E

He tutted at you, which always irritated you in a way, as it meant you had already lost. Jing Yuan, your clever strategist, your ever watchful General and how he so often was able to pull out whatever ruse you were trying to hide. Such frustration came with softened edges, because really it was all from how he loved you so.

“I would like for you to tell me the truth, unless you would like for me to pull it from you myself? Your body does tend to react quite..sensitively to my methods, wouldn’t you agree?” Jing Yuan mused, your eyes flitted down to see his large shaft, half hard in his trousers. You gulped shamefully, knowing that this entire situation had your pussy aching and wet despite the uproar of emotions going on in your head, the gusset of your underwear uncomfortably sticking to your lips.

He’s about to devour you, rightfully so, when you sniffle. Jing Yuan, whose eyes have not left your sweet face, watches you beg for him. So softly, meek and weak.

“I need you, Jing Yuan.”

Ah, he smiled, chuckling softly through his nostrils and not minding at all when you groaned and swatted his shoulder for it. He was all too happy to remind you how important you have always been in his life — such an old man as himself was not going to take advantage of your sweet soul.

He helped peel your sodden panties off first, a wide palm gliding down your inner thigh to press you open just a little more. You felt your pussy flutter at his touch that didn’t quite reach the place you wanted, but in your distraction your lover nosed at your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze. He always looked at you so fondly it nearly made your body seize with shyness, only a whimper of his name said before he was kissing you.

He allowed his lips to tentatively work yours open, swallowing down every one of your whimpers and little sighs. Your fingers reached down to toy with the zipper of his pants, gliding along the hardness throbbing against his thigh until he smiled against your mouth and helped you pull his hefty cock from its confines. His tip was at your entrance, tacky and weeping with pre as he started to press into you. It was always a stretch, but always worth it.

“Please…” you murmured into his mouth, lashes fluttering at another tiny push of his fat cock splitting you. Jing Yuan’s broad figure was hunched over you, his starlight hair a curtain around your face when you cried out at his heavy, full sheath into your cunt in one mighty stroke. You nearly passed out at the knock of him against your cervix, but your lover did not allow it. He kissed you ardently, his hands sliding down to beneath your ass cheeks where with each handful he hoisted your bottom half up to meet the thudding smacks of his hips meeting yours.

“You were withholding things from me, but know that I won’t let you run from me. I love you too much for that, do you understand?” he grunted with his jaw clenched at his punctured thrusts. You were so wet and pliant, nodding with your nails digging into his scarred skin.

You being squished on the couch under him, you had nowhere to go and no choice but to moan into his shoulder, your ass in his hold and shoving you onto his cock over and over — you were always so in awe of his well placed stamina, leaving you shaking and screaming. Much like you hoped today would end the same.

But instead, because of the overwhelming feeling of it all, being in his arms after fighting with yourself so much, you began to cry. Jing Yuan cooed, settling your ass back down against the couch and his thumb finding your swollen clit in one swift movement.

“Let it all out, little one. I’ll catch you.” he promised, the press of his thumb harder on your slippery clit and cock still wrecking your insides.

You wailed, back arching as far as it could muster while still being pressed against Jing Yuans chest, tears so rapidly falling down your cheeks and voice growing raspy as you tightened around him with your face in his neck. He groaned deeply, the sound of a powerful man so enthralled with you dizzying, kissing and mouthing at your hot wet face while you shook at his cock still fucking you until he met his climax with a full body shiver. You were so warm, being filled with his creamy seed and his bulky body settling over yours with a gentleness only Jing Yuan could muster. You shuddered in his arms, still sniffling and sobbing quietly, unwilling to let him move away from you.

Jing Yuan kissed to side of your head, whispering I love you as you cried and allowed your previously withheld vulnerability fall away with him.

“Anything you are going through, we will do so together. Such is my vow, that I take very seriously you know.” Jing Yuan murmured, nuzzling against the side of your face as your breathing settled. You nodded again,

“I’ll try to be better about it Jing Yuan.”

He kissed your lips and when he gave you again his sweetly knowing smile, you felt more tears begin to well up.

“And if you have trouble, I have no qualms doing this again to aid you.” and at that, you laughed, a smile vivid and real and beautiful.

That was really all he wanted, and while you needed the reminder that it was all possible again to feel this way.

Blade

If ever there were a man who was more than willing and able to notice the little things about you, Blade would find him and insist with a blank but steady stare at how he was in fact, more so than that. He was oddly kind, someone from a nightmare when you first encountered him. All shadows and scowls and a stormy past that caught you admittedly off guard with his tender hand and need to keep you close with a kiss to your temple or a plate of cut up fruit set wordlessly beside you. He was aware that even now you still kept a lot of your heart from him, and in fairness he too sometimes expressed difficulty in showing all of his heart. But he was resolved to continue to love you thoroughly, and it made a wounded man such as him exceedingly glad to be loved in return by you. It was no surprise then that in Blades perception he knew you were struggling and in an awkward but endearing way he approached you with a pinch to your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

You frowned, eyes darting away from his sharp red gaze and he sighed deeply as he sat down beside you, pulling you suddenly into his lap and uncaring of your protesting whine.

“Something is bothering you.” he stated simply into the side of your neck. His knees spread and in turn spread your knees too where you were seated in his lap, bandaged hands settled on your thighs, but you just huffed softly with your head still turned away.

“I just…I had a long day.” you said quietly, and a little annoyed too if Blade heard correctly. He didn’t like the sound of it, your apprehension and frustration had your heart thudding but your body tired. His palms stroked your legs, down to your knee and back up your thighs again in a comforting manner.

“Blade…” you said softly, adjusting yourself on his lap with your ass pressed against his crotch. His hands on your thighs creeped up, and you’d felt the way he inhaled your scent with his face in your neck,

“Will you make me feel better?” you asked, the words coming out warbled and wet, shyly turning towards your lover. Blade looked at you with low and shadowed eyes, nodding solemnly before he leaned in for a kiss.

From the angle, kissing him was difficult, and different — however knowing Blade you dared not move from his lap and kissed him anyway, letting him grunt into your mouth and then nuzzle his nose against your cheek to bring his kisses down to your neck. All this time you writhed slowly in his lap, just enough to feel his cock hardening against your back but Blades steeled hands didn’t let you tease much longer.

Instead he spread your legs wider with his knees and his fingers went to the gusset of your underwear. You’d only been wearing a comfortable little nightgown, something easy and cool on a warm night. So with your sleepwear disheveled and your panties growing more and more sopping with your essence, your chest arched and nipples strained against the fabric as Blade stroked a finger up and down your clothed slit. Your head fell back to settle in his shoulder, eyes fluttered shut.

“You will have to tell me what’s on your mind eventually girl.” Blade said calmly, letting his finger press down a little harder to hear you gasp.

You nodded, “I…I will Blade, just please…” you sighed, his fingertips rubbing at your clit through the fabric, the sensation making you hazy.

“Please what?” he responded quietly, fingers still against your core.

“Please make me feel better. Please keep touching me…”

Blade grunted in that deeply, taking two fingers to pull your panties to the side while his other hand went to cup your cunt. You hissed at the lack of touch, but he then brought up his middle finger to part your soaked pussy, stopping his fingertip right at your clit to pet at it. Your thighs trembled when he began to stroke your slit, pausing to press at your clit here and slipping his finger inside you there. He changed his middle finger to his middle and ring finger then, sliding them all the way in while you keened and gushed into his palm. The way he stroked your insides with his fingers, thrusting them absurdly fast and precise — only a testament of the way he was always so attentive to you, left your hands grasping at his wrist though entirely unsuccessful to get his ministrations to slow down.

With the pleasurable pressure building between your legs, your back bowed as Blade finally brought his other hand in to play, swiping and pinching your clit until you began to squeal. You gasped pitifully until your head swam and your face grew hotter at the sensation and tears then surprisingly began to quickly steam down your cheeks. You came with a sharp cry, Blades fingers still working inside you. Dripping down his wrist and tacky from your release, pussy fluttering around his digits while your sobbing gasps left your throat dry.

You went limp after your orgasm, shaking and crying in his arms. Blade withdrew his fingers from you, watching the shimmering gossamer threads of your bliss sticking to him until breaking lewdly before he turned you in his lap, your cheek against his chest while you trembled. Your tears soaked his bandages and you sniffled that you would help him change them soon, and to your surprise you heard a lighthearted snort come from Blade. You blinked up at him, and he wiped at your wet eyes with his knuckle,

“This is not about me. It’s about making you feel better. Do not try to change the subject.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You were, and I will not allow you to forget that I am here for you in whatever way you should desire.” he retorts, keeping you pressed into his sturdy hold. You nodded weakly, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Okay Blade, thank you for the reminder.” you said quietly, curling into his lap even more. Blade sat still until your breathing evened out and you were asleep, tears dried on your cheeks and your lips parted in happy slumber, not seeing his slight smile down at you.

Ratio

To be loved by Veritas Ratio, meant to be seen. Even on the days you admittedly, did not want to be. You could hide your every bad or ugly thought the best you could, opting to smile and giggle until the doctor was cupping your cheeks and nearly glaring at you for not being honest with him, and even with yourself in his desire as your lover to at the very least make you aware of his want to be there for you. So maybe on occasion, because of that, you don’t fight it.

Even if it means you’re embarrassed and your hands are clammy, cheeks warm and heart thudding. You’d had a terrible week, feeling drained in every sense of the word and if you didn’t do something soon, you were positive you were going to collapse from heartache. Ratio was seated at his desk, reading to no one’s surprise, ever beautiful and concentrated and he had told you many times that he had no issue with you interrupting his work or reading if you needed his time. But still, it was difficult to muster the courage to go to him, for numerous reasons.

“Are you going to come here or shall you stare at me a little longer?” he remarked, not looking up from the page he was on. But when you didn’t come forward he closed the book and looked to you, holding out his hand to beckon you nearer.

You came to him not fully out of obedience you told yourself, but because you really did need him. Ratio cupped your cheek and his thumb found your bottom lip, tilting his head with a pinched brow to gaze at you most inquisitively. He waited with patience, much more than he offered most. Your eyes wavered, but you rocked forward on your toes until your lips collided with his, gently enough to show your shyness but bold enough to captivate him as his arm wound around your waist and he deepened the kiss in return. Your breaths became heavy, lips locking and your hands threading into his hair.

“To what do I owe this affection?” he mused against your mouth. You were backed against his desk now, nearly sitting atop of it.

“I just…I really need you, Veritas.” your breathing is rasped, low as you shakily admit the words to him. You resolve not to tear up, but he catches the twitch of your brow and the way your lips fight to go down into a sad frown. He hums, kissing you assuredly and petting at your sides while you hug him closer.

“And just what are you particularly needing my dear? Something tells me you would like more…physical attention from me?”

You nod, slowly and quietly as you bury your face in his chest almost shamefully. Your core was hot, needy, and his familiar body against yours only had your ears feeling stuffed with cotton. Ratio tilted your chin up and narrowed his gaze at you, not wanting to push but to see your little details, the ones that make you, you. With a sigh, he turned you around, a palm flat against your spine with his fingers splayed out to press you down against the cool wood of his desk.

He was glad he didn’t have much there, plenty of room for you to comfortably lay and for him to come up behind you with his crotch pressed against your ass. You waited and rocked on the balls of your feet, breathing growing heavier when he hands pushed up your skirt, flipping it over your ass fully and his palm stroked along a cheek, then down the other, petting at the globes of your ass until you whined his name, a plea for more. He simply hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them slowly down your legs — watching raptly at your glaringly evident need that manifested in silky strings that stuck to the gusset until they broke, the fabric laid in a small heap where it fell around your ankles. Your bared pussy was swollen to his trained eye, so needy and wanting and dripping. His clever and deft fingers slipped against your slit, rubbing until they parted for him to roll your clit against the pad of his middle finger.

Though he knew that was not what you desired. You were holding a breath, letting it out when his hand left you and you heard the sound of him undoing his pants, a telltale clink of the belt and you’d hoped he didn’t notice the way your pussy dripped a little more just from the sound of him taking his cock out. He pressed his tip to your entrance, bulbous and fat and leaky where it smeared along your pussy, gripping one of your ass cheeks tightly as if to help spread you for his thick cock. Your chest stuttered when he pressed forward a little at a time, he watched the petals of your pussy open and suck him in with every inch until you whimpered pitifully, ass backing up in urgency for him to move. It wasn’t until he was sheathed all the way in, balls tightly snug against your clit and a warning hand pressed down on your lower spine. You heard him groan, low and steady, and then he was snapping his hips. Your nails scrambled against the desk, trying somehow to ground yourself from his overwhelming thrusts, whining loudly at the sensation of his cock pushing and pulling at your insides, the cling of your cunt nearly wrecking Ratio himself.

He wasn’t letting up however, even as you in your position raised onto your tippy toes and your eyes rolled back into your head, he fucked you thoroughly, not minding the wetness smacking between your bodies that splattered onto his lower belly. His fat balls swung and hit your clit, but he in his knowledge hunched over you with a nip to your shoulder blade at the same time that his hand worked underneath your body to find your clit and to roughly rub at it until you were nearly kicking your feet and wildly moaning his name. It’s then he heard the break, the way you were shattering and sobbing as tears pooled under your face where you cried onto the desk. You were a mess, arching your ass up while he fucked you to tears, and he opted to wrap his arm around your chest and pulled you up — to where you could only look up at Ratio through your teary eyes,

“That’s right darling, I’m here. You can take it.”

You came with a warbled gasp as your eyes glazed over, unfocused but still trying to look up at your lover who was enthralled by your beautiful vulnerability. His thrusts became stuttered, your ass rippling and bouncing off his sharp hips until he was in you to the hilt, cock lurching to flood you with his spend. He wasn’t about to allow you to collapse, his bicep flexing as he kept you held against his chest and you sniffled and hiccupped while he pressed a few reassuring kisses to the side of your face. He held you from behind until your crying settled to little sobs, and after Ratio pulled out much to your chagrin — the wet plopping of your releases falling to the floor.

He didn’t even wince, just hands on your waist to set you atop the desk and in your mutual nakedness he held you to his sweaty skin, kissing along your dewy brow.

“Do you feel better? Or shall we take a bath and perhaps, talk a little?” he suggested with a soft smile. You nodded, hands wandering up and down his back.

“I would like that very much…and to…talk. Thank you Veritas.” you said in a gentle, lovesick reply, and was met with a fond kiss to your lips.

“As you wish, anything to make you feel a little less alone.”

He carried you to the tub, and suddenly you hardly remembered why your week had left you so hurt, not when you were reminded so gently of the love he was always ready to provide you.

Mydei

The baths were always a good way to relax and unwind, met there by your beloved Mydei who was hard to miss. His broad, rippling body lounged against the side of the bath, arms spread out on either side of him and his long lashes resting against his cheekbones as he exhaled in relaxation. All he needed was one thing, or rather one person, you.

He knew you were going to meet him for a bath, but even for a prince and a warrior, Mydei found himself growing impatient for your presence. He did not want to go out looking for you just yet, lest you were already on the way. But just when he was about to get out of the water, you had finally appeared.

However he was taken aback almost immediately with your disposition. Your usually bright eyes were clouded over, clutching your towel around your body as you shuffled to the side of the bath. You did not even greet Mydei which was a strange occurrence, the man used to you kissing him and snuggling up to his side whenever you took a bath with him. So when you dropped your towel and sat across from him in the baths instead of beside him, he was now more than sure you were upset about something.

You heard the water slosh gently, looking up to see your vision obscured by sheer muscles and tattoos of red as Mydei made his way to you, his hand coming up from out of the water to cup your cheek. It was then he caught the stray tear that left your lashline, wiping at it with his thumb. You squeezed your eyes shut and drew your knees up, even as your much bigger lover curled himself around your figure and quietly kissed your shoulder.

“You can depend on me.” he said quietly, after another kiss had followed the first. You sniffled, looking over at him with red rimmed eyes, and Mydei's heart ached at such a sight, at the one he loves so deeply sad in this moment.

“I know Mydei, I just….it wasn't the best day.” you sniffle, finally leaning closer to him and allowing his large hands to pull at your body. He kissed at your cheeks as he pulled you onto his lap to straddle his narrow hips, while your arms wound around his neck and you pressed your face into the pinky blonde of his locks that smelled of luxurious and comforting oils. Your body started to react from just his nearness, you always do pliant in his sturdy hold, naked figure rubbed up against his as he gently worked at your hips in the warm water. You didn’t want to admit that you were growing needy, but your lover was already a step ahead of you,

“Allow me to take care of you, if anything, to get your mind off of things.” he said like a promise, wide palms splayed on your hips moving to your waist and hoisting you closer in his lap. Your tits wobbled, nipples pert and achy, and he kissed them while your head fell back with a sigh. For such a fierce fighter, Mydei’s kisses and his love for you was so gentle and thorough, focused on kissing and sucking at your chest instead of paying attention to his hard cock standing talk between your bodies. It was pressed against your bellybutton as you writhed and wiggled in his lap, sending more waves of heavy need coursing through you down to your toes.

“I just want to feel you, Mydei.” you said with a rasp, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as he helped you raise yourself up higher, the grasp of his cock in your delicate fingers to settle against your pussy pulling a low groan from the Kremnoan prince, waiting patiently for you to work yourself down onto his thick shaft. You shivered as your hips swirled to take more of him, a high pitched whimper in your throat as he kneads the globes of your ass you finally set fully down on his cock. The stretch, and the warm water had you weak and jelly- limbed, taking a breath with your breasts tightly pressed against his chest.

He looked at you, a long glance while his hands encircled your waist and he began to bounce you in his dick, crying out loudly enough to ensure anyone too close that the heir was taking thorough care of his lover. You felt weightless despite the heavy and intense pressure in your lower belly, coiling within you as he fucked you on his cock and you could only hold onto his shoulders as water splashed outside of the bath. You shakily reached between your bodies to touch your clit, but Mydei opted to go from moving you up and down to grind you against him — his sharp pelvis rocking against your swollen, needy clit while his fat shaft felt like it was knocking the wind out of your lungs. It was overwhelming, to the point of the tears you had been crying turning to tears of complete pleasure, your thighs trembled when your pussy tightened up around him and as your tears fell down your face salty and uninhibited, he kissed at each one he effortlessly continued to slam you down onto him again and again. You could only wail and sob his name as he fucked you, clawing down his back until the hefty throb of him filling you up with a low gravelly breath of your name alerted you of his orgasm that hit at the same time as yours. You fluttered around him wildly while he throbbed and twitched, your belly warm and your heart lighter.

Even as you let your cries turn to soft sniffles, Mydei held you carefully with comforting strokes down your spine until you peeked up at him for a wet kiss and a familiar smile that thrilled him.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, pushing your damp hair from your face. You nodded but didn’t leave his lap, tracing his red marks with a finger.

“You’re good at making me feel better, Mydei. Thank you.” you murmured, an I love you following suit as he kissed you in return. Though the affectionate words made the prince blush despite the fact he had just finished pleasuring you — he was always grateful that he was the one to share these things with you, good and bad.

Following your discovery— You, being the most loving partner he could ask for, were quite persuasive when it came to getting Blade into bed. Though it had taken a good few minutes for you to get him to admit that he wasn’t “Fine.” he’d easily let you lead him down the hallway when you’d taken his hand.

And well, now, he’s adorable.

You’ve pulled the blankets up to Blade’s chest and despite the wrestling that had ensued to get him out the top half of his clothes, you consider being able to see the peek of his shirtless physique now as your reward. He’s still flushed, but he’s doing less to hide his sniffles now and you’re resting on the edge of the bed by his side as you pet your fingers across his biceps. You even went out of your way to make him some tea.

“Are you comfortable?” You ask carefully, reaching your fingertips up to press them against his forehead again and as much as it serves as more of an excuse to touch him. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“What does it matter?” Blade’s response is more of a huff, but his fever stricken state leans into your touch anyway. “This is one of the lesser sufferings I’ve endured.”

He did have a point, but you’re enjoying this. So you resume your motion of trailing your fingertips down his skin, rounding them along his jaw until they trail down his neck and you grin softly at the way he watches you. Feels you.

“Because you’re sick, it’s finally my turn to take care of you for once.”

One of Blade’s hands seems to escape from the captivity of the comforter when you feel it rest against your thigh, and you can tell he’s noticed the almost giddy expression you’re wearing when he gives the skin there a squeeze.

“You seem excited.” He offers you another slow blink and your fingertips trail down the muscles of his chest before they settle across the top of the blanket. As if teasing yourself with it’s contents.

“No… I’m worried.” You’re biting back a grin as you answer him, he notices it, but shrugs anyway.

“I don’t understand your games.” Blade’s scoff makes you laugh, and the giggle is accompanied by the subtle pull of your finger against the comforter as you reveal more of his skin. Even his chest feels warmer than it normally does, and that alone makes you want to nuzzle yourself beneath the blankets alongside him — burying your way into his arms, even if it does wind up with you being sick.

You think it would be worth it as you gaze at the scarred, muscled expanse of his pecs.

“You should get sick more often. You’re cute like this.” You admit. He is very cute like this actually, to the point that it’s quite irresistible and you find Blade’s adorable state of affairs to bring you closer. You start by pushing yourself up on the mattress first, until you’re resting on your knees at his side before you lean the rest of your body over top of his. And without a second thought, you go to drop most of your weight onto his chest as you lean in for a kiss.

Or you would anyway, if his hand didn’t come to hold you upright and stop your advances. Even the frown he’s wearing is still unfairly cute when it’s on his flushed, sick features.

“I may be able to handle it. But, can you?” You know he’s talking about the sickness and you’ve already considered that, you’re sure he has too, which is why he’s been looking at you like he’s been hungry for a kiss since he lay down.

Blade was always like this. He had your best interests at heart, but you know better than anyone that he would like you in that state ( despite how much he would never admit it ). He had the tendencies to coddle and dote on you, and when was a better opportunity to do so than when you were pliant and reliant on him because of a sickness?

The thought of those very circumstances is exactly what makes you shrug before answering him. “Only one way to find out.” You try to press yourself down on top of him again, applying more weight to his palm, but he’s easily able to hold your body upright with only one of his hands.

“And what will I do when you’re in my position, hm?” Blade’s voice drawls again, sounding deeper due to his sickness but if anything that only makes you want to kiss him more. He notices the pout you’re wearing before he breathes a sharp exhale. “Should I be the one to see to your survival?”

There’s something different about the way he asks that question, and if you were to believe his illness was instantly transferable then this would convince you because suddenly you’re hot. Too hot, but before you can press your fingers to your own forehead to check the temperature, your mouth moves to respond instead.

“I think you like when I’m sick actually.”

“Hm. Maybe.”

Actually your words seem to be enough motivation for Blade to remove his hand from you all together and send you colliding into his chest. Although the muscled landing is soft under you, it still leads you shriek at the impact before your attention is next drawn by the way he easily shifts beneath you, even with your weight on top of him.

It seems to happen so quickly, the way Blade is so easily able to wrestle your body beneath his, shedding himself of the comforter in that same breath and it’s only when the back of your body slams against the mattress a moment later do you realise your position.

“You shouldn’t move so much, you’re sick!” You try to regain some sense of control over your poor patient, but he’s already found himself quickly crawling over top of you. You don’t think his sickness is to blame for the heat in his gaze now, and you mentally blame the Stellaron Hunter’s spiking body temperature as the reason behind your own.

Though you think most of the heat from yours is coming from a place much lower than you expect, especially when Blade leans over you to nose at your throat.

“This won’t take much.” You feel his voice echo in his chest when it presses against you, all of his weight pushing you to sink back into the mattress and you shudder when you feel his nose trail along your skin. “But just how much will you be able to endure? Let’s test that.”

It’s a blindingly fast surge of pain when Blade sinks his teeth into the dip of your shoulder, suckling at the sensitive skin enough to have your feet kicking out from beneath you at the mixture of arousal and the ache that follows. But he makes quick work of settling your restless movements with a grind of his hips, trapping you against the bed with the press of his hard cock as a means to keep you still.

It makes you tremble beneath him when he hums against your raw skin, pulling off with a pop before tracing his tongue along the marks there and you feel the way he throbs at the imprints in your neck.

Infact, it even motivates the next long thrust that Blade gives you as he slots more of his weight between your thighs, deliberately leaning down on your clit. His huge body forces you to spread out for him as he shoves his cock up against the surface of your clothed pussy, and even the simple friction is enough to make your eyes squeeze closed.

Even sick, he knows no mercy— crowding you deep into the mattress as he humps himself between your legs and you can only grab at the skin of his bare back to keep yourself steady. He noses at your jawline next, baring teeth as he traces along the skin and it’s only when you turn your head to face him does he finally kiss you.

Blade groans at the first, sweet taste of your lips along his. Even despite the fact this is a sure-fire way for you to end up sick by midnight, you can’t deny the way he licks into your mouth is intoxicating enough for you not to care. So you don’t, you let Blade offer you another slow draw back of his hips and when the next press of his bulge between your thighs makes you gasp, you can’t help but try to play it off.

“Your tea will get cold.” Your words are muffled against his lips, victim to his kisses, but he offers you a momentary lapse in his pace to breath when he breaks away to cast a glance towards the mug on the bedside table.

Only a glance. Before he’s back on you, pulling at your clothes this time.

“I will make us both another.”

He can smell your juices, see the darkening of your panties when his pretty eyes flicker to your cunt. Pushing your thighs further, you drop the phone.

"Ah-ah," he bites your other thigh. Your hands come to tug on his fluffy ears, making his tail twitch side to side. Cock leaking. "Tell him you're busy."

"Fuck, okay," your shaky hand picks up the phone, your eyes getting lidded when his nose brushes your pretty pussy over those panties, you suck in a breath at it, fingers faltering. "mngh..."

"Tell him," he says in a soft little hum, inhaling you again, palming his cock to adjust it, feeling it swelling with how badly he wants to devour you. "If you wanna cum, you will."

"Fuck you're a brat," you mumble as he tugs you closer, shoving your knee up over his shoulder, nose inhaling your cunt again. "Are you gonna just sniff me !?"

"Till you answer," he sighs. "I could do this and cum."

"Freaky wolf, ah!" He bites your inner thigh, your juices just slippin' down further, in rivulets against his face, his glasses fogged up with his breaths. "F-fine."

Sorry Caleb - I'm busy tonight.

You show him the screen, and he smirks, a curve of his lips.

"Good girl."

Fuck.

Valko tugs your panties aside, looking at the mess your cunt is and moaning at the sight, tongue hot as it laps you from your ass to your clit, then back down, not just tasting - he's fucking lavishing you, spit soaked tongue dragging through your folds. "V-Valko I..."

"Good, good, good... good girl you're s-so... good," he's gripping you bruisingly now, slurping your messy, needy hole, the juices just pouring - his adam's apple bobs as he gulps you down, his glasses just slightly askew from the way he's drinking you. "Taste s'good... fuck..."

He could almost cum from the taste alone, greedily dragging his tongue from your slutty, quivering hole to that twitchy clit, all while you're gripping his hair with one hand, the other rubbing his ears. It feels so good as he lets you coat his taste buds, watching your eyes roll back in your skull.

You shatter so fast, but he's not even trying to make you cum - he just needs your taste, he needs your scent, biting your clit before he can stop himself, the action having you squirt right down him, all over his sweater and his collar. He laughs softly as you whine out, arching your hips, thighs quivering.

"Please... in me, mngh..." You see his slick face and blush, the dark mess you made on his sweater apparent as he takes it off, standing, his cock leaking through his sweats.

You go to touch him but you don't get a moment, he's got you turned and bent over the living room table, that sweater of yours gripped in his huge hands, claws ruining the material without him meaning to. He spits right on your cunt just to make it even messier, it's so wet she doesn't even need it, laughing as you arch, thighs shaking.

The phone goes off.

Valko hums a bit, looking at the message.

"Aww... he misses his 'pips'. Cute," Valko laughs, lost now - he's not the goofy little jerk you're used to, not when he's lining his reddened tip with your hole - no, he's feral. "Should we show him how you're doin'? Hmm, sweetheart?"

"N-no, psycho," you're wetter at the idea, and he notices, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, torturing you as you arch, begging for more. "In me, in me... in - ah!"

Valko slides his veiny, thick cock deep, his tail wrapping around his body and tickling you as he groans, head falling forward, that heavy weight pressing you down. He's as big there as he is everywhere, his grin against your skin felt before he bites your neck, shoving in fully.

"S'deep... you're..."

You're a babbling mess when he pins you there, twitching inside you, cock dragging your sweet spot and kissing it over and over again. You're a drooling mess the more he moves, the more his cock rocks in and out, thickening and swelling impossibly.

"Should call him, huh baby? Let him hear your cunt he wants s'fuckin' bad," Valko can't stand it then, thinking of anyone with the girl that should be all his, every instinct on fire. "All mine, yeah baby? Breed your messy cunt till you're all mine, can't even talk, can you?"

"Mhm," you're shattering when he fucks you faster, meaner, a hand on the table bracing himself as he bites your neck till blood drips, lapping it up so his lips are crimson, moaning against your skin. "Valko... please..."

"I'll give it all to you," he's sinking his teeth again - marking you his, ones he hopes last and last, as his cock is soaked, and your tacky walls are milking him. "Fill you so full, won't be able to see anyone, will you?"

You shatter with one more drag of his fat tip, and that's when it pushes him over the edge, his knot swelling as his cum fills you to the brim, coating your walls in white. He's biting your shoulder, your neck, your arm, everywhere he can, as that fat knot stretches you, hurting so bad you're in tears - but fuck it feels good.

"So much... s'much, V-valko..." you whimper as he moves that knot, kissing all the places he's marked you, moaning softly. His tail twitches as it tickles your skin, his ears curving down.

"Perfect, f-fuck you're so... oh baby I don't think it'll go down I..." He's never had this happen, not being able to calm it down, locked and knotted so thick in your tiny cunt. He keeps kissing you, moving back a bit, hearing your little sharp breath. "Want me to keep this cum plugged inside you? Hmm, breed you, baby?"

"Yes, yes," you're drooling, looking at him with dilated eyes, all covered in his marks. "K-keep it all.. in ... your knot it's so..."

"Mhm, I know baby," he's soothing you even as he rocks it in just an inch - back and forth, until he's pressing all his cum right against your puffy lil cervix.

You're cummin' again and again, but what you don't realize is...

Valko left Caleb all of that on a voice message </3

****

A baby?

Your mouth lathers in another bout of saliva at the way that your boyfriend seemed so hypnotized by the very notion. Lips puckering up with a slight tremble in your tone as you echo, “You want a-a baby-”

“Shit-” Toji hisses, calloused mountains of his palms bullying your thighs further and further open. Lightning bolts of his veins track down his thick neck when you’re being so rudely punished with a sodden thwack! against your cunt. “D-don’t say it with your pretty mouth ‘nless ya want me to f-fill this sweet pussy early.”

Toji Fushiguro…claiming he was going to cum early? 

You’re squirming your hips down his taut shaft in a way that gets you locked with five thick fingers wrapped around your throat - holding you in place. 

“What did I fuckin’- say-” 

“I want it-” Your nails carve red, red lines down his toned back. “-wan’ it all ah- inside me-”

Inside - oh, inside inside inside- God, you didn’t know what you did to him. Did you?

“Gonna be the d-death of me- swear-” Drawling out a low grunt at the clench of his cum-filled balls, he’s hunching over to pin you under his full, hulking weight and spit. Straight into your mouth- glissading one fat thumb through your lips and across your sopping wet tastebuds. “When I hngh- remember what that lil’ gremlin called you today I…” Toji gulps - thick and heavy. “You’d make the p-perfect pretty momma f’me, my wife.”

Wife? 

You felt dizzy. You’d mentioned wanting to start a family with Toji before - conversations that had him huffing and veering his face away, ears always stained a deep rouge. 

But this? What did Megumi even call you that had him- oh.

Oh. 

He’d called you momma. 

“Heh, ya remember now.”

That’s what had Toji’s head tumbling back as he’s barrelling you overstuffed all over again. Animalistic. Your jaw falls open stupidly when his rigorous inches pump in and out your goopy depths like Toji had no time to waste. 

No rationality when his gorging biceps lunge underneath your legs and pin them around his straining neck. Cushioned by Toji’s sweat-sheened deltoids, he’s dragging out a panting, “Lock them.”

But shit- “I-I don’t know if I can-” you’re whining. Every brushing French kiss of his rounded fat tip against that spot rendering your poor legs more and more useless with each sloppy second. Bolts of heat and electricity being spawned down your spine after every smooch of his divot. 

“Tch.”

And now, usually your boyfriend would have mocked those rippling mewls out of you until you’re begging him for mercy, usually he would have planted pound after teasing pound just shy of your g-spot to have you listening to his pussydrunken words yourself.

But instead, he’s keeping your ankles pinned with one hand in a vice-like restraint, your cunt glossing out another drenched ring of slick at the way his massive biceps flex. 

“M-making it sooo hard, f’me- aren’t ya, ma?” Toji giggles - giggles through clenched teeth when his sweat-sodden forehead bumps into yours. “S’alright s’alright- how do ya feel about ngh- makin’ Megs a big brother? Giving him a lil’ s-sister and a lil’ brother?” Manhandling you to be folded like lawnchair in the meanest mating press beneath him. You swear you spy a translucent trail of drool that tugs down the corner of his curled lips. “Gonna k-keep our hngh- kids all in line like this, too?”

And those words were meant to fluster you - they really were. 

But Toji’s finding himself shutter his dark lashes half-closed, thumping tip colliding into your cervix. So hard it was like he was ready to brand a permanent circumference into the very bottom of your melty cunt. 

Sloppy - he’s so sloppy. One set of knuckles wrapping around your precious throat to haul you back into every single one of his smacking thrusts. You’ve never felt more filthy-

“Oh shit- oh shit-” he’s spitting out into your lecherously opened mouth, condensed saliva warming you from the inside out. The bed creaks in a staccato when Toji’s muscled body collapses onto his elbows, caging you. Not anymore - he couldn’t do it anymore. It was building up and up and Toji was losing his damn mind. “I didn’t even th-think I wanted any more but- but oh– just had to trigger m’fuckin’ babyfever, huh? N’ not jus’ for one- for two more damn brats.” 

Two of his round-tipped fingers twirl around your plump clit and give her a teasing pinch. “A s-son with ngh- your eyes. N’ a daughter with mine.” The other hand nudges away the hair from your face. “-you’d just make the ngh- prettiest momma-”

“Y-you’re such a-” you mewl out, finger clutching for whatever expanse of the silken sheets that you can grasp onto. “-a softie, Toji–”

“A what?” he’s seething, heavy-handed palm gliding down your tummy and against the bruising nudge of where your melty walls were sucking the ever-loving soul out of him. “Repeat that.” And as soon as your stupidly cockdrunken mouth falls open to heed his word, he’s pressing down. Hard. Swirling a ruthless thumb over the rotund curve of his puffy cockhead. And that makes you choke- “Heh, th-tha’s what I thought.”

It’s like he was fucking you both dumb, weeping out a velveteen gush of milky precum every time your walls molded around him. Every time your pretty pussy was asking for something delicious from the very ends of his ruddy tip.

And fuck was it ever when he finally does. 

So much - too much sobbing out from the ends of his furious cock. Toji’s hiking up one muscular thigh flat onto the plush mattress to absolutely flood you with drenching splatters of seed that slobber all down every hidden ridge and orifice of your snug cunt. 

You felt like your walls were being inflated with every vicious load he fucked deeper and deeper. Torn between too much and more more more-

“Hey-” You’re flinching as your dominant hand gets trapped under something heavy - pinned to the sheets by Toji’s foot. And only then do you register it’s slow dance down to your clit. “N-no playin’ with this pretty pussy u-until-” Plugging into you even deeper to trap every pearly bead of seed, your puffy pussy lips burn with the stretch of his hefty base, the scratch of his dark happy trail. “-until we’re sure m’gettin’ my lovely Christmas gifts, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Dad(dy) material

“M’gonna take haaah- care of you, my love.” Nanami’s rich baritone reverberates in your cottony-filled ears and over those saturatedly popping squelches from your drooling cunt down below. “M’gonna- take- such good c-care of you…and our daughter.”

And it’s not just that sternly filthy mouth of his babbling away drunkenly at your cunt, it’s not even a promise. It was a vow and your husband was well and fully intent on worshipping your pretty puckered pussy. 

Planting kiss after smooching kiss that made you whine. 

It made you buck your hips into a curvaceous arch off the silky sheets of the king-sized bed, painting a sodden drag down Nanami’s handsome features. Deeper. Harder. His button nose nudges up against your sensitive clit. “P-please, jus’ want you ngh- inside me again, Kento–”

Shit- Nanami’s huling body wrecks with shivers. Why would you say that? 

You could see the way that made his ruby red tip weep out a few glossy sputters of pre, staining down the side of his muscular thighs. Forming such a glinting sheen that makes your mouth water just as much as his. 

A slow, syrupy trail of his cum and your sweet, sweet juices dawdle down to his chin, you catch the way that the edges of his plump lips curve ever-so-slightly into a thoroughly pussydrunken grin. Nanami looming his heated mouth even closer to breathe you in-

“I told you, darlin’-” He sounds so sloppy now. Sensible glasses drooping down his nose, splashed with a few translucent stains. Words stumbling over one another and slurring when his tongue laps up a few pearly beads of seed from just before. He rolls his rugged tastebuds over your clit, “-hafta ah- clean up the mother of m’kids before I…before I- oh-”

And he couldn’t bear it - couldn’t finish that sentence. Couldn’t even glimpse down as another sloshing dredge of cum sobs its way from between your swollen pussy folds.

God, you’d driven him absolutely wild the very second your nervous self had confessed to him that you wanted kids. A mini you. And Nanami didn’t even bother taking off his work clothes, didn’t even bother carrying you to the bedroom as he usually would - taking you once on the kitchen floor. Twice in the hallway. And now-

You’re cumming. Verging over your peak and tangling your trembly digits through Nanami’s blond strands. Hips oscillating upwards in damp little gyrations over and over-

He’s lapping the remnants of cum onto his tongue, you’re watching with a strainedly hitched gasp as Nanami’s opening his mouth widely agape for you to watch the creamy mess pool on his tongue and slide down his throat. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing in time with your own throat. 

He’d never acted like this before - hit with saturated, sloppy babyfever.

Fuck- you were so ruined. 

And so was he when he’s making you wait a few terse seconds, eyeing your drizzling cunt. Before gifting you with a low hum of satisfaction and a final squelching smooch against your peeking clit. “On all fours f’me, my love.”

Shit, it was like heaven.

Bumping into your pussy lips with his rosy head in a shy little peck. Once. Twice. You’re being slathered in such a thick shower of his wispy precum, Nanami’s head falling back with a heaving groan at the very idea of fucking a baby into you. 

“A-are you ready?” he’s gulping, more to himself than you. “Gonna…” Can’t even bear to say it. “-gonna fill you u-up. Oh- m’gonna…fuck a baby into ya.”

Just those words make him feel feverish. He doesn’t- can’t think anymore since being hit with the thought of you and a tiny lil’ girl with your smile and his eyes. 

And the very moment you nod - the very moment your head jerks even the slightest centimeter in compliance - you’re being stuffed overly full of his solid inches. No matter how many times your greedy pussy had gulped down his size, Nanami was staggering. 

All of his swollen, engorged inches massage hidden sweet spots you didn’t even know existed in your gummy walls. He’s spearing open your very depths with a barraging ram, not a single ounce inside left untouched. 

“S’that- s’that alright-” he’s gasping from behind into your ear. Hips moving before his mind, you’re being flooded full over and over in a heady back and forth of his pounds. “-tell me–”

And you’re nodding and nodding in a way you’re not even sure that Nanami catches with just how glazed his half-lidded eyes were. “S-so good- fuck- there- need it inside, okay, Ken?”

Oh.

THUMP! 

Before you know it, Nanami’s entire body is collapsing their fatigued muscles on top of yours. His glissading abs melting into your back, hefty weight pinning you to the mattress. You’re flinching at the feeling of two sharp canines punching neat indents into your tender neck, a low moan curdling at the back of Nanami’s throat. Raw and ruined, like he was trying to hold it back. “A baby- fuck! Ya really want a baby– gonna be the best mama, aren’t ya?”

But still not stopping - never even faltering. 

“Shh- I got ya, beautiful-” He’s kissing down a few flecks of sweat that dribble their way down your forehead, rough hands attaching themselves to your hips. “Sorry m’so- so ungentlemanly right now, darlin’. I’ll make it up to ya, but-” 

And you’re being overwhelmed by just how much power Nanami packs into each pound. Every clammy swipe down your bruised and battered g-spot. “-but you’re gonna sit all p-pretty and ngh- take it- right? Gonna milk me for every single drop, my wife- ngh- no wastin’ now.”

Can’t waste - couldn’t waste it. 

“D-do you think s’gonna fit?” your mouth babbles without you registering, eyeing down the chalky lamination of cum that coats Nanami’s heavy, thwacking! balls. The sheer volume making your head spin. 

And your husband was always the absolute sweetest, finally crashing his glossed lips onto yours with a shot hum. He’s shutting up every one of your nonsensical sentences - because what his wife wants, his wife gets. And if you want a baby…well…

“O-of course s’gonna fit, darlin’- I’ll make sure of it.” His minty breath fans your heated face when Nanami sinks into your pouty lower lip and tugs. Head nuzzling drunkenly into yours like he was magnetized to you, the squeeze of your cunt so good that he just couldn’t even bear the thought of parting even a single inch. “Took care of it hah- before, didn’t I? And I think- I- I think-”

Urgently, that velvety yellow tie he didn’t bother removing - didn’t have the fucking patience to remove - finds it’s way to your shaky hands. Directing you to pull, to choke-

And you swear you hear Nanami’s rugged voice crack when he whimpers. Whimpers. Gravelly and dangerous, and you feel his fat, bawling tip twitch with each word. Roughened palms cradling your tummy - your womb, yearningly. “M’gonna make a mess I’ll hafta clean up all over again, my love…”

♡ GETO SUGURU - SUCCESSOR

“So you see…”

And for Geto Suguru, it’s practically a battle to even babble out those words coherently. To bite back that pathetic fucking whimper at the back of his throat when he’s skimming his pearly teeth along the tender crook of your neck. 

“-th-this is your hah- official announcement of a successor.”

And the very sentence makes Geto laugh. Laugh. 

Humorless and ruined. Shit- he couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to.

Because it’s already too good to be true how he had you wrecked so filthily in the meanest of full nelsons, in front of rows upon rows of his association. Their heads bowed, breaths hitched, eyes dilemma-ed between looking away and peeking greedily upwards for more more more-

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit - he’s so drunk on the thought that Geto can feel himself drooling. Is this…fuck- is this what they call babyfever?

Softened fingertips idle down your thighs, smearing a messily trail down the leaky spatters of slick that your flooded slit just can’t stop drooling. And he finds himself grinning-

“Ahh- would ya look at that. Makin’ s-such a show, aren't cha?” Geto giggles - giggles - voice reverent in that exact same way that he had been since you’d off-handedly mentioned how the association would need a successor one day. Oh god, it was like your usually-composed Geto was possessed. Gone. 

He didn’t even know why he was feeling so fucked-out already. Why his fingerpads were dragging around and around your clit until you were sobbing. Mewling with every sticky plunge of his too-heavy girth into your cunt, “S-Suguru you’re being so-”

“Shut up.” Leaving a stinging thwack! against the curve of your plump clit, “Let ‘em hear- let her ngh- talk to me. Heh.”

And you couldn’t even whine in protest - because Geto’s already snatching a few thick digits to curl around your slacked maw. Letting your drooling lips coat him in sheer drivel and moans that slip through when he plants pound after pound.

He’s so greedy opening his way around, every rummaging jackhammer positioned exactly to recoil against your gummy cervix. Sloppy split-seconds between each battering ram leaving your gooey orifice bearing the incredible weight of him brushing his swivelling tip against your g-spot. He’s nodding and conversing along lecherously to the honeyed slurps! wafting from your poor pussy. 

“Mhm– mhm, I agree, ma…” And you’re being faced with a slurping pop! pop! pop! resonating from behind as Geto sucks on his fingers to clean off that sopping syrupy gloss. Savoring. Sing-song baritone lilting up just a notch in volume to address your audience, “Don’t you?” 

And when there’s no answer - you are the one being punished with a stinging smack! against the edge of your cunt. Geto’s digits latching around your gaping hole and twirling their way in-

Fuck- the sounds of hurried agreement thundering in your ears from all around you make you keen. 

And usually he’d be smooth, suave, private in bed. But right now Geto can’t help tug one rough forearm around your waist and pin your back against his glissading washboard abs. Massaging you with each rut up and down up and down up and-

“D’you w-wanna know what she’s sayin’?” he’s granting a long slather of his tongue up your bulbous tears, humming at the salty aftertaste. “Wanna know what she’s ngh- begging for?”

“Wh-what?” you’re blubbering out, lips wobbly oh-so-cutely in a way that he just can’t help but sink his sharp canines into. Tugging. 

And Geto didn’t know why he was feeling so…so needy. He had no idea what was making him stretch your jittery thighs open so wide it was like he wanted everyone to see - to know. 

But he has a feeling it’s to do with that idea you mentioned earlier. A…successor. 

Fuck- 

The notion is enough for him to gasp, for his entire body of hefty muscles to flinch like he’d just been zapped with a zillion bolts of bliss. And before you know it, your face gently meets the ridged tatami mats, and Geto’s manhandling you with his beefy limbs onto all fours. 

One hand kisses your puffy clit around and around in thorough circles, the other entirety of his arm curling around your throat - headlocking your lolling face upwards, you’re gasping. Drenched at the bulge of his flexing biceps against your neck-

“She’s sayin…” He bites down on your sensitive earlobe, “-she wants me t-to breed her until she’s overspilling.” And you thought he was done - you thought. Before he’s babbling away pussydrunkenly, head reclining mindlessly towards the front row. “Right?”

Yeah. Yeah, of course, he was right. 

It didn’t matter if Geto Suguru couldn’t properly think - couldn’t even breathe just about right now. Broad chest petering out the most heaving gasps from his lungs, he’s making sure every sloppy cadence of your hips back into his leave you reeling. 

Leave you yelping at the words cascading from his pretty coral pink lips- 

“S’what sh-she’s sayin–” His ragged grip tightens as does his claim on your spongy cunt, “-n-not me– m’kay- she wants me to fuuuck- fill her up. To breed her- wants me to put a baby in her so that everyone-” Those final words had you being lunged up onto your unsteady knees, leveraging the stranglehold around your neck to stick your arched back against his hardened front upright. You gasp- “-so that ngh- everyone knows what I did- all of ‘em. Gonna know what m’doin’ to ya- how I fucked a ngh- s-successor into you like this.”

“Suguru—” Comes that favorite syrupy-sweet song of his - and you don’t even have to voice your words to him. Because he can already  feel the squelching hug of your jostling walls, the way you give his thickened base a cute squeeze “M’gonna c-cu-”

Ah.

And he doesn’t give you the privilege of finishing your sentence before a sudden smack! right onto the hood of your beady clit makes you crash headfirst into your orgasm- and Geto into his. Multiple of them. 

His overworked cock torrenting the most saturated wads of ropy cum. They’re avalanching into your greedy hole, spilling down the side of his shaft into a creamy ring. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“O-oh–” Geto lets out a raw, guttural moan with your name tacked on like it was his favorite few syllables. The high so strong that he can’t even hold himself up. “Shit- s-swear s’your cunt– so heavenly for fucking what.”

Hypnotized. Collapsing onto a heap of long limbs on top of you, you’re squirming against the tatami floor. The knotted plug of Geto’s swollen base helping his copiously buttery amounts of cum stay safe and sound inside. 

Murmurs envelope you two- they’re still there. 

You’re jumping at the sticky schwf! of a few goopy traces of seed that slip down your puffy slit, being scooped up easily by a hawk-eyed Geto. Raising his hand up, up, up to bully between your pouted lips and oh…oh it really was babyfever.

He needed to see you with another two little girls that looked like you and had his status of leader. He needed to see you round and glowing. He still needed to see you full. 

“Gorgeous…you’ll never hah- believe what she’s tellin’ me now.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “I-inside…?”

Choso didn’t know whether this was supposed to happen. 

He didn’t know whether this was even possible. Was…was this some kind of strange new cursed technique? 

Because why did it only take one glimpse of you ruffling Yuji’s hair - just one motherly smile his way - for your beloved boyfriend to all but drag you back home the very first second he could. 

Shoving you against the cool platform of the front fucking threshold, melty brain churning with nothing but the strange image of you ruffling the hair of another little boy that looked strangely like a mixture of the two of you. 

But that was hours ago.

And Choso was still rabid. Still permeating open your bulging folds to watch the slow trickle of cum that you’re wetting down his wrist. “C-can you ngh- take more, baby?”

You’re clawing your trembly fingers down the wooden surface just past the entryway. Wetly condensed gasps escaping from your sloshed parted lips when he treks up one trembly, muscular foot on top of your body to pin you down. “Ch-Cho— how are you s-still going-”

Chosos’s racking out a low keen - the very sound of your voice making his furiously overworked tip swash a fresh wad of precum into your bruised cervix. Twitching with overstimulation when his wispy alabaster ropes lull into nothingness-

“I-I don’t know, baby–” he’s letting his dark head of hair curtain that utterly fucked expression on his face. Eyes sliding ravenously to the back of his head when his fatigued hips plant another yearning grind into your cunt. Dribbling maw slacking open, “I just- I just want…”

You already knew what he wanted - and the evidence was right there drizzling from your drowning slit, making itself at home in a creamy ring of cum down his gyrating hilt. But you’re whining out anyway, “W-want ngh- what, baby–?”

Fuck.

Fuck- he was being ridiculous. Being Choso Kamo knows that you’re simply using your sweet little nickname for him, he knows that. But he still finds his head lolling backwards with a groan. How pretty that sounds falling from your lips. 

SLAM!

“I- that-” He gasps. He heaves. Hunched over so you’re gifted with such a delicious eyeful of his sweat-slicked arms caging you from abovehead. Flexing and rippling as Choso’s sloppy cadence grows faster. Filthier. Pound after pound that frosts your tenderized g-spot in thick upheavals of creamy pre. “I want a baby– I don’t- ngh- I don’t know what this feeling is, baby…”

Whirling your sappy eyes over your shoulder to take a long look at him and- 

Oh.

Fuck, was that a mistake. Because your dear boyfriend was so irresistible - with his big, dark eyes dewey with pearly tears, rosy lips jutted out in a way that makes him look so kissable. So tired. Every twitch and bead of sweat trickling down his muscles made Choso look like he was on the very verge of falling apart. 

But he won’t stop - doesn’t think he even can anymore. 

“D-don’t look at me ngh- like- that-” So lovingly. Choso pecks a few pretty kisses down your arched spine, “S’gonna make me cum.”

You’re carding your fingers through thick, dampened locks of his hair to tug. “So do it, Cho–” And fuck, you’re scrambling your jittery hips in the most sinful of movements to meet his jackhammering pace - he thinks he just might pass out. Gulping at the smacking sting! that jiggles the mound of your ass against his toned abs, so hard that he sees his skin rub rawly red. “C-cum inside- again.”

Oh, he wants to. How badly he wants to. 

A few of his soft, rounded fingerpads smear along the treacle of excess cum from before that laminate your pretty skin. Swirling and swirling and he’s drawing gooey patterns right where you were bulging with every inch of him, puffed-up pussy lips engorged wide open when he’s nosediving with his thickened cockhead.

“But it’s s-so filthy, baby…” he trails off, lower lips all wobbly and whining. And Choso’s dark brows pucker into the cutest frown when he dances those very same sopping wet digits up to his pert mouth and sucks. Moaning. “Can I really- c-can I really cum inside? Again?”

“Mhm– trust me, Cho-”

And how could he ever not?

Before you know it, you’re feeling the spongy probe of Choso’s fat head kiss up against your womb. Thwack! Thwack! Thwacking a smooth staccato of wet swipes that your gummy depths are branded to remember, syncing up to that thunderous pulse of yours. 

“M’g-gonna cum- fuuuck- s’unfair-” he gasps against your ear, burning up. “-this pretty pussy of yours is s-sucking me up so ngh- well that-” Face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, you jolt when you feel a hot pitter-patter of tears- “-I-I’ve just gotta get you pregnant, baby–”

Flooding out thick, saturated spurts of his cum that glue to your mushy walls like a second coating of slick. He feels so hot inside swabbing around every nook and cranny, and you’re hit with the sleazy smell of sex and him. 

Shit. He was cumming nothing now.

“W-wait-” Choso’s voice grows ragged, his eyes snap open as if in a daze. And you catch the way one set of his slender fingers envelope the creamy base of his cock to squeeze. Pumping ever-so-slightly up and down up and- “M’cumming- dry- fuck! Can’t- I can’t cum dry–”

You’re sure that stupidly drunken reassurances are falling from your lips, but Choso doesn’t hear any of them. Can’t register them. Can’t recognize anything but the way he pulls out for just a split-second. Flipping you over onto your back, you take in the soft crackle of jujutsu when his hazied mind pumps every ounce of blood in his body back to his blanking cock.

“O-oh my god–” You’re sobbing out at the suddenly staggering stretch, the way your elastic walls were forced to accommodate that thickly expanding girth of his. “D-did you just use ngh- your cursed technique to-”

“Yes.” Choso’s wheezing out, chest storming back and forth while the overstimulation hits him mercilessly. He bores into your pretty face, “Yes yes yes yes- I…I want a baby– ngh- c-can’t fuck this pretty pussy pregnant if I cum dry.”

Over and over. He’s whispering out an almost-painfully rasping, “This time- this time this time-” when his achy cock splurges out a few more dry orgasms. Fuck-

He knew he was going to have you all round and glowing - he already knew. Knew he’d make Yuji an uncle and you a gorgeous momma - such a gorgeous momma, with a gorgeous son in tow.

Babbling out these very same words without even realizing into the crook of your tender neck, you huff out a cockdrunken bout of laughter. “S-seems you’ve been hit with ngh- babyfever, Cho–”

“Babyfever, huh?” he whimpers, startling tears trekking down the regal apples of his cheek when his poor cock cums dry again. You jolt at the electric buzz of jujutsu that zaps through your body when he’s hardening himself again. Again. “I like the sound of that…”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Too big? Funny.

“I just put one tip in n’ you’re already cockdrunk?” Sukuna’s rumbling, reverberating snicker echoes throughout the royal court room. He’s leaning back on his throne, basking you in the most sleazy grin, “Heh- anythin’ to say for yerself, brat?”

It’s honestly through sheer stubbornness that you’re finding it in your sugar-coated mind to huff. “N-no.”

The only one he’d let speak to him that way, he’s puckering up your pretty pussy lips around one of his fat thumbs. Swirling dousingly wet circular patterns around and around while another hand smacks his second cock down your sobbing slit once. Twice. “Then what, silly girl? Too big?”

He doesn’t realize if you know you’re nodding - nodding and nodding while mewling out the tiniest, “But m’not leaving until you c-cum inside, Kuna–”

Oh.

Oh.

Overgrown black nails digging neat crescents into the plush of your hips, he’s baring you with a snarling show of ivory canines. Voice shot - rasping. Weaved with something dangerous. “Oi oi- don’t talk outta ya ngh- damn pussy, woman. Use that pretty lil’ head of yours.”

“But it’s true–” Your arms find their way around his ridiculously broad shoulders, cushioned against his plush muscles. Batting your lashes, it makes Sukuna gulp when you slip and slide your grinding way along his extra length. And oh, you already know you won. “-I wan’ a baby.”

And no one has ever seen the infamous king of curses rendered speechless, no one has ever seen his devilishly red eyes bulge out almost comically, mean mouth - both of them - drop in slack-jawed awe. Except you, that is - right now.

Sukuna’s smug mouth gapes open and closes a few too many times that he will deny later on. “A-a baby? My baby?”

Nodding, “Mhm– a-” 

But, shit, you can’t finish your sentence - no matter how badly you wanted to. Because that very instant of confirmation makes Sukuna’s fat cocks perk up against your bulging g-spot, magical bolts of bliss sparking behind your eyes and making you dizzy

“A baby- an heir, is it?” He breathes - he gasps. And you’ve never seen Sukuna like this, never seen that special glint of something feral in his eyes as he spits out, “Don’t fuckin’ look at me like ngh- that.”

Curled digits planting just a few sodden slaps! of his staggering second length along your weepy folds before sinking in.

Shovelling all throbbing girths of his dual shafts into your snug orifice, it’s like both of Sukuna’s swollen cocks are fighting for dominance. Jostling against every single tenderized sweet spot embedded into your walls, spearing you open so wide that you can’t help but keen. Stupidly open mouth sinking into the flesh of his tattooed shoulder-

Smack!

“Tch, easy on the merchandise if you wan’ me ta ngh- fuck a baby into you-” he’s rolling his eyes, soothing over the sting on your ass. Bouncing his thick, muscular thighs up and down up and down to jitter your unsteady hips viciously along his lengths. “-how many?”

“Wh-what?” you’re blinking.

And of course Sukuna’s only growling something dark and heady at the back of his throat. Handsomely sharp jaw clenched when with one singular push of two beefy arms, you’re being stuffed splittingly full with his rock-hard cocks to the brim. His wet divots drizzling a painting of pre across your doughy cervix, splurging and rubbing up together. Till you felt like you were going to burst with every kiss of those pink, cushiony tufts of hair at his fat base. 

“Thereee we go—” he’s chuckling. Fucking up into you like he was angry. Like he hated you - even though it was the furthest fucking thing. “Look at you all ngh- t-taking the cocks you were saying’ was too fuckin’ big.” 

You’re pouting when he lilts his tone a few octaves higher to match your own - dramatically so. 

“But for bein’ my hahhh- good fuckin’ girl…” And that gravelling implication makes your glissading pussy greedily slick a fresh coating down Sukuna’s already-drenched shafts. “-how many heirs do ya wan’ me ta breed into this cute cunt?”

You’re not sure what you’re babbling out nonsensically - you’re not sure what you even think, but the monstrous curse in front of you arches a sharp, pink brow. Humming, “I’m thinking- hah- three. At fuckin’ least.”

And oh, the moment that promise leaves his mouth, it’s like a dam is being shattered open. 

Because it’s all that he can think about - all that he wants. He yearns. 

Manspreading until you’re teetering precariously on his staggering size, two of his beefy arms wrap around your middle to haul your pliant body cushioned against his sculpted pecs. One more veering to pinch your clit and the other- damn, that fourth one. 

Acting as if with a mind of its own when he splayed out a hand down your tummy, feeling for the cylindrical bulge of his dual cock spearheading you impossibly open. Caressing. Soft. 

“G-gonna have my power heh-” he’s babbling, biting his lower lip to hide a few weakened whimpers. “N’ your pretty features, ngh- and your dumb goo-goo heart and- and-”

And what was this?

Sukuna couldn’t stop thinking about that dangerous little vision you’d planted in his sugary mind. Couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you’d look all round because of him - a pretty queen, with his pretty heirs. How much he’d love-

“S’all your f-fuckin’ fault, brat-” Sukuna snaps his teeth, words coming out hot. Feverish. As frenzied as his hips were when they’re crashing into your own so hard that it hurts. Bruising the planes of his sharp hip bones, buttering up your goopy insides until they felt viscous around him. “Fuck- a thousand fuckin’ years n’ this is what makes me ngh- lose- it-”

Fuming - seething.

Because every collision into your elastic cervix has him recoiling back just a haf-bounce. A gluey smear of precum tainted behind, but parting with your pretty pussy for just that was too much. 

He needed more. More, more, more-

“Kuna- Kuna m’gonna cum-” Your babbles cut through his shimmering visions of you with three kids dangling off your shoulders, fighting him for your attention. Heh. Hips jittering pathetically up and down to meet his sloppy cadence, your teeth sink into his tender earlobe. “M’gonna- hah- m’so close-”

Thwack!

His fingers smear along the mounded flesh on your ass, squeezing. “S’fucking cum, dammit.”

What Sukuna didn’t expect was for himself to cum, too - sharpened carnivorous teeth digging deep into your throat - for all to see. Curdling low grunts at the back of his throat and fuck-

Fuck, he sees white. 

Now, Sukuna always came so much. The double divots at the very ends of his two cocks splurging out candy-like seed that waters your melty cunt until you were overspilling. Every peak of your high being wrung out of you. Sukuna’s pulling out just one of his cocks to make an even bigger mess-

“Oh- ohhh-” Sukuna seeps with the puddle of opaquely milky cum waterfalling from the minute openings of your sloppy hole. Something about it makes him gulp. Parched. Second mouth manifesting on a free hand and slurping a few candied dredges, “I think…I think th-three isn’t enough.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Wifey, wifey

“K-kiss me-” Ino gasps - he begs. And your breath just hitches at the way his pretty brown eyes flood with a glaze of tears. Rosy lips raw and puckered, “Please- please, I j-jus’ need you to kiss me, pretty–”

And how could you refuse?

With your splayed-out palms mountaineering over his heaving pecs, you’re craning your glissading body down, down, down to kiss him senseless.

And shit, he can feel the way your clingy walls hug his pulsing shaft even tighter. Careening his mushroom head to bump up against your bruised g-spot, he leaves a few gluey pecks exactly on the bullseye of your tender orifices. Just in time for Ino’s lips to wrap around your tongue and suck-

“M-mmpf- woah.” Ino’s weepy eyes scrunch wildly together, maw spilling slack to groan out. Like he’d just realized something - just had the world’s greatest epiphany. “S-sweetness, I…” Struggling - heaving to scramble up all the correct words, but it was so hard when your squelching pussy was talking to him like this. Only - only - continuing at your reassuring nods, “I wanna fuck a baby into you- two, actually.”

Fuck- fuck. That’s not how it was supposed to come out. It felt so…dirty speaking to his beloved girl this way. 

But Ino can’t help the way that his overstimulated mind was so heated it felt like he was burning from the inside out. Leanly strong arms manhandling you to scurry his ruddied face into your sweat-sheened neck, “I-I mean-”

“I want that too, T-Taku–” you’re moaning. “N-need you to fill me up so badly. Ngh- been wantin’ it for a while now…” Oh, it sounds like music in Ino’s ears and a mantra in his mind.

Over and over and-

“No-” Ino’s rutting his colliding cockhead against your pulpy cervix, teeth gritting furiously with such pathetic embarrassment. “No no no- fuck! M’gonna–”

And that’s just about the warning you’re being showered with, before something hot and thick dumps inside your cunt. Viscous spatterings of velvety ropes smear themselves on your slobbering walls, gummy insides so wet and sweltering hot. Just from those words you’d uttered - Ino thinks that he’d be happy even if they were the last fucking ones he’d ever head. 

That shrill gasp escaping from your lips is enough to make Ino groan. 

“Baby, did you just-”

“Yes.” He’ll berate himself later for cutting off your pretty voice, head now too busy reeling with trying to scoop up the gelatinous dredges of cum your gaping hole was slurring out. Deft fingers pushing each creamy ring back inside- “Move your fingers, pretty. Can’t let it go to ngh- waste. I-I’m sorry s’jus’ ah- this pussy is just…”

Truly, there was no word to describe the utter heaven that Ino was floating in right now. 

And the only thing justifying his words are the way his hips drill into yours. Not stopping. Not even slowing down. His thrusts were so filthy now - absolutely nothing like the measly languid slides you were gyrating down his fat cock. Flexing abs massaging your core, rounded cum-filled balls once more so heavy and stinging against your ass. 

No, it’s like something had snapped - something had…changed. 

Two rough hands clap around your vigorously gyrating hips, so pressurized that it was almost as if Ino was dying to bruise his patterned fingerprints right into your tender skin. And his delicate voice cracks with a ruined little whine of your name. Eyes sliding to the shadowy back of his lids-

“Th-this is alright- right?” His lower lip trembles, asking. Pleading. Slender hips curving up again and again in a way that had your sugary sweet pussy flaps creaming out drizzly sheen after sheen of fresh slick. “Can I really…”

Huffing out a teasing little puff of laughter, it makes Ino’s pretty cheeks flush even deeper. “Mhm— nothing to hah- be shy about, baby.”

God- he couldn’t even bear to say those sultry words out loud. Instead, reverently gliding one of his palms along your tummy, Ino’s breath hitches at the nudge and pull of his bawling tip. 

Pressing down. Hard. 

“M-m’gonna make you s-so ngh- full here– spilling.” he’s drawling out, words stumbling along into one another. And you can’t help but have your hips fucking even faster into his pirouetting grinds at the utterly husky tone of his voice. The way he sounds ruined already. “Use me until ya give me t-two sons–”

Shit- when did he even learn to talk like this? It’s like his mouth was declaring those deepest, darkest secrets of his. Oh…yeah he knew it - it was babyfever. And Ino was a hopeless, happy patient.  

Sappy pecks being lined up along your kiss-bitten lips, one of his thumbs expertly rummages for the bulging caress of where his smooth, curvaceous head was spattering thick wads of pre. “Think they’ll h-have my ngh- looks?” Head lolling all the way back at the sliding pressure. “Hope they have your haaah- smile, pretty–”

“Shit- shit shit shit-” you’re gasping, wet breaths being drunken in by a parched Ino. He’s greedy - ravenous. Such an uncharacteristically sleazy smile being smeared all over his lips when your cushiony g-spot gets bruised by his rotund tip. “I-it feels so good, Taku- Ngh-”

“Only the b-best for the mother of my kids, duh-” he rolls his eyes. 

Oh, his words were so sweet - pert lips grazing your own in a messy excuse of a kiss was so sweet. But what wasn’t was the way that one set of his long fingers spiral around your wrists and pin them behind your back. 

And it gives him the absolute perfectly heavenly angle to latch those gentle lips around your hardened nipples. “Gonna be s-so pretty- the ngh- prettiest momma-” Nuzzling his head into the valley of your heaving breasts, his teeth sink into one sensitive nub and tugs. “Have you all round n’ swollen and m-mine. Mine mine mine-”

All that resonates in your mind when he’s finally tipping you over to cum. Your eyes daze with a bleary tinge, tired thighs aching when your hips thwack! wetly into his.

His tired cock drooping out a few more pearly beads of seed that refreshes your gripping walls - before Ino sees sparks and cums dry. Eyes practically smothered white with how far they’re rolling back, sweat breaking out over his forehead all over again, mouth falling slack.

And out of it comes only two words-

“Marry me.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - HEAVEN N’ BACK

“D-don’t run away–” And to anyone else, it would sound like the strongest is begging on his knees. Words crumbling with hollow rasps, cracking into pathetic little whines. “Come baaaack- where’d you think you’re hah- goin’?”

But you knew better.

You knew that Gojo Satoru was just a single more saturated squeeze of your clingy walls from fucking snapping. And times like this, you wondered just how high the kill count would be - whether you would be number one on that list. 

As if reading your mind, his staggeringly long fingers grasp around your wrangling legs and drag you about halfway through those navy sheets like some ragdoll. 

With an innocently rosy pout, Gojo’s planting a pretty peck against your ankle, whispering out an utterly strained. “Just hngh- look at her-” And you’re realizing with a shockwave that he isn’t talking to you. Not even close. Cerulean eyes so hazy and glowing - smoldering into where your cunt was being speared right through by his solid inches. “-I c-come back from the fuckin’ ah- death n’ my girl’s zonin’ out.”

“I-I’m not–” you’re whining, being pressed with all his weighty muscles into the meanest mating press. 

“I-I-I-” Gojo’s mocking with such a sleazy grin - and for a split-second you’re wondering if he’s even realizing what he’s babbling. Eyes half-lidded, barely focused. Sweat-glistened forehead connecting with yours, the humorless grin that Gojo’s plastered on is so ruined. “-heheh, m’not gonna die w-without breedin’ ngh- this cute cunt ever again.” Boring down at your greedy hole, “Riiight~?”

It’s as if he expects your sweet, sugar-coated pussy to answer. Huffing with a dramatic pout once the only thing he’s gifted in return are the most lecherous squelches he’s ever heard in his life. Mumbling, “Got her mouth full– gonna be even f-fuller soon, y’know?”

“Y-you said that already, Toru–” you’re sobbing out, thighs drooping wider and wider open with every withering ram being punished upon your puffy pussy. 

He’s drilling into you so deeply that you swear there’s a permanently red imprint of your thighs on his washboard abs. Rummaging open your gluey walls that it was like they were permanently molded around his fattening girth. Thick, viscous sloshes of pre coating your poor, bulging folds. 

The sight is so pretty that shit- Gojo can’t help but have a little fun with it. 

Plunging out this entirety of his fat shaft to spy down at the way your poor unshut hole sloshes all over herself with a milky torrent of his cum. Gojo’s curling a few fingers over his hefty hilt and thwack! thwack! thwacking! your tearful lips even soppier. 

“Look at how much you’re ngh- wastin’-” And Gojo sounds genuinely upset, rosy lower lip wobbling at the frosty ounces of his voluminous seed. “Guess I jus’ hafta breed ya alllll over again…”

Ah, the things he does - the stamina he has. 

Well, stamina if it counts just a little cheating. Reversed curse technique currently working overtime to make sure that neither of you are breaking bones right now - though, that’s too late to say for the bed. You’re gliding a hand down the shattered headboards, avoiding those broken springs-

“B-being so greedy right now, Toru–” Yet, every scolding word of yours sounds like a whine as your slobbering flaps swallow up every inch he’d give. “What has hah- gotten into you.”

You knew. 

Oh, you knew.

Because Gojo really did think for a few seconds that it would be the end of it all right there on Shinjuku grounds…as if. 

Gojo Satoru had clawed his way over to you and he would always - from hell and back. And the one thing on his mind was-

“A baby–” He’s spitting out a lecherous mantra - the same one he’s been husking over and over for hours now. The thought enough to have his sculpted back hunching, his jaw slacking open, a sly drizzle of drool beading down the corners. He didn’t know why - he didn’t know how, couldn’t get it out of his mind. “A baby a baby oh- y-you’re gonna give me a baby, right?”

As if you could say no to that. 

Because even after so long - Gojo was willing himself to paint your cute cunt white all over again. He doesn’t know if he can, doesn’t know whether it’s fucking possible but fuck- if he wasn’t going to try. 

Shit- he felt so feverish with want and he didn’t even know why.

Gojo smears his lips down yours in a kiss, buzzing fingertips giving your pert clit a ready slap! It’s harsh. Right in time with the ruthless cadence of his fat, mushroom tip marching into your g-spot. “Now fuck yerself ngh- back onto this fuckin’ cock- milk a baby outta me. Take it all.”

Something about his words were so mean - desperate. And as soon as your mindlessly fucked self was writhing a few fingers down to your neglected clit, they’re getting rudely swatted away by Gojo. 

Eyes wild, teeth bared in such a base animal instinct. “Move that damn hand.” Rolling one fat thumb over the plump, tenderized hood. “I said fuck yourself not- hmpf- Can’t breed her hah- properly otherwise.”

You’ve never seen your lovely boyfriend ever act like this before. He’s sparking the ends of his eyes with blue lightning bolts of cursed energy. Free hand siding a few fingers right down the cylindrically carved pathway of his rummaging cock. 

Gasping, “T-Toru what are you-”

But he only smiles mysteriously, and you don’t know if you’re even capable of handling what he’d just examined at your gooey depths. Rendering you dizzy already.

But Gojo, it turns out, was doing far, far worse. 

It’s like his body is overtaken by some sort of fever, a giddy little giggle bursting from his lips. You’re being fucked so hard into the mattress that you’re sure you’ll be able to count the little outlines of the sheets on your skin even tomorrow. 

Neat, pearly rows of teeth smirking, “Our first is gonna be a g-girl.”

And maybe you’re cumming - maybe you’re not. By now the nth orgasms on top of orgasms simply leave you gasping at the crescendo of euphoria, your vision halfway blacking out. Gojo Satoru really was the greatest at everything and that included making you lose your mind.

Just about the only thing you’re registering is his fatigued cock spasming deep into the honeyed depths of your cunt. Coating your womb in a sugar sweet lather of cum - once. Twice. Sloshing with every rugged swivel and drip! between your pursed lips.

Gojo hisses when his achy cock starts cumming dry halfway through. And he doesn’t know whether he simply flipped the two of you over or fucking teleported; because when you’re blinking your vision back, you’re finding your unsteady legs straddling his slender hips.

Gojo’s head lounges hungrily behind on the pillows, face tilted cockily up at you. And his massive palms don’t know where to touch - anywhere and everywhere down your simmering body. 

“C-c’mon now- don’t think we’re done just yet.” Before finally resting on your slightly inflated womb, still convulsing with tingles of your high and the steaming hot weight of his cum. His hips rut- ah right…babyfever - that’s what it is. “F-fuck a few babies outta me, wontcha?”

“B-babies?” Plural. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Because of course, it’s plural. “I want six.” 

A/N. Ahhh honestly I don’t even know if I want kids but…anyways, hope you have a lovely week <3

You whine into Varka's mouth as Flins' hand is stroking your cock, you can feel Varka's stomach grinding against the head of your cock as cold water keeps slipping through, Varka's fingers on your nipples aren't helping your legs keep themselves up as your body tightens up and shivers. You hear Flins huff behind you, "You're throbbing so much against my hand, you're close aren't you?", an open mouthed kiss on the juncture of your neck, "don't hold back, you can cum", you cum with a moan that Varka shushes with a kiss, all over his hand. He tugs on your dick just to hear you cry out from overstimulation as you arch your back, your chest flat against Varka's.

Flins may look like he isn't feeling anything at first but he's the one groping your ass, kissing your neck and nuzzling against you like a cat, it's his version of wanting to fuck you first. Varka, ever the chivalrous captain, lets him. He does want your mouth on him though.

Varka's dick is deep down your throat as Flins keeps you in place with a tight grip on your waist, his dick pounding in and out of you with the filthiest sounds echoing inside the bath. Varka chuckles breathlessly at the way you're choking a little on his dick, "too big, gorgeous? You haven't had a problem before," he pats your cheek, "c'mon, I know you can take it." Flins grunts as you clench tighter around him, you're burning up, he can feel himself getting red just from your body heat, the cold water streaming between your bodies making him shudder as his hips move on instinct. You always manage to make him dumb with just your ass.

Flins can't help but get a feel of your ass as he's fucking you, the noises your mouth and ass are making on their cocks has his head spinning as his nails dig into the flesh of your ass, his dick twitching inside you as your body shudders from the sensation.

Flins angles himself just right to hit your prostate as he's getting closer, making you moan around Varka's dick, the sensation has Varka's hips bucking into your mouth with a low moan of your name, the slick and loud sounds of sex fill the room as they both moan your name at the same time, Flins is throbbing so much inside you— his hips losing rythm as he desperately ruts into you, Varka's pre-cum pooling all over your tongue as his stiffens inside you. You moan out of surprise as Flins smacks your ass, Varka breathlessly chuckles—interrupting himself with a loud moan as his hips stiffen, his cock twitches once, twice before cumming down your throat. Flins bites his bottom lip at the sight, making a small noise as he's pulled into a kiss above you by Varka, you almost slip but Flins' hold on you tightens as he thrusts inside you once, twice and cum with a strained moan that Varka traps in his mouth with a kiss.

And to your surprise, that very same Scribe even lasted until the end of the night before opting to see you both home– (like you weren't all going to the same place anyway).

But because of these moments, the rest of your friendship continued as such, you were comfortable around each other and that was the most important part. It was something you cherished quite deeply to yourself actually, and you were glad to have built such a relationship with someone who was so close to Alhaitham.

But that’s exactly why you worry about Kaveh, especially as you look at him now. You’d arrived at their house this morning – having made plans at the beginning of the week to spend the night with your boyfriend, ultimately deciding on a low-key sort of date night when he was relieved from his duties as Scribe.

You hadn’t dressed up too much, opting for a simple, plain dress given the humidity that often settled in Sumeru around this time of day and your want to be cute but still comfortable enough to rest in Alhaitham’s house for the night. Actually, you hadn’t even expected your boyfriend’s roommate to be home at all, assuming he’d be out in the desert on a job that he’s been dealing with the last few days.

But it seems that job hasn’t even gotten that far yet.

There's an endless amount of blueprints spread out across the coffee table in Alhaitham's living room and you can tell by the tired look on Kaveh's features that he's probably been staring at them for a while. He often got like this, overworking himself to death on projects and stretching himself quite thin just so he can earn himself a smile from a client.

And as much as you loved that part of him, the selfless and adorable part, you can't help but find yourself worrying. Even just looking at him now makes you bury yourself into Alhaitham's chest a little more from where you’re resting next to him on the couch. His arm is resting quite snugly around your waist and he seems to pick up on the inner workings of your brain quite quickly as he lets his gaze drop to you.

You share a look before he’s looking back at his roommate to ask.

"And just when was the last time you had a break, might I ask?" Your boyfriend speaks flatly, although you can hear the way the question is laced with subtle concern.

"Ugh, I don't know, a few hours ago, maybe. I— I don't have time for this, Alhaitham. I still have designs to finish. Why do you ask?" Kaveh’s voice strains, most likely from a mixture of fatigue and not having used it in a while. His fuse was shorter than usual when he got like this– so it was quite easy for Alhaitham to rile him up, though judging by his expression, that is probably the last thing he needs right now.

But then you feel your boyfriend shrug, and you can almost predict what’s coming. "No reason, we were just hoping to spend some time together is all and you seem to be taking up most of the living room."

It’s not that Alhaitham did it deliberately— his manner of speech was just more matter-a-fact, he always preferred to speak factually and didn’t particularly like to lace his words with rhetoric just to make someone feel better. And as it stands now, Kaveh is in the middle of what is supposed to be your date night. So why wouldn’t he say that?

Maybe that’s exactly what makes something in his roommate’s exterior crack. The blonde scoffs, “Do you really need to rub it in, Alhaitham? Can't you at least show a little respect for your senior? I’d kill to be able to enjoy a day off from my work but some of us don’t just organise files for a living.” He’s looking at you both now from where you rest at the other side of the room, and despite the blonde’s frustration, Alhaitham remains quite unbothered.

“Jealous are we now, Kaveh? You get wound up by some things so easily.” He teases, amusement evident in the way his lips seem to curl around his words and you feel his arm squeeze around your waist a little tighter. “I do wonder where all of that frustration comes from. Pent up perhaps?”

Another scoff from across the room, and you feel like you can’t turn your head fast enough to keep up, “Oh please, you wouldn’t know the first thing about anything like that. Haven't you only had one relationship, you... you don’t understand anything!" Kaveh runs his hands through his hair and you can’t help but send him a sympathetic look when he looks at you, although only for a moment as Alhaitham’s readies his quip.

“Oh, are you claiming that you have much more experience, Kaveh? Or would you prefer I started rhyming the facts?” You feel your boyfriend push himself up a little straighter on the couch as he remains holding you, "Like how long it’s been since the last time you had a date to accompany you to the Tavern, or anywhere for that matter."

"What's your deal? I don't have any trouble getting dates, Uh... I've just been busy trying to catch up on my work. I'd be much more suited to being a boyfriend than you anyway, I'm much more experienced."

"Oh really?" There’s a breath of silence when Alhaitham responds this time, like Kaveh’s mind is only just catching up to what his mouth is spouting, though it’s not fast enough for it to stop him as he flippantly twists his wrist in the air. As if shrugging off Alhaitham’s disbelieving tone.

"Absolutely. I can only pity a man that doesn't understand the first thing about intimacy and romance." He responds quite confidently this time, as if he’s completely sure about what he’s saying. But you can feel the response Alhaitham’s body has to his words before he voices it himself. It’s like there’s something akin to amusement, or curiosity in his sudden body language.

But not even as subtle of a hint could prepare you for what he actually says.

"If that's the case then, go right ahead. If you're so confident in your abilities, feel free to demonstrate." Alhaitham outstretches his hand around you as if giving Kaveh the floor, and that earns him a raised brow from the blonde across the room— followed by a confused look from you aswell. Though you allow his roommate to voice that for you both,

"Hmph, what's that supposed to mean?" Kaveh asks, but you both share a look that lasts too long for it not to be deliberate before Alhaitham can answer.

"Well, you both get along quite well, don't you? If you think you're much better suited for my position, we can prove that right now." Despite the implication of his words, Alhaitham seems to look as unbothered by this conversation as always. Which in turn only leaves the both of you, gaping and glancing between him and each other before you turn your whole body around to face your boyfriend. You almost manage a What? But then Kaveh cuts you off—

"T-this isn't funny, Alhaitham. I'm not in the mood for your pranks." Though if you were to turn back around you’d notice the way he seems to have taken a more flushed sort of shade. He buries his head in his hands as if in an attempt to hide that, but that’s an impossible feat when it comes to Alhaitham.

Who turns his gaze back to you despite the way he responds to Kaveh, "Going through all of this trouble for a prank sounds like a real headache." His words are followed by his hand coming up to softly graze along your cheek, and you would think he just answered all of your questions with a single movement with the way you lean into it. But then he speaks again, smiling subtly "I'd even argue that she seems quite eager to help you relax a bit, and judging by the look on your face, you don't seem opposed to that idea either.”

You find yourself feeling incredibly flustered for a moment as you whip your head back around to look at Kaveh again, noticing the way he immediately looks away as soon as your eyes meet. You can’t say you’ve never thought about him in that sort of light— you’d be a fool to try and deny that he wasn’t gorgeous. Tanned skin, blonde hair— his eyes were like rubies almost, his body lean and well cut.

Looking at him now makes you suck your lower lip between your teeth and you can feel the way your boyfriend’s watching you as you fidget slightly to rub your thighs together, as if to quell the sudden heat that you can feel growing between them. But you feel his hand come to rest on your waist a moment later and he finally urges you to chime into the conversation with a “Well?”

It’s not like Alhaitham’s insecure in your relationship either, he’s more than confident in the pleasure he’s able to pull from you and the amount of times he’s had you spread out beneath him account for that. But still, he’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable with— so if you decide against it, he’ll gladly kick his roommate out of his home so that he can see to whatever needs you have himself.

And that reassurance alone makes you smile as you look up at him.

"I don't mind, Kaveh. If... if something like that will make you feel better then." You look back towards Kaveh next, who’s already looking at you and you don’t know if he’s gawking or half expecting you both to start laughing. Maybe both at once as his eyes widen at you now, "I don't mind you using me for it. We're friends, right?"

Right— Friends.

Kaveh swallows, and then he quickly pushes himself to stand and for the first time since you’ve met— you feel like you can’t meet his gaze as he takes his first careful step closer to you. It was quite unlike him to be so quiet, and maybe that’s what makes it all worse. You’re still resting quite comfily in Alhaitham’s lap, and even if you were to try to move— you’re not sure he’d let you with how tight his arm seems to be resting around your waist.

So you wait there, until the architect’s soft footsteps bring him to stand opposite the both of you and Alhaitham helps you this time as you turn around to face him— until you’re resting your back up against your boyfriend's chest and feel him spread his thighs to make room for you between them.

There’s another beat of silence before he finally speaks again,

"Did he put you up to this?" Kaveh takes an uneven breath as he asks, motioning to Alhaitham behind you and despite the way he tries to laugh with his question, the undercurrent of nervousness seems to make it come out as more of a sigh.

You shake your head, remaining quiet despite the way your arousal is making you warm and the blonde’s sudden close proximity isn’t doing anything to help that either. Your thoughts have taken the potential scenario and already begun running with it, and you’re sure your boyfriend is already beginning to pick up on your growing impatience when he squeezes his arm around you.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you, Alhaitham? Just how close are you going to let me get before you make fun of me?" Kaveh asks again as his pretty features pull into another frown, but he still doesn’t seem to put any distance between you both.

Alhaitham picks up on that too as he responds to his taunt quite neutrally, "I don't know what you mean, I'm not stopping you. After all, weren't you the one who said you were better suited for my position?"

The silence settles over the three of you again with Alhaitham’s question and you watch the way Kaveh seems to drop his gaze to think, as if he’s going over the proposal in his mind a million times before coming to a decision. But then his gaze lifts to look at you,

"Hmph, I didn't mean it like this." He mumbles, but then he takes a deep breath and his shoulders seem to relax a bit. "Whatever."

Kaveh takes another half a step closer, as his eyes hold you there — and the pretty colour of them makes you rock back into Alhaitham despite the way it makes something in your stomach stir. His voice drops to something softer, gentle when he addresses you, as it always does. "Are you, um... okay with this? You don't have to do this just because Alhaitham said so."

His question makes you smile as you blink back at him, allowing yourself the moment to admire the intricacies of his features while he's leaning in to look at you closely. Kaveh has always been gorgeous, kind but even now — you can’t help but appreciate the sort of person he really was, and you’re glad that someone like him is who Alhaitham chooses to surround himself with.

You offer him a reassuring nod as you let yourself rock back against your boyfriend's chest a little more, "I'm okay with it."

“Fine then.” And with that, Kaveh eventually relents before he’s letting his figure fall to his knees, bringing himself to be just below level with you, and you feel the way the movement makes your boyfriend exhale a breath along your shoulder. It makes you shudder as you find yourself almost instinctively spreading your thighs to make room for him, and it’s hard for the architect to not let his eyes immediately drop to the skin that’s between them when you reach forward to bunch up your dress.

“Ready?” Alhaitham asks you, as if he’s giving you another opportunity to back out when his palm comes to rest on the inside of your thigh from behind. His fingers tap as you take a breath, and his roommate opposite you stills until you’re able to stutter out a response.

“Yes, I’m ready.” You answer, and your boyfriend’s hand pulls at your inner thigh in that same moment, until you’re spread out on his lap and positioning your thighs to rest over the top of his. You feel immediately exposed as you feel the cool air roll over your too warm skin— it’s like you’re being served up on a grand table like a meal, and there’s something in Kaveh’s gaze that seems to feel the same way as you watch the tips of his ears begin to flush.

But still, he’s looking at you like he’s a man who's been starved for years and he’s about to have his first, real taste of good food again.

There’s a moment of silence between the three of you as Alhaitham holds you close, but it’s only for a moment before Kaveh’s palm comes to rest on the opposite thigh to push — helping to hold you open. You feel yourself begin to burn at the way it makes your arousal spark beneath your skin, and you’re feeling particularly flustered already as you watch the way the architect admires the damp spot in your panties.

Kaveh takes another breath, and then he shuffles himself closer from where he’s resting on his knees. “If you’re sure about this. Well…” There’s still a hesitance to his words, but it seems to break off into something quieter, needier when his fingers squeeze into your skin. “Friends, right?”

You stiffen as you watch your boyfriend’s roommate lean forward, but you soften almost immediately when you feel him press a quick kiss against your clothed pussy, exhaling against the warm press of the intimate skin like it’s the first breath he’s taken in days.

But the sound that leaves you is almost humiliating when he pushes even deeper into you next, letting his tongue tease along the damp fabric of your underwear and pressing into the swollen bump of your clit, all while Alhaitham holds you in place for him on his lap. Your thighs and hips quake, as do your lungs when you try to manage a staggered inhale— but you feel like you can barely breathe beneath Kaveh’s movements, feeling the way he’s drinking you up, tongue rolling and curling through your folds so expertly you wouldn't believe there was still a layer between you both.

You’d never imagined Kaveh would feel like this, not that it was something you imagined often — but it still came as quite a surprise. It’s true you’d never seen him date much at all, nevermind heard him even mention prior intimate experiences— but with the way he’s working you right now, you can barely believe he’s even single at all.

You're jolted from your thoughts by a particularly wet smear of Kaveh’s mouth against you until you feel yourself trembling, and Alhaitham knows you’re already close as he curls himself around you from behind. The movement lets you feel the heavy press of his half-hard cock against your lower back, closely followed by the smear of his lips along the shell of your ear. “Any thoughts? Seems like you’re getting quite worked up.” He sighs, deliberately along the sensitive parts of you.

Your boyfriend’s words take on a familiar, teasing drawl— it’s one he’s used on you before, normally when he’s got you buried beneath him on the mattress or just about creaming around the press of three of his fingers, but the tone makes you swallow as you try to turn your head to look at him.

Though the call is quickly cut off by Kaveh’s voice as he mutters up at you both from between your thighs, “Oh, would you butt out, Alhaitham.” The sound quivers through your pussy, like a pleasurable vibration that makes your head drop back to moan and your body jolt as you meet the blonde’s gaze for a moment. He’s flushed to his chest and his hair is mused from his efforts, but you think he looks like something out of a wet dream when the lower half of his face and cheeks are already slick with his own spit and your arousal.

You wonder if he notices the way it makes you even wetter,

“And why would I do that?” Alhaitham cuts off your eye contact with his response, and he deliberately rocks himself into you— pushing more of his roommate’s mouth even deeper between your thighs until you both moan. Though it’s closely followed by the press of Kaveh’s fingertips hooking beneath the fabric of your underwear, before he begins to finally provide you with some relief and pull them to the side.

Your arousal makes you glisten, clinging to the soaked fabric as it's pulled out of his way and it’s quite clear to see the almost proud look on Kaveh’s features as he admires it, then looks up at your boyfriend a moment later.

“See!? I told you.” He almost glows from where he’s still kneeling between your spread thighs, “Take a good look, Alhaitham.” And if you weren’t in such a state you think you’d end up giggling— if not at the blonde’s amusement then definitely at Alhaitham’s deliberate silence in response to it. But your boyfriend doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, in fact he just opts to leave the spread of your thighs to his roommate as he frees up both of his hands instead.

“You seem more surprised than I am.” He eventually opts to say with a hint of sarcasm, well-timed with the way Kaveh’s tongue finally presses back against the now exposed skin of your folds, cutting through the glistening petals as he suckles and smacks at the mess. And you can’t help but arch back into Alhaitham at the movement, an opportunity which he seizes quite eagerly to grab and palm at your breasts as he takes one into his hand slowly. His movements are precise, twisting and flicking at the raised skin of your nipples through your dress until you’re whimpering so greedily for something more.

Lucky for him, you hadn’t opted for a bra today. After all— you were just having a date indoors.

“Better?” Alhaitham breathes against your jawline as he touches you, and you feel the way his teasing question makes Kaveh grumble between your folds, like he’s claiming you needed his touch to feel such pleasure.

But before the blonde can even pipe up and complain about it, your boyfriend’s free hand reaches forward to wrap itself in his roommate’s already tousled hair, and he uses it as leverage to bury him even deeper into your pussy. He turns his attention to him for a moment as he sends him a narrowed look and a whisper of a smirk, and you think the expression on Kaveh’s face as he blinks up at you both makes you begin to throb, “You seem to be putting that mouth to much better use now than you were a moment ago, Kaveh.”

You can feel yourself growing closer, and that alone urges you to turn to meet Alhaitham as you find your hands grabbing to scratch at his muscled forearm. It’s a movement he goes unaffected by, long fingers seemingly unphased by your hands as they clasp gently around one of your nipples before he pulls, and the spark of your orgasm is so close you feel lightheaded. At the same time, Kaveh is going between circling his tongue around your clit and pressing it in and out of your cunt, groaning at the way he can feel your walls squeeze and tremble around the muscle, but also at the way your body squelches as he slurps at the slick his movements seem to press out.

He’s so close up against you, he can barely breathe as Alhaitham holds him there— but he still can’t help but only want to press even deeper as he drinks in your reactions, swallowing loudly as he feels his own cock begin to leak precum against his clothes.

Your lips part to moan, but it’s covered up quite quickly by the sudden press of Alhaitham’s lips against yours, urging you to murmur out his name as he kisses you, messy and driven by the way Kaveh’s mouth is wrapped around you all while he watches. The realisation of all of it makes you feel terribly overwhelmed, and you can feel your boyfriend press more of his clothed cock against your lower back as he licks into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum.” You try to manage against the heat of the kiss and the movement of Kaveh’s mouth against your cunt, shaking into your boyfriend’s chest before he opts to pull away to admire you. Your chest is rising and falling with every shaky breath you’re struggling to take, and it’s all made so much worse when you feel Kaveh close his mouth around your clit to suckle.

Though it’s only for one, too short moment— seconds from your orgasm, before the hand in his blonde hair is tightening just enough to urge him off of you with a wet pop.

“Anddd, I think we’ve seen more than enough now.” Alhaitham hums from where he rests behind you and it’s almost immediately that you watch Kaveh’s blown features pull into a pretty, flushed frown. The expression he’s wearing makes you whimper a bit, kicking out your feet at the loss of not only your orgasm, but the warmth of his mouth as you feel your boyfriend’s arm snake it’s way back around your waist.

“Are you kidding me, Alhaitham?” Kaveh grumbles exasperatedly, “You’re just being selfish.” It’s quite obvious that he was enjoying himself as much as you seemed to be. But maybe that's the exact reason that Alhaitham’s taking great satisfaction in teasing him like this,

“How am I to blame for your shortcomings, might I ask, Kaveh?” He taunts the blonde before you, who’s furiously trying to readjust his shirt from where it’s tousled over his chest slightly — revealing more of the tanned, smooth muscle as you shamelessly let your eyes trace the valleys of his skin. “Afterall, I gave you more than an ample amount of time to get the job done.”

Alhaitham’s words are again matter-a-fact, but they mostly come from a place of knowing (given the right technique) how quickly he could make you cum himself. Yet here you are, still wound up and needy, and he think’s that's more of a fault on Kaveh’s part that anyone else's. So he waves his hand at his roommate again as the blonde gives him another sharp look from his knees, “Yet you still came up short. Seems I'm not the one to blame after all.”

And maybe it’s his own arousal that makes him barely able to argue back as he only stutters out a strained, “You—“

But then your voice calls suddenly, and the silence that falls over the two men on opposite sides of you almost makes you shake. “Haitham?”

"Yes?" Alhaitham answers to you intently as he turns his head towards you again, meeting your gaze from over your shoulder as you watch the way his features seem to almost immediately soften. It makes you shimmy yourself a little closer before you’re bringing up one of your hands to cover your mouth and whispering something ineligible from where Kaveh is kneeling, like you’re leaving him out of a secret exchange.

It makes him grumble to himself as he watches you both, and if he wasn’t so painfully hard and sweating profusely in his clothes right now, he’d leave you both to it. But for some reason, he can’t find it in himself to look away from you either.

It’s like he can see why your boyfriend dotes over you so much.

Kaveh watches the way Alhaitham listens carefully to whatever you’re whispering to him, smoothing his fingers along your skin from where they rest against your body while you speak, and holding you close in a way that almost makes something beneath his own skin sting. Another moment, and you pull away again to share a look but with the next, Alhaitham kisses you.

It’s a different sort of kiss to the one’s he’s seen you both share before; it’s messier, deeper — possessive in a way, like Alhaitham’s staking his claim over you and it seems almost uncharacteristic of his usual lax attitude. But Kaveh watches the way you curl into the warmth of his roommate’s lips and body, watches you twist in his lap so he can curl you closer with his strength and you let out a little whine as you both breathe deeply into the other's lips.

He can almost see the way your tongue’s are pressing up against each other between your breaths, something so consuming, suffocatingly passionate and heated that it makes him feel suddenly too warm beneath his own shirt again and he has to ground himself with an exhale. The sight makes him swallow loudly and he almost reaches to press his palm into the bulge of his cock— to quell the insistent throb that seems to be settling there despite how it may look. But before he can— Alhaitham opens his eyes to look at him, with a narrowed sort of sharp look before the kiss is breaking wet and he’s following it up with a quick peck against your swollen lips and a shrug, “I guess that’s fine.”

And then you’re suddenly turning yourself back around to face Kaveh again, a little more dazed and kiss drunk this time.

Your finger points softly to the noticeable tent in his pants, but you don’t make him feel self conscious when your lips part, muttering. "Kaveh, you can... take it out if you want."

But Kaveh can barely get his words out fast enough to respond, "Wha.... really? You're sure?" You nod at his question, and he gives Alhaitham a look before he watches the Scribe turn away to look at you instead. Like he’s deciding it’s best for him not to chime in, but opting to not stop him either as he pushes himself back up to his feet.

He feels unsteady as he stands, blame it on the fact that most of the blood in his body has rushed to his cock right now, or the way he’s lightheaded from his own arousal. But he tries to take his time as he strips back the layers of his outfit, not wanting to seem too eager until he’s able to push down his pants, and he lets himself gasp at the first sting of sexual freedom the release gives him.

His cock is as gorgeous as you would expect, tanned shaft and a dark pink tip— paired perfectly with the blonde hair that gathers at the base and a few freckles and veins decorating along the length of him. He isn’t as thick as Alhaitham is, but he has an upwards tilt to him that almost makes you drool, pre-cum already gathering at the tip as it glistens in the dim lighting of the living room.

Kaveh feels himself flush beneath your attention as you watch him, wriggling in Alhaitham’s lap like you’re excited about it. But your boyfriend’s gaze is still on the side of your face, and he’s busying himself with stroking his fingertips up and down the length of your arm instead. It’s quite suspicious for him to be so quiet, but the blonde decides not to question it as he brings himself to stand closer to you again.

His fingertips brush against your thighs as he reaches out to touch you once more, trembling slightly as he allows himself to take a proper look between both you and then the slick petals of your pussy that await him.

Like you, Kaveh would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like this before. Afterall, he’s heard the sweet sounds that his roommate is able to pull from you behind the privacy of his bedroom door; the way your voice lilts into something prettier when you cum and that sweet little dazed look you always seemed to wear whenever you’d pad out of the room an hour or so later.

He’s not sure what he’d call it— admiration, amusement, jealousy? It’s hard for him to decide on an answer, and he’s not given enough time to either when Alhaitham suddenly clears his throat. His green eyes are giving him a look from where he seems to have dazed off staring at you, and the realisation makes Kaveh clear his own throat before he’s taking a slow fistful of his cock— opting to smile down at you instead before he’s lining himself up against your cunt.

“Well then, I guess this is happening. Are you ready?” His words waver as the blunt head strokes softly along your folds, and he’s watching the way even the slightest touch seems to make his cock glisten. You already feel soft as silk and even that small bout of friction makes his knees threaten to buckle completely as he tries to steady himself with a breath.

You give him a pretty look and a nod, but before Kaveh can finally sink himself into you, Alhaitham cuts him off—

"Whoa whoa whoa, let's not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we?" The Scribe’s voice calls from behind you as he hooks his chin over top of your shoulder, narrowing his gaze up at his blonde roommate while he gapes and frowns back down at him now. But you listen to him, shimmying yourself down a little lower until you’re spreading your thighs a little more and the shaft of Kaveh’s cock rests between the folds of your pussy this time.

Alhaitham hums like he’s happy with that, "Just like that is fine."

“Fine. Whatever you say, Alhaitham.” Kaveh’s in no position to argue with what he’s giving him after all, he’s been generous enough to let him do this to begin with. So he swallows before readjusting himself again, and he grounds his body by grabbing gently at your thighs to keep you spread.

You’re already soaked as he presses his cock up against you, rubbing it along your slick folds and leaning enough of his weight onto you that it only presses you even closer into Alhaitham’s chest. The first silky grind of the length of him splits through you before catching on your clit, making you both gasp and moan at the wet tacky sound that follows and Kaveh has to take a breath for a moment as he squeezes his eyes closed. Trying not to cum too soon.

But it seems your audience isn’t going to let him away with that so easily.

"Need some help?" Alhaitham goads from where he’s back to stroking at your skin, fingertips dancing up the valley of your ribs and cupping at your tits as he gives Kaveh a taunting sort of look.

It makes him scoff, "N... no! I was just giving her a break, that's all!" Though he’s not sure how convincing he sounds when his voice breaks slightly— weighed down beneath his own arousal and the throb in his cock.

It makes Alhaitham scoff, "How kind of you. There's no rush afterall."

"I know that! It's called empathy Alhaitham, you should try having some!" Kaveh’s voice raises unsteadily, but the frown on his features doesn’t seem to hold much malice when he’s so flushed and stricken with pleasure.

"Actually I think my generosity right now far makes up for that." Alhaitham gives him a narrowed, lidded look before he presses his head into you, and that seems to be enough to end the argument when Kaveh breaks away from his gaze. He looks at you instead when your legs curl up around his waist, pulling him closer as he pushes the shaft of his cock even tighter up against the warm press of your folds– and he feels them wrap around him so invitingly it makes his hips jerk.

Kaveh opts to lean over you this time as he presses his palm into the plush back of the sofa, sandwiching you between him and Alhaitham as he allows himself to be pulled even deeper into the desperate hug of your cunt. You’re already whining when he draws his hips back, a languid and slow movement that makes you almost cry out when he rolls them back into you again a second later— desperately rubbing your slick along his throbbing cock as he tries hard to meet your gaze.

But Alhaitham seems to be stealing all of your attention away for himself as he presses ticklish kisses up the column of your throat from behind, hugging himself into you from where he’s letting his best friend rub his cock between your legs. All while you sit on your boyfriend’s lap.

So he opts to meet Kaveh’s gaze instead, and he looks almost smug when he does.

"Are you really just going to tease me while you watch, Alhaitham?" The blonde over you trembles as he lets his cock glide through your folds again, letting himself hump against you as each withdrawal of his hips makes a loud, wet sound. It’s hard to take him seriously as he coats his shaft in a mess of your slick and his spit, but it still feels like the Scribe is teasing him by not letting him really feel the tight squeeze of your walls.

He just shrugs again. "Actually, I have something far more important to attend to.” And Kaveh has to watch as he takes another slow handful of your tits through your dress, back to swiping his thumb across the pebbled press of your nipples until it almost makes you shake. It’s Alhaitham’s name you moan when your lips part, and he can see the smug little smile on his lips when he hears it. "Though if I'm not mistaken, it seems your pity from earlier was misplaced. Since someone seems to quite enjoy my understanding of intimacy and romance."

Alhaitham leans in a bit closer as he lets his voice, lips and teeth tease along the shell of your ear. But his gaze holds Kaveh’s as he palms at you– groping at your tits as his thumb circles the fabric of your dress again. “So feel free to apologise whenever you’re ready.”

That makes his blonde roommate scoff before he’s suddenly picking up the pace of his hips, like he’s got a point to prove as he mutters out a response, "Oh please, I didn't think it would end up l-like this, did I."

But Kaveh isn't an idiot, he can feel the way Alhaitham’s movements are only making you wetter and urging you to pull him even closer with every grope of his hands as your heels dig into his lower back— so despite his pride, he opts to give in… if only for your sake. "Keep doing that to her." He watches your body rise up into your boyfriend’s palms, long fingers pressing around your nipples to squeeze and he feels the way it makes you shudder.

“Oh? So you do need my help afterall.” Alhaitham chuckles, but the feeling of your pussy against Kaveh’s cock is so hot and aching, he doesn’t care. It feels like he’s burning up in the best way, and his roommate can see that quite clearly too as he relents. “Well, you only had to ask, Kaveh.”

“S-shutup, It’s for her sake, alright?” He lets himself rut into you harder as Alhaitham’s touch steadies you, he can feel you getting wetter beneath him with every thrust of his cock through your folds and for the first time when he turns to look at you, you meet him with your own blown gaze as you stir beneath him.

“It feels good, Kaveh.” Your words break into a whisper, and the tone you say his name in makes his pace stutter almost dangerously as he feels your clit graze along the sensitive underside of his cock, making him to press into you harder. Kaveh’s burning up, he feels like he can barely breathe— even as his roommate watches him hump his cock against his girlfriend’s cunt— he doesn’t care, you feel too good. He’s making a mess of the space between your thighs as his cock desperately drools precum along your skin, but it only helps to further ease his movements as he rubs himself up against you.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Kaveh.” Alhaitham huffs, but then he grunts with the next particularly sharp thrust of Kaveh’s hips and it makes you purr. Afterall, how could anyone be able to resist the feeling of your ass constantly grinding up against the press of the hard cock behind you. It’s simply natural for him to be close himself despite the way he’s barely been touched— but he’s far too preoccupied playing with you to care anyway, and it was to be expected that his girlfriend could get him into such a state.

Kaveh gives him a sharp look at his words, but he can’t argue back at all when he feels goosebumps begin to burst along his skin.

Then you gasp, head lolling back against Alhaitham’s shoulder as he rolls at your tits and the next eager press of Kaveh’s shaft against your folds makes you stiffen— legs squeezing tight around his waist as the blonde grits his teeth. “Kaveh, you’re gonna make me cum!”

And your voice breaks into something beautiful as you do, shaking between the two men that hold you and it’s closely followed by another groan from Alhaitham behind you as he gives into his own orgasm– making a mess of his slacks as he ruts his hips up into your ass. The stuttered movement seems to angle your hips up a bit more than planned, but it’s just enough for Kaveh to accidentally slip the tip of his cock inside of you— making you both gasp as you squeeze and cream around the head of his cock, and he treats himself with a short thrust deeper before he’s barely able to pull back in time.

“Just… Just, Ugh—” He’s already mourning the tease of your warm walls trembling around him before his hips jerk, and Kaveh cums with a tight lipped moan of your name as his load lands messily across your skin, painting your body in his seed as his own crumbles beneath the weight of his orgasm. It’s dizzying, how pretty you look beneath him— fluttering lashes and parted lips as more of your cream catches on the shaft of his cock and he presses up against you in a way that makes the blonde sway as he rides out his high.

He feels completely wrecked when he finds it in himself to stumble away from you both, and you give him a cute, satisfied look before curling your way back into Alhaitham— who’s looking equally as wrecked with the now soiled fabric in his slacks bothering him. Kaveh watches the way the stickiness makes him fidget.

The three of you let the silence rest for a while longer as you catch your breath, and your boyfriend moves to pull your underwear back into place before pushing back down the fabric of your dress and pulling you deeper into his chest. It urges you to rest your head into the crook of his neck as you turn to face him, and you share a quick kiss as Kaveh begins to straighten out his clothes again, unable to break his gaze away from you as he does.

Alhaitham is the first to speak as he urges his roommate to look away from you.

“Hm, dare I say I’m actually impressed, Kaveh. Seems whatever you were spouting earlier wasn’t just empty rhetoric afterall.” His voice scratches slightly as he addresses him, no doubt still coming down from his own still lingering pleasure.

But the blonde only just finishes smoothing down his shirt before the compliment makes him freeze in disbelief, “Wha? Really?”

“Oh? You sound surprised.”

Kaveh barely manages one of his prettier frowns to respond again, “Maybe it’s because you’ve never said anything good about me before. So excuse me for feeling like you don’t really mean that.” But he does find it in himself to scoff this time, watching you fidget against your boyfriend’s chest before you’re cracking an eye open to look at him– and he’s pretty sure he can see you smiling as they bicker back and forth.

“And what makes you think I’m not just speaking on someone else’s behalf?” Alhaitham quips back, motioning towards you in his arms and if Kaveh wasn’t still coming down from his orgasm, he’d put up more of a fight than he is right now as he pulls up his pants again. Hissing as he tucks his now softening cock back behind the fabric.

“Are we forgetting I’m your senior? You really should show me a little respect, Alhaitham. A compliment won’t kill you.” The blonde scoffs as he runs a trembling hand through his hair, grumbling when he takes in the mess of the braid, but before Alhaitham can respond back again— you’re making your first attempt to move. Your boyfriend is quick to grab your hand to steady you as he helps you stand but because of who Kaveh is— he can’t help but want to reach out too.

“Hey, do you need me to help clean you up?” He asks kindly, taking in the damp spots on your dress that are most likely due to being soiled in his cum.

But Alhaitham only lures you back against his chest when he stands up behind you, beginning to guide you in the general direction of the bathroom as he finds his own now soiled slacks to be quite uncomfortable themselves. “I think I can handle that part on my own, Kaveh.” He opts to answer in your stead, but you still manage to give the blonde a sleepy, hormone-drunken smile before you’re taking unsteady little steps to follow your boyfriend down the hall.

Kaveh watches you both leave before Alhaitham turns to look at him again, his voice taking a more sincere tone than it has all day.

“But it’s nice to know you’re feeling more relaxed. So feel free to actually get some rest for once.”

He wasn’t just begging anymore - he was aching for it.

The meaty mounds of his thighs twitching after every passing second that he wasn’t filling you up, Toji’s chewing down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from leaking with all those syrupy wads of saliva threatening to depart.

Even more once you’re blinking away the sting of his toned v-line hitting the cheeks of your ass, swervin’ in a wiiiide figure-eight that makes the man below you hiss. “Say ‘please.’”

It’s been like this for far too long now. 

Fuck, Toji knows this what he gets - he knows he shouldn’t have mocked your cute, needy self for always wanting to be filled up with all his thick ounces. And now you were brutally torturing him with your clingy wet pussy until he regretted it. 

“P-please.” It’s wrenched from the very back of his throat, coated with a primal thickness that makes you shudder. In sultry synchronization with the creaking of the bedsprings as he bucks– “Please- I said it- okay? Inside- hafta cum inside- wanna- need to.”

The last few strings of his rationality snaps as long raven lashes glaze over with a thin film of tears, scarred lips wobbling once you’re giving his ravaged shaft a clench. 

He’s so big and achingly stuffed inside of you that you can’t even breathe without feeling the mushy swivels he’s planting all the way in your lungs. You watch his broad pecs simmer with hot, desperate perspiration as he moans. Hazy peripherals half-lidding, “Please let me cum inside you, mama?”

And he’s so sexy like this - shaggy black bangs sticking to his face until he’d almost curtained his greedy gaze, mouth trickling with thin lines of drool, cock ruining you - that you almost give in.

Almost. 

“Well, maybe if you say ‘pretty pl-’”

That’s just when Toji gives in, too.

Snaps. 

And if you thought that his impatient rut earlier was rude, then you weren’t prepared for the way that he’s starting up a pace that fucks you silly.

Plump, puckered lips drooping languidly ajar as he watched his glistening cock pump deeper into your pussy, breath hitching as if he hadn’t even realized he was milking himself on you. Toji gropes a handful of your right asscheek and helps manhandle you up n’ down like a doll. 

Rough. Rugged. 

He’s searching for your sweetest spots so accurately that even the slightest brush of his puffy, wide veins leave you dizzy. Weepy divot striking your g-spot hard–

“Fuck- fuck!” Your mind’s being so muddled after every punctuating thrust that you almost don’t notice the way that Toji’s grouchy, deep tone breaks. Cracks, “Driving me fuckin’ crazy with this pretty pussy- fucking mad.”

You’re whimpering, one of Toji’s meaty forearms coming to slouch himself partially upright on the bed and listen closer to every sticky plap! No longer solely riding him - he was drilling into you like he was addicted. 

Grunting, “Look at you- look at you.”

“Wh-whaaat–?” You sniffle, chin hitting your chest once turn to where he was staaaaring. Dead-on. Where your saturated pussylips were pried apart until you could see every swollen inch he was pushin’ in, the reddened split-end of his crownhead peeking out before each nudge into your favorite spots. 

Rolling his eyes, Toji pitches his voice just a few octaves higher into one that definitively does not sound like you. “‘Wh-wh-what?’ she says.” 

Dark brows furrowing, a thin line of sweat traces down either side of his temples as he surges into you so hard that the skin ‘round his pelvis reddens. Right hand leaving half-moon crescent nail marks on your hips, “Yer a reeeeal mean girl, y’know?” He huffs and puffs, palm pressing at the base of your spine to get you to gyrate your hips. He’s fully taken over now - cocky. “Drooling all over me like that n’ n-not expecting me to make a mess, too.”

Batting your heavy eyelids, it takes you a few seconds to actually rover your fingertips over the gleaming wet glaze that was drivelling all down Toji’s tensed core. 

From the soaked tufts of Stygian black at the base of his cock to the ridges of his abs, your slurping cunt was just spraying out your essence until he was basking in it. 

He watches with a sleazy grin as you’re letting the slicked mess dangle from your digits, sticky. 

“Yeah, look at that- look at you.” Words high-pitched n’ breathy, gone - with every nanosecond he’s sloppily planting three repeated slam-slam-slams on your spongy cervix, Toji’s falling apart. “Looking like th-that n’ teasing me and- and ohhh ya won’t be teasing me anymore when m’filling you up, doll.”

Truly, he was just so big and barreling inside of you that it was dissolving your poor brain cells- and right now you couldn’t even remember the incident that’d led to this in the first place. “F-filling?”

“Tha’s riiiight–” He’s grinning, “Gonna fill you up now- gonna fill up that pretty pussy until y-you won’t even hngh- remember what s’like without me inside. Gonna fuck you so full you won’t even be able to speak- to breathe.”

You’re flinching once the battle-worn index of his right hand scrapes a line straight from the treacly edge of your cunt - up, up, up past your tummy and all the way to your throat. 

“-gonna fill ya up until right here, mama.”

And usually, Toji would never dare cum before he’d made you reach your high at least three times - wouldn’t even mention such a thing. 

Usually. 

But right now it’s so much, too much that he’s throwing his sweaty crown back into the silken pillows and squirting. You’d made Toji Fushiguro squirt - hard n’ rough, quickly filling you up with gooey sploshes of sap that all but fountains out of your puffy pussylips.

He feels like he’s about to pass out, like he can’t do anything but twitch his colliding hips into yours to plug you up to the very brim. Animalistic. Barely even there. 

It’s so hefty and humid past your dripping entrance that you can feel your skin break out in perspiration, unstable voice coming out awed. “Toji- d-did you just-”

“Shut up.”

Fill you up alright - you were so stuffed right now that you barely even register it when he hooks his palm once more to your waist and flips the two of you over.

Dampened bangs of his sticking to your forehead, eyes almost shuttering, the chubby edge of his mushroomy tip pryin’ apart your gluey walls with a resounding squeeeelch once more. 

“Wasteful girl-” One of his free hands skim the pale milky sheen formulated on your inner thighs, leaking. Hypnotized, he thrusts- “Said I wanted to c-cum inside you, not squirt. Buckle up, buttercup.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “W-will it fit?”

Will it fit. Will it fit-

It’s just about the only thing that your husband can think about right now as he’s dragging his rotund fingertips aaaaall over the soppy slit of your cunt, plugging back the thick droplets of cum that just kept on pouring from between.

But he’d be lying if he said that the notion didn’t make his plump, aching balls twitch—

“Pleeeease, Ken?” You’re jutting your lower lip out cutely into a pout, tugging aside your thoroughly drenched panties further n’ further to let Nanami’s half-opened eyes take it alllll in, in this lecherous full nelson. “Promise I can ngh- take one more.”

“B-but, my love-”

And yet, he can’t stop the way his traitorous hips are creeping back a few inches and ramming straight to his massive hilt. Opening your puffy hole so wide on his sheer circumference that it’s making you all stupidly dizzy.

“Your- your body- I don’t wanna hurt you and–” His long blond lashes sweep the edges of his cheekbones as he blinks blearily down at you, sensitivity making him tear up. “I don’t know if I even can anymore-”

Push after push he’s outlining your mushy walls trying to cream himself on you, wringing himself dry. Trying. Brain sparking as he tries to wrench out a few more ribbony droplets of saccharine sap.

You’re mewling, hips jerking back n’ forth with sensitivity once the cold metal of Nanami’s wristwatch scrapes your outer pussy. Pressing deeply into your heated flesh as he snags a few thick digits ‘round your lacy panties, to tug- “But-” and riiiiip it off before you know it. “-if my pretty wife asks…”

Anything you want is yours - including if you want to be stuffed so full to the brim of your soft, syrupy pussy until you can feel him in your damn lungs. 

And that’s exactly what Nanami’s doing. Twisting the glazed remnants of that flimsy underwear around his right hand, choking your pretty neck with his left hand. He’s mazing his fattened, cherry-colored tip through your walls until he’s splitting you apart. 

So thick that the sheer size of him makes you sob, your legs twitching upwards once he hits the gooey back of your pussy so hard that your mind numbs. “So good- so good I can’t help but keep wanting to hah! fill you up.”

“Oh- oh, just like that–! Want it- ngh- make me your cumdump, Kento.”

“Cumdump- cumdump, huh?” His gravelly tone makes your entrance quiver, gushing walls clenching when he’s surging back to stuff himself inside snugly. Aching for that burning stretch of him, “You like it all inside, darlin’?”

And it’s a rhetorical question - but your sloppy cunt’s squelching out a few answering noises anyway. So fucking wet that even the slighest gyration stirring up your velvety innards slops out a wet puddle.

“O-ohhhh–” He’s groaning, plush lower lip wobbling ever-so-slightly at the sound that sings like music to his ears. “You wanna talk to me baby- s’that it?” 

You’re whimpering, goosebumps skittering all over your skin as Nanami’s strong tannish arms push you around - bending you further, more pliably, practically in half as he’s sprawling your thighs over his meaty ones and streeeetching until he can push his fat, reddened cock even deeper. “Oh- you want me to go ngh- deeper? Anything for you, my love. Anything.”

Unsure whether he’s talking to you or your bulging pussy, he’s clawing one of his hands up to his flared nostrils and sniiiffing your wettened panties. 

Groaning, “Yeah- yeah.” Nodding- the sensible, stoic Nanami Kento was completely and utterly pussydrunk. Hoarse, “Oh, your s-sweet pussy’s just begging for me to cum inside.”

With a particularly rough scratch of his bawling orifice along your cervix, you’re wailing out shrilly, “Want it- p-please, give it t’me.”

You knew how to read him so easily, because all it takes is another saturated clench before Nanami’s finding his head thrown back. Maw hotly ajaw, golden happy trail scratching your back with a shiver. 

“Can I? Can I really?” And there’s something cracked and broken, octaves-higher at the back of his gentle baritone voice. Still in disbelief as he’s plunging his hips into you even sloppier, harder. So, so desperate to make his tenderly overstimulated cock finally cum, “Can’t hah! help it…can’t help it can’t- ngh! Your pussy’s too good s’making an animal outta me.”

“Don’t- miss—ngh!‘ Tearful eyes rolling around in circular patterns like in some cartoon, Nanami has to reach over his left hand until he can tug your chin down to make you watch. Watch the show. 

“Promise not to miss, darlin’.”

Won’t miss - couldn’t miss even if he tried, Nanami was dead set on slapping your bruised g-spot until it makes your vision blotch with white. 

The exact same creamy ivory that forths out of your greedy cunt once he’s finally, finally hitting his lecherous high. Finishing off in such a wet, primal way that coats both your folds with a glossy polish, his ribbons of cum are so scalding hot that your thighs start getting clammy with slick n’ sweat.

Nibbling down on your plush lower lip, “F-feels so good- hck!”

Full enough that your hole’s being pushed widely agape by Nanami’s rummaging cock until his syrupy cum leaks out. He’s planting two firm feet on the mattress to rut and rut and milk himself, sensitive veins rubbin’ up until tears spring to his hooded peripherals. “You like it a-allll inside, huh? Feel me all up in- here.”

The knobbled end of his thumb comes snaking down stealthily, drawing a little cum-covered heart on the slope of your pussy.

It lets out the wettest, most sinful plop! as you watch Nanami suck off the milky excess, groaning. Pushing his nosebridge back into your stringy panties, it’s as if your pheromones were enough to drive him mad all over again. “Wonder if a third one would fit, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - MEAN!

“N-not yet.” You’re piping up smugly for about the nth time tonight, the rounded mounds of your ass pushing back on Geto’s sharp hipbones until he’s gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to cum.

Not to just cream your gummy walls fully in heaping oodles like he oh-so-badly needed to.

The pretty apples of his cheeks blushing raw n’ red at your endless teasing, Geto spanks his slender palm down on your right ass cheek and watches you shiver. Tiny, wracking trembles of yours turning into full-on gasps once you feel the way he only grows harder. Thicker.

“H-heh, y’know I get bigger when you’re mean to me, gorgeous.” He groans in your ear, raspy and ruined once his big, beefy left forearm comes to trap your throat in a fucking headlock. And he wasn’t merciful, either - Geto’s pushin’ his bicep close until you could feel every vein covering him. “You must really like this biiiig fucking cock then, huh?”

Taking you feverishly from behind, he was just so damn big that you’re feeling his pudgy cockhead push into your lungs. 

Dragging a wet line of precum that lets his throbbing shaft slip n’ slide rapidly inside, every plap! of sticky skin-on-skin makes your hazy pupils swirl stupidly in circles inside your eyeballs. Whining, “You’re s-sooo mean, shouldn’t ever let you cum inside, Suguru.”

“I’m mean- I’m mean?” Something scratchy and pitched cracks at the back of his chuckle, gaze dilating wider like he couldn’t even believe what he was hearing. Crazed. “Tellin’ me I-I’m mean when-”

Trailing off, his plush, pink lips pucker up n’ swat your tender slope with a fat wad of saliva. Left hand sneaking slightly past your puffy lips to watch it sliiiide straight down your drooling slit, “-when you’re this fucking wet n’ expecting me not to cum inside?”

You’re so sappily drenched that every harsh rut is making you gush out in all but torrents, a few beads of slick starting to drizzle down your inner thighs. 

But of course, Geto Suguru couldn’t have that. 

And without a second thought, he’s dragging his thick ringed fingers down those translucent gumdrops and slipping them into his mouth. Groaning at the sweetness, “Look h-how much you’re begging- how much you’re- hah! sucking me up.” 

So snug inside your cute pussy that every creeping reel of his hips backwards left you bouncing too- the sight is so cute that Geto can’t help but splash out yet another treacly stream of spittle. 

“O-oh my god, Sugu–!”

“If ya can take that, then you can take this.”

And then he’s just smoochin’ your g-spot softly, once– the last bit of niceness you get before simply bruising the tippy-top of his crowned reddish tip against his favorite target. Geto’s accuracy rate is a deadly 100% and it drives you wild, knees knocking against each other as you clench.

“O-oh.” The mere velvety hug of your tight walls enough to have him leaning his upper-body over - dark monks’ robes still half-on and disheveled - till the tufts of curly black hair atop his hilt scratch your spine sensitively. Breath hitching, voice guttural. “Evil girl. Evil-” Headlock tightening, “-evil. You drive me craaaaazy.”

Practically melting. 

Geto’s skin was scalding hot and glued to your back, sweat-simmered forehead hitting the crook of your neck, a low trail of saliva gushes out of his mouth and hits your shoulder with a splat! splat! splat!

It’s as if he was out of control, the twitching fringes of his digits rover down to your neglected clit and roll his frigid metal rings on top. “Tell me.”

Hiccuping at both the toying on your delicate nub and the way that your heated pants get lodged in your throat, Geto’s sculptured arms manhandle your airway to constrict. You’re whining, “T-tell you what-”

He gifts the slippery hood of your clit with a slight pinch– tone raspy and hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”

Oh, he had you. 

“P-please!” You were done for. And with only a few more vulgar streaks of sloppy precum being poured into your channel, your core aches for more more more. “Want you to cum i-inside, Suguru–”

And you had him just as much. His entire muscular weight sagging on top of yours until your cheek was being firmly pressed into the soft futon, the silken fabrics and ridges of his abs glissading clammily down your arched spine. 

He groans in a hoarse drag, “Thaaaat’s more like it. S’better when you beg, gorgeous. Take it-” Every single syllable being punctuated with a solid battering ram, he was simply milking himself on your sweltering hot pussy. “-take it.”

You’re hitting your wave of bliss so suddenly that you don’t even realize until Geto throws his head back with a drawn-out ‘fuh-fuuuuck!’

Every hit after direct hit sending stars twittering in your bleary vision, the pleasure was just so much that it makes your knees weaken and hit the ground. “Please- please please please–”

The chilling coldness of his tongue piercing glides down your maw just in time with the slurping splash of dewy wet cum streaking your cunt. A thick white syrup that glues your pussylips together and makes such a soiling puddle underneath you two, Geto was cumming harder than he had in his entire life. 

You’re sucking mindlessly on the very tip of his candied tongue, silver studded piercing flashing inside your heated mouth. “Suguru I–” Mewling at the warmth of the sheen dripping from your outer pussy, your sloppy hole is just gushing at this point. “-it feels so good.”

“Shut up.” Geto hisses through thoroughly bitten teeth, the sound of your pretty voice too much now that he’s tumbling straight into his own high. Leaning over, “Shut up shut up- sh-shut- nghhh–” 

And it’s almost as if he’d just remembered his lecherous hold on you, snugly pulling on the headlock until you’re choking cutely on your words. 

He’s pushing you down, down, down and stirring his heavy length, all the way from his sagging hilt to the very plump, plum-colored tip. Digging in deep at the very bottom, “Say anythin’ else in that pretty voice and it’s going to make me want to c-cum again, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Mind-BREAK

And it wasn’t just the slick rubber condom that was tearing at the edges – truthfully, it was Choso’s sanity, too.

Because the very moment you’re batting your prettily lashes up at him, mewling to ‘please please’ keep going- well, the half-curse finds his towering body wracking with the rawest, neediest shivers. Panting. 

Shaking. 

The edges of his pearly whites biting straight down into his bottom lip as his hot, cherry-red tip peeks out of the condom and slips right into your raw cunt. Just bawling in creamy wet droplets of pre, frothing down your quivering pussy. 

“R-raw?” Choso’s trembling out, the cutest husky whine cracking at the end of his deep voice. And he’s gnawing down on the inside of his cheek to stop from whining once you nod. “I can really…raw?”

Snuggling him to your heaving chest with a pull at his sweat-matted locks, “Mhm– please, Cho. No need to be shy, I wan’ it all inside.”

“Wh-when you say ‘all’ inside…”

Oh, fuck. Your sweet boyfriend’s cock is so thick that he’s ravaging you from the inside out, swelling n’ bulging a few more lecherous centimeters wider so that that stupid lil’ rubber is torn clean off of him. You’re throwing your head into your soft pillows once you feel his mazing veins scrape-scrape-scraaaaape along your dewy walls, so laaazily. 

Choso respires a few unsteady inhales as he’s urgently tugging off the shattered remains of the condom, slender soft tips of his digits then moving to give himself a pinch. Rasping, “S’real-” To give your perky clit a pinch. His eyes widen, “S’real s’real- it’s-”

You’re whining, hips bucking restlessly up where he was stuffing your cunt with rapid, ruined half-ruts. Over and over- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “O-of course it’s real, baby.”

Like he couldn’t do anything else. 

“No, but- but it’s real-” Choso’s voice breaks as he’s pleading with you, granting your clit one last pinch. “M’going in raw and oh–!” Chestnut lashes flapping helplessly at the slick velvety feeling inside of you, you were hugging his throbbing length so warm, so tightly that he could feel his thighs twitch. “Fuck- I’m gonna fuck you now. Gonna fuck you for real.”

Not even registering that his hips already were pounding into you. He’s slouching over to ram faster, harder. 

“Oh, m’already fucking you…”

The stretch so wide that your knees thrash weakly, “Shit- shit, feels so good, Choso– keep going.”

With a stolen peek at your bulging folds, Choso gingerly wraps his long fingers ‘round either side of your squirming hips to keep on pushing forward; even the slightest recoil making him grunt. More. 

With a particularly harsh ba-dump–! of his slimy, curvaceous tip probin’ into your cervix, he finds his breath hitching. As if he’d just had an epiphany- “Does that ngh- mean I can do that thing called a….” Boring deep into your eyes, his steamily hot shaft releases a gooey line of precum. Jolting with excitement. “-a creampie, baby?”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Now that he’d had one taste, he wanted the entire meal. All three courses that made the man salivate at the mere thought.

Your spit-glittered lips droop into the perfect ‘o’ once the words finally sink in, moaning. “Wh-where do you even find this- out- hck! Cho?”

Now, Choso wasn’t experienced, not even close - but even he could feel the way your soppy pussylips were getting so much damper with arousal. Stamping a glistening kiss on his hilt that he wishes he could tattoo- “Read about it- online- and I–”

He’s breaking off with a fucked-out groan at the beaded droplets of moisture seeping from your entrance, pouring out with a splat! after every punctuating thrust. 

And Choso doesn’t even realize how he’s moving - doesn’t even register the fact that he’s gripping your boneless legs and throwing them on his shoulders until you sob. Heels digging into his flexed deltoids, front meeting his tense abs, pushed into such a filthy mating press.

“-and I think m’gonna fucking die if I don’t fill up this pretty pussy, baby.”

“O-oh, fuck!” You’re shrilling through your clenched teeth every time he’s arching his muscular back to strike your g-spot precisely, filling your nooks and orifices with a clingy second skin of sap. 

Choso fucks you straight through the mattress of your bed like he yearns for you - sloppy, sensual drags of his painfully-hard cock. “You wanna hngh! cum inside?”

“Please- please.” He’s gasping, strawberry divot leaking from the end of his long length with every vulgar stroke. “I want it. Need it- d-don’t know if I’ll be able to last with this cute cunt so raw n’ wet and raw.”

His parched Adam’s apple bobs carnally once you slide your greedy palms all over his luscious pecs, tuggin’ on those rose-pink nipples till he shivers. Down, down, down.

And he’s just too pretty with his eyes glazed-over with tears, gaze fiery through the cracks in his bangs. You just can’t help but waft your hands over each of his eight rippling abs and tease- “Tell me- how badly?”

Cutely pathetic wobbles taking over his rosy lips, “Badly- badly. Please, I’ll beg-” Choso’s beefy arms grip onto your hips stronger until you’re halfway through being lifted clean off the rickety bedsprings. You’ve ruined him- fuck, you’ve ruined him. A primally desperate expression taking over his features, “M’begging, please let me c-cum inside. Promise I’ll make you feel eeeeevery single inch- eeeeevery single- drop.”

Blinking, “Every?” 

“Every.” And Choso’s just about ready to open his dry mouth and plead some more, to fuck the answer out of you. That is- before the hands that’d been tracing his dark happy trail end up slithering downwards, just barely reaching over to caress his rounded pink ballsack. “Ev- oh.”

To make him cum and cum harder than he ever has in his entire life.

When it rains, it pours - and Choso was simply flooding your poor, snug core with messy topping upon topping of white, syrupy seed. So much of it splashing against the circular bruises he’d made at the back of your pussy and rapidly overfilling you from the inside. 

You can feel your warmly fuzzy mind sparking something primal with every spurt stuffed inside of you- and he wasn’t just pushing it inside, he was battering you with it.

Quick, aggressive spanks of his toned v-line into the underside of your thighs. He puffs out in a sweltering cloud of breath, eyeliner smudged through tears. “Fuh-fuck! Fuck fuck fuck- so this is a c-creampie? S’this how m’supposed to hngh- fill your pussy up, baby?” 

Dolloping out a milky wad of cum that’d webbed around his bulky base, he’s coating his thumb in all of those juices and drawin’ a cute heart on top of your clit. Pressing down hard to make you cry out oh-so-prettily–

“Mhmm– you’re pussydrunk, Cho.” You’re managing to giggle out, fingers brushing away a stray strand of brown that’d plastered onto his sweat-glossed forehead. 

Fingers that your boyfriend catches between his honed canines and bites. Hard. 

Left hand angrily fisting the drenched hilt of his cock, palm smearing with a buzzing layer of Blood Manipulation. Of power that forces his weepy tip to pulse and harden– again. Again. “Oh, you’re about to see ‘pussydrunk’, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The big

“-two—three–hck!” You’re keening at the humidly burning stretch of your arched spine, bleary eyes falling over your shoulder and behind to where you were riding the great King of Curses in reverse. Well, more like splitting your poor pussy open–

Been like this for so, so long - a marathon.  You could already feel the glittery ringlet of cum from rounds prior sinfully tickling your wide entrance, splosh! goes that cute tummy bulge he was fucking into you.

Flapping your tear-stained eyelashes, your voice cracks as you slip yourself down yet another one of his thick, barreling dual inches. So sensitive. “-f-four?”

“Keh- nice try.” Sukuna claws one of his four palms across your hips, using just the tiniest bit of his strength to draaaaag you down his copious, throbbing lengths. So much of him filling you up that it makes your head dizzy, “But no, mama, you’re eight inches in.”

Eight- eight?

Oh, the mere notion is enough for you to weaken your knees and let two of his monstrously massive palms take control.

Giving your right ass cheek a rude spank, “And only…” A third of his big, beefy arms measuring out the remaining girths that were puffy and aching to be stuffed inside of you. “-almost halfway more to go.”

“H-half- oh!”

Before that sentence has even registered in your mind, he’s tapping your trembly thighs open and giving a thorough slam that pries your gluey walls oh-so-apart. All but making you scream–

“Shush now- and let this pretty pussy be the one talking.” Sukuna licks his lips with a thin layer of spittle at the way you’re sucking him up ravenously. Every slap of his probin’ crownhead inside beading a few dewy droplets of precum that pour out with a sluuuurp. “What’s that? What’s that?”

Your moans are halfway through flooding your mouth before you realize that he isn’t even speaking to you. 

No- no, he’s drifting his beady crimson eyes down to coo at your bulging pussylips. Bouncin’ your lecherous hips in swerving motions, he leans in even closer to listen to her. 

“Ohhh, sloppy girl–” Sukuna puffs out through sweltering, stilted breaths. And you’re flinching at the dampened sliiiide of something wet and hot slithering between your swollen folds. Trawling a saturated layer of spittle with his damn cursed mouth, making a mess of the syrupy white seed leaking out. “-you want more, huh? I dunnoooo, better ask the missus.”

More. 

More more more. 

You were so full to your filthy brim that every minute movement made the knotted wads of cum inside of you splash. 

Thighs trembling as you’re riding out a shallow, sensual pace, “M-more? What do you mean- ngh-”

Smack! goes the way that the king plants down yet another hefty slap, all of his fleshy fingertips branding permanently on your heated skin. “You know what I mean, lil’ human.” Sukuna’s so monstrously big that the slightest buck of his muscular thighs makes your driveling cunt sound out a squelch! “She wants ta be stuffed even more. Heh- greedy.”

“W-will it even fit, Kuna–?”

“Awww- see? I tried, girl.” Turning back to your lil’ stuffed pussy, you’re watching from the front as he puckers his lips in faux sympathy. 

So filthy with his rummaging cocks that every hammering thrust makes him slide against the other, the zig-zagging lines of his veins massaging your sweet spots just right. Pullin’ apart your sappy cunt until you were just struggling to keep up the sheer stretch. 

He’s soaking out a bucketload of buttery pre that sparked more of those noises he loved so much. “S’that so? Want me to ask again? Wan’ it haaa– that bad, huh?” Turning back to you, the underside of Sukuna’s cursed tongue flattens to roam over like a tendril, giving your clit a spank. “Begging- s’that what you want? The king to beg?”

And oh. Oh- if any one of his cursed subjects could overhear the king right now then they would have fainted

Jaw dropped, hips faltering, eyelids fluttering to try and dredge up some ounce of your rationality. “B-beg?”

“Mhm—” And, well, part of Sukuna thought it’d be a joke, part of Sukuna was so pussydrunk that he was just babbling. Slithering his sizzling tastebuds all over your sheeny inner-thighs, spearheading you with his bulbous tips until he’s swiping all the way on your cervix. Twice. “C’mon, girl. M’begging- begging here to cum inside, kissin’ your feet and all.”

The mouth slashed across his sculptured front titters, lightly craning over to plant a few smooches all over your ankles. He hums, “See? See? M’begging- c’mon, girl, milk me dry- milk the king dry. Look at how you’ve got me.”

And your hips - oh, your birthing hips are so good that it has his crown scalp overheating, fuzzy every time the globes of your ass jiggle sensually down onto his tattooed hips. 

Hitting, hitting, hitting.

Until your flesh is stinging and raw, heavy spitballs falling out from your mouth - enough to make your words incoherent. “Th-then please.” A hot stream of tears hitting your cheeks, “Please.”

“P-please.”

And that last beg wasn’t one from your parched lips - it was one from his. Ryomen Sukuna unfastening his sharp jaw to let his trembling baritone crack with what sounds like a whimper once you’re hitting your high.

And then he cums.

With both matchingly rock-hard ends of his shafts, the ridges of his tip catch on your softest spot and drench it in silvery bouts of syrupy white seed. Pumping and pumping you full until he can trek a hand up to about halfway down your tummy and pat the lil’ cylindrical outline.

You’re thrashing at the zaps of pleasure that blur your vision, “It’s s-shoooo full–! Hck! It’s so full, Kuna–”

“How cuuuute–.” His whispers make shivers run down your spine, curling a hand ‘round your throat so that he can gnaw his gnarly canines down your throat. 

The split-ended edges of his tongue slip along the slimy ribbons of cum that trickle out of your creamy pussy. Lapping up every inch of you, “She’s happy heh- look at her.” 

Until a carnal scratch along your slippery slit makes your wet pussy squeeeelch, “O-oh, she’s saying–” You’re craning your head to meet Sukuna’s half-lidded, glowing eyes and oh- oh, you were fucked. Because Ryomen Sukuna whimpers, “-she wants more…”

♡ INO TAKUMA - 1st.

“First-” Departs Ino’s gruff whine, panted right into the crook of your neck while he squeezes you to his toned front. “M-my first time- is this really real? Really reeeally real?”

A pretty smile tugs on your spit-slicked lips, enough to make Ino want to cum right then and there. “Of course- why, baby?”

“B-because it doesn’t feel real, pretty.” Comes his sultry, low-toned answer, wrinkling his nose and grunting at the squelching slip n’ slide of your oversaturated folds down his reddened cock. You’re biting down on the plush of your lower lip when his puffy veins scratch your outer pussy sensually. “Can’t believe m’going to- to…”

Ino’s so drunk on your sweet, sweet pussy that he’s already run out of words. 

The tawny strands of his bangs covering his eyes, his heart-shaped pupils are fully starstruck once he pushes the pointed globe of his cockhead into your hole. 

Breath hiccuping. Panting. 

Throat ripping with a cracked whimper as he’s easing in, “Can’t believe that you f-feel so good and-” Dizzy pupil locked on the way he’s pushing your bloated lips so far apart- Ino’s so damn thick that just the simplest few inches is enough to make your knees weak. “-a-and fuuuuck…m’not gonna last.”

Not a few more minutes, not even for a few more breaths. Just one squelching touch and he’s finding himself gone already.

Ino’s further spreading his capped knees on the bed to rut and rut and rut like he’s trying to milk himself stupid. Slicked, glistening stripes of pre dripping down either side of your heated thigh, he’s making such a mess. 

“Aww— you wanna ngh- cum inside, Taku–?” You’re coaxing through his mindless pace, pushing with the left-leaning angle of his fat length like he was addicted.

And he was- oh, he was addicted. So, so addicted that just the mere idea - just hearing those words fall from your puckered lips - was enough for him to want to cum right then and there. 

Gnawing on his plump, cherry-pink bottom lip, “Yes- yes, please.” He’s breathing out, soft panting gasps hitting your face like a scorching breeze. And his fuzzy happy trail is making your clit rub raaaw once he starts glissading even deeper inside. “C-can I cum inside, sweetness?”

“Hmm–” You’re pretending to think whilst he patiently waits, “I dunno—” 

And you watch as he stalls, you watch as he falters. You watch that dopey, ruined smile plastered all over his face sag ever-so-slightly, that strawberry orifice weeping from the end of his cock pulsing angrily in response. That is- until you’re plowing on teasingly, “How badly do you want it, baby?”

Oh, and Ino can only think to go harder- a chance, you’re really giving him a chance. 

Drilling his slick-lustred girth into you faster, rougher- he’s gritting his teeth and pounding all his voluminous, plumpened inches inside like a madman. “Badly- so, so badly–” Words coming out a throaty croon, he’s almost yelping from the back of his throat at the raw sting of slamming flesh.

“Hmm- now where are those manners?”

“P-please. Please, pretty? Please let me ngh! cum inside? I’ll do anything.”

“Anything–?”

“Anything.” Ino nods and nods, tumbling over his unsteady fingers to wrap ‘round your perked, swollen clit like he’d read online. “I’ll do anything.”

And what he said - he meant.

He’s scouring his bloated cockhead till you feel him dig a deep crater into your g-spot, a rounded bruise the exact size of his thick circumference. Ino might be the sweetest, but his jackhammering tempo certainly wasn’t. “Anything- I-I’ll clean up after and take care of you and kiss you to sleep and…”

Mouth flooding with a glinting few droplets of saliva, falling into the perfect oh! once he’s locking his eyes with your syrupy cunt once again. How pretty.

Grinning, “-and marry you.”

And he barely even hears it - that tiny, mewling ‘i-inside!’ that you’re letting off before Ino’s cottony eardrums pop! and he’s suddenly all but bursting inside of you. 

Straight streaks of cum that clog your cunt sweetly from the inside out, you throw your head back at the noisy squeeelch–! that thunders out from between your soppy pussylips. Ino’s ropy liquid showering your hole in white and trickling out in a lil’ puddle. 

“S-so good.” You huff out, thighs sticking to each other with the glue-like texture of his seed. 

He’s finding himself hypnotized by the slicked mess, by how ruined you look. And it’s a sight so heavenly that Ino’s barely out of the woods of his waves of euphoria - hazel eyes teary, thighs still twitching, the mushroomed ridge of his length coating with even more layers of splashing cum as soon as he’s hastily pulling out. 

“S-said I’d do anything, pretty.” He mutters, now positioned near the end of your dampened bed where he’s pushing himself deeply into your puffed-up pussylips. 

One hand bullying your jittery thighs open, the other wrapping around his bulked hilt and seeping reverse cursed energy through his skin.

More, he needed more. And he’s making himself harder—

And Ino always did look so pretty - but right now? With his brown hair unruly, eyes sleepy, delicate mouth glossed in a thick coating of liquid that drips all the way from his upper lip to his chin? You think he’s never looked more beautiful. 

Swollen lips latching ‘round your tender clit, you’re seeing literal stars as he sucks on that ravaged lil’ nub like his favorite gummy candy, licking off that salty ivory topping. “N’ first up was haaaah- cleaning you up.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The addicted

“Aww, look at you, sweetheart- just look at you.” Gojo’s raw, ruined voicebox huffs out, biting down on his plump lower lip that just won’t stop grinning pussydrunkenly. “You want me to cum inside you soooo bad.”

You’re huffing out between every pointed thrust he’s easing inside you from behind, prying apart your glue-topped pussylips with a squelch. “A-as if, don’t think you’re ngh! off the hook already, Satoru.”

And that really would’ve been more effective if your sloppy cunt wasn’t just slobbering out ropey wads of sap with every passing second. Gojo’s thick, barreling cock so swollen that every brush of his candy-red tip leaves you gasping. 

It almost makes you forget that you were really supposed to give your husband an earful for skiving off of yet another jujutsu meeting. But that was so goddamn hard when he was fucking you like this. 

“But you called me ‘Satoru’—” He’s humming in your ear, words dipping into such a whiny territory. With a stinging spank of his vibrating, cursed energy-capped fingertips on your clit he has you arching into him.

Tilting his head with such a cocky, cocky grin. “See? See–?” Gojo hoists his muscular leg up until the plane of his foot rests upon your head, rudely. “Don’t lie- You want the strongest to cum in you, don’tcha?”

Forced to bite down on the mushy innards of your cheek to keep yourself from fucking screaming - or worse, completely and utterly agreeing with him. Instead, you’re only perking your hips up minutely so that his rummaging pounds can probe an even deeper bruising circle on your cervix. 

Hard. 

Desperate. 

So, of course Gojo Satoru and his blazing Six Eyes will notice. 

Of course, he’ll crack out a low snicker as he abuses that special power to stir his fleshy cockhead around and around, giving your g-spot a good whack. 

“Oh you do—” He’s crooning out from behind you, tone scratchy, octaves higher. And the inkling of something so raw and dark seeped into his tone is enough to make you whimper. “-you do you do you do.”

“Fuh-fuck–!” Thighs clenching as he swats them upright and arches you into some of the most vicious thrusts. Bottomed out, drenched all the way to his bloated hilt, and yet he was still pushing and pushing to fit further inside. 

He needed you - wanted you to be so full of him you couldn’t even think. The tight curvature of his fattened balls kneading into the base of your wet cunt, “Tell me you want it- tell me.”

“N-not until you start attending your meetings- ngh!”

“Ohhh I love a mouthy girl.” He titters, flexible body bending until he’s so sinfully close to your ear. Gojo’s melding you deeper into the mattress with every second, every jackhammer, every squeeze of his foot bullying on top of your head and making all the blood in your body rush up there, dizzyingly. 

With a precisely-planned knock-knock-knock on your soft womb, he’s rutting his toned v-line into you like he was going craaaazy. Plum-shaped crown of his cock squirting out just a warning few ribbons of sappy precum— “But I’d prefer if that mouth was used for haaaa- something else, my girl. How are you gonna have this hngh- biiig fuckin’ cock inside you and not want me to fill ya up, huh?”

Pushed so deeply into the puffy silken cover of your pillows that your next words are incoherent–

“Louder.” Usually-melodic voice now stern, almost feral. His sapphire blue eyes were bolting with flecks of lightning.

Again- and again your words are nothing but blubbers of moans and syrupy saliva that just kept on flooding from your mouth with sheer bliss. Dangling from your lips, “I- ngh- Toru–”

“Louder.”

And then finally - finally - Gojo’s easing the pressure of his foot just enough to make your agape maw lift off the bed with a muggy pwah! Moaning into the steaming hot puddle of drool that you’d collected, “Don’t make me- ngh…s-sex- ban-”

It’s barely audible, barely understandable. 

But to the strongest, it’s as if his entire body is just rattling at the sudden sentence. Jujutsu powers snapping out of control until he suddenly had you laid out on your back against the bedsprings; thighs on his buff shoulders, cock nuzzling your g-spot in split-seconds. 

Teleporting the two of you into a mating press. 

Gojo reels until he’s just bucking savagely into you, cadence feverish - frenzied. Not even fully slamming from the pre-capped fringe of his tip anymore, just half-thrusts that have you wailing shrilly.

“No-” He’s hissing at the clenching feeling of your cozy walls, pressing the curves of his prominent veins just right against your g-spot. He didn’t even need to use Six Eyes anymore, he was mapping out and filling every single nook and cranny of you. “No no no no- no- it was a joke- a joke, see?”

A nervous bout of lilted laughter bursts out in a puff against your face, and glossy strings of drool just spill from his swollen lips. 

Soft, they’re kissing n’ kissing you until you’re dazed. “A j-joke, huh?” 

“Yes- please. Please let me- haaaa- inside.”

And you’re swearing that his harshly pillaging girth pulses even fatter n’ harder after those next words escape your mouth. “I- hck! Fine- inside. Want it mmm– inside, Toru.”

“O-oh.”

And then he’s gasping, he’s shivering.

Sculptured body collapsing into yours until you’re feeling every massaging push of his firm pecs, his washboard abs. Pace so hard that you’re pushed further and further up the headboard with only the recoil of his cock bashing into your sweetest spots. 

But Gojo doesn’t see it that way - Gojo can’t think of anything at all other than the fact that your cute dripping cunt might be running from him and he just can’t have that.

“Come back, sweetheart-” He’s hiccuping, mindlessly activating a few tendrils of cursed energy that keep you in place. “Come back come back come back so that I can- hck! can…”

Gojo doesn’t even have the privilege of finishing his sentence before he’s doing what he’s been yearning to do for so long. 

Pumping your hot pussy full with thick, ropey wads of cum that glue your plush walls together from side to side. And it feels so heavenly to finally reach his finish line inside you, whimpering at the lecherously sticky slosh of drooling sap he’s rummaging with each thrust. 

Pearly whites sinking into his trembling lower lip, “Nghhhh- yeah that’s it, my girl. Look at me fucking you, that’s it- take it all.”

Making such a mess - making you so dumb on his cock. Gojo mutters to himself dazedly over the slurps and moans you’re letting off- thick n’ raspy. He counts down, “Three…two…” Before dragging his energy-coated thumb once over your clit, “-one!”

And it wasn’t just his Six Eyes that told him you were cumming - it was your pretty pussy.

Completely shattered, your pillowy insides are clamping down on him so hard that he’s rutting against it and fighting to plunge his sagging cock deeper into your slippery channel. Head throwing, eyes crashing with tears at the sheer bliss- “Toru- Toru!”

“Yeah- I got you, sweetheart, your Toru’s got you.” Gojo wheezes out, and he doesn’t know what he loves more - you, or you when he’s fucking his fat webs of cum inside you.

Frothing out a creamy white coating from your leaky entrance, so thick that he’s swabbing his thumb down your slit to clear up the mess. Voice shattering with something that sounds like the last remnants of his sanity, “O-one down.” He looks from his proud creampie to your face, gifting you with a big battering ram. Chuckling, “Five more to go.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - OVERTIME

Higuruma was late. 

He was so, so late for work— but did that really matter when he had you - his gorgeous wife - sprawled all over the living room couch, so pretty and fucked-out while he pounded away into you like a madman for the nth time this morning?

This was heaven.

Well- it would be heaven if he wasn’t so damn late-

“Sugar- angel-” Higuruma’s pants through clenched teeth, seething every time he swivels his aching, red-hot tip into your mushiest crevices. Unable to make himself stop. “-my wife.”

You’re finding your swollen folds fluttering at the gravelly tonality of his voice; your sensible, hard-working husband reduced to this. And the thought is enough to make you smile, “Mhmm– m’here, Hiromi.”

Hell, you n’ that sweet pussy of yours was so addictive that he half-wished you weren’t.

Well, not really- never really. And Higuruma’s loosening his dark tie with a heady tut- “Look at how you’ve r-ruined me.” Almost incredulous, he can’t help but lock his eyes down on the soppy, dampening patch of sap that was starting to formulate on his formal pants.

Disheveled, suit jacket slacking off whilst he slouches his shoulder muscles over and gives your cervix a few more sensual slams. Milking himself. Milking you.

Darkly muttering, “This one’s the last one before I g-go to work. Just a quickie, angel- just a quickie before I oh-” Shit, he can’t even finish that sentence before feeling his tightened balls flinch at your gushing clench.

“You said that hah! last time, too-”

“Well, this time I mean it.” And if you didn’t know any better then you’d be swearing that Higuruma’s pale pink lips were pulling into a pout, dark eyes narrowing down at you. “This time I r-really mean it–” He utters as he’s rovering two roughened palms underneath your thighs to throw them over his shoulders. 

The crowned globe of his curvaceous tip scratching a carnal itch at your cervix as he’s leaning his hips in and bending. Down, down, down until both you and the aged couch are singing with delight, “-I really- really…”

But one look - just one, proper look at you all bent into this mindless mating press, leaking a creamy frosting of cum from between your legs - and Higuruma is done for. 

Larynx ripping with a hoarse groan like he already knew he lost, he’s drawling out. Syllables slurring together as if he was drunk, “Sugar…”

“Yeeess, Hiromi?”

Dazed already. “Have I ever told you how much I ngh- love you?” Higuruma’s sharp nosebridge crinkles at the very top when he snarls. You’re squealing once his thick office button-up starts rubbin’ on your hardened nipples, “How much I love- her.”

And by her, who else could it be?

You’re whimpering, back arching off of the perspiration stain you’d created on the cushion once he’s snaking his left hand to your clit and toying. Rolling over the cold, mean edge of his wedding ring right where you were the most sensitive- Higuruma only watches and watches as that makes you pour out hefty bucketloads of cum.

Bobbing Adam’s apple parched, not only does he gaze - he stares. Hypnotized. “Th-think my wife needs to be ngh- filled up, actually.”

“M-more?” Your voice crackles out, eyes widening at the already-lecherous feeling of him increasing his sloppy strokes until your snug channel feels bloated. Stretching and stretching.

“More.”

A bead of sweat drips from the side of his dark, slicked-back hair and hits your chest with a striking splat! Precisely in unison with when he’s whacking into your g-spot so hard you’re seeing white pop up in your vision. Growling, “M’serious- r-really wanna cum inside.”

And he wasn’t just fucking you mean, he was leaving your clit all bruised n’ extra swollen, too. 

“No- really need to cum inside.” Clearing his throat ever-so-slightly, Higuruma’s dewy raven eyes gaze upon you through his long lashes. So sexy like this that you’re feeling your mouth water with your answer already, “C-can I? Please- please, can I?”

Oh. You just made stern, stoic Higuruma beg. 

And now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop.

Harder and harder. 

Rumbling baritone already fraying at the edges- he’s growing more n’ more feverish with each disturbed dollop of cum that sprayed out of you. “Look at h-her- oh, just look at her.” Blinking his heavy lids furiously to clear out some semblance of his vision, “Fuck the time- fuck work, she’s mine.”

You’re rutting your hips to meet his, a splatter of saliva growing from your mouth due to his sheer dumbifying pace. “Yours- p-please- yours-”

“And I’m yours-” Higuruma gasps- as if anything else would be wrong. Nosing down the line of your throat, your essence was so addictive that he could almost taste it. Faster. Harder. “So how could I n-not cum inside my pretty lil’ wife? And if we get a cute kid nine months later then…”

Milking himself on you, ruining himself. He was already so sensitive that only a few slicked glissades across your cunt make his half-lidded eyes tear up - and fuck- you weren’t any more stable.

“-even better.”

Because the moment those words waft from Higuruma’s plump lips, you’re cumming. Crashing into your high headfirst, you don’t even realize it when those tingly buzzes of pleasure had turned into a pure torrential wave.

Squirting- oh. 

You were really making sure that Higuruma’s office suit was unwearable right now, because those splattering streams of sap paint his formalwear see-through. Raining down, dripping pearly beads of moisture up n’ down every ridge of his abs. 

Flinching, he gifts you with pump after pump that spikes the sensations of your orgasm and makes you arch. So good. “O-oh my god– oh my god, angel.”

Mouthing out through your spittle-glued lips - the only thing that Higuruma can see right about now - ‘cum inside.’

And that’s all it takes- all it takes for your poor husband to lose his damn mind. 

Higuruma feels his throat go raspy with moans upon moans of your name, babbling away. “Th-thank you-” His breath hitches at the thumping impact of every wire of seed trickling down to your cervix, the recoil of each single thwack! of webbed mass splattering in a recoil back to his capped tip. “Thank you thank you- thank you, sugar, for taking it all.”

Your greedy pussy so parched that you were practically slurping it all past your puffy entrance, every. single. drop. 

It’s so filthy - your dribbling cunt is so filthy. 

And Higuruma’s fucking blushing a bright, maidenly pink from the tips of his ears as he runs his left hand over the bubbling sheen of white escaping your quivering hole. Right hand reaching for that hastily-discarded phone of his-

“H-hello?” The partially-steady words startle you only a few sultry seconds later, “Yeah this is Higuruma- I’d like to call off today. My wife is…” And your husband chokes your shocked gasp with a fat thrust of his wettened, vein-decorated cock. Throbbing inside your squelching cunt for more, “-sick.”

A/N. Yesssss making them whiny men we looove-

The mortal plane was always predictable.

A annoying world of flesh and bone, ruled by where life start in the wound and ends with a tomb. No matter how any human they fought, no matter how desperately they clung to existence, all paths led to him in the end.

Life was but a momentary flicker in the abyss, and he was the hand that extinguished the flame.

The space between worlds was his domain. A place where the living dared not tread, where the air was thick with the murmurs of the forsaken. Here, in the endless dark, he watched.

They called him many things—Grim Reaper, Phantom of the Veil, Death itself. He was the silent end of all things, the whisper in the final breath, the inevitable shadow lurking behind every heartbeat.

With a touch, he unraveled kings, crumbled empires, and reduced the devout to weeping husks. His presence alone could halt the breath of creation.

Like there was no force he could not bring to ruin. No soul could resist his claim. He had never known hesitation. Never known failure. And yet now, something wrong stood at the threshold of his dominion.

You. A mortal—or so you should have been.

His gaze burned through the abyss, crimson eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, his presence stretching across the fragile boundary between realms. A cold wind stirred in the living world, unnatural in its weight, pressing into the earth, curling around your feet like unseen fingers.

A warning. A summons. A death sentence.

And yet, you did not move.

Other spirits shrank from him, retreating into the shadows, whispering their prayers into the void. They clung to you—not in terror, but in something else. Recognition. As though you were not an intruder among them, but kin.

It was unnatural. A violation of the natural order.

A mortal could not walk this close to death and remain. A mortal should not be able to meet his gaze and still breathe. Yet, you stood unshaken, silent at the edge of the veil.

At first, he thought it was something else—perhaps a simple mistake? Some foolish soul who had wandered too close to oblivion.

But then, he saw it.

The unnatural stillness in your breath, steady and unfaltering, untouched by fear. The way the spirits curled around you—not in dread, but in something eerily close to devotion. The way you stood, unshaken, where no living thing should linger.

You were not like the others.

The realization coiled in his mind, very much amused. His head tilted, strands of white hair slipping over his shoulder as his crimson eyes narrowed. Did you sense him?

Could you feel the weight of his gaze settling over you like frost, lingering against your skin like the cold fingers of the dead?

You should have.

And yet, even as the wind howled and the night pressed in, you remained unbothered. No shiver. No faltering breath. No fear.

A slow, eerie smile crept across his lips. How quaint.

It had been centuries—millennia—since anyone had dared to meet his gaze with such unwavering defiance. The bold ones never lasted long. The moment they recognized him for what he truly was, the bravado cracked, the terror set in, and they fell apart like all the rest.

But you… you were different.

Grim let the word slip from his lips like a curse, testing the weight of it in the space between you.

"Mortal."

The sound twisted unnaturally in the air, stretching across the veil like a breath of something ancient, something final. But even as it echoed through the abyss, it felt… wrong.

You did not carry the scent of death, nor the warmth of the living. You stood in the in-between, poised on the knife’s edge of existence. Impossible. An aberration.

His fingers curled beneath his chin, gloved and motionless as he exhaled, mist curling from his lips like the dying breath of a world. No, you weren’t quite mortal, were you? Something sharp and hungry settled in his chest, a curiosity he had not felt in a very, very long time. 

Perhaps he should test you.

See what made you different.

The studio thrived with straight-up chaos—just racks of garments rolling between rooms, fabrics draped over mannequins like offerings to some unseen deity.

Photographers adjusted their lenses, capturing such perfection with every calculated click, while designers hovered over sketches, their minds frenzied with last-minute alterations. 

The air smelled of high-end perfume, ink, and freshly steamed fabric, a scent so distinctly alive that it nearly repelled the presence lurking in its midst. It wasn’t long before he found himself within a space not meant for his kind.

Grim rarely walked among the living so openly, yet here he stood, a phantom amid the world’s most fragile creatures—so blissfully unaware of how close death brushed against their skin.

And then, there was you.

Moving effortlessly through the flurry of industry, weaving between designers and assistants, clipboard in hand, murmuring approvals, adjusting details. Unlike the frantic energy of those around you, you moved with certainty, never flustered, never scrambling, as if the world bent to your pace rather than the other way around.

Grim watched. Intrigued. How pretty.

The thought whispered through him, curling in his mind like smoke. But not in the way he usually observed mortal beauty—delicate, soft, doomed to wither. No, you were not something that would crumble at a mere touch. You were enduring. Again, soft, like a perverse flower. Something worth admiring.

And he should not have been admiring you at all.

He had come for someone else. A soul marked by time, its final grains of sand slipping irreversibly through the hourglass. But you...

You were full of life. Stubbornly so.

It was meant to be nothing more than a passing glance, his eyes filled with curiosity. And yet—something about you demanded his attention. How dare you?

Perhaps it was the way the golden studio lights framed your face when you stopped at your desk, scanning through today's catalog. The glow from your laptop screen reflected in your eyes as you sent out the requests your boss had demanded. Or perhaps it was the way you should have sensed him.

Because you did. 

He saw it in the way your fingers lingered over your keyboard, a slight hesitation, the briefest flicker of something in your expression. The way your posture shifted—not in fear, but in awareness.

You looked up. Behind you. To the side. As if you expected something to be there. And still… no fear. 

Grim's lips curled into the ghost of a smirk, a slow, knowing thing. How quaint. A mortal that did not cower in his presence. He had seen countless souls—broken, frightened, bargaining for more time.

They always begged. Always.

But you? Shit, you couldn’t care less.

You simply turned back to your work, unbothered, as if Death itself was not standing like right behind you, watching. Fascinating.

Like damn, this was going to be a long day. 

You shouldn’t have looked at him. 

Honestly, rookie mistake. Why, out of all the places to let your eyes wander, did they have to land on a pale figure just lurking at the edge of your vision? White hair, almost glowing in the bright golden office lights, just floating there menacingly.

At first, you barely reacted. Spirits followed you enough that one more ghostly presence in your life wasn't exactly a new issue. It was like another annoying email in your inbox—just something you learned to ignore.

But then... he got closer.

You’d think a literal death-bringer would have better things to do than stalk some underpaid assistant at a fashion studio, but nope, there he was, just lingering. Hanging around the clothing racks, floating down the hallways like he had nothing better to do.

"Mortals are usually more entertaining than this," he mused, materializing beside you as you sorted through today’s catalog.

You didn’t react. Nor said anything back.

"They beg, weep, try to strike deals, but you? Not even a glance?" He leaned over your shoulder, reading the emails you were responding to. “Are you truly this dull, or is this job slowly draining what’s left of your soul?”

Still, you ignored him. Just to pretend you were irritated about work rather than the undead menace hovering behind you. Your boss stormed past your desk, rambling about a last-minute change in the collection lineup, completely unaware that you were being haunted.

“You!” she barked. “I need all the model sheets and—ugh, coffee. Black. No sugar.”

You didn’t even blink. “Yes, ma’am.”

Grim tilted his head, amused. “So obedient. How tragic.”

Your eye twitched.

Twenty minutes later, he was still talking.

"So, what exactly do you do here? Fold fabric? Worship those absurdly tall skeletons you call ‘models’? Suffer?"

You exhaled sharply, flipping through the model sheets as you strode down the hall, hoping to outwalk itself.Spoiler alert: you couldn’t.

"Why can’t they see you?" you muttered under your breath, careful not to draw attention from your coworkers as you balanced a tray of coffee cups.

Grim laughed. "Because I don’t want them to."

"Then why can I?"

"Good question. Why can you?" His grin was infuriatingly smug.

You glared at him, resisting the urge to dump scalding coffee onto thin air just to see if he could feel it.

Instead, you set your boss’s drink down on her desk and marched straight to the breakroom, hoping for a few minutes of peace. You swore, though, he was practically waiting outside the door for his cue, like some kind of ghostly actor who knew exactly when to make his dramatic entrance.

And when he did walk in, it was with the kind of confidence that only the dead—and apparently, Spirt—could possess. He moved like he owned the place, a pale figure that seemed to suck the air out of the room. You just wanted to sip your lukewarm tea and get a moment of calm in this whirlwind of a day.

A quiet moment. As rare as they were in this fashion department. But, of course, the real problem started the moment he stepped into the room.

Because as soon as he entered, he decided to open his mouth. 

And when you say talk, you mean he did not shut up.

“Is this your lunch break? How tragic. So much time wasted just sipping a tepid drink while the world spins itself into chaos,” he mused, hovering a little too close for comfort.

You blinked, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “Could you not?” You muttered, but he didn’t care. Oh no. He had all the time in the world to follow you around and spout whatever grim commentary he thought would make him sound more ominous.

"Such a sad existence you lead," he added, his voice trailing through the air like the chill of a winter’s night. “So many frivolous tasks, chasing shadows, pretending they matter."

“I’m sorry, what?” you said, only half-listening, as you dumped more sugar into your cup. Honestly, you’d been through worse. Talking to spirits was one thing, but this guy? This one was special. He dared to follow you everywhere—like an annoying coworker you couldn’t escape.

The tea was forgotten, abandoned on the counter as you stormed down the hallway, desperate for a moment of peace. The last thing you needed was this annoying, pale figure following you around and spouting off endless nonsense about time, existence, and whatever cosmic philosophy he was into today.

Of course, he wasn’t done. No, he didn’t understand the concept of space. He was right behind you, still standing as if there were no boundaries between worlds. You could practically feel him breathing down your neck as he leaned in, his voice cold and unnervingly close.

“You can’t feel it, can you?” He asked his words low, almost like a whisper in your ear. “You’re untouched by the flow of time like you’re standing between worlds. It’s fascinating. You should be afraid of me."

That was it. You’d had enough.

You stopped so suddenly that he almost walked into you. The Grim Reaper ghostly figure nearly collided with your back, but you didn’t even flinch. Instead, you pivoted on your heel with the kind of speed that made your coworkers worry if you were secretly a superhero. You crossed your arms and gave him a look—a look so cold, so done, that even your interns would reconsider their life choices if they saw it.

“Yeah, well, I’m not, okay?” You snapped, finally locking eyes with him. “I just need to get through my damn day without hearing your creepy monologue about the futility of human life, all right?”

You exhaled slowly and stood a little taller, letting the words hit him like a wave. "Listen here, Casper," you hissed, your voice sharp. "I have a very stressful job, an underpaid salary, and exactly four hours of sleep. I don’t have the time—or the patience—for your existential whining. So either haunt someone else or sit there and shut up.”

Grim blinked, the oddest expression crossing his face. 

How… how did you know his name?

For a moment, there was silence. He just stood there, staring at you with those piercing crimson eyes, like you had just solved a mystery he hadn’t even realized existed. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. It was as if he was trying to process what had just happened. Maybe he was looking at you differently now like he hadn’t quite figured you out. Was that… curiosity?

Then, with a slow, almost sinister chuckle, he tilted his head, his white hair flowing like a ghostly mane. The sound sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, but you stood firm.

“You’re different,” he said, his voice a little lower, almost in awe.

You were about to snap something sarcastic back when you realized the absurdity of the situation. You—stressed, underpaid, and half-delirious from lack of sleep—were standing face to face with a literal Grim Reaper, and he was the one awed by you?

A bitter laugh almost escaped you, but you swallowed it down, irritated beyond belief. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re different too,” you muttered, grabbing your half-empty, lukewarm cup of tea from the break room counter. 

You took another sip, feeling the sting of regret as the flavor barely registered on your tongue. “Definitely not what I signed up for today.”

Again, you were done with this. Absolutely, unequivocally done.

“Go away, Casper.” You were at your limit, your patience snapped into nothingness. His pale face was just too close—his crimson eyes staring at you with that unnerving mix of curiosity and amusement. You could feel his presence in every corner of the room like he was trying to worm his way into your very thoughts.

So you did what any person in your situation would do: you shoved him.

A simple push, just enough to send him stumbling back, and before he could catch himself, he fell into a rack of clothes. It was one of the designer gowns, a rich red that flowed like liquid, and the entire display tilted under his weight, sending a cascade of dresses crashing to the floor. The sudden noise was enough to startle your coworkers, heads swiveling as they watched the rack topple. But none of them saw the pale figure—just an empty rack of clothes spilling silk and fabric across the room.

You barely even glanced back as you walked away, your arms crossed tight, muttering under your breath.

“I’m not your plaything, Casper. Now get out of my face.”

Casper lay in the heap of tangled fabric, blinking in complete shock. His pale skin—almost glowing under the fluorescent lights—had flushed a deep red, a stark contrast against the rich tones of the gown still draped over his head. He lay there for a moment, completely disoriented.

No one—no one—had ever pushed him before. And yet, here he was, tangled in silks and stunned beyond belief.

For centuries, his presence had been feared, his touch the harbinger of death. When he stood near mortals, their very life force drained, absorbed by his touch like a dry sponge to water. No one touched him without losing something—some part of their essence, their time, their soul. 

But you? You pushed him. And nothing happened. You didn’t wither. You didn’t fall to the ground, gasping for breath as so many others had.

Instead, you just stood there, that familiar, irritated look on your face. As if it were a bother.

He slowly sat up, pulling himself free of the mess of clothing. His usual confidence was shattered, replaced by a rare kind of vulnerability, an unfamiliar emotion twisting in his chest. He stared at you as you continued to walk away, your steps slow and deliberate, as if nothing in the world had happened.

How was it possible?

A mortal—you—had touched him, and yet, you weren’t dead. Or at least, you weren’t acting like it.

His heart—if he could still call it that—pounded with a new intensity. He couldn’t understand it. He had never met anyone like you, never encountered a mortal who refused to be touched by him, never one who dismissed him so… casually.

He pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the remnants of the clothes he’d knocked over, his pale cheeks still tinged red in a rare moment of fluster. He watched you, not moving, but he was already preparing for his next move.

Something about you intrigued him. You were far too interesting to just let go.

He took a step toward you but then stopped. His gaze fixed on the back of your head, your posture strong, as you walked away from him.

This... this was new.

Casper stood there for a long moment, uncertainty clinging to him like a ghost. Finally, his mouth curled into that familiar, eerie smile again. It was a slow, dangerous thing, full of intrigue.

You hadn’t just touched him. You haddefied him.

And that was something he hadn’t encountered in all his existence. Maybe, just maybe, this could be worth something after all.

Casper was… obsessed now. He had never encountered anything like you, and it gnawed at him, this unfamiliar sense of unresolved desire. You were not just some mortal, some fleeting soul to be reaped. No, you were a mystery—a puzzle that he couldn’t solve, and the very fact that you resisted him so effortlessly only deepened his fascination.

It wasn’t just the thrill of the chase that spurred him on. No. There was something else.

The high-ups, the ones who resided in the farthest reaches of the underworld, the ones who watched over him… they noticed.

A soul that couldn’t die? A soul that resisted the touch of death itself?

What did it mean? Was there something special about you?

Whispers spread like wildfire among the higher ranks. They didn’t understand it either, but they knew you were something worth having. Something that could change the rules. Something that could serve them—and maybe even him.

And so, Casper found himself following you like a shadow, lingering at your workplace, watching you from a distance when you left for the day, trailing you to the most mundane of places, his obsession only growing. 

His pale figure appeared in glimpses—his white hair a stark contrast against the everyday world. He wasn’t trying to hide anymore; he didn’t need to. His focus was entirely on you, his every move calculated.

You had to know he was there. 

You were far too perceptive to not notice the subtle shifts in the air, the flicker of his presence.

But he was clever. He was patient.

And he would get you to break.

The first time he cornered you after work, you were at the grocery store. It was a humdrum trip to stock up on essentials, the typical monotonous task that everyone in your position had to do. But not today.

No, today, Casper decided to make himself known.

You were scanning the aisles for something simple—maybe fruit, or a carton of milk—when you felt the unmistakable chill at your back. His presence.

"Hey," his voice was disturbingly casual, and when you turned, there he was, standing with his arms crossed, his usual eerie calm as ever. "Mind picking me up some original cup noodles and folded bread?"

You blinked, staring at him, incredulous. Of course, you had to question him. "What? Are you serious right now?" you asked, leaning against your cart. "Do you even eat?"

Casper tilted his head, the smile on his lips never wavering. "I do. Not like you. But still." He waved his hand absently as if it were the most normal request in the world. "Just a little snack, nothing too fancy."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, your patience running thin. “You're dead, Casper. Why would you want cup noodles? And why would I go out of my way to get them for you?”

His response was a soft chuckle, cold and smooth. "Ah, but you see, the deal is this: I could give you something in exchange. Something you want. A little temptation, a trade. What’s your price?"

You glanced at the noodle aisle, ignoring him completely as you grabbed about 12-count cups of instant noodles for yourself. "Yeah, no. I’m good. You're not gonna tempt me with snacks."

Casper's eyes narrowed, a hint of frustration flickering behind his calm exterior. "What if I told you I could fix everything? The sleepless nights, the exhaustion, the stress. What if I could offer you peace?"

You tossed the noodles into your cart, uninterested. "I’m not looking for peace from a creepy grim reaper who can't take a hint."

Casper’s gaze grew darker. "You don’t know what I could give you. You don’t know how easy it would be to just—"

“Nope,” you interrupted, holding up a hand as if to stop him mid-sentence. You pulled out your phone, tapping away at a grocery list app to make it clear that he wasn’t worth your attention.

He let out an exasperated sigh, but his grin never faltered. “Still as stubborn as ever, huh?”

And just like that, you went back to your grocery shopping, effortlessly dodging his attempts to break through your calm.

The second time he tried was a little more… subtle. After your long shift, you decided to take a walk around the city to clear your mind. He appeared beside you on the sidewalk, as if he had been waiting, his steps soundless despite his form being right there.

“You know,” he started, his voice dripping with dark temptation, “I’ve been watching you. I could take away all your worries if only you’d trust me. Forget all this—your life, your struggles, the endless grind. Let me help you… Let me show you what I can offer.”

You didn’t even look up at him. “You keep offering me peace and I keep telling you I’m not interested.”

He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. “But what if you don’t have a choice anymore?” he asked, his tone darker, a little more insistent now.

You stopped and finally glanced up at him, your eyes narrowed. “I have a choice, and I choose for you to get the hell out of my way.”

He blinked, taken aback, as you casually sidestepped him and kept walking, your footsteps unhurried. You could feel his presence behind you, following, watching, but it didn’t matter. You had dealt with worse than some grim reaper with a vendetta. 

Every time he tried, you outmaneuvered him with ease. Whether it was a carefully placed word, a choice to simply walk away, or the sharpness in your gaze that seemed to make him take a step back, you were always a step ahead. It was like a game, and with every move you made, he became more and more obsessed with you.

You were something impossible, and that was what gnawed at him the most.

The thrill of the chase, once so exhilarating, now felt hollow to him. He needed more. He needed to understand why you weren’t swayed by him. Why you couldn’t be broken. The problem was, he didn’t know how much you had already figured out about him—about death itself.

It started with something small. A quick moment when you were alone, a brief conversation when you thought no one was watching. He had asked you a question, one of those tricks to see if you would falter. Instead, your response had unsettled him.

“Do you ever think about what happens to you, after you die?”

You had looked at him like he was the mortal one. It wasn’t the question itself—it was the way you had said it, the way your eyes never wavered as you spoke.

Casper had chuckled, assuming you were making light of the topic. 

But then, he saw it.

The way your gaze turned distant. Like you had seen something that wasn’t there. Like you knew something. “I’ve faced death many times,” you said, your voice so steady, so unbothered, it sent a chill through his entire existence. “It’s not as dramatic as you might think. You’d be surprised at how many times I’ve died without anyone realizing it.”

The words hung in the air. You weren’t joking. You weren’t pretending.

You knew what it was like to face death. To die.

That was the moment that he realized. It wasn’t just his touch that you could withstand. You were something else entirely. You had crossed paths with death more times than he could count—and you had survived.

The very nature of that unnerved him. How was it possible? How could you speak of it so casually, as though death was an old acquaintance you had learned to live with?

But what really disturbed him was the way you spoke of things even he didn’t know.

For the time you mentioned how the veil between the worlds had thinned after a certain incident, how the balance of life and death had shifted, even if it had seemed insignificant at the time. He did not know of it—none of it had been in the records, nothing he had been told during his training. 

How could you know something like that? How did you see things he didn’t even see? There was something deeper inside you, something that made him uneasy. 

You were not just a mortal.

Months passed, and he could feel his obsession intensifying, his frustration mounting. Every time you shrugged him off, every time you saw through his tricks, it was like a blow to his existence. It should have been easy to claim you, right? Just like any other soul. But there was something about you that turned everything he knew upside down.

And then, he followed you home. He didn’t care if it was stalking anymore. He had to understand you. Had to know what made you tick.

He watched you walk through the familiar door of your loft apartment, so effortlessly. To him, it felt like watching a predator enter its den. Yet, you remained unshaken.

It was a strange place for someone like you—too lived-in to be a typical mortal apartment, too quiet to be a place where anyone truly rested. You didn’t invite him in, didn’t even acknowledge his presence when you entered. But he followed.

His steps were silent, as always. He floated behind you, not wanting to miss a single moment. You didn’t even glance back, so used to his silent following that you barely reacted anymore.

The apartment was minimalist, but it had personality. A few things caught his eye—the piles of books that leaned precariously against the walls, the odd plants that seemed to be thriving despite your apparent lack of interest in them, and the dim lighting casting long shadows.

You moved around the apartment with practiced ease, grabbing something from the fridge, putting it into the microwave, your thoughts clearly somewhere else. He stood there, arms folded, waiting for you to break the silence.

And when you finally did, it wasn’t the question he expected.

“What do you want from me?” Your voice was sharp, and for the first time since he met you, he could hear the edge of tiredness in it. It wasn’t the usual disinterest or mockery.

It was weariness.

“I told you,” he started, almost sounding desperate now. “I want your soul.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you glanced over at him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in your eyes, something he couldn’t understand.

“But why?” Your voice was softer now, but still direct. “Why me? You’ve collected souls for how long, and you’ve never come across one like mine. Is that it? Am I some kind of… prize for you?”

He paused, thrown off by the unexpected vulnerability in your question.

“You know why,” he said, trying to regain his composure. “You’ve faced death, haven’t you? But you haven’t succumbed to it. You... you’re different. The high-ups... they’re curious. I’m curious.” He took a step closer, and this time, it wasn’t just about the soul. “I want to know why you can withstand it. Why you don’t die when you should.”

You didn’t look afraid. If anything, your eyes seemed almost… amused.

“Maybe I’m not meant to,” you said simply, taking a seat at your kitchen table and sipping your drink, casually uninterested in his presence. “Maybe I’ve seen things you can’t even begin to understand.”

Casper stood there for a moment, the realization dawning on him. He had always been the one in control, the one who made the rules. But now? It was clear. You were the one pulling the strings.

And it terrified him. Still, the obsession remained.

“I’m going to find out, whether you like it or not.” He vowed quietly, more to himself than to you.

You rolled your eyes at Casper’s words, his little declaration of trying to figure you out like you were some puzzle to be solved. Honestly, you had better things to do than entertain the idea of a grim reaper’s obsession.

Just as you were about to tell him to stop following you and to get out of your space, your phone rang. 

It was another assistant you worked across from.

You sighed, already knowing this wasn’t going to be good news.

“Hey, quick heads up—I’m sick and won’t be able to make it to the event tonight. You’re going to my place for our boss. Dress nice, okay? You’ll be meeting with some big names—the ones that fund our department. They’ll expect a professional impression,” the assistant said, her voice a bit muffled from the cold she had.

You stared blankly at your phone for a few seconds after the call ended. Great. Just what you needed tonight. A high-profile event, and you’d have to step in at the last minute. Your peaceful evening, which had already been non-existent thanks to your favorite grim reaper stalking you, was now thoroughly ruined.

You sighed heavily, letting the irritation bubble up. You didn’t need the stress. You didn’t need Casper clinging to you, constantly breathing down your neck, following you from work to the grocery store, practically watching you while you tried to relax. It was like he thought he could wear you down and force you to acknowledge him.

Well, he wasn’t going to win that easily.

You turned to your bedroom and started walking toward it. The sound of Casper’s soft footsteps followed you like a shadow. “Can you just go?” You snapped, not bothering to look back at him. “I need to get dressed. Your presence is… annoying.”

His voice echoed behind you as you stepped into your room, already mentally prepping yourself for the headache that would be this event. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean ‘not going anywhere’?”

“I’m staying right here,” he said, his tone almost smug.

Of course, he would. He was as stubborn as a brick wall, and clearly had no intention of leaving you alone. But the idea of him lurking around your personal space? That crossed a line.

You had an idea—a rather ridiculous one, but hey, it would work.

“Fine, then.” You said with a sly grin, turning around as you walked toward your closet. “You stay then, Grimmy. But just… watch.”

Casper’s ethereal form hovered near the doorway, a little too close for comfort, but his interest piqued. “Watch what?”

You didn’t answer, instead focusing on finding the outfit you were going to wear. Casper stayed glued to the spot, curious as you began to undress, unaware of what you were about to do.

You removed your blouse first, feeling his presence lingering at the edge of your vision. The air felt thick with his silent attention. You casually let your shirt fall to the floor, then reached for the next item, your back turned toward him as you continued your task.

You could practically hear his ghostly breath hitch when you glanced back over your shoulder at him, a playful glint in your eyes. 

“You like what you see, Grimmy?”

His body stiffened like he wasn’t sure how to react, but he didn’t move, still watching. His eyes, if you could even call them that, were practically burning holes into you.

You smirked, not bothering to hide your amusement as you casually slipped into the dress you’d chosen for the evening. “Don’t act so shy, Grim. I thought you liked souls.”

Casper’s reaction was almost comical, his form flickering as though struggling to maintain composure. “I’m not here for that!”

“Oh? Are you sure? Because I think you might be,” you teased, letting your hands linger over the fabric of the dress, turning slowly to face him. “You do know how to appreciate beauty, don’t you, Grimmy?”

Casper’s ghostly pale face had turned a noticeable shade of what could only be described as “flustered”—which was absurd. He was dead, for heaven’s sake. But there he was, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Then, without another word, he vanished. Gone. Just like that. You blinked, a slight laugh escaping your lips. Well, that worked. 

You finished getting dressed, the ridiculousness of it all sinking in. Somehow, you had managed to shake off Casper for the night by using his own discomfort against him. He’d been so caught off guard that he hadn’t known how to react. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, feeling a small sense of victory. This night was going to be yours, even if it had started in chaos.

You grabbed your phone and checked the time—just enough time to grab your purse and head out. At least for the evening, you could pretend that everything was normal, and that meant no ghosts, no interruptions.

The moment you stepped out of your loft, you slipped into the role you had mastered: the calm, composed assistant who could handle anything, even the most unexpected of crises. 

Tonight was no different. Your boss had trusted you to step in for her at the event, which meant your ability to perform under pressure was being tested once again.

The venue was a grand, multi-story ballroom with vaulted ceilings and an ambiance that screamed wealth and prestige. Crystal chandeliers glimmered above, casting a warm glow over the sea of guests mingling below. You entered with a practiced grace, your heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors as you navigated through the crowd.

Your boss, the editor-in-chief of a well-known fashion magazine you worked at, maintains her usual level of poise. She greeted people, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, and making small talk while you stood beside her, quietly observing the whirlwind of conversation. 

As her assistant, you were in charge of handling all the logistics, ensuring the guests were taken care of and that everything ran smoothly. That meant taking note of important names and contacts, managing schedules, and keeping an eye out for any potential hiccups.

Tonight, you were the one making sure everything stayed on track. You took your place near the entrance, casually keeping tabs on the crowd as your boss moved through the room, chatting with potential investors and key figures in the fashion industry. 

Every so often, she would glance over at you for a quick update or a reminder about certain guests, and you would provide her with the information she needed, always two steps ahead.

You kept a mental checklist of the key players in the room: the head of the fashion department’s major sponsor, and the influencer known for setting trends in the digital world. Each person needed to be addressed properly, and each interaction carefully curated.

When your boss handed you a list of names to memorize last week, you took it without question, scanning over the details and committing them to memory. It was no longer a matter of whether you would succeed tonight; it was simply a question of how flawlessly you could execute everything. And you knew you’d do it with ease.

As the night wore on, you glided between conversations, keeping track of your boss’s needs, occasionally stepping in to provide information to the guests, and always maintaining that cool professionalism that made you stand out. 

At some point, you were asked to retrieve some drinks for your boss. 

You navigated the crowd without a second thought, moving efficiently between groups of people as you made your way to the back office. You could hear the hum of conversation as you passed, the occasional laugh, the clink of glasses, but you were focused. 

You made your way to the bar, your mind still buzzing from the whirlwind of the evening, but something felt… off. The familiar weight of being watched had slipped away, and it was strange. Normally, the pull of a presence, some ghost or spirit trailing behind you, would have been so ingrained in your routine that you’d hardly notice it. 

But tonight? It was like the feeling had vanished entirely.

It was unsettling. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. The eerie quiet made your thoughts drift back to your childhood—a time when seeing spirits was more of a curse than a gift. You remembered telling your parents about it, about the strange faces that would appear to you, whispering their names, hovering just out of sight. 

And their response? A quick trip to a mental institution at a young age. "You're imagining things," they’d said. "It's just your mind playing tricks."

You had hated it. 

Hated the way your parents treated your abilities as if they were a problem to be solved. And that hatred turned into bitterness. Ever since you’d learned to hide it—to pretend that you couldn’t see the spirits who followed you, pretending their whispers didn’t get under your skin.

You had learned to tune out the names that would sometimes float around the edges of your vision, names that would send a chill down your spine.

Death had always been a part of you, and you hated it. Hated how it was always there, how it clung to you like a shadow. You’d been forced into hiding your truth for years. And yet, here you were, working in fashion—a world so far removed from the grim reality of death that you could almost convince yourself that it didn’t exist.

But even this world was not free from its pull.

You looked around at the event, the glamour, the flashing lights, the elegant conversations, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly detached from it all. You loved fashion, no doubt about it. The creativity, the artistry—it had always been your escape. And even though the pay didn’t match your hard work, you had been content. 

At least you thought you were. 

But a part of you missed the thrill of the chase, the mystery—the way Casper had been, in his way, a strange, unwelcome source of entertainment. 

Yeah, he was annoying as hell. 

But if you were being honest, he had made things more… fun.

You took a deep breath, shook your head, and tried to push those thoughts out. You didn’t need to think about that little reaper. You just needed to focus on your life, and your dreams.

And then, as if the universe couldn’t let you have a moment’s peace, you turned the corner and ran smack into a man dressed entirely in black, with a red tie that mirrored the intensity of his eyes. His grip was firm as he caught you by the shoulders, steadying you as your balance faltered.

You blinked. You took a step back. No way.

There, standing in front of you, was none other than Casper—in human form?

His usual pale, translucent appearance was gone, replaced by a sharply dressed figure, his black suit crisp and immaculate. His red tie, sharp as his gaze, matched the color of his eyes—those eyes that gleamed with an unsettling amusement.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, his voice smooth and mocking as ever. The words slid off his tongue like a challenge, almost as if he were daring you to deny it.

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to recover from the shock. “What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, your annoyance rising instantly. The shock was wearing off, but the frustration remained. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

His grin widened, an almost smug look settling on his face as he tilted his head. “Well, I’ve been following you around long enough to realize something. You may not fear death, but there’s one thing I know for sure—you can’t escape it. So why bother running from me when you know it’s only a matter of time?”

You blinked again, incredulous. “Are you seriously trying to make a philosophical point right now?”

Casper shrugged, his hands still firmly on your shoulders as if anchoring you to this moment. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just here to remind you that I am the one who holds your fate.” His voice dropped slightly, a glint of something darker behind his words. “I don’t forget easily, you know.”

You felt the weight of his words settle in, but just as quickly, you pushed them aside. You were done with his games, done with the feeling that something or someone was always lurking. “If you're so hell-bent on being a problem, why don't you just leave me alone? I’m trying to have a normal night, for once.”

Casper raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features. “Normal? Now that’s a word I never thought I’d hear from you.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Look, I’m really not in the mood for this. I’m here for work. Not whatever you’re trying to pull.”

He didn’t let go of you, though, his grip still firm. “Fine, but remember—death has a way of creeping in when you least expect it. And I’m still here. Watching. Waiting.”

You rolled your eyes again, pushing past him this time. “Yeah, yeah. Just... stay out of my way, okay? I've got a job to do.”

Casper didn’t follow you immediately. Instead, he stood there, his eyes flicking to you as you walked away. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze on your back as you made your way to the bar, shaking off his presence as best you could.

You were tired of this—tired of him. But deep down, some strange, unsettling part of you knew he wouldn’t leave until he got what he wanted.

With a sigh, you returned to your boss with the drinks, trying to keep a calm exterior. You handed her the glass, and she gave you a knowing look, a small smile curving her lips. "How’s your night going?" she asked, clearly not expecting much but offering the polite conversation anyway.

"Fine," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "Just ready to head--"

"I didn't ask for your life story." Your boss cuts you off.

Right, still a mean bitch, you followed your boss gaze and shifted across the room, scanning the crowd like she was looking for something—someone. You followed her line of sight, and for the briefest moment, your heart sank in your chest.

It was him.

Casper.

He was moving through the crowd, his pale skin glowing under the lights and his white hair catching the spotlight, almost unnatural in its radiance. And those red wine-colored eyes, always gleaming with a mischievous, almost predatory look. Of course, it had to be him.

You could feel the pit in your stomach grow. What the hell did he want now?

Before you could process it, your boss turned to you with that knowing smile again. "Do you know him? He’s heading this way."

You blinked, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling settling in your chest. "I… I think I’ve seen him around," you said, trying to keep your composure. But what the hell was he doing here?

Casper approached, his eyes locking onto yours as if he’d found the perfect prey. He was still dressed in that tailored black suit with the red tie, the sharp contrast of his appearance only making his otherworldly presence that much more noticeable. He didn’t even look like he belonged here, but there he was, standing in front of you.

Your boss, always the social butterfly, didn’t miss a beat. She extended her hand toward him with a bright, professional smile. “Good evening. It’s lovely to meet you. You’re so handsome.”

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. You didn’t want to look, didn’t want to pay attention to the way she so easily interacted with him, the way she was completely unaware of the chaos that had been following you around.

But you couldn’t look away.

Casper gave her a smile that was all teeth. “Thank you, t’s a pleasure my name is… well, Casper,” he said smoothly, his voice like honey, deep and smooth, with a hint of mystery lacing every word. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your pretty assistant.”

“Oh really?” Your boss mumbled before looking at you.

Your eyes darted away, feeling the weight of the conversation that was unfolding around you. You weren’t quite sure what was happening, but you couldn’t deny that this was the last thing you wanted. You just wanted to get through the night without him stealing the spotlight.

“Casper,” your boss repeated, impressed, glancing at you as if waiting for some sort of confirmation. “So… which agencies you work at?”

"Agencies…?" Casper questioned, a little lost.

Oh no. Of course. How did you not see it before? The polished look, the charm, the smoothness to his every move—it was all so damn calculated. In your boss eyes, this wasn’t just some random guy trailing you like a ghost.

Casper has model features.

His facial features are close to the famous model standing, no less. You can already imagine his face in the glossy magazines scattered around the fashion industry. The sleek white hair, those eyes like liquid wine… the boyish charm that made him almost impossible to ignore.

"Aren’t you a model?" Your boss asked.

Casper’s smile widened, "Oh no I am not a model, but I sometimes do simple shoots when Halloween comes around,” he answered, his voice dripping with that signature smugness. 

Your boss’s eyes widened at his words. Impossible. Simple was an understatement. He definitely have the potential to become one of the it models, the ones with major campaigns and ad spreads. 

"I see," your boss said, her eyes practically sparkling as she examined Casper. "Well, I'm sure you're used to all the attention by now, but I must say, you're quite a striking presence, Casper." Her words were laced with a polite admiration that made you want to roll your eyes, but you restrained yourself, knowing better than to interrupt.

Casper gave another smile that seemed to gleam with just a hint of amusement, the edges of his mouth curling like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Your boss glanced over at the growing crowd, spotting a few more important figures she needed to greet. "Well, I’ll leave you two to chat," she said, offering a gracious smile before turning to walk off. "Enjoy your night, but—" She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper just for you. 

"Give him our card. Get him on board as a main model for the department. If he says no..." She stares at you, looking at you up and down.

You knew that damn look, however still, your mouth almost opened to protest, to shake your head and tell her you weren’t about to turn Casper into some kind of marketing tool. But she was already walking away, leaving you standing there, feeling like a pawn in her strategic little game. 

The words died on your tongue. Fuck.

And just like that, your night—your whole world, really—had shifted. The man who had been haunting your every move for months, who had lurked in the shadows, was now casually interacting with your boss like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

And you? You were standing there, trying desperately to ignore the knot that had formed in your stomach, trying to pretend that you weren’t feeling the flicker of dread creeping up your spine.

Casper, of course, noticed. He always did. His gaze, sharp and calculating, met yours. It was like he could see right through you, dissecting the unease that you couldn’t hide. 

His voice, soft and almost teasing, cut through the air. "Did you think I was just an average looking grim reaper?" he asked, that ever-present edge of amusement in his tone, the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You should've known better."

You couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that escaped you. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "No, I didn’t think you were just an average looking grim reaper," you said flatly, your voice tinged with annoyance. "But I definitely didn’t expect you to fit fucking model capabilities, especially to my damn boss."

Casper laughed, the sound rich and deep like he was enjoying the frustration he’d caused. He leaned in just slightly, enough to invade your space, but not enough to make you flinch. "Well, life—or rather, the afterlife—has a funny way of surprising you, doesn’t it?"

You fought the urge to smirk or, worse, to smack him. It wasn’t that you were scared of him—not anymore—but there was something about the way he existed that made your skin crawl in all the wrong ways. 

Everything about him was wrong in an almost alluring way—though you’d never dare admit it. He had become a constant, vexing presence in your life, and not even a career-defining event could grant you reprieve.

Worse still? You were already suspected you might never be free of him. Not after your boss all but sealed your fate—secure him, or lose everything. 

Now, you were playing this so-called ‘game’ on his terms, with his one outrageous demand: your soul. Right… he wanted your soul. But you? You had your sights set on something far more valuable—

Him.

Like might as well, he’s the one haunting you almost every day following you everywhere like a ghost with unfinished business. He practically owes you because your boss now wants him as a model only adds to the complexity. You were caught between your duty to your job and your growing, almost morbid fascination with the very reaper who’d been plaguing your life. 

It was almost insanely perfect, really. Like the gods curse you. 

You had to work with him, which meant you'd get more time to study him, and more chances to draw him into your orbit.

“Casper,” you said one evening as the two of you now stood near the bar at the event, his eyes glinting with an almost predatory curiosity as he watched you. "You know, I’ve been thinking. You’d be perfect for this project. The department would love you."

He cocked his head, clearly intrigued. “I thought I was just a ghost to you.”

You smiled, a little too sweetly. “I never said you were just a ghost. I’m just... very interested in how you can be so tangible and untouchable at the same time.” You tilted your head, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve got an aura. An energy that’s... rare. And I know people in the fashion industry love rare.”

He blinked at you, still unsure of what you were getting at. “So, you want me to become a model?”

You nodded, “Yes. My boss is already interested, and she’s the one who handles all the big connections. If you want to make a name for yourself, this is your chance.” 

Casper, for all his otherworldly knowledge, still couldn’t quite fathom how things worked in this world. He was too used to being the one who took, not gave. His eyes narrowed as if trying to gauge whether you were being honest or playing some game.

“You think I need your help to get noticed?” he asked, voice low and almost amused. But there was that glimmer of something—doubt, maybe?—flickering behind his gaze.

“Well,” you said, holding his gaze with unwavering confidence. “You can get noticed any company, sure. But this? This would be the perfect opportunity. I can guarantee you’ll get all the attention you want. And... you’ll get what you want, too.”

He seemed to weigh your words, his expression thoughtful. He hadn’t expected you to play into his desire for influence, for control. He hadn’t realized how much you were feeding into his need for validation—something he desperately craved but didn’t understand.

“All right, then,” he said after a moment, his tone almost too eager. “But you’ll have to promise me something in return.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

His red eyes gleamed. “When done with this little ‘becoming a model’—you’ll give me your soul, right? After all, I’ll have given you what you need for your boss.” He smirked, clearly thinking he had you cornered.

You sighed, “We'll see,” you said, that familiar, dangerous smile of yours creeping onto your lips. “Maybe there’s something else you’ll want more than my soul.”

Casper blinked, clearly thrown by your words. “Like what…?”

You rolled your eyes, you were already moving on to the next part of your plan. In the back of your mind, you knew the final step was going to be the hardest, but seriously, this? 

You had to work with Casper—the Casper. 

Again, the one who’d been haunting you for months. The one who’d made your life a walking nightmare in every way possible. And now, thanks to your boss's questionable decision-making skills, you became his assistant.

Your job, as if the universe wasn’t already laughing in your face, was to make sure everything went perfectly for him—fix his hair, calm his ridiculously over-inflated ego, and handle all the tiny, soul-crushing details that kept his modeling career afloat. Because, of course, who better to trust with all that than someone who literally hates their life?

You could barely look at him without feeling the urge to strangle him—or worse, do something far more dangerous, like giving into the strange pull he had over you. From the moment you started working for him, your patience had been put through the wringer. It wasn’t just that he was difficult—no, that would’ve been manageable. 

It was the way he acted like you owed him something, like catering to his every whim was just an unspoken part of your job description. His arrogance knew no bounds, and every time he had to interact with someone—whether it was the stylist, the makeup artist, or literally anyone else—he made sure they knew how much of an inconvenience they were. A scoff here, an eye roll there. Like the whole world was wasting his precious time.

But nothing got under your skin more than his insistence that you had to be the one to do everything for him.

Today was a vampire-themed shoot that should’ve been straightforward. The concept was classic—dark, brooding, seductive. And Casper?

He was practically made for it. With his porcelain skin, blood-red eyes, and stark white hair, he already looked like he stepped out of a gothic novel. Under the dim studio lighting, he was equally ethereal and unnerving—the perfect blend of beauty and danger.

But, of course, things couldn’t be that easy.

First, he flat-out refused to let anyone else touch him. No stylists, no makeup artists—no one. And why? Because of his Probability Reaper abilities. As if one misplaced brush stroke or a stray hairpin would suddenly send someone to an early grave.

So, naturally, he demanded you do everything.

“Come here, you,” he said, his voice deep, almost a growl as he fixed his gaze on you. “I need the blood on my lips. Don’t just stand there. I’m waiting.”

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to tell him where he could shove his demands. You had work to do. "Fine," you muttered under your breath, moving toward him.

You could feel his eyes on you as you prepared the fake blood, the sticky red substance almost too realistic for comfort.

Your fingers brushed against his soft lips, and for a second, you almost forgot what you were doing. His eyes, as always, locked onto yours, and for a fleeting moment, you could see something in them—something dangerous. 

A hunger.

It was the same pull. The same unsettling feeling that had haunted you since the day you first met him. But now, in such close proximity, with his breath mixing with yours, you couldn’t ignore it. His stare burned into your skin like a brand, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You quickly finished the task, wiping your hands off with a towel, keeping your gaze away from him. The last thing you needed was to fall for whatever it was he was doing to you. You were already playing with fire. You didn't need to get burned.

Casper, however, was not deterred by your coolness. He leaned in, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You know," he said, his voice low and teasing, "there’s something about the way you touch me... something different. Why is that?"

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was. His lips—still stained with fake blood—were just a few inches away from yours. The faintest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm just doing my job," you replied, trying to keep your tone steady.

But it didn’t work. His smile only grew, and for a second, you could see that strange glint in his eyes—the same one you had seen in his otherworldly stare when he first encountered you. The one that made you think he was far more dangerous than any of the spirits you’d dealt with in your life.

“Mm,” he hummed, the sound vibrating in his chest as he stepped even closer. His breath was warm against your face, his presence suffocating in a way that you couldn't ignore. "I don’t believe you."

You straightened, quickly distancing yourself. “Just finish the damn shoot, Casper. That’s all I’m here for.”

Before you could take another breath, he moved.

One second, you were standing firm, refusing to let him pull you in. The next? His hands gripped your waist, and with a smooth, effortless motion, he pulled you down onto his lap.

A startled gasp left your lips, but before you could protest, Casper’s arms settled around you—firm but unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. His crimson eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he looked up at you, his head tilted just slightly as if studying a particularly intriguing puzzle.

“You’re acting so different today,” he murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “I can sense it. Why?”

You stiffened. Another question. The weight of his gaze pinned you in place, more binding than his actual hold on you. His grip wasn’t tight, wasn’t forceful—but it didn’t need to be. His presence alone was enough to escape feel pointless.

Your lips parted, but no words came. What could you even say? That you didn’t know why? That you didn’t want to know? That some part of you had already accepted whatever this was, even as you kept pretending to fight it?

Casper hummed, one hand lazily tracing patterns against your hip, his other resting at the small of your back. Not quite pulling you closer, not quite letting you go. 

Just holding you there, perfectly trapped.

"You don’t even realize it, do you?" His voice was almost amused, but there was something beneath it—something dangerous, something interesting.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, instinct screaming at you to push him away. 

You didn’t.

"I’m just here to do my job," you forced out, trying to sound firm, unaffected.

Casper’s smirk deepened, his head tilting even more like you’d just said something hilarious. "Job, huh?" His voice was silky smooth, laced with quiet mockery. "I think you’re much more than that, don’t you?"

Your heart pounded.

He was too close. Too steady. Too unbothered, like he had already figured something out that you hadn’t.

You grit your teeth, every fiber of your being screaming for control. You refused to let him drag you into this—to make you want whatever twisted game he was playing.

“Just finish your damn job, Casper,” you snapped, trying to shift your weight, to push away from him. But his hands—so annoyingly casual—didn’t let you move far.

“Am I stopping you?” he asked, all false innocence, all easy confidence. His grip didn’t tighten, didn’t turn forceful. But somehow, that made it worse.

"Yes," You glared at him. 

His smirk only widened. And then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in—just enough that you could feel his breath ghosting over your skin. “We’ll see how long you can keep up that act,” he murmured, his voice like silk over a blade.

You wrenched yourself away, standing up fast, putting space between you two before you could do something reckless—something stupid. But as you turned, forcing yourself to focus, to shove this encounter into the back of your mind, one unsettling thought refused to leave you.

Who was really haunting who?

Turns out it can. As more news hits you like a slap to the face, leaving behind a sting of disbelief.

Apparently, Casper’s modeling career—something you still found utterly ridiculous—required both you and your boss to be flown out with him for a series of shoots in another city. You barely had time to process the logistics of it all before your boss, looking far too smug about this, handed you your flight details with a cheery “Try not to kill each other.”

As if that was even an option.

The moment you boarded the plane, fate decided to drive the knife deeper.

Your assigned seat? Right next to Casper.

You shot a glare at your boss as she strolled past, completely unaffected by your suffering. She met your glare with a saccharine smile and an enthusiastic thumbs-up before settling into her own seat several rows ahead.

Traitor.

Casper, of course, looked completely unbothered, the very picture of laziness as he slumped into his seat. One leg stretched out in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted back like he was already seconds from slipping into a nap. If not for the way his white hair fell perfectly into place, he could’ve been mistaken for some overworked businessman instead of a supernatural menace in designer clothing.

You exhaled through your nose, scowling as you sank into your seat and buckled your belt. The flight hadn’t even taken off yet, and you were already bracing yourself for hours of pure torture.

The first stretch of the flight was silent. Almost too silent.

You weren’t sure if that was better or worse than his usual taunting. Normally, Casper never shut up, always had some smug remark, some sharp-edged teasing that made your patience fray like an overused thread. But right now? Right now, he was quiet.

And that was unsettling in itself.

Halfway through the flight, when the hum of the plane had lulled most passengers into a light doze, Casper cracked one eye open and glanced at you.

“You’re tense, mortal.” His voice was a low murmur, just enough to cut through the ambient noise.

You clenched your jaw. “And you’re breathing in my direction. We all have problems.”

Casper smirked, a lazy, knowing thing, but—for once—he didn’t push.

The moment you landed, exhaustion settled deep into your bones. You were already dreading the next few days—watching Casper glide through his modeling shoots like he owned the damn world, dealing with your boss’s usual demands, and trying not to lose your mind in the process. But just as you thought you could catch a moment of peace, your boss hit you with yet another bombshell.

“You and Casper are sharing a hotel room.”

You blinked at her, your brain stuttering to a halt. “…Come again?”

She sighed, rubbing her temples like she was already so over this conversation before it had even started. “Look, the agency only booked so many rooms. You’ll have separate bedrooms, and there’s a bathroom in between. You’ll live.”

You wanted to argue. Oh, you wanted to scream that you had already spent far too much time being haunted by this insufferable bastard. That you didn’t want to be anywhere near him, let alone sleeping under the same damn roof.

Instead, you swallowed the frustration in your throat, forced yourself to inhale slowly through your nose, and settled for a tight, clipped: “Okay.”

Not like you had a choice.

The hotel was sleek and modern, all glass and polished stone, the kind of place that oozed luxury in a way that made you instantly wary. As the car pulled up to the front entrance, your boss was already rattling off instructions, barely sparing you or Casper a glance as she rifled through her phone.

“All right,” she said, stepping onto the curb with the efficiency of someone who had a million things to do and no time to waste. “You’re also in charge of keeping an eye on Casper.”

You stiffened, already knowing exactly where this was going. “Excuse me?”

She finally looked up at you, arching a brow. “I need him to be well-rested and not a menace before the shoot. That’s your job now. Make sure he’s taken care of, make sure he’s on time, and for the love of all that is holy, make sure he doesn’t get arrested or something.”

You opened your mouth to argue but immediately shut it when she held up a hand. “Nope. Don’t wanna hear it. I have a million things to handle, and I need you to be the responsible one.” She paused, then gave you a flat look. “Which, let’s be honest, is a low-effort achievement compared to him.”

Next to you, Casper hummed in amusement. “I feel like that was an insult.”

“It was,” she replied without missing a beat.

Casper didn’t seem the least bit offended. In fact, he looked downright pleased with himself. You fought the urge to rub your temples, already feeling the tension knotting in your skull.

“And,” your boss continued, ignoring Casper entirely, “I need you to set my schedule for tomorrow’s shoot. I want everything organized before I wake up. Call time, location details, wardrobe check—everything. Understood?”

You sighed, already resigning yourself to your fate. “Yeah. Got it.”

“Good.” She shoved a keycard into your hand before giving Casper a sharp look. “And you. Try not to be difficult.”

Casper smirked, tilting his head like he was considering it. “No promises.”

Your boss exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose before muttering something under her breath about ‘getting paid way too little for this’— even though she clearly gets paid enough—and stalking off toward the lobby.

Which left you and Casper standing at the curb, luggage in tow, facing the inevitable. 

Casper turned to you, expression unreadable. “So. Roommates, huh?” 

You exhaled slowly, staring up at the towering hotel before you. “Kill me.”

Casper’s voice rang out behind you, amusement clear in his tone. “You know you can’t actually be killed, right?”

You didn’t even turn around to respond, just kept walking toward the entrance.

“You’re really getting into this whole ‘mortal’ act,” he continued, his footsteps echoing behind you. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

You shot him a glance over your shoulder, your patience already running thin. “I swear, Casper, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to do something you won’t be able to come back from.”

He laughed, the sound of it too rich, too knowing. “That’s cute. But you forget—I’m already dead.”

“Lucky you,” you muttered, your tone dry. 

You and Casper stood in front of the shared hotel room, the silence between you two heavier than usual. You pushed the door open, the creaking sound echoing louder than necessary in the hallway. It was a strange kind of awkward tension, made worse by the fact that, well, you were stuck with him.

You sank into the couch, trying to distance yourself from his relentless, spectral presence. The exhaustion of the day—of the flight, the absurdity of it all—was settling deep into your bones, but you couldn’t relax. Not with him there. Not with that constant, oppressive, ghostly aura hanging over you like a storm cloud.

And then, of course, he had to go and speak.

“I need a bath,” Casper said casually, as if you didn’t have better things to do than cater to him.

You looked at him like he had just asked you to conjure up a hot tub out of thin air. “What?” you said, disbelief curling in your voice. 

He didn’t seem bothered by your reaction. His red eyes flickered with something approaching amusement, though it was tinged with that ever-present arrogance.

“Come on, mortal,” he said, that ghostly smirk creeping up on his face. “You’re my caretaker now. My personal attendant. Run me a bath.”

Your jaw tightened, and you just stared at him. No way. He’d lost his damn mind. What was this? Some twisted, afterlife spa day?

“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered, your voice low with irritation. “What, you seriously expect me to run you a bath?” You shook your head, giving him a flat look. “I’m not about to sit here and wash the grime off a literal Grim Reaper.”

His gaze remained unwavering. “Do you... do you know who you're talking to right now?” he said, his voice dripping with an insufferable calmness. “I’m a reaper. You’re the mortal. That means you have to do these things.”

You felt your eye twitch in frustration. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, Grimmy,” you bit back. “You’re the one who’s been haunting me, stealing my soul, and generally making my life a living hell. And now you think I’m gonna be your personal attendant?” You scoffed, pushing yourself upright. “I’ve been through way too much dealing with you, and you want me to play your personal spa assistant? Not happening.”

Casper didn’t even flinch. If anything, he seemed completely unbothered, as if he was entitled to this. "You are the mortal here," he continued, unfazed. "It's your responsibility, like your boss said." He shot you that superior, ghostly smirk that was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

Your patience? Gone. You stared at him, wide-eyed. "No. I'm really gonna need you to rethink that request, Grimmy," you said, your voice rising in irritation. "You're a reaper! You don’t need a bath! This isn’t some weird form of grim hygiene—what is this, an existential crisis?”

Casper didn’t look at you like you were crazy. In fact, he tilted his head slightly, his expression almost... annoyed. “Maybe it’s a reminder,” he murmured under his breath, as though he wasn’t entirely aware he was speaking out loud. 

“A reminder: the more you drag on giving me your soul, the more problems I’ll cause for you.”

You blinked, processing his words for a moment. Was he actually being serious? 

Ohhh that little shit…

“Well, I’m sorry, Casper,” you said, forcing a smile, “but this mortal is going to pass on the whole bath-running service.” You stood up, stretching, as if you were done with this conversation, mentally checking out. “You’re on your own for that one.”

Casper’s red eyes never left you, though his smirk faded just slightly, as if he couldn’t quite figure you out.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.

“Why do you fight me so much?” Casper’s voice cut through the silence, low and prying—way too calm for your liking. “Mortal women usually like me, fall over heels for me, but you don’t. It’s confusing.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you buried your face deeper into the couch pillow, letting out a long, exhausted sigh, like maybe—just maybe—you could breathe out all the frustration clinging to you.

But of course, he wasn’t done. Casper had a way of getting all weird and philosophical when you least had the patience for it.

“I’ve been thinking about it, you know… taking your soul. At this point, is it even worth it?” He paused, then kept going. “I mean, I’ve spent months following you around, became your boss’s model just to stay close, watched you. And now I’m wondering—what does taking your soul actually do for me? Will it fix whatever this thing is that I’m feeling? Or am I just throwing myself into something I can’t undo?”

You didn’t even bother lifting your head. The pillow smelled like expensive hotel fabric—clean, crisp, and utterly unhelpful. You stared at it, brain a mess of exhaustion and irritation, before mumbling,

“I don’t know, Casper. I really don’t.”

For a while, there was only the quiet hum of the air conditioner, Casper’s weight in the room pressing down on you like a physical force. You could feel him standing there, his presence looming like a shadow—waiting for some kind of profound answer, something deep and insightful that could resolve this bizarre conversation he was having with himself.

But you weren’t in the mood for any of it. You were too tired to be dragged into his metaphysical crisis. Too tired to get lost in the strange dark depths of his soul-stealing philosophy.

“I don’t want to be part of your existential crisis,” you groaned into the pillow, the words muffled by fabric. “I’m just trying to survive my days here, man. The job. The constant stuff. You’re the last thing I need to get tangled up in right now.”

You could feel his eyes on you then. It was that burning sensation on your back, like lasers boring into your skin. You didn’t need to look up to know that he was watching you closely, trying to read into your words, trying to figure out if you were being sarcastic or if there was something deeper beneath the surface.

But honestly? 

You couldn’t care less right now. 

The mental exhaustion was starting to hit, and all you wanted was some peace. His gaze was intense, unwavering, but still, you refused to meet it, your eyes still locked on the pillow. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he processed your response, the gears of his mysterious, otherworldly mind working overtime to make sense of you.

“Well,” he finally said, breaking the silence, his voice softer this time, “maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just... looking for something I can't have." There was a strange tone in his voice, almost as if he was talking to himself as much as he was talking to you. 

A little defeated, a little introspective.

Again, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you closed your eyes, hoping for sleep to come quickly, to shut out the weight of Casper’s presence and the endless swirl of thoughts he always left behind in his wake. Because no matter what he was trying to figure out about himself, you weren’t interested in being part of the puzzle.

And yet, deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder: what would he do if he actually figured himself out? Would he finally stop haunting you? Or would it just be another twist in this strange, never-ending game he was playing to claim your soul…?

You didn’t have the patience to unravel that mess. You had your own problems, after all. You were an adult—an assistant, no less. Work, deadlines, dealing with people who barely remembered your name, including your boss. 

Your life had become a monotonous grind of early mornings and late nights, filled with coffee-fueled exhaustion and half-hearted pleasantries. You kept your head down, you smiled when necessary, and you pretended that everything was fine.

Your world had been mundane. Easy. Quiet. Predictable.

And now? You had a Grim Reaper hovering over your shoulder, stuck in some kind of self-inflicted moral dilemma about whether or not he should rip your soul from your body. Like some whiny, undead philosopher who thought way too hard about his own existence.

The absurdity of it all weighed on you, pressing down like a heavy blanket of fatigue. A whole-ass harbinger of death, a supernatural entity, was following you around like a lost puppy, struggling with his own version of a midlife crisis. 

And somehow, somehow, you were the one stuck dealing with it.

It was ridiculous.

And then, out of nowhere, a song popped into your head—one that fit the mood a little too well.

All the people on the planet Working 9 to 5 just to stay alive How come?

The lyrics lingered in your mind, an unspoken anthem to the exhaustion of existence. Because wasn’t that all life was? A constant, never-ending loop of work and survival, of pretending everything was fine when it really, really wasn’t?

And now, even death itself was standing in your hotel room, trying to work through some kind of ghostly identity crisis. Without thinking, the words slipped out before you could stop them. 

“What goes up, ghost around…” You blinked.

Oh. Oh, no.

Did you—did you just make a pun about Casper?

Your lips parted slightly as the realization sank in, horror slowly creeping up your spine. This was it. You had officially lost your mind. The universe had thrown a scythe-wielding, existentially confused Grim Reaper into your life, and instead of screaming or running away, you were making stupid puns.

You were so done. Done with the constant noise in your head, the pressure, the irritation of dealing with someone who thought he could just waltz into your life like some smug, otherworldly nuisance. You were exhausted—physically, mentally, spiritually—and if you had to put up with his antics for one more second, you were going to start throwing things.

Yeah. No. You needed a bath.

You slowly get up and head straight for the bathroom. Casper, ever the uninvited, followed right behind. “Where are we going?” he asked, like he had any right to be included in this plan.

You didn’t even bother looking back. “I am going to take a bath. You are going to sit your ass somewhere else and leave me alone.”

Predictably, he ignored the very clear boundary you just set. “Oh, perfect, I need a bath, too.”

You stopped in your tracks in the bathroom doorway, slowly turning to face him. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, hands in his pockets, head tilted just enough to be infuriating. “Casper,” you said, voice dangerously calm.

“Yes?”

“Get. Out.”

His smirk twitched. “Now, hold on, why—”

Before he could even think about arguing, you grabbed the nearest object—a rolled-up towel—and launched it at him. He barely dodged, laughing like this was the funniest thing in the world, but you weren’t in the mood. You shoved him back. He barely stumbled—damn grim reflexes—but before he could retaliate, you slammed the bathroom door in his face and locked it for good measure.

A satisfied exhale left your lips. Peace. Finally.

You turned toward the tub, already feeling the tension in your body start to loosen at the thought of just sinking into hot water and pretending the world—and annoying grim reapers didn’t exist. You twisted the faucet on, letting the steam rise as the tub filled, the sound of water rushing over the porcelain drowning out any lingering frustration.

Shedding the rest of your clothes, you stepped in, the heat instantly soothing every worn-out nerve in your body. You let yourself sink lower, eyes slipping shut, breathing in the faint scent of whatever overpriced bath soak you grabbed last time you were at the store.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were alone. No reapers. No stress. No existential crises. Just you, the water, and—

Knock knock.

Your head snapped toward the door, eyes narrowing. “…You’re not drowning, right?” Casper’s muffled voice called from the other side. “Because that would be kinda ironic.”

You groaned, sliding lower into the water until it covered your ears. You were never going to be rid of him, were you? However, then silence on the other side of the door stretched on. Five minutes passed.

Casper had finally given up. Good.

You exhaled slowly, leaning your head back against the edge of the tub, your brows furrowing as the stress still lingered—coiled deep in your muscles, settled in the pit of your stomach like a weight that wouldn’t budge.

Maybe… just maybe.

The water cradled you, heavy with warmth, lapping lazily against your skin as you sank deeper into the tub. You felt the heat seeped into your muscles, loosening the tightness coiled between your shoulders, and you let out a slow breath, your arms sliding around yourself in a loose embrace.

Your arms slid around yourself, fingers dragging slowly over your collarbones, down your shoulders. Damn, you were tense. ‘Like, why-are-my-muscles-made-of-concrete tense.’ But the heat was working its magic, loosening things up one knot at a time. You pressed your thumbs into the tight spots, hissing a little at the ache before it melted into something softer.

You lingered there for a moment, pressing into the knots along your neck, kneading with slow, deliberate circles until the tension began to unravel, the water was perfect—hot enough to turn your skin red, but not so scalding that it hurt. You sank deeper, letting it wrap around you like a lazy hug, the steam rising in little curls. 

Lavender, honey, whatever fancy shit was in this bath bomb—it smelled good, like one of those expensive spas you’d never actually pay to visit.

Legs propped up on the edge of the tub, you let one hand drift under the water, skimming over your stomach and your hips. The other lazily traced circles on your arm, catching droplets as they rolled down. Everything felt smoother in the water—your skin, your movements, even your thoughts, which were finally, finally shutting the hell up for once.

No grim reaper lurking like a weirdo. No stress tapping its fingers against your skull. Just you, the warmth, and the quiet slosh of water every time you shifted as one hand drifted down your arm, fingertips tracing the droplets clinging to your skin, while the other slipped beneath the surface, palm gliding over your stomach, lower, lower—until your fingers found the soft, slick heat between your thighs.

No rush. No urgency. 

Just the slow, experimental drag of your touch, tracing idle circles over your clit, already swollen with anticipation. The water made everything smoother, your fingers gliding effortlessly as you teased yourself, testing pressure speed—each movement sending little shocks of pleasure radiating outward.

Your breath hitched, lips parting as you arched slightly, the water lapping at your ribs. The warmth of the bath only heightened the sensation, your skin hypersensitive, every brush of your fingertips electric. You let yourself explore—gentle at first, then firmer, your hips shifting just enough to chase the friction.

A sigh escaped you, head tipping back against the rim of the tub, eyes fluttering shut, and let out a long breath. Fuck, when was the last time you just… existed like this? 

No overthinking, no distractions. Just your hands on your own skin, slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world.

You were so close to a stress-free moment—just you, the hot water, and your fingers working slow, teasing circles over your clit, already throbbing from the buildup. The bath made everything slick, and effortless, your touch gliding just right as you tested the pressure, the speed, biting your lip when a particularly good stroke sent a shiver up your spine.

Your breath hitched, hips lifting slightly, water sloshing as you arched two fingers inside you. Fuck, it felt good. The heat of the bath, the way your skin tingled, hypersensitive—every brush of your fingers sent little sparks racing through you. You let yourself get lost in it, touch growing firmer, more deliberate, chasing that sweet, mounting tension.

Then—of fucking course—your mouth betrayed you.

“Casper…” You moan. Fuck, Casper??

The absolute nerve of your subconscious to drag him into this. The guy who’d been stressing you out all damn day, and now here he was, lurking in the back of your mind like an uninvited guest. You groaned, half in frustration, half in reluctant amusement. Really? Now?

You tried to shake it off, fingers never stopping their rhythm, refusing to let him ruin this too. But the thought lingered, stubborn as hell, mixing with the pleasure in a way that was equal parts irritating and—okay, fine—kind of hot.

"Ugh, whatever," you muttered to no one, giving in just a little. If your brain wanted to play that game, fine. You’d let the frustration fuel you, turning the tension he’d caused into something better. Your strokes got sharper and needier, your free hand gripping the edge of the tub as you chased the release that had been just out of reach all day.

The way your body tensed and then melted beneath your touch, the steady rhythm of your fingers, deeper until your thighs trembled.

You took your time, dragging it out, letting the tension coil tighter with every deliberate stroke. Your breath hitched, coming faster now, lips parted as you sank deeper into the sensation. The warm water lapped at your skin, rippling with each subtle movement, muffling the quiet, needy sounds that slipped past your lips despite your best efforts.

And when it finally crashed over you—heat flooding through your limbs, pleasure cresting in slow, shuddering waves—you let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. Figures. Even in your own damn climax, he was still lingering in the back of your mind. 

That asshole.

“What are you doing, Mortal?”

You practically launched out of the tub.

Water sloshed violently over the edge as you jerked upright, your entire body going rigid with shock. Your heart nearly exploded in your chest as you snapped your head toward the source of the voice—only to see Casper, standing there like some smug little shit, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted in curiosity.

Oh, hell no. How did he get in here??

“WHAT THE FUCK—” You scrambled to grab the nearest thing—your damn loofah—hurling it at his face with as much force as you could muster. Casper barely flinched, the soft thing bouncing off his cheek like a tragic attempt at an attack.

He blinked. “Was that supposed to hurt?”

“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE!”

He looked genuinely confused. “But I live here.”

“But I’m in here,” you corrected, voice dripping with exasperation as you pulled your knees up to your chest, trying to salvage what little dignity you had left. “Big fucking difference.”

Casper’s gaze dragged down lazily, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. His lips parted slightly, his head tilting like he was putting together a puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“I still don’t get it,” he admitted, his voice lower now. “I’ve seen mortals bathe before.”

“Oh my god—” You were going to die. Not from him taking your soul, not from some supernatural battle of wills—no, you were going to die from sheer secondhand embarrassment.

Casper took a slow step forward, and you held up a warning hand. “Do not come any closer.”

He stopped but didn’t look the least bit intimidated. In fact, he looked… intrigued. Like he was enjoying your frustration. Like he knew he had interrupted something and was now just here to be an absolute menace about it.

“You were making noises,” he pointed out, as if you weren’t already fully aware.

You clenched your jaw, your eye twitching. “I was relaxing.”

“Sounded more like suffering.”

“Oh my god...” You inhaled sharply through your nose, resisting the urge to drown yourself just to escape this absolute disaster of a moment. With all the strength of someone barely holding onto their last shred of sanity, you spoke through gritted teeth. 

“Casper. I swear to whatever god you believe in if you don’t get out of my bathroom in the next three seconds—”

Casper grinned, taking one step backward—which was not fast enough for your liking. “Or what? You’ll come after me?”

Oh, you hated him.

Casper stood there, the grimmest of grim reapers, with his white hair like fallen ash and those red-wine eyes gleaming with amusement. He was a nightmare in the flesh, a creature that should have inspired fear—should have made you tremble at the very thought of his existence.

Instead, he was standing in the bathroom, casually crumbling what little patience you had left invading your private time, looking at you like you were the strange one.

You wanted to scream. Oh, you wanted to scream.

Maybe throw something. Maybe rip your own hair out. Or better yet, maybe grab him by that infuriatingly perfect collar and shove him straight into the tub, hold him under until all his smug little comments bubbled into silence.

But you didn’t.

Because that would mean ruining your carefully put-together appearance. And worse? It would mean hurting your boss’s prized model—the one person you absolutely could not afford to lay a hand on unless you wanted to kiss your job goodbye.

So instead, you forced yourself to breathe. Slow. Controlled. Fingers tightening around the porcelain edges of the tub like they were the only thing anchoring you to sanity. “Casper,” you said, your voice dipping into something low and dangerous, like a warning before a storm.

“Hm?” That lazy, infuriating hum, like he hadn’t just walked in on you at your most vulnerable.

“Get. Out.”

He tilted his head, looking genuinely—genuinely—confused. “Why?”

You clenched your jaw so hard it could’ve cracked. “Because I am naked and bathing, and you are not supposed to be here.”

He considered that for a long moment. Then, his lips curled into something devious. “Technically, I am supposed to be here. You and I made a deal. I’m supposed to be haunting you for your soul.”

“Then haunt me in literally any other room.”

Casper sighed, dramatic and slow, as if you were the one being unreasonable. “Fine,” he relented, but then—then—he smirked. That smirk, the one that made you want to smack him upside the head. “But just so you know, you really should be quieter. You don’t want your neighbors thinking you’re being murdered in here.”

Fuck this. 

You were fuming, seething, gripping the edge of the tub like it was the only thing keeping you from losing your goddamn mind. Your eye twitched so violently that for a second, you swore the entire world flickered—as reality itself had short-circuited under the sheer weight of your frustration.

You had officially had enough.

With seething movements, you pushed yourself up from the bath, water cascading down your skin in slow, glistening trails. 

You grabbed the nearest towel, wrapping it around your body without a second thought, the fabric clinging to your damp form as you stepped out of the tub. You barely noticed the chill of the air against your skin. You barely cared.

Casper must have sensed the shift in the air because the moment your foot hit the tile with a sharp, wet slap, his smirk faltered. For the first time since he had started haunting your every waking moment, he looked genuinely unsettled.

His red eyes flickered—uncertainty, hesitation, maybe even a hint of fear. Good. Because you weren’t playing anymore. Before he could get another word in, you were moving. He took a cautious step back, but it was already too late.

Like a force of nature, you stormed toward him, towel clutched tightly around your body, water still dripping from your hair. Casper did the only thing his undead brain could think of—he ran.

Straight out of the bathroom. Oh, hell no.

You chased after him, barreling through the doorway, barely even aware of the way the hallway light flickered as you passed under it.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" you growled, the anger burning in your veins hotter than any embarrassment over your current state.

Casper yelped—yelped—as he sprinted down the hall, his long coat billowing behind him in his panic. For someone who literally dealt with death, he sure as hell was scared for his life.

"Now, now, let’s be rational about this!" he called over his shoulder, trying to sound composed, but his voice cracked at the end. Oh, he was scared.

"Rational?!" you scoffed, lunging forward. "You have been tormenting me for months, Casper! Months! And now you wanna talk about being rational?! Oh, no—you don’t get to run from me now!"

You saw the exact moment he realized he was cornered. 

Casper skidded to a halt at his bedroom door, scrambling to fling it open. But you were already there, shoving against it just as he tried to slam it in your face. 

His eyes were wide, his expression somewhere between shock and sheer terror. “You—you’re unhinged!" he accused, voice going slightly high-pitched.

"You made me this way!" you snapped back, shoving your way inside. He stumbled backward, eyes widening at you before—bam.

Your body crashed into his, sending him stumbling backward onto the bed. You followed without hesitation, climbing over him, straddling his waist, and pinning him beneath you with a force that had him momentarily stunned.

His body was solid beneath yours, colder than you expected due to the whole undead grim reaper thing. 

You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, his breathing steady but slightly uneven now, like he was processing what just happened.

For the first time, you saw something shift in his expression—not his usual smug amusement, not his lazy arrogance, but something else. Surprise and

Confusion.

His wine-red eyes flickered over your face, searching, calculating. “Well…” His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “I can’t say I saw this coming.”

You leaned in, your face just inches from his, close enough to see the way his lips parted slightly, how his throat bobbed with a slow, almost instinctive swallow. “Good,” you murmured, your voice low, dangerous. “Then maybe, for once, you’ll shut up and listen.”

Casper blinked up at you, the ghost of a smirk still lingering, but his silence—for once—was enough.

“I’m sick and over with you haunting me,” you yelled, dripping with something almost cruel in its amusement. “You think you can just waltz into my life, make my every moment miserable, and I’m supposed to sit back and let you have my soul?” 

Casper wasn’t fully listening, like he could feel you—every inch of your body, barely covered by that frustratingly short towel, heat seeping through the thin fabric where it clung to your damp skin. It was a dangerous sight, teetering on the edge of revealing more than it should, and shit—why did a mortal have to be this pretty?

You tilted your head slightly, lips hovering just inches from his, teasing him with the ghost of a touch. “My soul isn’t for sale.”

His breath caught. His usual arrogance wavered, flickering into something less composed. For the first time, you had him unsure. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, and you could practically see the war raging behind them—frustration, fascination, something else he wouldn’t dare name.

“You make this so much harder than it needs to be,” he muttered, his voice laced with that same begrudging admiration, but there was something else, too—something red. His face, his ears, all betraying him as he took in the fire in your expression, the way you pressed against him, holding him down.

His breath hitched as you shifted, the pressure making his thoughts scatter.

“J-Just hand over your soul, and I-I’ll leave,” he stammered, but even he didn’t sound convinced anymore.

The stutter was so obvious; it was almost cute.

“No!” you shouted, your voice sharp with frustration, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The real problem? The unmistakable pressure beneath you. Shit. Right. 

You already knew.

A slow, wicked smile curled on your lips as realization settled in.

“You reap what you sow, Casper,” you whispered, your voice nothing but a slow, taunting caress against his skin. You felt the way his entire body tensed, his throat bobbing, fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to grab you—to do something.

And then? He did move.

With a frustrated growl, he tried to shove you off, his hands gripping your hips, pushing at you in a way that was far too desperate, far too rigid. “G-Get off,” he snapped, his usual cocky arrogance cracking around the edges.

You didn’t budge. Instead, you pressed down just a little more, reveling in the way his breath hitched, the way his grip tightened just a little too much before he forced himself to let go.

“You’re really that eager to run now?” you murmured, tilting your head, watching the way his crimson eyes flickered between frustration and something he really didn’t want you to see.

“I’m not— I just—” His voice faltered, and that was enough to make you lean in closer, pressing your weight down just enough to make him shudder.

“You just what?” you teased, dragging the moment out, letting the heat between you thicken.

His fingers curled into fists, knuckles white. His lips parted, but whatever comeback he had died the second you moved against him, just barely, just enough to feel him really tense beneath you.

“Sh-Shut up,” he muttered, face turning a shade of red that had nothing to do with anger.

Oh, he was trying so hard to hold onto his composure. Trying so hard to shove you away without making it obvious why he needed you to move.

“And if you think I’m just going to hand over my soul…” You trailed off, letting the words dangle between you, thick with implication, like a loaded gun cocked and ready to fire.

Casper swallowed hard, his breath uneven, his self-control slipping—and for all the power he had, for all the ways he had haunted you, he was the one struggling now.

The tables had turned—now you wanted to see just how far you could push him. Because if he had spent all this time tormenting you, refusing to let you go…

Then surely, he must have realized by now—

You gonna haunted him right back.

You leaned down slowly, the space between you two shrinking, the anticipation thickening the air. Your breath mingled with his, a brief, almost electrifying moment before your lips finally met his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. 

It wasn’t soft—there was nothing delicate about it. 

Your lips pressed onto his with force, firm, almost demanding, as though you were claiming something that was yours to take. Casper’s body stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity, the possessiveness in your touch. You could feel his hesitation—his confusion. His breath hitched as you deepened the kiss, pressing yourself closer to him, your hand finding its way to his jaw, tilting his face to match the angle of yours.

His lips parted slightly under yours, and you took it as an invitation, pushing forward with more urgency, more need. His warmth was overwhelming, contrasting with the coldness of his existence. 

You felt him start to respond, slowly at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. But the longer you kissed him, the more the tension between you snapped.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers grazing the side of your neck as he finally gave in, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss—the way he started to lean into you, his chest pressing against yours, his movements no longer hesitant but eager, almost desperate. 

It was a kiss that felt like something had broken between you two like a barrier had collapsed, and now there was only the fire between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that was unfamiliar, unexpected.

When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but neither of you fully separated. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed for a beat too long before slowly opening, still hazy, still lost in the aftermath of it all. 

You could feel his pulse under your fingertips, erratic, as if it wasn’t just his body reacting, but something deeper—something that couldn’t be ignored.

He didn’t say anything right away, the silence between you two heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. His voice, when it finally came, was low, almost a growl.

“W-Why did you do that…?” he asked, his words wrapped in uncertainty and desire as if he was finally understanding something about the mess between you two but still couldn’t quite make sense of it.

You didn’t answer.

Instead, your fingers lingered on his jaw, tracing the delicate curve of his face, feeling the soft, almost otherworldly smoothness of his skin under your touch. You watched him closely, the way his eyes fluttered shut as he tried to maintain his composure, his breath quickening the longer you stayed close. 

But it wasn’t just about that anymore—it wasn’t just about the arrogant, cocky Grim Reaper who had been haunting your thoughts for months. 

No, it was something far more complicated now.

You wanted him—all of him. 

Slowly, you moved your lips from his to the delicate skin of his neck, your breath warm against him as you kissed the soft spot just below his jaw. The moment your lips made contact with his skin, you felt him tense, his body reacting to your touch in ways that made your pulse quicken. 

He let out a quiet gasp, his eyes snapping open as if he wasn’t expecting this. But you could feel it, the way his body betrayed him, how his pulse seemed to spike beneath your lips.

You couldn’t help but press closer, your lips moving along the smooth curve of his neck, slowly, teasingly. You felt him shiver under your touch, his breath hitching sharply. His skin was like silk, but it was warm, almost feverish beneath your lips. 

You traced the delicate line of his throat with your mouth, paying attention to the places that made him tremble, the faintest of whimpers escaping him. 

The deeper you kissed, the more you felt the tremor in his body, the way he couldn’t quite keep himself steady as your lips and teeth brushed against his sensitive skin.

And then, he couldn’t help it anymore—he let out a deep, strangled whine, a sound so raw, so desperate, it sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the usual sharp, cocky tone he had when he spoke to you—it was something entirely different. His body arched onto yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps as if he was both resisting and wanting at the same time.

“W-What... what are you trying to do with me, mortal?” His voice was thick, almost breathless, the usual arrogance and bravado completely absent now. There was no defiance, no demand for power in his tone. Just confusion.

You paused for a brief second, but you continued your movements, pressing your lips further down his neck, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his skin against yours.

He whimpered again, louder this time, and the sound made something inside you stir—a dark satisfaction, a rush of power. He was so vulnerable under your touch, so... alive in a way you hadn’t anticipated. 

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, but you kept your hand on his neck, feeling his pulse flutter under your fingertips. His eyes were wide, a mix of emotions swirling in them—confusion, want, fear. His breath was shallow, chest rising and falling erratically as if he wasn’t sure if he was even breathing properly anymore.

It wasn’t long before your kisses trailed down, slow and soft, your lips teasing a path along his now shirtless, impossibly pale chest.

Damn, he really was ghostly white, but soft—way softer than someone who spent all their time being a cocky little shit should be.

You couldn’t help yourself; you bit down lightly, just enough to make him jolt under you. Casper let out this ridiculous, choked noise, half-whimper, half what the fuck was that?! and you grinned against his skin.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

“What—what are you—” he started, but you cut him off with another bite, right over his ribs this time. He actually squirmed beneath you, letting out the deepest whine you’d ever heard from him.

“Would you look at that,” you mused, pressing another kiss just below his collarbone, feeling his muscles tense under your lips. “The big, bad grim reaper’s ticklish.”

Casper’s eyes shot open, his whole face twisting between frustration and pure, unfiltered panic. “I am not—”

You kissed a little lower. He let out a soft gasp.

You snickered. “Ohhh, you so are.”

His hands twitched at his sides like he didn’t know if he should shove you away or pull you closer, and that alone made you even more entertained. 

Casper was losing his goddamn mind. You knew it. He knew it. Hell, even the goddamn shadows in the room probably knew it. And you? Oh, you were thriving.

See, for months now, this insufferable bastard had been haunting you—literally and figuratively. He followed you everywhere like a bad omen, made your life a constant, unending hell, toyed with your sanity like it was his favorite pastime, and worst of all?

He had the audacity to be hot while doing it.

You were fed up. You were horny.

And since he was always around, lurking in your damn shadow, you never had a single moment alone to deal with it. No time to take the edge off. No privacy to just breathe without him hovering like he owned the air around you.

And if he was going to keep haunting you relentlessly, refusing to let you have a single second of peace? Because of that, you’d make sure he felt what it was like to be relentlessly pursued—to be hunted the way he had hunted you.

And judging by the way he was struggling beneath you, red-faced, flustered, trying so damn hard to pretend he wasn’t affected?

Oh, he was feeling it all right as your lips pressed slow, lazy kisses along his stomach, dragging out every moment just to watch him squirm. 

And oh, was he squirming. 

His fingers clenched the sheets so hard you thought they might rip. His breath hitched every time you so much as existed near him. His legs were tense, thighs trembling slightly like his entire undead body was screaming at him to do something. But he couldn’t.

Not with you looking down at him like that. Not with that smug little glint in your eye, knowing full well the power you held over him right now.

“Are you—” His voice cracked so hard you nearly laughed in his face. He swallowed, trying to gather what was left of his composure. “Are you actually trying to kill me right now? Because—because this feels like some kind of cruel revenge plot.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Me? Oh, Casper… why would I ever do something so cruel?”

Another kiss. Another sharp inhale. 

"You are,” he accused breathlessly, his crimson eyes burning into you. “You so are.”

You grinned. “Maybe I’m just trying to make you feel a little… haunted.”

His whole body shuddered. "That’s—That’s not funny."

“Oh, I think it’s hilarious.”

Casper groaned, tossing his head back against the pillow like he was physically suffering. “M-Mortal!” he sputtered, trying to sound authoritative but failing spectacularly. 

“You can’t just—You—You can’t have my soul!” 

Casper's breath hitched so hard you thought he might choke on it. His fingers curled tighter into the sheets, his entire body going stiff beneath you—frozen, like some helpless animal caught in the path of an oncoming storm.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing as you watched him squirm. “What do you mean, Casper?”

Your fingers ghosted over the waistband of his pants, playing with the button, teasing but never quite undoing it. His whole body twitched at the contact, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“I-I mean…” he stammered, eyes darting anywhere but your face, ears tinged an adorable shade of pink. “My—My soul, mortal! That’s what I was talking about! Y-you can't have it! It's mine!”

You paused, blinking at him. And then it clicked.

Oh. Oh. Did he—? Had he been—?

This whole time, when he'd been talking about souls, about taking yours, about you trying to take his… was he actually talking about—?

Honestly, you are a bit lost by his words… but you kept on the act! Your lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. “Oh, Casper…” you purred, pressing down just enough to make him gasp, your fingers still playing at his waistband.

“You’ve been talking about souls this whole time, and yet…” You sighed, “…it sounds like you’ve been asking for something else entirely.” 

His entire body jerked like you’d just electrocuted him. “I—I—” His voice cracked so hard you almost felt bad. Almost.

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head at him with mock concern. “Are you sure you meant your soul, Casper? Because…”

Your fingers gave the button of his pants the tiniest little tug. “…from the way you’re acting, it really seems like you meant something else.”

Casper wiggles beneath you then let out a strangled noise somewhere between a whimper and an offended squawk.

“M-MORTAL! I—THAT’S NOT—YOU’RE TWISTING MY WORDS!”

You laughed, soft and velvety, reveling in the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers dug into the sheets like they were the only thing tethering him to reality. His crimson eyes were wide, frantic, darting across your face as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

"Am I?" you murmured, letting the words drip from your lips like honey—sweet, slow, dangerous.

“Yes!” he blurted, but his voice wavered, cracking at the edges, betraying him in the most delicious way.

You tilted your head, fingers trailing ever so lightly down his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His whole body was wound tight, like he was barely holding himself together. Like he didn’t trust himself to move.

“Then tell me,” you coaxed, your voice barely above a whisper, a soft tease against the thick silence between you. “What is it, Casper?”

Nothing. No response. Just a tense, heavy pause.

And then—so quiet, so wrecked, like it had been dragged from the deepest part of him—

“…Because I think I want you as well, Mortal.”

Oh. Fuck. Like, deadass, that was kinda hot.

Your fingers stilled for just a second, then resumed their slow, torturous circles against his stomach, just barely skimming the skin. Featherlight. Just enough to tease. Just enough to torment.

“You don’t say,” you murmured, letting your nails graze lightly over his skin, watching the way his entire body twitched beneath you. “Such strong words, Casper.”

He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, his back pressing deeper into the mattress as if he could somehow disappear into it—like it could save him from whatever this was.

But nothing was saving him now. Not from you. shit from me.

Not as the towel around you slipped, the fabric pooling onto the bed like a ghost of hesitation you no longer had.

You could feel the tension coiled in his body, every muscle taut beneath your touch, strung tight between restraint and ruin. His skin burned under your fingertips, feverish, as if he were caught in some exquisite purgatory—unsure whether to arch into your mouth or wrench himself away before he shattered completely.

“W-where will it be?” His voice was raw, stripped down to something fractured and wanting, each word a ragged breath torn from his chest.

You smiled—slow, cruel in its sweetness—letting your lips ghost over the frantic pulse at his throat. 

“My tongue?” you murmured, the words dripping like honey, thick and syrupy with promise. You let them linger, let them sink into his skin, let him feel them. “Is that what you want, Casper? My wicked tongue on you?” His cock twitched against your lips, already glistening at the tip—pale, flushed, aching for you.

You could see the pulse of his heartbeat in it, the way his entire body trembled with the effort of holding back.

A shudder wracked through him, violent and helpless. His fingers twisted in the sheets, white-knuckled, like a man clinging to the last fraying thread of his control. 

You exhaled, slow and warm, just to watch him squirm.

Then—finally—you pressed a single, lingering kiss to the head, tasting the salt-slick precome beading there. His hips jerked, a choked gasp tearing from his throat, but you held him down with one firm hand on his stomach, fingers splayed possessively over his trembling abdomen.

"Stay still." You ordered, taking him into your mouth with agonizing slowness, letting your tongue swirl lazily around the crown before sinking deeper, inch by torturous inch. His breath hitched, his fingers knotting in your hair—not pushing, just clinging, as if you were the only thing keeping him from drowning.

You hollowed your cheeks, dragging your lips up in a slow, filthy glide before plunging back down, savoring the way his thighs tensed, the way his stomach quivered under your palm. 

Every movement was careful, calculated to unravel him—the flick of your tongue along the underside, the teasing scrape of teeth, the way you pulled off just to watch him whimper before swallowing him down again.

His voice was shattered, raw with desperation. "F-fuck—please—"

You hummed around him, the vibration wringing a broken moan from his lips. His grip tightened in your hair, his hips lifting in tiny, involuntary thrusts, but you controlled the pace, keeping it slow, maddening, until every ragged breath he took was your name.

My god—how you loved this—loved the way he unraveled, the way his breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, the way his hips jerked instinctively toward your mouth, betraying him entirely.

You dragged your nails down the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, feather-light, just enough to make him jolt, to pull another broken sound from his lips. His entire body was a live wire, every nerve alight, every tremor yours to command.

When you finally felt him tense, his whole body bowing off the bed, you locked your eyes with his—holding his gaze as you took him deep, deeper, until his release spilled hot and bitter down your throat.

And even then, you didn’t let go.

You milked him through it, lips sealed tight until he was shaking, oversensitive, gasping your name like a prayer. Only then did you pull away, licking your lips with slow, deliberate satisfaction.  

"Good little reaper."  

The words dripped from your tongue like silk, and just as you watched the shiver roll through him, an idea slithered into your mind—dark, tempting, irresistible.  

Your smirk widened. “Oh… wait,” you purred, voice teasing, wicked. 

“Grimmy, I have a surprise for you.”

Casper swallowed hard, his crimson eyes flickering with something caught between intrigue and apprehension. His hands twitched where they gripped the sheets, like he couldn't decide if he should push you away or pull you closer.

You smirked, trailing your fingers lazily down his chest before slipping away entirely, stepping back just enough to let the anticipation thicken between you. Slowly, deliberately, you turned, making sure he caught the full, teasing sway of your movements as you sauntered over to your suitcase in the hallway.

His breathing was uneven. He was watching you, waiting, completely caught in your spell. "You've been keeping secrets from me, mortal?" he murmured, his voice rough, strained.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, fingers toying with the zipper of your bag. "Oh, I was saving this for myself," you admitted, drawing out each word like honey, "but now? I think I need it right now."

You unzipped the suitcase slowly—so slowly it was almost maddening. The faint rasp of the metal teeth parting filled the dimly lit room, a whisper of sound against the thick silence. Casper tensed.

His haunted lungs hitched.

"You know," you mused, lifting out the little package you had tucked away, letting the low lamp light catch on the edges, "if you're onto me, that means I'm onto you, too."

Casper's grip on the sheets tightened. "What… What are you planning?"

You turned fully now, holding the item in your hands, watching as his eyes darkened, his throat bobbing with an anxious swallow.

And with a wicked smile, you took a slow step toward the bed.

"Why don’t you let me show you, little reaper?"

It wasn’t long before you watched him, the way his body betrays every look of need: the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the restless curl of his fingers into the sheets, the way his throat works as he swallows hard, waiting.

Your hands glide over him, fingertips tracing the dip of his spine, the curve of his hip, the softness of his inner thigh—just to hear his breath catch. Then, with a quiet, knowing hum, you press against him from behind, your body flush against his, the heat of your skin searing through the space between you. 

The weight of your body against his back makes him shudder, and you smile, dragging your lips along the slope of his shoulder.

"Shh," you murmur, voice honey-thick, "I’ve got you."

Your fingers trail down the trembling plane of his thighs, circling the base of his cock with a teasing, featherlight touch. He shudders beneath you, breath hitching—already so close to unraveling, and you’ve barely begun.

You reach for your toy, covered in your slick, warmed between your thighs before you guide it to him, pressing in with a slow, relentless push—just enough to make his back arch, just enough to pull a low, his back arching as choked gasp spills from his lips.

"There you go," you croon, your free hand stroking him in time with each shallow thrust, your grip just tight enough to make his hips jerk. "Such a good little reaper, haunting me, trying to steal my soul." 

You click your tongue, amused. "But you’re the one who’s trapped now, aren’t you?" You pause, letting him feel every inch, letting him burn with it. 

“P-please ugh!” His fingers claw at the sheets, knuckles white, and you lean down, catching his earlobe between your teeth before whispering, "Tell me, Casper—do wraiths beg?"

Then your fingers find his, threading through them, palm to palm, your grip tight enough to ground him, to remind him—you’re here, you’re his, even as you take him apart.

And then you move.

A slow, deep roll from your hands, the drag of the toy inside him carefully, maddening. His breath comes in ragged bursts, his fingers tightening around yours like a lifeline. 

You thrust deeper, your hand working him faster now, twisting just the way he likes, and his answer comes in a broken moan, his body tightening around the toy as pleasure coils hot and desperate in his gut.

"That’s it," you purr, your breath hot against his skin. "Let me see you come undone. Let me watch you forget you ever wanted to haunt anyone but me."

His hips stutter, his cock pulsing in your hand as he spills over your fingers with a ragged cry, his body clenching around the toy in helpless, shuddering waves.

"It’s where you and I be." You started as your free hand skates up his chest, mapping the flutter of his heartbeat, the hitch of his ribs as he gasps. You can feel the way his body clenches around the toy, the way he trembles beneath you, caught between surrender and desperate, clawing need.

“If I’m on to you…" You whisper, your breath hot against his skin, pulling back just enough to catch his gaze—God, those eyes—deep red and drowning, pupils blown, lashes fluttering like he’s already lost to the tide of you.

"...then you’re on to me."

A sharp inhale. A fractured moan. His lips part, trembling—wordless, aching, yours.

Your pace moves—still deep, still relentless, but rougher now, each thrust punching a ragged sound from his throat. His fingers cling to yours, his body arching into every movement, every stroke, every touch like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

And oh, the sounds he makes—soft whimpers, breathless pleas, the way his voice breaks when you angle just right—it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

"Me... on to you." Your voice is a velvet snare, wrapping around him like smoke—dark, intoxicating, inescapable.

Casper arches beneath you, his body strung tight, every muscle trembling as you drive into him with slow, merciless precision. His fingers claw at the sheets, his breath coming in ragged, broken gasps.

"P-please—" he chokes out, his voice wrecked, desperate. "Let me—fuck, I need—"

You tighten your grip on his hips, nails biting into his skin just enough to make him whimper. "Need what?" you purr, dragging your lips along the shell of his ear. "Say it."

He shudders, his cock twitching against his stomach, already slick with cum. "Need to come," he rasps. "Please—please—"

You slow your thrusts to a torturous grind, savoring the way his body clenches around you, greedy and aching. “Aww, and what do I get?" you murmur, your breath hot against his throat.

His answer comes in a rush, raw and unguarded—

"My soul. My fucking—everything—just yours, only yours—"

Your hips stutter at that, just for a second.

His soul? A reaper offering up the one thing he shouldn’t—couldn’t—give away. Your fingers slide up his chest, pressing over the frantic beat of his heart. "Careful," you warn, your voice rough. “…You don’t know what you’re asking for."

"I do," he gasps, writhing beneath you.

"I want it—want you to own me, ruin me, fucking keep me—just—ah!—promise you won’t take it. Promise you’ll leave it in me... so I can always be yours."

Your breath catches. Fuck.

"I'm on to you," you growl, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as you snap your hips forward, hard enough to punch a broken cry from his lips. "And you’re on to me."

Then you finally—finally—let him cum.

His whole body seizes, back bowing off the bed as he spills over your fist with a shattered moan, his release hot and slick between your fingers. You don’t stop, fucking him through it, dragging out every last spasm until he’s sobbing, oversensitive and shaking.

When he’s limp beneath you, breathless and dazed, you lean down, lips brushing his ear. "Next time you try to steal my soul," you murmur, "make sure it's someone mine."

A weak, breathless laugh escapes him. 

"Too late," he slurs, already half-gone. “I already have.”

You stare at him—really stare—before a slow, possessive smile curls into your mouth. “We’ll see…” you whisper, sealing the vow with a kiss pressed to his sweat-damp skin.

𝑒𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓌: heheheheheh 🤭

The next day, the studio was bathed in artificial light, soft flashes illuminating the minimalist set—a white backdrop, an expensive chaise, and the ever-irritated grim reaper standing awkwardly in the middle of it all. The entire team moved like clockwork around him, adjusting lights, fixing props, and directing him to pose.

But Casper?

Casper refused to sit down. Not once.

Not even when the photographer, sighed dramatically and gestured toward the antique chair, "All right, Casper, just take a seat and—"

"No."

The team collectively blinked. The photographer looked ready to throw his clipboard across the room.

“Casper, darling, please,” the director whined, exasperated, “I promise it won’t kill you—”

Casper shot the man a look so venomous that it could have rotted a bouquet of flowers on the spot. Still, he did not sit.

Instead, he remained standing, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, the weight never settling. Every so often, his fingers twitched, like he was debating if it was worth committing homicide in front of an audience.

And you?

You were having the time of your life.

It was everything you could do not to burst into laughter as you lounged off to the side, sipping on an overpriced iced tea like you weren’t the reason for his predicament. “Casper, oh my, are you okay?” your boss finally asked, tilting her head, eyes narrowing slightly at his suspicious behavior.

Casper tensed. His glare flickered toward you, burning and accusing, as if daring you to say something.

You met his gaze head-on. 

Then, with all the innocence of a saint, you shrugged. “Beats me,” you mused, sipping your drink, barely holding back a smirk.

Casper's fingers twitched violently.

You were the reason he couldn’t sit. You. 

The reason he stood like he had a permanent problem. The reason he looked like he was seriously reconsidering his entire existence.

Casper exhaled sharply, silently cursing your entire bloodline, before begrudgingly suffering through the rest of the shoot. By the time it wrapped up, he was the first to disappear, slipping away the moment the cameras stopped flashing.  

You found him soon after, tucked away at the back of the dressing room. The space was lined with racks of designer clothes, mirrors catching glimpses of his reflection at every angle—but despite all that, your attention never wavered.  

The only thing that mattered was him.

Casper sat—mind you uncomfortably—near the vanity, arms crossed, eyes still smoldering from earlier.

You, on the other hand, were having fun. While the others took their break, you stayed behind, deciding it would be an excellent opportunity to mess with him further.

And somehow, that led to you dressing him for another shoot.

“Why am I letting you do this?” he grumbled as you straightened his collar, adjusting the fit of the sleek black suit you had thrown onto him. 

“Because you have no choice,” you mused, hands lingering just a little longer than necessary, smoothing the fabric over his chest. “And because, deep down, you love it.”

Casper scoffed. “I loathe it.”

"Aww, you hurt because I fucked you with my dildo, right?" Your voice dripped with mock sympathy, babying him, laced with the kind of teasing cruelty that made his spine stiffen. You dragged a finger down the sweat-slick plane of his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. "Poor Grimmy. So ruined by me."

Casper’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into his clothing like he was trying to tear them apart. "Shut up," he growled, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him, a face fully red.

You laughed, low and wicked, "And here I though you loved it," you purred, relishing the way his body shuddered beneath you. "You fucking nutted everywhere... like some desperate little thing."

His reaction was instant—a sharp inhale, a flash of crimson in his darkened gaze as he twisted to glare at you. 

"You said you wouldn’t say that out loud!”

"Did I?" You blinked, all false innocence, before grinning like the devil you were. "Oops."

His fingers twitched. Then again. Closer. Tighter. Oh?

You watched, amused, as his control frayed at the edges, his jaw clenched so tight you could almost hear his teeth grinding. For a second, you wondered if he’d actually do it—if those long, pale fingers would finally snap around your throat in retaliation.

And then—

Casper had you pinned against the wall, his body caging you in, his eyes burning like hellfire. "This ends tonight," he snarled, gripping your chin hard enough to bruise, forcing your gaze up to his.

"I’m taking your soul, mortal."

You blinked. Then—you smiled. "Oh, Grimmy..."

Before he could react, you struck.

A twist of your wrist, a shift of your weight, and suddenly he was the one pressed against the wall, your body flush against his, your knee sliding between his thighs just to hear the way his breath stuttered.

The dim light carved shadows across his face, highlighting the way his lips parted—in shock, in fury, in something far more dangerous. His chest rose and fell beneath your palm, his heartbeat a frantic, uneven rhythm against your fingertips.

You leaned in, close enough that your lips brushed his as you spoke.

"You can’t take my soul, Casper."

"Because I already took yours."

His breath stopped. For a single, suspended moment, the world held still. His crimson eyes widened, his body rigid against yours, his mind scrambling to process the words—to deny them. "You—" His voice was rough, raw, ruined.

You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him with a smirk.

"Shhh," you cooed, tilting your head like he was some misbehaving little pet. “I mean you gave it to me, willing in fact.”

He jerked his face away, his jaw clenched tight, but you didn’t miss the way his pulse jumped beneath your touch. "U-Uh I mean—Like, How?" he demanded, voice low, trembling with something between fury and fascination. "You're a mortal, a human—"

You tsked, tracing a slow, careful path down his throat, feeling the way his Adam’s apple bobbed under your fingertips. "Now, now," you murmured, your smile all teeth. "A person like me never reveals their secrets."

His entire body shuddered, his control unraveling thread by thread, his fingers flexing like he didn’t know whether to push you away or drag you closer.

Fuck, he was beautiful like this.

The so-called Grim Reaper, known to be the terror of the underworld—reduced to this. To being yours.

You leaned in, your lips a breath away from his, your voice a whisper.

"You should be thanking me," you murmured, your hand sliding lower, teasing, taunting. "Not every reaper gets the privilege of being claimed."

His breath hitched, rough as a serrated edge. "Claimed—?"

"Mhm." Your lips brushed his jaw, slow, deliberate, savoring his pulse beneath your mouth. "The underworld gifted me something special..." Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his pants, smirking as his hips jerked, and his teeth gritted against a moan.

"A little grim reaper to keep all for myself."

And then—his control shattered.

With a snarl, he grabbed your wrists, slamming you back against the wall. His body pinned yours, every hard line of him a brand, a conquest, a promise. His eyes burned like hellfire, lips parted around ragged breaths, chest heaving with the weight of something feral, something hungry.

And then he kissed you. 

His mouth crashed against yours, such as teeth and tongue, and desperate. You gasped, and he swallowed the sound like a sinner taking communion, his grip on your wrists tightening to the brink of pain. There was like no gentleness here, no hesitation—like damnnn you really dragged out of him.

You laughed into his mouth, "I know if I'm haunting you…" You pulled back just enough to watch his lashes flutter, to see the way his lips chased yours, already addicted. Your breath mingled, hot, and shared, the space between you thick with the scent of sweat and sin.

And as his groan vibrated against your lips, as his hands slid from your wrists to your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. Then, with a smirk, you kissed him again—slow this time, a velvet stroke of the tongue that had him shuddering...

"…You must be haunting me."