#and sate that urge a bit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libbybee · 8 months ago

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IN THE HEAT OF YEARNING — SA

◜pairing: astarion ⨯ fem!reader ◜rating: MDNI 18+ ┊ wc: 6K ◜cw: mentions of astarion's past, dependence, masturbation [M], anorgasmia [M], piv, cock riding, creampie.

▹ summary. after cazador's defeat, astarion faces something he thought lost to time; his heat. the unfamiliar sensation of longing and freedom makes him torn between the instinct to dominate and the desire to surrender to you.

A/N. english isn't my native language, sorry if there are grammar mistakes.

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It had been weeks, perhaps months, since you helped him put an end to his master, Cazador. Even now, Astarion wasn’t sure how to feel or what to do.

The sensation of freedom hit him like a tornado tearing through his life, leaving him adrift and uncertain. Even the pronunciation of the words caught on his tongue, clinging to his throat whenever he tried to voice a trace of what he felt.

Declaring himself “unchained” sounded jarring to his ears, but, fortunately, there you were to help him adjust to these unfamiliar emotions that weighed on his shoulders. With everything that freedom entailed. Everything.

He hadn’t told you about this… personal problem of his. Truthfully, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, ashamed of what you might think or say if you found out.

After so many failed attempts, he stopped considering it altogether, only cursing himself for not telling you sooner.

Astarion knew it was foolish to feel so ashamed, especially considering the kind of person you were and how much better you treated him than the nightmares of his past—the loneliness that had surrounded him since he had begrudgingly accepted the curse of immortality. But, gods, just thinking about it made his throat tighten painfully and his hands tremble with cold sweat.

He tried his hardest to confess to you on those unique occasions you shared in private, when there was no one else around to overhear, but every time, he backed down.

Now, feeling this unbearable urge, he was determined not to say a word. Nothing in hell would make him… except his very self.

His lips whimpered pathetically, your name slipping through gasps muffled against the fabric of your panties. His eyelids squeezed shut, his other hand massaging the head of his cock tightly enough to hurt, desperately trying to mimic the sensation of your warm walls wrapped around him. Only to fail miserably.

His vampirism had awakened this cursed heat, a condition he loathed to the very core of his damned nature, yet he couldn’t prevent or fight against it. He had spent decades quelling his desires in solitude, without anyone to ease the craving when he needed it most.

The self-pity of it swelled his skin, feeling himself become so… damned “sweetly necessitous” and so lovesick for anyone who crossed his path in those times when he was still delivering prey to his master. But now he had you. And gods, you were going to be a problem. The faint traces of your arousal on the crushed fabric pressed to his nose were enough to drive him mad; you smelt so, so irresistibly good…

Fleeting memories of the first time he bit you flashed through his mind in a haze of desperation to reach his orgasm. The sweetness of your blood, like rich port wine on his tongue, was the finest thing he’d experienced in his entire existence.

He was quite clear just how thoroughly you’d unravelled his self-reliance. This inefficiency blazed brighter than ever in his mind each time he found himself dependent on you, and you weren’t there for him, just like now. Craving you in a way he hadn’t needed anyone in lifetimes.

The sheer sensation of having your naked body pressed up against his while he buried himself balls deep inside you. The feeling of the perfect, welcoming warmth from that exquisite pussy of yours, gripping him as if he were the most vital thing in your life… He’d give anything to feel you like that right now, having you to ease his agonising heat until his pain and loneliness were fully sated. But these thoughts only sent his urgency skyrocketing higher than ever.

The side of your shared bed still held your intoxicating scent. Pressing your panties to his sharp nose reminded him of how tightly your walls would clench around him every time he thrust in and out of your perfect cunt as he fucked it exactly how he knew to so well. An intense desperation took hold of him, slamming his clenched fist into his quivering pelvis to fuck his hand with a ferocity that echoed how he would fuck you again if you were here. By now, thick beads of his precum trickled from his swollen tip, sliding down his pale, agile fingers.

His silky white curls clung to his sweat-dampened forehead and nape, his teeth gritting in nothing but frustration at his inability to reach that elusive release. Each time he came close, the peak seemed to slip away, taunting him from just out of reach. But he couldn’t fully blame himself, because deep down, he knew he didn’t want to cum like this.

It wasn’t just the release he craved; it was you. Without you here, everything felt hollow; his touch was a pitiful substitute for the real thing. He wanted nothing more than to cum inside you, to hear the sweet, melodic sounds of your moans and gasps as his warm semen filled you, seeping out around the edges of his cock as he stayed buried deep within. He longed to watch you bask after your climax, knowing you were utterly his in that moment, both bound in bliss.

The fantasy gripped him, vivid and fierce—an impossible hope to leave something lasting within you, to fill you until he could almost imagine creating life together, even though he knew his cursed being would never allow such a thing. Yet the thought alone, however unattainable, only drove his need further, intensifying his urge to fuck you completely, as if every part of him belonged to you, even in ways that fate had denied him.

He tried once more to focus, though his body trembled atop the sheets with sheer need. He closed his eyes and fantasised about your pussy all reddened and swollen for him, glistening in your rich juices and so deliciously wet that you’d be dampening the sheets beneath you.

A deep flush spread from his cheeks to the very tips of his sensitive ears as he realised just how utterly charmed he was by you and how his mind overflowed with visions of you and only you. He could see it all so vividly: your gorgeous, tempting pussy, the soft contours of your breasts that fit his hands as though crafted just for him and his carnal lust, your lips swollen from his endless kisses, and your eyes glazed, pupils blown wide with pleasure.

Every detail of you was etched into his mind—an addicting vision he couldn't escape. You were the star of every lustful scene that played out in his imagination, the embodiment of his most desperate fantasies.

Astarion could almost feel the anxious pulse of your clit, just begging for his mouth and tongue. The thought of his lips grazing that sensitive bundle, tormenting it to the point of agony, filled his mind, and he could hardly help but drool. He could practically taste you, the luscious, toxicant sweetness of your arousal filling him as he’d lavish every inch of your cunt with his mouth, sucking and licking with ravenous need until you were drenched.

He let out a low, frustrated growl, swirling his closed fist just around his incarnate tip in a futile attempt to force his climax. But his mind betrayed him, flooding with vivid images of your sweaty body and the insatiable pussy he yearned so badly. However, he was pretty clear: nothing could replace you. Not his hand, not the fantasies that had become a poor substitute; nothing could come close to the reality he wanted.

In his mind, he saw you beneath him, legs spread-eagled, your lips calling his name in whispered moans that grew louder with each thrust. He could nearly feel your breath against his ear, filling him with the sweet sound of your whimpers, each one more desperate than the last. His hand felt pitifully inadequate compared to being buried deep inside you, his body pressed down against yours as he consumed every last piece of you.

He was completely lost, so absorbed that he didn't even hear the soft creak of the door or the faint shuffle of your footsteps.

In the quiet shadows of your bedroom, he trembled with the wrenching pain, torn between hunger and exasperation. His voice whispered out, barely audible, “My love… I need you.”

Astarion’s breathing came in ragged gasps as he chased a release that refused to reach him. Tightening his hand to increase his movement speed, he became almost frantic, as though sheer desperation could fill the emptiness of not having you. His head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut as he let out a strangled moan against your panties, your lovely name slipping from his lips like a mantra.

You’d woken in the night, drowsily reaching for him only to find the other side of the bed empty, letting your hand land on cool sheets instead of his skin. Concerned and bleary-eyed, you went looking for him, thinking that perhaps a nightmare had drawn him away.

But nothing could have prepared you for the sight before you.

In the dim light spilling from the cracked curtains of a window, his silhouette trembled, his hips bucking desperately into his hand as if he couldn’t stand another second of the ache inside him. His cheeks were flushed with a feverish red, and his lips parted to release soft, breathless whimpers. His grip on himself was almost punishing, fingers digging into his flesh as he stroked with an almost frenzied pace, trying to force himself to the relief he sought but clearly struggling.

You inched closer, entranced by the sight of his body arching and tensing, brow knit in frustration as he let out quiet, ragged curses under his breath. His voice, thick with desperation, cracked as he whispered your name as if the mere thought of you was both a balm and a torment. He was so lost, so utterly engrossed in his aching need, that he didn’t notice your presence.

Unable to resist, you let out a quiet voice calling his name while opening the door, just loud enough to break through his veil.

He snapped open his eyes; his red irises gleamed in the darkness as he finally became aware he wasn’t alone. Astarion froze, lips parting in shock as his gaze met yours, the flush in his cheeks deepening as he felt instantly embarrassed with your underwear under his nose. The rich fabric of his Victorian shirt clung to his chest, slightly askew from his restless movements.

“I was… I wasn’t expecting you…” He managed to speak with a low, rough voice, as if pulled straight from the depths of his body. He relaxed slightly in an attempt to regain his composure, though his cock gave a subtle, instinctual thump against his stomach as he failed to suppress his arousal. Then he swallowed hard, the exposed skin at his throat glistening in the dim light from his sweat, his expression a blur of yearning and bashfulness.

You took another step closer to your old bed. The intensity of his state made your breath quicken as you took in every detail of his parted lips, the flush trailing to his ears, the slight tremor in his fingers as he tried to maintain them steady…

“Come here…” He reached out, inviting you. His eyes gleamed with want, and, at that moment, he felt himself wholly yours to possess and do whatever you wanted, but you didn't know just yet.

“Couldn’t sleep, Astarion?” You asked with both curiosity and… somewhat understanding.

Astarion let out a sigh while a soft smile tugged at his lips. “It seems I have… trouble finding satisfaction without you, my dear.” He lowered the fabric of your underwear from his face to leave it on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving yours, although his vulnerable yet unabashedly captivated emotions.

His delicate fabric slightly loosened at the collar and sleeves, a bit untied, his hair tousled… This image of him awakened something inside you, drawing you deeper into his charming and cuddly spell.

You reached for his hand, marvelling at how adorable he looked at this moment. With a serene smile, you settled beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight as you sat close enough to feel his body almost touching yours.

Astarion let out a long, shaky breath, his body finally relaxing as he leaned into you, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder. He was warm, and you could feel the faint tremor in his body as if something had unravelled his entire being.

Then he let out a low, breathless giggle; the sound tinged with relief and a hint of humour. “You’re toying with me…” He murmured softly against your skin before placing a kiss on it with a touch of playful reproach. “Leaving me here all night… suffering by myself.” His words were light, but you could feel the weight behind them, the hollowness he rarely showed.

As his head rested heavily against your shoulder, Astarion’s fingers tangled in your hair, gently gripping it as if securing himself to you. His touch was both eager and tender as he instinctively snuggled closer to encircle your waist, seeking solace in your embrace. It was a stark contrast to that usually composed and confident vampire you knew, making him appear almost childlike as if he were looking for comfort after a nightmare.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer against you. The way he nestled into you made your soul melt in affection, but a flicker of concern crept into your mind as you wondered what had haunted him in the quiet solitude of the night. His sigh was soft, barely audible, and his grip on your hair tightened as if he feared losing you.

“What’s wrong, Astarion?” You asked softly while caressing his arm gently. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

He furrowed his brow slightly, the weakness in his demeanour becoming more pronounced. “I suppose… I thought I could manage. But it seems I could not.”

Before continuing, he took a deep breath to steel himself. “There’s something I haven’t told you… something I’ve been trying to suppress.” As he spoke, his eyes peered at your face, a mixture of uncertainty and yearning reflected in their blackness. The playful humour that often danced in his gaze was gone, replaced by a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings.

You searched his eyes to urge him to continue while your thoughts were already wondering what it could be. “What is it?”

Astarion swallowed hard, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his emotions. “I… I’m in my heat…” He finally confessed. “After everything that happened with Cazador, I thought I could control it and push it away. But it’s relentless. This… need; it’s too much, and I’ve been fighting it alone for so long.”

You instinctively pulled him closer, the warmth of your body against his providing a gentle anchor in the storm of his turmoil. Feeling a surge of empathy, you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing softly over his cheek, hoping to erase any sense of his silly shame. “Astarion… You are not alone any more. I’m here… with you.”

He leaned into your touch, a faint shudder passing through him as he let out a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly for your words. “I didn’t want to burden you with this, darling…”

“You could never be a burden to me, silly.”

A liberating glint passed through his eyes before they narrowed slightly, his expression gentling as he leaned his cheek into the warmth of your hand. “So tell me, my darling… what are you going to do with me now?” He asked sweetly, smiling with some curiosity, as though he were either coaxing you forward… or daring you to finish what he’d started.

You held his gaze for a few seconds longer before letting your eyes drop to his hard, aching length.

You slowly pull out of his embrace to rise from the bed, then with unhurried motions, you slip your fingers beneath the waistband of your pyjama trousers and your panties, sliding them down your legs. The fabric fell to the floor, quickly joined by your bra, leaving you bare before him. The chilly winter air grazed your skin, causing a shiver to dance along your back and harden your nipples instantly.

“I’m going to take care of you…” You saw how his eyes roamed over every inch of you with his usual intense, hungry gaze, caressing your body as though it were a precious treasure he could finally hold.

Astarion’s gaze returned to yours with a warm, wide smile, brimming with adoration and desire. “You’re…breathtaking…” He murmured, almost as though speaking the words out loud might shatter the moment.

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, so open, so vulnerable, and so utterly yours. You settled back onto the bed beside him, leaning close as you placed a soft, reassuring kiss against his cheek. Letting your hand drift from his thigh to his lap to wrap your fingers around his cock, feeling the hardness of it, respond immediately to your gentle touch by throbbing excitedly. You began to slowly stroke him, keeping a slow yet steady rhythm.

He moaned softly, his head fell back, and his eyes closed while a subtle shudder ran through him. His fingers instinctively clung to your arm; the look of pure need etched from his face only spurred you on. Your strokes grow firmer as each pass of your hand drew a new, delicious sound from his delicate lips. During that, you leaned closer to let your warm breath graze his neck before you started to spread soft kisses along it.

His usual composure had crumbled, giving way to a raw, unrestrained need—a desperation born of decades of unsatisfied feelings and the maddening ache of his heat. He tried so hard to find satisfaction, but nothing had ever been enough since he met you. Only you could soothe this torment and bring him the relief he required.

You pulled back slightly from his neck, meeting his eyes as you paused your attentions to gently nudge him onto the bed. He didn’t resist at all, allowing you to do whatever you wanted with him and looking at you with sparkling impatience across his darkened pupils.

You ran your hands along his thighs one more time, fingertips tracing over every taut line and curve, savouring the feel of his skin. As you settled on the mattress to straddle his hips, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach, your lips grazing over the fabric stretched over his torso. Your hands travelled up, resting on his chest, where you could feel his muscles tense beneath his clothing. With a teasing smile, you left a gentle trail of kisses along his uncovered chest, up to his collarbone, and finally brushing your lips along his jaw.

His hands locked to your thighs, his breaths warm as he relaxed in your presence. He allowed himself to be vulnerable before you, and it was unlike anything you had seen in him before. He looked as though he might beg at any moment, desperate and undone. His fingers trembled slightly as he held you tighter, sliding his hands up to grip your hips.

“Is this what you want?” You asked, although you already knew the answer well, just to savour this moment, having him so needy for you.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his answer slipping out almost without thought. “Yes.” His voice was harsh, barely holding together as he looked up at you in admiration like he could hardly believe he was so close to the release that he’d been yearning for.

Astarion moved his hands from your hips to your waist, guiding you down as he suppressed a desperate groan, his head tipping back into your pillow, still infused with your intoxicating scent. “My darling…” He purred, calling out to you. “I need you, please…” The words spilt from him with urgency, though his seductive edge persevered. His hands gripped your hips again, uncertain where to grab, only knowing he wanted every part of you. “Pretty please…”

At the same time, your other hand slipped lower, cradling his sac and massaging softly in rhythm with each stroke. His sighs came faster, a soft groan escaping him as your fingers trailed along his sensitive skin.

The transformation in him was almost endearing, watching his pride melt in the face of his heat. You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks warming as he let slip those velvety, magical words.

Reaching down, you let your fingers brush over the base of his cock, feeling the rigid heat of his arousal. You spit into your palm and took his hardened cock to slick him out, stroking him slowly up and down. You weren’t entirely wet yet, and you wanted this moment to be as perfect as possible for him.

You moved your focus to his swollen, pulsing glans now, slick with precum that had trickled down his length. You continued stroking with both hands now, smoothing the warm fluid mixed with your saliva to make sure he was well lubricated. Finally, positioning yourself, you let the head of his cock rub your clit and your entrance.

You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation until you heard him release a strangled moan, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as if holding you could somehow ease his ache. Reopening your eyes, you saw his flushed cheeks and closed eyelids, and you felt captured by his vulnerability. Your heart pounded against your chest at seeing him so… exposed to you.

Although you were keenly aware of his need and, in a way, his impatience to bury himself inside you, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to draw out this special moment as long as possible.

Finally, you let the head of his cock kiss your entrance, beginning to lower your hips as you felt the delicious stretch of your slit as it let him through and of your interior accommodating him. You felt yourself tighten instinctively around his thick length, your walls gripping him as he slid deeper within.

Once he was fully seated within you until his tip was pushing against your cervix, you began to rise and fall slowly. Rolling your hips slightly forward and back, you felt the rigidity in his cock and every vein deliciously caressing your walls. His grip tightened as he released sweet, breathy sighs with each massage you gave his cock with your cavity, his eyes fixed on you, utterly enraptured as he felt himself dissolve beneath you.

“Just you…” His voice trembled with a tone you haven't heard from him. “I’ve needed this… needed you… for so long. I tried to resist… gods, I tried… but nothing, nothing else could…” His words trailed off in an involuntary moan as his pelvis lifted instinctively to feel every inch of your insides squeeze his painfully swollen cock.

A satisfied moan escaped your lips as you watched him giving in to pleasure, his expression lost in bliss. Spurred by his urge, you began to move with more eagerness, riding him harder and faster, your pelvis colliding with his in a wild rhythm. Every thrust sent jolts of pleasure through you both as your hips moved in perfect sync.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you leaned down to capture his lips, and he responded with a yearning whimper, returning the kiss with impatience. “I’ve never seen you like this, Astarion.” You murmured against his lips, admiring the flush across his cheeks. “It’s… adorable.”

He let out a soft, breathless laugh, though his voice was thick with longing. “I’m yours, my love…” He confessed in a low tone, holding your gaze with an unusual intensity, his eyes shining. “With you… I can’t help but lose myself…”

His hands slid up to grip your waist, attempting to guide at least your intensity and reclaim a hint of control, but you took his hands in yours. Sliding them over your torso to your breasts, letting him grab them and feel the softness of them. "Love, let me…” He raised his hips once more to penetrate you deeper. His need to bury himself inside you almost agonisingly, each motion making his tip hit your sensitive G-spot and coax gasps from your lips as he struck it with raw precision, just as your cervix.

You threw your head back, a strangled whimper escaping as the blend of pleasure and faint pain sent shocks through your womb.

“Astarion…” You called after recovering your breath just enough to let your lips brush his ear. One hand tangled into his silky hair while the other traced his chest, your fingers skimming over the fabric of his shirt. “Let me… I want to make you feel good, my love…" You whispered, letting your breath ghost over the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling him shiver beneath you because of how responsive he was to your closeness.

Astarion’s throat caught at the sensation of your warm lips on his neck from your sudden smooch, his fingers tightening around your breasts. A sly smile played on his lips, though his usual sharp wit softened because of his heat.

“Oh, my darling…” He rasped with his tone both a plea and a command as his fingers slid down to your hips, anchoring you closer. “You already do make me feel good… so exquisitely good.” His lips found the spot behind your ear to press a kiss against it. Descending to the curve of your jaw, and then lower, tracing a path full of delicate, heated kisses down to your neck.

Then he pulled you, rolling you onto the mattress in a sudden but gentle motion. His body hovered over yours as he took a moment to drink in the sight of you beneath him. “But I think it’s time I return the favour.” His voice dipped into a low growl, his thumb smoothing against your cheek as he cradled it. “Let’s see just how well I can repay you, love…” He whispered before diving to your lips with a ferocity that left no doubt of his intentions.

Every single touch and lingering kiss was a deliberate act of his devotion, focusing entirely on bringing you to the same heights of pleasure he so desperately craved.

Your lips crashed against his with a passion that mirrored his, a burning hunger in every kiss. You tangled your fingers into his silken, white hair to hold him close, refusing to let an inch of space between you. Your other hand gripped the fabric of his shirt in his waist, tugging it firmly, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against yours.

Before drawing you into his embrace, he positioned his cock at your entrance to enter back inside you, joining his hips firmly against yours with a delicious thrust that made your clit kiss his bare pelvis. A guttural groan escaped his mouth as he responded eagerly to your touch, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. Each of his movements quickened, his hips surging forward with growing intensity, each thrust driving you both toward a shared frenzy. Impulsively, he broke the kiss to trail his lips along your neck, leaving a searing path of devouring kisses and grazing your skin with his fangs, sending a subtle shiver through you.

“Gods, you're… intoxicating.” He whimpered roughly between kisses. His hands slid to your hips, gripping you rigidly to guide your body in time with his as he fucked you. His lips stayed on your neck, savouring every moan you gave him, lost in the sensation of your bodies moving together with an urgency that none of you could contain.

Astarion’s hand grabbed firmly at your nape, his fingers threading through your hair as he held your head in place against his shoulder. Positioned snugly between your legs, his thighs lifted yours, angling you so that every inch of his cock entered your pussy, leaving no space unfilled.

He bobbed his hips forward with a ferocious, exhausting pace that drove him impossibly deeper into your cunt, his mouth returning in trailing hot kisses all over your skin. His grip on your nape tightened with each surge of his pelvis against yours, anchoring himself in the intensity of it, feeling how your walls massaged and vibrated around his cock. His other hand gripped your waist, drawing you closer to him as if he wanted to merge your bodies completely.

The rhythm had become urgent and desperate, his mouth leaving feverish kisses along your neck and shoulder as his pace grew erratic, driven by the overwhelming, raw desire consuming him. His hand tightened around your waist, pulling you more tightly as his thrusts grew harsher.

The fire in your body was exactly like his, a blazing need that surged with every stroke. Your hand slipped down to your swollen clit, fingers stroking it in synchrony with his pleasurable thrusts. Your actions only seemed to drive him further; a primal growl escaped his lips as his hips snapped forward with a force that stole your respiration.

“Look at you… so eager for more…” Astarion purred, his tone rasping and dripping with lust. His crimson eyes roamed down your body, pausing at the place where your fingers moved against yourself. He observed entranced how your fingers stroked your entire clitoris, slick and needy while meeting each of his thrusts. The sight seemed to inflame him, his pupils dilating as he devoured the scene before him. A wicked grin curled on his lips. “You’re utterly delicious… I can hardly resist the urge to devour you whole.”

His voice was thick with desire, and how his crimson eyes darkened further made your heart race. You could see the pure hunger burning within him, igniting an answering fire deep in your lower belly. As you continued to stimulate your clit, the tension grew unbearable, stretched so taut that one more push, one more touch, was all it would take to send you both over the edge.

He dipped his head, his breath hot against your skin. “I need to hear every delicious sound you make, every gasp and moan.” He murmured, the rasp in his voice thickening with each thrust.

As if in response, you moaned louder, the heat pooling between your legs intensifying as you clung to him. The urgency in his movements grew, his thrusts becoming a frantic tempo, pounding into you with a force that sent waves of ecstasy crashing inside your entire pussy. You could feel him nearing his peak, the way his cock hardened impossibly harder inside you, leaving copious amounts of precum between your walls. The quickening pace of his breath and the tightening grip on your hips only made it more evident.

“My love…” He purred, his voice a seductive growl that resonated deep within your pussy. “I want to feel you cum around me…”

“Please…” You pleaded in a whisper, not fully sure of what you were pleading.

Astarion surged forward, claiming you with a fervour that stole the breath from your lungs. Every thrust felt overwhelming, as though he were trying to mark you as his own, to leave a lasting imprint on your body and soul. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, a primal dance that sent shockwaves through you both, pushing you closer to the precipice of bliss.

As the words sunk in, you felt your walls tighten further around his cock. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and the delicious pressure built higher and higher, threatening to spill over.

“Together…” You gasped, feeling the edge draw nearer. “I—” His lips crashed against yours in a fierce kiss, drowning out your words as his tongue rapidly tangled with yours. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you entwined in this frenzied embrace. And then, as if replying to your unspoken plea, the dam broke.

Your climax hit you like a storm, pulsing through your core and leaving you spent as your arms tightened around him and your hips moved to fuck his cock as well. Astarion let out a shuddering moan that broke the kiss, his grip almost bruising you as he reached his own release, his body trembling and spasming as yours with the intensity of it. You felt his warm cum exploding inside you, each release sending a delicious sensation up your womb and cervix, prolonging the endless pleasure crashing through you. His hands held you against him as you both rode out ecstasy, lost in the shared, heady sensation of being completely intertwined as he kept buried inside you.

You clung to him, surrendering to the exquisite moment, feeling utterly consumed by the heat and the connection that bound you together. The aftermath left you gasping for air with your heart racing, both of you lost in the afterglow of passion.

As the lingering waves of your climax subsided after a while in each other's arms, you gazed at Astarion, a playful smile tugging at your lips. His tousled hair fell charmingly over his forehead, and a layer of sweat glistened on his skin, making him look beautiful and irresistibly enchanting.

“You know…” You started softly with a glimmer in your eyes, “You look absolutely adorable like this, all consumed by your heat.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his brows knit together in playful disbelief.

“Adorable?” One of his eyebrows went up. “I assure you, my dear, that’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Oh, come on!” You replied, laughter bubbling up like the sweetest melody for his ears. “Just look at you! You’ve never looked more charming—practically irresistible!”

He warmly chuckled, a rich sound that filled the air with joy. “My dear, I was merely indulging in what is quite natural for me. Thank you.”

You feigned a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over your heart in mock shock. “Darling! Just admit it! What an honour it is to see you in such a cute light! Who knew a fierce vampire could also be a cuddly little beast?”

Astarion rolled his eyes, but the smile that tugged at his lips was an undeniable admission of his enjoyment. “Cuddly? Now you’re pushing it, sweetie.”

“Maybe.” You said, leaning closer to him as your eyes sparkled while you batted your eyelashes playfully. “But honestly, there was something so sweet about you right now. You were so lost in the moment, like watching a passionate artist at work.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with an exaggerated huff, his attempt to maintain composure failing delightfully. “I suppose I must allow you this little delusion, but do not mistake my passion for cuteness.”

“Whatever you say, my fierce little vampire.” You joked, inching even closer. “But I stand by my word. You’re absolutely adorable.”

With a soft, fluttering laugh, you reached up to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. The moment felt electric, charged with love and affection. Astarion’s lips curled against yours before reciprocating your kiss, and for a fleeting second, the heat of passion intertwined with the sweetness of the moment, turning the surrounding air into something truly magical.

As you pulled back, you found him looking at you, a soft smile gracing his features that melted your heart. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” He murmured in a playful voice mixed with exasperation and fondness.

“Only for you.” You replied, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “And I think you love it. A reason more to the list for being with me!”

“Don’t say it too loud.” He replied, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his bravado.

You laughed, his presence enveloping you as you revelled in the playful banter, your hearts intertwining in the sweetest ways. At that moment, every worry faded, leaving only the bliss of shared affection, laughter, and the delightful intimacy of you two.

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shouyuus · 6 months ago

Note

OMG just had this idea where during the fight with Vander maybe Vi gets bit by him and it turns her into this half-werewolf half-human type thing (i’d say she still looks pretty much human, in comparison to Vander)

anyway, she has side affects all month long such as better hearing, vision, increased sense of smell, etc. but during the full moon is when she goes crazy with this extreme need to breed you/fuck you

18+, mdni, this is debauchery

the wound is not a big one, not compared to the ones that she's suffered in the past. but the one it carves in her heart takes much longer to heal -- warwick, they'd called him. she'd always know him as her dad.

and it seems that her fists and her steely attitude aren't the only things he'll leave her with.

at first, she thinks it's just the sickness -- the fevered dreams that came to her right after -- the heat that had bitten into her skin and refused to leave. she thought she'd imagined the high itch that had pressed against her very bones, the way she could smell... everything. she could hear everything.

you fuss over her, because of course you do. and she loves you, and gods, the only thing that seems to sooth her burning skin is the cool of your hands as you press them to the sides of her face.

"ah... the fever's not going down -- but the medicine should be kicking in by now --" you bite your lips and vi groans, licking her own. her mouth is so dry.

"c'mere..." she tugs you down to kiss you, and your surprised squeak is muffled against her cracked mouth. it takes barely a second for you to soften into her, and the moment your mouth slips open for her, the thrumming, pulsing want that had been coiling deep in her belly becomes a dark, urgent need.

"v-vi --!" you startle as she yanks you into the bed with her, your palms so lovely and cool, pressed to the hot skin of her chest.

"don't need medicine," she murmurs, trailing her lips along the column of your throat, "just need you."

and she knows before she fully says all the words that its true. because even saying them out loud sates a sweet, growling part of her that feels like urges and bared lips and teeth.

you let out a hitched whine as vi paws at your clothes, nearly tearing them from you, the pitched humming in her ears urging her forward as she swallows around the maddening need to feel your bare skin against hers -- beneath hers. she groans at the friction, finally, when it comes.

"f-fuck --" vi swears, sinking her teeth into the bare parenthetical of your shoulder. her lips pull away wet, and she pants, fingers digging into the plush of your hips. she groans, the sound deep and rumbling in her chest -- it's a sound that she's not certain she's ever made before, but the change it wrights over your body is instantaneous. you shudder, lashes fluttering as you gasp, arching into her, your spine bending so beautifully beneath her that her vision nearly goes white.

"fuck," she repeats, hissing the word with her nose pressed into the hollow of your throat. the world smears into pops of color, the pale of the moon pouring thick and cool through your window, the dark of your lashes, the red rings of her teeth against on your neck. fuck, fuck, fuck --

"v-violet -- violet -- oh!"

she barely registers the world closing in as she finds her fingers slotted between your thighs; her lungs fill with the scent of you, the thick, sweet musk that radiates from you. her mouth waters at the shine of slick on her fingers as she pulls them back.

"oh... pretty girl," she coos, pressing them back between your legs to sink them into your throbbing cunt, curling them up, thumbing at your clit till you're keening, reaching down to scrabble at her wrist with a weak hand. "you're so.... wet for me..." she mutters, almost to herself, the dull rushing gathering behind her ears as she watches, mesmerized, at the sight of her own fingers disappearing into you over and over and over.

"violet -- i --"

she hums, dropping her forehead onto your chest just to steady herself over you as she pushes a third finger into you, nearly losing herself in the way you stretch open for you, the way you slicken impossibly over her, clenching down till her fingers feel almost numb, the scent of you so strong it fills her head like smoke.

"fuck -- just wanna fuck you -- fuck you till you're full of me --" she says, and she doesn't quite know where the words are coming from, only knows that it gives her inexplicable pleasure -- the thought of filling you up with her, in some shape, way, or form. her fingers, her tongue -- her spit, her cum --

she hisses as she feels you convulse over her, your body trembling as your orgasm crashes through you, and she notes, faintly, she can smell the salt crystalizing on your cheeks. it takes her another few moments for her to realize that it means you're crying.

"oh -- oh princess --" she slows her pace, but you shake your head, panting, your chest heaving, tear-tracks streaking down your cheeks into our hair as you reach up to cup her face with a shaking hand.

"i-if you need to u-use me -- you can --" you swallow around a hiccup as she curls her fingers, bullying two of them against your g-spot, if only to watch your lashes flutter, "y-you can."

"yeah, sweet girl?" vi asks, her own breathing shaky as she digs her nose into your jugular, slotting her hips between yours, fumbling with the waistband of her boxers, tossing them aside to slot her own wet cunt against yours with a thick groan.

"gonna let me use you till i'm satisfied?" she asks, rutting down over you, a strange, wolfish hunger yawning open inside her, something like a wound or a gaping cavern, dark and echoing.

your answering keen makes her whole head spin, and then she's fucking you, rocking her hips over yours, lifting one of your legs till it's slung haphazardly over her shoulder, your slick clit catching hers as she imagines fucking her own cum into you with her fingers.

just the thought alone is enough to drive her over the edge, her cumming hard and messy against you, groaning and sinking her teeth into your already bruised shoulder, her tongue laving over the divots after, though she can't quite get over how much she likes the smell of her smeared across your skin.

she forces her hand between your bodies and sinks three fingers into you without preamble, hissing at how easily you take her in now, your pussy warm and welcoming, so slick with your cum and hers that it's the easiest thing in the word to slip in a fourth finger. your breath hitches at the extra stretch, but it's nothing to head-rush vi feels she methodically works her own cum into you.

and the most logical part of her knows, she knows that it's not quite possible for her to breed you, not in the most traditional sense of the word, but something about it still makes her feel just a bit feral. something about the motion of it, of knowing that there's something of hers inside you, that the room smells like sex -- yours and hers, spit and skin and ecstasy, that sates the rumbling, roiling heat sizzling inside her.

it quiets the thumping urge, slakes the rambling thirst.

she fucks you slow then, rolling her hips in tandem with her fingers, groaning soft as she watches you with soft eyes. you reach down to lace your fingers with her free hand and she leans down to kiss you. it's open-mouthed and wanting, but it's sweet nonetheless.

outside, the clouds hang fat and low beneath a harvest-moon sky.

"vi...?" you ask, looking up at her from moon-soaked lashes.

"hm?"

you lick your lips, "d-did that make you feel better?"

she nods, chuckling, "sure did, pretty girl."

you let out a tiny laugh as well, one that twists into a moan as vi pulls her fingers from you and presses them to your mouth. you let your jaw slacken around them, lick around the tangy essence of you and watch as vi's eyes blow midnight-dark. the air slicks taffy-sweet and butter-thick.

"gonna let me do it again?" she asks, puffing out a breath as she ruts her cunt against yours. you whimper, nodding, your head jolting back into the pillow at the friction, your oversensitive clit already throbbing in protest, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"y-yeah -- as... as many times..." you swallow around a half-drawn breath, "as you need."

vi grins, tracing a delicate finger down your cheek till she fits her hand around the circumference of your throat and squeezes, just the tiniest bit. her eyes follow the butterfly-wing flicker of your pulse as it jumps beneath her palm.

the beast caught inside her cage of ribs growls its approval.

she rocks down over you once more, the movement harsher, and deeper. you only close your eyes and moan.

"that's a good girl," she murmurs, dropping a kiss to our cheek, letting her lips trail along your skin to skim the lobe of your ear and she whispers --

"gonna let me breed you properly, hm? be good for me and take all my cum, yeah, pretty girl?"

you whine. the sound shoots straight to her clit as she fucks down over you again, reaching down to tease at your puffy pussy lips.

and in a voice that's both reverent and broken, you seal her fate in one fell swoop --

"y-yes vi -- please."

653 notes · View notes

palmersluvr · 2 months ago

Note

MY QUEEN!!!! I am obsessed with your writing 😍😍 pls write friends with benefits/fuck buddy Luigi getting absolutely feral jealous that you went on a date but he feels insane because you guys are not exclusive so he has ‘no right’ to feel such a way but he’s just a hotheaded Italian man when it comes to you 😩😩😌🫦

fuckbuddy

summary: you go on a drive with your “fuckbuddy” luigi in his bmw, which ends with a pleasant surprise.

warnings: head (m!receiving) unprotected sex, semi public sex, breeding

notes: the start of this is a teeny tiny bit self indulgent lol

thee restaurant buzzes with low conversation and the clatter of silverware, but you’re barely engaged, nudging a piece of dry salmon across your plate with your fork.

the guy across from you… brad? chad? you’ve already forgotten his name, leans in with a kind of forced familiarity that makes your skin crawl. his presence is heavy, invasive, like he’s trying to fill more space than his body actually occupies.

the grin plastered across his face doesn’t soften anything. it only stretches too far, too tight, like he’s wearing it for effect. his cologne is sharp and overbearing, his eyes, glassy and unblinking, track your every movement with a precision that feels less like interest and more like calculation.

without warning, he veers into a monologue. his voice lowering, turning conspiratorial, as he starts talking about andrew tate. not casually. reverently.

“that guy’s a genius,” he says, grinning like he’s just named a personal hero. “he says what everyone else doesn’t have the guts to say. if you ask me, that’s real powerful. the world needs more men like him.”

you couldn’t fathom what was coming out of his mouth. what the fuck were you doing? you knew that agreeing to go out with this guy was a bad idea.

“you live by yourself?” he probes, the question dressed in a casual tone but heavy with an intrusive edge that sets your nerves on edge.

you end up dodging the question with a vague, “i get by.”

he doesn’t flinch, just gives a slow nod, his fingers tapping too near your side of the table. and the way he mimics your movements… tilting forward when you do, drinking when you drink, feels deliberate, almost stalker like.

suddenly the air between you feels thin, brittle. you force a tight smile, your mind already scanning for an excuse to leave.

you glance at your phone, then get an idea.

you open your text thread with luigi, your chest tightening at the sight of his name. for two months, you’ve been hooked on him, meeting up whenever one of you needs to blow off steam, fucking with reckless abandon wherever the mood strikes.

it started with a chance encounter at a bar, his gorgeous smile and teasing banter pulling you in, leading to you accompanying him on a drive in his bmw. eventually he pulled into a quiet, secluded spot by the beach, diving into the backseat where clothes were torn off in a rush, and he fucked you senseless for the first time.

since then, you’ve found each other again and again, always meeting up whenever you’re horny. you mostly do it somewhere at his place, or his car.

each encounter is a blur of sweat slicked skin, tangled limbs, and gasped curses, leaving you trembling in his arms, your body sated but your heart aching. you’re ashamed to admit that you’re fucking in love with him. but he’s never said it back, and it eats away at you night after night.

that’s why you’re here, enduring this dreadful date, listening to this weirdo go on and on, in a hopeless attempt to move on, to numb the sharp longing for a man who might not love you the way you love him.

your thumb hovers over luigi’s last text, a cheeky “miss me already?” from 3 days ago, and you fight the urge to reply, the candle’s faint glow doing nothing to ease the growing dread of this date or the deeper pain of trying to let go of the man who consumes your thoughts.

you hate feeling like a burden, you absolutely LOATHE the vulnerability of needing to ask for a favour… it makes your stomach twist with embarrassment, like you’re imposing on someone who might resent you for it. but the dude across the table is still staring, his vibe growing darker, and you can’t stay here any longer.

swallowing your pride, you type out a quick text to luigi. your finger lingers over the send button, a wave of self doubt hitting hard as you imagine him sighing at the inconvenience.

you hit send anyway, heart pounding, the candle’s dim light doing little to ease the dread of this date or the nagging fear that you’re asking too much of the man you can’t stop loving.

you: hey… can you come get me? im on a bad date

as soon as the message sends, a surge of regret engulfs you. why did you do that? you mentally berate yourself, your thoughts tumbling into a chaotic frenzy. what the fuck were you thinking? he’s probably busy, out with friends or having a rare night to himself for once, and here you are, thrusting your problems onto him like some needy, burdensome mess.

you picture him reading the text and rolling his eyes, judging you for being too weak to handle a creepy date on your own. what if he’s fed up with you? just because you’ve been having sex with him for two months doesn’t mean that he owes you anything. you should’ve sucked it up and ordered an uber home. anything but pulling luigi into your drama.

your thoughts churn with worst case scenarios: luigi ignoring your text completely, or worse, sending a cold, dismissive “no” that makes it clear you’re not his concern. you imagine him brushing you off, and you know what? you wouldn’t even blame him. why should he drop everything for you?

you stare at your phone, the screen still blank, your stomach knotting with the humiliating realization that you’ve just laid bare how much you need him, when he likely doesn’t give a shit about you like that at all. you’re just someone he hooks up with sometimes, that’s it.

suddenly, your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a new text from luigi.

luigi: a date??? wtf are you doing on a date???

your heart stumbles, a rush of shock and cautious hope surging through you as you stare at the words on your screen. his message is blunt, cutting through the fog of your spiraling thoughts, and your fingers shake as you grip the phone, caught between relief that he’s responded and dread that this could unravel. why didn’t you just order a fucking uber?

you hesitate, then type out a response, your thumbs unsteady.

you: it’s nothing serious, just dinner. why does it matter?

seconds later, your phone vibrates with his response.

luigi: cus it does. where you at anyway? bet whoever you’re with is some loser lol

the words hit like a playful jab, sharp and teasing, yet laced with something heavier. you glance at your date across the table, his voice now droning on about cryptocurrency, eyes glued to his drink mid rant.

a wry smile tugs at your lips. luigi’s not wrong. your fingers hover over the keyboard, then you type.

you: at amigos. and yeah, he is a loser, and that’s why i need you to come get me

you: happy now?

your phone dings twice, almost instantly, his reply lighting up the screen.

luigi: oh baby, i’m already grabbing my keys

luigi: i’ll come save you soon, better be ready for me

the messages drip with a flirty edge, a promise woven into the tease, and your stomach flips, a grin creeping onto your face as you steal another glance at your date, now staring at you.

you quickly muster an excuse. “i’m so sorry, my mom just texted me, my grandma’s in the hospital, i oughta go down there and be there with her.”

chad… or brad? stares at you, his unnervingly wide grin twisting into a sullen grimace, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. the glint in them dims, replaced by something colder, more petulant.

“fine.” he mutters, his voice a low, gravelly grumble, dripping with annoyance as he leans back in his chair, arms crossing tightly over his chest. his jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he might argue, but instead, he lets out a sharp huff, shoving his chair back with a loud, grating scrape against the polished wood floor.

the sound cuts through the restaurant’s soft hum, drawing a few curious glances from nearby tables. without another word, he rises, his broad frame looming briefly as he snatches his jacket from the back of the chair, the fabric rustling angrily. he storms toward the exit, his heavy footsteps thudding with purpose, the glass door swinging open with a jingle before slamming shut behind him.

through the restaurant’s large window, you watch him stride across the dimly lit parking lot, his silhouette sharp against the neon glow of the restaurant’s sign. he yanks open the driver’s side door of his black toyota, the motion jerky and aggressive, and slides inside. the engine roars to life, headlights flaring as he peels out, tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a faint trail of burnt rubber as he speeds off into the night.

you’re left alone at the table, your heart still pounding from the tension of his presence, but a wave of relief washes over you, the candle’s faint flicker now feeling like a small beacon of calm in the wake of his departure.

you feel as though you’ve just dodged a MAJOR bullet.

taking a deep breath, you steady yourself and glance around the restaurant, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses grounding you. determined to wrap this up and get out, you catch the eye of a nearby waiter, a young guy with a polite smile, and gesture him over.

“could i get the bill please?” you ask, keeping your voice soft.

he nods and steps away, returning shortly with a glossy black folder containing the bill. you open it, a spark of frustration flaring as you remember chad…?….brad?…or is it actually tad??? promising over text before you even met up that he’d cover dinner, his cocky messages about “treating you right” and about how a woman should “never have to pay for dinner” now feeling like empty bravado now that he’s stormed off without a word.

with a quiet scoff, you slide your credit card into the folder, not bothering to check the total. paying for this disastrous date is a small price to be free of his creepy presence. after a swift transaction and a brief thank you to the waiter, you grab your purse, rise, and smooth your dress, threading through the packed tables toward the exit.

the glass door swings open effortlessly, and you step out, the crisp night air hitting your skin, a refreshing relief from the restaurant’s stifling atmosphere.

entering the parking lot, your eyes scan the dimly lit area, and your heart skips a beat when you spot it… luigi��s red BMW, its glossy paint gleaming under a streetlight, parked near the edge of the lot. the sight of it, bold and familiar, sends a rush of warmth through you, chasing away the last remnants of the date’s unease.

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

he’s here. he actually came. you clutch your purse tighter, a small smile tugging at your lips as you start walking toward the car, the sound of your heels clicking against the concrete, mingling with the sound of the nearby passing traffic.

as you get closer, luigi’s gaze locks onto you through his windshield, his eyes raking over you with unapologetic hunger, tracing the way your dress molds to every curve of your body. your hips, your waist, your chest… before slowly climbing back to your face.

the stare is brazen, smoldering, and it ignites a tingling heat that blooms across your skin, defying the crisp bite of the night air. you reach the passenger side, fingers curling around the cool metal handle, and swing the door open, sliding into the leather seat that cradles you like a lover’s embrace. as you settle in, luigi lets out a slow, appreciative whistle, the sound low and deliberate.

his head tilts, tongue pressing firmly against the inside of his cheek in that cheeky, teasing gesture that screams confidence and flirtation, his dark eyes glinting with a wicked spark as he drinks you in up close.

“damn…” he drawls, voice rich and smooth as molten honey, each syllable laced with a weight that sends your pulse into a wild sprint.

a shy blush creeps up your cheeks, warm and betraying, as his words and that brazen look settle over you. you shift in the seat, trying to play it cool, but the heat in your face gives you away.

“what?” you reply, your voice light but tinged with a nervous laugh, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your purse as you meet his gaze.

luigi leans back, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, his eyes still roaming you with playful mischief. “this is the hottest i’ve ever seen you look,” he says, his tone teasing but warm, a grin tugging at his lips. “you went all out to go to dinner with that asshole? i’m the one who’s been fucking you for almost 2 months, and you’ve never dressed up this much for me.”

his words carry a mock pout, but the laughter in his voice and the way his eyes crinkle with amusement show he’s having fun with it, clearly relishing in how good you look tonight while still managing to tease you.

you tilt your head, a playful smirk curling your lips as you lean slightly toward him, your voice dipping into a teasing lilt. “well next time i’ll show up in my tightest, shortest dress.” you say, letting the words linger, your eyes locking with his, a spark of challenge in your gaze as you raise an eyebrow.

luigi’s grin widens, his eyes glinting with delight. “i wouldn’t complain.” he shoots back, his tone warm and flirtatious, the laughter still threading through his voice as he holds your gaze, the air between you charged with a familiar, electric pull.

before you can respond, he leans over the center console, closing the distance between you. his hand finds the side of your face, fingers brushing your cheek as he pulls you into a kiss. his lips are warm, firm, and hungry, moving against yours with a slow, deliberate intensity that makes your breath catch.

the kiss deepens quickly, his tongue slipping past your lips, teasing and exploring as it tangles with yours in a slick, heated dance. his stubble grazes your skin, a faint, delicious roughness, and the faint taste of mint from his gum lingers, mixing with the raw, masculine scent of him that fills your senses.

when he pulls back, his eyes linger on yours, a soft, knowing look passing between you. your lips tingle, still buzzing from the kiss, and a flutter of butterflies dances in your stomach, the intimacy of the moment leaving you both grounded and dizzy with want. you’re acutely aware of how much you’ve missed this, missed him, and the realization only deepens the ache of your feelings for him.

luigi settles back into his seat, a faint, satisfied smile playing on his lips. he turns the key in the ignition, the car’s engine purring to life with a low, throaty hum. with a quick glance over his shoulder, he shifts into gear and pulls out of the parking lot, the red car gliding smoothly away from the restaurant, the glow of its neon sign fading in the rearview mirror as you leave the disastrous date behind.

the city lights flash by in streaks of gold and white as he drives, the car navigating the road’s gentle curves with effortless grace. the low thrum of the engine and the rhythmic hum of tires on asphalt create a soothing bubble, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension of the restaurant. his left hand rests casually on the steering wheel, guiding the car with easy confidence, while his right hand drifts to your thigh, settling there with a warm, intentional weight.

his palm presses against the thin fabric of your dress, the heat of his skin radiating through, and his fingers splay slightly, the tips grazing the soft, sensitive skin just above your knee. the touch is both possessive and gentle, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles that send a quiet thrill through you, each small movement sparking a tingling warmth that pools in your core.

the faint roughness of his fingertips, calloused from work, contrasts with the smoothness of your thigh, anchoring you in the moment while stoking a slow burning desire. his grip tightens briefly as he rounds a corner, the subtle pressure sending a jolt of awareness through your body, and you catch the faintest quirk of his lips, as if he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having.

“so…” luigi says, his voice low and casual, though there’s a curious edge to it as he keeps his eyes on the road. “who was this guy you were having dinner with? some wannabe hotshot?”

his tone is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of something sharper beneath it, maybe jealousy, maybe just genuine interest. his hand stays on your thigh, thumb still circling, the touch grounding you even as his question pulls your mind back to the creep you’d rather forget. “i mean, you got all dressed up like that for him…” he adds, glancing at you briefly, his dark eyes flicking over your dress before returning to the road, a playful challenge in his expression.

the car cruises steadily, the city unfolding around you, but with his hand on you and his voice drawing you in, the world outside feels distant, the focus narrowing to the space between you.

you roll your eyes, a frustrated huff escaping as you slump back in the leather seat, the memory of the date reigniting your irritation. “ugh, don’t even, he was the fucking WORST,” you groan, crossing your arms, your voice dripping with exasperation. “some wannabe sigma crypto bro who wouldn’t shut up about “dominating the market” or whatever the fuck and how he’s, like, hacking the blockchain or whatever. kept bragging about his ‘gains’ and how he’s ‘not like other guys.’ oh, AND he left without paying, so i had to pay for dinner.”

you shake your head, annoyance flaring as you picture that asshole’s smug smirk and eerie gaze. luigi’s hand on your thigh is a grounding force, calming your rant, his thumb still drawing slow, tantalizing circles that spark a quiet heat beneath your aggravation.

a low chuckle from him breaks through your thoughts, the sound warm and amused. you whip your head toward him, one eyebrow arched, your voice a mix of teasing and irritation.

“are you giving me attitude?” you ask, half playful, half annoyed, fixing him with a look as you wait for an explanation.

luigi’s chuckle deepens, his eyes glinting with mischief as he keeps one hand on the steering wheel, the other still resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing those slow, deliberate circles that keep a faint heat simmering under your skin.

“i just think it’s hilarious,” he says, his voice low and teasing, a playful edge to it as he glances at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

“you’re out here getting this phd from me, and yet you’re stuck at some fancy dinner with a wannabe crypto loser who probably couldn’t even find the clit with a map.” he laughs again, the sound rich and unapologetic, clearly enjoying the absurdity of it.

“like, come on, baby, you’re slumming it with that guy when you’ve got me on speed dial?” his tone is light, cocky but not cruel, and the way his fingers give your thigh a gentle squeeze underscores the playful possessiveness in his words.

the city lights streak by as the car cruises smoothly, and despite your lingering frustration from the date, his teasing and that warm, steady hand on you start to pull a reluctant smile to your lips.

your heart rate quickens at his words, a glimmer of hope flickering deep inside… does he care that you were out with someone else? could he actually be jealous? the thought sends a rush through you, your feelings for him, unspoken and hidden, surging with a quiet ache. but you shove it down, feigning nonchalance as you shift in the plush leather seat, tossing him a sidelong glance with a carefully crafted smirk.

“hey, i’ve got my own life,” you say, voice cool but laced with a playful edge, shrugging slightly. “we’re not exclusive, luigi. you made that clear from the jump, remember? no strings, just fun, that was the rule that we agreed on.”

your words are sharp enough to remind him of the boundaries he set when you first started fucking, but your casual tone masks the pang in your chest, the longing for him to want more. his hand stills on your thigh for a beat, the circling thumb pausing, and you catch a fleeting shift in his expression, maybe surprise, maybe something deeper, as he keeps his gaze on the road, while clenching his jaw.

luigi stays silent for a moment, the engine’s soft hum filling the void. then he speaks, his voice quieter now, stripped of its usual playful edge, laced with a vulnerability that makes your breath falter.

“you know,” he begins, still staring straight ahead, “it gets to me, thinking about you with other guys. going out with them, fucking them, or even just… sitting through dinner with some asshole.” he falters, his grip on your thigh tightening just a bit, not possessive but almost instinctual, like he’s steadying himself.

“i’m the one who said no strings, keep it chill. but picturing you with someone else? it hurts way more than i thought it would.” his confession is soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s grappling with the weight of it, and the rawness in his tone sends your heart racing, that faint spark of hope you felt earlier flaring into something brighter.

he shifts gears, the car picking up speed as he guides it away from the city’s vibrant lights, taking the twisting roads toward the lake. the urban sprawl fades into darker, emptier streets, the scenery opening up as the road stretches toward the water’s edge.

his hand stays on your thigh, warm and steady, but his jaw remains taut, his gaze fixed on the road, hinting at an inner conflict. the city’s hum recedes, replaced by the distant whisper of the lake, and his words hang heavily in the air, leaving you caught between the thrill of his admission and the uncertainty of what it might mean for the two of you.

you shift slightly in your seat, his unexpected vulnerability stirring a mix of emotions, hope, nervousness, desire. the road stretches darker now, the city lights long gone, and curiosity nudges you to break the silence.

“where are we going?” you ask, your voice soft but tinged with playful curiosity, glancing at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw illuminated by the faint glow of the dashboard.

luigi’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, his eyes still on the road as he replies, “where do you think? we’re headed to our usual spot.” his voice is low, carrying a familiar teasing edge, but there’s a warmth beneath it that makes your pulse quicken, the implication of “our spot” sending a rush to your core.

he steers the car down a familiar narrow road, the pavement giving way to a gravel path that crunches under the tires. the lake comes into view, its surface shimmering faintly under the moonlight, framed by dense trees that create a secluded cocoon.

he pulls into the quiet clearing by the water’s edge, the same spot you’ve been to countless times before, where the world feels like it belongs only to the two of you. the car rolls to a stop, the engine’s hum fading as he cuts the ignition, leaving the soft lapping of the lake and the distant chirp of crickets to fill the silence.

he shifts in his seat, turning to face you, his eyes catching yours, moonlight highlighting the depth in his gaze.

“these last two months,” luigi begins, his voice softer now, laced with a raw honesty that makes your heart skip. “they’ve been the happiest of my life. no joke.”

he hesitates, his thumb now grazing your hand lightly, a rare nervous tic from him. “it’s not just the sex… although i will say, it’s been the best sex i’ve had in my life. it’s… you. hanging out, laughing, just… being together. it’s hit me different. and lately, i’ve been feeling like… i want more than just this no strings thing we’ve been doing.”

he continues. “you’re sweet, funny, kind, beautiful… the whole package. but i can’t keep doing this casual shit. it’s not right for you, and it’s tearing me up. i want us to be official. you and me, together, for real.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

that does it for you.

you lean over the center console, your dress shifting slightly as you move, and your fingers find his belt, the cool metal buckle clicking softly as you deftly undo it. the sound is sharp in the quiet car, charged with intent. luigi’s eyes widen for a split second, a flicker of surprise giving way to a hungry understanding as he catches on.

he shifts in his seat, his hands moving quickly to help, tugging his trousers down with a rustle of fabric. the waistband slides past his hips, revealing the tight grey calvin kleins clinging to his thighs, the fabric stretched taut over his growing bulge, the outline of his cock already thick and prominent, straining against the cotton.

a faint sheen of precum darkens a small patch near the tip, betraying his arousal, and the sight sends a jolt of desire through you, your mouth watering, your core clenching with need. his thighs, muscular and dusted with dark hair, flex slightly as he adjusts, the air between you crackling with anticipation, the intimacy of the moment amplified by the quiet lapping of the lake outside.

you lean across the center console, your dress riding up slightly, and lock eyes with him, your voice low and commanding, dripping with need.

“underwear off. now.”

luigi’s eyes spark with surprise, then amusement, a deep, warm laugh spilling from him, the sound rich and filling the car. “you’re even hornier than usual,” he says, his tone laced with playful awe, a grin spreading across his face. “are you ovulating?”

his laugh is teasing, but the fire in his gaze matches yours, his pupils dilated as he reads the desire in your expression. he doesn’t hesitate long, already moving to comply, but first, he closes the distance between you.

his lips crash into yours, hot and insistent, the kiss immediately deep and consuming. his tongue slips past your lips, tangling with yours in a slick, fervent dance, carrying a hint of mint and his own unique taste. one hand cups your jaw, fingers steady yet gentle, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while his other hand fumbles with the waistband of his underwear.

the fabric shifts as he pulls them down, the tight cotton catching briefly on his erection before sliding past his hips, freeing his cock. it stands thick and heavy, the swollen tip glistening with precum, veins pulsing along the shaft, and though you’re lost in the kiss, the knowledge of his exposure sends a fresh wave of want through you.

his stubble scrapes your skin, a thrilling roughness, and his low groan vibrates against your lips as he slides the underwear off completely, leaving him bare from the waist down. the kiss grows messier, more desperate, teeth grazing, breaths mingling, his hand moving from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough.

the car feels smaller, the lake’s quiet whispers fading against the pounding of your heart and the intense, electric connection of his mouth on yours, his nakedness only amplifying the urgent heat between you.

you break the kiss abruptly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, dark and heavy with lust. without a word, you shift over the center console, your dress hiking up as you lean down, your breath hot against his skin. his cock stands rigid, the flushed tip slick with precum, and you pause for a moment, letting the anticipation build.

then, you press a slow, deliberate kiss to the sensitive head, your lips brushing the smooth, velvety skin, tasting the salty tang of his arousal. luigi lets out a surprised moan, a low sound that reverberates through the car, his hips twitching involuntarily at the sudden contact.

but you don’t stop there. your lips part, and you slowly take him into your mouth, inch by torturous inch. the thick, pulsing heat of his cock fills you, the weight of him heavy on your tongue as you slide down, feeling every ridge and vein against your lips.

then swollen head presses against the roof of your mouth, slick with precum, and you hollow your cheeks, creating a tight, wet suction as you begin to suck him off. your tongue swirls around the tip, teasing the sensitive slit, then flattens along the underside, tracing the throbbing vein as you take him deeper, your lips stretching to accommodate his girth.

the musky scent of him, mixed with the faint leather of the car, floods your senses, driving your desire higher. you move slowly at first, savoring the way he fills your mouth, the way his body responds, his thighs tensing, his hands gripping the edges of the seat.

another moan escapes him, louder this time, a ragged “fuck” slipping out as he watches you, his breath hitching in surprise and pleasure, the sound spurring you on as you work him with deliberate, hungry precision, the secluded lake outside forgotten in the haze of this moment.

luigi’s thighs tense under your touch, his muscles flexing as he shifts slightly in the driver’s seat, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. his hand finds your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a gentle but firm grip, not forcing but guiding, urging you closer. “my girl… my baby…” he moans, his voice low and ragged, dripping with pleasure as he watches you.

“so beautiful… making me feel so good.” his words are sweet, murmured nothings that spill out between moans, each one stoking the fire in your core. he gently pushes your head down, encouraging you to take him deeper, his touch careful but laced with need. the pressure sends a thrill through you, your throat relaxing to accommodate more of him, the stretch of your lips around his girth making your jaw ache in the best way.

you pick up the pace, your mouth gliding over his cock, wet and slick with your saliva and his precum. the head bumps the back of your throat with each downward motion, and you swallow around him, the tight constriction drawing a louder moan from him, a desperate “just like that, you’re sucking my cock so fucking good.”

your tongue flicks and swirls, lavishing attention on the sensitive underside before circling the tip again, sucking harder, the wet suction loud in the confined space of the car. his fingers tighten in your hair, not rough but possessive, his hips twitching upward slightly, chasing the heat of your mouth. “y’look like a fucking angel…” he groans, his voice breaking with pleasure, the sweet praise mingling with the raw edge of his moans.

his other hand grips the edge of the seat, knuckles whitening, as he fights to stay in control, but the way his cock throbs in your mouth, pulsing with every suck, tells you he’s unraveling. the moonlight filters through the windows, casting soft shadows across his tense frame, and the intimacy of the moment, his hand in your hair, his moaned affirmations, the lake’s quiet seclusion, heightens the electric connection, driving you to please him even more.

you let out a soft moan around his length, the vibration humming through him, your own arousal spiking as you feel him twitch in response. the sound is muffled but needy, your core aching at the thought of driving him wild, your dress riding up as you lean further over the center console. your jaw aches deliciously from his girth, but you don’t slow down, bobbing your head faster, taking him deeper until the tip brushes the back of your throat.

you swallow around him, the tight squeeze pulling another ragged moan from him, his fingers tightening in your hair as his hips buck slightly, chasing the heat of your mouth. “i-i’m getting close,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pleasure.

but then, his hand shifts, releasing your hair to tap lightly on the top of your head, a gentle but urgent signal.

“stop.” he says, his voice hoarse, laced with a desperate edge. you pause, pulling back slowly, your lips glistening as you look up at him, his cock still hard and slick, twitching in the cool air. his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with lust, and he flashes a heated, almost predatory grin.

“get on my lap.” he rasps, his tone leaving no room for argument. “i wanna cum inside that pretty little cunt.”

the sheer bluntness of his words hits you like a shockwave, your body responding instantly, a rush of wetness soaking your panties as you nod, already moving to climb over the console, eager to give him exactly what he wants in the moonlit seclusion of your lakeside spot.

you move swiftly, climbing over the center console, your dress snagging briefly on the leather seat. you straddle his lap, knees framing his hips in the tight driver’s seat, moonlight flooding through the BMW’s windows, casting a silvery sheen over you both. your hands work fast, yanking up your dress, the fabric bunching at your waist to reveal the delicate black lace panties hugging your skin.

your fingers tug the material aside, exposing your pussy, slick, swollen, and dripping, the glistening folds catching the light, your clit throbbing with anticipation.

luigi’s gaze drops to your cunt, and a deep, primal groan escapes him, his cock jerking against his abdomen. “jesus fuck…” he mutters, hands clamping onto your hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he stares at your soaked, parted lips, your juices dripping down your inner thigh in a glistening trail.

“so perfect, it’s practically screaming for me.” his voice drips with hunger, and before you can react, his hand darts forward, delivering a sharp, deliberate slap to your clit.

the sudden sting sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you squeal, your body jerking as you gasp, “luigi!” your voice is a mix of surprise and needy whining, your core throbbing at the unexpected sensation, wetness pooling even more.

he just laughs, low and heated, his eyes locked on yours. “sweet girl, cmon, give me a kiss.” he says, voice softer but thick with lust, drawing you in. you lean forward, lips colliding with his, the kiss instantly deep and messy, tongues tangling in a fervent, sloppy dance. his mouth is hot, tasting of mint. one hand presses against your back, pulling you closer, while the other grips your hip, guiding you as your slick pussy grazes his cock, the brief contact drawing moans from both of you into the kiss.

the weight of your emotions his admission, this moment… overwhelms you. you pull back from the kiss, chest heaving, and look into his eyes. “i love you.” you breathe, the words spilling out raw and unguarded, your voice shaky with the truth you’ve kept buried. your heart pounds, exposed, but the way his eyes soften, the way his breath catches, makes it feel right.

luigi lets out a deep, needy groan, his hands tightening on your hips like he’s anchoring himself. “shit,” he rasps, voice heavy with feeling. “turn around, i want your back against my chest.” his tone is a heated order, sending a shiver through you. you comply, shifting in his lap to face away, your dress still bunched at your waist, panties pulled aside, your dripping pussy exposed and practically calling out his name.

you lean back, your back molding to the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin seeping through his shirt, his cock pressing against your entrance, thick and throbbing. his hands slide to your hips, steadying you, his breath hot against your neck as the lake’s soft murmurs fade.

your dress stays hiked up around your waist, panties tugged aside, your soaked pussy bare. his cock nudges your entrance, thick and pulsing, the flushed tip grazing your wet lips, sending a tremor of need through you. the lake’s gentle murmurs outside fade into the background.

his lips brush your neck, hot and intentional, landing a slow, wet kiss on the delicate skin just beneath your ear. the touch is searing, his breath warm and tantalizing, and then his tongue darts out, tracing the sensitive spot with a deliberate, lingering lick. a soft moan spills from you, primal and unrestrained, your head tipping to offer him more as your body instinctively arches into him. the slick heat of his mouth sends shivers of pleasure cascading through you, your core tightening, your pussy juices dripping in a glossy trail down your inner thighs.

luigi’s mouth closes over the spot, sucking softly at first, then with more force, his teeth lightly scraping as he marks you. his hand moves from your hip to your pussy, fingers zeroing in on your engorged clit with effortless precision. he begins rubbing in tight, deliberate circles, his rough fingertips slick with your wetness, teasing the sensitive bud with maddening accuracy.

the dual assault is intoxicating, his lips and teeth working your neck, sucking hard to leave a dark, tender hickey, while his fingers stroke your clit with unrelenting focus.

your hips jerk against his hand, a louder moan tearing from your throat, the pleasure surging as his touch pushes you toward the brink. the hickey pulses with a faint sting, a bold claim that makes your heart pound, your pussy clenching under his fingers, each circle sending sharp waves of heat through your body.

“you’re fucking drenched,” he growls against your neck, voice hoarse and thick, rumbling against your skin as he licks the fresh hickey, easing the sensitive mark. “need to get you ready for my cock.”

his fingers pick up speed, pressing harder against your clit, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal blending with your breathless moans and the faint groan of the leather seat. your thighs quiver, splayed wide across his lap, your body sinking into his chest as he drives you wild, the combination of his sucking mouth and merciless fingers pulling you closer to the edge.

without warning, luigi’s hand leaves your clit, gripping your hip as he shifts beneath you. in one swift, ruthless motion, he thrusts upward, his cock plunging into your dripping cunt, bottoming out with a single, deep stroke. the sudden stretch is overwhelming, his thick shaft splits you open, filling you completely, the pulsing veins and swollen head dragging against your slick walls with a searing intensity.

you cry out, a sharp, “oh lu!” tearing from your lips, your body jolting against his chest as the pleasure-pain of his intrusion sends a shockwave through you. your pussy clenches around him, gripping his cock so firmly, every inch of him buried so deep you feel him pressing against your cervix, the fullness almost too much.

“so fucking tight…” he groans, his voice a low, guttural rasp against your ear, thick with lust. his hands clamp onto your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he holds you in place, letting you adjust to the brutal stretch. “this pussy was made for me, yeah, hear me?” his words are filthy, possessive, and they ignite a fresh wave of arousal, your walls fluttering around his cock, slick and hot.

he doesn’t move yet, savoring the way you’re stretched around him, your juices coating his shaft, dripping down to his balls, pooling on the leather seat beneath you.

you whimper, your hands scrambling for purchase, one gripping his thigh, the other reaching back to clutch at his shirt. “baby… fuck, you’re so big…” you gasp, your voice trembling with need, your hips twitching instinctively, desperate for friction.

the fullness is dizzying, his cock throbbing inside you, every pulse sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. your clit aches, still sensitive from his fingers, and the hickey on your neck pulses with a faint sting, amplifying the sensory overload.

he snickers darkly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot and teasing. “you love it, don’t you? love how i fill you up.” he murmurs, one hand sliding up to cup your breast through your dress, his thumb grazing your hardened nipple, making you moan again. slowly, he starts to move, pulling out just an inch before slamming back in, the wet, obscene squelch of your pussy taking him echoing in the car.

“fuck, listen to that… so wet… and all for me.” he growls, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he sets a deliberate, punishing pace, each thrust deep and hard, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, hitting spots that make your vision blur.

you moan loudly, your head falling back against his shoulder, your body rocking with every thrust. “yes, yes, fuck luigi!” you cry, your voice breaking as he fucks you relentlessly, the car rocking slightly with the force of his movements. your pussy grips him tighter, the slick friction driving you wild, your arousal coating his cock, making each thrust smoother, deeper.

his hand on your hip guides you, lifting you slightly before pulling you down to meet his thrusts, the angle letting him hit your g spot with devastating precision. “don’t stop… please!” you beg, your nails digging into his thigh, the pleasure building so fast it’s almost unbearable.

“stop? no fucking way,” he groans, his lips finding your neck again, kissing the hickey he left before sucking on a new spot, his teeth grazing your skin. “gonna fuck you till you can’t think straight.” his other hand snakes back to your clit, fingers finding the swollen bud and rubbing in tight, fast circles, the added stimulation making you scream, your thighs trembling as you teeter on the edge.

your pussy milks him with every thrust, the wet, sloppy sounds of your bodies colliding filling the car, drowning out the lake’s whispers. his cock pulses inside you, thick and relentless, the head battering your deepest spots, and you feel the coil in your core tightening, ready to snap.

“baby… i’m so close,” you whimper, your voice ragged, your body shaking as he pounds into you, his fingers relentless on your clit, his lips sucking another dark mark onto your neck. the pleasure is overwhelming, a tidal wave threatening to crash, your love for him mixing with the raw physicality of the moment, making every sensation sharper, more intense.

“oh baby, let go for me,” he rasps, his voice strained, his thrusts growing harder, more erratic, his cock throbbing inside you as he chases his own release. “cum all over my cock… wanna feel that perfect cunt squeeze me.” his words push you over the edge, and with a final, desperate moan, your orgasm hits, your pussy clamping down on him, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you tremble in his lap, your juices gushing around his cock, soaking his thighs and the seat below.

but he doesn’t stop. his hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging into your flesh as he keeps fucking you, his cock slamming into your oversensitive pussy with relentless, punishing thrusts. each stroke drags against your spasming walls, his tip battering your g spot, sending jolts of overstimulation through your already trembling body.

you’re loud now, uncontrollably so, your moans turning into high pitched cries and gasps, each one spilling out louder than the last. “fuck, it’s too much!” you whimper, your voice breaking, your hands clutching at his thighs, nails scraping the flesh as you squirm in his lap.

“you sound so beautiful,” he groans, his voice low and ragged, his breath hot against your neck as he pounds into you, chasing his release. “wish i was recording right now… you’re gonna make me cum baby.” his hips snap up, the wet slap of his cock plunging into your drenched cunt echoing in the car, mixing with your desperate cries and his own guttural moans.

his thrusts are frantic now, his cock throbbing harder, the veins pulsing against your walls as he nears the edge. “fucking incredible,” he growls, one hand sliding up to grip your waist, holding you in place as he fucks you deeper, the car rocking with the force of his movements.

your body shakes, oversensitive and overwhelmed, your pussy clenching involuntarily around him with every thrust, drawing out more slick, your thighs soaked and trembling. “luigi, please!” you cry, not even sure what you’re begging for, your voice hoarse, your head thrown back against his shoulder as you ride the razor’s edge of too much pleasure. the hickey on your neck throbs faintly, a reminder of his claim, and your clit pulses, untouched but aching from the intensity of his cock filling you so completely.

“gonna cum,” he moans, his voice breaking, his thrusts growing sloppy but no less forceful. “gonna fill that pretty pussy up… fuck, baby.” with a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing violently as he cums inside you. hot, thick spurts of his cum flood your pussy, coating your walls, the warmth spreading deep as he groans loudly, his hips jerking with each wave of his release.

you feel every pulse, every gush, the sensation pushing another overwhelmed whimper from your lips as your pussy clenches around him, drinking in every drop. his cum mixes with your juices, leaking out around his cock, dripping down his balls and onto the seat, a sticky, filthy mess that marks the intensity of the moment.

both of you are panting, your breaths ragged and uneven, filling the BMW’s confined space. luigi’s chest heaves against your back, his heart pounding so hard you can feel it through his shirt. his hands, still on your hips, soften their grip, his fingers brushing your skin gently as he catches his breath.

the air is thick with the scent of sex and leather, the lake’s quiet ripples outside barely audible over your shared gasps. slowly, he shifts beneath you, his softening cock still inside, and his voice breaks the silence, low and tender. “let me look at you.”he murmurs, his tone soft but insistent, carrying a warmth that makes your heart skip.

you nod, still dazed, and with his help, you carefully lift yourself off his lap, his cock slipping free with a wet sound, more of his cum and your slick dripping down your thighs. he guides you to turn around, your dress still bunched at your waist, panties askew, as you maneuver in the tight driver’s seat to face him.

your knees settle on either side of his hips again, your bodies close in the cramped space, the moonlight casting soft shadows across his face. his dark eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of adoration and intensity, and his hands move to cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing gently over your flushed skin.

luigi leans in, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your forehead, the gesture so intimate it makes your chest ache. his lips linger there, warm and grounding, before he pulls you into a tight hug, your face nestling into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go. the heat of his body, the steady thump of his heartbeat, grounds you, and you melt into him, your arms looping around his shoulders.

“i love you.” he says, his voice quiet but firm, the words vibrating against your skin, carrying a certainty that sends a wave of warmth through you. “i mean it, baby. i love you.”

your heart soars, the love you’ve held back for months now mirrored in his confession, and you press yourself closer, savoring the safety of his embrace. he pulls back just enough to look at you again, his hands still cradling your face, his eyes searching yours with a soft, unguarded affection.

“let’s go back to my place,” he says, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, his voice low and inviting. “wanna be with you tonight… just us.” the promise in his words, coupled with the lingering heat of your shared release and the quiet intimacy of the lake’s seclusion, makes the idea of being alone with him, in the comfort of his bed, feel like the perfect next step.

🎀…ONE MONTH LATER…. 🎀

lately, something’s been off. you’ve been exhausted, far beyond your usual tiredness, your body feeling heavy and sluggish even after a full night’s sleep. your appetite’s been unpredictable, some days ravenous, others repulsed by foods you used to love.

nausea creeps up at odd times, a queasy wave that hits you in the morning or when you smell coffee. and your emotions? they’re all over the place, swinging from joy to tears in moments, leaving you reeling. you’ve brushed it off as stress or maybe a bug, but a nagging thought has started to take root, one you haven’t dared voice aloud.

you’re standing in the small, fluorescent-lit bathroom at work, the door locked, your heart pounding so loud it drowns out the hum of the ventilation. sure enough, in your trembling hand is a plastic stick, its small window displaying two unmistakable pink lines. a positive pregnancy test.

soooo… do we keep the baby?

tags: @alleviatcd @luigisbambinaaa @diors002 @corrodeddeadlydoll @contrarianshitstan-blog @weegeewifey @mangionesdoll @mangobabygirl @luigisnumber1fan @fligniuz @number1yearner @soulsmangione @ohsorrythen @bbyelle12 @mangionebabymama @briarloves @mangionesdaisy @thm12 @purplebadd1e @kikigoogoogaga @daydreamingwithluigi

masterlist | previous work

#luigi mangione smut #luigi thoughts #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fanfiction #palmersluvr #palmersluvr works

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kissesforsatoru · 2 years ago

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yandere! gojo x fem! reader nsfw thirst

imagine yandere gojo finally getting his darling lover in his bed, and he just completely loses all self-control because it feels too damn good. he completely loses himself in how good you feel around him, how delicious you look underneath him, how beautiful you sound. who are you to blame him anyway when this is just his way of showing you how much he loves you, how attracted he is to you.

he promised you that he would be gentle with you for your first time together. kissed you sweetly on your forehead to reassure you after telling you he would go slow and do things on your terms. and- at first, he is gentle and slow, just like he promised (and you have to give him credit for trying). he takes his sweet time showing you the proper love your body deserves, sensually kissing his way down your body, feeling how warm you are and how you shiver deliciously under his feathery light touch.

he controls the urge to utterly devour you when he first licks at your pretty cunt, tasting you, savoring you. he sates the urge by slipping one of his fingers inside of you as his tongue laves over your clit, enjoying how you squirm yet buck your hips to chase the pleasure he's giving you. god, does it take a lot to restrain that urge too. you truly have no idea how long he's waited to finally have you.

he tries to make really good on his promise to be gentle and slow throughout the whole thing, but the second he buries his cock all the way to the base inside of you, he loses every bit of the fragile self-control he's carefully been trying to keep in check thus far.

you choke when he pulls out of you only to immediately slams back in, throwing his head back and groaning like a feral animal. he leans into you, hovering so close to your face that your breaths mix hotly between you two. "shit, shit— i'm so sorry, sweetheart," he grunts as he thrusts, not being gentle in the least bit like he said he would, and you can't do anything but whine and mewl, tears flooding your eyes from how intense it all is. maybe you press on his chest with those trembling hands of yours, but he pays them no mind. "god, you feel so fucking good, i can't help it."

"can't—holy shit—can't stop, baby—f-forgive me." his voice is strained and gruff, and you know after that there's no chance of him stopping, or even slowing down for that matter. it just feels too damn good inside of you, and that is not his fault.

#⌨ ᶻᶻᶻ kolya ⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ· · ·#ꗃ whispered secrets 💭#yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere imagines #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #gojo smut #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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effervescentcvnt · 1 year ago

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imagine teasing your tentacled spellcaster monster partner all the time when you go on a date: you’re wearing skimpy clothes that show more skin than they cover, not to mention that you aren’t wearing any underwear. you’re constantly touching them just a little bit too close to their sensitive spots “on accident” and whispering naughty things in their ear in public. you want to make them go wild with lust until they snap and have their way with you.

“keep this up and you’ll be in a world of trouble when we get home,” they warn you, their voice low and raspy.

you look into their eyes, feigning innocence. “what’s ‘this’? i’m not doing anything,” you reply, grinning inwardly because you know that they’re already getting riled up because of you.

as the two of you are sitting at the restaurant, you let your foot brush up against theirs under the table and then drag it upwards towards their crotch. that almost makes them drop the glass of wine that they were holding and they shoot a heated glare at you as you smile back softly. because of their keen senses, they can smell your arousal as your slick drips onto your clothes. you continue tormenting them all throughout the night, pressing the sole of your shoe against their crotch and rubbing slowly, licking the dessert off of your spoon in a way that is certainly too lewd for a public setting and bending forward in your seat so that they can catch a glimpse of your chest as you’re talking.

when you finally go back home, your beloved monster is fuming, sexually frustrated and ready to ravish you. they’re so much bigger and stronger than you so it’s easy for them to pick you up and throw you on the bed. they’re on you in an instant, their tentacles firmly pinning you down against the mattress.

“is this what you wanted? to tease me until i have to punish you?” they growl.

you shake your head in disagreement, all while knowing that both of you have agreed on a certain word that’ll stop everything if you truly don’t wish to continue. “it was just supposed to be a bit of fun! don’t punish me, i’m sorry!” you yelp.

“oh, you will be,” they snarl.

before you even know what’s happening, they cast a spell on you, a glowing brand in the shape of a heart appearing just above your pubic hair. the symbol warms your skin, the familiar heat of arousal settling between your legs.

“what the fuck did you do to me?!” you shriek.

“you’ll see,” they simply say, malice apparent in their voice. they bend down, smiling at you with their sharp teeth flashing in the dim light of your bedroom. they lick at your lips with their long, forked tongue, urging you to part them. the moment that you do, they plunge their tongue in, giving you a sloppy, wet kiss that makes you moan into their mouth.

your partner is blessed with both a pussy and a cock, and they intend to use you thoroughly to sate their every need. they press your head against the pillows and mount your face, and immediately you begin working them over, kissing and sucking their clit and occasionally teasing the opening of their pussy with your tongue as their heavy cock rests on your forehead, already leaking precum. their tentacles hold you down, immobilising you, rubbing every sensitive part of your body at once. they grind their hips and let out breathy, appreciative moans when you pleasure them with your mouth and soon enough, they whine in ecstasy and they squirt all over your face, drenching you in their juices.

they manhandle you into a mating press, first slipping their lubed fingers inside you, stretching your hole and preparing you for their cock. you’re already hoping for an orgasm as they split you open on their cock. after they’ve worked their cock into you fully, they ravage you fast and hard, panting in pleasure. all you can do is lay there wrapped up in tentacles, eagerly sucking on your fingers when they explore your mouth. you can feel your orgasm approaching fast, and just when you are about to fall over the edge, you… can’t. the pleasure keeps cresting, yes, but you cannot finish. you whimper in confusion and wiggle your hips although you cannot move much. your partner notices your distress and chuckles at your predicament.

“the spell i have cast makes it impossible for you to cum,” they explain. “you’ll only be allowed release if or when i decide that you’ve been punished enough.”

you howl when you slowly comprehend their words. “please no, please let me cum! agh- i’m sorry for teasing you! i’m sorry, fuck, please stop, release me!!” you beg but your pleas fall on deaf ears.

your monster’s cock still pounding at the sweetest of your spots and you’re sure that if they were to pull out, your hole would gape. their tentacles stroke you in a loving way that creates a sharp contrast to the rough fucking yet the pleasure they bring is unbearable.

it’s absolute hell, to be kept there with no release in sight while your darling beast uses you for all you’re worth. you can feel your hole throbbing, and you’re leaking everywhere, making such a mess of yourself. the torture is seemingly endless, and your partner ends up pumping load after load into your fluttering, denied hole. they kiss you again, all tongue and teeth, their unnaturally long tongue thrusting in and out of your mouth. it feels as if your lower body is on fire, and the unending stimulation has you constantly feeling like you’re ready to explode yet you can’t. your tummy bulges with both their thick cock and the amount of cum that your beast has spilled inside.

they’re not completely heartless, though, and eventually they release you from their spell.

they spoil you with countless orgasms until you’re drooling and your eyes lose focus, mercilessly ripping your pleasure from you.

when you’re done, they clean you up gently and offer you a snack and water, making sure you're okay. they wrap their arms and tentacles around you, holding you close to them as the both of you drift off to peaceful sleep.

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neckromantics · 1 year ago

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I don't think enough of you are seeing the potential in letting Astarion drink from your wrist??

(Brief warning: this got a little more sensual than I'd intended? I think I am possessed.)

The way you could still sit as close as you want, plastered to his side even– one leg thrown over his lap while the other is outstretched behind him. It would take a little bit of maneuvering to get the angle just right, but once you do it, it quickly becomes one of your favorite ways to feed him.

You'd have a better view from this angle as well. Would be able to see the glint of bared fangs just before they sink deep into the tender skin of your wrist with a soft pop. To watch the shiver that rolls through him as the taste of you finally meets his prodding tongue– his throat working as he takes that first, careful swallow.

You trace up the curve of his spine as base instinct takes over. His body forms a shield as he hunches, pale digits digging into your outstretched arm as if you'd ever have the heart to take his meal away from him before he's anything less than sated. Happy.

Your fingers comb through the sweet little, silver curls at the nape of his neck, nails scrubbing at his scalp as a form of encouragement so gentle he practically purrs.

Gods, the noises he makes when he's enjoying himself. You can't help but squirm in anticipation when his breathing begins to pick up. Each quick inhale becomes choked off with a little moan of satisfaction– or a whine so high and strained, as if he's hurting in the best possible way. It's as if you taste so good that he doesn't know what to do with himself. His legs kick up a bit. The heels of his boots drag the ground before he settles back down. He jerks away and then towards you once more. Practically writhes in ecstasy. You have to turn your head away just to stare at something far off in the distance. A pathetic attempt to focus on anything else before you lose your mind.

Eventually, you feel your offered arm begin to grow colder. A slight tingle at the tips of your fingers slowly creeps its way up and prompts you to wiggle in an effort to lessen any discomfort. The movement pulls him out of his trance just a bit, and you can feel it.

The length of pause between each swallow starts to become longer. Every pull of your blood becomes a little more shallow, a little less desperate as he braces himself for the moment you say you've had enough.

Admittedly, you always wait a bit too long than is comfortable. It's really hard to ask him to stop when you can physically feel the satisfaction radiating off of him in waves, but you know you have to say something the second you feel that all too familiar floaty sensation begin to sneak up on you.

The moment your temple hits his shoulder, he's pulling away with a sharp gasp of unneeded air, a sad, little whimper escaping his open mouth before he has the chance to muffle it. It's only now that his eyes flutter open. A more vibrant crimson now that he's properly fed, all hazy and soft with a wonder that you'll never grow tired of seeing. He turns to meet your half-lidded gaze from where you're slouched against him.

It'd be so easy for him to slip, to give into the urge to clamp down and drink and consume until you've got nothing left to offer. Especially when you're hanging off of him this way, eyes filled with warm adoration and body so willing to let him take and take and take.

Oh, how he must be careful, now.

The vampire's eyes get a certain headiness that you know all too well, locked onto your own as he allows himself one last taste. You can only watch as he chases a rivulet of blood all the way down the length of your forearm, petal soft lips creating artful smears of crimson with each sloppy press, only to be cleaned away a moment later by the gentle swipe of his tongue.

Your thighs clench automatically around his waist in response, and if he notices, he thankfully doesn't tease you for it. Yet.

After so many feedings, he's really got the hang of biting you in a way that doesn't do any lasting damage. So, it isn't very long before the marks his teeth have left behind no longer weep openly. The familiar, dull throbbing that resonates from the twin punctures is soothed by the soft press of his mouth. Then, the cheeky bastard makes it worse by giving a harsh, cheek-hollowing suck.

It's your turn to whimper.

He pulls away with such a smug smirk. It'd have your eyes rolling if you had any sort of brain function left.

His fingers are now warm as they knead against the numb skin of your drained arm, wiggling it about for you, and bending it the elbow a few times in an effort to get the blood flowing. It's a small act of kindness that you find ever so endearing, and you thank him with a tiny smooch to the very corner of his jaw.

He thanks you right back for the nice meal, with a loving stroke of his knuckles against the side of your face. Gives you a kiss so eager that you're left in shock.

You can taste the copper you've left on his tongue as it swirls against your own, and can't stop yourself from deepening the kiss a moment later. You swallow down his responding groan like he swallowed down all those mouthfuls of your blood. Eager. Just a little desperate. Happy.

Anyway, what was the point of this post again?

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 tav #astarion headcanons #astarion drabble #astarion fic

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kittykittyneowmeow69 · 3 months ago

Text

Keep me, please (I I)

MDNI

John Price x reader with a cheating husband

PART 2 >> PART 1

Price finds a pretty little thing, only to learn that she is married, the caveat being her husband is cheating on her.

Cw: cheating (not between mc’s) , sleepy sex, unprotected PIV, oral (!f) , daddy kink (😝), aftercare

Notes: I got a bit carried away, so there will be a part 3 , where he fucks her in her marital bed lol.

He pieces you together afterwards—putting a glass of water to your lips as you drink it with big thirsty gulps, wiping away your tears with a warm washcloth, between your legs—considers getting an ice pack for your sore pussy but decides against it when you cling to him, limp arms reaching, pulling him closer.

“ baby , I’m not going anywhere”— he rumbles , with you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, fingers knotting into the dark curls on his chest, half of your body onto his, inhaling his heady,loamy scent, as a rough hand caresses your back. Sleep slowly overtakes you —soft warm cheek rested on his cushiony pec, fucked out and in bliss.

The weight of your limp, boneless body on top of him—the cute little pucker of your lips, soft even breaths as your chest rises and falls—fully sated—his cum still leaking out of your hole, fires the want in him to own,to possess beyond the confines of his self control.

So, the reality of you still being married, still cohabitating, having his —your husband’s— last name, makes his palms itch, makes the thorn buried deep inside his brain sting and throb, makes him want to sort it out the only way he knows how.

Then , there is the image of your woeful misty eyes, lash line barely containing the storm inside of your little heart, the furrow of your eyebrows as you tried your hardest to keep all the tiny broken pieces together on your lunches(courtship) with him. He barely contained the urge to scruff you by the nape of your neck, drag you home, to his bed, where you belong, have always belonged.

But— you choosing this, choosing him, chanting “keep me please”, little cunt clenching, moulding to his thick cock, milking him, filled with his spend , is cathartic , eases at least some of his homicidal tendencies.

Besides, the idea of you being tainted, directly or indirectly with even a lick of violence, of blood on your manicured paws is enough to stop John from killing him, he will take care of him, oh he will, just in other ways.

—��———————

It’s still dark outside.

You wake up slick with sweat , blistering hot— a heavy arm wrapped around you ,weighing you down, furry thick chest plastered to your back, half hard prick nudging your lower back and him —snoring like a big hibernation bear against the crown of your head.

Your heart is rabbit quick, as sleep slides off you and the realisation sinks in—you are not in your bed, that you are naked and in John’s arms, the only other man you have slept with beside you soon to be ex-husband.

Guilt , something you know you should feel is absent, it’s been a long time since you have felt desired, felt intimacy, felt need this thick. The degradation of your relationship began long ago, the touches, the love, the want slowly dissipating as teenage lovers evolved into full fledged adults. You are still young, some would say too young to have been married and the idea of spending your entire life in a distant, fractured relationship had been eating at you for quite a while now. Then he cheated, the hurt, the gut wrenching , heart-ache was all consuming but somehow, also tinged in relief, that you finally had a reason to get out, and as the stars so aligned, that reason manifested itself into, John.

“ mm it’s early, baby” — he rumbles into your nape, voice thick with sleep, placing a hot wet kiss on it. You stir against him, rump brushing his cock, which causes him to pull you further into him, heavy arm wrapped around you trapping you under his bulk.

“Uhmm John ” you whisper as his big paw fondles your breast, worrying your nipple between his knuckles, pinching it ,extracting sleepy little ‘ah’s from you. Slowly, his hand slides down, dragging across your belly until he cups your mound.

He Stays like that for a while, kissing, licking the sweat off your nape, the curve of your neck. One thick finger slides in-between your lips as he rubs the tiniest half circles around your clit.

The light hum of pleasure lulls you into a daze, eyelids slowly getting heavier, as you breathe evenly, letting him touch you, play with you as he pleases. He jiggles your clit faster, syrupy pleasure engulfing you until your breath hitches, body tensing as you come, jolting you at first then lulling you back into a deeper cottony haze.

“m’ sore Daddy”— you whimper when he slides one thick finger inside your hole. He shifts you more onto your belly—his bulk pressing you into the mattress, with his finger massaging the little spongy spot inside you, getting you worked up so you are slick for him.

“Mmm baby, will be nice and gentle, ok?” He rumbles, notching his head against your hole.

The initial stretch, burns,makes your toes curl, as you whimper into the pillow. “Shh baby, let Daddy take care of you hmmm”— he drawls into your cheek as he slowly feeds his cock into your cunt, letting you squirm and tremble under him, get acclimated to the stretch.

He goes slow, so slow, taking you through it— “doing so well for Daddy baby”—as he ruts into you almost leisurely, letting you clench around him, pull him in deeper, feel the warm wet squeeze of your cunt against every vein , every ridge of his thick cock.

The angle knocks the wind out of you, as every thrust rubs against the spongy spot inside of you making you see stars. One deep thrust makes you clench around him hard, as you come, creaming his cock, shaking under him, in your delirium, you bite the pillow—

Which gets you a hard, stern smack on your asscheek, “ None of that love , let me hear you”.

You come for him again soon enough, this time though, you let him hear your little whimpers, “Daddy” rolling of your tongue, like it belongs. You assume he likes it, because his rhythm gets more frantic, as he cums with one last deep thrust, cock head notched against your cervix as big spurts of cum fill you up yet again.

You wince as he pulls out, come flooding out onto the sheets, your pussy all tender. He kisses your cheek, rasping into your skin.

“Going’ to kiss her better in the morning baby, eat your little cunt out, go to sleep now sweetheart”

And you do, nuzzling back into him, letting him wrap you up in his arms again. As you slowly slip back to sleep.

——————————

The bed is empty, you realise—his weight, furnace like heat is missing as you shed the last of sleep. You feel a slight jab, right in the middle of your middle of your chest, a prickle of doubt which holds the possibility of potentially sending you into a spiral that maybe just maybe—now that he has fucked you, he is done with you, that this was all just a hookup.

Every muscle in your body is hurts—almost like the achy feeling after a new workout class.you climb out of the too tall, too big bed, and limp to the en-suit bathroom.

In the bathroom mirror, you look at all the marks on your throat ,the curve of your neck, the slope of your shoulder, the swell of your breast, your lips still swollen and bitten, you turn just a little bit and see little circular bruises on you hips , upper arms.

You thumb a little bruise on your hip, tender warm pain flooding you with a bittersweet longing, a weird reminder of him on you, all the time you have spent with together — the lunches which if you were a little less in denial you would have know were dates all along—after all he paid for them no matter how much you insisted “come on John, just let me pay for once”.

The shower is huge, glass-enclosed, with many little knobs each of which control the fixtures. You fiddle with a few them until you finally are cascaded in warm water, soothing your sore tendons, all the little aches in your body.

There are just two bottles—a body wash, and a shampoo— on the built-in niche. You lather the eucalyptus scented shower gel in between your palms and start rubbing it on, slowly cleaning all the dried cum clinging onto your inner thighs. You are still leaking his cum— after all he came so much and lodged it so deep inside you— wincing as you try your best to get it out of your sore little hole.

( God, you hope your IUD keeps working)

Freshly showered, damp skinned, wrapped in his towel —you find him waiting for you, sitting on the edge of the bed. He is dressed already, in a tight fitted navy shirt and denim jeans.

“ mornin’” you squeak , standing in front of him, all self conscious and unsure.

Relief washes over you as he stands up towering over you, cupping your face and tilting it up so he can place little kisses on your forehead, cheeks , the tip of your nose. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up, till you are at his eye level—“ mornin’ sweetheart “

Before you know it, the the world spins— with you laying on the bed with John unwrapping the towel, he dips down, lips brushing yours and mumbles—

“Let Daddy kiss you better sweetheart, eat your sore little cunt hmm”

He sits up on his haunches, between your legs, with you laying before him. Big rough hands caress your tender skin, as he slowly traces every curve every dip of your flesh almost as if he is committing you to memory.

He is soft—kissing your seam, beard pricking your sore cunt, letting you grind into his face, with tired little hip rolls, as his nose nudges your clit, he slides his tongue inside of your hole, as you thread your fingers into his hair and come.

—————————-

“Where were you?” —You ask,taking a sip of coffee, sitting across from him on the dining table.

“Getting some of your stuff back home baby”

You look around , tilting your head slightly, and see bags and bags filled with your clothes, from your wardrobe, placed neatly on the couch.

#lol stay tuned for part 3 #john price x reader #Price x reader #captain john price #john price x you #john price #captain price x female reader #captain price #john price smut #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod headcanons

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dancingbirdie · 1 year ago

Note

For your smut ideas- astarion leaving bite marks on your thighs👀 pretty vampy elf being all possessive👀

Hi, anon! I loved this request, but I have to warn you: I took it to a bit of a darker place than I usually go. Pay attention to the tags, y'all. I hope you enjoy!

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

Your Feral Love

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings/Tags: Biting, descriptions of blood, possessive/obsessive Astarion, marking/claiming behavior, oral sex (fem!Reader receiving)

Summary: Astarion has an intense desire to claim you. This time, it's in places the others won't be able to see.

*****

“Maybe we need to take things slower,” you murmured in Astarion’s ear. You swallowed thickly as he dragged his fangs across the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Whyever would we do that?” he whispered huskily, undeterred from continuing his sensual assault. You shivered as you felt his tongue slide up the column of your throat, unable to stop the little moan that escaped your lips.

“Some in our party are worried… about all the bite marks…” you managed to explain, despite the tantalizing option to just lose yourself in Astarion’s embrace. His cool touch was a balm to the inferno he was stoking within you. The creator of your lust; the only cure for it.

But his lips withdrew from your neck at your response. Pulling back, he met your gaze with furrowed brows and a glare that could make even Lae’zel balk.

“Who.” he demanded, his voice strained with barely-repressed anger. “Who had the audacity to murmur about us?”

His fingers spasmed where they clutched your waist. As if he were bracing for the moment when someone would come and yank you away from him.

He was possessive, your lover. Astarion hadn’t had anything to call his own for over two centuries. Not a thing. Not a soul. Now, after having lowered his guards and allowed you in, his possessive streak was as long and wide as the River Chianthar. He was never far from your side, even in battle. And on the rare occasions he was separated from you, you could feel the heat of his gaze tracking your every movement. Watching you. Making sure his one claim in this world was safe. Accounted for.

The bite marks were a consequence of having not only a possessive lover but a vampiric one as well. You didn’t mind, of course. He always asked for your consent.

Can I bite you here?

Your blood is singing to me, darling. Can I taste you here?

What about here? Would you let me sate myself here?

You flourished under the intensity of his love for you. The bite marks were a reminder of that, and so you cherished each one. Each was a memory of the way Astarion had taken, given and enjoyed you. Heat would sometimes color your cheeks and neck later on, when you caught sight of a pair of healing puncture marks, recalling just how they had come to be there, on that particular part of your body.

But others in your party didn’t share your view of these markings. They, namely Wyll and Gale, were worried Astarion had started taking too much of your lifeblood too quickly. You could understand their concern, to some extent. They didn’t know, didn’t have reason to know, how little of your blood he actually took each night. Most times he would drink barely a mouthful before stopping. The urge to claim you in other ways would overtake his bloodlust, and you would climax again and again as he fucked you into oblivion. He kept his fangs punctured in your skin during times like these, claiming that your blood felt sweeter against them as you found your own release. Only when he had spilled himself in you would he remove them, and by then you were too lovestruck to care how long the markings would remain.

“Tell me, darling.”

Astarion’s voice brought you back to the present moment. You shook your head to dispel the thoughts distracting you.

“...Mostly, Wyll. And Gale, to a lesser extent. I don’t know for certain about the others, although I certainly don’t think anyone comes to our defense…” you trailed off, swallowing thickly.

You caught how Astarion clenched his jaw at your words. He was livid, that much was obvious. You also surmised his anxiety was likely surging within him, the paranoia suggesting that someone or something would cause you to be taken from him. Again, his fingers spasmed against your waist.

“...So maybe we should… I don’t know, keep a lower profile about all this? If they say something to you directly, I know I’ll not be able to stop myself from fighting with them,” you explained, clutching his cheek desperately.

“Tsk. Of course the ones who would have a problem with us would be the only other two who’ve been sniffing after you,” Astarion scoffed.

“What the hells are you talking about?” you asked, clearly confused.

“Oh, darling. Surely you’ve seen the way they look at you? How they talk to you? I certainly have,” he huffed.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay them attention, Astarion,” you reassured him, nuzzling your nose against the curve of his jaw. “I only have eyes for you.”

“And I, you,” he murmured, pressing his lips lovingly against your forehead.

You hummed in delight at his affirmation. While you might not show it through bite marks like him, your possessiveness of Astarion was a fearsome thing, too. The emotion sometimes staggered you, even in the most mundane of moments, like when he donned his armor for the day, or when he cleaned his daggers in the firelight. He was yours. You were his. Anyone else was tertiary.

The two of you remained in comfortable silence for some time, limbs intertwined as you lay halfway on top of him, your head resting against his chest. There was no beating heart within to listen to, but it hardly mattered. You knew that what was there, beating or not, belonged to you and only you. Astarion had said as much, amid previous bouts of lovemaking you had shared in this tent.

Your musings broke at the feeling and sound of his throaty chuckle beneath you. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, surprised.

“What is it?” you pressed.

“I have an idea,” he smirked.

“I usually like your ideas,” you quipped, heat flaring in your lower abdomen at the suggestive look in his eyes.

“Then you’ll surely enjoy this,” he crooned, before flipping you both over all at once so that you were flat on your back, breathless beneath him. He fit perfectly between the cradle of your thighs, your legs parting almost instinctively to accommodate his presence. With one arm, he propped himself up above you, while his other hand clutched your leg to bare you open wider. The position alone had you growing wetter by the second, anticipation for what was to come driving your thoughts wild.

“Much as I detest pandering to their concerns, I think we both know I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from fighting with them either, were they to say something directly to us,” Astarion admitted.

“But,” he continued as his nose skimmed the length of your abdomen, heading further and further south. “I also can’t deny how much pleasure it gives me to mark you as I do… to see the evidence of where my fangs have punctured your lovely skin. Mine. No one else’s.”

You bit your lip in a futile effort to stifle your moan as he began brushing the lightest of kisses against your inner thighs. He slid down lower, his face mere inches from your naked form. This close, you were certain he could smell your arousal. And no doubt find evidence of it as well.

“So what is your idea?” you managed in a breathy whisper as your hips canted toward him, seemingly of their own volition.

“How about I mark you here,” he cooed, his fangs sliding along a particularly visible vein that spanned the length of your leg, beginning at your groin. “Where only I can see. A place they can only dream of. A place only I have been.”

You groaned, skin tingling, nearly electric, in every place his mouth touched. You reached down to card a hand through his carelessly flawless locks, tugging ever so gently on the curls. Astarion growled in response, sending a surge of heat through your lower abdomen.

You were teasing a livewire at the moment, and you knew it. Just a little push, and you would ignite something truly mind blowing. You chose your next words carefully, readying yourself for the delicious consequences that would no doubt ensue.

“I’m yours, Astarion,” you whispered, spreading your legs even further for him and clutching his face desperately. “You can lay claim to me however you wish.”

Another growl ripped from his throat at your words and, in a blink, your lower body was pinned to the ground. His arms banded under and around your thighs to hold you in place, not that you had any desire to move. You whimpered as Astarion nipped and sucked his way across the expanse of skin, his nose grazing your soaked cunt from time to time, causing you to jerk with want.

“Please,” you begged, desperate to have his mouth on your swollen, throbbing clit. He was so close to where you wanted – no, needed – him to be and yet still so far.

“Oh no, not yet, darling,” he purred against the plush skin of your thigh. “I’m going to mark you until I’m satisfied first. Then I’ll give you what you crave, I promise.”

You whined, a pathetic little sound, but nodded your assent anyway. Any touch from him was better than nothing, even if it did cause your cunt to ache with a nearly unbearable need.

Then a sudden spike of iciness on your inner thigh had you gasping in surprise, morphing into a long, low moan as you realized Astarion had actually bitten you there. You could feel him sucking your lifeblood into his mouth, your sense of touch being so heightened in your aroused state.

You lifted your head to watch him move from one place to another as he marked and sated himself. You cradled the side of his head lovingly as he fed from you, swiping your thumb rhythmically across his temple. You were utterly entranced, lost in the delicious feeling of him claiming you, as well as the way he beheld you as he sunk his fangs in again and again across your skin.

He looked at you with the fervor of a madman. He clutched at your legs like some covetous creature. Drunk on the need to possess, to claim, to mark. It was dark, powerful, and heady. And you absolutely reveled in it, ravenous with want as you witnessed how his love for you manifested in such an incendiary way.

With a moan of his own, he finally broke from his feasting. Lifting his head to meet your gaze, your cunt clenched at his expression, at his his bloody mouth, grinning widely with purely male satisfaction.

“It should be a crime, you know,” he rasped, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. “How delicious you taste.”

You whined at his words, desperate to have him taste you in another way.

“Shh, shh. I know, I know,” he crooned, squeezing your legs reassuringly. “I know how you want to be tasted now, darling. Don’t fret.”

Your back arched off the ground as, without another word, Astarion dipped his head to plunge his tongue inside your dripping core. Your mind short circuited as you felt his nose press against your clit with intent as his tongue continued to spear into you. It was almost too much to bear; your nerves already were nearly raw with desire.

You couldn’t help the wail that burst from your lips as you felt his tongue lick up, up, up, until he was circling your clit with long, languid strokes. You fisted a blanket and bit down on the fabric, the last shred of your self-awareness working like mad to muffle your sounds.

You knew Astarion was too far gone to care if anyone heard you both, as evidenced by the obscene slurping and smacking sounds that emanated from his lips. That alone had you ratcheting up faster toward climax, relishing the way it felt and sounded to have Astarion feasting on you with such utter abandon.

A few more moments of floating in that delicious limbo and then you were crashing back down from the height of your orgasm. It felt like an almost spiritual experience, though no cleric could ever convince you that a god’s love would feel as good as this, as good as Astarion’s love for you.

Panting and shivering in the aftershock of your release, you clutched at him desperately, eager to embrace him with as much strength your jellied limbs could muster. He crawled up to lay haphazardly on top of you, head resting in the space between your breasts. You combed your fingers through his hair lovingly, content to remain in companionable silence.

“I’m realizing now that I may have in fact gotten a little out of hand…” he murmured against your sternum after a while.

“Perhaps,” you chuckled. “But I’ll take your feral love over anything else, my star.”

#dancingbirdiewrites #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 astarion fic #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #bg3 smut

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yourtamaki · 1 year ago

Text

o, come, be buried / a second time within these arms

zoro x f!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: hurt/comfort, sex as a form of comfort, fingering, cuddlefucking, creampie, scent kink, oral (f!receiving), cum play, cum eating, violent imagery, bit of aftercare

DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE

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there is a storm building inside you.

zoro can see it raging even as you keep your face turned from him. the room dark save for the moonlight that streams in through the open window, just bright enough to spot your outline curled up in bed, covers tucked up under your chin. lines of tension keep your back rigid and shoulders hunched, your breathing shaky and slow as you tell him to leave.

you’re vicious gales and crashing waves wrapped into one, devastating and beautiful.

“you don’t want to be around me right now,” you say, words muffled by your pillow.

“don’t tell me what i want,” he doesn't try to bite back the anger that laces itself through his tone. zoro has never censored himself from you before and he wasn't about to start now.

ire thrums hot in his veins, burning and boiling away beneath his skin. he has always given you every part of himself, heart served in his open, blood-stained palms, for better and most certainly for worse.

the thought of you holding yourself back from him, that there’s a part of you that he’s being denied, sets his teeth on edge. he'd been searching for you all day, prowling around the ship like a caged animal until finally found his way to where his search should have began, the tiny storage room that had become your shared quarters.

“you pissed at me?” he asks.

“no,” you say.

“want me to kill anyone?”

“no.”

it grates on him that there’s no enemy for you to sic him on, no bones to crack, no blood to spill. your pain deserves retribution and he is the blade that would carry it out, if only you would wield him, "then i'm staying."

"zoro, please. just go."

“who do you think you’re protecting by hiding yourself away?” he steps in closer, right to the edge of the bed but makes no move to touch you, “cause it’s not me and it sure as fuck isn’t you.”

you throw a dagger of a glare his way, so sharp it could make a man bleed before he even knew he’d been cut. he doesn’t care. a small price to pay for your gaze.

zoro is too loyal of a beast to flinch away the first time you flash your fangs at him.

you hold his gaze for a moment longer before turning back around to face the wall once more. in your silence, he resolves himself to sitting on the floor by your bedside until he can be of some fucking use to you. zoro would lick crumbs of affection out of the palm of your hand. if the closest you'll let him be to you right now is knelt on the ground, keeping vigil, then he'll take it. he's crouched halfway down when he hears you call for him.

“baby, get in.”

how you have enough sweetness in you to spare him a kind word even when you have none for yourself, he will never understand. zoro takes a moment to pull his swords free from where they hang on his hip, propping them up against the wall where they’ll still be in arm's reach before he pulls back the covers and settles in next to you.

you're cold to the touch despite having been buried under the blanket, dressed only in a simple shirt and underwear and zoro is quick to throw an arm around you and pull you in by your waist until you’re pressed flush against him, his other arm slipping under your head for you to rest on. he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, breathes you in and for a moment he can almost smell the scent of your hurt lingering on your skin, thick and bitter as blood.

there’s an urge, ever present and never sated, to dig his teeth into the side of your neck and bite down until iron coats his tongue, to taste you, know you, in a way no one else ever has or will. it’s an urge he can only hold at bay by pressing open mouth kisses to your throat and feeling your pulse flutter against his tongue.

you slowly start to melt in his arms, the tension you wore like ill-fitting armour stripping off you piece by piece with every kiss until you’re free from its hold, warm and light.

“better?” he asks, slipping his hand under your shirt and pressing his palm flat against your stomach just to feel it rise and fall, follows the rhythm of it and matches his breaths to yours. the reassurance that you're whole and safe is a cool balm to his worries.

“a little bit,” you whisper.

“but you need more,” it’s hardly a question that needs to be answered, not with the way you’ve started to shift in his hold.

“you don’t have to—”

“i do. i want to.”

and there’s more he could say, he knows there is. pretty poetry to comfort you, sweet nothings to soothe you. but what use would empty words be to you? they can’t hold you, can’t keep you warm, can’t wipe your tears.

zoro can. he will. for you, he’d do anything and everything. all and more.

the room settles into silence, his offer hanging in open air and ripe for your taking. you don't reach out for it, not yet, but zoro doesn't mind. he can wait.

“impatience is a swordsman’s undoing,” his master had once told him a lifetime ago when zoro’s palms were still soft enough to bleed and grief was a companion so new it still stepped on his heels as it dogged his footsteps.

of the two of you, patience has always been your strong suit rather than his. it was your patience that brought you together, when you stepped into his life with a hand outstretched and he met you the same way he met all good things that tried to enter his life, with a snarl and blood stained teeth.

zoro kept you at a careful distance with all the wariness of a distrustful stray, always watching but never getting close. it was you who slowly bridged the gap, gracing him with kindness and company he'd done nothing to earn but gorged himself on anyway.

it was only because of your patience that he knows the bliss of falling asleep and waking up with the warm weight of you in his arms. the least he could do is pay you back with what you've always freely given him. so zoro holds you close and waits.

and waits.

and smiles, sharp and proud, when you take his hand that still rests on your stomach and lower it until he’s cupping you between your legs, the heat of you searing his palm even through your panties.

your hips jerk when zoro doesn’t move, a soft whine catching in your throat when his other arm circles around your chest and holds you still against him, “zoro.”

“i've got you,” he says with a kiss behind your ear, toying with the waistband of your panties before sliding his hand inside.

he slides his middle finger down your slit, dipping his fingertips into the slick heat of your cunt to wet them before drifting back up to where you need him most. there’s no rush as zoro rubs neat, tight circles against your clit, slow and firm even as you buck and try to grind down on him.

he wants you to feel every moment of this, to savour it, to drown in pleasure so deep you never want to come up for air.

another kiss to your throat, one on your jaw and you finally melt back into him, legs spreading just enough for zoro reach lower and start to ease a thick finger inside you.

“there you go, baby, that’s it,” he says, “let me in.”

you swallow him down to his knuckle, trembling in his arms when zoro slips in a second finger and crooks them to rub against the spot that never fails to pull the prettiest sounds out of you.

he shifts, trying to move lower between your legs without pulling his fingers out so he can taste where you’re wet and aching for him but you stop him by threading your fingers through his short strands, keeping him in place.

“what?” he asks, “you don’t want my mouth?”

“no, not— not right now. just stay close. keep holding me. please,” he hates how small you sound.

“i’m here. i’m right here. fucking kills me knowing you were in here hurting by yourself."

"i'm sorry.”

"don’t,” the anger he felt when you tried to send him away rears up once more. an apology is the last thing he wants to hear from you right now, “just find me next time. doesn't matter when or where. you find me. got it?"

“yeah, i got it,” you start rocking back into him, soft ass grinding against his clothed cock, “zoro.”

“i know. i know you want it, baby, but i gotta stretch you out first. can’t fit when you’re this fucking tight.”

your answer is lost in a moan as he eases in a third finger, thumb pressing against your clit. the angle isn’t kind on his wrist but zoro keeps his pace steady, spreading and curling his fingers until you’re soaked and soft and ready for him. he pulls his hand out of your panties, kissing your nape when you whine from the loss before he licks the taste of you off his fingers.

“i'm not going anywhere,” he says, "keep your eyes on me."

zoro waits until you turn in his arms and he has your gaze before he gets out of bed and undresses, leaving his clothes in a pile next to his blades. you sit up to tug your panties down and kick them off, your shirt following soon after.

you’re bare and soft and holding out a hand for him to take. zoro laces his fingers through yours and joins you once more, stripped of his swords, his clothes, and his restraint.

you don't crash into each other so much as you collide into a bruise of a kiss. it aches more than it soothes but the shared pain of it only has him pressing closer to you, your soft tits pressed to his chest, legs intertwined and weeping cock trapped between your stomachs.

he reaches up to cup your cheeks and breaks the kiss to pull back just far enough to take in the sight of you, all swollen lips and glassy eyes. it takes a heartbeat longer than it should for you to focus on him. the storm is still raging inside you but zoro refuses to lose you to it. he stands firm against the buffeting winds that threaten to rip you away from him and swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones.

“still with me?” he asks.

you turn into his touch and kiss the rough centre of his palm, “‘m here.”

"then take what you need, baby."

you slide a hand between your bodies, taking his cock into your hand and guiding his tip to your entrance. even with all the prep, it takes some time to sink inside you, time you spend peppering kisses across his face. he bears them as he bears the scars that litter his body. with pride. with honour.

zoro bottoms out with a low groan, grabbing you under your knee and hooking your leg over his hip to slip in that much deeper. every sense is flooded with you. the wet heat of you wrapped around his cock, the heady scent of your sweat and need swimming around his head, soft skin beneath his palms.

entangled and weaved together like this, heart and breath as one, zoro is drawn into the eye of your storm.

your pleasure is his, your pain his own.

still, clear waters surround you both as he waits for you to adjust. with how closely he watches you, he knows you’re ready even before you wrap both arms around him and start to roll your hips.

he keeps one hand under your knee, the other sliding down your back to rest on your ass, and uses his grip on you to pull you into a slow, dirty grind.

“oh fuck,” you moan as the two of you find your rhythm together. zoro barely pulls out, keeping himself buried to the hilt inside you. you jerk back as he rolls his hips just enough to grind your clit up against his pelvis, his firm hold on you the only thing keeping you pinned in place.

“easy now. don’t run from me.”

time slows to a crawl, every moment yawning and stretching into the next, slow and sweet as honey. you tip forward, closing what little space there still was between you to pull him into a kiss that has all the intimacy of a hard-fought spar, of learning to move together, of missteps and growing pains, of getting the wind knocked out of him only to be pulled right back on his feet.

you’re close, all worked up and sensitive from his fingers, cunt fluttering and clenching down around him as you near your high. zoro chases your pleasure down, a starving mutt set loose upon a feast. he uses the little leverage he has to wrestle you on to your back and fuck into you with short, heavy thrusts.

“c'mon, baby, that's it,” he says, bent low to brush his lips against your ear, “let go.”

he reaches down between you, thumb pressing firm against your swollen clit and you’re gone, swept out to sea as your high crashes down over you in waves. zoro hardly feels his own orgasm rip through him, too caught up in watching you shake apart and be remade in his arms.

all is still as you pant and come back into yourself. your hand slips back into his and squeezes once. he’s not sure whether you’re trying to reassure yourself that he’s still here or that you are but he squeezes back all the same.

“can i eat you out now?”

and for the first time since he stepped into the room, a smile breaks over your face, bright as the dawn sun breaking through an overcast sky. you pull out of his hold, his soft cock sliding out, and settle on your back, legs falling open, “go for it.”

zoro eases himself down between your legs, throwing your thighs over his shoulders, never letting your hand slip free from his. he takes stock of your fresh fucked cunt, clit puffy and hole clenching around nothing, dripping with him. the scent of you, of the two of you, is thickest here, heavy in his nose, and zoro breathes you in with deep, greedy lungfuls, spent cock twitching against his thigh.

he dives in, catching what leaks out of you on his tongue before pulling back and dribbling the mess of cum and spit all over your pussy.

“nasty,” you say and zoro wants to kiss the curl that sits pretty on the corner of your lips. he settles for kissing your clit instead.

“you like it.”

“i like you.”

you wield your honesty with all the ease and carnage zoro wields his swords, sliding it between his ribs and piercing his heart clean through. the pain is lost as he’s distracted by the light pouring in as the moon rises higher into the night sky.

or maybe it’s your eyes that take the pain away because it’s only through them that he notices how bright the moon’s light shines tonight.

zoro devours you, gaze fixed to yours, one hand still holding yours while the other arm keeps your hips pinned to the bed. he takes his time cleaning you up, lapping at your folds until only the taste of you remains. it’s only then that he sucks your clit into his mouth, slipping two fingers inside you to give you something to clench down on.

you are a vision in your bliss, one he has no right to bear witness to. a lifetime of blood and blades and butchery shouldn't be rewarded with the softness of you in his hand and on his tongue. it's not right.

but as you take hold of his hair to keep his mouth pressed flush against your cunt, zoro finds he couldn't give less of a shit if it's right. all that matters is if he does right by you. there's an oath in every broad stroke of his tongue, a vow in every kiss to your clit, to take care of you in all the ways you need, in all the way he knows how.

today and for all days.

your orgasm is a gentle thing that washes over you and steals your breath for a moment, smaller than the first but leaves you just as ruined.

zoro takes his rightful place by your side once more, gathering you up in his arms and running his knuckles up and down your spine.

"thank you," you press a kiss to his cheek, just below where his scar ends. he accepts the kiss but not the gratitude that comes with it.

a hound needs no thanks for fulfilling its nature.

later, he will carry you off to the baths, let you pop open bottles for him to smell that make his nose itch but that make you beam, wash your back, and wait with the patience you’ve taught him for you to share what’s trapped inside your head.

he may not understand, may not have the comfort of words to give you, but he will listen. and he will stay.

but that is for later.

for now, zoro holds you to his chest and watches over you, moonlight and peace washing over you as you catch your breath.

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and loml @saotoru

#zoro smut #zoro x reader #one piece smut #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

Text

when lamb!reader had suggested a video call with jj instead of hanging out at her house, it felt simply preventative. she’d been having urges lately, feelings — ones she’s not used to feeling. sometimes when she was around jj, it was like her body had a brain of its own. an unholy and disgraceful brain that went against what she thought she was wishing. she was beginning to believe if they were to hang out in person one on one, she might act out of impulse to sate the desire that had built inside her.

you’d been feeling this way since he’d gifted you that stuffed lamb. he was technically just a friend, no different from the other pogues you’d been hanging out with since trying to find your feet in the obx — but there was a different sort of simmering tension you felt with him and only him. what started as annoying teasing and jabs became warm fluttering in your stomach and unholy thoughts about his hands and mouth. it was like he knew it too, jj always seemed to have this look in his eye, a curl to the corner of his mouth — like there was something about you on the tip of his tongue that he was withholding. it made you want to set yourself alight.

as the call sound rings on your screen, you ponder why you’d made your hair all pretty, and why you’d chosen your best white nightgown. it felt and looked innocent at best, but as much as you’d hate to admit it — the fact there was nothing beneath gave you a rush like no other.

your thoughts were interrupted by his handsome face on your screen.

“fancy seeing you here, lamb chop.” he smirks, that same knowing look in his eye that he always had. without thinking you fiddle with your cross necklace.

“didnt i tell you to stop calling me that?” you respond, feeling as though you hid the hitch in your throat pretty well.

“and why would i listen to you?” he jokes, shuffling in his desk chair — bedroom a mess in his background. you’re about to comment on it, tell him to tidy it on instinct to nag him but he speaks first. “lookin’ real good tonight. you get all pretty for me?”

something about the way he asks that sends heat to your lower regions, something that felt forbidden and wrong and yet addicting.

“i’m just wearing what i sleep in. i figured id check in with you before i get some rest.” it’s an attempt at sounding casual, something you’d clearly applied much time and thought to.

“you wear that to sleep? pan down for me real quick?” you hear him shuffle closer to the screen like he was really trying to get a good look, and without thinking you obey — showing him the white lace of your night gown, from the straps to the way it falls on your upper thigh. he chuckles with a quiet “mm.” sound, and you’re panning back to your face quickly — glancing subconsciously at the door, wondering what your mother might say if she saw you showing your night gown to a boy.

“thats real pretty lil lamb. like you.” you hate how smooth he was, how every compliment had heat rushing to your centre.

“no need to flatter me.” you shrug a shoulder, and he doesn’t miss the way your tits jostle a little at the movement. he even leans on his elbows at his desk, eyes pointed downward unabashedly.

“right, right so… little limbrey… talk me through your night time routine. i wanna step into your shoes for a lil bit.” he settles, always insanely good at making conversation from nothing. you purse your lips in thought, looking around your room.

“well… i showered, changed, and usually before bed i do something stimulating but relaxing to get me ready to sleep and tire me out.” you list, staring at the book going unread on your bedside table. he huffs a laugh through a smirk and his brows shoot up.

“oh yeah? you stimulate yourself? tell me more ‘bout that.” he jokes and you furrow your brows, adorably in his opinion.

“what do you mean?” you question and jj licks his lips, trying to hold himself back from laughing anymore but failing miserably.

“ah, i’m just playin’ with you babydoll— carry on.” he waves a hand but you’re curious now. perhaps you sensed there was some innuendo behind it, but you pushed anyway— your inner excitement getting the better of you. you shift on your bed to lay on your side, getting more comfortable.

“i wanna laugh too, tell me what it means?” you pout grumpily which makes him relent instantly.

“nah… i was just makin’ a joke about… you know… you playin’ with yourself. ‘lotta people do that before they sleep.” he dismisses, and usually you’d scold him or make a face — but tonight, you’re not sure what possesses you — you ask,

“do you?”

jj blinks in surprise at the question for a second.

“do…uh, well,” he coughs awkwardly and you already regret asking. you cast your eyes downwards. “yeah, i do. you don’t ever… indulge?”

you’re quick to shake your head, though you’re lying. you’ve tried a few times.

“its a sin.” the words are instinctual when they leave you, and it only deepens jj’s amused expression that forms once more across his handsome features.

“yeah uh, no shit honey. you gotta release sometimes though right? s’better that way… keeps the sinful activities at bay so you don’t go out n’make bad choices. preventative procedures n’all that shit.” he converses, scratching his temple — a habit you’d pick up on when he’s a tad nervous or apprehensive.

you’d never thought of it that way before, so you take a moment to stare into space — a rush of relief coming over you. he was right. it had to be better than going and sleeping around, surely.

“wow, that’s… uncharacteristically insightful.”

“i’on know what that means—”

“you’re right. i don’t feel so bad anymore.” you chime, looking rather elated. his smile returns and he tilts his head.

“yeah? so you do indulge?” he drags it out, like he wants to tease you but he doesn’t wanna push too hard and shut you down again. you bite your lip, mulling over his question.

“m’not great at it, but yes.” you try to remain prideful, sticking your nose up a little.

“comes with practice i guess. i’mma beat around the bush here — i’d say i know my way around lady parts pretty good so like, if you ever need any pointers… on how to… y’know, suppress your urges… i got’chu.” he tries to sound nonchalant, careful, even shrugs for added effect. what he doesn’t see, is your hand reaching blindly to your bedside table and turning the framed image of Jesus to be face down.

twenty minutes later, and you’re hot in the face with your back propped up against a load of frilly, fluffed pillows. the laptop sits between your spread legs, displaying your open glossy cunt centre screen, your fingers stroking circles over your throbbing bud as you try to suppress your whimpers.

“uh-huh, juuuuuust like that. you wanna try rubbin’ it up and down? or do you wanna stick to the whole circle thing.” beneath his desk, jj slowly rolls his fist over his cock. he felt kinda weird about it, but he didn’t wanna alert you to the fact he was helping himself too— thinking it might freak you out and make you call it a night.

“‘like it like this!” you squeak, being mindful of your volume. you knew the pain meds had likely knocked your mother out clean by now, but you could never be too careful. you buck your hips against your hand, and even through the quality of the video call jj can see the arousal pooling between your spread legs. you had no idea how needy you could be.

“god damn, mama— you needed this, huh?” he chuckles, but it’s kind and he’s not teasing, infact there’s a softness to it. an affection.

“mhmmm.” you release in a whine, and jj is thrilled. he loved that he got you like this, letting go of all your beliefs for a while, forgetting it all because your head is so hazy with pleasure.

“keep rubbing just like that, yeah? just like i’d do it.” he mutters the last part, but he knows you hear it when your eyes flutter open, hand slowing. shit. he didn’t want you to come to your senses about just how sinful this whole thing was— he was barely teaching anymore, more so talking you through it.

his eyes widen a tad and his own hand freezes. “shit, uh— sorry ‘bout that. that’s my bad, i got carried away.”

in a whisper, with furrowed brows like it pained your very being to ask, you come forth with “keep talking like that.”

it stuns him for a few second, and his thumb swipes over his tip again. “wait… for real?”

“unfortunately it’s…mmph— it’s the only thing that’s gonna get me there. i’m tired, jj… i just wanna… i wanna—”

“cum?” he tries to stop the grin by pressing his tongue to the corner of his mouth, and his expression softens when he sees the way you melt, more arousal dribbling from you.

“yeah.” you groan, causing jj to pout in faux sympathy.

“yeah? i got you mama. keep strokin’ that pretty thing. i’mma tell you right now, you’re missin’ out on this tongue. i could make you feel things you never thought you could feel. would make you cream so hard you’d have tears down them pretty cheeks. that what you wanna hear, lil lamb?”

“oh… oh god!” your toes clench, everything clenches.

“nah baby, it ain’t god. s’just me.”

#jj maybank prompt #lamb!reader #tw religion #tw jesus idk #idk how to tag these things guys please

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piroulinewafers · 1 month ago

Note

hi hiii ^.^ I’ve been in a choso trance recently and my favourite thought is that he is truly insatiable. He just wants to love on you 24/7, he’s tried sm ways to get his intense love across from you (like flowers, written letters and short trips) but ultimately decides the best way is to worship your body. He’ll take things slow and kiss every inch of you, letting you run your hands through his hair as he works his way down. He gets impatient though so it won’t be long before his kisses kisses feel rushed and more desperate. By the end of the night, you’re covered in hickeys and he’s stroking your stomach asking for “one more?”.

sorry if this is bad.. I haven’t sent an ask before so idk what to put😵‍💫 LIVE LAUGH LOVE CHOSO

𝐚/𝐧: waaa you're so right... i think choso is definitely a show over tell sort of guy, and while he wants to love in the way he sees in movies, he's impatient and insatiable. he just loves so much... i lobe him ;; i fear i'm in a bit of a writing rut right now, i feel this was quite repetitive sorry 😭

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: choso x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: smut, breeding kink. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

"you’re staring again.”

her voice wavered as she looked up from the couch, tucked beneath a blanket and and cradling a warm cup of coffee. her eyes darted between choso, who stood across the room with an unreadable expression darkening his already solemn features.

he didn’t move. just kept looking at her— deeply, intently, like he was trying to memorize every inch of her face.

“is there… something on my face?” she asked, brows drawing together. her hands hesitated by her cheek, brushing self-consciously at nothing.

choso was staring at her with an intensity that made her squirm slightly in her seat. his dark purple eyes seemed to pierce through her, as if trying to consume every detail of her face. she couldn't help but feel a flicker of nervousness under his unblinking gaze.

finally, he blinked slowly, not comprehending the implication behind her question. “no," he replied gruffly, his voice a low rumble. “just lookin’ at ya.”

he couldn't quite put into words the overwhelming urge he felt to touch every inch of her skin, to map out every freckle and mole with his fingers and lips. the desire was almost too intense to bear, a physical ache that demanded to be sated.

choso had tried so many things, hadn't he? brought her wilted flowers picked haphazardly from the side of the road, the stems already brown and brittle. scribbled clumsy letters filled with crude drawings and stilted words, his limited vocabulary struggling to convey the sheer scope of his feelings. he'd even attempted to do the chores she normally took care of, though his efforts often ended up with more mess than before, his instincts too blunt and forceful.

but none of it felt like enough. none of it could truly express the all-encompassing, primal need he had to show her, to prove to her, just how much he loved her. no, the only way he knew how was to worship her body with every fiber of his being.

she was a bit confused at his answer but decided against prying, she doubt any answer he could give her would be very helpful in understanding whatever was going on in that mind of his.

“you do that a lot,” she said, her voice soft, trying to be light. “stare.”

choso tilted his head just slightly, like he was studying a rare animal, or maybe a ghost. then finally, slowly, he moved— crossing the space with the same unhurried gravity he always had, all solid steps and soft menace, until he was standing right in front of her.

his response was a quiet grunt— not dismissive, just honest. he crouched down in front of her, hands sliding to her knees like magnets drawn to metal. there was something unshakable in the way he touched her. no hesitation. no apology.

“i like lookin’ at you,” he muttered, low. “that’s it.”

she flushed. “ah, i see…”

but he was already leaning in, one he hand pressing against her thigh to pin her there, and the other creeping up to cradle her cheek with surprising gentleness. his thumb dragged along her jaw like he was memorizing the texture of her skin. his eyes— dark, heavy-lidded, hungry— didn’t leave her face once.

he didn’t speak. he didn’t need to.

his hands said everything. the way he cupped the back of her neck like she’d vanish if he didn’t hold on. hovering, breathing hard like just being near her overwhelmed him.

“choso,” she whispered, flustered before him and surprised by the suddenness of his actions. “you’re— “

he sighed, closing the distance between them with no care for personal space or the human sense of what was deemed appropriate. one hand caught her wrist before she could press it to his chest, the other coming to rest at the curve of her hip like it belonged there. he leaned in close, so close his breath warmed her cheek.

“don’t get it,” he muttered finally, voice low and gravelly against her skin. “humans. flowers. chores ‘nd stuff. dumb things that rot or get thrown out.”

her breath hitched. “choso— “

admittedly, choso didn’t understand the need for flowery gestures, stupid gifts or clumsy words when he could just show her exactly how he felt like this.

“i love you," he said simply, as if the words were a statement of fact rather than a declaration. “i want to love you more."

admittedly, choso didn’t understand the need for flowery gestures, stupid gifts or clumsy words when he could just show her exactly how he felt like this.

with that, he kissed her— rougher than he’d meant to, all teeth and heat and need, s sloppy thing. one kiss, then another, and other, like he couldn’t stop, like each one would finally get his point across if he just pressed hard enough. his hands cradled her face now, thumbs stroking her cheeks like she was something sacred.

and to him, she was.

she tried to speak, maybe ask him to slow down, maybe not— but he was already there again, stealing the words from her lips, brushing his mouth down the column of her throat.

“so confusin’,” he muttered, almost to himself. his voice was quiet, low, but it rumbled from deep in his chest, steady and unfiltered.

his thumb rubbed up, gently, just beneath her ribs. he simply grunted in response. “i’m not like that.” he let out, also more to himself than actually responding to anything she had said.

his lips pressed to her jaw, then dragged down to her to the corner of her mouth. another kiss, messier this time— off-entered and warm and far too wet, like he couldn’t get close enough.

she made a soft sound, startled, and he stole that too, kissing her deeper, sloppier, tilting her head so he could claim her mouth like it was owed to him.

choso didn’t stop. every kiss tasted like urgency— like obsession. his fingers threaded into her hair, cradling the back of her skill and he kissed her again, over and over, stealing her breath and giving none of his in return. his lips dragged down her throat once more, now nipping and biting hard, leaving purpling marks in his wake.

she whimpered something faint, fingers tightening in his shirt. gasping into the kiss, her eyes widened as choso's hands roamed greedily over her body. she could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against her thigh as he straddled her hips, pinning her down on the couch, his hand on her chest gently forcing her down onto the cushions.

his forwardness always left her flustered and a bit breathless, struggling to keep up with his shameless displays of affection.

“ch-chhoso, wait..." she panted, breaking the kiss for a moment. her cheeks were flushed a deep pink, her lips swollen and glistening from his fervent attentions. “you’re being a bit too... much, right now."

but choso paid no heed to her half-hearted protest. to him, showing restraint would be showing a lack of sincerity. he wanted, no, he needed her to understand the sheer magnitude of his feelings. and if that meant groping her soft curves with a desperation bordering on violence, then so be it.

“’can't wait," he growled, nuzzling into the sensitive skin of her neck. he mouthed over her racing pulse, his tongue flicking out to taste her. “need ya to feel it. need ya to know."

his hands slid under her shirt, pushing the fabric up to expose more of her creamy skin. he palmed the soft mounds of her breasts, kneading the flesh as if trying to mold it to his will. choso's breath grew ragged, his hips rutting forward instinctively as he chased the friction he so desperately craved.

she whimpered once more, her back arching slightly off the couch as choso's touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her. the evidence of his arousal was unmistakable, the thick ridge of his cock tenting his pants and pressing insistently against her core. it was overwhelming, the sheer intensity of his desire, the raw, primal need radiating off him in waves.

“choso, please..." she gasped, her voice a needy little mewl. she wasn't sure if she was begging him to stop or to continue, her own body betraying her with every shuddering breath and wanton moan.

but choso was too far gone to heed her pleas. he captured her lips again, swallowing her cries as his hands continued their relentless exploration. he mapped out every dip and curve, committing the feel of her to memory.

with a low sigh, he ground his aching cock against her soft thigh, rutting against her, driven by a primal instinct he simply couldn’t control.

choso’s hair fell forward, obscuring his face as he buried his face against the tender crook of her neck, breathing in her scent like a man starved for air.

“(name)…” the words rumbled out of him on a groan, his voice a low, guttural thing. he couldn’t help the desperate, almost frantic way he moved against her, seeking more of that delicious friction. each clumsy rut sent jolts of pressure radiating through him, stroking the fire burning in his veins.

she couldn’t suppress the mewling cries spilling from her lips, fingers clutching at the fabric of choso’s shirt. she should push him away, should tell him to slow down, but her body refused to obey. her mind’s commands. instead, she found herself tilting her head to give him better access, gasping as his teeth grazed her racing pulse.

“so needy, choso…” she let out, voice hitching with each grind of his hips. yet, even as she said it, her body arched up to meet him, craving more of the intense sensations only he could evoke in her.

choso seemed somewhat oblivious to her half-hearted complaints, too focused on his single minded pursuit of sating this all-consuming need. his hands slid down to grip her hips, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. he needed to mark her, to claim her, to make it undeniably clear that she was his.

choso's hands fumbled with the button of her jeans, too impatient to bother with the zipper. the fabric tore with a sharp rending sound, the frayed edges of the denim scraping against her skin as he practically ripped the jeans off her body. she glared up at him, cheeks flushed with more than just arousal.

“choso, you can't just tear my clothes off every time you get excited," she protested, even as she lifted her hips to help him remove the ruined jeans. “do you have any idea how much those cost? huh?"

“not really…”

admittedly, choso was already distracted, his gaze fixed on the expanse of creamy skin now bared to his hungry eyes. he bunched up her shirt, pushing the fabric out of the way to expose her stomach, the soft curve of her belly. his large, calloused hand splayed across her middle, the difference in their sizes stark and obvious.

her name fell past her lips almost wonderingly, as if seeing her like this, the potential of her, the promise of her, filled him with a strange mix of awe and possessiveness. his thumb brushed over her navel, tracing the little indent, before he pressed his entire hand more firmly against her stomach, as if trying to feel the softness of it, to mold it to the shape of his palm.

“i want..." he started, his voice a low, almost unconscious rumble, before he seemed to catch himself, his brows furrowing. he looked up at her, his purple eyes dark and intense, filled with a desperate, almost fevered light.

“i wanna baby," he blurted out, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. “i wanna put a baby in ya.”

her eyes widened at the sudden, unexpected declaration. she sat up slightly, staring at him in surprise, a faint blush rising to her cheeks at the intimate turn the conversation had taken.

“choso,” she finally said softly, almost hesitantly, "that's a serious thing you're talking about. having a baby... it's a big responsibility, a big commitment."

she bit her lip, studying his face, trying to gauge his sincerity, his readiness. choso was many things, but he was notoriously awful at expressing his feelings, at communicating in a way that made sense to the rest of the world, despite his best attempts.

she sighed, shaking her head slightly as she looked up at choso. “maybe… maybe we should work on your communication skills,” she said honestly, watching him. “this isn’t the sort of thing you bring up out of nowhere, you know?”

her words were gentle, coaxing.

despite her words, she couldn't help but feel a small flutter in her chest at the thought of carrying choso's child. the idea was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating, a testament to the intense connection they shared.

choso blinked, looking slightly taken aback by her response. he opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words.

finally, he simply muttered, “sorry," the apology sounding more like a grunt than a true expression of remorse.

but she knew him too well to believe that he would actually change his ways. choso was a creature of instinct and action, not words and diplomacy. though he meant well, these sort of things were often not exactly the easiest things for him to grasp.

sighing again, she reached out and cupped choso's cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. “i love you, choso, you know that right?”

choso leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he nuzzled into her palm, much like a pet would.

then, with a sudden, almost desperate motion, he ducked his head and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin of her stomach, his lips moving feverishly over the expanse of it.

a gasp spilled past her lips, her back arching slightly as choso’s mouth worked over her sensitive flesh. his kisses were sloppy and enthusiastic, the scrape of his teeth and the rough swipes of his tongue sending jolts of sensation racing through her. she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him to her as he worshipped her body with a single-minded fervor that was equal parts overwhelming and deeply arousing.

choso paused in his fervent kisses, glancing up at her with a look of almost shy uncertainty in his eyes. he sat back on his knees, his large frame looming over her smaller one, and with a clumsy, almost awkward motion, he reached down to unbutton his pants. he met her gaze as he slowly peeled off his jeans, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

"'m tryin’, look?” he muttered, his voice a low, gruff rumble. “tryin’ not to just... rip things off."

there was a brief silence as she just stared at him.

suddenly, she giggled softly, a sound of genuine amusement and affection. she playfully nudged him in the chest with her foot, her toes brushing against the firm muscle there. “you're so cute sometimes, cho,” she teased gently, shaking her head in fond exasperation.

choso's lips twitched, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he ducked his head, trying to hide the way his cheeks darkened further at the compliment.

for all his bravado and intensity, he was still a man of few words, and her praise always caught him off guard.

he finished removing his pants with slightly more care than before, tossing them aside before turning his attention back to her. his hands slid up her thighs, his calloused fingers leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her panties, looking up at her questioningly.

“can I...?" he asked, his voice a low, almost hesitant rumble. it was endearing, that he was at least putting in the clumsy effort, meeting her eyes intensely as if to show her that he had listened to her earlier complaints about her jeans.

at her nod, he slowly peeled her panties down her legs, his gaze never leaving her face. he was determined to show her, in his own clumsy way, that he was trying to be more thoughtful, more considerate of her feelings.

she lifted her hips to help him, a soft sigh escaping her lips as the cool air hit her bare skin. she couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation, of desire, as choso settled himself between her thighs. the evidence of his arousal was impossible to miss, the thick length of his cock resting heavily against her thigh, a brand of heat even through his boxers.

choso leaned in, nuzzling his face against the soft skin of her inner thigh. he breathed in her scent, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the intimate aroma.

it was becoming evident that choso was growing increasingly impatient, his desperation to show her the depths of his love overriding any semblance of finesse or control. he huffed, a sound of pure, unadulterated need escaping his lips as he notched the thick head of his cock against her dripping slit. “fuck,” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “i just wanna show ya, wanna make ya feel it. want ya to know how much i fuckin’ love ya.”

he rocked his hips forward clumsily, the blunt tip of his cock catching on her entrance and slipping off, only to miss the mark again a moment later. the evidence of their arousal was making it difficult for him, and he only grew more impatient.

choso was too hurried, too desperate, his need consuming him utterly. he grunted in frustration as he continued his clumsy, sloppy attempts, his thick shaft dragging of her sensitive folds and occasional catching on the wrong spot entirely.

at one particularly ill-timed thrust, the swollen head of his cock pressed insistently against the tight pucker of her asshole, iliciting a gasp from her. her eyes flew wide open as she felt the sudden shift in pressure.

“w-wait— “ she forced out, almost out of breath and her voice tight with sudden anxiety. she quickly pushed herself up a bit more onto her elbows, moving awkwardly to grab his heavy cock with gentle hands, fingers barely able to encircle the girth flesh.

choso paused, his hips failing to move. he blinked down at her, a look of confusion and concern in his dark eyes. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “did i hurt ya?”

she shook her head, biting her lip as she guided his cock to where it needed to be. she notched the broad head against her slick entrance, feeling the heat of him with a shaky exhale.

“ah, no…” she trailed off, cheeks flushed. then, with a soft whimper, she rolled her hips up, slowly urging choso to thrust forward, to finally sheath himself inside her welcome body.

choso needed no further encouragement. with a low, guttural groan, he surged forward, hips snapped as he buried himself as far as he could in one powerful thrust. she cried out, back arching off the couch as she was suddenly, utterly filled.

choso's hips stilled as he felt the resistance of her body, his cock unable to bury itself as deep as he craved. a flicker of disappointment crossed his face, his brow furrowing as he tried once more to bottom out, to claim every inch of her. but her body had its limits, and despite his best efforts, choso could only sink so far before he hit an unyielding barrier.

a soft huff of frustration escaped his lips, and he paused, looking down at her with a mix of concern and self-reproach in his dark eyes, his bottom lip jutting out almost adorably. “i… i can't..." he muttered, his voice a low, gruff rumble. “yer just... too small."

he hated not being able to show her the full extent of his love, of his desire. he wanted to consume her, to fill her up so completely that she would never doubt the depth of his feelings for her.

but as he looked down at her face, he saw the way she was biting her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.sShe was trying so hard to be brave, to stifle the sounds of discomfort that naturally accompanied such a deep, almost painful penetration. and while she didn't say a word of complaint, choso could feel the guilt washing over him like a tidal wave.

she didn't want to complain, didn't want to voice the discomfort that radiated through her core. choso loved her so deeply, so fiercely, that she knew his intentions were pure, even if his execution was a bit... enthusiastic.

he breathed out her name, brows furrowed, his voice rough with emotion. “’m sorry. i don’t wanna hurt ya, don’t cry.”

choso started to pull back, his hips lifting off the bed slightly, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. she looked up at him, her teary eyes filled with a soft, almost tender look that made choso's heart clench in his chest.

“don't stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible. “please don't stop, choso."

that was all the confirmation he needed, heart clenching in his chest as he offered a firm nod.

choso set about claiming her with a single-minded intensity, his hips driving forward with a rough, desperate urgency. he poured all of his pent-up passion and desire into each powerful thrust, the force of his lovemaking shaking the bed beneath them. his large, calloused hands roamed over her body, squeezing and kneading her soft curves as if trying to mold her to his touch.

choso was never one for flowery words or dirty talk. he believed in actions speaking louder than words, and right now, his body was screaming his love for her with every measured thrust, every gentle caress. he gripped her hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, his blunt nails digging into her tender flesh as he rutted into her with near punishing force.

he was a man of action, not words, and he was determined to show her the depths of his love in the most primal way he knew how. his hips never slowed their relentless pace, his cock driving into her again and again, the wet squelch of their joining filling the room.

his desperation to show her his love overcame any lingering gentleness. he was a man possessed, driven mad with the need to claim her, to mark her, to make her his in every way possible. his thrusts grew harder, more insistent, each snap of his hips jostling her against the couch beneath them.

“fuck,” he growled, his voice a low, rough rumble. “love ya so fuckin’ much. gonna... gonna make ya feel so good..."

he could feel the slick heat of her enveloping him, gripping him like a velvet vice. It was almost too much, too intense, but he couldn't stop. he couldn't slow down. he was lost in the sensation, in the primal need to stake his claim.

choso’s hands roamed over her body, squeezing and caressing every curve and swell. he palmed her breasts, rolling and kneading the soft flesh in his large hands. he dipped his head to capture a nipple in his mouth, suckling greedily, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak.

she gasped and writhed beneath him, her body bowing and arching to meet his relentless thrusts. each drive of his hips sent jolts of pleasure through her, the sheer size and girth of his cock stretching her inner walls deliciously. she could only cling to him, her nails raking down his back, as he took her with a desperate, impatient hunger.

sweat beaded his brow, his dark hair falling in damp tendrils around his face as he loomed over her as his breathing grew ragged and harsh, chest heaving against her with each laboured breath. yet, despite the intensity of his lovemaking, he remained stubbornly silent aside from the low grunts and groans that spilled past his lips.

his hips were beginning to stutter, his thrusts growing more erratic as he chased his rapidly approaching release. through the taut skin of her stomach, he could see the unmistakable faint outline of his own thick cock, the shape of it clearly defined as it stretched and filled her so completely.

fascinated and almost confused, choso pressed down on her stomach, his large hand splaying over the slight dome of her belly. he could feel the shape of himself inside her, the hard length of his shaft throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat.

she let out a sharp, breathy squeal at the sudden pressure, her back arching off the bed as she writhed beneath him.

“ah!” she gasped out, her voice high and tight with pleasure. “oh god…”

choso's brow furrowed, his eyes darkening with a mix of concentration and intense focus as he ground his hips down against hers, putting even more pressure on her stomach with a thick hand. he could feel his orgasm approaching like a runaway train, the heat and pressure building to an almost unbearable level.

with a guttural, almost animalistic growl, choso slammed his hips forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside her. at the same moment, she cried out his name, her inner muscles clenching down around him like a velvet vice as her own peak crashed over her.

the feeling of her nails dragging against his skin, sure enough to leave angry red marks in their wake, was barely registering to him as he reached his peak.

wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through them both, choso’s hot seed spurting deep inside her spasming cunt as he emptied himself in pulsing jets. she could only cling to him, her body shaking and shuddering with the force of her climax, his name a mantra on her lips as she rode out the intense, overwhelming pleasure.

finally, collapsed against her, his large form covering her smaller one as he struggled to catch his breath. He could feel the way her body welcomed him, the way her inner muscles continued to ripple and flutter around his softening shaft.

the room was warm with the quiet hush of post-midnight stillness, shadows curling along the walls like a second skin. she lay sprawled across the couch, hair clinging to her temples, skin flushed and dewy in the dim light. her chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, a sigh leaving her lips as she let herself melt into the cushions, utterly spent.

as the aftershocks of their intense lovemaking subsided, she lay boneless and sated beneath choso’s substantial weight, her slender frame completely covered by his muscular one. she could feel the way his heart hammered against her own, could sense the sticky warmth of their combined release beginning to cool and dry on her skin.

after a long moment, she stirred slightly, her voice a breathy, almost shy murmur as she commented, “choso? i think ya came a lot, didn't ya? more than usual, even..." her words trailed off uncertainly, a hint of gentle concern coloring her tone.

“it just felt good, i dunno.”

choso merely grunted in response, his voice a low, rumbly sound that vibrated through her chest. he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his nose brushing against her racing pulse as he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her scent. the action was instinctual, almost unconscious, as if he were trying to mark her, to claim her in the most primal way possible.

reluctantly, choose lifted his head to gaze down at her, his expression a mix of sated satisfaction and stubborn reluctance. “’don't wanna pull out," he muttered, his voice a low, gruff rumble. “’feels too good inside ya.”

she bit her lip, a soft, indulgent smile playing at the corners of her mouth. as much as she loved this moment, loved the feeling of closeness and connection, she knew they couldn't remain in this intimate embrace forever. with a gentle, almost regretful sigh, she placed a delicate hand on choso's chest and gave a little push, urging him to sit up.

again, she pushed weakly at choso's broad chest, trying to get him to ease up on the weight he was putting on her. “choso... you're crushing me," she whined, her voice a gentle protest even as her hands slid over the firm muscles of his pectorals.

with a low, almost reluctant sound, choso heaved himself up, his thick arms bearing the weight of his upper body as he looked down at her. as he shifted, his softening cock slipped from her tender, puffy folds, a gush of their combined juices dripping down to stain the sheets below. the thick shaft rested heavily now on her thigh, still thick and imposing even in its semi-flaccid state.

a soft sigh left her. she knew they couldn't stay like this forever, as much as she might want to. life, as always, called them back to the real world.

for a long moment, choso simply stared down at her, his dark eyes roaming over her face, her neck, her heaving chest. his calloused fingers splayed possessively over the slight swell of her stomach.

though she knew she couldn’t read his mind, she knew choso well enough to know exactly where his line of thinking was probably going.

her breath hitched as she felt his hand press down on her stomach, his fingers splaying wide as if trying to feel the shape of himself inside her once more. with a soft, breathless sigh, she covered his hand with her own, her slender fingers curling around the back of his much larger palm.

“choso, i… we can't..." she began, her voice a gentle murmur, even as a flush of warmth crept up her neck at the intensity in his gaze. she knew he was insatiable, that his hunger for her seemed to know no bounds. but even so, she had responsibilities, commitments that demanded her attention.

“i have to get ready for work soon," she reminded him softly, hating to break the spell of their intimate afterglow.

nothing left him at first, his jaw clenching as if in silent protest. then, with a low, almost disgruntled sound, he leaned back a bit, scratching his forehead, his muscles flexing and bunching beneath his skin.

he looked like he wanted to speak — but didn’t quite know how. his brows furrowed. his lips parted.

then, after a beat, he simply raised one hand and held up a single finger. just one. his eyes were pleading, hopeful. puppy-like. almost pouty.

“…one more?” he mumbled, tilting his head the slightest bit. His voice was rough with leftover breathlessness, but soft — careful, like he knew she was fragile now, like he was trying very hard to be good.

she blinked at him, cheeks warming again despite herself. she didn’t answer right away, didn’t move— just looked at him: the way stray strands of dark hair brushed against his face, the way his knees were drawn up, the way his fingers twitched a little where they rested on her leg, aching to reach for more of her. he really did look like a dog who hadn’t been told no in a while— equal parts eager and confused why she wouldn’t let him continue.

and she knew he didn’t mean it to be selfish. he just… loved her that much. needed her that much. always had more to give, more to take, more of his heart to pour out in clumsy, overwhelming ways.

she reached out slowly and brushed a knuckle across his cheek, gentle. thoughtful. he leaned into it immediately.

the silence lingered, warm and unhurried.

“…maybe,” she murmured, lips tugging into something halfway between a smile and surrender. “if you’re gentle.”

choso’s eyes lit up like stars through stormclouds.

he didn’t move yet. but the look on his face— hopeful, hungry, impossibly tender— said enough.

#choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso jjk #jjk choso #choso #choso kamo #choso smut #kamo choso #choso x female reader #choso x y/n #choso x you #jjk x reader #🍪 reqs

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torueater · 3 months ago

Text

⋆ ꩜ ⋆ pairing: artstudent!gojo x artstudent!reader

synopsis: artstudent!gojo doesn't believe in prophetic dreams and all that--in fate (though it does make for a fun love story). he finds himself confused when there's been a recurring face in a few of his recent moments of unconsciousness. of all the background characters, one seems to stick -- he's even more surprised to see that the face in said dreams isn't just one he'd seen in passing when you show up to class as a new transfer.

wc: around 3780 (❁´◡`❁)

content: no explicit content (save for some kissing), art student satoru, art student reader, implied fem reader

a/n: 2nd fic on here !! this was supposed to be a drabble, ended up being extended a little (sort of has drabble vibes still I think). idea came while doing a painting! ᓚᘏᗢ

ArtStudent!Gojo's first attempt at a portrait without direct reference pulls from a face that’d only shown up in a couple dreams of his. The moonlit memory lingers in his mind, one face in particular latched to his hippocampus akin to how a tic would to flesh. How it’s so vivid this time now that he’s out of the state of unconsciousness is beyond him but reaching for the closest medium -- charcoal and his sketch pad feels like muscle memory. Like an incessant itch. This is the first time he can actually remember what dream-girl looks like, he won’t be stupid enough to wait till the image gets a chance to slip away like wisps of smoke in the air.

Charcoal smudges against slender, too-dexterous fingers, tips dusted in black. They press into the material to make rough strokes on the cotton fibers to map out the shape of a head, a nose – gentle slopes, a slightly rounded tip. Ridges and smooth dips of lips he remembers looking too soft even in his mind’s eye. He wonders how they’d dip under the press of his stained fingertips. Satoru doesn’t need to think, feels like sketching her comes as easy as breathing.

It’s rough. It’s rushed – like the image’ll slip from his mind if he takes too long to give it a proper form--the creases between his knuckles are black and temporarily messy with charcoal but… it’s almost angelic looking. Sublime, even. A radiant mirror of whoever the mystery girl is. Even with the image put to paper, he can’t piece together who the face is, where he’d seen her. Logic and a bit of searching tells him it’s possibly someone he’d seen in passing. More than likely someone in a crowd, even a face in a movie that had somehow become a fragment in his memory. There’s the possibility of it meaning someone new is about to enter his life but that one seems more farfetched than anything.

The image clings to his thoughts for the better half of 2 days, pressing into the edges of his mind before ultimately being shoved deeper into the recesses by the weight of more important things he had to worry about. An upcoming exam. A mixed media piece he’s yet to complete even with the nearing deadline. Unfinished sketches to add to his portfolio. He’s been slacking a bit, he knows that much. Knows it won’t take much to get back on track, but still.

There are far better, far more important things to think about, to ruminate on than a mystery girl he had the deep sated urge to keep in a physical form. Not forgotten though. Never that.

ArtStudent!Gojo knows better than to do this shit ever again. The reminder to never ever put his assignments off till he’s all filled with nerves and needing to rush to get them done well is properly cemented in his mind from this point on. He’d damn near crammed assignments into any bit of free time he thought he’d have. Free time his ass. Up till yesterday, a 7 hour energy, his canvas, thick paints and an array of brushes had been his only companions. Paint to fabric, precise even strokes, darkness of the night not stopping the zone he’s settled into. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids and he’s only aware of having knocked out when the morning sun greets him, bowed into his now dried canvas. “Shit!”

The smudge of paint on the canvas is one thing but he barely has enough time to brush his teeth and to wash the wayward blot of paint off his forehead before he’s bolting out his dorm – nine minutes to get to the art room. The sun is on high by now, colours of the day too bright and sharp for how little sleep he’s running on. His limbs feel all heavy, half groggy as he runs – shoulder knocking into someone else’s hard enough to make them stumble, “Fuck--sorry,” he calls over his shoulder, half hearted, barely looking. A quick flash of her hair, momentary glimpse at her features before he keeps moving.

By the time he makes it to class, the thought is already fading from his mind. He sketches for today, graphite scratching against a Strathmore sheet, switching between mediums for more variation. Black smudges colour pale fingertips, angular cheekbones streaked with the same darkness here and there from moments when he absently rubs at his face or leans into his palm. Only now, settled into the rhythm of his sketching, one singular thought creeps back in from earlier. Huh. He hadn’t gotten a good look but the girl from earlier sort of resembled—

He cuts the thought off with a quiet huff, tilt of his mouth miniscule. As if.

Even the idea itself is stupid. Maybe the hair colour, sure. The side profile, possibly, if he’d gotten a proper look it would be clear. But it’s entirely unlikely. Not that he can be too sure with the rush he’d been in.

But like…maybe?

The side profile—even from that small glimpse—had been fairly similar to- Nope. He cuts the thought off again with a shake of his head, thumb pressing into the grain of the paper to smear out a too rough line. Mind’s just playing tricks on me. He’s not even sure why he’s still thinking about ‘Dream girl’ as he’d coined her. Real creative there.

It’s only 2 days after that where they’re meeting a new face, where he wonders if his mind is playing a game. He’d been halfway through a sketch, hunched over a fresh page of his pad. Just until you’re actually introducing yourself – figures it’d be rude to not have his attention on you the first time you’re meeting.

ArtStudent!Gojo at least tries to gaslight himself into thinking that you don’t look like the girl he’d sketched twice already, flipping back to the page in his sketchbook, glancing between it and you (more the side of your head from how you’re now sat) as you’re briefly introduced to the class. Smile shy, glancing around to give a polite wave–-No way. It does look like you. Maybe a slight difference, a beauty mark somewhere he couldn’t have guessed, the shape of your brows. But besides that? Yeah…it checks out. It’s nothing dramatic, no slo-mo, no cinematic gasp from a live audience. Just you sat in your seat near the front, sketchpad pulled out to catch up on the exercise.

Like sure, he’d hoped to see the person plaguing his thoughts, had joked about it here and there. But to have it coming at him full force and out of the blue like a stray baseball to the face – it’s a bit much.

He’d caught the words transfer student from the professor and not much else. If you’d just transferred, how’d he even know your face well enough to have him dreaming of you? More than once at that?

Flipping to the 2nd fresh page of the day, he lets the charcoal map out the familiar shapes of features he hadn’t drawn in days. Third sketch’s the charm right? It’s easier to get the details almost spot on now that he’s seen you. The placement of the mole on your face, the tilt of your lips when you smile.

He obviously doesn’t bring up the dreams and sketching stuff. Of course he doesn’t. It kind of seems creepy when he thinks on it with a clear head. ArtStudent!Gojo is anything but shy, and he does what he does best in the whirlwind of confusion – acts completely normal. Turns on that effortless charm of his and makes conversation despite the internal mess. You’re as nice as ever and you two are easy friends.

The mystery solves itself soon enough, you having transferred from another course on campus, the likelihood of seeing you not that small with how close the two buildings are. Maybe he’d seen you on his way to class some time. Makes far more sense than this being some fate-driven meeting between you two. How insane would that be?

ArtStudent!Gojo has colour steadily rising up the snowiness of his skin when he’s found himself sketching you again in the comfort of a now empty art room. At least it’s supposed to be empty -- clearly it’s not with you stood behind him scanning the portrait with a grin. Another one of you, number #4.

“It’s like you’ve been studying me.” You’re really, really fucking impressed. A bit in awe. All the angles are right, he’d captured your essence almost perfectly. “Is this the only one?”

He tries to think of a way out of this, an excuse. Maybe saying it isn’t you would work? He knows it won’t because he’s unfortunately apparently blessed with the artistic gift of modern-day Rembrandt and it looks exactly like you. You disregard the lack of response, biting back your rising grin. “Mm, you missed my earrings, though.” You dip a little more into his space, fingers pressed over his lengthy ones, guiding the pencil over to one ear, tracing the shape of a hoop, then the next. “There we go. Now it looks like me.”

You surprisingly…don’t find it weird? Maybe because he’s overly pretty and crazy nice and you don’t get a future stalker vibe from your new snow-haired art buddy (you hope so at least). You’d been friends for about a week or two and you feel like you’d come to trust him far too easily, but he hadn’t exactly made it hard. He’d offered up the sketch and an awkward apology that you’d just laughed at. A request for a portrait in colour is your idea of a better apology. And he agrees, obviously.

Gojo thinks he needs to get a grip. He really, seriously needs to get a grip on himself. It’s been what, 2 months at this point? 2 months and some change at best, and yet he folds so easily to the shape of you. All things you. You smiling at him, you laughing at his stupid jokes and not calling him corny. Not all the time at least. The way light catches in your eyes, the way you handle oil paints like you’re Jan van Eyck himself. You’re so talented, so so talented and kind and he thinks he loves really likes you a lot! As a friend. You guys are friends! #Artbuddies and all that. He at least tries to play it off to himself as an appreciation for beauty, to things that pique his interest. What’s an artist without appreciation for beautiful things, right? He’d grown up on this! Poets bleeding their everlasting love into stanzas, artists pouring their emotions onto blank canvases in a cacophony of colours. Giving love lots of like comes easy to him because he just has so much to give (to you).

Okay. He’s not one to act like a spade isn’t a spade, he knows he has a big ol’ crush on you. The self-gaslighting doesn’t work no matter how hard he’d tried and at this point he finds more use in not deluding himself any longer. He liked you in a not-friendly way, so what? People developed crushes all the time. A crush was fine and it’s not like he’s in love love with you.You’ve given no sign that you feel the same, he doesn’t want to get in too deep.

But you make it so hard. Gojo thinks he may be going a little bit crazy. Thinks he should’ve known he’d been doomed from the start. Completely, irrevocably doomed.

And boy…is he a sucker for it. He’s always been one for the arts, for the idea of romance in poetic forms. One for sappy rom coms, for love letters. For good love stories. To think he’d find himself in one slowly unraveling itself.

It’s the way you exist so effortlessly-- so damn easygoing, completely unbothered by the fact that he’s accidentally (debatable) turned you into his muse. As if this is the most natural thing in the world. Not creeped out but reveling in it, in his attention. Like it isn’t weird at all that his hands know the angles of your face better than his own at this point. It’d never gotten to the point of being creepy, he’d never crossed any lines. You’re over often to sketch together, something about company ‘allowing the creative juices to flow’ or something along those lines. He doesn’t care for the justification, he thinks he’d let you in even if you’d shown up unannounced.

The designated space for art in his off campus apartment is surprisingly spacious, ceiling length windows shielded by equally long curtains that are pulled aside to give a clear view of the ambience of the city at night. Your weight is ever-present against his side, tucked close and watching him sketch. He doesn’t make you feel like a nuisance so you don’t see the point in moving. He’d gone again and left an assignment for last minute and here you were being so great and keeping him company. It’s realism this time, a landscape of some sort that he’s doing finishing touches on using acrylics. It’s nice to see him in his element, funny to see him smear paint on his chin when he forgets he’d used that same finger to quickly blend a spot on the canvas. Just the lightest streaks. “Always messy. Y’got paint all over your face.” An exaggeration of course, there’s a few spots of colour but it’s nothing crazy just yet. A hum is his answer, brushwork still precise. “Messy? Nuh-uh, these are the marks of a true artist.” What was better than telling people you’d just been painting when they see the colours on your flesh, right? Real artist he says, drawing a small laugh from you. Sure.

A hand reaches for his chin to tilt his face to yours, thumb swiping over the streak that doesn’t even shift on his skin. Part of you wants to mom him and just lick your thumb to swipe it off but you think against it, “Dried too quickly. It’s not even budging.” You scrub at it again, completely oblivious to his loosened grip on his brush, his attention fixed solely on you as his thoughts drain at the simplest touch. He snaps out of it when you glance up at him, quick to think of something witty to bridge the silence, own thumb dipping into paint the same shade as that of the blue on his cheek. “It’s okay. We’ll just match.” It’s not that you don’t register what he says but he’s swiping a matching streak along your cheekbone before you can even lean away. “Gojo!” “What? We’re matching! Artist buddies?” Retaliation comes in a line of yellow on his cheek, scampering away from his side because it’s war from that point on.

You’re up and running. One quick—failed—dodge on his part (then yours) and there’s more yellow on his jaw, a green stripe across your forehead. It’s messy, you’re both messy with paint. It’s chaos, stupidly fun. You’re smearing blue fingers near his mouth, spread near his lips.

You’re a squealing mess as you try to dodge him once more you fail, thick corded arm banding around your midsection, free hand moving to smear red on your mouth like lipstick. A contrast to the blue near his own mouth. You suck in a breath, ribs hurting a bit from all the laughing, hands lifted in surrender above where he has you held. “Okay, okay! Truce, white flag!” Your weight presses backward into his chest without thinking too much, catching your breath, still giggling in between. “Truce. You said we’re artist buddies.” Yeah, artist buddies.

ArtStudent!Gojo is so talented, so smart and such a good friend to have…but so very dimwitted at the worst times. You’re not sure if you’re the one to blame here but you’d made your interest clear enough, no? The coming over, touchy nature, always smiling at him? Not crazy clear signs but come on, you were trying here. The sign is as red as ever and basically calling out to him (right now for example!).

Your head tips back onto his chest to look at him and gosh, he’s right there. As handsome as he usually is, heart an unsteady drum against the confines of your ribs that suddenly feels ridiculously loud. Cerulean pools flicker to your red-smeared lips, your own dipping to his ultramarine pair. His gaze is momentary but it’s more than enough for heat to pool in places past the underside of your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Has your heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with your little horseplay from before. You cock a brow in question.

ArtStudent!Gojo is a little tired of dancing around whatever it is between you two, head dipping before he can let himself think too much – ridding himself of the wholly uncharacteristic cowardice of inaction in regards to romance (seemingly only brought about by you.) It’s light, a bump more than anything, too blue lips against your red. It’s all clumsy, quick and not well thought out – he pulls back before you can decide to do anything about it but suck in a breath and that alone has him still like he’d been zapped.

“Fuck.” His hold loosens on you at a comically fast pace, paint-coated fingers hovering midair, palms outward as if physically keeping himself from reaching for you again. As if in surrender. It’s far too easy to stumble over his words, to be a blushing loser around you and only you. He’s quick to act, something of an apology forming on his lips. “I wasn’t thinking. Shit, no -- I mean-- I was but I just wouldn’t kiss you like that—” Wait, that’s not good either, clearly isn’t from the lift of one of your brows. Poor choice of words. Poor, poor choice. He swallows thickly, waving his hands, licking at his bottom lip as he thinks, making a face at the sort of earthy tinge of paint on his tastebuds. He usually had way better game than this, really. “Y’know I don’t mean I wouldn’t kiss you. I wasn’t planning on doing it now. Like – paint in the mouth?” The earthy tang fills his mouth again as if reacting to being mentioned. “But you were all close,” And pretty, “I thought—I thought maybe, but I wasn’t sure—"

“Gojo, shut up.” You’d chuffled, clearly amused. Heat licks at your skin where he’d touched, lips remembering the imprint of his on yours, even if momentary. “Huh?” He looks borderline panicked, it makes you want to laugh some more.

“I said shut up.” If the words hadn’t stunned him to silence, the curl of your colourful fingers against the back of his neck would have done the trick, mouth on his before he can spiral into a longer monologue on not kissing you without asking, and boundaries. Nice of him to apologize though, makes the kiss a little more deserved.

Unlike his it’s less clumsy, less unsure. A proper kiss (sort of). The angle is awkward, your head is tilted up and your neck hurts a little, but it feels so good to be kissing him again, a little neck pain isn’t much to think about. “Mmh..” His reciprocation comes right before you can pull back, knees bent as much as they need to to keep you from craning your neck, lips melding together. The contact is visceral, lips not exactly hungry but intentional. Firm, movements of his mouth feeling too practiced against yours. Soft sighs and breaths mutually exchanged into each other’s mouths -- blue and yellow mixing in his ivory strands as you tug, brings him closer to your own mouth as if you aren’t close enough.

You pull back soon enough, hands still in his hair, his world properly shifted on its axis. Fabric of his existence permanently altered.

For all that sweet, smooth talking charm in his arsenal, he’s awfully quiet right now.

“Uh.”

Real articulate. God, he should just die.

The grin that spreads on your mouth is slow as if trying to keep it down, swiping at his now purple mouth, gaze moving from there to his hair. The patch painted a reddish green from your fingers. You’re so close. Soooclose and so pretty and you smell like you and look like you and--

The little call of your assigned nickname for him has him glancing down again, swallowing as his head tilts. “Can I just..” He doesn’t know how to ask exactly, isn’t sure if it’s necessary, you’d been kissing just moments ago. “I’m g’nna kiss you again. Yeah?” The press of his mouth down on yours is a welcome familiarity, he doesn’t feel the need to pull back when you breath in again this time around, nerves evaporated for the most part. Fingers with swipes of paint are firm cradling your face, dipped into your height, head tilted to slot his mouth against yours properly like he’s trying to memorize the shape of it. Swipes his tongue into your mouth, gets a good taste of paint. Jeez.

A muffled giggle against his mouth breaks the tense air, hands still in his hair sliding down to his nape. “..Look at what you started, Satoru. Paint everywhere.” His own thumb swipes at your matching purple, lips soft to the touch. Finally aware of how they’d feel under the press of stained fingertips. Go figure. Yeah, he’s a little in love with you, he’s sure of it now. Not friendly love. A sappy, gross, ‘fuck, I’m so screwed’ kind of love? Yeah, maybe.

“Oops.” He doesn’t feel sorry in the slightest, doesn’t think he can after the escalation caused by the childish paint smearing. Another kiss-quick and light- pressed to the corner of your mouth, a soft hum against your skin. “We look like idiots. Try to avoid swallowing by the way.” You’re sure your teeth are a little purple – you think they are since you can taste paint every time you speak. Gross. “Let’s hope it washes out well.”

extra:

You've been scrubbing at your lips for the better half of 5 minutes at this point. Soap on its own, fingers as the tool. Then soap and a cloth. The paint is at least not crusty on your skin – you don’t appreciate the purple tinge around your mouth or the barely held back laugh from the man next to you sporting a similar stain, though. “At least we’re matching again.”

You suppose you are.

You both have purple tinged mouths over the weekend.

additional a/n: jan van eyck - painter renowned for his revolutionizing of oil painting, 2. rembrandt - dutch golden age painter really good at portraits.

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#torueater ୨ৎ #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk gojo #jjk fic #satoru gojo #jjk #jjk fanart #art student gojo #jujitsu kaisen #gojo fluff #nerdjo #jjk satoru

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