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crystallinestars · 10 days

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NSFW Alphabet - Aventurine

In honor of the handsome gambler coming home, have some Aventurine smut.

I’m so sappy for this man, ugh.

Aventurine x fem!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

For the first while, the one doing majority of the aftercare would have to be you. Aventurine has had plenty of one-night stands where the other person got what they wanted from him and then left without engaging in any form of aftercare. He’s used to sex being transactional, a tool he used to win people over.

As such, Aventurine feels lost when it comes to providing aftercare for you since it’s not something he has experienced before. At first, it feels strange to him when you offer to get him water, massage his sore muscles, or cuddle with him right after sex. It felt strange, yet he found himself enjoying the moments when you allowed him to rest his head on your chest, feeling your fingers run through his hair as you chatted about various things.

Aventurine slowly warms up to the idea of receiving this type of treatment after sex, and once he becomes accustomed to it, will return the favor. He’s fond of giving you massages and kisses and joining you in the bath for some extra cuddles. He’s also very likely to order you a delicious meal to replenish your energy or spend the rest of the night lazing in bed with you until you both fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I know that this is supposed to be sexy and erotic and whatnot, but if I had to be honest, I would say Aventurine likes his eyes. As much scorn and discrimination as his eyes have brought him, they are his last remaining link to his family and people, and I think he treasures that. Plus, he likes it when you compliment his eyes and say they’re pretty. It makes him feel a bit better about his Avgin heritage.

On you, Aventurine likes your hands. He really likes how you gently caress him, be it in or out of the bedroom. From the way you hold his hand in yours, to the way you cup his cheek or trace your fingers along his body, he loves it all. He feels treasured under your touch, as if he were something precious to you, something irreplaceable. It makes him feel a complicated type of way, but he still seeks out that touch.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Is possessive, so he likes to cum inside and then watch his semen drip out of you. It’s a form of staking his claim on you. However, he’s perfectly happy to cum on your chest or face or wherever else you tell him to, though preferably in or on your body. Aventurine is also content to have your juices smeared all over his face from eating you out. Something about feeling how wet you are turns him on immensely.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Aventurine memorized your undergarment sizes and has spent a pretty penny buying you all kinds of fancy and risqué lingerie from expensive brands. He got you a few matching sets of high-quality lingerie among several costumes, such as a bunny girl suit, a maid dress, and a nurse outfit, to name a few.

He’s planning to give some of them to you as a gift on special occasions in the hopes of getting you to try them on and give him a little show. He loves seeing you dress up for him, and thinks it would be a fun way to spice up your sex life.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s pretty experienced. Aventurine has had a few partners in the past, though they were strictly one-night stands with no feelings attached. It was more of a means to an end for him to relieve stress or win over the person for a deal. He basically used his partner and got used in return, and although some of these encounters were fun, they always left Aventurine unfulfilled.

It wasn’t until he met you and engaged in real lovemaking that he finally understood what was so amazing about sex (more on this in the intimacy section).

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Aventurine is pretty versatile, and his favorite positions change depending on what he’s in the mood for.

If he’s in the mood for something rougher, then he defaults to taking you from behind. He presses his hand on your upper back, pushing you face-down into the bed with your ass up in the air for him. He’s also fond of taking you against the wall with one of your legs hooked around his hip for a deeper penetration.

If he feels like letting you take the lead, he’ll lay back and let you do as you please. You want to pin him down or ride him in cowgirl? Go for it, he’s game. Use him however you want. That said, expect him to be a bit of a brat by challenging your authority with the smuggest of grins on his face. You have to earn his submission.

During moments of sweet and tender lovemaking, Aventurine prefers missionary or lotus. These positions are perfect for exchanging kisses and holding hands, and the eye contact between you feels more intimate which heightens the experience for him. He loves being as close to you as possible, your bodies pressed flush together as your hips move in sync, so expect him to keep his arms wrapped around you for as long as possible.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Aventurine is both serious and humorous. He definitely verbally teases and taunts you because he wants to get a reaction out of you, especially in the early stages of your sex life. It’s also a mask he employs to hide his own nervousness and vulnerability. However, he’s still considerate and respectful of your boundaries and feelings, and he takes the time to discuss these things with you in a serious manner.

While he’s usually very teasing and playful during sex, Aventurine has his serious moments. Those usually come up during tender lovemaking since it’s a more emotionally charged experience that leaves him feeling vulnerable. Genuine words of affection from you go a long way during those moments, and Aventurine might even return them in kind if your relationship has progressed deep enough.

Once he’s past the stage of slowly opening up and has become comfortable being vulnerable with you, Aventurine will act more playful and teasing again. Unlike at the start, this time he doesn’t tease you to mask his true feelings, but as a way to engage in some playful banter and watch your cheeks flush because he finds you super cute when you’re embarrassed.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Just look at Aventurine and tell me he doesn’t groom himself all over. He definitely keeps his pubic hair neatly trimmed so it looks tidy. It’s also the same blond color as the hair on his head.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's had sexual partners before, but there were no feelings involved, so the sex left Aventurine feeling unfulfilled. It felt good, sure, but it still didn't fill the void in his heart, and he was left empty. Sex with you feels completely different, though. You're devoted to his pleasure, you treat him with love and consideration, and he can feel how much you love him through your touch and words.

There is also something so fulfilling and joyous about making you feel good, of knowing that he is the cause for those moans and blissful expressions of yours. Sex with someone he loves is a completely different experience because it's more emotionally charged, and though it makes him vulnerable, he feels more connected to you. He loves that emotional connection even more than the physical one, and it also makes him realize that there's so much more to sex than simply reaching orgasm.

Getting Aventurine to lower his guard and allow himself to be vulnerable during sex is something that will take time, but once he learns to embrace the experience, he’ll be very romantic when making love to you.

As mentioned before, Aventurine likes to keep as much physical contact with you as possible, so he’ll hold you tight against his body while rocking his hips into you. He also enjoys holding hands, especially when close to orgasm.

He’s a very sensual lover, so he runs his hands along your sides or spine, leaves hot kisses on your jawline and neck, and whispers romantic words about how he loves you or how you’re being such a good girl for him. Feel free to do the same to him in return, he loves feeling your loving touch.

Even when he’s being rough, he’s still loving toward you so you’re never left feeling like he’s just using you to get off. He wants you to be comfortable being this intimate and vulnerable with him, plus he loves giving affection.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Aventurine accumulates a lot of stress from work, so I think he masturbates fairly regularly. He usually does it in the comfort of his own home when he has some downtime.

With your consent, he uses some lewd pictures and videos of you to jack off to, or he uses his imagination, recounting his favorite moments from your past sessions. He also pictures you in various risqué outfits or imagines what it would be like to try new kinks with you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He's a switch but tends to take on a more dominant role because he likes having some for of control over a situation, be it in or out of the bedroom. He's quite adept at giving you commands and suggestions, such as watching you masturbate and giving you directions on how to play with yourself. Aventurine is also into mutual masturbation, with either both of you watching each other get off, or using your hands to please the other.

He's into dirty talk, but mostly giving. From you, he likes to receive praise on how good he makes you feel. He also enjoys hearing you beg and describe in as much detail as you can what exactly you want him to do to you. If the task embarrasses you, that's even better because he finds you incredibly cute when you're blushing.

Other things he likes is edging and overstimulation (giving and receiving), mild exhibitionism (see Location below), videotaping/photographing your body or your sex sessions (with your consent, of course), and mild choking (mostly receiving, but can also give).

Aventurine can handle and enjoy rougher treatment from you, but he loves it most when you worship his body. Your loving and gentle touches feel so good, and honestly, he needs the pampering. Bonus points if you compliment his body, be it his looks or physique.

I also feel like he's into footjobs and boobjobs, and getting you to go commando or with a vibrator stuffed in your pussy in public (but only if you're into that).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Generally prefers to have sex somewhere comfortable and private, so the ideal place is usually your home. The kitchen, bathroom, living room, etc are all fair game because Aventurine is not very picky about the location, though he does have a preference for the comfort of a soft bed or couch.

If exhibitionism is something you’re into, Aventurine can also fuck you in riskier places like a public bathroom or near an open window, though he won’t let either of you get caught.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you in his clothes is a surefire way to get Aventurine in the mood. His shirts are too long for you, so he finds it cute how the sleeves cover your hands, and how the neckline dips lower to show off your cleavage. Bonus points if one of your shoulders is exposed. He finds the sight incredibly erotic and endearing.

Aventurine also likes seeing you dress up for him, be it pretty dresses and nicely done hair or perfectly applied makeup. The idea of you dolling yourself up for him just to have your neat appearance ruined by the end of the night arouses him. As does the idea of seeing those painted lips of yours leave lipstick marks on his cock while you suck him off.

Aventurine can get easily turned on if one of your make-outs turns hot and heavy. Feeling the desire and passion behind your kisses can get him aroused pretty quickly, and he’ll try to turn you on in response by deepening the kiss or sucking on a few sensitive spots on your neck he knows make you weak in the knees.

He also loves it when you tease him, especially sexually. If you give him fleeting touches against his clothed dick, press hot kisses along his throat, or tug on his lower lip with your teeth, he'll easily get worked up. Giving him a fleeting taste of pleasure before pulling away, leaving him yearning for more all day will drive him wild and he'll follow after you like a puppy. Expect to be teased into oblivion in return once he gets his hands on you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As a man with a truckload of trauma, there are certain kinks Aventurine isn’t comfortable participating in, or some that he flat-out rejects.

He’s not into roleplaying scenarios where one of you is subservient to the other, so things like slave play or petplay get a hard no from Aventurine. He also doesn’t like calling you mistress due to the time he was forced to call his enslaver ‘Master’.

While he’s ok with some light bondage like having you pin his wrists down with your hands, he gets uncomfortable if handcuffs or rope is involved because it conjures up bad memories from when he used to be restrained like that as a slave. For the same reason, he’s not into wearing collars or collaring you.

While he can handle some rough play like choking, spanking, and biting, he doesn’t like being heavily hit, because again, it triggers bad memories for him. He doesn’t like being injured or causing you injury. He also doesn’t enjoy demeaning dirty talk that treats you or himself as something lesser or as an object.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

His silver tongue is good for more than just talking. Aventurine enjoys giving oral because watching you writhe and fall apart under his mouth is a huge ego boost. He loves to play with and tease your pussy, memorizing all the motions that get the best reactions out of you or any directions you give him to please you right. He becomes an expert at eating you out.

Aventurine gets a deep satisfaction out of pleasing you, and it definitely gets him hard to hear your moans and watch you squirm because he’s making you feel good.

However, I think he prefers receiving just a teensy bit more. Just a smidge. Having you between his legs, eagerly sucking his cock while maintaining eye contact with him is just heaven. There’s something so nice about being lavished with your love and attention, of seeing and feeling how devoted you are to making him feel good. It makes him feel appreciated and desired, which is a huge turn-on.

That said, Aventurine really likes 69ing because that way you both get to give and receive pleasure at the same time, which is a win-win. Though he does miss seeing your pretty eyes looking up at him while your mouth is stuffed with his cock.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, depends on his mood. If he’s feeling frisky, he’ll opt for a quicker and rougher pace, snapping his hips into yours in quick, sharp thrusts while holding onto your hips or arms to hold you in place. However, he’s never rough to the point of it being painful. He doesn’t want to hurt you, so he’s never that rough with you.

Since he’s a sensual person, Aventurine definitely enjoys slower sex. It’s his go-to when making love to you. The thrusts are slow yet deep, his cock dragging against the walls of your pussy, allowing you to feel him properly and fully. With a slower pace, he can kiss you deeper, press his forehead against yours, and exchange words of love more easily. He’s also a fan of slow morning sex.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s fond of quickies. As much as he loves to take the time to work you up and explore your body, sometimes he just needs to quickly release all that pent-up lust to clear his mind. Especially if you’ve been teasing him for a portion of the day or you guys don’t have an opportunity to seclude yourselves for a longer session of sex. He can wait until you get home, but if you’re also willing, he’d much rather have a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s a gambler and lives for the thrill of taking risks, so I’d say he’s open to experimenting in the bedroom. Aside from the things mentioned in the ‘No’ section, Aventurine is very open to trying new things, even more dangerous ones like choking or exhibitionism. Even if he’s not into something, he’s willing to at least try it once if it’s something you really want to do with him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Has average to a bit above average stamina. Can go for one long round with a lot of foreplay, maybe two if he’s particularly horny. Probably recovers quicker than you, though.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Does own a variety of sex toys he experimented with, but his favorite is a bullet vibrator that he uses while masturbating.

Will absolutely buy toys to use on you, like dildos, vibrators, ballgags, crops, etc… feel free to use the toys on him too, if you want.

He finds toys to be a fun way to occasionally spice up sex to prevent things from getting too stale in the bedroom.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Huge tease. The biggest tease. The kind of tease to overstimulate or edge you until you’re crying and beginning him for relief or to stop—you won’t even know which one. Thankfully he’s rarely that mean, but he likes to edge you a bit before diving into the good stuff.

Aventurine loves to hear you beg, and he will deny you what you want unless you ask for it nicely. You want him inside? In what way? His fingers or his cock? You need to be more specific, darling~

He also verbally teases you, commenting about how eager you are for his dick or how wet you already are despite just starting, etc… And he always says it with that smug, confident smirk of his.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Aventurine tries to be quiet because he’d rather hear you over himself, but he does let out his voice a fair bit. He’s prone to whining when you pleasure him, letting out low groans and soft moans, sometimes even growling if you get him particularly worked up, though that sound is rare.

He also talks a lot. Even if he’s breathless from exertion, he’ll still talk dirty, complimenting you on taking him so well, on how eager you are to please him, or how good you feel inside. If he’s making love to you, you might even catch him whispering a strained “I love you” when he’s close to climax.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Aventurine has nimble hands and knows exactly how to use them to drive you crazy with pleasure. He’s an expert at fingering you, knowing just the right way to curl his fingers inside your pussy to hit your g-spot, what pressure and speed to thrust them in and out of your sopping cunt until your toes curl and you’re clamping down on him as you orgasm.

He also likes to slip a hand between your legs to rub at your clit while fucking into you or to gently tweak and pinch your nipples. The little squeaks and sighs you let out in response are music to his ears.

If at any point you’re frustrated by him constantly edging and teasing you, he’ll quickly shut down your cute protests by deftly rubbing at your clit in exactly the way he knows you love. The way your jaw goes slack as you forget what you wanted to say, reduced to a moaning mess, has him gloating and grinning in triumph. He loves watching you succumb to his touch.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Is 4.5 inches (11.5 cm) long when erect, and 4.1 inches (10.5 cm) in circumference (girth). His dick is slender with a few prominent veins running along the shaft. The tip is a nice pink color.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Average. Generally, Aventurine engages in sex 2-3 times per week, but can easily go for more since he’s easy to arouse. The only issue is that he’s often too busy to find the time. You better believe that when he comes home from his weeks-long business trips, he’s taking you to bed for some passionate sex.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends on the situation. If he has work to do after, then he will cuddle for a bit before reluctantly parting from you.

If it’s nighttime or if he has no pressing matters for the day, then Aventurine might let his exhaustion take over and allow himself to fall asleep. It doesn’t happen immediately, though. He prefers to indulge in the afterglow with you, chatting and cuddling for a while, maybe taking a bath together to clean up before bed. He falls asleep a lot easier with you by his side, feeling your fingers tenderly card through his hair or burying his nose into the crown of your head and breathing in your scent.

Unrelated, but he can be both the big and little spoon, though I think he prefers being the little spoon more often. It makes him feel secure when your arms are wrapped around him. He likes falling asleep while facing you, too. Being wrapped up in each other’s arms brings him comfort.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x fem!reader #aventurine x reader smut

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lolokouhm · 7 months

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„You haven’t eaten, have you?”

No, Suguru hasn’t eaten.

It’s not like you’re surprised. He’s lost weight - nah, he’s been losing weight steadily for the past few weeks. People say that it’s hard to notice when you see someone regularly, but it’s not hard at all - especially in his case. You’re not sure what’s changed exactly. Suguru still looks relatively healthy, not underweight, but the dark circles under his eyes speak volumes.

You sigh and walk into his apartment. It’s surprisingly neat, to the point it’s a bit scary - so clean it gives an impression as if no living person could function there. And maybe that’s exactly how it is. Maybe that tall, handsome guy in black sweats that greets you is not a person anymore, but a ghost. It’s a question you constantly ask yourself in your head, but never dare to answer. Your heart would break.

„I wasn’t hungry.” A smile appears on his pale face and you sigh again.

You’ve been friends with Suguru since high school, but after your last year you went your separate ways, just to meet again years later - just a few months ago. He didn’t change much, at least not visually - except for his arms. He might have gone a little bit crazy on ink there, and that’s exactly what got the two of you talking again. Tattoos. You’ve never expected Suguru Geto, that sophisticated, awfully smart Geto would cover both of his arms in the most insane pieces of art you’ve ever seen. You’ve had your own share of ink under your skin, but your collection was quite messy and not that cohesive. You liked trying new styles, creating your own map of memories from different places and different artists, while his tattoos were definitely an artwork made by one man. You had a million questions, he was happy to answer - that’s how you ended up in his apartment for the first time. Soon you realised you had a million subjects to go through - politics, art, even God. It was easy, talking with him. It was fun.

And then it began - the movie nights, when the two of you were going through different eras of cinema alphabetically, also bringing snacks that would start on the same letter as the movie you were watching. A stupid idea that you shamelessly stole from „The Barbie Diaries” - the first movie you’ve watched together and the first one that left Suguru completely traumatised.

„Luckily for you, today we’re watching The Notebook, so we’ll be having noodles. What kind of noodles do you want, sir?”, you ask, handing him an invisible microphone.

Suguru chuckles.

„Spicy.”

A few clicks later the food is already on its way and the two of you get comfortable on his huge couch. The projector starts warming up and you look around - it’s completely dark inside and if it weren’t for the fact you know Suguru well, you’d think he made the apartament that way so the two of you could watch the movie comfortably. Your gaze goes back to him - his body hunching over the laptop, fighting with Netflix again.

The projector turns on and the movie starts, as the two of you hide yourselves under the blankets. Unfortunately, you can’t focus. You’re worried.

You’ve had some conversations about his depressive episodes before, so technically you know what he’s going trough, but honestly - you don’t. He doesn’t really talk about it, but if you could get into his head you’d understand how much he values your bare presence next to him. If you could get into his head, you’d know way more, but luckily for Suguru, you can’t. He wouldn’t like that.

In normal circumstances, at least. Because tonight, he is hungry, he is frustrated, and he needs warmth.

And you are anything but cold.

So when he catches your eyes on him, he bets. If you turn away, he’ll let you go. If you give in, he’ll make you stay.

Three seconds. That’s how much time it takes for Suguru to get closer to you and kiss you.

It’s short, soft and sensual, but it makes his head go fuzzy, and when he pulls back he just hopes you won’t run away. Don’t run away. Don’t.

You’re not running.

You’re sitting, legs crossed, just as you were seconds before. Your face is completely red now as Suguru’s eyes scan you carefully, desperate to see the future. Will you go? Will you slap him?

„Why did you do that?” Your own voice doesn’t even sound like your voice. „The Notebook” in the background is now completely forgotten, the flickering lights on the screen keep on changing and throwing different shades on Suguru’s pale face. You didn’t expect that. Not that you didn’t want to or think about it, it’s just…

„I’m hungry” he whispers, and the way his voice sounds gets shivers sprinting down your spine. „And the food’s not here yet.”

„Yeah. It’s not.” He still keeps his hands on your cheeks, right thumb gently brushing your skin, touch light as a feather.

„What are we going to do about it?”, he murmurs, words are barely audible. He’s waiting. There’s another unspoken question hanging between the two of you, and you’re the one who needs to answer.

And that’s exactly what you do.

Both of your hands are suddenly gripping onto his hoodie as you lean into him, lips crashing yet again, just with much bigger force this time. Suguru’s breath shakes as he finally comprehends that he won the bet and a smile crawls onto his face. You’re kissing him. His ray of sunshine. Well, maybe not his yet, but when he’s done with you, that’s exactly how you will be.

And that’s exactly what he does.

His lips travel down your jaw, stop for a second under your ear and then go straight to your neck as your hands let go of his hoodie and find their way to his hair, gripping desperately on the black strands loosely caught in a bun. He groans at the feeling as he bites the skin of your exposed collarbone, his fingers playing with the hem of your blouse, eager to feel more and more of you. Suguru looks up and tries his best not to moan at the sight of your face, your lipstick completely devoured.

„Can I?”, a hoarse whisper leaves his throat, but it’s not even a question. He’s begging you.

And you let him.

He takes his own hoodie of as you take off yours - and you can see them again. The artwork on his arms. You lean your body against the pillows on the right side of the couch and Suguru gulps. He’s been imagining that for a while now, but the reality, for the first time in fucking forever, was so, so much better. His lips go back to sucking and licking your skin and by the moment he reaches your breasts you whine. His hot tongue plays with your nipples, making you impossibly wet, and the bare sight of him shirtless in those awfully beautiful sweats is not helping at all. A part of you is relieved - his muscles are still there, tensing a bit with every movement. And when he pulls away for a moment, you notice it.

„You’ve got a new one.” A koi fish, on his ribs, drawn as usual in a traditional style, this time with a bit of colour. Red. Your favourite. Your hand is shaking, but you can’t help yourself. You trace the shape of the tattoo, his hot skin under your fingertips feeling like fire. You are in awe - even more when you look at him again, breathing heavily. A god. He looks like a god.

And then he proceeds to make you feel like you’re nowhere but in heaven.

He’s not hungry anymore - by the time you’re completely naked he’s starving. His name escapes your lips when his grip on your thighs gets tighter, and then it hits you - his tongue finally making contact with the place you needed him in so desperately. Your hands find his hair again, pulling it relentlessly when he inserts two slender fingers inside of you, at the same time licking your clit. Suguru’s ravenous. You could be his breakfast, his lunch, his dinner, his dessert - everything. He could eat you out all the time, no breaks, no thoughts, no objections. He tries to control his own hips that have been grinding into the couch for a while now, but the feeling of you on his tongue isn’t making it any easier.

„Suguru…” your voice comes back to you, a familiar feeling slowly building up inside of your stomach. „I’m so close.”

You really are, and your clouded mind is making the sensation almost unbearable. Suguru groans yet again, happier then ever, and then you hear it.

„Come for me, baby.”

So soft. So simple. Not a demand, by no means. An invitation - to fall apart on his tongue.

You take it.

His name leaves your lips as your orgasm blinds you, back arching as you pull his hair so hard he groans. Suguru doesn’t stop right away - he makes you ride it out, drinking you like holy water. You shake and quiver and he thinks that maybe that’s exactly what it is. Holy water on his tongue.

And so you lay, completely fucked out under his perfect body, and when he goes up to look at you he’s almost sure he’s going to come right there, in his pants. You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect.

„Fuck.” It falls from his lips as he’s taking these damn pants off and you gasp. „I just… Fuck.” He runs his hands down his face, your arousal glistening all over him. It’s like he shines. You might be going insane. Fucking Geto Suguru, hovering over you, his cock impossibly hard, looking for words. „Can I…”

Before he finishes, you lean into him and bring him down, pulling his neck closer to you and diving into the kiss. He pants and you get scared - it’s not reality. It can’t be. Suguru leaning into your touch, Suguru groaning into your ear, Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. His name carved all over your body, all over your mind.

He goes in slowly, trying his best not to come right away, but he’s more than determined to make you cum again, this time on his cock. He starts thrusting, diving as deep as possible and then reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. It feels so good. Too good to be true. He doesn’t fuck you - it’s way more than that. His lips move up and down your neck, leaving desperate kisses between pants and grunts. Suguru is in pain and you’re the cure. Suguru is the moon and you’re the sun. Suguru is the believer.

And you’re the god.

You asked him about it one night.

„Do you believe in God, Suguru?”

He said he didn’t, but he changed his mind. He does.

His god is right there, under his fingers.

You come again, moaning right into his lips when you kiss, and the way you clench around him sends him to the edge. He hides his head into the crook of your neck and twitches inside of you, warm cum covering your insides as he pants, hips desperately bucking into you. You’re barely conscious, but you wrap your arms around him and hold him as he’s trying to catch his breath. His heartbeat runs through you and it kinda feels like you’re one person. Maybe that’s exactly what you have become.

One.

„Are you still hungry?”

You can feel him laughing into your skin. Suguru moves his head up and readjusts it, so he can see the bite marks on your neck a little better. Like a tattoo. Another one to your collection.

„Starving.”

masterlist ❤️

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3d-wifey · 7 months

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NSFT Alphabet: MK1 Johnny Cage Edition

A/N: Wrote this to hold you Johnny girls (gender neutral) over until I finish that smut 😙 Plus, I find writing these Alphabets for a character in preparation to write full-fledged smut for them is very helpful in capturing accurate characterization. It's almost like a writing exercise. I've written three different ones so far and I tried to keep them in character, if that makes sense. Like, I tried putting their personality and language in it. Okay, enjoy.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Talking. So much talking. But, honestly, did you expect anything else? As he’s pulling out, as he’s carrying you to the shower, as you’re washing his hair. And when it inevitably leads to shower sex, he’s talking then too. You’ll never meet a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than Johnny Cage.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Uh, how ‘bout the artillery canons strapped to his arms? C’mon, I mean, who wouldn’t want a ticket to the gun show?

Face. Is saying your face too cliche? Hear him out! You want specifics? He can do specifics! He likes the dimples that pop in your cheeks when he finally gets you to laugh at one of his jokes, the little crease you get between your eyebrows when he’s pissed you off, the adorable way your nose scrunches up when he does that one thing with his tongue that drives you crazy. See? Specifics!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Pull out game…very weak. Embarrassingly weak, actually. He swears he’s never had this problem before. His ability to pull out in the nick of time has always been something he’s prided himself on. However, he vastly underestimated just how good you’d feel. He’s clean, you’re clean, and, hey! You both prefer the feeling of hitting it raw, the way nature intended it. However, your pussy’s like wet kryptonite. And he’s only a man. A very awesome man, but a man nonetheless. So birth control it is! Or, if you’re turned off by all the side effects, he can be talked into a vasectomy. It’s either that or give up the sweet, sweet embrace of your walls when he’s balls deep.

On second thought, that vasectomy sounds pretty tempting. It is reversible, right?

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Johnny would leak his own sex tape. Plain and simple. He’d leak it from a burner account and watch the chaos ensue. There’s no shame in his game. Hey, it’s ranked the Number 1 Celebrity sex tape for a reason.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Is this even a question? Actors, singers, models, directors, producers. He’s THE Johnny Cage, Hollywood royalty. He’s fucked actual royalty. You’re in good hands—as long as he cares about you. If you’re a random hookup, then he’s not really working for your pleasure here. You’ll definitely cum, but it’s mainly a pit stop on his way to the finish line.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl. Johnny’s an ass man, through and through. He loves fucking up into you and watching your ass ripple with both of your movements. And he loves holding onto you. Big hands grabbing your waist, hips, thighs, and especially your ass. He also loves seeing you both in action. So reverse cowgirl + some artfully placed full-length mirrors = Him wrapping his arms around your stomach, rubbing at your clit, and forcing you to watch yourself as you desperately grind against him, AKA Heaven.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, c’mon. It isn’t like him to be serious in any situation. He’s gotta slip a joke in every now and then. Get it? Slip a joke in?

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Wax on, wax off, baby. Smoother than a seal. Or, uh, some other sexy, hairless animal. You mourn when he waxes his happy trail.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

You’ll be surprised by how charming he can be. It’s not all jokes and great orgasms. It’s also loving touches, reverent compliments, and amazing orgasms.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He’s got a healthy libido and a pretty stacked schedule, so sometimes a quick introduction between his hand and mini Johnny can’t be helped. But he’s also got a smoking hot girlfriend (you), so jerking off by himself is a rare occurrence.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionism. What can he say? He’s a performer at heart and he loves an audience. But nothing crazy, just your average celebrity having sex on a yacht that’s in full view of the paparazzi. Or the occasional jerking off with you telling him how fast or slow to go. Oh, and you can’t forget about the sex tapes. Man, with the amount of videos he has of the two of you going at it, he could start an archive. You two have definitely ended up on the cover of TMZ and the front page of Twitter.

Voyeurism. But only for you. He’s enthralled by anything you do, including how many of your much smaller fingers will you stuff inside yourself to replicate the feeling of him stretching you wide. It usually leads to you begging for him to touch you, something else he’s in love with. Nothing wrong with a little hands-on audience participation.

Dirty talk. Normally, dirty talk is kind of basic to any old romp in the hay, but Johnny, being Johnny, puts his own Cage flair on it. Those corny oneliners somehow translate to the perfect thing to say to get you hot. He’s like Shakespear, if Shakespear was good-looking and not a virgin. You know what they say: everything sounds better when you’re horny. Who says that? Uh…

Fighting/Sparing which always leads to blood play. Winning a match gets Johnny’s blood pumping. The adrenaline of escaping death and the crowd hyping him up. And the crux of it all is you who happens to get especially wet when he comes to you covered in blood, grinning with a glint in his eyes that’s poorly hidden behind his blood-speckled sunglasses (a glint that many may describe as mania). And it certainly goes the other way. Watching you kick ass makes him harder than a diamond. Sparing together is a no-brainer that leads to fucking on his gym floor, or, honestly, wherever you two fall. Lui Kang must regret making you two his champions in this timeline with how often he’s walked in on you two. Offering to let him join probably doesn’t soften the blow, but, hey, it’s only polite.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In his mansion. In one of his lavish beds, or pressed up against the wall-length windows. In his Bentley or in the back of his limo. He’s a big fan of fingering you under the table at an award show and then fucking you in a bathroom at said award show when he should definitely be on stage presenting. For whatever reason, walking the red carpet always gets him worked up. And going to the club together always ends with you riding him in the VIP section.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Such a complex question for a man with complex taste. I’m joking, Johnny is so easy. It’s actually ridiculous how easily you turn him on. Laugh at his joke, hard. Complement his acting or fighting, hard. Running your fingers through his hair/scratching his scalp, hard. Feel him up/tease him in any context, hard. You’re covered in blood after a win, hard, hard, rock hard.

“Are you King Midas? Cuz you make me hard with just one touch.”

“That one was actually kinda clever.”

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing too gross. He’s all for sloppy, messy sex, but he has to draw the line somewhere. There’s nasty 👁🫦👁 and there’s n a s t y 👁👄👁.

He likes to tease/do the opposite of what you say, but if you’re not 100% on board with what he’s doing, then he’s stopping it then and there. Remember: there’s nothing sexier than explicit consent!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preferred to receive before he started dating you, and only ever had the urge to go down on someone if he had been drinking before. After you started dating, he definitely loved it whenever you gave him head, but he didn’t realize how much pleasure he could get from giving you pleasure.

He loves sloppy head, giving and receiving, so if you weren’t wet before, you definitely will be after he gets his mouth on you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on when and where you’re doing it. And if you two are “allowed” to be doing it in said place.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan of the guy who came up with the idea of quickies, enough said.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

C’mon. He’s the leading source of your sex tapes getting leaked. I mean, how do you think the paps keep finding you in compromising positions? A little tip-off to them while you take his tip, ha!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

It’s like he runs off horsepower, good God. If you’re trying to go until he’s tired out, it’s gonna be a couple of rounds until then.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s a fan of dildos. Specifically, watching you fuck yourself with one. “Go ahead, baby. Show me how bad you want me.” And show him, you do. God, you know how to put on a show. But you shouldn’t have to settle for some random dildo. You’re with the Cage man, and he would get a mold of his dick made for you. And they say he’s not romantic.

Strap-on. That’s it. And he takes it well ;).

Remote-controlled vibrators, for you and him. Hell, let’s make a game out of it. See who can last the longest in public, there are no losers!

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

His version of teasing is doing the opposite of what you said to do. You want him to speed up? He’s slowing down and making sure you feel every inch inside you. Oh, keep his hands above his head? You gonna make him? He’s a total brat, but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to date him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heh, yeahhh. He’s real loud. Moans, groans, screams, whimpers. You name it, he’s doing it. It’s the performer in him. And because he knows you like how he sounds.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Tattoos? Sexy as hell. If you were to ever get his name tattooed on you (preferably a tramp stamp), then you might as well start planning what flowers you want in your bouquet. I could see him getting your name tattooed on him too. Probably on his pelvis, in the middle of his v-line. In case anyone ever needs a reminder of who his dick belongs to.

Type of guy to dedicate a Mortal Kombat match to you, and then lose. Ah, I’m joking. He’d beat his opponent’s ass all because you promised him victory sex if he won and he doesn’t take victory sex lightly.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s got an 8.5–8.9 inch hog, shower not a grower. Little Johnny isn’t so little. There’s a reason he’s alright with doing full-frontal nudity if the scene calls for it. They’ve had to CG out his bulge in post-production in every Ninja Mime movie. It’s not his fault spandex happens to be the clingiest material known to man.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Higher than Mount Fuji. He’s a stallion in his prime with a gorgeous girlfriend. His spare time is filled with filling you. And you both tend to feed off of each other, so all it takes is for one of you to be the tiniest bit turned on, and then, boom! You’re both desperately grinding against each other in a supply closet. Ain’t that just the way?

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends. He’s kind of like a dog that needs to tire himself out before he can sleep.

Click for a Johnny Cage-shaped surprise👀👀

#johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk1 johnny cage #johnny cage smut #johnny cage mortal kombat #mk 2023 #mk smut #mortalkombat #mortal kombat 1 #nsft alphabet #realized i needed to change that W to a T in the title if i wanted this to get any traffic lmao

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ann1-wr1tes · 2 months

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Nanami Kento NSFW Alphabet

Dynamics: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Spicy Alphabet

Warnings: Adult themes, obviously smut, mentions of giving head, light bondage

A/N: So this is a little apology for not writing anything for ya'll. I've been busy but hope you guys enjoy this!

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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-Kento is incredibly attentive and sweet after having sex. Honestly he always wants to check in with you after, to make sure you're okay and to make sure he knows if there was anything you didn't like. Then of course he's quick to get you some water and perhaps one of your favored snacks. Then he likes to run a bath for you and help clean you up. While he cleans you, he's always sure to press kisses everywhere he can. If there are any bruises anywhere, he'll always be extra attentive with those.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-His favorite body part of his partner would be your tits. Doesn't matter what size, color, or shape. He is a man who can appreciate some boobs...respectfully of course. Though if you asked him he'd be too much of a gentleman to ever fully admit that.

-On himself her particularly likes his hands. After all, he can do so much with them. He can use them to smooth down your body, gently run through your hair, or of course he would finger fuck you until your crying.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-He honestly doesn't care to make too big of a mess so he definitely prefers to cum inside you. Of course, he'll wear a condom if you ask and i'll be honest, he's got a huge breeding kink.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-He 100% uses pictures of you from his wallet to jack off. It may seem innocent when he pulls out his wallet and looks upon all the pretty pictures he has of you but sometimes behind closed doors, he misses you so much that he can't help it. You're just too cute~

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-I can imagine Kento has a little bit of experience but not a lot. He's a busy, busy man keeping up with his job and then going back to Jujutsu Tech so he probably doesn't get laid that often. Granted, he has watched some porn but its not a whole lot.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-Any position where he can see your face. Though I do think his two favorites would be Missionary and Cowgirl. Missionary is nice and easy, not too complicated and he can still fuck you good while getting to look at all the pretty expressions and reactions you have.

-For Cowgirl he'd really like that when he's tried from a long day of work. He gets to hand over the reins to you a little while you slowly roll your hips over his. He loves planting his hands on your hips and helping you as your eyes roll into the back of your head and you succumb to your own pleasure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-Kento definitely is not the joking type when it comes to having sex. He may crack one mildly funny comment here or there but his main focus is on making you feel good.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-Despite his lack of free time, he is always sure to clean himself up. Self care is important he likes to feel well groomed and clean for himself and you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-In the moment Kento can be very sensual and romantic. His eyes are on you, watching your reactions, feeling you and your body. It can be very intimate and I think Kento is one of those guys who doesn't just fuck, he prefers to make love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-Probably not too often, but often enough. Sometimes he can't come home until late at night and he feels the need to rub one out, or sometimes when you aren't around he takes matters into his own hands. But for the most part, he has you and his patience is incredibly strong so he'll wait for you if he has to.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-Breeding kink. He 1000% has a breeding kink. He would never flat out tell you that he wants kids but if you ever went to him and told him that you desired to have a family, the man would jump on it so fast. There's just something about cumming inside you that gets him hard. I think he'd also like nipple play (giving and receiving). Oh and how could I forget..he'd also have a thing for bondage. With his tie or belt to be specific.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

-He definitely is not a huge fan of doing it in public or spaces where you could get caught. He definitely is more of the private type and just prefers the comfort of his or your house.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-Oddly enough, you could be doing something as simple as washing dishes or folding laundry and he'd be turned on. There's something about doing simple, domestic things that gets him going.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-He would never be too hard into choking. He's just not a huge fan and he doesn't like the idea of hurting you. He also isn't too keen on sharing you either. So no threesomes.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-This man loves to give head. He absolutely adores it. There's just something about getting to bury his face into your wet heat for hours on end while rutting into the bed that does something to him. He finds it to be a form of stress relief and is one of his favorite ways to wind down after a long day.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-I feel like it depends on his mood. Normally he's into slow and sensual. I'm talking about deep, passionate kisses, slow rolls of his hips, making sure you feel everything he's giving you. But if you ever decide to act like a brat or he just feels pent up and frustrated then he may go a bit rougher than usual. Of course if he's ever too rough with he'll always apologize and he probably feels too guilty to go too rough with it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

-Kento isn't a huge fan of quickies. I mean why rush it when he can have you all to himself? But if he really needed it, he wouldn't be completely opposed to having a quickie. But only for dire situations.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-He's not too risky. He likes to play it safe and make sure you are comfortable. But if you ever wanted to try something new then he'd listen and consider it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-It depends on how tired he is and how pent he is. I'd say he could last a good 3 rounds, taking about five minutes each. But at the end of the day I think it matters most about how long you can last? He'll stick it out for however long it takes you to cum, which trust me....it won't take too long.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-Not completely against toys but he doesn't own any himself. If you were to buy some he'd totally be fine with using them on you and it comes to himself you may need to convince him a little but he could never really say no to you...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-If you are being a brat then he will 100% tease and hold back your orgasm. But in general, no. He's not too big of a tease.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-Kento starts off quiet, maybe with a few hushed words here and there, a few assurances and compliments before he starts to breathe deeper. his breaths turn into small groans and pants and by the end of it I think you could get a few good moans out of him right before he cums.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-As much as he hates it and is shameful of it, he steals your dirty panties. He just got so, so desperate one time and you weren't around. He needed something of you and he happened to find your dirty clothes bin. After that he became almost addicted. The scent of you lingering in his nose, the feel of your panties around his cock feels too good.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-When soft i'd say he's about 6 inches and when hard he goes up to 7 inches. Its long-ish and girthy and can be a lot to take on sometimes. When he gets hard has a rosy red tip and one or two noticeable veins that run up and down his shaft.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-His sex drive is on the average side but can be a bit high when he gets pent up. Sometimes he's so busy that he doesn't notice but as soon as he's with you all of the sudden his dick is hard and he has no idea what happened.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-He always waits for you to fall asleep first. No matter how tired he is he'll always make sure you are comfortable and safe in his arms. Sometimes he'll even read to you if you ask. His deep, soft voice lulls you to sleep as reads over endless words on pages from his favorite book.

#jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami kento smut #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x y/n

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sailorrlino · 2 months

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Rodeo | lmh (m)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Pairing: hitman!Minho x arms dealer! F. reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 Summary: Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. He likes it that way. When you appear on his target list, his relationship with you becomes quite the opposite - complicated, rough, and unreliable.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Word Count: 18,249

𓆩⟡𓆪 Genre: Cyberpunk | Smut | Angst | Peers to Something

𓆩⟡𓆪 Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Warnings: Violence, world building, murder, discussion of murder, depictions of blood and fight sequences, brief mentions of drugs, depictions of wounds and treating them with syringes if you don’t like needles, explicit language, depiction of an anxiety attack, angst and self-doubt, Minho being an idiot, gun fights and scenes with weapons, some vague terms and references specific to the world building, sexually explicit content featuring oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, cum eating, bodily fluids, and mentions of spit in several places. I think that covers everything, for the most part.

𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N: This is what happens when writers just write what they're inspired for. After almost two months of being unable to write, I got this random idea and I just went with it and took advantage of the moment and... genuinely had so much fun writing this. It got so much longer and more complex than I meant to, but I hope you enjoy.

𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N 2: This work is heavily inspired by Fallout 4, Blade Runner, Altered Carbon and the lovely song Rodeo by WayV. I imagine Rodeo playing during the shootout scene at the bar. Additionally, a fun fact: I use the nato alphabet to communicate Minho's targets and reader's target in this spells out 'reader' in the nato alphabet :)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Posted: Sunday, March 3 2024

𓆩⟡𓆪 Disclaimer: All members of Stray Kids are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Tag List Request Form | Song Inspiration

Any work is good work.

Minho isn’t so sure that his father would say that as he crouches down next to the body on the living room floor. His thigh muscles protest, aching and tight from hours of sitting crouched across the street in the chill of a high-rise building waiting for his prey to enter this very building.

Neon light bleeds through the foggy window behind him. The room is awash in watery pink as he pulls out his scanner with one hand and leans forward with the other, pressing his gloved fingers to the man's chin to push his head to the side. It rolls easily, giving a fleshy sound that might make someone squeamish as the man’s cheek hits the floor.

Any work is good work, Minho thinks as he scans the man's non-existent pulse with his watch. He sees the blue ring of the biochip flash beneath cooling flesh, his watch flashing green with a soft buzz. The man’s entire life flashes on the screen - full name, date of birth, ID number, blood type, and place of work. Everything about him casts a sickly green glow on Minho’s sharp face.

Tapping a few buttons on the watch face, he waits, holding his wrist near his mouth as the sound of a dial tone chimes once. It’s silent in the apartment, though he can hear the hum of airborne traffic a few blocks off as the roar of adrenaline winds down.

“Receiving,” a male voice answers. Minho doesn’t know who it is - he just knows he’s one of any of the Delegators who work for Collect Co.

“Collection request number alpha-echo-tango-delta complete, served by Collector 102598.”

“Collected alpha-echo-tango-delta confirmed. Please place a beacon before you leave. All credits for this Collection have been transferred to your account. Please wait five to seven business days before funds are available for use. Your next collection is in four hours, seven minutes, and eight United Seconds.”

The line goes dead. The glow of the watch makes him squint before he can lower his brightness, scrolling to his bank account. He sees the credits added with a transaction pending. When he was a kid, the number glowing at the bottom of the screen to indicate his balance might have excited him. Now, it’s just a number on a screen that confirms the power won’t go out at his apartment and that he won’t go hungry.

Minho’s knees crack as he stands. He groans and leans backward, pressing his hands into the small of his back. A series of cracks slither up his spine, making his eyes roll back as he shuts them for a moment and shivers.

He’s so goddamn sore.

Leaving the body on the carpet of the living area, he goes over to pick up the handgun resting on the counter. The energy weapon glows at his touch, syncing with his interface briefly before he holsters it inside his jacket.

While he is technically within the law to eliminate targets for Collect Co., Minho finds that most people find it unsettling when Collectors walk around with weapons. He hasn’t given much thought to what people think about him, but it certainly causes a lot less trouble when he looks like an average businessman going to and from work instead of a licensed killer.

The gun isn’t technically legal, either. He would probably get away with it if a United Enforcer stopped him. The hitmen of the privately funded but government-sanctioned Collect Co., do not technically outrank the government’s militia, but no one with a badge is going to tell a Collector no. Not if they can help it, anyway.

Tossing a beacon on the counter for the cleanup crew to track to the apartment and get rid of the body and clean, Minho heads outside into the rain. He ducks his head down against it, water sliding off the slicker jacket he hugs a little tighter. He feels warmth kick in and his mouth twitches at the sign of the heating system in the body armor on his chest is doing its job. A nifty little upgrade from you, he knows.

At the thought of you, Minho turns north toward the speed train, remembering that he needs an adjustment on his armor that is out of sync with his watch, and JumpPacks. He already used the last one about five hours ago and he feels the numbness of exhaustion buzzing at his edges, a warning sign that if he doesn’t get a jump or sleep he’s going to pass out.

Whichever comes first.

Smears of color splash across the wet sidewalk as he jogs down the steps to the train. It smells wet and foul, making him tuck his chin to his chest as he rushes to the fast-closing door of the train. He steps over the threshold just as the doors clang shut, the hissing of an airlock barely finishing before it launches forward.

He tenses to avoid being pitched forward into one of the standing railings. As the train rocks, the fluorescents above nearly blinding him, he finds a seat toward the back of an empty car. This late at night, there are only two other people in sight, both of them curled heaps of clothes on a seat, fast asleep.

Sleep tugs at him the moment Minho sits down. He has a twenty-minute ride to North Ward Three, dropping his head against the back of the seat and closing his eyes.

The light still hums behind his closed lids, making a splash of colors. There’s no sound save for the whine of the magnetic rail beneath his feet and the occasional mechanical creek as the vehicle sways.

He melts into the seat a little, limbs loose. Fuck he needs a JumpPack. The last forty-eight hours awake are wearing him thin at the edges, stretching him like fabric over a surface far too wide. The forty-eight-hour mark is when he starts to decline, and as soon as he starts to creep toward seventy, he knows it’ll get messy.

Minho is a lot of things, but he is ultimately human. The JumpPack can help him push beyond shaky hands, imagining things that aren’t there and the foggy thinking, but they won’t keep him sharp forever.

As if proving his point, Minho hangs somewhere between awake and asleep, suspended in a dreamy space where he can still feel the rocking of the train but doesn’t feel the ache in his limbs or the pressure growing behind his eyes.

He flinches when the chime echoes above him at the next stop, eyes flying wide for a moment as his gaze sweeps the train car, his hand on the inside of his jacket where he grips the handle of a very nice knife.

No one enters the car. It’s just him and the other two sleeping people - he isn’t sure they’re even alive, really - and he relaxes, cursing at himself. This time when he drifts, he does so with a little more awareness, hand tucked warm against his chest and wrapped firmly around the blade.

It’s a unique little knife, snug in the sheath that’s buckled to the leather harness under his jacket. The handle is firm and made from non-conductive material that fits his exact grip from the meticulous measurements you took of his hand. You crafted the blade from a metal alloy you’d been playing around with and lined it with a highly conductive silver alloy you’d perfected.

When the button on the end of the handle is pressed, 5,000 volts of lethal electricity pulses through the sliver, finishing off a victim if he manages to fuck up a killing blow. It’s saved his life a few times in situations like now when he’s exhausted and his guard is blurry, or when someone has decided to make him the target for robbery.

A lot of your little gadgets have saved his life. You like to remind him every time he visits you. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re an easy enough arms dealer - easier than anyone else in the city, really. You don’t ask the kind of questions that he doesn’t want to answer, and you’re always two steps ahead of him. Even your prices are fair, which he used to find suspicious.

But Changbin and Jisung both swear by your tech and your business, and Minho is just happy that he doesn’t have to worry about you trying to give him a shitty deal or fuck him over.

The Collection industry is made for fucking over. He knows the system can be fucked with, especially the closer to the top you get.

Almost everyone tries to fuck Minho over. More than once he’s shown up as a Collection Request. He doesn’t know if it’s the system trying to clean up after itself or someone pulling strings to get him out of their way. It’s probably both, but every time it happens, he’s managed to evade it.

A Reverse Collection, those in his industry call it. In a way, it’s sort of like a pop quiz. He gets attacked or shot at, and if he wins, he passes the test and reverses the Collection, earning him more time without any coworkers trying to murder him. The Delegators don’t seem to care which Collector murders the other, and he’s never suffered for coming out on top.

Any work is good work.

Minho snorts at the thought, feeling the deep twinge in his extremities as he rouses himself, the train coming to his stop.

Rain sluices the streets in North Ward Three. Here, the streets are busier with an assault of people, smells, and sounds. LED umbrellas float along like jellyfish as people walk from pleasure house to food stand to fight arena. The hologram advertisements and neon signs are louder here, inescapable.

“The United Republic stands for justice, equality, prosperity and freedom, bought by the noble sacrifice of the United Church. Join us today-” Minho presses the ad blocker on his watch.

Immediately the holograms vanish and there’s just the neon watercolor reflecting off the umbrellas as he walks down the stairs of Neon Rodeo, the orange lights making his eyes throb as he reaches the door manned by two guards.

They know him immediately but they scan the biochip in his neck anyway. When they’re pleased, they step aside and the door slides automatically, the base vibrating his ribcage as he steps into the dingy light, hesitating to let his eyes adjust.

True to the name, there is neon fucking everywhere. The servers are dressed in chaps with LED lights and glittering tassels, their cowboy hats flashing smiling faces on top of their head. The neon here is low-grade and covered in layers of dust, giving the air a dusky, burning sort of glow as he walks around tables.

Eyes follow him as he goes. The regulars are familiar with him, tipping their head in greeting though he doesn’t do more than watch them from the corner of his eyes. The servers all slow-smile at him, teeth too white and too glittering. He finds them more unsettling than attractive, and he quickens his step to the unmarked door at the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool.

Hyunjin is perhaps the most unsettling thing in the Neon Rodeo. His eyes are a strange grey, looking at Minho as he approaches. There is a predatory gaze in Hyunjin’s eyes that never fades, a sort of knowing in them that Minho can’t shake. Minho knows Hyunjin is entirely human, but every time he approaches the man, Minho is suddenly unsure.

Nightcrawler.

Minho has heard the whispers about Hyunjin. He believes them, too. Everything about Hyunjin is like a carefully balanced blade, ready to tip in either direction. His senses are honed to perfection and he has a habit of both blending in and standing out depending on his mood.

And he can kill. Minho has seen the lethal man in action a single time when someone tried to push past him into the Builder’s sanctuary. Hyunjin had been so fast that even Minho had a hard time keeping up, struck by how efficiently and quickly the former assassin moved.

Unnatural. Everything about him is uncanny, which is in line with everything Minho has heard about the underground sect of killers. What Minho does is legally sanctioned murder. The Nightcrawlers do something far more sinister, their skills going beyond the natural desire for order in the United Republic.

Agents of disorder and chaos. That’s what some say. Minho isn’t sure where his opinion lands on the spectrum, but he gives them a healthy distance and respect either way.

Even the way Hyunjin sits on the barstool is unnatural, one foot kicked up on the bar between his legs, the other stretched out in front of him as he leans forward, his hand on the front lip of the seat.

“Hello, Cowboy,” Hyunjin greets, voice deep and smooth.

His hair is blonde today, slicked back out of his face, the ends touching his shoulders. He’s dressed in a black button-up with a cow print pattern across the shoulders and white, beaded tassels outlining the pattern. His dark pants are tight and he makes no effort to hide the gun on his waist or the knife handle peeking out the top of his cowboy boot.

“I don’t like when you call me that.”

Hyunjin’s smile makes the hair on Minho’s arms stand on end. “I know, but I like it.”

The guard makes no move to let Minho in and he tries not to show he’s irritated. By the way the grin spreads on Hyunjin’s face, Minho can safely assume he isn’t doing a great job. “Is the Builder in or not?”

“Who is to say?”

“Just tell her I’m here.”

“If she’s in, she already knows.” Hyunjin nods toward an empty stool at the bar. “You can wait, Cowboy.”

Gritting his teeth, Minho turns on his heel to sit on the stool a few feet away. Hyunjin’s uncanny eyes follow him, never leaving him once. Minho ignores him in favor of asking for water at the bar, the headache pressing behind his eyes growing more intense with the loud music and the choking smell of cigars.

When the water comes back, it’s warm without ice. He glares at the bartender who has already moved on to paying customers. The water is tepid and a little sour, making him cringe. He’s pretty sure it came from the faucet, but he sips on it anyway, eying the grimy fingerprints on the glass.

A cowgirl slides up next to him, her pink vest pulled tight across her chest, showing sweat-slick skin. She smells like vanilla, the scent overpowering as she leans in, lacquered lips grinning.

“Don’t,” Minho grunts, sipping the water. “Not interested.”

“But you’re so pretty.”

A severe reprimand dies on his tongue as Hyunjin appears like a wraith, leaning in close to murmur, “Builder is ready for you, Cowboy.”

The cowgirl cowers away from the Nightcrawler, pressing up against the counter and fleeing as soon as he slinks away. If Hyunjin is offended, he doesn’t show it. He slips back onto the stool with that same eager lean, watching Minho through narrowed eyes as the Collector gets up and walks briskly to the now-open door.

Minho doesn’t turn around when the door shuts behind him, immediately cutting off all sound. The door leads to a step of steps, mirrored walls on either side with glowing orange light strips above them. He climbs the stairs as quickly as he can, his head swimming a little as he gets to the top.

The entire second floor is a massive, open-concept workshop. Tables covered with papers and instruments are placed in a chaotic maze, glowing screens with slow-spinning schematics and drawings giving the space a clinical, blue light. Workbenches with user interfaces hum along the corners of the room. Closed metal doors and offices stretch down a hall toward the pack, all under high-tech padlocks and surely protected with some sort of weapon system, if Minho had to guess.

Amid the organized chaos is you. The Builder.

Minho hates calling you that. He thinks it’s a little ridiculous of a title, but it suits you. There is nothing in this room you haven’t built and no weapon on his person that was not carefully crafted by you. He hesitates to watch you, standing at the edge of your luminescent domain as you lean over something, a small welding tool in your hand.

“Do you need a formal invitation, Cowboy?”

He doesn’t mind the name from you. He tells himself that it’s because, despite his predisposition to not liking people, he doesn’t dislike you. You’re easy to deal with, sort of like the weapons you make. You make his life functional and you’re to the point. He admires that, and he’s willing to take a little bit of prodding and joking from you as a trade-off.

Wordlessly, he floats toward you. You don’t look up to greet him, but you kick your foot out and hook the toe of your boot underneath the leg of a stool to pull it out for him to sit on. He can smell a hint of jasmine and amber wafting from where you sit, making him clench his jaw as he fights a shiver.

“I don’t have long,” he says, forgoing the seat. “Just need JumpPacks and wanted to drop off my armor. It’s having trouble connecting with the interface of the watch. I hit it pretty hard last night and I think I damaged the receiver.”

That gets your attention, drawing your sharp gaze up to him. But instead of dropping your eyes to his chest where the flexible armor stretches across his chest, you zero in on Minho’s face.

Your silence is uncomfortable, but he remains unmoving, willing himself to stay in place under your calculating gaze. You lean forward, eyes drinking him in, examining him the way you would a schematic for a weapon or a complicated piece of data.

Minho busies himself with looking at you in return. There’s a crease growing deeper in your brow and your pretty mouth - he doesn’t remember when he started thinking it was pretty - begins to dip, displeased at something you find in his face.

“When is the last time you slept?”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” You level a stare at him and he feels his mouth twitch. Minho thinks besides the occasional joke from Jisung - which he defines as Jisung accidentally hurting himself - you might be the only person who makes him want to smile. “Fifty-two hours, eighteen minutes and forty United Seconds.”

“No to the JumpPack,” you say finally. “Sleep.”

“I have another target in three hours, twenty-eight minutes and fifteen United Seconds.”

“Down the hall and second door on the right. Sleep for two hours. It won’t kill you.” He opens his mouth to protest you cut him off, “I’ll be done by the time you’re up. Take off your armor.”

His hands open and close. You’ve never declined a JumpPack before. You’ve definitely never offered sleep before. He stands buoyed by his confusion before he reluctantly sheds the jacket. It crinkles in the silence as he shucks it from his shoulder and neatly folds it, placing it on the stool you had intended for him to sit on.

Next, he sheds the holster, his gun, and a few knives clanking as he does. You seem amused by the amount of weapons he’s managed to shove in the leather straps and he shrugs a little at your arched brow.

Minho’s shirt is more armor than a shirt. It’s made from highly coveted synthetic material with hard but flexible geometric pieces stitched in that sync with his watch to turn on a light energy shield, pulse when there’s an energy weapon aimed at him, and generally keep anyone from being able to stab him. You’ve also added little things like warming sensors and anti-theft.

Delicately, Minho peels off the shirt. He marvels as it moves, surprised at the give and flex of the material every time. He hands it over and you snatch it, tossing it on your work counter as if it’s not the most expensive piece of technology he owns.

Immediately he’s covered in goosebumps. Your studio is bitter cold and you always wear sweaters and jackets with sleeves pulled over your hands. You’re dressed as such now, the too-long sleeves on your arms pooling over your hands as he stands there, trying not to shiver.

You pay no mind to his armor, instead standing up and twisting your mouth in a frown as your gaze skirts his chest and stomach. For a second he feels self-conscious, which he thinks is a little ridiculous as he glances down his chest. He realizes there is bruising blooming across him, spider webbing across to show when the armor unsynced and he took a few hard punches.

Minho holds his breath when you lift your hands, as though you’re going to brush the tips of your fingers over each wound. Your hands are smaller than his and far more delicate, nimble fingers reminding him of artists. His mother was an artist. Her slim hands and careful brushstrokes are one of the few things he remembers about her.

That, and that she chose to leave him.

Minho finds himself so hypnotized by your hands that your voice startles him when you say, “Three hours, twenty-seven minutes and five seconds, Cowboy.”

You drop your hands and step away. He nods and sheds his watch as well, handing it over. “Alright.”

With heavy footsteps, he follows the directions to the appointed room. He’s a little off balance, his hip catching the corner of a table as he goes. He curses loudly, hands shooting to his hip where pain blooms from the jab. Your laughter trills behind him and he scowls over his shoulder at you, but you’re unfolding his armored shirt.

Muttering under his breath, he goes to the hall to the second door on the right. He’s never been in the hall before, but there are several doors lining each side. He carefully tries the handle, glancing up at the ceiling where a camera stares at him.

The handle gives under his hand easily and he swings the door open to what looks like a very small and well-kept medical room. He raises his brows as he steps in and closes the door behind him. There’s no lock on the door, his finger brushing across the handle to find one. He thinks about grabbing the chair tucked into the desk and sticking it under the handle, but the thought evaporates as quickly as it forms.

He’s not in danger here.

Slowly, he trods to the cot. It’s a standard size with a thin mattress and scratchy blankets. Carefully, he sits down and immediately his body sighs. Minho’s eyelids flutter as he sags for a second, shoulders rolling inward as he curves in on himself, exhaustion pressing in.

He needs to take off his boots, but his arms feel heavy. He promises himself that he’ll do it in five more minutes before he gives up and lays down on his side, kicking his feet up boots and all onto the cot. The room is cool so he reaches for the blankets, uncaring that they scrape against his bumps and bruises.

The last fifty-some-odd hours begin to press in on Minho, a physical force that squeezes everything out of him until he’s fading fast into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

A gentle knock pulls Minho from a heavy sleep. He feels the dregs of it like a weighted shadow he can’t shake off, groaning and blinking at the ceiling a few times. His limbs feel heavier than ever and his neck cracks as he rolls it to the side to look at the room he’s in.

He suddenly remembers where he is, flinching a little as he sits up, movements jerky with nervousness. The room is still dark and cool, the itchy blanket falling to the floor as he sits and stares toward the door where there’s another knock.

“Come in,” he rasps, voice deep and rough with sleep.

A crack of light appears in the doorway as you slip in. You’ve got your arms full of stuff, using your elbow to smack the touchpad near the door. Dark orange light fills the room, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt his vision but bright enough to see that the stuff you’ve brought in is food and several bottles of water and some sort of blue liquid.

Minho eyes all of it warily, straightening as you stand in front of him, holding it out. He doesn’t move to take it and your mouth presses in a flat, firm line. “I know Collectors don’t have to be smart, but I do assume you know how to utilize the main food groups of the pyramid.”

He can smell the jasmine and amber again, soothing. “Why did you bring me food?”

“Because you look like shit, Cowboy. Don’t go losing your mind over a small gesture of goodwill.”

Chagrined, he snatches the items from your hand. He immediately realizes that there are energy bars, protein bars, and packs of gel that will replenish immediate levels of hormones and vitamins. He eyes you curiously as he sets the pile on the bed next to him, ripping a foil back open with his teeth.

You cross the room to lean against the medical table in the corner, crossing your arms over your chest. When he doesn’t eat right away, you raise your brows, waiting. He pops the end of a gel back in his mouth and squeezes, immediately tasting blueberry and lemonade. It’s not half bad, making him hum in fascination.

That gets a grin from you, his mouth twitching at the corner again as he works the gel in his mouth to break it apart.

“Fixed your armor. How hard did you knock the watch?” His guilty expression tells all and you scowl. “It’s made with durast carbonate. It’s pretty shockproof.”

“Didn’t mean to. Some guy’s goons jumped me when I was calling in the Collection. It um… took a bullet.”

“How did they get the jump on you, hmm?” He stares. “Were you tired?”

Instead of answering, he tosses the empty gel back on the bed and picks up a protein bar. He looks at it, squinting his eyes in the dim light. It’s peanut butter flavored, which he enjoys. He rips it open with his teeth and tears into it, realizing just how hungry he is.

Minho has no idea when his last meal was. He thinks you know his line of thinking, but you don’t say anything more. You’ve already gotten your barbs in and you don’t intend to poke until he’s truly annoyed or embarrassed, which he appreciates.

Without another word, you push off the desk and head to the door, slipping back through to leave him alone while he chews absently.

Alone, Minho realizes the importance of accepting food from you without second-guessing it. He slows his chewing, contemplating about that.

Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. Your tech has never failed him, you’ve always been reliable for a fast turnaround time or understanding of what he’s asking for, and you’ve never sold information about him.

Ever. He had tried to buy information from you on himself through multiple channels and pseudonyms just to see if you would, but he’d been met with steely silence each time.

He eats with a little more enthusiasm as he realizes he does trust you. You’re as steadfast as the guns you build, and there is a confidence in that that he can at least resonate with.

Examining the contents of the blue liquid, he realizes it’s electrolytes and mineral compounds. As he takes long gulps, he realizes he feels infinitely better already, senses sharp, aches a little less terrible, and his headache is gone entirely. He’s not at a hundred percent, but he’s a hell of a lot better than if he had waited around for his next Collection.

When he finishes, he crumbles the trash together and tosses it into the incinerator. He hears the fire hiss as it destroys the waste and sends the fumes somewhere to be turned into energy.

In the main part of your lab, Minho spots you. He hesitates in the hall for a moment, watching you play with his watch. Movement in the corner of the room makes him tense up, hand going to the knife in his boot. He realizes it’s just Jeongin sliding across the room on a rolling chair, pushing away from his computer to examine what you’re doing.

Minho only relaxes marginally. He’s still getting used to seeing your apprentice in your workspace, and though the youth is excitable and intelligent, Minho refuses to let Jeongin near any of his builds. The trust he’s established with you over the last three years does not extend to apprentices he’s only known for a few months, no matter how much you trust them.

You trust the Nightcrawler too, and Minho cannot fathom why.

As though sensing you on the edge of the room, you turn and look at him over your shoulder. The corner of your mouth lifts up and you beckon him eagerly before hunching over whatever you’re working on again. He strolls over, crossing his arms over his chest to lean against your worktable on the other side of you, eyeing Jeongin on your other side.

“Hello, Collector. How are you today?” Jeongin asks politely, giving Minho a smile that touches his eyes.

Minho says nothing. You elbow him sharply in the ribs and he coughs, clutching his stomach as he mumbles, “Fine, you?”

“Doing great, thanks! This piece of tech is a marvel.”

“My watch?”

It is his watch. A green light flashes on the underside of the face, the bio scanner that connects with the one with his neck to monitor his nervous system. You push the watch toward him and he carefully picks it up, brushing his thumb across the cool, glass screen.

An interface lights up again. He can’t figure out what’s so special until you gesture for him to put it on. It fits nicely, the perfect size. As he slides it into place and looks at the watch face, a diagram of thin body armor comes up, spinning. Except it looks different than the diagram that he’s used to, giving you a questioning look. You point to the corner of the room at a mannequin.

He walks over to it, cocking his head to the side as he stops in front of it. It’s far different from the armored shirt he wears. The contraption is equal parts ribcage and the thorax of a spider. The material looks like leather but feels hard to the touch like metal.

Skirting his fingers to the hem, he bends the bottom of the shirt, watching as it flexes easily. It makes no sense to him how something could be so hard and flex immediately. If he were to guess, whatever the cloth is made from is a newer technology than he has access to. Perhaps more bio-engineered spider web.

Minho’s fingers skirt inside of it, brushing across a strange, prickling fabric. It doesn’t hurt, but he brushes his fingers back and forth, rubbing the material between his fingers. It’s abrasive, but he can’t imagine what it is.

Blue flashes on the diagram on the watch. He pauses and presses his fingers to the needle-thin fabric. The watch flashes again and lines of color light up on the diagram, showing his nervous system in different, complex colors. He raises his brows. It’s far more sophisticated than what he came in with.

“The needles,” he calls, not taking his eyes off the contraption. “Do they connect with me?”

“Yes. When you put it on, it syncs with your biochemistry.” You get up and walk toward him. “You won’t even feel them. They’re the smallest on the market right now, and incredibly accurate. They use them in military armor to report back live health reports and status during enfighting. They’re more accurate than the sensors lined in your last one.”

“What’s the point, though?”

You reach out and tap the watch. He watches curiously as a series of icons pop up, each a different color. “Inside of this,” you instruct, tapping the hard shell, “Is a series of chemical compounds. When you have on the armor underneath your shirt, you can tap to inject what you need. The needles don’t push deep, but they’re high-grade enough to break the barrier needed to disperse the compounds.”

Minho looks up at you, silent. You don’t notice his trepidation, carrying on as you go into salesperson mode, explaining everything. “Blue is elektrolytes,” you instruct, pointing to it. “Green is a chemical compound of cortisol and adrenaline. Yellow is endorphins and an incredibly high-dose painkiller.”

“And purple?”

“Jump,” you deadpan. “But a compounded version Jeongin and I have worked on that lasts longer with less damaging effect. You should be able to sleep easier after using it. And you won’t need several JumpPacks a day to keep going. I can give you refills too, since it’s non-addictive.”

Minho stares. “What?”

“What part didn’t you get?”

“This is for me?” You scowl but he immediately notices the way you divert your eyes. You glance up at the ceiling, shifting from foot to food. “This is worth a million United Credits at least. I can’t afford it.”

“Do you see a price tag?”

“You can’t give me this for free.”

“Of course I can. It’s just a prototype, so if it accidentally malfunctions and sends all injection options to your body at once and kills you, well…” You shrug. “At least you didn’t pay me. Consider yourself a test subject. I’ve never integrated the needle network into armor before. I don’t have the builds the military uses, just intel. I had to do it from scratch, so it might not work. Your current armor doesn’t protect you from plasma. This does.”

Minho doesn’t buy your bullshit for two seconds. He knows you wouldn’t give him this if it would risk killing him. For all your jesting and affectation, Minho has learned how to read you pretty well, and the way you blow him off and scoff tells him everything he needs to know.

It is a favor and a gift, and a new sort of olive branch that he is unsure how to accept or take from you. Taking this gift worth more than his entire salary complicates things.

Did you make this specifically for him? He’s not sure. But the fact that he wants the answer to be yes is worse than anything else he can think of.

Minho has peers. You’re a peer. Always have been. Anything else would complicate the simplicity of the relationship, and Minho immediately steps back and removes the watch. You watch him with razor-sharp intelligence, drinking him in as he holds out the watch to you.

“The one I have is sufficient enough, Builder.”

You snatch the watch from him, pivoting on your heel and walking with a ramrod-straight spine back to the table. For a second he thinks you’re going to kick him out but then you take a breath and melt into a smile, though a little sharp at the edges and not reaching your eyes.

“Fixed the connection. I also reinforced it again. Give me a moment to sync to your old armor.”

Old armor. As if the new one is still his. His stomach flips and he grimaces.

The affectation in your voice makes Minho uncomfortable. He doesn’t move, watching you tap viciously against the screen on your work desk. Jeongin spins a pen in his hand, glancing between the two of you nervously. When he notices Minho glaring at him, he grins awkwardly and pushes his chair behind one of the clear screens, his face distorted by blue lettering and diagram.

Wordlessly, you hand him the watch and turn away when he takes it. You say nothing else, moving on to a different project as Minho delicately picks up the shirt. He slides it over, feeling the warmth seep into his cool skin. He meticulously pulls the hardness with weapons on, followed by his jacket.

Fully dressed, he waits for you to say something. He doesn’t know what he expects - or wants - you to say. But he pauses anyway, eyes on your bent shape. His gaze flits to your hands, delicate fingers typing wildly, tense as you wait for him to leave.

It feels like a stone has sunk to the bottom of Minho’s stomach. He doesn’t move for a few minutes, torn between walking out and preparing for his next Collection and staying to… what? He doesn’t know. He has no idea what to say or do, but he feels the palpable shift in your mood.

So Minho chooses the easiest option. He nods to himself and heads toward the exit. You don’t spare him a second glance but he certainly looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw is clenched and you tap with a ferocity that thinks might shatter your desktop interface.

As soon as the door opens, Minho is drowning in thumping base and synth again. Hyunjin leans on the stool, this time with his back against the wall and his glittering eyes focused on Minho. Though the former Nightcrawler wasn’t in the room, Minho has a sneaking suspicion that Hyunjin knows everything that happens in the Builder’s workshop.

Hyunjin’s smirk is all-knowing and Minho storms by him, hating him for it.

Rain no longer falls from a dark sky. Opaque, charcoal skies stretch above him, lines of moving air traffic creating layers of latticework. Looking at the watch - which shows his normal armor once more - tells him it's in the early morning hours now.

The streets are not as busy as the night before. There are still glaring advertisements and he spots a group of cloaked United Church members walking around to accept alms and recruit, but the energy is muted outside of the clubs and pleasure houses.

Morning commuters fill the speed train tunnels. United Travel Agents lurk in the crowd, watchful eyes on anyone causing trouble or trying to double up on the scanners as travelers pass through, machines charging their United Credits as they go.

Minho falls into the dull buzz of morning travel. Glancing at his watch, he knows he has enough time to go home and change. He likes to receive his calls while he’s at home anyway. He tries not to replay the last conversation between the two of you. The offer you’d made him. The meaning behind it, whatever it may be.

It’s nearly impossible, but he manages. Especially once he gets into his apartment, sinking into the routine of showering, changing, and sliding back into his clothes like a second skin. As soon as he reties his boots, his watch begins to ring.

“Receiving,” he answers, straightening up.

“Collection echo-tango-foxtrot-bravo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”

“Collection accepted.”

The line goes dead. Minho slides his weapons into their holsters, then pulls on his rain jacket. It always rains in the city, like God is weeping for what he has become.

Any work is good work.

Minho leaves the apartment to take another life.

The water runs red in Minho’s shower. He stares it for a while, hot water rushing down his neck, shoulders and back in rivulets. It turns pink the longer he stares, the wound on his leg bleeding less and less.

The irony is not lost on him that if he had accepted your gift, he might not have taken a gnarly hunting knife to the thigh. He was lucky that it was an energy weapon, the blade cauterizing the wound immediately. He’d had to pick the wound back open to flush out the dead, burned skin and pour burning antiseptic on it.

Shifting, Minho examines the wound. Pain blooms in his thigh as he turns, making him suck in a sharp hiss. The wound is to the bone. He knows he’s lucky it was not a well-made weapon, the ion pulse too weak to sever his limb. Still, it’s a deep wound and it would surely fuck him up if he didn’t have the next twenty-four hours to himself.

If the knife had been one of yours…

A pulse of frustration echoes through him. He presses his closed fist to the old tile of the shower wall, feeling the dissonance between the scalding water and cool tile steady him. His knuckles are sore from the last Collection - which had gone wrong in every way possible - and he’s brutally aware of just how much everything hurts.

Yet the ache isn’t what bothers him. His Collection target getting the jump on him from inside intel isn’t what bothers him. Minho has had that happen enough times that he no longer feels surprised when a Collection knows he’s coming.

What fucking bothers him is the ripple effect of his rejection of your offer made.

Minho shuts off the water and steps out the water carefully. He can barely put weight on the leg, gritting his teeth as he grabs a towel and hobbles out of the bathroom, the steam billowing out into the tiny apartment and dissipating.

Blue neon lights from the shop across the way burn in his window. He hardly needs to turn the lights on in his own home to see in the dark, the ever-present glow of blue guiding the way.

Carefully, he sits on his bed. Another pulse of pain from the wound makes him shiver and take several deep, steadying breaths. He peels back the towel at the waist, revealing a single, thick thigh with a horrible cut right in the meat of it.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Walking around has made it bleed again, scarlet trickling toward the towel.

Trying not to disturb the wound, he reaches for the medical kit under the bed. The metal is cool to the touch as he flips the latches, rummaging around the bandages, antiseptics, and gels until he finds what he’s looking for.

Minho takes the single, long syringe and uncaps it with his teeth, spitting the cap on the floor somewhere. He flicks his hand a few times, holding it up to make sure there are no bubbles in the vial. Holding his wound carefully with one hand and with the syringe in the other, he inserts the needle deep into the flesh, the sting minor compared to the throbbing ache the cut itself emanates.

The compound burns as he injects himself. He clenches his teeth, pushing down on the plunger with steady pressure. He can already feel the numbness spreading in his leg as the local anesthesia takes root. He knows he’ll be itching when it wears off, the tiny nanobots working to stitch the muscle and tissue back together already making his skin crawl.

DeepStitch is an expensive thing to have. He pulls the syringe out carefully, glancing at the medical kit. It only came with one, meaning he was going to have to replace the vile. Medical compounds made for healing abnormal wounds cost a fortune, especially the type with micro-technology to assist the process.

Tossing out the empty syringe, Mingo lays on his bed, uncaring if he’s damp and in a towel. The numbness in his thigh spreads, making him shiver. He tries not to think about the fact that there are thousands of microscopic bots working on internally stitching his muscles an tendons as quickly as they can before the blood in his body deteriorates them.

The medical advancement of this world is beyond Minho, but he’s grateful for it as he drifts in a half-sleep. He finds it harder to sleep after using JumpPacks, his body unable to adjust from the constant state of false energy and adrenaline.

It makes him think about your stupid fucking offer again. A piece of armor that could sync with him and balance his hormones and chemical compounds at the tap of a wrist. Something that high caliber for a low-level contract killer was beyond him.

There was crazy, and then there was that.

Minho wonders if you’ve been charging him fairly, suddenly. He’s always thought the weapons and tech you provide him with were good prices. They were well-made but always within his budget, albeit he stopped looking at what you were billing him a long time ago. Now that he knows you’re willing to offer something that he’d only find on a United Praetor in the military, he wonders if you’ve been cutting him deals.

He’s never asked the others. Changbin and Jisung seem friendly with you, enough to make Minho wary about asking them questions. Though they’re the closest things that Minho has to friends, he doesn’t trust them whenever it comes to you.

Jisung already thinks it’s sweet that Minho is nice to you, and he hates that. Even if it’s true.

Time fades away as Minho circles his conversation with you over and over again. He examines every moment of it. When he can surmise nothing else of the interaction but you offering an olive branch of friendship, something a step beyond peers, he goes back to all of his other interactions.

He remembers almost every one of them.

Minho’s memory is fine-tuned. It has to be in his line of work. But the memories of you are particularly sharp. He’s able to recall the way you always poke fun at him to the exact line of his tolerance, the way you always know how to get in a good jibe without actually pissing him off. The way that you let Jisung and Changbin have it in front of him for his benefit, especially after they’ve irritated him, like you’re giving him a gift or saying I’m on your team.

Thoughts of you ultimately lead to other things like the way your eyes reflect the blue light of your many screens. Or the way you always smell like jasmine and amber. The way you pull your sleeves over your hands in sweater paws because it’s bitter cold in your studio to avoid explosions and corrosion of items. The way the nickname Cowboy runs so smooth off your tongue, making his toes curl.

Minho’s fingers twitch when he thinks about brushing the backs of his knuckles against your soft skin. He’s thought about it before and immediately cringed at the fantasy. Now, between exhaustion clinging to him and the numb limb, he doesn’t jerk away at the idea.

He finally falls asleep thinking of you and what it would be like to accept that olive branch.

The ringing of Minho’s watch wrenches him from sleep. He sits up straight in bed, gasping and hand shooting toward the nightstand where there’s a draw with one of his guns. He realizes that his wrist is vibrating and when he looks at the screen, he sighs with equal parts tension and regret as he realizes it’s work calling.

Fuck. He slept for almost twenty hours straight.

Clearing his throat, he answers. “Receiving.”

“Collection romeo-echo-alpha-delta-echo-romeo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”

Information flashes on Minho’s watch and he feels the world disappear from underneath his feet. Your name, age, permanent place of residency address, and anything the government has both legally and illegally obtained flashes before him. He’s never even seen your full name before and there it is, glowing on his watch as he stares at the information.

It feels obscene to know any of this. He flicks his wrist, turning off the display. He doesn’t want to see any of it, doesn’t want to see when you were born, doesn’t want to see what ward you pay taxes in, doesn’t want to know your criminal history.

Minho’s ears are ringing. The Delegator does not confirm that Minho has heard or received the assigned target for Collection. Minho stares at the wall, his vision blurring at the edges as the name - your name - echoes in his mind over and over again. He hears it at the same rhythm as his pounding heart, pumping blood through his system as his watch flashes a high heart rate warning.

Your name. Your full government name and ID number. He’s only ever known your first name, but you’ve always been Builder to him anyway. Minho can’t remember if he’s ever said your name, and suddenly he wants to. He wants to know what it sounds like shaped by his mouth, what it tastes like on his tongue. Wants to say it so many different ways, laughing, smirking, sighing–

Three years and he can’t believe he’s never so much as said your name, and now that very name is on his list to kill.

Indecision roots his feet to the spot. This isn’t like a Reverse Collection where other hitmen try to kill him and he can get away with killing them instead, clearing his name for a little longer. This is a direct and finite order to eliminate you. There is no alternative to this Collection.

Irreversible.

Running his hands through his hair, he looks around his apartment. It looks unlived-in and completely impersonal. Just like the impersonal way he calls you Builder, as though not using your fucking name makes it more sterile. As if it keeps you further away from earning his trust.

Which you have earned. Implicitly. Minho can think of no one else he would let take care of him. That he would sleep or eat in the presence of. That he trusts not to kill him in his sleep while he’s unarmed.

Now he’s supposed to murder you?

Bile turns in his stomach. He hears the ticking of the clock on the wall. Every second inches closer to the decision he has to make.

Will he or won’t he?

Minho grabs his gun from the nightstand and walks toward the door.

He’s only a few steps toward it when he realizes he’s not dressed or prepared for whatever he is about to do - what is he about to do? He has no idea. All he knows is that he is dazed and his hands are starting to shake and his heart rate is climbing, his watch flashing a warning.

The room begins to tilt as his breathing comes out in haggard breaths. He stumbles a little bit, the blood pumping through him roaring in his ears. He belatedly realizes he’s having a panic attack, blindly trying to get back to his bed where he can sit.

What does one do during a panic attack? He has no idea, he’s never had one. He thinks of the last time he saw someone panic and immediately bends over to put his head between his knees, gulping air through his nose and out through his mouth.

What was it that Jisung said about panic?

It’s hard to remember. He thinks maybe there was counting involved, so he breathes in for seven seconds and then out for seven seconds. Does it again. And again.

Slowly, the world swims back into focus. He can feel the twinge in his thigh as he comes down from the momentary lapse of panic and judgment. When he trusts that he’s not going to vomit on his bare feet, he slowly sits upright, looking around the neon-blue room.

Quiet blankets the apartment. The world outside is faint. He can hear the clock on the wall as the minute hand moves, each marking the passing of a United Second. With a deep breath, he moves.

There are no thoughts as he goes. His mind is a single list of action items, marketing them off as he goes. Get dressed. Check his weapons. Arm himself to the teeth with things you’ve made him. Message Jisung a cryptic, one-word text that only the other Collector will understand. Arm a bomb. Leave.

It’s clinical.

Minho had always understood with absolute clarity the reality of his line of work. He’s always had a failsafe - or a killswitch, so to speak. From the first day of work, Minho’s only purpose was to kill until he died. He was always meant to die. And he tells himself that the single, little safe space he has in the world he started saving for… well. If you ever needed it.

Any work is good work.

Clouds hold in their rain. The night feels ominous. Minho glances up at the choked clouds, wondering what they’re up to. The Ministry of Weather controls the atmosphere in some parts of the city. Minho does not travel in those parts of the city - those assassinations are beyond the abilities of a Collector and reserved for Nightcrawlers.

Paranoia is imminent, but Minho tries not to look over his shoulder every five seconds. The mysterious nature of Collect Co. is still something he doesn’t understand, so it’s difficult to unravel the nature of his assignment. Without a doubt, whoever placed Minho as the Collector knows you supply his weapons.

That simple fact branches out into multiple possibilities. Perhaps the person who wants you gone simply thinks Minho is the best person for the job because he’s in your tentative circle of trust and a familiar enough face to slip through you’re defenses. Or perhaps the problem is him and they know he won’t complete the Collection, earning a job termination and his name showing up on the Collection list.

Either way, it’s on purpose. Of that, he knows for sure.

From his years working for Collect Co., there are only a few things that Minho is sure about. Delegators do exactly what their title suggests - they delegate kills. Callers are a tier above Delegators, calling the shots working the network of requests that come in for contracted kills. Legals do all of the paperwork and research before agreeing to a contract, and at the very top of the chain is the Floorman.

Beyond that, Minho has no concept of the hierarchy or who is hiring Collect Co. for jobs. There are obvious manipulations to the system and it’s impossible to work objectively within a private company that works with but not for the government, and Minho has little doubt that the financial benefactors are who really control assignments.

Which leads him back to the root of the question: why you? Is Minho the problem, or do you have enemies so large that they hold sway in Collect Co. He doesn’t consider that your deeds are nefarious enough to warrant a hit. What you do is illegal but you sell to the military, too.

So it begs the question: is it you or him who they really want gone?

Maybe it’s even a combination.

Still, he attempts not to seem paranoid. It’s easier than it should be, Minho’s mind so singularly focused on getting to you as he takes the train and traves to North Ward Three that he doesn’t have time to look around every corner or see if he’s being followed. There are other ways of keeping tabs on him, anyway.

The rain still holds as Minho gets off the speed train and ducks into the street. He keeps to the sides, activating his ad blocker as he’s immediately slammed by a screaming neon world. His gaze and gait must be sharper than he realizes, because people veer away from him, his energy repelling them.

From the corner of his eye, he notes Watchers - people responsible for keeping an eye on what’s going on in the street for their employer - take note of him. Some melt into the doorway of their workplace, and others call for runners.

Trouble. Minho looks like trouble and he can sense the shift as they catch wind of him.

The Watchers are no threat to him. Their entire purpose is to close the doors and pull back when they catch a sense of danger in the air. They’ll stay out of his way and won’t engage with him unless he threatens their clubs and shops.

Minho has little intention of doing that. He wants to make this as painless as possible.

Neon Rodeo burns like a dying sun. The orange falls over him as he jogs down the steps and lets the guards scan him. If they notice anything is off, they say and do nothing. Neon Rodeo is perhaps the only business without a Watcher, and it’s only because no one would dare interrupt the business with the Nightcrawler inside.

Synth rattles Minho from the ground up as he steps inside. The cowboy hats and their little smiling faces float like phantoms in the night. He only has a singular goal and he looks at no one else as he heads towards the back, sidestepping sweaty bodies and perfumed hair.

It’s full tonight, the weekend crowd packing the bar from corner to corner. It’s no matter. He cuts his way to the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool. Today, Hyunjin’s hair is blood red and his eyes are sharp, unnatural green. For a moment, Minho thinks of a chameleon before Hyunjin kicks a leg out and blocks the hall leading to the door.

“Your patronage has been terminated, Cowboy.”

Minho’s heart flips. Are you that angry with him? He drinks in Hyunjin’s dress and slowly his anxiety turns to understanding. Hyunjin is dressed in all black today. His shirt is armored and in place of pants with tassels are tactical trousers with pockets and weapons strapped to his thighs.

An assessment of the Nightcrawler tells Minho that there are weapons he doesn’t see. There’s a plasma pistol on his hip, a bandolier of small knives strapped across his chest, knives in his boot, and another plasma pistol on this calf.

Hyunjin’s fingers drum against his thigh as he watches Minho with those unsettling eyes. “Want to try, Cowboy?”

“I need to speak with her.”

“No.”

“I’m not-” Minho grits his teeth. “I’m not Collecting.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

Hyunjin knows. He doesn’t know how the Nightcrawler knows you’re a Collection on Minho’s list, but it’s clear in the way Hyunjin leers.

“Look, you can go in with me. Let me get her to safety.”

“And what do you think safety is, Cowboy? Even if you’re not lying, they’ll come after you too.”

“Listne, Nightcrawler-”

Hyunjin grins. It’s unnerving, and there isn’t much that unnerves Minho. “No, you listen. I tolerate you because I am ordered to. Now, I don’t have to. My only orders were to say no and to not harm you.” He leans back and spreads his hands and shrugs. The neon lights catch his blood red hair. “I’m always within my right to make a judgment call.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“You’re not friends, last I checked.” Hyunjin cocks his head to the side. “You don’t have friends, right? That’s why you reject acts of faith?”

“What do you know of acts of faith, Nightcrawler?”

“You’d be surprised, Collector.”

Hyunjin is unmoving. Minho’s fingers twitch and Hyunjin’s eyes follow the movement. For a second, Minho wonders if he could beat his adversary to the draw. They could do it like an old fashioned movie, the bar the perfect setting for it. Hyunjin is totally unmoving and relaxed, not moving his hand toward his weapons.

He’s that confident in beating me.

United Seconds are ticking by. Every minute Minho doesn’t make his collection is time lost. He licks his lips ready to mount another argument when Hyunjin’s eyes flicker and look over Minho’s shoulders. His eyes narrow a fraction as they dart back to Minho.

“Here’s an act of faith. Let’s see what you do this time.”

The energy in the bar shifts. He feels the tremor go through the air and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Minho turns his head to the side, not enough to fully look back over his shoulder but enough to see the group of Collectors disperse in the crowd.

Both, Minho realizes. The Collection had been for them both, and it was a good excuse to get them in the same place. He grits his teeth as he realizes how predictable he is. They might have come even if he didn’t arrive, but they might have sent a smaller force.

Glancing at Hyunjin, Minho watches as the Nightcrawler does nothing. He waits for Minho, raising his brows and smirking.

Act of faith.

Normally, Minho doesn't believe in public acts of violence. Collectors are mostly prohibited from killing in public or endangering the lives of United Republic Citizens unless entirely unavoidable.

Now, though, he causes a scene and pulls his gun, swiveling around and leveling it at the nearest Collector he has a clean line of sight on. He feels the hum of the weapon and the click of the safety as he squeezes the trigger, the pulse of the weapon barely perceptible as it fires.

Plasma weapons are bright when they fire. It’s nearly blinding in the dark as he shoots, screams shattering the bar as the world turns into pops of energy and sizzling air. He ducks down as someone shoots at him, instincts kicking in as he grabs the leg of a table and yanks it toward him.

Behind him, Hyunjin lets out a manic laugh and stands from the stool. He drops a small device next to Minho, drawing his attention for a second. Minho watches as it expands with a shimmer of translucent energy - a shield. He looks at the Nightcrawler who crouches with him, grinning as he peers over the table and shields with his green eyes.

“There are eight. They’re just going to pin us here and shoot at us like fish in a barrel.”

“Is there a way through that door?”

“Sure there is. If they want to melt it down, I’m sure they have plasma blades, judging from the look of their very nice weapons. They can’t blow it without leveling the street.”

“Does she have a way out the back?”

“No, then I would have two doors to watch.”

A spray of metal and plasma ricochets off the shield that has molded to the shape of the table. Hyunjin gestures as if to showcase his point and Minho grits his teeth. Peeking around the table, he can see patrons hiding under tables and covering their heads. Collectors stand spread out, fanning the entrance and blocking the way, but they don’t come any closer.

They want to make the Collection, but they don’t want to face a Collector and a Nightcrawler together.

“Aren’t you some sort of unmatched assassin, Nightcrawler?” Minho asks, checking the mag on his plasma gun. “Can you just take them all out? That should be light work for you.”

“I’m good at not being seen, Cowboy. I’m not inhuman.”

“Oh good, so you’re actually useless when visible?”

Hyunjin’s face darkens. “You’d be surprised how often you don’t see me.”

The threat isn’t lost on Minho but it doesn’t have time to sink into its full effect as bullets rain down on them. They cringe together to ensure they’re behind the shield, which whines under the plasma assault and flickers. Minho thinks it will hold, but it’s only as wide as the table it molds to and the table isn’t very large.

Hyunjin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a grenade. Minho grabs it, looking at him with wild eyes. Hyunjin pulls his hand away. “It’s a flash grenade,” he snaps. “I’m not going to kill everyone.” He pauses and smirks. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“That’s hardly less settling.”

“You know,” Hyunjin muses, pulling the ring from the grenad. Green light pulses on it slowly, counting down until it starts to release blinding white flashes. “One day you and I are going to have a talk about why you think your profession is so much different than mine.”

“One is legal, for starters.”

Hyunjin lobs the grenade. “Right, so what you’re doing right now? This is legal?”

Minho is spared from having to answer as the world explodes in white. He and Hyunjin move at the same time, letting the memory of where the Collectors stand as they close their eyes and shoot. Minho’s shot blind thousands of times and it usually pays off.

It does for the most part now, the pair of them dropping Collectors as they shoot. The white light fades and there’s only a single Collector left standing by the door, his gun aimed at Minho. He swivels to shoot, but a bullet hits the Collector in the shoulder, twisting him backward from impact as he squeezes the trigger of his gun.

The shot catches Minho in the shoulder, knocking him back a step. He curses but keeps his weapon trained on the fallen Collector until he hears high-pitched screaming. It stops his heart, the sound of the Collector’s voice reaching a level of madness that echoes even after he gargles and goes silent.

Minho looks at Hyunjin with an accusatory glare but Hyunjin juts his thumb behind him in answer, pointing to where you stand at the door with a heavy pistol in your and. Minho blinks a few times in surprise.

“I think the nano-tips work, Jeongin.” You glance over your shoulder where the younger boy stands on the stairs behind you, armed to the teeth. “Remind me to write that down.”

Silence stretches in Neon Rodeo, save the soft quivering crying and sparking sign that’s been shot over the bar. From the corner of his eye, Minho sees it flash between Rodeo and Odeo over and over again, bouncing between the two words as the ‘R’ tries to fight for its life.

Then there’s you.

You stare at him with a guarded expression, drinking him in. Your gaze lingers on his arm, reminding him that it does in fact burn where the plasma bullet graze his shoulder. Next to him, Hyunjin shifts. The Nightcrawler barely moves forward, sliding part of his body between Minho and where you stand in the doorway to your studio, Hyunjin’s hand resting on top of his gun.

“You gonna kill me, Cowboy?” Your voice wavers when you ask. By the twitch in your lip, Minho can tell you’re upset that it does.

“No. I want to help.” Hyunjin snorts and Minho is reminded of his earlier question. What do you think safety is? “Consider it an act of faith,” Minho offers and Hyunjin’s snickering turns to curiosity. “I’ve rejected yours in the past. Let me off you the only one I have.”

No one moves. Minho slowly lifts his wrist toward Hyunjin, displaying the information. The Nightcrawler looks it over and raises his brows, looking back at Minho. “What strange turn of events, Minho.”

It’s the first time Hyunjin has ever used his name. He says nothing as the Nightcrawler heads over to you, murmuring quietly. Your face is inscrutable as you nod and look over your shoulder, saying something to Jeongin. He nods fiercely, face set in determination that makes Minho’s mouth twitch a little.

The three of them join Minho wordlessly as he turns on his heels and heads up the stares. Hyunjin’s watch flashes and lets them know that the United Enforcers are three minutes out and they need to get where they’re going.

You take the lead then, hurrying out the door but not out into the street, ducking into a noodle shop three doors down from Neon Rodeo. You shout in United New Mandarin at the woman behind the counter, shocking him - not that Minho knows anything about you at all - and the woman waves you off.

Through the shop and into the stock room you lead everyone, hoping over bags of flower and starch until you reach a table that you climb up on and pull a vent from a ceiling. It’s far too large to be a normal vent, and his questions are answered when he realizes it leads to a small garage that faces the next street over.

Once into the garage, Hyunjin takes the lead out into the street, weapon up. Minho brings up the rear, falling into a defensive unit as you go. Jeongin walks closely behind Hyunjin, his steps a little clumsy but his head on a swivel.

Good, Minho thinks. Jeongin is alert.

“Decided not to kill me?” you whisper as you skirt out into the street and hug the building face.

Minho can barely hear you over the fabric you’ve pulled up over your face. He blinks and thinks to do the same, pulling the hood up on his jacket and sliding up a black gaitor over the lower half of his face.

“I was never going to kill you.”

“Hard to tell with you.”

“I… don’t have an argument.”

And he doesn’t. He realizes that he’s kept you at arm's length despite your best attempts to spark some sort of friendship. What reason could he do that other than sparing himself if he had to kill you one day? It makes the most logical sense.

“I thought we were friends.” That makes him pause. You notice a few steps ahead of him that he’s stopped, looking at you. “We stopped being just business acquaintances over a year ago, Collector. My normal clients don’t get to test my new hardware or request as many JumpPacks as you do on the house.”

“They’re on the house?”

“Of course they are!” you snap at him. “Do you not look at your billing, Collector? How do you know I’m not overcharging you?”

“I stopped looking once I trusted you weren’t robbing me.”

“See, that’s a funny word coming from you. Trust.”

A whistle catches Minho’s attention. You both turn to see that Hyunjin and Jeongin are nearly three-blocks away at the entrance of a nondescript shop. Color floods Minho’s face when he realizes the pair of you had stopped walking to have your argument and he curses himself as you start moving again.

“I do trust you.” You say nothing to his comment. “I’m sorry I didn’t accept the armor.”

“It wasn’t about rejecting the armor, Collector.” The world Collector sounds dirty in your mouth. He suddenly wants to hear you call him Cowboy again. “It was about rejecting me when I thought we were already friends. I was wrong.”

Hyunjin leads them down into an alleyway that is void of anything besides dumpsters and murky puddles. The smell turns Minho’s stomach but he resists the urge to gag as Hyunjin bends down to pull up a sewer grate. He flashes his flashlight inside and nods before jumping down and vanishing. There’s a light splash as he lands and calls up for Jeongin.

Minho crouches close to you as Jeongjin adjusts to follow Hyunjin down.

“You weren’t,” he says as Jeongin jumps. You turn to look at him, confused. “Wrong. You weren’t wrong.”

You look him up and down, hesitating. Hyunjin calls your name and you turn away from Minho, checking your legs and arms to make sure your pockets are zipped. Minho watches as you jump. He realizes his holding his breath until he hears your feet splash.

Quickly, he scrambles to the grate, pulling the top with him. Looking through the hole, he sees the orange light of glowsticks as you and Jeongin crack and shake them, lighting up the tunnel in a very small ring of light. Hyunjin has turned off his flashlight and looks up at Minho, gesturing for him to hurry.

Minho holsters his weapon and jumps down, bending at the knee as he lands to absorb the fall. His boots splash loudly in the tunnel, echoing for a few seconds. His shoulder wound aches as he straightens up. Hyunjin is already lifting Jeongin up to pull the great back over the hole. The scrape of metal on the concrete sounds much louder in the watery tunnel, making Minho cringe.

Looking both ways, he sees the sewer is less of a sewer and more of a tunnel. The cloth pulled over his face does little to keep out the rancid smell, and he winces when he sees fat, black rats scattering on the edges of the orange light.

Something touches his arm and he jerks, hand going to his gun. You lean back and apologize, holding out a glowstick. He relaxes and takes it, fingers brushing yours as he does. He instantly gets a chill down his spine, though his fingers are warm where they brushed yours.

Minho clears his throat and holds the glowstick up, looking around the tunnel. He can hear the faint echoes of dripping water and every movement of the group feels loud in the pressing silence of the dark.

“What is this?” he asks, looking at you.

It’s Hyunjin who answers, “Nightcrawler shit. You’re welcome.”

“Should we expect any of your former coworkers, then?”

“They’re not so bad.” Hyunjin unholsters his weapon as he begins walking south down the tunnel, throwing Minho a sharp grin. “It’s the Darklings I worry about.”

You fall into step behind Hyunjin immediately, ducking your head to murmur something to him as you go. The glow of your light gets farther away as Minho stands staring at Hyunjin, unsure if he’s serious or not.

Jeongin steps up next to Minho. “He was joking about Darklings, right? The People Underneath are a myth?”

“Have you ever heard Hyunjin tell a joke?”

Minho leaves Jeongin thinking about it before the younger rushes to keep up with him, feet splashing wildly.

Whether Hyunjin was joking about the Darklings or not, they don’t run into anything except rats and roaches in the underground tunnels. Minho finds himself itching to ask the Nightcrawler questions and demand where they’re going, but he doesn’t,

An act of faith.

It was an act of faith when Minho showed Hyunjin the safehouse on his watch. It was one of the few things that Minho protected more fiercely than his life, and he was hoping that when Hyunjin saw the coordinates, title of ownership, and Minho’s information, he’d gain a little trust.

Minho had been right. Hyunjin, though still sharp at the edges, has become unnervingly benign with Minho, addressing him by his name. It’s not much to most, but he knows among killers it’s a huge step. One that means a little more trust, if not at least peers.

You remain quiet for the most part. Your eyes stray toward Minho often and when he catches you looking, you don’t look away. Your gaze is hesitant and questioning, as though you’re trying to figure him out like one of the schematics on your screens.

Biting into a protein bar, he quickens his pace to fall into step with you. “What will you do with your lab?”

Your lips twitch. “Chemical fire. There’s a stop-line in the frame of the building so it should be controlled. I promised not to burn down Neon Rodeo when I established my office there.”

“Who owns that place, anyway?”

“Bangchan.” The name sounds familiar. “Reformed Nightcrawler.”

“You keep unusual company.”

“Better than none.”

That gets a little bit of a laugh from him. You smile when he does and he swears it’s brighter than the glowsticks you carry. “I deserved that one. I’m working on it, alright.”

“How do Jisung and Changbin deal with you?”

“The same way I deal with them.” You hum, nodding in understanding. For a few minutes, it’s just wet steps echoing in the tunnels. “What made you decide to come with me? I assume you have your own fallback plans.”

“I do, but I don’t know. I wanted to accept your olive branch.” You look at him. “I wanted to trust you.”

He nods. His gut twists a little at that, both anxious and pleased. He’d been right about offering an act of faith in return for the one he scorned. Now, he just has to keep you alive, which he grows more confident in doing.

“Where are we going?”

He looks up at you. “Hyunjin didn’t tell you?”

“No, just said to trust you.” Minho’s brows shoot up and you snort. “I know. Whatever you showed him convinced him.”

“It’s a safe house on Isla de Suenos.” You look up at him sharply and he gives a soft grin. “My mother belonged to a very well-off family. I’m not supposed to exist, and she had to decide at a young age whether or not I was worth throwing away her family and their power. A single safehouse purchased with offshore accounts and through a network of money-changing and bought secrecy is the only thing she could give me.”

“She didn’t choose you?” He shakes his head. You think about that for a second and he lets the words sink in, waiting for the pity, which he hates. Instead, you hum. “No wonder you don’t choose people either.”

Your candor is a relief. You don’t tell him sorry or try to comfort him. You accept this as a fact of life, a normalcy that a mother would choose wealth and power over a child. “There are no records tying us together, but the title of the house is under what my name would have been if she’d taken me. Lee. My family name would be Lee.”

“What is it now?”

“I don’t have one. My father was servant-class. We don’t have family names.”

“He worked for your mother’s family?” Minho nods. “Lee. I like it. Will you keep it?”

“Maybe. It’s who I have to be, now.”

“No longer the Collector?” He shakes his head. “Good. Perhaps I like you more as just Lee Minho.”

Minho bites back a grin.

By the time they get to the surface again, they’re just outside of the city-proper on the northeast shore. Here, the night is bitter cold as the salty air blasts off the ocean, dark waves rushing and receding against the shoreline.

They take a brief break once their topside, Minho gasping deep breaths of fresh air in as he gulps down water. Now that they can see without the glowsticks, they toss them into the trash and breathe in silence.

Carefully, Minho peers at the wound on his shoulder. It’s caterized from the heat of the plasma, but the burn hurts something vicious. He has no medical supplies on him, and he examines the chawed flesh with mild concern.

Seeing the injury, you get up wordleslly from the rock where you sit and come over. Your hand digs in one of your pockets and you produce a packet of burn gel and antiseptic, wordlessly gesturing to the wound. He nods and you offer a tentative grin before ripping the antiseptic open with your teeth, spitting the crinkling material on the ground.

With steady hands, you squeeze out the translucent gel on the tips of your fingers and peel the damaged parts of Minho’s shirt away from the flesh. He sucks in a breath when you apply the cool gel to the wound, the stinging of the antibiotic catching him off guard. You shoot him an apologetic wince before continuing to press it lightly into the burned flesh.

You smell like jasmine and amber. Minho breathes it in deep, a soothing scent mixed with the salty air of the seat just a few yards away. His eyes flutter shut as your fingers work his shoulder, deft and skilled like an artist.

“My mom liked to paint,” Minho says automatically, unsure where the comment comes from. “That’s one of the few things I know about her. She had artists hands. You have hands like hers. Graceful.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say I’m an artist but I do draw designs for weapons a lot.”

“It’s a kind of art.”

“I suppose it is.”

Your closeness makes Minho dizzy. Instead of chasing you away in the past, he lets you linger and spread the burn gel on his shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes, letting the sound of the ocean and the press of your steady fingers lull him into a moment of relaxation.

He can almost pretend you both haven’t thrown your life away to head to some house he’s never been to with little to no plan but to arrive there alive.

“Does it hurt?” he shakes his head at your question. You voice is soft and raspy, rising the hairs on the back of his neck. You’re so close he can feel the heat radiating from you, making him lean in on instinct, seeking the warmth. “If you let me give you better armor, plasma won’t hurt you.”

Minho’s eyes flutter open. “You brought it with you?”

“Of course I did.” Your face is inches from his, eyelashes fanning your bright, glittering eyes as you look up at him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Hyunjin’s voice shatters the moment before Minho can respond. “Hello, yes, the child and I are still here.”

“I’m not a child!”

“The child and I need to leave, however. Seungmin and Felix are waiting to escort us. I believe your friend left transportation for you, Minho.”

You whirl around. “You’re leaving? What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I have some Nightcrawling to do with Bangchan and Seungmin. I’m taking the child to stay with Swan.”

Minho has no idea who Swan is. He sees the uncertainty color your face as you regard your guard - your friend. “You would do that? Take him to stay with her?”

“Of course. Swan likes strays.”

“I am right here,” Jeongin reminds everyone, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m not a child.”

Hyunjin grins at him. It’s real and not a leer, something that Minho doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Hyunjin grabs Jeongin by the shoulder, pulling him along before flicking his poison-green eyes toward Minho and you. “Enjoy your evening. I’ll be around, Minho.”

“Wait!” you bolt over to them, catching everyone by surprise as you throw your arms around the two of them and squeeze. The smile on Hyunjin’s face is so soft that Minho has to look away, equal parts something like jealousy and feeling like he’s intruding. “Here.”

You divest several items from your pockets, shoving them into their hands. Medical gels, a few gadgets, and a little Scorpion figurine that you shove into Hyunjin’s hands. He raises a single brow in amusement but you say nothing to the Nightcrawler, rushing back to stand at Minho’s side.

Hyunjin and Jeongin lift their hand in waves to Minho before turning and heading down the beach at a slow pace, their feet sinking into the sand. Cold wind whips at Minho as he stands watching with you silent by his side, waiting.

Without a word, he turns and beckons you, heading up the rocky coast before heading back down precariously to a tiny cove with a boat buoyed between the rocks. It’s hardly a safe-looking boat and he realizes it probably wouldn’t have carried them all, but it’s something.

Minho climbs into the boat carefully before helping you step down into it. The rocking water throws you off balance and he steadies you, hands tight on your waist. You mutter an apology but he doesn’t let go until he’s sure you’re okay, eyes searching.

A moment of tension passes, his fingers pressed into the fabric of your hips, your closeness overpowering the sea air again. You clear your throat and it passes. Minho lets you go as he finds the key and plugs it in to turn on the engine.

You busy yourself with untying ropes, your steps unsteady as the vessel moves unpredictably beneath your feet. Once you manage to get rid of all the lines, he begins to navigate out the cove backward, turning the wheel violently from side to side as he fights the tide.

Thankfully with every swell that pushes the boat into the cove, it drags it back out. It takes about three swells before the craft is pulled into the ocean proper and he throws the throttle in reverse, water rooster tailing for a moment as he does.

You join him at the helm and stand close as he turns it around and drives. Wind rips at his jacket, blowing back the hood. He’s thankful for the face cover fighting the icy wind, squinting as he drives in the late hours of the night across a rippling black ocean.

The water gets rough as he turns to the east, glancing at the coordinates on his watch every once in a while. Your hand shoots out to grab his forearm on a particularly violent dip. He curses, pain radiating from his shoulder as you do. You immediately shout an apology and let go, but Minho snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you tight.

For a second, you stiffen, looking up at him uncertain. He remains steadfast in his hold, willing his heart to slowdown as he drives, determined to keep you from falling off the boat and into the water before you can even make it to the safehouse.

You relax into him after a second, pressing closer and letting him hold on as you go. He relaxes when you accept his help, breathing out a slow breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

It takes almost forty five minutes, but the dark shadow of Isla de Suenos materializes in the night. The city is a spec of light on the misty horizon as the waves begin to slow down until he can let down on the throttle, bringing the boat to a troll instead of a plane.

The collection of islands that surround the massive, man-made mountain in the middle of the seat are all only about seven acres in size and are privately owned. The level of exclusivity is something Minho is incredibly unfamiliar with, and he gets nervous as they approach the barely visible shield surrounding the collection of islands.

“Minho, there’s a-”

“It’ll let us through.” He squeezes your waist on instinct, hoping it’s true. As the boat passes, he holds his breath. He feels the biochip in his neck flicker and then they’re through the shield. The water is falt calm on the other side of the energy wall, tapping gently against the hull. “It’s biometric.”

“And you were sure that was going to work?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly is not a great attitude in the invention field, Minho.”

It takes a second, but he realizes you’re calling him by his name and not Cowboy. He likes the sound of it on your tongue, though he doesn’t mind the diminutive.

Even in still waters, he doesn’t remove his arm around your waist, the protective instinct still high as he steers the boat according to his watch. Islands with lights hidden behind thick jungle and rockface slide past them.

The beacon on his watch flashes and he turns the boat, trolling to a long, empty dock ahead of them. The island is no different from the rest, covered in sprawling jungle and foliage that look monstrous in the ominous night.

Quickly, you tie off the boat and disembark. Your steps on the dock feel loud in the quiet night, the two of you hurrying along and up the shore until you hit the stone stairway that leads through the trees. Though he isn’t holding you close to him anymore, you still keep yourself pressed close, the back of your hands brushing as you begin the climb up the island.

Minho has no idea what the house looks like. He only knows that it’s coded to his biochip and that it’s always been there if he needs it. He doesn’t know if it’s stocked or if the electricity is on, or if it’s been raided and taken over. He doesn’t even know if there are codes to get access.

It is the most unprepared he has ever been.

A large estate springs up among the trees. The entire building is constructed on a platform with foliage and trees brushing along the foundations. It’s made up of windows and metal framing, the windows dark and hiding whatever exists within.

It is exquisit. Minho has never seen an estate or a luxury home before in person, but he knows that’s what this is. The thought seems a little silly as he leads you toward the modular home, steps quiet as he glances around. He cannot imagine that anyone but he and his could enter the grounds, but he’s still on edge.

At the door, there’s a single bioscanner. He leans his neck toward it, letting it flash over his biochip. The scanner turns green and he hears the hiss of an airlock. Glancing at you and shrugging, he tries the handle and pulls the door open toward him.

Inside, the air is cool. He steps in first, hand on his gun as he looks around the interior. It’s sparkling clean and decorated with dark wood furniture and greenery. He takes a few steps inside, flinching when automatic lights come on and cast a warm, gold glow in the house.

“You’ve been living as a fucking Collector when this existed the entire time?” you deadpan from the door.

No kidding, he thinks, turning to look at the multi-story wonder that is the home. It’s three levels of tropical opulence, making his head spin at all of the possibilities.

“I didn’t know what was here, honestly.” He turns to look at you and nods. You step inside and pull the door shut, tapping the screen beside it. The locks click in place again and with another tap, he sees the windows darken to privacy mode. “I assumed she didn’t leave me something grand.”

“It’s a good start on an apology. She’s still a bitch for leaving you and I think you should let me fight her.”

A ripple of fondness goes through him and he smiles at you, uncontrolled and large. You shoot a shy one back before looking away at the wonder of the home.

Unlike him, you seem to relax immediately, kicking your shoes off to wander around the house. He follows suit after a moment of hesitation, peeling the cover off of his face and kicking of his shoes. He leaves his holster open on his weapons, hands hovering near them as he follows you.

The house is extravagent. Smaller than he originally thought, with only three bedrooms and two bathrooms, but the spaces for each are massive and sprawling with greenery. It feels like the jungle is a part of the house - and he realizes it is, at least in the atrium. There’s a large pool and something that looks like a hot spring behind the house, hidden from the world by think palms and palmetto.

Each room is richly designed and cleaned, as though it has been kept for him all this time. He’ll have to worry about that at some point, unsure who has kept the house in such a presentable state while it’s existed.

After you’ve fed your curiosity, you drift to one of the rooms with a private bathroom. He takes the room across from you, feet dragging as the exhaustion hits him. His limbs feel heavy and peeling off his shirt with the injure arm makes him curse and hiss. He doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, knowing the old bruises from a few days ago are still there.

Steam fills the bathroom. He’s a little put out when he realizes that the stone shower has a wall of glass to reveal the jungle on the other side, but he realizes there’s no one to watch him. He shakes the uneasiness and steps under the scalding water, moaning as he closes his eyes and lets it run down him.

A screen with a dozen or more settings sits in the rockface of the shower, but he doesn’t know how to use them. He hits another button hoping for what is more water pressure and instead gets a heavenly waft of eucalyptus. He leaves the settings alone, settling for tranquility over scrubbing himself.

Minho doesn’t know how long he stays in the shower. His fingers prune and the crust and blood eventually peel away. He spends a short amount of time scrubbing his own skin, eager to get out of the shower and check on you.

Now that he has you, a new sort of stream of conscious has made itself permanent, always wondering where you are and if you’re okay.

Steam clouds the bathroom as he steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Water clings to him as he ruffles his wet hair, strolling out into the bedroom. He walks toward the table by the door, rifling through his things looking for medical gel.

A knock draws his attention and you open the door a crack, making a sound of surprise when you don’t expect to see him standing right in front of you. Your eyes dip down to where the towel is on his waist and back up, immediately opting to look at the ceiling.

Minho’s lips pressed into a firm line, trying to eat the smirk threatening to take over.

“Sorry, I assumed you were still in the shower. I - um - brought more gel for your shoulder.”

He steps away from the door, leaving drips of water as he does. “Come on in.”

“Are you sure?”

He shrugs and then winces, the burn pulling taught as he does. You enter immediately, shutting the door behind you and ripping the top off the packet as you do, eyes focused on the wound. You’ve got your fingers slathered in gel and pressing to his shoulder before you realize the forwardness, pausing to glance up at him.

Now, Minho does smirk. “I’m at your mercy.”

“Sorry. I know it’s hurting you and…”

“You don’t want me to hurt,” he fills in, remembering your words from earlier.

You nod and chew your bottom lip as you work. He studies you closely. He doesn’t know if it’s his acceptance that you’re more than just someone he buys weapons from, the exhaustion or the little sliver of feeling he’s always pretended wasn’t there, but Minho suddenly feels a little bolder.

A little braver.

“I never had a chance to thank you.”

“For what?” You throw the antiseptic on the table and rip open the burn gel. “Anything. Everything. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you.”

“There’s a lot of things you haven’t said.”

“So let me.” You dart a look at him, nervous. When you don’t interrupt he continues, “You were right. We stopped being industry peers a long time ago, and I’ve purposefully ignored multiple favors from you to keep the illusion that simple relationships meant I couldn’t be hurt. Or hurt others.”

“And now?”

“I realize it was silly.”

“Hmm. At least you admit your faults, Cowboy.”

He smiles. You finish applying the gel, but you don’t move away from him. You linger, looking up through silky lashes at him. Your face takes on a dreamy look, mouth parted a little and he feels heat coil in his stomach at that look.

“Why’d you offer me that armor?”

“I was afraid of how often you were working. I knew you were getting hurt and I wanted to help. Why’d you reject it?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

There’s a long pause. Your gaze drops to his mouth. You’re only a few inches away, the ghost of your breath against his neck. “What if I want you to?”

Minho needs no other permission. It’s like a dam giving way, the past few days able to wedge their way in and open him up to let the rawness spill out of him. He surges forward, catching your mouth against his as he does so, hands shooting to your waist.

You don’t push him away. Worse, you melt into him like it’s natural, hands skating up his arms and around the back of his neck to pull him in closer to you. Your mouth is warm and minty and addicting, scattering his thoughts to the stars as your lips move against his.

Heat is trapped between your bodies. He feels like he’s burning up from the inside, squeezing your hips as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. You open up for him easily, like you were always made to and he groans.

Every time he has ever held back from you fuels him forward. He presses into you, turning you to push you on the mattress. You go willingly, opening your legs to let him slot between them. He leaves over you, mouth hungry. Devouring. Ravenous.

You gasp between kisses, nails grazing down his flexing arms. He wants to fucking drown in you as he bites the edge of your jaw, tasting the soap on your skin. You smell like jasmine and amber, though now he can smell the eucalyptus too, driving him insane.

You.

The one thing he’s let himself trust. The one person he’s let in, even when he didn’t want to admit it. The one person he wants to have more than anything else.

Greedy hands scrape up his chest. Your fingers are warm and searching as he nips the tender flesh of your neck, tongue laving over the bite to soothe it. The sounds dripping from your mouth are so pretty, driving him inside as he traces his desire with tongue and teeth.

The fabric of your shirt scrapes against his skin, itchy and in the way. His hands pull at the hem and he hesitates, looking down at you through a heavy-lidded gaze and panting. You not frantically, hands pulling at his to guide the shirt upwards and off, revealing warm skin.

Minho wants to taste every part of you. You create art with your schematics and your weapons, but you are art. He worships you with tongue and teeth, hands brushing up your stomach to cup your chest. His tongue pulls a languid moan from you as he flicks it over the peak of your nipple.

Fuck.

He’s greedy, sucking gentle on your pert bud, ensuring to scrap his teeth along the sensitive flesh. You writhe underneath him, unable to remain still. His other hand works you too, tweaking your stiff peak as he trails spit-slick kisses across your chest to wrap his lips around that nipple too.

Minho looks up at you through his lashes. You’re a rendering of pleasure, head pressing into the bed, chest pushed up, a sheen of sweat on your collarbones and neck. It drives him wild, cock throbbing heavily as he trails his mouth toward, fingers pulling your pants as he goes.

Your fingers twist in the sheets. Everything he does affects you and he’s drunk on it, heart thudding in his chest as he drops down to his knees. His towel falls and the cool air makes him shiver. He feels the sticky tip of his cock brush against his leg but he ignores the ache between his thighs, fixing his eyes on what’s between yours instead.

Pretty and wet, all for him. For him. He gets to have you. But he doesn’t yet, making you wait and feel the personal hell it’s been for him to pretend he wasn’t yours as he kisses up your thighs, licking warm skin and digging his teeth in.

“Minho,” you half gasp, half wine. He smiles against your knee, giving it a gentle peck. “Please.”

“Yeah?” he switches legs, biting your calf. “Want it that bad?”

“Need it.”

He brings a hand up to your dripping cunt, dragging a curled knuckle through your wetness. You let out a keen and he grins against your leg even more, hypnotized by the way your petty little hole clenches at the contact.

Minho drags it out. Plays with you, dragging that knuckle slow-soft through your folds, avoiding your clit. You let out a sound that’s almost a sob and he chuckles, bringing his hand up to suck at the stickiness on his finger.

“Hmm. Sweet.”

“Bet it’s better from the source,” you shoot back, trying to make a jab and failing with how weak your voice is.

“True,” he agrees, leaning forward.

Your taste blooms on his tongue as he licks up your center, slow and patient. He savors the taste, humming as he does. You buck under his mouth and he grips your thighs, pulling you open. You’re warm and wet and perfect, and he listens to your breath hitch as he licks you slowly, making sure to circle around your clit each time.

One of your hands shoots to his hair. He doesn’t mind as you pull. The sting feels good and spurs him on, eating you out properly. He loves the sounds you make for him, loves the way your thighs twitch as he sucks your click into his mouth, tongue flicking over it.

It’s wet and messy and just the way he likes it, slick dripping down his chin as he presses himself in further, desperate to fuck you into sanity with just his mouth.

He doesn’t have a problem doing it. You buck against his face and he lets you, holding his tongue flat for you to grind against. Your fingers in his hair have him in a vice grip and he moans, a steady stream of mhmmm dripping sweet from his mouth into your heat.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Come on,” he mouths against you. “Take what you want, baby.”

The endearment slips from him more natural than anything he’s ever done. His fingers squeeze your thighs as you undulate against him, his entire attention fixated on you as the begin to shake. Your hand twists in his hair and he groans, equal parts pain and pleasure as you come apart.

He hums in satisfaction, keeping his mouth working on you, drinking you in as you continue to tremble. The power trip that comes with seeing you come is unmatched, lighting a fire in him as he licks you to oversensitivity.

“Minho,” you beg, voice squeaking. He grins, kissing your cunt before he mouths his way back up to you, capturing your mouth with his. You’re eager to taste yourself, tongue licking at him more than anything, smearing your slick on his lips. He feels his eyes roll back. You’re going to kill him. “More.”

Minho would conquer the world and call it yours if you wanted him to. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give you. Pretending otherwise was the great folly of man, he realizes, as he shuffles you up the bed and climbs between your legs, standing up on his knees.

You watch him, pupils blown and fucked out as he heaves. He can hardly catch his breath as he reaches down to take his cock in his hand, pumping leisurely as he watches you. The way you look at him like you’ll consume him whole makes him shiver. He wants you to. Want you to burn him up until there’s nothing left.

Leaning down, he drops his cock out of his hand in favor of sliding a hand between you’re legs. You’re a mess of spit and cum, making the glide easy as he slips a finger into your heat to work you open. Your head falls to the side, giving him access to suck at your jawline as he fucks you open with his finger, adding a second when he knows you can take it.

Your hips roll up to meet his thrusts as he scissors his fingers open, pressing against your warm walls to push the stretch further. You’re putty in his hands but he’s a mess in yours, too. He’s shaking by the time he slips his hand from between your legs to press the crown of his cock at your entrance, hesitating.

Minho looks up at you. He already knows there’s no going back for him, three years of his own stubborn delusions robbing him of what could have been. But he asks, anyway. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure for a long time. It was you who needed convincing.”

“What a stuipd man I am.”

“Yes,” you agree. “But mine.”

That drives him wild. Simple words and yet the very action of you claiming him erodes the last bit of resistance. He pushes into you and goes slow with a considerable amount of effort, shaking and panting as he tries to keep it together.

You’re warm and tight and twitches of pleasure ripple through him from cock to stomach. Minho swears he comes alive for the first time as he seats himself in your cunt to the hilt, barely able to catch his breath as he ducks down to press his mouth against yours.

It’s not delicate, but it isn’t the same ferocity as earlier. It’s something else that lingers between madness and relief. He only begins to move when he feels your hips wiggle. He smiles into the kiss, retracting his hips before surging forward again.

Delirious. That is the only word that comes to mind as he starts to fuck you slow and deep. Your mouths bump together but you’re both breathing raggedly, shaking together. Your hands card through his hair, soothing and soft. His lashes flutter as he drops his head further. You press your lips against his forehead as he picks up the pace, letting your hands worship him as he fucks you.

How could he ever think he was sparing you from him? How could he ever make the mistake that if he kept on the fringes, you wouldn’t leave him ruined like this? It seems unimaginative now. Like something that was always meant to happen.

No wonder Collect Co. knew he would go running to you like a dog when they assigned you to him. Everyone else could admit it except him, an egregious error on his part.

But Minho has you now. Gasping his name and moving in his arms. Rolling your hips to meet his, your cunt clenching on his cock as he fucks you harder. He wants to dig into you and never let go. Wants to sink in to the very core and live there.

“Mine,” you growl as though you can read his thoughts. “Even though you tried not to be. You are mine, Lee Minho.”

When you say his full name like that, voicing the boy who could have been and now who is, he starts to come apart. His pace quickens as he chases your second release, holding you tight to him as he feels you clench longer and longer around him until you’re sobbing his name and spilling down his shaft.

Minho all but growls your name as he comes. Never again will you be Builder. You’re his. First and last name his to say. The acknowledgment almost makes him cry as he slows his thrusts, gasping for air as he tosses his head back, heat escaping between the two of you.

Finally, he stops fucking you, hands linked with yours as he leans up to catch his breath. He’s still seated in you, feeling the cum drip between where your ass is pressed against his thighs. He doesn’t care, feeling the sweat and the water from his shoulder drip down his back.

His arm burns where he’s used it. He’d been unaware of the pain while lost in you, but he feels it now, throbbing. He doesn’t care. He’d do it again a thousand times.

Slowly, he unravels from you. Your hands don’t let him go far, pulling him down next to you to roll toward. He smiles, tired and dreamy at the edges as he lets you. The bed is soft against his balmy skin, the cool air helping calm him down.

Finally, both of you can breathe. He knows that he needs to shower again, but he doesn’t want to get up. He wants to keep you near. Now that he’s all in, he wants to stay all in.

“We should call this place the Jungle Rodeo.” He cracks an eye open at you to realize you’re hiding a grin as you look up at him. “You know, since we can’t go back to Neon Rodeo.”

“What is it with you and rodeos?”

“You find Cowboys at the rodeo.”

“Oh?”

“And you’re here… so… it’s a rodeo.”

He blinks at you. “Your intellect is astounding.”

You laugh and it’s like taking a JumpPack straight to his bloodstream, a rush of energy and euphoria driving him upward and toward you. He smothers you with kisses, driving by the need to taste you again. You let him, giggling.

“What do you say then, hmm?” he growls, nipping your bottom lip. “Want to go for another ride?”

“That joke was terrible.”

“You know what they say. When at the rodeo.”

You laugh again and Minho is a goner once more, just like he was the first day he met you at Neon Rodeo.

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@stayceebs97 @skzswife @bettybeako

#lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lino smut #lee minho x you #lee know fic #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader #lee know x you

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shibaraki · 4 months

Text

❄︎ ─ END OF YEAR REC REPORT: THE READER INSERT EDITION

hi lovelies!! as the year is coming to an end I wanted to work with my followers to compile a rec list of fics that have stuck with us as one massive thank you to all of the writers in our corner of tumblr/AO3. below you will find x reader fics from multiple different fandoms, and everything is in alphabetical order. I am grateful to all of you for the amazing work you do, and to those who participated!

extra note: I read through and tried my best to make sure everything is appropriately tagged (reader type and blushes included) but do let me know if anything needs amending—or if you are on this list and wish to be taken off it. happy reading and happy new year! (and thank you to @namodawrites for helping with the banners ily)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ─ ❄︎

fics: 100 fandoms: 23 total word count: 💀

an observer of longing by shibaraki [ONESHOT] [18K] #: afab reader - childhood best friends to lovers - romantic and sexual tension - mutual pining - casual physical affection - love confession - eventual sexual content

Could Hajime really return your feelings? Tooru certainly thinks so. And Issei, and Takahiro. Seemingly everyone that has been within twenty feet of you.

I wanna be yours by gabseyoo [ONESHOT] [5.9K] #: fem reader - recreational drug use - stoner suna rintaro - friends to lovers - shotgunning - smut - face riding - unprotected sex - sex under the influence

Your usual smoking date with your best friend takes an unexpected turn after a certain song starts playing.

in orbit by neonghxst [MULTI-CHAP] [27K] #: fem reader - slow burn - fluff - angst - enemies to friends to lovers - childhood friends - breaking up/making up

You tend to have a habit of coming and going, life sending you away at odd intervals and guiding you back into his path without warning. Akin to two planets caught in each other’s orbits, you pushed and pulled in a never-ending cycle. But if there was one thing Atsumu was certain of, it was that you would always find your way back to him (and this time, he’s determined to make you stay).

lover be good to me by suguwu [MULTI-CHAP] [30K] #: fem reader - soulmate au - slow burn - hurt/comfort - partner death (not kita shinsuke)

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate. But it's your wedding day.

miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease by fushisagi [ONESHOT] [12.6K] #: gender neutral reader - university au - fluff - friends to lovers - denial of feelings - mutual pining

The question comes to him one autumn night, surrounded by his friends and the chilly november breeze, asked by, who he assumes to be, just another nobody looking for money: what is it that you desire most, boy? the psychic asks, her saccharine smile forgotten when he looks into the crystal ball and all he ends up seeing is you. Alternatively: Miya Atsumu is not in love. what the hell? who would ever suggest something like that?

monster by satendou [SERIES: ONGOING] [13K] #: fem reader - unprotected sex - creampie - vaginal fingering - mentions of bullying - insecurities - described as blushing

You like horror movies, Tendou likes horror movies, what could go wrong?

storm chaser by amjustagirl [MULTI-CHAP] [163K] #: fem reader - post canon - domestic fluff - friends to lovers - romance - marriage - parenthood - angst

Living life with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

the burden of being by sashimiyas [ONESHOT] [22K] #: fem reader - angst - fluff - amnesia - pro volleyball player osamu - unhealthy coping mechanisms

There was an Osamu who loved you once. Who loved Onigiri Miya so much he spent most of his waking hours there, supported loyally by the members of Hyogo Ward. A fire changes that and he and his twin brother adopt their old high school motto: we don’t need the memories. Now they’re gone and memories are all you have. So as an homage to the man you love, you reopen his restaurant back up for him.

the inbetween by oh-katsuki [ONESHOT] [25K] #: fem reader - manga spoilers - childhood friends to lovers - slow burn - angst - sexual content

You and Tendou have been best friends since before you can remember. You share everything with each other and over the years have fallen into a friendship with clear boundaries but intimate values. When you start to notice Tendou growing more distant, you begin to worry that he’s keeping more secrets than you thought.

there are reasons why a body stays in motion by gardenofnoah [ONESHOT] [4.7K] #: afab reader - strangers to lovers - fluff - eventual sexual content

You work too hard—kita knows it the second he meets you. He’s not expecting you to take him up on his offer. You don’t either, until you end up on his farm.

the blood of the witch is not ours by demxnscous [ONESHOT] [11K] #: afab reader - vampire miya osamu - strangers to friends to lovers - modern setting with a hidden supernatural world - blood and injury - eventual sexual content

The door opens. Osamu whines pitifully, a shallow breath that scarcely pulls at the lacerations along his body, blood of his own and of another creature matts his fur to his ribs, along his spine, and he lifts his head. “Oh, fuck.” From the threshold, your eyes widen, a stranger to the fox you find.

to: tokyo, love hyogo by akimind [ONESHOT] [15K] #: fem reader - described as blushing - reunions - angst - fluff - exes to lovers

Your mind wasn’t tricking you when it caught sight of this name from across the street you rarely frequent; it remains the same name even as you stand directly below now and reread that sign again. Onigiri Miya. …I’ll meet you in Hyogo. The same echo. The same memory.

roommate osamu kiss by shibaraki [DRABBLE] [0.6K] #: gender neutral reader - pre relationship - fluff - roommate miya osamu - sleepy kiss

Osamu likes to think that unlike Atsumu, he has some semblance of control over his impulses. it’s a fine art. When you softly touch his waist as you squeeze past, or dig your feet under his thigh on the couch, or lean into his side as you share the small bathroom, he can will his body still and maintain the equilibrium you’ve crafted together. But this morning he is frayed at the seams.

venus by saetyrn [ONESHOT] [15K] #: cisfem reader - mutual pining - alcohol consumption - friends to lovers - eventual sexual content - reader is inexperienced

After returning to Japan from studying abroad in California, Hajime’s found that his desire for you has only grown stronger in his year away. He hopes you feel the same, and see him as he sees you. What he doesn’t expect is for it all to go tits up when you ask him--your trusted friend--for help with losing your virginity.

wet haired kuroo by mrs-kurooo [DRABBLE] [0.8K] #: gender neutral reader - pre relationship - romantic tension

His hair lies flat, unlike the usual unruly, gravity-defying mess of black that sits on his head. It’s still a little damp, slowly drying in the warmth of your apartment, a lone droplet of water dripping from the ends and landing on his towel. It hangs in his eyes a little, more so than usual and the urge to run your fingers through it overwhelms you - it just looks so soft.

a duke's son and a baron's daughter by katsukikitten [ONESHOT] [14K] #: fem reader - victorian era au - arranged marriage - pining - slow burn - suggestive content - lord bakugo katsuki - lord todoroki shouto

The room ebbs in the low light of flickering candles, people gather in clusters like lost geese as they honk their gossip at one another causing you to sigh. It would be another long night of mental games as your cold eyes fail to warm from the eccentric sights. Silk dresses, long gloves, shimmering gems, and endless drink and food. Yet you hated how little power you had over your choice of being here or not.

a light that never comes by mighty-mighty-man [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [430K] #: fem reader - enemies to friends to lovers - reader is an ex villain - worldbuilding - polotics - drama - eventual romance

After your life is saved by a quirkless middle-schooler, you find yourself roped back into the world of Heroism you've spent years trying to escape. Your mentor convinces you to take a job at U.A. that will bring you perilously close to your former best friend, Toshinori Yagi, who you have been avoiding since you mysteriously dropped out of high school in your third year. Being a Hero never gets any easier. And high school never ends.

all the times i told you by gardenofnoah [SERIES] [8K+] #: afab reader - estbalished relationship - fluff - intimacy - hurt/comfort - eventual sexual content

A sweet little multi-parter about being so in love it makes you sick, featuring Katsuki.

a withered rose by potionpeddlerpatchy [ONESHOT] [18K] #: fem reader - mythical au - reader is a nymph - god of sleep shinsou hitoshi - sexual content - dubious consent - somnophilia - manipulation

In the center of all the strange but wonderful opulence sat a giant glass orb propped so beautifully atop of a pillar, woven so intricately like vines, of tourmaline. You couldn’t help but approach it, the alluring purple aura seemed to call out to you, reaching your delicate hand before you, nothing else crossed your mind that your desire to touch the orb's smooth surface. “You’re a bold little one, aren’t you?” Hitoshi spoke, chuckling deeply as he took in your startled form.

a world away by invie [MULTI-CHAP] [26K] #: fem reader - slow burn - timeskips - pro hero bakugo katsuki - parallel universes - dimension travel - feelings realisation - first meetings - fluff - angst - love confessions

He met you at 16 and hasn't known peace since then.

casual by ghostbeam [ONESHOT] [4K] #: fem reader - no quirk au - friends with benefits - friends to lovers - sexual content - todoroki family feels

“My mom wants to meet you.” It’s a sentence uttered as Touya pulls the T-shirt he’d discarded earlier (while he was pushing you toward your bed and sucking your tongue into his mouth) over his head. It comes as a shock, lying in your bed completely bare, still struggling to catch your breath. It shouldn’t make you feel excited in the way that it does, not when Touya has been more than clear about the nature of the relationship between the two of you. Nothing serious. No commitment.

cruise universe by bfbkg [SERIES] #: fem reader - cruise au - pro hero bakugo - developing relationship - strangers to lovers - fluff - alcohol consumption - eventual sexual content

Your cruise holiday with your friends has got some pretty views, your favourite being the grumpy pretty blonde.

deceiving the duke by andypantsx3 [MULTI-CHAP] [30K] #: fem reader - regency au - class differences - romance - identity porn - eventual sexual content

When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

fill my little world by shibaraki [ONESHOT] [20K] #: afab reader - no quirk au - single dad aizawa shouta - nanny reader - falling in love - eventual sexual content

You are employed by Aizawa Shouta to nanny for his vulnerable adoptive daughter Eri while he’s at work. As time passes you find yourself equally smitten with them both, longing for a more permanent place in their family.

heart of the ocean by secondhand_trash [TWOSHOT] [13K] #: fem reader - pirate au - inspired by princess bride - romance - pirate todoroki touya - angst with a happy ending - sexual content

You had met many sailors in your life growing up by the sea, but there was only one like him.

higher than the mountain, deeper than the sea by itoshisoup [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [50K+] #: fem reader - psychological drama - childhood friends to lovers - stockholm syndrome - hurt/comfort - noncon elements

Touya watches you stare feebly out the window, your fingers curled around those useless flowers he bought, and he finally understands why his pathetic excuse of a father could never find the words to apologize to his mother.

I'll make this feel like home by missmeinyourbones [ONESHOT] [6K] #: afab reader - angst - canon compliant - hurt/comfort - dabi centric - todoroki family reveal - sexual content

Touya was eight years old when his youngest brother was born—the same age realized that his house no longer felt like home.

incendiary by andypantsx3 [MULTI-CHAP] [30K] #: fem reader - enemies to lovers - quirkless discrimination - reader is a college student - romance- eventual sexual content

When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

in the dark of morning, you promise me the sun by kirketeer [MULTI-CHAP] [78K] #: fem reader - major character death - slow burn - grief and mourning - angst with a happy ending - eventual sexual content

When Denki, your long-term boyfriend, is stabbed by a villain on his way home from work, left to bleed out on the sidewalk only a mile from your apartment, you find yourself adrift. Strangely enough, it's Bakugou that helps with what comes after.

kingdom of ashes by shibaraki [TWOSHOT] [11K] #: fem reader - historical royalty au - prince todoroki touya - arranged marriage - sexual content - fluff - angst - hopeful ending

When you are suddenly uprooted from your life to enter an arranged marriage with Prince Touya you are unprepared for how greatly he defies your expectations, nor for how quickly you fall for him.

lights will guide you home by a11eya [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [22K] #: gender neutral reader - soulmate au - trope inversion/subversion - slow burn - getting together - falling in love - eventual sexual content

Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates. At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways. You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children. (In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)

one for the rules by alkhale [ONESHOT] [9K] #: fem reader - actor au - soulmates and identifying marks - romance - actor kita shinsuke - implied sexual content - reader described with long hair

“(Y/n)-san,” Kita whispers, low, just for you. Your eyes flicker nervously up to meet his, heart beating so wildly in your chest you feel like you’ll explode. Any minute now. There’ll be nothing left for him but little bits of nonsense. “I know I have no right to stop you… but please, if you’d be willing to wait, just a bit…” Kita pulls both your hands together now, away from both your shared marks. He holds them in both of his and he gazes at you the entire time, a man truly from another era, from a lost era of things so hopeless romantic and earnest you feel like there’s nothing you can do in the very face of it. Kita brings your hands up and he presses a kiss to your knuckles, peering up at you, eyes like honey, voice soft and warm and everywhere around you. “Would you give me the chance to show you my worth?” Kita asks. Ah, that’s it. Your heart really can’t take anymore.

passing peonies by dira333 [MULTI-CHAP] [34K] #: fem reader - recovery - mental health issues - returning to society - healing todoroki family - reader described to have a ponytail - angst

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies. Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

something just like this by ofmermaidstories [MULTI-CHAP] [200K] #: fem reader - strangers to lovers - pro hero deku - manga artist reader - eventual sexual content

It probably says a lot about you that your first thought on meeting Deku, international Symbol of Peace, isn't something like "Oh, wow," or, "Oh he's so nice," but is, instead, the un-Plus Ultra thought of, "I definitely would’ve bullied him, in high school." At least until those muscles came in.

the cardinal rule by coopigeoncoo [ONESHOT] [9K] #: gender neutral reader - romantic comedy - bird puns - blood and injury

A story where Hawks learns that while humans might be awed by his flying skills, the bird population is decidedly less impressed.

the widening sky by ofmermaidstories [MULTI-CHAP] [37K] #: fem reader - merpeople au - merman bakugo katsuki - canon typical violence - grief and mourning - eventual sexual content - bittersweet ending

You don’t believe your Grandmother’s stories about mermaids — until you meet one.

triptych by narumi-gens [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [20K] #: fem reader - yandere chisaki kai - psychological abuse - angst - codependency - imprisonment - canon typical violence - sexual content

Your life is nothing more than a triptych, a work of art in three parts with each panel depicting a distinct period — a beginning, a middle, an end. And in the triptych that is your life, the central figure has always been Chisaki Kai.

when to cradle, when to pry by therealvalkyrie [ONESHOT] [1.3K] #: fem reader - established relationship - depresson and panic attacks - reader has low self esteem - hurt/comfort

As he re-learns the joys of loving you, Katsuki also learns how to help you back on your own feet when you need it. OR An "in the aftermath" look at the relationship in 'you feel love in the sodium'

11:49pm by shotorus [DRABBLE] [0.4K] #: gender neutral reader - fluff and intimacy

Gojo is larger than life, but you make him feel small.

all that is solid by grilledtandoorismoke [SERIES] [38K] #: fem reader - arranged marriage - curse user reader - described as blushing - hurt/comfort - domestic fluff - angst - canon typical violence

Coming from a family of curse users and the first person in three hundred years to have your clan's inherited technique, political machinations force you to attend Jujutsu Tech while having to agree to an arranged marriage to Gojo Satoru.

am I (25F) the asshole for fucking my boyfriend's older brother (28M) by rinhaler [ONESHOT] [10K] #: fem reader - sexual content - dom/sub dynamics - older brother ryomen sukuna - sex under the influence - cheating - daddy kink

I know it sounds bad but we got high and he's hot!!

blood and pearls by vennilavee [SERIES: ONGOING] [10K] #: fem reader - trueform sukuna - developing relationship - canon typical violence - cannibalism - eventual sexual content

A lonely water nymph washes up to the shores of an enchanted lake with dreams of the sun and the stars. Little do you know, that this enchanted lake belongs to the king of curses himself, Ryomen Sukuna.

candied hearts by mrs-kurooo [ONESHOT] [10k] #: fem reader - no curse au - hurt/comfort - fluff - third party infidelity - sexual content - body worship - size difference - pull out method

Gojo is a nuisance. What more is there to say.

cor unum by vampyrsm [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [130K] #: fem reader - trueform sukuna - slow burn - period typical sexism - body horror - cannibalism - blood and violence - eventual sexual content

A tale of how the Shogun's daughter ends up in the maw of one of the most fierce curse users to ever exist.

godmaker by firein-thesky [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [50K] #: fem reader - arranged marriage - angst - unhealthy relationships - parental abuse - canon typical violence - hurt/comfort - slow burn - eventual sexual content

And the form leans down, closer, as their voice drops to a murmur, all honey and thorns, the promise of something far greater than you. A storm to come. The future that you will bear upon the slant of your shoulders. And when they speak, you know they’ve cursed you; “I will teach you how to make a God.”

hey lonely stranger (won't you meet my eye?) by stellamancer [ONESHOT] [6.4K] #: fem reader - speed dating - unresolved romantic tension - jealous gojo satoru - allusions to canon typical violence

You attend a match-making event and who else should be there but the last person you want to see: Satoru Gojo.

how to be a dog by prettyboykatsuki [TWOSHOT] [37K] #: fem reader - yandere gojo satoru - manipulation and coercion - stalking - graphic depictions of violence - rape/non-con - forced intimacy - sexual content

"Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love." - ANDREW KANE, HOW TO BE A DOG. With six eyes to see, it becomes clear. You are being watched.

intrinsic warmth by thatdesklamp [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [150K] #: fem reader - slow burn - childhood friends - mutual pining - angst - canon typical violence

You meet Satoru on 7th September, 1996. Some time later, you realise you love him.

let your hand become a blade so i may take it by seravphs [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [10K] #: princess reader - knight gojo satoru - royal au - forbidden love - period typical misogyny - childhood friends to enemies to lovers

Knights are bound by duty and honor, but Gojo is more devoted to his princess than he ever was to his oaths.

limerence by shibaraki [ONESHOT] [4K] #: gender neutral reader - friends to lovers - pining - masturbation - sexual tension

The little intimacies you shared together were a fix of Gojo's.

lucky by izvmimi [ONESHOT] [3.5K] #: fem reader - crack - plot heavy with a little porn - todo aoi's otaku behaviour

You meet someone desperate to win a competition.

men are so quick to blame the gods by awearywritersworld [SERIES] [16K+] #: fem reader - enemies to lovers - developing relationship - angst - fluff - canon typical violence - not canon compliant - jealousy

Your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night.

playing pretend by itadorey [ONESHOT] [5.4K] #: gender neutral reader - fake dating - friends to lovers - slice of life and humour

Gojo lies to Shoko in order to win a bet and you're dragged along for the ride.

🔒 polluted by heich0e [ONESHOT] [11K] #: fem reader - university au - sexual content - recreational drug use - sex under the influence - gangbang - double penetration - dubcon

"Weed doesn't make her annoying," Sukuna drawls, tossing the basketball up again, only this time away from him—you watch as it curves gracefully in the air, swishing through the little net Geto and Gojo have affixed to the back of their dorm room door. "She's always annoying." [...] Sukuna's smirk turns into something even sharper, a smile unfurling slow and wicked across his face. "Weed doesn't make her annoying--it makes her into a whore."

seat taker by coconutdays [ONESHOT] [10K] #: fem reader - university au - biker geto suguru - sexual tension - fluff - strangers to lovers - eventual sexual content

You have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

still melting? by arminsumi [ONESHOT] [1.4K] #: fem reader - best friend geto suguru - romantic and sexual tension - flirting

Practicing putting eyeliner on your best friend, while sat in his lap. He can't help but take this chance to flirt with you. Of course, a certain someone interrupts your moment right at the end

sunset by princess-okkotsu [ONESHOT] [5.6K] #: princess reader - knight zen'in maki - reader implied shorter than maki - royal au - period typical attitudes - sexual content

You’re a princess, though the last of several siblings, set to never wear the crown of your kingdom. The last to marry, you're suddenly betrothed after your father waged your hand in marriage in some game of bow and arrow. Though you and your knight, Maki, have been content with bottling up your affections for one another, this sudden betrothal has you both wishing for something you know you can't have.

they were just friends by wanderwithme [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [65K] #: fem reader - fireman fushiguro toji - slow burn - roommates - character death - eventual romance - described as blushing

It’s 4:24 p.m. and the love of your life is cheating on you.

turn me like a beast / hold you to the floor by gardenofnoah [ONESHOT] [6.5K] #: princess reader - strangers to unfortunate lovers - hunter nanami kento - the fall of a dynasty - major character death - reincarnation - bittersweet ending

The world is at its end, and an unlikely pair finds solace in each other. To love is an animal thing.

wormwood by linkcities [ONESHOT] [25K] #: fem reader - angst with a happy ending - canon compliant - childhood friends to lovers - mutual pining - codependency - new beginnings

Absence festers in the presence of little yellow wormwood flowers, and you come to learn about how it goes hand in hand with lingering bitterness when you meet Gojo Satoru. or, As the young God’s only friend, you are punctured with the burden of his companionship, regardless if you deem yourself unworthy of it.

风月 | wind, moon by itoshisoup [ONESHOT] [7.5K] #: gender neutral reader - established relationship - fluff - romance

In which you drag Dan Heng halfway across the universe for a candied fruit skewer, and he gets a taste of the life that was once denied to him.

christmas countdown by suguwu [ONESHOT] [16K] #: gender neutral reader - hallmark au - holiday fluff - age gap - romance

Your company is taking on a new project and desperately wants the backing and expertise of retired CEO Jing Yuan. Dispatched out into the countryside to bring him on board, you find it won't be as easy as you think. Jing Yuan strikes a bargain with you: spend the upcoming days with him, until Christmas Eve, and he'll tell you exactly what it will take for him to come back if you don't figure it out yourself. Let the Christmas countdown begin.

nexus by ddarker-dreams [MULTI-CHAP] [51K] #: fem reader - yandere blade - codependency - eventual sexual content - dark comedy - space politics

You belong to a specialized group — the Arbiters — who are capable of influencing others' perceptions. Your clients hail from all corners of the universe to see their wildest fantasies come true. By establishing a link with them, they can experience a dreamscape of their choosing, more convincing than the latest developments in augmented reality. You have received many unique requests throughout the years. After the Stellaron Hunter's swordsman saves you from an early demise, you offer him the chance to experience any phantasia of his choosing. It is then that you're posed with a trying challenge: "Show me what it's like to die."

scrap metal by lorelune [TWOSHOT] [5K] #: gender neutral reader - captive reader - injury - use of a muzzle - non consensual touching - yandere blade - force feeding

Per Elio's newest script, the Stellaron Hunters take in a stray.

love like no other by nanamimizz [ONESHOT] [2.6K] #: fem reader - sexual content - established relationship - open communication

Al Haitham is man solemnly thought he would never find love, so when he has that and more the night turns...physical.

you didn't teach me how to forget you by haitaniapologist [TWOSHOT] [15K] #: ragnvindr fem reader - described as blushing - fluff - lovesick childe - possessiveness

You never thought you would find the boy who haunted your childhood in a trip to Liyue.

arranged marriages and well-kept secrets by dearayato [ONESHOT] [1.7K] #: gender neutral reader - established relationship - talk of marriage - proposals

Ayato props himself on his elbows, a smug smile adorning his face, “Don’t worry love, the only person I see in my future is you.”

for you are the world by lorelune [MULTI-CHAP] [29K] #: fem reader - childhood friends to lovers - post trauma - fluff - hurt/comfort - chronic injuries - sexual content - protective diluc

You return to Mondstadt after many years away, sick, with an feeling that's all-too familiar and unwelcome.

bury me by deskaisers [ONESHOT] [8.8K] #: fem reader - described as blushing - stepcest - step brother oliver aiku - virginity - corruption kink - unprotected sex

Your father's new relationship was rather unexpected, but there was no way in hell you could have predicted everything else that came with it.

everything's better when you're honest by prettyboykatsuki [ONESHOT] [11K] #: fem reader - friends to lovers - professional athlete isagi yoichi - reader is sexually experienced - sexual content

you notice early on that isagi is always holding back something. the deeper into your relationship you go, the more you wish he'd let loose.

to my first love by by-moonflower [TWOSHOT][17.3K] #: fem reader - high school au to married au - non-linear narrative - exploring girlhood - fluff - angst - romance - suggestive - described as blushing

When you agreed to date itoshi sae in mid-October of 1993, you never imagined he'd be your first love—whose presence would continue to linger in your life, hauntingly, even if a year, two, or ten came to pass.

finding peace in the spontaneous wild (that is you) by tired-biscuit [ONESHOT] [26K] #: fem reader - university au - modern supernatural elements - friends to lovers - werewolf kiba - mutual pining - eventual sexual content

You run into Kiba at the grocery store, around two weeks after returning home from college.

🔒 tacenda by namodawrites [MULTI-CHAP] [100K] #: gender neutral reader - mutual pining - slow burn - childhood friends to lovers - canon typical violence - rivalry

Somewhere along the way trying to prove Neji wrong about fate and destiny, you fall in love.

den of wolves by kuramakakashi [MULTICHAP] [37K] #: senju reader - descriptions of gore - uchiha centric - canon typical violence - worldbuilding

Peace in our time – it was the dream your cousin had championed since childhood, and it was the foundation for all of his efforts to bring the constant warring between clans to a permanent end. And it was why he sent you into the den of wolves with only one order: Save Izuna Uchiha.

🔒 birds of a feather by namodawrites [ONESHOT] [18K] #: gender neutral reader - touchstarved - possessive behaviour - comfort/angst - canon typical violence

Knives rediscovers his humanity while recovering. You fight hard not to lose yours.

bittersweet by heich0e [ONESHOT [6K] #: afab reader - domestic fluff - sharing a bed - gentle sex - sweet soggy vash

Something shuffles in the dark. Papa left you a gun, too. Even taught you how to shoot it. Mama hated that. She hated how good you were at it even more. She used to say that shooting was gonna be your husband’s job someday, and that even in a world this wicked Papa was teaching you things you didn’t need to know. But now Mama’s gone. And Papa’s gone. And the world is still wicked. And you’ve got no husband, but you have a gun you know how to shoot.

and I know it’s hard enough to love me (but I woke up in a safe house) by seoafin [ONESHOT] [4K] #: fem reader - sharing a bed - tending to wounds - fluff - blood and injury

“My husband and I would like a room. We’re on our honeymoon”. “In this shithole of a town?” The innkeeper asks with a raised eyebrow, looking from you to Vash, who only lets out a sheepish chuckle as he scratches the back of his head. Despite his sluggish breaths, his slow blinking gaze, and the red slowly staining his shirt.

solar lunacy by bamsara [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [225K] #: gender neutral reader - slow burn - fluff and angst - developing relationships - blood and injury - posessive behaviour

You weren’t a technician, you weren’t a security guard, you weren’t a daycare assistant. You’re just an employee. Staff. The ‘jack-of-all-trades’ employee with mediocre at best skills and specialty in none, tasked with doing miscellaneous jobs that robots couldn’t do and human staff couldn’t care to. The job is unpredictable, but it pays good and it’s relatively easy. Except for the part where all the animatronics are more sentient than you thought, and you’re roped into a mystery surrounding the Daycare Attendants, who are bit too curious about you for your liking. You don’t think this was in your employee contact.

cryptid sightings by naffeclipse [MULTICHAP] [250K] #: gender neutral reader - cryptid au - reader is a cryptid hunter - horror - blood and violence - sleep terrors - non-sexual intimacy - posessive behaviour

Perhaps this would scare a person, being all alone in the woods in the dark, but not you. You’re too intertwined with the paranormal and inexplicable. It’s in your blood. That doesn’t mean your heart won’t pound with terror when you face something with fangs and hungry eyes for flesh, but you don’t run away, and that’s what matters most. You will face the monsters.

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"She knows that ass. In fact, she'd spent the whole day staring at pictures of it. So she is absolutely, 100% certain that ass belongs to Dick Grayson. Now, if Dick Grayson wants to run across the rooftops dressed in spandex, that's his prerogative. The problem is, he's not just Dick Grayson. No. Dick Grayson is Nightwing. And she has questions." She hadn't been trying to figure out who he was. In fact, she was trying to uncover the identity of the Red Hood. But now that she knows, she can't go back.

let me just add there are an infinite amount of other amazing fics that will not have made this rec list purely due to the time constraints, submission limit and lack of reach, etc. your fic is valuable and loved whether it made the cut or not—please do remember that!!!!!!

#m.navi #hq x reader #bnha x reader #jjk x reader #hsr x reader #bllk x reader #trigun x reader #x reader fic #x reader fic rec #fic

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kittenintheden · 3 months

Text

You Can Read Me Anything - Part 1

welp, they did it, fam. @fangswbenefits and @bludazey egged me on to flesh out a one-shot based on this prompt and I have done so. this is part 1. THERE WILL BE A PART 2 I SWEAR.

Edit: PART 2 IS UP!

***

Druidic Tav grew up in a nomadic clan that recorded their history through spoken word and song rather than written text. As such, she's illiterate, and one charming-ish vampire offers to help her with reading lessons and a whole lot more. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course.

Then one night, she unwittingly brings him smut for their lesson.

Rating: E Word Count: 3500 words Content: illiterate Tav, Astarion being a shit, but also being cute, innocent Tav, suggestive dialogue, secondhand smut via fake bodice ripper

AO3 Link

"Astarion?" Tav says quietly, poking her head around the open flap of his tent. She finds him sitting cross-legged inside, his eyes scanning over the book laying open in his lap. He looks up at the inquiry and lifts his chin with a cavalier smile.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite companion," he says, voice lilting. "What can I do for you?"

Tav clears her throat and ducks inside, settling on her knees just beyond. She has a book of her own in her hands, fingers impatiently tapping against the cover. "I wondered if you might be up for giving me another reading lesson."

He hums, tipping his own tome shut and setting it aside. "Something from that broken up old temple we found today? Give it here, let's see."

Hesitantly, she holds it out for him and he accepts it, gaze scanning the binding. He lifts a brow, then flips it open and peruses a page. Then another. He snaps it shut again.

"I don't know if this is the best book for a… ah," he says, contemplating his next words. His mouth tics up on one side as he glances her up and down. "Reading lesson."

Tav frowns. "Why not? I thought you'd be interested, given the picture on the cover."

Astarion peers down at the cover and huffs. "Well. I can certainly see why you'd think so. The resemblance is... resemblant."

It's a finely-wrought etching of two people, one swooning against the other. The figure behind supports the other about the waist with one hand, the opposite pulling their hair aside to reveal their neck. The dominant figure leans toward their throat as if for a kiss, pointed teeth showing past their lips.

Tav shrugs. "Is it too advanced? Is that why?"

Astarion gives a sharp laugh and puts his fingers in front of his mouth as if he's trying to put it back. "Erm, no, dear. I think you could puzzle through it just fine."

"Okay..." Tav says, perplexed. "Then what?'

"Bleeding Hells," he mutters, rubbing a forefinger in the space between his eyes. "Why don't you try reading the title out for me? Let's start there."

Tav takes the book back and looks at the lettering on the front. It's the Common alphabet, so not too terrible to parse, though she’s still working on some of the more complex blended sounds.

"In..." she starts, running her finger beneath the words and feeling the soft leather beneath. "the... Embra... Embrace?"

Astarion is leaning on one hand and he gives a patient nod.

"In the Embrace... of... the... Nig... Nig-het..."

"Night, sweet thing," Astarion says softly. "G beside H is silent."

"Right," Tav says, looking again. "So, In the Embrace of the Night... stalker."

"Try again."

Tav studies the letters. They spot their mistake. "Nightsucker."

Astarion nods.

She looks very pleased with herself, beaming at him. "Got it! What's the problem, again?"

The vampire closes his eyes and holds his hands in prayer position in front of his lips as if he's steeling himself. He opens his scarlet eyes and moves his hands away. "Shall I read you a page or two to start? Maybe then you'll understand."

Thrilled, Tav nods and returns the tome, sitting herself more comfortably as Astarion leafs through the pages.

"Ooooh," he says, his voice lifting. "This passage looks promising." He lowers the book in front of him so Tav can scoot around and follow along as he reads, committing symbol to sound.

Astarion's carefully kept fingernails run along the text inside, showing where he's reading. In his practiced, soothing Upper City voice, he begins to read. "A creature of the night is good for only two things: destruction or seduction. Perhaps both at once, if a person is lucky. And tonight, Yolanda is very, very lucky."

Tav subconsciously nods along, feeling a little thrill of pride every time she mentally catches the word before Astarion says it aloud. Her companion continues to read about Yolanda and her new vampiric friend, until the story takes... a bit of a turn.

"Yolanda gasps rapturously as Armondo suckles at the crease of her thigh, skin flushing as his sinful tongue laps closer and closer to the place she needs it most, to her swollen secret spot, and when at last he catches it in a languid swirl, she keens out his-"

Tav puts her hands on either side of the book over Astarion's and forces him to snap it shut, her cheeks flaming. Slowly, she turns her head to find Astarion's face very, very close, a look of deep amusement in his eye and a smirk stretching his lips.

"I have to go," Tav says. "Keep the book." Her legs aren't immediately cooperative, but when she manages to get them to respond, she scrambles inelegantly for the exit. "Good night."

"Sweet dreams," Astarion calls after her, still smirking. Once she’s gone, he opens the book back up to that same passage.

"What will Armondo do next, I wonder," he whispers.

After about a minute, when he's sure Tav is safely tucked away in her own tent and likely screaming into her makeshift pillow, he clears his throat and squirms, reaching down to adjust the front of his trousers. They've gone quite tight.

That’s probably normal.

---

Tav’s washing some of her delicates out in the river the next day when the vampire she’s actively been avoiding finally finds her. She glances his way briefly then looks immediately out at the Chionthar like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

“Hello,” she says too brightly, wadding up her soaked underthings in her hands and wringing them out.

Astarion, to his credit, is acting perfectly natural. He sets himself on a flat rock near her and tilts his face toward the afternoon sun, eyes closed as he soaks up its rays. “Hello, darling,” he lilts. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Her laugh is tinny and high. “What? No, I…”

He tips his head forward and sets his gaze on her, amusement clear on his face.

With an exasperated hiss, she gathers her delicates up and puts them into the sack she’s brought with her. She’ll hang them up to dry inside her tent. “Fine, maybe a little. I’m embarrassed.”

“Of what?” he says, head tilting just so.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Of accidentally asking you to read me porn? Of being too dense to take the hint from the cover or the title? Of needing help to read in the first place? Take your pick.”

Astarion laughs, though not in a mocking way. “You’re quite entertaining, do you know that?” He turns his body more fully toward her, tenting one leg so he can rest his forearm on his knee. “I’ve met many, many literate people who are far duller and denser than you. And they didn’t even have the excuse of growing up severed from civilized society.”

Tav sticks her tongue out at him, but she smiles nonetheless. Her nomadic druidic clan didn’t put much stock in the written word – they shared their knowledge through spoken story and song. It’s a system that served her perfectly well up until she was plucked off the face of the world by a planeshifting aberrant ship.

Why she’d chosen Astarion of all her newfound companions to be her reading tutor, she didn’t rightly know. Gale seemed the most obvious choice, or Wyll. Both would have been kind and patient teachers. But there was something about her guarded, bristly friend that she wanted to understand, like why he spent most of his free time buried in more books than even her wizard companion bothered with. Astarion had been surprisingly amicable to the idea when she’d brought it up.

And so the lessons had begun, as had the increase in his flirting.

She knows his nature, of course. The lot of them had barely been together for seventy-two hours before he’d tried to make a snack of her and she’d agreed to allow it, much to his surprise. What was a bit of blood, really, if it meant giving another being strength? She could spare it.

Without meaning to, she reaches up to brush her fingers across her neck at the site of his latest bite. The wound is gone, healed over with her own natural magic, but she remembers the icy sting.

Astarion doesn’t fail to notice, his tented leg swaying ever so slightly to and fro. “You like it, don’t you?” he says.

“Like what?” she says, grimacing at how bad she is at nonchalance.

“Don’t play coy,” he teases, leaning toward her. “I can feel it when I feed on you, you know. Your little shakes of excitement.”

“Little shakes from blood loss, you mean,” Tav snaps, clutching up her bag a bit too tightly in her hands.

Astarion raises his hands to placate her. “All right, if we insist on living in denial,” he says. “I’ll continue to play teacher.”

“Well, good,” she says, dropping her eyes to the space between them. “Because that’s what this is. Teaching.”

“Of course,” he says, mouth lifted on one side.

Tav huffs and gets to her feet. She goes six steps before she turns on her heel and walks back to him, “You know what? Fine. Another lesson tonight. Same book.”

His brows tick up. “This ought to be good,” he says. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yes, you will,” she says, making a little jerk with her fist near her thigh. She seems to feel this is a fitting end to the interaction because she turns on her heel and stomps off, bag of wet undergarments in hand.

“Premonition of things to come?” Astarion says to himself, wriggling his shoulders and quietly laughing at his own joke. There’s a moment where he realizes he’s smiling his real smile. He pulls his lips back over his teeth and clears his throat, straightening his shirt before he gets up to occupy his time until better plans come along.

---

Astarion dramatically reads another passage of smut aloud and Tav is doing her level best to keep her thighs pressed tightly together. She can practically smell herself, so she’s fairly certain that her reading partner, who happens to be a literal predator, certainly can. Her cheeks must be scarlet.

“‘Armondo, darkness in my heart!’ Yolanda shrieks to the rafters.”

Her companion throws up his hand toward the roof of his tent, beaming down at the page he reads. They’ve both long since abandoned the finger on the text method in favor of his theatrics.

“The nightsucker crawls over his conquest like a panther.” Astarion reads from his whole chest, clearly having the time of his life. “He has claimed her once already and she remains unsatiated, mewling beneath him like a simpering kitten.”

Tav doesn’t think either of them are pretending this is an actual reading lesson anymore. At least, she isn’t. She’s too stubborn and too mortified to admit that this was a mistake. So here she sits while the prettiest man she’s ever met continues to regale her with complete filth.

Worse, she doesn’t hate it.

She squeezes her thighs together tighter.

“‘I will feed on you once more,’ Armondo purrs in his deep baritone.” Astarion drops his voice to match and Tav can’t help the giggle that bubbles up her throat, though she tries to catch it in her hand.

Astarion continues. “‘But first, I will drink of your nectar.’ His fingers roam down the hills and valleys of her skin, his mouth following, until he reaches her lush garden and the coveted rose within, his tongue seeking hidden depths-”

Tav interrupts him with a groan as she covers her eyes. “Oh gods, not again.”

The vampire takes pity on her at last and tips the book shut with one hand, placing his palm over the top of it where it rests in his lap. “You surprise me,” he says with a light laugh. “I’d have thought you’d want to hear tell of a lad with a gilded tongue who knows his way around a lady’s flower.”

She covers her entire face and screams into her hands a little. When she’s calmed, she lowers her hands to her folded knees and looks to the side. Before she can stop herself, she blurts, “Do a lot of people do that?”

Astarion, who had been reaching for a different book so he could at least give her the semblance of an actual lesson, stops mid-motion. He turns his head toward her and says, “What?”

Tav gives a rapidfire laugh and pulls her knees to her chest, rocking a bit. She glances at his face and away again so quickly it’s nearly imperceptible. “I mean, it’s common enough to be in a book, so I imagine it’s fairly common… place?” she stammers. “Seems like people enjoy it. Right?”

Astarion stares. “Tav.”

She scratches a spot behind her ear and doesn’t meet his eyes. “Hm?”

“Tav,” Astarion says again, the word harder.

She huffs and looks him in the eye, face completely flushed.

He’s still staring. "No one’s ever gone down on you?"

Tav puts her hands to her blushing cheeks and glares at him. "No. I didn't think it was something people... usually did."

He gives an incredulous laugh. Completely bewildered. "Darling, are you... are you a virgin?"

"No!" she says again with as much offense as she can muster. "I've been with people. Two. Two people."

"Well, they can't have been very good," he scoffs. "My gods. You poor, poor dear.”

“Okay, okay, stop making fun of me.” She flaps her hands at him. “I just thought it sounded… I don’t know. Nice?”

“Nice?” Astarion breathes through his disbelieving smile before he swallows his incredulity and pulls it back together. “I’m not making fun, my sweet. Only mourning on your behalf that you’ve experienced such flops. I wish you better future lovers.”

“Ugh,” she groans again, going to her hands and knees. “I’m leaving now. And I’m taking this book back.”

She goes to reach for it and he shrinks away, his palm pressing tighter to the cover. “No!”

When she startles at his outburst and looks at him, she catches the scarcest fraction of what looks like panic on his face before his features reform themselves into his usual smoldering smirk. It’s so fast she’s sure she imagined it.

“This is mine,” he purrs. “You gave it to me. No take-backsies.”

“Oh, fine,” she snaps at him before she makes her exit. He half-expects her to burst into a flurry of fur and feather in her huff, but she remains person-shaped.

When she’s gone, he blinks after her several times before he dares move the book from his lap, straightening his leg and wincing. He reaches a hand to adjust the rigid length standing out along his thigh under his trousers.

It’s been pinching for a minute.

---

He won’t leave her in peace.

Oh, he’s nice enough. Courteous enough not to be a complete scamp when the others are near, which she makes sure they are, frequently.

Unfortunately, he catches her alone on one of her daily nature walks by dropping out of a tree to block her path. She glowers at him as he bends forward, hands behind his back, and gives her his very best charmer’s smile.

“You haven’t been by my tent for the last few nights,” he says. “Whyever not?”

She rolls her eyes and steps around him, continuing down the path. He immediately follows.

“You must keep up with your studies, darling,” he says as he falls into step beside her. “Else you’ll lose all your freshly acquired skills.”

Tav sighs. “Gale’s been helping me.”

Astarion stops short and she gets several steps ahead before she bothers to look around for him.

“Gale?” he sneers. Under her gaze, he rapidly regains his composure and draws his shoulders back, giving his light laugh. “That must be terribly boring.”

She shrugs. “I figured I’d put you out enough.”

He tucks his chin. “Is that what you think? That I didn’t enjoy our time together? Because I assure you it’s very much the opposite.” He tosses his head and gives a cheeky grin. “I’ve many more lessons I could offer, if you’d like.”

Tav arches an eyebrow at him. “Like what?” she says as she turns to walk the path again.

Astarion retakes his place at her side. “Did you know I speak several languages?”

“Is that so?” she says. “I speak three. Common, druidic, and bad druidic.”

“Well, there you go,” he says. “Interested in learning more?”

To illustrate his point, he slips seamlessly into a flowing, silky language she presumes to be Elvish. From that, his words go harder and sharper. Finally, they edge into something guttural.

Despite herself, she smiles and looks sidelong at him. “Did you make that last one up?”

“Absolutely not, how dare you,” he says. “I also read shady secret code, but that’s neither here nor there, really.”

Tav contemplates. “The first one was pretty, I guess.”

“An Elvish language lesson it is, then.” He smiles wickedly. "Go on, repeat after me."

He says something in Elvish, a phrase with flowing vowels and rounded words that sound delicious on the tongue.

Tav forces herself to stop staring at his mouth as he speaks. "Say again?" she says, tucking her hair behind her ear and focusing on the ground, trying to pay closer attention to the sound of the words.

He repeats the phrase.

With a slight frown, she repeats it back almost perfectly. Years and years around a campfire learning the tales of her people prepared her for it.

"Oh," Astarion says. "Your intonation is... quite good."

She risks a look at him and finds him peering at her with eyes half-lidded, that same wicked smile on his lips.

Her frown deepens. "What did you just have me say?"

"Only that I'm beautiful and I deserve nice things," he says with a flourish of his hand. "Which is true."

Tav looks him up and down, but he seems sincere enough, so she continues on her walk and he stays in step, the air between them full of the language of his ancestry. She absorbs it as she absorbs the sun.

---

The next day, Shadowheart leads a dapple-gray mare laden with supplies through the camp. Wyll comes along to help her unload and the pair make small talk until the last sack is removed from the horse’s back and she shifts back into humanoid form.

“Appreciate the help, Tav,” Shadowheart says. “That would’ve taken several trips without you.”

Tav beams at her. “You could’ve taken Lae’zel, you know. Pretty sure she could lift me. While I’m in horse form.”

The cleric gives her a sardonic look. “Where’s your bloodsucking shadow?” she quips back.

Tav laughs. “Okay, I deserved that. I think he’s hunting.”

Shadowheart hums. “He could at least bring the body back for the rest of us once in a while.” She sets down her last crate and dusts her hands off. “That’s enough components for me to replenish our potion stock. What do you need?”

“I could use two or three more vials of Oil of Accuracy,” Tav admits. “You wouldn’t think a lioness’ claws needed to be more accurate, but you’d be wrong.”

“Done,” Shadowheart says. “I’ll have them to you by tomorrow morning.”

Tav nods her appreciation and gives Shadowheart a clap on the shoulder as she walks past. On a whim, she throws out one of the Elvish phrases Astarion taught her in thanks.

“... what did you just say to me?” Shadowheart says.

Tav turns. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought you’d speak Elvish, too. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Shadowheart shakes her head. “No, no. I do speak Elvish. I want you to repeat what you just said.”

Blinking in confusion, Tav does so.

The cleric’s expression can only be called disbelieving. “Yes, that’s what I thought you said. Who taught you that?”

“Astarion,” Tav says, twisting her staff in her hands. “Gods, did I say it wrong?”

Shadowheart laughs into her hand, then sobers and clears her throat. “No, your ear is surprisingly good. Thank you for that. Mind if I teach you one to say next time you see him?”

“Really?” Tav says, thrilled. “I’d love that.”

They spend a few moments committing a new phrase to Tav’s memory and then Shadowheart sends her on her merry way, unable to drop the smile from her face.

Wyll comes up beside her, having finally emptied the last of the nearby crates. He holds a silver mug out to Shadowheart and lifts his own toward his mouth.

“What did that phrase Astarion taught her really mean?” he asks as he puts his drink to his lips.

Shadowheart holds her mug in both hands and leans in closer. “It’s not a direct translation, but… think along the lines of, ‘I will take you between my thighs until you forget your breath.’”

Wyll chokes and spits out his drink chivalrously in the direction opposite Shadowheart. He coughs and brings up an arm to wipe his mouth.

“And what did you teach her back?” he wheezes.

Shadowheart smirks. “‘If you wish to drink of my fountain, speak it with your lips to mine.’”

Wyll leans forward to put his hands on his knees and wheezes again. “Oh, that… that’s going to be a thing.”

“I hope so,” Shadowheart says, taking a draught from her own cup.

PART 2

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #look y'all asked for this #so it's yours now #kitten writes

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almondamaretto · 2 months

Note

hii i loved ur crossfaded story, do u think u could do some stoner matt bf hcs? 🫶🫶

YESSSSS omg girl u have good taste

i was looking for an excuse to write ts. also not proofread!! and not good because i was high!!

stoner!matt x afab!reader

warnings: use of weed, smut

— ok lets get one thing straight, this man is one of those deep thought, random fact stoners that make you rethink everything about the world.

— "who decided that the alphabet was in alphabetical order? maybe we wanted e first, yknow?"

— always has at least one joint or the makings for one joint on him at all times. not as bad as chris who i would imagine carries around like 2-3 all the time.

— i would give anything to see this man rolling a fuckin joint.

— feels like an unpopular opinion i'm not sure, but he definitely thinks watching his girl roll one is hot. especially if you're not as experienced as him, yet still make an effort to try and impress him.

— if you're a stoner, he's buying you cute shit. cute papers, a cute grinder, lighters and stash boxes.

— is either non-verbal while high or actually yapping with no in between, but the simple truth his, he wants to be touching you at all times.

— imagine js sitting there, chatting his ear off, reflecting on your day n he's just staring, completely engrossed. meanwhile his fingers have been trailing up and down your thigh...

— or, he's running his mouth while taking a hold of your hand, leaving chaste kisses all over your hand, face, neck, and lips, only quiet whilst doing so.

— would def always be down to smoke w you, he could never say no to his sweet girl.

— loves to smoke in a group with his brothers, closest friends, and you cause he is a big quality time guy, but there is something so satisfying about being alone with you, watching the way you move through the haze filling the room.

— i think he would get more jealous while under the influence, you just look so good and he knows what every other guy is thinking.

— he is obviously very touchy and needy when he's high, but he also speaks in such an insatiable way, voicing all his dirty thoughts with no reserve.

— "and that's when- wow i can't shut up" "i could think of a few ways to shut you up."

— and you're gagged. figuratively and literally.

— one day, the friend group is at a party or some type of event. you and matt are nowhere to be found though, tucked away in some large room behind a locked door, the window cracked open.

— the roach of a used up joint was thrown onto the bedside table, hands now busy with pulling each other impossibly closer.

— he had pulled you up onto his lap, large hands gripping your ass as you pressed against his hard-on. your lips were quickly pressed together in sloppy kisses, your hands exploring his torso enthusiastically, his grazing up your sides and ass.

— "you were sittin' so pretty down there for me doll. did you really expect me to not pay attention?"

— he grumbles out while his lips ghost over your neck. you practically melt into his hands.

— chris came banging on the door, talking about something neither of you had interest in. matt never faltered in his movements, continue to squeeze your ass and nibble on your neck and chest.

— "matt!" "shh, stay quiet for me baby, he'll leave soon."

— when chris persists, he's groaning loudly and laying you gently on the bed, leaving a final kiss to your lips. he swings the door open to reveal only himself, blood-shot eyes and lip gloss smeared over his lips. his hair was jostled every which way, chest heaving slightly.

— chris just grins and shakes his head, mumbling something to matt that undoubtedly makes him roll his eyes.

— "nick and i wanna go to this other party madi's going to, you gotta drive us."

— he immediately refuses and goes to shut the door, but somehow chris convinces him with the reasoning of "less people means less chance someone tries to barge in."

— side note, you always get whichever seat you want and aux when matt's driving, it makes the other two go insane.

— mornings when you both don't have anything important to do or wake up a little earlier than usual, he wants to do two things.

— 1. wake and bake

— 2. morning sex.

— i mean seeing you first thing in the morning, getting high, and then fucking you dumb? thats his own personal heaven.

— it's doesn't take long for you to end up face down whimpering into a pillow while he drills into you from behind, senses heightened by the drug.

— he's struggling himself to keep quiet, opting to let out small grunts and whimpering into your ear, otherwise biting his lip to stay quiet.

— you fill all of his senses so well, your sounds sounding so heavenly to him, your walls squeezing him so well while he thrusts into your tight cunt.

— "doing so good for me mama, takin' me so well." he strains out as he gets close. you're both especially sensitive, highs coming all too soon.

so sorry if this is bad y'all 😭

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff

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nanamiluvs · 2 months

Note

can you do nsfw alphabet for gallagher? :3

just yes omg gallagher is so ngh... like someone commented on my last gallagher post, i want him and wriothesley to tag team me idc

gallagher nsfw alphabet !

pairing : gallagher x reader

rating : explicit

wc : 2.4k

warnings : smut content, reader is afab but no pronouns used, not beta read, reader is called "miss" and "baby" and "good girl", reader is smaller than gallagher in size, size kink, cum play, slight pet play, come eating, gallagher likes to torture himself, manhandling, praise kink, choking, spanking, gallagher eats pussy like a champ, face-fucking, very slight hair pulling, begging, mentions of creampies, overstimulation, teasing, so much teasing

a : aftercare

gallagher is not the biggest practitioner of aftercare, he'd much rather you two just lay down in a mess and leave the cleaning to later. but he's an acts of service type of man. if you want to be cleaned, he will clean you. if you want to be held, he's cuddling you already. gallagher can do whatever you want to do the point it comes off as weird, but really, he's fine with whatever you like. he wants whatever you want. this man can eat his own cum out of you with pleasure for fuck sake.

b : body part

gallagher loves how big he is. he knows his frame is large, wide shoulders and a build adorned with hard muscles. he acts like he's not aware of it, but he loves how you fit in his bulky arms. for you, gallagher loves anywhere he can grab or run his hands through: your waist, your tummy, your thighs, hips, throat- anywhere, really. to be honest, it doesn't matter but on a surface level, gallagher seems to be the type to prefer a heavier body.

c : cum

gallagher is messy and i mean it. he likes to see a mess on you or himself, he doesn't care, just make a mess. he loves to see his cum dirty your body, sprayed across your tits and stomach or seeping out of your cunt. his cum has an off-white color, thicker in density and he cums a lot. you don't know how it's possible, but the man just doesn't stop cumming. he loves to smear his cum too, even more when you scold him for it, laughing like a little boy.

d : dirty secret

gallagher is not shy, but the idea of wanting you to put a collar on him and treat him like a dog, is a little embarrassing. if you ask him to, he'd say something like 'eh, whatever you want, miss' and oblige. it's definitely not as if he's so fucking hard he's turned on by it, he just wants to go along with your requests.

e : experience

gallagher is probably quite experienced. his job is quite stressful, so why not let off some steam with some hook ups here and there? he's not one to judge you whether you're experienced or not, he simply thinks of his experience as an advantage to pleasure you. he knows what he's doing and he knows it so well.

f : favorite position

gallagher has no set favorite position since this man finds joy in throwing you around. sex with gallagher never finishes in the same position as it started, he will find a way to manhandle you to his whims. probably likes g-whiz, table top and upstanding citizen a lot. get used to him moving your body and handling you into another position he wants because he loves doing it.

g : goofy

gallagher is, most of the time, very laid-back during sex. there are times he's more serious, but usually it's him cracking a few jokes here and there. he doesn't see sex as a necessarily romantic thing- gallagher is someone who prefers to fuck rather than to make love. he's extremely cocky too, so much that you'd want to punch his grinning face in with your fist, but well, that's gallagher for you.

h : hair

gallagher definitely has a happy trail and i don't care what anyone else says. he's probably hairy down there, he doesn't let it get too wild since that bothers him but don't expect to see a completely bald surface. he likes it if you're more on the hairy side as well. for gallagher, the messier, the better when it comes to sex.

i : intimacy

gallagher, like i said, doesn't view sex as strictly romantic. he's often teasing you, dirty words spilling through his lips as he fucks you into utter bliss. this man fucks like he has no respect for you. the other times he's on the intimate side, gallagher can't help but smile fondly as his hips roll into yours, arms wrapped around your body with his low voice whispering in your ear. it's so unfair, how he can pull off both with ease.

j : jack off

gallagher probably jacks off once or maybe twice a week at max. i imagine him doing it after work, before he gets to sleep. he mainly does it to destress. i also imagine him wanting to see you masturbate, rough and calloused hands palming his clothed groin as he watches you pleasure yourself. he will not touch you unless you're done, cunt all wet and messy for his thick cock to fill up. and fill up, he will.

k : kink

gallagher is honestly the kinky type.

‎ ‎ ‎ begging : gallagher wants to see you beg. beg to cum, beg for him to finish inside you, beg for him to fuck you, beg and beg and beg. he finds it so arousing, the way you can go so vulnerable for a man like him. he's a meanie, too, making you beg for anything.

‎ ‎ ‎ choking : gallagher would hate to hurt you, but sometimes he can't help but wrap his hand around your throat as he fucks you. he's never too harsh, he knows how strong he is, his touch is more like a reminder of his presence. his thumb plays with your lip before he leans in and kisses you. he also absolutely loves getting choked by you, your smaller hands wrapped around his neck as you ride him, a teasing grin on his face as he struggles to breathe. he says you don't need to worry about going overboard as he can simply stop it if you do so. trust me, he doesn't want to.

‎ ‎ ‎ overstimulation : gallagher hits me as the type to be able to do it for hours on end, obsessed with making you cum over and over again before burying himself inside. he loves fucking you silly, your whining and moaning sound like music in his ears. loves overstimulating himself too.

‎ ‎ ‎ praise kink : gallagher has a praise kink. it's frustrating at this point, the way he can get you to do anything with that stupid smirk on his face and whispers of his, praising you for everything you do. so much that you want to choke him, yet he's just so sickeningly sweet with his words. anything you do well, he will praise you for it. he turns it into a game of whether you'll get his approval or not, going as far as making you beg and crawl for it, and then praise you for how well you've been. 'y'can do it for me, can't ya? good girl.' he can get you to do almost everything he wants with the providance of praises. likes to be on the receiving side on the times he's on the submissive side, often begging for praises during it. 'ah, i've been a good boy, right, baby? right? come and sit on it, please.'

‎ ‎ ‎ size kink : gallagher wants to tower over you. he wants to hold both of your wrists with one hand. he wants to see how small your hands look compared to his larger ones, he wants to see those big fingers of his slowly disappear inside your pussy, filling you like a dick would. yet it's not even close enough to the feeling of his cock, so big and heavy and just too much. he smiles and pushes further inside, relishing in how much you struggle to take him. how many times has it been? are you still not used to his length? he teases as his frame wraps around yours with your back pressed against his chest, enveloping you with all the warmth radiating from the man. he loves how he's just so big compared to you.

l : location

gallagher cares little about things such as locations. if there's a surface, he can fuck you. he has no shame, he can and will do it everywhere you want him to. obviously won't force you if that's not your thing, happy to oblige in the privacy of your own home. the location really doesn't matter to him, because at the end of the day, it's your walls wrapping around his cock so deliciously.

m : motivation

gallagher has a high sex drive, so i think he doesn't need much additional motivation. but your reactions would be the biggest motivating point for him to continue, in love with the way you whine when he rubs your clit or the way you squirm under his hands as he caresses your body. he will go to heaven and back just to hear you moan in ecstasy. would get hard again at the sight of his cum seeping out your folds.

n : no

gallagher most likely wouldn't have a strictly negative opinion on anything. he's a firm believer that everything can be tested but he's not a fan of the idea of physically hurting you with knives or other sharp weapons.

o : oral

gallagher eats pussy like a craved man. it's either him holding you down by your thighs as you sit on him or your plush thighs threatening to crush his skull when he goes down on you. you may think he does it to pleasure you, in reality, you couldn't be more wrong. he eats you out because that's what pleasures him, the taste of your juices along with the melodies your moans sound like in his ears. he grows so hard it's unbearable, yet no, he won't stop to fuck you for real. his hips grind against the bed, dick aching with need in his pants, low moans spilling from his mouth as his tongue laps your slick. his stubble grazes your lips as his jaw moves, your hips desperately chasing the friction. he also loves pushing your head down on his length, watching you gag and choke around his thick cock as you struggle to take him in. he enjoys eating you out but also face-fucking you, although not as much as the former. his grip on your hair tightens as he gets closer to coming, your saliva and his precum mixing before he buries his cock in your mouth, cum spilling down your throat. he will definitely pull out if you don't like the stretch.

p : pace

gallagher has such a rough pace that it's intoxicating. his hips slam into yours so heavily, you can feel his whole body with the way he thrusts inside of you. he's not slow too, you wonder how he does it. each thrust fills your insides with vigor, groans coming from his mouth. his hips fasten as he comes close to finishing, and that takes quite the long time, the sensation overwhelming.

q : quickie

gallagher absolutely enjoys quickies and no one can convince me otherwise. he thinks they're just so useful for getting one out of his system with the load of his work. though most of the time, he prefers having his time with you.

r : risk

gallagher is probably open with taking risks when it comes to sex. anything you wanna try, he's alright with it- truly a gentleman.

s : stamina

gallagher can go on for multiple rounds on end. you don't know how he does it, he just cums and cums and cums until there's nothing left in his balls, yet it repeats all over the next day! his stamina is probably one of the highest of the star rail men.

t : toys

gallagher can use anything that makes the act more pleasurable for the both of you. it's usually him asking you to try out some new toy he got from who knows where.

u : unfair

gallagher is such a bully. he does nothing but to tease you and rile you up, he just can't shut up for one second! he makes fun of how you're so easily crumbled, how you must have no shame with the way you beg for his cock, how you turn into mush the moment you take his tip. he says all of those with a stupid smirk on his face that only widens when you scold him for it. he enjoys seeing you get teased and all shy so quickly. you want to bite him, punch his face as he keeps not shutting the hell up, his large palm coming down to slap your rear from behind as he laughs at you. 'what's that? oh? you think i'm too mean, miss? how cute, you know you love it.'

v : volume

gallagher is not the most vocal during sex but definitely not quiet. he's more of the groaner and grunter type instead of moaning. you can still make him moan, though, just ride him with your hands tight around his throat and listen to him singing.

w : wild card

gallagher likes how painful it is to have a boner. he leaves his pants on for the sole purpose of feeling his dick stretch against the fabric, begging for release. it hurts so much yet he loves the feeling, cockhead too sensitive and weeping by the time he frees it. he likes it when you sit on it, not putting it inside you but just sitting on it, forcing it to cower as you rub yourself along his length. likes it when you squeeze the shaft so tight that he can't help but curse. gallagher loves the pain if it's because of you.

x : x-ray

gallagher has the biggest or second biggest cock in all of star rail. he's just sooo large, longer and has so much more girth than average. it's a tan color fading into a furious red in the tip. it's so easy to get precum oozing out of it. definitely has thick veins sticking out here and there that you can feel inside of you. he knows how big he is yet he acts like he doesn't.

y : yearning

gallagher doesn't need to have sex that much but definitely wants to. it's okay if you don't want to, he can just rub one out if it's so urgent and nothing if it's not. likes to do it with you almost every day to every other night.

z : zzz

gallagher probably has problems sleeping, i mean, have you seen this man? so when it's night and you're in your home, it's when he falls sleep the most easily. he doesn't want to let you go, his big arms wrapped around your body as he pulls you into his chest, spooning you as if he was a little kid and you were his favorite toy to sleep with.

reqs are open !

i mainly write for jjk, hsr and genshin ✩

#gallagher x you #hsr gallagher x reader #gallagher x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail gallagher #honkai star rail #hsr gallagher #hsr x reader #hsr #gallagher smut #honkai star rail smut #gallagher hsr #gallagher hsr x reader

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ctrlchar · 3 months

Note

hello ! ( request heavily inspired by your jake nsfw alphabet) could you please write a smut where the reader cries and he’s praising, using pet names, etc. and then after he’s all fluffy and lowkey pussy drunk please ? thanks

(i love how you write jake btw xoxo <3)

a/n: thank you for the request!! and tysm i’m glad you enjoy it! also title comes from bastard by mötley cruë

please baby please

for the past while your boyfriend had been pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you,barely stopping in between. his rough hands had been holding you close to him as his hips rocked in and out of you.

he plays with your tits pinching the nipples between his fingers alternating from one to the other

his gruff moans filling the air as he began to get closer to his release. the feeling had become too much for you as you got that familiar knot in your stomach once again. your moans going up in pitch as he began to push into you even faster.

and almost in sync the two of you both came soaking the sheets below with Jake pulling you into a deep kiss in the process.

after a couple of moments, he begins to move his kiss from your mouth down to your chest “you make me feel so good baby,love you and this pussy so much” he practically moans into your skin

the kisses begin to go lower and lower until he’s eye level with your puffy cunt which had a pool of his cum dripping down it.

“c’mon baby you can give me one more yeah?” he starts “gonna be all about you” he mumbles into your thighs leaving hickeys along the way.

he looked up at you through his lashes as a way to verify you were okay,which you were since you gave him a short nod to continue going.

the flat of his tounge licks a long stripe all the way up to your clit causing you to jerk your hips from the sudden feeling.

you could feel Jake’s hands soothingly rubbing your thighs before he began to gently suck on your bundle of nerves.

in an almost instant your hands flew to his hair for support as you let out a moan,already knowing you wouldn’t last long. your hands gently tug onto his black hair making him moan right into you

“j-jakey m’ not gonna last long” you cry out, beginning to grind your cunt against his face, with his nose rubbing just right on your clit.

you threw your head back into the pillow from just how much pleasure he was giving you as his tongue continued its assault on your heat

you could tell he mumbled something telling you it’s okay and how you can cum whenever you want to. of course you deserved it i mean he had been fucking you for however long getting orgasm after orgasm so what’s the harm in one more?

his tounge barely made it into your tight cunt before you came onto his tounge,arching your back off the bed in the process

tears began to well in your eyes from just how much pleasure you were feeling,it was just too good.

once you had came down from your orgasm you were the definition of a hot mess,the shirt you had been wearing was pushed up past your tits,with your panties completely off. any makeup you had been wearing had been ruined along with whatever hairstyle you had

Jake had removed his mouth which had been latched onto you moments prior as he got up with a quick “i’ll be right back”

he had come back with some clothes for you to change into along with a blanket for you two to lay ontop of since neither of you really felt like changing the sheets right then and there

after he had helped you get your clothes on he laid down beside you a small smile on his face “how was it baby?” he asked obviously knowing the answer to which you laughed

“is there anything I can get you?” he questions knowing he went a bit rough. you shake your head no as you tell him you just wanna rest with him that he happily obliges to

his gentle hands stroked your hair as you laid on his chest listening to his heart beat tracing his tattoos with your finger.

#jake webber headcannons #jake webber drabble #jake webber fluff #jake webber x reader #jake webber smut #jake webber #jake webber imagine #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert headcannons #johnnie guilbert x reader

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jeannineee · 3 months

Text

nsfw alphabet: suguru geto

warnings: uhh there's a lot lol. it's smut. minors don't interact.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

the actual opposite of how he was only moments before. very attentive and doting. will massage your sore muscles, kiss any marks he left. usually runs you a bath unless you're too tired.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on himself, probably his hands. finds it cute when you mindlessly fidget with them. also likes how they look wrapped around your neck.

for you he loves your ass. i feel like this is something we have all agreed on collectively lmao. geto is an ass man.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

prefers to cum inside you. he's a simple man.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

honestly, geto is very open about what he's into, and what he would like to get out of your sex life. i don't see him hiding anything from you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's canonically the man w the most experience. above gojo, anyway. he knows exactly what he's doing. you won't have to guide him very much, if at all.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

remember how i said he is an ass man?

any position that gives him a good view of your ass is preferred. reverse cowgirl, prone bone, doggy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

it really just depends. lazy morning sex? he's cracking jokes.

rough sex post-argument? he's v serious. it simply depends.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he just keeps a small patch of hair at the base. yes, it matches the hair on his head.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he can be very intimate. like, the type of intimacy that is almost overwhelming, if that makes sense? something w his presence idk if y'all are gonna follow me on this one but yeah.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he does it whenever the need arises. but usually, you're around.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

first off, he has a daddy kink don't fight me on this. also into orgasm control, bondage--esp. shibari. bdsm in general tbh. likes mixing praise and degradation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he actually prefers the bedroom, so he can take his time with you. but if the two of you really need on another, he's down for anywhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you, just you. it doesn't take much for him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he doesn't have very many limits lol do with that what you will.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers giving!! but he's very teasing abt it. he very much enjoys edging you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

usually on the rougher side.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn't prefer them. he would rather take his time with you.

see L= location.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

very happy to experiment. he regularly comes to you with new things to try, and encourages you to do the same.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can last for hours on end. good luck.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he owns a plethora of toys, majority for you. lots of rope, vibrators, plugs, etc.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he is very, very unfair when it comes to teasing. he loves hearing you beg, so don't expect him to give in very quickly.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

somewhere in the middle. talks a lot when he's teasing you. also talks you through it. hismoaning isn't super loud until he's close to finishing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

wants to try subbing for you at least once, but isn't sure if he'd really enjoy it or not.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's hung. don't play with me. about 8 inches and very girthy.

(god i am gross LMFAOOOO)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

moderate. enough time for you to be able to recover in between. you're gonna need it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it usually takes him awhile. (overthinkers club!!!) you're always the first one to fall asleep.

#suguru geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #geto headcanons #suguru geto headcanons

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ravenslvt · 9 months

Note

Hi hi! Can I pls request NSFW alphabet for König? :D he's my fave. Thanks!

KÖNIG NSFW ALPHABET ☆

💗i’ve never done one of these but i’m in total könig fucking obsession rn so i cannot wait for this one. for reference i’ve only seen the mw2 campaign which he was not in but this is my sort of take on him so it might be ooc so apologies in advance. pure smut💗

(got this from a template online:) )

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

even after fucking you, he won’t leave you without a cleaning and knowing if you are ok. if you’re still awake, he’ll offer a shower, a towel, or some food. or even just come comforting cuddles until you both drift off to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he didn't like to show it but, he loved his own cock. he never realized how large he was until he met you. your eyes widened the first time you'd seen it. he had a look of satisfaction on his face for days, though no one could see it behind his mask. he was humble about it though, knowing it's only for you to have.

he loves your whole body, but mostly your thighs. he loves when you're laying in bed, too tired or able to fuck him properly, he will shove his large, needy cock between your thighs, holding into your hips as he ruts into you. he'll do this until he finishes, but needs you even more after seeing his cum on your thighs. "fuck" he'd groan.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

some nights when you’re lazily fucking before bed, he’ll leave his cock in you after he cums, pushing it as deep as it can go before you both fall asleep. his arm wrapped around you in a seemingly innocent mannor.

he loves when you swallow his cum without even needing to ask. just watching your face of satisfaction makes him hard again.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’d never admit it, but whenever you send revealing photos he goes fucking crazy over it. if he’s at work he’ll leave you on read for a bit to take care of his problem in the bathroom. he just wanted you so bad :(

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i don’t think my boy has any experience besides his own hand. once he met you he could cum from the thought of you. you had consumed his thoughts and he had already learned a decent amount from the internet, but the real thing was unbeatable. he got used to what you liked and is able to bring you both pleasure skillfully. he can fuck right.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

cowgirl: he’s such a large and tall man that it’s easy to get lost and overpower you, so sometimes he likes to let you ride him, he holds onto your hips as you slam onto him while he watches you intently, your face lost in pleasure.

he also loves fucking you when you’re on your back, he’s either standing at the end of the bed while you drag your nails on his bare back. or you’ll both be on the bed and he’ll be on his knees slamming into you. it’s even better with your legs on his shoulders and he can hit even deeper, taking control with the pace using his strength.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s mostly serious. well at first he was just nervous. but the second he had a taste of you he knew you had ruined anyone else for him. he likes to tease though, or pepper you with kisses through his mask, making you smile.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

it’s a straight line of hair, starting from below his belly button. (he says its natural) it’s dark and thick, perfectly accommodating his thick cock.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he is just entranced with you. he'll be slamming into you staring at your skewed up face and he won't have anything else on his mind but him inside of you. he'll kiss you and talk you through your orgasm. "come on, you can give me one more" he would encourage you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he’ll only do it when thinking of you or if you send him an intimate photo, to show him you missed him. (he sent a picture back of his clothed bulge in his uniform, telling you he’d be coming home soon) but he’d much rather just feel you in person.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

size kink: does this even need an explanation? this guy is fucking huge. he wouldn’t even dream of hurting you, but he will dominate you and ‘overpower’ you sexually all day. he will never forget the squeeze when he glided into you for the first time, not used to his size. you were gasping and clawing at him, he was too big. he just stares at you getting used to his size until you are comfortable enough for him to move deeper. he'll praise you telling you how good you're taking his thick cock.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

against the wall/on a surface: he loves being able to watch your face while he gives you exactly what you want, proving the ways he knows your body so well. the strength and control he has over you, he would never use it in a bad way, only to make you feel good. when you two bought your first home, the first place you fucked was the bare kitchen counter, boxes not even unpacked yet. you scolded him for making a mess on the counter and he just got horny again.

he’ll fuck you in the shower anyday, most likley holding you against the wall as he’s just so tall and big.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

the way you feel around and against him is engrained in his brain. anytime he gets distracted he will think of your mouth, your thighs, your-

he fucking loves it when you make noises for him. or when he's practically splitting you open on his cock. or the way you feel around him when you cum.

he also knows when he goes home he will always have you to come back to.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

nothing that has to do with anyone else touching you. not that you would even let that happen. can you blame him? he only wanted you for himself. you didn't mind.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

i think he’d love it either way. he loves you on your knees in front of him, gagging over how large he is, he won’t take his eyes off you. he wont stop rutting his hips until he finishes. (unless you tap his thigh to stop of course! he wouldn’t want to overwhelm his little toy)

but he LOVES going down on you. overtime he learned all your sweet spots and he will make you cum at least once (on his mouth) before actually fucking you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he's just so large he has to ease in at first, not wanting to hurt you. he always has to stretch you out. (preferably making you cum once or twice beforehand with his fingers or mouth). but once you're used to his size and allow him to go he'll start rocking. he always gets too scared to use all of his strength, in fear of hurting you. you assured him you wanted it and he gave in, but being careful.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

no :( he wants to take his time with you! he wants to draw out so many orgasms for you until you can’t take it anymore :((

unless you’re teasing him out in public around his friends and he had enough and fucks you against the wall in the nearest private room until you’re apologizing, knowing they could most likely hear him slamming into you through the door along with your pleads for release.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

oh he wants to try everything you’re comfortable with. he wasn't picky as long as he could fuck you. sometimes out at dinner he'll tease you under the table, having to act normal in front of people.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

usually he could go for fucking hours. only tapping out once you’re satisfied. he’ll leave you dripping with his own cum until you’ve both had enough (which usually takes awhile)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he'd rather make you feel good with his own body. but if he wants to overstimulate you he won't hesitate to take a vibrator to your sensitive spot until you're a mess under him. you love to tease him too, sometimes setting the vibrator on the highest setting and edging his tip until he's begging.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he is the fucking worst. sometimes he'll come home from a bad day and take it out on you, making you grind on his large strong thigh until you cum a few times, only then would he give you his cock.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s always making some sort of noise. it’s either panting, grunting, moaning, or straight up whining. when he cums he’s the loudest, especially when he’s inside you. he’ll say your name over and over with praises and curses until he’s rode out his orgasm.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he’s way too big for most condoms. that’s it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

well we all know this man has a humongous cock (cough cough long and thick). he is 6 foot fucking 10. enough said.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

will fuck for hours. he just has so much energy and need for you it consumed him. if he wasn't inside you, he was wishing he was :((

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

most of the time you pass out first and he follows suit, giving you a small kiss before cleaning the both of you off and going to sleep with you. he won’t rest unless he knows you’re comfortable.

1K notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

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