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hxltic · 14 days

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Heya!

First of all, I just wanna say that your stories/writing skills are AMAZING, I’m absolutely obsessed with your page tbh <3

I do wanna request another Megumi smut fic, if that’s okay. Maybe one where the (fem) reader is pretty anxious about getting intimate, but he gently talks her through it iykwim

Thank you so much pretty, and it’s perfectly okay.

You’d been thinking about it all day. So much so, that as your feet patter on the square tile of the kitchen in your shared apartment, you realize that instead of retrieving the parmesan out of the fridge, you’re pacing back and forth.

But then, every aspect of intimacy throttles into what you thought was a confirmed decision. It then splits it apart, leaving you conflicted when you thought you were done contemplating it.

You were ready. You were more than ready.

What if your ph wasn’t balanced? What if it’s not everything you dreamed of? It’s been a while since you’d actually shaved, would that turn him off? Should you wear something different? Can you even be seductive without being unable to take yourself seriously?

You shake your head at the reeling mess of hypotheticals, somewhat hoping the action would disperse them so that they dissipate into the air. Forcing one foot in front of the other with a sigh, you go to the opposite side of the kitchen, and take a seat on the stool at the bar top after plating your dinner.

And then you’re maybe two bites in before the front door’s lock rattles, clicks, and twists to invite nobody other than your beloved boyfriend in, returning from errands.

He effortlessly carries three bags of groceries in one hand, unintentionally showcasing the rings wrapped around his fingers. The other holds another two bags. He shuffles into the house, closes the door, and greets you, raising the food up high enough to rest it along the granite.

“Hey, what’s up? You made dinner early?” He stocks the milk into the refrigerator.

With a final chew, you place the fork down and rest your chin in your hands. “Yeah, I thought you told me to?”

He nods with a small curl of his lips, “I did. Told you to stop waiting up for me.”

You hum in response. It’s pretty quiet after that, just you two in each other’s presence as a couple, until he’s done with his task and gets a plate of his own. Of course, he comes to sit right beside you, but not before moving your hair out of the way and providing a gentle kiss to the forehead first. You smile, but not as bright as you usually do. He inspects your distant expression.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes find his. You can tell he’s trying to think of anything that could possibly be wrong—something he forgot, or something he did. It’s almost instinct for your heavy emotion to lift temporarily when anyone asks this question, giving you the appearance of an excited puppy. “Yeah, yeah! I’m good. Just,” you shrug, “thinking.”

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

You definitely have his full attention, but when he takes a bite of his dinner, he can’t help but comment on how good it is. Meanwhile, you’re slightly able to feel heat rising to your cheeks. “Uhm…I don’t know. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

By this point the smell of the food is rising into your nose from below, long forgotten as your fingers rub circles into your temple.

“Try. I’ll piece it together,” he reassures. You’ve been trying to work on your communication, as is he, but he’s usually succeeding far more at it than you are, you have to admit.

“Uhh, fuck. I’m…” It’s already difficult to convert thoughts into words, let alone thoughts like these. Oh yeah, Megumi, I’ve been thinking about you fucking me for a while now. It’s even harder when you can feel him staring dead at you with those tender eyes, just waiting patiently for an answer. “Ready to take our relationship— further?”

Your shoulders haunch up protectively when you turn your attention to him, whose eyebrows are furrowed a bit, attempting to comprehend what you just said. It then looks like it hits him, but he inquires anyway, “Further, how?”

You pout, “Are you going to make me say it, Megumi?”

The man wasn’t stupid; he knew exactly what you were asking for. But the culpability of being incorrect would make him feel like the worst person on the damned planet, and this would tell you that he was “hoping” you would say something about sex. He knows you. It implies that the topic was on his mind beforehand, ultimately enhancing the pressure since you then would know he was thinking about it.

But truth be told, he wasn’t. When you said you wanted to take it slow, he was completely okay with that. Of course—there’s no denying the amplification of his hormones when you’re fresh out of the shower, walking around braless in a large tee, shorts, and wet hair—but it was never enough to push you into something you weren’t ready for. It would never be. All he had to do was take a shower, whether extra long or cold.

“Are you sure? You do understand that, no matter what, you come before your body, right?”

“Of course. You’ve always made me feel safe, and I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t done the thinking. I’m just nervous, I guess? I want it to be good for you, but I haven’t really done this before.”

“I guarantee you, there literally isn’t anything you could do that would make it a bad experience for me.” His smile spreads a grin to your features, lifting your mood a little. “And you don’t have to be nervous— I’ll be there with you the whole time. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

“Finish your food. I know you’ve had a long day and you need energy for the scandalous acts you’ve committed to,” he adds. You giggle at the joke, suddenly feeling lightweight from the anchor that he’d single-handedly lifted off you.

Only to leave as quickly as it came because that meant you had to get ready for tonight.

——•——

After taking one more shower before he took his, you’re already in bed after dinner, curled up watching the light from the tv fill the room every time you change the channel. The smell of strawberries and coconut bounces off you, probably now into the fibers of the bed, and you’re as smooth as a baby. Everywhere.

The door to the bedroom suddenly opens, revealing Megumi with a towel draped low around his waist, hair fallen, dripping all over the carpet, and cut abdomen a distraction from whatever show you had playing.

The best part about having had that conversation is that you don’t have to conceal your feelings or the throb between your legs anymore. There’s no guilt from knowing the two of you will only get to kissing, desperately trying to find some friction.

Megumi leisurely walks over to the closet, entertained by your low eyes trained to him like a moth to a flame. You don’t even notice his amused gaze. “Can I help you with something?” He teases, eyebrows dipping into a smirk.

Your eyes finally shoot up, but you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed. “Maybe.”

He chuckles, opening a drawer to grab some sweats. “We just talked, like, an hour and a half ago, and you’re already about to pounce on me.”

“Oh please— tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

You carelessly throw the remote down. Megumi disappears, then reappears, pants on and ruffling the towel to dry his hair. When he finishes, he comes to his side of the bed, pinches your chin delicately, and tilts it up to him. His voice was lower, and velvety sweet. He knew he could ask you to do anything if he spoke like this.

“You know I do.”

The ravenette allows you to kiss him softly, but he keeps it short. It’s just enough for a huff to leave your mouth when he pulls away. “We don’t have to do this tonight. There’s no deadline for me to be inside of you,” he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip.

You’d think he was talking about taxes with how casually he said it. Now that was what embarrassed you. “Right. Yeah.”

You force a smile to your face and turn away, going back to the tv, trying your best to ignore the growing heat in your stomach and the sudden disappointment of your work going to waste.

He observes that you don’t actually look satisfied, and was instead shuffling and moving awkwardly. To be fair, he knew what it looked like when you were horny.

“Unless, of course, it was what you really wanted.”

Then you look to him, and when he slowly pans back at you, knowing you took the bait, he immediately understands the severity of how you feel by the undercurrent of desperation in your eyes. You seemed to need him. His eyes slightly widen.

You didn’t just randomly want to have sex with him; it had been growing over time. Every kiss, lick, and touch began to lose its fervor when you’d already known the outcome— when it would stop. You’d just finally been able to vocalize it.

“Come here,” he opens his arms up to you. The bed bounces when you throw the covers off and crawl to him, resting atop his lap and clearing his view to the tv. He didn’t mind; he has a better one.

The friction you get from his legs, pathetically, has you shifting before getting fully situated. His hands come to rest in the dip of your hips to keep you still. But he knows.

“You understand that I love you...”

It was said declaratively, like he was sure, but just in case he was wrong, you could speak up. His eyes carried a kindness to them and his cushiony voice melted your brain. “I do.”

“And you understand what you truly want? You’re sure I’m who you want to be your first?”

You nod. “And hopefully my last.”

“Then I want you to know that anything after this,” he waves his hand in a circling motion, “You are in complete control of. Tell me to wait, I will. Tell me to stop, and I’m sure as hell pulling out, taking my hands off you, whatever, all in an instant. And don’t feel bad about anything you say to me. Ever.”

Soaking in the lecture, being unable to ignore as if they were terms and conditions, makes you fathom how serious this is. He’s speaking earnestly because you did before, hence when you begged to take it slow the day you started dating (he confirmed he didn’t mind, but you truthfully didn’t believe him as per past relationships). In this heart to heart, you looked into his dark blue eyes, wondering how you managed to find someone like him that would wait a million years for your trust.

“Okay. Likewise, I want you to teach me. That way in the future I can be better at what you like.”

A finger comes to brush a tendril of hair behind your ear as you mindlessly fiddle with your thumbs. “You are what I like, beautiful.”

And then you can’t resist feeling the sight in front of you, the same one the pads of your fingers have memorized from repetition, so with a featherlight touch, your hands separate and design delicate swirls into his v-line, trailing only up to about his belly button.

You love seeing his muscles contract when he twitches since everything he does seems to send a shiver down your spine.

Widening your fingers as they rise, they stretch the span of his chest. There’s a low hum when you make sure to lightly drag your nails across his skin, reminding you to shift your focus to his expression. He was already staring at you through his eyelashes.

Your lips find his in the slowest, most sultry manner you can control. Both hands card through his semi-damp locks, quickening his breath alone, while his take rest at the band of your sleep shorts. And just when you think he’s going to slip his fingers through the silk, he grabs you with a firm grip and rolls over so your back is to the sheets, leaving you still pawing at his nape.

The experience increases in heat as it does speed. You were smothered with his presence but you wouldn’t have it any other way. He connects your lips one last time before he parts to share his kisses on other spots of your body, including your jaw, collarbone, and once he gets the thin shirt you’re wearing off— your chest.

And he does just that, peeking up at you first for confirmation you two share the same idea. You answer by lifting and helping him tug it off.

You reach your hands up past your ribs to the swell of your breasts, massaging them, unable to look him in the eye.

“Look at me.”

Well fuck.

You do, and just then he’s placing his free hand over yours, ultimately pilfering its spot entirely, and taking his time to lick around the bud, swirling it into his mouth. It’s his first time hearing the whine that came out of you. He will hear it again.

He does the other the same, hardening the peaks only to leave them be with a conclusive squeeze. “Do you like that?”

You manage, “Yes.”

He kisses down your stomach, leaving a hum in response, and drags his fingers down even further to ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Lace?”

“Yeah, for you.” You shiver at his touch.

His thumb circles over your clit as his chin tips down to shift his eyes around the garment. “How long have you been planning this?”

“It started last week.” Your chest rises and falls when you giggle, it ultimately dissolving into a breathy moan once he applies a deeper pressure. “I took a trip to the mall.”

There’s no response. His hand draws up to the sides of your waist, pausing to give you more slow, endearing kisses along the band.

“I wore it so you could take it off, Megumi.”

“Great.”

And just like that, he’s sliding it off you, down your thighs and throwing them elsewhere behind him. “Can you open up for me?” He coos.

There’s a coil beginning in your tummy, and you aren’t exactly sure if it’s because you’re already throbbing or if the embarrassment is just now settling in. No matter what, you just want him to do something. You spread them.

He groans at the sight of you. Bare.

“Fuck, you’re something else.”

With some hint of friction to stabilize himself, he shifts his hips against the bed, then he dips his head into your center.

You’ve thought about what it would feel like when he “eats you out.” Would it feel slimy and trigger your sensory issues? Would you squirm in disgust or ecstasy? Would it feel like anything?

And now, you finally have an answer, because after the swipe of his tongue on your inner thigh, there’s a warmth you associate with the muscle of his tongue dragging between your lips. Involuntarily, you do begin to squirm.

He does it again, sealing his mouth over you. The unpredictability of where you will feel him next is thrilling despite being now sat up lazily on your elbows.

There’s no doubt it’s making you feel something and it’s starting to gather. So much in fact that the sight of his angled nose and eyebrows between your legs may be too much to handle. You don’t render it as pleasure quite yet though.

“That feels kinda weird,” you mumble honestly. The rumble of his chuckle surges through your stomach as he pulls his face away for only a moment.

“Here,” he utters, and you’re expecting him to do something to help when he shuffles, but suddenly, a single finger prods at your wetness until it’s sinking seamlessly. “This is something you’re familiar with, right?”

Immediately, a gasp forces itself out. You’d done it yourself before so he wasn’t wrong, but when it’s him toying with you and his long finger, it’s a little different. “Mhmm.”

Now he’s really pulling the noises from you. He curls the one finger experimentally; Left, your hip twists. Right, your breathing picks up. Straight up, and your back arches.

He doesn’t take his time sucking up your clit and anything you release for him, the lewd sounds his mouth creates enough to support that, but how can he help it when he thinks about how bad you wanted it? He’s gotta make it count.

On that note, his tongue drags up from your hole to the nub and his head shifts to the side for a better angle. At the same time that he repetitively curls his finger into the spot he observes you like best, he slurps your clit, only to release it wetter than it went in and do it again. There’s a messy sheen of saliva and your slick coating his chin and a dot on his nose.

His palm snakes around the thigh he isn’t practically laying on to your lower stomach and rests it there so you feel everything but tenfold. It wasn’t to keep you still; he likes the chase.

“That feels s-so good, Meg,” you praise, watching his thick eyelashes flutter open when you speak, but somehow still looking like he has no idea what you said. The tingle was getting stronger and stronger, now converting to a hot fire resonating just under his palm. He adds another finger. One of your hands that wrapped around your breast drives into his dark locks. “Oh God—”

When he groans at the feeling is when your body tenses and cinches up, holding onto him for dear life, chasing something not quite too far, but the contorted countenance your features hold instantly lets him know how you feel.

“Let it go, I got you.” He speeds up the finger gyrating through the cushiony walls.

“Megumi.”

“Come for me, baby.”

You relax just enough to feel the entire distant, solitude of your orgasm; but at the same time, it didn’t feel lonely at all. He was right there, quite literally fucking you through it, but it didn’t feel lewd or sexual at all. It was the first time you’d felt anything like it.

It was like you were somehow spiritually connected as well and emotionally and physically, and there wasn’t anything to separate you from him as every ounce of your being was woven together.

Fuck, you’re already this sentimental and he hadn’t even put it inside yet.

Returning back to the Earth was as hard as it sounds, but the fall is a lot easier when Megumi is there to mitigate it.

On the other side— when you release the iron grip of his finger, he can finally remove it. The only sound in the room is your own heavy breathing.

“Are you okay?” He wipes his chin carelessly.

“It kinda felt like... like I was dying. But good.”

“Perfect, that’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

He nods in approval. Anxiously, your feet rub against each other. His hands trickle around his waist as he slides off the bed, but he notices the staring just before he kicks his pants off.

Instead, he comes around to the side of the room, near the bedside table, only propping a knee up on the comforter to get closer so he can ease you into what he’s about to do next. “Give me your hand,” he suggests.

Without thinking you oblige, but your curious eyes blow wide when he begins to lead it onto his lower abdomen and deeper until both of you, in one movement, are smoothing over trimmed hair and down the length of skin. He was obviously erect beforehand, pressing through the fabric as if needing an escape, but feeling it is something else. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he cups your hand and drags a slow stroke all the way up to his tip and back. Similarly, he releases a shameless, airy moan of his own.

He does it again, and again, then feels that you’ve gathered enough confidence to do it yourself. Which you do—by the time he lets go, you’re already fully wrapped around him and feeling what you can’t see. You follow what he did.

His body slightly moves when he facetiously laughs, but it somehow removes the nerves and duplicates simultaneously.

“What?” You blink up at him.

“Nothing. You’re just so delicate with it.”

“Shut up. I’ll rip it off.”

“Please do,” he laughs once more, bringing an imminent smile to your face, and then he moves to push his pants down his hips. You can’t help but stare at his length in your hands.

He was right, you seemed to be barely gripping him, right before the tip. It was a smooth descent to the shaft, colored a muted shade of pink.

You pop back into reality. Squeezing, you earn a grunt. It was slightly harder to move now. There were only a few ways to lubricate his cock that you had on hand, and the best way that you had been curious to try is right next to it already.

You correct your positioning laying sideways on your elbow, the other hand curled around him, and he almost recoils when you stick your tongue out and look up for his reaction as you press your head forward. A deep sigh flows from his chest.

It wasn’t bad, and didn’t taste like anything, so you do it again, enclosing your lips softly over his tip. He wanted to let you explore so he stayed silent.

You had began to bob your head to cover some distance while trying not to choke yourself, and that’s when he gives the instruction, “Breathe through your nose. Don’t stop breathing.”

It does make it just a little easier as you keep going, but not much, so you pop off and roll your hand around his slick cock now that it was wetter. You sit up completely, tracking the other hand to his balls, praying it’s a myth that boys don’t feel anything there. Hopefully, it will make up for your sensitive gag reflex. “Sorry,” you mutter.

He holds his hair up with his arm, the other hand brushing through yours. His eyes are barely open and accompanied by a darkness brewing inside his pupils. “What did I say?”

You search over your brain for the memory. “Not to feel bad.”

“Yes. And don’t jump to conclusions. You don’t even know how fucking close I am to exploding.”

With that, he removes himself from your hold and reaches down to swiftly grasp your ankles. Yelping, you come sliding down. His pelvis is connected to your ass.

His lips can never stray too far from yours. Just when you’re expecting the deep fervor from not having ever gotten this far, or maybe just having not kissed since you were perched atop his thighs, he resonates his love in the cloud-like puff of his lips. Just when you begin to moan softly while placing a hand on his cheek, he pulls a few inches away.

“You ready?” He rubs over your clit a few times with his thumb. “What do you want me to do? Condom? Birth control? Both?”

You fidget underneath him, shoulders raised high and cheeks reddening. “I’m on birth control. Can you wear one anyway though?”

Your little voice as if he would have any type of negative reaction hurts his heart. “Of course.”

Just as he turns around, you add, “there are some…uh… in my purse.”

“In your purse?” He quirks a brow, smiling.

“I told you I’d been planning this…”

Moments later he returns with the small packet in hand just to rip it and casually roll it onto himself. His eyes focus and his brows furrow.

“Hmm.”

“What?” You sit up. Finally, you spot the problem, most importantly, how the base of the plastic stops about four fifths of the way down his shaft.

“What size did you get?”

“I don’t know. I asked for whatever the average was.”

“Have you no faith in me?” He lightly presses you back down to your back. “Do I look average to you?”

No.

Not like you knew, but you could imagine.

“We’ll make it work. Hold on to me,” he assures. You do just that in an attempt to run away from the embarrassment and link your arms around his neck.

Before you know it he’s patting your dripping pussy, lining himself up, tipping his head up to nip at your neck, and prodding at your entrance.

“Oh shit,” he hears you under your breath. He didn’t mean to laugh, but it slipped.

“What? You scared?”

No reply.

“It’s okay, you’re in charge. Take a deep breath.”

When he feels you inhale under him is when he takes the chance and inches in, pulling a gasp from your lungs right into his ear. Both of you curse at the same time. “Megumi.”

“Breathe, baby.” He inches in farther, not quite bottomed out yet, but closer. Your back raises from the duvet. “You’re almost there.”

One more deep breath that you have to actually, manually breathe out, finally has him buried inside you to the hilt. “Good girl.”

You were delirious. You wouldn’t be able to believe what is actually happening if it weren’t for the uncomfortable throb below you. It didn’t burn; it was just a pinch from the stretch, which is the best case scenario from all the ways you imagined it would go. Wriggling around to try and speed things up, you were unknowingly killing the man above.

His breathing picks up because, fuck, you were so tight, and whoever said the condom takes away some of that is a fucking liar. Or maybe they weren’t, and if you ever allow him to, going bare might just be on his headstone. You were latched onto him with all your might both on the outside and the inside.

“Tell me—”

“—You can move.”

You accidentally cut him off, but before you can feel bad about it, he’s pulling out, slowly but surely, and turning up your eyebrows when he returns.

A few more of these, a few more “are you okays” from Megumi, a few more of your nods “yes”— and the pain dissipates. Your hums dissolve into low moans that wisp against his neck.

“Does it hurt?” He lifts his head and looks down at you cautiously, searching for pain.

“I’m okay Meg, you’ve asked a thousand times.”

“Do you want me to speed up?” His hands change from your hips to your thighs, then to your legs. His body language portrays that he is nervous. He’d been so focused on you that it slipped your mind how he felt. What better way to calm him down than to get him riled up?

“You’re saying you’ll fuck me now?”

It seemed to work perfectly. His eyes blew wide for a split second hearing your voice say something so demanding and vulgar, but he raised his chest high, took a mean grip around your hips, and pulled all the way out. When he presses in, his hips have a small curve to add some distance, and persists like this with increasing speed. The sound in the apartment grows.

There’s a constant movement from the bed going back and forth because of the rhythm he set. With each thrust your jaw drops further. There wasn’t unimaginable speed, but he was pounding against the fat of your ass each time. One of his hands finds your bouncing breast.

“When did you get so needy?” He asks. He wasn’t even grunting or anything, just very accurately moving his hips so his cock stretches the length of your walls.

“When—”

His fingers quickly squish your puffy cheeks together while he bends over close to your face. “Don’t answer that, smartass,” he pecks you on the lips.

The familiar warmth was building within you. Your arms reach up to connect around his back, locking him to your figure and keeping the angle of his thrusts low. You were already finding ways that you liked. Him not too far and his pelvis running against your clit as he grinds. Somehow, you manage to shake him off your face.

Not even to say anything, just to squeeze your eyes shut and release useless words and whines into the atmosphere with your red cheek to his shoulder. He did catch one word though, “closer”, and even though you cannot possibly be any closer than you are, he would try until you’re satisfied.

Testing your flexibility, he hikes both your knees up until they’re almost touching the comforter below and brings them together. This initially makes you feel farther apart with a barrier called your own legs, but then he leans forward on his toes so far that it pushes you deeper into the bed and his nose less than a breath away from yours. He curls his arms around your legs and lifts your head to dig his fingers through your hair before allowing you to rest your head again. How you’re balled up makes you feel so little.

No, to him, you feel more than little; the closeness of your thighs squeezing together removes a significant amount of space on its own. He gazes deep into your eyes when you whisper “There.”

He hadn’t moved yet, but he could conclude his tip brushed past it as he was trying to get situated. It doesn’t take long for him to find the patch again by the way your eyes flicker back and forth in front of his. The his hips lift, and he relies on gravity to slam him back down.

“Fuck!” You squeal, twisting your waist to no avail with his weight atop yours. He hits the spot dead on. “Hngh, m’ gonna come s-soon.”

He has an aggravating look on his face like none of this affects him but you know it does. The twitch of his cock says so. “Oh yeah? Can you feel it?”

“Yes! Yes—stop teasing.” The words come out slightly muffled by your scrunched up position. He continues pounding down, the squelch and slapping of skin loud in your ears. It felt like he was reaching your belly button. Every now and then a grunt would push past his mouth.

“But I’m not. Are you sure you haven’t already? You don’t hear that? Or is your pretty pussy just that wet for me?”

You could hear it along with the creak of the bed, but none of it matters when he comes forward, just a little more, to taste the swell of your lips, catching all of your moans in a sultry kiss. “Meggg,” you whimper, eyes hanging low and fresh painted toes dancing in the air though every thrust.

“Yes?”

He wasn’t supposed to actually reply, but he only did because he knows you’ll provide an answer if he wants you to. You croak, “Please don’t stop,” to both him and the universe.

“That’s not something you want, beautiful.”

And you take it just how it is— a warning, because now that he’s had a taste of you, he’ll go until sunrise. He glances down to where you connect to a somewhat cleaner situation that when he was buried between your legs the first time. It was wet, no doubt, but he wouldn’t want it any other way. “Push against me.”

What? Is what he takes the way your eyes peel open as.

“Try to push me out.”

When you finally understand his advice, a light groan turns into a full on cry of his name. He immediately regrets it because you tighten around him, removing the already little space necessary for him to move, almost making him spill on the spot while dragging your nails down the span of his back. He hadn’t known that was what would set you off. Oops.

“Damn,” his brows dip together and his head drops to yours. He decides to suck on the thin skin of your neck as you, like he asked, try to push him out, as well as the rest of the silky white he has clogged. Of course, he was pushing back with just enough strength. Your face was turning red with how hard and unexpected your orgasm hit.

Now, a few more thrusts (that are more deep grinds) to ride out your high is enough to tip him over the edge. He grabs the base of his cock as he pulls out quickly, making sure to hold on to the plastic. Despite how tired you are, you still feel empty.

The second he’s out, he rips the condom off, soothing the skin of your leg with one hand and the other wrapped around his length and quickly twisting the tip. Huh, you were being delicate, you realize.

Watching through deep, weighty breaths as he works himself, it takes everything in you to sit up on your own and wait patiently. It tells him all he needs to know by your posture.

He finally groans loudly, nothing to your volume though, cursing over and over when your hand comes up to knead his balls as the white comes out in spurts all over your chest. It was mostly your breasts, but some tainted your collarbone and chin too.

He finally comes back to Earth sometime later and wipes away the spot on your chin with his thumb before it drips.

“Fuck, sorry,” he breathes.

Before he can get too far, you wrap your lips around the pad of his thumb, sucking it and more off. You get all the way to his bottom knuckle, smiling as you watch his eyes zone in on the action. You remove yourself with a pop.

In case you didn’t know—yeah, he was hard again.

©️hxltic

291 notes · View notes

solargeist · 2 months

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Imagine with me, if you will; two small children walking along a street in some town who's name has long since been forgotten. The older of the two couldn't be more than five years old, holding his younger sister as they avoid most of the heavier traffic. The smaller of the two had shoes while the larger is walking barefoot. Regardless about the lack of shoes, the child had his sister on his back piggyback style. It's getting dark and the are some safer alleys not too far ahead.

A Watcher stands in the shadows, doing as Watchers do; Watching. Both children held strong potential in them (as all children do) and they walk past where the Entity stood without so much as blinking up at Her. The Watcher observed as the elder of the siblings moved nimbly down the street; skillfully avoiding taller legs and shoes as his own feet slapped quietly along the cobblestone street.

After a moment of deliberation, the Watcher left Her place in the shadows to pursue the children. She followed behind them a few paces, unseen by the world as she fluttered through them like a ghost. The child eventually turned turned down a side road to take the pair out of sight. Of course, nothing was out of Sight for Her.

She watched as the elder carefully lowered the younger onto the ground before turning around towards the entrance of the alley. The child puffed his chest out slightly, talking a big breath and, to the surprise of the Watcher, addressed Her. "What do you want?"

Now that was intriguing. The Watcher's form shifted, shrinking down a few inches as well as moving to crouched down to be eye level with the child. "I am Watching, child. Can you see me?"

"Well duh. I could see you follow us down the last three blocks," the child made a face under all the grime on his cheeks. Hard brown eyes the color of deep earth glared at the Watcher under what must have been a mousy brown. "I don't like it. Do it somewhere else."

"However, you two are alone out here, are you not?" She gestured a long fingered hand covered in wrapped rags towards where the smaller girl was curled up, asleep on the folded cardboard her brother had put her down on.

"Yes and we are fine." The boy almost barked at Her, with a voice so young and so full with venom.

She tilted her head at the child she spoke to. "What have you planned for dinner tonight?"

The child shifted on his bare feet, eyes glancing almost guiltily towards a dumpster farther in the alley before they turned back to the Watcher. "That is none of your business, lady. I suggest you mind it."

The Watcher laughed, the sound echoing slightly out of sync in the child's ears. He flinched slightly at the unfamiliar sound. She opened her outer robe just enough to reach inside the pitch black lining. The child watched her intently as Her hand disappeared from view. His young face didn't change as she pulled out a chorus fruit. "What is that?"

"Food." The Watcher said, Her voice as soothing as possible. Her hands broke apart the outer purple part of the fruit, much like how a cauliflower florets were so packed together, to reveal the soft white inner flesh. "I am sure you don't get much fresh fruit out here."

"It looks weird." The child snapped at her as his small grubby hand went to grip the front of his shirt, right in front of his belly.

"Perhaps to you, yes." The Watcher pulled apart a smaller slice before offering it towards the child. "But it needn't stay a stranger."

The child hesitated, eyes sharp between the food, hand, and where the Watcher's face would be if She had it visible. All he could see of Her was shadow. "Y you eat a bit first."

She wordlessly pulled Her hand back and broke off another small bit of flesh and lifted it to where he couldn't See her mouth. Personally, chours fruit was almost too sweet for Her. Like a sweet and spicy candied ginger. She pulled her hand back and then offered the now slightly smaller bit of fruit to the child. If eaten in slow enough, it would not cause the random teleport that it was so famous for.

He didn't hesitate now knowing it was safe, but he still was careful to take the fruit from Her bandaged hand. The Watcher was even more pleasantly suprised that he was able to interact with the fruit. As soon as the child had his hands full of fruit, he stepped away again to take a bite of the soft inner white. He made a slight face at the flavor.

Somewhere else, She smiled. "Good, yes?"

"It is a little... spicy?" He asked it like a question but ate another strip of flesh.

"That is a good word," the Watcher nodded. "Where will you two stay tonight?"

"Here? Probably." He concluded after a moment. "I think it is going to rain tonight and there is a bit of overhang roof back here. Might be able to stay mostly dry."

The Warcher hummed, using her hands to continue to break the chours fruit apart. She Watched him as he finished with the white part of the fruit and started on the thicker purple outside. The pith of the fruit, while still edible, was not as flavorful as on the inside. She like that part a bit more.

Once the boy was done, She offered him another bit of flesh. He took it again, no hesitation this time and took it to his sister to eat. The girl had sat up groggy, but took the fruit her brother gave her. She did not look towards the Watcher at all.

"How about you come home with me? Just for the night."

Her higher ups might have words for Her, but honestly was sure that Their anger with Her would be dissuaded upon realising this human appearing child Saw Her.

The boy frowned. "Why should we?"

"The rain." The Watcher said easily. "Do you not fear the thunder, child?"

"No." He said firmly, puffing his chest out again. It made Her think of a small bird puffing up to appear larger than it was.

"Of course not." She said smoothly. "And for the little one with you."

This cause the child to shift slightly. "She will handle it tonight. We've gotten through it before."

"I am sure you have. However, I offer you an actual bed and a better meal than fruit "

He hesitated. "Just for tonight?"

"Of course."

He thought it over. She could almost see the little gears in his human mind grinding away and She was almost tempted to look, but She didn't have time to before he nodded. "Okay. Just for tonight."

The Watcher nodded Her head and stood from her crouched position and glided over to them. The boy picked up his sister as she chewed on the outer peel. "Would you like me to hold her, sunrise?"

"Sunrise?" He asked confused. The confusion carried over as she held out the rest of the fruit. The Warcher took the still sleepy three year old in exchange for the fruit.

"Nevermind the name, child. Just a pet name." The Watcher held out a hand again to the child once She got the toddler settled. The little girl, once being held by the Watcher, had seemed to perk up and looked at the Entity in young confusion. The Watcher ignored her and offered a newly freed hand to the older child.

He took it and with the sound of an enderman whoop and a few partials, the trio were gone. All that was left was the outer bit of chorus fruit that the little girl didn't finish.

-Phantom

THÉ SIBLING EVER 😭😭

im getting way too attached to a motherly Watcher wuwghudug her bébés…

#ask #SRY IM ANSWERING SO LATE I’m a slow reader #her defending the kids like ur honour . look at their chubby cheeks.#family AUs rly do get me by the throat #watcherfamilyau

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