#mine.bllk

"ain't this the dream?" shidou murmurs, kneading your hips mindlessly. his head is buried in the crook of your neck, lips peppering kisses wherever they can. "bagged a cute, lil wife all for myself."

"stop it," you protest, leaning your head towards his so he has no space to press on. "we can do this later."

a displeased whine escapes him, and he tilts his head to dot kisses along your shoulder instead. "fuck that," he groans, and one hand comes up to tug the neckline of your shirt away. his mouth is hot against you, a little meaner than earlier with how he nips at your skin. he sweetens the blow with a fleeting kiss, only to repeat it all in the next second. "want your attention on me now."

"and i want to finish making dinner, but i guess—" you yelp when he bites the juncture between your neck and shoulder, dropping the knife in your hand so you can bat at his hands. "sei!"

"my bad," he snickers, his smirk searing itself into your flesh. "what'cha cookin', sweetcheeks?"

"curry," you snap, holding on to the edge of the counter when he doesn't budge. you bow your head, and as much as you want to finish making dinner, it's getting harder to focus on what you need to do next when shidou licks up the slant of your neck, nibbling on that soft spot behind your ear. "but it's all gonna— gonna burn if you keep this up."

"that's fine," he drawls, voice low like the rumble of a jet lifting off with the promise of taking you to new highs. "i'm in the mood for somethin' else, anyway."

there's no question about what he means when his hand snakes down your front, cupping where you're warm, wanting.

"bet you're pretty hungry for me yourself, huh?" he grins, rubbing over your sex firmly despite the layers. you can't deny it has you a little desperate, melting like butter in the hot pot next to you. it's always been too easy for him to get you like this, to have you craving whatever it is that he wants to do to you. "gonna let me take care of that for you?"

"you can do what you want later," you try again, one final attempt to win this battle, but shidou's never been one to share first place when it comes to competitions.

"or, i can turn this shit off," he starts, and he takes it upon himself to ruin everything you've done, turning the knob on the stove, so the fire dies out. "and you can hop onto the counter and let me dig into that sweet cunt of yours. sounds a lot better my way, yeah?"

there's no point in moaning about your half-cooked meal when he drags you away and helps you sit up on a cleaner surface.

"you're making dinner tonight after this," you tell him.

"yeah, yeah, whatever." he's more focussed on getting you out of your clothes, dragging your underwear down, too, and kicking the pile away when you're finally half-naked for him.

"and washing up."

"babydoll, i'll do whatever you fuckin' want, long as you spread your legs for me."

his words have you biting your cheek, and in a last ditch effort to defy him, you don't part your legs like he wants you to.

you also don't stop him from pushing them apart himself.

"not so mouthy now, are you?" he snickers, staring down at you. you can't hold his gaze and it makes him laugh louder. but then he leans in to kiss your cheek softly and the contrast has you clinging onto the edge of the counter, gulping. "you're so fuckin' cute," he murmurs, biting the fat of your cheek teasingly. "it's alright, baby, your cunt's doin' all the talkin' for you, dripping all over the kitchen. this your secret ingredient? cookin' up a love shot for me tonight?"

"shut up," you admonish, squeezing your eyes shut as if that'll help drown out his words. "that's so gross."

"fuck yeah, it is." he grins, canines bared and ready to feast. he finally sinks to his knees, and his voice sounds far away but no less overwhelming. "wouldn't mind you doing it for real. wouldn't ever wanna eat anything without it, though." he drags your legs over his shoulders easily. he wastes no time in getting his mouth on you, licking a long stripe up your slit and groaning at the taste. "oh, fuck yeah, this is it. been starving for your pussy juice all fuckin' day."

"don't— don't say that." you pull on his hair, taking your embarrassment out on him, but the moan he belts out doesn't sound the slightest bit pained.

"eh, why not?" he sucks your clit into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it lightly enough to make you jerk in his hold. he lets go with a wet smack of his lips, waiting patiently for you to look at him. when he notes the haze in your eyes, the dew on your lashes and the crease in your brows, he grins. "don't wanna hear how I've been thinking about your angel cunt all day? jacked off so many fuckin' times as well—"

"shut up—" you cry, yanking his hair, but he only rolls his eyes back shamelessly.

"fuck yeah, sexy." he drags you to the edge of the counter and back onto his eager mouth. his tongue is hot, wet, everywhere all at once. "pull it harder," he goads. "make it hurt."

narrowly, you watch as one hand disappears below, followed by the sounds of clothes ruffling as he loosens his trousers. "gonna make me nut all over the fucking floor."

he slurps noisily, messily, but it's not enough to mask the grunts and wet clicks that track each stroke of his length. his arm is a blur to you as he pumps himself, and your fingers flex around his pink-tipped strands in an attempt to ground yourself to something that isn't the lewd slide of his tongue into your sopping hole. his free hand joins in now, and it's your eyes rolling back this time, whimpers trickling out you as he starts circling your clit.

you barely understand when he starts mumbling into your pussy, "how about i'll cook ya dinner and you clean up my cum, how's that sound? off my dick and off the floor— so fuckin' dirty, bet you'd do it, though, eh?" he isn't looking for an answer, continues flicking his tongue and pinching your swollen bud and fucking his own fist to your whines. "soaking my face so much, yeah, you would do it, wouldn't ya? you've been like this all day? been waitin' for me to come home and eat you out? put up a fight earlier for what?" he slaps your clit lightly, but it's enough to have you bucking up, gasping. "yeah, that's it. been wanting this sloppy cunt on my face all day."

another hit lets you hear just how soaked you are from all his spit and drool, from your own arousal. "listen to that, she's been missing me, huh? sweet thing's been pent-up and leaking for me all day, haven't ya?" he kisses your clit and all along your slit, unabashedly wetting his lips with your arousal. "i'm here, babygirl, gonna take care of ya, gonna give you everything you're dripping for."

he uses his entire hand to spread your arousal around. he drags the mess from your slit upwards, soaking the hairs on your pelvis and drying off on your thighs only to push his fingers into your aching hole and follow the slick trail with his tongue instead.

"you ready to cum, baby?" through half-lidded eyes you can make out the way he looks up at you, eyes dark but sparking wickedly. "gonna give me all your honey-sweet love juice?"

you shake your head, gritting your teeth and hating every word that leaves him. you hate how it has you leaking onto his tongue, the coil inside of you winding tight.

he sinks his teeth along your thighs, curls his fingers in your pussy, and screws his hand around his dick. it's too much. he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks; he slips a third finger in and crooks it just right—

"don't leave me hangin' now, sugarcunt," he calls out. "let me get a taste of ya, i'm so fuckin' hungry. thought you were gonna feed me, huh?"

—and you cum with a drawn-out cry of his name, and he drags your high out until it hurts for him to give you any more.

"there she goes, give me all that sweet angel nut, baby."

your head spins, body heavy yet weightless.

over the sounds of your stilted breaths, you hear him growling, wet schlicks following as he brings himself to his own release. "oh, fuck yeah, this is it— gonna bust a— all over. should've cum in your little cunt— do it, next— gonna cum— gonna fuckin'—" his body tenses up and you watch as his cum spurts out, staining your cupboards.

he'll definitely be cleaning that up himself.

"that's the good shit," he sighs, slowing down his strokes. "feels so much better blowin' my load after eating your cum first. might have to bottle you up," he laughs tiredly. he slumps over, resting his head on your knee, and you push back the sweaty strands that cling to his forehead.

"what's—" you pant, taking a deep breath in. his chest heaves, but he doesn't look half as affected as you; if anything, he looks ready to go for another round or two, already dotting kisses back up your thigh. "what the hell's honey love juice?"

"all this good shit." he beams, easily sinking two fingers into your pussy. when he pulls them back out, he shows off the creamy strands of your arousal proudly. "and it's honey-sweet love juice. not a fan?"

"god, no," you grumble, staring at the webs that hang between his fingers.

"rin, wait," you gasp, helpless to the way he shoves you up against the wall. you push at his chest, hands slipping over his sweat-soaked shirt. "wait a sec—"

"quit it," he rasps, mouthing at your neck. he nibbles at your bare skin as he forces your hands away, pinning them beside your head. you can't focus on the softness of him lacing his fingers with yours when his teeth are sharp, persistent, a heated ache lingering as he moves a breath away only to sink into you again. "you're getting in my way."

he'd been clawing at your body impatiently on the ride up here, but you thought he had enough self-control to get to the bedroom where it's comfortable—

but he's just won the cup final.

it was a grand affair: a five-nil win where he scored a hat trick, where he was named man of the match, where he got to kiss a shining trophy and prove to the world that he's an unparalleled striker. the adrenaline still races through his veins, bold, fiery, and he can't stop leaning into you, moulding you under the heavy weight of him.

tonight, he's a winner, taking home all the glory, taking all that he can get his greedy, greedy hands on.

"bedroom—" you try to get out, but it spirals into a pained moan when he digs his teeth into you, canines cutting into your marrow, so you're messed and jagged and incomplete without him. you think his fervour has you bleeding for him and he licks your wounds like an addict.

"can't—" he grits out. "can't wait. can't get enough of you."

he nips along the delicate slant of your neck where your body yields to his without fight. you whimper his name and he delights. you squirm beneath him and he growls, hooking your flesh between pinched teeth. you bleed for him and he follows with his tongue, eagerly drinking it all up.

"gotta have you," he grunts, pulling away from your aching neck. cold air stings the bites, making you cry out for him. he distracts you from the pain easily, reeling you into a bruising kiss. "now," he pants before diving in again, mouth overbearing, teeth all-consuming.

his tongue lashes against yours wickedly; there's no method to his madness, just the irresistible taste of his spit and your blood swallowed in an unholy union. he speaks in half-thoughts and shredded moans and hasty hands that yank your pants down. and you hang onto his words like they're godsent — the swift, "want a taste," the desperate, "need you in my mouth now," the promised, "gonna fucking eat you."

and maybe that's what they are — divine revelations — because he kneels before you like the messenger of all blessings, hands clasped around your legs so you depend solely on him, nails delving into the pliancy of your thighs, so you follow no one but him.

"don't move," he commands, voice low, husky. 

it'd be blasphemous to do otherwise.

his mouth fleshes out holy scripture in your body; indents and saliva and the faintest traces of your blood smeared across your inner thigh all tell the tale of his near-godly desire to have you falling apart for him. "fuck, i'm gonna— mark you up. all mine. take it all—"

but then his tongue snakes further up and the coil in your stomach pulls painfully taut. he's so wet, so warm, guzzling your sin like a false prophet, high on the ecstasy of lust.

"give it to me," he demands, urging your hips forward, opening his mouth wide to devour you.

it's messy. slick sounds form a hymn as he drags his tongue across the length of your slit. a guttural moan escapes him, cutting through the lewd slurps and it has your knees buckling, more than ready to serve him in any way he wants, sinner or saint or starver.

"it's not enough. need more. more. not fucking—" he growls, squeezing the fat of your thighs. his words are scorching, making you leak right into his mouth. there's no time to be embarrassed when the edges of his lips crook upwards, a dirty smirk wet with your purity. "there it is. that's it," he goads, wrapping his lips around your clit to coax more arousal out of you. he hums around the bud and you slide down the wall, grasping at his hair for some kind of stability. he doesn't even feel how hard you're yanking the strands, numb to everything but the weight of you on his face. "don't stop," he insists. "give me more, give me everything."

your thighs are screaming in protest and he must feel their trembling because in the next moment, he's hauling your legs over his shoulders, folding his arms over the tops so he can squeeze his hands at your apex.

"wanna feel you. around… need you—" you don't know what he's saying. you don't even think he's speaking to you, talking right into your cunt, instead.

you feel weightless, breathless.

then he uses his thumbs to spread your folds, sinking his tongue into your dripping hole, and suddenly everything is too much.

your words slur together. you're sobbing his name and cursing through gritted teeth and praying for your release to come soon. "oh, god— please, rin, please. i can't— can't— rin!"

his drool soaks the bottom of his face and it sticks to the wetness on your lower half; his thumb circles your swollen clit in time with the flicks of his tongue; it isn't longer until that coil finally snaps and you cum with a loud cry of his name.

and he's there — devotee, degenerate, desperate — sticking his tongue out to drink whatever you give him. he's greedy, selfish. he's been hungry his entire life, looking for something to swallow, to make him feel whole.

and you're sweet to him, he realises, laving over the cream that wets the crease of your thigh. you feed him something he never knew he was thirsty for.

but an addict doesn't stop after one high.

"again."

a winner is never satisfied with just one trophy.

"give me more. i need more."

and a man with a hole inside of him can't rest until he's found something to fill it up with.