Tales Of Eorzea

As far as anyone knew, you were unwell.  It wasn’t a horrible lie; it was almost true. These days, your condition—and that’s what you called it, a condition—was almost unheard of. There was no reason to tell people. Hardly any Auri alphas were born anymore, let alone omegas. If you told someone, you’d have to explain what those terms meant outside the realm of beasts, and then you’d have to explain how it affected you, and then you’d have to justify yourself because biology dictated a far different role for you, and it wasn’t like it mattered, it wasn’t like hierarchy had any bearing on what you were, it wasn’t like it made you any less of a combatant, or less capable or-

But it did matter. It meant something, there was a stigma. Maybe your friends would understand, but it would certainly change how you were perceived. So you had to lie when you felt the foreboding signs of an oncoming heat. They worried, but they accepted what you told them. They trusted you. 

It was terrible, made even worse with unfathomable destruction’s fulgent shadow looming nearer and nearer. Absolutely brilliant timing, almost as if your body was aiming to find the worst possible moment. There was nothing to be done about it though, you were out of commission during a heat. While the whole thing was always an uncomfortable, humiliating process, this one was different. You weren’t sure what triggered it—you militantly did what you could to suppress going into heat—or what happened that it was so overwhelmingly, relentlessly, aggressively strong. All you knew was that while you were on the ebbing tide and in possession of your own mind momentarily, there would be more, and it would be brutal. An insatiable hunger, an itch you dared not scratch. A fundamental need so intense it hurt, burning you from the inside out.  

Already the cramps were starting up again, the twitching of your abdominal muscles, the slick give of heat in your core. Your mind, only so focused in the first place, clouded on the edges. Emotions you didn’t have a name for teased you from afar. 

Someone knocked at the door. It spoke to your state of unsound mind that the noise didn’t so much as spark a defensive thought in your head. 

“Come in,” you called, unthinkingly believing it to be the things you requested. Ice, a heat compress, and towels. They didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing. The door cracked open, but you didn’t look, your back turned as you did what you could to make the bed more comfortable before your body worked back into another feverish wave. You maintained the habit of changing sheets and clothes whenever you could to keep from feeling, and smelling, like a feral bitch nesting in a cave. “If you’ll just put it on the table, I would appreciate it,” you said over your shoulder, hoping to keep yourself as concealed from the maid as was possible under the circumstances.

“Was I to come bearing gifts?” a familiar voice asked. The door shut and you stood up straight fast enough to make yourself dizzy, the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. “I’m afraid I wasn’t aware, you will have to-”

Shattered from your stupor of shock, you yelped girlishly and whirled around to face the intruder. In place of the serving woman you expected, the Ascian Emet-Selch stood in front of your closed door with a familiarly amused look as he appraised you. 

Stupid. Of course those footsteps had been too heavy for any woman. Your hearing was more than acute enough to isolate his slow, steady gait. You should have recognized it, you should have been paying attention. You should have known something would go terribly, catastrophically wrong.

But it was too late. 

When your mind swam in the hazy, unending ocean of desire and needful desperation, platonic and amorous affection easily got twisted up, even less savory emotions could become sweet given the intensity of need. You tried not to think too hard about who your mind conjured to fill the hollow ache between your legs because you knew it wasn’t what you actually wanted. But it was one thing for your subconscious to wrap around friends and allies or even minor adversaries. It was another thing entirely for your mind to have ravenously latched onto an Ascian, to conjure countless fantasies of someone who you could barely trust, let alone think to desire. 

“You can't be in here! Get out!” you told him, hurling one of the pillows you had been holding at him in senseless panic. Emet-Selch easily knocked it aside, staring at you with a look of bemusement.

“Mayhap you recall,” he said, “inviting me in only a moment prior?”

“I thought you were someone else!” you replied in a voice slightly too shrill.

“‘Twas your error, not mine. I would have been more than happy to announce myself should you have asked.” His head tipped to the side, earring winking in the low light. “If I may, the amount of trust you place in those around you could be seen as reckless. I’d have thought you would be more careful.”

His condescension made everything worse. Of all people, why was it Emet-Selch? 

“I told you to get out!” you said, throwing the other pillow in his direction. He dodged this one with a casual duck of his head, letting it thump powerlessly against the door and land at his feet with the other. 

“Is this the might of the famed hero? An interesting approach to be sure, but I must say that I’m skeptical such tactics will be effective against the sin eaters. Though I will defer to your judgment, it has proven to be effective thus far,” Emet-Selch said, amusement dancing in his light eyes. 

You grit your teeth, nostrils flaring. Even across the room, you could smell him, your senses unnaturally acute. Leather, aged spices you couldn’t name, metal, and the tangy, earthy remnants of wherever he had been before. Your primal, animalistic self smelled heat and alluring musk. Crudely put, he smelled like a man. A mate. Your pussy throbbed uncomfortably, abdomen cramping, your thighs becoming increasingly wet because there was no point in putting on panties beneath the loose pajamas when they’d become soaked through right away.

This was bad. He needed to leave. You needed to demand he leave, at weapon’s edge if necessary. But if you got any closer to him, your body’s reaction would just get worse. Not only that, but being in heat sapped you of strength. Any fight you could put up would be mediocre at best, and that was assuming you could stay on your feet. 

“What do you need?” you asked in a would-be controlled voice, shifting awkwardly and hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell why. 

Emet-Selch gave you a look like you were being tiresome. Like he wasn’t the one in the wrong here. "In a meeting called to discuss plans in which your participation is most vital, your absence did not go unnoticed. Nor was it excused. What resulted was a spectacularly tedious waste of my time. That alone, perhaps, I could accept as a forgone conclusion of choosing to partner with you and yours. However, your loyal friends were curiously tight lipped when asked to provide any justifiable reason for your nonattendance. Alas, with little else to entertain me, I’ve come to confirm the truth of why you saw fit to neglect your duties.” 

Slowly, deliberately, he gave you a once over that had your skin crawling. It wasn’t hard to imagine what you must have looked like. Flushed, glassy eyed, lips bitten to a slight swell, skin glossy, hair a mess, your scales shining with sweat. Framed by a room made for those much larger than you and wearing simple clothes that advertised your small stature, you knew that you looked nothing like the strong warrior you strived to be. 

“Feeling a bit under the weather, are you?” Emet-Selch asked with something like sympathy. “And what is it, pray tell, that has our hero indisposed?” 

"It's none of your business," you snapped, your shoulders curling inward. 

“Your need for secrecy is most interesting,” Emet-Selch said, undeterred. “I understand, you know. It isn’t easy, hiding what you truly are.”

“I have… no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, eyes widening with a fresh surge of panic you couldn’t hide.

“There’s no need to maintain this charade. Your friends lack the knowledge and experience to see what is so plain. I do not,” Emet-Selch told you in a matter-of-fact tone, taking a step forward as he considered you with those unnerving yellow eyes. You swallowed hard, forcing your breathing to even out. 

“You need to leave,” you told him, pressing yourself even closer to the harsh edge of the bedside table as if there was anywhere in your room that you wouldn’t be able to smell him, that you would be able to escape his eyes.

“Nevertheless, I could not be entirely certain that my suspicions were correct,” he said, ignoring your demand. “Until now, that is. ‘Tis neither traditional illness nor injury, that much is obvious. At a glance, you suffer symptoms of a heretofore unknown malady. But that is naught more than a convenient lie.” Emet-Selch paused there dramatically, giving you an expectant look. 

"It’s still none of your business," you said, your voice cracking under the force you used to keep it from wavering. You couldn’t meet his eye.

Emet-Selch smirked and it was dizzying. Sickening. Humiliating. “It most certainly is. The hero cannot play her part whilst she’s in heat,” he said without missing a beat, his voice perfectly smooth and sure.

“That isn’t… that’s not…” you stumbled over the objection because you couldn’t think of a lie, embarrassment scrambling your already disordered thoughts. Eventually, “How do you know?”

“‘Twas obvious from the first, though I confess to having doubted my assessment erewhile. To think that you of all people would be an omega.” Emet-Selch shook his head, clearly amused by the notion. “Hearing of your supposed illness confirmed my suspicions. I daresay you would throw yourself into your work regardless of any other ailment, but not this. Your body is primed to take a mate, inflicting upon you a number of rather unsavory symptoms. Weak, dull-witted, and overcome with a need so great it borders madness. ‘Twould be quite the disaster for those who follow your example to see you reduced to such a feeble, debauched state. Brought low by nature itself.” 

You wanted to be strong, to meet his insult with strength or humor. If you weren’t on the edge of senselessness, you could have. Instead, you felt shameful tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a reaction to the cruel words you couldn’t stifle with your slipping emotions. You focused on his boots, trying to hide your reaction. 

“Get out,” you said, your voice husky. 

In your periphery, you saw Emet-Selch’s shoulders fall. He sighed. “Vexatious as it has proven to be, I must admit that I prefer your righteous fire to this piteous display,” he said. 

“Get out now,” you repeated, attempting to sound stronger.

“That’s better,” Emet-Selch said, smiling. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “I mean it.” 

“Oh yes,” he agreed indulgently. “Are you waiting for someone? Mayhap one of your friends? It strikes me as odd that the esteemed hero should lack companionship in her hour of urgent need.”

The very idea made you cringe. No matter what fantasies came to mind while you were in heat, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t you. Allowing anyone to see you like this was already unthinkable, let alone giving anyone that level of power over you. 

“I don’t want companionship.”

“Nobody else knows, do they?” Emet-Selch asked. He phrased it like a question, but his smile was knowing.

You didn’t say anything, wishing desperately for a way out of this situation, for a way to convince Emet-Selch to forget. Convinced that you hated him. Painfully aware that you wanted him, your muscles trembled with the strain of longing. It was obvious he took some sort of pleasure in being the only one to know your secret and it made you want to scream, to cry, to fight him with more than just pillows. But you did nothing. The air of the room was pressing in, becoming thicker, hotter, more difficult to breathe. 

“That’s rather selfish of you, don’t you think? In your pride, you deprive yourself of the surest method of swiftly ending a heat. As a consequence, your friends and allies are forced to wait that much longer, putting at risk their carefully crafted plans.” 

“There’s no way to end it faster.” 

“Of course there is,” Emet-Selch said patronizingly. “A heat functions in much the same way as any other biological need. One does not slake their thirst without accepting a drink.” He smirked, head tipping towards you. “I’m afraid to say a pillow is a poor substitute for that which you truly need, be it weapon or tool.”

You winced, shame flushing through you. 

“Seeing as you have no desire to reveal yourself to your friends, I shall help you,” Emet-Selch said with a sigh, like he was doing you a laborious favor. He crossed further into the room with confident strides. There were dozens of ways you could have stopped him, that you could have evaded his approach, but you just watched with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“You’re not serious,” you said, caught between horror and a fresh onslaught of lust. Your pussy throbbed dully, the muscles of your abdomen fluttering. The room was too hot, your clothes too tight. It left you lightheaded. “You… We can’t…” You shook your head wildly, but it only made you dizzier. “No way, I don’t need or want you to… do that.” 

“Pray spare the both of us the tedium of your perfunctory protestation. The obvious intensity of your need belies any petty rejection,” Emet-Selch told you, now only a yalm away. You had backed yourself into a corner, there was literally nowhere for you to go. “Yours is not only a physical reaction, your entire being is sending out a signal to those that will hear it.” He paused to shoot you a smirk. “A signal, might I add, that is only growing stronger the longer we speak.”

“That’s not…” your denial trailed off, confused. You were under the impression that only alphas could sense the cycles of omegas. But Emet-Selch not only wasn’t an alpha, but he was also incompatible with you while wearing the body of a Garlean. Did that mean he was bluffing? But why? You had the awful feeling that you were missing something important here. “That’s not true.”

“Deny it all you like,” Emet-Selch said, “your body begs for relief. Don’t be ashamed. It is positively delectable—the carnal call of an omega. Little wonder you have amassed so many adoring followers, how could they resist such an enticing lure? I myself am not immune to its effects.” 

That caused your breath to hitch, heat sinking further down into your core. “Don’t come any closer,” you told him, wishing there was more of a threat in your tone, more steel. 

“A stubborn, independent hero to the last,” Emet-Selch said. “It does you little good, I’m afraid. Willpower alone will not solve your predicament. If it eases the sting, think of this as aid not unlike any other I might provide. Whatever it takes to help the hero back on her feet.” 

“It’s not at all the same,” you said, your voice weak. You should have been loudly and aggressively objecting, you knew absolutely that your sane mind would have never permitted this. But, at this point, the only reason you weren’t on your knees, doubled over with the agonizingly present pressure in your core, was because you were so heavily leaning on the table behind you. 

There was a knocking sound. It took a second for you to realize that somebody was at your door. Emet-Selch half looked over his shoulder at it, his response cut off before it could begin. 

“I have the things you asked for, miss,” a voice called from the other side, her voice muffled. It took you a moment to realize what was happening. A moment too long, the doorknob rattled. 

“Don’t come in!” you called loudly, impulsively. Emet-Selch looked back to you. His eyes challenged you to walk past him to open the door, to risk allowing her to see the company you kept while on your supposed sickbed. It was an expression that dared you to ask her for help in removing your unwanted visitor. “I’m… I’m not decent.” 

Emet-Selch laughed, a short exhale that felt far too loud for what it was.

Even through the layer of wood, you could feel the woman’s dismay at your tone. “Shall I set them outside your door, miss?” she asked. 

“Yes, please,” you responded, avoiding Emet-Selch’s eyes. 

“Very well, miss.” You listened carefully as she set the things down, waiting for her footsteps to retreat before allowing your shoulders to relax slightly. You closed your eyes to avoid looking at him, barely daring to breathe in an attempt to clear your head.

“No amount of ice will cool your flesh,” Emet-Selch told you. Now that he was closer, the bass in his voice became clearer, the sound vibrating through your horns and tingling down your spine. “Nor will a warm compress relax your aching muscles. There is but a single cure.” 

“No,” you said, looking at him from beneath your eyelashes. Gods, he was tall. You had to painfully crane your neck up to see his face. It was no better than being on your knees. “You’re…” Our enemy? Untrustworthy? Frustrating and ambiguously evil? “...too old for me.” 

Your absurd complaint, at the very least, seemed to surprise Emet-Selch. He hesitated, giving you a flat look. “That is where you choose to draw the line?” he asked. 

You could have elaborated, made a quip that would distance you from him. Maybe playing stupid would get you out of this, making a joke would dispel the unbearable tension. But your head was buzzing and all that emerged was a shrug, your attempt at making light of the situation smothered out.

He blinked, shaking his head. “Surely my age can only be a boon to you. The breadth of my experience would easily outpace even the most rakish of men you have known. Wives, mistresses, lovers—I’ve enjoyed aught that your fragmented kind has to offer throughout countless lifetimes. In this, and most things, there will be none more skilled than I.” 

Gods help you. 

“No,” you said, rejecting everything. Him, your traitorous body, the part of you that wanted to give in, the fact that you were burning alive with need. That sort of confidence would normally make you roll your eyes, but you didn’t think he was bragging. At least the reminder that he was, in fact, an immortal Ascian brought something more sensical to your mind. 

There needed to be more space between the two of you. Further for sound to travel, for his scent to reach your nose, enough space that you didn’t have to crane your neck to look at him. But as soon as you stepped away from the table, your legs nearly buckled. While holding still, you hadn’t been aware of how much of a mess you’d become. Thighs slick with arousal, your pussy painfully throbbing, all of your blood routed away from your head and leaving it dangerously light. Holding your breath wasn’t enough, it just trapped his scent in your lungs. 

“Going somewhere?” Emet-Selch asked casually. 

“No,” you said again. “No, I can’t. I-” 

A few stumbling steps was all it took before a wave of dizziness overtook your body, the lack of blood going to your brain catching up with you. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen.

An eternity of unreality consumed you, the edges of your vision going dark and the room tipping over. Everything that had ever happened grew distant, the summary of your strange life falling apart into incomprehensible nonsense in your spinning head. And Emet-Selch was there, supporting your weight, keeping you from collapsing. You realized it was him before anything else settled, as if he was all that was real for a frenzied few seconds filled only by the sound of your racing heart.

“-so obstinate?” The first part of his question got lost, but his voice rumbled through you. The fabric of his coat was rough against your overly sensitive skin. And then you were laying down, blinking up at the ceiling. “It is not as charming as you might believe it to be.”

You looked around wildly, confused. The words were clear and you understood their meaning, but something in your mind didn’t connect. You got your elbows beneath yourself, fighting the uncomfortably dizzy sway of your head. 

“Need I tether you to the bedposts ere you try, and fail, to stand?” Emet-Selch asked, removing his gloves finger by finger. 

Any coherent response you might have had was wiped away by a heavy, violent pulse of heat shooting straight through you. Some people might have classified the feeling as lust, but you knew better. Lust was a reaction to sensuality, it belonged to you and could be acted on accordingly. This was aggressive need condensed down into a weapon that left you weak. It didn’t feel good, it didn’t beg for stimulation. Your body shuddered and drew taut, aggressively demanding satisfaction. 

Unable to do anything else, your mouth fell open with a long groan, feet digging into the mattress and rucking up the sheets. Mindlessly, your hands grasped at the clothes you still wore, pulling the fabric away from your skin before you remembered that you had company. And then you just closed your eyes, shame managing to worm its way into your brain. 

“This is a sorry sight,” Emet-Selch said from somewhere above you. “Do you suffer so profoundly each time?”  

You shook your head, hands covering your face. No, you didn’t. Usually you had at least some control, some strength. “Stop talking,” was all you could say.

That got a laugh out of him, warm and amused. You lowered your hands enough to look at Emet-Selch through teary eyelashes. His gloves were gone, as was the big coat. How he managed to wear so many layers, you had no idea. Nor were you entirely certain how he could have gotten out of them so quickly, draping the pieces of his robes over the furniture.  

“What are you doing?” you asked, getting your arms beneath you once more. 

Emet-Selch gave you a sideways glance, eyes narrowed. “What do you think?” 

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. Emet-Selch looked far less bulky without his Imperial raiment, but he wasn’t any less intimidating. Now that he was stripped down to the formfitting undergarments, you were bluntly reminded of the very simple and important fact that he was a man and you were beyond the pale in terms of sexual need. 

“No,” you said, twisting onto your knees and crawling towards the edge of the bed. “You can’t…” Emet-Selch stopped you with a flat look, his eyes unflinchingly holding yours. “You can’t,” you repeated softly, your voice without conviction. 

He huffed, walking towards you. By the time you had made up your mind to get up, to avoid him, Emet-Selch’s hand was around your neck. Not to choke you, although you were more than aware of how easy that would have been, but to hold you in place. Even though you were taller kneeling on the bed than you were standing, he towered over you. You didn’t so much as reach his shoulder.

Trembling, you grabbed his wrist, pulling hard in an attempt to get away. “Stop, you can’t-” Emet-Selch’s fingers tightened, just a little. Enough to put some pressure on your windpipe, and enough to further remind you of how much bigger he was, the span of his fingers a scant few ilms from encircling your neck entirely.

“Come now,” he chided softly. Your body instinctively went limp with submission, recognizing the action as the assertion of dominance that it was. His lips quirked at the easy victory. You grit your teeth and stared at his chest instead, hating yourself for being so weak to instinct. 

“Let me…” you said, your voice slurring over the words. “Let me go.” 

“Surely you can feel that the time for protest is over,” Emet-Selch told you softly, tilting up your chin to force you to meet his shadowed eyes. “We both know that it is not me that you reject so vehemently, but the perceived moral crime of desiring me. So avail yourself of responsibility. Take heart in the belief that you did aught you could to put an end to this and cling to the lie of innocence. Accept when you are beaten, hero. I have every intention of seeing that your needs are met. All I require is your cooperation.” 

You pulled weakly on his wrist, shaking your head but unable to verbally deny his accusation. Fighting him because you knew you had to.

“Must you make this more difficult than it needs be?” Emet-Selch asked, his voice tightening with growing ire. “Very well.” With the hand not holding your neck, he snapped. The sharp sound caused you to wince, and your immediate nudity drew that out into a yelp. Air that had seemed so hot and oppressive only moments before exposed you to a frightening chill, caressing your flushed skin far too intimately. But there was no time to react. Either because of your disorientation or his sheer physical ability, Emet-Selch moved too quickly for you to fight as he sat on the bed, pulling you by the neck to lay flat on your back across his lap.

Something like stage fright overtook you as he surveyed your exposed body, an echo of battle shyness you hadn't felt in a very long time. The physical pressure of wild nerves compressed by an inescapable threat. It wasn’t as if you were a blushing virgin, but there was not a single aspect of Emet-Selch that wasn’t intimidating. He saw everything, every weakness, every insecurity, he saw your helplessness and you knew he wasn’t above cruel exploitation. A part of you thought that you’d rather face him in a fight than like this, that you would feel more confident on a battlefield than on your bed. 

“Don’t,” you choked out, renewing your fight to cover yourself, your thighs pressed together so tightly that they trembled, one hand fighting his grip on your throat while the other tried to cover your chest. Not that there was a way to hide that your nipples were painfully stiff, tender and shooting sparks of stimulation through you at even a ghost of a touch. 

Emet-Selch drew a finger between the crease of your thighs, gliding across the slick arousal that coated your skin. When you didn’t open your legs at the silent prompt, his eyes dragged upwards, taking in every detail of your torso, your half-covered chest, his hand casually laying over your neck, all the way up to your face.

“Honestly…” he muttered, annoyed. Emet-Selch released your neck and you quickly began to scramble to move off of him, to make yourself less vulnerable. But another snap and you felt your ankles being pried apart, shackled in the uncomfortable embrace of conjured chains. It didn’t seem like they were anchored to anything, but their hold was unyielding. You fought them, but it was useless. Your tail, mostly trapped beneath you, beat unhappily against the bed, catching the sheets and dragging them askew. 

“You can’t just… let me go,” you said, though the words were more of a distressed whine than a demand by the time you got them out.

“There’s more truth to that than you could possibly know,” Emet-Selch said under his breath like it was an inside joke. 

His hand slid up your leg, taking his time now that you were helplessly exposed, admiring the pattern of your scales. You grabbed his wrist to stop him, humiliation painfully twisting your insides. Emet-Selch paused, but didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he slowly looked up to meet your eyes. 

“Tell me, what would you do if I were to stop now?” He spoke with a light tone, casually curious. “I’ve been told of the intense discomfort omega’s suffer, but the brutality of your heat seems to exceed even their arduous experiences.”  

Fear sunk like ice into your gut. Genuine terror. For all of your denial, you hadn’t thought about what it would be like for Emet-Selch to actually stop. You rejected him because you knew had to, consequences either way were meaningless. It brought tears to your eyes to consider the blazing agony of unmet need now that you had been offered salvation. 

Emet-Selch didn’t let your fear linger too long, his expression softening. “I am not so cruel as to demand that the virtuous hero admit to her weakness,” he told you, pulling his hand free of your weak grasp. “I only ask that she behave.” 

Your mouth opened, but you didn’t say anything. What could you say? What were you supposed to do? Of everything else that you felt, the helpless despair was the worst of it. You’d fought dragons and primals and sin eaters with your head held high, only to be defeated by your own body. 

Emet-Selch ignored your emotional turmoil, taking advantage of your motionlessness to trace the line of scales from your hip, sliding over the curve of your leg before settling against your sensitive inner thigh. He kept his eyes on yours as he teased you with the rough drag of his skin against your own, the warmth of his palm flattening and thumb creeping ever closer to where you ached. The sensation went straight to your core, the bottom of your stomach falling through with anxious lust. If feeling the size of his hand around your neck was dizzying, seeing the span of his long fingers curl around so much of your thigh was enough to make your mind short out entirely, the physical difference between you plainly displayed. 

“‘Tis nigh impressive that you should maintain such staunch refusal whilst your body weeps for satisfaction,” Emet-Selch said, punctuating the statement by finally reaching the apex of your thighs and slipping his fingers past your slick outer lips to tease the swollen, sensitive flesh, tracing from your dripping entrance to your aching clit. You jerked, your hips jumping forward, but your legs were too tightly bound to allow for movement. Rather than try and grab his wrist to make him stop like you half wanted, your hands fisted into the sheets for stability. 

Each little circle Emet-Selch drew over your clit had your entire body twitching against him, your breaths coming out in harsh pants. He seemed fascinated by it, content to lazily play with your body while watching how you reacted. 

“If you’re going to… to… Just get on with it,” you told him through gritted teeth. It was one thing if he fucked you, but to have him touch you, to have him look at you with those pale eyes that saw more than you wished they would, was too much. “You don’t need to… to…” 

“To what, pray tell?” Emet-Selch asked. At the same time, he pressed two fingers past the trembling muscles of your entrance, easily sliding them deep into your pussy. Although your inner walls fluttered and tensed and squeezed around the intrusion, there was very little resistance. You were that wet, that desperate to be filled. Your back arched between his thighs, your legs kicking against the bindings, your tail thrashing against the bed uselessly. His fingers curled as they pulled out and a sound finally emerged from your open mouth, a shameless moan. Emet-Selch was barely doing anything, just casually pumping his fingers into you, and it was almost more than you could take, driving you insane.

“Stop,” you gasped, your hands rising to cover your flushed face. “I’m ready, I’m-” 

“If you hadn’t been so resistant,” Emet-Selch told you indifferently, “you would already have what you desire. Be patient now, I certainly have been.”

You just groaned, choking back the impulse to beg and shaking your head. 

“Don’t be so ungrateful. This is for your benefit, not mine,” Emet-Selch scolded, slipping a third finger into you. With how wet you were, it was just as smooth as the first two, but the added weight emptied your head, made your hips jump wildly, your cunt clamping down hard around his fingers. It wasn’t entirely comfortable when they scissored, preparing you to take more, and the burst of pain amidst pleasure surprised you. Emet-Selch pulled in a sharp, disapproving breath. “You’re awfully tight. I take it hero work leaves you little time for dalliances.”

All you could do was moan and gasp. It didn’t take much for your inner walls to adjust around him. You were built to take a lot more than a few fingers. Emet-Selch didn’t seem to have any problems with freely giving you this indulgence. His palm clapped against you with each thrust, his fingers curling and crooking and relentlessly pushing you closer to the edge.

“There’s no need to hide,” Emet-Selch told you. “Allow me to see your face as you come undone on my hand. Surely I deserve to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

Although you didn’t respond verbally, your body did, a helpless sound leaving your mouth and your cunt clamping down around his fingers. You teetered on the brink of pleasure, so close it almost surprised you. Stimulation was ratcheted up in intensity by your heat, it wasn’t exactly difficult to make yourself orgasm. But it would be a lie to say that this wasn’t different. Better than anything you could give yourself, better than anything anyone else had given you. 

When you didn’t comply, Emet-Selch grabbed your horn with his off hand, forcing your face towards him. You immediately tried to pry at his wrist, your eyes snapping open in fear. The sensation of having your horn grabbed while you were like this, wrought with stimulation, was too much. The muffling weight and pressure pulled a cry from your mouth. At the same time, he ground his palm against your swollen clit, his fingers fucking into you relentlessly, noisily. 

The combination of sensations, the assault of depravity, forced you to do exactly as he said, fleetingly meeting the pale gold of Emet-Selch’s eyes before your own squeezed shut, your mouth falling open and expression opening up with bliss as you came. He didn’t let up. Not his grip on your horn or the hand filling the room with the obscenely wet squelch of each thrust. Emet-Selch watched you the entire time, you knew that even without looking. You could feel his eyes burning into your skin as pleasure burst and shook through your core, clouding your head, drawing your limbs painfully taut.  

Eventually Emet-Selch’s hand stilled. He released your horn as you shook and panted, writhing in his lap, softly petting your hair from your face. For the first time, you realized that you had been grinding against his erection. That made your inner walls flutter around the fingers he still hadn’t pulled out, heat and shame and need coursing through your veins. When he curled them again, your body jumped, your eyes meeting his. 

Emet-Selch was smirking. With sharp shadows draped beneath his cheekbones and eyebrows and his pale eyes smudged with kohl, he looked every bit the cruel Ascian you feared. Why that would make your pussy tighten around him all over again, you didn’t care to think.

“You make for quite the spectacle,” he told you. Some sort of admonishment jumped to your tongue, but Emet-Selch cut that off with another curl of his fingers. It was so easy for him to make your hips jerk with each little press against that spongy spot inside of you, your pussy dripping around his hand. Your body was aflame and you needed more in a desperate, animal way and it was amusing to him. 

You mumbled something with a frown, looking away. Your voice was tired and slurred, incomprehensibly thick from all the saliva that had gathered on your tongue. 

“I suppose that will have to do, my patience is nigh exhausted as well,” Emet-Selch said, pulling his fingers out of you with a shamefully slick sound. 

He was gentle in adjusting you from his lap, letting you fall, boneless and trembling, onto the bed. You didn’t fight it, your body almost tangibly pulsing with each heavy thump of your heart. Distantly, you realized the chains holding your ankles were gone.

“Now then, how shall we do this? Endearing as it is, your diminutive stature does limit our options,” he said, getting out of his boots and removing the last of his clothes. Though he spoke casually, Emet-Selch was all confidence, looking no more vulnerable naked than he did in full dress. While you’d expect a man who looked to be around double your age to be flabby and soft, Emet-Selch was not. Of course he wasn’t, of course he would insult you with lithe muscle and planes of flawless pale skin. In contrast, the trail of black hair following below the line of his abdomen was striking, although your eyes would be drawn to his erection anyway. 

If you were of a sound mind, you would have balked at his size. As it was, all you could do was stare, more saliva pooling in your mouth, your inner walls clamping down around the painful emptiness left by his fingers. 

“Have you any thoughts on the matter?” Emet-Selch prompted, bracing himself back on the bed to move towards you, forcing your gaze back upward. 

“Um…” 

“Have you any thoughts at all?” he asked derisively, the tone softened by his amusement. 

“I do,” you said, your eyebrows knitting. “I…” You trailed off, having to swallow against your swollen throat, your eyes once more drawn to his body. He was going to touch you. Emet-Selch, the enigmatic Ascian, was going to fuck you. Clarity came in a sharp little burst, the single, crystal clear thought that this was very very very wrong. 

“I thought so,” Emet-Selch said, grabbing your ankle. “Let us keep things simple. I’d hate to overwhelm you.” 

You thought about asking what he meant, but the words floated from your head like smoke as his hands trailed up your body, curiously sliding over the scales covering the outside of your legs before seeking out the more sensitive skin on the top of your thighs. Rather than delve between your legs like you half wanted, he grabbed your waist and pushed you up the bed. Emet-Selch’s hands were so warm, a heat unlike the sweaty blaze burning beneath your skin. Real, radiant heat. And big, his thumbs meeting right above your belly button. It wasn’t difficult for him to manhandle you around, you were ungainly and loose limbed and he was far bigger and stronger. You may as well have been a doll in comparison. 

“What’re y-”

“Up,” Emet-Selch told you, pressing against your hips. The gentle, authoritative tone had you obeying without thought, allowing him to wedge a pillow beneath you. To give himself a better angle. At this point, desire was anxiety. You panted with it, your chest rapidly rising and falling, your body over sensitized and mind swimming. 

Emet-Selch called your attention back to him, his hand tracing from the base of your horns down your neck, fingertips dragging across the pattern of scales until his hand could settle around your throat to hold you still while he positioned his hips between your open thighs. His cock settled hot and heavy against your abdomen, giving both of you a view of how deep within you he would be. When you met his eye, he smirked. “There’s a good girl.” 

The praise had you shaking despite the liquid heat scorching through your veins, nerves and excitement and need and a thousand other disorienting emotions consuming you along with the smoldering need tugging painfully deep within your core. A shudder ran down your spine, a dark thrill, your lips parting to exhale a shaky sigh and eyelashes fluttering. 

“I must admit,” Emet-Selch said. “I don’t mind this side of you.”

You shifted, eyebrows knitting in protest to his words because, even still, a part of you recognized that you shouldn’t have been accepting this. But then Emet-Selch looped his arms beneath your knees to push your thighs towards your chest, exposing your aching pussy and the discontent was gone. 

“Will you beg, oh bold and brave hero?” he asked softly, excited now. Your breath caught when you felt the tip of his dick between your legs, slipping against your arousal-slick flesh. Blood flushed through your head when he bumped your clit, dragging along a tumultuous wave of dizziness, and another when he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. 

A little sound built in your throat, your thighs twitching. You shook your head, although you weren’t sure if you were denying his question or what was about to happen. 

“I think you will,” Emet-Selch said. “Shall we find out?” 

The first feeling of his cock pushing into you brought the visceral reality of your situation to the forefront, your body so intensely sensitized that you swore you could feel his heartbeat tingling through your horns. Or it was your own, echoed back by the hand that had returned to loosely grip you by the throat. This position allowed you to watch him disappear into you ilm by ilm, taking it slow to help you adjust. Not that it mattered. There wasn’t enough air, not enough reason left in your head to do anything other than focus on the way your pussy had to stretch to accommodate him. Your entire body had to shift to allow Emet-Selch to selfishly claim it. From some distant place, you recalled hearing him pontificating about his time as a conqueror with all the pompous ego of an Imperial. But that thought disappeared just as quickly as every other in the confused tangle of your mind, although not before it could make you shudder with some intoxicating blend of disgust and pleasure. 

Unlike with his fingers, there was resistance. Proof of your lack of recent partners. Then again, it was also him. A simple matter of size. Feeling the intimate, pinching bite of pain made you whimper, your inner walls tensing around his cock like a vice, only accentuating the ache. 

“Slow,” you finally said, pressing a hand to his abdomen so he couldn’t go any deeper. 

“Too much for you, hero?” Emet-Selch asked. You knew he was mocking you, but you nodded anyway, trying to remember how to do so much as breathe. He sighed. “Fine.” 

You relaxed slightly, trying to calm yourself down, senselessly scrambling for an anchor to cling to. As soon as you untensed, he sheathed himself within you fully, using the hold he had on your neck to pull you down at the same time his hips surged forward, harshly making you take all of him as if to punish your resistance. You yelped, holding tightly onto his wrist as your only source of stability. Too much, too deep, too soon, the thick head of his cock hit your cervix and it hurt. 

And it didn’t. Gods only knew that it didn’t. 

You shook your head helplessly, pushing at his arm and stomach as if that would work, your squirming hips only serving to grind against him, making a point of how deep inside of you he was. It felt so good it robbed you of any coherency. Even if you could acknowledge the very real physical discomfort, the only pain was the desperate, blazing need. In contrast, the splitting ache of being too full was a salve. It was beyond what you could fathom, the pleasure and the pain and the fullness and the need and the sight of the man above you. Inside you. 

“Seeing you like this, I almost pity you,” Emet-Selch said, pulling out a little so you could feel how thoroughly he filled you, the way your inner walls had to stretch to accommodate him. “Sapped of strength and stripped of will, empty of aught that elevates you above others of your kind, all you have left to offer is your own need.” Emet-Selch watched your face carefully as he slowly pulled nearly all the way out. When he thrust back in, the movement was smooth. Precise in how harsh he was, ensuring you felt everything and punctuating your helplessness without really hurting you. Your body helped with that, soaking his cock so it emerged shining with the purest evidence of your willingness. You whimpered, beyond crying out, but the way he groaned made any thoughts of actual pain scatter from your head. “To your credit,” Emet-Selch continued, his voice slightly more affected, “you do not disappoint.” 

You whined again and shut your eyes against the dead echo shame, your head tipping further back. At this point, you weren’t so much fighting to pry his hand off of your neck as you were clinging to his wrist with shaking hands. 

Emet-Selch, despite what your animal instinct demanded, took his time. He teased you, pulling out agonizingly slow before pressing forward with the same lack of urgency, dragging you down to meet him halfway. If it weren’t so pointedly unhurried, you might have thought he was being kind, letting you get used to his size. But you knew well enough of Emet-Selch’s games. With your thighs pushed up to your chest and his hand like a collar on your neck, there was little you could do except take whatever he saw fit to give you, to let yourself be manhandled and used at his leisure. Rather than bring relief, each languid stroke kept you panting shallowly, your entire body tense. Each time he drove himself to the hilt, you couldn’t help but moan helplessly, full to the point of shattering. It didn’t matter that Emet-Selch was taking it slow. If anything, your hyper sensitivity and anticipation made you overly aware of every ridge and vein of his cock, your inner walls fluttering as they tried to adjust.  

You opened your eyes to peer up at him through your lashes. He watched you with his eyes half closed and lips parted, a faint flush dying them pink. As if he had been waiting for you to meet his eye, Emet-Selch’s hips aggressively thrust forward. Skin slapped skin, the bed frame knocking against the wall, a sharp yelp ripped from your lips. On the brink of utter madness, the onslaught of pleasure nearly tipped you over. With just a little more stimulation, you probably could have come. He probably knew that too, which was why he immediately stilled. 

“Was that too much?” Emet-Selch asked. The words were strained, but taunting. Playful. He didn’t wait for your answer, pulling out a little before sheathing himself just as deep, rolling his hips so you could feel the weight of him inside of you, your pussy fluttering around him. Your back arched despite yourself, a pathetic whimper leaving your lips. “Hm?” he prompted. 

You swallowed hard, your throat working against his palm. “N-no,” you gasped, trying to maintain some sense of coherence. “I-I want-”

Emet-Selch did it again, slamming his cock into you hard enough to make you cry out all over again, your words cut off sharply. When he slowly pulled out, the sound was beyond lewd. Even compared to other heats, you didn’t think you’d ever been this wet. 

“Tha-s-” 

He cut you off with another series of sharp thrusts, hard and quick enough to leave your mind blank of anything else. Emet-Selch was still toying with you, watching how you reacted. “This is what you wanted, is it not?” he asked. Although the words were labored, they were entirely lucid. Mocking you. 

“‘s too-too…” you began with a sense of helpless panic, unable to force words out. If he had been moving at a glacial pace before, this was a volcanic flare. So aggressive, so harsh, so deep. Your eyes rolled back, your blunt nails scratching at his arm.  “Too-too-”

“Too… what?” Emet-Selch asked, punctuating the word by driving himself as deep into your cunt as he could and holding you there, his fingers tightening around your neck to keep you from moving. Whenever your hips jerked you could feel the heavy head of his cock grind against your cervix.

“Don’t,” you whined, trying to move your hips to force him to move again. The raging storm of needing more crashed against the teetering edge of stimulation and you had no idea what to do, how to interpret it. “I-I want-”

“You want?” Emet-Selch asked, cutting you off. Your anxious eyes met his, wide and wet. 

“I-I… need…”

His lips quirked. “Beg.” 

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please, I just wanna… Please, Emet-Selch?” 

“Do you want me to make you come again?” he asked, rolling his hips. The slick sound only heightened your need, the pressure making you shudder with pleasure. 

“Yes. Please,” you begged, uncaring of how you sounded. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for the tantalizing sparks of relief. “Please, I want you… I want you to come inside of me. Please, I need-” 

He smiled, cutting you off with a frustratingly casual thrust. “Ah, yes. The compulsion of an omega,” Emet-Selch said, sounding far too happy with the idea. “You wish for me to breed you, is that it? To claim your womb as surely as I have claimed your flesh.” 

“Yes,” you moaned. “Gods, yes. Please, please-” 

“You, hero, are mine. Mine to take, mine to breed, mine to use however I so wish,” Emet-Selch said, cutting you off. Each word was punctuated with a hard thrust, his voice tight with strain rather than humor.

You were, at this point, not at all aware of what you were saying. Agreeing, probably. Begging just like he asked. 

His hand finally left your neck, dragging down your heaving chest, across your stomach and to your abdomen where it settled flat. The span of his fingers bridged between either ridge of your hip bone, his hand oppressively big in comparison to you. Normally that might have been distressing, but the added pressure was so sweet you knew you were crying, drool dripping from your moaning mouth. Could he feel his cock poking against his palm like that? You felt as if you could, helpless beneath the dual pressure with Emet-Selch claiming you from inside and out. Although you had been hoping his fingers would find your clit, that pressure was all it took to throw you over the edge. The building pleasure that had been not so gracefully pulling tight within you snapped harshly, hotly. Your cunt squeezed hard around his cock, your hips helplessly bucking up and down in a desperate bid to get more, to take him deeper. 

Emet-Selch didn’t stop as your back arched and you shook apart, your hands scrambling for traction in the sheets, your tail beating weakly against his leg. For a few moments, it was just liquid gold and raw, carnal stimulation. That abated, but there was no coming down from that high. The purely physical release faded, but the flames did not. He was still hot and hard inside of you and you wanted to feel him come as you had never wanted anything in your life. 

“Please, Emet-Selch,” you plead, breathless. He probably couldn’t even understand you, your words stuttering with each harsh thrust. “Please come inside of me. Breed me. Please, please, Emet-Selch. I’m yours, so please-”  

Something you said, however much of it he was able to make out, made Emet-Selch’s lips part in an honest groan, his jaw tensing and eyes lowering to slits. Both hands gripped your hips to drag you down onto his cock in time with each thrust, fucking you hard and fast and without any sort of tempo. Using you to chase his own end. 

When Emet-Selch came, his breathing was little more than a rough drag littered with low noises of strain. His head fell back in ecstasy, dark eyelashes fluttering and the tendons in his neck pulling taut. He was beautiful. The sensation—and sight—of feeling him come, his cock buried as deep into you as possible, drew another shuddering, blazing orgasm from your body. Feeling the sharp snap and flush of sensation through your core shocked you, causing your hips to jerk against his. Emet-Selch gasped and it sounded like surprise, catching unsteadily in his chest as his eyes jumped down to yours. Fingers digging into your hips to keep you in place, he gave you a final few sharp, deep thrusts. Not that you had it within you to move, pulled taut as a bow string and sizzling with pleasure as he fucked his cum into your womb, breeding you just like you needed. 

Emet-Selch’s hips stilled eventually, his cock twitching within your quivering inner walls. While your breathing was dangerously erratic, his was deep and hard. With a final look over your sweaty, flushed body, he pulled out. The sensation made you whimper. Your inner walls tightened and fluttered, instinctually trying to keep his cum from spilling out. A silly thing, considering you couldn’t be impregnated by this. But instinct was instinct, and your animal brain only wanted to be bred. 

He sighed heavily, laying beside you. It wasn’t comfortable, not when you were slick with sweat and still trying to figure out how to breathe, but it was oddly peaceful, although part of that was your complete lack of coherency. The two of you laid there for a long moment, you weren’t sure how long. Time had little meaning when you were trying to reconstruct the world around you. Not that you thought you could attain sanity, not while you were in heat. The most you could want was the capacity to speak because now that your needs were momentarily satiated, you had a single concern. A fear, really. Your body was appeased for now, but not for long. 

Nervously, shyly, you looked at Emet-Selch. Though he was laying down and completely unclothed, he didn’t look any less imperious or invulnerable. There was a coldness to him, something you hadn’t ever truly noticed before. 

“Are you going to leave?” you asked, hating how small your voice sounded, hating how badly you didn’t want him to go. And dizzy, and affectionate. Just a little bit, a grand swell of genuine madness that stole your mind while you were in this vulnerable state. 

“Mayhap I should,” Emet-Selch said, his head tilting casually. You pulled in a sharp breath, your fingers curling into his bicep as if that would somehow keep him with you. He peered at you out of the corner of his eye, the corner of his lips quirking. “Of course, I could be convinced otherwise.”

Before you could ask what that meant, Emet-Selch sat up, looking far less disheveled than he had any right to. You yelped when he flipped you onto your stomach, and again when he pulled you by the tail to keep you from lurching away from him. But you didn’t have it in you to struggle when he pulled you against his chest. His breath splayed over the scales on your neck, raising the fine hairs across your skin. 

“N-oh-” Your attempted objection cut off with a heavy moan when his hand dipped between your legs, gathering up the cum that had dripped out of you and pushing it back into your sensitive pussy. You whined, squirming weakly.

“Will you beg once more?” Emet-Selch asked softly, playfully. His fingers teasing your neglected clit to make you writhe in his arms. “All you need do is ask that I remain. Beg that I smother the flames that blaze so bitterly within you. Do that, and I shall be more than happy to oblige.” He paused, letting those words sink in. “What say you, hero?” 

A pathetic sound left your mouth, your fingers digging harshly into the arms that held you in place. Between the pleasure and shame, you weren’t sure which one had your skin burning hotter. But even if you hesitated, you knew that you would do exactly as he asked. And he knew it too. 

“Please, Emet-Selch,” you breathed out, a tremor in his name.

porco had been your best friend ever since he adopted you in his social circle in high school. your “friends” at the time were pretty shitty and he convinced you to drop them and join his friend group instead. best decision ever because now you had actual friends who lasted beyond school as well as not feeling like shit 24/7 anymore.

you’ve been friends for what felt like forever, and you even got a job at the same little café. currently, you two had the closing shift. that just spells chaos with porco’s silly antics he always pulls. it was a surprise he hasn’t gotten you two fired yet.

so now, with the “open” sign flipped to “closed,” porco takes it upon himself to fuck around and give himself a whipped cream mustache. which is very irresponsible because you could get in so much trouble if the higher ups find out. 

you did nothing to stop him, just laughing to the point you were afraid your lungs would give out from the force of your laughter.

“porco, you’ve got to stop doing that, that’s so unsanitary. plus we have twenty minutes to finish and lock up.” you giggled, making your way over to the sink where all the dishes were waiting to be cleaned.

“can’t be fired if we’re not caught,” he sent a playful wink to you “and it’s fun to make you laugh all the time.” you just rolled your eyes at him.

“you’re absolutely no help, you bafoon. go mop the floors or something.”

“fine, mom. whatever you say.” he groaned and licked the whipped cream off his face. however, on his way to grab the mop, he made sure to splash you with the water running from the faucet.

“you dick! you’ll pay for this!” you shout as you cup your hands under the water, gathering as much as you could, before flinging it in his direction.

“see? there you go. now you’re having fun!” he cackled. 

“you’re cleaning that up, dipshit.” he nodded frantically, giving you a salute. 

“of course, mom. planned on it.” you couldn’t hold back your laugh after seeing the serious look on his face. you smacked him on the arm. 

“stop calling me mom, it’s weird.” with a roll of your eyes, you got back to cleaning the dishes, set on getting out of work on time. you knew messing around wouldn’t exactly get you guys in trouble, but if you didn’t clock out and close up in time, you would be reprimanded. 

“i would never stop saying something that makes you so annoyed, so no, mom.” he had the biggest shit eating grin on his face as he went about cleaning the floors. you decided to refrain from giving him the satisfaction of your response, instead focusing on your work.

of course, the peaceful silence would only last so long as porco decided to fill it with his idiotic chatter.

“hey, (y/n), do you remember senior year when zeke made you laugh so hard that you pissed yourself? that’s what this is reminding me of.” his boisterous laugh bounced around all the walls of the small building as your face flushed.

“you said you would never bring that up again! we agreed on that. how would you like if i brought up you pissing the bed when you were a sophomore in high school? you were like fifteen or sixteen and you still peed the bed.” now it was your turn to laugh at him.

“uncool! that was a one time thing! and i chugged a whole bottle of water before bed, okay? not my fault.” now it was his turn to go completely red in the face, the tips of his ears also tinted red. you mocked him, repeating his last sentence under your breath in a dumb voice.

he scoffed at you and then everything was silent again, minus the running water and clanking of dishes. your thoughts kind of took over as you mindlessly worked. you two had been friends for what feels like half of your life, and for a majority of that time, you had a crush on him as well. you still do.

whenever you guys had free time, you would spend it together, as best friends do. there was no doubt that you would catch feelings eventually. sometimes you wish you could do something about it, but you’re content just being his best friend instead of ruining what you have to take a chance on a relationship that probably wouldn’t happen.

porco just had this dorky, boyish charm to him that drew you in immediately. it seemed to attract all kinds of others, too, because he had numerous partners growing up. his relationships never lasted too long though, earning him the title of “heartbreaker.” another reason you didn’t wanna try your luck. you didn’t know if he would break up with you after a month of being together.

being totally absorbed by your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed porco trying to get your attention.

“hellooo? earth to (y/n)?” he waved a hand in front of your face. you startled and ended up splashing water on both of you.

“huh? sorry, i spaced out.” you said sheepishly, turning off the running water. you had finished your task and noticed porco had as well. 

“i’ve finished mopping and wiping tables down and shit. you wanna clock out if that’s all?” 

“oh, uh, yeah. i think we’ve already gotten to everything. i already sorted out everything in the back so we should be okay. lemme finish up here.” you made sure the sink was cleaned up and porco got to putting the rest of the cleaning supplies away, and worked on shutting the lights off. you snagged your bag from the back and met up with him by the door.

“you need a ride home?” he inquired as you locked the doors and headed out. that got you to stop, remembering that the last bus was around an hour ago, so that left you with walking home as your only option. luckily for you though, porco was always paying attention to your habits, knowing that you wouldn’t have a way home.

“yeah, actually, that would be great. i’m too tired to walk home tonight.” you smiled at him appreciatively, earning a smile back. climbing into his car, you stole the aux cord immediately. you always got control of the tunes when he was driving you somewhere.

you both got to making idle prattle as you scrolled through your playlists to find something to play. you settled on one of your favorite songs, humming along here and there as he drove. 

as you neared your apartment, he turned down the music to a low volume and spoke up.

“so, i’ve wanted to talk to you about something for a while and i feel like now is a good a time as any.” you gave an agreeing ‘hm,’ prompting him to continue.

“i uh, think you’re really cool and all, and i’ve kind of sort of had a crush on you since high school which i know is like a long time or whatever, but i got tired of just keeping it to myself for so long and i just wanted to tell you.” you were shocked to say the least. your heart rate picked up, filled with hope and anticipation.

he pulled into your apartment complex and put the car in park before turning to you and continuing to speak.

“i don’t expect it to go anywhere, you don’t even have to feel the same but, i just wanted to kinda lay out my feelings, maybe see if you feel the same?” he phrased it as more of a question. when he began speaking, he was pretty confident, but that slowly wore down the more he said until it was just his nerves left. insecurities rubbing together and creating a spark.

“of course, you don’t have to feel the same. that would be silly to expect that from you. we’re best friends and we always have been. actually, the more i think, that was really stupid to say because you like see me as a brother and stuff and like incest is gross so honestly you ca-” you had to cut him off, as cute as his rambling was, you didn’t want him to start overthinking. a sad porco is a not fun porco.

“shut up and kiss me, dumbass.” you shot out before your nerves got to you.

“-n ignore- what?” he looked at you incredulously, not expecting you to say anything like that. hey, same porco. 

“i said kiss me, or i’ll kiss you first, then how would you feel? you’re the one confessing to me.” and the confidence you have just keeps building up. you honestly had no idea what was getting into you anymore, but knowing that your long time crush has liked you back for around the same amount of time you liked him? score.

“oh, yeah i’ll kiss you.” and with that, he leaned over the console and crashed your lips together. your heart was dancing in your chest, crashing into your ribs. you almost worried that he could hear it, but you got lost in the kiss, forgetting and not bothering to care.

his hands came up to cradle your jaw, pulling your face impossibly closer to him as he kissed you even deeper than before. you pulled away, deciding to give him more of a response than telling him to just kiss you.

“i’ve liked you just as long, pock. i never thought you would ever feel the same, i mean, you always dated so many people and stuff so i just assumed that you weren’t interested in me.” you confessed, flushing slightly.

“yeah, but, you know how long each of those lasted. it was because of you. they took up time i wanted to spend with you and i only really wanted you. i was just trying to get over my feelings. i never knew i could have this with you.” he began stroking your cheek with one of his thumbs, the other hand searching for yours to interlock your fingers together. 

“i guess this car just has two idiots looking into each other’s eyes then, huh?” you laughed, leaning into his hand on your face. “i never thought i could have this with you, either.”

“yeah, i guess we are kind of dumb, then.” he went in for another kiss, giving it his all before pulling away again. “can i take you out? we work the same shifts usually so we’ll have a day off together soon.”

“yeah, i think i’d like that a lot.” you couldn’t help yourself, you had to kiss him again. now that you could do that, you don’t think you’ll stop anytime soon. you just felt so right when you kissed him, the entire world fell away leaving the two of you melded together, just sharing how much you felt for the other.

pulling away from the kiss, porco pulled you into a crushing hug. he didn’t want to let you go, but realized he probably should. you’d been sitting in his car for a few minutes and he knew you needed your rest. it had been a long day.

“okay, now get out of my car please.” he smiled at you lovingly.

“so sweet, so romantic, my little pock.” he groaned but let out a snort soon after.

“ugh, you ruined the moment.” he rolled his eyes and you stared at him, bewildered.

“me? you’re the one kicking me out of your car.” he laughed at this.

“only because i know you’ll complain if you don’t get enough sleep. i’ll see you at work tomorrow though, babe, don’t worry,” he paused for a second, “i can call you that, right?”

“yeah, and you better keep calling me that or i’ll tell everyone at work about your whipped cream escapades.” he gasped, mocking offense.

“you wouldn’t dare.” his eyes narrowed at you. you let out a loud laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“oh, i would. try me.” he rolled his eyes and gave you a kiss on your nose.

“yeah, yeah, i believe you. but you really should get going. i promise i’ll keep calling you babe, and that i’ll see you tomorrow. babe.” you smiled and reached out to give his hand a squeeze. 

“yeah, i’ll see you tomorrow. bye, pock.” and with that you made your way out of his car, giving him a wave and blowing him a kiss before you turned to head inside. he pretended to grab your kiss and pressed it to his lips before waving back.

“get him sex coupons,” atsumu bluntly states, running a hand through his bleached locks before casually taking a sip of his drink. your eyes scan the volleyball player, suspicion written all over your face when your eyes meet. “i mean it, trust me, would ya?” he scoffs, unable to hide the smirk on his lips.

“atsumu, if you’re messing with me–”

“now why would i mess with my dear friend and darling of my beloved brother? what guy wouldn’t love to get a free pussy pass, huh? what if he will use it when you visit him at onigiri miya?” he winks as he shamelessly holds eye contact with you, enjoying the flush on your cheeks before he chuckles in amusement.

“you’re just a pervert, samu wouldn’t be into that” you mumble, as if trying to strengthen your statement you cross your arms over your chest, a pout now only sweetening the embarrassed expression on your face.

“i know he wants them. we talked about it before...” atsumu teases, head resting in the palm of his hand as his lazy eyes analyse your form. “you wanna make his wishes come true, right? be daddy’s good girl.”

“miya atsumu—” you growl, throwing a tissue in his face once the blond twin gets too shameless for your liking. yet he’s not wrong, you are osamu’s good girl, always giving him what he wants in return for all the times he takes care of you, spoiling him equally as much.

so here you are. all dressed up in his favourite dress, almost too tight to be able to eat anything osamu is going to present to you for dinner. you always save the presents for last, opening them while sharing dessert.

you eye your wrapped present while simultaneously fixing your hair before osamu’s approaching footsteps win your attention. nothing’s better than his cooking; yet his looks are on another level tonight. his dark hair neatly styled, almost completely swept out of his face to highlight his pretty features; thick brows, dreamy eyes with his natural bedroom look glimmering behind grey irises and that lazy smile. his broad chest is accentuated by a button up, the dark green colour complimenting his features while black slacks highlight his toned legs and butt, if you could you would just devour him instead of his prepared meal.

your usual innocent smile covers up the naughty thoughts running a marathon inside your head, eyes that roam over his body-as if mentally undressing him-quickly snap up to the dishes in his hands.

you clear your throat before speaking up, “do you need my help?” but osamu smiles, offering you a soft shake of his head and a quick “no” before he leaves you once again to return to the kitchen, blessing you with the perfect view of his butt.

a small sigh escapes your lips as your eyes patiently wait for your man to return. the thought of your present comes back to your mind as well as atsumu’s teasing. the sheer thought of public sex with him leaves your legs pressing against another, your thighs creating friction once they start to slowly rub, leaving arousal to spread in your panties as you mentally go through all the promises his gift holds.

“angel?” his words so close to your ear tear you out of your thoughts. his warm hand rests on your cheek as he warily roams his eyes over your heated face, “are you not feeling well?”

the blush on your face deepens as if to strengthen his suspicions, yet you shake your head in disagreement as the words nearly spill out of your parted lips. “n-no, i’m okay. i mean, i’m good, perfect! really.” you smile, unable to stop yourself from looking into his eyes. you want to kiss him so bad, want to ruin your lip gloss with his lips instead of his cooking.

but for now you have to be satisfied with a peck to your forehead and a table filled with your absolute favourite dishes separating you from your biggest wish.

until dinner is finally over.

you are shuffling in your seat in anticipation, eyes never leaving his body until osamu meets your staring contest, a teasing little smirk finding its way on his gorgeous features before his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “what’s wrong tonight? you keep staring at me like i’m your favourite food and daddy forbid you to have it.”

the nickname makes your stomach churn, nails clawing at the hardwood of the chair as your eyebrows furrow, how are you supposed to not ogle him. “i just-, i don’t know… you just look pretty tonight” you bashfully admit, averting your gaze. yet the sound of his hand patting his thigh has your ears perk up, peering back at him through your lashes.

osamu slightly tilts his head, the way he leans back in his chair and opens his body to yours is an unrefusable invitation.

it’s your throne after all, creating the safest bubble you could be in whenever you’re seated on his lap. your arms securely resting around his broad shoulders while you practically beam at him. once you’re close to him it’s impossible to not be lured in to his touch, leaning in close until your foreheads touch and slightly staggered breaths meet between the small room of your mouths.

his rough fingertips follow the soft flesh of your thigh, dipping teasingly beneath the fabric of your silky dress the moment osamu closes the distance between your bodies. his touch is almost searing yet it sends shivers down your spine, you’re awfully aware of his hand reaching further up your thigh until he squeezes your ass, pulling your body closer against him for your leg to rub against his crotch. he uses the moment of surprise to push his tongue between your parted lips, your gasp drowned by his mouth as he drags you deeper into a state of utter infatuation.

the kiss only comes to an end once your hands dig into his shoulders, fisting small amounts of his shirts fabric in desperation—in need to prolong the kiss even without air in your lungs. osamu leans back to enjoy his masterpiece: your pink cheeks and clouded eyes, smeared gloss and clenching thighs. “better now?” he mumbles, still observing you in fascination as his thumb fixes your messy lips.

“no…” you whimper so sweetly, almost as if you’re trying to sound more tempting than your awaiting dessert. “can’t we just-,” you interrupt yourself when the feeling between your legs overwhelms your head, causing you to close the distance between your bodies and kiss his neck.

osamu plants a kiss on your hair, his big hands dig into your hips—attempting to ground himself more than keep you balanced during your attack on his neck.

you put one mark of your red gloss after another along his throat, while your fingers start to unbutton his dress shirt. “can’t you please just open your present, samu?” you whisper before he feels your tongue against his racing pulse.

he snakes an arm around your waist as he leans forward to take your present off the table. your smaller frame gets squished against his strong chest, a little squeal of his name falling from your lips directly against the shell of osamu’s ear. your barely reconsidering any of your seductive actions.

“if you continue to nibble on my skin i might dissolve,” osamu warns playful, the arm around your waist now coming around your body to aid him in unpacking your present. your chest is pressed against his, boobs almost falling out of your dress while your leg continues to rub against his growing erection.

your saccharine little moan in pure desperation brings his actions to a halt, abandoning your present to instead litter your overly pushed tits and decollete in rough kitten licks and wet kisses.

his merciless actions make you squirm in his lap, leaves you desperate for more yet disables you from your usually smooth movements. your hand drops off his shoulder, clumsily dragging along his chest and abs while your nails claw into his shirt. almost trying to just tug it off until your wrist pushes against the clear bulge in his pants. god, how bad you want to straddle him. “open your present…” you stammer, voice already exhausted and shaky while you try to get a grip of yourself.

osamu sighs quietly as he plants yet another kiss between your breasts to ultimately pull away and focus on your present again. “you know that you’re my favourite present, right?” he breathlessly proclaims while already opening the gift wrapping.

“you’ll like it, i promise…” you whisper while your entire attention remains on his gorgeous features. you play with his dark locks, to busy yourself as your entire body patiently waits for his reaction to your present.

yet the deep furrow of his brows and his clenched jaw is anything from what you expected. lips pursed in distaste as he immediately remembers his brother and their banter about presents like these and how they ‘hurt the ego’.

“baby? is it bad?” you ask, rather coyly.

osamu refuses to meet your eyes and denies your further approaches of affectionate touches, letting go of your waist to lean further back in his chair. the obtrusive scowl still adorning his usual soft features, mocking you further when you’re only met with punishing silence.

you’ll definitely won’t let atsumu live this down.

“samu…” is your third attempt by now, fingertips carefully finding purchase on his flexed chest, noting how tense his entire body is. yet at last his eyes snap to your curious orbs, the innocence in them too obvious to know what exactly is going on. “i’m so-” your back meets the table quicker than your tongue can form words of apology, an overwhelmed gasp for air all you’re able to inhale once osamu pushes the thin straps of your dress down and past your tits. attaching his lips to your exposed chest to plaster the soft skin in deep hues of red and pink, sucking marks along your tits to prop one nipple between his teeth and nibble on it. you arch your back in reaction, moans of affirmation floating through the air and further raising when you feel your boyfriend shamelessly grinding himself on you.

his long fingers reach around your thighs to pull your drooling cunny further against his erection before his sneaky fingers find their way between your pressed hips, replacing his hard-on quickly in order to push your panties aside. “thank you for your inspiring present, doll…” he growls, the pissed off undertones of his usual mellow voice reaching deep inside your core.

your legs attempt to push back together, applying further pressure on his hips which spread you open as his fingers work themselves inside of you. two thick digits penetrating your cunt over again and again, your arousal coating his wrist by running along his hand.

you try to find purchase on his body, nails digging into whatever fabric or skin they can find as your pretty pleas for him leave you breathless.

your panty is snatched off your body in an almost painful matter, yet it barely compares to osamu’s mouth clashing with your pussy. strong fingers digging into your plush inner thighs to spread you open for his assault. his sweet talking tongue finally meeting with your pulsing lips, mixing your slick with his saliva.

“i-i’m sorry!” you exclaim in a shriek when the tip of samu’s tongue circles your clit, applying varying amounts of pressure on the little bundle to have you squirm beneath his lips.

the satisfied smirk on his lips presses against your cunny and his deep hum leaves you no other option but to tug on his hair, your legs struggling to remain open with every kiss and lick coming from your pissed off lover.

when you finally open your eyes you notice his intense stare never leaving your face, basking in the glory he spoils you with as his tongue enters your clenching hole to feel your hips roll against his face. his hot breath hits your cunny while his nose applies further pressure on you the minute he stuffs his face deeper against your folds. mouth practically glued to your most sensitive regions, lapping eagerly at your folds and sucking your clit relentlessly until he feels your legs tremble in his hold.

he doesn’t stop. opting to fiercely lick along your cunny until his mouth latches onto your clitoris to ultimately overwhelm you by inserting two fingers inside your convulsing walls.

your makeup is long ruined, tainted by your tears and clamping hands over your sore lips to stifle your frantic moans when osamu pushes you over the edge. the sensation has your hips lift off the table, inviting osamu to grope your ass and push your cunny mercilessly against him, continuing to stimulate your clit beyond your orgasm.

“stop, stopstopstop, please ‘s too much, too good…” you mewl, yet your hips still move against his tongue to betray your protests.

the mischief in his eyes is all he offers you to understand that he won’t stop tonight, that he is not done yet, not with the way you feel the rough muscle swipe against your pussy or his teeth nibbling against the hypersensitive flesh. samu only pauses once he notices your struggles dying down, placing a precise smack against your cunny like a writer sets the final words to his proudest work.

you jerk beneath him, almost thrashing in distaste upon your awfully aroused state. no it’s not fair of him to do this to you, to treat you like his toy while his eyes hold so much hunger. it’s not fair of him to unbutton his shirt in what feels like slow motion, exposing his sculpted body like it’s the best present a man could ever give to you. your eyes roll to the back of their sockets when you hear his belt unbuckle, goosebumps decorate your delicate skin in anticipation of what’s to come.

that is until osamu handles your body as if you’re nothing more but a feather in his grasp. his hold surely leaving traces as he pulls you impossibly closer. the thick head of his cock stretches your tight hole with ease before he rams himself inside of your already pulsating walls, spreading you open on his shaft and drowning in the way you swallow him without much resistance. you know he’s big, a delicious girth perfecting his cock to steal desperate cries from your trembling lips by the burn he inflicts inside your slicked cavern. you arch up and try to get away from him, but he keeps you exactly where he wants you.

“my f-fuck-, samu~” you whail, legs clamping around his small waist to suck him even deeper despite the pain. he is always a little too much to take for you, but the pride brimming in his eyes whenever you cream on his cock keeps you coming back, until you’re formed just right to take him.

moans fill the room while he fills you up. the feeling of your hot, wet cunny embracing his cock so willingly has beautiful groans clash with your skin as osamu’s lips attach to your neck. “so fucking tight...” he pants, before his teeth graze your skin, teasing your already sensitive body further before he nuzzles his nose into the curve of our neck. his soft affections stand in contradiction to his cock abusing your cunt like his personal toy, the way his hips almost painfully snap against your own undermines your size difference only further.

your arms find purchase around his shoulders, gently carding through his messy locks as his name falls from your lips repetitively.

a harsh slap to your ass rips a deep moan from you, which immediately shoots back at osamu, as his cock twitches inside your clenched cunny upon your desperate yelps and whimpers. your legs begin to tremble in his hold with raised moans oozing like honey as your previously ruined orgasm builds up again.

“cuming again?” osamu victoriously grins against your neck at the obvious answer to his question, your desperate clamping around his cock evidence enough for your nearing high. yet you nod frantically, burying your face in his locks while your tits bounce against his chest. “please let me” you whine.

“please let you what?” he pressures, thrusts slowing down to control your climax, bringing distance between your bodies so your fucked out form is on full display for his greedy eyes. samu takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as he unravels your blushed face to him. your trembling lower lip and heaving chest a gorgeous view, yet nothing compared to your teary eyes while your nails dig into the back of his hand.

“wanna cum, please samu, don’t stop!” you beg in defeat, embarrassment written all over your face since he never made you beg before. you wish you had the strength to smack him for his confident grin, but he leaves you whimpering instead, as he pulls out from your pulsing cunny, only letting the tip of his cock rest within you, while he douses in your hatred.

“my little baby wants to cum so bad…” he grins, mockingly brushing his fingers over your clit and pussylips to smear your mixed arousal further. “go on then, make yourself cum with whatever i offer you. give it your best shot, pretty slut.” he whispers, the tip of his nose nuzzling yours while he guides your hand down to your clit.

and you try, try so desperately to rub on your clit as you clamp around the head of his cock, cunt subliminally trying to suck him back in as your hips rock in rhythm with the movement of your hands. “s-samu” is yet another attempt to get him to move again, so he does. slapping your overly motivated fingers away from your clit to replace them with his own in the same second he slams back inside of you to hit your sweetest spots, while he painfully pinches the sensitive little nub to send sparks to run through your system.

your lewd moans mix in between your bodies when he pushes you towards euphoria.

every roll of his hips combined with his punishing thrusts deepens your delirious state, your fingers finding purchase around his wrist and digging into his skin in desperation, wanting nothing more but to finally come undone. “you feel so good,” you sigh in exhaustion.

he pushes you over the edge with his precise thrusts, his mouth latching onto your nipple to further stimulate your body with his spare hand taking care of your other breast. you cream around his cock, tugging nearly painfully at his hair while your moans get interrupted by your sobs.

“fuck, you sound so hot,” he mumbles, his scoring gaze unwavering as he witnesses your orgasm washing over your glistening body before he allows himself to cum deep inside of you, hand squeezing your boob as his teeth bite down on your nipple in order to control the overwhelming pleasure of his high as his moans rumble against your body.

he fills your tight little cunny with his cum until you’re nearly leaking with his thick seed, further spreading his load with shallow thrusts until you hiss and whine, complaining about your fucked out state.

“i’m far from done with you, sweetheart,” osamu muses, “it’s a four course meal and we just finished the second dish…” you cry so sweetly, shaking your drowsy head yet he nods, as if that could change your mind. “you were the one who gave me the coupons” samu growls, the memory sending another rush of anger through is blood.

he pulls out of you, eagerly flipping you around to press your chest against the dinner table and display your ass to his gaze. his cum leaking out of your pussy is the only thing he can actually notice, as it’s tempting his fingers to automatically push it all back inside of your leaking hole while you whail in despair.

“i-i can’t, please!” you curse as your body tries to crawl out of his reach once he begins to scissor his thick fingers inside of you. his hot kisses along your spine leave a trail up to your ear, his strong body leans above your small frame to lock you in place on the table and open for his actions. “but what about dessert...” he teases, “it’s your favourite, isn’t it?”

you know it’s best to nod once you make eye contact with him over your shoulder. his hard expression softens as soon as he witnesses your approval and a soft smile returns to his face. “that’s my good baby, now take it like a big girl, will you.” the words can barely count as a question since he immediately sheathes his already hard cock inside of your pulsing cunt—only to withdraw quickly again—stuffing his cum back inside of you with his next thrust.

the high caused by his impact on your body is something he hasn’t experienced before. the way you’re sprawled out for him, completely depending on his favour is a feeling he might just become addicted to.

osamu pulls out once more, teasing your aching hole with the tip of his cock until your hips wiggle and desperate whimpers escape your lips. “beg for it,” he commands, taking the opportunity to slide his tip up and down your puffy lips and running circles around your clit—intentionally pulling the words from you.

“w-want you to f-fuck me, please samu!” your desperate cries have groans erupt from his broad chest and earn another smack of his hand on your ass, making you topple further against the table. his strong hands squeeze the soft flesh of your thighs, kneading it while he spreads your legs further and nearly lifts your feet off the ground.

his lips latch onto your back, tongue greedily licking along your spine, lust-filled eyes appreciating the intense shivers spreading over your skin. his body drapes over yours as his cock prods against your fluttering entrance once more. your pleas die in your throat the minute he pushes himself further into you, the speed agonizingly slow yet so perfect to feel him spread you for his thick cock once more.

you arch your back further, pressing your tits against the table and your ass against his hips, nails clawing on the hardwood as samu chuckles near your ear.

osamu’s cock twitches inside of you, hitting the delicate deeper regions once you move against his movements, being in perfect sync with the beautiful addition of your clenching cunny as if you never want to let him go again. his thrusts are calculated with the way he pulls his heavy cock out ever so slowly, pausing just a split second outside your oh-so-inviting cunt before he snaps his hips back. the obscene smack of his thighs against your ass echoes through the apartment and mingles with your frantic moans and osamu’s baritone groans. “creaming again, aren’t you?” he chuckles when your legs begin to quiver, barely managing to hold yourself up as your third orgasm begins to roll over your body.

your fucked out expression meets his gaze, little cries and whimpers begging osamu to support your body as he smiles softly at you. “my clumsy baby,” he mumbles on your shoulder, the grip on your body adjusting for his hand to push against your stomach, aiding your exhausted form to stay up as he fucks you through your climax. “cum for me,” osamu draws on your skin in between his aggressive lips sucking blooming marks on your neck.

you obey. legs shaking as your orgasm rushes through your body, overwhelming all your senses by the intense overstimulation, you lightly scream as he continues to fuck you through it, before he finally pulls out.

“come here,” he pants, exhaustion hitting your usually calm lover as well, nevertheless he swirls your nearly passed out body around and pushes you down on your knees; with such ease as if you're made of jelly. he grins at his discovery—he’s never seen you more submissive ever before.

your shaky hands clamp around his thick thighs, digging into the muscles for purchase as your cheek rests on his right leg, tired eyes meeting his gaze when he runs a hand through your messed up hair. “gonna let me cum in your slutty mouth, hm? think the neighbours are traumatized by your screams,” he teases in time with his fingers grabbing your locks to pull your face close to his cock.

still a little high from your previous orgasms you can merely follow his guiding hands. the pain inflicted by the wooden floor on your sore muscles at least returns some of your senses, nodding to whatever osamu says until you feel the wet tip of his shaft prodding against your lips. you loosen your jaw and stick your tongue out, kitten licking around the head while your eyes remain glued on his pretty expression.

his heaving chest and flexing muscles, the nibbling of his bottom lip and slightly squinted eyes with a sweet scowl on his forehead. yes, it makes you lean further forward, welcoming his drenched cock inside your mouth to taste yourself on him. your moans are drowned by his girth as he guides you further down, barely any worry about your well being when your nose is pressed against his skin. “clean me up, dumpling, taste yourself and be grateful that i fucked you this good” he growls, before a hiss escapes his sore lips and his head falls back, “fuck!”

his hips buck against your face as you swallow, your spit leaking from your mouth to ease the bopping of your head further down his shaft as you suck him off. you adjust your sitting position, now resting on your knees as you spread his legs, red streaks gracing his tightened muscles and pretty skin as you try to find any form of support from his strong body.

you pull your head off his cock, holding the base in your small hand while abusing his drowsy state to do what he hates most; teasing the tip with your teeth before your tongue circles eagerly around the irritated area. he flinches beneath your assault, a chocked moan running from his lips “suck, not bite” samu growls as he pushes your head forward.

you hate and love it at the same time.

the way your heart overflows when you look up at him again, his dark expression remaining on your small frame until you feel him twitching inside your hot mouth. “don’t fucking dare to swallow without my permission” is osamu’s final warning before his deep moans reward your eagier sucking.

your hand pumps along his shaft as your mouth collects his load, desperately trying to keep it all on your tongue. you’re grateful for his knowledge about food whenever you taste his rather neutral, lightly-sugary cum, much more palatable than any you had on your tongue before.

shortly after osamu pops his softening cock out of your mouth, you’re already hoisted up to sit in his lap. one of his strong arms keeps your tired body pressed against his chest, while his free hand grips around your cheeks, pulling you down towards his face.

your eyes widen in surprise as a shudder runs through your body, realizing what he wants a split second before he already infiltrates your mouth. the grip on your shaking form adjusts to keep you in place once his lips press on yours. you part them obediently when you feel his tongue swipe against your mouth; allowing him to enter. the mixture of his semen and your spit now flowing from your mouth into his, coating his tongue in your mixed flavours. osamu quietly moans in satisfaction before he pulls back and returns to lock eyes with you. the frail whimper escaping your lips is unstoppable as you watch him swishing the concoction in his mouth while he drags his nails along your back before he rests his hands on the back of your neck as he sits up to close the remaining distance and kiss you again. bending over your small frame when he returns the filthy mixture into your mouth, pushing his tongue against yours and creating the nastiest yet most exhilarating kiss you have ever shared until he pulls away and grazes your lower lip with his teeth. “swallow,” he whispers when his eyes snap down to watch your throat pop—his breath hitches.

you can barely manage to form any coherent thought. all you’re able to do is let him pull you close against his chest. the cool feeling of your sweat drenched bodies meeting slightly uncomfortable, yet you cuddle closer against his form, hiding your face in his neck to drown in his comfort.

“atsumu told you to get them, right?” his mumbling kills the silence while his sweet touches on your body draw calming patterns.

you hum in return, nuzzling closer to try and distract him from his current thoughts. “cuddle, not tsumu” you nearly inaudibly whisper and he chuckles, planting a kiss to your hair before he returns to hugging your body. “how about a bath? and when you fall asleep i’ll go kill my brother, hm?”

he moves his lips back against you for a few seconds as you cling to him, a tiny noise of contentment falling from your mouth when you pull back.