whatsoever.

“Oh, really? ‘Cause I thought you liked me sooo much when you were going all oh, Satoru! Love it so much, Satoru! You’re the best, Satoru! Deeper, Satoru! Y-yes, just like that, ‘Toru last night.”

“Shut up!”

You plug his mouth with both hands, though that doesn’t discourage him from blabbing his version of last night’s events, perfectly replicating the breathy tone of your voice and the soft little moans you let out in between his frantic thrusts.

Your palms relocate to cover your ears, the bright color of your cheeks soon becoming a focal point for his mockery. Satoru plucks a crimson cosmos flower and holds it to your face, twirling it around until you rip it from his grasp. Regret washes over you as soon as you unfold your fingers and see the now-crumpled petals, a little piece of the universe laying lifeless in your palm.

“I’m surprised you can still see my face behind that thing.” You point at the dark fabric that conceals his eyes. “How many fingers am I holding up?” You wave your hand in his face, constantly alternating between the number of fingers you flex.

Satoru catches your wrist and decisively intertwines your fingers. “I see enough to know you look the cutest when you’re annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed.” You declare.

“Are you sure?” His voice is deliberately sultry as he inches closer.

Flakes of color adorn his icy strands like confetti, a stark contrast to the murky blue of his two-piece uniform. You can feel his eyes—those lovely crystal orbs of his—burning holes through the blindfold to meet yours, and in this instant, when his minty breath ghosts over your lips and promises a kiss, you’re absolutely enamored by him.

That is, until he begins poking into your cheeks like a woodpecker, and your desire to strangle the life out of him overtakes the urge to give in.

“Okay! You did it! I’m—”

Before you can finish your sentence, his lips crash into yours, a stolen peck that lasts no longer than the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings, a soft fumble that leaves you craving for more. “Definitely annoyed.” Satoru flashes a boyish smile as he ruffles your hair and pulls you to your feet with him, his hand carrying you through a path of marigolds.

“Can you… just… slow… down?” You pant out, struggling to follow after his long strides.

But he doesn’t falter.

“Better get moving before you evolve into a Slowbro.” He sing-songs.

“Knock it off! I’m at least Jigglypuff tier.”

“Hmm,” he considers out loud. “I wouldn’t go as far as to call you useless, but—”

“Satoru!” You protest. “And I thought you liked Digimon.”

“Doesn’t hurt to know about the cheaper rip-off.”

“Pretty sure that’d be Digimon.”

“And I’m pretty sure even a regular Greymon beats your mascot into a pulp.” He beams.

Sigh.

You roll your eyes, letting him argue with himself about Digimon’s supremacy, until you reach a pool of flowers—myriad befallen fragments of the sky reflecting the vibrant blue of his eyes. You break free from his grasp and kneel among the blossoms, your fingertips skimming across the pointed petals with great care.

“Oh my God, Satoru! You know what this is?”

“Flowers…?” He changes his answer to pretty flowers upon your glaring.

“It’s forget-me-nots!”

The name doesn’t seem to ring a bell. He looks at you with the stupefied expression of a cattle who only knows how to moo and eat grass, invisible question marks spawning around his head.

“Their blooming period ends in May,” you explain. “Can’t believe we’d find some in October, and these—” You chop one of the stems and extend it to him. “These are so beautiful.”

Satoru glances between the flowers and your impressionable eyes, in which tiny stars seem to twinkle, his tone serious as he points out, “You must really love me.”

Your mouth hangs while you mull over your own words. Nope. Nothing you said remotely hints at the conclusion he alone reached.

“About time you showed me some respect.” Satoru huffs. “Don’t know about the royalty part, but—ah, it really can’t be helped. I’ll accept them if you insist.”

“Hold on a second.” His fingers close around a fistful of nothing as you retract your hand. “What respect, what royalty are you talking about?”

“Hm? You really don’t know?” You shake your head, and he brings out his phone, trading it for the flowers. “Says it all riiiight here.” He taps at the wall of text that lights up his screen.

Forget-me-not, also known as Myosotis flower, represents true love and respect and is an indisputable symbol of royalty. To King Henry IV—

“Tsk, these don’t even smell.” Satoru exclaims once he presses them to his nose.

“Not all flowers smell.” You turn off the screen and hand his phone back to him. “Your ability to google stuff and sell it as common trivia never ceases to amaze me.”

He lowers the stem to his lap and looks at you. Or so you think. You really can’t tell when he’s wearing that thing. “And? What do you make of it?”

“You just want to hear me say it, don’t you?” Your hands slide across his shoulders, fingers knitting behind his neck. “I love you, you silly, goofy, pervert specimen of a man.” You smile softly. “And I do respect you—sometimes—but best case scenario, you become prime minister. Better get that royalty idea out of your brain.”

“Not even if a mysterious big-scale accident takes all royalty on this planet out?” Satoru quips.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me already.”

The sharp edges of his grin dissolve as he tilts his head enough for your lips to meet, tentative flicks of his tongue granting him access to your mouth. You feel the hard press of his chest once his arm wraps around your waist, nullifying the barriers that stand between you and the resounding beating of his heart.

There’s no innate technique in the way he touches; no immense amount of cursed energy in the way he kisses. None of the things that make him Gojo Satoru, the sorcerer who is hailed by all—and even himself—as the strongest are there. Only the raw vulnerability of a boy who’s used to carrying the order of the world on his shoulders and on a whim lets it crush him, because when he holds you, none of it seems to matter; because when he’s with you, he’s free to be Gojo Satoru and no more than that.

You watch through heavy eyelashes as he breaks a small stalk and brings it to your hair, securely tucking the flowers behind your ear. Warmth spreads from his slender fingers to your already feverish complexion. His palm cups your cheek, thumb swiping along your jawline with a soft expression perched on his lips, and you find yourself falling in love with him all over again.

“You deserve some love too, my…” Satoru ponders for a second, eventually snapping his fingers, “little MegaDarknessBagramon.”

A chuckle gets caught in your nostrils. “Your what now?”

“MegaDarknessBagramon.” He repeats without stuttering. “Way better than your fairy balloon cat.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling you made this one up?”

“Did not! MegaDarknessBagramon is—hmph.”

You cut him off with a fond kiss on his agape lips. That’s the only way to truly shut him up. At least in public.

“We should get going. I wanna go sightseeing before nightfall.”

You wander through the city for hours upon hours, losing yourselves among the countless maple-strewn paths and quaint religious sites of the countryside. Ikoma is a quiet place. No matter how many pebbles you lift or castle ruins you peek under, you won’t find a speck of evil lurking beneath. It’s as if the land is at peace with itself, and the people who tend to it do so without any curse tainting their souls. For once, Satoru’s presence feels redundant.

His hand stays on you the entire time you stroll through the temples and marketplaces, be it as fingers that childishly swing your palm up and down—left and right—or as an arm draped over both your shoulders, stirring you in a different direction whenever his phone rings. And it does ring. A lot. So much that you actively consider flinging it at the bottom of the Sunoura River.

The conversations are rather one-sided. Satoru mhms and uh-uhs his way out of everything the voices on the other line suggest, his expression contorting all the while he mocks Nanami’s grave tone, Yaga’s dismay, and Ijichi’s apprehension. He tries his best to keep you involved—putting Megumi on speaker while the boy informs him of how Nobara gave Yuji a concussion when she mistook him for a pickpocket—and presses playful kisses on your cheek when you unwittingly pout at his neglect.

This is the one drawback of dating such a sought-after man. You have to share him with the rest of the world, and even though you know exactly how many livelihoods depend on him, you selfishly want your boyfriend to yourself.

After his sixth answered call, something inside you snaps. You shake his hand off—he barely pays mind—and fish your phone out of your jacket, dialing the first number in your contact list. My Noodle Man. With a heart emoticon, he, himself, input. Still better than the long array of toothachingly sweet nicknames he’s come up with for you over the years.

Drawing the device away from his ear, Satoru glances at the incoming caller ID and shoots you what ought to be a perplexed look.

“Pick it up!” You mouth the words without voicing them.

The world comes to a standstill while you (presumably) stare into each other’s eyes. Star-shaped leaves rain down from the trees, a minor contribution to the red and gold garb that dresses the once pebbled pathway. It’s all too scenic—if one ignores the busy tone from his phone’s speaker, which echoes wide across the hollow forest, gracelessly interrupting Utahime’s incoherent squeaks.

Are you even listening? Gojo?

“Mhm!” He breaks into an awkward chuckle. “Sounds good to me.”

What? What are you on about, you white-haired swine?

“Hey, how ‘bout you hold onto that, and we talk about it when I return?”

You seriously doubt he knows what that and it are.

Satoru doesn’t leave Utahime the chance to reply, rushing through his words at the speed of light. “Okay, great! Gotta go now. Laterrr, bye, ciao, adieu!”

Don’t you dare hang—

“Too late for that.” He comments, an afterthought that doesn’t reach its target audience before fading into his next received call.

“Baby! How are you?” The grin on his lips is so blinding, you swear it accompanies a halo.

You draw a deep breath, fingernails digging sharply at the tender flesh on the inside of your palm. “Satoru.”

“What is it, baby?” He dares ask as if you haven’t been shooting daggers at him the entire time, arms folded over your chest and eyebrow trembling above your narrowed eye.

“Satoru, the fact that I can only speak to you through the phone is insane!” Your voice climbs up a whole octave over the final word, annoyance interlaced within your tone.

“Huh?” He smiles sheepishly, head drooping to his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, I’m standing right in front of you, begging you for an ounce of attention, and you haven’t put the phone down for ten goddamn seconds since we left the shrine, which, by the way, happened two hours ago!”

His smile dwindles, and you worry you might’ve been too harsh. It’s not like he has a choice. Regular people get to dictate their own fate, filling up their plates with however many or few obligations and freedoms they can stomach. Not Satoru. His share of responsibility was assigned to him at birth, and as aloof as he can be, he’s not the type to let all hell break loose just yet.

“Hey, um—look. If you were busy, we could’ve just taken a rain check and stayed in town. You know I wouldn’t mind holing up at my place, ordering some Chinese, and frying our retinas with another movie marathon. No need to string each other along for—what are you doing?”

Without evidence of anyone or anything approaching, Satoru twists his neck in every direction possible, searching far and wide among the tree foliage and the water streaming on the sides of the walkway, going as far as to check the gap between his own legs. Instinctively, you repeat his routine, glancing over your shoulder when you realize he’s got his eyes on you—not on you, but through you.

“Are you sure you are here? Can’t see you.” Satoru brings the phone to his lips, executing an amateur’s set of jumping jacks while waving his hands around and shouting your name at the top of his lungs, doing his absolute best to appear clueless when he passes you by and uses your head like an armrest. “Don’t tell me you got out-heighted by the trees.”

Are you sure you want to permanently delete the contact My Noodle Man <;3?

Cancel

“I’m leaving.”

You manage exactly two steps before you are halted by two arms whose length smothers you—a proper vice that closes around your shoulders and immobilizes you against what feels like a colossal tree trunk but is your (occasionally) loving boyfriend’s chest.

“Let go, Satoru!” You try to shake him off, but your conviction is about as strong as the frail set of bones he aspires to crush.

“C’mon, you just got here!” Satoru begs, his mouth so close to your ear that you feel his voice shooting straight into your heart, goosebumps erupting down your spine. “Don’t leave, mm? Mm? Pleaaase?”

You groan, dragging your feet forward, but it’s impossible to progress when a well-over-six-foot boulder weighs you down. He’s viciously clinging onto you, nuzzling to your cheeks one at a time, and humming at every kiss he prints on your grimace. His frosty spikes tickle, softer than silk and fluffier than the clouds above.

Couldn’t he have been like this five minutes ago?

“Doesn’t matter if I’m here or not.” Bitterness pools in your mouth from where your teeth bite into your gums. Your voice faint. “You’ll be on your stupid phone, anyway.”

“Is that why you’re acting all upset? You want my attention?” The lack of answer prompts him to continue, a low chuckle setting the mood for what comes next.

“If you want my attention, then… all you have to do is ask for it.”

It’s at this point that you realize more than your upper bodies are touching, his knees slightly bent for his hips to press against your ass—and with them, you feel something else pressing too. Something that oughtn’t be there when all you’ve been doing is bickering and fooling around with each other.

You gulp hard, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. His head rests fully upon the elbow on your shoulder, covered eyes definitely taking in the blush that’s become somewhat of a second nature since you got together. He’s effortlessly seductive, and you’re thankful for both his typically childish demeanor and the blindfold around his forehead, or else you’d be in big trouble denying him.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe what?” Satoru coos in a condescending tone.

You try to look away, but he won’t let you, jaw tilting atop his other arm. There’s no hiding from him, and the stupidly smug smile that begs you to erase it.

“…yes.”

“Yes what? Cheating won’t do. You need to say it.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who won by teleporting to the finish line,” you mumble.

He doesn’t yield, and you know you’re going to be stuck there for a long time unless you stroke his ego. “Fine. Please gimme your undivided attention, oh grand sorcerer, Gojo Satoru.”

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He croons contentedly. “Now, how much do you want it?”

“I changed my mind. I want a divorce.”

“We need to first be married in order to divorce.” He points out, rubbing salt in your wound like your next reply won’t be “You’re the one who refuses to settle down,” but it’s not. Just this once, you bite back your tongue.

Your restraints loosen as Satoru shakes his phone into your face, demonstrating how the device turns off with a click of his thumb. An airy laughter rings in your ears, and just like that, he reverts to the kind of man who giggles at knock-knock jokes and thinks it’s peak comedy when he mixes gummy worms in your cereal.

“No more calls!” He declares. “For a limited time only, strongest sorcerer Gojo Satoru is at your service.”

You snort, fighting back a smile that ends up crinkling around your eyes. “You make it sound like you’re a genie.”

“Hmm, you could always try rubbing me and see what happens. Might grant you a wish or two.”

You laugh at his attempt to flirt, trying and mostly failing to distract yourself from what was previously pushing against your body. It should embarrass you that two of your two wishes are sexual in nature, but that’s entirely on him, his innuendos, and the raw lust you’ve missed seeing transform his eyes from the sparkling color of the sea to one found a thousand meters under the surface.

Maybe three.

“Where’s the catch?”

“What catch?” He chirps.

“I know you, ‘Toru. With you, there’s always a catch.”

One moment you feel his breath on your skin, and the other you see him standing before you, his arms flexing behind his torso while he tips forward—a toothy grin stretching on his lips.

“Well, a fee is always due where there are services involved.” He takes a page from Mei’s book.

“The Gojo family vault running out of cash, so you lookin’ to extort your girlfriend?” You quip. “Go on. Name your price.”

“Oh, y’know.” His shoe traces a circle on the ground. “Just you saying what an amazing, handsome, charming, wonderful, funny, kind, and handsome boyfriend you have for the world to hear.”

You browse the acres of trees surrounding you; there is not a soul to be seen or heard within a close radius. What world?

“You said handsome twice.”

“Intentionally.” He deadpans.

You return his playfulness by saying he forgot to add infuriating to the list, even though you’ve already decided to humor him. Cute is more like it.

“My boyfriend is the most—”

“Does your boyfriend have no name? Take it from the top.”

You sigh, “My boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, is the most amazing, handsome, wonderful—”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Satoru intervenes, raising his forefinger in objection. “Forgot charming!”

Your teeth clatter, gritting a growl.

“Only one life left. Better get it right this time or,” he draws an imaginary line across his neck, faking a choking sound as he’s supposedly decapitated.

With both hands around your mouth, you shape a cone and shout so loudly that countless birds betray their hiding spots between the tree branches as they pour out into the sky. “My boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, is the most amazing, handsome, charming, wonderful, funny, kind, and handsome again, boyfriend in existence who totally didn’t put me up to this!” In a quiet voice, “Happy now?”

“Full marks!” He gleefully shoves a thumbs up in your face. “Now I’m all yours and will be for the rest of the night. Feel free to make the best of me while you can.”

“Then, can I get my first wish granted now, Mr. Genie?”

“What is it?”

He stands still as you bring your hands to his face and cup his cheeks, fingers teasing the seams of his blindfold. “Lemme see your eyes.”

“Hmm? You wanna see them? Why—you missed them?”

A nod. “Don’t put me through that same speech again. They are pretty, and yes, I miss them. We haven’t been seeing each other as often, so. C’mon. Lemme see them.”

You try to lower the fabric, but the harder you pull, the more it seems to resist. “Satoru…?”

“Mm?” He licks his lips. “What is it, sugarplum?”

Your eyes roll so far back into your skull that you’re afraid they’ll slip down your esophagus. “I said, I wanna see your eyes. May I?”

He cocks his head in consideration, entertaining an affectionate smile before he denies you with a cheeky little nope!

“Why not?”

This is the first time he denies you.

“For a multitude of reasons.” He states wryly. Uncharacteristically for him.

You wait for an explanation—a slight opening between his lips. His tongue lays flat against his teeth, darting upward as if he’ll finally say something, but he doesn’t. This happens about four times before he sternly announces, “The sun.”

“The sun…?” You glance at the sky, a veil of darkness slowly descending upon the peachy gradients of the melting clouds. “You mean the one that just set?”

“I wasn’t done talking. My other reason is…” He motions for you to get closer. You lean in as instructed, patiently hanging on his lips as if he is about to open the envelope and reveal the name of a talent show winner, yet his answer isn’t any more satisfying than the previous one is. “The people.”

“Satoru, we haven’t seen a live human in over an hour. What are you talking about? And since when were others an issue?”

“You don’t know what it feels like to be me!” Satoru exclaims in an exaggerated tone as he shakes your hands off and turns in the opposite direction. “Having everyone stare at you wherever you go, people asking, Sensei, please! We need to see your wonderful eyes! and getting called Six Eyes like you’re a piece of meat. Should’ve known you wouldn’t be any better than them, Y/N.”

You blink a number of times, “stunned” being too little of a word to describe your surprise at his sudden burst. He always had a knack for the dramatic, but with the way the back of his palm is pressed against his forehead, he’s closer to an Academy Award than ever.

“Satoru.” Your hand moves to his shoulder without ever closing the distance. Damn infinity. “What is up with you today?” You ask half-jokingly, half-concerned. “Acting insecure; you are the one who doesn’t miss the chance to show your eyes off to everyone, and when I ask you to show them, you pull this—why?”

“It’s because I only have eyes for you.” He smirks full of confidence, roughing up your hair and then bringing his thumb below your chin, holding it up for a kiss. You don’t even stop him. Hell, you don’t even close your eyes. You are too baffled to.

You regain agency over your words only after he starts parading away from you, his feet spending more time in the air than they do on land. “Hey, wait! What was that? What does you having eyes only for me have to do with anything?”

His chuckle precedes his answer. “You’ll see when we reach the inn. Last down the foothills is a double loser!”

“Ahhh, that was soooo good! I feel—ugh, reborn!”

Satoru’s joints click as he stretches both arms behind his back and over his head, the striped sleeves of his gray-colored yukata rolling down his elbows. He doesn’t mind that he’s blocking the doorway or that the long face you’ve been sporting since you parted at the lobby threatens to hit the floor at his theatrics.

Your onsen experiences differed by miles. While he was off soaking and splashing by himself at the vacant men’s baths, you were forced to endure 45 excruciating minutes in the company of a group of bachelorettes who wouldn’t shut up about the “dreamy masked man” who booked the single most expensive suite in the compound, rewriting his life story with lewd fantasies that—for as long as you could help it—would remain as such. Unrealized.

“The temperature was just perfect, the right amount of hot without scorching, and the minerals already circulate through my bloodstr—ouch!”

You shove past him and his impromptu review of the hot springs, temporarily giving up on the blockbuster that your mind crafts—Blood Bath: Revenge of the Hot Spring Killer 2—in favor of a spot where you can drop off your toiletries.

The room, or rather, the rooms, are vast in space and rich in furnishing. Opaque sliding doors separate the main area from the wardrobe and the bathroom, drawn to provide a direct view of the ryokan’s rock garden. Tatami mat flooring is indiscriminately strewn, replaced by granite tiles around the indoor hot tub. Raised alcoves host colorful ikebana vases; a couple of ukiyo-e scrolls depicting Mount Yoshino hang from opposing sides on the walls. Lastly, futons are neatly spread in the far back, with a short-legged table spanning at the center of the sitting space.

Bingo.

You settle beside it, laying your belongings on the floor while scrutinizing the couple’s gift box on top, regional specialties packed beside a ceremonial tea set that bears the inn’s logo. You flip the box on its back and attempt to decipher the cursive letters just as Satoru steals it from your hands, wasting no time ripping through the luxurious wrapping paper and tossing a block of brown-colored kuzumochi in his mouth.

“Gotta mmph hring Hahami ‘n’ Meghumi ‘ere.” He refuses to keep his remarks (or food) in his mouth, flour dusting the corners of his lips. “That oughta brighten ‘em up.” He says once he swallows, bringing his cup of welcoming tea to his teeth and cringing away at the sheer bitterness of the matcha. “Bleugh, this tastes like poison!”

You break into a quiet chuckle as you scrub his chin, sleeve curled over your fist, and thumb running stray along his frown. Cute. No, beyond cute. Adorable.

“Don’t blame the tea when your blood type is caster sugar, Satoru.”

“But that’s the secret to my sweetness.” He quips, returning to his previous floured-lip state as he flings a second kuzumochi into his mouth, supposedly to wash the bitterness away. “Think they sell more of these in the gift shop?”

You roll your eyes, humoring him with a teasing sure.

Making it back to your spot, you down your share of matcha in one go, savoring the delightful tartness the beverage leaves on your tongue. “‘Tis not even that bad.” You comment, pouring yourself a refill.

A certain form of silence prevails over the space, during which words aren’t spoken but expressed through various hums of content, with Satoru loudly nibbling on his loot and you quietly sipping on your tea. Moonlight filters the atmosphere through the semi-transparent shoji doors, casting playful shadows that dance along the subtle movements of his fingers.

He’s the puppeteer, and you his devoted audience, easily convinced that there’s genuine mastery in the way he handles his instruments and earnestly keen on trying them out before their numbers are further decimated. A pinch is at the ready, your thumb and forefinger making strategic advances towards the box of delicacies when a counter-offering presents itself to your lips.

“Say ahhhh!” Satoru waves the kuzumochi in your face, your teeth losing to the speed of his fingers as he retracts his hand at the last minute. “C’mon, c’mon!” He giggles, again dangling the bait. “Open wider. Ahhh! Ahhh!”

Your nose scrunches up. You don’t trust his intentions, and you have every right not to, considering he makes you chase after the confectionery with an open mouth, utilizing his infinity to keep you at bay whenever you get remotely close to succeeding.

“Satoru!” You yelp unamused.

“Sorry, sorry!” His apology sounds the opposite of truthful. “Promise, that was the last time. One big ahhh f’me! Ahhh—c’mon, it’s really good! You won’t regret it.”

And it’s no surprise you come to immediately regret it, your tongue hanging loose from your mouth, barely connecting with the dessert before your aghast eyes witness it being devoured by him, so quickly that you lose the opportunity to protest.

There’s no one to blame but yourself, though that doesn’t stop you from pouncing and tackling him to the floor. Two fists grab at the lapels of his yukata, fingers curling around the fabric, while you violently shake him like an unresponsive vending machine, urging him to spit out your eaten cash.

Satoru snorts, and he chuckles, and he laughs, a boisterous symphony of sounds pitted against one another as he, himself, refuses to fight back, merely showcasing the empty contents of his mouth and baring his teeth into a haughty grin that agitates you even more.

“You need to step up your game, munchkin. Or else you’ll never get your prize.”

“And you need to stop tricking me every chance you get!” You hiss, a sigh casting your head backward as you swipe the hair from your forehead. “If you played a fair game, then maybe—just maybe—I would actually win!”

“Aww, baby.” A lofty purr makes you awfully aware of the fact that you’re still straddling him, knees planted on both sides of his hips and thighs squeezing tightly around his crotch. “That’s so cute! Thinking you could ever stand a chance against me.”

“I could!”

“Mm, I don’t think so.” Satoru’s palms glide along your curves, taking full advantage of the position to rub circles that spread over your ass and close around your thighs; slender fingers tantalizing as they ghost over your exposed skin. “I’m quite strong, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He makes you a living example of his words, giddily watching your self-control crumble when he forces you down against his body. A complacent smirk rises on his lips, countering the soft gasp that evades yours.

“See?” He chuckles. “Unmatched.”

“You’re quite annoying too.” You huff, biting your lips into a straight line while you deviate from staring at his face—a grave mistake.

All the wrestling has caused the lapels of his yukata to recede, the fabric so loose it barely counts as hiding a thing. Delicate collarbones pave the path toward his toned chest, rosy claw marks littering his creamy complexion (and it swells you with pride to know you’re the only one to have ever blemished his spotless body) down to the few unruly frosty hairs that span over his sculpted abdomen, and lead lower—much lower than your eyes can currently follow.

Goddamn it, Satoru.

“Is that why you’re grinding against me? Because I’m annoying you?”

His accusation makes your heart sink inside your chest as you are found guilty of a crime you unwittingly committed. Your hips were swaying back and forth against his hardened cock, guided by a firm grasp that failed to emulate the typically lazy manner with which he’d keep you anchored whenever you rode him.

(Aww, bunny. Keep bouncing like that, and you’ll hit your head. Me? Help? Don’t be silly. How you gonna grow stronger if I put in all the work, mm? Better be satisfied with what you have throbbing in ya already. Now, where were we? Right—Ijichi and his…)

Except you were in the middle of a fight, and you’re supposed to be holding a grudge that seems to matter less by the minute.

“Hey, baby?” His thumb harbors softness when he cups your cheek, candied voice flowing from pretty, pink lips that glisten under the pale moonlight. “Think you can be annoyed with your clothes off?”

You almost succumb to his will, the lines between vexation and lust becoming increasingly blurred as you try to get your point across a final time.

“Y’know, I too like sweets!” Your declaration practically melts into his touch. “Just because I let you do the honors doesn’t mean I don’t want to try some. It means I’m a better girlfriend than you.”

“No arguing here.” Satoru beams. “Don’t think I could be a better girlfriend if I tried.”

“Satoru!” You exclaim for the millionth time that day.

“Too early to be screaming my name.”

“I’m serious!”

“And I’m not?” He gasps, hand moving to his chest as if your words actually damaged his impenetrable ego. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. My girlie is such a meanie.”

Your eyes perform a semi-circle, knowing better than to venture beyond his neck. His face is cute, in that boyish way everyone swoons over, but his body is another story. The kind you read with the blinds lowered and the lights dim, colored cheeks, and giddy chuckles muffled by your bedding.

Sigh.

“How can I take you seriously when you say such things?”

“Never said you have to do it seriously. Just takin’ me is good enough.”

“Stop that!”

Swatting his hand from your face, you feel it join its twin behind your ass. You don’t want him to catch on to how affected you are simply by mounting him, but as your hips are forcibly rocked into his crotch, the wet patch your slick paints on his yukata reveals all that your tongue struggled to keep hidden.

“Jerk!”

Satoru grins, holding you tight against his lap as he sits the both of you up. Your noses are suddenly found brushing, and his lips expel a heavy breath your lips eagerly inhale, the proximity dizzying. “Maybe if I gave my girl some sugar, she’d turn sweeter.”

“Ugh, this is exactly what I meant!” You growl in frustration. “Satoru, I swear, if you use one more lame line on me, I’ll—”

Whatever was supposed to come next is drowned out by his tongue as it presses against your mouth, enticing your lips into an all-consuming kiss that threatens to eat you alive. Warm palms hook below your legs, turning scorching as they roll your yukata above your thighs and help secure your knees around his torso, caressing every inch of supple flesh they unveil.

You’re overcome by need in an instant, and judging from how ardently your boyfriend’s cupping your cheeks, as if he’s either trying to breathe life into you or suck it out of your lungs, it’s safe to say it goes both ways.

His cock rubs against your clit through his clothes. He’s so hard, and you are so wet that one thrust would be enough to sheathe him fully into your cunt and meld you into one. But that won’t do. If there’s one thing Satoru doesn’t rush, that’s the way he fucks. He wants to savor everything—every kiss, every touch, every whimper, every moan, every last drop of your essence that dribbles onto his fingers and drenches his tongue like the finest, most delectable nectar meant solely for him—before indulging the twitching sensation in his balls.

There’s no reason for today to be any different.

A string of saliva is cut in the middle as Satoru pulls away, your half drooling down your jaw and his collected by his tongue.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, baby! You were saying?” He coos in an awfully smug tone that barely registers over your incessant panting.

“Hm? Nothing? Thought so.” He deduces after turning his ear to your mouth, and for a second, you’re tempted to bite his earlobe right off.

But somehow you don’t, and in his book, that counts as obedience, which in turn qualifies for a reward.

He plants a kiss on your nose, tender enough to distract you from the no-good smirk plastered on his lips. “How about I do that other thing you asked for?”

Your mind traverses a foggy terrain. You’ve asked him for a lot of things in the recent past. Not overloading Aiko’s bowl with cat food the minute he sees it empty. Not surprise-hugging you when you’re walking alone at night and are unaware of his presence. Not rapping your morning routine to the tune of the hemorrhoid cream commercial. Not calling you munchkin or dwarf when it’s him who’s the long-lost descendant of the legendary tree people.

The list goes on and on with plenty of whimsical examples, and you realize, there are more things you’ve explicitly asked him not to do than do, with your one recurrent request being that he get you a ring made from neither fried dough nor grass blades.

“Close your eyes.” You do as you’re told, thinking you’re oh-so-clever when you try to peer at him through downcast eyelashes, only to be shot down by his technique. “Uh-uh! No peeking!” The last thing your eyes see before they’re covered by his left palm are two fingers that hook under his blindfold and tug it upward.

“Why the secrecy?” You ask impatiently. “Afraid I’ll be blinded by your beauty? Must I remind you I’ve seen you sleeping with your mouth open? The magic is gone.”

“Is it?” His chuckle louder than the elusive sound of his blindfold coming undone. “And here my eyes were thinking you’ve turned even more beautiful than the last time they saw you. How unfortunate.”

There’s a certain humility that comes with someone as ethereal as Gojo Satoru calling you beautiful to your face, but right now, your mind remains fixated on one word and one word only. Eyes. My eyes. His eyes.

“You took it off?” Excitement colors your tone. “Lemme see!”

“Baby, baby, baby.” Satoru playfully chides. “When will you learn to be patient, mm? Don’t you know that good things come to those who wait?”

Seven years is an awful long time to be waiting around.

Eventually, you feel his hand be drawn away, but before light can enter your eyelids, darkness engulfs them again. Cold satin now covers your brow, the kind of silky material you’ve previously only been able to experience via your fingertips as they yanked and hurled it across your bedroom walls.

“Tada!” The unmistakable sound of palms clasping. “You can open them now.”

“Satoru, what—what is this?” You mutter, tight-lipped, as if your ability to speak was also impaired. “I asked to see your eyes, not play suikawari.”

“Aw, shoot. Should I go ask for a watermelon?”

You sigh, fingers withdrawing into fists atop your thighs. You wonder how many years of jail time killing your boyfriend warrants, but then again, you doubt you’d possibly achieve what countless others have failed at.

“You wanted a rematch, didn’t you?” His hands move against your own, soft thumbs rolling reassuring circles around your wrists. He brings them to his lips, printing a kiss on each knuckle set. “Better strike while the iron’s hot. Besides, this game’s so easy, even you got a chance at winning,” he scoffs a laugh at how quick you’re to escape, pulling your hands back as if you were struck by an electric current. “All you hafta do is sit back and answer a few questions. Pretty easy, right?”

His voice rings close to your ear. You realize he’s in fact closer when he takes his affections to your cheeks, shamelessly bribing you with the sweetest kisses he can muster.

It’s working.

“I didn’t agree to this.” You state as his jaw perches on your shoulder, strong biceps caging your body while he reaches around your waist to undo the bow of your yukata.

“Really?” His breath travels south, hot steam depriving you of the opportunity to feel any real cold as you’re slowly stripped of your garments—and yet you still shudder when his lips close below your throat and suck onto your sweet spot. “‘Cause you seemed pretty agreeable when you were all ready to jump my bones a minute ago.”

“Th-that’s because—”

The fabric slides down your shoulders like butter, melting into the soft curves and pebbled peaks of your tits before it pools around your hips. His thighs tense up, blood rushing straight to his swollen cock head while he cradles you, eating you up with the eyes you so fondly reminisce.

“Aw, pumpkin! Won’t you look at that!” Your cheek is captured between his fingers, lightly pinched. “You’re blushing through the blindfold.”

You feel so vulnerable, and you aren’t sure whether that’s because you’re straddling your fully clothed boyfriend while being fully naked yourself or because everything around you is amplified, from the way his finger pads dance around your nipples, to the fruity shampoo remnants lingering in his tousled hair.

“‘Toru, I—”

You cut yourself off. You don’t want to be the kind of woman who has to beg her own boyfriend for dick.

“Will you still be blushing as I fuck your cute face?”

But you’re about to be.

“Hey, I was just joking!” Your hands are seized without accomplishing their goal of removing the blindfold. “Don’t want you losing before the game begins, do we?”

“‘Toru, just—I don’t care about any stupid games, okay?” You whine, voice purposely pathetic in case he feels generous enough to cave in. “I just want you. I need you. Please?”

“And you will have me, baby.” Satoru soothes, shifting both your hands to a single grip while he digs into the pile of clothes at your side. “A promise is a promise. I’ll pamper my precious girl to her heart’s content if that’s what she wants.” A string too thin to be a rope wraps around your wrists, piecing them together. “Love her all night long; teach her all the things she misses when her eyes are wide open. My sweet honeypie, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d also like it if you quit it with all those corny nicknames.” You answer, having absolutely no idea as to how the floor is replaced with the futon when you haven’t budged an inch. At least you think you haven’t.

“You love them.” The grin strong in his voice as he lays you down and climbs on top of you, pinning your bound wrists above your head. “Like you love me, my little sugarboo.”

“I’m rolling my eyes.”

“Wow, this early? Have barely touched you.”

“I’m rolling my eyes again!” You repeat at a higher volume.

“Of course you are. This isn’t too tight, is it?” A finger curls between your binds. You shake your head, and he pecks it, gently caressing your hair while situating his knee between your thighs, bouncing it against your pussy. “You’ll see, you’re gonna love every minute of this,” Satoru continues, his hand playful as his fingers toy with yours.

You have little to no agency over your body when Satoru lifts your leg and folds it onto your stomach, his lips held against yours and his tongue slotted in between. He kisses you slowly, like he has all the time to unravel you, and in a way, he does. He could stretch this moment to infinity, savoring your lips until they’re all swollen and coated with spit, his name replacing every word in your vocabulary while he wanders lower, dragging his warm mouth against your skin and smearing wet kisses down your tits.

“The mochi weren’t half as sweet as you,” he murmurs, soft lips clamping over your nipple, the suspicion of sharp teeth grazing the sensitive bud. “I’ll buy you some in the morning.”

“Y-you don’t need to,” you huff, your chest heaving with one heavy breath after another as he takes hold of your other nipple, alternating between pinching and rolling it around with his thumb, repeating the same ritual of licking and sucking as the nipple in his mouth changes.

“Mm, but I want to.” He insists. “I want to spoil my baby and give her everything she wants. I’d give her the world if I could.”

And yet, you won’t marry her.

His smile ghosts over your flesh, gradually fading as he approaches your navel. “But first, I need to fuck her pretty pussy, mm? That’s what my princess wants, doesn’t she?”

Reluctantly, you nod, a lump forming in your throat when his fingers find purchase beneath your thighs and spread them apart. His biceps curl around your calves as he mounts your knees on his shoulders, peppering your inner thighs with more featherlight kisses that continuously inch closer to your entrance.

He is so attentive when he wants to be, but in his core, Satoru is a selfish lover. He gives, and he gives, and he gives more than you can take, his satisfaction lying in your cute little moans and the tiny arch of your back whenever he pushes you to your limits.

“Thank you for the food!” He croons, and you swear to hate yourself for almost chuckling at his distasteful joke.

He was always like that, to the point where suggesting he bewitched you into falling for him isn’t an exaggeration so much as an undeniable reality. Him, who with his cheeky smiles, exaggerated gestures, and mirthful snickering, conquered your thoughts and claimed the mushy land of your brain as if it were the moon. Him, whose dimples crease around his lips every time you kiss and whose bright blue irises bloom behind your shut eyelids. Him, who’d remain the most extraordinarily beautiful person, even if your eyes never opened again.

Him, whose plump lips round around your clit as he finally takes it in his mouth, suckling on the small bundle of nerves as if he expects it to dissolve into liquid sugar.

“F-fuck!”

Your hips buck into his face, lifting from the covers while your hands maintain their position. If it weren’t for his stupid infinity, you’d be threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him as far into you as humanely possible, but for now, you can only chant his name, feeling his shoulders tense up while his hungry tongue runs laps between your slick folds.

“I’m so lucky you aren’t bound to a region. I’d have to stockpile on you every single day.” Satoru hums against your clit, the vibrations from his mellifluous tone translating into pleasurable tingles up your spine. “My favorite specialty,” he chuckles, sounding so lovable that you can’t hold it against him.

He doesn’t kid about you being like a dessert to him, his tongue greedily soaking up all the juices that gush from your hole right down his chin. He moans in pure delight, perhaps more than you do, the uninterrupted flow of compliments making you feel at least worthy of a Michelin star. So pretty. So sweet. So perfect. The same combination of words he’s been repeating since you first got together, as if his fascination never truly ran out.

The sounds get more salacious while he fucks his tongue into your entrance, and you throw your head back, feeling so unbelievably light that if it weren’t for his hold on your thighs, you would be floating straight to the ceiling. His thumbs stretch out your lips for him to reach deeper, pointy nose rubbing deliciously against your swollen clit while he persistently works your body to its high, making out with your nether lips like he’s kissing your actual mouth.

“Feels s-so good, ‘Toru,” you whimper, struggling to keep your legs from closing around his head.

“Yeah? Like that?” Satoru chuckles, and it would’ve pushed you over the edge if his tempo wasn’t disrupted. “I like it too. Love eating your little pussy. I can tell she loves me too, doesn’t she?”

You can’t believe that the man who’s making all the stars of the night sky appear in the confinement of your tied eyes is the very same man who’s addressing your pussy as a she.

“Hm? You’re hurting my feelings here.” He sounds pouty, though you can picture the sadistic glint in his eyes as his teeth sink into your clit, softly enough to not induce any pain, but hard enough to bring your hips to a stutter.

“Y-yes, she does—fuck, my pussy loves you, S-satoru!” You cry out.

“Hah, that’s more like it.”

Your voice shatters into a million broken sobs which only motivate Satoru to keep going. He nibbles on the sensitive nub, darted tongue inflicting short and rapid flicks that cut right through the coiling tension in your guts with precision that’s exclusive to him and the countless times he’s had you fall apart with his mouth alone.

Your fingers clench while your toes curl, thighs trembling as succulent juices spurt all over him, and, God—how you wish you could see his pretty face ruined like that.

“Mm, baby, you always cum so much for me.”

Without letting a drop go to waste, Satoru licks a luscious stripe between your slit, rolling your essence in his mouth to relish the taste.

“Y’know, I could just make time freeze and eat you out for hours. Days,” he lays a kiss on top of your mound. “Weeks,” one for every thigh. “Months,” his lips on your clit making you wince from pleasure. “Years.” He snickers, marveling at how easily you respond to his touch. “You’d want that, sweets? All that pleasure, just for you. Think you could take it?”

Not knowing better, you nod, and he laughs. You aren’t familiar enough with Jujutsu to be horrified by the prospect of reliving the same moment over and over again, literally getting fucked dumb in a way his technique has never achieved on another.

“Alright, time to turn off the cheats.” He announces after you manage to regain your breath, and it isn’t until his question that you’re reminded of the whole “game” ordeal.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“What?” Your voice scratches its way out of your throat, coarse and laden with desire.

“You asked me the same question earlier, remember?” His fingertips tickle as they drum against your stomach. “At the plateau?”

I’m surprised you can still see my face behind that thing. How many fingers am I holding up?

“The one you didn’t answer?”

“Four, five, two, four, one.” The number of fingers he presses on your skin changes depending on the number he calls. You’d be impressed if you’d actually kept track of the digits you’d shown him, and they weren’t picked at random.

“So, how many?”

You try to pull yourself together, calmly considering your options. He wouldn’t start with five or four. The first three numbers are more likely, and taking a leap of faith—

“One.” You lock in your answer, with an excitable cheer following suit.

“Wow, my girl is so smart!” Satoru praises. “Got it on her first try!”

“Quit treating me like I’m one of your students.”

“Oh, trust me.” He runs his middle finger down your abdomen, emphasizing his point with a tap on your clit. “I’d never treat any of my students the way I treat you. Or anyone else for that matter,” he trails off, gathering some of the slick that’s trickled out of your slit, and brings it into his mouth, finger coated with spit the next time he touches you.

“All of my special treatment is reserved for my special girl.”

His finger prods lazily into your cunt, thick enough for every ridge to be lusciously dragged against your velvety walls, and long enough to delve straight into your pulsing core.

To his disappointment, there isn’t much of a reaction—save for the occasional hitched breath. You can take it. For seven years now, you’ve been trained on his deft fingers and the many tricks they play, but when his thumb begins circling your clit in tandem with his thrusts, your facade cracks.

“Aw, you didn’t think it’d be this easy, did you, bunny?” Satoru coos in fake sympathy, as his thumb zigzags feverishly about your clit, the finger in your cunt curving in a repetitive come-hither motion.

“‘T-toru, please—ngh!” You whine, your lower half squirming on its own accord. “You said you’d let me win!”

“Let you?” A complacent smile takes shape on his face, and although you cannot see it, you can hear it chiming in his tone. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Y-you evil man!”

He giggles at your supposed insult, one moment asking if that’s the best you can do, and the next cheering you on by saying he’s rooting for you.

Asshole.

Heat runs rampant between the lowest pit in your stomach and the apex of your flushed cheeks, the blindfold soaking sweat off your forehead like a headband. You are close; pressure steadily building only to wither away once Satoru retracts his hand.

Asshole!

“Sorry, pretty. Got a little carried away, but no hard feelings, hm?” Your tormentor asks, rubbing your clit at a pace far too slow to be soothing. “Now, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“T-two.” You answer, your sanity chipping the longer your hole remains puckering around nothing.

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!”

You kiss your teeth as Satoru angles his wrist with your pussy and shoves two of his fingers in, curling them against the spongy spot that swells with each pump, and when that isn’t enough to muffle your cries, you bite down onto your lip, choking on every sob you’ve been withholding. Last thing you want is to give your next-room neighbors another reason to fantasize about your boyfriend.

“It’s fine. You can let it all out.” Satoru reads your mind. “Room’s soundproof, though there isn’t much you can say, right?”

Your walls flutter around his fingers in utter bliss. You hate (love) how his words get to your body before your brain can process them; every remark you’d typically deflect, seeping under your skin and igniting as fire in your loins.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles, maintaining a steady rhythm even with his thumb swiping at your clit. “I’ll be the one doing all the talking from now on.”

“Sh-shut up!” You manage to say before returning to your three-word prayer of little oh-my-god’s and ah-ah-ah’s.

“But you love my mouth.” Satoru argues back. “And now you love my fingers. How long they feel stretching you out, how deep they can go.”

He’s buried to his knuckles, slowing down for the sake of plunging his digits further into your wet cunt, the lewd squelching bouncing across the walls along with the obscene sounds you let out.

“You’re practically fucking yourself on them.”

Your boyfriend’s words cloud your brain, your body acting purely on instinct as you begin to hump his hand. Satoru doesn’t stand in the way; rather, he assists with a sturdy hold that has your hips slamming against his fingers, repeating the motion until your creamy essence comes pouring down warmly over his palm.

You aren’t sure whether the white speckles in your vision stem from the gates of heaven welcoming you to the other side or the light fixtures on the ceiling, becoming certain only after the outline of a halo brushes against your forehead. It’s hard to call the man slumped above you an angel when his one hand is cupping your cunt, the fingers of the other tasked with undoing the knot around your wrists.

You are free to move—or about as free as one can be when every joint in their body begs to drag them down, your limbs strewn over the sheets like those of a tattered rag doll. The blindfold is still on, albeit slightly lowered over your nose. A little more wriggling and you can take it off, yet that too requires effort you lack.

Satoru says something that fails to register in your trance. He’s mocking you. He’s praising you. He’s mocking you while praising you, and praising you while mocking you, because those two go hand in hand in his brain—a proper carrot and stick. You think you should be thanking him or cursing him, but your words turn out a jumbled mess—nothing worth writing home about.

“Ready for the final round?” His voice finally conquers the ambient—heavy, almost as though his own ministrations have worn him out, and distorted by every prolonged inhale and sharp exhale he takes.

“Do I have a choice?” You provoke.

“Sure you do. Just—hah, not when it comes to this.”

A low fuck evades him, and you are oblivious to the way he’s been fisting his cock this entire time, smearing your slick over his length and squeezing the reddened tip in the ring shaped by his thumb and index, biting onto his tongue whenever your name comes remotely close to spilling from his lips. Only he knows the endurance he’s shown keeping himself from busting in his hand at the sight of your fucked-out form, trembling thighs calling to him in a carnal manner your lips could never muster.

You look ravishing, and ravishing you is all he aches to do.

“How many—” Satoru begins, only to be cut off with a croaked three that jumps an octave the moment his fat tip prods into your folds. “Three?” His fingers burrow into the supple flesh of your thighs as he splays your legs over his bare chest. “Could’ve sworn it was at least eight. Guess I need to make it go a bit deeper, huh?”

His lips lay soft against your ankle, trailing honeyed kisses down the expanse of skin that lose finesse once they near the crevice of your knee. An idea blinks in his brain as he grabs your thigh and presses it down against your stomach, repeating the same pattern of tenderness on the other until you are folded in half.

He stares down at you, and for a moment, that’s all he does. His eyes—the prized six eyes that are the very synonym for quintessence—well with adoration over the point where your bodies connect, the tight fit of your cunt prompting him to lose control and fuck an entire generation of sorcerers into you.

All in good time.

A quiet whisper reminds Satoru of his promise, hips drawing back before they snap right into you, the crude sound of his balls slapping against your ass reverberating across the room. You moan in unison, your fists thudding against the floor as his thrusts send you flying past the covers.

It’s too much. It’s too little. You want less. You want more. Your desires bend and twist around one another like indecisive vines, settling on a direction only after he leans forward and fixes the cushions behind your head.

“Congratulations.” The gentle action of his hand combing through your hair contradicts the cock throbbing inside your pussy. “To think my baby would make me eat my own words—well; I can get behind dating a winner. Especially when they’re as beautiful as you.”

“S-satoru!”

You look away—if resting your flushed cheek on the significantly colder pillow and fixing your gaze at whatever lies beyond the blindfold counts as looking—the sincerity in his words moving you more than it should.

“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you are embarrassed.” Satoru chuckles, punctuating his own question with a sensual roll of his hips that drags against your clit, coaxing the tiniest of moans to slip from your pursed lips.

“Hmm, is it because I called you beautiful?” He leans onto his elbow, relying on the weight of his chest to keep you pinned down. “Nah, can’t be it. I call you beautiful on a daily basis, don’t I? Then—hmm—is it ‘cause I’m so nice to you? Because I’m the best boyfriend you could ask for?”

“Q-quit it with all that self affirm—oh my god!”

Tears prickle your eyelash line at the familiar way his cock glides between your walls. He’s in so deep, relaxed thrusts pushing against your abdomen from the inside, with your cervix serving as the last line of defense for your merge, gallantly bearing every kiss his tip prints on your core.

“C’mooon, you gotta help me out. I’m all outta guesses here.” Satoru whines in your ear, his voice a pitch too high. “Is it because you can’t see me? Because this feels so good? Or because,” his hand sneaks between your bodies to work languid circles around your clit, “you just love me that much?”

“Aw, so that’s what it was?” He interprets the clenching of your pussy as he wills. For once he isn’t off the mark. “Okay, look at me.”

Even when you weren’t embarrassed before, you are about to be as heat pools in your stomach anew, threatening to make your score three to zero. You feel yourself turning liquid, dissolving between ripples of pleasure, drowning in you and drowning in him, and he’s both the riptide pulling you in as he’s the lifeline washing you ashore, the salty tang of the sea clinging to the fingers fumbling about your chin.

“I said, look at me.” His tone serious this time.

Every sense of yours is held captive as Satoru’s lips finally smash into yours, the taste of your essence refusing to die out no matter how many times your tongues swirl around each other. Your breathy moans are traded for his needy grunts, compiling into a broken record that plays sinfully in your ears, the whiff of sex lingering potent in the thick air between you.

He doesn’t fuck into you so much as he grinds against you, allowing you to grab at his biceps when your legs start to shake, the white clouds in your peripheral dispersing behind the sky blue of his eyes, placid orbs electrified by lust.

“Hi,” Satoru greets with an amiable smile, the blindfold dangling from around his forefinger.

“H-hi,” you return, your palms creeping up his face as if to appraise it, soft thumbs pushing the dampened strands away from his forehead, a thirst within you at last quenched.

“It’s-a me.” He says stupidly, basking in the affectionate way you cradle him.

“If you crack a Mario joke I’ll kick you in the nuts.” You warn.

“Oh no! How dare you genocide my children?” He gasps, and you can’t help but chuckle, eliciting a moan from him as your walls tighten around his cock. “M-minus one Gojo junior.”

Another laugh. Another moan. Another kiss.

“Would you put a baby into me if I didn’t?” You trace against his lips, uncertain of the answer you want to hear.

There’s no reason to be discussing having kids when you haven’t even tied the knot, let alone when more qualified candidates exist to continue his clan’s lineage. Maybe Shoko—she and Satoru have always been close, and a healing technique sounds like a valuable inheritance. Utahime—you aren’t sure what her abilities are, but they too go back. Even Mei, her family have a sizable fortune, and their genes combined would—

Mischief sparks in his eyes, tugging at the corners of his mouth and spreading to your lips as he kisses you—not his close friend, not his self-declared nemesis, and certainly not his senior. Just plain old you.

“If that’s what the future Mrs. Gojo wants, then—”

“What do you—”

Before your questions can manifest, Satoru picks up a tempo that knocks the air out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your mind. Big palms wrap your knees around his torso, sculpted pecs smothering your plushy tits while he vigorously drills his cock into your sopping cunt, having the nerve to laugh at your whimpers in between strangled noises of his own.

“You feel so good f’me, baby. S-so fucking good, aren’t you? My good—nah, my perfect girl. Our kids will be perfect too. G-gonna have lots of ‘em, mm? Gonna-fuck, gimme a whole class to teach, right?” He blabs deliriously, broad shoulders flexing as your nails rake them.

You want that. Everything he’s willing to offer, a future where his last name precedes your first, and chubby babies that bear his disposition, his ideals, and his smiles follow on your trail like little disoriented ducklings; one where he’s your husband, and you’re his wife, and you’re tied to each other for life.

Satoru’s lips drift toward your neck, biting sloppy marks that have you writhing below him. And when his cock hits that one spot inside of you, the one he’s been abusing all night long like a kid with a brand new toy on Christmas Eve, “Oh my God—G-god, p-please j-just like that, shit shit f-fuck!”

“Why bring religion into this?” He mumbles, voice inadvertently sultry and cumbered with every bit of self-restraint he showed before entering this frenzy where his climax is the only thing that matters. “Just—hah, say my name. Let the heavens know who helped you ascend them.”

The next time your eyes meet, he’s grinning, pink lips bitten cherry red, and he’s pretty; so pretty; too pretty.

“C-can’t say th-things like that!” You struggle to maintain control over your bobbing head.

“Why not? Your little heart can’t handle it?”

“Sh-shut up, dumbass!”

His eyebrows unite amid his forehead, even his frown attractive.

“That’s not my name.”

“S-stupid!” You yelp, mainly addressing the myriad stupid butterflies that chose to swarm your stupid stomach at his stupid commentary.

“Mmm, I think you’re the one getting fucked stupid here, sugarplum.”

Satoru zooms on into your lips, playfully swiping his tongue in between. You can’t cum any more; it’s physically impossible. You think. But “impossible” isn’t a word in his vocabulary; every snap of his hips causes you to ride on a rollercoaster with no end-destination, only a consistent state of newer highs.

“S-satoru.” His name rolling off your tongue works like a charm, the rhythm of his thrusts slowing down as he presses your foreheads together.

“Again?” He pleads. Quietly. A pin capable of overshadowing his tone.

“‘Toru.” Two smiles turn into one. “My ‘Toru.”

“More.”

There’s not a single gap between your bodies; every piece of him fits into every piece of you like a puzzle, but somehow he seems to get closer, squeezing into your hips a little tighter and kissing your lips a little rougher.

His heart beats wildly against his chest, red leaking onto his cheeks and blue spilling from the ocean in his eyes. He looks at you with love—so much love that it’s seared into your very being and becomes your own identity as the only woman Gojo Satoru ever truly, madly, deeply loved.

“I love you, ‘Toru.”

It’s the combination of those four little words that pushes Satoru over the edge, his hips jerking violently while his cock pumps ropes upon ropes of creamy cum inside your spent pussy, filling you up until you can’t be filled any more.

He collapses on top of you, head reduced into a fluffy snowball that takes refuge in the crook of your neck, and that’s your cue to hold him close, pampering him with all the affection you’re otherwise so frugal about. He’s touch-starved to the point of shaking in your embrace, nearly purring as your arms loop behind his back and your lips touch his shoulders, peppering incomplete kisses across his hot skin.

Your hands relocate to his cheeks as he regains enough composure to face you, an idiotically bright smile stretching from one ear to the other. He nuzzles your palms, pressing kisses at the center of each and then rubbing his nose against them like a content kitten who just received the world’s greatest belly rub.

Aiko should learn from him.

“I love you more, hunny bunny.” Satoru beams, soft rays of sunshine pouring from the cracks in his dimples. “Non-negotiable.”

You bask in the afterglow together, locking toes as if you’re trying to hold hands and making out like two teenagers in heat. Correction: two idiots in love.

Your so-called honeymoon period never ended, probably because you never ran out of things to love about each other. Right now, you’re loving how Satoru’s dick remains plugged inside your pussy despite its painful twitching, for the simple reason you asked him to stay like that a little longer.

You love how Satoru tries to keep his eyes open when you kiss just so you can appreciate them a while longer, and you love the light giggle that tickles your lips as you remind him that only sociopaths kiss with their eyes open.

You love the way Satoru buries his head between your tits and squeezes them against his cheeks, apologizing to his “girls” for not giving them the proper attention and promising expensive lingerie and whipped cream treatments when you get back to Tokyo.

You also love how when Satoru pulls out and sees the mess he made out of your hole, his seed rolling between your thighs in an endless stream, his first reaction is to grin, and his second is to teleport across the room, cleaning you up before you can realize he ever left. You love that the answer to the question “how?” is a cocky “because I’m Gojo Satoru,” which seems to be the answer to most things concerning him.

The list of things you love about your boyfriend grows exponentially after Satoru puts the two of you in bed and pulls you into his arms. You love his hugs. How you drown in them, how he engulfs you better than any dress, shirt, or skirt can. You love the comforting scent his pores exude and the temperature of his naked skin on yours.

You love the narrow hugs that date back to lazy mornings in your student one-bedroom apartment, splayed in a bed that could barely fit his enormous legs, and the wide, almost too comfortable ones you share in his king-sized bed. You love the silly, whiny tone that typically begs you to miss work and try to outlast eternity with him, now declaring it’s “sleepy time.”

You love the Satoru that chased after you until you loved him back, and the Satoru who patiently waits until your eyelids close first so you don’t go a minute without him.

“‘Toru?” You mumble into his chest, seconds before the last semblance of conscience fades away. “Did you turn it off? Your technique, I mean.”

“Did I?” Snowy lashes flutter slowly above his tired eyes. “Hmm, guess we’ll have to see in nine months.” Satoru kisses your forehead. “Goodnight, my little cuddle muffin.”

On second thought, there is one thing you hate about him.

“Goodnight, Gojo.”

“G-Gojo?! Hey, what happened to ‘Toru? Baby? I know you’re not sleeping—hey, wake up, I was just joking! Come on!”

43 Missed Calls—Principal Nanimon

You have 9 new voicemails.

Press play.

“Satoru!” The phone rattles in his grasp, nearly falling into the wooden plate splayed on his lap. “I think I told you to keep your phone on at all times! You are a sorcerer; show some responsib—”

“What is he going on about?” Satoru yawns, scratching the back of his head, and then scrolls to the next voicemail in line.

“Satoru! This is your final chance to answer before I—”

“Final my ass, there’s like—what, seven more of ‘ese?” He comments with a mouth full of fruit that the room service so kindly delivered a few minutes ago. Delicious. Another reason for him to drop a five-star review.

It’s no surprise when the third voicemail starts with the exact same enraged pronunciation of his name and continues with empty threats that want him scrubbing the entire school grounds. Yaga seems to have forgotten their teacher-student relationship ended a decade ago.

Neeeeeext.

“Satoru, I saw what Nanimon is, and I am not happy.”

“Oh? So he outgrew Windows XP?” He chuckles inaudibly.

Licking the sticky nectar off his fingers, Satoru pads toward the window, standing guard between the vicious sun rays and your sleeping form. You appear immune to Yaga’s ear-shattering voice, eyelids shut, and sheets kicked off your nude body, with your hair coiled around your head like a hornet’s nest.

Muffling the speaker with one hand, Satoru leans to untangle the hair from your open mouth. He thinks he might be partial to your charms, because even when he’s holding onto your spit-laced locks, he can only smile at how cute you are drooling in your sleep.

“Satoru? Satoru!” A voice far too guttural to be yours calls out to him, until he realizes Yaga’s voice has broken out of the voicemails.

“Principal Yaga!” Satoru greets once he puts some distance between himself and the bedding. “Good morn—”

“Satoru! What do you think you are doing not answering my calls?” The man fumes.

“Eating persimmons while watching my adorable girlfriend sleep,” he answers earnestly, switching apps and snapping a quick picture of your face. “She’s so pretty—ahhhh, I feel so lucky! Want me to show you? Do you even remember what a real woman looks like?” He taunts.

“She’s still your girlfriend?”

“Huh?” The phone changes ears. “Man, your memory is really failing you. How about I pay for you and Principal Gakuganji to go on a little vacation? I know this amazing resort for senior citizens; their cognitive enhancement therapy did wonders for my great-great-great uncle. Just say my name; they’ll treat you—”

“Satoru, this is important!” Yaga cuts him off. “You’ve been off the map an entire day,” fourteen hours, he corrects, “and haven’t popped the question? What are you waiting for?”

His gaze rakes over your exposed body, trailing the necklace of mauve lovebites around your neck. Smiling, “We’ve been busy.”

“Tell me you didn’t forget the ring.”

“Nah, it’s right here.”

Satoru reaches inside his yukata’s sleeve and examines the small jewelry box, tempted to ruin the surprise by grabbing the blue diamond ring and placing it around your finger—right here, right now. It will look so much prettier on you than it does gathering dust in its confinement.

“What about you?” He stores it away and resumes his call. “Did you do what I asked you to?”

A sigh. “It’s all ready on our side. Are you sure she’ll say yes? You sound confident, but a woman’s heart isn’t the same as jujutsu, Satoru. When it comes to love, the mouth is the source of disaster, and when it comes to you, it’s better to just give her the damn ring and say nothing.”

“And Sugiyama Kiyotaka says it’s fine as long as we understand each other. I get your point. Don’t need love advice from an old man with a doll fetish. I know what I’m doing. Besides, she’s the only one for me. She will say yes.”

A low roar reverberates from the speaker like a faulty engine that’s about to combust, and when it does combust, the entire room shakes. “Satoru! You’re gonna be a married man soon. Better shape up or—”

“Blah blah blah,” Satoru mocks. “Don’t you have anyone else to nag? I think Ijichi forgot to file that—”

“‘Toru?”

The sweet sound of your voice gives him all the reason he needs to hang up the phone after a hasty, “Don’t call me if you don’t need me, and if you do, then don’t.”

“Babyyyyyyyyyy!” He drags out the syllable as much as possible, an invisible cloud of dust appearing around his body when he falls on the empty space beside you, open arms wrapping your shoulders in an excruciatingly tight embrace. Kisses—lots of kisses slobbered all over your face while you are too drowsy to repel him.

“‘T-Toru! S-stop!” You chuckle hoarsely, reciprocating the sentiment however you can. “Who was that on the phone?”

“No one important,” Satoru grins, balancing his chin against your chest. “Ready for today? I got a very fun day planned ahead of us.”

A/N: If you made it this far, then congratulations! You finished reading my first Gojo fic (that made me fall in love with him jsjsjs)

As I mentioned above, chapter 1 is a flashforward to the main storyline that will start kicking chapter 2 onward. Expect laughable misunderstandings, questionable comedic moments, cat rescuings, college tutorings, and the angst behind Gojo's refusal to get married.

Hope you'll stick with! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments, are always appreciated 💙

[whereireid]

𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐒 - 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

summary: Miles has to go on a mission for a few days. This upsets you, and Miles just hates to see you cry.

warnings: power imbalance ! — established dynamic; daddy!kink, breeding!kink p in v (lovemaking 🤭) creampie,, size difference, nipple play… reader dumbification (at first) pet names (bunny), up to you to decide if reader is human or na’vi

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics in the warnings trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag. This content is considered MATURE.

—

“What? My little bunny can’t stand being apart from her daddy for a few days?”

It’s pitiful how strongly you cling to Quaritch’s legs. Your face burrows between his thighs, his cargo pants growing wet the tears which smeared across your eyes minutes beforehand.

“I don’t want you to go.” It’s whiny, it’s bratty, and it’s defiant, but you cling to him with every ounce of strength that you have, whimpering as he moves forward as though you’re just an irritating fly buzzing around. “Please, daddy, don’t go.”

He tuts. It’s slightly annoying, how your clinging to him - it makes it incredibly difficult to move, rendering him able to only shuffle around his room. “The world is bigger than just us, bunny. Even your dumb baby brain can understand that, right?”

But as you look up at him through your wet lashes, your eyes which glisten unfallen tears and sparkle with hurt, Quaritch can’t help the slight pang of regret which strikes through his heart. “Okay.” He mutters softly, opting to stop in his tracks and finally pay attention to you. He picks you up easily - a positive of his new form is the fact that he is so much bigger than you are now, and he wraps your legs around his waist easily. “I’ll be back in a few days, bunny, I promise.“

Quaritch’s lips press softly against your neck, and usually you’d laugh and squirm, but today you just sniffle, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. “Miles,” you murmur, the use of his actual name making his ears prick upwards slightly, “I really don’t want you to go. Don’t feel safe here without you here.”

“This is the safest place you can be in the world, bunny. You’re surrounded by all of these agents, trained to keep you safe.” His nose brushes against your neck softly, closing his eyes as he breathes in your scent.

You smell wonderful, like dove soap and honey and sea salt, and he groans as his own neck begins to grow soppy with your tears. “I just hate it when we’re apart.”

“I know you do. I hate it as well.” Quaritch prys you off of his neck gently, before rubbing his nose softly against yours. “But you know what, bunny?”

You don’t even realising that Quaritch is moving. You’re too busy being engrossed in your emotions, in the upset that churns through you, and you grip Quaritch’s shoulders and ask, “what, Miles?”

“I’m really, really good at giving goodbyes.”

You’re pressed against his bed in an instant, all ounce of clothing shredded away quickly, ripped apart by the hands of your partner. Your face floods with warmth and you try to cross your arms to cover yourself, but Quaritch catches your wrists - tutting, shaking his head no, staring at your naked frame.

“Do you want me to fuck you so you feel better?” Quaritch coos, dipping his head down to your neck and pressing gentle kisses against your breast, his tongue rolling against your left nipple. His teeth glides over it softly and you gasp, back arching into him and hips rutting downwards achingly. “Say the words, bunny, and I’ll give you the best goodbye of your life.”

“Miles,” you warn, mumbling strings of incoherent curses as he glides his tongue over your sensitive bud, mockingly nibbling at it softly, his thumb rubbing the goosebumps which prick at your arms.

“Not my name.” Just as your cunt begins to throb with an ache, Quaritch pulls away from your breasts, his fingers fumbling at his cargo pants, desperate to get out his cock. “Do you want me to fuck you so that you feel better? Yes or no, bunny, this isn’t a hard question.”

You pout pathetically, writhing when his pants drop and his cock slides through your slits, his tip edging towards your cunt’s hole but never actually pressing in. “Yes,” you answer, still somewhat bratty, but Quaritch stares at your flustered, tear-stained face and decides that him leaving is a bad enough punishment already.

God, Quaritch does hate to see you cry. You swallow thickly as he presses into you - your toes curling, crying out as he forces himself inside of you, your walls sheathing his cock perfectly. The tears start again - but it’s not because of your upset, but rather the pain. Quaritch is huge, thick and long and veiny, and it always take some adjusting to everytime the both of you have sex.

So you prepare yourself. But the rutting thrusts never come, and Quaritch instead pulls back slowly, creating a steady, even pace, which doesn’t have you screaming and writhing and squirting straight away.

He wants to drag this out, make you feel good, have you squirming beneath him and begging him to just let you cum.

“Bunny, I’m not going to hurt you.” Quaritch’s hands come down to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly, his cock pushing into you with just enough pressure to have you gasping beneath him. “I want to make you feel good, okay? I want to make love to you, bunny.”

And his voice is so soft and his words are so meaningful that your mouth gapes open, your eyes glistening with ecstasy as his cock glides into you perfectly. And you’re so wet - the sounds of your slick bounces off of the confinements of his walls perfectly and sends an echoing vibration throughout his bones that makes his balls actually twitch, but this isn’t about him but rather about you.

“Daddy, you feel so good,” you say, because it’s true. Your legs are spread wide enough for Quaritch to get full access - your cunt is swallowing his cock, clenching down on him perfectly, and with every movement of his hips he jostles against the sensitive spot inside of you which sends shocks pulsating throughout you.

A ring of arousal is wrapped around the bottom of Quaritch’s cock, and he groans as your slick continues to paint the blue skin of his cock white. And he watches your pussy, how swollen and puffy it gets with every thrust, dribbling with slick like it’s crying and maybe it is. His eyes flicker up to your face, and he smiles to himself when he realises you’re no longer crying.

Rather, your eyebrows are furrowed and your nose is crinkling as you try to desperately chase the orgasm that is building up like a jenga tower. One deliberate thrust of his hips and he’ll have it all crashing down, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami.

But you’re not ready for that. Not yet. He needs you to feel perfectly, cock-drunk when you’re cumming, and you’re not quite there. So Quaritch - despite his twitching, raw cock which is desperate for release - opts to focus on you, leaning down slightly and pressing soft, loving kisses to your neck, his lips wrapping around your skin and sucking lightly.

“Gonna mark you up, bunny. Show everyone here that you’re my mate.”

“Everyone already knows,” you mumble pathetically, your eyes flickering shut as he rolls his hips against you perfectly, the tip of his cock relentlessly brushing against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt.

He hums against your neck, pulling away when the taste of metal finally floods his mouth. “Oh, they probably do from how they hear you scream my name most nights.” Squelches begin to fill the room as Quaritch fucks into you, his pace quickening slightly but still slow enough to be truly attentive. “But when I’m gone, I need the whole of Pandora to know who you belong to. Who not to fuckin’ mess with. Nothing will happen to you, bunny, because you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” Your eyes flutter shut slightly and your walls clench as Quaritch rides you through to your orgasm. Shocks pulsate through you, and your muscles burn with pain, your throat tightening and chest heaving with fire. It feels so good - so perfect, his thick hands wrapped around your thighs as he takes you so perfectly, so well. Your vision goes black and blurry, and then you’re cumming against him, so hard.

“You’re mine,” Quartich affirms, his ears pinned back as he rides you through your orgasm. You’re not really in control of yourself - he can tell as you paint him white, soak him with your cum, and he can't stop drinking in your appearance. His cock is so sore and his balls are so desperate for release that as you tighten against him again, he lets go, spewing his thick cum inside of your cunt, watching as you mewl and gasp beneath him.

"That's it, bunny, let your daddy fill you up," Quaritch grunts, his jaw clenching as you stare up at him with starry eyes, all signs of your previous crying session gone, ecstasy painting your features.

And when he finally comes down from his high, listening to your pants, he embraces you, his nose nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent. Sea salt, dove soap, and honey. "I'm not going anywhere, bunny." He whispers. "Not right now."

[puddingyun]

tupelo . ݁₊ ⊹ j.yh

hollywood star!yunho x up-and-coming actress!reader

18+ mdni

: 3.6k words, smut, fluff, implied age gap, praise kink, light dom/sub, grinding, oral (f receiving), petnames (honey, sweetheart, darling, baby, little lady, bunny) :

day 9 of fff24 ♡ (a/n: this took me forever but i love it so much, hope you all do too!)

Humiliation bloomed in your chest, prickly and sour as it climbed up your neck and to your cheeks. It stung, digging its thorns into your skin and making tears fill your eyes. You sniffed and quickened your steps, determined not to let anybody see you cry. Your rush to get away from all the prying eyes around you had you out of breath by the time you reached Yunho's dressing room, your lungs screaming for air as you meekly pushed open the door. 

Inside you found Yunho, your senior in the industry both in years and fame, looking through outfits he'd commissioned for an upcoming show, his eyes narrowed and critical as they scanned over every stitch and wrinkle in the fabric. He was concentrated, but didn't startle at all when you cleared your throat.

"Are you busy?" you asked quietly, your voice croaky thanks not only to the absence of air in your lungs but also due to your aching heart. Yunho turned his head to look at you, his eyes widened at the sight of you and then quickly softened, a smile playing on his lips.

"No, honey, come in," he replied with a wave of his hand. You let out a sigh of relief and quickly shut the door behind you, trudging over to the plush sofa Yunho had ordered special for his dressing room and quickly curling up in the corner. 

Yunho's dressing room was often busy with other actors and singers and his friends, making it one of the busier and louder spots around the different sets, but Yunho's presence had made it a life preserver in a rough sea for you. Ever since you'd set out to become an actress Yunho had kept an eye on you, knowing that you were both from small towns and were something close to fish out of water in the big city where everybody else seemed to have connections. 

He let you nap on his sofa between lessons and auditions, helped you with your lines, and made sure things were going as smoothly as possible for you. He'd gotten to know your family when they came by to visit you and made it his business to look after you and guide you through every rough patch you faced. He was your protector and made life out here a little more bearable. His sweetness stoked the crush you'd had on him from the moment you met him, but you kept that to yourself, lest you lose the only friend you had out here. You weren't the quickest with learning lines or picking up the different publicity rules that were being thrown at you left and right, but you were eager to learn and always trying your best - that was all that really mattered to Yunho. 

Unfortunately, Yunho was the only one willing to look past all of your flaws to see the hard work you were putting in everyday.

"What're you doing here, sweetheart?" Yunho asked you suddenly, eyes still focused on the rack of clothing in front of him. "Aren't you supposed to be at a table read this afternoon?"

"I don't wanna go," you mumbled, feeling the nasty heat of humiliation prickling in the back of your throat once again. You felt Yunho's gaze move to fix on you and stubbornly pulled your knees up to your chest to hide your face against them. It was no use with the intensity of Yunho's stare, burning through any shield you tried to put up.

"C'mon, honey, you can't be skipping things just like that," he scolded, albeit gently. "Why're you here instead of where you're s'posed to be?"

"I just don't wanna go!" you yelled, all of your embarrassment and bitterness pouring into your voice so that it came out harsher than you'd meant it to. This only served to embarrass you more and you desperately pushed your face further into hiding.

"I don't appreciate you raisin' your voice at me like that, alright?" Yunho answered, firm without being harsh. "I promised your momma I would see to it that you got all your work done, I don't intend on lettin' her down." 

While it stung to be reprimanded by somebody you admired so deeply you found some comfort in the patience he had for you. You sniffed and worked up the courage to speak up, your voice trembling.

"I know, I just- I had a real bad day," you mumbled. You felt the couch dip beside you as Yunho sat by your side, stroking the top of your head to try to get you to come out of hiding. 

"I'm sorry, baby. Why don't you tell me what's going on so we can get you back to work, hm?" he asked, gentle as ever.

Reluctantly, you lifted your head and let the tears you'd been holding back roll down your cheeks. Yunho's expression melted immediately and he hugged you to his side so that you could cry quietly against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and squeezed you closer to him, humming fondly when you held onto a fistful of his shirt to ground yourself.

"Hush, baby, it's okay. What's got my darling all worked up, hm?" he cooed. As he spoke you could feel the rumble of his deep voice in his chest against your clenched fist, the feeling soothing you. 

"I can't keep up with everybody else, Yunho. Everybody's so far ahead and I'm always stuck rereading the same sentences like a dummy," you managed to push out between sobs, squeezing your eyes shut to push away the memory of everybody rolling their eyes at you and muttering cruel words when they thought you couldn't hear. "They all hate me and they're right to, I don't have the same talent everybody else does-"

"That isn't true at all, baby," Yunho interrupted sternly. You felt his thumbs brush across your cheeks, wiping away your tears and with them the sour feeling of your embarrassment. "I ain't seen anybody work as hard as you do. All them other kids are here 'cause their mommies and daddies are rich, you worked your ass off to get here and you deserve it more than any of 'em."

"You really think that?" you whispered, wanting oh-so-badly to believe him but struggling to forget the callous words you'd heard from everybody else. "You aren't just sayin' it to make me feel better?"

"Darlin'," Yunho said, pulling back from you enough to tilt your chin up to look at him. You opened your eyes and through the film of tears saw Yunho smiling at you, looking so enamoured and endeared that you could feel your stomach tying itself into knots. "'Course I think so. You work so goddamn hard, and you get better everyday. You're smart and gorgeous. Don't pay them any mind."

A different kind of heat flooded your chest this time, a kind that made your heart skip a beat and made you smile even when you willed yourself not to. 

"Thank you, Yunnie," you murmured, sniffling and letting go of his shirt where you'd had it held tightly in your fist. Even as you let go, wrinkles remained in the crisp fabric. You felt your smile turn to a pout at the sight of them and reached out in a futile attempt to smooth them out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mess up your shirt."

Yunho only clicked his tongue, taking your shaky, damp hand in his and stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

"You're too sweet for your own good, hon," he sighed, smiling when your eyes met his. "Listen. Anythin' you need, I'm right here for you. You don't need to worry your pretty head about anythin' at all."

"You're not gonna make me go to that table read, are you?" you whispered. Yunho shook his head, seeming amused that you would even ask. 

"Not today, no. How 'bout you stay here with me? Help me with some of my lines, hm?" he offered, leaning back against the sofa with one arm resting against its back, creating the perfect place for you to nestle against him, resting your head on his chest while his fingers drew shapes against your neck. The idea of helping Yunho with anything seemed so silly, as if there was anything he could learn from you, but when he patted his lap you laid your legs across his thighs without hesitation, giggling at how tolerant he was of your wrapping yourself around him. "There's that gorgeous laugh."

You bit your lip to stifle a giddy smile and hid your face further against his warm chest, concentrating your hardest as he began to recite lines from his latest script. 

For the rest of the afternoon the two of you worked through his script slowly, laughing at the cringeworthy lines and joking about the different characters' speech patterns. It didn't take you long to realise that Yunho must not be getting much work done at all, but any guilt you felt was quickly smoothed over by the proud, fond smiles Yunho would shoot your way each time you spoke a line in a cadence that was just right. 

By the time you'd finished reading through all of the sections Yunho had dog-eared you were almost falling asleep, eyelids heavy and heart soothed by his voice and all of his gentle touches. You lifted your head from where it had been resting on Yunho's chest and took in just how handsome he was. All the pictures you'd seen of him back home hadn't done him any justice. They couldn't capture the slope of his nose right, or the way his bottom lip looked when he distractedly bit it. They hadn't made your heart pound in your chest like it was doing now, its steady rhythm loud in your ears.

"Yunho?" you spoke softly, making him set his script aside and turn his attention to you. 

"What is it, bunny?" he asked, the sweet nickname making your heart do all kinds of somersaults. "You look sleepy, want me to take you home?"

You shook your head no, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you thought over your words.

"Thank you for... takin' care of me and all," you whispered, fidgeting nervously. "I know you got an awful lot of work to do but you always say you're not busy when I need something. Thank you, Yunnie."

"Oh, it's no problem, sweet thing. I got all the time in the world for you, you're my special girl," he said, the words so casual on his tongue that they seemed like second nature to him. To you, they lit a fire in your belly, one that warmed your cheeks and made your fidgeting multiply tenfold.

"You mean that? I'm your... girl?" you asked, unable to bring yourself to say the word 'special'. Yunho watched your expression and finally seemed to catch on to what it was that you were really trying to say. Instead of rolling his eyes like you'd expected him to do, he huffed a short laugh and smiled at you.

"Yes, darlin'. My special girl," he repeated. "Pretty, sweet little thing who comes to my dressing room and sits on my lap when she's tired, stealing my heart without realising." 

Your eyes widened and you went still, even the heartbeat thrumming in your ears seemed to get the hint and quieted down. Yunho's smile softened like butter in the hot sun and his hands moved to hold your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

"You alright with that, honey?" he asked, putting your comfort first just like every other time you came to him needing something. You bit your lip, letting his words sink in before you smiled at him and nodded. 

"Yeah," you breathed. At the sound of this Yunho leaned in and kissed your warm cheek, soft and tender unlike how you'd seen him kiss women in all the movies he'd starred in. You found that soft and tender made you far more dizzy than any rough approach would have, your head still spinning when he turned his head to press his lips against yours. 

A soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, rose in your throat and escaped your lips as Yunho shifted to press another kiss to your lips, his lips parting against yours this time. He tasted like cigarettes, expensive bourbon, and Cola, and his lips made your mouth tingle the same as the carbonated drink did. You smiled into the kiss when he nipped at your bottom lip, giggling and clambering into his lap with the help of his hands on your hips.

"I could get drunk just from kissin' you, little lady," he murmured, your dress bunching up where he squeezed you tight. Your hands came up to shyly hold his face, his barely-there stubble grazing your soft palms. When you tilted his face upwards he indulged you with another kiss, licking into your mouth when your tongue tentatively swiped at his lips and swallowing each and every little moan you couldn't hold back. The kiss was warm and wet, sticky like a summer evening and intoxicating like the first beer you'd ever drank. When you finally parted, you were just as breathless as when you'd arrived at Yunho's dressing room, only this time your lungs couldn't have cared less about how empty they were. 

"You taste good," you mumbled without thinking, whining softly when Yunho laughed at you, his thumb stroking your hip through the fabric of your dress.

"That so, sweetheart?" he asked, chuckling again when you nodded your head yes. His eyes were dark and concentrated as he took in your flustered appearance, lips wet with spit (his spit) and breath coming in soft little pants that reminded him of hiccups. He let out a groan, head tipping back as he drew you closer to him, your fronts pressed flush together. "God, if you ain't the prettiest thing I ever saw."

His compliments, which you'd gotten used to the longer you knew him, now made you squirm on his lap, tummy warm from his affection and brain fuzzy from his words. 

"You've met some awful pretty women before," you countered, which only made Yunho's brows furrow and the corners of his lips draw downwards. 

"They don't have your doe eyes," he whispered, using two fingertips to close your eyelids so that he could press a kiss to each of them. "Or this cute little nose." He kissed the tip of your nose. "Your soft cheeks." His lips ghosted over each of your cheeks. "Or your beautiful neck..."

He trailed kisses down the side of your neck, hot and open-mouthed just like the kisses he'd left on your mouth until he latched onto your skin, biting down and sucking until you were whimpering from the sting of it.

"And all your beauty marks are like constellations, hon," he murmured, stroking a fingertip over the spot where he'd bitten you. "Feel like I could get lost lookin' at you."

"Yunnie," you whimpered, growing hotter with each word that he spoke. The fire he'd stoked in your belly now danced on  your skin, every part of you feverish with a want for him that was making your breath tremble and your panties wet. 

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, dutiful even as his lips wandered and left kisses along your collarbones. 

You pressed your hips down against his, trying to communicate without having to use your words. Yunho's chest rumbled with a low moan and his hands moved to squeeze your ass, accidentally dragging your hips against his lap again so that you could feel the bulge in his pants pressing right against you. You gasped at the feeling, eyes falling shut as you began to grind against him, chasing more of the pleasure that was growing between your legs. 

"Fuck, darlin'," Yunho moaned. His fingers kneaded at the plush fat of your ass and thighs, slowly sliding your dress up until his blunt nails were digging into your skin. "You like it when I talk sweet to you, that it? Like when I tell you how stunnin' you are, how you make my head spin and my cock ache?"

You nodded eagerly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and holding on tight to him as you rubbed against his hard on. Your senses were flooded with the scent of his cologne, floral and musky all at once, making your brain turn to cotton as your soft pants turned into moans. 

"God, baby, look at you," Yunho cooed. "So fuckin' good and eager for me, getting yourself off without even taking off your panties."

You nodded against him while he continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You wanted to be good for him more than anything in the world, to hear him call you special and pretty and talented and his. Each of his words pushed you closer to the edge, your soaking cunt clenching around nothing each time you moved your hips just right and put pressure on your clit. You were so close to falling apart, muffling your sounds against Yunho's neck, when suddenly his hands stopped your movements, gripping your hips tight and stopping you from reaching orgasm. 

"Yunho," you cried out, lifting your head and shooting him a weak glare. Unfortunately, your look only made him grin fondly, one of his hands tapping your ass lightly. 

"I can't let my special girl cum in her panties," he said firmly, smoothing your hair out of your face and leaning in to kiss you tenderly. "Let me take care of you properly, baby, make your pretty pussy cum as good as you deserve."

Though you were still pouting from being pulled back from the edge, cunt throbbing and aching for release, you managed to utter a soft 'okay' and earned yourself another kiss from Yunho, this one hungrier than the last. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as Yunho laid you back against the sofa, his hands warm as they pushed up your dress to reveal your soaked panties. He groaned at the sight, looking at you like he could eat you alive. Even so he pulled your panties down your legs with care, watching you kick them off of one foot with an amused smile. 

"Look at you, sweet thing. So fuckin' wet for me," he mused, thumbing over your clit with just enough pressure to make your hips jolt. He laughed, kissing your inner thigh before leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath against your sticky lower lips. "You're such a good girl without even trying."

You opened your mouth to reply but the words died on your lips when you felt Yunho's tongue press between your folds, lapping up your wetness then swirling his tongue around your clit. The warmth of his mouth made your eyes roll back in your head, back arching as he sucked on your clit.

"Tastes so good," he hummed, pushing one of his fingers into you and bending it so that it pressed against a spot that had you moaning his name loud enough for anybody outside the dressing room to hear. Instead of scolding you, Yunho just smiled and pressed a messy kiss to your thigh. "Sweet just like you, baby."

You clenched around his finger, thighs trembling and squeezing his head as he began to lick you again. His tongue pressed flat against your throbbing clit while his finger continued to knead at your insides, seeming to know just where to press with every little movement. 

"Yunho," you moaned, head falling back against the sofa. "I can't- feels so good."

"Perfect girl, takin' everything so well," Yunho praised. His finger slid out of you with a lewd wet sound and began to rub circles around your clit. "Cum on my face whenever you want, honey, you deserve it."

No sooner had he pressed his tongue into you, nose nudging your clit, than your orgasm hit you, washing over you like a summer heatwave and making you shake all over. Yunho's name fell from your lips over and over again like a prayer, a smile on his face as he let you ride out your orgasm until you were limp and spent. 

"That's my girl," he praised you, sounding close to infatuated. He wiped his mouth off before leaning in to kiss you once more, rewarding you even though he'd done most of the work. "You're perfect, doll."

You whined softly, still catching your breath, and reached up to pull him down into another kiss. You didn't care if your release was still on his tongue, you just wanted the familiar comfort of having him take care of you. 

"Okay, pretty girl," he whispered, cupping your face with his clean hand and stroking your feverish cheek with his thumb. "I'm gonna take you home so you can freshen up, alright?"

You began to protest but Yunho quickly shushed you, still stroking your cheek with a care that had your heart aflutter even through your mushy state of mind. 

"I'll go out and get us somethin' to eat, whatever you'd like, then I'll come right back and we can have dinner together. How does that sound?"

You smiled, pushing yourself upright so that you could wrap your arms around Yunho in a tight hug.

"Thank you, Yun," you mumbled, heart flip-flopping at the feeling of Yunho's hand rubbing up and down your spine.

"'Course, honey," he replied with a kiss to your head. "Anything for my special girl."

[kaciidubs]

Precious Jewel | Spooktober 2023

@goblinracha asked: Dragon!changbin using his long, thick tongue for "hole inspections" but he likes to call it "polishing his favorite jewels" 🫡

❣ Summary: You were his precious jewel, and as his jewel, you were to be treated with the same care as the other jewels in his collection - even if the process was slightly different. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 1.5k ❣ Warnings: Shifter! AU, Dragon Shifter! Changbin, Dom! Changbin, Sub! Reader, smut, oral, fingering, pussy inspections, long tongue, subtle possessiveness, slight rimming, slight vagina anatomy lesson, multiple orgasms implied ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Changbin is referred to as Binnie, and Baby, Reader is referred to as Bunny, My Jewel, My Treasure ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Spooktober 2023

You were his precious jewel, he’d always say - his precious jewel that was worth more than all of the treasure in his horde; he could lose all of those precious gemstones and gold without batting an eye, but if he lost you he would burn the world to the ground with no hesitation.

“Show me.”

Your face burned as you laid before him on a sea of pillows and blankets, the thin silk of your nightgown covering your form like wrapping paper over a gift. “Binnie, really?”

“You know how this goes, bunny,” his voice was low, fiery eyes boring into your own, “don’t play shy, we’ve done this before.”

It was in his nature to make sure his treasures were kept as clean as possible; polished and shined to reflect their value in the most obvious of ways, and as his jewel, this nature applied to you, too.

As his jewel, you were to be treated with the same care as the other jewels in his collection - even if the process was slightly different.

You shifted, watching as his sharp gaze dropped to the spaghetti strap of your gown as it slid down the curve of your shoulder - undoubtedly making you look more like helpless prey trapped in the dragon’s den.

“Either you do it,” he knelt at your feet, shirtless, hands crawling up to wrap around your ankles, “or I do it for you.”

That small touch was enough to elicit a whimper from the back of your throat, your head moving in a weak nod as your hands slid to the hem of your nightgown.

Taking the cream colored silk into your hands, you slid it up the expanse of your thighs slowly, eyes intent on watching his own as more skin was revealed to him. You shifted your hips to help the rest of the fabric pass from underneath your ass before stopping at your waist.

Changbin loosened his grip on your ankles as you shuffled your feet outward - your knees remaining knocked together much to his dismay, but he held his composure to let you move at your own teasing pace.

Chest rising in a small breath, you let your knees slowly part, goosebumps rising along your skin as the cool air mingled with the warmth of your now exposed pussy - pantiless and free for his viewing pleasure.

“There she is.”

He wasted no time in pushing your legs further apart to allow more room for his muscular shoulders, lips making quick work in pressing light kisses down the inside of your right thigh before mirroring the same to your left - the intensity growing the closer he got to where he craved the most.

“Changbin!” The whine of embarrassment in your voice wasn’t lost upon him, judging from the way he squeezed the outside of your thighs before sliding them to the insides.

“Look at you,” he sighed softly, awe settling in his tone as he looked at your cunt as if it were the first time he’d ever seen you - it never got old to him, and it never would. 

His thumbs went to your outer labia, gently spreading them to reveal your vagina fully; cute clit begging for his lips to wrap around it, while your inner labia glistened with arousal from your opening.

“So messy already - don’t worry, Binnie will get you all cleaned up.”

You barely had a chance to register his words - as if he was actually regarding you in this moment - before his head dove between your legs, warm tongue eagerly dipping past your walls for a taste of your arousal before journeying up to trace circles around your clit.

Your body jolted against the soft pillows, his forwardness sending your mind into a spiral as your fingers tightened around the bunched up gown. “Oh- Oh my god-”

He pulled away with a lewd slurp, panting lightly against your cunt, “So fucking delicious, as always,” teasing the tip of his tongue along your walls, he hummed, “tight… Is Binnie gonna have to teach you how to stretch on his cock again? Surely it hasn’t been that long since I’ve had you, my jewel.”

It hasn't - It’s barely been three full nights, but to him, that’s three nights too many.

Your opportunity to speak was stolen from you yet again at the feeling of his right hand dipping down to where his tongue was currently teasing you open, your arousal catching onto the pads while he laved spit along his middle and ring fingers in preparation.

“This should help you remember, bunny - can never be too thorough with these inspections, gotta make sure you’ve been taken care of inside and out.”

With no further delay, he slowly pushed his thick fingers inside of you to the first knuckle, reveling in the shivering moan that floated past your lips as your hips lifted in efforts of getting him to give you more.

“Binnie…”

He chuckled lowly, your cunt attempting to suck his fingers in further, admiring the flutter of your walls as he curled them upwards in a ‘come hither’ motion before pulling them out to spread your arousal over your clit, “So shiny, don’t even need a polish, hm?”

His fingers traveled south once more, slipping into your cunt and spreading ever so slightly to expose more of your entrance to him before he dipped his head - a sharp gasp catching in your throat.

If there was one thing you quickly learned about dragon shifters, it was the point that their tongues were something of a marvel; long, thick, and easily maneuverable inside of someone - and one thing you learned about Changbin, was the point that he loved fucking you with his tongue, almost as much as his cock.

His free arm draped across your abdomen to hold you in place as his tongue explored the far reaches of your pussy, writhing and sliding against you in ways that made your eyes roll back - slack jawed and officially ruined.

“O-Oh- C-Changbin- Binnie, fuck!”

Your hands abandoned their death grip on your nightgown in favor of tangling themselves in the thick black curls on top of his head - both in an effort to hold on for dear life, and to keep him flush against your cunt, as if he would ever dare to leave it.

He moaned against you, each ragged inhale bringing more of your musk into his senses as his tongue collected every drop of you - sweet, savory, heady, he often wondered how he was able to live his life without your taste before.

It wasn’t long before he could feel the telltale pulsing of your walls around his tongue, the grip on his head getting tighter as your legs began to tremble.

“C-Close- Binnie, ‘m close!”

A swell of pride bloomed in his chest as he brought his hand up to rub quick, tight circles around your clit with his thumb, eager to have you coming undone around his tongue in record time.

Your thighs shook around his head, broken moans splitting your bated pants as your climax coiled in your abdomen before snapping with a well timed flick of his tongue deep inside of you.

You came with a cry of his name - at least, you hoped the sound you made resembled his name as your back arched, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you rode his tongue through each earth shattering wave.

The way his tongue slid out of you before you had the chance to fully come down had you tugging at his roots, trying in vain to get him back where you needed him - trying to gain control over the situation.

That is, until the large hand that was pressing at your lower stomach slid down to easily wrap around both wrists, wrenching your fingers free from his hair with a barely hidden snarl.

Two seconds, one inhale - that’s all you had before the warmth of his body was torn from between your legs, and a strong pressure gripped your hips before you were unceremoniously flipped onto your stomach in one go; your hips hiked up and your nightgown slipping toward your shoulder blades.

“Ah- shit! Baby, a warning-”

The words died on your tongue, giving birth to a moan instead as he spread your ass cheeks; his blazing eyes focusing in on the way your cum dripped toward your clit with the change of angle.

“So… So shiny,” he breathed, basking in the aftershocks of your pussy fluttering around nothing, “shiny, and pretty, and mine - my treasure, my jewel, all mine.”

Changbin used the tip of his tongue to spread your cum around your puffy clit, circling in a figure eight to make a trail up your entrance, across your perineum, and slicking up the tight rim of your asshole.

You gasped hotly, fisting an extremely soft blanket as you propped your cheek against a pillow, “C-Changbin?”

“Gonna make you shinier,” his breath was warm against the curve of your ass, your pussy clenching as if you weren’t just given a mind numbing orgasm already, “just for me - only for me, my jewel.”

His jewel, his precious treasure - he loved you more than all the gold in the mines, all the gems in the earth, and he would make sure you shined as evidence of his burning love.

✧. ┊ Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything,

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