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fushitoru · 6 months ago

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an imperial command a knight!choso fic

pairing ⸺ knight/warrior!choso x princess!reader

summary ⸺ you, the princess of the nation, and choso, the son of your father's most trusted general, have been inseperable since birth. but after many deem it inappropriate for him to be so close to you, the distance between you and him only deepens after he leaves for war. when he comes back older and a more handsome, bigger version of the choso of your childhood, you both grapple with love, duty, and test the bounds of propierty.

warnings ⸺ smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, reader has a vagina, classism? not really, reader may seem pushy at times, not edited, very sweet love confession, happy ending, fingering, breast worship, virgin reader, mutual loss of virginity, mentions of sexism and archaic beliefs about virginity, pathetic choso, soft dom choso, p i v sex, gentle choso :(, me being really horny about his HAPPY TRAIL

a/n it's something about a hot decorated warrior that crumbles at the thought of you...

general masterlist

You and Choso had been inseparable since birth.

As the princess of the realm and the son of the general—your father’s most trusted advisor and sworn brother—it seemed ordained by fate itself that you should become steadfast companions. And companions you were; as babes, you darted through the royal gardens, frolicked in the halls of the palace, and devised schemes to escape the ever-watchful eyes of your tutors. Only the constraints of your education would separate you. You were confined to lessons in the classical tongues, the harp, and courtly diplomacy, while Choso immersed himself in the arts of the sword, the strategies of war, and the unyielding discipline of a soldier.

“Choso!” you squealed, your laughter ringing through the royal gardens as you fled from an imagined dragon. You ran toward him, your skirts billowing behind you, and found him poised and ready. His knees were bent, his gaze unwavering, and his small wooden sword clutched tightly in his hands. He glared past you at the phantom threat with the solemnity of a true knight.

“I will save you, Your Highness!” he roared and lunged, hacking away at the demon passionately. You cheered him on, giggling at his act.

“You’ve done it!” you cheered, clapping your hands in delight. But then your eyes widened in feigned terror. “Look, another one approaches!”

Choso spun around at your warning, his attention diverted just as you had planned. Seizing the moment, you imagined the dreadful beast closing in on his unguarded back.

“Watch out!” you exclaimed, grabbing a fallen branch to defend him. With a bold leap, you placed yourself between Choso and the imagined peril, brandishing your twig as though it were a knight’s blade.

“I’ve got you!” you declared, laughing as you swung your newfound weapon, the pair of you lost in the unrestrained joy of childhood.

Of course, while the king, your father, appreciated you so closely acquainted with his general’s son, your mother did not seem to think it wise that you become estranged from the daughters of nobles; after all, you would need to forge relationships early on to strengthen your future court. This led to many a playdates being interrupted.

“You didn’t need to save me!” Choso whined, pouting while crossing his arms.

However, you held out a pudgy hand, patting his hair as if to soothe him. “It’s okay, Choso. If you ever need saving, I’ll always be there—” “YOUR HIGHNESS!” You heard footsteps running towards where the both of you were sitting idly. When parrying the imaginary monster’s attacks, you had tumbled on top of Choso, your dress and limbs entangled with his and both of your hair unruly. Hearing your governess’ voice led you to pout, for you were sure to earn a scolding for fooling around with Choso rather than practicing the violin for the nth time. Alas, you couldn’t escape her—as well as Choso’s nannies, who had appeared—and you both looked sheepishly at their horrified faces.

Frowning, Choso’s nanny stomped towards the both of you, untangling you both impatiently and, once you were both standing, giving Choso a light smack on his head while bowing towards you. “Your Highness, I apologize, but the both of you mustn’t do such things anymore. You both are far past the age that this is appropriate.”

“What?” You pouted, disappointed in having to back to your room, confined to practice your violin with those dreadful, boring tunes. “What isn’t appropriate about this? We’re just playing—”

“Your Highness,” your governess began, her strained smile barely masking her displeasure. “It is not fitting for a princess to engage in such… undignified behavior. You must remember your station. A young lady of your rank is expected to conduct herself with grace and decorum at all times.”

Choso’s nanny, now tidying his tousled hair with brisk, efficient motions, added in a sharper tone, “And you, young master, should remember your place. You are not her equal but her servant’s son. Such familiarity is unbecoming.”

At her words, Choso’s face turned pale, his gaze dropping to the ground. His hands clenched into small fists at his sides, but he said nothing, his lips pressed tightly together. You could see the effort it took him to remain still, his shoulders stiff with tension.

“Choso?” you called softly, tilting your head to catch his eye.

However, he did not look up, though his voice came, quiet and steady. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I… I won’t do it again.”

Your brows furrowed, your chest tightening at the sight of his downcast expression. “What are you apologizing for?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. “You’ve done nothing wrong! We were only playing.”

“Your Highness!” your governess interjected, her tone scandalized. “Such defiance is unbecoming. You must understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” you snapped, cutting her off. “I understand that I don’t care for these rules. Choso is my friend, and I decide what is and isn’t proper!”

Choso’s nanny inhaled sharply, but he quickly stepped forward, shaking his head fervently. “Please, Your Highness,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “Don’t… don’t say such things for me. I’ll… I’ll do as I’m told. I promise.”

“Choso!” you exclaim, betrayed as the sting of his words settling in your chest. His gaze still refused to meet yours, fixed instead on the ground between you.

Your governess, sensing her victory, straightened. “Your Highness, you must return to your chambers immediately. Your music tutor is waiting. And as for you, Master Choso, your training will resume at once. I trust there will be no further disruptions.”

Neither of you spoke as the governess and the nanny ushered you away in opposite directions, their sharp voices ringing in your ears. Yet, as you glanced over your shoulder, you caught one last fleeting glimpse of Choso, his hesitant gaze finally meeting yours for the briefest of moments. It held a quiet resolve that only deepened your frustration.

“Wait and see,” you muttered under your breath as you were dragged back toward your chambers. “I’ll change this someday.”

That was the last time he ever spoke your name aloud; now, you were only Your Highness and The Royal Princess. It irritated you to no end; you were his friend, not his superior. But he insisted, falling deeper and deeper into the depths of social proprietary and hierarchy his nannies and parents were no doubt pressuring him into. You could only take what you had; if he was refusing your affection, he would at least not refuse royal commands of rendezvous.

Years had gracefully unfolded since that day, and now, as teenagers, your clandestine meetings in the royal gardens had blossomed into cherished rituals beneath the cloak of night. The gardens, adorned with that glowed under the moon's gentle gaze, became the sanctuary where you and Choso could momentarily escape the rigid expectations of courtly life.

As you approached the secluded alcove near the ancient marble fountain, your heart fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement.

And there he was.

Choso waited beneath the willow tree, his dark eyes darting between the swaying branches and the dimly lit path beyond. The shadows stretched long in the garden, and the faint sound of patrolling guards put a furrow in his brow. He shifted on his feet, arms crossed tightly as though bracing himself for some reprimand.

When you finally appeared, dressed in your lighter night robes, he let out a small breath of relief. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t—”

“Can you stop that?” You whine, brushing him off and making a move to sit in the swing right by the tree. You lightly swing your feet, establishing a gentle rhythm while you grin mischievously at him, meeting your lighthearted eyes with his furrowed, slightly worried ones. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Choso. No one’s going to catch us.”

He can only shake his head, for after years of friendship had led him to know one universal truth: if there was one thing, it was that your mind, once resolute, could not be changed. “I don’t know how you keep wanting to risk them discovering this.” Then, he sighs, lamenting weakly, “and why I have to dragged into this.”

You flash him an innocent smile, about to give a cocky response about how you’re the princess and it’s not like Choso doesn’t want this…right? but both of you pause, deadly still, when you hear the undeniable clinks of armor.

Patrolling guards.

Choso’s head snapped toward the sound, his body going rigid. It kind of dazes you, in a way, how his curriculum as a warrior leads him to be so alert. It’s also this moment that you realize how grown you both are becoming; it feels as if you’re stuck as a dainty princess, while he’s steadily growing taller and bigger, a smaller picture of his formidable father.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

You froze, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with him before instinctively ducking behind the grand marble fountain. The cold stone pressed against your back as the guards’ footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the bobbing light of their lanterns.

“Who’s there?” one of them called out, his voice sharp and commanding.

Choso shifted beside you, his breath quick and shallow. Your hand brushed against his arm in reassurance, but it did little to ease the tension radiating off him. The guards’ lanterns swept methodically across the gardens, their shadows flickering on the trees.

“Stay still,” Choso mouthed, his dark eyes fixed on the approaching light.

The guards drew closer, their boots crunching against the gravel path. You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, each second dragging on unbearably.

Then, a faint rustle to your left—a squirrel darting across the underbrush. The guards turned toward the noise, their lanterns swinging wide.

“Must’ve been an animal,” one muttered, though he sounded unconvinced.

“Keep looking,” the other replied gruffly. “The king’s orders were clear—no one’s to linger in the gardens after dark.”

The pair continued past, their voices fading as they moved toward the far side of the grounds.

You let out a shaky breath, but before you could fully relax, Choso grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. “We need to go deeper,” he said urgently, his voice low.

Without waiting for your agreement, he led you away from the fountain, weaving through the hedges and into the denser parts of the forest. The shadows thickened as the soft glow of the garden lanterns disappeared behind you. Branches brushed against your arms, and the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves filled the air as you ran.

“Choso!” you whispered breathlessly, struggling to keep up with his longer strides. “They’re gone!”

“Not far enough,” he replied, glancing back at you. “We can’t risk them doubling back.”

The forest grew darker the deeper you went, the canopy above blocking out most of the moonlight. Finally, when the sound of your own breathing seemed louder than anything else, Choso slowed to a halt beneath a towering oak.

“We should be safe here,” he murmured, releasing your hand.

You both sank to the ground, the soft carpet of moss cushioning your fall. For a moment, neither of you spoke, too winded to do anything but sit there, catching your breath. Then, a stifled giggle bubbled out of you, unable to contain the absurdity of the chase.

Choso shot you a warning look, but his resolve cracked when you pressed your hands over your mouth, failing to muffle your laughter. A small laugh escaped him in turn, and soon you were both doubled over, trying in vain to quiet yourselves.

“Shhh!” Choso whispered, though he was grinning. “You’ll get us caught.”

“You’re the loud one,” you whispered back, nudging him playfully.

Soon, the laughter slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of rustling leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Choso leaned back against the tree, his expression softening as he glanced up at the canopy. His eyes caught on something above, and he pointed. “Look—fruit.”

Following his gaze, you spotted the cluster of small, round pomengrenates hanging from a low branch. Choso stood, brushing dirt from his trousers, and reached up to pluck one. He examined it briefly before biting into it, his movements unhurried and deliberate.

“Are you just going to eat that without offering me one?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He smirked, holding another pomengrenate aloft. “You want it?”

“Obviously.”

But instead of handing it over, Choso lifted it above his head, his smirk widening. “Come and get it.” You stood up, moving closer to him to make a motion to grab the fruit. Alas, the effort was not fruitful.

“Choso!” you hissed, glaring at him as he kept the fruit just out of reach. You try many things: you grab his shoulder, tickle him on his stomach, and arms. However, it all is in vain.

“You’re the one who wants it,” he said, his head peering down at you in amusement.

You stood, determination written all over your face. “Fine. If you think I can’t—”

You leapt, swatting at his hand, but he easily moved the fruit higher, his height giving him the upper hand.

“You’re insufferable!” you said, laughing despite yourself as you tried again, this time jumping with more force. Still, you missed.

“Perhaps you should’ve been born taller,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Or perhaps you should stop being such a—” Before you could finish, he lowered the fruit suddenly, pressing it into your hand.

“There,” he said, smirking. “Satisfied?”

You took a triumphant bite, your glare softening into a grin. “For now.”

Settling back down, you both shared the fruit in companionable silence, the earlier tension of the night dissipating in the quiet forest. Yet, as you sat side by side, something about the way his gaze lingered on you—or perhaps the warmth blooming in your chest—made you wonder if these late-night meetings were becoming something more.

And then, years later, he left for war. Choso left for the battlefield, summoned to serve alongside his father as the general’s son.

The morning he departed was etched into your memory with painful clarity. The air was crisp, the kind that stung your lungs when you breathed too deeply, and the courtyard was alive with the sounds of preparation. Soldiers moved with purpose, their boots striking against the cobblestones in rhythmic determination. Horses snorted and pawed at the ground, their breaths rising like smoke in the cold air.

You stood at the edge of it all, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, trying to keep your expression composed. This was no place for a princess to display her feelings, no matter how tightly they knotted in her chest. Your father was nearby, speaking with the general in low, serious tones, his gaze sweeping over the troops with pride. Your mother was absent, as always, too preoccupied with courtly matters to concern herself with the departure of soldiers—even one who had once been your constant companion.

When Choso emerged from the crowd, his figure clad in the red, utilitarian uniform of a soldier, it was as though the rest of the scene blurred. The boy who had once darted through the gardens with you, his hair wild and his hands dirtied by mischief, now looked every inch the man his father had raised him to be. His hair was tied back, his face set in an unreadable mask of calm, and he carried himself with a solemnity that felt foreign.

He always did make you feel like a child. While you were still delaying acceptance of your fate as the princes—future queen—-he had grown into a man, fated to be a war general.

He approached slowly, each step deliberate. When he stopped before you, he did not smile. Instead, he bowed low, his dark eyes briefly meeting yours. “Your Highness—”

But you had enough of that godforsaken title. “Why must you leave?” You cried, your voice breaking as Choso stood before you in the courtyard.

The image of the steeled soldier crumbled as his eyes softened in fondness and melancholy. “You know I must.”

You shook your head fervently, as if to vehemently deny what was undeniably the truth. “You know that’s not true.” And it wasn’t, for it would only take an imperial command of yours to bar him from ever entering the battlefield.

But it was his dream; you saw the way he looked at his father. To deny Choso the sword and the glory he was destined for was to chain him down, and you knew that. So instead, you shook off the idea, then blurted, “You’ll write to me, won’t you?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with expectation. He hesitated, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before it smoothed back into neutrality. “If time allows.”

That was all he offered. No promises. No reassurances. Just a vague, distant answer that left your heart sinking.

Outraged, and a bit petulant, you exclaimed. “What do you mean if time allows? Will you be so busy that you won’t have time? Are you not at least going to grant me some peace of mi—what is that?”

In the corner of your eye, you see something in his hand catch the sunlight, and glimmer. He hesitates, his hand clenching before inevitably opening his palm. A timid, “For you, Your Highness.”

An instinctual don’t call me that dies out in your throat as he shows you what he was hiding. In it he uncovers a small, delicate object—a pin shaped like a blooming flower, its petals carved with meticulous detail and painted in hues of white and gold.

You stared at it, your hands trembling as you took it from him. “What is this for?”

“It’s a symbol,” he explained, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Of where I’ll always be, even if I’m not here. Keep it with you, and you’ll know that... that I’ll do everything I can to return.”

“Oh, Choso.” Your bottom lip trembled as tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your fingers closed around the pin, the intricate craftsmanship biting into your palm. Somehow, the weight of it felt heavier than it should’ve been. “I don’t want a pin, Choso,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I want you to stay.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might reach out to you. But then he stilled, the rigidity in his posture a clear reminder of the boundaries he refused to cross.

Even so, you didn’t want to seem ungrateful. The gift, despite your pain, was beautiful, and its meaning wasn’t lost on you. You sniffled, brushing a tear from your cheek with a trembling hand. “But it is beautiful, regardless,” you murmured, holding it up to the light. The golden edges of the petals gleamed softly, like sunlight captured in metal. “Put it in my hair?”

Choso blinked, caught off guard by the request. His gaze flickered between you and the pin, uncertainty etched into his features. “Your Highness, I—”

“Please,” you interrupted gently, tilting your head slightly toward him. “Just this once.”

He hesitated for a long moment, his fingers flexing at his sides as though he were battling some internal conflict. Finally, with a barely audible sigh, he reached out and took the pin from your hand.

You held your breath as he stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. His hand brushed against your hair and your neck as he carefully gathered a small section, his touch warm and deliberate. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips, earned from countless hours of swordsmanship, yet his movements were painstakingly gentle.

“There,” he said softly, stepping back to examine his work. His gaze lingered on you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his formal mask cracked ever so slightly. There was something in his eyes—something raw and unspoken—that made your chest tighten.

You reached up instinctively, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the pin now nestled securely in your hair. “How does it look?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the lump in your throat made it difficult.

Choso’s lips parted, but no words came. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away as if he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer. “It’s beautiful,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The horn sounded again, louder this time, breaking the fragile moment between you. Choso stepped back, the walls of propriety rising between you once more.

“Thank you,” you managed, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

He bowed deeply, avoiding your eyes. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the faint scent of earth and steel, the pin in your hair a bittersweet reminder of the distance that now separated you.

For weeks after, you found yourself restless, wandering the garden paths where you had once talked and laughed together. You scribbled letter after letter, pouring out questions and updates, recounting bits of palace gossip and even sending sketches of the places you’d been. But no reply ever came.

At first, you tried to excuse it—surely, he was too busy, too occupied with the rigors of war to respond. Still, you kept writing, sending your letters to the front lines with the faint hope that one day, you’d receive one in return.

“Any news of the general’s son?” you would ask your father over dinner, feigning casual interest.

“He’s doing well,” your father would reply, distractedly cutting into his meal. “His tactics in the northern campaign have earned him commendation. A fine young soldier.”

You pressed further, ignoring the disapproving look your mother shot you. “And... is he safe?”

Your father raised a brow but indulged you. “Of course. The reports say he’s advancing quickly through the ranks. A promotion to captain is already under consideration.”

Your chest swelled with pride at the thought, but it was quickly eclipsed by frustration. If he was receiving such accolades, surely he could find the time to write a simple letter?

“Why do you trouble your father with such questions?” your mother chided later, her tone clipped. “The general’s son is serving the nation. You should focus on more important matters, like preparing for your duties.”

But your concern for Choso only grew. Whenever news from the front lines arrived, you would listen intently, hoping to hear his name mentioned. When you did, it brought a fleeting sense of relief, but it never lasted long.

The silence from him felt heavier with each passing month. You couldn’t understand it—how could someone who had once been your closest companion, who had sworn to always protect you, sever that bond so easily?

And yet, you never stopped writing. Each letter was folded with care, sealed with your personal wax stamp, and sent off with the same unwavering hope. Even if he didn’t reply, even if you didn’t understand why, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

The city was alive with celebration, a symphony of cheers, music, and the occasional crackle of fireworks that lit up the night sky. The soldiers had finally come home after a long winded war, and you just couldn’t miss out on the excitement. After Choso’s departure, you had grown. Before you were a gangly teenager, but now you were a young woman. With this came you forming your own opinion, independent of our parents, and had developed a habit of frequently sneaking out of the palace.

You couldn’t bear to stay confined to the palace, not when the air was thick with excitement and the news of the army’s triumphant return had set the entire city alight. The soldiers, clad in polished armor that gleamed even in the dim light, strode through the streets in small groups while the people cheered on the sidelines. They carried themselves with the confidence of men who had seen battle and emerged victorious.

Young ladies lingered at the edges of the crowd, their eyes alight with hope as they watched the soldiers pass. Some called out to them, their voices playful and lilting, while others merely smiled shyly, clutching kerchiefs or flowers they clearly longed to offer. The soldiers, for the most part, maintained a stoic demeanor, though a few exchanged grins or nodded in acknowledgment, their faces betraying a mix of pride and exhaustion.

Children darted between legs, waving tiny flags and shouting in delight, while their parents looked on with a mix of relief and gratitude. The scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced wine wafted through the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the soldiers’ armor. It was a night of unity, of celebration, where the lines between commoner and noble blurred in the shared joy of victory.

Draped in a simple cloak to conceal your identity, you slipped past the guards at the palace gates, your heart pounding with both exhilaration and trepidation. The anonymity of the cloak felt liberating as you merged with the crowd, the world suddenly vast and unguarded in a way it never was within the palace walls.

Laughter surrounded you, the contagious energy of the revelry lifting your spirits as you wandered farther from the familiar confines of royal life. You paused to admire a street performer juggling flaming torches, your cloak billowing slightly in the breeze. But before you could move on, a sudden gust snatched the handkerchief tucked into your cloak.

You gasped, your fingers grasping for it, but the delicate fabric was already airborne, dancing above the heads of the crowd. You watched helplessly as it soared higher, carried by the playful wind. Instinctively, you gave chase, weaving through the throng of revelers as your heart raced with the thrill of pursuit.

The handkerchief drifted out of sight, disappearing beyond the swell of people. Your steps faltered, and you stood on tiptoe, scanning the crowd in vain. It was only then that a firm hand shot up above the sea of heads, catching the fluttering fabric mid-air. The sight of your handkerchief, caught in a strong, gloved grip, sent a jolt through you.

Your gaze traveled upward, and there he stood—a figure that was at once familiar and startlingly different. His broad shoulders and proud stance were unmistakable even before he turned, his dark eyes locking with yours.

“Your Highness?” His voice was deep, steady, and entirely too familiar. Then, his eyes went to your hair—you, still wearing the hairpin he gave you that day—and they filled with a conflicted, longing sort of expression.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you froze. He looked so much…bigger. He always had muscles due to his frequent physical lessons, but he was so much taller now, his face a lot more sculpted. Before you could interpret what the lurching in your heart meant, he took a step towards you. But before he could take another step toward you, you turned and ran instinctively, the sound of his voice chasing you as surely as his footsteps.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! If Choso knew you had sneaked out, he would send you right back, citing useless things about duty and protecting you. While your traitorous heart started beating faster as soon as you saw him—different, but still undeniably Choso—you knew your liberty was at an end if he sent you home and informed your parents of what you did.

You bolted as fast as you could, your cloak billowing behind you as you darted into a narrow alley. Footsteps echoed against the cobblestones, heavy and deliberate, chasing you down. You reached the end of the alley and stopped, your chest heaving, unsure whether to keep running or face him.

“Your Highness,” the voice came again, closer this time.

You spun around, and there he was. Choso. But he wasn’t the boy you remembered—he was a man now. Broad shoulders filled out his uniform, the insignia of his rank glinting on his chest. His hair was tied back, revealing a face hardened by battle and time. Yet his eyes, dark and intense, still held the same quiet depth you’d known as children.

He dropped to one knee, his hand over his heart. “Your Highness.”

You gaped at his display. Since when did he start kneeling? “What are you doing?”

His voice came out, devoid of the warmth you had once known. “It’s protocol, Your Highness.” His head remained bowed, his knee pressed to the uneven cobblestones, the hand holding your handkerchief resting against his heart.

But you were in denial, scrambling to pull him up by his arms. It was futile; he was way stronger than you, and at your touch, he jumped back, as if stung. Wounded, you urged him. “Get up,” you stepped closer, “Choso, it’s me. You don’t need to—”

“I must, Your Highness.” His tone was calm but resolute, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Unless you are issuing an imperial command, I have no choice but to honor the rules set forth by your station.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “An imperial command?” The words tasted bitter on your tongue. You didn’t want commands; you wanted familiarity, the easy camaraderie you once shared.

“Yes, Your Highness.” He finally lifted his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “If you do not wish me to kneel, then say it as such. Otherwise…” He lowered his head again. “This is my place.”

“Your place?” You felt a flicker of anger rise in your chest. “Choso, your place is by my side, as it always has been! Don’t—don’t treat me like some distant monarch.”

His shoulders tensed, and you thought you caught a flash of something—guilt, perhaps?—in the way his fingers tightened around the handkerchief. But still, he didn’t move.

Frustrated, you stepped even closer, your voice rising despite your efforts to remain calm. “Get up,” you said, reaching out and tugging at his arm. “I said, get up!”

“I cannot,” he said softly, the words cutting through your frustration like a blade. “Not unless you order it as my superior.”

You stared at him, a mix of hurt and disbelief swirling in your chest. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “If that’s what it takes, then I command you—get up, Choso. I command you to stand!”

For a moment, the tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. Slowly, reluctantly, he rose to his feet, towering over you with a presence that felt both familiar and foreign.

But as you looked up at him, your frustration only grew. “This isn’t you,” you said, your voice softer now, tinged with sadness. “You’re treating me like I’m just your princess, like I’m someone you barely know. Do you even know how much it hurt when you never wrote back to me? I kept sending letter after letter, but it was like you didn’t care. Like you forgot about me.”

Choso’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “It wasn’t my place to respond, Your Highness.”

It was that damn phrase. “Your place?” you echoed, now even more bitterly. “You were my friend, Choso. My closest friend. Now you stand here, calling me Your Highness like I’m a stranger, like we never ran through the gardens or talked under the stars. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

For a moment, his expression softened, but it was fleeting. He straightened, his demeanor distant once more. “It’s dangerous for you to be here,” he said quietly. “I need to call for a carriage to take you back to the palace.”

Your heart sunk to your derriere. If Choso did indeed send you back, your parents would undeniably discover that you’ve been sneaking out. “No!” you snapped, stepping forward. “You can’t. If my parents find out I was here, they’ll—”

“They’ll ensure your safety,” he interrupted, his voice steady but firm. “And that’s what matters.”

You stared at him, now anger bubbling in your chest. “So you’ll just hand me over like I’m some burden to be dealt with? What about you?” Then, in a strong fit, you bursted out. “Are you going to stay here and fool around with girls while I’m locked away in the palace?”

His eyes widened briefly at your accusation, a flicker of surprise breaking through his stoic mask. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step back. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“Fair?” you shot back, your voice trembling. “What’s fair about any of this, Choso? You’re not even trying to fight for us—for the friendship we used to have.”

He hesitated, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then make it simple!” you demanded, your heart aching with every word. “Stop pushing me away. Stop acting like I don’t matter to you anymore.”

For a moment, you thought he might say something—something real, something that would bridge the growing chasm between you. But instead, he turned away, his voice steady and distant as he said, “Wait here. I’ll call for the carriage.”

You watched him walk away, the ache in your chest spreading until it felt like it would consume you entirely. The handkerchief in your hand trembled as you clenched your fingers around it, your anger and sadness swirling into a storm of emotion.

And yet, even as he disappeared into the bustling streets, a part of you refused to believe this was the end. You couldn’t let it be.

Ever since his return to the palace, Choso has been ignoring you.

It’s not that you were spending every hour and every minute with him before, when he was just your childhood friend. However, you would meet everyday, whether it to be sneak off into the gardens at night, or meet for lunch or dinner. Even a request of yours could’ve secured a visit to town, the both of you going to town to eat pastries and street food while accompanied by a chaperone. Of course, that was due to your incessant pleas to your disapproving mother, but you could score an occasional playdate outside the palace every month or so.

But it feels…different. And he feels different.

You oft find yourself daydreaming about him, older and a decorated soldier. And before you can catch yourself, you find your cheeks heated and your heart set aflutter. It’s a bit mind-boggling, really. Ever since Choso left, none of the future dukes and lords had ever caught your attention, even at balls. Their gentle, weak disposition didn’t compare to your Choso, you always thought. Back then, you had always thought of it as pride for your best friend, but now…..

Musing aside, you’re tired of this distance Choso has created between you. So you choose to seek him out.

The castle courtyard was alive with the sharp clang of swords and the rhythmic stomp of boots on hard-packed dirt. You leaned over the balustrade of the upper terrace, concealed behind a stone pillar, watching the soldiers below. It wasn’t the sparring or the strategy that captivated you—it was Choso.

The sun bore down on him as he moved with precision and power, his blade a silver blur as he sparred with one of the veteran knights. His whole torso is bare; damp with sweat, the sun shines against the cords and cords of muscle that then lead to a string of hair that trails into his trousers. The muscles in his arms ripple with every swing and parry. You bite your lip, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks that you stubbornly attributed to the summer heat.

He had changed so much. Gone was the boy who had laughed with you under the willow tree and run with you through the gardens. In his place was a man who carried the weight of war on his broad shoulders, his every movement deliberate, his expression unreadable. And yet, despite the distance he put between you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When the sparring session ended, Choso handed his sword to a squire and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. You straightened as he turned, half-expecting him to glance up and spot you. But he didn’t. Instead, he spoke briefly to the knight, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. You couldn’t keep hiding and watching from afar. You had to speak to him, to demand answers for why he had been avoiding you since the day in the alley.

Quickly, you made your way down to the courtyard, your pulse racing as you rehearsed what you would say. But when you reached the training grounds, Choso was already heading toward the barracks.

“Choso!” you called out, your voice echoing across the courtyard.

He froze mid-step, his shoulders tensing before he turned slowly to face you. His expression was neutral, guarded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something he quickly masked.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head. “What brings you here?”

You frowned, frustrated by the formality in his tone. “I wanted to speak with you,” you said, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy with training and my duties.”

“That’s a lie,” you said, crossing your arms. “You always find a reason to leave whenever I try to approach you. You didn’t even look at me after the alley—”

“Your Highness,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not proper for you to be seen in the training grounds.”

“Proper?” you repeated, anger flaring in your chest. “Since when do you care about what’s proper? You didn’t care when we were sneaking out or when we were running through the gardens—”

“That was different,” he said, his tone softer now. “We were children. Things aren’t the same anymore.”

“Why not?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the soldiers milling about in the distance. “I’m not pushing you away,” he said finally. “I’m doing what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “How can ignoring me and avoiding me be what’s best for me?”

Choso didn’t answer. Instead, he bowed his head again, his hands clenched at his sides. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I need to return to my duties.”

And before you could stop him, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the courtyard, your heart aching with every step he took.

You paced the length of your chambers, clutching the skirts of your dress. It’s been two times that Choso dismissed since his arrival. Did he abhor you so?

It was as if an invisible wall had been erected between you, the builder of it Choso for some mysterious reason. Proprietary aside, it would be okay for the occasional chat, would it not? After all, he was still a noble in his own regard, and a conversation or two wouldn’t be frowned upon. So why was he ignoring you entirely?

You couldn’t take it anymore. If he wouldn’t come to you, then you would ensure he had no choice but to stay by your side. If he truly detests it, you will let him go, no matter how painful it would be and how ardently you would mourn your friendship. But you needed to know.

Resolved, you marched to your parents’ audience chamber, where they were seated in quiet discussion. Your father looked up first, his brows furrowing slightly at your abrupt entrance. “What is it, my dear? You seem troubled.”

Your mother glanced at you as well, seated right next to the king, her sharp gaze assessing. “Has something happened?”

You straightened your shoulders, facing them both, willing your voice to remain steady. “Father, Mother, I have a request.”

Your father tilted his head, curious. “Go on.”

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “I would like Choso to be assigned as my personal guard.”

The queen blinked, her lips pressing into a thin line, and questioned, “Choso?”

“Yes,” you said quickly to prevent your mother from getting a word in. “He’s proven himself in battle, hasn’t he? He’s been promoted several times for his skill and loyalty. Who better to protect me?”

Your father leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “It’s true he’s risen quickly through the ranks. He’s a fine soldier.”

“And he’s someone I trust,” you added, stepping closer. “He’s been by my side since we were children. I feel safer with him than with anyone else. With me growing into adulthood, there would be no one better to be by my side.”

Your mother’s gaze sharpened. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with his recent return to the palace, would it?”

You met her eyes, refusing to back down. “It has everything to do with the fact that I need someone I can rely on. Someone who knows me.”

Your father exchanged a look with your mother, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. I will speak to the general about the arrangement.” Then, a little wryly, he adds, “Although, I did hear that it was him that reported you when you were sneaking out in public. Perhaps it would be a fine match.” At that, your mother visibly bristled at the memory of hearing that you were out, unguarded.

At the king’s words, relief washed over you, but it was quickly tempered by your mother’s stern voice. “This is highly unusual, you know. A princess requesting a specific guard. People will talk.”

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes, but showing sass to your mother would mean that she would argue further. Instead, you went and showed her your pride. “Let them,” you said, lifting your chin. “I don’t care what they say.”

Your father chuckled softly, knowing you would say something of the sort. “Spoken like a true princess.”

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head. “Both of you, Father and Mother.”

As you left the chamber, your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was your chance—your chance to bring Choso back into your life. Whatever walls he had built between you, you were determined to tear them down.

The water was warm, steam curling gently around you as you leaned back in the large marble tub. The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant patterns across the tiled floor. It was one of the few moments you had to yourself, free from the watchful eyes of attendants and the endless constraints of royal duty. You closed your eyes, sinking deeper into the water, allowing yourself to relax—until the door to your bathing chamber slammed open.

“Your Highness, why did you—” At first, Choso raised his voice slightly, storming in. Then, he stopped right in his tracks as he noticed you, and your face, your neck and then the rest of your body engorged in soapy, steamy water. Blushing furiously, he turned, scrambling for the door. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to—”

He was rigid as he stormed toward the exit, and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the sight. “Choso, wait,” you called, your voice laced with amusement. He stopped abruptly, halting awkwardly in his tracks. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm for your new title,” you teased, “I’d prefer if you didn’t barge into the bathing chamber. Let us count ourselves lucky that you had not seen… more.”

It was nearly impossible not to laugh now. Even the back of his neck was flushed a deep crimson, and it struck you as absurdly endearing. The aloof and stoic soldier who had spent weeks ignoring you had crumbled into a shy boy at the mere sight of you in a tub. You supposed it made sense—he’d likely not had much interaction with women, what with his rigid dedication to the army. Still, his reaction felt... exaggerated.

Choso let out a shaky exhale, his voice strained when he finally spoke. “I apologize,” he said, his tone clipped as though to mask his discomfort. “But I must ask—why did you instate me as your guard?”

The answer was simple, and you played absentmindedly with a soap bubble as you replied, “Because there is no one I trust more than you.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for the faint dripping of water. Then, Choso spoke, his voice low and almost pained. “Why must you do this to me? Why must you torment me so?”

What?

His words pierced through the lighthearted atmosphere, leaving you stunned. A pang of hurt welled in your chest at the sharpness of his tone. “Does it torment you to be in my company?” you asked, laughing scornfully to hide the sting.

When he didn’t answer, the silence was louder than any words could have been.

“If it torments you,” you continued bitterly, “then so be it. You have already had my one liberty stripped away. Mother and Father have doubled the surveillance on me, all thanks to you.” The memory of your recent restrictions only added fuel to the fire of your frustration. “Is this not fair? An eye for an eye, then. Perhaps your torment will teach you to stop pretending you know what’s best for me.”

Still brimming with anger, you lifted your chin and gestured to the door. “You may leave now.”

For a moment, he stood there, the weight of his presence filling the room. Then, with a stiff nod, he turned to the door. “Your Highness,” he murmured, his voice cold and formal.

And then, he was gone.

You really do abhor dinner parties.

There’s much wrong with them, and if you had to, you could do a systematic rundown of every single grievance. The first and foremost was the absurd inability to properly enjoy the food. The chefs’ hard work deserved to be indulged in, not nibbled delicately with those ridiculous little spoons. And then there was the matter of breathing, which you could barely manage with your waist cinched so tightly and your bodice forcing your chest up like some cruel display. Sitting down practically demanded you forgo the simple luxury of air.

But the worst part? Having to entertain men.

“And I have acquired double the profits of Lord Gojo,” Lord Naoya declared, puffing his chest like a rooster preening in the henhouse. His voice boomed with self-importance, his words spilling out in a showy, rehearsed cadence.

You couldn’t help yourself—you smiled. And while it appeared to him as admiration, it was born of pure amusement. The man clearly thought you were too dim to know better, but you were well-versed in state finances. Lord Naoya’s exaggerated claims were as transparent as glass.

On your right, Choso sat silently, his role as your personal guard justifying his unusually close position. He had been quiet all evening, his eyes scanning the room more than his plate.

“And surely, a woman as lovely as yourself would agree that business acumen is the truest mark of a man’s value,” Naoya continued, leaning closer to you with a smirk you found utterly punchable.

You giggled, not at his words, but at the sheer absurdity of them. You bit your lip to stifle a laugh, but your amusement couldn’t be fully hidden.

When you finally turned to glance at Choso, however, your mirth faltered. He wasn’t looking at Naoya anymore—his dark eyes were locked on you, his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

He looked very upset.

You blinked, confused, before glancing back at Naoya, who was still prattling on, utterly oblivious. Was Choso… angry at you?

It didn’t make sense. After you had initiated him as your guard, he’d been resigned after that confrontation in your bathing chambers. Ever since, you’d seen him stoic, protective, and even exasperated, but this—this was different. The weight of his gaze lingered on you like a reprimand, and it unsettled you in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

“Your Highness, I trust you’d agree,” Naoya pressed, oblivious to the charged air.

“Agree?” you echoed, snapping back to attention. You hadn’t been listening, too distracted by Choso’s silent brooding. “Oh, of course,” you said vaguely, waving your hand with a polite smile. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Naoya looked pleased with himself, but you barely noticed. Your focus shifted back to Choso, who had turned his head forward, his jaw tight. You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Is something the matter?”

He didn’t look at you, his tone curt. “Nothing, Your Highness.”

Your stomach twisted at the formality. The night had already been exhausting enough, and now Choso was acting like you’d personally offended him.

“Choso,” you pressed, your voice softer now, “if I’ve done something to upset you—”

“It’s not my place to say,” he interrupted, finally looking at you. His gaze was sharp, cutting through your defenses. “But if I may offer counsel, I’d suggest not wasting your smiles on men like him.”

You blinked, taken aback. His words weren’t loud, but they struck with the force of a hammer.

“What does that mean?” you whispered, your amusement long gone, replaced by confusion—and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“It means,” Choso said, his voice low, “that he’s not worth it.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with implication.

Before you could respond, the clinking of glasses drew everyone’s attention, and you were forced to look away as a toast was made. But even as the room filled with polite applause and laughter, your thoughts were consumed by Choso’s quiet but pointed remarks.

When you glanced back at him, his focus was elsewhere, his expression carefully neutral. Yet something about the tension in his shoulders told you that the conversation wasn’t over—not really.

And for the rest of the evening, Naoya’s words became nothing more than background noise, drowned out by the quiet storm brewing in Choso’s eyes.

The air in your chambers was warm, the faint crackle of the fireplace soothing you as your maid finished tugging the laces of your nightgown into place. The fabric was delicate, thin enough to feel the cool evening breeze against your skin despite the room's warmth. With a bow, the maid excused herself, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Ever since that dinner party with Naoya, Choso had been more distant than ever. Before, it had seemed that he had warmed up to the task of being your guard; whenever you walked through the garden, you eventually warmed him enough that the both of you could converse during the stroll. Of course, it hadn’t returned to what it was like before, but it was still progress. However, now it seemed that all he had to offer was curt responses and avoidant stares.

The change grated on you, more than you cared to admit. You weren’t naïve; you knew something had shifted that night. The way he had looked at you, the way his words had cut—it all lingered, a splinter in your chest that you couldn’t pull free.

Still, tonight was meant to be routine, a brief reprieve from the emotional turmoil. You always ended your evenings with a massage, a small luxury that helped soothe the tension from the day. Summoning Choso to your chambers, you intended for him to call for the maid who usually performed the task.

When he arrived, his expression was as stony as ever. “You called for me, Your Highness?”

“Yes, Choso,” you said, smoothing your hands over the hem of your nightgown. You lazed back on your chaise lounge, head against pillow as you looked at him. “I need the maid for my massage. Could you fetch her?”

He hesitated. “The maids have retired for the night. Shall I summon someone from the servants’ quarters?”

You frowned. The thought of disturbing anyone at this hour felt excessive. Then, your gaze drifted to Choso, his broad shoulders rigid, his hands clasped behind his back in his usual formal stance. An idea struck you, and you spoke before fully thinking it through.

“Then you’ll do it.”

His dark eyes snapped to yours, wide with disbelief. “Your Highness, I—”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence but unable to fully hide the mischief in your smile. “Oh, come now, Choso. You’re stronger than any maid. Surely, your hands would be better suited for the task.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you as though you’d just declared the sky was green. His lips parted, but no words came out, his gaze darting nervously around the room before settling back on you. “I don’t think that’s… appropriate,” he said carefully, his voice low and strained.

You leaned back slightly, arching a brow. “And why not? It’s just a massage. Surely, as my personal guard, it’s your duty to ensure my comfort, no?”

“Your Highness—”

“Choso,” you interrupted, your tone softening as you leaned forward slightly, letting your hair cascade over one shoulder. “You’ve sworn an oath to protect me. Are you really going to deny me such a simple request? Besides,” you added with a teasing smile, “I trust you. Who better to take care of me?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his shoulders visibly tensing. It was rare to see him so uncharacteristically flustered, and you found it almost endearing. Still, you could see the war waging behind his eyes—the struggle between his rigid sense of propriety and his inability to deny you.

“Choso,” you said again, gentler this time, “it’s just us here. No one else needs to know. Please?”

The word seemed to undo him. After a long, weighted pause, he exhaled sharply, his hands clenching at his sides before he gave a stiff nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

You smiled in satisfaction and shifted, lying down on the chaise lounge with your head resting on your folded arms. The thin fabric of your nightgown clung to your back and shoulders, leaving little to the imagination, but you paid it no mind. Choso, however, hesitated, his gaze flickering over you before he finally moved to kneel beside you, his movements almost painfully hesitant.

You settled onto the chaise lounge, lying on your stomach and pulling your hair over one shoulder to expose the curve of your neck. The thin fabric of your nightgown clung to your body, leaving little to the imagination, but you paid no mind to it. Choso, however, lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his dark eyes flickering over the exposed skin before quickly darting away.

The tension in the room was palpable, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his hesitation. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until finally, he knelt beside you, his movements stiff and deliberate. His hands hovered just above your shoulders for a moment, as if he were debating whether to go through with it, before he finally made contact.

The first press of his palms was firm, his calloused hands warm against your skin. He worked in silence, but his touch was tentative, almost reluctant, as though every movement was a battle against himself. His fingers found the knots in your shoulders, but his grip tightened slightly as you let out a soft sigh of relief.

“You’re good at this,” you murmured, your voice languid. “I should’ve asked you sooner.”

Choso didn’t respond, but his hands stilled for the briefest moment, his jaw tightening. He resumed a beat later, his touch growing more confident as his fingers moved lower, kneading along the length of your spine. Yet, there was something almost possessive in the way he worked, his hands lingering at the curve of your back, brushing the edges of your nightgown with an intimacy that felt deliberate, even if unspoken.

Heat pooled in your belly, but the mood shifted when Choso spoke, his voice low and edged with something that made your breath catch.

“Do you let all your guards do this to you?”

Your eyes snapped open, the sharpness of his tone cutting through the haze. You turned your head to look at him, frowning. “What?”

He straightened, pulling his hands away, anger visible on his face. “Do you let all your guards touch you like this, or am I just the special fool?”

The accusation in his voice stung. You sat up on the chaise lounge, clutching the fabric of your nightgown to your chest. “What are you implying?”

“I’m implying,” he said, his eyes dark and filled with something unnameable, “that you smiled at Naoya like he was the only man in the room. That you entertained his nonsense—his lies—like you actually enjoyed it.”

A sharp laugh escaped you, incredulous and hurt. “You think I was flirting with Naoya? That I would ever entertain a fool like him?”

“You did tonight,” Choso shot back, his jaw clenched tightly. “You smiled and laughed at him, as if he deserved it. As if you weren’t above him. The you I knew wouldn’t have entertained someone like Naoya for a second. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

That cut deeper than it should have. Your breath hitched, and frustration welled in your chest, bursting free before you could stop it.

“You don’t know me anymore?” you echoed, your voice trembling with emotion. “Well, Choso, I don’t know you either! You’re the one who left me without a word. You’re the one who never answered my letters, who pushed me away for no reason. You didn’t answer them for years, Choso. For years! How can you stand there and talk about me changing when you’ve done everything you could to shut me out?”

He flinched, as if your words struck a nerve. His gaze fell to the floor, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I didn’t answer because I thought it was better that way,” he said quietly. “Because I knew… whatever this was—whatever we were—it couldn’t last. I didn’t want to make it harder for you.”

Your heart cracked at his words, tears threatening to spill over. “You didn’t want to make it harder for me?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You made it unbearable, Choso! You didn’t just leave me, you abandoned me. Without explanation, without closure. You were my friend, my closest ally, and you just… disappeared!”

“I was avoiding the inevitable,” he said, his tone low and bitter. “I was saving us both from something that could never be.”

“And why not?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Why couldn’t we have stayed friends? Why couldn’t you have stayed as someone I trusted, someone I could rely on?”

Choso let out a harsh, incredulous laugh, his head bowing as his hands rose to rub at his temples. When he looked back at you, his eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You think I just want to be your ally?” Choso’s voice cracked, his tone harsh and trembling, a storm barely contained within him. He stepped closer, his shadow stretching toward you in the dim light. His dark eyes blazed, raw and unguarded, piercing straight through you.

“Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life standing at your side, pretending it doesn’t destroy me every time you smile at another man?” he continued, his voice rising with emotion. “Do you think I want to be some nameless figure in your life, someone who exists only to bow, to nod, to follow orders while the rest of the world gets to bask in your warmth?”

Your breath hitched as he took another step, the space between you shrinking.

“I don’t want to be your ally, your friend, or some loyal servant,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I want you. I have always wanted you.”

His confession struck you like lightning, setting every nerve ablaze. You could see the anguish etched into his features, the way his hands shook as if he was struggling to hold himself back.

“I want to touch you without wondering if it’s inappropriate,” he went on, his words tumbling out, unrestrained. “I want to kiss you without the weight of the crown between us. I want to wake up beside you every morning, knowing you’re mine—truly mine—and not just some unattainable dream I’ve been foolish enough to carry.”

“Choso…” you whispered, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

“I want to tear apart every damned rule, every line drawn between us,” he continued, his voice thick with frustration and desire. “I want the world to see that you’re mine—not Naoya’s, not some prince’s, not anyone else’s. Mine.”

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair, his composure unraveling further. “But that’s not what the world allows, is it?” he said, his tone laced with venom. “Because I’m not a prince or a duke or anyone worthy of you. I’m just a man—a soldier. And the world says I can’t have you.”

His chest heaved with the force of his confession, and his eyes—God, his eyes—burned with a pain so deep it was almost unbearable to witness.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as his words sank in. “You could have had me,” you said, your voice trembling, tears stinging your eyes. “If you’d just stayed, if you’d let me in instead of shutting me out. We could have figured this out together, Choso. I would have fought for you.”

His expression faltered, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his anger. “And what would you have me do?” he asked hoarsely. “Stand beside you while everyone whispers that I’m unworthy? Watch as suitors line up for your hand, knowing I can’t stop them because it’s my duty to protect you, not love you?”

“I don’t care what the world says!” you burst out, stepping closer, your voice rising with desperation. “I don’t care about duty or station or rules. All I ever wanted was you, Choso. You, as my friend, my ally, my—”

“Your what?” he interrupted, his voice low and rough. “Say it. Say what I’ve been longing to hear and dreading all at once.”

Your breath hitched, tears streaming down your face as you met his gaze. “My everything,” you whispered.

For a moment, the tension between you hung thick and electric, the weight of years of unspoken words pressing down on you both. Then Choso stepped back, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight.

“That’s why I stayed away,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “Because I knew if I didn’t, I’d lose myself in you completely. And I wouldn’t be able to let you go. This is why I must stay away.”

For a moment, he lingered there, his hand flexing at his side as if fighting some invisible force. His gaze dropped, and when he finally turned away, it was slow, deliberate, each step a struggle. He didn’t look back as he crossed the threshold, the heavy sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence.

The silence in your room was suffocating. Curtains drawn tightly, the dim flicker of a single candle cast wavering shadows on the stone walls. Plates of untouched food sat on a tray near the door, abandoned by the maids you had dismissed hours ago. The only sound was the faint rustle of your gown as you shifted on the edge of your bed, your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold your broken pieces together.

A soft knock broke the stillness, tentative and almost hesitant. You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to see anyone, let alone speak. Whoever it was would surely leave if you didn’t respond.

But the door creaked open.

Your heart twisted. “I told you all to leave me be,” you said hoarsely, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I’m not one of your maids,” came a quiet reply from a voice that was all-too-familiar.

Your head snapped up, breath catching in your throat as Choso stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. His dark eyes, always so steady and unreadable, now held an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

“Get out,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended, though the hurt behind it was impossible to mask. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I know,” he murmured, taking a hesitant step forward. He held something in his hands—a small stack of parchment, edges worn and yellowed. “But I have something to say to you.”

You frowned, your gaze darting to the papers he carried. “What is that?”

“Letters,” Choso said, his voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard before continuing, “The ones I wrote to you but never sent.”

You stiffened, your heart lurching painfully in your chest. “Why are you showing me this now?”

“Because I should have given them to you a long time ago,” he said simply. “And because I need you to know… what I couldn’t say before. But what I feel I must say now, for I am done with pretending I am not a selfish, selfish man.”

He stepped closer, setting the letters on the bed beside you. For a moment, he hesitated, then knelt before you, his hands resting on his thighs as he looked up at you with a mixture of guilt and determination, as if he had made a decision. And you fight desperately to not yourself believe that, perhaps, he has changed his mind, that he will finally take you in the way you desire.

But you steel your heart as you cautiously look at him.

“Read them,” he said quietly. “Please.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the stack, the paper cool and rough beneath your touch. The first letter was dated years ago, the ink slightly smudged, as if his hand had lingered too long on the words.

My dearest friend,

I’ve written and torn up this letter a dozen times. How do I explain the ache I feel every night I march under foreign stars? How do I explain that even on the battlefield, amidst the chaos, my mind drifts to you? I think of our secret meetings in the garden, the way you’d laugh as you dared me to meet you in the willow tree every night. Do you remember that night we barely escaped the guards? Your laughter, your gown splayed across the forest floor. I dream of those nights—of you leaning close to steal the fruit in my palm, staring up at me, the world disappearing, and wishing I could ask for more. For you close to me not under the pretense of stealing the pomegranate in my hand, but for something more.

Your voice broke as you read, tears pooling in your eyes. Choso remained silent, his head bowed, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

You moved to the next letter.

The scent of jasmine haunted me on the journey here. Every step of the way, I remembered you crouched beneath the trellis, daring me to pluck the flowers despite the gardener’s wrath. When I handed you the bouquet, your smile made me feel invincible, as though I could conquer kingdoms just to see it again. I wished then that I could have told you the truth—that every reckless moment we shared was a reprieve from the weight of duty. I wanted to kiss you in the moonlight, to tell you that you were more than a dream to me. I tried to, in part, with the hairpin I gave you, one that amplified your gentle beauty even more than I thought possible. But how could I ruin what little time we had?

“Choso,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why didn’t you send these?”

“I was a coward,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought it was kinder to stay away. To bury how I felt. But it wasn’t kinder, was it?”

You shook your head, unable to speak as you continued reading, each letter peeling away the walls you’d built to protect yourself from the pain of his absence.

When you reached the last letter, your breath hitched.

If I were braver, I’d tell you this to your face: I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time we ran barefoot through the gardens, laughing until we couldn’t breathe. I’ve loved you since you bandaged my hand after my sparring lessons, scolding me and treating me gently as if I weren’t a warrior, as if my rough, damaged hands were worth your care. I love you with a desperation that terrifies me, that kept me awake in camp as I replayed your smile over and over. If I lose you now, it will be my own doing. But still, I love you.

Your tears fell freely now, soaking the parchment. Choso rose slowly, his hands lifting as if to touch you but stopping just shy of your skin.

“Say something,” he pleaded, his voice raw.

Instead, you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet you. Your lips found his in a kiss that was fierce and unrestrained, pouring every ounce of longing, anger, and love into the connection.

Choso froze for a heartbeat before melting into you. The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matched your own.

His hands moved to grasp your waist, as if afraid you might vanish. Before they could touch you, he paused as if doubting his ability to be able to touch you. To your frustration, the heat of his almost-contact pulled away. “Your Highness—”

“Choso,” you pleaded, grasping his hands in yours and placing them on their rightful place: your body. You dragged his hands down your torso, helping him explore your curves sensually, intimately as he squeezed his brows together, eyes shut, conveying his inner turmoil. His resolve almost cracked as you begged him, “Take me. Please.”

With agitation, he withdrew his hands from your grasp, painfully clenching them by his sides as he groaned. “Your Highness, you’re playing with fire. I mustn’t. Your body is of a thousand gold, and I would never dare to touch you with my hands—”

But you interrupted him by snorting. “If it is of a thousand gold, or whatever archaic term the royal legends have invented, then you are a thousand gold richer.” You gently took his face in your arms, kissing his forehead. “I am yours, and if you believe that anyone will have my heart after you, then you are most grievously mistaken.”

He still looked at you, both kneeling on your bed, with a conflicted expression. You gave him a reassuring look before pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. Then, you teased him softly. “Will you not fight for my hand? Will you truly let me be promised to another man after this?”

His eyes darkened in a possessive manner, as he joined his lips against yourself furiously. “I would never,” he punctuated his interruptions with a searing kiss. “let anyone have you after this.”

With tender hands that heavily contrasted his desperation, he slipped the shoulder of your dress, dragging the hem down and down until your breasts were bare to the air. “So, so beautiful,” he whispered before enclosing your nubs in his mouth, kissing them both tenderly.

You could only but gasp, victim to his ministrations as he sneaked another hand up your legs, gently caressing your thighs until he met your core. He groaned, louder than ever, when he was met with the bare heat, wet with your desire and arousal all for him. With painstaking gentleness, he eased a finger in, drinking in your moans and sounds of pleasure.

He couldn’t help but smile at the small scream that escaped you when he curled his fingers up. It seemed he had found the place that pleasured you most, one that you had stayed unbeknownst to. And he definitely couldn’t stop himself from torturing and repeatedly hitting against it with the way squeals of his name left your mouth whenever he did so.

Before you knew it, an unknown feeling washed over you as Choso kept continuing his touches, one that seemed like worship with how he was looking for your reactions, for your pleasure. A gush of slick escaped you, and Choso kissed your breasts one final time before drawing out his finger.

You peered down at him, flushed, as his eyes stayed trained on you while he slowly drew his finger inside his mouth, seeming to savor your taste. At last, he pulled it away from his mouth and asked, voice hoarse, “how are you feeling?”

You laugh bashfully and look away, blushing. “You know you don’t need to ask that. But,” and you pause, looking at him through your lashes, “you know I want more.”

The flush that was only apparent on his cheeks spread to his entire face and neck and he whines as he buries his face in your breasts once more, now to evade eye contact. “Don’t say things like that. It makes holding back even more arduous.”

You stroke his hair, smiling softly. “Would you have any qualms about taking my…maidenhood if you were my husband.”

His answer is immediate. “Absolutely not.”

“So you want to…make love with me?” You heat up at your own words, nervously looking at him in fear of his rejection.

He pauses, but then slowly nods. “Well, yes, but—”

“Then we shall put archaic traditions aside. Choso,” and you look at him mischievously as he squints at you, “I command you to make love to me.”

The reaction is immediate. As if animated again, he pins you down against your mattress, eyes feral as he takes your lips with his once more. With both hands, a riiiip echoes across the room as he entirely tears your shift in his bare hands. Mind you, it was not weak material, and you lay dumbfounded as he strips his shirt off.

You don’t even have time to admire his bare torso, muscled as you knew it would be. Your eyes automatically trail down to the string of hair that leads down to his v-line as he rids himself of his trousers.

What gets uncovered makes you pray for your life, and you gasp, eyes wide. “How is that even supposed to go inside—”

He says your name, reassuringly, as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I will take the utmost care of you. I promise.” He lines his length with your entrance, and, with another kiss, he pushes in gently.

When his member first breaches you, you gasp, dizzied by the fullness. Then, as he slowly bottoms out, you whine while impaled on his cock. “More.”

Basking in the euphoria of your clenching heat around him, at your request, he curses. He pulls out his length—slowly, gently—and then slams back in, and you squeal, whispering a breathless utter of his name once more.

He continues making love to you, the sounds of his devotion echoing across the room. When you both climax, it is down with a prayer of the other’s name, as a promise. That you are both each other’s, and no qualms about proprietary and status could any longer apprehend either of you.

When the both of you settle down, him having gently cleaned you with a cloth, he collapses next to you in bed, bare arms engulfing you and pulling you closer. As you both lie there, skin to skin, you giggle at your own thoughts.

At the sound, Choso perks up, looking at you in soft amusement. “What’s the matter, my love?”

Ignoring the way your heart fluttered at the nickname, you replied, “I daresay you will be the strongest prince consort in the history of our kingdom.”

The mention of the weak nobles that had ascended the throne in centuries past makes him snicker smugly. “I would agree,” he muses, amused like you. “They would not have been as tall as me, or as strong, or as good in bed—-”

“Choso!” you squealed, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it.

Grinning like a devil, he dodged with ease, catching your wrist and pulling you down onto the bed. Before you could protest, he wrestled himself on top of you, pinning your arms above your head and smothering you in kisses.

After his barrage was over, he turned solemn once more. “I’m serious,” he murmured, his tone softer, more sincere. His dark eyes searched yours, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’ll protect you, stand beside you, love you until my last breath. You’re my queen in every way that matters. And no matter what, I’ll never leave your side again.”

Your breath hitched, his words settling deep in your chest. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you smiled, warmth flooding your heart. “And I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was equal parts promise and devotion. It wasn’t hurried or frenzied, but slow, a tangible declaration of everything you both had endured to reach this moment. Here, in the quiet of your chamber, with his weight grounding you and his lips marking you as his, you found the only place you wanted to be—by his side, now and always.

general masterlist

a/n AHH HI POOKIES!! I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED MY FIRST CHOSO FIC?? let me know if i do him justice this was written with my pussy and me having a specific hyperfixation :3 anyways i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you guys did too :')

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #choso #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #choso kamo #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk choso #choso kamo x you #aashi writes

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these-lovely-monsters · 9 months ago

Text

Mating Season

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!werewolf x f!reader

Content: hunting, primal behavior, predator/prey, sex, p in v, knotting, claiming bite, possessiveness, mild dubcon

#13 Mating/Hunting Season from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

It’s werewolf mating season in your village and it’s a full moon which means it’s time for the hunt.

It’s almost midnight and all the eligible women have been gathered in the town square to prepare for the event. You stand amongst the group, everyone dressed in thin gowns and barefooted. A cool breeze causes you to shiver or maybe it’s just the anticipation of the activities to come.

The soft murmurs of the crowd are punctuated by howls in the distance. The werewolves are prowling through the darkness, eagerly awaiting their prey. Under the bright moonlight, the women around you glance at each other with mixtures of nervousness and excitement.

When the first midnight bell rings out over the square, everyone jumps, and the crowd surges forward. At first it’s a tangled mess of jostling limbs as everyone heads for the gates at the town’s entrance. But once you’re all through, the mass of bodies disperse in different directions and you take off sprinting into the darkness.

You’re racing through the trees, leaping over logs and boulders as you try to ignore the pain in your feet and the sharp scrapes and nicks from nearby branches. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breaths are coming heavy. Over the roar in your ears, you hear the snarls and howls of the werewolves stalking their prey, mixed with the shrieks and moans of those already caught.

Your legs are beginning to ache as you zig zag in no particular direction. So you slow down, wondering if you’ve gone too far. But then you hear a twig snap in the trees behind you. Your heart lurches into overdrive and you sprint forward again.

Moving as fast as you can, you recall the only instructions you were given. “Run.”

Your predator is close on your heels, his paws thudding softly on the ground as he nimbly trails you through the forest. Just as you turn to look over your shoulder, you catch sight of a giant, black werewolf leaping out from between the trees.

When he collides with your body, you let out a soft “Oof,” and you both go tumbling to the ground. He deftly rolls you so that he takes the brunt of the fall and when you come to a stop, he’s hovering over you, pinning your body to the cold hard ground.

Although his form is mostly humanoid, he’s covered from head to toe in thick, dark fur. His head is also the shape of a wolf’s and he has a long tail that swishes behind him. His massive claw-tipped hands are buried into the dirt on either side of your head and his heavy breaths wash across your skin.

Baring his teeth in your face, he starts to rock his hips against your naked pussy and you gasp. When he shifts his weight so his cock is dragging against your clit, you let out a soft moan and he snarls at the sound.

Faster than you can track, he swipes his claws at your gown, shredding the material and leaving faint red scratches where his nails nicked you. He stares down at you for a moment, his pupils dilating as he watches your exposed skin pebble in the cold air.

He bends his head to lick at your breasts, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipples, causing your back to arch off the ground. Then he lowers himself down so his hot body is draped over yours. Before you can appreciate the warmth, he shifts his hips so that the tip of his cock is nudging at your already slick entrance and you groan in anticipation.

Opening your legs wider in invitation, you grip his fur and tug. With a growl, he sheaths himself fully inside you until his hips are flush with your thighs. You cry out at the sudden fullness and he pauses to let you adjust. When your body begins to relax, he pulls out and then thrusts back in. He does it again and again until he’s setting a brutal pace, fucking you hard into the dirt.

You quickly become lost in the exquisite sensations as your back scrapes against the rock-strewn ground while his massive cock stretches and fills you to the brim. He’s snarling and wild-eyed above you as he ruts into you in a wild frenzy, unable to control himself at the feel of your hot cunt squeezing him so tightly.

When your orgasm climbs higher and higher, almost at its peak, his movements become jerky as he meets you at the top. Right before you tip over the edge, you feel his massive knot pushing against your entrance, trying to stretch your pussy impossibly wide.

Before you can protest, he lowers his mouth to your shoulder and growls one guttural word against your skin.

“Mine.”

And then his teeth are sinking into your flesh in a vicious claiming bite at the same time his knot pushes past your tight walls and you scream.

You’re launched into another stratosphere as your eyes roll back in your head and your entire body seizes up. Hot cum spurts inside you, filling you up endlessly until it starts to seep out around his knot and drip down your thighs. His hips are still jerking erratically as he rides out his orgasm, dragging your own out with it, until eventually he’s completely spent.

───

You must have passed out at some point because when you awake, he’s carrying you in his arms as he trudges through the forest.

“Where are we going?” You ask groggily.

“To my den,” comes a deep gravelly voice above you. “I’m going to fuck you until my cum is a part of your essence and everyone knows that you belong to me.”

Tip Jar :)

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster smut #terato #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #werewolf #these lovely monsters #tlm werewolf #tlm stories #monstertober #monstertober 2024 #f!reader #m!monster

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buckysleftbicep · 24 days ago

Text

little rabbit 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, primal play, chasing, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation, oral sex (f rec), light degradation, loads of aftercare (please take care to read the warnings)

summary: you wanted to play prey and bucky was more than happy to hunt.

word count: 2.3k

author's note: hi loves! this fic reminds me of the foot pursuit challenge on tiktok, where partners get their significant other to chase and catch them and my gosh, i get why being chased (consensually) is a kink. based on this request | requests are open!

and suddenly my pants are gone

The forest swallowed you whole.

Dusk draped itself over the trees like a velvet veil, thick and breathless, shrouding everything in deepening shadow. Every snapped twig beneath your bare feet echoed loud in the quiet.

Still, you ran. Low branches clawed at your arms. Thorns kissed your legs. The thin fabric of your dress snagged and fluttered behind you, a ghost of surrender, but you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t. Not when you could feel him.

The weight of his presence stalked you from behind—unseen, but undeniable. The almost inaudible crunch of leaves. A shift in the air. That creeping prickle along your spine that told you that he’s close.

Bucky had given you a five-minute head start. It was a mercy. Time enough to let your pulse spike, to feel the adrenaline kick into your bloodstream. Not fear—never fear. This was anticipation, sharpened to a razor’s edge. Because you had asked for this. Planned it, begged for it. Every line, every rule, every dark little detail etched in the safety of shared trust.

He would chase. You would run.

And when he caught you… you were his.

You ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, stumbling over roots slick with moss. Your breath came in short, frantic bursts, chest heaving as sweat kissed your skin. The air felt electric, every sound amplified—every rustle, every breeze, every bird gone silent.

Then— A sound. Too heavy. Too close. Intentional.

You twisted mid-step, eyes wide, just in time to catch a blur of movement before something crashed into you, full force.

Not something. Someone.

You hit the ground hard, bark and soil tearing at your skin, the wind knocked from your lungs in a startled gasp. But even before you could react, you knew. His weight settled over you—solid, hot, commanding. Breath brushed your ear. A metal hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged it over your head, pinning it into the dirt. His other hand found your waist, gripping hard, keeping you still.

“Got you,” Bucky growled, his voice ragged and low, more breath than sound.

The sound of him went straight to your core.

You squirmed beneath him—reflex, instinct, desire. “You said five minutes,” you panted.

He leaned down, mouth brushing the edge of your jaw. “You had four.”

A breathless laugh escaped you, cut short the moment his hand slid up and curled around your throat. Not tight. Not yet. Just enough to anchor you. Enough to make your breath catch.

His other hand traced down the torn side seam of your dress, slow, deliberate. Fingertips dragging fire across your skin. His touch was reverent and rough all at once, equal parts worship and promise.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice thick with hunger. “Mouth open like you’re already fucked.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. He didn’t want you to.

Instead, he kissed you—if it could be called that. It was teeth and tongue and breathless desperation. His stubble burned your chin. His mouth stole the air from your lungs. It was a claiming, not a kiss. And when he pulled away, you were already dizzy.

“Get up,” he said roughly.

Your brows furrowed. “What—?”

He didn’t wait. Didn’t explain. Just hauled you to your feet and spun you around so your chest hit the nearest tree trunk with a thud. His hand flattened between your shoulder blades, pressing you forward, and you barely caught yourself before your knees gave out.

Then you felt him.

His cock, already hard, already leaking pressed hot and heavy against your ass through his pants. He rutted against you once, slow and deliberate, making sure you felt it. The power. The possession.

“You made me chase you,” he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You made me earn this. You think I’m just gonna take it easy on you now?”

His teeth scraped your neck, and your head dropped forward against the bark with a shudder.

“I’m gonna take my time,” he growled, fingers already hiking your dress up around your hips, exposing your thighs to the night air. “And you’re gonna take everything I give you.”

Your breath hitched as rough bark scraped against your chest, grounding you. The tree was unyielding, but so was he—pressed flush behind you like a furnace, all sharp heat and coiled restraint on the verge of snapping. You barely had time to catch up before his hands were on you—gripping, dragging, claiming. One curled possessively around your hip. The other fisted the neckline of your ruined dress.

And tore.

The sound of fabric splitting echoed in the dark like a gasp. Cold air kissed your bare skin, sending a shudder through you—part from the chill, mostly from the anticipation. The dress fell in tatters around your waist, exposing your breasts to the open night.

Bucky made a low, guttural sound behind you. “Fuck,” he rasped, voice strained and rough with hunger. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You were too busy shaking as he dropped to his knees behind you, slow and heavy, like a man worshiping at an altar. His metal fingers dug into your thighs, spreading them apart with forceful ease until you had no choice but to brace yourself against the tree.

Then—his mouth.

A single, filthy lick dragged up your center, and your whole body jolted like you’d been shocked. You cried out, loud and unfiltered, legs already trembling.

His breath hitched against you, rough and heavy, sending vibrations through your core that made your legs tremble.

And then he devoured you.

His tongue was relentless—sloppy, fast, desperate. Every stroke made your knees weaken, every flick against your clit sent stars dancing behind your eyes. He sucked, licked, teased, and when he pushed a metal finger into your dripping heat, you almost collapsed.

“Bucky—fuck, please—”

He didn’t stop. Just added a second finger, thrusting deep, curling up until your thighs started to quake. His other hand held your ass in place, keeping you pinned as you instinctively tried to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Too much,” you gasped. “I—I can’t—”

But he didn’t stop. Not until he chose to.

But when he finally pulled back, your whine of protest was almost pitiful.

He stood, chest rising fast. You could feel the tension rolling off him in waves—his breathing uneven, hands rough now as they grabbed your hips again.

His voice was a low snarl against your ear. “You think you get to come?”

Your whole body clenched, heat rushing to your core like you hadn’t just been on the edge of release.

“You ran,” he continued, biting down on your shoulder. “You teased me. And now you think you get to fall apart without permission?”

You whimpered. “Please…”

He grabbed your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “You begged for this. Remember?”

You nodded weakly.

“Said you wanted to be used.”

Then you felt it. The thick, hot weight of his cock nudging against your entrance—bare, leaking, ready.

“Then take it.”

He slammed into you with a single, brutal thrust.

Your scream tore through the woods, raw and involuntary. There was no gentleness. No easing in. Just the full length of him stretching you, filling you, splitting you open as your breath hitched and your eyes fluttered shut.

He didn’t pause. Didn’t let you adjust. Just snapped his hips into yours, over and over, fucking you hard enough to make your body jerk forward against the tree.

His grip bruised. His rhythm was punishing.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned. “Tight little cunt—jesus—meant for this.”

Every thrust forced a choked moan from your lips, your forehead scraping against the bark. His metal hand snaked around to grab your breast, pinching your nipple between cold fingers until you sobbed.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You—Bucky, you.”

His mouth found your neck, biting hard, and that was it. You shattered. The orgasm hit you like a freight train—violent, sharp, sudden. You cry out as you clenched around him, body going rigid, stars bursting behind your eyes.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you through it, deep and fast, chasing his own release. You were limp, barely holding yourself upright, when he finally slammed into you one last time with a grunt, his cock pulsing as he filled you. Warmth spread between your thighs, dripping down as your muscles twitched.

And then, for a long moment—silence.

Only his breathing. Only yours. The wind through the trees.

He stayed pressed to you, his chest against your back, forehead resting on your shoulder. When he finally moved, it wasn’t rough. It was careful.

He pulled out slowly as you whimpered. His hands smoothed over your waist, then wrapped around you, holding you upright.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmured softly, lips brushing your skin. You nodded, too dazed to speak.

“Still with me?” A hum was all you could manage.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed close, breath still ragged against your neck, one hand on your waist like he was grounding himself with the feel of you.

The heat of him clung to your skin, everywhere, your chest, your thighs, the slick mess between your legs. Your pulse hadn’t steadied yet, and neither had his.

His forehead came to rest against your shoulder. “You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded, your voice slow and slurred. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”

He didn’t rush you. Just waited. His hands softened where they held you—no more grip, no pressure. Only presence. Only warmth.

“I didn’t go too far?” he asked after a pause, quieter now. Like he needed to hear it.

“No,” you said softly, eyes closed. “You didn’t.”

He let out a slow breath, tension finally slipping out of his frame. Behind you, he shifted carefully, pulling out with a gentleness that made your breath catch. The stretch still ached, your thighs trembling from exertion, and the cool night air wrapped around the places he’d left warm and ruined.

You pressed a hand to the tree, steadying yourself.

“Come here,” he said gently, and when he turned you around, you didn’t resist.

Your legs were unsteady, but he was solid. You let yourself fall into him, cheek to his chest, breath still shallow. He held you with one arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck. His chest rose and fell beneath your face in a steady rhythm, anchoring you.

It was quiet for a moment. Then, without letting go, he said, “So… I take it that worked for you.”

A soft laugh escaped you, hoarse and tired. “That was insane.”

“You sure?” His tone was light, but you felt the nerves under it. “Didn’t think I was gonna find you that fast.”

“You nearly tackled me.”

“You said run,” he said, lips brushing the side of your head. “I took that personally.”

You smiled, breath catching slightly. “You were scarily good at that. Honestly.”

His fingers threaded gently through your hair, grounding you. “You weren’t exactly innocent either. All wide-eyed and breathless. The dress helped.”

You huffed a laugh. “Told you it’d rip.”

“And I said I wouldn’t tear it.” “You absolutely tore it.”

He grinned into your hair. “I’ll buy you another one.”

You nodded, letting silence settle again, warm between your bodies. Then, softer, he asked, “You really okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, and this time you met his eyes. “I liked it.”

His expression shifted—something softer in the lines of his face, something quieter. “Good,” he said, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Because I didn’t know how to stop once I had you.”

The confession hit low in your chest, but not in a bad way. It settled deep.

“I know,” you said.

For a while, you just stood there. Breathing. Letting the night move around you while everything inside you slowed.

Eventually, he shifted. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go inside. Get you cleaned up.”

You blinked, then grimaced. “My legs feel like jelly.”

“I’ll carry you,” he offered, already crouching.

“You don’t have to—”

But he didn’t let you finish. Just swept you up without effort, arms secure beneath your legs and back. You looped your arms around his neck and let your head rest on his shoulder as he started the walk back through the woods.

The world was still and dark around you. The crunch of leaves beneath his boots was steady, the rhythm of it soothing. His chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, and his grip on you never wavered. It was careful. Thoughtful. Safe.

After a while, you brushed your fingers along the line of his jaw. “Thanks for doing this,” you murmured.

He glanced down at you. “For what? Nearly fucking you into a tree?”

You let out a tired exhale, half a laugh. “For making it feel real. And then making it feel safe again.”

His eyes softened, and he didn’t hesitate. “You never weren’t.”

You nodded, eyes closing. You knew that, but still, it meant something to hear it out loud.

The compund's lights came into view, glowing soft and golden through the trees. He shifted you slightly in his arms, settling your weight.

“I’ll run you a bath,” he said. “You want food?” You groaned. “God, yes.”

He smirked. “Didn’t know primal play gave you an appetite.”

“It’s the trauma,” you deadpanned, and he laughed, a real one, low and warm and full.

You smiled, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Next time,” you murmured, voice already slipping toward sleep, “you better give me more than five minutes.”

He huffed. “You barely lasted four.” You smirked, eyes still closed. “Didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

His hand moved in slow circles along your back. “Yeah? Because I’d do it again. However you want.”

You just nodded, the edge of sleep tugging at you now, soft and easy. “Just like that,” you whispered. “Don’t change a thing.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair, steady and certain. “Wasn’t planning to.”

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed it! i love you all, and please stay safe out there!

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classyrbf · 9 months ago

Text

THERE'S SOMEONE IN THE WOODS! — GETO SUGURU

KINKTOBER WEEK ONE

SYNOPSIS...walking home from a halloween party, you decided to take a shortcut, but an eerie feelings creeps up your spine and it feels like eyes are watching your every move

INFO...stalker!geto x fem!reader, for the sake of the story everything is consensual, a fantasy between geto and reader, stalking, groping, fingering, ripping clothes, sex in the woods, choking, hair pulling, oral (m!receiving), deep throating, rough, name calling, degradation, slapping, spanking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

kinktober 2024 masterlist

The wind howled in your ears and the moon was illuminating your every step home. You were cold, the costume that you had on was no help, shivering as you hugged yourself tightly. It was a stupid idea to go to a Halloween party without thinking of how you were going to get back home. Everyone was either drunk driving, or their cars were already filled with other passengers, and to put the cherry on top…your phone had died so you couldn’t call anyone to pick you up. You mentally cursed at yourself for staying so late in the first place, it had to be at least three in the morning. Everyone else was asleep and done with their trick or treating activities, lights off at every house in your sight.

“Fuck me,” you sighed, stopping when you came to a fork in the road. You took the left path knowing that it was a shortcut to your house and you didn’t plan on walking any longer than you needed to in these godforsaken heels. The wind brushed against your exposed skin, goosebumps climbing their way up your body. The further you stepped into the forest, darkness began to surround you. The large, twisted branches allowing very few rays of moonlight to shine through. Tall trees hovered over you, casting shadows. You’d be lying if you said this shortcut wasn’t one hundred times creepier at night compared to day.

Leaves rustled in the wind, branched snapped under your feet and you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder every five seconds to make sure no one was following you. It felt like eyes were watching your every movement, dark figures in the tree line stalking you like prey, waiting to pounce. “It’s all in your head,” you mumbled to yourself, walking faster. Though, your words were no help. Your eyes darted in every direction, barely paying attention to what was in front of you causing you to trip over a tree root sticking out. You fell to your knees, wincing in pain when you saw little blood droplet stain your stockings. “You gotta be kidding me,” you whined.

As you sat there on the floor trying to regain yourself, you heard a twig snap in the distance. With wide eyes, you got up as quickly as you could and looked around. “Hello?” You called out, your voice echoing through the forest. And just like that, you heard it again. Your feet moved before you could even think and you began to run as fast as you could in the shoes you were wearing. It would be better to take them off but you couldn’t stop now.

Your breathing quickened with each passing second and just a few feet behind you, you could hear footsteps. Fear struck your heart and you could only focus on the clearing up ahead. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it or if it was some animal, but you weren’t going to stop and check. Something didn’t feel right and that’s all you needed to know to get your ass out of here. The clearing was only so close now and your chest burned from the cold air that filled your lungs. Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears and the pain from your busted knee dissipated from the adrenaline rushing through you.

The streetlights came into view and just before you could make it, you felt a hard tug on your dress, a rough hand pulling you back into the darkness and covering your mouth as you screamed into it, squirming around in his tight grip. Each kick and punch to his body didn’t do a thing and the clearing soon began to grow smaller. “Shh, shh, shh.” His breath tickled your ear. “Don’t be scared,” he whispered. He pushed you up against a tree, slowly appearing in your view. You couldn’t quite make out his face, but his tall silhouette, muscular frame, and long dark hair was quite obvious. “Promise me you won’t scream? If you do, you’ll be in big trouble.”

Your entire body was shaking, weak. You had no idea what was going to happen. You didn’t know if he had a weapon, but you didn’t want to find out the hard way. He slowly removed his from your mouth, and let out a chuckle with how hard you were breathing. “Please don’t hurt me,” you sniffled, tears pouring from your eyes. You felt your body was glued to the tree, any sudden movement would make you drop. “What do you want? I don’t have any money…here,” you handed him your phone, “take it, it’s all I have.” More tears streamed down your face.

He looked at your phone with disinterest before looking back up at you. “Don’t you recognize me?” He questioned. You meekly shook your head no. “I guess I did a good job then,” he laughed. “I thought you noticed me but I guess not.” He brushed his hand against your cheek, wiping away your tears. “I was watching you the whole night. Watching you get drunk, dance with your friends, kiss random strangers, and I kept thinking how pretty you were. Ever since you walked in that door.” He gripped your chin tightly, leaning in closely in the crook of your neck.

You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as he smelled you. “Please, let me go. I’ll do anything.” You weren’t sure if negotiating with him was going to work, but you were willing to do anything in order to just go home. But, he completely ignored you and continued rubbing up on you. His hands roamed freely, down your stomach and back, up to your tits where he gave them a squeeze. It wasn’t until he moved away from you that you saw some of his features. His chiseled face, and dark, narrow eyes, his slightly tan skin, and plump lips. His hair flowed with the wind, the leaves falling from above.

Within a split second, he pushed his lips onto yours, roughly kissing you, his tongue forcefully pushing inside your mouth. His hand wrapped around your throat, pinning you to the tree while his other hand reached under your dress to rub your cunt through your stocking and panties. You whimpered into the kiss, pulling away to catch your breath. “These are in the fucking way,” he grunted, ripping your tights with one hand. He pushed your panties to the side, smirking as he ran his finger up and down your slit. A small gasp left his lips when he could feel your juices coat his finger. “You’re wet. This turn you on? Being chased and caught in the woods so some stalker could fuck you?” His slipped his finger inside, watching the way your jaw fell open.

“You’re just as sick as I imagined,” he let out a deep chuckle, curling his finger inside of you before adding another. He still had you pinned against the tree with your legs spread, your dress bunched up at your waist while he thrusted his long, thick fingers inside of you. “You’re sucking my fingers right in.” A smirk formed at the corner of his lips, your pussy squelching the faster he went, your juices dripping down his fingers.

A small whine escaped your throat looking at the man in front of you. You weren’t sure whether to be scared or turned on. Maybe you were both. Was it wise to entertain this? That question ran through your head over and over. He leaned back towards your lips, hungry for another kiss, swallowing your moans and whimpers. Without thinking, your arms wrapped around him as your legs grew weak, nearly falling from how good his fingers felt inside of you.

His dick strains against his slacks, damn near painful from how hard he was. “Get on the fucking floor.” He slips his fingers out from inside you, pushing you down to your knees and against the tree. You look up at him confused before he sticks his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself on your fingers. He’s quick to undo his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. Your eyes widen as his dick springs out, swollen red tip, and pulsating veins on either side of his shaft. Precum drips from the tip and he smears it over his cock, slowly jerking himself off to the sight of you sucking his fingers.

“Stick out that tongue for me, baby. Open up.” He removes his fingers from your mouth, grabbing a fistful of your hair before he slaps his heavy dick on your tongue. “Good fucking girl,” he sighs. He rubs his dick all over your face, slapping you with in, pushing it between your lips. He grips your hair tighter, pushing your head down onto his cock. “Fuckkkk,” he moans as feels your warm tongue rub along his shaft and your throat squeeze around him. You immediately gag as he goes further, eyes watering before you gag again, your nose touching his pelvis. “Stay just like that, don’t you fucking move.” He holds your head down for a few seconds before he lets go, allowing you to breathe.

You gasp for air, letting out dry coughs as he laughs at you. Strings of spit connect from your mouth to his dick, dripping down to his balls. His hand grips your hair again and you let out a pained whimper. “First time taking dick down your throat, huh?” He mocks you, stilling laughing in your face. You stare up at him with tearful eyes, wiping your mouth of all the spit. But before you could blink, a sharp pain spreads across your cheek, your head jolting to the other side. Did he just slap you? “Did I say you could wipe your mouth? No, no I don’t think I did. I like it messy, so get used it.” With force, he shoves his dick back in your throat.

You throat closes in around him again, gagging. Tears stream down your face as he fucks your mouth. Glug glug glug glug. You place your hands on his thighs in attempt to get him to slow down but he just goes harder, the back of head pushed against the tree and trapped between his thighs. He pushes your nose against his pelvis once more, spit dripping down your chin and from his balls. “Ugh, fuck! This throat feels so good!” His abs tense up and your eyes roll into the back of your head before he removes himself from your throat.

You’re coughing again, chest heaving up and down while you sit there on your knees trying to catch your breath. “Please, I can’t, my throat hurts.” Your brows furrow.

He grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Someone’s gotta teach you how to suck dick properly, baby. I don’t give a fuck if your throat hurts,” he harshly says. He slaps his dick against your face, smearing your spit all over. “Come on, impress me.” He stares down at you with those dark eyes. You’re quick to understand that he wants you to suck his dick yourself. “Remember, I like it messy.”

Both hands wrap around his cock, jerking him off as you move your wrist in a circular motion, taking the rest of him in your mouth. Your tongue swirling around his head, gathering as much spit as you could. You look up at him, taking him slightly further down your throat before coming back up. “That’s it, keep those eyes on me. Don’t you dare fucking look away.” He grits his teeth, eyes rolling back when you bob your head up and down his shaft. Your jaw grows tired, pulling away to give yourself a break, your hands still gripping his length.

Streaks of mascara stain your cheeks, your lip stick smeared across your lips. He reaches down to pet your face, admiring the view. He can see that your scared, but he can also tell that you’re enjoying this. It only makes him want to get your blood pumping more. “Make me fucking cum. Put it back in your mouth.” He places his hand on the back of your head, pushing it down, your throat accommodating to his size. “You’re such a quick learner. Taking it like a fucking whore.” He bites down on his bottom lip, thrusting his hips at a sharp pace. “Open up that throat. Come on,” he growls.

You body jolts forward as you gag, your nails digging into his thighs as he pushes your nose against his pelvis. You can feel him twitch and pulsate in your throat and before you know it hot spurts of cum coat your throat. “Uh huh, fuck, fuck. Take it, baby. Mmmph!” His jaw goes slack, holding your head down until your slapping his thighs to breathe. Luckily, he lets you pull away after he drains all of his cum. You barely have time to recover before he’s snatching you back to your feet, spinning you around and pushing you against the tree. “Did such a good job sucking my dick. I wanna know if this pussy can do the same.” A swift slap to your ass makes you whimper, holding onto the tree for support while it scratches at your skin.

“Go slow, please,” you beg. You wish you would’ve never said anything because your words only added fuel to the fire. It’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone and slipping him that piece of information made him do the opposite of what you asked for.

“Go slow? Huh? No, no.” His hand snaked around your throat, pulling your back against his chest while he whispered in your ear. “I’ll do what I want with you.” He smacked your ass again, tearing off your panties and tossing them somewhere into the woods. “Say you want me to fuck you,” he ordered. You silently stood there in his arms, biting down on your bottom lip as you braced for whatever he was going to give you. “Say it!” He huskily whispered, rubbing his shaft up and down your sopping slit.

“Fuck me,” you meekly spoke.

“What was that, baby? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He kissed your jaw so softly, his other hand reaching down to toy with your puffy clit. He let out a blissful sigh as your moans, continuing to rub it in circles in such a teasing manner. “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, please,” you said a little louder this time. “Ah!” A yelp left your lips when he slipped inside, pushing his entire length in, the burning stretch making you wince. “Oh fuck!” You whined. His thrusts were brutal, his cock reaching your deepest points. His arm wrapped your torso, holding you up while simultaneously pulling you back on his cock. The sudden sensation of him inside you became so overwhelming, you couldn’t help but squirm in his grip.

The sound of skin to skin echoed through the woods and your lewd moans along with it. Ripples of pleasure shot through every part of your body. Your hands reached out for the tree, finding stability to hold yourself up. His breath shuddered against your neck, desperate moans and grunts filling your ears. “You’re so fucking wet—nnngh fuck!” He growled. His fat tip kissed your cervix with each thrust, tears pricking your eyes before spilling over. Suddenly, he slowed down his thrusts, going harder and slower, allowing you to feel every throbbing inch.

“Ah!” You squealed when he slammed his hips against yours, only to slowly pull back out again. Each hard jolt of his hips sent your body forward, your knees already ready to give out. “Ah!” You screamed in pleasure, reaching down to grip onto his forearm.

His hand shot over your mouth, muffling your cries and moans. “Go ahead and scream, baby. You think someone is gonna hear you? It’s just me…and…you.” Each of his words were punctuated with hard thrusts. You moaned into his hand, your eyes screwed shut. He could feel you clench around him, letting out a blissful sigh. He pressed against you, going as deep as he could and stayed there. A sharp gasp escaped your throat, eyes widening as you tried to move your hips. “You’re mine now,” he breathily whispered.

“Mmph! Mmmph!” As he began pounding into you again your eyes rolled back, feeling him in the deepest parts of you. “Please, please, please,” you cried, voice breaking through your tears. Your mind grew hazy, too clouded to even think clearly. His thrusts were so sharp, so animalistic. He roughly grabbed your chin, forcing it in his direction before planting a hungry, sloppy kiss on your lips. Both of swallowed each others lewd moans, gasping for air between wet kisses.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” He rasped, staring into your eyes. All you could force was a nod. “Yeah? Gonna cum all over your stalkers dick, baby? Do it. Give it to me. Show me how dirty you are.” He pressed deeper, your entire body trembling. The feeling your pussy pulsating around him only fueled him to go faster, his grip on your entire body tightening while you came. “That it’s—f-fuck!” His voice trembled.

Your entire body quivered with pleasure, high pitched whines spilling from your lips, barely able to form proper words. His brutal pace sent your mind into a spiral. Each greedy stroke sent him closer to the edge, his thrust growing sloppier and his thoughts growing dirtier, thinking of filling you up with his cum and watching it leak out of you. “Oh my god! S-slow down! Gonna cu—nnngh!” Before you could even say it, you were already cumming a second time, your orgasm ripping through your entire body and sucking the air of your lungs.

“Yes, yes! Cum on my dick. You’re gonna make me cum, baby. Fuck your self on my dick. Work for it.” He pushed your weak body against the tree, his chest rising and falling as you so desperately fucked him, throwing your ass back. He looked down, watching the way he disappeared inside your messy cunt, creaming around him and sucking him in. You circled your hips, moving back and forth, feeling your ass ripple against his pelvis. “Fucking work for it.” His hand swatted your ass several times, the stinging sensation that lingered on your skin making you whimper. “Atta girl. Right fucking there…shit, baby. Just like that, just like that,” he whined, reaching down to squeeze the plump flesh.

Low guttural groans collided with your moans, echoing through the lonely forest. He was so close to cumming, you could tell. His big strong hands took ahold of your hips as he pushed himself all the way inside of you. “Ah…oh fuck…mmph—s-shit!” He shuddered, hot spurts of cum painting your walls. You pushed back into him, biting down on your bottom lip, not wanting one last drop to go to waste. After several seconds, he slowly pulled out, trying to catch his breath. He forcefully grabbed you, standing you upright even though your entire body was shaking.

After coming down from your high, you realized you just fucked your stalker and let him cum inside you. Hell, you didn’t even know his name. Both of you stared at each other, eyes searching deep within. You were left confused, speechless. You flinched when he brought his hand up to your cheek, gently stroking it with the pad of his thumb. His eyes flickered down to your lips, placing the most gentle kiss on them—the most gentle one since you’ve met him. Yet, you found yourself kissing him back. “Who are you?” Your voice broke the silence, nervously scanning his features.

His lips quirked up into the slightest smirk. “Just the boy who saw you at the Halloween party.” From the very beginning he was never going to give you his name. “Your stalker.” He seemed to take pride in his words, now smiling at you.

You gulped, blinking up at him. “My stalker.”

taglist (closed):

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#—☆classyrbf #kinktober #jjk kinktober #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto smut oneshot #geto suguru smut oneshot #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut oneshot

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lily-bisque · 16 days ago

Text

ＷＡＹＯＵＴＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

volume one — womb

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, more tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: so. this was supposed to be my 1k special but i have no sense of restraint and desperately wanted to release this. enjoy my food. also check out the playlist for the curated mood and for a forehead kiss.

✦ ── word count: 3.9k

archive ─ playlist

series masterlist - volume two

art by outdmilk on twt

“This was a horrible idea.”

There was a sharp piercing pain in your ankle, due to you brushing it against a shrub, thus prickling it against a rather pointed thorn.

You scowled under your breath, pivoting on the ball of your foot to take a look at the injury just beneath your sock before adjusting the cloth and standing upright.

Your back was miserably sore, sweat clung to you like a second skin, your calves burned as if they were combustible, and worst of all—you were starving.

You felt as if you couldn’t thoroughly enjoy the scenery of the forest anymore—no longer stopping to listen to the throaty croaking of frogs, the wind sliding and slipping between the narrow trees, nor the occasional snap of twigs from skittish wildlife.

It smelled of sun-warmed rock and wet earth, your heart thrumming and yearning for a connection with Mother Earth after months spent cooped up in the city and at home.

Adjusting your rucksack resting on your back, carrying everything you needed—which was far too much for a day hike—you continued on your trek.

For a lack of better wording, you were a noob. You lacked any sort of experience with the woodlands but you believed there was no better time to start than now! Especially since life has managed to feel duller more than ever recently.

Fallen branches snapped underfoot, the tickle of overgrown weeds brushing your bottoms. The sun filtered through the leaves, beading down on you. Your only reprieve was your wide-brimmed hat and the somewhat forgiving breeze.

Pulling the now-crinkled sheet of paper with directions from your pocket, you unfurled it and spun it around, glancing at your compass while you did so.

The map you’d found online and ultimately printed was telling you that you still had quite the walk until the nearest exit route, at least a couple of hours ahead of you, and you knew you couldn’t continue on in this condition, sore in every spot you could imagine and more.

You were severely out of shape due to your sedentary lifestyle.

But how much of a choice did you have? You needed to get out of here before nightfall or else you’d be stalking around in the dark.

You wiped the sweat from your furrowed brow line in a harried manner before starting up your pace again, repeating ‘mind over matter’ to yourself like a mantra.

Unexpectedly and commendably, the sound of gentle trickling and splashes broke you from your focused state, your head snapping in that direction.

It was steady, and light. You hoped it was what you needed. It couldn’t be too far from here.

You followed the sound, hastening your pace as the sounds increased in volume, until you stood before a large creek. Birds sploshed and called to each other across the stream, rocks falling and breaking the surface with an audible plop!

You could feel your heart settle to a relieved murmur, a sudden idea popping into your mind that you couldn’t shake off.

You hadn’t seen anyone for miles, the forest around you dulled to its loneliness.

No one would notice if you went for a quick swim, right? Besides, if you were in better condition after a cooldown, you’d make it out of here before nightfall. Possibly. You hoped.

Shivering the thought off, you began to strip, tossing your bag to the floor and marking the stream on your map before resting it atop a pile of fallen leaves.

Your clothing stuck uncomfortably to you, and you contorted your expression in displeasure as you bared yourself to your undergarments. You would’ve preferred if you could scrub your outfit clean in the stream, but you had no place to hang them to dry nearby or any time to do so as this was just a day hike—so you tossed them upon a rock, clad in your cotton set, before stepping into the water.

It was freezing cold and clear, the moss-slicked rocks resting against the bottom catching your eye. There were small minnows making laps to and fro the sides of the creek, dragonflies humming just above the surface, and squirrels stopping to take a sip due to the sweltering heat.

You wrapped your hands around your bare self, slightly shivering, but also grateful for the cooling temperature.

Soon enough, you settled, laying your head back in the water and feeling it soak your roots for a moment, allowing your thrumming headache inflicted by the unforgiving heat come to a rest.

You then curled your arms, swimming deeper until you could see slightly larger fish, slipping against your bare calves and tickling you. You giggled, splashing water upon your face and releasing a sigh of content. Playing like a child.

Until you glanced over at your bag, a flutter of beige catching your attention.

Your map was currently flying in the opposite direction, flipping and turning against the ground and being sent deeper into the woodland.

Fucking great.

You gasped, eyes wide in shock as your pulse picked up, swimming towards the edge of the water frantically.

You crawled and clawed at soil, dirt clinging to your wet skin as you got to your feet, mottled green and brown painting you like a blank canvas.

“No, no, no!” You yelped in denial, your feet picking up as you raced to it, hopping over branches and rocks that were sure to break some bone if you didn't slow down. But it seemed to only fly away further, impossibly far out of your reach, the breeze actively working against you.

However, your exclaims were picked up by someone else in the forest.

As you raced to the map, you could hear the sound of pressure hitting dirt behind you in a consistent pat! before barking sounded in your ears.

A gasp left your lips as your head spun behind you, a blurry fluff of white hurtling towards you, full-throttle.

Your priorities changed drastically in the moment—a shrill yelp leaving your lips as you sprinted down the forest in just your underwear, a sense of doom sent up your spine.

You were being chased down, probably to your demise. What a pathetic way to go out—flailing in the woods, half-naked, entirely alone besides your attacker.

Your voice caught in your throat, vocal cords frozen in fear, unable to call for help.

Yet, someone heard your silent pleas.

“Uraume, down!” A gruff voice sounded, followed by the click of a tongue and a commanding whistle.

The onslaught stopped instantly, peering past your shoulder to see the white shepherd-dog sitting proudly, tongue flailing and panting as if it hadn’t just tried to eat you.

Okay. Realistically, it probably wouldn’t have eaten you as it is a dog that looks surprisingly domesticated. But how else does someone react when an unfamiliar animal starts sprinting at them?

You craned your head towards the sound of that gruff voice before you saw a tall man emerge from behind a thick sequoia trunk.

He was massive, probably nearing seven feet, towering over you.

His eyes caught yours, ducking his cowboy-styled hat once taking notice of your nude form before quickly turning his back to you. He was clad in a red buffalo-plaid shirt, thick washed-out jeans, a brown and curved hat, and chunky brown and sturdy boots.

“Uh, ‘scuse me, ma’am. You alright?” He questioned, giving you only a sliver of his side-profile to view. You could make out thick, black lines across it making your stomach clench in steadily rising trepidation. You’d never seen anything like it.

Your hands flew to cover yourself, as if the man hadn’t already turned his back to you. “No! I am not as your mutt just chased me,” you spat out, surprised at how unlike yourself you sounded, though your voice was actively quivering in fear. Should you be yelling at this strange man?

“I see,” he exhaled, though you could hear the faintest amusement lingering in his tone at your exasperated state, somehow already starting to piss you off. “I believe you startled them.”

Your nose scrunched as you scowled deeply. “Excuse me? I– Who exactly are you?”

The man huffed, pushing air from his nose. “Sukuna. I’ve got a better question, though—who are you and why are you naked?”

You clenched your teeth, feeling your morals slide against each other before relaying your name. “I am naked because your dog chased me!”

You didn’t care that that didn’t make much sense.

Sukuna adjusted in his stead, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he stared ahead before taking a peep back at you. You gasped, grabbing a nearby twig and throwing it at him.

He directed his gaze away quickly at your outburst, barely able to conceal his pleasure in riling up this strange woman, not even flinching when the branch bounced off of his back. “So you’re saying the real reason you’re flailing naked in the woods is because of my dog…?”

You bit your tongue, holding back a slew of curses before taking a reluctant step back, twigs underfoot digging into your heel. “Well, no but…”

He grunted, shoving his hands into his pocket before nodding. “Alright, then. I’ll be on my way out, ma’am. You have a splendid au naturel evening,” he chuckled, cocking his head at his dog, Uraume, who barked in excitement.

They sprinted towards Sukuna, the large man squatting to ruffle their hair before making his way in the opposite direction of you.

You peered behind you, hands still lazily covering your form, to see your map had finally slowed, maybe the breeze was forgiving.

Hurrying over to it with a grin, you now see why it was motionless.

It was face down in a puddle of mud–drenched and entirely illegible.

Your heart dropped at the sight, blood and smile draining from your face, realizing you needed some sort of plan to get yourself out of this.

But your only plan was brown and soaking wet, save for the rude and burly man you’d encountered moments ago.

Fuck.

You hated that you had to even consider this, but your survival instincts and sense of urgency ultimately won over your ego.

“Wait!” You called out, seeing him a few hundred feet in front of you. His massive legs carried him far with ease.

He paused, not fully turning around but enough to signal that he took notice of your call.

Once you stopped close behind him, chest heaving with either chasing after him or your flooding embarrassment, you bit your lip before speaking. “Are you from around here?”

He paused, eyes narrowing. “These parts? Yeah, I live here.”

You released a small sigh of relief. Alright, that’s a solid start. “Do you think you could, I dunno, give me any directions out of here?”

Sukuna placed a hand against his hip, with the other pulling a box of cigarettes from his pocket and placing one in his mouth, back still facing you. “Mind lighting this for me?”

You could barely conceal your agitation, a sense of urgency tugging at you as you were quite literally naked in a forest with a strange man, night falling soon. “I’m sorry?”

“You need my help, I need yours. So be a darling and help a guy out, my hands have been sore all afternoon.”

He was lying. He was so obviously lying to your face.

You scoffed incredulously, feeling a sudden shiver wrack your body from the wind cooling your skin. Sukuna seemed to be toying with you, for whatever reason you couldn’t understand.

What joy did he get in harassing a helpless, naked lady in the woods?

But he had you stumped. As much as you hated this entire ordeal, you needed his assistance to get the hell out of here and return to your reality.

So you mustered up all of your courage, taking a few reluctant steps towards him. You could see the sleazy grin on his face once he’d realized you had surrendered, the quiet falls of your feet against the leaves evidence of your resignation as he hadn’t glanced at you yet.

“Hand over the lighter,” you grit out through a clenched jaw.

“My pleasure,” he honeyed out, dipping his head towards you with shut eyes, his massive palm outstretched, a bed for his silver lighter.

You were finally able to get a proper look at his face.

Tight lines etched his face, littered with a few scars, most likely from years of work of whatever it is he did in the woodlands. You also got a closer view of the tattoos marking his face, a weird juxtaposition to a man living in a forest, making you wonder what the story behind them was.

But what stood out to you the most was his pink-colored hair–something you’d never come across in all of your years.

“Done gaping?” He smirked, eyes closed despite how assured he sounded knowing you were staring.

“Shut up,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing the lighter from his massive hand that seemed to dwarf yours, rubbing your thumb against the spark wheel.

You watched it light up, holding it up to the butt of the cigarette and watched as it burned, ashes fluttering into the air.

He returned to his full height, snagging the lighter from your hand with ease and shoving his hands into his pockets, turning his back to you once more.

“You’ve got three options,” he ruled, pulling the cigarette from his lips and inhaling sharply, before pushing it out of his nose. “One, stay here and figure your own way out, and probably die. Two, you can listen to the directions I point you in… andddd probably die since you clearly don’t know your way around. The wolves here tend to get real hungry,” he snarled, wanting to get a reaction from you.

You rolled your eyes, bristling at his demeanor and the scent of smoke, fingers drumming impatiently on your biceps as you folded your arms. “Alright, I get it. What’s the last option where I hopefully don’t meet an early demise?”

His head dropped, almost smugly, thinking about something absolutely hilarious. “You can come stay with me.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “Funny. What’s the actual last option?”

He didn’t respond, simply taking another hit from his cigarette, and you could feel your stomach clench.

“Okay. Where’s the nearest inn?”

“An inn in the middle of the woods?” He asked as if that was the stupidest question in the world.

You grit your teeth. “And no one else lives up here?”

He nodded.

You inhaled sharply. “With all due respect, Sukuna,” you started, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. “I don’t spend the night with random and strange men I come across in the woods, unlike most apparently.”

“Well, I gave you your options. I’m not gonna force you to do nothin’,” he coolly spoke, before lowering his voice. “But be warned. This forest ain’t a place a little lady like you wants to poke around at dusk.”

You shivered at his admission, fingernails pressing crescents into your biceps. “...What happens after nightfall?”

He chuckled low, making your skin crawl, and it wasn’t thanks to the breeze.

“Wanna stay and find out for yourself?”

𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

He’d allowed you the space of getting changed in private, back resting against a tree trunk and still facing away from you as he idly flicked the cap of his lighter on and off, the constant sound of metal meeting metal in the nearby distance.

You weren’t quite sure if he was doing it out of habit, or if it was some sort of unspoken signal to ease your worries that he hadn’t decided to ditch you to fend for yourself.

It was most likely the former, you could tell from one look the guy was a heartless brute. Probably why he lived in the woods.

But did he live alone here? Or did he have a docile wife and seven children ready to welcome you with open arms by the time you made your way up the trail?

After getting fully dressed, you shuffled your socks on before you let out a loud hiss—a sudden piercing pressure on your ankle.

Gently setting your sock down, you sat atop a nearby rock and crossed your legs to take a closer look.

It seemed that the thorn that poked you earlier had done more than just that—the area swelling and red. The spot, previously a microscope hole, had grown and was practically glowing and exuding a heat.

You pressed a finger against it, immediately regretting it when it sent pain spiking through your veins, the skin bulbous.

“You’re not making it out of the forest any time soon in that condition.”

You yelped with a jump, full-body flinching and swinging your head behind you to see Sukuna towering over you, eyes narrowed to slits as he eyed your injury. “Jesus. Warn a woman next time?”

He ignored you, something you’ve noticed he has a habit of doing, as he folded in half, skimming a hand over your puncture wound. A tight whimper left your lips, his calloused finger pad ghosting over it before he straightened out. “Can you walk on it?”

You attempted to pull the sock back over before you winced, heart fluttering in nerves. “I-I can try,” you stammered out, trying to maneuver it carefully before he clicked his tongue.

“Fuck, alright,” he grunted, as if mulling something over before he stepped in front of you. He crouched down on one knee, jeans digging into the mud yet he didn’t seem to care. “Hop on.”

Your maw fell slack at the sight, suddenly feeling incredibly hot at the sight. This crude and ruffish man was offering to carry you all of the sudden.

“Uh, i-it’s alright. I can walk–”

“Quit your rambling and get on.”

You shut up at his interruption, muttering a ‘rude much?’ he didn’t acknowledge under your breath before standing to a wobble, doing your best not to bump your ankle into anything as the pain began to flare to what felt like your bones.

Oddly enough, he was practically your height on his knees, his massive form slightly intimidating you.

You brought your hands over his shoulders and clasped them in front of him, hoping he couldn’t smell the musk radiating from your sweat-soaked clothing.

As you tried to wrap your legs around his midsection, he suddenly rose, wrapping his massive hands along the underside of your thighs and straightening to his full height.

You did everything to ignore the flip of your stomach as he did so, the touch burning your skin.

Something sizzled in your mind, before you realized how leggy this man actually was. “Could make a joke about the weather up here, but it’s really quite nice,” you snickered, head ducking between his hat, cheek right beside his, as your eyes raked over his bird's eye view.

“Shut it or I’m dropping you.”

Raising your hand around his face, you made a show of zipping your mouth closed to which he huffed at, effectively blocking his vision.

He made rounds picking up the things you’d managed to drop across the creek, stuffing them into your bag and pretending not to see the spare panties you’d brought along as you averted your gaze awkwardly, a heat rising from the back of your neck.

He carried your bag in one hand like it weighed nothing before whistling at his dog who managed to disappear somewhere in the woods some time ago. Moments later, Uraume came panting back, a stick in their mouth and wagging their tail.

“Later, Uraume. Let’s go home.”

The dog let out a whistling whine at the buzzword of ‘home,’ realizing their owner was not going to play fetch with them, before coming to Sukuna’s side.

You found it quite endearing to see the massive and huffy man have a furry friend, biting your lip when you found yourself grinning.

𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Are you going to kill me and bury me where no one can find me?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He clearly was not one for humor.

𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

The walk back was oddly comfortable, the two of you trekking up a narrow path as the sun began to set, listening to the ambience of nature—the whooshing of the eolian wind, the groans of the trees, and the calls of wildlife.

You’d attempted to break the silence on a couple of occasions, but was only met with snippy or short replies, effectively shutting you up.

But the silence wasn’t unsettling, it was… easy.

You just hoped that this man was what he let on, wondering how long it’d take authorities to find your corpse if he was a madman considering how far inland you’d made it.

If they found your body.

You shivered at the thought.

“You cold?” He asked, breaking you from your thoughts, voice low and hoarse as he focused ahead of him.

“Oh, no. Actually the opposite. I’m– FUCK!”

You screeched louder than you’d meant to, eyes shutting tight as tears nearly began to flow down your cheeks, a sudden piercing pain in your ankle.

Sukuna froze, glancing down to your injury to see he’d brushed your ankle against a branch that was hanging low, his heart sinking at the sight. “Fuck.”

You bit your lip, holding back any cries as you tried to steady your ragged and shallow breaths, feeling lightheaded from the intense pain.

“I barely saw it…” he trailed off in a whispered tone, eyes wide as his fingers gripped your thighs tighter, feeling an intense wave of regret seeing your ankle swell even more.

“Just watch where you’re fucking going,” you gritted out, teeth clenched as your fingers curled in the leather of his jacket, feeling your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull and pass out.

“Right.” He curtly spoke, adjusting you on his back by lifting you and continuing on.

Once the pain subsided, something heavy settled in your chest. By Sukuna’s reaction, you realized just how rude you must’ve come off in your state of pain, mouth speaking before you could think.

Something apologetic itched at you, biting your tongue at his stifling silence, still moving forward without a word instead of ditching you like you probably deserved. You should apologize, right? You sounded incredibly ungrateful. He’d gone to so much of an effort to help you, receiving nothing in return.

Unless he was planning to kill you, of course, but you brushed that off.

You drew in air. “Hey, Sukuna. Uh, I just wanna–”

He froze, stopping in his tracks immediately before glancing around. Then he peered up quickly, glancing at how the sun was nearly about to fall.

“...Sukuna?”

“Shut up.”

You knitted your eyebrows immediately, head bouncing back in offense. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re–”

“Shut the fuck up for five seconds. We’re not alone,” he spat out in a hushed tone, head glancing towards you for emphasis.

You could feel yourself turn defensive in record time, scoffing incredulously with a chuckle. You opened your mouth to fire back something snappy, barely registering what he said, when you, too, heard it.

There was a quiet growl, you easily would’ve missed it had he not said anything, and subtle crunches of leaves near you.

You hadn’t even noticed Uraume, who’d been following you this entire time, began to whine, ears flopping downwards and flanking close to Sukuna.

He was right. You weren’t alone.

1K notes · View notes

antlersarchives · 2 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

one-shot

bo chow x reader

summary - wandering on alone in the deep of the Mississippi Delta wasn't a favoured thing, but nor was it an uncommon one. some carefree few would end up along that track from time to time, and their consequence? the last path they'd find themselves walking down in the dead of night with enough living breath to carry them. those damn creatures of the night..

requested by: anonymous 💗

warnings; smut, 18+, vampirism, canon-typical violence, mild gore/violence, bloodplay, stalking, southern gothic erotica, biting, restraint, oral sex (r!receiving), pinv, worship kink, dirty talking, soulmates and soul tied, finding a mate, consensual, 1930s southern history, second person pov.

a/n: based on the song 'scared to live' by the weeknd because when I was thinking of this fic, this is what came up and I thought it was gorgeous,, also thank you to the many peeps who reached out and asked for this!! and yes I added the line between Stack and Mary because DAMN. i hope you enjoy, it might need some tweaks, but requests and comments are welcome and please let me know what you think!

w/c: 5.6k

It was unusual walking around this late at night. Especially alone; at least that’s what you’d been told.

Deep down in the heart and heat of the Mississippi Delta, right beside the marshes and desolate land, there was a calmness in the stillness of the earth, everything full of life and promise, only the devil creeping around the corner to take back what was his. And that’s what you clung to, no matter how much your mama would tell you otherwise, that the dangers out there are too much to cope with, or how the children back in your schoolhouse days would spread rumor; you always found yourself right back here.

Alone.

The night was especially still tonight, the darkness closing in tighter than usual under a cloudless sky. The only light came from a couple of flickering lanterns outside a dim Juke Joint, guiding your path as you walked.

On the porch of the joint, two old-timey musicians sat pouring their hearts into the music they created, without a care in the world, frozen in time, they could forget the industrialisation of the world around them. One man played a harmonica, his weathered hands cradling it with care. The soulful, fuzzy notes wrapped around you, a comforting urge to keep moving forward despite the shadows surrounding you.

Your feet seemed to carry you effortlessly through the opening of the wood, drawing deeper in as you looked behind you one last time, swaying with each step as the music faded into the distance. Heading to the only home you knew without a destination - your own company.

A few twigs crunched beneath your feet as you walked, and the odd branch creeping up on you, the left of you the bayou laid still, untouched - and to your right, the final twinkle of streetlights, was the edge of town, just before they turned off completely. Now, you’d never seen anyone else cross this path; by this point you’d think you owned it simply because you seemed the only one daring or reckless enough to walk it on your own- and you had heard both from just about anyone.

But this time was different.

All kinds of things were catching your eyes, something not ordinary. Snakes, alligators, even the nearest flock of herons that waded over the water, standing as tall as a small child. But that wasn’t it, it wasn’t innocence that followed you, and there was enough life and nature around you to tell you that, whatever it was, it wasn’t living.

Your mind stopped wandering at rustling that came from a bush behind you and you turned on your heel, the soil beneath you shifting with a sigh, and the rustling stopped. You halted, squinting your eyes at all around you, from the floor to the tops of the trees - nothing.

A pair of wings fluttered out before you could blink, hurtling toward you in one swift motion and you backed up into a tree beside you, gasping. You winced at the roughness, rubbing at the start of what would soon be a bruise. Taking a deep breath, you straightened yourself and kept on moving, cursing yourself for even being startled in the first place. It was nothing but a little house finch - your grandfathers old illustration books could have told you that, and you took your life studying this place, your home, this wasn’t anything to be worried about.

However your gut told a different story. You slowed, taking note of a blossom tree, the shadows of purple flowers, you traced the lines of the stems, putting your focus on that instead of-

“Shit-“ A voice rang out from the darkness ahead of you, out of sight, and you brushed the leaves out of your hand, swatting the branch away, crouching a little beside them. A figure stumbled out from the bushes, a man, dusting off his shoulders and catching his fall he stood up straight on the side of the path. He looked around for a moment mumbling something to himself, wiping something from around his mouth - you couldn’t quite make it out but whatever is was was dark, thick.

The breeze picked up and rustled the whole wood, and your eyes trailed him, not moving for a second. He was somewhat tall, with a dark head of hair - well kept and presentably dressed for this time of night. A pair of lined trousers and a white shirt, suspenders keeping his back straight is about what you could make out. A stranger, no doubt, but the voice.. the voice you recognised. His head snapped up and your stomach turned, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on where you’d heard it before.

The heat was unbearable.

And that was saying something for someone who grew up around here. Your arms felt like they were about to give out from the weight of the grocery bags, and you could swear the soles of your feet were nearly burned away in those flimsy old shoes. The street buzzed with life, cars and people rushing in every direction, while music spilled out from corners on nearly every block, making your head spin. You could feel your body start to sag a bit under the strain, so you set one of the bags down on the ground. With all this running around and the pressure to get home quickly, you leaned against the wall to steady yourself.

The only thing that pulled you from your daze was an arm wrapping around you, gripping your waist like a cool washcloth— supporting you. You looked up to meet the gaze of one of the local shop owners. You scrunched your face, trying to see him more clearly, only to focus on his warm and friendly smile.

“Hey, I had to catch you before you fell there, darlin'. Is everything okay?” He let out a nervous chuckle as he propped you up against the wall, gently taking the bag from your other hand and setting it down next to the first. Your ears were ringing, and dizziness washed over you,. You hadn’t realised how hard you’d been pushing yourself until it became almost impossible to move. His hand cupped your cheek, and he looked deeply into your eyes, as if he’d have been searching for signs of life.

He nodded to himself and looked up and down the street before standing upright.” How ’bout we go a little ways away down this street? I’ve got a store down there; I own it.” Pointing in the direction you were already headed, he clicked his fingers at a worker loading up a truck and waved them over to pick up your bags. Gently grabbing your hands, he placed them around his neck.

Bo paused for a moment, a smile spreading across his face as he watched you ready yourself. You twirled onto your side, and he slipped his arm back around your waist, guiding you a few steps and into the shop. He encouraged you the way there, playfully teasing you about being out in the heat and pushing yourself too hard. As you made your way into the store, he leaned you against the counter for support. Before you could voice any objections, his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you onto the counter with effortless ease and drawing his hands away.

You settled back with a huff, grateful for the brief respite. And as you took in the store, he had disappeared, returning just as fast with a glass of water in hand.

“Something to take the edge off, huh?” He offered, his voice a soothing balm, as he extended his hand toward you. You weakly accepted it, your fingers enveloping the glass. “Thank you,” you croaked out, your voice hoarse like gravel. He looked astounded, his eyes widening as he shuffled away from where he stood, placing his hands at his sides.

“Agh, she speaks; how are you feeling, Sweetpea?” The playful smirk on his face lingered as he watched your lips gently graze the rim of the glass. Your eyes fluttered closed in a moment of solace, and you raised your thumb in a silent saying of “okay,” feeling the chill of the cold water hit your mouth.

He slanted his side against the counter, his hips swaying slightly as he observed you, watching how your brows knitted together in concentration as you drank, and you could feel his eyes on you.

At that moment, a sense of longing washed over him, his eye lingering on you in a way he hadn’t meant to. He found himself thinking all those things he shouldn’t—how your lips curved into that bright smile, the static shock as your fingers brushed against his, and how your skirt senselessly bunched around your knees. His breath caught in his throat, placing his empty hand on the counter beside you, enclosing you at a distance.

You lazily pulled your hand back and shifted in your seat, meeting his longing look. You noticed the sweat beading on his hairline, trickling down his cheek just etching at his lip and how his mouth parted as he licked his lips, almost panting from the outside , before setting the glass down. Tilting your head slightly, you tried to read the familiar face, hoping by some miracle you'd remember an answer, a name, anything - but you'd only seen him a couple of times, watching lowly from the street. And before you could ask,

“It’s Bo, Bo Chow.” He paused for a moment, breathless. “But most folks around here just stick with Bo.” The smile he offered was like a daydream, a shared one, as he nodded his head, clasping his hands together.

It was him.

You drew a breath sharply. The brush from the leaves threatening to whip you in the face with the wind as you remained at eye-level with it but your crouched feet failed you. What felt like a distant memory was only just a few weeks ago, and it flooded back fast, the soles of your feet still burned and they gave way, but the ground beneath you shifted, you pulled at the earth and when the roots from broke, you fell backward, leaving a snap at your wake. You gasped as the hard mud hit your back, bunching your hand to make a fist to push at it.

Footsteps approached hurriedly and a presence peered from over you, familiar hands reached out for you, leaving no distance in sight, the moonlight lit up part of his face giving all your questions the truth you needed.

“Bo..” You wheezed out loud, grabbing at his arm as he towed you forward, letting you sit up. You felt this before, his touch, but now there was a grip that felt unnatural, it burned with his touch, your limb could have practically gone limp, and yet he barely moved a muscle.

“Woah there, careful baby.” You stood up and he stepped back a bit giving you some space, laughing as you both realised one another, you sighed of relief of seeing his face, something so unlikely here, in the dead of night.

Now it threw you off no doubt, but it was Bo, the shopkeeper down the street who took his own time to help you, the one you looked out for every day, a couple run ins without an acquaintance could tell you he was a gentleman, and many knew that, even you.The store had been shut down for while and he practically had wiped off the face of the Earth. After the incident you heard about in the papers about the Juke Joint everyone kept their heads down, keeping to themselves, apart from those whispers. Like the ones you’d heard since you were young, but now they were prime, the riddle on everyones tongue like a sermon, like some part the new gospel.

However, after that one day, you couldn’t help but think of him, the way he stopped to help you, to pull you close, the way he eyed the structure of your body like it was the holy grail itself. Leaving you to question, what would have happened if you’d have stayed? Maybe you hit your head that day, or perhaps it was the heat messing with you, but that didn’t change the heat you felt inside of you every time you thought about it, an aching, an uncontrolled urge with the way he rested against you, his hand near creeping up toward your thigh. And the way he looked at you now, breaking the silence, didn’t help your distress,

“I dropped my lantern around here some place, give me a second sweetheart.”

He snickered, kicking the dirt around his feet to find the lamp, and you stop there rocking on your heel unit he found it, picking it up and bringing it to the both of you. His eyes lulled at you, checking in as he pulled a matchbox from his pocket, reaching inside for one of them. He slid the box open and flicked one of the matches into his mouth, pausing to close the compartment. You could still make out the shading of his face, watching the way he moved, and the match in his mouth as he swiped it with his tongue, wrapping it tightly around so it wouldn’t fall. His gaze remained on you in the stillness, and as the tip guided along the top of his tongue, his eyes flashed starved with want.

It created a glow, lighting the woods and your faces up orange, he crouched to pick up the lantern beside his feet, sealing the glow inside its glass case.

“You could’a frightened me there.” You laughed off, trying to give some kind of lightness to what had just happened, spurring on conversation.

He held it close in his hands, enough to keep track of you and take a look around for any others, if there even was. “I didn’t mean to scare you darlin, probably shouldn’t have been wandering out here this late as it is myself, but thought I’d take a walk, it’s been one hell of a day.” You quirked an eyebrow now being able to focus on his face, eyes drawing to the corner of his dimples. His smile didn’t falter once, staying at the flat of his mouth, only gracing his face lightly, and beyond his surprise he seemed please. Pleased to see you.

“Yeah I could have guessed.” You wiped your fingers at the corner of your mouth, gesturing to his own. He looked pretty beat up, just without the bruises, or without injury of any kind, but the thick strands of blood that pooled from his mouth proved otherwise.

His face contorted into some sort of shock at your look and he pinched at the drying substance, wiping it into his pants without as much as a look. The look he gave went blank for a moment, like he wanted to say something but refrained, like he was fighting something on the inside.

“So why’re you out here this late?” He took a little step forward, stepping downward from the small, raised embankment he was on before, now at almost level with you, he hung the lantern in-between you both. You didn’t move, rather stilled in your step as he wandered over to you, his eyes squinting a little. “I usually come out here, on my own, it’s rare you see anyone down here past sundown.” You wondered why, why out here, and now. Everything seemed to go silent, enough to hear a pin drop, only that light breeze shaking up your skirts, and tousled his hair just enough to shag in his face, it was calm, gentle even, just like before - but Bo, he seemed out of place, shifting back and forth where he stood, yet confident still. More eager than before.

Like he was trying to make some sort of move.

You continued to ramble and he smirked, “I haven’t seen you or the shop open around here in a while, are you sure you’re alright? There’s been a lot happening in town while you’ve been gone.”

“You noticed I been gone?” He shot back suddenly, the only thing registering, his lip curling a bit.

“Well, you guys own a much needed store in this town, it would be missed if it were to go untouched.” He took another step forward, watching you stumble over your words seemed rewarding. All this time he’d been around, seen you, wanting to do something, it’s not like he was scared to do it, and to tell the truth he didn’t really understand his infatuation at first. He’d seen you walk the streets, crossing by his shop window whenever you’d head into town, the times you’d visit and leave just as fast, cheeks blushing pink when you’d see him. And that’s what stayed with him. Things weren’t all that it seemed behind those four walls, his life felt withdrawn of colour, everything was weight. But you, oh you were light, some beautiful sign, something he chased for, something he was determined to make his. And with his life now, he knew what that meant.

“You know what I mean. “ You feigned confidence in your words, now in reality that a truth, but in honesty, you knew it was more than that; much more.

He took another step forward, this time as you took one back, your heel clicked with the root of a tree, giving a thud as you braced both of your arms behind you, pushing you up as much as you could, feeling the rough bark at your finger tips. “You miss me?” His nature shifted, and his head tilted with it, swaying the lantern as he walked, a few steps distance between you both. The light flickered, so much so the shape of his face seemed to contort.

And his eyes, they glossed over an iridescent white, glinting specks of red and orange, something that you hadn’t seen before. Something that wasn’t human.

But you blinked and they were gone.

They were normal, a darker brown suited them, staring at you knowingly. “You could say that.” Your breath shook, but not out of fear, no, but instead the way he drew near, closer and closer. He flashed you a smile as you tried to think of the right words, but now his teeth.

Another blink.

And the once rounded molars were sharp and jagged, more like an animal, something made for tearing into flesh. And you felt your stomach drop and an ache that pooled downward, one you couldn’t control.

He staggered, dropping his head forward to look at the ground before looking up to you again. He rested his arm on the piece of tree behind your head, getting quieter, though his voice rang in your ears, ”Saw the way you looked at me back at the store, and I should have said somethin’.”

“Bo, that was just-“ He took the final step between you, leaving the lantern at your feet, his finger came up to your mouth shushing you, knowing where you were going with what you said next, seemingly before you did. His eyes still had a distinct gentile in them, the same as the one you knew before, even beyond his new form. And no words had to be uttered to tell you what that was.

The truth you both knew. The limited glint from the light reflected from his eye to yours, and you could see your face in the shine.

“You're telling me that was nothin’, that you didn’t think of about it,” A serious expression on his face, his brows furrowed, he brushed his fingers down against your side, drawing a line against the curve of your waist, “Not even once?” His face flashed with a sense of pride, and the way his pupils dilated was proof of what knew to be true. Your hips jolted forward at the feather light touch and he brought his hand down to cup your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Bo..” Your face grew red, so red someone would think you’d be laying in that beating sun all day long.

“Y/N.. Tell me.”

Inches away from your face he pressed against you, slanting closer, his voice a staggered whisper, and his lips damp.

“Ever since you saw me last..” You looked down at them, seeing drool at the edges of them and you chuckled a little. He sucked in a keen breath as you scraped yourself against the tree, gaining balance, bringing your finger up to wipe at it.

“Hey, you’re droolin’”

“You want some?” Your head shot up at his quip, bangs of his hair falling into your face, your noses touching. You smiled through your flushed expression, the wetness gathered on your finger and he leaned to kiss as it lightly, drawing his tongue at the remnants. Bo moved his face closer so that your hand laid on his cheek, nuzzling his nose up against your own, he pressed himself against you rocking his hips.

Without an answer, you tugged his face towards yours, closing the gap between you, gasping into his mouth at the friction he was causing. His tongue pushed into your mouth with passion, lips locking with yours as he slotted his knee between you, cupping your sex against his pants, leaving no resistance with the sensation, and you pushed down with a whine.

“God baby..” He licked at your mouth, biting at your top lip fiercely, and he dragged down kissing at your jaw, leaving soft chaste, open mouthed marks toward your neck. His lips felt familiar, so much so they tugged at you, on your heart, so much it almost hurt.

“Please..” You whimpered as Bo’s teeth bared at your neck, along your jugular long enough to feel your heart rumble beneath the canines, feel it even. He sucked in a breath, planting a hard, marking kiss before continuing down. His hands manoeuvred down your shirt, pushing through the soft fabric, bracing his fingers over your breasts and pulling away at the buttons, undoing them one by one by one. And he placed himself on the ground kneeling in front of you.

The tangerine tones scattered across your body like a reckoning, and he grasped with the sight of it, not knowing whether to sit and study or ruin you completely. His head rested against your lower stomach, almost begging you, his hands teasing up the backs of your legs, gripping you where you stood. Your mouth hung open, shivering at his motions. You watched, entranced, as he effortlessly lifted the hem of your skirts, pushing the fabric higher until it rested above your hips. With deliberate slowness, he tugged at the corners of your panties, peeling them down around your ankles. The cool air exposed your cunt, sending another wave of shivers through you as he began tracing the length of your thigh up and down with his tongue.

Your hips jolted forward, and he wasted no time in aimlessly yanking at your hips, his hands scooping up at the flesh of your ass holding you up just enough to reach your centre. Bo grunted as his mouth reached you, pulling you back and forth onto his tongue as he sucked on your clit, the tips of his fingers digging in as you brought your hand to his hair.

The black strands now turning into a disheveled mess in your grasp, there being no reservations at all about his drool slicking down the sides of his mouth as he was moaning into your cunt, fucking his tongue into you, fingers continuing to dig into your hips. He gets lost in the way your breath hitches, the way you say his name - over and over again without abandon, and oh how he’s been waiting, wanting to hear that.

“That’s it pretty girl, I’ve got you.” He groans as your taste coats his tongue, thick with your sweet slick, the height of his newfound senses alerting with each and every movement, and he swears that its the best thing he’s tasted, beyond the blood. He plunged deeper and you could do nothing but follow with a string of moans. You fell apart against him, arching your back into his face as you guided him impossibly close, your head falling back against the wood behind you. All of this time, imagining, yearning and here you were now without a care in the world hissing at every touch he gave, every ounce of pleasure he was willing to give.

His motions didn’t relent, mouth warming against you as his he flicked his tongue in figures of eight, only pausing to suck harshly, and it was too much.

Over and.

Over.

You came undone, a white hot strike vibrating through you and your legs trembled, clenching around him with a cry, “Baby..”.

That was enough for him and he nudged upward, cupping your one leg up to his hip and you circled it around his middle shamelessly.

The thick humidity enveloped you as you panted, heart racing, when he finally came face to face with you once more. A wicked grin spread across his lips, his fangs catching the dim light. You shuddered, but it wasn’t fear that coursed through you; it was the anticipation of what was about to happen.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, delicate kiss, and you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut. You were standing before a darkness, a malevolence you had been warned about for years—an evil you were all too familiar with, yet never imagined you could draw so close to but your whole being knew.

“I don’t know if I can stop myself.” He breathed out, all restraint he took against himself, resting his head falling against your shoulder, still kissing at the curve of your neck. But you already felt it, with your body pressed against his, you hissed at the motion of his dick pressing through his pants. You reached down to the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling as you pulled it up, revealing the taut muscles of his abdomen. The heat radiated from his skin, mingling with the dew around you, the atmosphere made your heart race.

You could feel the tension building, the unspoken desires hanging in the air, thick and intoxicating you into a compulsion.

“I shouldn’t do this,” you whispered, though the conviction behind your words was faltering. Part of you wanted to push him away, to run from the danger he represented, yet another part—a part you couldn’t ignore—yearned to lean into the darkness he offered.

His lips ghosted over your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. “But you want to,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, those dark eyes glinting with mischief and hunger. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you darlin’? The pull between us?”

You inhaled sharply, the air thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and his intoxicating presence.

“Yes,” you admitted, a soft breath escaping your lips. “But it’s reckless. You could hurt me.”

His grin widened, a blend of danger and allure. “And I could do much more than that.” With a swift, fluid motion, he captured your wrist and pulled you closer, bodies flush against each other, the space between you ablaze with possibility. "But what if I promised to keep you safe?"

You hesitated, heart racing as your mind raced with the implications. Could you trust him? Your instincts screamed caution, yet your body betrayed you, yearning for his touch, for the thrill of the unknown.

As he leaned in again, brushing his lips just above yours, the world around you faded into insignificance. In this moment, it was just the two of you, teetering on the edge of danger and desire “Then show me,” you dared. “Show me what you can do.”

He hesitated for just a moment, as if weighing the gravity of your words, before his eyes darkened with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a rush of excitement coursing through you.

The moment his fangs pierced your skin, a sharp gasp escaped your lips and he bucked his hips forward. It was a mixture of pain and a wave of pleasure that stole your breath away. You felt a jolt of energy surge through you as he fed, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, igniting a fire deep in your core - your leg tightened around him.

He caressed your thigh, keeping you pinned between him and the tree and the other grabbing at what he could of your waist as he drank from you, his mouth moving with a sensuous rhythm that sent a heat radiating through your body. Mindlessly your fingers wrapped around his buckle, undoing the chipped metal with a clink that hardly met either one of your ears but he felt it. Your head slacked against the top of his, grabbing at his hips he groaned, and your wetness covered a patch against his clothed cock.

You could feel your heartbeat thrumming in your ears, each pulse syncing with the deep, primal need that blossomed between you, feeling the same dizziness you felt weeks before, this time only stronger. His hands, his mouth, while mostly solid, feel tingly, cold in a way that's akin to walking through fog. His breath is warm as it huffs against your neck, a delicious push and pull of sensation.

With a low growl, he pulled back from your neck slightly, his eyes glinting crimson, a reflection of the warmth of your blood glistened on his lips, a stark reminder of the line you had crossed. “You’re somethin’ honey, let me take care of that for you,” he breathed, his voice low and husk.

The pulse in your neck rippling with every beat of your heart as he rested his forehead against your own, darting his tongue out to kiss you again, giving you the taste of your own blood, now yours, now his.

Bo leered at you and you all you could muster was a dumb smile back. He undid the rest of what you started, eyes watching you and you only as he pulled his dick from his pants. Long, and thick, and leaking, he cursed to himself at the aching and moaned, kissing your cheek. The stretch ignited an intense burn and your hands travelled down his back, tugging at the tight muscle, feeling the weight of everything he put against you.

He leaned you all the way against him to where you were nearly laying as though on a bed yet still angled as though lounging on upright against the tree. The new angle pushed his cock to the sweetest pull, pushing against your plush walls and letting a gasp escape you in turn. Bo smoothed the sides of your body while your feet turned under you and you let your body rest on him. He ran over your breasts slowly through the opening of your lace shirt. Nipples long and pebbled, he squeezed the flesh and brought them up before releasing them again. Bo brought his head to rest beside yours as he thrusted into you once more, blood curdling at your cheek from his mouth.

The wound at your neck stung, with every delicious snap of his hips it jerked your bodies, a solidified reminder now every time he pounded into you. Each snap hitting perfectly deep as his hands cradled you and his words filled your mind with him.

“You’re my girl.” He declared before you could even conjure up the thought. “Say it darlin’.” He continued guiding his hand at your leg, hoisting you as he brought is finger to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud, as his end neared.

“I’m yours.” You whined, bringing your finger to ghost atop his own as it circled your clit. The familiar heat in your core began to bubble like the markings of a burning fuse. You turned your head to his and kissed him deeply at the thought, rubbing your clit furiously with the help of his hand and relishing the way his cock completed your body.

“You’ll be mine.” Bo reaffirmed as his words caught every second his hips threatened to stutter at his release. “You’ll be mine forever ain’t that right.”

You could have sworn you saw the waves of Heaven wash over you as the eruption of your orgasm shakes you to the core. The blinding shades of his orbs stuck on you leaving you heaving for breath. Left thoughtless and wordless of promises that carry on with the shaking of your thighs and soft whispers of an ‘always’ from his lips. Bo stilled as he released, head slacking and mouth hanging open he moaned, his hips stuttered into you and the threads of his cum began to leak beyond where he filled you.

He released his hand from your own and rubbed your arms soothingly as you laid heavy against him, bracing you against the tree, his hand smoothing over your shoulders as to be careful. Sweat stuck to you as your hair frizzed out of place, the last droplets of blood dribbled out down your neck and he caught it with his finger.

You let out a hiss at the sensation but pouted, he readjusted your skirts, letting his forehead rest against yours once more, closing his eyes as your head knocked into his own and he grinned lightly. And you regained what was left of your breath as your vision faltered, only able to see his face in the dim glow.

“Now you will be.”

And a promise or a guarantee, who could know? But he intended to keep both.

#sinners x reader #sinners 2025 #sinners movie #bo chow x reader #bo chow #yao #sinners #bo chow fic #its finally here #come get your good good

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taintandviolent · 1 month ago

Text

be my woman, girl ; Remmick x reader

summary: As a lonely woman whose prayers are going unanswered, you prayed for something to take away your hurt. This time, something answers.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.6K | female reader, vampires, brief religious themes (praying, mention of God), spit kink, spit as a major aphrodisiac, dub-con if you tilt your head and look at it the right way, vampire sex, monsterfucking, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, biting, blood mention, blood drinking and loss, I guess it's implied virgin!reader (though it isn't focused on).

a/n: just a quick lil somethin' somethin', but it is HEAVILY inspired by Nosferatu, and the vibe of this song. sorry that - spoiler alert - the vampire bites reader in every fic I write about them, I literally cannot stop myself from doing it. not beta-read, as per usual. dividers by @/v6que and @/adornedwithlight! PS: Thank you so much for all the love on my previous Remmick fic, you guys are such darlings!

↓ fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

The house is quiet aside from the occassional creak or whine; wood panels shift against each other, moaning low like your grandparents as they sat in a chair. Houses breathed every now and then — never scared you any.

Unlike everyone else, you're wide awake. Though your room is dark, the dreams haven't come for you. Pale, blue moonlight washes your features as you stand in front of the window, looking out into the front yard. There's nothing, no one.

That's just it… no one.

Your head hangs heavy, burdened by the aching, stinging loneliness that you felt.

No one for you, ever.

Hell, even your sister had found someone this past spring. Everyone always said you'd get married first 'cause you were the pretty one of the two. But you hadn't. Men didn't flirt with you, they just passed you by, as casual as can be. People shushed your worries by saying that God works in mysterious ways, when the time is right, can't rush love, and so on. None of those trivial phrases helped you any, you were still alone at the close of every night. So you'd pray. Just like you did every night. You looked up into that sky and prayed your heart out, prayed until you were blue in the face.

You thumb the latch to unlock it and with a small vocalization, push the window up. The sheer curtains flutter delicately, like ghosts in the breeze. The night air floods in, bathing your face and neck in it and you sink softly to your knees, resting your elbows on the wood of the sill. Your hands are clasped tightly together — as tight as you can — and you press your fists against your mouth for a moment as the tears well up in your eyes.

"Please," you beg, speaking against your own fingers. "I am so lonely. I can't bear it any longer. My heart aches somethin' awful..."

You sniff, and lift your eyes to the moon in all her luminous glory, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. "If there's anyone out there… take away my sufferin', take away my pain. I am beggin' you."

You hold your breath, waiting. You're acutely aware of all the sounds; a breeze flutters through the tall grasses and the old trees on your daddy's property, the branches creak loudly against each other, a twig snaps somewhere in the distance. Pricks of light flitter across the forest. An animal, probably. You see them every night.

"Please, come to me." Spoken through tears and snot. "I'm beggin'."

Still shrouded in the shadows of the forest, two of the pinpricks of light stop in the foot-trodden pathway to your front door. You clumsily wipe your tears away with the back of your hand and lean forward out of the window, trying to focus on the fuzzy darkness. They look like eyes, of a coyote or something similar, but you didn't notice until now that the figure seems taller than that, on account of where the eyes are.

You blink.

They blink back before they grow closer, carried on upright steps.

You gasp. Shocked by your own noise, your hand flies to your mouth as though it'll muffle the breathing. You duck back inside the window and fall backwards, catching yourself on your hands. There's a funny feeling roiling in your stomach, like a pit of wet snakes, slippin' and slidin' around in your gut.

From this angle, you can't see the reflective gaze anymore, but the curtains still flutter, seeming to whisper to you, calling your name in a tone that only you can hear. You scoot back, dragging your body along the floorboards until your back hits the bed post, and keeping your gaze locked on the window, you awkwardly crawl up into the bed, twisting your body in a way that doesn't disrupt your line of sight. You slither underneath the covers, pulling them up to your neck like a frightened child.

The window's still open… but you're too afraid to get up again, 'cause maybe those eyes would still be staring right at you. So, you nestle yourself deeper under the covers and stare at that window until your lids get heavy. Eventually, though you don't know how long it takes, you drift off to sleep.

The dreams start as soon as your body settles, as soon as your limp hand falls off the side of the bed, fingertips pointing towards the floor. A shadowed figure stands at the edge of your bed, his hand extended. His fingers are long, tipped by claws that reach out to you and cast terrifying shadows on your bedsheets. Those same reflective eyes stare down at you, watching you tremble. He moves closer, the shadows crawling up the length of your bed until they're pressed down against you. There's nothing on top of you but shadows, and yet, you can't move, pinned in place by some unseen force.

You awake with a heave, a strangled cry that dies in your throat as soon as you're upright. Beads of sweat decorate your chest, and ribbon down into the confines of your nightgown, disappearing into the fabric. Your room is dark and cool, but that does little to bring down the temperature of your feverish body.

Downstairs, you think. It felt natural, like you'd thought it. You throw the covers off your body, and tiptoe to your bedroom door, careful of each barefoot step. You bite your lip and with a gentle pull, you twist the knob and pull it open, praying it doesn't squeak. It doesn't.

You pad carefully down the steps, avoiding the one that creaks, and make your way to the front door. Again, the night air greets you like an old, forgotten friend and you inhale.

Those reflective eyes are staring right at you through the screen door. You can see 'em, clear as day. A moth flutters past your line of sight. As you turn on the porch light, your bare toes tease the edge of the threshold.

"What… what do you want?" Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

You make a fist in your nightgown, digging your nails into the soft fabric. He takes another step and leaves the shadows behind, allowing the light to illuminate his handsome features. His head tilts slightly as he considers your question, and an assured smile crosses his face.

"Aww, darlin'. You. I'm here for you…" he says, sweet like honey.

His accent is heavy and Southern, but something hides underneath it. You grip your nightgown tighter, suppressing a shudder that threatens to rip through your core. Something about him makes you wanna' step forward into the night, into his arms, but you resist. You shake your head, dislodging the lustful thoughts that try to take root in your brain.

He looks you up and down a few times before clicking his tongue in a disapproving way. You look down at yourself; sweat-soaked and dissheveled, your hair probably a mess, eyes swollen with sleep… God knows what else this man saw. Smelled. Understood.

"You poor thing… Ain't you tired, baby? Tired of screamin' and cryin' for a God that don't listen?"

You were.

"You called," he drawls. "I came."

He did.

He shoulders the door frame, leaning against it, peering at you through the mesh screen. You take a step back, and shake your head again, like a child shaking off her bad dreams. He runs a single finger along the edge of the screen, sharp nail scraping across the mesh with a barely audible tick tick tick. You understand now.

Quickly, but quietly, you push the door shut with a flattened palm. Maybe you were still dreaming. There. All better. Because really… what kinda' prayer is answered in the middle of the night? You hurry back through the darkened house, up the stairs and back into your room. For a moment, you listen in the hallway for sounds of stirring.

Satisfied that everyone's still sleeping, you turn around, leaning your back into the door gently. As soon as your eyes focus again, your muscles tense up and go rigid like steel. You slap your hand over your mouth, muffling the yelp that claws its way up your throat. You reel back, pressing yourself tightly against the door, like you could melt back through it.

Your eyes scrape tenatively along the floorboards, crawling up the elongated shadow of a man until you get to the figure that owns it. That same man leans against your window in a casual, relaxed position.

Be brave, girl.

"How'd you get in here?" You hiss, looking back at your bedroom door. "I ain't said you could—"

He lifts up a single finger, waving it back and forth, effectively shushing you. "Ohhh, you sure did, darlin'."

Remmick clears his throat theatrically, and falls forward to his knees. All at once, his nonchalant expression contorts into one of pain, of longing, of desperation, as he crawls towards you, frowning. "Please come to me…" he mocks in a higher tone, clutching his hands at his chest. "I'm beggin'…"

The realization feels heavy, your jaw hanging slack as you hear him. The world seems to lose its color around you, the floor drags you down by the hem of your gown. You sink to the wood, your ass hitting it with a soft thud. I called him.

His hands drops away from his chest as he knee-walks closer to you, reaching out to sweep your hair away from your temple. "Don't you fret now, ain't no sense in that. Remmick's gonna' make that hurt go away."

Remmick? Was that his name? When you give a devil a name, does it make him less terrifying?

As Remmick crawls over your body, you flatten against the floor, trying to shrink yourself away from him. He throws one knee up and over your hips, pinning you in place with his own. The sensation is intoxicating, and you feel damp heat pool between your thighs. He smiles, savoring the look of you beneath him, soft and supple, pretty and vulnerable.

Somewhere, you were scared. That somewhere that was too far away because your cunt, hot and aching, betrays you, clenching deeply at the feeling of a man on top of you — his weight felt like a blessing, like the long-awaited answer to a prayer. You writhe out of instinct though, clinging to some pure ideal, one that makes the corner of Remmick's lip hitch up in a snarl like he's smelled something foul. His teeth glint in the moonlight, pricks of jagged white amongst the darkness of his mouth.

"Y'got whatcha' asked fer'… don't go and be ungrateful now."

Lightning fast, Remmick's hand lurches out, pinching the sides of your mouth, forcing it open. He holds it there, while his own mouth opens, a stream of thick saliva stretching from his tongue. As it descends, you want to convulse and rip your head away, but with a clawed grip, he holds your head in place. It hits your tongue, dripping towards your throat. A warmth, a comfort, settles over your body, like the rays of sun kissing your body on a summer day, or slipping into a warm bath on a cool night. It's an all-enveloping feeling and you shudder, relaxing into the floor. Your body is no longer rigid, no longer fighting against him. Your legs part, hitching your nightgown up around your thighs in the process.

All you can do is look up into his glowing eyes, watching as the corners of his mouth curl up into a smile. Your back arches against his touch, his thumb brushing over the plumpness of your bottom lip. He smears his own saliva across your mouth. Onto your cheek. You smile lazily, and he nods encouragingly. "That's a-girl…"

With a little maneuvering, he slots himself between your thighs and his hands come down on either side of your neck. You feel his proximity, and whimper, angling your hips upward to grind against a rigidness you know is there, and Remmick lurches forward, sealing his lips to your neck.

He sucks at the skin, sucks until the flesh reddens, until it aches. The ache is a dull one, and even though you ought to stop him, you don't. Your hands find the nape of his neck, fingers sliding up through his dark hair, pulling him closer. He draws one hand down to free himself, and yank your panties to the side. You're no longer lonely, no longer sad. Lust claims your senses, without a care in the world.

Two fingers prod your entrance and you hitch your leg higher, allowing him more room. He sinks them in, breaching her, his thumb bumping into your swollen clit. Satisfied, he exhales above you, enamoured with the way your body sings back to him. With no hesitation, Remmick curves them deep within your cunt a few times, sending stars across your vision. As soon as you moan against the shell of his ear, he withdraws them and you feel him line himself up, the thick, velvet head pressing against the slit.

He's met with no resistance from your eager body, so Remmick sheaths himself inside your slick, waiting walls in one thrust. At first, there's heat as his cock stretches you wide, but your cunt adjusts, hungrily clenching around the shaft. His body undulates against yours, pressing tightly against your sweet, womanly figure as he thrusts, driving himself as deep as he can.

For a good few minutes, there's nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin, feverish breaths and hushed moans. Remmick hums suddenly into your neck, pressing one tender kiss to the bruised flesh, reverently. He's still buried inside you, cock twitching with an impending release.

Breathily, he speaks as he strokes the side of your sweat-streaked face. "You asked fer' someone to take yer' sufferin' away and I'm gonna' do just that. I'm gonna' take away that hurt."

You whimper below him, a semblance of understanding of what's about to happen flashing across your darling features. "Shhh, this ain't gonna' sting but a second."

He leans in again, and you feel a flash of searing pain as fangs pierce your tender skin, drawing a gush of your sweet, cerise nectar out onto his tongue. Remmick groans at the coppery taste of your blood as it floods his mouth, and begins hungrily suckling at your neck, swallowing against the bleeding flesh. His hips find a new rhythm, and you feel your heartbeat pounding through your body — every inch of you seems to have a pulse — but he's right. It only hurts for a moment before you ease into the feeling, your body's natural defenses numbing the pain.

Now, the feeling drives you over the edge. Your vision darkens around the edges, throbbing between focused and blurry. You give a hard shiver as you spasm around his cock, coating him in slick arousal, and Remmick bucks his hips hard into your clenches, chasing his own release. With your hot blood clogging his throat, he asks of eternity, and you nod sleepily.

When he crashes down from that electric peak of pleasure, you feel dizzy. The sensation of being full claims you, wraps you up, and coddles you. Though, in your last moments, you can't mourn the loss of your precious life, you can't be sad… you'd asked for someone to take away your pain, your suffering, and for someone to come to you.

He'd heard you.

"Remmick," you say, drowsily.

He shushes you again with a clawed fingertip. You hear the dull thud of knuckles against a door. Your head lolls to the side, and Remmick straightens it out, leaving crimson fingerprints on your cheek before his weight leaves you.

The last thought you have is daddy, don't open that door.

But he does anyway.

Remmick is there to meet him.

#remmick x reader #remmick x you #remmick #remmick fanfic #remmick smut #vampires #x reader #reader insert #female reader #myfics #semi inspired by a request I got also

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