everybody do the mitski shuffle!!

“you need to have fun.” he raises his eyebrows, he speaks the words softly but you know the intent behind them is firm. “you’re a beautiful girl, you’ve got the world in your palm. don’t let a relationship while you’re young tie you down.”

you want to open your mouth to answer but before you get the chance, you’re interrupted by the sound of mitsuya swinging himself around the corner. “smiley’s in here talkin’ shit about you not finishing the tournament.”

“i’m coming.” you quickly reply, hoping he’ll go away, but he doesn’t. you hop off the counter to follow after him, chewing at the inside of your cheek in frustration.

“two years.” you hear shinichiro speak from behind you and you spin on your heels. “in two years, if you’ve had all the fun you can handle and still want to get married, i’ll be here.”

there’s a smile on your face before you realize it’s there. “you’ll wait for me?”

“i don’t have anything else to do.” he shrugs and you don’t comment on how he doesn’t come off nearly as cool as he probably thought. “just workin’ at the shop.”

you nod, ignoring the calls of your name from the other room. “and cooking meals for us,” you add on, taking another step towards the living room before calling from behind the wall. “like what you’re burning right now.”

“shit—” you wish you could’ve seen his eyes go wide, and you nearly go back to fawn, until another call of your name rings off the walls and your already thin patience dissolves.

“i’m fucking coming!”

/ / /

“is it even unlocked?” you huff, irritated by the summer night’s heat as you walk in front of your two closest friends towards the all too familiar bike shop.

“should be, he said he’s hanging out with his old friends.” mikey answers.

“you should not be saying that.” draken laughs, and you know it’s meant as a shot at you.

“i only have a thing for shin’, not all old men.” you tsk.

“didn’t you tell inupi that he didn’t meet your age requirement?” draken teases but mikey is far from amused.

“my brother is not old, you—“ the shorter one starts.

“oh, it’s open.” you cut him off as you swing the door and to avoid his annoyed expression you rush inside. “shin’!” you sing, practically skipping through the bike shop looking for the man in question.

“slow down!” draken chides from behind you, muttering something about you knocking something over.

“why do you get to be the first one to say hi? he’s my brother.” mikey adds on and all you can do is laugh as you enter the hallway to the office near the back where the light shines under the door.

“‘cause he likes my face better than yours,” you swing the door open, sticking your tongue out at mikey. “obviously.”

it takes you a full minute to process who it is in front of you when you finally look and once you do, your jaw all but drops. through all the time you’ve spent as mikey’s friend, all the years you’ve followed shinichiro around, you’ve only caught glances of the old higher ups from the first generation of the black dragons. and aren’t they a sight to see.

shinichiro pulls you from whatever thoughts were forming as you eyed the other older men with a greeting.

“mikey messed up something on his bike.” you blurt, biting your lip to keep anything else from leaving your mouth. you point with your thumb towards the boys who have come to stand behind you, only to have the one you named slap it down.

“she did it, not me.”

you scoff at his lie, elbowing him to earn a nudge that sends you stumbling forward.

“i’ll look at it.” shinichiro pushes himself from where he’d been leaning against the desk, looking over to his white haired friend. “benkei, come pull the garage open?”

you watch him cross the room with hearts in your eyes, leaning into the door so your shoulder is pressed flat against it. you catch sight of his silver chain glinting in the low light, his black shirt only making it more prominent. you start to back out of his way alongside mikey, but the blonde doesn’t allow you to pass the door frame.

“you’re not gonna talk about how hot my brother is the whole time,” he pushes you back in the room, turning away and telling you from down the hall to, ‘go sit down.’

“my friends don’t bite.” shin’ smiles a promise and it comforts you slightly, especially when you catch his scent as he passes by—but not enough to turn around and face them. not until the door closes in your face and you can feel the burn of stares on your back.

“we really don’t bite,” is spoken from the couch following the sound of a lighter flickering.

“okay,” is all you manage back, awkwardly. you avoid looking at them in favor of staring at the spot where shinichiro had been leaning as you approach it.

“you shin’s girl?” makes you giggle as you hop up on the cold wood, thankful for the contrast to the warmth of your skin. but you still bite your lips, looking up at them as you debate how to reply.

maybe the whole first generation of black dragons were attractive, you think. surely draken couldn’t have been right about you just having a thing for older men. your eyes drag from the long-haired man with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen to the more rugged one with a unique dye job of his own. you surely knew their names… somewhere in your mind.

“nah,” is what you settle on, shrugging. “not yet.”

the longer haired one says your name like something about your response made something click for him. “he said somethin’ about you before.”

you nod slowly, curiosity suddenly eating at you but like always, you’re interrupted before you can pry.

“been havin’ fun?” the one you’re starting to realise is akashi asks another question, and you only shake your head. maybe shinichiro told them about your deal. they were some of his oldest friends, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to believe. “you smoke?”

“oh no, not tobacco.” you shake your head, wrinkling your nose at the memory of how it’d tasted when you’d taken a hit from hanma shuji’s cigar months back.

“c’mon,” he calls you to the couch with a wave of his hand, watching intently as you hesitate, looking towards the closed door. shinichiro wouldn’t leave you with them if they would hurt you. slowly, you make your way to stand in front of him. he leans his head against his shoulder to blow the smoke away from your face when you stop, giving you a view of his defined jaw and that scar running down his cheek.

“one hit won’t hurt.” he looks back at you and holds the cigarette up for you to grab. with shaking fingers, you take it from his fingers. you can practically taste the smoke off of his scent alone. he reeks like a chainsmoker but somehow it’s not enough to make you repulsed.

“you’re such a pretty lil’ thing,” he mutters, leaning forward and reaching out with rough fingers to skim up the side of your thigh as you take a short drag. “it’d be a shame not to show you a good time while we got ya.” your face burns at the touch, and whatever expression you make from the unexpected words mixed with the sting of nicotine hitting your chest makes him chuckle. “that’s if you can handle it.”

you cough out the smoke, quickly moving the cigarette away from where it pollutes your air. “i can handle a lot,” you say coolly, grimacing at the aftertaste. “cigarette smoke just isn’t on that list.”

he chuckles and reaches to grab the cigarette from your hold. or so you thought, his hand instead wraps around your wrist, pulling you down gently to straddle his lap.

despite his gentle guiding, you manage to be clumsy enough that ashes are dropped on the top of your thigh— the burning cherry falling with it making you suck in a sharp breath, hand twisting into his shirt and eyes fluttering shut all the same. he hums and apologizes under his breath, adjusting you on his thighs as he reaches around you to the coffee table for his lighter— his chest pressing up against yours and free arm wrapping around the small of your back to secure you in the process.

“‘ll be more careful with ya, promise.” his stubble brushes against your neck as he leans back against the cushions, fingers fumbling against the plastic and the other trying to be delicate not to break the paper. you’re not sure where the confidence comes from, but you grab the lighter from his hold and flicker the flame for him, not once breaking eye contact as he places the butt back between his lips and leans in to catch the fire. your hand falls after the flame dies, watching him take a drag as your own breath gets caught in your throat when his free hand starts to dance up the side of your body.

once he finishes inhaling, he licks his lips and you feel something heat in the pit of your stomach at the sight—shinichiro wants you to experience being young and wild, surely he wouldn’t be mad if it was with his friends. smoke is blown across your face and before you have a moment to react, the hand at your side wraps around your jaw and holds it, but doesn’t pull you forward—you move on your own.

you press your lips into his and the taste of his tongue makes you whine before you adjust to it, your hands moving from where they’d fallen limp to wrap around his neck. the hold on your face disappears and then you feel the same rough palm gliding under your skirt, squeezing at the soft give of your ass. his mouth moves from your own, down to your neck where you shiver at the way he seems to find all your most sensitive spots with ease, sucking and licking at them. you’re so lost in the feeling that you don’t even notice when he moves his hand again, not until his thumb is pressing at your clit through your panties making you let out a soft whisper of a curse and you’re bucking your hips into his touch.

so caught up in how akashi consumes your senses, it takes far too long to recognize the other man’s hand— the man you’d completely forgot was still lingering in the room—is tugging at the end of your skirt.

“c’mere.” imaushi speaks low, his gaze dragging from your chest back up to your eyes before trying again to beckon you over with a nod of his head and even as akashi pulls from where he’d likely been putting marks into your skin, you hesitate. “it’ll be fun.” he finally convinces you and with akashi’s help, you’re crawling off his lap only to realize with a flushed face that you’re now stuck between them on your hands and knees.

the long-haired man’s hands are much softer in comparison to those trailing along the backside of your thighs. imaushi wraps his hand under your jaw the same way akashi had done, and you realize that he also waits for you to close the gap between the two of you on your own. low eyes glancing between yours and your likely swollen lips until you reach to connect with his.

his lips are softer than akashi’s, you note, his tongue sweeter. he moans lightly as you suck on the muscle, his grasp loosening in favor of wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you in closer. behind you, akashi thumbs over your slit, pressing the wet fabric deeper into your folds with each pass. you’re sure you make a noise when he starts to circle at your clit, one that imaushi mimics tauntingly before he pulls your shirt up, using the hand not pinning you to him to slide under your bra and tweak at your nipples.

one of akashi’s hands work your underwear to the side, a low “shit, baby” falls from his mouth and he mimics his same movements, teasing your clit and entrance until you’re making an even bigger mess for him, the sound of him gliding through your slit obvious in the otherwise quiet room. the need to have them do something— anything else becomes overbearing.

“stop teasing,” nearly comes out as a whisper when you pull from the kiss. but you know they both hear you because imaushi looks past you to where his friend is sitting and they both laugh shortly at your expense.

“not teasin’, pretty.” the man infront of you turns his hold so his thumb is under the side of your jaw, the rest of his fingers wrapper around your throat. “we don’t rush things like the little boys you run ‘round with.”

and as to prove his point, akashi pushes a single finger into you, taking his time to press it against your softest wall that he didn’t have to guess to find. if not for it being held up, you’re sure your jaw would drop as the high whine vibrates through your throat. another is added and you’ve lost a sense of where you are, your eyes roll back and you’re pushing your hips to try and force his pace but the hand that you know is holding his still lit cigarette grabs the fat of your ass, holding you in place for him to fuck his fingers into you how he sees fit.

you can hear the sound of imaushi undoing his pants below you but you don’t register why until he brings his mouth to your ear. “spit on it for me, princess.”

obediently, you do, moving with shaking arms to pucker your lips and drop spit onto the head of his cock. when akashi adds the third finger, your arms completely give out and imaushi’s hold isn’t as strong as you’d thought because you fall right onto his lap. you can’t complain, not with the pleasure coiling in your stomach, added with the sight of him pumping his length with your spit coating him.

“how you feelin’, lil’ baby?” the words float from the other end of the couch.

“s’good, ‘kashi, fuck.” he curls his fingers and pushes them deeper than before on your last word making you squeal.

“takeomi,” he huffs and you feel the weight by your feet shift. you’re sure you’d be able to pick up the sound of him unzipping his own pants but imaushi’s hand distracts you with a guiding push towards his now fully hard cock.

you’re granted the sight of his lean abdomen when he slides his own shirt up away from where his dick rests against it. “‘nd call me waka, yeah?”

you mumble out an, “‘kay, waka,” but it’s swallowed by the gasp you make when akashi presses the thick head of himself against your entrance. “‘omi, ‘omi fuck—“ he’s easily bigger than anyone you’ve taken, in girth at least.

“s’wet.” he sucks in a breath as he pushes in slowly, holding your skirt out of his way as he pulls back after every inch he sinks in to ease himself into you. “this for us old men, little thing?”

you moan a sweet ‘mhm’ though your face burns in embarrassment. you force yourself onto your forearms and wrap your lips around imaushi’s cock, the taste of salt diminishing the thought. later you’d think about how pretty his dick was, from the pink of the tip to the veins running along the shaft— veins that you now tongue at while you take more into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and moaning around him when akashi pushes even more of his thick cock into you and you’re starting to wish you would’ve taken the extra prep he’d been trying to do.

“what a mouth.” is grunted from above you and you wouldn’t believe the deepness in his tone if you weren’t hearing it for yourself. akashi chuckles shortly from where he’s kneeled when he feels you clench around him at what one can hardly call praise.

it’s when he finally bottoms out that his ashes fall on your skin once again, this time on your ass and you choke around the tip hitting your throat when the cherry burns you yet again, making you jump from where your hips were pressed to his.

“dirty girl.” akashi shakes his head knowingly at the way you tighten around him again. “‘nd i was so worried ‘bout hurtin’ you.”

“she like that?” imaushi asks with the most amusement you’ve heard from him tonight, which is still closer to none. but you don’t hear if he gets an answer because akashi winds his hips back and starts fucking into you— the pace isn’t brutal, but is far faster than the one he’d used while fingering you.

you try to bob your head but it’s no use when you’re forced down onto imaushi with each push of the clothed thighs behind you until you can’t breathe anymore and you have to pop off of him. your head falls back on his thigh and your nails come to dig into the fabric of his dark jeans.

“you’re good,” imaushi coo’s, grabbing your hand from his lap and using it to jerk himself off as your eyes flutter. “just be good ‘nd feel good for us.”

it’s all too much, the ecstasy they give you that you’ve never even brought yourself to, how they’re fucking you out farther than you’ve ever been, all while still treating you like glass. it makes your head spin, tears welling in your eyes as the knot in your stomach winds so tight it’s starting to fray.

“‘m close, s’close—fuck, fuck—“ you try to reach beneath you with your free hand, but akashi bats it away.

“c’mon baby, don’t insult me like that.” one of his rough hands reaches around your hip, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingers and sends you tumbling over the edge.

all you see is white as the hot static flows through your limbs, the curses escaping both the older men lost over the sound of your own broken moans. their names mix together, whined softly like a prayer repeated again and again as akashi fucks you through your high, groaning as his grip tightens into your plush skin at the way your pussy pulses around him.

“feel so damn good,” his own voice sounds worn and you let out a whimper. “‘gonna take it for me?”

you only have a clue at what he could mean but you nod and babble out ‘yes’ and ’please’ before you truly give it any thought. his speed picks up, but somehow still as gentle as he shove his cock so deep its painful and paints your walls white. it sends your eyes rolling back again just from the sensation.

“shiiiit— put your tongue out f’me, princess.”

it’s a heart racing sight to see how imaushi stares at you with parted lips, chest heaving as he throbs in your palm. you loll your tongue out just as he asked and he nearly instantly shoots his load on it with a silent moan, one that only becomes audible when you lick at his slit before swallowing what coats your tongue.

you’re floating as you’re straightened up by sturdy hands, a different set of hands massage soothingly at your thigh when you’re back upright.

“keep tryin’ with shin’.” akashi scoots to closer, letting you fall and lean into his side, one heavy arm resting along the back of the couch as the other put his nearly gone cigarette back between his lips. “he’s bound to give in.”

“”nd if not, just put it on him.” imuashi squeezes the fat of your thigh as he adds on. “he won’t be able to say no.”

all you can do is smile dumbly and nod. you’re so close to drifting off after such an orgasm and the way they speak so lowly from either side of you nearly lulls you to sleep. the only other thing you can remember before you fall into unconsciousness is the music playing from inside the shop— you wonder how long it’s be on, and why it’s so loud.

you miss shinichiro who finally comes back into the room after keeping everyone out of the hallway after he’d caught sound of your moans. miss the small rise of the corner of his mouth when he sees you all tuckered out and disheveled, the way you snuggle into akashi’s chest and push your leg into imaushi’s hand when he stops massaging at it for even a second.

“she have fun?” he asks his friends as he passes behind where you’re sat, palm falling to rub the top of your head.

“‘course she did,” imaushi answers.

“don’t get stingy when you finally put a ring on it.” akashi blows his smoke opposite of you. “even married women should have fun.”

feedback + reblogs are appreciated <3.

TEASER

Your friends often called you a snob for this, but you didn’t care.

You can tell immediately how much someone paid for their bedsheets by how soft they feel. When the thread count is high there is no itchiness. No weird lint balls. No flimsy fabric.

Just smooth, plush cotton that made it nearly impossible to get out of bed.

So when your alarm pulls you out of your slumber, and the sheets beneath you don’t melt around your body the way they usually do, you instantly know something is off.

Blindly, you reach toward your nightstand, head heavy from too many glasses of wine you’d had the night before.

But somehow your hand keeps coming up empty, swatting at nothing but air.

Huh?

Popping one eye open, you suck in a breath as your head spins, the insistent alarm doing absolutely nothing to soothe the headache splitting your skull in two.

“Fuck,” you groan, pressing the heel of your palm into your temple , forcing yourself upright.

That’s when you notice it.

The room.

Minimalist furniture. Dark wood floors. A massive window casting morning light across the bed.

None of it belongs to you.

Great.

Slowly, you lift the blanket, revealing the one thing you hoped not to.

Your nudity.

“Oh, this is not happening right now,” you mutter in disbelief, irritation steadily seeping into your bones.

Never in your life have you slept over at a man’s place. Not once.

You are a grown woman with your own apartment, your own routine, and a firm belief that post-hookup sleepovers were a fast track to unnecessary emotional attachments.

The dick couldn’t have been that good.

A loud snore cuts through your spiraling thoughts.

Slowly, you turn your head towards the other side of the bed, revealing a man beside you. He’s sprawled across the mattress like he owns the place, which, judging by the apartment, he probably does.

His bare, pale chest rises and falls steadily, hands tucked behind his head while dark strands of hair fall messily across his forehead. His lips are parted slightly as he snores, the sound surprisingly loud for someone so… attractive.

Annoyingly so.

Sharp nose. Full lips. Broad shoulders. Long legs disappearing beneath the sheets.

You squint at him for a moment, trying to jog your memory through the hangover-induced fog.

Nothing.

Not the bar. Not his name. Not how you got here.

All you have is the dull ache between your legs and the faint scent of cologne lingering on the sheets.

Well.

That answers one question.

With a quiet sigh, you carefully slide out of bed, wincing when your feet touch the cold floor.

Your dress is crumpled near the foot of the bed. One heel tipped over beside it, the other halfway under the nightstand.

As you bend down to gather everything, something gold catches your eye.

An empty condom wrapper. XL.

You stare at it for a long moment, breathing heavily through your nose.

Quietly, you start getting dressed, glancing over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure the stranger is still asleep.

He hasn’t moved. Still completely unaware that the woman he spent the night with is currently conducting a silent evacuation.

So invested in getting the fuck asap, you don’t watch your step, foot tripping over his belt.

Before you can react, you go flying forward, your ankle rolling beneath you as you hit the floor.

THUNK.

Pain explodes through your foot and you clap a hand over your mouth scrambling backward, clutching your ankle.

“Shit—shit—shit—”

Your eyes dart toward the bed.

The man shifts slightly, letting out a deep snore before rolling onto his side.

This cannot be your life right now.

You glare at his lump of a frame, hobbling up as you flee the scene, successfully this time.

The cool breeze of the morning air blows against your back as you wait for your uber.

If anyone you know sees you right now, you’ll be mortified.

Luckily, your Uber doesn’t keep you waiting long. Minutes later you’re in the back of the Cadillac, resting your forehead against the cool glass and desperately trying to erase this morning from your memory.

—

A few hours later, you step through the firm’s glass doors with oversized sunglasses shielding half your face.

Normally the sharp clack of your heels announces your arrival long before you reach reception.

But because your ankle is still throbbing and most definitely swollen, your entrance is muffled by your Tory Burch Flats.

“Whoa—” the receptionist startles, glancing up. “You scared me.”

You pause at the desk, clocking in.

“I didn’t even hear your heels,” she says, scanning you suspiciously. “You usually sound like a firing squad coming down the hall.”

Lowering your sunglasses just enough, you give her an unamused look.

“Good morning, Claire.”

“Good morning!” she chirps back, completely unaffected by your mood. “The new hires started orientation today. I’m pretty sure your paralegal is in meeting room B right now. He’s pretty handsome.”

“Great,” you deadpan. “Another thing to distract you from your work.”

Claire gasps, and you can’t help the small smirk that blooms across your face as you walk off. Teasing her is always so easy.

Inside your office, you flick on the lights and round the table to your desk, booting up your Mac.

It’s the first day after the weekend, which means you already have a mountain of emails and phone calls waiting for you.

From the window in your office, you can see the small group of new hires gathered in the hallway, their bright, eager faces turned toward Andrew, the head of the firm, as he leads them through their tour.

His eyes find yours through the glass and he waves you over, but you politely decline closing your blinds.

Unless he wants to start the interview process all over again, Andrew knows better than to volunteer you to give the new hires a lay of the land.

Besides, given the morning you just had, you desperately need to regroup.

And rest this ankle.

Propping your foot up beneath the desk, you get to work, checking off tasks from your to-do list as you slowly find your groove.

Work, at least, is something you’re good at.

Painfully good, according to most.

At just twenty-nine, you’ve already built a reputation in the industry as an attorney clients request when they want results instead of excuses. You were meticulous, relentless, and borderline impossible to impress.

Which is exactly why you keep getting assigned new paralegals. And exactly why you keep burning through them.

You’re not trying to be picky, but you have a reputation to uphold. You worked hard to get to where you are at such a young age. Especially as a woman of color in a male dominated field.

Most people saw the title of senior associate attorney as nothing more than a pay raise, a private office, and a pretty nameplate on the door.

But to you, it meant more than that.

It meant long nights. Sacrifices. Proving yourself in rooms where people were already waiting for you to fail.

So yes, your paralegal had to be on point.

Because they were the pipeline between you and your clients.

Two hours pass in uninterrupted productivity, which you’re grateful for.

The most demanding task on your list was talking one of your clients, a high-profile corporate account, off the ledge.

So a good portion of your morning is spent carefully walking their CEO through why breaching a multimillion-dollar contract in retaliation would not only tank the case, but very likely destroy their public standing in the process.

It takes patience. Precision. And repeating yourself more times than you’d like. But it beats having to clean up a catastrophe later down the road.

By the time you finally hang up the phone, stress lines have formed at your temple, and the heartbeat in your ankle is still persistent.

Glancing down, you notice the swelling isn’t getting any better. You definitely need to put some ice on it.

Deciding to put a pin in your work, you limp toward the break room to concoct a makeshift ice pack.

You try to move as quickly, and quietly, as possible, hoping to avoid any questions about how exactly you managed to fuck up your ankle before noon on a Monday.

But unfortunately, luck isn’t on your side. Andrew stops you on your walk back.

“Woah, slow down Speedy Gonzalez, I got someone I want you to meet,” He teases from his office.

You close your eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply before turning toward him with a practiced smile.

“Sure thing.”

Only as you get closer to his office, the person seated across from his desk swivels in their chair.

Everything in the room seems to fall just slightly out of focus.

The murmur of conversation in the hallway fades out. Andrew’s voice dulling into background noise.

Because the face turning toward you is one you recognize instantly.

A face you were never supposed to see again.

Mr. XL.

He rises, smooth and unbothered, all groomed up. It seems impossible to believe he was the man snoring like a chainsaw three hours ago.

Smiling politely, he extends a hand, cufflink catching the light as he moves.

“Hello, Attorney [+],” he says, his voice a rich, professional baritone. “I’m Seokjin.”

A daunting pause.

“Your new paralegal.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out your skull as you choke on your words. “My what?”

“Don’t be like,” Andrew jokes playfully, though you know there’s a warning behind his light tone. “You’re drowning in all that paperwork by yourself [+], you need a paralegal.”

You eye your boss, his ebony skin smooth despite his years of practice, thick brows raised in promise. “Seokjin here was top of his class. I’m sure he’ll be of great service to you.”

“You gave me a new grad?” You ask, voice strained.

“Well, Technically I’m not a new grad,” Seokjin pipes in, extending his hand further as if you don’t already see it. “I graduated three years ago. But the job market, well, we all know how that goes.”

He lets out a squawking laugh that makes your ears ring, migraine tingling from the assault to your ears.

Life cannot be real right now. Is this guy serious.

Seokjin’s staring at you as if he doesn’t have a clue the two of you shared a bed, amongst other things, last night. Is all this kissing up an act?

You plaster on a tight lipped smile, to appease Andrew. Desperately trying to keep your poker face intact as you internally lose your shit.

Reluctantly, you meet Seokjin’s grip, shaking his firm, yet surprisingly soft hand.

“Welcome to the team, Seokjin.” You grit out.

Andrew laughs from behind his desk. “Take that as a warning, Jin. Attorney [+] doesn’t exactly have the best track record with paralegals. Fingers crossed you can break the streak.”

Your back straightens and you pull your hand away as if it has caught on fire.

Seokjin only smiles, eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to Andrew.

“Don’t worry, I don’t scare off easily” Seokjin reassures, “I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior.”

If only he’d been on his best behavior eight hours ago, this meeting wouldn’t be such a raging HR violation.

Seokjin couldn’t be your paralegal. You had to get out of this somehow.

“Anyways, I have to jump on a call, so I’ll be pretty busy for the rest of the day,” Andrew says, already dismissing the two of you. “[+], why don’t you show Seokjin to his desk and get him set up with IT?”

“Andrew, I’m pretty busy myself. I’m sure Claire can—”

Andrew waves you off. “Oh, it’ll only take a few minutes. Seokjin’s dying to get to know you. Isn’t that right, Seokjin?”

Like the world’s most eager ass-kisser, Seokjin nods, flashing all thirty-two.

“Absolutely ,” Seokjin says eagerly . “Show me the lay of the land”, he muses.

You watch him pensively as he smoothes a hand down the front of his suit jacket.

This was odd.

Usually your lawyer senses would be spiking in high alert when someone is deceiving you. But instead of indignation, your stomach pools with dread. Which means there’s a growing possibility that Seokjin has no recollection of the last twenty-four hours.

Meaning this happy go lucky personality isn’t just a front to keep up appearances.

Yeah, the two of you were bound to clash.

Without another word, you turn on your heels. Pace brisk enough your throbbing ankle sends sharp stabs of protest up your leg. But you refuse to let your discomfort show.

Seokjin falls into step beside you effortlessly, his long strides matching your hurried ones as you begin to rattle off your expectations. A desperate attempt to establish a clear boundary between you too.

“My schedule is structured,” you begin, staring straight ahead. “I like everything organized at least two weeks in advance whenever possible. If a client calls, you log it immediately, flag anything urgent, and forward it to me before responding.”

Seokjin hums in understanding beside you, so you continue without slowing.

“I don’t tolerate missed deadlines. I don’t tolerate sloppy filings. If you’re unsure about something, you ask before submitting it, not after. I review everything before it goes out to opposing counsel.”

You round the corner toward the cubicles.

“Court filings get priority. Client correspondence comes second. Internal documentation third. I prefer email summaries over verbal updates, and I expect you to keep my calendar airtight.”

Glancing at him, you notice he’s smiling. Not the usual response to your drilling.

“Do you find something amusing, Seokjin?” you snap.

“Nothing at all,” he says lightly. “Just trying to keep up.”

You stop beside an empty cubicle and gesture toward the desk.

“This is yours. I would say decorate it, but I have feeling it’ll all be in vain.”

Seokjin steps inside the cubicle, looking around with interest as he flops down in his chair, testing the wheels.

“It’s cozy. I have a Jade plant at home that would fit perfectly in that nook,” he says, nodding in approval, completely unbothered by your intimidation.

A blurry memory flashes of the row of plants you passed lining his window sill in your haste to flee this morning. You blink it away rapidly.

You needed to get a grip.

Footsteps approach and you straighten immediately, avoiding his gaze completely.

“Hey, Claire,” you call out to the receptionist passing by. “Do you mind helping Seokjin get set up with IT? I need to get back to work.”

Spinning around, you don’t even wait for a reply as you walk off, forcing yourself not to limp as you retreat down the hallway.

A pit of dread is beginning to form in your stomach, the salad you had for lunch suddenly weighing heavy. Which can only mean one thing.

Seokjin is going to be a problem.

—

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta has big puppy-dog eyes you struggle to resist. you don’t always want him to tag along to places with you, or sit in your room while you change, but how can you say no to a face like that?

you have a hard time being mad at him even as he blatantly crosses your boundaries. whenever he’s invasive in his actions or words, you redirect him, whereas you would’ve literally ripped into anyone else.

he’s definitely cried a few times as you’ve scolded him for disrespecting you. yet deep down, his little pout makes you want to apologize for having autonomy.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta stole your favorite perfume from your dorm and sprays it onto his pillow. your addictive scent lulls him to sleep when he’s having trouble dozing off. it also makes it easier to pretend you’re to him closer than you really are.

on late nights, he buries his face into the pillow, inhaling your scent and muffling the sounds he makes to the thought of you. he imagines your hands touching him instead of his own, since he can’t have the real thing yet.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta starts to resent rika for existing. he tries everything in his power to convince you he isn’t still hung up over the dead first love he carries with him. it doesn’t help that she’s so possessive and aggressive toward you. how can he be with you if a curse won’t let him?

he speaks to her differently after the day she attacks you out of jealousy. his tone turns stone cold, and his previously kind requests of her become demands. he’ll sharply order her around, then turn to you and speak sweetly with a soft smile on his face.

rika’s apologized many times since then, but he’s made up his mind.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta’s cursed energy literally wraps itself around you if you’re nearby, especially when the two of you are around other people. it’s awkward when you’re in public around non-sorcerers, who can’t tell that you’re being engulfed by such pressure. sometimes, you swear you can feel it even when you’re supposed to be alone.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta has to pretend he doesn’t already know about all of your interests and routines. he used to slip up at first, but he’s gotten a lot better at sounding clueless. he’s sure to ask about your day and listen intently because he loves the way your eyes light up as he shows interest in you.

plus, if you’ve already told him about your day, you have no reason to talk to anyone else about it!

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta takes on some of your missions behind your back. he can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, especially at the hands of some foul, disgusting, creature. when you find out he’s been interfering with things, he apologizes profusely and continues to do it anyway.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta makes everyone around you feel on edge. they’re worried about you. they see the way he stares at you while you’re unaware. they feel the atmosphere shift whenever you’re affectionate toward others. they’re hesitant to even say your name in front of him because of how much his demeanor changes.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta had a meeting arranged behind his back by the group while he was visiting the sister school. your friends sat you down and asked if he’s done anything to harm you. you told them you were a bit weary, but “he just has a big heart, that’s it.” they looked unimpressed. as they left, you could’ve sworn you heard panda mutter “stockholm syndrome” under his breath.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ your friends trust yuuta not to hurt them… they think. but they don’t miss the way his face drops or his grip on something tightens when he thinks they’ve said something wrong to you. they love you dearly, but do start to avoid you a bit. if you do talk, they’re paranoid and constantly checking for him over their shoulders. just in case.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ the kyoto students, however, think yuuta’s a fucking freak. his performance in the goodwill event was outstanding because of his skill, of course, and you. he caught kamo and miwa planning to ambush you and immediately stepped in. they barely escaped with their lives, but thankfully, you managed to calm him down before he could go too far (well. further.)

gakuganji and utahime were both horrified and appalled, while gojo simply chalked it up to yuuta's “amazing fighting spirit!”

when todo asked what his type was, yuuta described your body with a dazed expression. mai was disturbed by this interaction.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta was distraught once he noticed you pulling away from him. he hadn’t meant to scare you, but seeing them so close to harming you made him snap. and god, did your absence make him feel sick. he was physically repulsed by himself for upsetting you.

“i made her mad, i hope i die.”

“stfu yuta it’s your turn”

“oh, draw four”

“damn it!”

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta dropped onto his knees in front of you and groveled for forgiveness, swearing not to do anything like it again. he probably didn’t mean it, but it felt like the truth at the time. when you forgave yuuta while cupping his cheek, he felt as though he was being touched by an angel. he didn’t think he deserved you, or your forgiveness, but since you gave it to him he took it gratefully.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ whenever your classmates bring up yuuta’s behavior to gojo, he waves them off and tells them they’re only being dramatic. gojo is, of course, lying off his ass. he thinks the kid’s a little weirdo who probably shouldn’t be left alone with you. however, he’s banking on you to awaken his potential. it’s definitely a risky plan, but gojo’s known for throwing his students to the wolves.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ maki once caught yuuta licking the blood you left on his hand after he patched up your wound. when she told gojo about it, he simply smiled and said “kids these days are so passionate!”

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ gojo’s hunch did end up being correct despite his questionable methods. after seeing you and the rest of the first years injured during the night parade of a hundred demons, yuuta’s growth was triggered over his emotional state. he surpassed his limits over his pure rage from seeing you hurt.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ gojo doesn’t say it outloud, but one of the reasons yuuta was sent off to africa was to have some space away from you. he thought the distance will be healthy and better for… everyone, really. he also got tired of being nagged because apparently his student raised concerns about “safety” and “endangerment”, which he rolled his eyes over

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta is sure to call you at least once a day while he’s gone. he doesn’t think he could survive without hearing the sound of your sweet voice. he sends you good morning/goodnight texts around the time he remembers your schedule being while he was with you.

he values every single picture you send of yourself, so much so that he replies to them while typing with one hand!

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta doesn’t go to sleep until hours after he’s supposed to be just in case you call him. what if there’s an emergency? what if you’re in need comfort? what if you accidentally buttdial him and he misses out on an interaction with you because he was asleep? he can’t just abandon you!

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta appreciates you just the same, if not more, once he returns. except this time, he’s stronger and unafraid of the curses that plague the world. he’s open about his feelings and has learned to control his copious amounts of cursed energy. he’s trained so hard and dedicated himself to protecting you (and the rest of humanity, he supposes).

he’s come to trust that your classmates won’t cross any lines with you. they’re his friends, so he knows they’ll respect his feelings. the same can’t be said about the other sorcerers or random guys on the street who ogle at you.

yuuta doesn’t trust that itadori guy, either. while he was away, toge reported that he was “making eyes” at you every time you two trained together. yuuta reveled in chasing and killing yuuji for the higher ups before unfortunately having to revive him. he may have brought him back, but now yuuji knows he’s someone to be feared.

“Since you want so much attention right?”

Yuta couldn’t believe you. All that talk, all that confidence just for him to have you in a headlock faster than you could even blink.

“My girl wants me to stop playing nice, huh?”  Yuta shoved his fingers in your mouth, pushing past your lips with minimal effort. “That’s what you want, right?”

You can feel one of his cold hands rub down your front, the one that wasn’t still actively keeping you in that headlock, stretching your bottoms away from your skin. His fingers invaded your underwear, completely ignoring the fabric that kept him between himself and your pussy.

The movements were rushed, buried, and completely all over the place. Fingers roughly rubbed in circles over the mound of skin, the heat already radiating off your pussy.

His middle digit dipped down, swiping along your hole. Of course you were already wet.

Yuta pressed a digit in, satisfied with the way you immediately clenched down on him. He was generous enough to give you the opportunity to bask in that pleasure for just a moment, before he retracted the hand altogether.

An annoyed side came from your end, rolling your eyes in the mirror glaring at him. “That’s not fair.” Your boyfriend didn’t entertain your opposition at all, simply ignoring you while he was busy shoving your bottoms down your legs.

Once everything was off, he made it a point to direct your gaze to the mirror. He wanted you to watch. To see how he was about to ruin you. Maybe then you would think twice about pulling something like that stunt a minute ago again.

Yuta gave a warning flex of his forearm, a silent reminder to stay still.

His hand traced down the front of your stomach, trailing his hand down to your nub. He gave a few, infuriatingly slow circular rubs to your clit. Flicking it a bit before moving down to your slit.

You shifted around a bit, frustrated sighs coming from you before he finally put himself where you needed him most.

He sank his middle finger into the moist area of your walls, giving you a few slow strokes on the roof just to get you prepared.

The grin you had on your face was so smug. Even after your actions, Yuta still managed to be as patient and gentle as ever with the way he handled you.

Yuta could only chuckle himself as his eyes stayed glued to yours in the mirror. He’d been prepared to wipe that victory smirk off your cheeks.

The pace switched almost instantly. Yuta’s finger was moving so fast, the squelching sound that came from your hole was so loud.

You fucked up.

Not long after, once you were close enough he pushed a second finger in, then a third. You could barely even sit still, let alone control all the moans you were letting out. “Wait, wait–”

Yuta knew just how to drive you crazy, and you knew it.

Your eyes had squeezed shut, hugging Yuta’s bicep like a lifeline, begging him to slow his movements.

“Look.” The soft, sweet, soothing tone of voice Yuta usually had was long gone. It had been replaced by a deep hum that pulled from the back of his throat.

You were babbling all types of nonsense as you pleaded for him to be more gentle, slow down, anything. “P-please Yuta, just wait a minute..” Anything you could pull out to fight against the overwhelming sensation that had your legs quivering and heels denting the bed below.

The expression you wore could only be described as fucked out.

“No, I said look.” It was his turn to grab your jaw, making sure you watched all his actions in the mirror. If you thought you were so big and bad, Yuta was going to show you how different you two were.

Yuta was so disappointed. He let you get off easy all this time. That was his mistake.

Why do you think he would purposefully let you get the upper hand all the time? He was being so gracious as to let you think you were the one holding the cards, but it must’ve gotten to your head.

Yuta’s legs held yours open from behind with his own. He made sure to keep them all nice and steady so you had no choice but to watch yourself get stretched open on his fingers.

He curled the digits upwards, emphasizing the push up as if he was trying to grip on your insides. “‘Cause you wanted me to ‘take you seriously.’ Those were your words, weren’t they?”

Your breath was ragged and uneven, trying your best to move away but the positions of his arms made it impossible to do so. They kept you caged up in one spot, with little to no room to maneuver around. “Wanted me to stop going so easy on you--”

Yuta's eyes were basically popping out of his skull. Blinking would be a crime with how desperate you seemed at the moment. You weren’t even talking right now. Just whatever mumbles managed to leave your lips is what was said.

He let you dig your nails into his forearms. It was to make sure you knew that there were such things as privileges. There were certain things he could or couldn’t do, could or couldn’t take away. That was one of them, so you should be grateful that he gave you that at least.

The motions of his fingers halted, pulling out of your soaking hole and leaving a slap on your cunt.

You didn’t deserve to have that sweet release just yet, the way you were acting, he really shouldn’t even give it to you at all.

The only reason he was even going to give you dick after the fact was because he wanted to be selfish. Yuta Okkotsu wanted to think about himself for a change.

He wasted no time pulling off his clothes and shoving you forward onto your hands and knees. Giving a few pumps of his cock he pushed into you from behind, a relieved sigh coming from him as he basked in this moment. Your warm walls sucking him in and holding him there, as if they never wanted him to leave.

Much to his dismay, you tried to rotate your head, eyelashes soaked with tears, begging him to kiss you. “Yuu– give me..”

The attempt you made to turn your head to kiss him was just plain embarrassing. Yuta moved his head away, clicking his tongue. “You think you get to make demands like that?”

Every snap of his hips were rhythmic, his breathing uneven as he spoke between every thrust. “After you–” The grip on your throat got tighter as he felt his irritation rising at the thought. “--barged into my room, thinking you could just boss me around?”

One particular press of his cock into your walls had you falling forward with a strained cry. Only being held up by the rough holds of Yuta’s hands on your hip and neck.

Shameless you were.

Were you even trying to be quiet? Being so loud with your friends only a mere few doors down. You must’ve wanted them to hear you. That had to be it.

He wasn’t even being fair. How could he expect you to remain quiet when he was quite literally bullying his way into your cunt. You barely had time to even catch your breath between the time where he pulled out before pushing back in.

You didn’t want anyone to hear you, but it was so hard.

In a desperate attempt to silence the noises that were escaping your lips, the shaky hand that had made its home deep in the covers of his bed came up to close around your mouth.

The way Yuta hand abruptly halted every stroke of his hips just to give a firm shake of his head, reprimanding you. “Move it.” He’d made sure to pronounce every syllable, to make it clear to you, he wasn’t messing around.

With a shake of your head, you mumbled out a very brief, “no”, under the gasps that escaped your throat.

It was hilarious. You really were delusional. Of course you weren’t going to listen even though Yuta had already made it clear he wasn’t listening to any of that. He supposes that with you, actions do speak louder than words.

With a rather deep roll of his hips into that mushy spot of your walls, his movements halted, performing a thrust-and-hold motion on your cervix.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

For a moment, you could’ve sworn you stopped breathing. Your eyes moved to the back of your head, silence taking over the room after a brief gasp on your end.

Yuta observed the way your face twisted in the mirror. The way sweat dripped down the side of your neck, with your scalp sweaty, and hair sticking to the back of your neck.

After a few seconds of an intense hold, you both breathed in sync.

As tough as Yuta had tried to seem, he couldn’t and didn’t run away from the fact that he was breathing like he had just ran a marathon. Your walls clenched around him as he released a particularly loud whimper, pulling out of you almost completely before slamming back in and holding once again.

The hand that had been holding yours behind your back released, moving to your hip instead to hold his balance.

Each shove of your hand against his abdomen had Yuta biting the skin off his lip, dragging you back on to him every time, so that there was no way you were running away from it. After all, words were meaningless.

Your walls tensed around him as he leaned onto your back, skin to skin, feeling the cool metal of his ring chain dangle over you.

At this point, you could care less about whoever heard you. The way Yuta’s cock filled your walls had you borderline hypnotised.

A few more slow drags of his cock in your walls had you falling over the edge, him not very far behind. “please, oh my–fuck.”

Yuta buried his hips to the hilt inside of you, a drug out “give it to me, please.”, coming from his mouth the second you came, pushing him into his orgasm.

You both were panting, soft whimpers from both of your ends as he slipped out, the sensitivity causing you two to twitch.

The smell sex and sweat was heavy in the air, your nose briefly catching the apple scent of the air freshener that sat atop Yuta’s desk.

The exhaustion took over you, leaving you to fall onto the mattress. You were so done. It was becoming difficult to even keep your eyes open. He’d fucked the energy out of you. 

“On your back.”

What did he just say? 

Your eyes lazily glanced up to meet him in the mirror, though Yuta had already beaten you to the punch.

The next thing you knew, he did indeed have you on your back, legs in the air as his tip pushed its way back into you. By the way his pupils were blown out, hair messily falling in front of his face, soaked in sweat, it wouldn’t take a genius to know this was far from over.

So much for being done.

@texas-bitch-yee, @hioriiii, @megssleepygirl

AN: comments are appreciated ♡

So, when it came to protecting Mikey, hesitation wasn't in Haruchiyo's vocabulary. It wasn't an option. Even as the vice president of the Kanto Manji Gang, commanding men who would have spilled blood for him without question, he had walked into an enemy trap alone.

Fourteen men against one.

It wasn’t a fight; it was a calculated sacrifice. A massacre.

Haruchiyo had fought like a demon unleashed, his katana moving with a precision and ferocity that turned the narrow alley into a butcher's den. Flesh tore, blood sprayed, and screams rose like a choir of agony in the night. For every cut he delivered, though, another fist found its mark. A bat slammed into his ribs. A knife grazed his body. Yet he didn't stop. Every movement, every ounce of pain, was fuel for the fire that burned him.

By the time the last man fell, Haruchiyo was barely standing.

Now, sprawled on the street, his breath came in wet, ragged gasps, each one an effort that felt like swallowing glass. The katana he'd fought so fiercely with had slipped from his grasp, its one-sharp edge dulled and stained crimson. A knife wound in his side pulsed with pain, the searing ache radiating outword with each shallow rise and fall of his chest. His blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the filthly street like a grosteque offering.

The world around him began to twist and blur, a kaleidoscope of dim streetlights and distant, faceless silhouettes. People were there—he could hear the hurried shuffle of their feet the murmurs of unease carried on in the wind. But none of them came closer. Their figures remained hazy and indistinct, heads turned away as if acknowledging his existence was an act too heavy to bear.

And maybe it was. He didn't deserve their pity. He didn't want it. What use did a knight have for mercy?

His hand slipped slightly, the strength draining from him faster than he could summon the will to move. The relentless ache in his body intensified, his limbs growing heavier with each passing second. A part of him recognised the truth: he was losing too much blood. The edges of his vision darkened, shadows creeping inward, threatening to consume him.

It was fine. This was how it was supposed to end, wasn't it?

Haruchiyo had always been a piece on the board, a knight thrown into battle again and again without hesitation. He was meant to break, to shatter, to be discarded when his usefulness ran out. As long as the king stood tall, untouchable, his sacrifice was nothing more than a necessary loss. And so, as the void began to reach for him, he let his mind drift, accepting its cold embrace with the faintest hint of a smile.

Until your voice jolted him awake.

“Are you alright?”

It was soft, hesitant, and impossibly gentle—so out of place in the brutal, blood-soaked reality he lived in that it made his eyes flutter open, despite the overwhelming exhaustion.

At first, he could only make out the shape of you—standing in front of him, your figure illuminated by the dim orange glow of a nearby streetlight. His gaze shifted, struggling to steady, until he caught sight of your school uniform—a pristine, ordinary thing that looked so absurdly out of place amidst the blood-soaked chaos. And then there was your face: wide-eyed and paled with worry, as you stared at him like you couldn't quite believe what you were seeing.

You shouldn't have been there.

Someone like you—a stranger, so normal, so untainted—had no business stopping for him. You should have turned away, just like everyone else. You should have kept walking, left him there to bleed out and vanish, just another nameless casualty swallowed by the night.

And yet, you hadn't.

You were holding out something to him—a handkerchief embroidered with flowers. It looked laughably small in your hands, the kind of thing that belonged neatly folded in a school bag. How could that delicate thing possibly fix the mess he was in?

When he didn’t move, didn’t say anything, uncertainty flickered across your face, and your hand lowered slowly.

“I just called the ambulance,” you said, your voice was steady, but he didn’t miss the way your fingers trembled. “They should be here any minute.”

Your gaze darted to his wound, and he saw the way your lips pressed into a tight line as if you were debating whether you should be doing more.

“I… I can’t stay long,” you added, almost apologetically. “I’ve got an important test to get to. But I didn’t want to just…”

You trailed off, biting your lip as though the words felt inadequate, as though you were ashamed of even thinking of leaving him.

His chest ached at your concern.

It wasn’t pity, though—your voice didn’t carry that patronizing weight. It was genuine. The kind of thing he hadn’t encountered in what felt like a lifetime.

He wanted to tell you to leave.

That your kindness was wasted on him. That people like him didn't deserve help, didn't deserve saving. That the world would be better off if he bled out here, just another piece sacrificed for the king's game.

But the words wouldn't come.

All he could do was lie there, his breathing ragged, his body a leaden weight against the cold asphalt. His eyes, hazy yet piercing, locked onto yours, as if searching for an answer he didn't know how to ask.

Then you knelt in front of him, holding out the handkerchief once more.

The mechanical mistrust ingrained in him since childhood roared to life. His instinct flared violently, screaming at him to shove you away, to guard himself. His hand shot out before he could stop it, knocking yours aside with more force than intended.

You froze mid-motion, your hand lingering in the air, your eyes widening slightly. A moment of silence passed, and he anticipated the usual response—fear, disgust, even hatred.

But your gaze softened instead.

"I'm not going to hurt you," you said gently as though you were speaking to a frightened animal. "I just want to help."

Help.

He stared at you, his chest tight with disbelief. The concept felt alien, as if you'd spoken a language he'd never learned. People didn’t help without wanting something in return. Not in his world. Not in the life he’d been swallowed by since the day Mikey pulled him out of the gutter and gave him a purpose.

Still, your hand came forward again, slower this time, the handkerchief trembling between your fingers.

The soft fabric brushed against his cheek, and he froze. Every muscle in his body locked, the instinct to recoil roaring in his mind, but his body betrayed him, rooted in place. Your touch was gentle, so impossibly careful, it felt like you were afraid of breaking him.

Breaking me? The thought almost made him laugh—if he weren't already choking on exhaustion. But I'm already broken.

His life had been a series of fractures, cracks spreading deeper with every betrayal, every fight, every sacrifice made in Mikey's name.

And yet, this—your touch, your gaze, your voice—scraped at a forgotten part inside him, a hollow space he'd long since buried beneath rage and violence. A part of him he didn't recognise anymore.

For that fleeting moment, Haruchiyo let you clean the blood off his face. The warmth of your touch soothed the sting of his wounds, both seen and unseen, you presence anchoring him a way he didn't understand and didn't want to question.

Then the panic set in.

"Don’t," he snapped, the word tearing from his throat, as he jerked your hand away again.

Letting someone in, even this much, felt like a crack in his armor, and the vulnerability clawed at him like a living thing.

You sighed in response, your frustration flickering across your face, but there was no anger. “Fine, I’ll stop.”

You tucked the handkerchief away.

Haruchiyo watched silently as you pulled out a notepad from your bag, scribbling something quickly before tearing the page free. You folded it neatly in your hands and held it out to him.

"I really need to get going now," you said, straightening to your full height. Your schoolbag shifted on your shoulder, a reminder of the normal life you'd be returning to—a world so far removed from his.

"But if you need anything, call me. Please. I mean it."

Haruchiyo stared at the paper, but he didn’t take it.

You hesitated for only a second before bending down and slipping it into his hand yourself. Your fingers brushed against his briefly, but the contact was enough to send a jolt through him—one he didn’t know how to process.

He stared down at the paper now crumpled in his hand, the faint imprint of your touch still linegering on his skin. His mind raced, torn between the instinct to throw it away and the inexplicable urge to hold onto it like a lifeline.

You.

Someone who had stepped into his world—this brutal, twisted hell he lived in—and hadn't turned away. Someone who didn't treat him like he was nothing more than a lunatic, a dog loyal to its master.

Someone who looked at him and saw a man worth saving.

He didn't understand it. He didn't trust it. But he couldn't bring himself to reject it.

You turned to leave, but paused a few steps away, glancing back over your shoulder with a small, uncertain smile.

"Don’t forget," you said softly, "you can call me, okay?"

And then you were gone, your figure swallowed by the chaos of the city.

Still, he didn’t move. The sounds of the world around him—the distant hum of traffic, the wail of approaching sirens—blurred into static. His heart pounded, erratic and uneven, a thundering rhythm he couldn't control. He couldn't explain it—why his chest felt tight, why his throat burned, why this small, stupid piece of paper felt heavier than the katana he'd wielded mere hours ago.

For the first time in his life, Haruchiyo Sanzu didn't know what he was supposed to do.

And it terrified him.

Haruchiyo Sanzu couldn’t get you out of his mind.

It was infuriating.

Days had passed since you left him on that bloodstained street with your naive kindness and a flimsy promise tucked into his hand. Days spent staring at white ceilings, surrounded by the antiseptic stench of the hospital Mikey had sponsored—quiet, pristine, and isolating. Mikey hadn’t even bothered to visit, and part of Haruchiyo expected that. The boss was angry.

Not that Mikey’s silence stung—it did.

But the truth was, Mikey had done enough. He’d kept the whole ordeal from reaching the police, hidden the mess Haruchiyo had made in his reckless attempt to protect the king. That was Mikey’s way: decisive and clean. Still, the absence of his leader left Haruchiyo restless, trapped in a limbo of recovery and idleness.

And then there was you.

Your voice, your face, the warmth of your touch—they haunted him. Haruchiyo scowled as he pulled the crumpled note from his pocket, smoothing the creases with his thumb. Your number, still smudged with his blood, stared back at him like a challenge.

“Don’t forget, you can call me, okay?”

He hadn’t called you.

Not even once.

He told himself it was for the best. You were a normal girl—innocent, untouched by the filth of his world. It would be irresponsible, dangerous, to drag you into the dark. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the selfish, traitorous part of him wanted to see you again.

The knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts, and Haruchiyo shoved the paper back into his pocket just as it creaked open.

Ran Haitani sauntered in like he owned the place, a shit-eating grin on his face, dark Kanto Manji Gang uniform hanging perfectly off his tall frame. His signature braid dangled over his shoulder, swaying with every step.

“You look like shit, man,” Ran quipped as he stopped at the foot of Haruchiyo’s bed.

Haruchiyo shot him a glare, his lips curling in irritation. “If you’re here to waste my time, get lost.”

Ran didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, as if he owned the place. “Relax. I’m only here as a messenger. Boss sent me.”

At that, Haruchiyo’s eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening despite the ache it caused. “What does he want?”

“He’s pulling you out of the gang for a while. Says you’re supposed to rest.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Haruchiyo pushed himself upright, ignoring the sharp pain that lanced through his side. “Bullshit. Mikey wouldn’t say that.”

Ran shrugged, feigning indifference. “Believe what you want, but those were his exact words.”

Haruchiyo’s jaw clenched, his fists balling in the sheets. “There’s no one who can protect Mikey like I can. He knows that.”

At that, Ran’s smirk faltered, his violet eyes narrowing just slightly. “That’s the problem, Haru-chan. You think you’re the only one who can do shit? Like the rest of us are just for show?”

“Because you are,” Haruchiyo snapped. “None of you understand what Mikey needs. What it takes to keep him safe. You’re all just playing at loyalty.”

The room grew tense, the air thick with unspoken challenges. Ran straightened, his easygoing demeanor shifting into a chilling coldness.

“And you think kissin’ his ass makes you better than us? Newsflash, Mad Dog. Just because we don’t worship him the way you do doesn’t mean we’d hesitate to kill for him.”

Haruchiyo opened his mouth to fire back, but before he could get a word out, Ran’s fist connected with his face.

The punch wasn't hard enough to cause any real damage, but the impact jerked Haruchiyo’s head to the side. The sting was enough to leave him momentarily stunned, his fingers flying to his cheek as his eyes snapped back to Ran, blazing with fury.

“-The fuck?!”

Ran shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his face as if he hadn't just signed his death warrant. "I’ve always wanted to do that. Figured now's my best shot since you're, y'know, bedridden."

Haruchiyo’s hands clenched into fists, his entire body vibrating with restrained rage. "You want to die, Haitani?"

"Not today," Ran replied smoothly, raising his hands in mock surrender. But there was no fear in his eyes, only that infuriating glimmer of amusement.

“Anyway, Boss got another job for you.”

Haruchiyo scoffed, his anger momentarily eclipsed by disbelief. "What job?"

"You're going to guard someone."

Haruchiyo frowned. Guard duty? That wasn’t his style. He wasn’t some babysitter.

“Who?”

Ran’s grin widened, and his next words came as casually as a bomb dropping.

“Mikey’s girlfriend.”

Haruchiyo’s body stilled, his mind whirring as the air seemed to shift around him. “What? Mikey’s girlfriend?”

“Surprise, surprise.” Ran chuckled. “Turns out Boss is a ladies’ man. Figures, huh?”

Haruchiyo said nothing. His expression was carefully blank, but his chest tightened with a foreign, unpleasant feeling. Mikey—his king, his leader—had a girlfriend? He’d never heard anything about her before.

The thought churned in his gut like acid, his loyalty and jealousy clashing violently. Who the hell was she? What kind of girl could hold a place in Mikey’s heart that wasn’t reserved for the gang—wasn’t reserved for him?

Whoever she was, Haruchiyo doubted she deserved him.

“She’s important,” Ran said, turning to leave. “So don’t screw this up, Haru-chan. If you do… well, I’ll have another reason to smash your face in.”

Haruchiyo didn’t respond, his mind already spinning as the door clicked shut behind Ran. He leaned back against the pillows, his head swimming with questions.

His fingers brushed against the paper in his pocket, its edges worn and stained. The burning question lingered like a curse: Who the hell was she?

And why did he already feel like he was losing something he never even had the chance to claim?

Haruchiyo Sanzu leaned casually against his superbike, its black frame gleaming beneath the afternoon sun. His presence alone drew a crowd, as it always did. Dressed in a loose black turtleneck and fitted jeans, with his pink hair pulled back into a ponytail, he cut a figure both intimidating and impossibly attractive. The all-girls school gate was abuzz with murmurs and giggles as students streamed out, whispering and glancing in his direction.

But Haruchiyo ignored them.

He wasn’t here for them.

Today, he had a job to do—a job he wanted no part of. Guard Mikey’s girlfriend. The words alone made his blood boil. He knew this wasn’t about trust; this was a punishment. Mikey was pulling him away from the gang, away from what Haruchiyo lived for, because he’d disobeyed. Charging headfirst into enemy territory was reckless, and Mikey knew it wasn’t just about protecting him. Haruchiyo enjoyed the fight. The blood. The chaos.

And this? This assignment was meant to tear that from him, to leash him like a misbehaved dog. Worse still, Mikey was entrusting him with someone weak. Someone unworthy of a king.

His phone buzzed in his hand, breaking him from his brooding thoughts. He glanced at the screen before answering lazily, holding the phone to his ear.

“Is that you with the bike? I’m right in front of you!”

The feminine voice rang through the line—soft, sweet, familiar. Haruchiyo frowned, his gaze lifting instinctively to search the dispersing crowd.

And then he saw you.

You were waving a hand above your head, your phone still pressed to your ear as you caught his eye. Your face lit up when you spotted him, a bright, cheerful smile gracing your lips as you walked toward him.

His breath caught in his throat.

You.

The girl who had stopped for him. The girl who’d knelt beside him on that blood-soaked street, her voice soft and kind, her hands unshaking as she wiped his face. The girl who had called an ambulance and disappeared, leaving him with nothing but a crumpled note and a memory that had been haunting him ever since.

What the hell is going on?

Haruchiyo stiffened, his hand tightening around his phone as he stared at you approaching. He felt the ground shift beneath him, felt a sharp and painful twist in his chest. The warmth he’d felt in that moment you saved him—the unspoken gratitude he refused to admit—curdled into a dark and bitter emotion.

“Hey,” you said as you stopped in front of him, lowering your phone. “You’re Sanzu, right? Mikey’s friend?”

He stared at you, his teal eyes wide in disbelief. “You…” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “Who the hell are you?”

You blinked, clearly confused by the question.

“I’m Mikey’s girlfriend,” you replied, the words light and cheerful—so matter-of-fact that you might as well have driven a knife through his chest.

Haruchiyo’s stomach dropped. The blood drained from his face, leaving him cold.

His girlfriend.

The truth hit him with all the subtlety of a freight train. His mind reeled, a thousand thoughts crashing into one another. You’re Mikey’s? The girl who had stopped for him, the girl who had shown him kindness he didn’t deserve—you were Mikey’s.

A hot, suffocating mix of anger and jealousy roared to life in his chest. It confused him, rattled him to his core. Jealous of Mikey? Jealous of you? He couldn’t tell anymore, but the fury was there, blinding and undeniable.

“Y-you’re Sanzu, right?” you asked again, your voice hesitant now as you took in his silence.

He ignored your question entirely. Turning away sharply, Haruchiyo pulled a helmet off his bike and tossed it at you without warning. You barely caught it, stumbling back as it hit your hands clumsily.

“Get on,” he ordered coldly, already swinging his leg over the bike and settling onto the seat.

“Oh… alright,” you said softly, your tone unsure, as if you’d finally realized he wasn’t the friendly face you’d expected.

Haruchiyo felt your weight shift behind him as you climbed on, the awkward shuffle of your movements pressing against his back. He didn’t give you a moment to settle; he twisted the throttle, and the bike roared to life, lurching forward so suddenly you were forced to cling to him.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping you upright. He could feel your body against his, your warmth seeping into him, and it only made the ache inside him worse.

The ride was silent.

Haruchiyo’s mind was anything but.

The wind whipped past him, cold and sharp, but he barely felt it. All he could think about was you. The girl who’d saved him. The girl who’d smiled at him, looked at him like he wasn’t just a weapon, wasn’t just Mikey’s loyal dog. That brief moment of kindness had lingered inside him, burning like a flame he couldn’t snuff out.

And now you belonged to Mikey.

Of course you did. Mikey got everything—every ounce of respect, every shred of loyalty, every good thing this world had to offer. And Haruchiyo? He was just the knight on the board, meant to protect the king. Nothing more.

But the worst part—the part that clawed at him like a splinter lodged deep in his chest—was the fact that you didn’t remember him.

To you, he was just Sanzu Haruchiyo. Mikey’s friend. A stranger on a bike.

Not the broken, bleeding boy you’d knelt beside.

Not the one you’d saved.

As the city blurred past him, Haruchiyo tightened his grip on the throttle, pushing the bike faster, as if speed could drown out the storm raging in his head.

But no matter how hard he tried, the bitterness wouldn’t go away.

You were Mikey’s.

And Haruchiyo Sanzu hated it.

Haruchiyo Sanzu leaned against the wall, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression blank. Or at least, he hoped it was blank. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to catch the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Can’t believe Mikey’s letting some chick walk all over him like that,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You froze mid-step, your head tilting slightly as his words registered.

“She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, sucking all the fucking edge out of him. Pathetic.”

The words were sharp, venomous, and entirely uncalled for, but Haruchiyo couldn’t stop them from spilling out. He told himself it was necessary—a reminder to himself, to you, that you were unworthy of Mikey.

And for a moment, he thought he’d feel better for saying it.

But then he saw the look on your face.

It was fleeting—so fleeting that anyone else might have missed it—but Haruchiyo caught it. The flicker of hurt in your eyes was like a dagger straight to his chest.

His heart clenched, his stomach twisting painfully. Guilt began creeping in slowly, wrapping around his throat like a noose. He wanted to say something, to take the words back, to apologize—but his pride slammed the door shut before he could.

Instead, he turned away, ignoring your gaze as he stalked off, every step heavier than the last. His heart thudded against his ribs as he tried to ignore the pang of regret gnawing at him. He didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere was better than standing there, looking at the pain he’d caused.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Haruchiyo didn’t know how to deal with this—how to deal with you. You weren’t supposed to matter. You weren’t supposed to be anything more than an assignment Mikey had handed him, one he’d reluctantly accepted out of duty.

You’d been targeted lately by outsiders—bullies, opportunists, people who thought messing with Mikey’s girl was a shortcut to provoking him. Mikey had ordered Haruchiyo to guard you, along with a few other trusted gang members, and Haruchiyo had obeyed without question.

But obedience didn’t mean he had to like it.

Your presence made him feel unsteady, like the ground beneath his feet was shifting constantly. He’d tried to shake it off, to focus on the task at hand, but being alone with you was unbearable.

So instead, he dragged you around the others, tossing his so-called responsibility to them under the guise of laziness. Kakucho, Ran, Mochizuki—hell, anyone else could do it. As long as he didn’t have to be alone with you.

But no matter where you were, his eyes always found their way back to you.

Ran’s voice broke through his thoughts. “What’s with the face?”

“What face?” Haruchiyo replied flatly, not bothering to look at Ran. His eyes were glued to you, watching as you chatted awkwardly with Kakucho.

“That face,” Ran drawled, a teasing lilt in his tone. “You look like you’re about to stab her. Or Kakucho. Maybe both.”

Haruchiyo didn’t respond. His grip tightened in his pockets as he watched you giggle at something Kakucho said.

That sound—your laugh—it was like a dagger twisting in his chest.

You were Mikey’s girl. You should only be laughing like that around Mikey. Or… him.

Before he could spiral further into his thoughts, the distant, throaty growl of Mikey’s Street Hawk sliced through the air like a warning bell. The familiar sound carried weight—authority—that silenced the room in an instant. Every head turned toward the door.

Haruchiyo’s spine straightened instinctively, his eyes flicking toward the door as the door swung open to reveal Mikey, calm and collected as always.

And then you moved.

Haruchiyo watched, his chest tightening as your face lit up the second you saw Mikey. That radiant smile—blinding, unfiltered, genuine—was a sight he hadn’t seen you give to anyone else all day.

“Mikey!” Your voice was filled with warmth, the kind Haruchiyo hadn’t realized he craved until it wasn’t directed at him.

Before anyone could process it, you were already rushing toward Mikey, throwing your arms around him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Haruchiyo’s stomach churned, the knot of emotions in his chest tightening until it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Mikey’s hand rested lightly on your back in return, his expression unreadable. But Haruchiyo knew Mikey—knew how rare it was for him to show affection so openly.

The casual intimacy between you and Mikey clawed at him, a sensation so raw and uncomfortable that he had to bite the inside of his cheek just to keep himself in check.

He didn’t even realize how hard he was staring until Ran’s voice slid into his ear again.

“Careful. You’re staring holes into them. People might start thinking you’ve got a thing for her.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Haruchiyo snapped.

Ran smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Relax, Haru-chan. She’s just doing what girlfriends do. It’s not like you’ve got a shot anyway.”

The words hit their mark, and Haruchiyo snapped his glare toward Ran, his sharp eyes practically daring him to say more. But Ran, ever the provocateur, just chuckled and walked off, leaving Haruchiyo stewing in his own fury.

He tore his gaze away from you, but it was too late. The image of your arms wrapped around Mikey was already burned into his mind.

The jealousy bubbling in his chest was scorching, suffocating. And the worst part was, he couldn’t tell who he was jealous of.

Was it Mikey? Mikey, who had everything Haruchiyo had ever wanted—respect, loyalty, and now, you?

Or was it you? You, with your radiant smile, your soft laugh, your ability to draw out a side of Mikey that Haruchiyo hadn’t seen in years.

The lines blurred until all Haruchiyo could feel was a searing hatred for the way you made him feel.

Hatred, because he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Hatred, because he couldn’t stop looking at you.

And hatred, because no matter how much he told himself you didn’t belong in their world, a selfish part of him wanted you to stay.

Haruchiyo Sanzu knew exactly what he wanted.

He was a man of sharp edges, carved by desire and driven by instinct. When he reached for something, he never hesitated. Women were no exception—most of them fell for his dangerous charm, entranced by his striking pink hair and the unshakable confidence he exuded. But you? You were different.

Because you weren't just unreachable.

You were Mikey's.

That fact alone made every lingering thought about you unbearable. Every smile you gave to Mikey, every laugh that lit up your face—each one was a taunt, a reminder of the invisible line Haruchiyo couldn't cross.

And yet, you haunted him.

Haruchiyo had tried to convince himself that his infatuation with you would fade, that the strange ache in his chest every time he saw you with Mikey would eventually dull. He sought distractions, found fleeting thrills, and buried himself in the chaos of the gang’s world. For a while, he believed he had it under control.

The ache didn’t lessen, but he’d learned to hide it. He’d trained himself to stop flinching when you smiled at Mikey, to ignore the way his stomach twisted when you laughed, to dismiss the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him when he saw the way you looked at Mikey.

Then, one day, it all unraveled.

You came to him, tears streaming down your face, your voice trembling as you pleaded for his help.

“Mikey—he’s surrounded! There are too many of them. Please, you have to save him!”

Your words hit him like a knife to the chest, but it wasn’t just the message that cut him. It was the sight of you—your tear-streaked cheeks, your swollen red eyes, the desperation in your voice.

“The fuck are you doing here?! You tryna get yourself killed?!” His voice cracked like a whip, sharp enough to make you flinch.

His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his katana, the metal trembling with the force of his grip. Rage rolled off him in waves, but beneath it bled a deeper emotion—fear—desperate to be disguised.

He hissed through his teeth, voice dropping low. “Just… get the fuck out of here before you end up a corpse at my feet.”

Your tearful gaze wavered, lips parting as if to speak, but Haruchiyo had already turned away, jaw locked tight as though he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer.

You don’t belong here, he thought bitterly, his jaw clenching as he strode forward. Why the hell are you even involved in this mess?

He knew the answer: because of Mikey.

It was always Mikey.

The realization only stoked the fire inside him, the bitter lump in his throat making it harder to breathe.

By the time he found the enemies, Haruchiyo was already seeing red. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop to consider his actions. The first swing of his katana was precise and brutal, and the rest followed in a blur of blood and chaos.

His mind was blank, his body moving on instinct. He didn’t even register Mikey’s presence amidst the fight—didn’t notice his boss standing off to the side, silent and watchful.

All Haruchiyo cared about was eliminating every single threat.

When the last body hit the ground, Haruchiyo Sanzu stood amidst the carnage, chest heaving, blood dripping from his katana. He didn’t know whose blood it was anymore—his or theirs—but it didn’t matter. The red painted across his skin and clothes told the same story: violence and rage.

He turned to you.

You were still standing there, frozen, your hands trembling at your sides. Your wide eyes met his, but they weren’t filled with relief or gratitude.

They were filled with fear.

Haruchiyo’s stomach twisted painfully, but it wasn’t the trembling in your figure that drew him closer. It was the smear of blood on your cheek, stark against your pale skin, that compelled him forward.

Without thinking, he stepped toward you, his boots crunching against the blood-soaked pavement. His hand rose, unsteady, to wipe the blood from your face.

You flinched.

The sharpness of your movement cut hit him like a freight train, forcing him to stop mid-reach. His breath hitched, the sting of rejection settling deep in his chest.

What the hell was he doing? Trying to wipe your cheek like he was someone who could comfort you? Like he was someone who deserved to touch you?

His hand didn’t retreat. Instead, it lowered, wrapping gently around your throat.

There was no pressure, no intent to hurt—just his palm resting against your skin, feeling the rapid pulse beneath it. The warmth of your neck spread through him, grounding him in a way he didn’t understand.

For a moment, he let himself believe a lie.

That your quickened heartbeat wasn’t from fear but from something else. That it matched his own racing pulse, fueled by the same feelings coursing through him.

“Sanzu… Have we met before?”

The question jolted him.

He blinked, his grip loosening slightly as he stared at you.

“You were that boy,” you continued, realization dawning in your wide eyes. “The one I saw bleeding on the street.”

A bitter sneer twisted his lips, baring his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “What about it?”

Your words faltered, dying in your throat as his fingers flexed against your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his presence. His gaze bore into yours, searching, desperate to find something other than fear in your eyes.

But it wasn’t there.

The crunch of footsteps behind him made Haruchiyo freeze.

Your eyes snapped past him, locking onto the source of the sound. Relief washed over your features, softening the fear that had been etched there moments ago.

Mikey.

Haruchiyo didn’t need to turn around to confirm it. He could feel Mikey’s presence, calm and commanding, like a weight pressing down on his shoulders.

Your gaze darted back to him, uncertain, as if you weren’t sure whether to plead for him to release you or to run.

Haruchiyo almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

“Run,” he muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

And you did.

You swatted his hand away, stepping back before turning on your heel and running straight to Mikey.

“Mikey!” Your voice cracked with emotion as you clung to his arm. “Are you okay?”

Haruchiyo didn’t move. His hand hung limply at his side as he stared at the empty space where you’d stood just seconds ago. The warmth of your skin lingered against his palm, but it did nothing to quell the cold sinking into his chest.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he took a moment to recompose himself.

When he finally turned, his gaze met Mikey’s.

You were holding onto Mikey’s arm, your tear-streaked face pressed against his shoulder. Your sobs were quieter now, but the sight of you leaning on someone else—even if it was Mikey—stung in a way Haruchiyo didn’t have the words to describe.

The weight of his guilt, his jealousy, his unspoken feelings pressed down on him, and for a moment, Haruchiyo couldn’t breathe.

He dropped to his knees in front of Mikey, bowing his head low.

“Boss,” he murmured.

Mikey’s dark eyes flicked to Haruchiyo, unreadable as always.

“Akashi.”

Haruchiyo Sanzu had spent years pretending he didn’t feel anything for you.

But he wasn’t stupid.

He knew what it was—this thing clawing at his chest every time you smiled at Mikey. He knew it when you clung to Mikey’s sleeve back in school, when you cried into his arms, when you looked at him—Haruchiyo—as though he was just a shadow standing in Mikey’s light. That hollow weight in his chest wasn’t hate. It was hunger.

Obsession.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That it would pass. That you’d go away or Mikey would grow tired of you. That he would grow tired of you.

But you didn’t. Mikey didn’t. And Haruchiyo never did.

He tried to drown it out. He tried. Even now, years later, with Bonten inked into his skin and blood on his hands, he was still haunted. Haunted by the shape of your mouth, by the way your voice rose when you were angry, by the way you existed without even trying—and drove him fucking insane while doing it.

The nightclub owned by the Haitani brothers became his escape.

Most nights, he’d end up in that dim, smoke-filled private room on the third floor, neon lights flashing like a heartbeat through the glass. Music pounding against the walls. Lines of white spread out neatly across the glass table, a lighter flicking on and off between his fingers. There were always women around—girls who giggled too loud and touched him too much—but they were nothing.

They weren’t you.

They didn’t sneer the way you did when you were pissed. They didn’t challenge him, didn’t call him a lunatic like it was a curse and a promise all at once.

They didn’t burn.

And so, Haruchiyo stopped pretending. He sent the girls away. He drowned himself in pills, crushed and bitter on his tongue, chased with whiskey that burned like guilt. The drugs numbed the rage but not the ache. Not the way your name still hovered in the back of his throat like smoke he couldn’t cough up.

Most nights, the Bonten executives left him alone. Too many bad nights. Too many broken bottles. Too many holes in the walls and bruises blooming across people’s faces when they touched him wrong.

He was too much when he was high, they said.

But alone—that’s when the worst came.

The drugs hit fast, coating his mind in a blissful, detached haze. Everything slowed down. Everything softened.

Except you.

You were always there. In the corner of his eye. In the phantom weight on his lap. In the echo of your voice curled around his name like a noose.

And fuck—it wasn’t fair.

Why did it have to be you?

Why was it only you?

He sank deeper into the couch, one hand running down his face, the other sliding beneath the waistband of his pants. He didn’t even hesitate anymore. Didn’t bother closing his eyes—he didn’t need to. Your face was already there, so vivid it made his chest hurt.

His breath stuttered as his fingers wrapped around his length. He was already half-hard just thinking about your voice—sharp and angry, soft and breathless. He imagined you straddling him, fists in his shirt, cursing him through gritted teeth while your body told a different story. He imagined the way you’d glare at him when he made you beg.

Haruchiyo’s hips bucked into his palm.

A sharp breath. A curse. His grip tightened.

He shouldn’t be doing this. Mikey would fucking kill him if he knew. If he ever knew what Haruchiyo thought when he looked at you—what he did when he thought about you.

But he couldn’t stop.

He wanted you too much.

He stroked faster, chased the edge like a man starved, his mind spinning, your name the only coherent thing in the chaos. You, sneering. You, crying. You, moaning. You, screaming his name like it meant something.

The orgasm hit hard—like a wave crashing over him, dragging him under. His breath hitched. He groaned, low and ragged, slumped further into the couch as the aftershocks rolled through his trembling frame.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Just his heartbeat, pounding like a war drum in his ears.

And then—

Disgust.

It crept up slowly. Sour and shameful. He stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth like it could somehow take the moment back.

He felt sick.

Not because of the drugs. Not because of the high.

But because you didn’t deserve this.

Because he didn’t deserve you.

And maybe that was the worst part. That even now—after everything—he still wanted you. Still craved you. Still wanted to be close, even if it meant seeing you in someone else’s arms.

Haruchiyo Sanzu didn’t believe in love.

But if he did… it would look like this.

Like obsession. Like hunger. Like madness in his veins.

And your name in his mouth.

Haruchiyo Sanzu rubbed a hand down his face, dragging the heel of his palm across his mouth like it could erase the memory of what he’d just done. His other hand trembled faintly, twitching with the remnants of the high—though whether it was the drugs or you, he couldn’t tell anymore.

Suddenly, a shrill, high-pitched ringtone shattered the silence, stabbing through the haze in his skull.

His head snapped toward the phone vibrating violently on the table.

That phone. Only one reason it ever rang.

Work.

And when it was that ringtone?

It meant Mikey.

He scrambled, wiping his hand on the nearest towel and snatching the phone up with a speed that nearly sent the table crashing.

The screen flashed: “King.”

He took one shaky breath and answered.

“Yo, Mikey.”

His voice was too casual. Too light. He forced it through his teeth anyway, trying to slap the familiar crooked grin into his tone. Trying to sound like he hadn’t just been stroking himself raw to the image of his boss’s girl.

There was a long pause on the other end. Then, finally, that cold, detached voice: “Come to my office.”

Manjiro’s voice was never loud. He didn’t need to be. The silence after his words was always enough to fill the room.

It wasn’t a request. It never was.

Haruchiyo’s mouth curved into something halfway between a smirk and a grimace.

“‘Course I’m comin’, Mikey.”

He hung up before his voice could crack.

/

The ride to Bonten was a blur of neon lights and roaring engines. His superbike carved through Tokyo’s streets like a blade, wind tearing through his open jacket, smoke still clinging to his clothes. The night air helped—cleared the static from his head, sobered the crawl of chemicals in his bloodstream. But it didn’t stop your name from echoing in the corners of his mind.

By the time he pulled into the underground lot, his hands were steady again.

Mostly.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime as he stepped into the heart of the beast.

Bonten headquarters was silent. Too silent. At this hour, only ghosts and executives moved through its marble halls. But tonight, the usual stillness had a different weight.

Haruchiyo’s boots clicked down the marble corridor until something caught his eye—Mikey’s office door, left ajar.

That never happened.

A muscle in Haruchiyo’s jaw ticked as he pushed it open.

Mikey sat slouched behind his desk, paperwork scattered around him. His silver hair was mussed, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves shoved up. He looked… frayed. Not weak, never weak, but not the untouchable king Haruchiyo bled for either.

Haruchiyo smirked faintly, out of habit more than anything. “Boss?”

Mikey didn’t look up right away. When he did, his voice came flat, detached—like he was announcing the weather.

“I’m getting married.”

The words cut clean through the air.

And Haruchiyo knew instantly.

Married. To someone else.

Not you.

It wasn’t even a thought—it was instinct. He could tell from Mikey’s voice—the absence of warmth, the absence of weight. Mikey wouldn’t sound like that if it were you. If it were you, the words would’ve carried something. Anything.

Haruchiyo’s chest caved in around the realization, bitter heat flooding his veins.

His brain—trained on bloodshed, chaos, and silence—refused to accept what it had just heard. He should’ve felt triumphant. Hell, maybe even smug. Mikey letting go of you meant you were free now. No longer wrapped around the king’s neck like a noose. No longer the soft spot that Haruchiyo resented you for.

But the image that bloomed in his mind wasn’t one of relief.

It was you—shattered. Eyes glassy. Lips trembling. Voice cracking around a scream you wouldn’t know how to let out.

Because you loved Mikey. You loved him in that all-consuming, sacrificial way. Haruchiyo had always thought it was stupid. Weak. But now the image of your heartbreak wouldn’t stop clawing at the inside of his skull.

His jaw clenched until it ached.

“The fuck you sayin’, Mikey?” Haruchiyo’s voice came out low, hoarse—barely restrained.

Mikey didn’t even flinch. “I’m getting married next week.”

Same flat tone. Same dead-eyed delivery. Like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t detonating every part of Haruchiyo that still felt.

Haruchiyo’s hands trembled. He wasn’t even high anymore, and still—his control was slipping.

He took a step forward.

“What about her?” he hissed. “You just gonna toss her aside like trash?”

Mikey didn’t answer. He stared—empty and unreadable.

And the silence sliced through Haruchiyo like a wire pulled taut.

He shouldn’t care this much. He shouldn’t be this angry. Mikey was his king. His god. If Mikey decided to marry some no-name woman to fulfill some ancient wish, it wasn’t Haruchiyo’s place to say a goddamn thing.

But you—

You would be ruined.

And Haruchiyo couldn’t stop seeing it.

“It’s what Shin wanted,” Mikey said at last, gaze drifting away. “It’s the least I could do to honor him.”

The words sounded noble. But they felt like betrayal.

Haruchiyo’s eyes flared wide, fury swallowing any logic left in him. He slammed his hand against the desk hard enough to make the papers scatter.

“And what about her, Mikey?” he growled again, louder now. “What the fuck about her?!”

Mikey’s eyes snapped back to his, a flicker of irritation flashing in that black void of a stare.

“You don’t question me, Akashi. I’m the boss here,” he said coldly.

Haruchiyo froze, just for a beat. The weight of his boss’s tone pressed down on him, suffocating. But it wasn’t enough. Not when his gut was on fire, not when the image of your broken face was clawing at him.

“Then maybe you should fuckin’ act like one,” he spat, venom dripping from every word. “Not some coward hiding behind his dead brother’s ghost!”

That did it. Mikey moved. Fast.

A blur of movement—fist crashing into Haruchiyo’s face with a sickening crunch. His head snapped sideways, blood exploding from his nose as he staggered back, nearly knocking over a chair. The taste hit instantly—metallic, warm, humiliating.

But he didn’t fight back. Instead, he looked up—lip split, pulse racing—and saw something that made his breath hitch.

Mikey’s expression had finally cracked.

There was no rage. No fury. Just… pain.

Real, raw heartbreak bleeding through his carefully built mask. The edges of his mouth trembled. His brows pinched. And in his eyes—those empty, abyssal eyes—was the unmistakable glint of pain.

Haruchiyo faltered.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

Mikey wasn’t letting you go because he wanted to. He was burying you.

Just like he buried Shin. Draken. Emma. Baji.

And every piece of himself he couldn’t carry anymore.

The weight in the room was unbearable. Grief hung in the air like smog.

Slowly—deliberately—Haruchiyo stood straight.

He looked at Mikey. At the man he worshipped. The man who had ripped him from the jaws of death and made him a monster.

Then, in one fluid motion, Haruchiyo dropped to his knees.

“Please… don’t do this to her.” His voice was low. Strained. Like it had been ripped straight from his lungs.

“You can fucking kill me. You can burn the world if you want. But don’t hurt her, Mikey.”

The room was silent. Not even the lights buzzed now.

Only the soft rustle of scattered papers. The heavy sound of two broken men breathing in a room that had no god left.

Mikey didn’t speak.

And for the first time since he was a boy—Haruchiyo Sanzu didn’t know if the man he knelt before was still a king…

…or just another corpse waiting to rot.

Haruchiyo Sanzu’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The pills rattled against his palm before he shoved them into his mouth, swallowing dry. His throat burned, his chest ached, and the familiar static began to crawl at the edges of his vision. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

The Haitani nightclub pulsed like a living beast—heat, sweat, perfume, alcohol, the roar of bass so heavy it felt like it was cracking his skull in half. Girls draped themselves over men like ornaments, and one had slithered her way beside him now, giggling, her nails grazing his thigh in a way that should’ve distracted him.

But nothing could tear his gaze away from you.

Not when you were in the back room.

Not when Mikey was there with you.

Not when he watched the moment your face shattered.

The scene carved itself into him like glass. Mikey’s voice, calm, empty, saying he was getting married to someone else.

He saw the disbelief in your eyes dissolve into something worse—betrayal. The way your body folded in on itself as though trying to contain the pain, the way your tears spilled before you could catch them. Mikey gathered you against him, wrapping you in those arms you once believed could hold up the whole world. He kissed the crown of your head like it was mercy.

Haruchiyo felt his stomach heave.

But it wasn’t jealousy. Not this time.

It was hollow. It was ruin.

He’d begged Mikey earlier. Like a fool, he’d begged.

Don’t leave her behind. Don’t abandon her. Even if you’re marrying someone else, don’t you dare let her stand alone in this fucked up world.

The words still burned his throat. He hated himself for it. It was pathetic. Weak. It wasn’t loyalty to Mikey anymore—it was weakness for you. All these years he’d told himself he was protecting you from this world, keeping you alive, keeping you safe. But now? Now he couldn’t bear the thought of you gone. Of you not here, within reach—even if it meant watching you cry in another man’s arms.

The girl beside him shifted, pressing closer, her perfume suffocating. She murmured something sweet and meaningless, her hand on his leg, tugging for his attention. And for once, Haruchiyo let her. His arm came around her shoulder, pulling her flush against his side. The gesture was intimate—too intimate for him, who never touched women like this unless it was transactional. Her breath caught in surprise, flustered.

But his eyes never left you.

Not when he tilted her chin and pressed his mouth against hers.

The kiss was hollow, mechanical—his lips moving against hers, his tongue tasting nothing but the bitterness of his own obsession. He kissed her like a weapon, not an act of passion. And when his gaze slid past her face and found yours—

That was when it hit.

You were staring. Through the tears clouding your vision, through the brokenness twisting your features, you were staring at him. The corner of your mouth trembled. Then your glare cut sharp and cold, searing through him like fire before you turned away, burying your face into Mikey’s shoulder.

Haruchiyo almost smiled against the woman’s mouth.

It was pathetic. Twisted. Ugly. But it was something.

If all he could take from you was your hate, your disgust, your rage—he’d take it. He’d hoard it. He’d carve it into his chest like scripture. Because even when it hurt like hell, it meant he still existed in your world.

Even if it was only as a shadow.

He pulled away from the woman, his pupils blown wide, the pills buzzing in his bloodstream, and he whispered into her hair like it was meant for you:

“I love you.”

And he did. In his own ruinous way, he loved you. Loved you even when every gift you’d ever placed in his hands was pain. Loved you enough to bleed himself dry just to watch you smile at another man.

That was the curse. That was the obsession.

That was Haruchiyo Sanzu.

< special part ends >

author’s note. finally dropping Sanzu’s POV, hot and messy just like him *ahem* it honestly took me almost a year to get this out–writer’s block had me in a chokehold, and this chapter was way harder than i expected. but i’m glad i pushed through because i really love how it turned out. hope you guys enjoy diving into his twisted little head as much as i (painfully) did while writing it. and thank you all so much for your patience, love +++ especially the sweet messages you guys left in my inbox while I was struggling with this part. you guys are the reason I keep writing 🖤

also, i maxed out the tag limit—so sorry if i missed anyone, promise it wasn’t intentional :(

taglist. @sleeplessreader12 @thisismarisaaa @fallensuguru @unfortunately-a-dazai-kinnie @celestica-1988 @taebaozi @tribbisweetdear @aizawap @aquamarixx @sadlyradley @gh0stgirl333 @iluv-ace @reiners-milkbiddies @bontenbabyy @risheliette @loveantonnlee @sukunas-bitxh @honeygonebads-blog @r3yk @soilaluna @l1ttl3m1ss666 @novv @slvdsjjk @miffysoo @qyoongi @drakensdarling @ask-the-insect-hashira @awkwardaardvarkforever @thebiggestlovergirlever @shinichirolover @kyyuuuuu @ajumma @ariilovesmoney @ravyaryn @aquaberrydolphin @sakuraflower01 @nightstarbutterfly @theethy @sanzu-02 @hemmofox13 @bontensbabygirl @childesdog69 @marigoldye @lu-na-tic @hotdumplingsss @madiexuberant @nctseventeensworld @farmboisucktoes-blog @kikiuma @babxteaars

“Your two year anniversary!” You thought, hugging your knees on the large couch. It was six-thirty and you were eagerly awaiting your husband to come home and be surprised how decked out the place was. You bought red, pink and white balloons that stood on each side of the living room, your penthouse scented the apple pie aroma that was an inside tradition between you two to have with vanilla ice cream and cinnamon.

You wore Caleb’s favourite dress. The one he picked out for you. A dark red dress with gentle, bubbly, puffed sleeves with the bodice detailed in fine lace and a pink satin bow in the middle with the skirt airing out. Caleb promised he’d be home around seven-ish. You couldn’t wait to see his surprised reaction as he walked into the living room, admiring how beautiful you looked right now. You envisioned his starstruck eyes as he’d passionately kiss you. You could feel his lips on your right this second.

As you subconsciously lick your lips, a chime from your phone rang. It was a simple melody that only Caleb had on your phone. You excitedly picked up the phone to see his message, but your face fell a little.

Caleb:“Hey baby, I’m so so sorry, the fleet needs me to commence an emergency meeting. I might be a little late.”

He seemed really sorry, especially with the excessive amount of heart emojis he spammed. I sigh and glance at the clock but then I smile again. It was your anniversary night, and nothing would ruin this day. It makes the surprise more worth it.

You: “aw, it’s ok baby! Come as soon as you can safely.”

Caleb sent one more sorry emoji to show how bad he felt. You put the apple pie and the melting ice cream that you eagerly put out way too early, back in the fridge. When Caleb was close, you’d put it back on the coffee table again, along with the other snacks that you both loved sharing.

You try distracting yourself by scrolling on your phone, but all your feed presented was aesthetic surprises that you searched up in hopes of inspiration. Each reaction was cuter than the last. You found yourself smiling sadly as you glanced at the clock each ticking minute. It was now seven thirty. And Life360 didn’t seem to have notified that Caleb left.

He was an hour late. You grumbled before refreshing the life360’s screen over and over again, in hopes to see a bit of movement. You text him again.

“When are you comingg :c?” You ask. You couldn’t help it. You wanted him to be here so badly. To see how you decorated the place with yours and his favourite colours. You paced around a bit, waiting for his response. Because of the amount of biting and licking your lips you’ve done, you rush back into the bathroom to put on your lipstick and lipgloss again. You wanted to look perfect.

Fifteen minutes pass and you start to worry. You repeatedly call him, fighting unnecessary tears welling up, blurring your vision. He doesn’t answer a single call. Your bottom lip quivered as you ran your fingers down your hair again. Was Caleb coming? He wasn’t picking up any phone calls, his location seems to still be stuck in his office and you were all dolled up, waiting for him anxiously. The decorations seemed to be anticipating, with you too, as some balloons fell to the floor and others popped, scaring you so suddenly. The apple pie scent was more faint than before and your dress became more uncomfortable to sit in.

Another ten minutes go by, and the tears you were suppressing start staining and smudging the makeup you spent hours on perfecting. As you desperately called and called him, over and over, you tried calming yourself down. There was nothing to get worked up about. Until finally, Caleb’s voice comes through. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I got caught up in work, I’m coming home right now.” You didn’t say anything. Just hung up.

You weren’t frantic anymore. No. You were furious. After all this time of internally panicking, Caleb was just “caught up in work.” No phone call answers, standing you up. On your anniversary night of all days. But still. You had to keep it in. What happened to nothing ruining this day? You heated up the pie. It wasn’t as fresh as you bought it, but it’d do. The ice cream was completely frozen, so you left it out in the stuffy living room.

You march back into the bathroom to try and save your face from looking ugly for him. It was now eleven o clock. Caleb was four hours late. He swore he was coming home, but where was he? You couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t even bother trying to dial him. Just quietly wept to yourself, as the ice cream was now melting, again, and the apple pie just sat on the coffee table. Untouched.

You could hear the door click open and the rustling of leathered boots and heavy breathing from the front. “Pipsqueak?” Came your very late husband’s calls. You didn’t respond. Just kept sobbing. Your face that you tried your hardest to fix up was now ruined again as you buried your face into your hands, curled up on the sofa.

Caleb follows your cries, already feeling like the worst husband in the world. He trails your heartbroken voice to the living room, where all the decorations filled up the place with love. And his wife was just sniffling on the couch,“Oh my god Y/N.. was this for me?” You didn’t answer, too upset to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck.fuck.fuck.” Caleb kept repeating as he rushed towards you, hoping to cradle you in his arms. Your favourite flowers all tied in a cute bouquet, along with all the other presents he juggled carrying, fell to the floor. But you inched away. “I’m so sorry honey, I really didn’t mean to come this late. Oh fuck.” He whispered. But you just stood up and walked to the kitchen counter. Where all the food you ordered a long time ago just laid there.

Caleb could feel the immense guilt crashing down on him as he marveled around at the decorations you hung up, most definitely while smiling, envisioning that him and you would be feeding each other food. But now he ruined everything. You waited so long for him and now you couldn’t stop crying. Caleb stepped in closer, hoping to be able to pull you by the waist and embrace you, but you dodge him.

“I was waiting for so long..” you half-whispered. Leaving Caleb even more mortified. “Baby, I really didn’t mean to.. you look so beautiful tonight. It’s not midnight yet. We can still celebrate.” He said it with such hope and desperation to not end what was supposed to be the perfect night, like this. You, who was just about to retreat to your room, and wash off your makeup with tears just exhale through your nose as you bring the apple pie and ice cream that was accompanying you in your anticipation.

“There’s a good girl, please don’t cry. We can still celebrate like this. I can still fix it.” He encouraged, but you ignored him, you even ignored how he called you your favourite nick name. That’s when he knew, he really fucked things up. Badly.

The once romantic atmosphere dissipated along with the scent of apple pie. You didn’t feel like this day was special anymore. You stabbed the pie, with its contents oozing out, not much to your care. Caleb sat beside you, really trying to talk to you about your day, rubbing your knuckles softly with his hand,you were too tired to pull away. You knew you were being unreasonable. It wasn’t like Caleb chose to be late. But it still stung. How after a full day of work, on your anniversary, he still had the audacity to come home late.

Caleb exhaled. “You can be mad at me. Yell at me, hit me, but seeing you ignore me breaks my heart.” You give a wobbly smile. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Work happens. You’re a busy man.” You try to reassure, so he didn’t press on like this. “But you don’t seem to think it’s alright.” Caleb’s voice drops to a whisper. You grab his plate and yours, none of you finishing even a slice of the pie, before covering the remaining pieces in a dish cover. “I’ll clean all of this up tomorrow. I’m going to take a shower.” And you just quietly left, closing the bedroom door behind you.

“Fuck..” Caleb thought over and over again as he dishevelled his hair again. He could feel his heart shatter as you just gave him a soft smile. Like everything was fine. Like you weren’t just crying. Caleb really did try making it up to her. But his fucking job, always inconvenient at possibly the worst times. All these soldiers and they couldn’t even do their fucking job right? Need the colonel to guide and help them step by step? Did they not know that his wife was much more important?

But it wasn’t just the fleet’s fault. It was the colonel’s as well. And he knew that. Why did he even go to work today? While you were at your own job, he could’ve surprised you instead. Maybe he still could fix this. In his own way. Not by relighting the candles or anything, you deserved something much more.

Meanwhile as you tossed your folded clothes from the closet onto the bathroom tiles, and slowly started to undress yourself, a sharp exhale you let out makes your body shiver. You step into the shower, letting the scalding heat be your only focus right now. You shouldn’t have reacted like that. Just making Caleb look like the bad guy.

Tears, mixing along with the water falling all over your body. Your makeup that was smudged, washed out, leaving you bare faced.

You close your eyes, hot tears squeezing down, mingling with the water raining down on you. You can feel the door creak a little and you get the odd shiver someone was behind you, the clumsy fumbling of a belt and trousers being kicked off with a coat being carelessly shrugged off. Before you could turn around, A large arm wraps around your waist before gently guiding you to a rock-hard chest.

You strain your neck, trying to turn around to see who it is, although, who else would it be? Caleb’s arm, unyielding, pressed your back into his bare, toned chest. Bodies stuck to each other. Your stubbornness wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you.

Caleb buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and rubbing his nose against it. “I’m so sorry my pretty baby. How about we celebrate like this, yeah? It’s not much, but at least we can be together?” You turn towards him with the lodged lump in your throat. Tears that you swore you ran out of, start puffing your eyes again as he embraces you.

Your arms are folded and your hands are placed on his pecs with your head and wet hair placed on his shoulder. He rubs the small of your back up and down. Suddenly his hand moves a little lower, creeping to your ass cheeks before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I know you’re upset pips, how about you let Caleb make you forget, hm?” You sniff in response to bring his head that was perched on your shoulder blade, to your cheek, gently peppering kisses all over your face. He didn’t mean to be late. Now he was apologizing profusely. You loved him, how he could calm you down and fix his mistakes.

You look up at his eyes, the ridiculous height difference making you tilt your entire head up, to see his widened eyes gleaming in the dim bathroom light. He pouted his lips and puffed his pink cheeks out a little. Damn it Caleb. He knew you couldn’t resist his “puppy face” as you’ve called it countless times.

His hands that’ve killed and been ruthless to many, were gentle and careful as they cradled your face. He plants kisses to where the tears left faint trails on your skin. “So..beautiful..my..pretty..girl..” each word was quickly panted as he pulled back and went back down for each kiss. He admired you.

When he pulls away for a brief second to move on to the next unkissed skin, you pull him down to you by his chain he never takes off and smashes your lips to him. Rough, full with anger at him, with his soft lips taking over yours as it mixed with your salty tears and the running shower droplets. He presses his chest into your breasts as he guides you to the shower wall.

Then, the chaste kisses turn deeper as your tongue forcefully parts his lips, meeting his tongue as well. They dance around as the very little distance between us, turns into no distance. The taste of each other makes you moan into each others mouth as his tongue caresses yours gently, filled with love.

Your arms that were just softly pressed against his pecs now envelope him by the neck and his greedy caresses the side of your torso, top from bottom, up and down. It’s clear he stops himself before moving even lower.

How he still manages to make your entire body tingle from his touch, to this day is so endearing. He claims your mouth, winning the little play combat your tongues did as they danced around his mouth. The warm bulge coming from between your legs makes you clench your legs together as the arousal spreads throughout your body, losing yourself in him.

You can feel Caleb’s hard cock grinding against the lower part of your stomach, his desperation in your mouth was like he was kissing you one last time, like you were oxygen to him. His hands that were gentle as they felt your hips, now were clenching your ass cheeks so tightly it was a little painful. His body was vibrating hard with excitement arousing inside him.

“Happy anniversary my love.” Caleb moans in your mouth before pulling back as he peppers open mouth kisses down your jaw. But you needed him closer. As he starts sliding down your body, leaving mark after mark, you lift and wrap your legs around his waist with your hand tangled in his damp, chocolate brown hair.

Caleb’s hand supports you by sliding his hand painfully to slow down your thigh before hoisting you up with a slight grunt. Caleb grinds his cock into your core, multiple times, teasing you as you toss your head back and sigh in pleasure.

“Look at you, you can’t be mad at me for this long no?” Caleb rasps out with his free hand circling and then flicking your hard nipple. “Fuck Caleb..” you gasp out. Caleb gives a mischievous smirk as his erection was dripping wet, mixed with your juice that was also spilling out. “That’s it baby.” He growls, trying to keep a steady tone.

His shaft strokes the folds of your moist hole, the pressure being sweet and in a way, soothing against your throbbing clit. This feeling alone could end you. The way he did it with such teasing, soft but then painfully hard all at once. You couldn’t be mad at him. He loves you so fucking much it hurt. And this? This was one of his presents, and consonance gifts for you.

When Caleb reaches his hand between your now open thighs, he groans as his fingers are covered in wet, sticky juice that was only for him. It was like a gushing waterfall that would slowly thrash down harder.

With his index and middle finger, he scoops the arousal that was dripping down at your core before he brings his fingers to hips lips and sucks on them like it was a lollipop. You revel at him, his eyes squeeze shut and his head is thrown back as he moans.

“Fuck, you’re always so damn sweet.” he rasps out. “Let me fuck you, please, I’m making it up to you.” His desperation and begging makes you can’t help but nervously giggle and tease him.

“Is this better for me or you?” You pant out, a little unsteady. But you’re also desperate for this. How he needs you so badly makes your thighs and folds clench together tightly. You both wanted this. Even though today was supposed to be all fluff and heartwarming, the day changed and morphed into something else.

“Please, do it.” You groan out as he playfully squeezed your boobs. Your fingernails dig into the crook of his neck and he rubs his cock against your lower stomach even more. He’s so unbelievably hard it’s a thrill. Was he in pain? Maybe you just had to give him consolation that you couldn’t be mad at the colonel who tried his hardest to be here. And here he was.

You stroke his length gently, your palm twisted over the top before descending down. Moans escape his lips as you rub up and down. He then firmly grabs your wrist to stop the motion before he kneels down, like he did when he proposed to you two years ago today. His hand ghosts your leg all the way down wraps around your ankle. He then lifts up your leg and puts it over his shoulder, your Center fully exposed to him at this angle.

You stumble a bit at the little balance before he leads you to the shower bench that was beside you and pressed a kiss on both your inner thighs. Caleb’s nose comes closer, his knees still placed on the ground. He can clearly smell and salivate his feast as he comes closer and his breath dances into your swollen clit.

Your husband’s hands travel up your thighs, gently squeezing them as both thumbs from each side spread open your folds. His mischievous amethyst eyes gleam and dance around as he looks up to you. It was ironic how he was apparently “sorry” by that look.

How he licks up like a dog at your inner core is more desperate, like he was scared his meal was going to be taken away at any moment. With the curl of his skilled tongue, he coaxes even more wetness to drip into his mouth and swallow it satisfyingly. You writhe as he fucks you so beautifully with his tongue.

He pulses strokes with his flat, top part of his tongue against the aching heat and then captivating it in his filled mouth, sucking and swirling circular patterns that make your head also, swirl around. His fingers that still held the doors to your entrance tease and drum at you as he laps you up.

Until he pulls away and your whine slowly is replaced by a moan as his ridiculously long fingers slip into your heat like the right key to open the right door. Your head falls back and you cry out at the tight fit. You clench around his fingers, forbidding them, him, not to leave. But he then draws his fingers out of you, his knuckles dragging across your gummy inner walls, just how you like it, you let them slip out before they jab right back in, adding more pressure from each pump of his fingers.

Your arousal drips down his hand, gushing like a waterfall that was barricaded for far too long. The squishy, wet noises it makes makes you feel a little disgusted, but you were too overwhelmed with pleasure to care. The two fingers that skilfully went in and out were already wrapped around tight hole, but then your folds have to accommodate more company as he adds another finger.

You’re overstimulated with the pleasure that gushed through you to the point where you numb the rest of your body except the gaping tension between your legs. Caleb puts on an innocent face as his free hand keeps squeezing your leg, like that’ll pump out even more juice.

You couldn’t take it anymore and you entangled your fingers in his damp hair and dragged his head into and between your legs, your hips latched onto his mouth. He lets out a moan as he lets you take the wheel and ride his face.

He’s spent countless nights exploring and discovering your weak spots, you could say he was qualified in them. Against him, you’re a helpless pipsqueak at his mercy. A colonel’s fingers are skilled enough to know how to get you to mewl, cry out and moan.

You then feel a heat building slowly inside you. And you stifle a moan when you realize that it’s not just your orgasm. You were going to cum all over his fingers, and face. Your legs start twitching before shaking uncontrollably. You can’t hold anything any longer, you were going to release.

“Ah~Caleb!” You try moaning out before your knee buckles. But then you feel yourself being caught by his Gravity evol. The Gravity holds you up, allowing him to continue his desperate feast in your glistening core as his power cradled you, letting it all out. Pleasure erupts inside your body as you grind yourself against his face and fingers. But he continues to work through, pulling pumps and waves after one another out of you.

As you come back from your whited out vision, you tilt your head down at Caleb, with his fingers still sliding up and down inside you, trying to squeeze everything from your inside and walls out. He’s a mess from you. With your white fluid all over his mouth, dripping against his jaw and splattered across his beautiful, toned abs.

But instead of being disgusted, like he was never, you can tell just how turned on he is, probably painful from his last bulge you tried calming down. He looks at you like he wants to finish you, devour you whole.

You whine his name again, overstimulated before he finally removes himself from your legs after licking up all the fluid remains from his mouth and finger. He releases his evol all of a sudden and you collapse into him. Your legs feel like jelly as you sink into his warm embrace, your head resting on the crook of his shoulders as you use every little strength you had to hold onto him weakly.

He pulls you in, sitting down on the shower bench you were just on and lifting you effortlessly astride his throbbing red cock. “Good girl, I’ve got you.” He murmurs before capturing your mouth into a sweet kiss as reward and caresses his hand that just was inside you, up and down on the small of your back.

You both could tell this wasn’t overcast but you needed some time to recuperate. So he presses kisses to your lips, taking the lead that you didn’t have the strength to claim. His arms wrap you closer to him and your closed thighs sit on top of his man spreading position. This was the man you married.

Not the one who purposely tries to come late, but the one who knows how to be forgiven and doesn’t push you too far. He cares so deeply about your feelings that he bought a beautiful arrangement of your favourite flowers all in a bouquet, with boxes of designers and cute trinkets he knows you’d like all stacked up on top of each other. He really didn’t want to end the night on a low note.

He can sense the second your arousal is awakened again, wanting to suffer with joy again at how his skilled hands can make your body controlled like a puppet. Your legs start kneeling on top of his thighs and they roll again, the blazing desire burning up again for each other.

Caleb wants to make sure you’re safe and ready, despite your body’s yearning. “Alright take this slow.” He murmurs softly as his hand find your hips again and lifts you up higher. He lines you up with his cock and your entrance. It sends electric shocks through your body as another whine escapes your lips.

Like he’s prepping you, he plants a kiss on your belly button and guides you down on him, slowly.

He was forgiven, all was forgiven. What mattered is that he was here with you. Cherishing you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. Which, you were. He loves you. So damn much it hurts to see you cry, cry for him. How you lovingly did everything to surprise him, and he ruined it.

With every sigh you let out, he feels better that you’re better. His three fingers and his face wasn’t enough to prepare you for the blazing stretch you felt as his thick cock splits you open.

He’s thicker than those three fingers, you feel every ridge and wall touching him as he enters, wantonly panting as he takes claim of your tingling body, until there’s no space, all taken up inside you as you practically are punching the air out of you as you struggle to breath. He’s so thick, long, hard. He always has been, but it still pleasantly surprises you.

But he always has more to give, keeping your head guessing and spinning with each touch sliding in and in. “I never want to see you cry. Because of me.” He heavily pants but so sincerely it makes you want to cry at his sweet words. His red cheeks are absolutely flushed, and his sweat pours down with the water that seemingly feels cold compared to this feeling.

His gaze lowers to where he’s latched onto you, connecting the both of you. Caleb has wonder and admiration written all over his face. He lets out a low groan as he watches your hole swallow him with ease. “It didn’t take much to turn him on.” You think to yourself. “It’s a perfect fit, you were made for me.” He coos. “Look how beautifully you’re taking this.” He moans out, accompanying him as he praises you.

He could sweet talk you up, no matter how mad you were at him. This would and couldn’t ever get old, how he fills you up. You could just die from this feeling. “Fuck, you’re sucking me in.” He chokes out and his dick throbs inside you. He growled his fingers flexing and tightening the hold he had on your hips and then pulling you down all the way, the last few inches in.

Your hips buck out at the intrusion and you both yell out at the pleasure, the pain, the intensity of all of it. The shower echos it and it feels like the water spraying out falls still. Time moves slowly. And finally, impaled to shock of it all, you writhe, squirming against him, your walls spark around his cock, welcoming him back in, you were alright again. Things happen, shit doesn’t go as planned, but he’s all you had in this world, and he’ll love you endlessly.

“I only thought of you, the whole damn meeting I was called upon on, when quickly scrambling to buy you gifts, the car ride home, it was too long of a time.” Caleb pants. “You’re all I can think about, even all these years later, you fill my brain. The thought of me being deep into you like this, my dick just bulges hard.” Caleb explains, his cock lifting you up just as slowly as the damn descent.

“I’m sorry, so damn sorry that you were crying because of me. That’s the last thing I need to see. Next time, hit me, scream, be a fucking brat. Don’t you ever pretend everything is okay. It breaks my heart.” Your husband growls, effortlessly lifting you up and down, maintaining the slow, painful pace.

In any other circumstance, you would likely be voicing your frustration about how much he’s teasing you. But at this moment, the sensation of his strong heartbeats beneath your hand is more than enough. The very tangible feeling of him being inside you is sufficient as well.

The realization that he might never increase his pace begins to settle in. Perhaps he truly intends to keep you here indefinitely, stretched over his cock, him gliding along your walls and creating a delightful chaos within you for all time. The thought makes your walls flutter around him.

Even with the agonizingly slow rhythm, your urgent moans quickly fill the space. Caleb remains silent, observing as you lose all sense of control. He notices every ‘oh’ that escapes your lips, every tremor of your thighs, the way your nails dig into his back. You are utterly consumed by the exquisite sensation of him.

“I’m not even thrusting into you yet, and you’re already losing your mind on my cock,” he teases. A part of me feels embarrassed by how much he affects me. But that feeling fades when he feels this good.Caleb appears pleased with your response and begins to thrust upward to meet you. The force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce from the impact. He strikes a spot that makes your head tilt back in pleasure.

Finally, you think to yourself as you widen your legs, allowing him to penetrate even deeper.The once intimate silence is now filled with the lewd sounds of passion. The noise of your wet hair slapping against your back, your desperate moans, Caleb’s grunts as he thrusts into you, the sound of your bodies colliding, the wet noises from where you’re impaled on him.

The unmistakable tightening deep within you signals that you’re on the brink of breaking apart.“That’s it,” he murmurs as he feels your walls constricting around him. “Show me how much you were mad at me.” His lips find the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, sucking gently with an open-mouthed kiss. On his next thrust, he bites down on your flesh, hard.

Your whole body jolts - the combination of pleasure and pain overwhelms your senses. And then you’re falling. He allows you to lose yourself completely.Your whole body convulses - the blend of pleasure and pain overwhelms your mind. Then, you find yourself falling. He emits a loud, pained groan as he feels your walls pulling him in, spasming uncontrollably.

Spurred on by the rhythm of Caleb’s hips, your waves of ecstasy continue as he stirs your insides. Your cries escape you, powerless against the mind-altering pleasure that shows no mercy. Wave after wave - it feels endless.Caleb growls as his gaze begins to blur. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths, his neck straining from the effort to keep his composure. It takes all his strength to refrain from releasing himself inside you at this moment.

Caleb grips your chin, holding your cheeks firmly as he moves your face left and right, assessing your blissed-out expression. He demands your full attention even as you ride the waves of your orgasm. You wonder if he’s being rough on purpose or if he’s losing the careful control he usually maintains.

Feeling you break around him must be overwhelming. Perhaps his desire for you is taking over his mind.

Finally, round after round of this blissful torture, you croak out something incoherent and then collapse onto his chest. He stumbles back a little and embraces you lovingly. You can’t manage to say anything, just humming with contentment and tiredness washed over you. Caleb sighed, planting sweet kisses on your wet, disheveled hair before swooping you up, your thighs rested on the lower part of his arm, and your back on his upper hand.

He turned off the shower and placed you into the separated bathtub, delicately placing you down like you’d break any minute. The water from the shower was nothing compared to the damp towel Caleb wrung out and gently pressed onto your thighs and around your clit, washing off the mess. Then, after pressing the same towel onto his chest, all over his mouth, and his satisfied cock, your husband lifted you back up again and walked towards your bed.

“My pretty girl. You did so amazing.” He whispered inside your ear. Instead of just lying down, he quickly, and lazily, pulled on some boxers while he very carefully pulled one of his oversized shirts on your head, covering your torso and all the way until your thigh.

“You shouldn’t go to bed with wet hair, you know.” He playfully scolds before you groan out. “And who did that to me?” But he props himself up, getting a better look at you. “Hungry? Should we finish that pie?” You slowly nod as he briefly leaves you alone and comes back with the ice cream, pie, and a candle.

You sit up as he cuts a slice. He looks at his phone that was tossed aside long ago. “Huh, look at that. It’s two in the morning.” He grins before leaning in. “But, we can still celebrate. It’s only Friday-now Saturday.” You shove a piece of the pie that was dipped in ice cream into his mouth.

“Happy anniversary Y/N.” he softly whispers. “Happy anniversary, Caleb.” You reply back.

“Your two year anniversary!” You thought, hugging your knees on the large couch. It was six-thirty and you were eagerly awaiting your husband to come home and be surprised how decked out the place was. You bought red, pink and white balloons that stood on each side of the living room, your penthouse scented the apple pie aroma that was an inside tradition between you two to have with vanilla ice cream and cinnamon.

You wore Caleb’s favourite dress. The one he picked out for you. A dark red dress with gentle, bubbly, puffed sleeves with the bodice detailed in fine lace and a pink satin bow in the middle with the skirt airing out. Caleb promised he’d be home around seven-ish. You couldn’t wait to see his surprised reaction as he walked into the living room, admiring how beautiful you looked right now. You envisioned his starstruck eyes as he’d passionately kiss you. You could feel his lips on your right this second.

As you subconsciously lick your lips, a chime from your phone rang. It was a simple melody that only Caleb had on your phone. You excitedly picked up the phone to see his message, but your face fell a little.

Caleb:“Hey baby, I’m so so sorry, the fleet needs me to commence an emergency meeting. I might be a little late.”

He seemed really sorry, especially with the excessive amount of heart emojis he spammed. I sigh and glance at the clock but then I smile again. It was your anniversary night, and nothing would ruin this day. It makes the surprise more worth it.

You: “aw, it’s ok baby! Come as soon as you can safely.”

Caleb sent one more sorry emoji to show how bad he felt. You put the apple pie and the melting ice cream that you eagerly put out way too early, back in the fridge. When Caleb was close, you’d put it back on the coffee table again, along with the other snacks that you both loved sharing.

You try distracting yourself by scrolling on your phone, but all your feed presented was aesthetic surprises that you searched up in hopes of inspiration. Each reaction was cuter than the last. You found yourself smiling sadly as you glanced at the clock each ticking minute. It was now seven thirty. And Life360 didn’t seem to have notified that Caleb left.

He was an hour late. You grumbled before refreshing the life360’s screen over and over again, in hopes to see a bit of movement. You text him again.

“When are you comingg :c?” You ask. You couldn’t help it. You wanted him to be here so badly. To see how you decorated the place with yours and his favourite colours. You paced around a bit, waiting for his response. Because of the amount of biting and licking your lips you’ve done, you rush back into the bathroom to put on your lipstick and lipgloss again. You wanted to look perfect.

Fifteen minutes pass and you start to worry. You repeatedly call him, fighting unnecessary tears welling up, blurring your vision. He doesn’t answer a single call. Your bottom lip quivered as you ran your fingers down your hair again. Was Caleb coming? He wasn’t picking up any phone calls, his location seems to still be stuck in his office and you were all dolled up, waiting for him anxiously. The decorations seemed to be anticipating, with you too, as some balloons fell to the floor and others popped, scaring you so suddenly. The apple pie scent was more faint than before and your dress became more uncomfortable to sit in.

Another ten minutes go by, and the tears you were suppressing start staining and smudging the makeup you spent hours on perfecting. As you desperately called and called him, over and over, you tried calming yourself down. There was nothing to get worked up about. Until finally, Caleb’s voice comes through. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I got caught up in work, I’m coming home right now.” You didn’t say anything. Just hung up.

You weren’t frantic anymore. No. You were furious. After all this time of internally panicking, Caleb was just “caught up in work.” No phone call answers, standing you up. On your anniversary night of all days. But still. You had to keep it in. What happened to nothing ruining this day? You heated up the pie. It wasn’t as fresh as you bought it, but it’d do. The ice cream was completely frozen, so you left it out in the stuffy living room.

You march back into the bathroom to try and save your face from looking ugly for him. It was now eleven o clock. Caleb was four hours late. He swore he was coming home, but where was he? You couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t even bother trying to dial him. Just quietly wept to yourself, as the ice cream was now melting, again, and the apple pie just sat on the coffee table. Untouched.

You could hear the door click open and the rustling of leathered boots and heavy breathing from the front. “Pipsqueak?” Came your very late husband’s calls. You didn’t respond. Just kept sobbing. Your face that you tried your hardest to fix up was now ruined again as you buried your face into your hands, curled up on the sofa.

Caleb follows your cries, already feeling like the worst husband in the world. He trails your heartbroken voice to the living room, where all the decorations filled up the place with love. And his wife was just sniffling on the couch,“Oh my god Y/N.. was this for me?” You didn’t answer, too upset to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck.fuck.fuck.” Caleb kept repeating as he rushed towards you, hoping to cradle you in his arms. Your favourite flowers all tied in a cute bouquet, along with all the other presents he juggled carrying, fell to the floor. But you inched away. “I’m so sorry honey, I really didn’t mean to come this late. Oh fuck.” He whispered. But you just stood up and walked to the kitchen counter. Where all the food you ordered a long time ago just laid there.

Caleb could feel the immense guilt crashing down on him as he marveled around at the decorations you hung up, most definitely while smiling, envisioning that him and you would be feeding each other food. But now he ruined everything. You waited so long for him and now you couldn’t stop crying. Caleb stepped in closer, hoping to be able to pull you by the waist and embrace you, but you dodge him.

“I was waiting for so long..” you half-whispered. Leaving Caleb even more mortified. “Baby, I really didn’t mean to.. you look so beautiful tonight. It’s not midnight yet. We can still celebrate.” He said it with such hope and desperation to not end what was supposed to be the perfect night, like this. You, who was just about to retreat to your room, and wash off your makeup with tears just exhale through your nose as you bring the apple pie and ice cream that was accompanying you in your anticipation.

“There’s a good girl, please don’t cry. We can still celebrate like this. I can still fix it.” He encouraged, but you ignored him, you even ignored how he called you your favourite nick name. That’s when he knew, he really fucked things up. Badly.

The once romantic atmosphere dissipated along with the scent of apple pie. You didn’t feel like this day was special anymore. You stabbed the pie, with its contents oozing out, not much to your care. Caleb sat beside you, really trying to talk to you about your day, rubbing your knuckles softly with his hand,you were too tired to pull away. You knew you were being unreasonable. It wasn’t like Caleb chose to be late. But it still stung. How after a full day of work, on your anniversary, he still had the audacity to come home late.

Caleb exhaled. “You can be mad at me. Yell at me, hit me, but seeing you ignore me breaks my heart.” You give a wobbly smile. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Work happens. You’re a busy man.” You try to reassure, so he didn’t press on like this. “But you don’t seem to think it’s alright.” Caleb’s voice drops to a whisper. You grab his plate and yours, none of you finishing even a slice of the pie, before covering the remaining pieces in a dish cover. “I’ll clean all of this up tomorrow. I’m going to take a shower.” And you just quietly left, closing the bedroom door behind you.

“Fuck..” Caleb thought over and over again as he dishevelled his hair again. He could feel his heart shatter as you just gave him a soft smile. Like everything was fine. Like you weren’t just crying. Caleb really did try making it up to her. But his fucking job, always inconvenient at possibly the worst times. All these soldiers and they couldn’t even do their fucking job right? Need the colonel to guide and help them step by step? Did they not know that his wife was much more important?

But it wasn’t just the fleet’s fault. It was the colonel’s as well. And he knew that. Why did he even go to work today? While you were at your own job, he could’ve surprised you instead. Maybe he still could fix this. In his own way. Not by relighting the candles or anything, you deserved something much more.

Meanwhile as you tossed your folded clothes from the closet onto the bathroom tiles, and slowly started to undress yourself, a sharp exhale you let out makes your body shiver. You step into the shower, letting the scalding heat be your only focus right now. You shouldn’t have reacted like that. Just making Caleb look like the bad guy.

Tears, mixing along with the water falling all over your body. Your makeup that was smudged, washed out, leaving you bare faced.

You close your eyes, hot tears squeezing down, mingling with the water raining down on you. You can feel the door creak a little and you get the odd shiver someone was behind you, the clumsy fumbling of a belt and trousers being kicked off with a coat being carelessly shrugged off. Before you could turn around, A large arm wraps around your waist before gently guiding you to a rock-hard chest.

You strain your neck, trying to turn around to see who it is, although, who else would it be? Caleb’s arm, unyielding, pressed your back into his bare, toned chest. Bodies stuck to each other. Your stubbornness wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you.

Caleb buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and rubbing his nose against it. “I’m so sorry my pretty baby. How about we celebrate like this, yeah? It’s not much, but at least we can be together?” You turn towards him with the lodged lump in your throat. Tears that you swore you ran out of, start puffing your eyes again as he embraces you.

Your arms are folded and your hands are placed on his pecs with your head and wet hair placed on his shoulder. He rubs the small of your back up and down. Suddenly his hand moves a little lower, creeping to your ass cheeks before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I know you’re upset pips, how about you let Caleb make you forget, hm?” You sniff in response to bring his head that was perched on your shoulder blade, to your cheek, gently peppering kisses all over your face. He didn’t mean to be late. Now he was apologizing profusely. You loved him, how he could calm you down and fix his mistakes.

You look up at his eyes, the ridiculous height difference making you tilt your entire head up, to see his widened eyes gleaming in the dim bathroom light. He pouted his lips and puffed his pink cheeks out a little. Damn it Caleb. He knew you couldn’t resist his “puppy face” as you’ve called it countless times.

His hands that’ve killed and been ruthless to many, were gentle and careful as they cradled your face. He plants kisses to where the tears left faint trails on your skin. “So..beautiful..my..pretty..girl..” each word was quickly panted as he pulled back and went back down for each kiss. He admired you.

When he pulls away for a brief second to move on to the next unkissed skin, you pull him down to you by his chain he never takes off and smashes your lips to him. Rough, full with anger at him, with his soft lips taking over yours as it mixed with your salty tears and the running shower droplets. He presses his chest into your breasts as he guides you to the shower wall.

Then, the chaste kisses turn deeper as your tongue forcefully parts his lips, meeting his tongue as well. They dance around as the very little distance between us, turns into no distance. The taste of each other makes you moan into each others mouth as his tongue caresses yours gently, filled with love.

Your arms that were just softly pressed against his pecs now envelope him by the neck and his greedy caresses the side of your torso, top from bottom, up and down. It’s clear he stops himself before moving even lower.

How he still manages to make your entire body tingle from his touch, to this day is so endearing. He claims your mouth, winning the little play combat your tongues did as they danced around his mouth. The warm bulge coming from between your legs makes you clench your legs together as the arousal spreads throughout your body, losing yourself in him.

You can feel Caleb’s hard cock grinding against the lower part of your stomach, his desperation in your mouth was like he was kissing you one last time, like you were oxygen to him. His hands that were gentle as they felt your hips, now were clenching your ass cheeks so tightly it was a little painful. His body was vibrating hard with excitement arousing inside him.

“Happy anniversary my love.” Caleb moans in your mouth before pulling back as he peppers open mouth kisses down your jaw. But you needed him closer. As he starts sliding down your body, leaving mark after mark, you lift and wrap your legs around his waist with your hand tangled in his damp, chocolate brown hair.

Caleb’s hand supports you by sliding his hand painfully to slow down your thigh before hoisting you up with a slight grunt. Caleb grinds his cock into your core, multiple times, teasing you as you toss your head back and sigh in pleasure.

“Look at you, you can’t be mad at me for this long no?” Caleb rasps out with his free hand circling and then flicking your hard nipple. “Fuck Caleb..” you gasp out. Caleb gives a mischievous smirk as his erection was dripping wet, mixed with your juice that was also spilling out. “That’s it baby.” He growls, trying to keep a steady tone.

His shaft strokes the folds of your moist hole, the pressure being sweet and in a way, soothing against your throbbing clit. This feeling alone could end you. The way he did it with such teasing, soft but then painfully hard all at once. You couldn’t be mad at him. He loves you so fucking much it hurt. And this? This was one of his presents, and consonance gifts for you.

When Caleb reaches his hand between your now open thighs, he groans as his fingers are covered in wet, sticky juice that was only for him. It was like a gushing waterfall that would slowly thrash down harder.

With his index and middle finger, he scoops the arousal that was dripping down at your core before he brings his fingers to hips lips and sucks on them like it was a lollipop. You revel at him, his eyes squeeze shut and his head is thrown back as he moans.

“Fuck, you’re always so damn sweet.” he rasps out. “Let me fuck you, please, I’m making it up to you.” His desperation and begging makes you can’t help but nervously giggle and tease him.

“Is this better for me or you?” You pant out, a little unsteady. But you’re also desperate for this. How he needs you so badly makes your thighs and folds clench together tightly. You both wanted this. Even though today was supposed to be all fluff and heartwarming, the day changed and morphed into something else.

“Please, do it.” You groan out as he playfully squeezed your boobs. Your fingernails dig into the crook of his neck and he rubs his cock against your lower stomach even more. He’s so unbelievably hard it’s a thrill. Was he in pain? Maybe you just had to give him consolation that you couldn’t be mad at the colonel who tried his hardest to be here. And here he was.

You stroke his length gently, your palm twisted over the top before descending down. Moans escape his lips as you rub up and down. He then firmly grabs your wrist to stop the motion before he kneels down, like he did when he proposed to you two years ago today. His hand ghosts your leg all the way down wraps around your ankle. He then lifts up your leg and puts it over his shoulder, your Center fully exposed to him at this angle.

You stumble a bit at the little balance before he leads you to the shower bench that was beside you and pressed a kiss on both your inner thighs. Caleb’s nose comes closer, his knees still placed on the ground. He can clearly smell and salivate his feast as he comes closer and his breath dances into your swollen clit.

Your husband’s hands travel up your thighs, gently squeezing them as both thumbs from each side spread open your folds. His mischievous amethyst eyes gleam and dance around as he looks up to you. It was ironic how he was apparently “sorry” by that look.

How he licks up like a dog at your inner core is more desperate, like he was scared his meal was going to be taken away at any moment. With the curl of his skilled tongue, he coaxes even more wetness to drip into his mouth and swallow it satisfyingly. You writhe as he fucks you so beautifully with his tongue.

He pulses strokes with his flat, top part of his tongue against the aching heat and then captivating it in his filled mouth, sucking and swirling circular patterns that make your head also, swirl around. His fingers that still held the doors to your entrance tease and drum at you as he laps you up.

Until he pulls away and your whine slowly is replaced by a moan as his ridiculously long fingers slip into your heat like the right key to open the right door. Your head falls back and you cry out at the tight fit. You clench around his fingers, forbidding them, him, not to leave. But he then draws his fingers out of you, his knuckles dragging across your gummy inner walls, just how you like it, you let them slip out before they jab right back in, adding more pressure from each pump of his fingers.

Your arousal drips down his hand, gushing like a waterfall that was barricaded for far too long. The squishy, wet noises it makes makes you feel a little disgusted, but you were too overwhelmed with pleasure to care. The two fingers that skilfully went in and out were already wrapped around tight hole, but then your folds have to accommodate more company as he adds another finger.

You’re overstimulated with the pleasure that gushed through you to the point where you numb the rest of your body except the gaping tension between your legs. Caleb puts on an innocent face as his free hand keeps squeezing your leg, like that’ll pump out even more juice.

You couldn’t take it anymore and you entangled your fingers in his damp hair and dragged his head into and between your legs, your hips latched onto his mouth. He lets out a moan as he lets you take the wheel and ride his face.

He’s spent countless nights exploring and discovering your weak spots, you could say he was qualified in them. Against him, you’re a helpless pipsqueak at his mercy. A colonel’s fingers are skilled enough to know how to get you to mewl, cry out and moan.

You then feel a heat building slowly inside you. And you stifle a moan when you realize that it’s not just your orgasm. You were going to cum all over his fingers, and face. Your legs start twitching before shaking uncontrollably. You can’t hold anything any longer, you were going to release.

“Ah~Caleb!” You try moaning out before your knee buckles. But then you feel yourself being caught by his Gravity evol. The Gravity holds you up, allowing him to continue his desperate feast in your glistening core as his power cradled you, letting it all out. Pleasure erupts inside your body as you grind yourself against his face and fingers. But he continues to work through, pulling pumps and waves after one another out of you.

As you come back from your whited out vision, you tilt your head down at Caleb, with his fingers still sliding up and down inside you, trying to squeeze everything from your inside and walls out. He’s a mess from you. With your white fluid all over his mouth, dripping against his jaw and splattered across his beautiful, toned abs.

But instead of being disgusted, like he was never, you can tell just how turned on he is, probably painful from his last bulge you tried calming down. He looks at you like he wants to finish you, devour you whole.

You whine his name again, overstimulated before he finally removes himself from your legs after licking up all the fluid remains from his mouth and finger. He releases his evol all of a sudden and you collapse into him. Your legs feel like jelly as you sink into his warm embrace, your head resting on the crook of his shoulders as you use every little strength you had to hold onto him weakly.

He pulls you in, sitting down on the shower bench you were just on and lifting you effortlessly astride his throbbing red cock. “Good girl, I’ve got you.” He murmurs before capturing your mouth into a sweet kiss as reward and caresses his hand that just was inside you, up and down on the small of your back.

You both could tell this wasn’t overcast but you needed some time to recuperate. So he presses kisses to your lips, taking the lead that you didn’t have the strength to claim. His arms wrap you closer to him and your closed thighs sit on top of his man spreading position. This was the man you married.

Not the one who purposely tries to come late, but the one who knows how to be forgiven and doesn’t push you too far. He cares so deeply about your feelings that he bought a beautiful arrangement of your favourite flowers all in a bouquet, with boxes of designers and cute trinkets he knows you’d like all stacked up on top of each other. He really didn’t want to end the night on a low note.

He can sense the second your arousal is awakened again, wanting to suffer with joy again at how his skilled hands can make your body controlled like a puppet. Your legs start kneeling on top of his thighs and they roll again, the blazing desire burning up again for each other.

Caleb wants to make sure you’re safe and ready, despite your body’s yearning. “Alright take this slow.” He murmurs softly as his hand find your hips again and lifts you up higher. He lines you up with his cock and your entrance. It sends electric shocks through your body as another whine escapes your lips.

Like he’s prepping you, he plants a kiss on your belly button and guides you down on him, slowly.

He was forgiven, all was forgiven. What mattered is that he was here with you. Cherishing you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. Which, you were. He loves you. So damn much it hurts to see you cry, cry for him. How you lovingly did everything to surprise him, and he ruined it.

With every sigh you let out, he feels better that you’re better. His three fingers and his face wasn’t enough to prepare you for the blazing stretch you felt as his thick cock splits you open.

He’s thicker than those three fingers, you feel every ridge and wall touching him as he enters, wantonly panting as he takes claim of your tingling body, until there’s no space, all taken up inside you as you practically are punching the air out of you as you struggle to breath. He’s so thick, long, hard. He always has been, but it still pleasantly surprises you.

But he always has more to give, keeping your head guessing and spinning with each touch sliding in and in. “I never want to see you cry. Because of me.” He heavily pants but so sincerely it makes you want to cry at his sweet words. His red cheeks are absolutely flushed, and his sweat pours down with the water that seemingly feels cold compared to this feeling.

His gaze lowers to where he’s latched onto you, connecting the both of you. Caleb has wonder and admiration written all over his face. He lets out a low groan as he watches your hole swallow him with ease. “It didn’t take much to turn him on.” You think to yourself. “It’s a perfect fit, you were made for me.” He coos. “Look how beautifully you’re taking this.” He moans out, accompanying him as he praises you.

He could sweet talk you up, no matter how mad you were at him. This would and couldn’t ever get old, how he fills you up. You could just die from this feeling. “Fuck, you’re sucking me in.” He chokes out and his dick throbs inside you. He growled his fingers flexing and tightening the hold he had on your hips and then pulling you down all the way, the last few inches in.

Your hips buck out at the intrusion and you both yell out at the pleasure, the pain, the intensity of all of it. The shower echos it and it feels like the water spraying out falls still. Time moves slowly. And finally, impaled to shock of it all, you writhe, squirming against him, your walls spark around his cock, welcoming him back in, you were alright again. Things happen, shit doesn’t go as planned, but he’s all you had in this world, and he’ll love you endlessly.

“I only thought of you, the whole damn meeting I was called upon on, when quickly scrambling to buy you gifts, the car ride home, it was too long of a time.” Caleb pants. “You’re all I can think about, even all these years later, you fill my brain. The thought of me being deep into you like this, my dick just bulges hard.” Caleb explains, his cock lifting you up just as slowly as the damn descent.

“I’m sorry, so damn sorry that you were crying because of me. That’s the last thing I need to see. Next time, hit me, scream, be a fucking brat. Don’t you ever pretend everything is okay. It breaks my heart.” Your husband growls, effortlessly lifting you up and down, maintaining the slow, painful pace.

In any other circumstance, you would likely be voicing your frustration about how much he’s teasing you. But at this moment, the sensation of his strong heartbeats beneath your hand is more than enough. The very tangible feeling of him being inside you is sufficient as well.

The realization that he might never increase his pace begins to settle in. Perhaps he truly intends to keep you here indefinitely, stretched over his cock, him gliding along your walls and creating a delightful chaos within you for all time. The thought makes your walls flutter around him.

Even with the agonizingly slow rhythm, your urgent moans quickly fill the space. Caleb remains silent, observing as you lose all sense of control. He notices every ‘oh’ that escapes your lips, every tremor of your thighs, the way your nails dig into his back. You are utterly consumed by the exquisite sensation of him.

“I’m not even thrusting into you yet, and you’re already losing your mind on my cock,” he teases. A part of me feels embarrassed by how much he affects me. But that feeling fades when he feels this good.Caleb appears pleased with your response and begins to thrust upward to meet you. The force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce from the impact. He strikes a spot that makes your head tilt back in pleasure.

Finally, you think to yourself as you widen your legs, allowing him to penetrate even deeper.The once intimate silence is now filled with the lewd sounds of passion. The noise of your wet hair slapping against your back, your desperate moans, Caleb’s grunts as he thrusts into you, the sound of your bodies colliding, the wet noises from where you’re impaled on him.

The unmistakable tightening deep within you signals that you’re on the brink of breaking apart.“That’s it,” he murmurs as he feels your walls constricting around him. “Show me how much you were mad at me.” His lips find the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, sucking gently with an open-mouthed kiss. On his next thrust, he bites down on your flesh, hard.

Your whole body jolts - the combination of pleasure and pain overwhelms your senses. And then you’re falling. He allows you to lose yourself completely.Your whole body convulses - the blend of pleasure and pain overwhelms your mind. Then, you find yourself falling. He emits a loud, pained groan as he feels your walls pulling him in, spasming uncontrollably.

Spurred on by the rhythm of Caleb’s hips, your waves of ecstasy continue as he stirs your insides. Your cries escape you, powerless against the mind-altering pleasure that shows no mercy. Wave after wave - it feels endless.Caleb growls as his gaze begins to blur. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths, his neck straining from the effort to keep his composure. It takes all his strength to refrain from releasing himself inside you at this moment.

Caleb grips your chin, holding your cheeks firmly as he moves your face left and right, assessing your blissed-out expression. He demands your full attention even as you ride the waves of your orgasm. You wonder if he’s being rough on purpose or if he’s losing the careful control he usually maintains.

Feeling you break around him must be overwhelming. Perhaps his desire for you is taking over his mind.

Finally, round after round of this blissful torture, you croak out something incoherent and then collapse onto his chest. He stumbles back a little and embraces you lovingly. You can’t manage to say anything, just humming with contentment and tiredness washed over you. Caleb sighed, planting sweet kisses on your wet, disheveled hair before swooping you up, your thighs rested on the lower part of his arm, and your back on his upper hand.

He turned off the shower and placed you into the separated bathtub, delicately placing you down like you’d break any minute. The water from the shower was nothing compared to the damp towel Caleb wrung out and gently pressed onto your thighs and around your clit, washing off the mess. Then, after pressing the same towel onto his chest, all over his mouth, and his satisfied cock, your husband lifted you back up again and walked towards your bed.

“My pretty girl. You did so amazing.” He whispered inside your ear. Instead of just lying down, he quickly, and lazily, pulled on some boxers while he very carefully pulled one of his oversized shirts on your head, covering your torso and all the way until your thigh.

“You shouldn’t go to bed with wet hair, you know.” He playfully scolds before you groan out. “And who did that to me?” But he props himself up, getting a better look at you. “Hungry? Should we finish that pie?” You slowly nod as he briefly leaves you alone and comes back with the ice cream, pie, and a candle.

You sit up as he cuts a slice. He looks at his phone that was tossed aside long ago. “Huh, look at that. It’s two in the morning.” He grins before leaning in. “But, we can still celebrate. It’s only Friday-now Saturday.” You shove a piece of the pie that was dipped in ice cream into his mouth.

“Happy anniversary Y/N.” he softly whispers. “Happy anniversary, Caleb.” You reply back.

Fin

The water was still running when you felt him.

One moment your hands were sunk in warm suds, stacking dishes in the rack like any other evening, and the next Caleb’s chest was pressed flush against your back—hard, broad, still sheathed in his uniform. The sharp smell of leather and rain hit first, then the low groan in his chest as he wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you back until his clothed cock was nestled right against your ass.

“Fuck, pips…” his voice cracked, lips grazing your neck as he breathed you in. His nose buried at your pulse, dragging slow, greedy inhales that made your skin burn. “Missed that, fuck I missed you.”

The dish slipped from your fingers, clattering softly into the sink. “C-caleb! You're back mm..early. H-how was your day?”

A rough, almost broken laugh vibrated through his chest against your back. “Day was fine,” he rasped, voice strained and low, “just 'missed you.” His mouth dragged lower, hot and open against your skin, sucking at the spot that always made you shiver, a soft gasp tumbling from your lips. “thought about feelin’ you, smellin’ you all day—always smell so sweet.” Caleb’s arm cinched tighter around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest like he couldn’t stand even a breath of space between you.

You tilted your head, baring your throat for him, eyes fluttering as more wave of nerves coursed down your spine. “Mmm—ah, m-missed you too, ’leb,” you breathed out in a sigh, the words tumbling soft and unguarded, melting straight into the heat of his chest. His lips grazed the side of your neck again, and you swore you felt him shudder at your confession, like the sound of it had undone him completely.

The scent of his cologne, dampened by the rain clinging to his uniform, wrapped around you, dizzying and thick. Caleb groaned low in his chest—nearly a moan at your words—his breath hitching ragged against your skin as his hips rolled forward, rougher now, obscene, allowing you to feel every inch of him straining through the dark fabric of his slacks.

“Say it again,” he rasped, voice hoarse, almost pleading. His gloved hand slid up, curling around your jaw, coaxing your head to turn until your eyes met purple ones. His face hovered close, eyes dark and starving—but he didn’t close the distance. You could feel the tension in him, the way his chest rose sharp against your back, like he was barely holding himself back.

Your lips parted, lashes flicking from his to his lips before you breathed sweetly, “Missed you too—” A strangled whimper fell past Caleb's lips before he could swallow it down, his restraint shattering as he surged forward to capture your mouth in a desperate kiss, practically moaning the second yours graced his.

Caleb's lips claimed yours like he meant to consume you, groaning into the kiss as his hips ground harder against your ass, the thick line of him straining through his slacks. Each needy roll pressed deeper into the swell of you, sparks shooting straight to your clit. The vibration of his moan melted into your mouth, swallowing every gasp and whimper you gave him like they were the only thing keeping him alive.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, "Need you so bad pips..wanna feel you," his forehead pressing to yours as his hand finally slipped past the elastic waistband of your shorts. The action drew a gasp from you as leather dragged hot over your skin, a delicious contrast from his fingers pushing under the thin fabric of your panties.

“C-Caleb wait! Don’t you wanna ngh…go to the bedroom first..?” you asked breathlessly, your hand grabbing onto his forearm, despite your back arching helplessly into his touch.

He groaned at your plea, the sound wrecked, almost broken. “Mhm, mhm—don’t wanna wait. Need you now.” His voice was strained, bordering on a whine, each word spilling hot against your lips before his mouth dragged lower to your throat. His tongue traced a wet, messy line along your neck before he latched on and sucked hard enough to make you whimper.

“C-Caleb!”

A moan—half ragged, half feral—tore from Caleb’s lips at the sound of his name spilling off your tongue. His gloved fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, hunger guiding him like instinct. The leather dragged hot over your skin before dipping into your panties, grazing your soaked folds with practiced precision. Your slick made it easy for him to slide, and when one thick digit pushed past your entrance, stretching your gummy walls, you broke.

“Ahh—’leb—!”

The way you cried his name made him moan back, desperate and unhinged, rutting his hips against the swell of your ass like he was already about to fall apart. His fingers sank deeper, knuckles nudging inside as his thumb pressed down on your clit, messy and relentless. The wet squelch of your pussy filled the kitchen, loud and obscene, pulling a guttural groan straight from his chest.

“Y-yeah, just like that—fuck, that’s it. Say my name again,” he begged, voice wrecked and trembling. His forehead pressed to the side of your head like he needed the contact to keep from breaking. His hips stuttered against you, the thick length straining through his uniform as if he was using your body to grind out his own desperation.

Your back arched into his chest, breath stolen in sharp gasps as his fingers pumped deeper, harder. Every thrust was sloppy, wet, obscene, slick coating the leather until each push made a nasty squelch that echoed off the kitchen tiles.

“Love hearin’ it from you, pretty—fuck—turns me on so much. Say it again, pips—please.” His plea was choked, needy, dripping out of him like he was seconds from begging on his knees.

Meanwhile your vision went starry, white heat coiling tight in your belly as the pleasure built fast and sharp, your thighs trembling against his iron grip. A shaky exhale fell past your lips, eyes practically rolling back into your skull as a soft plea reached Caleb's ear.

"D-don't stop 'leb, wanna-ngh-cum for you."

Caleb let out a strangled whimper, the sound raw, torn from his chest. His fingers instantly drove deeper, fucking into you deeper, faster, while his thumb rubbed messy circles over your clit, frantic and uncoordinated in his desperation. You could practically taste your orgasm at this point.

“Gonna make me cum in my fuckin’ pants sayin’ that, pips,” he babbled against your throat, voice wrecked, every word a needy plea tangled in a promise. His mouth was hot and unrelenting, kissing, biting, sucking at your skin like he couldn’t get enough, groaning between every lap of his tongue. “Always so good f’me—shit—always so sweet. Let go, pretty girl. Give it to me—c’mon, let me have it.”

Your knees buckled, nails biting into his forearm as your head fell back against his shoulder, body quaking under his touch. His pace only grew more reckless, the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy filling the kitchen, mixing with the desperate little whines breaking from his throat.

“G-gonna—!” you gasped, grinding down against his hand, chasing the edge as your whole body locked tight.

“That’s it, that’s it—fuck yes,” Caleb groaned, almost sobbing, his forehead pressed to your shoulder as his hips rutted into your ass like he couldn’t stop himself. “Give it to me, pips—let me feel you—need it, need it so bad—”

And then you broke. A cry tore out of you as the wave hit, thighs clamping around his hand while your cunt spasmed around his fingers. Pleasure flooded you in sharp, dizzying bursts, your hips bucking helplessly against the relentless drag of his gloves.

“Good girl—fuck, that’s my girl—” Caleb’s voice cracked as he praised you, his chest heaving like he couldn’t breathe, grinding into you harder as if your orgasm was dragging him under with you. “So fuckin’ perfect—so perfect for me.”

Your release soaked his fingers, slick coating the leather, and Caleb’s breath hitched raggedly at the sight of it. His hips jerked once—twice—before a strangled groan tore from him. “Ahh—pips—I can’t—” His voice pitched high, breaking as his body locked up against yours. You felt the sharp, needy rut of his cock grind into your ass once more before the damp heat spread in his uniform slacks, his release spilling thick as he came undone right there against you.

His whole body shuddered, forehead pressed to your neck, teeth sinking into your skin to muffle the broken whimper that escaped him. His gloved fingers never stopped, still pumping you through every aftershock, like he needed to feel you fall apart while he did.

When your whimpers softened, he pulled back just enough to look at his hand glistening under the kitchen light. His pupils were blown wide, his breath harsh, chest straining against his uniform.

“I need a taste—"

He brought his soaked fingers to his lips without hesitation, sucking them past his mouth with a guttural groan. His eyes fluttered shut as his tongue swirled along the leather, dragging every drop of your slick into his mouth like it was the first drink after a drought. He moaned around them, pulling off with a wet pop, saliva glistening on his chin. His gaze snapped back to you, dark and hazy, lips swollen as he licked across them, chasing the taste. “Can’t get enough of you, pips—never fuckin’ can.”

Then he was spinning you around, hunger blazing in every movement. His mouth crashed against yours in a wet, desperate kiss, sharing the taste of yourself with you as his hands made quick work of shoving your shorts and panties down your thighs.

Your half lidded eyes fluttered open in a haze, already knowing where this is going to lead- to you two fucking in the kitchen and Caleb having to carry you back to the bed due to him blacking out once he slides in your pussy.

You swallowed hard, still trying to catch your breath, fumbling for words. “Leb—w-wait! Don’t you wanna…mfh- get more comfortable?” Your thighs twitched together on instinct, trying to close as you fought to speak against his hungry lips. Barely getting the chance to pull away far enough so that you'd have a second to speak.

The whine that left Caleb's lips as he chased your lips once more made your heart squeeze. Your will to resist his pleas was growing alarmingly small.

“You’re still in your uniform, ’leb—mfhh.”

The protest broke uselessly against his mouth. Caleb wasn’t hearing it, wasn’t capable of hearing anything past the thunder of his pulse and the taste of you. His lips crashed back onto yours, swallowing your words in a kiss so hot and messy it had your knees trembling. The sheer intensity of it alone sent arousal slipping down your thighs, your body betraying you under the weight of his hunger.

And when his tongue pushed past your lips, eager and greedy, sweeping into your mouth like he meant to devour every sound you made—you knew it was over. Your hands found his neck and hair, clutching desperately, dragging him closer until there was nothing left of the space between you. His growl vibrated straight into your chest as your nails dug into him.

But Caleb wasn’t satisfied. He never was when it came to you. His gloved hand slid down, sneaky and deliberate, parting your thighs once more with a subtle press that had your breath hitching. He kissed you like a man unhinged, but his body was already moving lower, inch by inch, until you felt the heat of his breath ghost your belly.

“Leb—” Your voice cracked, but he didn’t give you the chance to finish.

His mouth tore from yours with a wet gasp, forehead pressing hard to yours, breath hot and ragged. “Already had one taste, pips,” Caleb rasped, voice low and trembling with lust. His pupils were blown wide, gaze burning into you as his gloved hand slid down, gripping your thigh and spreading you open just enough to make you suck in a sharp breath.

His lips ghosted over yours again, softer this time, a teasing brush. “But now—” his tongue flicked against your bottom lip before he drew back just enough for you to feel the loss—“I want a different kind of taste.”

Before the words could even settle, Caleb was dropping to his knees. The sight alone made heat punch through your belly—your colonel, still in his uniform, hair falling into his wild purple eyes, sinking down in front of you like he was about to pray to an altar. His big hands shoved your thighs apart, unyielding, claiming, until you were spread open for him against the counter.

Then he buried his face between your legs, no hesitation, no patience. A guttural moan ripped straight from his chest as his tongue dragged a fat, sloppy stripe up your folds, savoring you with messy, obscene hunger. The vibration of the sound against your cunt made your knees buckle instantly, your head falling back as white-hot pleasure tore through you.

"H-holy shit 'leb-wait s-slow down!"

Caleb ate you like a man starved—sloppy, messy, desperate. His nose nudged your clit as his tongue circled, lapped, then dipped deep into your cunt, fucking you with wet, obscene thrusts of his mouth. The bottom half of his face was drenched, but he couldn't seem to care less, didn’t even look like he was breathing in between groans of your name. Like his need to taste you outweighed everything else.

His gloved hands gripped your thighs, holding you open and still as he ravaged you, lips and tongue working you over with frantic precision. Each sloppy lap and press of his nose against your clit sent shivers through your spine, making your knees wobble and your hips jerk involuntarily.

Your thighs quivered around his face, your nails digging into the backs of his shoulders as your body pressed down, helpless to the relentless pull of pleasure. Every flick of his tongue, every sloppy swirl, dragged another broken moan from your lips, leaving you trembling and on the edge of losing control again.

You came once, thighs trembling, voice breaking in a scream of his name—but he didn’t stop. Caleb groaned through it, tightening his grip as your hips bucked, sucking and licking at you harder like he needed to wring every ounce of release from your body.

“Fuck—so sweet,” he panted into your slick, voice wrecked and needy. “Gimme more baby, give it to me-mffh”

The second orgasm ripped through you quicker, sharper, your thighs clamping around his head as your body convulsed against the counter. Caleb whimpered at the way you pulsed around his tongue, sucking harder, drawing it out until your voice was nothing but broken moans.

When he finally tore himself away, his mouth was shining, chin slick, lips swollen. His chest heaved under the stiff press of his uniform as he looked up at you, purple eyes wild and still hazy with lust.

Yeah...you weren't leaving this kitchen anytime soon.

♡

The wet smack of your bodies echoed through the kitchen, louder than the rain hammering against the windows. Your slick was everywhere, dripping down his cock, running down your thighs, making every slap filthier, wetter.

“S’good—fuck, you’re so good, baby,” Caleb babbled, almost whining as he buried his face against your neck, his hips slamming up into you again and again. His breath came in hot, broken bursts, teeth scraping your skin as if he couldn’t keep his mouth off you. “So tight—so fuckin’ wet for me."

Meanwhile, you were practically melting under him, mouth parted, saliva pooling as your nails raked down his back through the damp, clinging fabric of his uniform. You clawed at him like you were trying to hold onto something—or maybe like you might tear him apart entirely. “S’good, ‘leb—don’t stop, don’t stop, please!” you whimpered, voice shaking, body bouncing helplessly in his grip.

His cock plunged deep with every powerful thrust, each drive hitting that perfect spot inside you, ripping little cries from your throat as your cunt clenched desperately around him. Arms gripped your waist and thighs, keeping you flush to his chest as your hips jerked helplessly with each relentless pound.

You had long lost count of how many times you’d come. Four? Five? Truthfully you had lost count, each time Caleb pulled another earth shattering orgasm out of you another part of your brain turned to mush.

“F-fuck—‘leb, too much—ahh, I can’t—!” your voice cracked, but your cunt betrayed you, squeezing down on him so tight he groaned, a feral sound torn straight from his chest.

“Yes, you can, pips,” Caleb rasped, breath hitching, voice wrecked and almost begging. His forehead pressed hard to yours, sweat beading at his temple, hair sticking damp to his face as his hips pistoned into you. “Take it for me—lemme hear you.”

You gasped, choking on your own moans as your body jolted against the cabinets, his cock hitting deep, dragging against every swollen, sensitive spot inside you. Stars burst across your vision, your thighs trembling helplessly in his grip.

“That’s it—oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his gloved hand slipped down between your bodies, pressing against your clit, rubbing in messy circles to match the slam of his thrusts. “Make a mess for me, baby. Wanna feel you gush on my cock again—give it to me.”

Your body lurched, pleasure winding so sharp it bordered on pain. “C-Caleb, I—ahh, I’m gonna—!”

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he nearly sobbed into your neck, rutting harder, faster, grinding into you like he wanted to break you apart on his cock. “Cum for me, pips—make a fuckin’ mess for me, let me feel it—” The words alone undid you. Your cunt squeezed tight around him, and then you broke with a cry, back arching, nails digging his shoulders as your orgasm ripped through you, wetter and harder than before. Slick gushed down his cock, dripping to the floor, and Caleb moaned at the feel, hips stuttering but never stopping.

“God—fuck yes—so sweet, so fuckin’ perfect,” he gasped, kissing you sloppy and hungry, swallowing your cries as his thrusts grew erratic. “That’s it, baby, give me all of it—fuck, I can feel you milkin’ me shiiit—”

His cock slammed deep one last time, the wet heat of your release coating him, and then Caleb broke with you. A pornographic moan tore from his chest as his hips ground flush against yours, cock pulsing as he spilled inside. The warmth spread through you in thick waves, his seed filling you so deep it made your toes curl.

“F-fuck—oh god, 'leb,” you whimpered, squirming in his hold as your sensitive walls fluttered around him. Your head fell against his shoulder, body weak, twitching from aftershocks. Every tiny movement had you whimpering, the fullness almost unbearable.

Caleb’s chest heaved against yours, his forehead pressed to the curve of your neck, hair damp and clinging as he exhaled raggedly. Even as his body came down from the edge, his hips rolled with slow, deliberate pressure, pushing every inch of himself deeper into you. The warmth of his cum coated your walls, slick and heavy, while his low, guttural groans vibrated through your body, matching the tremor of your quivering thighs. Every soft gasp, every helpless whimper of yours seemed to drive him further, his fingers tightening on your hips as if he could anchor both of you to this overwhelming sensation.

You whimpered, tugging weakly at his uniform, but he only kissed your temple, feverish, still trembling from the high. Then he pulled back, purple eyes wild and desperate, his voice dropping into something rough, hungry.

“One more time, pips,” he begged, almost whined, as his cock twitched inside you. His gloved hands gripped your thighs tighter, spreading you open against the cabinet. “Let me fuck you one more time, 'promise I'll make you feel so good."

“C-Caleb, I—” your protest died in a gasp as his hips drove sharply into you again, cock still hard, still needy, still stuffing you deliciously full. Your body jolted at the sensation, oversensitive and twitching, every nerve on fire. “H-honey I can't s'too much—ahh—”

His forehead pressed to yours, damp brown strands sticking to his temple, sweat glinting along his skin as he rutted slow, deliberate, grinding you down against the cabinet with each powerful thrust. “C’mon, pretty… just one more. Wanna fill you up again—wanna stuff you full,” he murmured.

Christ.

If you had been in any proper state of mind, you might have kissed him softly and whispered that you were going to pass out at this rate—not that it hadn’t happened before—and that maybe he should rest too. But you were too far gone, utterly cockdrunk, and resistance was damn near futile.

So, as your teary, flushed eyes blinked up at Caleb, slick dripping down his hips, you could only shiver and arch into him, mentally preparing yourself for the fact walking would become a foreign concept to you after this was all over.

And that was all he needed. Caleb groaned, a sound low and feral, and started to move again—thrusts deep and sharp, determined to wring another release out of your already spent body. Your whimpers filled the kitchen, nails dragging helplessly down his back as the cabinet rattled with every slam.

And deep down, you knew his “one more” meant until you couldn’t stand, it meant: until Caleb wrung every last orgasm you could muster out of you in his kitchen.

“He's a Colonel, right? Doesn't he have the money to afford a hotel?”

“Just because he can, doesn't mean he should waste the money when I have a perfectly comfortable couch available.”

“I sleep on the couch too,” he grumbles into your neck. His huff tickles your skin, and you wiggle in his arms.

You laugh, “when was the last time you actually slept on the couch?”

Maybe before the two of you got together, Xavier would crash on your couch when he was too tired to go up to his place. Now, he has a home in your bed and hasn't looked back since. And you doubt he's going to give up the chance to cuddle up to you at night just because he doesn't want Caleb on your couch.

His arms tighten around you and he says nothing.

You drop the pillow to move to the kitchen, where your phone is resting on the island, but Xavier doesn't let go. You try prying his arms off, but he's like a clingy baby koala.

“Xavier, let go!” You groan, squirming in his grasp. “I wanna see if he’s close.”

“He’s probably stuck in traffic.”

You can't really argue there. Most 9-5s are ending now, and everyone's probably racing home, clogging up the streets. But Caleb will still let you know when he's set to arrive.

Xavier’s hand wanders up your chest, groping the soft mound of your breasts through your—actually his—t-shirt. “And there's plenty of time before he gets here.”

“We shouldn't…” you sigh, but despite your best efforts, your body betrays you as it arches into his palm, leaning into the tender touches. You melt into him, letting your head lean back onto his shoulder.

You've been tense the past few days, prepping for Caleb's arrival by fixing up your apartment and keeping Xavier’s growing, green monster at bay. Letting off a little steam with him won't be so bad…

“Okay,” you relent, turning yourself to face him. He doesn't take his arms off of you, resting them on your ass instead and massaging the soft flesh. “But we have to be quick.”

Xavier responds by kissing you, dipping to grab your thighs and hoisting you up around his waist. Your legs wrap around him as you cling to his neck, leaning deeper into the kiss. He wastes no time bringing you to the bedroom, leaving behind your cellphone.

—

“F-Fuck!” You cry, chest heaving as Xavier’s tongue works a third orgasm from you. Your weak attempts to squirm away only force him to pull you against his tongue so he can continue toying with your swollen bud. Your hands curl into your pillow as more unabashed moans fall from your lips.

He switches his tongue with his fingers and moves to lap at your dripping pussy. “Mm, you taste so good, baby,” he sighs, leaving a kiss on your pussy before diving his tongue back into your fluttering hole. He eats you out like he's starved. Your previous orgasms are smeared across his lips and chin.

“Xavier,” you moan, “I'm gonna come.”

He hums into you, rubbing your clit faster. You fall over the edge again, squealing his name as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

Your body sinks into the mattress in the aftermath, embracing the soft glow of the setting sun enveloping your body and the slight glow coming from Xavier.

When he comes up, settling between your thighs, he slips two fingers into you without warning.

“Ah!” You tense as he glides his fingers between your sensitive walls with a wet shlick! You grab his wrist and push his hand away. “You're insatiable, seriously!”

“So are you.”

You don't deny it, responding only by sticking your tongue out and laying back to try and catch your breath.

But, a faint ringing catches your attention. Your cellphone. You sit up, startling Xavier whose hands had already started wandering back between your thighs.

“Oh no! What time is it?”

You look out the window, catching the sun fading beneath the horizon in an orange and red hue. It's been at least an hour since you got into bed with Xavier from what you can tell.

You rush off the bed only for your legs to buckle. Xavier catches you in time to sit you back on the edge.

“Caleb will probably be here any second!”

“It's okay. Take your time,” he says, rubbing circles on your thigh with his thumb.

You breathe in slowly and work your way up to stand like a newborn fawn, Xavier’s hand hovering at your back the entire time. Glance around the room for your scattered clothes, you successfully spot your t-shirt at the base of the bed but not your underwear. You slip your shirt on, foregoing your underwear for now, and rush to the kitchen for your phone that has gone dark again.

There's four missed calls, all from Caleb with the earliest being from ten minutes ago. You frown when you spot the texts he sent between each call.

7:16 PM: why aren't you answering? busy?

7:20 PM: you ignoring me??? :’((

7:23 PM: call me back. i'm here

The last message sends a chill down your spine. It's the most recent message and judging by the timestamp, you hadn't… finished.

Mortification turns to panic when your phone lights up with his smiling photo and rings. You mouth a curse to yourself before swiping to answer his call.

“Hello?” You cringe at the rasp in your voice and clear your throat.

“Where’ve you been? I was gettin’ a little worried.” His response is immediate and almost stern despite his attempts to keep his tone light.

“Sorry, I was, um… busy.” You cringe at your own pathetic excuse and pray he doesn't question it further. It’s even more pathetic when you feel something begin to drip down your thighs.

“Uh huh.”

You wince at his unamused tone and turn the conversation, “So, you're outside my place right now?”

“I'm outside your door.”

You swear your heart stops.

“Oh, okay! One sec then. I have to get dressed.”

Caleb mutters something about you making a guest wait, but you're too busy rushing to the bedroom to hear and hanging up the phone.

Xavier is sitting on the bed with those sad eyes again, leaning against his palms with his sweats hung low on his hips. You can still see the outline of his cock against them.

“Maybe we can continue later,” you offer, leaving him with a chaste kiss before fleeing to the bathroom. His hand moves for yours, but comes just out of reach.

Grabbing your concealer, you get to work covering up the marks Xavier left behind on the column of your throat. Rushing through the process doesn't cover them completely, but you convince yourself it's not too noticeable by the time you get to the third hickey.

He comes into the room behind you, wrapping himself around you again and resting his chin on your shoulder. His frown doesn't leave as you dab away his marks. He preoccupies himself by raising your shirt, revealing your bare center and essence still smeared over your thighs.

“Can you get me a towel?”

“Why?” He swipes at your thigh, collecting your cum, and licks his fingers as you stare at his tongue gliding up each digit. His eyes flicker to yours in the mirror. “I can clean you up without it.”

You tear your gaze away, trying to tamp down the heat rising in your body, and put on the finishing touches of powder. “C-Come on, I can't keep Caleb waiting forever.”

You pull out of his grasp, reaching for a bottle of perfume and spritzing it over your neck before heading toward your drawers for a pair of underwear and shorts with Xavier hovering close behind. Once they're on, you finally get to the front door and open it.

Caleb is there, backpack and duffle bag in hand, with a pink flush across his cheeks and dusting the tips of his ears. His eyes run over your figure, lingering on your bare legs and barely visible hickeys before glancing at a shirtless Xavier, who's still licking you off his fingers.

You can't deny the spark in your chest when seeing his flustered expression. Could he have been at your door while you and Xavier…

He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Hey. Thought you changed your mind or somethin’.”

“No way!” You reassure, waving him inside, “this will be just like those sleepovers we used to have. I’m not passing that up!”

“Sleepovers?” Xavier mutters under his breath as you guide Caleb to the couch.

“Hey, Xavi,” Caleb chirps as he passes.

“Hi,” Xavier deadpans.

The two of them are reluctant acquaintances at best, brought together only by your close relation to the other. While Caleb enjoys teasing, Xavier only gives him the cold shoulder. They're a nightmare together. One is always trying to draw your attention away from the other, unable to fathom the idea of sharing you or your time.

You huff, grabbing both their jaws to shake their heads. “Behave.”

The last thing you want is for them to start bickering over nothing.

“Sorry, pips,” Caleb laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, baby,” Xavier says, grabbing your wrist to tug you to his chest.

This will definitely be a long week…

—

The three of you agreed to go out for hot pot since Xavier had a coupon, and dinner is pleasant, neither one making any teasing jabs or obviously pretending the other doesn't exist. It's mainly you and Caleb talking about what you've been up to at work while Xavier quietly eats, occasionally making comments.

So by the time you're back at your apartment, Caleb is the first to yawn and get ready for bed, stating he has a longer commute to work now that he's in Linkon.

You wish him a goodnight, reminding him there are extra blankets and pillows in the closet and he can call you if he needs anything, before clicking your bedroom door shut.

Xavier is laying on your bed, in fresh pjs with his eyes shut. His chest rises and falls in a slow, familiar pattern.

You carefully tiptoe through your bedroom to shower and change. When you slip into bed with Xavier, fully intent on cozying up to him and drifting off, he's propping his head up on one arm and looking down at you with lowered lids.

“Is it ‘later’ yet?”

“Huh?”

“You said we’d continue later.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely, furrowing your brows, “but Caleb’s here now.”

He positions himself over you, trapping you between his arms. His head falls into your shoulder, nuzzling against the soft skin of your neck. “I’ll be quiet.”

You bite your lip as his stiffening cock brushes against your thigh. When your pussy begins to ache, you want to curse. This is so, so wrong to want while Caleb sleeps behind your door, but that throbbing ache is growing and spreading through your body almost painfully.

“You,” you swallow thickly, “You promise?”

You feel him smile against your skin. “Promise.”

“Okay…”

By the time three of Xavier’s fingers are stuffed inside of your dripping pussy, you have your hands clamped over your mouth. You are still keenly aware that Caleb is just outside your bedroom door, and you pray to whatever benevolent God that is out there that he can't hear the slick sounds of your pussy as Xavier fucks an orgasm out of you with his fingers.

You're hardly recovered when Xavier lines his cock at your entrance, asking, “Can I put it in?”

You nod, still dazed from your orgasm, “mhm.”

“Hm, what was that?” He rocks back and forth at your soaked entrance, teasing your aching pussy. He can slip in anytime he wants, stretch you open so good, but he just has to torture you a little first.

“Yes,” you whisper frantically, blindly reaching behind and scratching his hip to push him in.

“Louder.”

Your eyes flicker towards the door, before you try again. “Please- ahh!”

Xavier fills you without warning, grabbing your jaw before you can bury your face in the pillows. Your moan is loud, uninhibited, practically bouncing off the walls.

“F-Fuck,” you gasp, clamping both hands over your mouth.

When he starts rocking his hips into you, your breathing becomes labored, desperate for mouthfuls of air instead, but you don't trust yourself to remove your hands.

True to his word, Xavier hardly makes any noise, but you on the other hand are struggling to contain your muffled whimpers, “mmph, mhm, mm!”

“I love when you moan my name,” he murmurs. “Can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

You shake your head, tears forming in your eyes when he stops moving entirely. You desperately clench around him, urging him to keep moving.

“C’mon,” he pleads, “just once.”

As an internal battle rages in your mind, he plays with your breast while he waits, pinching and rubbing your hardened bud.

“Mmm,” you moan, losing the war in your head and slowly lowering your hands to grip the sheets, “please keep going, Xavier.”

You cry his name again, arching against him as he thrusts into you. When he rolls you into your stomach to fuck you prone, your hands stay balled in the sheets with you lips still parted, moaning with each thrust.

The pleasure flooding your system fogs your mind until all you can focus on is the feeling of his cock bullying your sloppy pussy. Your orgasm is quick and pulls another whine from your throat.

“S-So good,” Xavier pants, nosing the shell of your ear. “You make the prettiest sounds.”

You hum at his praise and in the back of your mind hope Caleb is a deep sleeper.

—

In the morning not much is different, except for the pink blush creeping up Caleb’s neck as he stares at the wall when saying good morning.

You promise yourself you won't give in again. Last night was just a moment of weakness and you were only continuing what you had started earlier.

But then night falls and Xavier seems just as insatiable, grabbing you as you shut the door after saying goodnight to Caleb. He has you pressed against the wall, kissing your neck down to your chest. You tear your clothes off soon after and he takes you against the wall this time. Your teeth dig into his shoulder to cover up your whimpers and it only makes him drive his cock into you harder.

And the week goes on, every night Xavier finds new ways to split you open while you try your hardest not to make another sound.

You wish you could say you were doing good at burying your face in the pillows, biting his shoulders, or muffling yourself with your hands. But really, you aren't.

By the end of the week, Caleb is packing his bags and getting ready to move back into his place. You're completely sore all over and littered in hickeys from Xavier’s insatiable need to fuck you every night.

“Bye, Caleb!” You pull him into a hug which he returns fully, even lifting you a bit off your feet. Your body protests with aches jolting through your limbs, but you force down the groan.

He sets you down, steadying you when your legs seem to want to give out. “See ya. Thanks again for hosting me. Maybe we can all go out for hot pot again soon. My treat.”

You laugh with an eager nod, already salivating over all the free food. “Sure, it's a date!”

As soon as you wave off Caleb, Xavier is already grabbing your hand and leading you to the couch.

“Finally,” he mumbles under his breath, pushing you onto the cushions. You sit back as he spreads your legs open and kneels.

“Again?” You squeak.

“The couch smells like him,” he grumbles, pressing down on your clit through your panties. Your legs attempt to shut, but he holds them back.

“I think I owe him a lifetime of therapy bills,” you sigh, resting your head to look up at the ceiling.

Xavier hums as he peels off your panties, tossing them over his shoulder. “But you liked it, didn't you?”

“What?” You tense as his hands slide up your thighs.

“You liked knowing he could hear you.”

“I-”

Did you like it? You don't want your relationship with Caleb to be awkward or tense, but at the same time you've always loved to tease him, testing the limits of how far you could go to make him blush. Knowing that he could hear every filthy moan and creak of the bed, turned you on as twisted as it seemed. Maybe that's why you always gave into Xavier.

He rests both hands on your thighs. “It's okay, you don't need to lie.”

“Are you mad?” You brush back his silvery hair that hides his eyes from you. He's not looking at you, keeping his hardened gaze at your navel.

“No,” he says quietly.

You lean down, cupping his jaw with both your hands to raise his face to look you in the eyes. “I love you. And I choose you—I do. Always.”

For so long your relationship with Caleb had sat on a precarious edge, teetering the line between friends and something more. But, you chose Xavier and whatever line you could've crossed with Caleb was gone.

“I trust you.” His lips curve in a soft smile as he cradles one of your hands. He kisses your palm. “I’m a little jealous, maybe, but never mad.”

The relief is a weight off your shoulder, bringing a smile to your face. You pull him into a kiss that leads to him climbing on top of you, tugging your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra.

“I love you too,” he hums, peppering kisses down your collarbone and dipping into the valley of your breasts.

You giggle, playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “You know, it's kinda hot when you're jealous.”

He moves down your stomach, kissing the spots where his previous marks begin to fade. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you're always so calm and in control.”

Xavier rarely lets his emotions slip, so much so he comes off as aloof to most people he meets. You know he's anything but though—he’s loyal, gentle, and attentive. Still, it's rare for you to see him display any negative emotions.

“It’s nice to see this side of you once in a while.” Bonus for you, he fucks your brains out with twice the stamina.

“Really? You couldn't wait another couple of hours or somethin’? I swear, you two fuck like rabbits,” Caleb scoffs, dropping his bags to the floor and shutting the door.

You jolt up, grabbing for the blankets to cover up.

“Why are you back?” Xavier grumbles, shifting the blanket higher over your chest.

Caleb bends down to pull a plug from the wall outlet. He responds plainly, “I forgot my charger.”

Instead of leaving with another goodbye, Caleb lingers, eyes grazing over the outline of your figure beneath the sheets. He swallows, Adams apple bobbing before tearing his gaze away.

“You know, I really tried ignorin’ it, but after the second night I knew you were doin’ it on purpose,” he says pointedly at Xavier.

“Doing what?” Xavier cocks his head, wide blue eyes looking at Caleb.

Caleb scoffs, “don't play stupid.”

“Play? I'm not playing at anything.” The sickly sweet, oblivious tone in Xavier’s voice drips with derision.

You groan, “stop it, both of you.”

Anymore of this and you'll have to shove them both out of your apartment.

You're about to apologize when Caleb turns his attention to you. “You're not innocent either.”

You huff, looking away, “You're just fun to tease.”

“Tease!? You call that teasin’? You had me rock hard every night,” he groans.

Xavier speaks next, “why don't you help him with that then?”

You turn to Xavier, jaw dropped. That is the last thing you ever expected him to say, especially when he was so pouty about having Caleb around.

“I trust you,” he says simply as if he's reading your incredulous mind. “If this is what you want to do.”

You glance over at Caleb whose red flush has a devious smile crossing your lips. Like you said, so fun to tease. His jaw ticks, sweeping over the marks laid across your skin by Xavier.

You nod, pulling your lip between your teeth. “I do.”

“You’re both okay with this?” Caleb gawks. “Are you sure?”

“Why so shocked? You think you can steal her from me?”

Maybe it's the challenging stare from Xavier or you dropping the blanket from your chest that makes Caleb finally step forward.

“Dunno, let's see.”

—

How did I end up here, you think to yourself when Xavier’s bare chest molds against your back. His warm hands slide up the curve of your stomach to your breasts, fondling each of them.

I don't ever want to leave, you decide when Caleb slips into view in front of you. His eyes flit over your exposed body, committing every curve to memory. There are hickeys left by Xavier on your neck and chest, some fresh others fading, placed throughout the week. Your nipples are pebbled thanks to Xavier’s teasing fingers, pinching and rubbing, and even lower, your drooling cunt is weeping down your thigh.

Caleb smears your slick up your thigh, tracing your folds and fluttering hole. He teases the tip of his finger into the heat of your cunt that attempts to clench around nothing.

You shudder and groan, trying to hide your face in Xavier's neck, but he takes your chin to guide you back. His grip is firm, but he isn't rough as he turns your attention back onto Caleb.

“Why are you running away already?” Xavier coos into your ear, soft lips brushing down the sensitive skin of your neck. He presses light kisses against faded hickeys. “We’re just getting started.”

“More,” you moan, leaning into Xavier's lips and shifting your hips against Caleb’s curious fingers.

“Sit then,” Xavier instructs.

You comply, pulling yourself out of their grasp to settle on the couch with your dripping cunt on display. Your hands trail down your body, playing with your tits before sinking lower to press your swollen bud, soaking in the rapt attention of the two men.

Caleb can't take his eyes off your pretty pussy, barely holding himself back from ripping your hand away to replace it with his tongue.

Xavier watches your mouth part, sighs and gasps spilling out of it. He nudges Caleb, pulling him out of his trance. “What are you waiting for? Get on your knees.”

He doesn't need to speak twice. Caleb gets down between your thighs like it's his home, taking your fingers and replacing them with his. He dips one finger into the entrance of your slick heat that eagerly welcomes him in.

“Mm, I can take more,” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. “Please, Caleb.”

He curses under his breath and moves forward, his lips ghosting over your clit. He looks up at you as if he’s still hesitant.

Your fingers curl through his hair, nudging him closer, as you nod your silent permission.

Once his lips meet your clit, he dives into a frenzy like he's been completely starved. He licks and sucks, simultaneously fingering you, curling his digits against your spongey walls.

You writhe against his attention. Your thighs threaten to squeeze around his head as your hand tugs his hair, but Xavier slips beside you, keeping you spread.

“My pretty girl,” Xavier hums, kissing your neck, “you're doing so good for us.”

Caleb spreads your folds, replacing his finger with his tongue, dipping into your center to taste you.

With Xavier whispering praise in your ear and Caleb devouring your pussy, it's no surprise when you come on his tongue, gushing and crying out his name.

“You taste so good,” Caleb gasps, pulling your thighs over his shoulder.

You whimper, trying to squirm away when Caleb’s nose nudges against your clit as his tongue spreads you open to clean up every drop of cum. Your thighs tremble around his head as he laps at you with a flat tongue. “Ngh, I-I can't,” you pant, clawing at the couch when the sensitivity grows too much.

Caleb lets out a choked noise as he's abruptly ripped from your pussy. With the stimulation gone, you look down to see Xavier has a tight grip on Caleb's necklace, holding him back like he’s nothing but a dog on a leash.

His dog tag and charm sway against the column of his neck as a red flush creeps up the base. Caleb pants, your cum still smeared down his chin and lips, leaving behind a glossy sheen.

“That’s enough,” Xavier commands, authority dripping from his voice. Cold blue eyes glare down on him. A rare look on Xavier, you hardly even see him fight Wanderers with such intensity.

“F-Fine,” Caleb chokes out, gritting his teeth when Xavier tugs once more before releasing him. He climbs to his feet. Caleb towers over you, limp on the couch, with a predatory gaze. Arousal pools in your stomach again as you look at the bulge straining against his pants.

“Need help with that?” You lay your hand flat against him, feeling the thickness of his cock against your palm.

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, grabbing your wrist to guide your hand to rub him through his pants.

Xavier taps your thigh and gestures for you to move up. He slips in behind you and sits you back down on his lap where you feel his own stiff cock press against your ass.

“Go on.” Xavier nudges your hand, guiding it against Caleb’s bulge. “Put your lips on his cock, baby.”

You unzip Caleb's pants with trembling fingers because Xavier takes his own cock out to tease against your entrance, smearing your juices over himself, before he slips in. You paw at Caleb’s abdomen as the stretch pulls a moan from you.

Xavier grinds you down on his cock, holding your hips to rock you back and forth. He takes his time with your body, moving slowly to let you feel him fully inside you.

You’re clenching around him—desperate to have his finger on your clit, bounce you on his cock, kiss your neck. But he falls against the cushions, watching you writhe and tense, with a lowered gaze, no intention of going any faster than the languid pace he set.

You try to sneak your hand between your legs, but Caleb catches your wrist.

“Don't-” he gasps, gripping your wrist to guide you back to his cock, “don't forget about me.”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to the fabric over his cock. “Sorry,” you murmur, slipping your hand into his pants to pull him free.

Caleb bucks into your hand when you wrap around his thick girth, swiping your thumb over his pearly, leaking tip. The whining moan that escapes him encourages you to give kitten licks at the salty precum smeared around his head.

“Shit,” he hisses, gripping the back of your neck to push your pliant lips further around his cock.

You take him in, moaning as he stretches your lips and bullies his way into your warm mouth. In turn, your pussy clenches around Xavier, making him groan and buck into you, pushing you further along Caleb’s cock until your nose meets his coarse pubic hair and his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Mmph!” You choke around his cock, eyes beginning to water as you try adjusting to his size stretching out your throat. You begin to bob your head, sucking and flattening your tongue against him.

His head falls back as he groans, thrusting into your wanting mouth and digs his fingers into your neck, guiding your rhythm.

Xavier, getting bored of being a watchful participant, takes your hips and drops you down on his cock, earning a choked moan from you. He uses your body like his own personal flashlight, moving you up and down at his own intense pace.

“Doing so well for us, baby,” Xavier grunts, his breathing growing staggered.

“God, your—ngh—mouth feels so fuckin’ good,” Caleb groans.

Being fucked by Xavier and Caleb is frenzied, pulling you in opposite directions to be met only with overwhelming pleasure on both sides. They use you, take you, giving until it becomes all you can think about. The tight grip of Caleb's hand against your neck as he thrusts himself down your throat to Xavier's cock splitting you open, fucking you so deep each time.

All it takes is Xavier bringing his hand around to rub your clit to make you gush all over him, moaning around Caleb and digging your nails into his hips. With your cunt squeezing and sucking Xavier in, he can't hold back his own orgasm, spilling deep inside you with one final thrust.

Your orgasm leaves you trembling, but it doesn't stop you from helping Caleb finish.

“She's so pretty, isn't she? Taking you like a good girl,” Xavier rasps.

Caleb moans out an indecipherable mumble.

“Is this what you imagined when you heard her moaning my name for the past week?”

“F-Fuck you,” Caleb growls.

You run your tongue along the base of his cock, kissing the tip, before taking him in your mouth again.

Caleb’s moans grow along with the wet, squelching sounds of you sucking him off.

“Are you going to come in her mouth?” Xavier asks, continuing to tease. “Wishing you could come inside her?”

“Mm, yes,” Caleb admits, brows furrowing as his thrusts grow sloppy. He comes down your throat after a few more thrusts, seed and spit spilling from your lips as he keeps you on his cock.

You swallow the salty cum when he pulls you off, making a show to lick the corners of your lips as he watches.

“Damn, you're killing me,” he groans, running a hand through his slick hair.

“You did so good.” Xavier pulls you back into his arms with his cock still in you, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. Warm hands glide over your stomach as you melt into him, not caring that your bodies are much too hot and sticky to be so close right now.

Caleb fidgets, like he's not sure of his place anymore, turning away to your kitchen. “I'll go get you some water.”

You watch as he walks away, the muscles of his back glistening with sweat and his pants hanging low off his waist.

You're sure there is more the two of you have to discuss later, but for now you settle against Xavier with one thought—you should let Caleb stay over more often…

☆ 𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 knew that this was a bad idea, but he didn’t care — he couldn’t. It had been too long since he had seen you, too many months spent apart with nothing but his fist wrapped around his cock and the fleeting sound of your sweet voice.

His mind grows hazy as he loses himself in your cunt, panting against it as he reunites with your addicting taste. His dexterous fingers work you open in the back of the Batmobile as he humps against the seats, growing more impatient with every thrust.

The crushing weight of time pushes down on his back, forcing his digits deeper as you wail out, thrashing from yet another climax that overstimulates you to no end.

“Come on, baby.” He begs, pretty blue eyes trained on your heaving chest and fucked out expression. He adjusts his suit, the tip of his cock pushing against your soft, slippery entrance. The tip barely goes in and your back arches, already teetering on release. “Just let me fuck you real quick, okay? I’ll take care of you. Promise.”

☆ 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 was pissed. The night had gone completely south, the bitter taste of failure and disappointment crawls down his throat as Batman storms off. He’d deal with that later. First, he needed to simmer down the only way he knew how to — you.

Folding you into the backseat of the Batmobile, Jason was relentless when it came to eating you out. He’s not afraid to be messy, in fact, he welcomed it. The more of your essence seeps into the black leather seats, the better.

It turns him into something primal, sloppily running his practiced tongue over your clit again and again until your thighs tremble around his head and you’re left breathlessly gasping his name, tugging at his messy strands to keep you tethered to this plane.

“That’s it, take it.” Jason growls, the vibrations run along your bundled nerves and heighten your senses. He slips in two fingers, mercilessly fucking you with them until you’re coating his face and the seats with everything you have. “Fuck. One more time, need my pretty girl to make a mess.”

You whimper, your body collapsing on top of his. He quickly scoops you up, one hand holding the back of your head, the other resting on your lower back, ensuring you're properly seated on his thighs.

“I... I feel weird,” you pant, clutching the front of his shirt. “I'm dizzy, and my body is hot all over. My...” you swallow down your embarrassment, “my pussy feels empty... Caleb, can't you help me? Please?”

Almost imperceptibly, his grip on you tightens by a fraction. He sighs, angling your head to make you look at him in the eye. Perhaps it's the trick of the light, but Caleb's face is a flustered pink. “I can't do that. You're going to regret it when you turn back to normal and get all weird about it.” He glances at the chocolates you ate on the table, brows furrowed. “Aphrodisiac chocolate... I should've known. Then you wouldn't have become like this...”

Your mind is in a daze. Your body feels unusually heavy, but your head feels like it's floating. Most of what he said is lost on you, and at this moment, the only thing you can focus on is that Caleb is looking at something else. You grab both of his cheeks, forcibly turning his attention to you. “Please help me, Caleb...” Clumsily, you lift up your hips, pressing your cunt against the tent in his pants. It glistens with your wetness, and Caleb can't help but groan when you rub the tip with your thumb. “It hurts... I need this inside me...”

Caleb has always adhered to your whims, but even he has his limits. He pinches your cheek, “I can't put it inside, idiot, I don't have a condom. I just have to make you cum, right?” He gestures for you to pick up the hem of your skirt, sucking in a breath when he sees how soaked you are. “Fuck....”

The entire crotch area is damp, and if he looks carefully, he can even see the faint shape of your clit. Curiously, he draws circles on it, breathing heavily when a fresh glob of slick stains your underwear. “That's hot...”

He pulls down his zipper, releasing his cock from his boxers. You gasp softly at the sight. He's long and thick, arching to a beautiful curve, colored almost red from the strain of holding back. He gives himself a few experimental pumps, moans coming from his mouth as he masturbates at the sight of you, holding up your own skirt to give him a perfect view of your wet panties, an innocent, frilly pair he can't wait to ruin.

He positions his cock to your folds, aiming at the spot your hole should be if not covered by your underwear. You both groan at the first slide, his pre-cum further soaking the fabric of your ruined panties. He wraps himself in his fist, teasing your clit as he pumps into his hand. More pearls of white spurt out of his tip. “Ah, fuck, that's good... so good...”

“Ah, ah, Caleb!”

You move your hips, moaning while he rubs himself against your cunt. The warmth of his cock is driving you crazy, and the added friction of Caleb rubbing your nipple through your clothes makes you even wetter than you already are. He's biting his lip, dazed eyes staring at your body appreciatively. “I'm taking this off, baby.”

He impatiently runs his hand through the buttons of your clothes, some of them popping off to clatter on the floor. “H-hey, I liked this shirt— haa...!”

“I'll buy you a new one,” he grunts, mouthing at one of your tits, sucking as if anything would come out. He unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it over your shoulder. “These things are fucking annoying...”

Finally, he gets tired of rubbing you over your clothes. He lifts the side of your panties, sliding his cock inside to directly grind against your pussy. “Shit, that's more like it,” he moans loudly, your wetness gliding down his balls. “You feel so good.”

“Caleb, put it inside already,” you whine, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in your fists. “This isn't enough for you either, hnn, right...? Give me your cock, please...”

Caleb grits his teeth, holding your hips to stop you from dropping on his dick. “Didn't I tell you I don't have a condom?”

“I don't care!” you struggle in his hold. “Fuck me, c'mon... it hurts...! If you don't...”

You pant against his ear, knowing exactly what you're getting into, drugged or not, “...I'll ask Zayne to fuck me instead.”

The effect is instantaneous. He pulls out, replacing his cock with two fingers plunging inside you at once, hitting deep all the way inside. You choke, gasping out for breath as his hand doesn't stop, slick jetting out of your cunt with every push of his fingers. His clothes are getting soaked, but Caleb doesn't care about them at all, coldly glaring at your face twisted in pleasure.

“So you're telling me you'd be fine with just anyone?” He's chuckling, but he doesn't sound like he's happy. “Fuck. I should've just done this from the start, then.”

He grabs two of the chocolates, popping one in his mouth. When he finishes swallowing, he places the other one in his mouth again, but then he suddenly grabs your jaw. “Open your mouth, slut.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, mouths locking together. The chocolate melts from the heat, his tongue licking at yours as he's forcing you to swallow. He doesn't let you go until he's sure you've eaten all of it, drool dripping from the corner of your lips.

“We're not stopping until you learn I'm the only one who gets to see you like this,” he grunts, taking out his fingers and slathering your slick on his cock to make it wet. “I'm the only one who gets to call you mine.”

“Haa... haa...”

Clothes are strewn messily on Caleb's bedroom floor, the mattress squeaking with each thrust of his hips. You're on your back, one leg hooked over Caleb's shoulder, staring into space as you're fucked absolutely stupid.

“Fuck, I can't stop my hips....” Caleb's still fucking into you, hasn't stopped for the past hour. The effects of the aphrodisiac have probably passed after the first two rounds, but his cock shows no signs of softening after release. He cums another load into you, overflowing from your pussy to spread into his sheets. “Ah, hng, shit... Hey, I told you not to waste it.”

He pulls out, pressing his fingers inside your loose hole to fuck his cum back in. You make a sound of protest, already feeling full.

“Are you starting to regret what you said now?” He grabs the back of your thighs, pressing your legs next to your ears. “Too late for that, though.”

Caleb groans, sloshing his cum inside your cunt with his dick. You helplessly grab at the sheets, moaning brokenly. His pelvis rubs against your engorged clit on every snap of his hips, driving you to squirt on his abs again, his torso glistening with your mess.

“You're squirting again? How many times have you cum?” Caleb laughs meanly, sucking another possessive mark among the smattering of hickeys he's already left along your collarbones. “Nasty girl...”

He leans back, getting a better view of your body. There are traces of him everywhere, from the hickeys on your neck, his cum on your chest because you couldn't swallow everything he poured in your mouth, and the faint bite marks on your inner thighs when he paid the favor and ate you out.

He presses a kiss on your chest, staring at you with dark eyes. “If you didn't say that, I would've been patient with you. Fingered you loose before putting my cock inside, making sure you're comfortable... I would've helped you ride out the effects of the aphrodisiac and never speak of it again. After all, to you, I'm just family.” He nuzzles against your cheek, his voice taking on a darker tone. “But you just had to call out another guy's name, didn't you... Would've fucked him if it was him here, not me...”

Caleb thrusts back inside you roughly, fucking your cervix. “You can't do that, you know? You've always belonged to me. Every part of you is mine, so no one else can touch you.” He cups your cheek, devouring your cries of pleasure with his mouth. “Just me... it's only me, right? I'm the person most important to you, right? You said so... So why are you bringing up another guy?”

He's asking questions, but he doesn't let you answer any of them, kissing you so much you almost can't breathe.

“Even though I'm in front of you...” Kiss. “Even when I'm the only one who loves you this much...” Kiss, kiss. “You're still thinking of another person...” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “That's hardly fair when you're all I think about everyday.” Another sloppy kiss.

You weakly push his chest, breaking away from the kiss. “Wait, Caleb—”

He pins your wrist to the bed. “I'm not stopping.”

“I'm not telling you to stop, I'm telling you to liste— ahh, haa, hnn!” The cock still ramming up your walls makes it much more difficult to speak, hammering against the sweet spot that makes your toes curl. “Fuck, ah— Caleb, listen to me!”

He hums as he sucks another hickey on your skin. “I am.”

You don't have it in you to argue even when he clearly isn't, trembling at the pleasure. The hand holding your wrist travels upwards to intertwine your fingers together, grounding you back to reality.

“Caleb, I was just— I didn't mean what I said...” you stammer, trying your best to speak without getting distracted. “I, mmh....! W-wouldn't do this with anyone else... haa... I just said that so you'd fuck me— ah, ah!”

He scoffs, slowing his pace when he sees you being overwhelmed. “You're just making excuses to get me to stop.”

“I'm not, you dummy! I...” your brows pinch together, embarrassed to say it but you continue anyway, “Caleb, you're the one I think of when I touch myself... nn... And I know it's wrong, and you only think of me as someone you should take care of, but, I, haah, I like it when you kiss me, or when you hug me, and I— gh! I like it when you fuck me hard, too, just like this...”

You move your hand to cup Caleb's jaw, admiring his awestruck expression. He looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

“I'm not telling you to stop,” you repeat yourself firmly. “I just wanted to say I didn't mean that thing I said earlier, and if it's you, you can do whatever you want to me. Because I love you just like how you love me, Caleb.”

His hips come to a complete stop. “Say that again.”

“I love you, Caleb.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Okay, you're really pushing it, it's embarrassing to sa— aah!”

He grabs your hip, pulling you back to his cock. He fucks you frantically, harsh groans leaving his lips, your name like a prayer. “Fuck... you love me? You love... me?” The words seem unfamiliar on his tongue, heartbreakingly quiet. You squeeze your connected hands.

“I love you, Caleb. I really, really love you, I've loved you a long time ago...” you tilt his chin, making him meet your gaze. “Now say it back.”

“I love you,” he says with certainty, as if it's a fact of the universe. “I love you so much.” He buries his head into your neck, sucking new marks. “I love you... fuck... I love you so badly, it hurts...”

His cock drives deeper, the wet slaps of skin deafening in the room. Cum dribbles out of your hole with his thrusts, and he swipes it up to smear it on your engorged clit. Rub, rub. Rub, rub.

“Shit, Caleb!” You wail, rutting to his finger. “Everything feels so good, ah, ah!”

“You feel so good, too, aw, fuuuck...” he's melting inside you, your warm walls clenching around him so tight, sucking him back in every time he pulls out. “Your pussy keeps sucking me back in...!” 

“Ah, hnahh, ngh, yes, like that, ah! I'm cumming, cumming!”

His balls draw tight, his cock about to burst. “Fuck, shit!” he fucks in, in, in, until he's filled every space in your cunt, thumb frantically rubbing at your clit. Clear liquid soaks his cock, wetting his pelvis, and he follows you in your release, shooting ropes of milky cum deep inside your pussy. “Fuck, ah, take my cock, take my fucking cum all the way in, ohh— take it deep in your womb—”

He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming. “It won't stop,” he moans against your ear, watching your hole overflowing with his semen. “Your pussy feels too good, it's sucking me dry...”

“Caleb, shit, how are you still— ohh, fuuck...” you whine as the last spurts of semen hit your torso, Caleb having pulled out and pumping his dick to cover you in his cum.

Finally emptied, Caleb collapses on the spot beside you, running a hand through his hair. “I need a shower,” he mutters, feeling the stickiness on his body.

“We need a shower,” you correct him. “I probably won't be able to walk for the next few days, all thanks to you, so you better take responsibility and carry me everywhere.”