The second time you saw Suguru dance, you were eighteen.

You’d achieved your dream of dancing at the same academy he went to, and because of that, you were able to get tickets from an instructor to his last performance as the company's principal dancer. It was a once in a lifetime performance. He danced with such emotion, sheer passion dripping from his pores. Each leap and jump pricked your eyes with tears. He was gorgeous. A star exploding just before its death.

When your instructor offered to introduce you to him afterwards you nearly threw up.

You met him in his dressing room, sat with him as he removed his stage makeup. He was warmer then you expected him to be. Down to earth, gentle, but no less intimidating. He asked you about dance and what you were planning on doing with your career. When you meekly told him you were planning on becoming a ballerina for the company, his lips curled up.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you around then.” he said.

The third time you saw Suguru dance, you were nineteen, and this time you were dancing with him. 

It was announced a few months after his retirement that he would start teaching at the academy and that he was looking to take on a talented student as his protege. Dozens of students signed up for an audition slot, girls and boys who were leagues ahead of you in technique and skill, who had better genetics and better connections, people you could never in your wildest dreams hope to beat.

Still, you signed up. He was your idol, after all.

The first round of auditions were nerve wracking. Ten minutes on the barre, ten minutes of floorwork surrounded by nearly fifty other dancers who were more flexible, prettier and stronger than you. To make it worse, Suguru walked up and down the rows, checking your form and tapping people's shoulders so they knew he’d seen enough. You waited with bated breath for his dismissal, gnawing a cut into your lip, but to your shock, it never came.

The second round of auditions were two days later.

You waited outside the auditorium for nearly two hours, watching as people came out and started whispering to their friends, your stomach curling into knots at every grin or confident quip. There shouldn’t have been any reason to worry. You were prepared not to get it, you knew the likelihood of him keeping you in the room for more then thirty seconds were slim to none, and you’d practiced the combination plenty. None of that was enough to keep your heart from pounding. 

When it was your turn to dance you couldn’t look at Suguru. If you did, you thought you might vomit. Instead, you focused on your footing, your angles, anything but the man who you’d idolized for ten years staring at you ten feet away. You could feel yourself getting sloppy, cramping up and stumbling out of turns. Nonetheless, you kept dancing. Marking the counts in your head, trying to keep yourself from trembling.

At least until he told you to stop halfway through.

It was a disaster. A nightmare. Immediately you felt your eyes start to water, breath getting caught in your throat. You didn’t expect him to keep you long, but you thought at least you’d be able to finish the combination. Were you really that much of a failure? You blew your one shot at dancing for your idol

You felt a hand on your waist.

“Breathe,” he said, his voice low, gentle. You felt his hand slide down your thigh, lifting it upwards towards your head. “You’re flexible,” he mused, pushing your leg back down, “and I suspect your turns will be good too once you’ve calmed down.”

A bead of sweat trickles down your nape as he steps backwards, air still caught in your lungs. You couldn’t think, or breathe, or speak. 

But when Suguru told you to do the combination over, eyes flickering with interest, your body couldn’t help but obey.

This time, you took his instruction, making sure to keep your breath steady, your mind focused. He circled you, looking you up and down as you slowly became more comfortable, falling into the music, becoming less stiff. Occasionally, he’d call out a correction - lift your chest, arch your back, keep your eyes forward. You’d quickly adjust yourself. He’d smile and purr “Good girl.”

Once you’d finished and the music stopped, there was silence. Only your soft pants and the thump of your pulse filled your ears. Until, you heard clapping.

Suguru walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “You can tell the others outside to leave now.” he said, eyes gleaming, “I’ve found what I was looking for.”

—

Two years have passed since then, and you’re still intimidated by Suguru.

It’s difficult not to be, especially now that you’re so close to him. Five times a week at exactly four o’clock the two of you meet in a studio, and he won’t release you a second before nine. Every second of that time is precious, he’s told you, it’s a second closer to you taking his place as the principal dancer. 

He works you like a horse. Demanding impossibly long turns, bigger leaps, stretching and bending you so deep you feel your bones might snap. Every movement is repeated at least four times before he’s satisfied, and even then, he’s insistent that there’s more room for improvement, that you’re just scratching the surface. He’ll demand you do it from the top, ignoring the way your face falls, only watching with a scrutinizing eye as you return to the start. It feels impossible to please him sometimes. You’ve never felt as exhausted as you do after your lessons with him.

You thought the academy had harsh rules, but they’re nothing in comparison to Suguru’s. There’s the normal ballet school rules of course; hair must be up in a bun, no makeup, pink ballet tights and leotard, no asking for toilet breaks ect, but he’s also particular about your personal life. He makes you track when you sleep and what you eat in a journal and bring it to him each lesson to approve, a rule he made after you pulled an all-nighter one day and nearly fell asleep on him, just to ensure you're “practicing good habits.” You find yourself holding your breath everytime he looks over it, you can only exhale once he’s handed it back to you and told you to go warm up. Then, there’s the rules about people. He advised you, in a manner that made it understood that it was not actually a suggestion, to stay away from other dancers. It’s better for you not to get caught up in the cattiness of it all. More than that, however, you’re to stay away from boys. 

“They’ll only distract you from what’s most important.” he’d told you, “You want to be the best, don’t you?”

He’s never made it clear what would happen if you broke one of his rules, but you haven’t found the courage to figure it out. Suguru is, to put it bluntly, terrifying. It’s difficult not to notice the way his arms flex as he stretches you out, the thick veins protruding from the skin, or the strength in his legs as he lifts you, holding you up as though you’re little more than a pillow. Beyond being a once in a lifetime performer, Suguru is a powerhouse physically. 

It’s not that you think he’d ever hurt you, but the one time you ever did speak about a boy to him (a dance partner in one of your classes) your stretches that day were particularly painful.

Even so, Suguru, for all his austerity, is a good teacher. You’ve become one of the best ballerinas in the company under his guidance. And though he may be rigid while you’re on the dance floor, he’s gentle in the cool down. He sits you down and takes off your shoes, carefully massaging the soles as he holds water up to your mouth, thanking you for your hard work, ensuring you know he’s proud. He’s confusing like that. Jekyll and Hyde. But maybe that's what makes his praise so addicting. Why you blush so hard when he tells you “good girl.”

Maybe it’s why, even when his touches started to become a little too intimate, you didn’t say anything. The hand on your thigh was just a friendly gesture, the lingering touches on your breasts were accidents. Suguru didn’t mean it that way, surely. 

And the kisses on your forehead, those were simple, platonic gestures. He meant nothing by them. Even when he started kissing your hands and cheeks, you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

You tried to focus on the dancing, to remind yourself that Suguru has only ever done right by you. Embrace it, you told yourself, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? For him to notice you?

When it turned into kissing on the lips you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You weren’t sure how to react the first time it happened. One minute he was pulling off your shoes, talking to you about how proud he is of you, how important you are to him, the next his eye were glinting, resting dangerously on your lips as he leaned in. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. Briefly, you thought to scream, then to push him away from you, or maybe you should ask him why? But when he pulled away, you were paralyzed.

“That’s good, Y/N.” he sighed, going back in for another, entwining his fingers in yours as his tongue breached your lips. A painful lump grew in your throat as it sunk in what was happening. By the time he pulled away again, tears were spilling down your cheeks.

Suguru smiled softly at you, thumbing away the beads. “Shhh, you’re alright.” he promised, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. Thick fingers ran through your hair as you sobbed into his shoulder, clinging onto his shirt for stability. “Don’t be scared, it’s just me.”

You couldn’t pull a coherent thought from the storm whirling through your mind, nor were you stupid enough to think you could pull your already exhausted body out of his arms. You best you could manage was a half choked, “You’ll get in trouble.”

Sugurus' chest rumbled against you. “No, not if you don’t tell anyone.” he said, before pulling away so he could look you in the eye. “Swan Lake auditions are coming up, remember? You know I think you’d make a lovely Odette.”

Your heart sank to your stomach. He was right. And without him to vouch for you, there’s no way in hell you’d ever get the part, or any other part for that matter. Suguru has been the companies darling for over a decade, it would look terrible for them if it came out that one of their dancers did this to their student. They wouldn’t believe you over him if you told them, and even if they did, you’re sure they’d do anything to make sure you shut up about it.

Without Suguru, your career would be over.

And it was because of that, that you kept returning, even though your heart sank every time you walked into the studio. It’s why you stayed quiet as Suguru groped and touched you as he stretched you, why you didn’t argue when he made you drop to your knees and suck him off for not taking his corrections, why you let him finger and edge you into a dripping mess to “teach you discipline.” And when it was time to leave, you’d kiss him tenderly as a thank you for the lesson just like he asked, because you were a good girl.

Suguru only became more insatiable from there. During swan lake rehearsals he’d keep you late and fuck you in your dressing room as he gave you notes, holding your hips steady and arching your back, just like in the studio. If you talked to other dancers he’d quickly usher you away, keeping a firm hand on your lower back just to cement the message that you belonged to him. 

Male co stars annoyed Suguru the most. You learned to be careful around them after he caught you laughing at one of the princes’ jokes and spanked your ass red like a child. 

Rumors started swirling of your and Suguru’s relationship. You could hear what the other dancers called you behind your back - whore, skank, suck-up. The general consensus was that you didn’t deserve what you had, that you only got parts because you were sucking Suguru’s dick.

And the worst part was that they were right. You never would have made it this far had Suguru not decided you’d make a nice sex toy. Everything, your technique, your strength, your acting, your grace, you owe all of it to him. It’s only because of him that you have what you have.

You find yourself falling into his arms more often than you’d like, crying about how they all hate you. He’s quick to offer you comforting words peppered in between sweet kisses, reassurance that you’re a very talented dancer and promises that they’re just jealous of you. You loathe how you sink into him, how you let him cradle your face and wipe your tears. It’s only a momentary reprieve, soon overshadowed by shame and self hatred, but at this point, he’s the only reprieve you have. 

In a way, that makes you his, doesn’t it?

When you’re twenty four, you attend the company's annual gala and it is announced that you will be the company's new primary dancer, and though the applause is loud, no one is smiling.

No one except Suguru, sitting in the same seat you did the first time you saw him dance.

Masterlist

You enjoy your nights in Summerhall much better than your nights in the Red Keep.

There’s a certain sort of tranquility that lingers around you as you recline in your chaise, perched beneath one of the many latticed windows that overlook the rolling countryside. The sky is an inky black beyond the glass, and a storm brews on the horizon, the smell of rain seeping through a crack in the frame.

You read your novel surrounded by the silence of your chambers, save for the crackling of the fire across the room, the light rustling of parchment as you flip through the pages, and the occasional drip of wax from your chamberstick into the steel pan at its base.

But as you begin a new chapter, your peace is shattered by a great commotion outside your door. You jump a little in your seat as a chorus of voices fills the halls, and it takes you mere seconds to cross your chambers and pull open the door to investigate. In the hall, you find two kingsguard, their armour gleaming beneath the thrown light of overhead torches, hauling your husband across the stones. Your mouth drops open, listening to the clamour that falls from Daeron’s mouth as he’s pulled down the hall like a petulant child.

“She will scold me, don’t you understand? I–I will be punished. You ca–can’t let—”

The kingsguard spots you in the doorway, dumping the prince unceremoniously at your feet. One of them offers you a polite, but sorry smile, whilst the other gestures to the kneeling prince with a wave of his hand.

“He is claiming he is ill,” the guard says quietly.

Your husband is yet to look up. His blond hair falls across his face like tattered curtains, and his entire body shudders as he kneels before you. You can hear the ragged panting falling from his lips, and you can’t help the small flicker of guilt that passes through you.

“He says he consumed something,” the other guard adds on, noting the pity in your eyes. He has a small, slightly humoured smile on his face. “A prince should not accept uncorked wines from strangers.”

With that, you nod curtly and dismiss the guards with a mumbling thank you. You stare down at your husband, who sways a little where he’s hunched. You don’t know what to say to him. So you back away, the material of your chemise fluttering around your knees as you move.

The movement finally draws Daeron’s eyes, and he snaps his head up to look at you. When you lock eyes, now several feet separating the two of you, he lets out a pained moan. It catches you off guard, and you freeze where you stand, your frame illuminated by the roaring fire beside you. Daeron grips the doorframe as he hoists himself to his feet, his legs shaking. His cheeks are flushed a brilliant red, and his eyes water, filled with tears.

“My heart,” he says, syllables strung around a broken whine. “P–Please do not be mad. I did not mean—I did not intend for this to happen.”

“You are drunk,” you reply plainly, crossing your arms over your chest. In response, Daeron whines, stumbling into the room and slamming the door shut with an uncoordinated kick. He loses his balance and leans back against the door. You scoff, looking him up and down, taking in his dishevelled and obviously inebriated state. “You told me you were riding into the village.”

“I was,” Daeron huffs, running a hand through his locks, brushing them away from his eyes. “But I took—I drank something.”

“Clearly,” you bit out, and the venom in your tone makes him whimper.

And then fall to his knees.

Your eyes grow wide, lips parting. “Daeron—?”

“A wine. No, a potion,” Daeron corrected, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “She s–said it would make me feel good.”

You frown, taking a subconscious step forward. “Who?”

Daeron whines as he watches you draw nearer, eyes raking down your body. Swollen pupils drag down the curves of your chest and where the fabric of your chemise flutters softly against your waist and tummy. His breath hitches when his eyes settles on your obscured pelvis, his mind running wild, his knowing of what lies beneath driving him to shut his eyes and let out another high-pitched sound.

“The woman,” he replies, breathless as his eyes remain closed. When he opens them, he finds your face, and you’ve taken another step closer. “A witch.”

“A witch?” You echo, sceptical.

“Yes,” Daeron sobs, arms reaching up now. He takes two handfuls of your hips, fingers digging into the covered flesh of your arse. You let out a squeak, and your husband pulls you to him, burying his face against your covered mound. He speaks against the fabric, voice muffled. “She said it would m–make me feel good. But I’m hurting, my heart, I’m h–hurting.”

He nuzzles against your mound, and you let out another squeak-like sound, one of your hands shooting down to fist his hair. He groans loudly as you pull him away, only to see a wet patch on the thin white material from where he had been trying to mouth at you. For a moment, you peer down at him curiously. He meets your gaze, and the fire you see in his eyes makes something swoop low in your belly.

“Where are you hurting?” You ask him softly, scratching at his scalp.

The blush on his cheeks deepens, and with surprising strength, he pulls your hips back to him once more. He presses a kiss to the curve of your lower belly, then to the top of your mound, his eyelashes fluttering as he attempts to keep his eyes open and on you.

“Need you,” he says simply, not answering your question. The hands gripping your hips shift, and he finds the hem of your chemise. Dragging his palms along your knees, and then your thighs, he slowly starts to lift the material, eyes flicking down to your pelvis again. “Need her.”

Before he can push your chemise up any higher, you take a step back. A loud, distressed moan falls from between his lips, and he falls forward onto his hands and knees. He pants like a dog, raising his head to stare up at you as his knees and palms kiss the worn Myrish carpet sitting across the stone.

Your chemise settles back around your knees again. “You need to see a maester.”

He groans. “No, no, no, please, my sweet girl, please don’t s–send me away. Please, I’ll be good, I just need—I just need you, please.”

You bite your lip, assessing, one last time, for any real illness that may be consuming him. But you see nothing. He appears drunk, but his eyes are watery not cloudy, and he speaks to you through desperate stutters not inebriated slurring. As you watch him, he sits back on his haunches, his hands flying to the hem of his tunic. He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning the garment, instead simply ripping it over his head to reveal his flushed chest and sweat-slick abdomen. You realised then that his cock was almost splitting the seam of his trousers, straining taut against the stiff material.

You breathe in, then out, steadying yourself. He waits patiently in the burning silence of the room. Sitting there like a puppy.

“Okay,” you say finally, delighting in the way excitement sparks in his eyes. “Okay, Daeron, you can come here.”

You step to the side and settle down in one of the chairs sitting before the fireplace. Daeron groans, relieved, before crawling across the floor to settle himself between your legs. You part your knees as his palms find the soft skin of your thighs, pushing the soft cotton of your chemise upwards until it bundles at your hips.

He lets out a pleased, almost wistful sigh while you take your chemise and pull it over your head, dropping it down the side of the chair. Daeron hooks his hands beneath your knees and pulls you forward a bit, and you grip the arms of the chair as your arse slides against the cushioning.

“Thank you,” he whispers, licking the side of your knee. Not a kiss, a lick. You squirm, caught by surprise, as he licks a flat stripe up the inside of your thigh. The sensitive skin there is ticklish, and you can’t stop the way your muscles tense up. But he continues: sliding his tongue along your bare skin until his lips press to the thin fabric of your smallclothes. He hums, visibly delighted. “Here she is…”

Daeron lifts your legs and hooks the back of your knees over his shoulders as he pushes himself forward, planting his mouth firmly against your clothed core. He inhales deeply as his lips part, his tongue pressing to the split of your cunt as one of your hands finds his hair again. His arms hug around your thighs, his biceps tacky with sweat as he kisses across the gusset of your smallclothes, holding you at an angle so he can drag his tongue up and down.

Small sounds of pleasure leave your throat as you gently rock against him, head tossed against the backrest of the chair. You idly stroke your fingers through his hair, massaging at the nape, and you feel him purr against you: a soft, content growl from the back of his throat as he pushes the tip of his tongue against the covered bud of your clit before attempting to suck it into his mouth.

You sigh out, scratching shallow lines down the warm skin at the back of his neck. “Daeron, take them off.”

He pulls away from you straight away and does what he’s told. His lips are glistening and puffy, the tip of his nose red and his eyes shining with tears as he hooks two fingers into the band of your smallclothes. You use the armrests to lift yourself, helping him pull the item over the curve of your arse, down your thighs, and away from your ankles.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Daeron mutters as he repositions your legs back over his shoulders once more.

He kneads the fat of your thighs, shifting his head to take a gentle bite. You shudder against him, a low sound passing through your lips as you slip your hand back into his hair. He kisses over the indents of his teeth, then angles inwards. He licks straight between the split of your pussy, hole to clit, and you suck in a breath.

He hums. “The prettiest girl in the whole realm. All for me…”

“Daeron,” you moan, and he finally places his mouth on you.

His lips and tongue burn hot against you as he licks between your folds, his tongue quick to swipe downward and across your hole. You feel him collect the slick pooling there, and his eyes shoot up to find yours. He mumbles something into you as his tongue pushes in, but you catch him before he can get too far.

You pull him out by the roots of his hair. “Speak properly.”

“Love it when you’re this wet,” he whispers, pink lips glistening with your slick. “Love it when I make y–you wet like this.”

You bite your lip to suppress a moan, smiling around the pressure of your teeth as you push him back between your legs. He groans happily, lips drawing the pearl of your clit into his mouth in a lazy drawl, suckling gently as he squeezes the meat of your thighs. You hum, a satisfying weight forming in the base of your spine, weighing down the pit of your tummy.

Stroking his hair, you recline on the chair as he takes what he needs. His tongue moves quickly once he releases your clit from his mouth with an audible pop. The sound makes you whine into the quiet of your chambers, and you stare up at the high ceiling as his tongue drags down through your folds before curling straight into your hole. You keen then, your husband splitting you open, tongue shifting deep as his nose ruts against your clit. Heart hammering in your chest, you tilt your head down to watch him, the hand you have in his hair tightening as he whimpers against you.

“Feels so good,” you whisper, the syllables nearly vanishing amongst the hissing of the fireplace. It throws out a pleasant heat that warms the bare skin of your chest. “Daeron, sweet boy, m’so close.”

He releases a loud, broken moan against you, his eyes lifting to watch the pleasure fissure across your face. His eyelids flutter, his chest heaving, his panting loud as he flicks his tongue against you. It’s a burning-hot desire in the depths of his soul: he wants to see you release above him, wants you to come on his tongue and sear the image deep into his retina. Too many times he has left you for princely duties, and too many times he has fisted his cock raw to such visions.

“Need it,” he’s slurring into you, but you can’t hear it. “Need it.”

The vibrations of his drunken rambling have you cresting the edge of pleasure like a ship across a wave. Your ringed fingers pull tight at the roots of his blond hair as you anchor him to your core, your thighs tightening against his ears as your release surges, peaks, then spills. Your legs shudder as you come around his tongue, the pressure in your spine releasing a flood of tremors through your body as he licks you through it. Chants of his name fall from your lips, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

Daeron pulls away from you, a thick strand of saliva connecting his bottom lip with your pussy. His mouth and chin is slick with you, and he takes a moment to stare at where your hole flutters and drools in the absence of his tongue. It makes him pout, brows furrowing as he leans forward to press a warm—too warm—kiss to your swollen clit.

“S’alright, my sweet girl, I’m here,” he mutters against you, before he’s pressing a line of kisses down the seam of your pussy and back to your hole. His eyes flutter shut, dizzy with need, as his tongue finds you again, and the sensation has you yanking on his hair. You moan around a gasp as you pull him from you, his lips parted, his eyes black under the expansion of his pupils. 

Daeron swallows, eyes flitting over the features of your face. You smile down at him as you remove your legs from his shoulders. You take your fingers out of his hair too, before angling your leg down to nudge your foot against the laces at the front of his trousers.

“Take them off,” you tell him, the ball of your foot brushing over the heavy tent at the front.

That makes him groan lowly, and you remove your foot as his fumbling fingers find the laces, tugging them impatiently. As he does this, he shifts forward to kiss your knee, spreading your slick from his chin to the skin there.

“I love you more than anything,” he says as his trousers loosen. 

He pulls away and quickly gets to his feet so he can tug his trousers down. You watch him from your seat in the chair, naked body warmed by the fireplace. Daeron kicks his trousers away, and then undoes his breeches. When the white material falls, you can’t help but moan at his hard cock bobbing free—and you notice the cum already leaking from the tip, smeared down his shaft and glistening on the soft skin.

You spare a glance at his discarded breeches, the front of the material damp with spend. You bite your lip, hiding your grin. He’s spilled in his trousers from putting his mouth on you. He catches your expression and moans softly, his brows drawing together, a blazing blush creeping up his neck. His ears are red too.

“M’sorry,” he murmurs, slinking back to his knees. One of his hands shifts to grasp the base of his cock. “M’sorry, my heart, I didn’t mean to—”

You pick yourself up from the chair and sink to the floor with him. The worn carpet beneath you provides an ample landing site as you close the gap between the two of you.

Your husband’s mouth is warm and sticky against yours. His tongue wastes no time in pushing past your lips with each move of his mouth, and his free hand finds the back of your neck. Your arms wind around his neck as the two of you kiss beneath the orange glow of the steadily dying fire.

You shuffle forward, feeling the wet tip of his cock slide against the skin near your navel. Daeron shudders against you, rocking his hips to chase the feeling, his cock rubbing along the softness of your tummy as your tongues meet again and again. One trembling hand holds the base of his cock, guiding the movements with tiny little jerks of his hand, and you feel him sighing into your mouth as pre-cum smears across the skin that covers your womb.

“Need her,” Daeron whispers into your mouth as your nails scrape across the strong span of his shoulders. You whimper as he gently nudges your legs apart with his strong thigh, the head of his cock trailing down your mound. “Need you, sweet girl. Need it s–so bad, I—”

You plant one last warm kiss to his lips to shut him up, before you retreat backwards onto the carpet beneath you. He watches you carefully, eyes following the bounce of your tits as you fall back onto your hands, beckoning him with a tilt of your chin.

“Yes, yes, yes,” your husband drags out, practically throwing himself over top of you. He settles between your bent, parted legs, and he fists himself as he angles his hips, pushing the head of his cock against your pussy. He groans when it makes contact, skin-on-skin, fiery hot. He rocks his hips, sliding the length through your folds. “Ah, f–fuck, fuck, oh my gods, sweet girl, oh—”

You lift your legs and wrap them around his hips. The sudden movement snaps him out of whatever stupor he’d sunk himself into, and he allows a taut grunt to slip between his teeth. He drags his cock back down until he can press it to your hole.

“Here we go,” he mumbles, more to himself than you. The head of his cock is sucked in, and your legs tighten around his hips, urging him to shift closer. Daeron’s head lifts, watching bliss consume your pretty features. The sight has his cock jerking, barely an inch inside you, a sticky sort of pleasure trekking down his spine. It makes him shudder, eyes snapping back down to where your pussy takes him. “That’s it, open up for me.”

You arch against the carpet as your husband shoves into you. No warning, no more slow and steady. The prince snaps his hips, and suddenly, he’s balls-deep inside you, stuffed tight to the hilt and moaning like a whore. You lock your ankles behind him, taking him deeper, mewling his name as his arms cage either side of your head, his face hovering above yours. His blond hair frames his wrecked face, and you watch in amazement as he groans. His cock twitches heavily inside of you, and then you feel it. He’s coming.

Again.

“Huh–huh, f–fuck, shit,” Daeron rambles around his dog-like pants as he spills inside of you, his abs shifting as his stomach tenses, balls drawing tight as a second orgasm spears through him. He screws his eyes shut, gasping as he empties himself, one-thrust in. 

It makes you moan, one hand reaching up to swipe his hair from the side of his face so you can cup his cheek.

“You feeling good, sweet boy?” You ask him gently, thumb stroking the scar along his cheekbone.

His eyes snap open, and he whines. “Yeah, m’sorry. M’so sorry, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, hand finding the back of his neck now. You bring him down to kiss you, and he mewls desperately into your mouth as the two of you connect, your tits pushing against his sweaty chest. Your tongue finds his, and he rescinds control, allowing you to lick across his teeth until he stops panting. When you part, you squeeze your thighs around him, urging him on.

“One more then, Daeron,” you tell him, slowly shifting your hips, prompting him to move. “Be a good boy and give me one more.”

Daeron groans, and listens. He draws his hips back then slams forward. You moan when the tip of his cock punches right against a spongey spot inside you that has you keening, mind going blank. His pace is hurried, desperate, but his rhythm is drunken and rolling. His hips slide against yours, his cock rutting in and out as you meet his movements. Your back scrapes against the carpet as he surges above you, his breathing hitting him in hard grunts as his arms tremble. 

You hold him tightly, feeling the rub of his cock against the tight walls of your pussy. A searing pleasure sparks low in your belly. Dull to begin with. But as your prince shifts above you, driving you against the carpet again and again, flushed skin glowing orange from the flickering flames adjacent, it starts to build. You call for him, and he coos down at you, brows drawing together as he nears his third release.

“I’m here, I’m here, my heart, y’doing so good,” he mutters, rolling his hips. His cock hits deep, and he struggles to speak around a whimper. “Doing so good. So good, sweet girl. Fuck, you’re perfect. All—all mine.”

You mewl your response, and Daeron bends down to kiss you. He keeps his rhythm as steady as he can as your mouths slot together. The movement of his lips is lazy, and before long, you’re simply pressing your parted mouths to one another, panting as your bodies join. His nose brushes against yours and he places a wet kiss to the corner of your mouth.

His cock pushes up towards the plug of your cervix, and you can’t help the strong current of electricity that thrums through your veins. Your body shakes, and a moan slips out of your mouth as your head falls back, your back arching further off of the carpet. Daeron takes the opportunity to suck a kiss to the base of your jaw, then another to the column of your throat. As you rock together, his teeth graze your skin. His pants brush past your ear as he licks the thin sheen of sweat from the apple of your cheek.

You huff, managing a small frown through the weight of your impending release. “Daeron.”

“M’sorry, m’sorry, I know,” he rambles, pulling himself upwards to hover above you.

His thrusts speed up, and you let out an animal-like yowl as he grinds against you. He sees your face flickering, the way your entire body racks with tremors as your legs draw tight around his hips. Your heels dig into the muscles of his arse, urging him closer, and your fingers trace bright red lines down his back.

He can’t help but moan your name. “Gods, I love you. I want you to come for me. Please, sweet girl, need to feel you come around me.”

You try your best to keep your eyes open as the fire dwindles beside you, but something even hotter blazes deep within your belly.

“M’coming,” you tell him, body stretched taut, burning hot like an ember. “Come with me.”

Daeron’s mouth drops open in a desperate, whiney plea of your name, his eyelids fluttering as he spills inside of you. Your words were like a lever, opening the floor beneath him. His third orgasm is even harsher than the first: it sears along his spine, forcing him to curl over, and his weight becomes too much, arms giving way until he’s practically lying on top of you. He continues to rut his hips, whimpering as he empties himself inside of you, cock jerking, and jerking still, as the wet walls of your cunt hold him in a vice.

The feeling of being filled sends you over the edge, your release pulling you under alongside him.

“Daeron—” You gasp out, body stiffening as you come. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing at your pulse as he continues to roll his hips against you. Your release has you shuddering, and your prince holds you through it as the world around you turns on its axis and stars burst vividly behind your drooping eyelids.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Daeron whispers into the damp skin of your neck, nuzzling your pulse. You give him a little moan from the back of your throat in response, and he presses one last kiss to your cheek before he gingerly lifts himself from you.

Lazily, you gaze at him as he rights himself and draws his eyes to where his cock splits you open. You bite your lip, muscles mellow as you watch him pull his cock from you with an oversensitive hiss. Cool air kisses you there, and a small gasp leaves you, his seed drooling from your hole, much to his amazement.

“Don’t waste, sweet girl,” he mutters to your pussy, hands slowly caressing your legs until he can hold the backs of your knees. He shuffles forward, pulling your pliant body to him, hoisting your legs up enough for him to comfortably bend and slide his tongue into you.

You seize up, a moan caught painfully in your throat.

Daeron moans loudly into your core as his tongue spreads you open. He licks his own seed from inside you, his nose rubbing against your puffy clit. The moan in your throat finally escapes, and you swear it hits the roof as you angle your chin to the ceiling. One unsteady hand drags down your body and finds his hair, but you don’t have the strength to tug. Instead, you hold him securely, blond strands soft between your fingers.

He fucks his tongue into you with his eyes closed. You realise then that, although he knows this will make you feel good, he’s not doing it for you. He’s doing it for himself.

A stuttered mewl leaves his throat and is muffled in your core. His tongue curls deep inside you, and you feel it wriggling, moving, searching. Overstimulation becomes a heavy weight in your abdomen, and you finally muster enough strength to wrench his face away from you. He manages to sneak one last flat lick against you before he finally concedes and rests his head against your thigh.

He places a kiss to the soft skin there as he looks up at you, eyes glistening, face wet.

You look down at him, the hand in his hair dragging down the side of his head to cup his cheek.

“D’you feel better?” You ask, your thumb finding the corner of his mouth. You push it to flatten against his lips, and he easily parts for you. You slip the digit inside, hooking over his teeth, running over the front of his tongue. He closes his mouth and sucks.

“Yeah,” he mumbles around your thumb, his tongue vibrating against the pad. He says your name, desperate and needy. Then his eyes close, and he hums, content. “I love you. More than anything.”

You smile at him, cooing in response, “I love you too, my prince.”

———

need a man to talk to me like this

tags 🌿

But no matter how many times you swore you weren’t secretly obsessed with her and that there was no fucking shrine hidden in your closet or under your bed, she’d been saying the same shit long enough that no one believed you. 

“Can you just leave me alone?” You frowned, forcing your way through the crowd to get past her as she called out some other teasing remark about you going to rub one out. 

Loathing couldn’t quite suffice for just how much you couldn’t stand her.

Hate boiling and burning beneath your skin every time she hurled a new taunt your way, when she’d find you eating lunch in a single bathroom stall just to make your meals hell too, mocking you with glossy lips and a glittering smile while the rest of your class treated her like an angel even when her antics annoyed them. 

And when the girl that could do no wrong wished the worst for you, well, it seemed the worst was all you got. 

The rest of the student body had started treating you like shit too. Sneering and scolding you for staring, everyone convinced you had to be some sort of predator just because she said you liked girls. 

People didn’t grin at you in the hallways. 

Just glared. 

Your room had been ransacked a few times, clothes tattered and wrecked with staff that didn’t care to scold them. Your lunches knocked out of your hand. Stupid notes stuck to your back during class. 

There wasn’t a single person in this fucking place that wanted to be your friend. 

But you guessed it didn’t matter. 

You didn’t have that much longer left stuck here. 

Graduation was coming up soon – and despite the hell boarding school had been, the scholarship you’d been granted to attend had set you up for a pretty nice looking future. One without Toru. 

You locked the door to your room behind you, dropping your bag to the ground before collapsing onto your bed. Exhaling as your eyes shut, a migraine budding behind them from spending another day attempting to avoid her and failing miserably. 

Rolling over to pluck your phone from your pocket, your mouth reflexively curled up into a smile at the name on the screen. The one bright light in the midst of this pit of misery filled with pretty girls who thought you were pining after them and tried to punish you for it. 

All of them absolutely clueless that you were already taken. 

By a man they would definitely be desperate to call theirs too. 

You’d been seeing Satoshi for two years. 

Sorta. 

You hadn’t officially met him yet. Not when you started talking through a dating app. Back then, you’d been craving any company so much you had caved and downloaded a bunch. And you had lucked out to land an equally lonely person. 

Your relationship had been fairly casual at first, late night conversations where you stayed up until your eyes were sore and you nearly fell asleep sitting up in half your classes. Things had picked up this past year, the photos that used to be half your face or whatever you were doing escalating to more…intimate images. His questions turned more personal too, picking apart your brain until he knew probably more about you than anyone you’d ever met before. 

Sure, it wasn’t conventional. But he had sent plenty of his own questionable pictures and voice messages to quell any of your suspicions. He never asked for money either, instead showering you with attention and sending you expensive gifts (although everyone on your floor was convinced you were spending what little money you had sending them to yourself). He was wearing a uniform from an all-boys boarding school not all that far away in a lot of them – but between sports and classes and busy schedules, neither of you had been able to arrange a proper meet up. 

Until this weekend. 

Finally, you’d be able to do something other than giggle and grin at the photos of his pretty washboard abs and replay his thick, groggy good morning messages. 

He made reservations at a fancy hotel nearby, promising that he’d be waiting for you there with the biggest bouquet he could buy and wearing his best outfit in blue, sending you sweet messages about how badly he was aching to be yours in person instead of just online. 

Most people would think you made him up. 

And honestly, at first, when you tried to dispel the rumors and whispers about you being a lesbian by protesting and bringing up that you literally had a boyfriend, but when he actually went to another school, no one would believe you. 

Eventually, you gave up. Stopped seeing a point in swearing the truth when everyone else would always prefer the lie. 

It gave them someone lower on the totem pole to push around. 

Kept them safe from Toru’s reign of terror. 

Why would they listen? 

You told yourself that you were almost free. So fucking close to being out of her reach. 

They could all worship at her feet and follow her around like the lost puppies they were. You weren’t going to be a loser lingering in her shadow forever. Not when you still had your support in Satoshi. 

A new notification buzzed on your phone, breath catching in your throat in anticipation as you clicked on it too fast, before you could even read it. 

You should’ve looked. 

An unknown number and a nasty word stared back at you, your fingers automatically moving to block the number and delete it with a frown. 

Immediately re-opening your messages with Satoshi as you sniffled a little, too exhausted to keep the swirling emotions inside you at bay as you sent a short message, biting your lip until you tasted the blood on your tongue. 

Can you talk right now?

ε✿з

“Please, please, please, please-” 

“God, do you ever shut up?” Suguru groaned, rubbing his temple while Toru thrusted the phone in his face. 

“But I need your help,” she whined, pouting harder as he squinted at the messages. 

“You said you’d tell your girlfriend last month,” he annoyingly reminded her, brows knitting together in irritation as he reluctantly took the phone anyway, readjusting on his bed after she unceremoniously burst into his room after getting a ride all the way to their rival boarding school. “Don’t particularly feel like doing this for two more years.” 

God, what good was a best friend if they wouldn’t help in a time of need? Wasn’t he supposed to be a wingman?

“I’m telling her this weekend,” Toru frowned back, folding her arms across her chest as she glanced around his dorm room. It was honestly cleaner than hers, in shades of gray and green instead of the soft blue she was used to. Books actually neatly stacked on his desk instead of scattered haphazardly on every surface. “I wanna make it romantic. Like, book a hotel room and everything.”  

Buy you flowers, maybe an expensive set of lingerie, have them scatter rose petals over the bed and leave champagne on the table. Book a couples massage and take you out to a fancy dinner? Sure, she’d probably have to apologize for being a bit of a bitch to you over the years, but once you saw how serious she was about being in a relationship with you, couldn’t you just let bygones by bygones? 

Suguru arched one of those thin eyebrows, giving her one of those irksome looks that implied he didn’t think it was a good idea. 

But he was a man. 

What did they know? 

“You think she’s going to take it well?” He tentatively asked, and she couldn’t help scoff. 

“She likes Satoshi. Satoshi is me,” she simply said, gesturing with her hands as if it should be obvious. “Besides, shouldn’t she be grateful for my attention? Anyone would be.”

Suguru laughed, like it was a joke. 

But she just scowled back at him, completely serious as she tried to get what he didn’t get about the whole thing. 

Whoever got to be with her was the lucky one. 

Toru was beyond beautiful. Wealthy. Wore the best clothes and went to all the best vacation spots every year. Who wouldn’t want to be hers? 

It was just common sense. 

She’d been worshipped from the day she was born. It wasn’t like she was expecting you to do the same. She just wanted you to see how fortunate you were to have her favor. 

God, any girl would die to be in your shoes. Guys too, actually, beg for her attention and crawl on their knees for the tiniest slice of the attention she gave you. 

Sure, maybe she wasn’t always good at getting it across verbally, but she couldn’t risk someone else sneaking in and stealing your attention! Besides, her mouth seemed to always speak for itself around you, never saying exactly what she intended to when all her brain could think of was the shape of your lips and how your uniform clung to your tits since she’d bribed the office to keep sending you the size down. 

She could admit that she could be a little aggressive, but she just wanted you to finally fucking admit that you wanted her too. Not just play hard to get and avoid her all the damn time.

“She’s probably just going to complain about you,” Suguru warned her, jealousy flaring up in her chest as she ran her fingers through her hair. 

What the hell did he know? 

At least you were talking about her. 

Toru would rather your thoughts revolve around her than to be nothing to you at all. 

“She was definitely checking out my tits today,” she defensively argued, even though Suguru was still making an annoying face at her. So what if he didn’t believe her? 

You had, hadn’t you? This wasn’t just totally in her head? 

Maybe you didn’t even realize you’d done it. Toru had been trying her hardest to get you to see that you were obviously a lesbian like her, that the two of you were clearly compatible.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, and she wanted to yank the pillow out from underneath his head and smother him with it. 

“Are you going to call her or not?” She pouted, returning to the point as he slowly scrolled through the messages.

She imagined you back in your own bed, maybe biting your pretty lips until they were swollen, breaking the skin as you waited for a response. Would you let Toru lick the blood off if you knew it was her on the other end? 

“For fifty bucks,” he exhaled, and she once again contemplated suffocating him. 

But she was still shrugging down her purse, digging through its messy contents to pull out a hundred and toss it at him. 

“You’re such a dick,” she derisively huffed, even though she had started this whole arrangement by promising to pay him a couple years ago. Begging him to let her use his photos to catfish you, and despite his initial moral protests that it was wrong, blah blah blah, he eventually caved in. 

It wasn’t ever supposed to last this long. 

She meant to tell you months ago. But there were always pesky little flies buzzing around every time she tried to talk to you at school, and she couldn’t get the correct words to leave her lips when everyone was always watching the two of you together. 

God, even when she tried to talk to you in the bathroom when you ate your lunch in there alone, people still fucking followed her. 

“You better pull your pants down a little and snap a pic if I’m paying you,” she hissed at her only actual friend, just for Suguru to roll his eyes at her again from his lazy position on the bed. 

God, did she have to do everything herself?

She climbed on top, grabbing his slacks by the hips and wiggling it down as low as she could without revealing his disgusting dick. She didn't really understand what you could possibly find appealing about the obviously inferior gender, but maybe it was just because you didn't know better yet. Hadn't seen what her pretty tits looked like without her uniform covering them or properly experienced a woman’s touch. 

“Are you serious-” 

Toru ignored Suguru, tugging his shirt up too and snagging the phone back, carefully angling it to snap a photo that captured his dark happy trail, the defined muscles and ridges of his abs and hitting send. 

It was almost instantly marked as seen. 

She stared at the screen, willing your response, wishing for something in return and grinning wildly when you sent an image back. 

Your uniform removed to reveal your gorgeous tits pressed together in a pretty white bra. Had you picked it out for her? Or well, Satoshi? Your face wasn’t in it, but she could imagine what expression you were making. How your lashes might flutter, how your bottom lip might push out. 

Were you touching yourself? 

“Do you still want me to call her or do you wanna go rub one out?” Suguru sarcastically asked, his voice thick with sleep from the nap she ‘rudely’ interrupted. 

“Ask her to send a video of her doing that,” she demanded, holding the phone back out while he let out a low exhale, shutting his eyes like he hadn’t meant to sign up for that.

“Do I at least get to watch the video if she sends it?” He grumbled, and Toru glared back at him, folding her arms across her chest as she gritted her teeth. 

“Fine,” she begrudgingly accepted. 

It was only natural, she supposed. She spent almost every day bragging to him about how gorgeous you were, rambling about all the cute faces you made and funny things you’d said. Of course, he’d want to experience the little pieces of you Toru was generous enough to share. 

He took the phone, hitting the call button as Toru gestured for him to put in on speaker while it rang. He did, and you only took a second to answer. 

“Hi,” your soft voice breathed on the other end, and a jolt of excitement shot through Toru. 

You sounded so adorable. She just wanted to take a bite. Sink her teeth into you so deep you’d be stuck with the bite marks for the rest of your life. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” Suguru greeted, keeping a straight face while Toru suppressed actually giggling at the light sound of your pretty laughter through the phone. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, all sweet and sincere. 

“Just thinkin’ about you,” Suguru smoothly replied. Toru couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him, having a hard time believing any girl could actually be stupid enough to-

“Really?” 

Nevermind. 

This was exactly why you needed Toru. Sure, Suguru was her best friend, but moronic men like him would never be able to take care of you like she could! 

“I liked that photo you sent me,” he murmured into the phone, pitching his voice down while Toru’s nails bit into her palm, imprinting half-circles into them as she heard your breathing hitch on the other end. 

“Y-yeah?” You stuttered a little bit, as precious as always. A little awkward, too, but that was part of what made you so addicting. What made Toru so desperate to be the one you were stammering and stumbling over your words for. “I liked yours.” 

“You wanna show me just how much?” Suguru spoke slowly, leaving the implication up in the air for you to jump to your own conclusion. 

To decide just how badly you wanted to please Satoshi. 

“You want another photo?” You asked after a moment, temptation teetering there. Toru was dying to touch you. Be there in your bed as she heard your sheets rustling underneath your body through the grainy line. Replaying all the pretty expressions you’d worn in the hall earlier, imagining how different the one you had on now was. 

“I want more, angel,” Suguru replied, immediately reminding Toru that you still didn’t know you were hers yet, still enveloped in this boy version of her that she and Suguru fabricated. “Are you touching yourself for me?” 

“Maybe,” you shyly said, close enough to a confession. 

“Think you could record it for me, sweetheart?” He hummed, careful not to sound demanding, just issuing a little dare she knew you would take out of fear of disappointing him.

“If you really want me to,” you hesitantly replied, all light and airy. Barely needing to be nudged to agree to send a video of your breathy moans, one where your fingers would slip underneath your matching panties as you cried out after someone that never really existed. 

“Good girl.” 

You didn’t even ask him not to show anyone else. 

Just blindly trusted him. 

Would you still feel the same when you knew it was really her? Follow her lead and stay on her leash? 

Sometimes, you sorta reminded Toru of a lost little lamb. One she had to shepherd back into place. It wasn’t like she was trying to put the crook around your neck, to pull you close, but she’d do what she had to just to have you. 

ε✿з

Be there in five. Can’t wait for you to finally be mine.  

“Can I help you, miss?” A hotel employee startled you, blinking hard a few times in surprise as you swallowed hard and shook your head.

“I’m, um, just waiting on someone,” you answered with a tight smile, grateful when they seemed to accept that answer, nodding politely and walking away as you rested against the wall rather than taking a seat on one of the stiff couches clustered together by coffee tables nearby. 

You were too anxious to sit. 

Nerves racing under your skin as you continuously checked the time, smoothing out the skirt you picked out and glancing down at the revealing shirt you’d chosen after he made a comment about how much he was looking forward to burying his face against your breasts. 

But as minute five came and passed, you still hadn’t spotted a single sign of him. 

You felt like an idiot, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you kept scanning the lobby for a glimpse of blue like he promised. Pulling up your phone to read and reread his latest message for comfort. 

Fingers tapping the keyboard, typing out a message to ask if he was close only to delete it and try to reword it, wasting another few minutes struggling to come up with something not totally desperate to say only to come up empty. 

A familiar giggle made your blood run cold. 

In a single instant, your mood was spoiled, rotten, head snapping in trepidation as you saw the blue you were searching for at the receptionist’s desk. Just on the wrong person. 

A tight blue dress clinging to the hips of your least favorite person, pushing her boobs up and riding high on her thighs as she turned towards you, eyes locking onto yours like she already knew you’d be here. 

The receptionist passed her two keycards, and she had to readjust the huge bouquet of flowers in her hand to grab it before she started walking towards you, her tall heels clicking against the tiled lobby. 

“Don’t you look adorable?” She smiled at you. Smiled. You were pretty sure your brain short-circuited. Overwhelmed by the fact a compliment had left her lips with not a hint of cruelty. Perhaps a sliver of condescension, but unless your stare was suddenly deceiving you (and you so badly wished it was) she actually appeared genuine. 

“W-what are you-” You started stammering, heat rushing up to your face as she stepped even closer, looking down at you with amusement glittering in her pretty eyes as she pushed the flowers into your arms.

“I'm Satoshi, silly,” she hummed, her mouth curling up in a smirk that just screamed she was proud of her scheme. 

“No, no,” you bluntly said, struggling to breathe when her words threatened to unravel years of a relationship you’d been clinging to, counting on to keep your sanity intact. “He called me. Sent me voice messages, photos-” 

“I had to get my friend Suguru to help,” she admitted, fake sympathy in her practiced smile as she reached out and touched your cheek. Caressed it with her soft fingers while you stood there in too much shock to recoil. “But all the conversations were me, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. 

The word had never made you feel so fucking sick before. 

Satoshi had called you that all the time. But he was apparently her, and the realization that all your raw vulnerabilities, all the times you poured your heart and soul out just for Toru to be on the receiving end. All those reassurances you’d hung onto, the pretty words you copied down into diaries and woven into your brain, they all belonged to her. 

Betrayal burning through you as you tried to process the depth of their deception. How many layers to it were there? How much time had she spent just to keep up this charade? Pretending to be a fucking man to what?  

Humiliate you even more than she did on a daily basis? 

“Am I just a sick joke to you?” You asked, voice thick with hurt you couldn't hide anymore. She tormented you for years. What the hell else were you supposed to think? 

“You're my girlfriend?” She retorted, tilting her head to the side as if she couldn't understand what you were confused about. 

“You hate me,” you pointed out, mentally replaying every mean word out of her mouth from the day you met. All the times she accused you of wanting to have sex with her and basically being a lovesick loser. 

“I like you,” she corrected you, and you got the distinct impression this wasn't exactly the reaction she'd been expecting from you. 

And in the next thick pause, the silence where you stared at her with an open mouth, you realized that perhaps she'd been projecting. 

That maybe the obsessed one had been her all along. 

You stepped back, shaking your head as you heard yourself scoff. 

“Do you just want me to say sorry?” Toru asked, her glittery lip gloss catching the light as she dramatically pouted. “I am, you know, I just get so excited when I see you, it’s hard to hold it in.” 

You blinked. 

Her eyes shifted down to your chest, openly ogling you as pink bloomed against her pretty cheeks, her fingers slipping back into your hair like you were a couple. 

As if, in any universe, this could be considered normal. 

You wanted to scream. 

To storm off and slam the glass door behind you. 

Go back to your room and cry into the pillow after you scrubbed every stupid photo and video you ever saved of Satoshi from your phone. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to graduate and get as far from Toru as possible, find a place with your boyfriend and start a new life where you could forget about the past few years you’d spent here. 

“What did I do to ever deserve you doing this to me?” You breathed, a hot lump forming in your throat as you tried to hold back the sob that wanted to break out. Hyper aware of how hard you tried on your makeup this morning, how much time you’d spent picking out what to wear and how to style your hair, desperate to impress someone who apparently didn’t even exist. 

The tears were welling up anyway, heavy in your lashes and collecting in the corners of your eyes as you felt the stares of people passing by. The whispering you’d gotten used to whenever you were around Toru. 

Her face scrunched up, her annoyingly pretty mouth parting as she moved her hand to drag her thumb underneath your eyes. Wiping away your tears while she tilted her head to the side, loose waves bouncing in time with her huff, “Are you seriously crying?” 

“You catfished me,” you said, hating how crushed you sounded. But you were. In a handful of seconds, she had decimated any ounce of your confidence you had left. Reduced you to rubble under her stupid red-bottomed heels and then rubbed it into the glossy tiles you were standing on. “You’ve been calling me a lesbian for years, but you-” 

“That’s because you are one,” she said, perfectly plucked brows knitting together tightly as she took a small step closer. Almost enough for both your chests to touch, her eyes drifting back down for what felt like the twentieth time at your shirt. “I mean, I am too, was it not obvious?” 

No, it absolutely wasn’t fucking obvious, but the way she said it was enough to make you freeze. 

Honestly, if anything, you thought she was a little homophobic before this, but you didn’t know how she’d take that. 

“Come on, you can just admit that you were crushing on me, you don’t have to keep-” You made some sound at her insane statement, pure disgust mixing with the scoff that escaped. 

“I hate you,” you half-whispered. Loathing burning in those three short words as you tried to find the strength to move. But she didn’t flinch. Just pursed her lips together as she batted her soft, white lashes at you. 

“You told Satoshi you loved him last night,” she so unhelpfully reminded you, speaking slowly as if she was giving you time to think between her words. “That means you love me.” 

“I-” 

You couldn’t even get out what you wanted to say when she started twirling a loose strand of your hair around one of her long fingers. 

Was she actually trying to seduce you? 

Her chest pressed against yours, not sparing so much as a glance to anyone else in the lobby despite how much attention she had to know she was drawing as you felt her tits through her thin dress rubbing against yours like you were playing the starring role in a cheap porno. 

“Think about all those late nights we stayed up together,” she purred, looking down at you the same way she always did, and you wondered how you ever could have missed the hunger in them before. 

Well, that wasn’t quite true. You’d seen it. 

You just hadn’t realized what she was starving for. 

“All those times we talked about our families and our lives and what we wanted to do with them. All the stuff we wanted to do together,” Toru hummed, her nose nearly brushing against yours now too. You were struggling to wrap your head around the idea of her being the one you spilled everything too. Fuck, how many times had you complained to her about her? 

“I didn’t know-” You started, but she made a soft shushing sound that somehow shut you up. 

“We can still do all of it,” she promised, like you had any interest in any of it now that you knew what a fool you’d been for putting your trust in someone you never actually knew. In her. “Me and you.” 

You got the impression in your already flustered brain that she was trying to be romantic. 

That this was all supposed to be some grand gesture to show you that her feelings were genuine. 

But it just felt like fresh embarrassment. 

Your heart slamming against your rib cage while your thoughts ran in the same panicked circles, falling apart in front of a room full of strangers.

It sort of felt like you were being proposed to in public. Forced to say yes to not seem like a total asshole when everyone else was probably convinced she was earnestly confessing to you. 

And after years of being around her, you already had the experience to know the universe would always side with her. 

“What do you expect me to say?” You finally spoke, flat-out dumbfounded as your voice trembled. Her treachery was already twisting into something else in your stomach, your body attempting to turn it into something flattering just so you could cope with it. The intoxicating scent of her perfume stuffing your nostrils and clouding your thinking as you struggled to sort out all the different emotions rattling around inside you. 

The hurt and the heartache and the conflicting feelings of loss and longing for someone that wasn’t there. The scariest part was that some sliver of you was starting to consider Toru. 

Starting to want her. 

Acknowledging that you couldn’t actually have Satoshi, and coming to the conclusion that she was the closest fucking thing you had. 

The thought itself was incredibly depressing. 

“I love you, Toru?” She offered, doing her own impression of your voice. 

“I don’t,” you argued, although you weren’t sure how convincing it actually came out when her proximity left your voice quivering. 

“What? You only loved me as a boy then?” She grinded her sharp canines, not quite glaring, but clearly unhappy as her blue eyes bored into yours. 

“How was I supposed to know my boyfriend was you?” 

Other than the fact he was obviously too good to be true. A guy like that would never be interested in you. No, the only person who was, apparently, was your insane classmate who’d been pretending to be a man for two years just to get you to fall for her.  

You almost wished this was simply blackmail. That she just wanted to hold your humiliation over your head.

This felt so much worse. So much ickier. 

Especially when your body was beginning to betray your mind just with her touch, her scent, warping what your senses with her cruel fingers and soft skin. 

“A girlfriend is way better than a boyfriend,” she huffed at you, rolling her eyes like you should already know that. 

“You want to be my girlfriend?” You asked, meant to be rhetorical rather than serious. But her eyes lit up, lips lifting up into a blinding smile as she nodded. 

“Duh.” 

No. No. No. 

This could not be-

“Let’s go check out our room,” she hummed, effortlessly changing the subject as she backed off only to grab your wrist. Throwing an annoyed look over her shoulder at all the passerbys who had not-so-subtly paused to watch whatever was happening between both of you. “So annoying how people are always obsessed with me.” 

Too blind to see how much of a hypocrite she was being.

You were too stunned to stop her. Feet uselessly following after her as her pale fingertips dug deeper into your skin, dragging you around like you were just an accessory on her arm. 

Feeling almost like you were floating along, trying to tell yourself that this was all just some fucked-up dream you’d wake up from before you got there. 

But you didn’t. 

Just standing there like an idiot when she was holding the keycard up to the door, glancing down to realize you were still holding the flowers in your other limp hand. 

The saddest part was you were pretty sure no one else would give you anything as remotely nice as these. 

“I wasn’t trying to ask you to be-” You tried one more time, but she was already opening the door and pulling you in. 

“You know, you’re kinda being ungrateful,” she huffed, shutting the door with a heavy thud as she dropped her designer purse on the floor. You didn’t even think she knew how much it cost. Probably just purchased it without considering how many meals that much money could’ve bought someone else. 

“I’m ungrateful?” You echoed, hurt coiling hot in your core as you stared in disbelief at her in front of you. You wanted it to be hurt, at least, forcing yourself to look away only to find rose petals all over the floor. 

She reached around to start pulling down the zipper of her dress, stepping out of her heels without pausing before shimmying her clothes off. 

Shit. 

She wasn’t wearing a fucking shred underneath. 

You weren’t a lesbian. At least, you were pretty sure you weren’t a lesbian. But something was fluttering inside you against your will at the subtle bounce of her breasts when she bent over to pick up a rose petal and pinch it between her fingers, pouting like she was disappointed by the color of them. 

“I mean, you have me in front of you, and you’re not even appreciating it,” she complained. 

“If you’re expecting me to beg for you-” you started, awkwardly turning to place the flowers on the closest table, but that only gave her the opportunity to move closer. To bridge the gap between you. 

“I’m not,” she argued back, but the mischievous little grin on her face was enough to cast doubt. “But you will anyway.” 

Your mouth fell open, and it felt like she had your heart in her fist, squeezing it to watch the blood slowly drip out. 

“I’ve seen how pretty you look begging,” she murmured, and that heat simmering inside you just creeped higher, flooding your face as you realized what she meant. Remembered all those videos you’d sent her thinking Satoshi was seeing them. “Wanna hear it for myself.” 

And before you could even deal with the notion that Toru had a plethora of videos of you masturbating stashed away, that she probably had fingered herself to you, she was kissing you. 

She tasted like candy. 

Sugary sweet gloss melting onto your lips as her mouth messily collided with yours. You froze for a few moments, but your lips started to kiss her back. Parting to let her tongue slip in as you were torn between telling her to stop and letting this continue. 

What could you do? 

What should you do? 

If she sent those videos to anyone, your life would be fucking ruined. But you didn’t want to just be Toru’s pet, something she doted on in secret and embarrassed in public. 

And at the same time, your body was reacting to hers almost instinctively, leaning forward instead of pulling away, despite your arms falling to your side, unsure if you could even touch her back. 

Toru, on the other hand, was grabbing a handful of your ass – and one of your tits too. Groping and squeezing while her tongue explored your mouth like she owned it all. 

Maybe if you gave into her now, if you let her have this, have you this once, you could still just leave anyway after graduation. Change your number when you changed cities, fuck, maybe changed countries if it meant getting away from the war she was waging between your head and heart. 

“You’re such a bitch,” you breathed when she broke the kiss, knowing that if she kissed you again, you weren’t going to stop her either. 

She laughed. At that, or maybe just at you. 

And then she was grabbing your hips, twisting you around and guiding you back to the bed, pushing you down on it hard enough to knock the air from your chest. 

“Don’t be a brat,” she pouted, pushing her glossy lips out as she easily rolled up your little skirt around your hips. Grinning at the sight of your lacy little panties, the pure white shade that came a little too close to her hair that she quickly pulled down around your thighs next.

“I’m not a-” 

Your words died in your throat as she slipped a delicate finger inside your warmth before you could protest what exactly you were. No better than a bitch in heat when just an experimental circle had a broken gasp escaping your mouth. 

She smiled at you again, pride and amusement shining like stars in her blue stare. You supposed she’d just found a new way to play with her favorite toy. 

“You’re so cute,” she complimented, climbing on top of you, her knee nudging your thighs further apart as her other hand trailed underneath your shirt. 

You swallowed hard. You knew you should say something else. 

Tell her to fuck off. 

But nothing came out. 

All the words dried up as she dragged her finger even deeper inside you. 

And then added another digit. Slowly getting to work stretching you open, feeling the way your walls started to squeeze down reflexively as she held your stare hostage. 

“You wanna tell me just how much you don’t like me?” She condescendingly hummed, daring you to disagree with her. 

“Do you hate me?” You asked instead, still struggling to wrap your head around the fact this was happening, no longer confident in something you had been certain of an hour ago. That somehow, you were proving her right. That just by being underneath her like this, with the taste of her candied lip gloss on your mouth and her fingers stuffing you full, you had become exactly what she said you were. 

A loser in love with her. 

You tried to tell yourself again that you weren’t. 

“I’m literally, like, in love with you,” she pouted, a hint of a familiar whine in it like she was sick of saying the same thing in different ways. “What do I have to do to make you see that, hm, pretty?” 

Probably erase the past few years from your memory, but you had a feeling she might engineer something like a car accident if it had the chance to cause retrograde amnesia – and force you to let her take care of you. 

And then her thumb drifted over your clit, and you forgot what you were thinking anyway with the soft pressure she applied. 

“Doesn’t it feel good?” She hummed, begging to rub careful circles over it, your body tensing as your chest tightened at the sensation. Your overheating core threatened to send shivers down your spine as her fingertips prodded deeper, faster. 

“T-Toru-” You didn’t know what you were even trying to say, brows knitting together as sweat started to drip down your forehead, everything inside you quickly grew all fuzzy. 

“You know, no one else could make you feel this good, sweetheart,” she said, teasing you as her thumb pressed that sensitive bud between your thighs like it was a goddamn button. 

Activating an embarrassingly primal part of your brain as you felt the pleasure build closer towards a climax you couldn’t believe you might be having. 

“No one else will ever know you like I do,” Toru continued, and you loathed that she might be correct. You told her everything. Every thought. Every secret. Every dream. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to trust anyone else like that again. “Love you like I do.” 

You wanted to hate this as much as you hated her. 

But her fingers were longer than yours, hitting spots you couldn't on your own as she slipped a third one in, swirling it around to tease you with that pretty, lilting laugh of hers. 

“Look at you,” she cooed, still mocking you even when you were in her hotel bed. “Soaked on my fingers like a slut.” 

You were.

Shaking and squirming as her fingers pumped in and out of you, whimpering weakly as she played you like a goddamn instrument. You knew you were going to cum. 

Knew that she’d won. 

Toru had made a mess of you. Unravelled you into a million little pieces that probably would never be put back together again. 

“That’s it, my pretty little lamb,” she cooed, and you wished your head was a little clearer to understand what she giggled about next. Your thighs trembling when she finally crooked her fingers just right, her thumb dragging over your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to finally make you cum for her. 

Your eyes drifting down to her bare body over you, her perfect tits, her flawless skin, the shape of her hips and thighs as her fingers worked in and out of you, her thumb working you through your orgasm as you broke. 

Bent into something unrecognizable under her pressure, her presence, blinking as your brain basically stopped functioning when she filled it with just thoughts of her. 

Watching numbly when she stood up and walked to her bag and back, white hair spilling over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side to look at the phone in her hand, squinting at the screen as she angled it to capture where you were splayed out in the bleached white sheets. 

“Say cheese.” 

reblogs + comments always appreciated angels <3

He remembers that when he first cut his thumb to swipe his blood along your choker, it took monumental self-control to keep from shoving it past your closed lips and forcing you to drink his blood straight from the source — so that a piece of him would always be part of you. And when you hesitated to cut yourself for a brief moment, looking to him first for assurance, before nicking your finger and giving your blood to his choker, the urge to grab the digit and give it a harsh suck had been almost painful to suppress.

However, even his sick satisfaction with knowing that you never take off the choker, not even when sleeping or showering, isn’t enough to explain what has him so obsessed with the ubiquitous device.

The answer finally comes to him one day, months after his perverse fixation began, when you’re sitting innocently across from him and he’s daydreaming about stringing you up in Tokushin’s net and fucking you from behind, your bonds only tightening with every brutal thrust of his cock into your dripping and abused cunt. You’re complaining about the paperwork Semiu has been nagging you to complete, protesting that as a giver who rarely, if ever, sees combat, you’re ill-suited to filling out reports. You insist that it should be Team Eager’s leader — giving Tamsy a pointed look — that should have to complete them. 

It’s as he gives you an indulgent smile and gently admonishes you — just enough affection and amusement in his voice to keep it from feeling like he’s lecturing you as he says that Semiu is just doing her job as the Cleaners’ receptionist — that he gets to the part in his fantasy where reality crashes down on him with all the strength of a trash beast.

Because in his head, he imagines slipping his fingers beneath the back of your choker and yanking on it hard enough to have your back arching in an unnatural angle, or as unnatural an angle as Tokushin’s iron restraints will allow. But then he realizes that you’re wearing your choker so tightly that he doubts his fingers would even fit between the thick cord and your fragile skin. 

Where everyone else's chokers hang loosely around the base of their necks, roomy enough that they usually leave the hollow of the throat exposed, yours is snugly wrapped around the middle of your neck.

The revelation — because it truly is a revelation — goes straight to his cock, and he’s thankful for how the many layers of fabric that make up his baggy uniform, the table between you that hides his lap, and his unflappable nature all work in his favor. 

In all of his many, many, many fantasies, never once has he imagined that having something tightly wound around your neck — whether it’s his hands, Tokushin’s ropes, his belt, his tie, the hose to his oxygen tank, a seatbelt in the backseat of one of the cars, even his own long, silky strands on more than one occasion — would actually be welcome. 

There’s a small part of him that’s disappointed. Your tears, your choked pleas for him to stop, your nails biting into the backs of his hands, your fingers frantically trying to yank whatever’s around your neck loose, your gulping gasps when he withdraws his cock from your throat that last only as long as it takes for him to constrict your air supply again, and the look of betrayal in your shining eyes as the light fades from them have always been integral to every fantasy. 

But the disappointment is quick to pass because while you clearly prefer having your choker snug, he thinks that if you were ever forced to confront it, you would be left lost and confused about what it might say about you. After all, when he found you, when he saved you, the first thing that you had done was to beg with tear-filled eyes for him to break the constricting metal collar that your captors had welded shut around your neck. 

So his fantasies begin to take a slightly different shape. You’re still helpless beneath him. You’re still desperately trying to loosen the grip on your throat. You’re still crying and pleading and wasting what precious little breath you have to ask him why. But now there’s an added layer.

Because now, when he dreams of you helpless beneath him, your pussy is dripping with the sticky strands of your arousal. Now, when you desperately try to loosen the grip on your throat, your pussy clenches down around his cock in time with every squeeze of his hands. Now, when you’re crying and pleading and wasting what precious little breath you have to ask him why, it’s not why are you doing this to me, Tamsy, but instead why do you like it when he does this to you.

He knows it might break you to realize that the symbol of your captivity, when your worth was measured only in a monetary amount, is the same thing that makes you wet. And he hopes for it. 

It’s easy to find you alone, wandering the halls of HQ late one night. It’s no secret that you’ve always kept odder hours. However, it’s not him who finds you but Tokushin, one of its threads silently trailing after you in the dark. The yarn is light enough that you don’t notice it as it slides up your body, closer and closer to your neck. 

You remain so clueless, even as the thread reaches your choker, that Tamsy feels like it’s his duty as a fellow Cleaner to caution you about being more aware of your surroundings. But for now, he’ll reap the rewards of your ignorance as he uses Tokushin to pop open your choker and remove it from your person entirely. 

He watches you from the other end of the hallway with a frown as you continue to walk away, Tokushin retreating towards him, the end of the string wrapped around your choker. You really should be paying better attention, even in the safety of HQ. 

When it reaches him, he plucks your choker from Tokushin’s thread before it rewinds itself around the wooden spindle in his pocket. Anima drains from the object and it becomes a simple distaff once more. 

The choker is warm between his fingers, still carrying your body heat after having been flush with your skin for so long, and Tamsy can’t help but rub it slowly against his cheek with a contented sigh. He could spend the rest of the night just savoring the feel of your choker, but you’re about to enter the stairwell and he doesn’t want to let you get too far. 

He calls out your name and you come to an immediate stop, your foot hanging in midair above the first step down. You look back and when you see him walking towards you, you turn to face him fully, the curious frown on your lips quickly morphing into a cheerful smile. 

“I didn’t realize you were back already. I thought the job was gonna take another day or two,” you greet him. “Did everything go all right?”

He smiles in return with a nod and an affirmative hum, but your attention is quickly drawn away from the topic of his assignment to the choker twirling around his index finger. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. You instinctively bring a hand up to your neck, only for shock to light up your features when you realize that it’s your choker that Tamsy is twirling around his finger. 

“You dropped this,” he needlessly points out, both the dark and your surprise providing him with enough cover to keep his gaze trained on your fingers as you rub the bare skin of your throat where your choker usually sits. 

“Yeah, I guess it got loose. Thanks for grabbing it. It would have been so annoying if someone else found it first,” you reply, your nose wrinkling at the thought. “I’d never hear the end of how I’m constantly losing things.”

“It’s a good thing I’m around,” he offers, his tone benign. He gestures for you to come closer and a rush of satisfaction courses through him when you close the gap between you without a second thought. You hold out your hand to take the device from him, but he shakes his head and leans down to meet you. “Let me.”

Your eyes briefly widen in surprise, before hesitation creeps into your demeanor. You slightly curl in on yourself and your hand drops from your throat as you begin to play with your fingers, a clear sign of your nervousness. 

“A-are you sure?” you ask, suddenly extremely conscious of how little space there is between you. 

“Mhmm. This way I can make sure it’s on right,” he explains, entirely rational. He’s already opening it and raising the band before you can protest any further. 

It’s a simple thing — all he has to do is loop it around your neck and snap it shut, maybe give it a gentle tug to ensure the clasp isn’t faulty. But he didn’t orchestrate this late-night run-in to be done with it all in a few quick seconds. 

So, he leans even closer in and takes his time sliding the choker around the back of your neck. He skims his fingertips along your skin under the pretense of trying to guide the band to the exact spot where he knows you wear it. You’ve never had a very good poker face, and even if there weren’t only a few inches separating you, he would never miss the shiver that runs up your spine at the sensation. 

“You know, I’ve noticed that you wear your choker a little tighter than most people,” he remarks absently as he fiddles with the ends. 

He thinks if you weren’t so thrown off by the unexpected turn your night has taken — or if you weren’t so trusting of him — you might think it odd that someone with his skills in combat is taking so long to do what’s essentially an everyday task. 

“Y-yeah, I guess…” you murmur, clearly distracted by the way his thumb sweeps a small line right up the center of your throat. “I haven’t really thought about it. It just…seems like that’s how it should fit.”

When he brings his face just a little closer to your neck, he can feel each one of your exhales on his temple. He’s sure you’re aware of it as well, considering how your breathing starts to quicken. 

“It’s just a little surprising since you spent so long with something trapped around your neck,” he says. His tone is casual, like the observation just came to him and that he doesn’t think much of it. His words are punctuated by a soft click! as he snaps the choker closed, and the noise combined with the abrupt mention of your past has you freezing. “And they kept it tight, didn’t they? I can still see the scar here.”

“I d-don’t…it’s not…” you stumble over your words, unnerved by the reminder of your time in captivity and the collar that you had been forced to wear for so long that it left a permanent ring etched into your skin. 

You can faintly recall how self-conscious you used to be of the scar when you first joined the Cleaners, and how it was only the scar that took up almost half of Tamsy’s face that eventually eased your anxiety. Because, while you don’t know the history of it, if he could wear a scar so prominently on his beautiful face without a care, then shouldn’t you be able to as well?

“Actually, I remember being surprised you took the choker to begin with. I thought I’d have to convince you to at least wear it on your wrist,” he muses with a soft huff of laughter. He continues to fiddle with the clasp, tightening it so slowly that you don’t even notice — like a frog jumping into warm water without realising the temperature is incrementally increasing. 

He’s so close that he doesn’t only see you swallow, but the sound echoes in his ears. Your tongue peeks out as you lick your lips and he has to hold in his sigh of longing at the hint of pink, settling instead for relishing how your wet lips now shine in the moonlight filtering in through the windows. 

What he wouldn’t give to see you drooling around his cock, your spit messily trailing past your chin and down your throat to coat Tokushin’s fibers, your saliva becoming another cherished part of his Vital Instrument. 

“Y-you said it was important for me to wear it. That it connects us,” you finally reply, breathless from the position he has you in and the topic he’s brought up. He glances at you to see the slightly dazed way you’re staring at the ceiling, fully exposing your throat to him, too trusting to be aware of the danger he poses. 

“That’s right,” he hums pleasantly. “It ties us together.”

With your gaze directed up and away from him, he allows his mask to slip for the briefest moment, his lips stretching into a wide, sadistic grin as he suddenly tightens your choker beyond how you normally wear it. Your reaction is instantaneous — you gasp, your body tenses, and your hand makes an aborted gesture to grab onto the front of his jacket, your senses half a second behind your reflexes, before it changes course and reaches up to the choker itself, only for him to bat your hand away. 

“Tamsy! It’s too tight!” you protest, although it comes out as more of a wheeze, your chest rising and falling rapidly as panic begins to build. He’s never heard you say his name with such anguish and it sounds so beautiful, like a perfect melody.

His posture straightens as stands back up to his full height, looming over you in the dark, and when he sees the mixture of confusion, fear, and alarm on your face, it’s almost enough to make him groan and shove you to your knees — all that’s missing are streaks of his cum. 

But it’s the desperation he sees in your eyes that will stay with him forever, the way you’re pleading with him because you know that he’s the only one who can provide you clemency. It’ll fuel every fantasy he has of you from that point on. Every time he imagines something wound around your throat or his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy or your knees forced wide open by Tokushin’s strings, it’ll be with the same desperation coloring your expression. 

He turns pitying as he looks down on you. He’s released the choker — it’s tight enough that it stays in place without needing to be held — but his hands are still loosely hanging around your neck. He soothingly rubs small circles on your throat with his thumbs as he shushes you, like he’s trying to calm a spooked animal.

“Shhhhh, you’re fine. It’s just a little snug,” he consoles you, every word dripping with condescension as he makes light of your distress. 

“Tamsy,” you beg, helpless to what you believe is his uncharacteristic cruelty, but he just shakes his head and gives you a look of sympathy. 

“I can’t make it looser. It could just fall off again,” he explains, as if he’s telling a child why they need to take their foul-tasting medicine. He almost sounds pained, like it hurts him as much as the choker is hurting you. His thumbs haven’t ceased moving along your throat and he softly gives you another shush. “You’ll get used to it.”

It looks like you’re about to protest and tell him again that it’s too tight. 

“Be good for me and take it, okay?” he breathes into what little space remains between you, and he’s surprised he doesn’t come on the spot with how quickly the fight drains from you at what appear to have been the magic words. 

“These chokers are the only way you and I can stay constantly connected,” he murmurs as he watches how your breathing begins to calm, your tension easing with each rub of his thumbs. “So, you have to be good.”

You nod dumbly in his hold and he lets one of his thumbs trail just slightly down until it’s right above the center of your choker. He waits half a beat and then applies just enough pressure on the middle of your throat for it to be noticeable. He wonders if it’s going to set you off again, especially when your hand suddenly grabs his wrist, but rather than trying to push him away, you simply cling to him — like those pathetic little kittens hanging from branches in those lame motivational posters that turn up every so often in the trash. 

While his expression remains sympathetic, as he takes in the way your lips have slightly parted, how your pupils have blown wide, and how your breathing is picking up again, only this time not from panic, he can hear the resounding cackle in his head as his internal self celebrates the realization of his fantasy.  

He stays perfectly still, allowing himself another minute to savor the moment, before he loosens his hold on your neck, although he refrains from releasing you altogether. Instead, he returns to fiddling with the clasp of your choker, as if he’s checking one final time that it’s secure.

“Now, aren’t you gonna say thank you?” he gently teases you. However, the small, playful smile that tugs at the corner of his lip is belied by the flash of something darker in his eyes. 

It takes you a moment to come back to yourself. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink and your tongue makes a second appearance that evening when it darts out again to wet your lips. 

“T-thank you, Tamsy,” you say in a broken whisper, and he internally scoffs in disbelief over how good his luck is that not only does he have his hands around your throat, but you’re actually thanking him for it.

“Anything for my favorite teammate,” he assures you with a smile so genial that it has his eyes turning into two crescents. He slowly lets go of you entirely. But as he drops his hands back to his sides, it doesn’t escape him how your own hand is reluctant to release his wrist. 

He takes a step back, putting a more appropriate amount of space between you, as the tense and heated aura hanging over you both slowly begins to dissipate. However, he can see how the awkwardness still continues to linger in your form, like you’re not sure what’s just happened or how to act.

“You really should get on a more regular sleeping schedule,” he gently chides, his tone laced with concern. “Don’t I owe you a trip into town soon? How am I supposed to take you if you’re going to sleep just as the day is starting?”

The nagging seems to reestablish the sense of normalcy you were desperately scrambling for because your features scrunch together unattractively. He watches with hawklike eyes as your hand absently reaches up to instinctively adjust your choker before you realize what you’re doing and drop it.

“You’re starting to sound like Delmon,” you grumble, your fingers toying with each other again to keep them busy, and he snorts with amusement. “Fine. I’m off to bed.”

You give him a half-hearted wave as you begin to head in the direction that you both came from. But just as you pass him, he says your name and loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you before you can make it much further. You look up at him curiously only to freeze, because while he’s still wearing the same smile that you’re so used to seeing from him, there’s now something about it that unsettles you. 

You don’t know what it is or why you feel your skin breaking out in goosebumps, your hair standing on end. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about how he’s looking at you, but for some reason, you feel like you’re trapped in the threads of a spider’s web. What confuses you even more is the unexpected urge you feel to squeeze your thighs together.

“You look good with a collar,” he says, looking pointedly down at your choker.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. Dread pools in your stomach. A small tremble appears in your fingers. 

Not once have you ever thought of the choker you willingly wore — that keeps you connected to the people you’ve come to care so dearly about — as anything similar to the collar that tore your skin and chained you to your captors.  

But is he right in referring to it as just another collar? You’re becoming increasingly aware of how tight the choker feels around your neck all over again. 

“Tamsy…” you trail off, entirely helpless before him. 

He simply smiles in return, as if his words hadn’t sent you spiraling, and lifts a hand back up to your neck, his baggy sleeve sliding down his forearm as he does. He manages to squeeze the tip of his left pinky — the only one he still has — beneath the band’s center, making you flinch harshly. With the finger he’s hooked around it, he gives it an unexpectedly harsh tug that has you tripping slightly towards him, before he releases you again. Your own hand comes up reflexively to rub your throat as you watch him with wide, teary eyes.

“All that’s missing is a little bell, so I always know where to find you,” he teases, but there’s something slightly darker in his tone that makes you think for a second he’s not joking. You forcefully shake your head and tell yourself to forget it because this is Tamsy. “Be good and get some sleep, okay?”

“Hell no..”

“Why not?? All you do is sit at this desk, drink at the bar and gaze at pictures..let’s go look at the real thingggg!” Enjin begged the woman sitting at her desk for umpteeth time in a row waiting to check anybody in or send anyone out.

“Who all going? If it’s just you I have to be the designated..”

“Me, Corvus, Gris, maybe Tamsy if I can get him out of his room…don’t be like that come hang outtt! The dance’ll be on me..”

“I’ll see if I’m feeling up to it..if you convinced the boss to out to a strip club I guess I can tag along only for research.” She said, flipping the page of the porno magazine in front of her.

“How do you manage to focus with all of that in your face?”

“It’s called having self control Enjin..”

“Everybody has a breaking point..” He laughed at the white haired woman tossing his umbreaker across his shoulder.

“Yeah some weaker than others..” Semiu scoffed, rolling her eyes as she continued to look over the physiques of the women laying on the page before her.

Semiu rarely has a chance to ‘take the day off’, is it highly recommended by her peers and her boss? Of course it is but to the studious woman her works was her passion, she truly didn’t mind keeping watch over HQ and keeping those knuckleheads from killing each other so she didn’t consider it as a job.

What soothed her after a hard day usually considered of heading to a bar, getting her fill and taking her drunkess out on her self, pumping her fingers so deep into her needy cunt practically humping her hand off to hit that spot. Semiu wasn’t unknown to sex toys either, her collection puts sex shops to shame! So whenever she felt that urge creep in she’d handle her business and keep it moving, she didn’t need to be laid up under someone or feel the need to talk about her dating life if she could call it that.

“So I’m hearing you’re going out tonight..” Corvus chimed in with a chuckle, crossing his arms as he approached her desk.

“I never agreed to anything with that fool..I’ll be fine keeping things calm here..”

“Semiu..i never known you to turn down a free drink..”

“What if im thé one buying her a drink?”

“Even better i don’t have to stare the bastard down..look just give it an hour..one little dance with something you think is cute..a nice drink and you’ll have the weekend off it’s a festival this weekend..”

“Are you sure the real Corvus didn’t drop dead from a heart attack?”

“This last mission took quite a toll on some of us thankfully we all made it back alive and all in one piece, we’re taking the kids out to the festival so tonight is for the adults..”

“Fine..fine I’ll budge..only because they have good vendors..I may find something I like..”

“Good..I didn’t want to be alone with those drunk fools..”

“You could’ve started with that..” Semiu laughed with Corvus joining in with her, she sighed in agreement to finally go thinking back in her mind that she may have gotten played by Enjin and Corvus but she didn’t ponder to long on the thought, she had to get ready for tonight!

Since it was a rare occasion for her to step out, she decided to put on something different than her usual leather jacket and pants combination, if she planned on going out the least she could do was throw an outfit together.

She picked out a nice red satin button up shirt with small flowy cuffs on the end, opening a few buttons to show off some of her chest pairing it with black dress pants with strings to sit on her hips simulating she had a thong on despite wearing one.

"Two and a half drinks, one dance, then we go home..that's it.." She spoke to herself, applying the final layer of lip gloss, sprucing up her hair with a big wide-tooth comb.

"Semiiii we're in the car!" Enjin called out while she put on the finishing touches, grabbing her small clutch bag off the counter. She had a silver flask right beside it, taking a swig to loosen herself up, clicking her heels out of her room to head to the car with high hopes for the night.

~

"Enjin how did you find out about this place?" Tamsy asked, looking around the sketchy alleyway they were parked in.

"A friend of mine works the bar which is why I said drinks were on me..come on this is just the entrance.." He said with a cheeky smile, turning off the car.

"When you're surrounded by trash, I don't think you should be complaining about appearances." Semiu joked, tucking her clutch under her arm as Enjin found a door handle on the side of the dusty covered wall, opening it up to a blue-illuminated hallway leading to some stairs

**

Everyone's eyes widened at the lit-up exterior with Semiu leading the way inside, walking down the blue stairs as the bass grew louder the further they went in. The strong smell of weed smacked them all in the face, along with the sounds of people talking and barely covered women walking around looking for their next customer.

"Welcome to the Honey Factory..plenty of good food, good drinks and of course something to look at.." Enjin smirked, looking at a thick woman walk past him.

"Where the hell do you have me.." Corvus laughed, looking around to get a good look at his surroundings.

"You know where to find me.." Semiu spoke with a soft smile, making her way to the bar where a topless bartender made eye contact with the white haired woman. Enjin followed her to keep his end of the deal and see if Semiu could score something without his help

"Henny and coke please love.." She asked, sliding a twenty to the pretty woman.

"Make that 2.." Enjin added, looking towards Semiu.

"Think you could handle something like that?"

"In my sleep, I'd hurt that girl.." She chuckled over the music, taking the two drinks from the bartender. Enjin pulled out a 50 while the woman turned around for him so he could slip it inside of her thong just like the rest of the bills hanging off of her.

Semiu took a long sip from her glass, turning around to get a good vibe of the atmosphere. For the most part, she had to admit she was having a decent time. The lights weren't too crazy, people were off in their own worlds and the music didn't drown anybody out.

"What about…..mmm that one..baby blue heels." Enjin pointed to the girl walking around near the front stage.

"You're really eager to get me something to play with.."

"I have to see if the rumors are true.." He said, holding his hands up with a giggle.

"Bring her here.." Semiu sighed with a smirk, taking another sip as the tall blonde went over to you with a 100$ bill in his hand.

It was another decent night at the club, and you were expecting to be downstairs where the big ballers went to gamble but tonight you were on the main floor and stage, praying your regulars came through so you didn't have to come in tomorrow.

While you were walking around trying to find your next victim, a tall man covered with tats began to approach you out of your peripheral, and in his hand was enough to grab your attention.

" 'Scuse me, my friend over there is a little shy, think you can get her to relax a little bit? It's her first time.." He snickered, placing the bill in the top of your fishnets set watching his eyes bounce from your full hips to those full lash-covered eyes batting up to him.

“Who am I helping tonight?”

“You see the one eyeing you at the bar? Real tall lady with the glasses?”

You looked in the direction he was talking about, squirting your eyes to finally see the white haired woman staring back at you, her gold colored glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. You loved receiving woman clients, they tip the most, you didn't have to do much work and you get to enjoy the conversation instead of pretending to get extra tips.

“I can help them out and maybe you later?” You said, touching his chest.

“Oh, most definitely, after Semiu I’m sure you’ll be able to walk so come find me..”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You smiled, walking off to get a better look at the woman across the room. Your pretty heels clacked against the floor, the way your thighs jiggled with each step made you sway your hips, causing you ass to eat up the thing thong sitting between them. Your nipples were covered with a fishnet-like design, and your skin soft and drenched with baby oil, you were about to give the woman a show of a lifetime.

"A friend of yours told me this was your first time.." You smirked, leaning in so she could hear your voice over the music.

"And just what did he tell you?" Semiu spoke, finishing up the last of her drink, her golden eyes falling down your body.

"You were a little shy and needed somebody to help you out a bit.." You smiled, stepping back to study the masterpiece in front of you.

"Is that right? How do you plan on doing that?" She asked with a smirk, resting her head on hand, going to reach for her clutch.

"Come with me, I think I got something that'll loosen you up.." You teased, going back to grab her hand so you could bring her to a nearby empty couch.

"Come on right here.." You instructed, getting her to sit down so you could start your set, spreading her legs open so you could step in between them, feeling up on her thighs purposely dragging the pace near her crotch area going up her waist all the way to her neck, putting yourself onto her lap.

You held onto her rolling your hips along to the rhythm of the music, softly rubbing Semiu down before leaning into the crook of her neck arching your back so you could throw your ass on her.

The edge of her nails grazed against your skin like a needle on a record player going over the ridges of your body, feeling the ripples of your ass. You lean back to notice her eyes locked onto yours, her lips pursed into a focused look, you move your hand from her neck to cup your chest, letting them drop before pushing your tits together with your arms, grabbing her hands to put them back on your ass.

"Don't get shy now..I think you need a better look.." You smirked, hopping off of the woman so you could turn around and give her what she really wanted.

"You think I'm shy?" Semiu smiled with a tilt in her head, twirling her finger to get you to turn around to show off the poor thong suffocating between your plump ass cheeks, you took your hands to spread yourself open wiggling your thighs to make it move. You felt a flash of bills fall on your body and decided to move in a little closer, feeling a few taps on your ass from her enjoying the show. A soft golden flash of light could be seen every time you took a glance behind you, you knew the cleaners would waltz their way into clubs like this all the time so jinki usage wasn't a new thing to you, what caught you by surprise was the sudden hold Semiu had onto your body after the fact. She placed her hands onto your hips, putting you into her lap while you continued to rub your body against her, starting a steady pace.

"You don't feel so nervous no more…" You said biting your lip from how good your ass felt pressed up against what you thought was a bulge but it was just from her pushing her hips up into like she had one. You had to keep your hormones at a steady level or you'd give it all away before you make an offer to the diamond rooms!

"But you do.." She whispered back, dragging her sharp stiletto nails up your thigh, grabbing at your hips to position you on her thigh, moving you back and forth.

“I’ve seen what you can really do, stop hiding from me…” She whispered, sliding the bill into your thong, giving you the signal that she wanted a more private experience with you. The way your clit grazed against her leg made your thighs tense up , it wasn't a rare thing for you to have good looking clients, but it was against the policy to sleep with them! You were supposed to be selling fantasy, not give up the whole story!

How could you focus with her hands finding every hot spot like a perfect GPS, how her soft hums of approval drove you over the edge, she smelled expensive, and every whiff of her scent made your cunt tremble in anticipation, all you could think about is how smooth her lips would felt sliding across your cunt. If that didn't give it away the obvious wet spot forming on that tiny thong revealed your true intentions but Semiu figured this out already.

Getting up from your new favorite seat, You took her hand to pull her away from the noise down a narrow hallway with rooms only on the left hand side, you pushed past an empty door into a low lit room with mirrors covering the entire room, the low color of yellow emitting underneath the couch with a pole in the middle of the room.

In an ice bucket sat a bottle of tequila to which Semiu had to indulge in, opening the bottle smoothly, she grabbed a glass and poured herself a hefty shot.

"Now come here and show me how you really make your money.." Semiu spoke, calling you over with a finger sending a sharp shiver down your spine.

You took this as a challenge, walking back over to the couch to stand in front of them, slipping those pretty tits out of the fishnets, slowly peeling the ensemble off of your smooth skin, dropping it to the floor.

The rooms had their own music separated from the main floor, giving the atmosphere a more sensual touch allowing you to move your body the way you wanted.

"Mhmm..the thong too.." She hummed, taking another sip.

You obeyed her commands by tugging them down to your ass, letting the string sit on your ass so you could turn around to show off your leaking cunt. You made sure to bend over directly in front of her, listening to the slight squelch coming from your pussy lips squeezing together, the sight made Semiu's cunt quiver.

She adjusted her hips up before taking her hand to slide her fingers in between your slick mess while you shook your ass, causing your eyes to widen from how easily she found your clit.

You gasped softly lifting up to turn around quick to grab her hand, an instinct to have with anyone getting too touchy in the club.

"We have strict rules at the Honey Factory baby..you gotta watch those hands.."

"You gon watch em for me?" She asked, carefully moving her hand towards your cunt, taking her fingers to toy with you clit once more. "I know that camera right there can't see what I'm doing..you said you were gonna help me relax right?" You couldn't do anything but glide your hips on her fingers, feeling her slip two digits inside your needy pussy.

"Keep your eyes on me love..keep moving.." She instructed.

She was so slick, just hearing her talk made you leak more onto her fingers, she must've caught on by the way she pumped into you slightly allowing you to do most of the work. She took her other hand to place it in the safe spot of your hips, guiding you at a steadier pace letting her nails poke your skin.

"Just like that baby..I like how she holding onto me.." She smiled, looking down at your cunt swallow her digits over and over again, biting her lip listening to your soft whimpers trying to cover her moans with her hand, moving your body to keep up the facade of just a simple lap dance.

Your pussy twitched from the way her fingers drug against your walls, your hips wanted to pick up the pace oh so badly but then you'd be riding her right in front of the camera!

The ball building inside of your stomach was growing to a point where you were about to ignore the consequences, you were almost at the top before she pulled out of you to get a taste of what she was in for tonight, sucking her finger off slowly.

"This is relaxing to you? Playing with a stripper's pussy?" You taunted, removing your knees from the couch to step the other side of the room, hitting the camera's blind spot by sitting on end of the couch.

You called Semiu over with a 'come here' motion with your finger, eyeing the woman as she made her way over to you, sitting back down while you knelt back to the ground, crawling to her spread legs to grab at her pants, pulling them down along with the thong soaked in Semiu's juices.

While you worked on her lower half, she unbuttoned the rest of her shirt letting her chest spring free, those perky nipples just begging to be touched.

Your hands found their way to Semiu's inner thigh before you felt your face being shoved deep into her hot slit, burning your tongue in the best way. You drug your lips up and down her slimy folds, sucking in her puffy clit with your lips, popping it back out just to do it again.

"I knew that pretty mouth could do something.." She hummed, feeling you stick out your tongue so she could use your face as her personal sex toy, the wet muscle rubbing her clit just the way she liked it.

You moaned in response, moving your head around in circles to spread her mess all over your face, Semiu's breaths quickened as she took those hardened buds into her fingers, kneading and cupping her breasts to hit that spot forming in her lower stomach.

Her soft moans made your cunt drip in excitement which made you reach under to rub tiny circles onto your needy little clit, letting your moans vibrate onto Semiu's hot pussy.

"That's how you gon get me to relax? Hmm? Oh fuck I'm gonna cum all over this pretty face…" She slurred, pushing her hips up into your mouth. You started a sloppy make out with Semiu's swollen pussy lips, making sure you kept your tongue in the middle licking her quivering hole every time it asked for attention.

Your dripping folds tighten around nothing as your fingers picked up the pace right along with your tongue lapping at Semiu's creamy pussy, the way you tongue fucked her left white stains all around your mouth, and you even pause to take some of her slick to rub it on your cunt, purposely pausing to edge yourself.

"Ohhh shhhitttt!" She moaned softly, a soft stream of her cum covering your plump lips. Semiu wanted to see what the mixture tasted like so she took it upon herself to grab you up by the chin so she could slide her tongue inside, figuring out what was so addicting about her flavor.

Your tongue danced around hers while your hands dropped down to her tits, you held them up in your hands before pinching at them, whimpering softly into Semiu's mouth.

She broke it up to leave a nasty line of saliva from the both of you, going back in so you could start sucking on her tongue, by intinct you were trying to get back into her lap but this time, she pulled away from your lips to turn you around, sitting your bare ass against her skin.

"I hope yo nasty ass get caught.." You groaned with a giggle, pushing your hips back to brush up on her cunt.

"You want somebody to watch me play with this pussy that bad?" She whispered near the shell of your ear, sending icy cold chills down your spine only aiding to the pulsing sensation in between your thighs.

You felt the woman snake her hand around your body to reach that desperate clit using the pad of her fingers to roll circles on the puffy clit using her free hand to hold on to your throat, keeping you right where she wanted you.

“Ouu fuck do you hear that?”

“I hear you messing around with my pussy..” You groaned back, wriggling your hips as Semiu finally pushed two digits past that tight barrier hitting that spongy spot hidden deep inside. “Semiu!”

“Say it again for me baby..who you helping out tonight?”

“Fuck..Semiu..” You replied, taking your hand to cover hers, feeling her thrust her fingers inside.

“Mhmm..right on these nails..”

“On them fucking nails..Oh fuck ..fuck..f—.” Your words were muffled by Semiu putting her hand over your mouth as she slipped her fingers out of her cunt, rubbing your clit slide to side before playing with swollen bud in between her fingers.

"I'm cumminggg…I'm cummming!!" You cried out to her, releasing a heavy stream all over her fingers, the couch and nearly some on the floor. She continued to rub the poor throbbing cunt, occasionally pausing to lay more smacks, soothing it by sliding your clit along with her fingers.

Semiu still wasn't satisfied, no she had to know what it felt like to cum on your clit, the pure thought of you riding her pussy sending her body into overdrive. It was more than a fix, it was more than taking a break, she had a craving she couldn't kill.

Slowing your movements down, she tapped on your outer thing signaling you to get up so she could position herself laying on the couch cushions, kicking her leg up on the back of the chair while her other one rested on the ground, you fit yourself right in like a puzzle piece, lining your cunt up with hers.

“You’re so fucking wet..” You whispered, rolling your cunts past each other over and over again, the warm feelings of your soaked pussy gliding back and forth.

“I didnt tell you to stop moving back, shake that ass on this fat clit..” She swore, laying a heavy swat on your ass, her eyes never leaving your cheeks as you followed your command, feeling Semiu help you with your hips.

“I wanna squirt all over this pussy..fuck..”

The sticky mixture of both of your juices left lines appearing with every bounce, every time her cunt grazed up against your hungry pussy made your body sending shots of ecstasy pouring through your veins.

“I’m gone keep my promise...” You babbled

“Keep it for me baby..”

“Ouu fuck i’m gonna keep it..keep..mhmm..lemme ride this pussy..”

Semiu reached her arm up to play with your breasts shortly before wrapping her fingers around your throat, bucking her hips up to match your speed. Her eyes were focused on the creamy sight the both of you were making, biting backs moans with each thrust.

You held onto her leg humping her slimy cunt as your clits swirled around, your ass clapped together with each bounce while you practically got yourself off with her cunt.

“I feel that pussy throbbing for me..keep that fucking promise..” She spat, gripping your skin hard enough to leave nails marks.

The scene was almost pornographic, like the pictures she would gawk at during her downtime. She was putting herself into a Porn stars shoes by the way she was rolling her hips into you.

It wasn’t long before a nasty shot of cum came splashing out, coating both you and Semiu’s thighs and the couch underneath you with that sloppy mess, but the both of you couldn’t stop.

“Nooo..Nooo don’t move..this shit feels so good...”

“You don’t have to stop..you don’t have to hide that pussy from me..let me clean it up for you..”

She hummed, pushing you off of her drenched cunt, leaning your body on your back so she could spread your pink folds wide with her fingers.

"You're right I did make a mess didn't I? You have to excuse my manners..." She smirked, laying her tongue right on that sensitive clit still throbbing at her.

"So relaxing ain't it?'

When I tell you Miss Semiu..you've really outdone yourself!! It's something about this woman that makes my two heartbeats wanna fight!!! I'm so glad to be back in the playhouse, I've missed yall just as much as yall have missed me, trust i've seen your filthy requests ,,.Corvus is lurking round him somewhere..I hope he isn't too upset...hehehe

-MissHoneyBlue

it was a pure coincidence, or some might say fate, that you ended up in the same restaurant — he was there celebrating his birthday with a small circle of friends while you were present to honor your colleague that had just gotten a promotion at work.

satoru’s eyes relentlessly followed your every move, every gesture, from the moment you walked in and settled on the table next to his. it was rather unusual for him to be this interested in someone simply upon sight, in fact, even desiring to pursue something with someone so immediately. it was always the other way around — women would flock to him because of his looks and peculiar behavior, and of course — his money — but he would turn them down without batting an eye. love and seeking romance were never a priority for him, he did not have time nor any interest in them. but here he was, contradicting himself, being blatantly distracted by your presence while somehow trying to simulate an active conversation with his friends, more than frequently averting his gaze to look at you, his brain busy coming up with a plan to get your number by the end of the night.

it didn’t take him too long to finally make his move. he stood up from his chair and walked over to your table, stopping right behind your seat.

“excuse me”, he leaned in, placing one hand at the edge of the table and the other — at the back of your chair, “hello”, his face mere inches away from yours. taken aback by the way he, a complete stranger, had the guts to get this close to you, you turned to face him with a questioning look.

“i felt like i would regret it for the rest of my life if i didn’t come say hi to you”, he spoke.

truth be told, despite being astounded and a bit put off by his approach, you were slightly intrigued. he was handsome, pretty even — like that one oddly eye-catching cloud in a sky full of thousands that you notice as soon as you look up. the white henley shirt he was wearing made the blue in his eyes pop even more, the v-neck revealing a little bit of his well-crafted chest, just enough to leave you tiny bit wondering about the ridges of his abs beneath.

as much as the scenery up close made your cheeks feel hot, his boldness rubbed you up the wrong way, too much to let it just slide, and you snapped. “is that so? well, now that you’ve said your hi, you can go back to your table and live with no regrets for the rest of your life”, you rolled your eyes skeptically, pushing his hand off the table.

“oh, i am sorry”, he chuckled, brushing his hair back with a hand, “but there are three more things i need to do before leaving, i’m afraid”

you raised an eyebrow, questioning.

“first, let me introduce myself — i am gojo satoru, also known as the man to be your boyfriend, then your husband, and then the father of your children”, he smugly said. your eyes widening at the audacity of his declaration that left you at a loss for words. “second, i hope you don’t mind introducing yourself as well — as you are to be my girlfriend, then my wife, and then the mother of my children — it’s only natural that i know your name”, he continued, “and last but not least — i am not leaving until you give me your number so we can make this all work”

wow. this man was really fucked in the head, you were sure of it — who in the right mind would speak such nonsense to someone they just met? “you have to be joking, right?”, you laughed in genuine disbelief.

“no. i am dead serious”, he replied in a heartbeat.

“is this your move? you pull this on everyone you find remotely attractive?”, you narrowed your eyes.

“actually—”, suguru interrupted, placing a hand on satoru’s shoulder as he approached from behind, “no”, he spoke. “believe me when i tell you this — he’s never been this smooth in his entire life. i know he probably came off a bit creepy, considering the boldness of his actions — hell, even i am creeped out because it’s pretty unusual for him to act like this”, he laughed, glancing at satoru to let him know that he got his back on this. “but, what i’m trying to say is — my friend here seems to really like you as i’ve never seen him be so intense and interested in anyone before. he’s also a birthday boy today — so could you at least give him a chance before turning him down so quickly? you can come sit with us before you make up your mind on whether you want to give him your number or not?”

you thought for a second, weighing the options in your mind — he was pretty, although he annoyed you a little bit by being all bossy and arrogant as if you were compelled to belong to him just because he said so. but there was just something about him you couldn’t quite put your finger on that made you question yourself. were you actually drawn to him? you could say “no” and never hear from him again, occasionally pondering over the what-if’s and should-have’s from this night; or you could say “fuck it” and see where this strange encounter goes, and live your life without regrets — as he would say. there — he was already getting under your skin…

“well”, you sighed, “guess i’m down for that”

by the end of the night not only did you give him your number, but also a promise for a date the next day — the first of many to follow after.

“careful, you’ll wake her up”, you whisper, leaning against the doorframe of your 3-year old’s room and watching your husband place a soft peck on your daughter’s forehead.

“can’t help it”, he speaks quietly, “she looks like an angel”, before fixing the blankets around her, making sure she’s tucked in all cozily. “the nanny said she cried for papa while we were gone”, he puts a hand over his mouth to stop his lips from trembling, his eyes filled with nothing but love and tenderness, welling up and flowing from the corners.

“she’s such a daddy’s girl”, you sigh, a soft smile present on your face, “next year we can stay home and invite everyone else over — that way we won’t have to worry about missing her bedtime”.

“yea”, he hums, “let’s do that next year”, giving her one last kiss before turning off the night lamp and tiptoeing to you. “come on”, he puts a hand at the small of your back as you both walk out of the room.

“do you remember”, satoru speaks softly into your ear while walking behind you on your way to your shared bedroom, his front flat against your back, the hand at the small of it now circling around to rest over your navel, while the other — reaches for the handle of your bedroom door to push it open, “the night we first met on my birthday?”, he continues after carefully guiding you inside.

you stop in the middle of the room, his arms still wrapped around you from behind, your hands resting over his and playing with his knuckles.

“how can i not?” you chuckle, tilting your head back to let him rest his chin on your forehead, “that was one hell of a fortune telling you pulled on me back then”

“but i was right, no?”, he brushes his lips on your forehead before leaving a soft peck, “see — you’re all mine now, just like i said”, and then another, ”i made you my girlfriend first”, and another, “then i gave you my last name”, and a fourth one, “and then you gave me a beautiful daughter, made me a father”, before turning you around to face him.

“you partly owe it to suguru though — he eased me into the situation, unlike you”, you reply, humbling him like you always do. your head is nestled on his broad chest as one of his hands caress the back of it. still in his embrace, he slowly walks you towards the bed. sits at the edge of it and straddles you on his lap. his palms finding their way to the plush of your thighs draped over his, caressing them tenderly but needily as his fingertips press and then release against your flesh in quick repetitive motions.

“this is because i asked him to give me a hand in case you cut me off”, he admits, tilting his head to meet your lips, not to kiss but just to keep them brushing against each other as you speak. he loved doing this a lot.

“oh?”, you gasp into his mouth, pretending to be shocked to your core, “you wanted me so much that you of all people, the gojo satoru, had to ask someone else for help?”

“you have no idea. if that hadn’t worked, i would’ve fallen on my hands and knees and begged you to take me”, one of his hands reaching the side of your face, playing his fingers on the strands of your hair covering your cheek before tucking them behind your ear.

“hmm”, you doubt, “is that so?”, nuzzling your nose against his.

“mhmm”, he nods, “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, i thought you knew that by now. it kind of hurts my feelings that you doubt me actually”, he acts offended, pursing his lips and turning his head to the side to face away from you.

“oh my, what have i done now”, you knit your brows and press your cheek against his, pretending to be very, very sorry about what you just said.

“you made the birthday boy sad”, he huffs a silly, somehow obviously forced, pout, “you’ve got to make it up to me somehow”

“i’d do anything to make the birthday boy smile again — just say the word”, you sweetly pamper, patting the top of his head.

“really?”

“really.”

“anything?”

“anything.”

“you promise not to go back on your word?”

“i promise.”

he pulls his cheek away from yours and looks you in the eyes, the blue in his shining with a darker shade of mischief now. and considering the smug smile on his face, you sigh — perhaps you just got yourself played, falling face down into his little trap.

“then”, he points at his own face, “sit on it”

to say you were surprised by his request would be a lie. he’s many times tried coaxing you into doing this in the past but somehow you managed to avoid it, part of you still shying away from it. it’s not like his tongue has never been inside you before. but riding it as if it were his cock seemed way more obscene in your head than anything you two have ever done previously — and you’ve done pretty much a lot.

“well”, you sigh in defeat, seems like the time has finally come, “today’s your lucky day”, you say as you get up from his lap and turn your back — a signal for him to unzip your dress — to which, of course, he immediately complies.

“as it should be”, his crafty fingers work the slider down, slowly peeling the dress off your body and letting it fall on the floor, followed by your lace thong and bra, “it’s my birthday after all”

“the way you always find a way to make things go your way gets on my nerves so much”, you turn around again and push him on the bed and slowly climb on top of him to straddle his chest.

“make a wish before you blow the candle”, you look down at him, your pussy close to his face, the scent of you tickling his nostrils, and he, instinctively almost, takes a deeper breath, rolling his eyes back and hissing with delight.

“freak”, you quickly look away, embarrassed, but he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him again, “i want you to look at me as you ride my face”, his voice comes out breathy, “will you do that for the birthday boy?”

you nod into his palms, “you’re insufferable” — “suffocate me then”, he coos through a grin, grabbing your knees to pull you forward until you’re above his face.

“jerk”, you say, but softly, as you lower your cunt on his willing mouth, landing your softness on his face in slow motion, immediately earning a throaty groan from him that shudders through your pussy lips.

satoru breathes deeply in and out with your heat on his mouth, the scent of you hitting his lungs and even below, reaching all the way down to his groin to further nurture his cock already throbbing in his slacks. his hand reaching down to unbuckle them slightly, to give more space for his hard-on to grow freely.

“mowe”, he muffles incoherently into your pussy, grabbing a handful of your ass cheeks to push you against his face, tilting his head up and down, jutting his jaw up and out to meet you.

you whimper at the friction, your clit bumping and rubbing against his nose as his lips are kissing your folds, his tongue slowly poking at your entrance with the tip before darting in — twirling around your walls — and out.

“nghh…s-sa-t-to—”, you barely cry out his name, tugging at his hair, mercilessly pulling him into your heat. as much as you hated to admit it, you loved this position. your embarrassment long gone and forgotten, you ride his face in a haze, your pussy getting wetter against his mouth and your movements — faster and harder each moment.

“heawen on my fongwue”, he groans. if he could speak properly right now, he would probably make the nastiest, dirtiest remarks, shamelessly walk you through every single thing he was feeling as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding on his face. he would probably say something about your boobs, too. how they looked so pretty jiggling ever so slightly from the movement. he can’t speak right now, yes, but he can still get his thoughts reach you through actions — his hands run along your belly, gripping your breasts from below, squeezing and squishing them inside of his palms.

you clutch his hands with yours, “i can’t hold this position for too long”, and force them down on your hips for support. you hear him say something through a loud groan but it’s barely recognizable — most likely just him cursing “fuck” and “baby” from pleasure under your pussy, but also from the ego boost you just gave him — that he can make you weak but at the same time desperate enough to want to continue — despite your hips giving up — not only with his cock but his mouth alone, too.

you let him take over as you chase your high, weighing on his face as his hands grip on your hips, dictating your every move, composing the tune of your hips. his tongue is no more sliding in and out as he makes you grind harder on his face — it stays in, continuously licking your sweet spot clean.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck…”, you curse loudly, reaching your hands to grab the head of the bed and hammer your pussy harder into his face, squeezing every last drop of strength left in your already cramping muscles until you cum, shuddering on his mouth.

“mfff”, he groans throatily into your hole, sucking and slurping your juices. his hips buck in the air, helplessly searching for friction to soothe his aching cock. his half-unbuckled pants are drenched with precum, leaking out from his tip through his boxers and out through the cloth of his pants, visibly staining them.

you can’t see but it’s easy to figure out from the way the bed bounces up and down as his ass meets the mattress after every time his hips fall down. “how cute”, you utter as you try to calm down your breathing, cunt still resting over his face.

his eyes are half closed, rolling back and hiding their blue away. all he needs is a little push, a little rub, you know it. you know it by the way his tongue has stopped moving inside you, by the way his hands have loosened the grip on your flesh, by the way his shortened moans have grown into one long and steady groan coming from the bottom of his throat — his entire brain solely focused on the muscles of his lower body that is searching, almost beggingly, for relief.

you lean your upper body back a little, just enough to make it easier to reach his shaft while still sitting on his face. “since you’re the birthday boy”, you drag your words out as you place your hand on his clothed cock, feeling the wetness that’s emerged from beneath against your palm, “i’ll give you a hand.”

his ass cheeks tense and squeeze as he presses his hips against your touch, ferociously rubbing his clothed cock on the flesh of your open palm. his groans get louder as he bucks his hips under your hand, pushing them up to meet your hand harder and faster each time — just the way he forces his cock into your tight cunt as he nears — until the last three thrusts that he always prolongs in order to properly and completely pump his seed out.

the inside of your hand feels hot against his clothed cock as he seeps himself out, the stickiness of his cum absorbing itself into the material of his pants and emerging through it to reach the skin of your palm.

you lift yourself up a little only to plop your body down next to his. his mouth, cheeks, chin, even his nose, are covered in his spit and your cum, all mixed in.

“shit, baby”, he laughs, breathing deeply in and out of his mouth, overwhelmed by the whole experience, “what the hell did you just do to me”

“do you really need me to verbalize what just happened”

“yes”

“no”, you slap his cheek with the back of your hand, softly, before rolling on your side to rest your head on the left side of his chest, kissing it tenderly. “happy birthday”

“it really is”, he whispers, tracing a heart shape over the skin of your exposed cheek with his fingertip, “with you, it always is”

“did your wish come true by any chance?”, you tilt your head to look at him.

“not yet. but i’ll work on it later tonight. for now, i’ll let you catch your breath”

“wait, wait.”, you raise a brow, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“my love”, he clears his throat, “do you remember how i said, when we first met, that you’d be the mother of my children?”

“yea? am i not?”

“children”, he stresses.

“oh.”, it finally hits you.

“one more to go”