c'est la vie

He took another bite of a different strawberry, steadily picking off the fruit before he set the plate down on the marble counter. He licked the whipped cream off of his fingers just as he let his gaze drift lazily towards you. “It’s a good thing I made sure to get you something, too.”

You blinked, cocking your head in confusion. A gift? You don’t recall asking for something in return—mostly because if you so much as glanced at something with mild interest, it was in your hands with the swipe of a card. You had everything you wanted and needed. “A gift?” You parroted, crossing your arms. You tried thinking of potential things he could’ve gotten you but came up short. “You did?”

“Yeah. You’ll like it,” he confirmed with a brief nod, a cheeky grin already curling his lips. He looked eager and it made you suspicious. Before you could comment on it, he pulled out a small box from his pocket and presented it to you. It couldn’t be a wedding ring; you’d probably say no with this sorry display of a proposal. You weren’t the biggest on jewelry either, save for the few piercings you had. He nodded, urging you to hurry up. “Go on. Open it.”

You took the box and undid the careful ribbon holding the box shut, opening the box to find a stunning piece of jewelry, custom made into the shape of a mistletoe. Satoru wasn’t one for cheap metal, especially not for you. You can tell there were genuine rubies, emeralds, and diamonds embedded in the piece, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the artistry. “Jeez, Satoru. I love it,” you breathed gratefully. It was a huge upgrade from the plain piece of metal currently lodged in your bellybutton. You made a move to the bathroom, as eager as he was when he received the shortcake. “I’ll be right back. Lemme go put it on.”

It took a few minutes to clean the jewelry and the empty piercing hole, expertly sliding the metal into the ridge just above the navel. You took a moment to appreciate it in the mirror, turning this way and that to admire the way the jewels gleamed in the light and complimented your skin perfectly. You smiled to yourself. Satoru always bought the best gifts.

You returned to the kitchen to find Satoru already waiting for you with an anticipatory smirk. Did he have something planned beyond just that? “What do you think?” You questioned anyways, shrugging the thought off. You lifted your shirt for the man to examine, grinning proudly at your boyfriend’s easy approval.

“Perfect. As always,” he complimented, leaning against the counter. He watched you, a sudden glint in his eye making you pause. He sauntered forward, snaking his arms around your waist to tug you closer, mouth hovering close to your ear. “I was also thinking we could have a kiss under the mistletoe as a celebration? Y’know, to honor a Christmas tradition?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes reflexively darting to archways and doorways, finding no such thing hanging enticingly. “We don’t have one,” you said cautiously, heat rushing to your face when you felt a wandering thumb find its home under the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Yes we do,” he corrected, voice lowering into the familiar, sultry drawl that always made you shudder. He hummed softly, amusement coating his voice at your dawning realization. “That didn't take long, did it? Knew you were smarter than you let on,” he purred with a snicker, veiny hands shifting to slide under your shirt as he walked you back, stopping when you bumped into the kitchen island. He slid his hands up then, guiding your shirt off to toss haphazardly on the floor.

“You’re so annoying,” you grumbled, but you tilted your head to the side when he dragged his lips down, peppering soft kisses along your heated skin. He sank his teeth just above your pulse in response, suckling and soothing the ache with a slow lick. He ventured downwards, finding a pebbled nipple with his tongue. He swirled the muscle around the stiff bud, tweaking and pinching the other one with his fingers before finding himself getting impatient.

You didn’t realize his free hand had met the shortcake beside you when he suddenly pressed a whipped-cream coated thumb under your navel, sliding it down to your waistband. “Oops. Made a mess,” he purred with a cheeky grin, staring up at you through his lashes. Heat pooled in your belly, radiating out towards extremities, leaving you loose-limbed and compliant. He always did that. “I better clean it up, huh?” He stuck his tongue out and dragged it along the path of foam he created, agonizingly slow, just to fuck with you. He moaned softly, making sure you were nice and clean before lifting his head. “That was pretty good. Did you get this from that place over in Sugamo?”

You groaned, feeling an uncomfortable dampening in your underwear growing bigger by the second. Your cunt ached, weeping and needy despite Satoru barely having done anything yet. “Too much talking and not enough kissing, ‘Toru,” you whined, hips rolling up towards his face. He only chuckled, his breath ghosting over your slick skin.

“I dunno.” He pressed his lips against your pelvis in a featherlight kiss. “I’d say I’m under the mistletoe.” He flicked your new jewelry as if to emphasize his point, a soft chiming sound coming from the metal.

“Satoru.”

“Fine, fine. So needy,” he tutted in faux disapproval, but he relented easily, burying his thumbs underneath the waistband of your pants and underwear to tug them down in one smooth move. His breath fanned over your drooling cunt, already so wet for him. “Look at that. Is this all for me, baby?”

With a grunt that belied his true strength as the greatest sorcerer, he hefted you up on the counter, thighs hooked over his broad shoulders as he crouched just below you. He swiped a finger through the whipped cream of his shortcake again, wiping them along your inner thighs. “Sorry. I’m just so clumsy today,” he huffed in faux exasperation, not missing the way your pussy clenched around nothing when he sighed over your puffy clit. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up for you.”

He dragged his tongue along your inner thighs, humming at the sweet cream’s flavor as it mixed with your own slightly salty taste. He leaned in dangerously close to where you needed him the most, nose nudging ever so slightly against your folds before he moved away, seemingly too busy cleaning you to give you what you wanted. It wasn’t until he was done sucking hickeys into your skin that he finally pulled away, watching your bare chest heave up and down with barely-constrained need.

Like a broken record, you whined, “Please, ‘Toru, I need—”

He shushed you, pressing a tender kiss to your clit. “Shh, I know, baby. I know what you need.” He dipped down and licked a broad stripe from your taint back up to your swollen nub, fingers tightening where they curled around your thighs to keep you nice and spread open for him. His cock throbbed in his pants, neglected and aching. “You need me to eat this sweet cunt out, huh? It’s okay, sweetheart, I do, too,” he murmured, inhaling your scent deeply. It’s a sweet, musky smell that has him manually swallowing the drool pooling in his mouth. “Need to take care of this pussy, get you all sloppy’n’wet—all pretty and pliant f’me.”

You couldn’t control the needy jerk your hips made at his words, thighs squeezing around Satoru’s head before the man pried them apart with dizzying ease. A moan was torn from your throat when he finally got to work, flicking the pink muscle up and down your swollen clit, half-lidded eyes trained onto your every micro-expression. He could feel his mind hazing over, thoughts thickening into a syrupy sweet mess, your taste clinging to the back of his throat and rendering him utterly gone. He groaned into your cunt, the vibrations shooting up your spine as you whined and cried, head falling back against the cool marble counter with a soft thud.

“Mmh, you’re so wet,” he moaned, yanking you closer to his face with a tug to your thighs, your ass hanging off the counter. “I haven’t been taking good care of you, huh? I’m sorry, baby, I’ll do better next time.” His voice was a low purr between your thighs, dipping lower to spear his tongue into your greedy pussy, nose bumping against the bundle of nerves at the apex. He slurped and sucked like he was a starving man at a feast, pussy juices dribbling down his chin and onto his chest. He let go of one thigh to palm himself, digging his palm into the aching bulge in his pants to roughly squeeze. His hips twitched into his hand, imagining it was his fat cock your hot, velvety walls were clinging to instead of his tongue.

You mewled, hands shooting down to comb through Satoru’s hair and yank him closer, smothering him with your pussy. You rocked your hips, grinding your needy clit against his nose while he tended to your hole, and you opened your eyes to watch him feast on your messy cunt. “Fuck, ‘Toru—right there, just like that,” you panted, using your free hand to toy with one of your nipples, twisting and pinching the bud. His voice, when he spoke, was muffled and thick, sounding vaguely like “mhm” and “keep going”.

It took Herculean effort to pry himself away just enough to admire your glistening pussy, spitting directly on the puffy folds. He let go of his cock to rub his saliva into your skin, pressing firm circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb, breathless and wanting. “You gonna cum for me, handsome?” He questioned, waiting until you were coherent enough to respond with a shaky nod before grinning, nipping the inside of your thigh. The hand on your clit lingered, sliding down so his thick fingers spread each sticky fold. He used his free one to tug the hood back, letting out a puff of air on your exposed clit.

Satoru latched back onto you then, wrapping his lips around your aching nub. He alternated between tender kitten licks and ruthless suckling, as if he was trying to milk you for all your worth. It was so, so messy, lewd shlicks and squelches mixing in with your cries and his desperate groans. His nose and lips and chin were covered in a sheen of your slick, utterly captivated by the heady scent of your musk. He could feel your clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat, saw you writhe uncontrollably, felt the sting as your fingers in his hair tugged harder. He doubled down in his efforts, fingers digging bruises into your thighs as he kept you close when you tried to get him to slow down.

“M’gonna—oh fuck, ‘Toru!” It was all the warning you could give when you finally came, back curving into a perfect arch. He moaned, shoving a hand down the front of his pants to roughly jerk himself off. He was so hard it hurt, hips thrusting into his tight fist, and he came in just seconds, too pent up to last long as you rode out your orgasm on his face. He let you go once your grip went lax, licking up the juices that trailed down your taint with an obnoxious slurp. He got up with a delirious grin, leaning over you, hips slotted between your legs as he brought himself to your face in a messy kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, making you taste yourself as drool leaked out the corners of your lips. You broke away with a gasp, hips jerking weakly with aftershocks.

He hummed, peppering kisses along your jawline. “You did so good, baby,” he murmured, content to let you lay on the counter as you recovered. “Such a handsome man, tasted so good..”

It took you a moment to recompose yourself, sitting up on your elbows to observe the mess between your thighs. Your cunt was swollen and dripping, and a shock of electricity shot up your spine at the sight. “Holy shit,” you let out a satisfied laugh, genuinely unable to believe that you landed a man that knew how to suck the soul out of you. “How do you always make it feel so different every time?”

“Well, I aim to please,” he retorted with a cheeky grin, the post-orgasm haze fading almost as quick as it came as he moved off of you. “Besides, a master magician never reveals his tricks, right?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. The skillful way he ate you out certainly felt like magic. “Sure. If that’s what you’re going with,” you said weakly, fingers and toes humming with a pleasant buzz. You yelped when he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up with disorienting ease. He refused to put you down, instead walking towards the bathroom.

“I’ll clean the counter later. First, we have to shower so we’re fresh for the reservation I set up. Y’know, to save water and time,” he announced, squeezing you just a bit tighter. But if the hardening cock nudging your leg was any indication, you’d say that getting clean wasn’t the only thing he had in mind.

Wriothesley didn’t really know why he was at some stereotypical frat party—it was too loud, crowded, and it smelled like a nauseating mix of weed, alcohol, and sweat. He attended only because one of his buddies convinced him too, regardless of how much he insisted that he was fine being the “loner nobody” he is. Hardly anything caught his interest, and he could see the stares he was getting just from brooding in some corner.

Except that’s when he noticed you, one of the most well-known guys in the school. Everybody knew you were a notorious shit talker, but with the talent to back it up. After managing to catch the eyes of some scouts, you were granted a full-ride scholarship and almost constantly covered in girls. You were practically anyone’s dream.

And currently getting shitfaced drunk in the middle of a group that chanted your name. It was a drinking challenge, he deduced, after seeing you struggle to insult your opponent with a jumbled slur of curses.

“N–no, I can keep going. I’m not a f–fuckin’ fag,” he could hear you say, leaning heavily against the table littered in empty plastic cups with more refills on the way. He could see that you lived on the attention, thrived on it, didn’t care about your one-way ticket to liver failure. Your opponent ended up quitting hardly two cups later, branding you the victor with yet another cheer of your name. Wriothesley chuckled at the look on your face, all pale and uneasy, yet you tried to brandish a cocky grin while soaking up the praise like a sponge, not-so-subtly rushing out of the main area, most likely to vomit up your guts.

He lingered around for a while longer when he began to wonder where you went. Your friends didn’t seem to realize your prolonged absence, and he took it upon himself to slink within the shadows and sneak into some restricted area that the rest of the partygoers weren’t allowed to enter. He wandered around for a while, getting a feel of the place before stumbling upon your room, it seemed. If the fact that you were sprawled out on your bed wasn’t evidence enough.

“The fuck?” You jolted in surprise when you noticed Wriothesley’s imposing figure in the doorway. Though your eyes remained on him, they hardly seemed focused, and you didn’t bother getting up to push him out. “The party’s downstairs, d–dipshit.”

“I know,” he hummed in response, closing the door behind him with a gentle click. He raked his eyes up and down your body, his piercing gaze landing on your ass. Something in his groin stirred. “You look like shit.”

“Fuck you,” you groaned, feeling too sick and tired to refute how you’d normally do—close up and personal, chest to chest, borderline physical. “What do you want?”

“You,” he said so bluntly, so casually, you were genuinely caught off guard. He strolled closer leisurely, rolling his eyes when you opened your mouth to spew out predictable insults. “Yeah, yeah, that’s too ‘faggoty’, right? I get it.”

“Y’know, you use that word a lot. It gets a guy thinking,” he said with a thoughtful hum, feeling a heat beginning to pool within his body. His cock twitched against the zipper of his pants. “Maybe that’s exactly what you are—a fag, and people just don’t know it yet,” he theorized with a chuckle, finding your face scrunched up in disgust to be amusing. He kneeled down beside you, strong hands on your hips. Albeit slowly, he could see you piecing the puzzles of his intent together.

“I think you’re tired of all those girls,” he murmured, his breath hot and uncomfortable against your ear. “I think you want a man to fuck you.”

“What the actual—“ you began to protest when he suddenly shoved your face into the bed, muffling any words that you tried to say. You struggled to get up, clawing at his hand, but this damn freak was unnaturally strong. Goosebumps rose on your skin at the sudden temperature change when he yanked your pants down, yelling profanities into the mattress, but he paid them no mind. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip at the sight: you, so helpless and bare beneath him. You weren’t the tough guy that practically ran the campus. No, you were going to be his bitch tonight.

With his free hand, he spread one of your asscheeks apart, dragging his thumb along your taint to your winking hole. He sucked in a sharp breath, chuckling breathlessly when you tensed. He could feel you struggling beneath him, your feet kicking at his legs, and a dark thrill ran through his body. Swiftly tying your hands behind your back with the use of his belt, he leaned over to your nightstand and rummaged through it, searching for a bottle of lube he knew you’d have. Instead, he found an open box of condoms, a size too big, he realized when he took another look at your cock hanging between your legs.

Chuckling softly, he opened a different drawer and grabbed the lube, offering it a brief inspection before squirting a generous amount directly onto your asshole. He found it amusing the way you tensed at the sudden coldness of it, roughly slipping two fingers into inside you. You struggled harder then, your insides clenching down tightly around him like it was trying to force him out.

He spread his fingers in a scissoring motion while slowly moving in and out, giving you enough grace to at least adjust to the sudden stretch. “Oh, stop being such a bitch. Stay still,” Wriothesley demanded with a huff, twisting his wrist and crooking his fingers to find your prostate.

It was like a sudden shock of electricity ran down your spine when he found it, your entire body tensing at the unexpected arousal that came with it. You froze in sheer mortification at the feeling of your cock beginning to swell, the familiar throb between your legs overtaking your senses. Fuck. This was not good at fucking all. You—football all star—were NOT supposed to be getting off to some freak’s fingers like… like a—

“Oh ho! Look at that,” he laughed, pressing his clothed knee cruelly against the length of your hardening cock. You squirmed, your groans muffled. This was fucking humiliating…

“See, you’re hard!” He exclaimed like it was some grand discovery, and you really hoped nobody could hear him through the damn door. “You starting to realize that maybe the dominant, top dog lifestyle isn’t for you after all?”

You strained against your binds, wrists aching at the exertion to free yourself, but to no avail. He held you down firmly and securely as he stuffed you with three thick fingers. You tried to think of something, anything—a naked grandma, your coach’s hairy ass—

“Hey, looks like you’re lost in thought.” Wriothesley slid the hand on your nape to the front of your throat, yanking you up to make your back arch uncomfortably. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“Fucking… fuck you!” You choked out, your vision swimming and your mind a jumbled mess of thoughts and ideas.

“No, I’m fucking you,” he teasingly corrected, jabbing his fingers straight against your prostate when you opened your mouth to protest, a shamefully loud moan escaping your throat instead of words. The playful lilt in his voice was infuriating, and you hated that you couldn’t do anything to wipe that smug smirk off his damn face.

“Get–get off of me!” You hiccuped, gritting your teeth when he dug his knee harder against your cock, burying your face in the mattress until he relented, and you managed to relax somewhat. With a disgusting squelch, he pulled his fingers out and wiped them on your shirt haphazardly, and you began to panic at the sound of rustling clothes. He let your throat go and reached for the box of condoms, eyes widening in mild surprise when he realized that the packets themselves were a size smaller than what the box advertised.

“You seriously…?” He laughed when you looked away in pure embarrassment, deciding to tear the packet open and slide it on his throbbing cock anyways, his hips jerking up into his hand at the much needed stimulation. He didn’t feel like catching whatever STD you probably contracted from your many hookups. He notched the head of his cock against your slick asshole, a shiver running down his spine in anticipation, when his blue eyes brightened with an idea.

He dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Hey, it’s your first time, right?” He leaned over your back and positioned the front camera towards your face, using his free hand to grab your chin and hold you still. “We should take a picture of this moment, don’t you think? Say cheese.” And with that, he shoved his cock deep inside you in a single, fluid thrust, taking a shaky photo of your pained, humiliated expression.

Wriothesley groaned softly in your ear, his hips flush against your ass as he remained still for a moment. He straightened his back and positioned the phone atop your nightstand, making sure he was recording before holding your hips firmly, pulling out with a slow drag only to slam himself back inside. He started slow and developed a relentless pace, admiring the way your ass bounced as he yanked you back to him over and over again.

“F–Fuck! Slow down!” You slurred, fingernails digging into your palms. The stretch was painful and uncomfortable and you could feel the beginnings of arousal deep in your gut, the heat intensifying by the second. You muffled your moans in the bed, but that only served to amplify the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin.

“Slow down? Is that what those girls said to you before? That’s cute,” he taunted, his voice strained. He angled his hips and sped up, his muscles flexing at the exertion. “C’mon, fuckin’ take it like. A. Man,” he growled, emphasizing his words with cruel thrusts, hellbent on pounding your ass into the mattress.

Was this really what they felt like? So full and helpless, like all of your nerve endings had been set alight? Fuck, you could feel every inch and ridge and vein as it dragged against your insides, in and out, over and over again in a dizzying rhythm. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

Suddenly, a sharp, burning pain bloomed on your asscheek, forcing you to tense and squeeze his cock tighter. “Fuck—fuck you! Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” He questioned, the heat within his body burning brighter. His chest heaved with labored breaths, raising his hand to spank the other side.

“That! Fucking stop it!” You protested, trying your damn hardest to deny the ecstasy that pooled in your belly, to will away the ache in your balls. The sight of you falling apart on his cock, the sounds of your reluctant ecstasy filling the room, it’s almost enough to make Wriothesley cum right then and there. But he holds back, wanting you to orgasm first. What a gentleman.

Sliding a hand around your pelvis, he grasps your drooling cock with a firm grip, roughly stroking you in time with his punishing thrusts. He could feel you tense, your ass pushing back against him the slightest bit, and he could hardly suppress his victorious smirk. Your precum let his fist slide easily, squeezing the tip and thumbing at the slit relentlessly.

“No—stop! I’m gonna fucking… ngh, ah! Fuck! I’m gonna cum! Stop!” You warned, foolishly hoping he’d leave you alone, but your body wasn’t cooperating. He doubled his efforts at your wail, fucking you with wild abandon. He didn’t care who might be listening behind the door. Let them hear just how much of a slut you were.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it. Cum on my fucking cock, you filthy whore,” he groaned when you finally came, squeezing and fluttering around his throbbing cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, refusing to relent until your whines grew louder at the discomfort of overstimulation. He pulled out with a lewd squelch, his cock twitching in the aftershocks of his sensitivity before he grabbed his phone to get a close-up of your gaping, winking asshole, spreading a cheek to get a better view.

He set the phone back down and dragged you up by your hair, his breath hitching at the sight of your teary eyes and drooling mouth. Fuck. He did that. Dicked you down so good you could hardly tell left from right.

He could see you relaxing slightly, and chuckled at your stupidity. This wasn’t over until he said it was.

Swiftly, he lodged his cock back into your sensitive hole, ignoring the strained noise that escaped your lips. With a grunt, he hooked your legs over the crook of his elbows and interlocked his fingers behind your head, spreading you wide open for the camera. He could see the sheer mortification in your face when you saw your reflection on his phone, but you couldn’t stop the way your dick twitched at it.

“Fuck, look at yourself,” Wriothesley groaned, his hips jerking slightly. Your eyes were wide and your skin heated, legs still trembling from the force of your orgasm. You squeezed your eyes shut when he ground his hips against your ass, biting your lip to stifle the moans you knew were going to slip out anyways.

And you were right—not even a few moments after he began to fuck up into you, groans and whines were torn from your throat, guttural and carnal sounds that spurred him on. His stamina was endless, it seemed, as he resumed his punishing pace, driving into you so hard you could feel the very air being fucked out of your lungs. His cockhead nailed your prostate with pinpoint precision, forcing your cock to thicken between your thighs again.

“Oh, look at that,” he said against your ear, his voice strained and breathless, eyes fixated on the way your hole stretched so obscenely around his fat cock. “You’re hard again. That can’t—that can’t be a coincidence.”

“No–no m’not,” you babbled, eyes rolling back in poorly hidden ecstasy. The fire in your belly roared back to life, the heat intensifying quicker than before after having just came.

“Awh, are you going stupid already?” He cooed, his breath hot against your ear. He bit down on the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth in hard enough to bruise before soothing the ache with a lick. “That’s okay. You never did—fuck—use that brain of yours very often.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to protest, not with the way he was churning your insides into a mushy mess. You could see yourself in the reflection, eyes watery and lips parted, drool dribbling down your chin to your chest. You look fucking pathetic. Everyone would lose their shit seeing you getting your brains fucked out on some weirdo loser’s cock, and he knew it. He knew it in the way he squeezed your legs tighter, the muscles of his biceps bulging in his shirt as if to remind you of your place.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum—“ Wriothesley choked out, grinding his teeth so hard it was a miracle he didn’t crack one of them. He was trying to keep as quiet as possible to let the phone pick up on every one of your slutty noises, his chest heaving up and down at the exertion. He squeezed you tighter, nearly stumbling as he pushed himself, his thrusts losing rhythm.

He squeezed his eyes shut when he finally came, his balls drawing up tight against his body. He could stop the deep groan from escaping him, listening to your whimpers and grunts.

You shuddered, eyes fluttering at the warmth that flooded you—wait, warmth?

Your eyes snapped open as he pulled out, leaving you gaping and empty and leaking his cum. You could see the torn condom clinging to his softening cock, yelping when he unceremoniously dumped you back on your bed.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and flipped the camera, getting a good view of your drooling cock and gaping asshole before ending the recording. He peeled the tattered remains of the condom off his cock and wiped himself with one of the stray shirts on the floor to tuck himself away, leaving you embarrassingly hard and exhausted.

“Maybe you’ll learn to keep your ego in check, yeah?” He gave your asscheek a pat in farewell, making his way out of your room feeling utterly triumphant. At least he had the decency to close the door.

Finding you wasn’t difficult, Pantalone thought as he strode up towards a quaint little cottage, his deep, violet eyes noting the swirling smoke above the brick chimney. It was silent, save for the crunching of his shoes on the thick snow that had long since lost its ability to bother him as much as it used to. He remembered this place vividly, finding that not much of it has been changed since he left. It was strange being back after having gone so long without a word or letter regarding his whereabouts, but he had his reasons. Surely, you’d understand.

He stopped in front of the wooden door. Without skipping a beat, he raised his hand before suddenly pausing upon hearing the sound of your voice.

“Um. Can I help you?” You sniffled, eyebrows knitting together as you stared cautiously at him.

He turned around, noticing a bundle of wood tucked under your arm as you hefted it towards the house, stopping a respectable distance away from him. You’ve changed quite a bit—you were taller, your features were more defined and developed, your voice was deeper. But he could recognize you anywhere, even in a room full of clones.

“Not quite. I’m here to visit,” he responded, offering you a nod in greeting.

Neither of you spoke for a solid minute, observing one another. You couldn’t shake off the sense of familiarity as you looked him up and down thoroughly, trying to make sense of his expensive, dark colored clothes before looking up into his eyes.

“Oh,” you muttered, the thought—more so person—finding its way through your mind. “Oh! It’s you!”

“Yes, it’s me,” the corners of his sharp, violet eyes crinkling with the soft smile that adorned his face. “It’s been quite a while. I hope everything has been well since I left?”

You shrugged, lifting the wood higher up your arm to drop it off in a corner tucked away from the snow. “For the most part. Mom and dad had to move to Liyue since it’s been getting too cold for them to handle here. Told me about a nice pharmacist over there that helps them out with whatever pain they have in one of their letters,” you rambled, dusting your hands off. “Anyways, why don’t you come inside? Tell me about where you’ve been and what you’ve done all this time.” You pat his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Of course. It’s been quite a journey,” he hummed, following you inside. Nothing much had changed, he noticed, his eyes flitting over the faint scratch marks on a wall that he remembered held years of growth on them from when the two of you were young.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you commented lightheartedly, scanning him up and down for a brief second. “You got… big, y’know? You’ve gotten so tall.” You laughed, gesturing to the sofa. “I knew you had that growth spurt in you. So glad everything turned out good for you.”

He nodded, sitting down with a grace new to you. He folded his hands atop his lap and straightened his spine, watching you with a calculative eye. It made you a bit fidgety, to be honest. You wondered what he went through. “Yes. Through hard work and endless dedication, I was able to acquire a career as a banker. I am very grateful for the opportunity you’ve provided me as a child.”

“Awh, it’s really not a big deal. You should thank mom and dad instead—they’re the ones that kept us both healthy, right?” You said with a dismissive shrug, making yourself busy within the kitchen. You filled up a kettle with water to heat it up.

“Maybe so, but you were the one who found me. I’m not sure how I’d manage if not for that fateful day,” he recalled with a wistful look on his face as he laced his fingers together, absentmindedly rubbing the rings adorning them. “Do not downplay your significance.”

“I mean, I’m not, but I don’t think both of us would’ve managed as well as it had without them,” you explained with a shrug, tossing a piece of firewood into the furnace. You bustled about, trying to clean up the counters as well as you could without being given the forewarning of a visitor. “Anyways, have you been traveling? What have you been doing?”

He cocked his head slightly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear as he contemplated your words. He knew you were right—two children were unable to work or feed themselves without the aid of a guardian, but it still irked him how you tried to pass on the credit to your parents. He sighed softly, watching you intently. “My life isn’t very interesting, I’m afraid. I’ve been having a few… complications that have limited my ability to go far and wide,” he said, waving a relaxed hand upon seeing the glint of concern pass through your eye, “but it’s nothing life-threatening, so there’s no need to worry.”

He tucked his Delusion further within his coat, disguising it as a simple shift of his body. “Enough about me. How have you been faring? I trust everything good has gone your way?”

“Eh, so-so,” you responded with a noncommittal shrug, grabbing a small box full of tea bags from your cabinet, placing it on the counter as you waited for the kettle to whistle. “It’s getting a little tougher keeping my job, y’know, with my boss running around ‘n’ pressuring us into unpaid overtime,” you sighed, mopping your face with a tired hand. “I would quit, except I need to eat, and this place isn’t really ideal for farming.”

He frowned, cocking his head in confusion. This wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but he supposed that it was what he was expecting. He remained quiet for a moment longer. He had the power to, quite literally, change your life, and what better way to utilize this ability than to help the one who deserved it the most?

“Then might I present you with a new option?” He questioned, rising from the sofa to leisurely stride towards you. He held his hands behind his back, softening his expression to give you a harmless smile. “How about you live with me? It’s only reasonable that I take you in, just as you had done for me. A fair exchange, wouldn’t you agree?”

You dumbly stared at him, unsure how to reply. Live with him? You snapped out of your stupor with a blink, laughing awkwardly. “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, I can handle the workload, and I still have things here…—”

“So you’d rather slave your days away without a means to an end?” He interrupted you. He cleared his throat, offering you an apologetic expression. “I apologize. I didn't mean to have an outburst. I just… don’t quite understand.”

He frowned deeply, watching you with an eye that made you fidget. There was an aura around him; he was not the boy you grew up with, nor did he seem… genuine. Like he was upholding some facade. Either way, his pressure did not help one bit. But he seemed to notice your discomfort, promptly relaxing, letting his arms hang by his sides.

“You deserve better. I understand that this place holds significant value to you, believe me, it does to me as well.” He walked closer, slowly, making sure that he didn’t frighten you off. He raised his hands, giving you enough time to back away before one landed on your shoulder, and the other one rested on your cheek. “But don’t you want a purpose? Wouldn’t you like to live in a world of luxury? To reside in what you have worked towards for so long?”

“That was a little backhanded…” you mumbled, but he was right. There was nothing for you here in this little town. You raised a tentative hand and placed it atop one of his own, feeling the warmth of his skin. It was comforting, familiar, even if it was grown. It made your chest flutter, and you were sure he could read every little emotion that swirled in your irises.

“I could provide you all you want and more. All you need to do is say the word,” he cooed softly, letting you steep in the sound of the crackling fire. He could see your trepidation clear as day. When you had yet to reply, he sighed deeply and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a pouch of Mora and offered it to you like he was giving a child a piece of candy. He couldn’t help the way his lips quirked up when your eyes grew wide at the sight, knowing that it was practically what you made in a week.

Although when you reached to grab it, he snatched your wrist with his free hand and tugged you closer, leaning so close your noses nearly touched. “It’s not a difficult question, sweetness,” he murmured. His violet eyes flickered down, towards your lips, before looking back up. “You know it, deep in your heart. Did you see how quickly you went to reach for it?”

You cleared your throat, averting your gaze. He was right and it embarrassed you. This closeness, how he so easily saw through you, left you unsure of yourself. “Imagine this. Imagine more. There’s nothing wrong with admitting it,” he continued, striking that rawness.

Hesitantly, you nodded. He smiled softly and let go of your wrist to gently cup the back of your head, leaning in, giving you a chance to opt out. “Good,” he said when you didn’t, kissing you tenderly, kindly, stealing your breath away. Your chest was buzzing as you deepened it, letting your eyes flutter shut, and you found that you really, really missed him. Everything was different; the two of you were grown now, but he still felt right. He still felt like the vivid streaks that shone in the night sky, like the warmth of the fireplace as your mother scolded the two of you for being out too long, like the grief that struck your chest when he disappeared.

Man, you really, really loved him.

He guided you back against the counter, breaking the connection just to press his forehead to yours, peering almost lovingly into your eyes. You sank your teeth into your lower lip when you felt him slide a hand down from your waist, dipping dangerously under the waistband of your pants. He watched you, looking for further confirmation. You opened your mouth, ready to let him through, when the kettle suddenly let out a high-pitched squeal, startling the two out of your reverie.

“Ow–! Shit, sorry,” you apologized with a pained hiss upon accidentally jerking so hard you slammed your forehead against his, rubbing the sore spot as you hastily slid the pot off of the stove. You kept your back to him and busied yourself by getting the tea ready.

Your body felt unnaturally hot when he placed his hands on your hips, and you were sure he could feel it too. Your breath hitched in your throat as he pressed his body up against yours, tensing at the sensation of his soft breaths caressing your skin. Shuddering, goosebumps ran along your arms when he pressed a chaste, gentle kiss against the side of your neck.

“I don’t think… this is…” you mumbled almost unintelligibly, chewing on your lower lip in contemplation once again. You could feel his hands beginning to roam along your body, handling you like you were bound to break with a sudden move.

“That’s right. You don’t have to think about anything, sweetness,” he cooed, boldly pushing his crotch firmly against your ass. He knew he was getting to you. It was just a matter of time. “If you’d rather go about this situation through… unconventional methods, then by all means, let us do so,” he whispered, slowly dipping his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your pants. He grasped your thickening cock quick enough, giving it a squeeze to gauge your reactions. He could see the way your jaw clenched, how your fingers tightened around the counter, the way your legs stiffened and rubbed against each other like his hand wasn’t enough. He laughed softly to himself. How needy.

“You’re so tense, my love,” he commented, dragging a thumb over the head of your cock to spread some of the precum that began to bead there. He nipped at the shell of your ear and slid his free hand up your shirt, pinching and rolling a nipple between his fingers. “Relax for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Slowly, you nodded, forcing yourself to stop squirming so much. “Sorry… it’s just been a while…”

“I can tell. I wonder why that is?” He mused to himself, letting the soft squelching sounds fill the warm room. He tugged your pants down, freeing your swollen cock with a soft sigh, admiring the sight. It was a pretty color and had a comfortable weight to his hand as he traced the veins that ran along the length of it to tease the tip. You hissed, your hips bucking, searching for more. You were so easy to rile up.

He tightened his grip and moved faster, drawing out gentle moans from your lips. He flicked his wrist and twisted his hand up and down, holding you close to his chest. He could feel your heart pounding underneath your heated skin, threatening to burst through. You groaned at the sweet words he uttered into your ear, shuddering at the deep vibrations of his voice as it traveled through the drums and down your spine.

“Shit… that feels really good—when you do that,” you moaned, your cock throbbing needily when he rubbed the pad of his finger against the underside of it, just below the drooling tip. You leaned your head back, letting it rest on his shoulder as your eyes fluttered shut, rocking your hips in time with his firm strokes. A scalding heat deep in your abdomen burned hotter and hotter by the second, threatening to break loose and wash over you. “Getting close…”

“So soon?” He let out a faux pout, letting go as soon as you spoke, bringing his hand up to make you suck on his fingers and watch you taste yourself on his skin. He felt his lips quirk at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his digits, effortlessly cleaning them up. A trail of saliva connected you to him when he pulled his hand away, breaking the string to prod at your hole. He chuckled when you tensed in surprise, letting your chest go to bend you over the counter with a firm hand on your back to keep you steady. With a gentle shove, his fingers slid inside you, one after the other, dragging tantalizingly along your velvety walls. You let out a shuddering breath, fighting the urge to squirm as he moved them in and out of you in a scissoring motion.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he softly repeated, crooking his fingers to press against your prostate. He felt the shudder that racked through your body, rendering your knees weak and your body shaky. “Oh? Right there?” He noted, shifting his wrist to jab at it relentlessly, making your hips jerk reflexively. Your cock ached with the need to cum—it throbbed and twitched and leaked copious amounts of precum onto the floor, but with a finger pressed firmly onto the slit, that blissful opportunity was stripped from you yet again.

“What—why would you do that?!” You groaned, your teeth clenching so hard it felt like they were about to shatter at any moment. You whimpered when he pushed a third finger inside you, finding the burn of the stretch arousing. You nearly bit your tongue when he pressed on your sensitive prostate once again, silencing any further protests.

“Don’t whine, my love. It’ll get you nowhere,” he sighed, pulling his fingers out to tug down the front of his pants, exposing his hard cock to the cool air. He shuddered, leisurely jerking himself off for a moment before grimacing. “...I’ll make sure to get proper lubrication next time. But I suppose this’ll have to do for now,” he said reluctantly, raising his hand to spit on it and smear it on his cock. Steadily, carefully, he pressed the swollen tip against your asshole, applying just enough pressure to pop it in. He listened to your hiss and noted the way your body reflexively tensed, so he leaned down and peppered kisses along the nape of your neck, cooing sweet words of encouragement to soothe your nerves.

He felt a shudder rack through his spine when he finally bottomed out, his hands squeezing your hips. He could feel your walls clenching around him, squeezing his cock tightly, and he had to bite his lip to stifle a moan. He gave you a moment to adjust, letting your breathing fill the quiet space of the kitchen.

“You can… you can, uh, move now,” you instructed, peering over your shoulder to catch his gaze. He nodded at your words and tightened his grip on you to pull out and thrust back in slowly, taking his time to enjoy your body. You sucked in a sharp breath, savoring the drag of his cock against your walls as he sped up slightly, digging your nails into the wood of your counter.

“You’re taking me in so well, sweetness,” he murmured, his lips quirking up when he saw you hang your head between your arms, listening to the soft moans that escaped your lips. “Is this what you were made for? Taking my cock inside you with such ease?”

“You’re making me sound like a whore,” you grumbled, steadying your shaky body to move your hips back in time with his thrusts. You could see your cock hanging between your legs, drooling precum onto the floor.

He raised an amused eyebrow despite the flush beginning to creep up on his pale cheeks. “It’s not an outrageous assumption, is it? I can feel you clenching tighter around me. Does the idea of being such a slut for me entice you?”

He chuckled when you shot your head up to respond, your mouth opening to spew your defense when he suddenly snapped his hips forward, slamming his cock straight into your prostate to force a moan out of your throat. He abandoned his slow, deep thrusts for something quicker, yanking you back by your hips with a bruising grip. His breaths came out in shallow pants as his eyes traced up and down the curve of your spine, entranced with the way you moved so smoothly. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, one hand sliding down your heated skin to squeeze your asscheek and watch how you took him in so well. It was almost hypnotizing seeing the man he cherished the most taking his cock like he was born to do it.

“Holy—fuuckk,” you drawled, dropping your head down as you grabbed ahold of your cock, squeezing the throbbing tip before jerking yourself in time with his thrusts. You could feel every vein and ridge dragging against your sensitive walls, and it felt like your whole body was set ablaze. Your breath caught in your throat when a hand snuck around your jaw to pull you up, eyes fluttering at the sensation of his lips peppering kisses against the skin of your neck.

He firmly pressed his thumb against your jaw to tilt your head to him as he leaned down to kiss you fervently, dipping his tongue in your mouth to taste you. You moaned against him, reaching for the hand on your throat to hold him, your nails digging into the porcelain skin.

“Please,” you pleaded, your lips swollen and slick with saliva. “I wanna cum—god, please let me cum.”

“Look at you. So polite,” he strained out, groaning into your ear as he fucked into you harder, driving relentlessly into your prostate. “You’ve been so good for me—my sweet boy. C–cum for me.” He kissed the side of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sweaty skin.

It was all the incentive you needed, the tightening coil in your belly snapping as you came hard. You squeezed your hand tighter around your throbbing cock, milking all the cum out. You could feel the warmth of it spill across your fingers, landing on the wood of the counter in front of you.

He came soon after, his thrusts growing erratic and sloppy as he filled your ass up with his seed. His hips slowed to a stop, his breaths heavy and quick.

“You’ve done so well for me,” he murmured, remaining still, letting his cock soften inside you. “So handsome, so stunning…”

He pulled out unhurriedly, letting go of your throat to allow the chill of the breeze outside to envelop your heated body. He sighed contentedly, savoring the afterglow, before reaching over to grab a rag and use the water within the kettle to wet it, cleaning the sweat and cum and haphazardly tossing it back in the sink. He helped you fix your pants before recomposing himself, reaching for the heavy Mora pouch nestled within the pockets of his thick coat after smoothing out the flyaways of his hair.

“Take this, my dear,” he instructed, dropping the pouch into your hands. He took your cheeks into his hands to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You have until the end of the week. I expect an answer by then.” He reluctantly parted, and with a nod in farewell, he made his way out of the house, closing the door with a click.