18!!! i reblog smutâ ď¸ please dont stalk me pls this is embarrassing i just wanna save fics i like, among other things if i could priv blogs i would
Jabber, who covers your face with kisses, all but your lips, a brutal tease. Fed up, you press your lips against his, and he takes it. He's indulging in your taste, as if swallowing your breath. You move away briefly before being brought back to him. He has yet to finish his work and you look so delectable right now, he thinks. You feel the cold rings on your face as he dives right in.
Zanka, who portays himself as stoic, is quick to shut you up with a kiss. You can only melt in it ,as all you can think about is him, him and him. A slight sharp pain interrupts your momentary bliss, as his teeth bites down on your lip. He pulls away, worried that he has hurt you, but you shake your head, urging him to keep on going. If his teeth can catch bullets, Mankira, your lips are no exception.
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syn; at bullworth academy, gary smith starts orbiting you with his usual sharp, manipulative charm, interrupting your conversations, stealing your book, and getting under your skin on purpose. what begins as irritation turns into a tense push-and-pull as you realize he notices everything about you, from your habits to your moods, and hides small acts of care inside his obnoxious behavior.
wc; 9k
characters used; gary smith from bully (2006) video game.
a/n; hellooooo.. first post & i hope itâs a good a impressionable post! i wanted to make something calm for the community, which i feel like has no fics or am i like insane? anyways, please leave any feedback, commentary, constructive criticism, or any suggestions what i should write next! enjoy & byeeee!
the first thing you learned about bullworth was that quiet did not mean peace.
the academy had a way of holding noise inside its walls even when the halls were empty. the old stone seemed to keep every insult, every threat, every laugh that went too far. doors slammed somewhere down the corridor, boys shouted across the courtyard, prefects barked rules nobody respected for longer than a minute, and through all of it the school carried on with the stiff, expensive dignity of a place convinced it was above its own ugliness. you had only been there three weeks when you realized that if you wanted a decent afternoon, you had to steal it from the school with both hands and hide it somewhere private.
the library was usually your best option.
it was warm in there, dust-lit and quiet in a way bullworth never quite managed anywhere else. not silence, exactly. pages turned, chairs shifted, the radiator hissed, and sometimes somebody coughed with theatrical misery behind a stack of atlases. still, it was close enough. you could spread your things across a table near the windows and pretend, for a little while, that you attended a normal school with normal students and not a crooked little kingdom where every boy seemed to be trying to prove something violent by lunch.
you sat with your books open and your loose papers arranged in thoughtful, hopeful piles that would not remain thoughtful or hopeful for long. a pencil was tucked behind your ear. your skirt brushed your knees when you crossed one leg over the other. outside, the late afternoon had gone pale and gold over the grounds, turning the hedges and stone paths almost pretty. from that distance, with the glass between you and the rest of the school, bullworth looked almost civilized.
âyou organize your notes like somebody preparing an alibi.â
you looked up to find gary smith standing at the end of your table as though he had simply unfolded out of the air.
he had a talent for appearing without warning, and it was a talent made worse by the fact that he always looked deliberate. even when he slouched, there was intention in it. his shirt was crisp under the green sweater vest, tie straight, hair combed back into that careful, sharp little style that only made his face seem more fox-like. he was pale in the soft library light, his expression composed in that smug, unreadable way of his, like he found the entire world mildly amusing and almost never worth the effort of honesty.
you stared at him over the rim of your book. âand you speak like somebody who enjoys hearing himself think.â
âtrue.â he pulled out the chair across from you without asking and sat down. âbut iâm not wrong.â
you should have told him to leave. that would have been the sensible thing. sensible, however, had very little influence over the way bullworth ran, and even less over gary. he had already made himself comfortable, one elbow resting on the table, pale eyes skimming over your notes with insulting ease.
âwhat do you want?â you asked.
âi havenât decided yet.â
âthen go decide somewhere else.â
instead of moving, he smiled. it was not a pleasant expression. it looked too neat for that, too small and precise, like something folded into shape with a knife.
âyouâre not very friendly,â he said.
âi am, actually. just not with you.â
âsmart girl.â
that should have sounded complimentary. coming from him, it sounded like he was cataloguing you.
you had noticed him before that day, of course. everybody noticed gary smith, even the students who preferred to pretend they did not. he was difficult to place in the schoolâs social order because he was never fully inside any of it and somehow always at the center. he drifted around the edges of every clique without belonging to one, whispering in ears, supplying rumors, nudging quarrels into fights and fights into small local wars. boys twice his size listened when he spoke. boys with richer families and louder mouths ended up doing exactly what he suggested while convincing themselves it had been their own idea all along.
the faculty treated him the way people treated a hairline crack in expensive glass. they knew it was there. they knew it might spread. they went on as though not looking at it would make the problem less real.
he had started noticing you at lunch first. then in the main hall. then out on the front steps when you took your tea in a paper cup before first period. never for long. just a passing comment, a glance that lingered too intelligently, a remark that suggested he had been paying attention longer than you liked. you were used to being looked at. bullworth was not subtle where girls were concerned, and you had become skilled at sorting attention into categories: stupid, harmless, tiresome, dangerous. garyâs did not fit neatly into any of them.
it was not hungry in the way some boysâ attention was. not clumsy either. it felt worse than that, somehow, because it was careful.
he rose from your table after five minutes of irritating you with observations about your handwriting and the suspicious optimism of your color-coded notes. he left without explanation, and you told yourself that would be the end of it.
it was not.
once gary smith began orbiting a thing, he did not do it halfway.
sometimes he would lean against the wall outside your classroom and watch the hallway empty, not speaking until you came out last with your books hugged to your chest. sometimes he would fall into step beside you and start talking about someone else entirely, as if you had both agreed to continue a conversation that did not exist. once, during lunch, you found him sitting in your usual seat with your apple in his hand, turning it slowly between his fingers as if he were considering it from a moral distance.
âthatâs mine,â you said.
âso i assumed.â
âthen why are you touching it?â
he glanced up. âto upset you.â
you had to bite back a smile at that, which irritated you almost as much as he did.
that was the worst part of him in the beginning, not the arrogance or the intrusion or the unnerving tendency to know things he had no business knowing. it was that he was occasionally, against all good judgment, funny. not in a bright or easy way. there was nothing easy about him. but he could say something so dry and exact that it caught you off guard and dragged a laugh out of you before you remembered who he was.
he always noticed when that happened.
his face never changed much, but there would be the faintest flicker around his eyes, a tiny cruel satisfaction, as if he had proved a point you had not realized he was trying to make.
you started avoiding certain routes because of him. that did not help. he merely changed his own.
one tuesday afternoon you cut behind the gym to avoid a group of shouting jocks and nearly ran straight into him where the path narrowed beside the hedges. he had one shoulder against the brick, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like a boy who had just happened to stop there for air and not like somebody who knew enough about your schedule to predict where you would be within two minutes.
âdo you mind?â you said, stopping short.
âusually,â he replied. âdepends whoâs asking.â
âmove.â
âask nicely.â
you looked at him. really looked at him. the narrow, composed face. the faint freckles across his nose that the autumn light made more visible. the pale lashes. the expression that was never quite mockery and never quite interest and therefore managed to be both at once. he held your gaze without blinking, perfectly calm under the weight of your annoyance.
âyou are doing entirely too much,â you told him.
that made him smile in earnest, or as close to earnest as he got. âthere you are.â
âthere i am where?â
âbeing interesting.â
âgary.â
âyes?â
âmove.â
he moved, still smiling, and you brushed past him with your jaw tight and your books held a little more firmly than necessary. you only made it halfway down the path before he called after you, in a voice mild enough to be almost gentle.
âyouâve got ink on your cheek.â
you stopped, swore under your breath, and heard him laugh softly behind you.
the fact that he noticed things like that was what ruined your attempts to write him off as just another nuisance.
he noticed when you switched from tea to coffee because you had stayed up too late studying. he noticed when you had a headache and kept your answers shorter than usual. he noticed that you folded the corners of pages you meant to come back to and that you tapped the spine of a book twice against your palm before opening it. he noticed when another student borrowed your notes and returned them bent. he noticed when you wore your hair pinned up instead of down, and though he never complimented it directly, he stared one beat longer on those days in a way that was impossible not to feel.
you told yourself it meant nothing. gary noticed everything. that was how he operated. a boy like him collected details the way other students collected enemies.
then came the afternoon that tipped your irritation into something less manageable.
you were in the common room after classes, enjoying a rare patch of peace. one of the younger preps had claimed the chess table by the window, two girls from your literature class were revising by the fireplace, and a fourth-year from town, a decent enough boy with serious eyebrows and a talent for rambling about history, had sat down across from you with all the confidence of someone who assumed a conversation was a mutual gift. he was not unbearable. merely long-winded. you had been polite for about five minutes, nodding at the right intervals while keeping one finger tucked between the pages of your novel so you could return to it the moment he ran out of steam.
he did not run out of steam.
he was midway through an opinion on military uniforms when a shadow fell across the table.
gary dropped into the chair opposite you with the kind of smooth timing that made interruption look choreographed. he did not ask whether anyone minded. he folded himself into the space as if he had always belonged there, one ankle over the opposite knee, chin tilted slightly, that poisonous little smile already in place.
âdonât stop on my account,â he said.
the other boy frowned. âwe were talking.â
âwere you?â garyâs gaze moved to him with lazy contempt. âi thought she was waiting for you to finish.â
you closed your book carefully. âgary.â
the warning in your voice did nothing.
âiâm helping,â he said, not looking at you. to the boy, he added, âyou ought to let people leave a conversation before they die in it.â
the room had not gone silent, but you felt attention shift anyway. bullworth loved a spectacle. the other boyâs face tightened with embarrassment, then annoyance. he looked at you, perhaps expecting you to rescue him, perhaps realizing too late that remaining seated would make the whole scene worse.
âright,â he said, standing abruptly. âiâll talk to you later.â
âiâm sure sheâll treasure that,â gary said.
the boy left with a muttered curse and a look sharp enough to cut. you watched him go, then turned back to the boy now occupying his chair like a victorious disease.
âwhat is wrong with you?â you snapped.
gary rested his chin on his hand, eyes on your face. âa long list, apparently.â
âthat was rude.â
âyes.â
âyou embarrassed him on purpose.â
âobviously.â
you stared at him, waiting for something remotely defensible. an excuse. a lie. even a performance of innocence. instead he just watched you, composed and almost serene, like your anger was not only expected but interesting to him.
âwhy?â you demanded.
his answer came light and immediate. âyou were boring me.â
you blinked at him. âi beg your pardon?â
âpainfully.â his eyes dropped to your closed book, then back to you. âyou do that expression when youâre bored. right eyebrow lifts first. you were being polite, which is noble, but very dull to watch.â
ânobody asked you to watch.â
âno, but here we are.â
you should have left. instead you stayed planted in your chair, heat moving up your neck, half fury and half something else that felt too close to embarrassment. there was a beat of silence between you, crowded with everything he was not saying.
then he spoke again, softer this time.
âyou pay attention to everyone else like that?â
the question sat strangely in the air.
his voice had changed. it was quieter, almost level, but his eyes had not. there was something in them that made your stomach shift, not because it was sweet and not because it was kind, but because it was intent. unsettling, unwavering intent. he looked at you as if he were trying to catch the truth before you had the chance to hide it behind a clever answer.
âlike what?â you asked, more carefully than before.
âlike they matter.â
you gave a short, incredulous laugh because the alternative was to take him seriously, and that felt unwise. âyou interrupted me to ask that?â
âamong other reasons.â
âyou are unbelievable.â
âthat has also been said.â
he reached out then, faster than you expected, and slid your book out from under your hand.
you caught air.
âgary.â
he stood in one smooth motion with your novel already tucked under his arm.
âgive that back.â
âcome get it.â
the look he gave you was infuriatingly pleased. then he turned and walked away, not even hurrying, which somehow made it worse. by the time you pushed your chair back and followed him, several students were openly staring. one of the girls by the fireplace covered her smile behind her hand. you ignored her and swept after him into the hall, your shoes striking smartly against stone.
âdo not make me chase you through this building,â you said.
âthen donât chase me.â
âyou stole my book.â
âborrowed.â
âwithout asking.â
âi know youâd have said no.â
you almost caught him near the stairwell, but he pivoted neatly out of reach and kept going with a maddening little glance over his shoulder. he was enjoying himself now, which made him more agile, more precise. you followed him down the corridor past a line of cracked portraits and a notice board littered with club announcements no one read. he never quite broke into a run. he did not need to. he kept just ahead of you with the casual confidence of somebody who knew exactly how long your patience would hold.
âgary, i mean it.â
âyouâve said my name a lot today.â
âbecause you are aggravating.â
âonly today?â
you nearly laughed again, which only made you angrier.
he finally stopped in the alcove near the old science room where the windows threw thin bands of evening light across the floor. when you reached him, slightly out of breath and thoroughly irritated, he held the book out at last. you snatched it from his hand and opened your mouth to tell him precisely what he could do with his games.
then you looked down.
all your loose papers were tucked neatly inside, aligned by size, the bent corner smoothed, the half-fallen notes from your last lecture gathered and organized between the proper chapters. even the little scrap with your reading list, the one you had thought you lost at lunch, had been slipped in near the front. nothing was creased. nothing was missing. it was better arranged than when you had packed it yourself.
for a moment you just stared.
gary leaned one shoulder against the wall, watching your face with quiet satisfaction. âyouâre welcome.â
you looked up slowly. âwhen did you do this?â
he shrugged. âwhile you were pretending to listen to captain monotone.â
you turned another page, incredulous. âyou had my papers?â
âthey were sticking out.â
âand instead of giving them back like a normal person, you stole the whole book and made me run after you.â
âyes.â
âwhy?â
that smile again, smaller now, less meant for show. âbecause you came.â
you should have hit him with the book. you thought about it with vivid sincerity. instead you clutched it to your chest and looked at the boy in front of you, this infuriating, elegant little menace with his neat uniform and his impossible face and his absurd, infuriating thoughtfulness hidden inside behavior so obnoxious it ought to have canceled the effort out.
âyou are not right in the head,â you said.
âthatâs old news.â
âand deeply rude.â
âalso true.â
âand weird.â
he tipped his head. âyou still followed me.â
you hated that he said it so softly.
you left him there before he could see what that did to you. or before he could say something worse and make it impossible to pretend your pulse had not changed.
after that, things got more difficult.
not because gary became more obvious. if anything, he became subtler. the open intrusions continued, certainly. he still sat beside you when he pleased and inserted himself into conversations he had not been invited to join. he still appeared at uncanny moments, as if he had a private map of your movements pinned up somewhere with notes in the margins. but beneath all of that there was now a pattern you could no longer ignore.
things around you began falling into place.
a first-year who had been pestering you for answers in chemistry abruptly decided to avoid your section of the hall. the loudmouth jock who had made a comment about your legs during lunch ended up shoved into a trash can before dinner by persons unknown. your missing fountain pen reappeared on your desk in the dormitory wrapped in a strip of notebook paper that said, in tidy handwriting, you ought to keep better track of your weapons.
you stared at the note for a long time before folding it once and tucking it into your drawer.
âyou know that boy likes you,â your roommate said one evening while you were pinning your hair up in the mirror.
you met her reflection. âthat boy likes causing structural damage.â
âsame thing, sometimes.â
ânot with him.â
your roommate raised a brow. âyou keep saying that, and yet you look happier when he starts bothering you.â
you turned back to the mirror because there was no good answer to that.
you were not happier, exactly. you were more awake.
gary had a way of making a moment feel sharpened. brighter and more dangerous, yes, but also more specific. when he entered a room, your attention shifted whether you wanted it to or not. part of that was self-preservation. with a boy like him, it was wise to keep track of where the knife was, even if the knife happened to be wearing a tie and speaking in a bored voice. but part of it had become anticipation, and that was harder to forgive in yourself.
it did not help that he knew how to behave when nobody else was looking.
one rainy evening you found him in the library again, though this time he was not talking. he sat two tables away with a book open in front of him, one hand braced against his temple, the other turning a page with absent precision. the windows were dark. the lamps cast pools of amber light over the tables, leaving the corners dim. in that setting, stripped of an audience, he looked younger and stranger, less like a schoolyard tactician and more like a boy built too sharply for softness and trying very hard not to require any.
you would have passed him quietly if he had not spoken without looking up.
âyou drag your left foot when youâre tired.â
you stopped. âdo you ever choose peace?â
ârarely.â
âi can tell.â
only then did he glance up. his eyes moved over your face, your books, the damp hem of your skirt from the weather outside. âsit down.â
âthat isnât a request.â
âdidnât mean it to be.â
âand you wonder why people call you rude.â
âi donât wonder at all.â
still, you sat. perhaps because you were tired enough not to argue. perhaps because the rain drummed softly at the windows and the library felt almost private. perhaps because you wanted to see what he would do if you gave him less resistance for once.
he closed his book, marking the page with one finger. âhow did your exam go?â
you narrowed your eyes. âhow do you know i had one?â
âyou revised for three nights and stopped sleeping properly. plus you carry your bag differently after a test.â
âthat is absurd.â
âis it wrong?â
you looked down at the table. âno.â
âthere we are.â
you should not have smiled at that, but you did.
his gaze caught on your mouth for half a second and then lifted again, expression unreadable. âwell?â
âit went fine,â you said. âi think.â
âthat means well.â
âyou are unbearable.â
âand yet.â
âand yet nothing.â
he leaned back slightly. âyou sat down.â
you breathed out through your nose. âyou really do think you win every conversation.â
ânot every conversation.â
âwhich ones do you lose?â
the answer came almost immediately, but not with his usual glibness. âthe ones where you stop talking.â
that held you still.
for a moment the rain sounded louder than it had before. somewhere behind the circulation desk, an old clock ticked with officious patience. garyâs face had not softened, not exactly, but the sharpness in it had shifted. there was no performance in his expression now, no visible joke. just the quiet fact of him watching you like your response mattered more than he wanted it to.
you looked away first.
that should have been warning enough.
instead you kept letting him closer.
not easily. not all at once. you argued with him every step of the way. you corrected him when he was cruel for sport and told him so when he crossed lines that other people were too intimidated to mention. sometimes he listened. sometimes he grinned and did it anyway. but he started seeking you out less like a hunter and more like a habit. breakfast, if your schedules aligned. the path to class. the library on fridays. the back steps after dinner when the air was cold and the grounds smelled faintly of wet leaves and chimney smoke.
he never asked permission in so many words. asking would have been unlike him. instead he made presence seem inevitable and waited to see if you drove him off. when you did not, he treated that as answer enough.
one saturday he found you trying to pin announcements for the literature society to the board outside the main hall while a draft from the front doors kept flipping the corners loose.
âthis seems beneath you,â he remarked.
you did not turn. âyour concern is touching.â
âneed a hand?â
you almost laughed at the novelty of it. âfrom you?â
âdonât look so alarmed.â
âi am alarmed because generosity from you usually comes with an invoice.â
ânot always.â
âmost times.â
âfair.â
he took the pins from your mouth before you could protest and held the paper flat while you fixed the top corners properly. his fingers were cool where they brushed yours. he stood close enough that you could smell clean soap and paper on him, something crisp and faintly dry. not cologne. not anything flashy. just the ordinary scent of somebody who looked composed even when everyone else at bullworth resembled a bar fight with tuition.
when you finished, he stepped back and tipped his head at the notices. âthere. now the three people who attend will know where to be.â
you looked at him. âwhy are you like this?â
âefficient parenting failure, probably.â
your laughter escaped before you could stop it.
he went still in that tiny way he had when something genuine slipped between you. then he smiled, smaller than before. âthere you are again.â
âdo not make a thing of it.â
âtoo late.â
you pushed his shoulder lightly with the back of your hand as you walked past, more to keep from lingering than out of actual irritation. but his eyes followed you down the hall with such obvious focus that the warmth in your face lasted all the way to dinner.
if it had remained just that, the schoolyard hovering and the dry conversation and the careful little gestures hidden inside obnoxious behavior, perhaps you could have kept pretending there was no danger in it.
bullworth, however, was not built for quiet developments. it fed on attention. and boys, especially boys, noticed when someone stopped being available in the ordinary way.
his name was daniel, and you liked him only in the way a person likes good weather and decent handwriting. he was a prefect on afternoons, a senior, broader in the shoulders than most boys at school, with a tidy manner and the sort of face adults trusted on sight. he had been polite to you for months without trying anything, which you appreciated. then one evening after study hall, he walked with you down the front corridor and asked whether you might like to come into town next weekend for coffee and a bookshop if permissions could be arranged.
it was a sensible invitation. very nearly sweet.
you were still considering how to answer when you noticed movement by the trophy cases.
gary was leaning in the alcove beside the display cabinets, half-shadowed by the poor light, as still as an accusation. you had no idea how long he had been there. with him, that meant nothing. he could have arrived two seconds ago or five minutes ago and you would not have known the difference. what mattered was that he had clearly heard enough.
daniel, oblivious, was saying something about the weather being better next week when you felt garyâs attention land on you with cold, surgical precision.
you did not answer immediately, which was mistake enough.
âthat sounds nice,â you said at last.
daniel smiled, relieved. âshall i ask mrs. pease about the pass tomorrow?â
âall right.â
he seemed pleased, properly pleased, and after a few more courteous words he continued down the corridor toward the prefectsâ office. you watched him go for a beat, then turned toward the trophy cases.
gary had not moved.
âhow long have you been standing there?â you asked.
âlong enough.â
âthat is not an answer.â
âitâs the only one youâre getting.â
you walked toward him slowly, your books held against your cardigan. âwere you eavesdropping?â
âdonât flatter yourself. your prefect speaks like a public notice.â
âhe is not my prefect.â
âno?â garyâs expression turned almost lazily curious. âsounds like heâd like to be.â
you stopped a few feet away. âwhat is that supposed to mean?â
âexactly what it sounds like.â
âyou do know normal people simply say what they mean.â
ânormal people are boring.â
âand you are impossible.â
âyou just agreed to go out with a hall monitor.â
you blinked. âwhat?â
the bite in his voice had sharpened so suddenly it almost startled you.
âheâs not a hall monitor.â
âclose enough.â
âand why exactly do you care?â
that did it.
his jaw tightened first, a subtle shift, but on gary even subtlety registered like weather change. then he laughed once, humorless and brief, and pushed away from the wall.
âcare?â he repeated. âplease.â
âthen do not stand here looking like somebody stole your inheritance.â
he took one step closer. âyou think he sees you?â
the question landed so strangely you forgot your irritation for a moment. âwhat does that have to do with anything?â
âeverything.â
âgary.â
âhe sees a pretty girl who says thank you at the right times and laughs politely when he wants her to.â his eyes were bright now, too bright. âhe sees an outing. he sees a little performance where he gets to feel important because you agreed to be looked at on purpose.â
your mouth parted. âthat is unfair.â
âis it?â
âyes, it is, and you know better than that.â
âi know men better than that.â
âhe is a boy at school, not some villain in a trench coat.â
âsame instincts, smaller vocabulary.â
despite the tension twisting through the conversation, you nearly smiled. nearly. then you caught the expression on his face and stopped yourself.
he looked furious. not loud, not wild. gary was rarely messy with anger. but his restraint made it more startling. it sat under his skin like heat under glass, concentrated and dangerous. for the first time since meeting him, you understood that the cruelty he showed other people so casually might one day turn sharp enough to cut you too if you stepped wrong.
the knowledge should have driven you back.
instead you asked, very quietly, âwhat are you actually mad about?â
he looked at you for a long moment. the corridor had emptied around you. dusk pressed blue against the high windows, and the trophy case glass reflected the two of you back in fragments, your skirt, his tie, the hard line of his shoulders.
when he spoke, his voice was lower than before.
âiâm mad because you said yes like it wouldnât matter.â
your breath caught.
âto coffee?â you asked.
âto him.â
âgary.â
âwhat?â he bit the word off. âyou want honesty, donât you?â
âyes.â
âfine. i hate when people touch what they havenât earned.â
silence opened between you.
you could hear distant laughter from the courtyard, the whistle of wind under an old door somewhere down the hall. garyâs eyes stayed on yours, unblinking, almost hostile in the force of their attention. he looked like he resented having said any of it and also like he could not bear to take it back.
âi am not a prize,â you said at last, steadying your voice.
âi know that.â
âand nobody earns the right to speak to me.â
âi know that too.â
âthen what are you saying?â
he exhaled, short and sharp, and rubbed a hand once over the back of his neck. the gesture was so unguarded it startled you more than the jealousy had.
âiâm saying,â he said, slower now, âthat watching you hand your attention to somebody dull and obvious makes me want to do something unhelpful.â
you ought not have enjoyed that. you did.
âunhelpful how?â
âdonât ask questions you already know the answer to.â
that, at least, was honest.
you looked at him, at the boy who had made a career of manipulation, at the architect of a hundred petty disasters, at the pale, precise troublemaker standing in the fading light and admitting jealousy like it offended him personally to feel it. you should have been alarmed. part of you was. the rest was trying very hard not to smile.
âyou are deeply dramatic,â you said.
his stare turned flat. âiâm serious.â
âi can tell.â
âand thatâs your response?â
âwhat would you prefer, a violin?â
that did it. against all logic, despite himself, he laughed. it escaped him abruptly, low and genuine, and the furious edge in him eased just enough for the air between you to shift.
âyouâre impossible,â he said.
âcoming from you, i will take that as a compliment.â
he stepped closer then, not enough to crowd you, just enough that the space felt altered. the kind of distance that noticed breathing.
âare you going?â he asked.
âwith daniel?â
his mouth thinned.
you let him wait half a second longer than necessary, then shook your head. âno.â
something unreadable moved through his face. relief first, naked and fast, then composure snapping over it like a lid. âgood.â
âdo not say that like you had jurisdiction.â
âi didnât say i had it. only that i prefer the outcome.â
âyou really do need everything in your favor.â
âyes.â
âthat sounds exhausting.â
âfor other people, certainly.â
you looked down to hide the smile threatening your mouth. âyou are awful.â
âyouâve mentioned that.â
âbecause it keeps being true.â
âand yet.â his gaze lowered briefly to your hands on your books, then back up. quieter now, he said, âyou stayed.â
there it was again, that dangerous softness he only seemed to reveal by accident. not sweetness, exactly. something more brittle than that. like he had set honesty down between you and now refused to touch it in case it broke.
you went back to your dorm that night with your heartbeat doing unreasonable things and your roommate looking far too knowing for your comfort.
âyou look like you won an argument and lost your senses,â she said.
âthat is not helpful.â
âwas it him?â
you sat on the edge of your bed and pulled off your shoes. âhe is annoying.â
âthat was not my question.â
you pressed your lips together.
after a beat, she laughed softly. âlord help you.â
the next few days at school felt different in a way that would have been difficult to explain to anyone else.
gary was still gary. he still needled people for sport. he still spread rumors when it amused him and spoke with that cool, surgical sarcasm that made idiots bleed without realizing they had been cut. he still carried himself like rules were made for slower minds. but with you, the tension had shifted. there was less pretense in it now. less of the game for the gameâs sake.
he sat with you at breakfast one morning and stole a piece of toast from your plate only to push his untouched apple toward you in exchange because he had noticed you skipped fruit when you were busy. he met you outside literature and wordlessly took the heavier stack of books from your arms before you could protest, then spent the entire walk to the next hall insulting the assigned reading. he showed up after dinner with your scarf, which you had left in the common room, and when you asked how he knew it was yours, he gave you a look that said the question itself was stupid.
you should not have found any of this endearing. the problem was that endearing did not cancel out unsettling. with him the two traveled together.
one friday evening the power flickered during a storm, knocking half the lamps out in the academic building and plunging the upper floor corridor into a gloomy blue half-dark. prefects were stomping around downstairs trying to pretend they had control over the situation. students shouted from room to room, delighted by any disruption that broke routine. you were collecting your notes from an empty classroom when the door clicked shut behind you.
gary leaned against it, hands in his pockets.
âyouâre going to get us written up,â you said.
âfor what, standing near a door?â
âfor cornering me in an empty classroom during a blackout.â
he considered that. âfair point. scandalous.â
âmove.â
instead he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the desk nearest yours. lightning flashed beyond the windows, whitening the old glass and turning him briefly into a cutout of light and shadow.
âtheyâre all downstairs,â he said. âyou can stop pretending youâre in a hurry.â
you set one notebook atop another, not looking at him. âand if i actually am in a hurry?â
âyouâre not.â
âyou do love deciding things for me.â
âi love being right.â
âsame disease.â
a pause. then, âcome here.â
you looked up. âabsolutely not.â
his mouth twitched. âthat sounded frightened.â
âit sounded sensible.â
âare you sensible?â
âmore than you.â
âthatâs a very low bar.â
you should have stayed where you were. instead you crossed the few feet between you because the storm had made the room feel enclosed and strange and because his voice had gone quiet in that way that always pulled at you before you could brace for it.
when you stopped in front of him, he tilted his face up to look at you. with him seated and you standing, the usual angles had reversed. for once you felt less caught off balance than he did, though the impression vanished when he reached out and touched the cuff of your sleeve with two fingers.
âthis is new,â he said.
you glanced down. âthe sweater?â
âyes.â
âand?â
âit suits you.â
the compliment was so direct that it hit you harder than a hundred of his cryptic remarks. you stared at him. he stared back, perfectly calm except for the tension in his fingers where they still held the fabric.
âwell,â you said after a moment, because silence had become impossible, âyou clean up decently yourself.â
that drew a softer expression from him than any smile so far.
âdecently,â he repeated.
âdo not fish for more.â
âi wasnât.â
âgood.â
âyouâd give it anyway.â
âgary.â
âwhat?â
you shook your head, but you were smiling now and he knew it. he always knew.
his hand slid from your sleeve to your wrist, light enough that you could have pulled away without effort. he did not grip. he simply held that point of contact like a question neither of you had phrased properly yet. rain battered the windows. thunder rolled somewhere far off over old bullworth vale.
âyou donât have to keep looking at me like that,â you murmured.
âlike what?â
âlike you are trying to solve something.â
his thumb moved once against the inside of your wrist, tiny and absent. âmaybe i am.â
âand what have you got so far?â
his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, then rose again with unnerving steadiness. âthat you say no like it means maybe. and maybe like it means ask better.â
your breath stalled.
âthat sounds like a dangerous theory.â
âmost good theories are.â
before you could answer, a voice barked in the hall outside and footsteps clattered past the door. the moment snapped cleanly in half. gary released your wrist at once, expression flattening back into composure so quickly you almost doubted what had just happened.
almost.
âgo on,â he said lightly. âbefore your reputation suffers.â
you stared at him. âyou are a menace.â
âand you like me anyway.â
you should have denied it. you could not manage a lie that flimsy.
the first time he kissed you, it happened behind the library after dusk where the stone wall kept out the worst of the wind and the windows glowed amber above your heads. you had been arguing, naturally. he had done something small and infuriating, intercepting a note meant for you from one of the literature girls because, in his words, âthe handwriting offended him.â you told him he could not simply snatch messages addressed to other people. he replied that he had read it first and determined it was harmless. you told him that was not the point. he told you your points were usually inconvenient.
then you stepped closer to tell him so, and he looked at your face with that terrible, focused stillness and said, âyou come nearer when youâre angry.â
you opened your mouth with every intention of correcting him. instead he kissed you.
gary did not kiss like a boy uncertain of himself. he kissed the way he did most things, precisely, as if he had studied the problem beforehand and disliked wasted motion. one hand came up to the side of your neck, not forceful, just cool and sure. his mouth was warm, controlled, and for one shattered second you were too startled to do anything but feel the fact of him.
then you kissed him back.
the noise he made was small, almost swallowed before it existed. his fingers tightened once at the nape of your neck, and when he drew back there was something frankly dazed in his face that made him look younger than you had ever seen him.
you stared at him. he stared at you.
âwell,â you said, because one of you had to say something.
he laughed under his breath and touched his forehead lightly against yours for the briefest moment. âwell.â
after that, jealousy became less theoretical and far more annoying.
you had not expected the particularity of it. most boys got loud when they were jealous. they puffed up. they picked fights. they became stupid in public. garyâs version was sharper and, in some ways, more inconvenient because it came wrapped in civility thin enough to be dangerous.
if a boy spoke to you too long at lunch, gary would arrive, sit down beside you, and steer the conversation so expertly that the other person left feeling outmatched and vaguely foolish without quite knowing how. if someone borrowed your books, he somehow knew and made sure they came back in better condition than before, accompanied by a look that suggested the borrower had been educated on respect. once, when a jock from the football field called out to ask whether you were âbusy saturday,â gary, without breaking stride, answered for you with a cool, âsheâs busy now,â and kept walking.
âyou cannot keep doing that,â you told him later.
âdoing what?â
âspeaking as if i belong to you.â
his expression changed so quickly you nearly missed it. not offended, exactly. wounded, but only for an instant, before pride covered it.
âi didnât say that,â he replied.
âyou imply it.â
âi imply that they should keep their hands to themselves.â
âand what about you?â
he looked at you, then took your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist with infuriating calm. âi asked better.â
you had no good response to that, which annoyed you because he knew it.
still, for all his possessiveness, he listened when you drew lines. not perfectly, not gracefully, but he listened. when you told him he was not allowed to threaten people on your behalf, he said he had never threatened anybody in his life with such bland dishonesty that you had to sit down. when you told him he could not read your private letters, he returned the one he had pocketed that morning and said, âfine, but i reserve the right to judge whoever wrote it by the envelope.â when you told him jealousy did not entitle him to rudeness, he looked at you for a long beat and then, in a tone so quiet it almost vanished, said, âi know.â
it was difficult to stay angry with him when he did that.
the softness, when it came, arrived in fragments.
he waited for you outside late study sessions and walked you back to the girlsâ dorm steps without making a show of it. he memorized the days you had extra coursework and appeared with tea before you asked. he learned the titles of the books you liked and pretended he had not. he tucked folded notes into the pages he borrowed from you, never sentimental, always just enough to tilt your mouth upward.
chapter three is smug. reminded me of you.
stop underlining everything as if the author can see it.
page 86, third paragraph. terrible sentence. i thought youâd enjoy hating it.
once, during a cold snap in november, you found a pair of gloves left on the library table beside your usual seat. inside one cuff was a strip of paper in his precise handwriting.
before you complain, yes, i noticed. your hands go red in this weather.
you carried that note in your pocket for three days before admitting to yourself that you were gone beyond recovery.
he, meanwhile, grew stranger in private and calmer in your presence, which was perhaps the same thing viewed from different angles. around everyone else he remained dry and sly and vaguely menacing. around you he still had those traits, but there were moments, small bright slippages, where he let himself be pleased. when you laughed at something he said. when you reached for his tie and straightened it because he had tugged it crooked. when you let your knee rest against his under the library table. when you took his face between your hands one evening after he had been especially difficult and kissed him until his sarcasm deserted him completely.
âthat is deeply manipulative,â he murmured when you pulled away.
âlearned from the best.â
âi should be offended.â
âyou adore me.â
his eyes half-closed, lazy and warm for once. âunfortunately.â
bullworth noticed, of course.
there was no official announcement, but schools like that did not require one. they ran on glances and rumor and a thousand tiny acts of observation. within two weeks, girls in your literature class were giving you little looks over the tops of their books, and boys who used to try their luck with you had mostly stopped. even the prefects seemed reluctant to interfere if gary was leaning on the wall nearby with that unreadable smile.
âyou have made me a public curiosity,â you told him one afternoon as you crossed the courtyard together.
âyou were already one.â
ânot like this.â
âand how is âthisâ?â
âlike i am keeping a spider in my pocket.â
he laughed. âthatâs almost romantic.â
âit is absolutely not.â
âpity.â
you glanced at him sidelong. the wind had put color into his cheeks. his hair, though still neat, had been disturbed slightly by the weather, one reddish strand fallen near his temple. there was a bruise fading yellow near his jaw from some conflict he had not told you about, and you had not pushed because with him that was often wiser. he walked with his usual deceptive ease, shoulders relaxed, hands in his pockets, but his gaze kept touching the space around you in that old habitual way, checking, tracking, collecting.
âgary.â
âyes?â
âcome here.â
he looked amused, but he stepped closer. you rose on your toes and smoothed the fallen strand of hair back into place.
he went completely still.
there in the middle of the courtyard, with students crossing behind you and a prefect shouting in the distance, his whole sharp, clever, troublesome self seemed to narrow to the point where your fingers had touched his forehead.
âbetter,â you said.
he looked at you for a long second. then, very quietly, âyou do know that makes me worse.â
âfor who?â
âeveryone.â
you smiled. âi can live with that.â
the winter formal was a stupid idea, and everybody knew it.
bullworth had never been a school capable of elegance for longer than half an hour, and asking its students to put on clean clothes and behave under string lights bordered on satire. still, crabblesnitch loved the illusion of refinement, so the assembly hall was decorated with tired greenery and paper lanterns, the punch was terrible, and some teacher had forced a gramophone arrangement that made everything sound one degree sadder than intended.
you attended because your roommate insisted and because a girl could only hide in the library so many evenings before people started treating her like a local ghost. your dress was simple and dark, borrowed from a cousin, fitted enough to feel grown and slightly dangerous. your hair was down. when you met your own reflection before leaving the dormitory, you looked like yourself and not quite yourself, which felt appropriate.
gary found you fifteen minutes after you entered the hall.
he was in uniform, but somehow even that looked sharper on him tonight. tie precise, shoes polished, sleeves sitting cleanly at his wrists. he moved through the room with effortless awareness, as if the dance were only another board on which everyone else had been arranged for his convenience. boys greeted him carefully. girls watched him and then looked away. he ignored most of it.
when he saw you, he stopped.
it was only a pause. most people would not have noticed. you did.
then he crossed the floor.
âwell,â he said, coming to stand before you. âthatâs unfortunate.â
you folded your arms. âfor who?â
he looked at you from head to toe once, not leering, just arrested. âfor my concentration.â
you tried not to smile and failed. âthat might be the nicest thing you have ever said to me.â
âdonât get used to it.â
âtoo late.â
he offered you his arm with exaggerated formality that looked absurd and somehow still elegant. you took it. his sleeve was warm under your hand. when he led you toward the side of the hall away from the loudest cluster of students, there were looks. plenty of them. you felt some of them land and slide away. gary, predictably, seemed to enjoy that.
âpeople are staring,â you murmured.
âlet them.â
âyou say that as if it costs nothing.â
âto me? very little.â
âterrible answer.â
âhonest one.â
you stood together near the windows while the dance unfolded in all its awkward glory. boys stepped on hems, girls exchanged judgment with polite smiles, one drunk senior nearly took down a lantern and had to be steered toward a chair by a furious teacher. the whole thing was ridiculous enough that you ended up laughing more than once, and each time garyâs attention settled on you with that private intensity he never fully learned to disguise.
then a slow record came on, and without ceremony he held out his hand.
you looked at it. âyou dance?â
âadequately.â
âthat sounds ominous.â
âit means i wonât disgrace you.â
âconfidence is exhausting in company.â
âgood thing weâre above company.â
still, you put your hand in his.
to your surprise, he really did dance adequately. more than adequately, in fact. he guided rather than dragged, his hand steady at your waist, movements controlled and spare. he was not affectionate in public by nature, but with your bodies aligned under the low lights and the music soft around you, some of the edge came off him. just enough.
âwho taught you?â you asked.
ânobody. i watch.â
âthat explains too much.â
âi thought so.â
you looked up at him. âare you jealous right now?â
âprobably.â
âof who?â
âeveryone with functioning eyesight.â
you laughed, then shook your head. âthat is absurd.â
âi know.â
âat least you admit it.â
âonly because you make it difficult to lie convincingly.â
there was something almost tender in the annoyance of that statement, and you felt it all the way down.
when the song ended, he did not let go immediately. his hand remained at your waist for one extra beat, thumb resting lightly against the fabric of your dress. then he released you and stepped back with that faintly dangerous composure returned.
âcome outside,â he said.
the air beyond the hall was cold enough to sting. the front steps were empty at that hour, the grounds silvered by moonlight and the weak yellow spill from the windows. music thudded dully behind the doors. somewhere far off, somebody shouted and was answered with laughter.
you stood beside him under the portico, arms folded against the chill.
âso dramatic,â you said. âpulling me out into the night.â
âyou came.â
âyou say that every time as if it means you discovered gravity.â
âit means i was right.â
âagain, exhausting.â
he turned to look at you. the moon caught the side of his face, drawing the fine line of his nose, the pale shape of his mouth. without the noise of the hall around him, he seemed sharper and quieter both at once.
âyou looked beautiful in there,â he said.
it was so direct you forgot to breathe for a second.
âgary.â
âdonât make me repeat it.â
âi was not going to.â
âgood.â
you stepped closer, searching his face. âyou know, for somebody who spends half his life acting untouchable, you are strangely easy to fluster once you say something real.â
his mouth curved. âthat sounds like a threat.â
âmaybe.â
âshould i be nervous?â
âyes.â
you kissed him before he could answer.
the cold made his skin cooler than usual, but his mouth was warm, and when his hands came to your waist this time there was no hesitation at all. the kiss deepened slowly, not rushed, just increasingly certain, like the two of you had been building to this particular version of quiet all term without knowing it had a destination. when you finally drew back, his forehead fell lightly against yours.
for a moment neither of you spoke.
then he said, in a voice low enough that it almost blended with the wind, âyou know iâm not nice.â
you smiled against his mouth. âi know.â
âiâm serious.â
âso am i.â
his hands tightened a fraction. âi get jealous.â
âi know that too.â
âi mean unreasonably.â
âyes, gary, i have eyes.â
a short laugh left him, but the seriousness stayed. âand iâm not good at simple things.â
âthat is painfully obvious.â
âyou could pretend to be gentler about it.â
âyou would hate that.â
âtrue.â
you touched his face then, thumb brushing the line of his cheek where that old bruise had nearly faded. his eyes lowered briefly, not in submission, not anything so straightforward, but in a kind of brief, startled trust you had come to recognize as rare.
âlisten to me,â you said softly. âi do not need simple. i need honest. i need you not to turn everything into a game when it matters.â
he held your gaze. âand if i try?â
âthen i will know.â
âyou usually do.â
âyes.â
there was a pause. then, with a sincerity so plain it nearly broke you, he said, âi do try. with you.â
that was the closest thing to a vow you were likely to get from him, and you knew it.
you kissed him again, gentler this time.
afterward, bullworth continued being bullworth.
students still fought. prefects still shouted. the food remained suspicious. the plumbing made noises in the night that sounded theological. gary still meddled where he should not and cultivated chaos with professional dedication. you still told him off when he deserved it, which was often. the difference was that now, when he drifted into your space with that poisonous little smile, it no longer felt like invasion.
it felt like home learning your name in a language only the two of you could stand.
This was a lot but I hope you all loved it! Pleaseee.. leave me any suggestions on who or what to write on next! I'm very active, so I'll be looking! Have a great day!
getting grossed out by sukuna smoking(â˘Ěâââ˘Ě )
You donât even notice when he slips out onto the balcony.
Youâre too busy curled up on his bed, scrolling mindlessly, one of his hoodies drowning you, sleeves covering your hands. The doorâs cracked open just enough to let the night air in, cool and soft, and thereâs that faint smell you always associate with him. Smoke.
You wrinkle your nose a little. âGross,â you mutter to yourself, even though heâs not in the room to hear it.
A minute later, the door slides open properly. Sukuna steps back in like nothing happened, hair a little messy from the breeze, shirt hanging loose, cigarette already gone. He looks at you sprawled across his bed and just⌠pauses for a second. Like he always does.
âYouâre gonna wreck the sleeves,â he says, nodding at his hoodie, eyes flicking to the way you absentmindedly pick at the loose threads.
You donât even look up. âGood. Then you canât take it back.â
He huffs, low and amused, walking over. âWasnât planning to.â
You finally glance at him. Heâs standing right at the edge of the bed now, looking down at you with that same lazy expression, but thereâs something a little softer underneath it.
âYou smell,â you say bluntly.
âYeah?â he murmurs, leaning closer.
âLike cigarettes,â you add, scrunching your nose. âItâs ugly.â
âUgly,â he repeats, like heâs testing the word.
Before you can say anything else, his hand comes up, tilting your chin just slightly. You blink, confused for half a secondâ and then he kisses you. Itâs quick at first. soft snd familiar.
Then he exhales.
Warm breath, laced with smoke, slips into your mouth before you even realise what heâs doing. Your eyes widen, instinctively pulling back, coughing lightly as you push at his chest.
âSukunaâ!â you choke out, half laughing, half scandalised. âWhat the hell was that?!â
Heâs already grinning. Not big, just that stupid, smug curve of his lips. âYou said I smelled,â he shrugs. âThought Iâd share.â
âYouâre disgusting!â you smack his arm, sitting up properly now. âThat is soâ ugh!â But youâre laughing. He notices, making his hand slide to the back of your neck, pulling you back in before you can complain again. This time, the kiss is slower. No tricks. Just him.
You hesitate for a second⌠then melt. Because of course you do.
When he pulls away, your forehead bumps lightly against his, and you can still faintly taste it, mixed with him, and itâs annoying how itâs not even that bad anymore. You narrow your eyes. âYou did that on purpose.â
âObviously.â
âI hate you.â
âMm.â He brushes his thumb over your cheek, casual. âStill kissed me.â
You go quiet for a second, trying to think of a comeback. Nothing comes. He watches you struggle, amused, then flicks your forehead lightly. âDumbass.â
âShut up,â you mumble, grabbing his shirt and tugging him down onto the bed with you. He lets himself fall, arm wrapping around you automatically like itâs second nature. You bury your face into his chest, muttering, âIf I get lung cancer, Iâm blaming you.â
He snorts, resting his chin on your head.
âYouâll live.â
A pause.
ââŚdonât do that again,â you add.
Another pause. âMaybe.â
You pinch his side.
He groans. âAlright, alrightâ fuckâ fine.â
 You smile into his shirt. Five minutes later, you tilt your head up and kiss him first anyway.
a/n: this was made a whiiiilllleeee back. idk if it's my lack of sleep or if this actually sounds choppyđ
helloooo my chilchuck crush is back in full swing... can you write the nsfw alphabet for him...
â CHILCHUCK NSFW ALPHABET: chilchuck x reader
Ἅ cw: nsfw, general nsfw alphabet stuff
â just in time because i lowkey miss writing for chilchuck lol TT ! a bit of this is just a reiteration of my chilchuck nsfw thoughts which i hope you dont mind !
â MINORS DNI! â
A = Aftercare (what theyâre like after sex)
â i wanna say chilchuck is a bit snobbish after sex if that makes sense. like sex is already a big, vulnerable thing for him, it's a bit difficult for him to extend that intimacy to what comes after. it doesnt mean he'd ignore you, but he'll be more or less quiet, and way more gentle than usual. it's just usually sleepily petting your hair or nuzzling against you
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partnerâs)
â his favorites of his are his eyes and ears, because 1. it comes in handy with his line of work and 2. gods forbid he's forced not to see and hear you when he's got you beneath him
â his favorite of yours are your hands. he likes comparing hand sizes or holding them or whatnot. it's a nice, reliable means of emotionally anchoring him in a way
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
â hey u guys see that one post that said something something "what if half-foots fucked like rabbit" ? yeah ⼠something instinctual tells him to cum inside as much as he can, so he does. and besides that, it's nice seeing his cum leak out of you
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
â oh chilchuck has definitely fantasized about having a younger partner ... not in a age play sort of way, but he feels a strange arousal at the idea of dating someone who's about his daughters' age
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what theyâre doing?)
â man has like three kids ... he's got more than enough experience under his belt.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
â anything that has you on his lap tbh! he likes it, he loves holding onto your ass or thighs when you're bouncing on it
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
â very serious really. he's shy of deadpanning the whole time he fucks you tbh
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
â im not typically the type for it but ... chilchuck ... body hair ... waow ! he's trimmed at most, and he'd shave if you asked him to, but preferably he lets all his body hair be
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
â he's oddly romantic in his own way. if you two had been together for a while, then it's definitely slow kisses all over your body and gently smoothing his thumb over your skin and all. but if not, then it's simple things like making sure there's a soft pillow under your head or tucking your hair to the side and stuff
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
â some forever ago when he was younger, definitely getting himself off was something far from unfamiliar. it helped alleviate the stress of his work and helped him let off steam. but these days, he doesn't
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
â ive mentioned it before in my chilchuck nsfw thoughts but he's pretty vanilla, but the idea of tying you up has definitely crossed his mind once or twice
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
â bedroom definitely. chilchuck doesnt like mixing his private affairs and public affairs, and can be pretty strict about it. (tho im certain, over time, if you pouted and pleaded with him enough, he'd say yes to anything you asked for)
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
â chilchuck is a simple man who gets turned on if you kiss him too much honestly. it's easy to turn him on honestly, but most especially whispering in his ears honestly
N = No (something they wouldnât do, turn offs)
â nothing specific comes to mind to things chilchuck wouldn't like, but there are definitely some small things that freak him out or make his skin crawl
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
â receivingggg! honestly, it's one of his favorite things actually. just the warmth and slick of someone's mouth on him, seeing them pressed against him like that, feeling their groans against his dick.. it's so overwhelming
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
â it depends on his mood honestly. most nights, he likes to take things slow, kiss you all over before he even thinks about taking your clothes off. but other nights, it's some form of carnal need to satiate his cravings.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
â oh chilchuck loves quickies, but definitely doesnt do them often. it's typically when he's far too pent up, then he wordlessly pins you against the nearest surface in the house to kiss you sloppily as his hands tug at your clothes with want and need
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
â he's not the risky type, but again, after some time together, definitely if you begged and pleaded enough, he's give in. but never to anything too extreme or dangerous.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
â chilchuck can last pretty decently, but prefers to go only one or two rounds. (his age is catching up to hi /j)
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
â if you had mentioned it around him, he'd have shyly gone and gotten some for you honestly. it was weird at first but he's come to love playing with you like that, teasing you and riling you up then mocking you afterwards
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
â :)) chilchuck likes being mean, he really likes being mean. whether it's physically teasing you by lightly touching you, running his hands over your thighs, or verbally teasing you by calling you names or being condescending, chilchick is going to be some form of mean one way or another
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
â the whimpererrrr the whinerrrr ! he's pretty loud, or rather, it feels like he's loud because every noise he makes is pressed against your skin, he's like whimpering against your ear or groaning against your shoulder.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
â its funny only to me but i like to think he's worried he will get erectile dysfunction because he's old lol
X = X-ray (letâs see whatâs going on under those clothes)
â again, like i mentioned w the kabru nsfw alphabet, ive never seen a actual penis before like even in pictures so i wouldnt even know how to properly describe it but i think chilchuck is big for a half-foot, which would be decently sized for a tallman
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
â hey u guys see that one post that said something something "what if half-foots fucked like rabbit" ? yeah ⼠(2) chilchuck has a pretty high sex drive, he's typically willing to do it with you whenever too. but you have to remember chilchuck is a pretty responsible and stubborn guy, so despite his high sex drive, if he tells you to wait then you'd have to wait
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
â falls asleep very quickly, but he gets quite clingy when he's tired, so chilchuck grabbing onto your arm and pressing his face against it, isnt really the worst way to end a night of sex
Ἅ cw: nsfw, petnames, bondage kink (mentioned)
â i need to take a break from work and just talk about my silly chilchuck nsfw headcanons and thoughts or i just might explode sooner or later... (plus everything is really messy lol, i might write these better in a proper fic >0<)
â MINORS DNI! â
i think chilchuck is dominant during sex, there's just something about his work ethic that makes him feel very .. goal-orientated, you know? he knows what he wants and he knows how to get what he wants.
he knows exactly what to do to get you riled up, to move pieces on a chessboard until you're cornered, check and mate. that being said, i think he's a bit of a tease too. he cant help it, he'd justify to you and himself, you're just too cute.
it was something about the way you looked, a pathetic expression with teary, pleading eyes, mouth just slightly ajar, hot breath heaving out of it, brows all scrunched up like you're trying really really hard to think straight;
or it might've been something with how your body reacts, the twitch and jolt of when he runs his ungloved hand down your spine in such a feather-light touch, the way your back would arc (as if instinctively, which drove him almost mad) whenever his fingers would ghost over the most sensitive parts of your body:
or really it might've been the way you sounded when he'd finally come around to do something more tangible, the hot and damp breaths that'd hit his skin when he has you pinned against the bed, the small whimpers when he'd intentionally slow down his pace just to tease you a bit more, the soft, honeyed, pleading way you'd call for his name.
oh, this man is mean. never anything serious, and never anything as far as degradation (in fact, i think he'd be the type to shower you with praise and sweet promises), but he really is mean.
he'd tease verbally (because, of course he would). he'd coo at you when you whine, a playful jab at your impatience as he moves to gently caress you with one hand as the other gingerly rubs against where you want him the most. he'd call you all sorts of names too, anything sweet to match how you are. "darling" and "sweetheart" are his favorites (though there are some petnames he'd keep out of bed, like "pumpkin" or "sunshine").
chilchuck loves telling you what a good job you're doing too .. taking him so well, being so good for him. it slips out so casually too, you don't even think he realizes he's saying all that. but praise from chilchuck is never half-meant. if he tells you you're being good for him, then you really are.
he'd get all handsy with you but keep his touch light, almost as if there were no pressure against you at all. he's precise with his hands like that, a gift he's earn from his years working on locks.
though when all is said and done, i think chilchuck values intimacy a lot during sex. it's never just an act to him or just for fun, some part of him is always going to find some semblance of sacredness in love making. he'd always make sure you're fine, comfortable, and enjoying yourself. as emotionally stunted as he is, he can never bring himself to just .. fuck around for fun. even on the extremely rare occasions he finds himself waking up naked in a stranger's bed, he could never really leave them at that. there'd be breakfast, small talk, anything to let them know he cares (though i find he'd be ... awkward about it .. not because of the situation, he's just like that)
but with his age... he's .. not very open with trying new things. if he were a bit younger sure, he can't deny he's thought about those things before, and he really can't deny that the thought of you tied up or restrained hasn't crossed his mind a couple of times. but to him, it feels like a bit too much work, he's fine with having you breathless and writhing beneath him. though if you were the one to suggest something he'd been thinking of, then who was he to deny you? (though expect some form of .. faux resistance. he'd try to save face after all, despite his very obvious flushed face)
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youâre a shy little thing that needs to be fucked. so you book enjin for some time. â cw ; multiple orgasms, dirty talk, mild degradation, praise
âya sure about this, sweetheart?â his voice came out rough, and worse, almost bored - like he just confirming an order at takeout window.
heâs leaning against your doorframe in a beige coat, arms crossed and eyes dragging over your body like youâre a price tag. it made you so uncomfortable that you wondered how impolite itâd be if you just pushed him out of your apartment.
ây-yes. i⌠i want to.â
âalright then. letâs see the money,â he smirked.
your hands trembled slightly as you handed him the envelope. wordlessly he took it, flipped through the bills. his brow raised when he saw the tip you tucked in.
âdidnât say you had to pay me extra.â
âiâi just thought, um, you should have it,â you mumbled. âsince⌠youâre doing this.â
enjin lets out a quiet, humorless chuckle. âdoinâ you, ya mean.â
your entire body locked up as heat flared and spread across your skin. your thighs pressed together. enjin saw it all. unfortunately so.
he jerked his chin. âlead the way. timeâs ticking.â
you nodded again and turned to walk towards your bedroom. he followed, golden eyes locked on the sway of your hips in that too soft and sweet little dress of yours.
shuffling inside you had no idea what to do next. somewhere youâve read that they didnât kiss. so, you sat down on the edge of the bed and folded your hands bravely in your lap. meanwhile enjin shrugged off his coat and tossed it on the chair like⌠he did that a few times. which he probably did.
âyou ever done this before?â he asked as he kicked off his boots.
you couldnât even look that man into the eyes and instead stared at the tattoo on his neck. you blushed and looked back to your lap.
âno, iâve neverââ
âfigured,â he interrupted. âyou nervous?â
ây-yeah.â
âyou should be,â he hummed and stepped between your knees. his hand reached for your chin to tilt your head up. âyou paid me to fuck ya, sweetheart. so unless youâve changed your fuckinâ mind iâm gonna give you what you paid for. got it?â
your breath caught.
god, that look in his eyes. he didnât care. you were just another client for him. but there was also something else - something sharper that assessed already how youâll sound when you broke for him.
before you could say anything or hide under the bed, he stepped back and started to strip. shirt first, exposing the heavy tattooed arms and chest along with the ink on his stomach. he was well trained. not too much muscles that wouldâve added to your anxiety. well defined abs had you staring and you wouldâve loved to know more about his ink.
you opened your mouth to ask, because maybe thatâd be a nice starter.
youâd ask, then touch it, then youâd have sex.
but then he pulled his pants and underwear down. and he revealed a cock so thick and long that you went speechless.
he was already hard - surprisingly so - and rolled a condom onto it.
âokay,â you murmured to yourself as you stood.
you also undressed without much spectacle and everything was so weird. the urge to hide thickened.
this was a mistake, you thought over and over again as you sat back down.
it only got worse.
enjin didnât ask what you liked. he didnât touch your tits as he nudged you so youâd lay down and then dragged you to the center of the bed. like you were nothing more than a pillow to fuck.
you gasped. your arms fluttered as you got comfortable. âwaitâjust, um.â
âiâm not gonna hurt you,â he muttered. âunless you want me to.â
you did not.
however, your face burned as he leaned over you. his chest barely touched your tits and still your nipples stood at attention. same that it got your pussy wet when he spread your thighs apart with his knee.
he reached down then and gave you the courtesy of rubbing his blunt head along your slit before it nestled all thick against your entrance.
âtry to relax,â he said. âwonât take long.â
he pushed in. your breath stuttered, more from the stretch itself than the pain. he was bigger than expected and he wasnât slow about it either as he fed inch after inch to you.
you grabbed the sheets and squirmed slightly from the intrusion. enjin watched you curiously, obviously trying to decide if youâre enjoying it or regretted everything.
âyouâre tight,â he muttered. âthought you said you wanted this.â
âi-i do,â you whisper. âitâs justââ
well. you couldnât tell him that he was the problem since he didnât do anything wrong.
he stilled. his eyes still searched yours and you swore you saw awareness and guilt flickering in his.
âyou ever had a guy inside you before?â he asked a bit softer.
âi did⌠years ago.â
wasnât this embarrassing? he must think you were boring. or frigid. or both.
for enjin it explained it. he braced himself on one arm and changed the angle. his thrusts became less intense and he focused more on the glide. he hummed as your lashes fluttered and lips parted in surprised.
âfeels good?â he asked.
you nodded. it definitely was an improvement and you got a little more wet. still you were trying too hard to enjoy it. your thighs shook so much from embarrassment and⌠you werenât sure.
bored enjin watched it all.
âyouâre cute,â he muttered to himself suddenly.
âhuh?â you blinked up at him.
âi mean,â he continued, fucking you with lazy, deep strokes, âfor a shy lil thing who paid for dick like itâs takeout.â
your face burned. no, your entire body did. but your cunt clenched around his dick, and he smirked.
âoh. so that does do something for you.â
his hips rolled more slowly and deeply now. intentional rubbing the sweet spot inside you that made you clutch the sheets tightly. your eyes fluttered shut as soft moans spilled from your mouth. you loosened up more, got more wet, and made it easier for him to fuck you.
âfuck,â he said. âyouâre soaked.â
you whimpered in return, and followed the urge as you try to hide your face against the pillow. instantly he snatched your chin and turned your face towards him again.
âdonât hide,â he growled. âi wanna see.â
your bottom lip trembled, and it shouldnât effect him. this was a job and you were just a client. but you looked up at him like he was more than just a hooker. more like he was the first man who ever really touched you and that did something to him.
âyou want me to make you feel good?â he asked roughly
you nodded.
âuse your words, sweetheart.â
âyes. please.â
his hand slid down between your bodies and it took him a second to find your clit. his fingers felt rough, but so so good. your entire body jolted from the pleasure.
âyou this sensitive from just a few strokes?â enjin hummed. âfuckinâ hell, baby. you were made to be fucked.â
you choked on a moan. he pounded deeper now while his fingers circled your clit. he still watched your face, how the embarrassment slowly faded and turned into ecstasy youâre too shy to admit.
âsay it,â he ordered. âsay you like it.â
âiâi like it.â
âsay you like being used.â
your breath hitched. âi like being used.â
that was it.
enjinâs controlled started to crack. his rhythm picked up harder, more intense. your body bounced beneath him, thigh quaking and eyes glossy with overwhelming pleasure.
his breath was hot on your ear as he leaned down to taunt you, âstill shy, princess? even while youâre clenching around me like youâre about to cum?â
you let out a soft, desperate noise. so close you were shaking, and that makes him grin.
âyou gonna cum for the cock you paid for?â he asked. âgonna soak it like a good little client?â
your walls fluttered and your legs tightened around his waist. hips bucking against the force of his thrusts. by now you were panting, clutching the sheets like theyâd save you if you just focused hard enough.
oh no. that wasnât gonna fly with him.
âuh-uh,â he clicked his tongue, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand. âdonât you fuckinâ dare hold back on me.â
your eyes went wide. âiâŚi canâtâenjin!â
âyou will.â his hips slammed into yours harder, deeper. âyou think i came all this way for you to hold that pretty little orgasm in?â
ân-no,â you shook your head.
âpaid good money, didnât you?â he snarled into your ear. âso cum, sweetheart. soak my cock. make it worth my time.â
the force of him, his filthy voice, his control. all of it tore through you.
you broke. you cried out. body spasming under him as the orgasm crashed through you so intense it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. it was loud. it was messy.
worst of all, it was so much better than you ever expected.
enjin watched you with dark satisfaction as he fucked you through the aftermath while your poor cunt clenched around him.
âfuck, didnât thought you had it in you.â
âme neither,â you whimpered and he chuckled.
and heâs still hard. still moving. still inside you, deep and full and relentless.
âcute thing like you should get used to cumming for me,â he rasped, dragging his lips across your jaw. âyou think this is over?â
you blinked up at him dazed and he gave your thighs a squeeze. he ground against you just right.
âitâs a flat rate, sweetheart,â he smirked. âi donât stop till the hourâs up.â
eyes went wide as you were still shaking. so fucking dazed from your first orgasm that still echoed through your body. you could feel your sticky thighs as you just made the most helpless, aroused noises.
enjin didnât give you a break.
he pulled out and flipped you around like you weighed nothing. he dragged you on all fours easily, your body was so pliant for him.
âcâmon, sweetheart,â he grunted, kneeling behind you, cock still thick and hard, glistening with your slick. âyou wanted the full hour, right?â
âi think i need a second,â you said all politely and protesting.
but then his chest pressed to your back and it felt so good and intimate, you arched your back. his hand slid to your front, palm wide against your stomach to hold you in place.
âyouâll be fine,â he breathed against your ear. âjust keep that pretty lil pussy open for me.â
he slammed every inch back into you. you cried out, high pitched. the angle was devastating. he was deeper, reshaping you from the inside out.
suddenly you understood the phrase ârearranging your gutsâ so much better.
rough fingers slid up, curling under your jaw and suddenly he got you by the throat. this was ownership disguised as paid fucking and you liked that a lot. without thinking much you rocked back against him.
âfuckinâ hell,â he hissed darkly. âlook at you.â
his pace was so filthy, so brutal. the slapping of your skin almost overshadowed your noises of pleasure. your body jerked forward and eyes rolled back.
god, you were thriving on this cock.
âyour sweet lil actâs slipping, baby,â he snarled, lips brushing your temple. âdidnât think youâd beg for it like this.â
you tried to form words. probably babbled something, but most of them melted on your tongue.
âthought youâd be quiet. thought youâd be polite.â his grip on your throat tightened and your heart stuttered. âbut now youâre moaning like a goddamn porn star.â
âen-enjin, pl-please.â
âyeah?â he snarled. âbeg again. beg like youâre gonna pay me to own you.â
your body convulsed. another orgasm crashed through you before you even realize it was coming. your legs collapsed, throat screamed raw. he held you up, still thrusting. like fuck heâd let you fall or hide now.
âyou gonna remember this?â he growled. ânext time youâre wet and lonely and thinkinâ about booking a nice, quiet boy to fuck you gentle?â his hand curled tighter around your neck. âyouâll think about me.â
you were limp beneath him. eyes glassy, lips trembling and drool running from them. you were barely upright, shaking with every thrust. every drag of his cock from behind splitting you wide open - no matter how hard your sweet cunt was clenching.
enjin wasnât done - not even close. he fisted your hair and pulled you up against his chest. your back was flushed tightly against his sweat-soaked torso. knees barely supported you and your breathing was ragged.
âthatâs it,â he breathed at your ear, almost giddy in its cruelty. âthatâs the face i wanted.â
you couldnât speak as you just moaned open mouthed and broken. his hand caught your jaw, turned your face towards the mirror across the room.
âlook at you,â he punctuated each word. âfucked stupid. paid me to break you, and now you donât even know what day it is.â
you stared.
you saw yourself.
face a mess of sweat and hair hanging in it. your mouth open, tits bouncing with every hard, punishing thrust. your thighs were as wet as your eyes and you were wearing his marks from where had grabbed you too tight.
but thatâs not what got you.
it was enjin behind you looking absolute feral. chest heaving and his tattoos flexing. that bored expression you saw before? gone. that man looked hungry.
âsee what you do to me?â he hissed, snapping his hips hard. âyou see what you fucking unlocked, sweetheart?â
you whined, nodding helplessly.
âyou thought this was just business,â he continued. âbut look at me. look at how fuckinâ hard i still am after making you cum twice. look at how i canât stop.â
you let out a strangled moan as another orgasm built, your body clenched down on him involuntarily. desperately you tried to stop it⌠like heâd let you.
âthatâs it,â he groaned loudly. âlet it hit you. fall apart. i want you gone, baby. i want you wrecked. ruined. cryinâ.â
he grabbed your throat again. his thumb brushed over your spit slick lips. you bit down, sucked. didnât know if it were appropriate, but he seemed to like it as his thumb pressed down on your tongue.
âcum,â he ordered, hips pounding into you so deep you feel it in your ribs. âfucking cum for me.â
you did. you obeyed. you were a good girl.
it hit you so hard you screamed. your legs gave out completely as your vision went white. body folding he had to catch you. his tattooed arm wrapped around your waist and his other hand came around to your hair.
he soothed. he fucked. he watched you through the mirror reflection like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
and all he could say with his voice wrecked and chest heaving. âfuck,â before he came hard. his groan long and pained as he filled the condom.
the shower was warm. steam curled around you. hands braced to the tile you tried to keep from sliding down. enjin stood behind you. his long fingers guided the the water down your back.
it should feel awkward, transactional. instead it felt safe and soft and quiet.
the trembling had stopped almost completely. but you were still flushed from heat and adrenaline. you slowly came back to life - a little confused.
âbut the hourâs up?â
enjin went still behind you. then quiet, short laughter escaped him like you had just asked if the sky was blue. âthe fuckâs your point?â
you glanced over your shoulder. he stood there in all his tattooed glory, but he wasnât looking at you. he was grabbing the body wash and started rubbing it into his chest like.. yeah, what exactly? like he belonged there and did it a hundred times already.
âi justââ you whispered. âi thought youâd leave?â
âwhat?â he snorted. âyou got somewhere to be?â
ân-no,â you shook the head.
âgood,â he reached around you and put his hand on your stomach. like before. âme neither.â
your heart thudded painfully. you didnât want to be delusional thinking you were special.
âyou didnât have to stay,â you murmured shyly.
his golden eyes finally met yours. they were a little unreadable as he just shrugged. âi wanted to.â
that was the truth. that wasnât part of the transaction too.
and suddenly you were really trembling. not from the sex, but from how seen you felt by him. this moment was real and enjin knew.
âhey,â he whispered and crowded you into the warm tiles with his chest. âiâm not going anywhere yet. so relax.â
his hand curled gently under your jaw to tilt your face up to him. âyouâre not just another client,â he murmured softly. âi donât fucking do this. i donât stay. so donât look at me like that.â
âlike what?â you whispered.
âlike iâm something good.â
you smiled and he cursed under his breath. turning away again he grabbed the shampoo, acting like this moment never happened. still, he held you. washed and cleaned you.
it took you exactly 83 seconds to fall asleep after the shower. on his chest - just like that. naked, boneless, your cheek smushed against his pec like it was your damn pillow.
you clung to him. fingers curled softly against his ribs and your breath caressed his skin, giving him goosebumps.
enjin stared at the ceiling like it had personally betrayed him. he should leave. fuck, he shouldâve left hours ago. shouldâve never stayed in the first place.
but here he was - flat on his back and smelling like her shampoo. he was so spent. never had cummed so good with a client.
it was only paid sex and yet that drooling little thing on his chest wore his damn heart already like it was yours now.
fuck fuck fuck.
âjust shove her off,â he thought. leave. say something. all he could do is staring at the ceiling, watching the fan spinning above them and think:
âiâm so fucking screwed.â
he had been with dozens of women. all shapes. all types. loud and wild ones. women who knew what they wanted and werenât shy about it.
but this one? you?
you were quiet and sweet and nervous. you whispered, you moaned politely. you looked at him like he wasnât just a dick on two legs. a sex god.
and now - after he fucked you so hard you could barely stand and would be sore by tomorrow - you just trusted him. fell asleep on him like he wasnât just a cold, shallow motherfucker.
without permission his arm moved around your waist so he could hold you a little closer. his fingers caressed your soft skin, needing to feel that you were real. all while you sighed softly, content where you were and burrowed deeper.
and enjin, the asshole who had broken hearts from women obsessing over him and broken bones from men that did him wrong, felt that throb behind his ribs. his heart stuttered and for the first time in a long, long times his voice became vulnerable as he spoke into the night.
âwhat the hell are you doing to me, sweetheart?â
of course he got no answer. the fan kept humming and your breath stayed warm and even. and there was this devastating ache of something he might not survive.
but he stayed, and when the morning would come heâd be still here by your side.
Ý ę° **** Replied to your story ęą â¸â¸ .á .
starring â Bunny Iglesias, Vivian Hugo, Alexis Ness, Oliver Aiku, Chigiri Hyoma, Reo Mikage
content + warnings â smau. crack. mentions of food in aikus part. mentions of death in bunny's part. google translate was used in hugo's part cus lush doesn't speak french soz â how would the bllk boys slide into the reader's dms.
an â chat how the hell do you spell hugo's name.....is it vivian or vivien....
part II (Michael Kaiser, Otoya Eita, Nagi Seishiro, Bachira Meguru, Karasu Tabito, Chris Prince)
part III (shoei barou, kunigami rensuke, noel noa, ryusei shidou, sae itoshi, sendou shuto)
Š Ęá´ęąĘĘá´É´ęąęąęą á´ęąá´ 2025, line dividers from; @/cafekitsune
hella impressed. looks you up and down a few times before making a comment. âfuuuck, youâre killing me. do you always look like that?â instantly realizes his comment might come off bad, then rephrases. âlook that good i mean.â crosses his arms, wearing a big, giddy ass smirk the rest of your conversation. his eyes find themselves wandering occasionally just so he doesnât miss out on your extra shine today.
rudo
extremely expressive. wide eyed, gobsmacked. â.. what the.â literally staring at you like youâre a goddess. you could ask him a question and heâs so absorbed in admiring your features that he doesnât even notice. when snapping back to reality, heâs completely red in the face, repeating his words and apologizing for zoning out like a broken record. âwhaâ i- yeah, i .. i agree? i- i think?â
zanka
completely thrown off to the point he gets all flustered and fidgety. makes attempts to pretend he isnât distracted, but immediately loses track of whatever you were saying, and just stares awkwardly for a few moments. â.. uh.. s- shit, what wereâya sayinâ?â subtly keeps looking your way. he regrets acknowledging the way you smile and look at him, because now itâs all he can think about.
gris
attempts to stay professional. stares for a bit before adjusting himself. heâs calm and collected, but his responses come slower. its obvious he canât focus properly. subconsciously finding himself staring more often than heâd like, mentally lecturing himself about it afterward.
tamsy
shifts his weight, eyes widening for a split second before regaining composure. if you call him out, he admits his fascinations. âi canât help but notice youâre looking quite nice today, arenât you?â he coos, tilting his head. twirls his hair in his fingers a bit while smiling at you as you continue on.
jabber
raises an eyebrow, then laughs it off immediately, muttering some vague shit loud enough for you to hear â âdamn! are you tryinâ to throw me off on purpose??â stares at you with a huge, freaky grin that shows he is no longer listening to what youâre saying, too busy watching your lips move as you speak (well, likely lecturing now)
( á´ÍËŹá´Í)ŕ´ op men reacting to you wearing lingerie . . .
a/n: every lingerie that you see has been directly taken and meticulously chosen from my pinterest board, have fun :3
â trafalgar law
torao wasnât the type to get surprised very easily, he was very unbothered with everything. but when he got under the covers to try and get some sleep, all of his tiredness seemed to have left his body, seeing how sweetly you were waiting for him in bed, looking at at him with big doey eyes. âwhat is this?â he asked, staring at the way the silk hugged your body perfectly and the lace on the top made you breasts look adorable. âi bought this yesterday, wanted to try it on.â you muttered shyly under your breath. his abs tensed and jaw clenched, torao was trying to hide the blush on his cheek that was now reaching the top of his ears. his hand started caressing the curve of your hip slowly as his eyes wandered over your body. suddendly, he flipped you on your stomach, unable to resist his urge any longer. ât-torao!â you squeaked. âshhh.â hands now fully grabbing your ass, uncovering it from the thin material that was keeping it away from him. he freed his hard cock from his pants, tip aggressively red and, little drops of precum adorning it. âkeep this on.â he hissed through his teeth with short breath.
â sir crocodile
âyouâre so naughty yâknow that?â he grinned, looking at the way your tits bounced up and down in front of his face. he didnât even bother to leave the cigar on the ashtray: he just found you on the bed playing with the little bow on your nightgown and immediately felt his dick harden up as his pants were suddenly tighter. he forced you to ride him, after all he loved looking at how your face looked when you tried to take all of his lenght, breathing sharply as he stuffed you up completely, little tears threatening to fall. âyou thought youâd get away from it wearing this?â he chuckled as he took a drag from his cigar. âthought you were smarter than this.â his hook under your chin, forcing you to look at him. âsâpretty like this.â he snapped his hips upwards, reaching so deep in you, making you scream desperately.
â sanji
as soon as he stepped into your shared room he found you sitting prettily on the edge of the bed, still tying the bow on your nightgown. he stood on the door, unable to speak, his cheeks violently turning red. âyou like it?â you exclaimed as soon as you noticed his presence. he closed the door behind him and slowly started walking towards you, he wanted to touch you, but stopped with his hand mid-air. âare you okay?â you asked worried, but he nodded straight away. âoh my god.â he managed to say. âyou look so beautiful, baby.â he was stunned but finally reached your collarbone and pushed you carefully on the bed, letting you lay on your back. you smiled, hand caressing his hair as he immediately pushed your legs open, keeping them apart with his hand. he looked up, making sure you were okay with it. of course you were, everytime sanji ate you out it was perfect. when his trembling tomgue reached your folds you lower stomach was flooded with that familiar sensation, you couldnât get enough of it. he licked them carefully, twirling his tongue on your clit and you instinctively arched your back, your feet resting on his shoulders. âso pretty, love.â
mahitoâs got this nasty habit of shoving a hand under your pants at the most random timesâhis misinterpretation of âpdaâ when you tried to explain the concept to him. in all honesty, itâs the gentlest form of sex heâs capable of, so you tolerate it.
right now, playing monopoly on the coffee table, you pretend to focus on your property empireâbut itâs a herculean effort with mahitoâs fingers rubbing your clit like a lucky charm.
âthe ueno zoo is mine,â he mutters, counting his play money. (heâs fixated on that spot; no one else gets why itâs so important to him) much to jogoâs disgust, the bills are sticky with your arousal, and heâs regretting being the banker. choso, predictably, wears the blank expression of neutral judgment. sighing, mahito plops the slick, sticky dice into jogoâs palm.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Ruggie with cuteness aggression. Ruggie who gnaws 'atcha before bed, unable to verbalize his want to cuddle. Ruggie who steals your trinkets, scaling your furniture to gain an unreasonable height advantage before dangling the thing delicately over your head; jump for it, you know you want toooooo. Ruggie snatching your hand away when it reaches to pet animals in the streetâ what's he even here for, looking pretty?? Ruggie curling up in your lap after work just to look at you. Ruggie Ruggie Ruggie
dryhumping megumi whilst you two are high!! (aged up)
âFuck.â You murmur, head lolling back. âhey gumi,â you find his eyes which, he seems to be completely out of it too. âhm?â he hums, practically crawls to you on the couch resting his head on your lap.
âWhere did you get this stuff from?â Your hand flies to his dark black hair, twirling it in your finger. You were nervous, youâve never had anything this strong. âUhh Geto, why?â He sits up, almost tumbling over.
âItâs soâstrong.â You feel your limbs go light as your neck tingles, âMegs im getting nervous.â He rests back on your lap. âGrab a bottle of water.âI didnât know you couldnât handle this âm sorry.â
You shake your head, dizziness taking over you. You nudge his shoulder. âI wanna do something else.â He snorts, and opens an eye at you. âLike what?â You usher him up, and crawl onto his lap. âThis.â He lets out a groan, hands immediately flying to your hips.
âShitây/n, are you sure? Thisâll help?â You can feel his hard on as you begin rocking onto him restless, your hands wrapped around his neck. Completely out of it. âMhm.â You feel your folds dive between his bulge and he groans, his head thrown back now. You leave kisses all over his neck before burying your head there.
His grip on your hips tighten keeping you in place as he bucks his hips up into your needy clothed cunt, you moan into his neck, biting and sucking at his sweet spot and he groans.
You were honestly starting to feel like a pilot, watching your body move and speak on its own. You never truly thought youâd do this with your childhood best friend, but here you are. The both of you riding out the high together.
âGumi.â
âHm?â
â âm gonna cumâ you murmur into his neck, and he tells you to look at him, that he wants to see your pretty face contort into pleasure. And so you do.
đŐ Ü¸.ËŹ.ܸŐđŚŻ
âIâm hungry,â you mention, you lie on megumiâs chest as you feel his hot breath on your hair. Your leg draped over him. He was sleep. âGumiiiiâ he stirs, âhm? what is it y/n?â You smile, âIâm hungry.â He rolls his eyes, âthatâs why you woke me up?â You nod, and he turns around completely disregarding you.
You fake hurt, âwowwwâ he smiles to himself, âput your shoes on.â
omg my fucking site where I read my bl on is BANNED like Iâm so doneđ itâs bato all over again..anyways I angels I need requests Iâm running out of ideas!!
thinking about megumi being all sleepy after a mission, but he's also so horny for you. he's spooning you, arms wrapped around your waist as he drives his hips against you. full of desperation. full of need. his hard cock pressing against your ass, megumi pushes his fingers into your mouth. "..suck." he'd whisper groggily into your ear, loving the way your mouth takes his fingers. he'd keep putting against you until he fell asleep or couldn't take it any longer.
ŕ¨ŕ§ megumi fushiguro loves it when youâre loud
megumi loves your voice more than anything.
youâre the only person he can sit and listen to for hours, the way you spoke and your tone was just so beautiful to him. he would always ask how your day was just to listen to you talk. in a way, it melted away the stress of his day just by listening to yours.
he preferred to call instead of text you, especially if he missed you. megumi was the type to sleep best in silence, until he met you. now when heâs away for several days, he canât get a good nights sleep unless youâre on the phone with him.
what he loves most about your voice is how beautiful your moans are. it always leaves his cock twitching violently in the confines of his pants, moaning sweetly in his ear while he fingered you. his enjoyment of hearing you would always be evident, a small patch of pre cum leaking through the fabric.
megumi always enjoyed pleasuring you because of it, hearing you moan his name over and over again while he fucked you always had him clenching his teeth to not cum too quick. he soon learned how to curl his fingers, what made you whine, your legs shake, how to rub your clit the way you like it, just to hear your pretty noises. you could even argue that he knows how to make you cum better than you know yourself, he loves to please you.
what he hates is when youâre shy about how loud you can get.
you always get embarrassed about getting âtooâ loud. opting to bite your lip or muffle your moans in a pillow or his neck., thatâs what youâre doing now. megumiâs got you in a mean arch, his hands firmly gripping your hips to pull you into each languid thrust. âyouâre squeezing soo tight around me, baby. fuck..â he groaned, cock pistoning into your sopping cunt and hitting your sweet spot with every stroke. you whined into the pillow, biting at the fabric to keep your volume down.
that proved to be very hard. he was fucking you so good, he always did, making the moans you fought so hard to keep down slip out anyways. âsweetheart, let me hear you. get your face outta the pillow..â he groaned, half in annoyance and half in pleasure. he always tried to coax you to be more vocal whenever you would have sex, cooing you out of your comfort zone, but you were just too shy. you let out a small whine, cock hitting deep in places you didnât even imagine possible as he traced a hand gently down your spine compared to his thrusts.
âdonât be like that..â he huffed between aroused breaths, hand coming down to squeeze your plush cheek, admiring the way you were obscenely coating his dick in your arousal. your eyes shut tighter, pleasure shooting through your whole body as you trembled beneath him. your walls spasmed around him, trying to suck him deeper every time he pulled back.
he just wanted to hear you, hear how good he was fucking you, for you to moan for him, scream his name when he made you cum. he was getting tired of hearing your moans muffled behind the pillow, each thrust growing harder than the last, desperately trying to get you to moan for him. you felt your eyes rolling back behind your shut eyelids, struggles increasing tenfold as his thrusts hit your sweet spot devastatingly as his hips clapped into backside.
your boyfriend knew that sometimes, you need to be forced out of comfort zone.
the hand that pressed against your back quickly trailed up to grip your hair, pulling your face out of the pillows. âlet me hear you.â he moaned, his demand almost sounding more like a plea. your back arched impossibly deeper, his strict tone unraveling something deep within you. your mouth dropped open, letting out a loud, drawn out moan from the new angle, finally moaning the way he wanted this whole time.
he let out a deep rumble of satisfaction, hips speeding up and pounding into your abused cunt. his cock twitched inside your warm slick walls, precum now leaking obscenely from his tip. his thrust grew messy, squelches tangling with your loud whines as continued to fuck you on his cock, your sweet moans spurring him on. âmmphâsound sâfucking pretty.â
his mumbled praises left you in a daze, your hips jutting back onto him to meet each stroke. âmegumi..fuck! you feel..â you whined loudly, clawing at the sheets below in an attempt to ground yourself, pleasure overwhelming you completely. âi know baby, i knowâŚfeels so good, doesnât it?â
you nodded half minded, not trusting your voice to give an actual response. he sped up his thrusts, letting go of your hair to kiss up your spine gently, getting lost in your sweet moans and your warm walls. he wrapped an arm around your midsection, hand reaching down to rub dizzy circles on your clit. âcanât speak? âs okay pretty girl. just let me keep hearing how good it is.â he said lowly in your ear, his voice a deep rumble as he kissed at the sensitive skin below your ear.
he could feel you getting close, slick walls pulsing and clenching impossibly tighter around his now sensitive cock. his pre cum began to dribble down your thighs. your moans grew higher in pitch, his fingers pushing you closer to the edge with his rhythmic thrusts. âclose? i can feel itâŚsqueezing me so fucking tight..â megumi mumbled between kisses planted on your neck. âcum for me.â
you did as soon as the words left his mouth, vision growing hazy as your intense orgasm left you shaking in his hold, whining his name almost directly in his ear. he fucked you through your orgasm, your cum dripping down his thighs and onto the sheets below as he chased his own, hips slamming into yours wildly as his cock tightened with his release. his cock twitched violently inside of you with a low groan, filling you up with warm spurts of his cum, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck through his release.
your face fell back into the pillow, body limp and worn as megumi trailed his hand soothingly down your back, leaving kisses on your nape. âsee? was that so bad?â he almost teased, hand palming your plush cheek as he waited for a response. you groaned weakly into the pillow, whining softly as he pulled out his softening cock.
itâs a normal day. youâre with your boyfriend, as usual, except heâs acting a little odd. not quite meeting your gaze, dark eyes staring at your lips.
âwhatâs wrong?â you look up from the ice cream he had offered you a minute ago. âsomething on my face?â
âyeah,â he murmurs. âiâll get it for you.â
and you expected him to maybe wipe your cheek with a napkin, or his thumb. anything but for him to lick a drop of melted mint chocolate ice cream off the corner of your lip. you blink as his cold tongue runs over you, sending a shiver down your body.
wait, cold? but he didnât eat any-
âhey!â you squeak. âwhatâre you-â
the audacity of him to smirk at you as he tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. flustered, you freeze, unsure of what heâs planning.Â
and then his lips meet yours and you gasp. the feeling was new: sharp, metallic, and utterly devastating.
he pulls back suddenly, breaking the kiss.Â
âwhaâŚhow?â you stutter. he sticks out his tongue at you. oh. you see it then, the silvery ball in between his tongue. the fucker got a tongue piercing behind your back.
âyou like?â your boyfriend grins wide.Â
instead of answering, you kiss him again.Â
âITOSHI RIN, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (bllk), gojo satoru, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ryomen sukuna (jjk), SASUKE UCHIHA, gaara (naruto), tartaglia, KAZUHA, wriothesley (genshin) + your favs!
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Sometimes the other demons at RAD felt jealous of the demon brothers. They could not understand how the brothers ended up with a master who was so kind and gentle, while some of them were stuck serving demons who were cruel, sadistic, and made them work nonstop without rest. It felt unfair.
They watched you closely and saw that you rarely gave orders. You only used that one loud command, âstay!â, when the brothers were fighting or about to destroy something. But most of the time, you were not a master to them at all.
They often saw you feeding Beel at Madam Scream, helping Lucifer with RAD errands, going along with Mammonâs silly plans even if they always ended in trouble, listening to Leviâs long anime talks, following Satan around the school grounds looking for a cat, brushing your hand through Belphieâs hair when he slept, and taking Devilgram photos for Asmo.
Watching all this made the lesser demons more jealous every day. What made it worse was how you were kind to them too. They didnât know if you were doing it because you were careful around them or because you didnât want to test their temper. You didnât talk much, but you were fair and easy to work with, and that was enough to make some of them quietly admire you.
Slowly, a few even started to develop feelings. Some wanted to make a pact with you, thinking it would be nice to have a gentle master for once. But they never got the chance.
The brothers, especially Mammon, stopped them every time. Mammon in particular was always glued to your side. And when they try, he always chased them away.
đ MDNI: A lot of dirty talk and praise, thigh riding, cock riding, Harry being â¨freakyâ¨, actual cuddling and cock warming (i think) at the end.
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You were curled up in his lap, arms slung around his neck, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder. Harryâs hands were splayed gently over your back, thumb brushing up and down in slow strokes. The dormitory was quiet. Everyone else had gone to bed.
Just you and him. Just warmth and wool and the soft scent of him. You shift to get comfortable.
One roll of your hipsâcompletely innocent. You were just trying to sit better, honest.
But Harry goes still.
He doesnât say anything. Doesnât move. Just quietly adjusts his legs, like heâs trying very hard not to react. You bite your lip, cheeks hot, and thenâ
âyou do it again.
Slightly slower this time. A little firmer. His thigh presses right where you wanted it.
âThought you wanted to cuddle,â he murmurs, voice low and a bit too smug, ânot hump my thigh.â
You freeze. And then, you feel him smirk against your skin. His hands slide down to your hips, fingers curling.
âNot that Iâm complainingâŚâ he says, lips brushing your cheek now. âBut if you wanted something elseâloveâyou couldâve just asked.â
Harryââ you mumbled, squirming a little in his lap, like maybe you could backtrack. Like you could pretend you werenât just grinding on his leg like it felt that good.
He hummed, chin tilting down to catch your eye. âYou are humping my thigh, yeah?â
You buried your face in his neck.
âThought so.â He was grinning now. You could hear it in his voice. âAll shy about it, too. Thatâs adorable.â
âI wasnâtââ You tried. Failed. âI just moved.â
âTwice,â he pointed out, shifting his leg just a little so it pressed more firmly between your thighs. The pressure made you suck in a breath. âYeah, thatâs what I thought.â
Your nails dug into his shirt, but you didnât move away. Couldnât.
Harryâs hands were slow as they slid back to your hips. Gentle. Coaxing.
âYou like it?â he asked, a little softer now. âRubbing on me like that?â
You nodded. Barely.
âYeah?â His thumb traced circles at your waist. âThen go on, sweetheart. Use me.â
Your breath caught.
âYou wanna be good for me, yeah? Show me how needy you are? Sâjust us here.â He kissed your jaw. âCâmon, ride my thigh like you mean it.â
And godsâyou did.
You rocked forward, slowly, thighs trembling as your clothed cunt rubbed against the firm muscle of his quidditch toned thigh. Harry tightened his grip on your hips, helping just a littleâguiding, lifting.
âThatâs it,â he murmured, breath warm against your ear. âSo pretty like this.â
Your pace stuttered.
âYou gonna come like this?â he whispered, voice low and rough. âGrind that pretty pussy against my thigh until youâre shaking for it?â
You whined.
âIâll take care of you after, love. Promise.â His voice was steady. Sure. âBut I wanna watch you fall apart first.â
And all the whileâhe didnât stop touching. Didnât stop talking. Just held you, close and steady, whispering how good you looked fucking yourself on him.
âFuck. Thatâs it, love. Make a mess on me, yeah? Be as loud as you want. No oneâs gonna hear. Just me. Just you.â
It was too much â but not enough. The pressure building low in your stomach coiled tighter with every slow grind of your hips, your panties dragging over the strong line of Harryâs thigh, slick soaking through the cotton and onto his skin.
Your hands fisted in his shirt, forehead pressed to his shoulder as your body started to tremble. It was happening too fast â too intense, too much â and Harry knew. Of course he knew.
âOh,â you gasped, a soft, desperate sound.
Harryâs grip tightened on your waist, anchoring you, guiding your hips in a steady rhythm. He kissed your temple, so soft and sweet â in contrast to how completely wrecked you were.
âThere it is,â he whispered, voice like warm honey. âThatâs it, sweetheart. Let it happen. Let go for me.â
You tried â gods, you tried â but the tension was unbearable, your thighs quivering as you chased it, jaw slack, lips parted in a silent moan.
Harryâs lips brushed your ear. âYouâre shaking,â he murmured, and you could hear the grin in his voice. âMaking the prettiest little noises. Bet you donât even realize.â
âHarry,â you whined, the pressure cresting â legs tightening around his, spine bowing. âIâI canâtââ
âYes, you can,â he murmured, voice reverent. âYouâre doing so good, baby. Just let go. Youâre safe, yeah? Iâve got you.â
That did it. Your whole body seized with a quiet sob of a moan, hips grinding down one last time as the orgasm hit â soft and shattering. You came like a wave breaking, trembling through it, breath catching in your throat as the heat rolled through you.
Harry held you through it. Kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear â so good for me, baby, look at you, fuck, youâre perfect â as you slumped forward, all soft and limp in his arms.
He was grinning. Absolutely beaming. Like Christmas had come early and you were the gift.
When you finally looked up, dazed and flushed and still shaking, he kissed your forehead and tucked your hair behind your ear with the gentlest fingers in the world.
âWas that what you needed?â he asked, smug and stupidly fond.
You couldnât answer â just nodded, boneless in his lap.
Harry laughed softly, kissing your cheek. âYou came on my thigh, sweetheart,â he said, sounding positively delighted. âYou gonna be able to look me in the eye after that?â
You groaned and buried your face in his neck again.
Your breath had finally begun to slow, your trembling thighs relaxing bit by bit as Harry held you close â one hand stroking your back lazily, the other still resting on your hip like he didnât want to let go.
âYou okay?â he murmured, lips brushing your temple.
You nodded, flushed and warm and boneless, cheeks pressed to his neck. âYeah. Just⌠give me a second.â
Harry chuckled â that low, raspy kind of laugh that let you feel it in your chest. âTake all the time you need, sweetheart. Not rushing you.â
You stayed curled in his lap for a moment, breathing him in. Thenâ
âYou did just ride my thigh so sweetly,â he added, voice a little lighter now, teasing. âCouldnât help thinkingâŚâ
You lifted your head slowly, narrowing your eyes at the look on his face.
That grin.
That infuriating, soft, adoring grin.
âWhat?â you asked warily.
Harryâs hands smoothed down your sides, featherlight. âJust thinkingâŚâ he said again, dragging it out. âYou rode my thigh like it was the best thing youâd ever felt.â
You flushed hard.
âSo,â he went on, a little more smug now, âwhat about riding something better?â
He shifted his hips just slightly, and you felt him â hard beneath you, warm and pressed right up against the soaked fabric of your shorts.
Your breath hitched.
Harry tilted his head, eyes sparkling. âCâmon, love,â he murmured, coaxing. âYouâve already made a mess. Might as well make another.â
He leaned up, kissed the corner of your mouth. âWanna take your time with me?â he whispered, hand sliding between your thighs to stroke you gently through your shorts, soaked through. âGo slow⌠ride me nice and sweet?â
You whimpered.
Harry grinned wider â like he already knew you were going to say yes.
âYeah?â he asked, voice low and fond. âThink you can be a good girl and take it at your own pace?â
You nodded â a little shy, a little eager â and Harry kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world.
âGood,â he said. âLetâs get these off, then. And you can show me just how good you feel.â
Your fingers fumbled a little as you shimmied out of your shorts, legs still wobbly from earlier. Harry leaned back just enough to push his own pants down, not even bothering to take them off completely â just far enough for you to sink down into his lap.
And oh, you do sink.
Nice and slow. The stretch makes your jaw go slack, a shaky little breath catching in your throat as he fills you inch by inch easily, coating him in your slick.
Harryâs breath stutters too, head falling back against the pillows for a second. âFuck, loveââ
But you donât move.
You just stay there â warm and full and still â hands braced on his chest, breathing heavy.
Harry cracks one eye open. âYou alright?â
You nod, lips parted, flushed and dazed. âMhm.â
He gives you a moment.
Another.
You donât move.
âNot that Iâm complaining,â he says, grin tugging at his lips, âbut I thought you wanted to ride me.â
âI did,â you mumble, breathless. âI am. I justâneed a second.â
He snorts. âYouâre literally just sitting on my cock.â
âExactly.â You blink at him, completely serious. âYour thigh was a lot, okay? That was like⌠cardio.â
Harry loses it â full-body laugh, head tossed back, hands coming up to cradle your hips.
âMerlinâs sake,â he wheezes, grinning. âMy poor girl.â
He shifts under you a little, and you whine, the movement making him slide even deeper.
âYouâre adorable,â he murmurs, kissing the underside of your jaw. âBut if youâre too tiredââ
âIâm not too tired,â you argue, a little pout in your voice. âI just need help.â
Harry raises an eyebrow. âHelp, huh?â
You nod again, shameless now. âYou do the work. Iâll just⌠sit pretty.â
He huffs a laugh, hands gripping your hips tighter. âSit pretty. Right.â
Then he rolls his hips up â slow and deliberate â and your eyes flutter.
âAlright then, sweetheart,â he says, voice dropping. âIâll take care of you.â
And oh, does he.
He rocks into you again â deeper this time, a little firmer â and your breath hitches, hands curling tighter in the fabric of his shirt. Youâre still trembling from earlier, flushed and overwhelmed, but all you can do is sit there and take it while he moves beneath you.
âYou feel so good,â you whisper, dazed.
Harry groans, hands gripping your hips tighter. âYeah? That right?â
You nod, eyes fluttering. âSâso deepâŚâ
âFuckinâ hell,â he breathes, dragging his cock out slowly, only to push right back in, making you whimper.
âThatâs it,â he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. âLet me do it, yeah? Just sit there, pretty thing. Let me fuck you nice and slow.â
You whine, chest rising and falling against his, your arms sliding around his neck as he keeps thrusting up into you, steady and sure. One of his hands leaves your waist to cradle the back of your head, thumb brushing soothingly behind your ear even as his hips move with filthy intent.
âGod,â he groans, like he canât help it, âyouâre so tight like this.â
Your head falls forward, forehead pressed to his. âHarryâfeels so good. You feel so good.â
He swears under his breath, hips snapping up a little harder now â not rough, but hungry. Needy.
âI can feel you clenching,â he pants. âJust from me talking to you, huh? You like when I do all the work, donât you?â
You nod, helpless. âMhm.â
âCourse you do,â he whispers, breath ghosting your cheek. âMy perfect girl. Just wanna get fucked stupid and say I feel good.â
âYou do,â you moan. âYou feel so good.â
âFuck,â he mutters, voice breaking. âYouâre gonna make me come like that.â
You whimper, thighs shaking around him.
He kisses you â messy and desperate â still rocking up into you, his cock sliding so deep it knocks the breath from your lungs.
âYou gonna come for me again, sweetheart?â he whispers, voice thick with heat. âJust like this? Letting me do everything?â
You can barely nod, so you mumble it into his neck: âPleaseâwant to.â
Harryâs grip tightens, a guttural noise escaping his throat. âYeah. Gonna make you come again. My sweet girlâfuck, just keep telling me how good I feel.â
You can feel him trembling beneath you â not from effort, but from you. From the way your arms wrap loosely around his neck, how you press your chest to his and kiss him like youâve got all the time in the world, even as he keeps fucking up into you with lazy, deliberate thrusts.
Itâs the kind of kiss that makes him groan into your mouth. The kind that makes his fingers dig into your hips like he needs you to stay right there.
âMerlin,â he mutters against your lips, voice low and frayed. âYouâre gonna drive me mad.â
You hum â soft, pleased â and kiss him again. A little deeper this time. A little slower. Like youâre trying to make him feel every bit of how good he makes you feel.
And it breaks him.
His pace falters for half a second, hips stuttering as he lets out a quiet, wrecked laugh.
âOh, you like this,â he breathes, forehead resting against yours. âLike just sittinâ there, lettinâ me do everything while you kiss me like that.â
You smile, lazy and sweet. âMhm. Sâperfect.â
Harryâs jaw tenses. âYouâre unreal.â
His hand slides up your spine, cradling the back of your head, like he canât bear not to be touching you. His other hand grips your hip tighter, guiding you down onto him as he thrusts up â slow, deep, filthy.
You moan quietly into his mouth, clinging a little tighter.
âI can feel you,â he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. âAll warm and wet and perfect around me.â
Your hips twitch, unintentionally meeting him halfway â and he groans, full-bodied and ragged.
âFuck, love, donât do thatâmânot gonna last if youââ
You cut him off with another kiss, and Harry swears under his breath, his whole body tensing.
âGod, you kiss me like you know what youâre doing,â he mutters against your lips. âLike you know Iâm gonna come just from this.â
You smile against his mouth. âMaybe I do.â
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and the look in his eyes â wrecked and adoring and a little wild â nearly finishes you.
Youâre breathless, lips swollen from kissing him, arms wrapped tight around his neck like you never want to let go. And maybe you shouldnât speakâmaybe itâs dangerous, given how close he isâbut you do anyway, soft and whiny, right against his ear.
âHarry,â you whisper. âTouch me too?â
He freezes.
For a second, he doesnât move, doesnât breathe. Then he leans back just enough to look at you, eyes wide, pupils blown.
You nod, cheeks hot, lips parting like you might apologize for askingâbut he doesnât let you. He laughs. Low and rough and so fond it hurts.
âYouâre unreal,â he mutters, kissing you again, all teeth and tongue this time. âSo fuckinâ greedy, sitting pretty on my cock, kissing me like that, and now you want more?â
You mewlâsoft and needyâand Harry groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rocks up into you harder.
âGod, I should say no,â he pants. âShould make you wait. Youâve already got me losing my bloody mind.â
But his hand is already moving, slipping between you, fingers brushing against your clit like he has to give you what you want.
âCanât say no to you,â he breathes, voice rough. âNot when you ask so sweet.â
You cry outâquiet, but wreckedâas he rubs slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The dual sensation hits hard, sharp and fast, and your nails dig into his back.
âThatâs it,â Harry groans, watching you, desperate and glowing. âFeel good, yeah? Getting everything you asked for?â
You nod, whimpering his nameâand he nearly loses it right there.
âGreedy little thing,â he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jaw. âBut youâre mine. And Iâll give you whatever you want.â
The pressure built fastâtoo fastâwith Harryâs fingers rubbing soft and steady circles on your clit and the thick drag of him inside you, slow but so deep it knocked the breath from your lungs.
Your mouth fell open. A gasp, a sob, a whisper of his name.
Harry groaned, jaw tight, one hand braced on your waist as he rocked up into you, the other still working between your legs. âThere you go, sweetheart,â he panted. âCome for meâjust like that. Let me feel it.â
You shattered with a soft cry, burying your face in the crook of his neck, trembling as the wave hitâwarm and deep and dizzying. Your walls clenched around him, tight and pulsing, and Harry cursed low under his breath.
âFucking hell,â he rasped. âYou feelâJesusâfeel so good when you come.â
You were still clinging to him when he tipped over the edge, hips jerking, burying himself deep with a broken groan. His hand fisted in the sheets beside your head, and he held you thereâflush to his chest, still trembling slightlyâas he spilled inside you.
He didnât move right away.
Just breathed against your skin, a little wrecked, a little in awe.
Eventually, you shiftedâjust enough to wrap your arms tight around his shoulders again. Your body stayed pressed to his, your thighs trembling around his waist, but you made no move to pull away.
Harry blinked, dazed. âLove?â
âMmm.â Your cheek rested against his. âStay. Feels nice.â
He huffed a breathless laugh, still buried inside you, and felt the edges of your mouth curl against his neck.
âYou mean that?â he murmured. âWant me to justââ
âYeah,â you mumbled, already sounding half-asleep. âJust⌠cuddle me.â
Harry smiled, wide and disbelieving and so soft it hurt. He shifted just enough to reach for the blanket tangled at the foot of the bed, pulling it up over both of you before tucking you closer.
You sighed, melting against him.
He was still hard, still inside you, and somehow, somehow, that made it even sweeter.
âIâm obsessed with you,â he whispered into your hair, not quite meaning to say it out loud.
You didnât answerâbut the way you held him tighter said enough.