orbitvenus

[orbitvenus]

rhaena on the day she was to be wedded to maegor. in protest, she wears the coronation regalia made for her late husband aegon’s ascension to the iron throne.

[orbitvenus]

To Tame A Monster - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the most dangerous underground fighter in all of Japan - and the…hottest, too. You, the cute nurse that takes care of him, and totally not his favorite prize, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! nurse! reader, underground fighter! Gojo, scarred Gojo, he wears a muzzIe, slight vioIence, he’s a little (very) ínsane, muscular Gojo, manhandIing, full neIsons, semi-public, thigh grínding, edging, Gojo goes FÉRAL, tummy buIges, creampíes, face-sítting (fem rec.), cúmplay, BIIIG stretches, running from it, making it fit, HEADLOCKS, chokíng, fighting talk, squírting, dúmbifícation, víbrators, marks (on him), L bómbs, Sukuna cameos, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.0k

A/N. Happy 100 chapters on AO3!! Here’s a lil’ something for my hubby <3

They say that Gojo Satoru could take down the strongest of fighters with only six moves.

Audiences adored him, opponents insisted that the man wasn’t even human. And it was well known around these parts that one had to be brave enough that it inched into stupidity to ever even think about challenging him. 

Hell, they’ve had to muzzle him in thick leather just to give his opponents even the briefest advantage. 

Some trembled in fear at the very mention of his name - peering ‘round, making sure they wouldn’t catch a glimpse of those haunting sapphire eyes, or those scarred fists that left no evidence. No witnesses. Others scoffed at the exaggerations of what were obviously little more than sketchy underground scraps. A publicity stunt, surely.

That is, until they saw him.

And you have, too.

With the nature of your job, you had to constantly be present after rounds to tend to bruises, scratches and - if Gojo was involved -  broken bones, after all. 

Only…you were here for him.

“OH! King of Curses down- Six Eyes knees him in the ribs so hard that I’m sure you could hear it, ladies and gentleman! Is he the one who’ll take the Shinjuku Showdown grand prize tonight?!” 

You’re grimacing at both the booming volume of the eager commentator, and the cracking slam of flesh-on-flesh. Having your special nurse’s position smack-dab on the first row meant that you could see n’ hear everything. 

Everything. 

From the roaring cheers of the bustling crowd on their feet, to the way that Gojo was gritting through his dark Stygian muzzle and grinning. Wild. Gorgeous.

Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily - despite the way the entire underworld had his name in their mouths, the one thing nobody ever disagreed on was how…hot Gojo Satoru was. 

A devil masquerading like an angel. All curtains of silky, sweat-slicked white hair, and muscles for daaaays. His skin-tight t-shirt was hanging off of him in nothing but rings of tatters, showing off a snowy happy trail that makes you gulp. Milky skin glistening in the beating stadium lighting, all decorated in as much battle-won scars as sultry, sultry veins. 

Gojo’s towering shadow falls right in front of where you were gawking up at him, and fuck- he makes a big show of letting the rest of his shirt riiiip—! with only a mere tug. 

Well, there was a reason he was your favorite patient.

And you swear he was so close that you could practically taste the scorching iron dripping between his lips, lacquering his pearly whites with a thin film. All red and raw when he turns to you and winks–

“HOLY SHIT! The King makes a comeback- he’s still on his feet! And he’s swinging wide at our monster Six Eyes.”

The thundering, thick stadium air simmers a few degrees tenser as Ryomen Sukuna crashes his meaty, closed fist right into the other’s right cheekbone. Shocked inhales ring out all around you - because if Gojo was the monster of underground fighting, then Sukuna was the curse.

The only fighter in history to ever get a solid few knocks on the other. Both massive.

And if this was anyone else, the sheer force would have made them pass out right then and there. If this was anyone else, then they wouldn’t be snickering-

“Cute.” Gojo’s deep sing-song voice is cold. Seething. Just barely audible enough that your buzzing eardrums can make out. He throws one arm over the stretchy fighting ring ropes, “But I gotta lady ta impress.”

Crimson eyes flicker to you for nothing but a split-second, but it was long enough for the other man to grow rigid. On edge for the first time.

Smugly, Sukuna spits right into Gojo’s face. “Heh- Hell yeah, that chick’ll be impressed in the locker rooms by a real winner later. Me.”

Just a word about you is all it takes.

A breathless gasp departs from your lips as something in Gojo grows…different.

Without another word, he’s drifting over a hand to one of the bulky bands wrapped firmly around his wrists. Unlatching them. So often mistaken for somewhat of a fashion statement, but after so long spent in fighting company, you knew what they really were.

They were weights. Yet another disadvantage. 

And they crack the ground as they fall.

“Weights? Weights?! OH- Gojo headbutts! The King of Curse’s is down-” He’s bleeding and accomplished, every trace of humor wiped. Every degree of a smirk clenched into a steely scowl, and suddenly you’re feeling that perhaps those rumors about him being superhuman are true. Perhaps. “SHIT! He snaps back with an elbow strike-”

Gojo’s big, beefy biceps tense and flex as he curls it menacingly around Sukuna’s throat into a fucking headlock - and your thighs clench.

“You- fucking-” He chokes out past the sculptured harness, cushioned palms coming to slam down on Gojo’s forearm. “For- for some girl-”

Tightening, “What was that~?”

“The King misses- oh, he’s in some real trouble now! Place your bets, you greedy watchers, there’s a reason they call Six Eyes ‘The Strongest’.”

And you knew that underground fights had no rules other than attempt not to die - or, at the very least, try not to make a mess when you do. It’s hard to get stains out of the felt. But Sukuna’s vein-popped face was going purple now, and Gojo was blank-featured through it all. 

Barely even flinching as his opponent grapples a hand into his ridged obliques, lunging and lunging. And yet, the strongest doesn’t even flinch. 

Doesn’t even notice, it seems.

His ghostly cerulean eyes drift to you, seated on the edge of your chair, and he slams a knee into Sukuna’s rugged face. Letting the man drop onto the frictional ground with a resounding thud! - before his fists continue. 

Once. Twice. Clawing at his throat-

“FUCK- CALL THE MEDICS. SIX EYES IS MAKING A SLAUGHTER-SCENE–!”

And no one needed to draw the count, for fear of getting near. Why would they risk death incarnate?

Continuing and continuing until Yaga barks at four- five other referees to even get Gojo to budge. They only just manage to throw a few arms ‘round his powerful ones, and pull him far back enough to giggle down at the carnage he’s created.

Voice octaves higher. Crazed. “Don’t you talk about my lady, ya hear?”

Yaga, as Gojo’s burly coach and former champion, is the one that dares break his harrowing eye-contact to shake him into a stand. Ordering the organizers to get the awards ceremony done as swiftly as possible lest they wanted one of their top-earning fighters down for the count permanently. 

“S-Six Eyes is the champion of Shinjuku Showdown! And in LESS than his signature six moves- oh what a fight it was! One for the books, folks!”

Of course, Six Eyes is declared the winner.

And as Gojo is handed a glinting winner’s banner - dominant arm being thrust in the air - you watch as Sukuna’s barely half-conscious firm slurs out a ferocious, “Rematch. T-tomorrow.”

Cash. A shoddy belt. Champagne.

Tens upon hundreds of reporters and photographers scramble and keen to get the most-selling shots of him. The glare of the flashing lights illuminating him into some sort of other-worldly figure. 

A fighter so dangerous that they claim he hides six eyes. And yet, they only remain on you.

Though, it’s not as if you’re any better - you can’t look away. 

He stands tall, proud. Button nose overspilling with a wisp of cherry-red, perspiration-dampened shorts clinging onto thick thighs and showing you a pretty tuft of white in a way that was unintentionally sexy. Gojo’s leathery mask now dangles haphazardly to show off such a wicked grin.

And Gojo points. Right at you. In front of everyone. 

“Later,” he’s mouthing, whilst interviewers scream for a quote. 

Oh…

.

.

.

“Fuh-fuuuck, Toru–!” Your mouth floods with sheer bucketloads of drool through each wailing whine n’ whimper, back arched like such a slut into Gojo’s bumpy, Herculean front- though, what else could you have expected when the great Gojo Satoru himself accompanied you to your dingy clinic above the fighting ring?

Ready for his real prize of the night.

And lo and behold, bandages and rubbing alcohol forgotten, you’re finding yourself draped right over his lap so prettily; struggling to close your jittery legs ‘round his huge, meaty thighs. 

The fringes of your teeth nip right along Gojo’s plush, scarred deltoids once he tugs on your nurse’s outfit and clings onto a good handful of your ass, draaaagging you to grind all over his quadriceps. Dribbling out a fresh line of candied slick that smears on top of every dip and curve of his bulging muscles.

Your drenched panties catch onto his velvety boxing shorts and you have to hold back a tiny sob. With a deep inhale of his musky cologne, you murmur, “T-Toru, I wan’ you ngh- so bad, y’know?”

“Awww, how cute~” He’s crooning from above,muzzle still on. The pointed curve of his nose tickling your throbbing pulse. Dangerous. Gojo breathes in your sweet scent until it’s all he can smell, “But yer gonna get us caught, mama.”

And he’s so mean.

He fought mean, and he teases you even meaner.

You’re frowning, kiss-swollen lips down-turning into a pout once the sensory pads of his stern digits rover up to your cheeks and smush them together. Crashing your jutted mouth into his frosty mask–

“C’mon now, gotta- gotta be quiet.” Gojo groans at the way you’re getting ever-more soaked when he’s toying with you like this. Lazily, he drops his muzzle to let his plump, bubblegum-pink lips tickle down your own, “Suck on my tongue, there- you can do better.”

So filthy.

Huffing out, your further unfastened jaw basically floods with the damp rivulets of saliva that just kept on watering out of you. When it rained, it poured - and Gojo finds himself smirking at the slop. “Yeah- yeahyeah, you got it. Theeere’s a good girl.”

Weepy pussy positively throbbing at the scratchy texture of his tongue like candy, you couldn’t help but let your fuzzy mind wonder how it would feel inside-

“Oi, nasty girl.” Your pitchy yelp fills the paper-thin walls as Gojo gifts the right of your ass with a rude spank, and then one more just to hear you make that cute noise again. Gruffing out, “Can feel ya getting wetter on top of me. S’like a damn waterpark.”

Before you have the time to even catch your breath, he slouches back sensually to watch you - letting your thin patient bed ring out with an ancient creak! 

And Gojo stares at you lecherously- oh, he was devouring you with his heavily half-lidded gaze. 

The way you’re pouring out syrupy sap with every urgent back n’ forth of your hips, the way all he has to do is hook a thumb past your gluey stuck panties to watch you pulse and quiver. 

Hazy, summer blue peripherals roaming all over your needy expression for a split-second before he’s tap-tap-tapping the doughy mound of his heel on the tile floor. Bouncing you with every motioned lurch, your puffed-up clit catches on one of his zig-zagging veins and you squeal.

Oh? Speeding up, you’re struggling desperately at his whims. One hand grappling onto Gojo’s dimpled back, and the other clawing at the starchy bedspread, no matter how much you were trying to regulate the tempo - he would just speed up more. 

And more. And more. 

Over and over he’s lurching just a few carnal inches off of your bedsprings to chase your sensitive nub. Reeling you down - hard - with a hand stuck to you like adhesive, to pap! against his thigh, letting white-hot bliss spark all that way from your pressurized clit and up your clammy spine.

“F-fuck!” You’re babbling away, fingers interlocking with the soft creamy curls at his nape. Clawing. “Toru– k-keep that up and I won’t…”

Gojo perks his calloused thumb to swivel over your sloshing mess and promptly plugs up your unfastened lips, muffling you. “Shhh shh sh- Wouldn’t wan’ any of those fucks to hear those pretty noises, my girl.”

He was brutal.

Your lower tummy was tumbling and spinning and doing gymnastics you didn’t even think existed. And it was times like this that the strongest from all those headlines peaked his head through. 

Swirling your tongue around his plummy fingerpad, he tasted so much like caramel salt that made your legs grow weaker. Cadence springing to jerky. To oversensitive. “P-please- ngh!”

“Now, what was that pretty lil- hey now, c’mere.” Your lungs cave with a soft ‘please’ as soon as an engulfing, bruised hand crowns your sweat-oiled scalp and holds you still. Gojo doesn’t even have to try, and yet he’s showing off a few sexy flexes of his biceps just for you to ogle at. 

Rutting his jerky leg up into you until your head throws back, he can’t help but leave a sweet, innocent peck right there on the tender spot of your throat. “Don’t run. Don’t run from me.”

Another wet kiss near your slobbery maw, and yet another swat of his thickly tipped fingers right over the slivery slope of your pussy. The sharp sting was just enough to get your glassy eyes to focus on him, “Yeah? Look at me- gimme a lil’ kiss, mama.”

Oh, he always was such a ruthless opponent. 

Because as soon as your spit-glossed lips are crawling towards his, Gojo’s prying them open and spitting inside with a soft coo. Watching as the treacly wad of splashing syrup slides allll the way to puddle the back of your throat. 

“T-tease.”

“I think you mean…champion.” He hunches you over until you’re slipping n’ sliding all down the ridged rollercoaster of his abs. The fragile points of your hardened nipples massaging into his sensual scars and driving you mad. Sweaty and needy. Boring dead-on into your half-shuttered heart eyes, “Now, tell me what you want.” He hums, still tugging on your bloated outer cunt, watching you gasp. “Tell me what’s got this lady here so fuckin’ wet.”

Your words choke with every viscid tear - tears of bliss. Close. “Want t-to-”

“Mhmm–?”

“To-” You’re just so far gone, your gushing orifice only getting soppier and soppier by the second. And before Gojo’s fourth and final spank comes slamming down on your clit- you’re crying. “Cum- fuck fuck fuck- m’so close. So- m’gonna cum–”

And as soon as it was about to happen - it’s gone.

Immediately, your lungs depart with a disappointed whine. “Nooo–!” Scratching at the pronounced back of his throat, you’re struggling to maneuver your body within his merciless hold. And the entire time Gojo only watches in amusement at his sheer display of strength, “I was so close- fuck! Was about to cum, Toru…”

“Nuh uh.” Gojo’s grinning - grinning. And oh, despite the way that makes his cheek indent with a cute, cratering dimple you already know this won’t bode well for you. “M’starvin’ after that match.”

Before you can dredge up enough brainpower to ask what that meant - he’s already showing you. 

Falling back onto the stark white bed until his head hit the pillows with a dull whoosh! and for the moment you’re simply admiring just how pretty he is. 

This wasn’t the Six Eyes that everyone knew and feared. 

With his ethereal locks splaying out on the cushion like a halo, looking oh-so-pale in comparison to the pretty pink that he was flushing all the way from forehead to neck. Irises half-lidded, crazed. Gojo’s broad, scarred chest heaves with every murked out pant he was whistling out. 

Twiddling over the shoulder strap of that tight lil’ number you called your nurse’s outfit. “Take this off f’me- show me my hah- show me my lady.” 

Oh, it would never get old when you do that.

The way that Gojo’s toes curl, the apples of his cheeks staining with a scorching whirlwind of blushing red. Fuck- his heavy tongue droops even heavier with a slick covering of watery spittle, just watching you in your matching set of bra n’ panties. 

All in light blue.

“Knew I’d win, huh?” He’s quirking a snowy brow smugly as he does away with your bra, too. “C’mere.” Gojo’s long lashes flutter up at you delicately, his crowning smirk plastered permanently across his handsome features. And as you’re tentatively making your way on top of him, he cups a roaming grope of your left ass-cheek. 

Squeezing for a second - two - before the strongest simply lifts you up to straddle his face. He doesn’t even waste a second. Doesn’t even hesitate. 

Setting you down gently - you think he of all people would even need to try to manhandle your pretty self this way?

No introductions, no welcome mats necessary - your throbbing pussy was already pouring out in torrentials of translucent sap right through your underwear. Copious, dolloping droplets that hit his readily awaiting pinkish tastebuds in claggy splats!

“Mmm—” He’s swirling his soaked muscle all ‘round the insides of his mouth to just savor your sugary taste. Through a sharp, three-second spank to your ass once more, Gojo grunts, “No need to be shy. Sit on my face, mama.”

And Gojo was always such a messy eater - not even the slightest bit afraid to get his hands dirty. 

No wonder all his opponents complained that he had the filthiest mouth. His tongue was lengthy, dexterous enough to slither past your panties with a sapping squelch! the very nanosecond your drooling core hits the tip of his tongue.

Oh- Gojo’s eyes agonize shut simply to memorize the pattern in which your strands of dangling slick slipped into his mouth. Lathering his chin all glossy, “Yeah like that-” His rugged palms stick to that perfect curvature of your spine. “-sit properly. Sit.”

You’re mumbling out something barely audible, cut off when he curls a firm hand around your throat and pulls you down onto his ravenous face. “Said- fucking sit-”

Sweltering hot breath strikes your geysering hole and makes you keen, your cracked eyelids open just barely enough to spot the way Gojo lands a shimmering glob of saliva right inside. And more when it only adds to the steadily-growing pool you were formulating on his pointed chin, his neck. 

Whimpering when your weight settles on a purple-ish spot on his cheek where Sukuna had caught him off-guard. 

“Watch this.” He’s moaning throatily, making such a show of letting your slippery slit streak out utter cascades all down his tongue. “Told ya- s’a fuckin’ heh- waterpark. Come ride my mouth, my girl- come- come.”

Your head tumbles back with a loud ‘fuck’ when his parched muscle bullies right past the rubbery ring of your entrance. And he takes the time curling his mazing tip into your slicked hole and streeeetching out a cute lil’ heart that makes you whine your poor heart out. 

With a scoff at the way whoever walked by your clinic definitely knew what was happening, Gojo’s slapping the tender skin of your ass raw. “Yeah yeah, louder n’ maybe that ngh- bastard Sukuna will hear.”

Slowly yet sensually probing his tastebuds into every mushy ridge and corner embedded inside of you, he was roaming so deep. Raking a thorough grip on your right ass cheek to gyrate your sodden cunt rougher.

Fucking you wiiildly with his tongue - so wide. Fast. 

He was impatient. 

“Y’know with you sittin’ and- nghh-” You’re mewling once he tapes off that sentence with a pinch of your perked clit between his plush lips. Hollowing out those attractive cheeks to tug n’ tug until you’re sobbing. “-and- and squirming in the seats tonight- this was alllll I could think about?”

He spits back a loaded wad of drool that slides away back down to your flooded hole, pushing the webbed mess right back with the fat crown of his thumb. “Couldn’t wait-”

“Ngh- Toru—” You’re recanting like your own personal mantra, the crackles in your voice following every flop of his textured tongue in and out in and out in and out. “Keep going- hah! Feels so gooood–”

“Mhm, I know.” Gojo bites back cockily, chewing on the squishy inside of his cheek to stop himself from fucking moaning outloud at how your pussylips were just throbbing. The very same pulse you felt in your tight throat. “Had to stop myself from- ngh- making out with this lady right ‘ere all in front- in front of those cameras.”

“Y-you would-”

THWACK!

Oh, he’s snapping at the stretchy elastic of your panties to let the slimy fabric spank your precise pussymound.

Taking the filthy, filthy opportunity while you’re thrown into a dumbstruck daze to skim a few strong fingers underneath your stringy panties, Gojo pulls-pulls-pulls until it’s torn cleanly off of your hips. Freeing you completely bare, and gifting him with the perfect scented fabric for him to draw up to his nose and sniff–

Your jaw dangles widely agape, the same greedy oh! that your dewy hole makes when setting it aside to dip a finger sloppily inside your cunt.

Stocky and long. And yet you take Gojo’s length middle finger with great gulping clamps of your dripping pussy, so much so that you’re hearing a growling “Fuuuck, mama- m-made for me.” from underneath you.

You just made the strongest…stutter?

And you’re just pouring wet from the idea, but before you can stupidly open your mouth to taunt the big, bad fighter below you - Gojo squeezes his hold on your neck and draaaags you further down. Until you’re so pushed against his hot maw that you don’t know where you end and he begins.

He’s spitting, there’s another pop! as he adds another girthy finger to scissor apart your treacly slit. Rovering and rovering. Your voice shatters into numerous pieces so cutely, and he can feel the way your core pulsates frantically once he’s smudging the doughy tops of his digits nearer to your g-spot. 

Hmmm, he’s snickering internally. Gojo’s swirlin’ his manicured fingernail right over your bulging magical spots with such ease. It was so cute how obvious you were. 

“Got such a pretty cunt.” You’re arching desperately on and off his vibrato of words, the very same vibrations curdling that tightness in your stomach. “Such a pretty- pretty…”

“Sh-shiiit, Toru–” You hiccup, warbling shrills filling up Gojo’s ears like his favorite song. And it was. Almost as much as the plap! of a fresh wave of sap spraying a sheen across his face as he slithers in a third finger.

Sliding his pearly whites over your neglected clit, “Tha’s my name.” Gojo’s mouth hangs open with every slop, slapping alllll over the hood of your nub before trying to squish the very mound of his tongue in past your overstuffed entrance. Stimulating you. Driving you insane.

He’s swatting your ass a few more times until the mere touch of skin-on-skin sends your eyes sliiiding all the way to the back of your head. Gurgling – wet. “Say it a lil’ louder f’me now.”

“Toru–” you’re raking your hands down his pecs, nudging your plump clit right into the very tip of his button nose. And oh, you’re feeling the frigid whoosh! of air once Gojo leans his head in and takes a deeeep breath. Tugging gingerly on his unruly hair and he groans-

“Louder.”

“T-To-”

“No stutterin’.”

And you don’t know if you could comply with all his mean rules even if you could, the locked vice of his warm palm jostling your watery eyes until they were dead staring at him. 

He was peering up at you through angelic, white lashes with such loving. Cerise lips swirling all over your beating clit, he could practically taste the rapid ba-dump–! of it coating his heated mouth. 

Starting to crawl straightly up but you don’t even mean to. All he has to do is grasp your throat until all the air drains from your lungs and you’re held there. Solely by his monstrous strength. 

Swallowing back the leaden lump that’s permanently branded on your throat, with a flex of broad arms you’re being lazily shoved sloppier and sloppier by each passing second. And as you’re resting your dribbling slit back on his sensual chin, a steamy cloud of Gojo’s giggles hit where you’re stretched the most tautly tight. 

Blinking eyes flickering with primal need, your bleary vision is just filled with the heavenly sight of him him him. Urging your rickety knees to knobble faster, he murmurs into your folds. “Say it.”

“P-please.” The outdated bed sings as you’re shivering. Shaking. And no amount of cute gasps that you intake is enough to stop your heart from racing. “Toru. Please l-let me ngh- cum.”

“Hmmmm. Good enough.” He’s leering mean-spiritedly up at you, that very same wicked curve of his lips glued to your pretty clit. Gojo lets off a strained growl that almost makes you shy – desperate. “Now…you’re gonna squirt f’me, mama.” 

Another hit thud! of hits at your g-spot, and another few steps closer to your inevitable high. So close, in fact, that you’re not even realizing what Gojo’d uttered until he lolls out his fat tongue like he was drunken, silvery slabs of spit hitting your inner thighs. “Spit.”

Fuck- the very same moment your glittery cobweb of saliva is hitting his sizzling tastebuds, you’re hitting your high. Well, more like crashing headfirst into it. 

And Gojo was right, the way you squirted your brain-shattered release was in the most vapid spurts of juices. Spraying out of you like a fountain, sploshing all over the top of his face n’ gravitating down to his chin. “Squirt on my face- yeahyeah fuck, squirt on my face.”

One that he loooooves. Oh, how he loves it. Loves you. 

“So sweet- fuck…fuck, always the fuckin’ sweetest, my girl.” His guttural syllables ring out and make your eyes immediately flap helplessly shut. Toes curling, “Thank you- was so fuckin’ thirsty after that fight. Thank you.”

Lets his swollen lips slip open to drink up the honeyed squirts in big, deep sluuuuurps–! Scraping near your g-spot to draw out more and more of those pooling splotches all over his face. Gojo knots his fingers ‘round your throat and shoves your pussy to cling to his mouth ruthlessly. You’re watching through the white-hot stars behind your lids at how obviously his prominent Adam’s apple bumps and propels. 

Fuck. 

Glossy layers of slick stick to your folds like a candied apple, and every lil’ suck Gojo leaves drives you craaazy. Soon enough, your thighs are twitching right on top of him, “Please, Toru–”

“Mmmm–?” He’s panting, positively blistered in sweat at this point. And even when he’s catching his eyes with yours, his own look…cloudy. Feral. Murmuring something like ‘round one’ into your outer pussy.

“Want you in me–” You’re babbling out the only few sets of words you know will work to draw him away from the sweet, sweet dessert he’s found between your legs. And you’re watching with bated breath as Gojo takes a sloppy second to consider, still nibbling his canines on your sensitive clit. 

Huffing n’ puffing cutely, you’re reeling your sweet cunt back– only for Gojo to squeeze his hold around your neck and pull-

“Just one more-” He’s contaminating the heady clinic air with repeated saccharine, saturated squelches after every peck upon peck. Like it hurt to part with your pussy - it always did, n’ Gojo made sure to leave her more than enough goodbye kisses.

“One more-” Stringy oodles of slick washing over his face, “One- one more.” Again. Just another French kiss. “One…” And again.

And again and again until you’re dipping your hands through his mussed-up bangs of cloudy white and tugging, all that it takes for Gojo’s achingly hard cock to twitch.

“O-oh.” His voice breaks so many multiple octaves higher as he pulls away with a final - final - slimy graze of his stinging lips. Head lazing in an angle downwards, as if he’d just noticed the painful, rock-hard bulge tenting his too-tight boxing shorts. 

And Gojo’s cerulean eyes widen, flitting from the slushy wet spot soaked through his dark pants, to the way your glistening hole was winking down at him. Needily - as if to beg.

The middle of your bowed spine tingles with the remnants of your orgasm as soon as Gojo opens his mouth to growl. Low. Rasping. 

Depraved. 

“On- on my cock now, mama.” He’s tracing his hands admiringly over your tummy, the edge of his thick thumb drawing a long line right across the middle and your teary slit - measuring you. Where he’d already memorized the sweet lil’ targets he’d be fucking deeeep inside. Could never forget. Gojo nudges his straight nosebridge between your dewy folds once more, “Gotta really celebrate w’my heh- lady here tonight.”

And as you’re scrambling on your still-tottering knees to slide yourself down his Adonis-like body, he scoffs. 

With a blunt roll of his eyes, Gojo’s cupping the curve of your slam-driven ass and manhandling you easily. Trawling your weepy pussy down, down, down over every one of the calloused scars on his front, every one of his bumpy abs - you counted eight - to sit all prettily beneath the snug waistline of his shorts. 

Gojo spies up at you through his chalky bangs, plastered to his forehead with perspiration until you’re barely making his greedy stare out. Eyes half-hooded, pupils darkly dilated until you couldn’t even see those irises. 

It’s then - only then - that you realize just how ruined he looked. 

With that blossoming injury from tonight’s match across his cheek, burnished and purple - though, not even half as bright as the flush that coated his pretty features. 

All red and raw. You were practically basking in the scalding heat that radiated off of him, melting the glassy sheen of slick that dripped off of him in globules, so fucking wet. 

And yet, Gojo only ever wanted more. Kissing you with his cutely pink lips, he heaves in great panting gusts. “Take- heh-” Massive, twitchy hands fall on your own and guide them to his thick hem, a viscous gumdrop of your sap trickles from the point of his nose. “Take ‘em off f’me, mama. Take a goood long look f’me~”

“So bossy.”

“Mmm— I’ll be fuckin’ that rude mouth shut soon.”

Gojo sits obediently manspread as you fumble your eager fingertips underneath his shorts and pull–

The first thing you see is a curly tuft of his white happy trail, glimmering and drenched through with his own buttery precum. 

And the second thing you see…fuck. He’s never been harder.

Swollen n’ aching. Gojo’s furiously reddened mushroom tip dribbles out a constant stream of syrupy pre, hitting your hands with a loud splash! And not just that– he was spilling out a murked milky few dewdrops as if eating you out had him on the very verge of cumming. 

He’s sprawling his swole, veined arms behind his head, letting you gawk and ogle as you please.

And how could you not?

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to just how pretty Gojo and his erect cock was. Damn past ten inches, it’s as if he grows every time you see him for a post-match ritual. 

And so does his rosy cockhead, the exact same shade of pink as his burning cheeks. So wide that your slippery hole clenches ‘round nothing at the sight. All bloated and over-decorated with so many lightning bolted veins, you’re feeling your mouth water at the mere notion of tasting him–

“Ah ah-” He tuts, pulling you away as he once more cradles your throat softly in one hand. 

You pout, “B-but…”

Nodding sloooowly so you understand, “Wanna fuck this pretty pussy. Ride me like a hah- good girl now, m’kay?”

Oh, he was so evil. He knew exactly how that lil’ nickname would have your mind pitching into a state of carnal frenzy.

The desire purely evident on your gorgeous face as you’re toppling your capped knees on either side of his firm, toned waist. 

One masculine hand wrapping around his bulky hilt - aligning it all ready to smooch your pretty pussy - he sliiiides his heavy head to sandwich between your bloated folds. Rocking upwards into a teasing little back n’ forth that leaves his rigid head swatting on your clit. Pap! Pap! Pap! 

“Ready–?” Gojo drawls out in husked syllables, licking his lips to lap up any remnant of you. Wordless, the only thing you can manage out right now is a shaken nod.

Before it feels like you’re being split apart.

You’re whining when your hole stretches out with a rowdy sluuuurp–! just the thickened tip of his length popping in past your entrance. And he’s so fat, you could feel every solid ba-dump–! of his prominent veins tugging your cunt apart. 

“Oh, f-fuck, jus’ look at you.” He’s spitting through gleaming clenched teeth, words hitting you straight into your saccharine sweet pussy. Biting down on his pouty bottom lip, “Just ngh- look at you takin’ me- taking that biiig stretch, fuck.”

Your glassy eyes roll all the way back at the way he wasn’t even halfway inside yet already made you feel so dizzy. Stumbling flailingly into his arms, “Wanna kiss, Toru–”

“S’so cute when you’re all cockdrunk” Gojo whispers as he leaves a stinging spank on your ass, the shock of the force makin’ you swerve your hips deeper down his thick shaft. 

But he doesn’t kiss you - not yet. Instead, he’s chuckling deeply at your adorable irritation, sharp hips bucking off the mattress just so that he could fit himself inside. Up. Up. Up. Probing and probing his pulsing crowned tip over and over to ease inside a few more solid inches. 

“T-Tooooruuuu–”

“Mhm–” He places a warm palm faced open on your tummy, searching for that familiar bump where he’d be ruining you all inside. Where his rounded head would be prying apart your gum-like walls in urgent impales. “I’ll kiss you if ya say ‘biiig stretch’ f’me, my girl.”

You’re squirming your hips impatiently, only to be locked down with only one of Gojo’s hands. Honestly, what did you think going against a fighting champion? “B-big-”

“Nuh uh.” Bearing you with a wild, animalistic smile that makes you shudder. All wide and toothy. He’s rudely slapping you once more - this time on your dripping cunt. Quivering. “Say it. Biiig stretch, mama.”

“B-big-” You wail out whimpers just as soon as your little mistake leaves Gojo’s swollen shaft inching out of your hole, a warning. Already making you feel so empty inside- “Fuck! Big- biiig- stretch mmpf-”

Before you can register it, a hand clawed into your throat pulls you to crash your lips onto Gojo’s soft ones - muffling the absolute trill you’re letting off when he finally bottoms out with one big push. Finally. 

“Now m’kissing you here, too–” he has the audacity to flush. 

His sensual mushroom tip scrapes a swiveling line allll down your gooey walls, swirling ‘round and ‘round until he’s following the map directly to your g-spot. Giving her a good long snog, you’re curling your toes at the swashing waves of pre that dribble out of him and straight onto that tender orifice. 

You’re so full that your mouth overspills with generous helpings of drool, slobbering right onto the valley between his pecs where you found yourself laid. 

The slick velvety walls of your cunt scoop him up gladly, and Gojo finds himself wearing such a dopey smile at the instinctual way your gummy walls clench. “Hmm– have I ever told ya how much I ngh- love you?”

And maybe it was the way his thick cock was reaching you everywhere, maybe it was the way Gojo stared at you with heart eyes. It could’ve been anything and everything - you simply found yourself cumming. 

Right then and there, with only a few vulgar bludgeons of his merciless cock. 

And Gojo?

Gojo looks like he’s in heaven. 

Startling out a slight puff of laughter while he careens his hips back to fuck you through your sudden high, and you can feel the way he pinpricks your insides with every thrust. Feel the way he strikes right at your most favorite spots - precisely. 

“Already? I really am winnin’ tonight- heh. Already won Round 2, too.” 

Round 2? What is he…oh. 

Oh, shit.

He’s talking about how many times he’s made you cum.

The sounds of his raspy praises make your ears buzz, head throwing backwards when you start to arch your back and rut yourself, attempting to meet his vicious pace. To run.

“Fuh-fuuuuck” You’re biting your tongue to try and fight back those pathetic pitches and mewls seeping from your lips. And all it takes is a slamming whack into your cervix to render that useless. “Fuck me- fuckmefuckme, Toooru–!”

“Now now,” he’s tutting, and oh you can feel your tummy lurch with anticipation at that dark tonality of his. Or maybe that was just the feral twitch of his battering tip. 

Through eyes saturated with a film of fat droplets of tears, you’re glancing down at the way your hips are suddenly pinned to his toned pelvis. Unmoving. With just his steady grip of your throat. “Runnin’s against the rules, mama.”

And suddenly, you’re moved so fast your cottony brain begins to wonder if maybe you’ve teleported. 

You’re whimpering as your fatigued back ends up laid over the crescent curves of his pectorals, his front digging into your mounds of flesh as Gojo pulls your clammy knees back back back back. Into a full nelson so mean that you don’t even realize he’s positioned his cock until he sinks allll the way back in–

“Atttta girl. Look at youuu–” His hoarse pants sizzle the tender lobes of your ear after every unapologetic pound you’re being graced with. You gawp at the full-length mirror that was right adjacent to the patient bed, shit- you forgot that was even there.  

And now that you’d taken a glimpse at the lecherous scene, you couldn’t look away.

Gojo was so staggering. Swole muscles bending you pliably, the only thing holding you upright enough so that your cross-eyed stare could lock with your fucked-out reflection in the mirror. 

Your dizzy pupils circling all over comically the more n’ more he jackhammered away. Vehemently. 

The girth of his shaft was so big that your head lolls stupidly back into the planes of his collarbones, “Takin’ care of ya favorite fighter.”

Five exact circumferences of his fingertips sway over to that large, cylindrical outline being oh-so-thoroughly fucked into you. A tummy bulge that he thumbs over, that mushroomy globular end.

“Takin’ c-care of me alllll ngh-” He massages down on that cute lil’ bump going back and forth back and forth back and forth. Driving himself just as crazy as he was with you. Groaning, “-here.”

And Gojo’s body was still aching from the aftereffects of his fight, he was still sore in places with soon-to-be bruises. Yet, he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even slow down.

Hard and fast.

His crownhead an angry red that prodded your deepest, most tender insides. Pushing and pushing and pushing. So wide that both you and the rickety bed were singing with whimpers after every delving drag of his vein-covered length.

Strokes vulgar. Alllll the way from the very strawberry divot in the middle of his globular tip, to the massive circumference of his hefty base. And even though every pricking whack into your cervix was hard, Gojo took his lazy time pulling back out to make sure you felt every bump and bolt of his swollen veins scraping down your insides. 

“Watch this.”

“Wh-what- oh.”

You’re peering through the smoggy mirror at the way the strongest himself rovers up his big, beefy right arm to wrap neatly ‘round your neck. His hard-earned biceps bulging against your throat and blocking off your airway sexily.

Watching yourself, you swear you could count every vein thumping down his forearm, every flex of his rippling muscles caging against your neck. Oh…you only got wetter. 

“Saw you lookin’ at me. Could tell how much ya- haaah- liked this, mama.” Gojo titters, words sloppy and his strokes even sloppier. “Almost drenched the heh- seat didn’tya? Watching me? Ohhh you like this don’tcha? W’my big arms puttin’ you in a ngh- big headlock?”

Babbling. Gojo himself was drooling, a thin trickle of spittle that befell with every passing second he watched your sloppy slit swallow his inches. 

Yearning for more.

Begging for more.

You half-couldn’t believe that was you with your face tear-streaked and oh-so-ruined in the reflection. And once you feel that familiar fluttering from your pussy, you’re slithering down a hand between your legs–

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He was breathless. 

It was so easy for Gojo to trap both your unsteady wrists within only one of his, gruffly bringing you back into your cute headlock whilst pinning them so you could struggle allll you want. But he wasn’t letting up.

Clinging onto your swiveling with one hand, and keeping you manhandled with the other. He bucks his hips so your curved spine is rubbed all down with his sweat-glossed abs, he knew how weak you were for it. 

Smearing the stocky end of his thumb over your needy clit, “Not when ya have me, mama.” He breathes next to your ear, so close. Drawing circles. Hearts. His name. Mindlessly lapping away the pearls of tears running down your face, “Not when your d-dear ngh- ‘Toru’s’ here.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words scratching a carnal desire set inside of you. 

“Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming- ngh!” Your previous orgasms had already taken so much out of you that it was all you could to will yourself not to pass out right now and here. 

“Yeah? Yeah? Go on- I- ngh- win- round three- heh.”

Sharp stings of pleasure buzzing all the way from your throbbing pussy to your empty head, you draaag your nails all over his sturdy forearms. Your body slicks over with sweltering perspiration, glissading you smoothly up n’ down Gojo’s sculptured body. 

Gojo jostles you in his headlock to stare deeply into your eyes while he drags out your high, counting every filthy spank he was honing out. It’s not too far into your overstimulated high before his creamy tip showers your drenched insides with sprays of buttery cum.

You could hear yourself mumbling out faint nonsense with every ropey smack you felt pumped inside you, and it was as if Gojo was orgasming harder than he had his entire life. 

Cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop - didn’t even know if he could.

And it was so weighty, too.

You could feel the soppy splosh of his sap being bubbled all up inside you, every swab of Gojo’s leaking cockhead frothing it even deeper inside. You’re swearing the bumpy outline of your tummy bulge was only being cumflated, feeling like he was glueing your very walls together.

Naturally, a few slicked gumdrops of cum ooze their way out between your teary slit. His hips jolt at the primal sight, thick seed dribbling out of you like frosting, formulating so many rings upon rings that Gojo just can’t help but admire and muse as his most favorite ones. 

Shit, with a humid pop! he’s inching out just to watch the butter-covered sheen that stuck to his red shaft. 

Hooded, his sapphire gaze rips away from your reflection to narrow down at you. At the way your ancient patient bed was now completely destroyed; headboard split, standing on only three feeble legs. 

“Broke the bed, heh- tha’s a KO, my girl.” Gojo lets go of his headlock on you, nuzzling your cheek with his sweat-lacquered forehead whilst you still attempt to catch your breath. “Mmmm– really do love you, y’know- the fuckin’ b-best prize I could ever have.”

“I love you too–” You find your cartoonishly dazed smile directed up at him. “-Six Eyes.”

With a soft groan, he twiddles his thumb over to toy with the sticky seconds of his seed pouring out of you. Lazily.

Letting it scoop onto his fingerpads, shoving it back between your slippy lips. Repeatedly even painting a languid heart with it over your tummy bulge- before skidding the salted cream between your lips. 

With a fat few fingers stuffed into your dampening maw, overflowing with glutinous saliva, you’re letting your eyes stray back to the reflection in the mirror. Blinking back your vision-

“Holy shit.” You’re gaping - at everything from the way that Gojo Satoru had seemed to gain more red, red scratches and bruises all over his arms, back, and pecs from you than in an actual fight, to the way he seemed utterly content about it. “T-Toru, I gave you more marks than Sukuna did during the Shinjuku Showdown…”

“I know.”

.

.

.

“Aaaand welcome back, folks! To the Shinjuku Showdown 2.0!” 

You wince, Haibara’s commentating voice would never grow any less booming no matter how many times you sat here. Front row for yet another one of Gojo’s famed fights. 

Though, you squirm in your seat, you wished he could get here sooner. 

“Requested by our very own King of Curses- he’s quite a sore loser you see- oh, my mistake, Mr. Sukuna, sir. You are the underground’s most honorable fighter, of course of course.”

Ryomen Sukuna scowls even as the crows roar and yell rambunctiously around him, eyes falling on you - for the briefest, tensest second - before he tears away. Pacing around the barren ring like a tiger prowling for his prey.

Only, said prey wasn’t going down without making sure that Sukuna knew the true hierarchy here. 

“FINALLY! Hereee we have our monster of Japan, Six Eyes, making his long-awaited entrance tonight! Ohhh place your bets, ladies and gentlemen, tonight is going to be goooood!”

When Gojo Satoru entered the ring, everyone knew. Everyone held their breath.

It never got old seeing his generously over six-foot figure loom menacingly towards the ring, draped in a dark blue robe of crushed velvet. Which just-so-happened to be the exact color of your matching lingerie tonight…

Usual gloves on hand, a tiny, plastic remote in hand.

You’re shivering as he twiddles it over deftly, pulling down the hiked-up hem of your nurse’s outfit. Just praying that nobody could hear the bzzz–! of that hot-pink bullet vibrator lodged inside your sloppy pussy.

Meant to be there for the entire fight. 

The cutting stadium air was so tautly-pulled that you could hear every resounding thud! of his powerful footsteps as Haibara rattles off Sukuna’s introduction. Jumping swiftly and athletically over the ropes of the ring. 

“And in THIS corner, we have Six Eyes, The Strongest. Some fear to speak his name. Some think he isn’t human. With a winning streak ever since he arrived here, with so many knockouts that it’s said they created a new medical term for it. Challenge him and you challenge death. The man. The myth. The nightmare-” 

Then Gojo straightens- 

“-a monster that can never be tamed!”

-and he lets his robe fall.

All red, angry patterns of scratches on full display for the countless rabid photographers and watchers to gawk at. Down his back, down his arms, down his pecs.

Everywhere and anywhere for the eye to see, and to see Gojo- Six Eyes of all people to be so thoroughly claimed. As if he was thrown to the wolves - someone put a hand on him?

Oh, you could hear the reporters stumbling over their questions as they screamed for answers and relationship reveals. 

Though, all of them were answered once he turns straight to you. Miniscule remote calibrated to the very maximum before Gojo fucking throws it somewhere into the ringside. Even through his muzzle, you could tell he was grinning as you gasped at the lecherous vibrations pulsating to your g-spot. 

Over and over whilst media personnel - realizing your connection to the most dangerous underground fighter in all of Japan - jostled you for more juicy details. Fuck- everyone was going to know about this. Everyone. 

Gojo turns back to a fuming Sukuna with a quirk of his ivory brow. 

“The monster has- has been tamed! Let the fight begin!”

A/N. FAWK I NEED HIM. Was this slightly inspired by all the boxing talk going on in my blog? Mayhaps. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[orbitvenus]

Tokyo Drift - C.K.

Synopsis. A bad boy? Check. Your parents hate him? Check. Considers you the cute lil’ good luck charm for his high-speed street races? Check. But you’ll be riding more than just Choso’s car…

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, racer!Choso, street racing AU, Choso with tattoos and piercings, talks of F1, small towns, gossip, slight good girl x bad boy, he’s so down bad, pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem rec.), he goes FÉRAL, spítting, fíngering, cúmming in his pants, he’s BIG, tummy buIges, making it fit, headIocks, manhandIing, Prince AIbert’s piercing, running from it, matíng presses, rough s, body worship, DÚMBlFICATION, creampíes, overstím, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.6k

A/N. I refuse to watch the F1 movie so this is the closest thing-

“Look at him-”

You sigh, “I know, he’s…”

“-bad news.”

“-hot.”

It was inevitable that you and your group of friends would look at each other with odd expressions at the clash. You always did whenever it came to him.

Choso Kamo - the star of your cozy lil’ town’s latest gossip. 

You’d heard (well, it was impossible not to hear) that he’d just recently moved from the big city for an exchange program at your local university. Why anyone would willingly travel to some ramshackle town to be gawked at, you couldn’t understand. 

“I’m just saying—” You’re grumbling, gaze flicking across the green campus to where Choso was seated underneath a lone tree, face bent into a book.

Your stare lingers on the twinkle of his ear piercings in the sun, “-he doesn’t seem that bad.” The dark, dark line tattoos crawling down the side of his neck. “Who knows? He seems almost…nice-”

Just then, he’s turning his head - precisely to meet your eyes. 

Oh. 

You can feel your breath hitch- and something at the pit of your stomach twists in a sudden lurch before you’re turning away in an instant. The glint of his deep eyes too stark, the intensity in them too burning. 

“She’s right.” Shoko’s the first to pipe up from your right, tapping her manicured nails on the top of your campus bench. “I won’t deny that everyone’s being a lil’ hard on the guy just because he has a few tattoos and piercings.”

“And he’s a city big-shot with an annoyingly loud car.”

“And he’s a city big-shot with an annoyingly loud car.”

Utahime shudders, seated right in front of you so she has to turn at the feeling of Choso’s stare - who immediately looks away. “Well- fine. But it’s also the way he looks at…”

Your little group leans closer as she trails off, seemingly lost in thought.

Before nodding to herself in affirmation and narrowing her chocolate eyes- “-at you.” Unabashedly, she’s jabbing her index your way, as you sputter in protest, “No no, I’m serious! It’s like he- he wants to eat you or something, my dear.”

Shoko smirks, “Kinky.”

“Shoko.” You’re groaning, flipping back through your textbook to distract yourself, if anything. “Don’t let my parents hear you, Uta. They’ve warned me every single day since he’s stepped foot here to steer clear of him.”

Which wasn’t quite effective when you shared half your classes with the very man that haunted every nook and cranny of your town - and the minds of the people living in it.

And especially not when you couldn’t help but notice him during said lectures; tall, quiet, always seated at the very last row with his head in some car magazine, fingers twiddling with the chunky metal rings on his long fingers. 

Not that you’re looking at him that closely, that is. 

You find your thighs involuntarily pressing together as you’re hastily darting your eyes to Choso once more, taking in the subtle curve of his pierced lips. The slooow flutter of his long, chestnut bangs in the breeze- “Y’know they told me just this morning to never so much as let him look at me? Apparently some neighbor of a neighbor of a neighbor saw him driving late at night and assumed he was involved in everything shady possible.”

“Understandable.”

“Still dealing with the ol’ folks, huh?” Shoko grins as you wince, a reminder of the parents that absolutely refused to let you hold your own in one of the university dorms.

Not quite out-of-the-ordinary for such a small community, but you still did feel a twinge of envy whenever Shoko and Utahime happened to mention something about them being roommates. 

“You should just move in with us, y’know- fuck whatever the lease lady says, we have more than enough room.”

“Ah, one day.” Clearing your throat, you’re standing up- “Anyways, I should really get going before I miss my lab time.”

“Aw, Yaga keeping you late for another project?” Your friend muses as Utahime grabs onto your skirt with a protesting whine, trying to tug you back down onto your seat with all her might. And it’s a small chaos that erupts in a few surrounding giggles, a stray eyeroll or two - and for a certain dark-haired man to spy up from his motor book. 

Heady eyes locked on the scene, his gaze seeping right through your body. Choso tilts his head with a glimmer of interest that leaves your mouth dry no matter how many times you swallow. 

Oh, he looked just devilish.

You struggle to keep your voice even, “Yeah. Lab project.” And before you make your escape, you’re stealing one last glimpse at him- “No need to wait up, I’ll find my own way home.”

.

.

.

You were definitely, absolutely not finding your own way home.

And it was all your fault of staying way too late behind class hours, glued to one of your most important finals projects. 

“Dammit. Dammit.” You’re whispering to yourself as you check the time flashing on your phone - just a little past 10PM, you’d already missed the last local bus. 

The university was so empty that you could hear your own heartbeat thumping in your eardrums, in rapid unison with your footsteps. Leading up to the campus parking lot, a quick check showed you only a few stragglers that you didn’t know.

With a sigh, you make sure to stand underneath where a streetlight was overspilling its glow, weighing your options in the dim atmosphere.

You could call Utahime for a ride - or maybe your parents? But as much as you loved them, the multiple earfuls you’d get on ‘responsible time management’ was enough to have you closing out of your Phone app. 

Maybe you could (affectionately) blackmail Shoko into borrowing Utahime’s car? No, the one time you two decided that was a good idea, the other girl had given you both a lashing that had you bowing at her feet for weeks.

Swearing underneath your breath, you’re opening up the Uber app and making appalled note of the prices. Ah, perhaps you were just meant to sleep here tonight. “I’d rather beg for a ride from Yaga-”

And then you hear it.

You’re sure that anyone within a five-mile radius hears it, in fact- that low, infamous vrrrr— that made the ground beneath you quake ever-so-slightly. It was the very noise that roared past your quaint neighborhood streets at night, the very noise that your parents made sure to complain about every morning after.

And there was only one man who would drive such a behemoth.

Choso’s midnight black Ford Mustang glistens as he’s lazily pulling up to the flickering streetlight, taking up nearly the entire pavement. Too fast, too be lost, too slow to be heading for anywhere but you were - you can only gape as his tinted windows pull down almost silently. 

Almost smugly. 

The first thing you’re spying is the glimpse of a pale, beefy forearm gripping onto a leather-clad steering wheel. Tattooed and toned. 

And then it’s him - Choso Kamo, in all his glory.

“Need a ride?”

You’re blinking, voice never quite reaching your throat- “Wh-what?”

The first sound of your pretty, pretty tone and his hand tightens on the wheel - as if he’d just been zapped by volts of electricity.

He chuckles softly like he’d expected this, stray arm coming to scratch nervously at the back of his neck. And you don’t know whether you’d simply been standing out in the cold long enough to muddle your mind, but you swear that Choso’s ears tint a bright red. “I uh- I wouldn’t mind dropping you off home…or wherever it is you need to go?”

Expectantly, he’s searching his molten eyes up for an answer. But the longer Choso stares, the longer your silence stretches - and the darker the tips of his ears flush. 

“If- that is, if you don’t have another ride coming for you of course.” He’s peering his irises around, as if expecting one of your friends to pop out from the bushes any second now. Words running a mile a minute. “Sorry for assuming, I just saw you here alone and- oh, p-promise it wasn’t anything creepy I just notice y- fuck, I messed this up.”

And his shy smile withers, replaced by the anxious twiddle of his silver snakebites. Hand reaching for the gear shift now- “I should just-”

“No, wait!” 

You’re calling out before you can stop yourself, and it’s like Choso’s body listens to your words before his brain does. Because he’s halting in his tracks with a comical yelp, enough so that you have to stifle a smile. 

“I uh…I don’t have a ride, actually.” You’re telling him, with a deep breath. 

And it’s only with a final glance ‘round your surroundings that you’re confirming Yaga really wasn’t here and you really couldn’t bother him instead. 

Looking down at Choso and oh- he’s staring up at you with stars in his eyes. Curved grin urging you to speak- “If it’s ah- not too much trouble, I would really appreciate a ride back home.”

“Yes- yes, of course.”

And as if he’d not just been two seconds away from speeding down the pathway in embarrassment, he instantly lunges out from the driver’s seat. Speeding to the other side of the car and holding the passenger’s wiiide open for you.

You’re slightly taken aback by the manners, by the innocent smile that suggested he’d never even thought of anything less. “Oh!” Making sure you’re safely buckled before gently shutting the door, “Thank you?”

“Any time.”

You can’t lie to yourself and say that you’d never imagined what the interior of Choso Kamo’s notoriously intimidating car might look like. Feel like.

You just never imagined it to be as close to heaven as you could get - all luxurious woven seats and a touchscreen polished enough to mirror your awed face. 

You’re running your hand down the side of the car as you give directions to your home, your family would never even let you get close to a ‘deathtrap’ like this. And as Choso starts driving, you can’t help but breathe in that slightly bittersweet lavender scent of him, clinging onto the interior. 

“This…this is-” You’re grappling for the words as he’s shooting a kind smile your way, “So all those car magazines aren’t just for fun, huh?”

Choso’s lips twitch, “You noticed. Yeah- a 2025 Ford Mustang Dark Horse.” Tapping the wheel reverently, “My pride and joy.”

“I can tell.” As he looks at you curiously, “My family, we ah- we can hear you driving down the street sometimes, it’s incredible.”

Snickering, “Bet the neighborhood hates me then. With good reason, this thing goes from 0 to 60 in four seconds. 500 horsepower-” 

Then there’s a look he shares your way - something the complete opposite of the nervous, stuttering boy he’d been earlier. Perhaps closer to all the whispers that shrouded him instead- “-without modifications, that is.”

And you didn’t doubt that he’d made many.

“So how fast can you really go?” You’re asking with a quirked brow, slightly leaned over the console to take in all the numerous meters on his side of the seat. 

The heat of your proximity makes Choso bite back a gasp- “Trying to find out?”

There’s something in his words - his tone.

“What if I am?”

“I-I’d advise you against it.” He’s answering easily, the thickness of his thumb toying with the gear shift in dizzying circles. “Don’t you know what everyone in this town says about me?”

“They say a lot of things-”

“The loudest being that you should stay away.” Long, dark locks fall over his features as he nods, pulling to a stop at a barren red light. Darkness inking beyond his headlights, as if the only living beings on Earth right now were you, him– 

“You know, I don’t care what they say if I don’t truly know you.”

“Let’s- let’s just drive slow, get you home safe and you can forget about m-”

VRRRR—!

And the assholes that had pulled up to the side of Choso’s car. 

Gesturing him to lower his window, the boisterous voices from the neighboring vehicle hit you instantly. “Oi- nice car!” And before Choso can seemingly thank them, they’re revving up the engine of their own. “Would hate to embarrass ya in front of your girl, though.”

“She’s not my-”

“Why doesn’t she come with us?” One of their troupe of men lean out of the window, “We can show her a real fast car.”

You grimace, taking a glance at the still-red light. “Ew.”

“Oi-”

Your savior turns up the engine of his Mustang, cutting off the other man cleanly - and just a peek his way shows you his darkened eyes. Eyes hooded, face bathed in red from the traffic stop. Tone hard enough that you’re wondering whether this was the same man from just a few minutes ago. “Those are fighting words.”

Orange now. 

A sleazy cackle rings out, “That so?”

“You’re asking me?”

“No, I’m asking your gir-”

Green.

You’re instantly sunken deeply into the cushion of your seat as Choso speeds off- tailed closely by the Mercedes of your unwelcome guest. So fast that your surroundings are a blur, so hard that you can barely even move your mouth-

“A- a race?” You’re managing out.

“And we’re gonna win.”

Speeding; and you have a slight feeling that Choso was barely even trying as he’s looking over at the rearview mirror to watch the flashing headlights of his opponents.

Muttering underneath his breath, he shifts his gear with a clack to burst in speed- “Fucking imbeciles.” And if you thought his car was loud before, then you weren’t ready for him to smash the Sports Mode on his touchscreen and make the engine keen deafeningly. 

“Hold on tight, my girl.”

Clack!

“Shit, a fucking Mercedes, huh?” 

Clack!

Clack!

Another gear shift, and you’re seeing the trees of the landscape mix into one great splash of mere green. Choso flicks his eyes over in the side mirror only once- before the entire car swerves to the right to block off the Mercedes. “Fucking imbeciles.”

“Ch-Choso.” You’re gasping out, holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. Fuck- you think you’re seeing the line on his speedometer jerk upright as he steps harder on the gas pedal. 

“Yeees–?”

Your finger trembles - whether from fear or adrenaline, you have no idea - when you’re reaching it somewhere past the windshield. Eyes nearly bulging out of your skull once you take in the familiar road, “There’s a bend coming around. Hard.”

“Perfect.”

Clack!

You’re hitting the large dip in the road before you know it- thrown in so hard against the left side of the Ford Mustang that you claw onto Choso’s arm. Reached right over the console to grab onto his flexed biceps, “Heh.” He looks down at you through lowered lashes for a second, “Told you to hold on tight.”

Gaping speechlessly, you dig your nails against his pale skin and watch as he bites down on his lower lip. 

Fingers tilting down the rearview mirror, “And now, for those bastards.”

Bracing yourself, you manage to garner up enough strength in your body to raise your front off of him - only mildly mortified about being thrown around like a ragdoll by his driving. Taking a quick glance behind, “Oh, they slowed down for the bend.”

“Mhm, told you we’d win.” Choso grins, easily flicking off the Sports Mode for an easier regular one. You’re cruising smoothly down the velvety road, Mercedes long out of sight and out of mind. “You’re like my good luck charm- that means I better get you home safe n’ sound now..”

And that’s exactly what he does.

No more races, no more assholes on supercars - you’re turning into the suburban street of your tidy neighborhood without another hitch.

Well, if you don’t count the rumbling engine that was sure to disturb all the neighbors, that is. 

But strangely enough, you can’t seem to bring yourself to care as much as you should. Not even when he’s slowing down by the familiar driveway to your house, not even as you watch the lights inside flick on at the noise. 

Dwindling into a low purr by the time that Choso stops- “A-about before- I am so sorry about that, I don’t know why I let them get to me and-” He’s running a hand down his pretty features, “-and I promised myself I’d be good for you but-”

“Are you kidding me?” You breathe.

“I’m sorry.”

“That was-” He winces, waiting for your outburst. “-amazing?”

Choso’s fawny eyes widen, “What?”

“That was the most alive I’ve felt in ages.” You’re starting, “I mean- sure, I wanted to throw up a little but I promise once the nausea stopped it was really fun. And did you see the look on their faces- pffft, those assholes deserved it. Fucking- Mercedes.” Against all judgment, you’re gripping onto his broad shoulders just to shake with emphasis. “I didn’t even know you could drive like that- have you ever considered real racing? Fuck, I wonder if you could go even faster with this beauty.” 

Now it was his turn to be awestruck. Soundless. And suddenly you’re understanding just how self-conscious he must’ve been back at the campus. 

“Hello?”

“…”

“I mean…oh, what am I even saying.” You couldn’t grab your bag fast enough, hastily opening the door. “Thank you for the ride!”

You make three steps to your front porch - exactly three for Choso to snap out of his little reverie and chase right after you.

Long legs striding up, one of his matching exactly two or more of yours- a large hand catching your wrist, soft breath striking your face once he pulls you back. “Wait.”

Pants desperate, voice pleading.

You’re staring up at him so close that you could count each of his glinting metal piercings - those two sensual snakebites on his lower lip, one on his left eyebrow, several dangling upon both ears. And you swear you see one wink out from the tip of his pink tongue as he’s opening and closing his mouth.

“Do you-”

“I hope-”

You both speak at the same time, huffing out in slight amusement. You gesture for him to go, and he insists, “Ladies first.”

“Fine.” You’re letting him have his way, and the defeat is not nearly as bitter as how sweet it was watching Choso beam down at you from his height. “I just ah- hoped I didn’t weird you out or anyth-”

“Never.” 

He says it so seriously that you almost find yourself taking a step back- almost, because he still had his warm fingers curled softly around your wrist. As if he’d noticed your flighty demeanor, Choso drags you a few steps back with him, leaning against the side of his supercar. “Actually- would you like to go to a…thing-”

“A thing?”

“A place-”

“A shady place?”

“Yes-” Seeing the look in your gaze, “-but no! It’s just a race- a big one.” And fuck- he was finding it difficult to hold the line of your sight, ears scorching redder and redder every second you bored up at him. “And I want you there- if you would like to come, as my…” Choso winces, like he was despising each word spilling from his mouth. “-good luck…charm.”

You grin, “Is that a date?”

He squeaks- “If- if you want it to be.”

“Hmm.” Pretending to think for a second, you’re only deciding to let Choso off the hook after you watch as he genuinely, physically sweats a trickle of perspiration down his temple waiting for your answer. “It’ll be a date-” He gasps. “-if - and only if - you win first place.”

The grin you’re gifted with is devastating - and Choso Kamo doesn’t stutter a single syllable as he quirks a brow. As he leans in. As he bends down just enough that his deep, drawling words tickle your ear, “Oh, you’re gonna watch me win, baby.”

Oh. 

And you’re still thinking of them even as you manage to waddle your feet back up to your house after exchanging numbers. Predictably, being met with a lecture from your parents and yet not registering a single word. 

That is, not until-

“-and wasn’t it that boy?”

Snapping up at their disapproving tone, “Who? That was Choso, he gave me a ride when there was no one else on-”

“You should stay away, you know what they say.” Wagging a finger reproachfully, “How many times have we told you to stay away from brutes like that? And you just had to go and get fondled by the exact same one the entire town’s been talking about- and don’t lie to me, we saw you through the window.”

“Then you’d have seen that we were doing nothing.” You’re gripping onto your bag hard enough to tear, heart thumping with anger where it was once excitement. 

“That was not ‘nothing’, girl. I thought we raised you better than that.”

“But-”

“All the loud cars and the tattoos. Mark my word he’ll end up-”

Mumbling, “He was actually really sweet…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” 

“You’ll ruin your life.”

“I barely have one.”

With a long-weary sigh, you block out the rest of the screeching to head for your bedroom - the same ol’ innocent bedroom you’d had since you were a child. Throwing yourself over your bed, you scroll through the listings of studios in your university area, as you often did.

Except this time, you dare to bookmark one. Just one. 

.

.

.

It was hard not to know when Choso Kamo stared.

Because Choso never stared, he never tore his eyes away from the glossy pages of his motorsports magazine, even during lectures. And you always did wonder how he managed to top the scores of each exam despite that. 

Except for now.

Right now, you’re feeling the burning sensation of two dark peripherals on the back of your head - immediately making you swivel your own gaze behind you. 

Lo and behold, there he was - pen tapping on the side of his plush, rosy lips, brows furrowed as if you were the toughest of calculations he just couldn’t figure out. But the moment your pupils meet his, Choso only grins.

Mouthing, ‘Tonight.’

Your veins bubble when you notice more than one pair of eyes from the lecture hall on the two of you, and the implication of something happening ‘tonight’ wasn’t lost on your little audience. 

But you nod anyway, a reminder of what the two of you had been texting back n’ forth for days now. ‘Tonight.’

“What’s happening tonight and why are you eye-fucking Choso Kamo?” Shoko’s whisper infiltrates your little bubble - and many other nearby bubbles, if the way that a few students titter was anything to go by. 

“Shoko.” You elbow her side.

“No no, I want to know too.” Utahime pipes up, “Have you learned nothing from the two-bit bad boys in those shitty Netflix movies we watch?”

“He’s not just a two-bit bad boy, he also has a car.” Shoko’s adding on, “And I heard my neighbor’s friend’s aunt’s cousin say that he’s an F1 hopeful-”

The other gasps, “Is it the athlete’s salary tempting you, my dear? Y’know, I’m old money-”

Groaning, “It’s not like that.”

Shoko’s glancing between the two of you - Choso back at his books now that there wasn’t anything more worthy of his attention. You were looking away, after all. She balances a pen on her upper lip in thought, “When did that even happen, though?”

After a few seconds of trying to hide in your hands wasn’t working - in fact, it only made Professor Gakuganji throw more and more increasingly disgruntled glares your way - you sigh. “Well…you two remember last week when I stayed late at the labs? And I said someone was kind enough to give me a lift?” At two matching nods, “It was…”

“Him.”

“Him.” Utahime shakes you by your shoulders, “He didn’t do anything weird, did he, my dear? Oh, do I need to kill-”

“Not at all—” You wave them off, deciding to tell them about the impromptu race later today - preferably at an open space where it would be more acceptable for Utahime to scream bloody murder. “He was actually sweet and…”

Utahime and Shoko gawk at you with wide eyes, and the shorter-haired of the two speaks. “…and?”

“And a bit…cute.”

The pen clatters to down, down, down to the floor.

Already interrupting the class enough, you decide to simply rip the bandage off in one go- “And we may or may not have planned a date for tonight.”

It turns out that you’d very unfortunately overestimated Utahime’s ability to control her scream in a closed educational environment. 

.

.

.

It was electric. 

You felt electric. 

Choso leans over his seat to indulge in your personal space, and you’re sure you’d be melting if it wasn’t for the way that both your eyes were locked on one noisy opponent - that Mercedes. 

Engine revving right beside the Ford Mustang, sour faces peeking through the window with a thirst for revenge - who’d have thought that your lil’ enemy from the street competition would wind up being your opponents in an actual street race?

Honestly, tonight you’d let Choso drive you deep into a dingy corner of the town you didn’t even know existed in all your years living here.

You doubted that anyone knew of this secretive scene.

Filled to the brim with as many supercars as your lonely roads could hold- hell, Choso had told you that some participants drove from multiple cities away solely for these races. They were lining every inch of tarmac like glitzy streetlights made to overpower, the type to have given half your town an aneurysm just to think about. 

“It’s why I ended up here for my exchange program, y’know?” He was whispering in your ear, voice low in a way it was just for you. “The racing, the cars, the practice. I wanted it all before I went big.”

Dark eyes flickering briefly to you, “Didn’t think I’d find something else worth winning, too.”

Your breath hitched, you didn’t know what else to say to that. And Choso didn’t elaborate- instead informing you on the make and model of the cars that would be going up against him this time. 

And the roaring cheers grow deafening by the time a woman in a glittering outfit waltzes over to the middle of the track, a handkerchief held carefully in hand. Her cheery voice chimes out. “Alriiight, I want a nice, clean race around town- not. You know the drill- all racers on go by the time the cloth drops. Ready—?”

Teasing the little fabric around, you can pick out a few stray shouts surrounding the car- “Choso? That’s Choso Kamo? No way he seriously brought his gal- the man doesn’t even know how to smile-”

“They say it’s his last official race before he goes pro- better show off then, eh?”

“Move move I can’t see- Oh my  god it’s really him, shit, he has a girl, too. You think they’ll win?”

As you’re nervously toying with your fingers, you jolt at the sudden feeling of ice-cold rings sliding around your throat. One hand of Choso’s on the wheel, the other putting slight pressure on your neck to make you gasp. “Don’t you worry, baby. We’re gonna win this.”

“Set—!”

“Because of the date?” You watch from the corner of your eye as she’s waving the handkerchief ‘round like a chequered flag, raising it up, up, up—

“Because I have my lucky charm with me.”

“Go–!”

.

.

.

“Oh sh-shit.” A shrill whimper tears out from your throat the very second that Choso’s slimy tongue hits your inner thighs. 

He’s just so long - so dexterous that the pinkish tip of him curls inwardly along your sodden panties. Lavishing the swollen folds of your pussy with a few kittenish licks, you feel yourself buck in need at the slight graze of his tongue piercing. “Fuuuck, Choso, you’re not even gonna take my p-panties off?”

“Haaa—” His scalding hot breath gusts out in a sticky pant, and you can only watch as his lips purse to spit straight down your slippery slit. 

A fat glob of saliva that he’s smearing with the front end of his thumb, snickering. “No.”

And then Choso’s pursuing the quivering lips of your pussy like he’s a man starved - ravenous. Fuck, you didn’t even know how you got here.

It was a given that he would win that street race, coming in first among all the cars with an almost ridiculous lead. But it was only when Choso had kept driving - not even stopping to collect his cash prize - that you’d started to question what he had in mind…

And there you were- sprawled out across the back of his Ford Mustang and smearing the expensive seats with your sheeny slick. 

He’d driven you to the edge of some romantic viewpoint, a place to watch the twinkling stars above - but right now, Choso was drinking in a much better view. 

“Oh-” The edge of his sharp jawline strikes your cunt, “Oh.” And no matter how close he was, he wanted more - he needed to see your pretty pussy all up close n’ personal. 

Using the knobbly edge of his thumb to pull your folds apart with a sluuuurp, Choso’s mouth just waters seeing you drip ‘round your stringy panties. “Congratulations to me.” He’s drawling, syllables shaky. “She’s better than any grand prize, my baby.”

“You’re just so filthy—” You’re whining, hips rutting off of the cushioned seats while he’s making out with your pussy through your panties. 

Slap after slap of his mouth plastering to every inch of your hot core. 

It’s as if he was just trying to make you even messier, with each side of those rosy pink lips drooling against your pussy. “Mmm, tell me something I don’t already know, baby.”

Slickly rovering his tongue up n’ down the line of your slit- you feel Choso hone his wet muscle until he’s aligned precisely towards your sloppy hole. Pushin’ against the barrier of your underwear like he’s attempting to thrust his way in, “Stop teasing me, Choso–”

“Teasing? Who’s teasing?” 

Another push of his tongue against the cloth of your drenched panties and you shriek, just barely feeling the pressure of his mouth drag against where you really needed him the most. “Then eat me out properly-”

Mockingly confused, your pupils sprint all the way to the back of your throat as you’re feeling him murmur straight into your cunt. “M’not teasing, I just can’t see-”

“S-see?”

Looking down so fast that your chin knocks against your chest, in the dim street lighting you can make out the long mess of Choso’s hair. The way his unruly bangs were gluing to his forehead, half-obscuring his darkened gaze. 

“Mmm, m’just doing what I can—” He playfully hums, so close that he was practically nose-deep n’ yet still refusing to make out with your pussy past your panties. “Oh, if only I had my pretty girl to pull my- oh, fuck.”

Choso doesn’t get to finish his damn sentence before you’re giving him exactly what he asked for.

“Is this enough?”

Your trembly hands plunged into his clammy scalp, tugging on his silky hair- enough for you to admire his pretty, flushed face. All twisted into a mean smirk, “O-oh, now I can see.” There’s something unsteady in his words, as if he was on the very verge of shattering. “Now just tell me where you want m-mmpf-”

Then you’re shoving his face between your legs and Choso moans.

Mouth slacked all the way ajar- lengthy tongue coming out to simply flick aside your ruined panties. “F-fuck.” Choso’s wastin’ absolutely no time prodding at your clenched hole and squeeze-squeeze-squeezing inside. “Lemme see her. Lemme taste her- my pretty baby.”

Rutting the front of his hips into the backseat, he clings two large hands upon each side of your hips to haul your pussy deeper against his mouth.

Primal tongue slobbering everywhere, he’s gluing his textured tastebuds to the roof of your entrance and watches as you squirm oh-so-cutely. Pushing n’ pushing until he feels the first pressure of resistance from your cunt, “Ngh- Choso, dunno if it’ll- fit-”

“But you’re a goood girl- aren’t ya, baby?” Reeling back with a dewy plop! to prod his tongue into each of your nooks. “So aren’t ya gonna take my tongue like hah- a good girl?”

Your hand claws to clamp your mouth shut as you feel him stick his mouth against your entrance and start to bully inside once more. “I- I don’t-”

“Ah ah, none of that.” Only to have one set of his slender fingers tug down your shaky hand, hearing your pretty whines like his favorite song.

Fuck, Choso can only let you buck wildly once he’s rubbin’ his tongue piercing along your clit. “You’re gonna be loud-” His tongue was just unfairly flexible, twisting around until the metallic orb near the middle hits down your nub with a splat! “Yeah- exactly like that, pretty baby.” He could barely even speak through each pressurized push, “Gonna let this, mmm, entiiiire fuckin’ town hear. And then-”

And then he’s throwing your boneless limbs over his broad shoulders, ankles locking on instinct ‘round the back of Choso’s neck. 

It’s the change in angle that has you gasping, holding onto the cushions surrounding you for dear life when that only makes his mouth roam deeper- “-th-then you’re gonna fucking take all of my- ngh- tongue.” 

Muffled, each syllable leaves your pussy all raw n’ sensitive. 

Splashing out oodles of syrupy sweet sap each time the tip of Choso’s taste buds scrape the inside of your cunt. Stretchin’ out your poor hole to the maximum until you’re mewling at the sting.

Constricting widely, he’s shovelling your walls apart until you’re memorizing the exact feeling of his tongue. Pump after pump. 

He wasn’t just hungry - it’s like he hadn’t eaten for eons with the way that Choso was grinding and grinding his face between your face. Each gyration of his tongue rendering you speechless, licking all over your sweetest spots until not an inch was left undiscovered by him. 

You feel the glossy points of his snakebites stick against the base of your outer pussy and gasp.

“And then my cock next.”

“Oh- oh my god- ngh-” You babble away- was it possible to bottom out on a tongue? Because the curvy tip of his tongue was reaching all the way near your g-spot and you couldn’t help but sob. 

Hands trekking down on instant to-

SMACK!

Your fingers twitch where Choso had swatted your hand away, crushing it within one of his. “But Choso-”

“And who said you could play with my prize?” He tilts his head, dark eyes narrowed in a way that looked almost dangerous. Plump lips twitching with a sleazy grin, “S’my pussy, baby.”

Before you know it, he���s guiding your guilty hand down to meet his maw. Slick-sheened fingertips finding their way just between his lips- oh, he was greedy for your sweet, sweet juices. He wasn’t about to let you have a single drop.

Sucklin’ on them like his favorite flavored lolly, Choso stares right into your eyes once he replaces what you wanted with his own fingers.

A drive-roughened index smearing open the edges of your pussy, “D’you know that?” 

You’re shuttering your eyes in need, “Oh my god your fingers-”

Pressing just inside your hole, “Do you know that?” You can only let out a few more mindless wails in response, and he’s slipping a second finger against the roof of your core. “Need you to answer me if you want-”

“Yes- yes.” You claw against his strong wrist so hard that you’re leaving marks. Doing anything - everything to get him to go deeper, to sloppily fill you up from the inside with his fingertips. “Oh…mmm, please, Choso.”

“And don’t you forget it.” You’re being treated like a lil’ plaything - one thumb flicking your clit, two more scouring inside your glossy walls. “I’m taking my prize tonight.”

There’s a lecherous, resounding plop! as he manages to fully sink in the two prolonged fingers all the way till his knuckles hit the slope of your pussy. The curvaceous edge of Choso’s index easily mazing past to locate your throbbing g-spot, “Oh fuck- so deep- ngh, so…”

Only letting off once your own fingerpads are licked all clean of your slick, he hastily pushes his face back into your treacly cunt. “That’s it, thaaaat’s it. Fuck up into m-me- into my face.”

And he had you have you on his flushed face - Choso needed you on his face. 

Right then and right now, it’s like he’s fighting against himself for a mere piece of your pussy. Like the sweetest dessert in the world, he laps up every slimy ounce of leaky slick- wide tongue draaagging in circles ‘round and ‘round your sensitive hole.

One that was being absolutely pummelled by his fingers, he’s filling up every slick orifice with the curve of his digits. Hooking them so they thrash right against your g-spot-

“This is how ya do it.” You swear you watch as the mountains of Choso’s knuckles turn red with the slamming impact of his pumps, “Look at her- mm, just look. Now this is a winning celebration, huh?”

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Your pupils are speeding in stupid circles within the whites of your eyes, hands twitching on his brown locks. The metal of his snakebites snag against the sensitive part of your folds and your legs shake, “It just feels too good- hck!”

Dragging down his handsome face harder against your pussy- and the manhandling force makes him rut. Crushing the rock-hard outline of his bulge against the carseat, “Too good, huh?”

And then the unthinkable happens - Choso dares to pull his long, hammering fingers out of your pussy. 

Instantly latching his pearly white canines onto your clit to bite so you can’t get out a single complaint- he’s forcing you to be patient as he reaches for something in the back pocket of his trousers. “Don’t you move now.” As you’re starting to push away from his shoulders at the sheer fucking stimulation making you see stars. “Don’t you fucking move.”

He’s serious about not letting you escape- one hand reaching behind his sweaty head. He grips both your ankles in one hand and locks them together, pinning them firmly together, dragging you to him.

“Excuse me for this, baby, I can’t take my hah- reward otherwise.”

In a split-second, his fingers are back to bullying between your puffy pussylips- but they weren’t the only thing pryin’ apart your bubblegum walls. 

Oh.

With a gasp, you’re lurching your dazed head up as much as possible - watching in real time when Choso’s now-ringed fingers disappear between your folds. 

Chunky, cold metal rings scraping your innards carnally, you feel him press a particularly textured one against the area of your nerves and see white- “Oh- oh my god, mmm—” Reaching for the very back of your core, he’s scissoring your cunt open to reach for your g-spot with a dull thud! 

Pushing into each softened spot. 

Your throat’s clogging with saliva again and again as he’s thrusting in n’ out, in n’ out, in and- “I don’t think I’ll last.”

Fuck, that makes him push his raging erection against the cushion and groan. 

“Then cum on my face.” Choso states simply, pressing a sweet lil’ kiss on your clit. Your quivering entrance splatters out a few speckles of glittery slick that latch onto his chin, “Cum on my mouth.”

Sticking his long tongue out, you can see the dot of his piercing glimmer in the dim lighting. Rovering down to swirl on your clit, he’s driving you wild with precise, prodding rolls right over your overstimulated nub. 

It was a dual stimulation - and you should’ve guessed from all the expert driving, but he was damn near taking you to heaven with all the multi-tasking.

Clawing at your every gooey spot, the splotchy stains of your sap cling onto his lips like a gleaming  medal. Every swirl of his greedy tongue on your clit making your back arch so cutely into his touch. 

The flesh of Choso’s bottom lip teasingly juts out to tickle his snakebites along your slope, “Cum alllll over my tongue, baby.”

At this point you don’t know what to ogle - the vicious lashings of his mouth, or the way he just looked so pretty doing it. 

Stray strands of his bangs falling over his forehead, ears burnt rouge, biceps flexing as he fights off the thrashing of your legs to keep you in one place. 

“Oh- oh, fuck-”

“Yeah-” Your eardrums flood with the rickety sound of friction on his decadent carseat, and only then do you realize that Choso was humping it. Fucking you with his mouth the way he wished he could with his swollen cock right now. “Yeah yeah yeah- exactly.”

Honey-brown eyes locked right into the target of your own as he bucks n’ bucks his face deeper into your sloppy pussy. Wrist aching, mouth panting, but he couldn’t fucking stop. 

You’re feeling him directly smash in a repeated one-two against your g-spot and choke- “I-I think m’gonna…” Trailing off, each n’ every word slurs together into one long call-out of his name. Thighs twitching as if you were electrocuted, “Oh, mmm- m’cumming, Cho-”

The only thing you can manage through your wobbly lips before throwing your head back and cumming.

Rushing into your orgasm so hard that it makes your ears pop! “I…I can’t believe I- fuck!” Your lashes flutter at the way he kept his probin’ fingers jackhammering through your high, blinking back tears. “Y-you’re only making it even ngh- better.”

Plap! Plap! Plap! The rugged joints of his knuckles nearly rub raw at the impact against your pussy’s slope, scouring against your poor battered g-spot. 

Your hands were on his ready head, holding on to grind on those pretty features in sloppy drags. Zaps of your pleasure bursting at the feeling of his piercings on your flesh, “You really are filthy.”

And Choso was more than happy to have his mouth be used, have the tip of his nose be ridden. 

“That’s it-” Eyes twinkling watching your cute lil’ hole spray him with flecks of slick, each peak of your high making you clamp down.

He’s slithering his tongue just vertically down your treacly cunt to try n’ bully it greedily inside. Swabbing with the metal of his tongue piercing, and you think you see white. Head throwing back at the sheerly raw stretchhh—

Yearning to feel the way your goopy innards squeezed ‘round his muscle once more, “Tha’s it- oh, baby, clench like that and m’gonna cu- fuck.”

Too late.

Too late; Choso was already feeling your snug, dripping insides melt around his tastebuds and he was already creaming his pants. A dark, dark stain forming where his leaky orifice kept wadding out seed- the man takes a glance down and tuts.

“S’all your fucking fault, y’know?”

“M-mine?” And by now your wave of euphoria was nothing but a few tingles here and there- so Choso’s lifting himself out from between your trembly legs. Albeit with a sloppy last French kiss on your sopping pussy. Two. 

Three.

Four- fuck, you had to be the one to wrench Choso away by the base of his perspired bangs. Leaving a few jet-black stains of his eyeliner smeared between your legs.

Forcing him to stop pussydrunkenly chasing the taste of your cunt, “Yes, fucking look at me.” He sounds gone. “M’addicted and it’s all y-your fault, baby.”

And he was dripping wet from his twitchy girth, so much so that his trousers stick to the upper half of his thighs like a second skin. Choso’s peeling his ruined pants and boxers off and oh-

“Fuck.” You’re gasping, in a daze. Eyes never leaving the hot, pinkish length that he’d just freed, “You’re so…”

Big.

Huge.

Staggering.

Damn near nine or ten inches, and so pretty, too. 

The cutest lil’ shade of pink on his globular tip, glistening with cum n’ covered with a few sparse veins that led to his happy trail. More than rock-hard, it looked painful. And was that- oh, fuck. 

He had a fucking Prince Albert’s piercing - right there, dotted on the line of his sensitive slit. Choso slaps down his heavy cock between your legs and watches as you squirm at the feeling of him slipping n’ sliding between your folds. 

From your distance leaned against the end of the backseat, you’re measuring him up. Eyeing the girth of him, fuck, he was fat enough that your legs squeeze-

“Now now-” Hastily, he unsticks your clammy thighs and flips you over onto your front. Leaning his weight down on your back to keep your restless body pinned, “-none of that.” Tonality breathy, octaves higher. “None of that none of that- oh, you’re not getting off easy tonight, pretty baby.”

Somewhere along the line of you ogling his impressive length, Choso had taken off his rugged band t-shirt. And fuck- you didn’t know which view was better. 

Because he was naturally ripped - all lean abs and pecs that jiggled once he’s leaning down. Your mouth waters when you take in the piercings going through his rosy nipples, the draconic tattoos going down his neck. 

You’re craning your head, now on all fours. “I-I could’ve guessed.” Sheepishly, as he’s aligning his thick, throbbing cockhead against your entrance. 

Choso pulls back on your tattered panties with a snap! “We’re gonna give this entire town something to hah- talk about.”

And that’s exactly what he does. 

Because the moment you feel his reddish crown bulge between your folds- you almost bawl. The utter primal stretch so much that he’s clawing onto your hips to keep you still. 

“Come on.” Choso spits into your open mouth, one of his free hands pressing up on your tummy - hard - just to feel that sensation of his large outline spearing through your walls. “Come on come on-”

“Fuck- fuck, Choso, you’re in s-so deep-”

“Here’s the finish line.” You hear him titter from above you, index paintin’ an invisible line somewhere about halfway down your stomach. Right where his target of your womb was. 

And before you can get out a single word, he rears his hips closer and makes you see stars. Closer. Deeper. The curvy weight of his tip bullies between your first ring of muscle, so thick that you can barely even clench. “First, m’here-”

You gasp, “Wh-what-”

“The- the starting line-” He’s hissing out, deliciously rutting a meager inch back n’ forth just to make you feel the way your entrance was gaped to the max. “Now I’m…”

With a hand pressed down to feel your cute tummy bulge, Choso’s fat cock slips further down your walls. Easing in after such a raw, primal squeeelch- 

“-here.”

“Oh- my god- I can’t believe-” You whimper, nails clawing at the faux leather for all he was putting you through. Just a few more solid inches, a few more visceral bucks of his hips and you’re babbling stupidly. “Are you ngh- are you there yet? Are you even halfway?”

“Mmm, not quite.” Choso twists out a grin.

Free hand snaking between your legs to lap up a few ounces of your sappy slick, mixing with his cum from before. It’s such a filthy concoction, and it’s exactly what’s being used to draw a line right over your tummy. 

“M’here and then-” Another rut, another line - higher upwards this time. The fat, aching length of his cock was slickly mazing between your walls and making your head spin. Tapping that lil’ spot with his pointer,  “…h-here.”

Until you could feel every pulse, every vein.

Choso Kamo didn’t even have to try to fill your poor channel up, his vein-decorated shaft poking into every tiny crevice and cranny. Until you felt like you were being molded to his very size. 

“And- and then-” Even he wasn’t immune to the completely carnal feeling- your cunt was just too hot, too soft. He’s pokin’ his pointed tip into one of your tender spots and throwing his head back at the way it makes your glossy walls tighten. “-finally-” Rutting. Half-thrusts. “-here.”

Hitting your cervix dead-on, right with his pierced part.

“H-heh…the grand prize.”

Shit, all this effort putting up a cool front and that very first thrust shatters Choso. 

It makes him gasp, it makes him stutter- groaning out your name in a gravelly tone like a mantra. 

“Fuck- the…grand- oh.” He’s babbling away his own joke, planting yet another thorough slam all the way to the back of your pussy. Hard enough that the vehicle quakes. 

Strawberry-pink tip swelling up just a bit more at the impact. Sheathed until those curly dark hairs at his base, and Choso chuckles like he’d just stumbled across an epiphany. “Your cervix- I hit it- got s-second place, too.”

Second place…?

You blearily blink your eyes, saliva flooding at the pure stretch. “Are you-”

Pap–! 

“And third-” In a sultry split-second, you’re being pulled back by one of Choso’s beefy biceps - in a fucking headlock. His pierced lips kissing the side of your face, “Got third, too, baby- are you p-proud of me?”

Your hands fist in his silken hair- “Yes- Yes yes yes- ngh, it just feels too good, Cho.”

There’s a sudden slurp, and suddenly the two of you are snapping your heads back down to watch how your stimulated pussy grows even wetter. Spraying out syrupy slick with each of his furious pumps, every slam leaves his meaty thighs stuck to the backs of yours like adhesive. 

A roughened thumb slithers down to spread your pussylips. “O-oh.” Just so that he can watch his achingly hard cock disappear from your winking hole. Studded piercing dipping in and out in and out in and out- “We’re gonna break this damn car, baby— Just like this hah- pretty pussy is breaking me.”

Headlock tightening, backseats creaking. “Ch-Cho, are you-” Another smash against the spongy layer of your cervix and he swears.

You’re peering into the tinted window of his Mustang and seeing the full effect of your sweet, candied pussy on him.

Head hunched, back muscles tense. 

It’s like he was breaking - bit by bit with every swab of his cocktip against your deepest innards. The rounded globe of his orifice probes into the door to your womb and you find yourself drooling. “Choso, are you even ngh- okay?”

Choso’s long lashes bat, eyeliner smudging ‘round sexily, “No. Fuck.” Sizzling tastebuds lolling out to lick the salted tears streaming down your face. “Fuck- fuck, how could I ever be okay?”

You’re feeling his abs plaster against your spine, usin’ the weight to angle his roaming length even deeper. “A pussy as sweet as you- ohhhh.” Grunts departing into your ear following each rut after rut- “M’n-never going to be okay.”

Choso’s puffy veins drag against your g-spot and you whine. “H-harder.”

“Harder?” Something that sounds like a pussydrunk giggle escapes him, eyes wide. Feral. “Can you even handle harder, my girl?”

Huffing, the first thing you’re thinking to respond with is a sloppy nod. Your neck is barely even capable of keeping your heavy head upright by now, “Faster, too.”

Oh.

Oh.

You were fucked. 

Because when you said ‘fast’, you didn’t think that he would act this rapidly. Taking barely a second - no, a nanosecond - to plunge his angrily hard dick out n’ flip your limp body over. 

From the filthiest doggy position to having your legs ‘round his slender waist, his cock ebbing deep inside once more. The new angle easily lets his weepy girth map your walls, mazin’ inside like a searchlight. 

Reaching your aching g-spot easily- “Hold on tight, my girl.”

And then he’s fucking your dizzy brain thoughtless. 

Until the firm, steady frame of his supercar was shaking from side-to-side.

Plump, raging cock stuffin’ right between your folds to poke against the top of your cervix. Again and again. Thump after thump. 

His piercing is so cold that it makes you shiver. And Choso takes extra care to make sure that his winding veins find a way to precisely scrape your most treasured spots. 

One hand holding onto the right side of your face, gently brushing against the top of your cheekbone. “It feels so hah- good, oh.” The other toying with your pretty lil’ clit, “So good it’s driving me- fuck, crazy.”

Drawing out the cutest hearts with his thumb on your nub, Choso was just so gone that you swear his pupils were starting to turn heart-shaped, too. 

Especially once he catches two of your hands snaking down the sweaty line of his chest- stopping right where the curve of his pecs were. Without a second thought, you’re fingering the sensitive area of his nipple piercings. 

Choso arches, he shivers. “Heh, you’re fucking dangerous, baby.” Drilling cock overspilling your insides with a few sticky wads of precum as you tug on one of them.

You whine when he’s withdrawing the loving hand from your cheek to swab the cavern of your mouth. “That’s what they said about- ngh- you.” 

“Mmm—” He lolls his head pussydrunkenly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You’re sure that Choso’s leaving a few bites and smears of eyeliner for you to worry about later. Each word punctured with a thrash of his rotund tip, “Well, they don’t know me yet.”

“A-and I do?”

“Well…” And that makes the sinful man grin. 

It makes him unload the hand from your ajar maw - removing it with a few stringy ribbons of spit. And it’s exactly that moisture that Choso’s using to write out your damn name on his left pec, right above his heart. 

“You-” Your voice clogs up in your throat- because he wasn’t done. Far from it.

Because soon enough, the ringed fingerpads simply teasin’ your clit start to repeat in a pattern. A swoopy few movements that you’re realizing is his name.

C-H-O-S-O-K-A-M-O

Yours on his heart, his on your cunt. 

Spelled out expertly on the buttony top of your clit, you’re seeing stars after each quick movement. The sharp turns n’ swoops of his name being branded onto you was almost too much to handle. 

Which was exactly what he was looking for- and the tips of Choso’s plush lips twitch at the sight of you slowly edging towards your high. “Yeahhh, you fuckin’ do. Know me better than hah- anyone else here, my pretty baby.”

Throat breaking out in a sob, “I-I’m so close-” Pulling on his hair, thrashing up your hips. “Not gonna hngh- last too long, Cho—”

“Oh, yeah? Say my name like that- say my name.”

But you can’t say anything, really - because in a singular, fluid motion, Choso has your legs perched on his flexing shoulders. Your capped knees pressing down until they hit your tits- the realization smites you and you gasp. 

“A-a mating press?”

“Whaaaat–?” Drawling out through a drunken hiccup, he gifts you three strikes with his Prince Albert’s on your g-spot. Thud-thud-thud. “Wanna see your gorgeous fuckin’ ngh- face when you’re cumming on my cock.”

This angle was perfect for glissading a line of pre straight across your g-spot, unstopping until he’s hitting the back of your cervix with a rattling thud. Speeding his sloppy tempo up until the smacks of skin-on-skin were downright deafening. 

Ears ringing with the sappy squelches reeled out of you after every second of his rough cadence. With the way the car was shifting- “You’re just so- so filthy.”

“Mmm, only for you, baby.” Comes out the ragged response, something near the tailend of his sentence cracking. And so is his restraint. His sanity. “A-Always for you, baby.”

He’s driving into you as if he was crazed; toned pelvis of his stinging red, temple trickling with sweat, the fat circumference of his crownhead was leaving absolutely no spot unturned. Thumb nearly a blur on your clit, it makes you arch to have him rewriting his name over n’ over n’ over. 

Choso’s simply ruining you from the inside out, and you can feel your body twitching already in response. 

Pants hoarse- gone. He finishes off yet another signature twist of your clit - C-H-O-S-O. “Anything for you, baby.”

And then you don’t know who’s first - it’s simply crashing into both of you at once. 

A long, blissful wave of euphoria that leaves your vision all white n’ delirious. You’re just so full- being stuffed to the very brim of your dripping wet pussy with his cum. Creamy white ropes that glue to the start of your womb n’ end up being stirred about by his length. 

The only thing you can even think to do is wrap your arms ‘round Choso’s neck and give him a lingering kiss. 

Mind spinning, stomach twisting - it’s probably the hardest orgasm of your life.

Feeling him moan into your mouth through each clench of your high, “Better than I’ve ever fucking- ngh, imagined.” 

Oh, it was just too cute to have him confessing like this as he’s fucking you through his high. 

Pushing each knot of sinful cum even deeper- “You’re better than a ngh- dream.” It makes him sensitively whimper to feel you clamping down at his words. Webs of ivory syrup sploshing through your channel like a second skin. “You might just be- oh, my dream, my girl.”

There’s just so much of it.

So much that’s spilling out. Coating his bulky base in a slathered ring of white, neither you nor him can even think to care about the stained material of the seats. 

Only plowing probe after probe of his blushin’ tip to probe into your favorite spots, Choso leaves your toes curling at the pleasure of having him draaaaag out your high with his veiny cock. 

And it takes you a few seconds to register his whiny words- “You- you really mean that?”

“Y-yeah…” He’s breathing out, in awe. Flinching when your fingers start to caress the crimson tips of Choso’s ears, “Meant every fucking word.”

“And I do, too.” At his slightly puzzled expression, you’re chuckling. “Remember the first time we met? I told you I don’t care about hck! anything this lil’ town says.” It’s almost too intimate having you brush away his bangs from his gawking eyes, but you couldn’t think of anything more fitting. “N’ I still don’t give a single fuck what they have to say-”

“O-oh.”

Choso ends up cumming again - simply from hearing those words fall from your beautiful mouth.

Except, this time, it’s dry. Just a single pearly bead of sap bein’ withered out, he juts the throbbing crown of his cock up against the roof of your cunt. 

Knees planting deeper upon either side of your hips to give you a thorough slide of his exhausted, pierced cock. He’s cumming out near sparks by the time he spits out- “Your- your parents are gonna kill me.”

“My parents are gonna kill me.”

“N-next time-” 

You knew he’d just bared his feelings out for you, but you can’t help but feel your heart flutter at the mention of a ‘next time.’ “-m’fucking you in your bedroom, my girl-” The raspy tone of Choso’s breath makes you shiver, up close n’ personal. “-while your parents are home.”

.

.

.

“Did you hear- they say that Choso Kamo races F1 and he’s-”

“Forget the racing! Did you hear he’d apparently taken her out- yeah, her, after that race last night and…well, I hear there were numerous noise complaints at that cliffside viewpoint.”

“Oh, my aunt’s her neighbor and she said the house was in chaos the entire night after she came back. Couldn’t even walk apparently.”

“He was that good?”

“Good enough that she packed her bags and moved into a place of her own, apparently.”

.

.

.

“Aaaaand Verstappen holds the lead but Kamo’s close behind—” You never did get tired of the revving thunder of the cars, the booming voice of the Formula 1 commentator fighting to be heard above them. 

You’re leaning against the wall of the VIP box with Utahime and Shoko - meant only for family and friends, stomach churning as it always did whenever it came to the last lap of Choso’s races. 

“Oh- oh! You can see Kamo weaving behind, ohhh it’s a tight one, ladies, gentlemen, and every folk in-between.” 

It was honestly still surreal to be here, of all places, after everything.

After how many told you that he’d break your heart, and here he was holding it with him through each lap like he’d fall apart without it. 

As the distance closes - all power, pressure, and speed - you’re yelling his name at the top of your lungs despite the fact that he won’t hear. “Come on— Cho–!” Waving about the flag with his number and color as all his tens of thousands of fans did. “Not too long for the finish line–!”

The announcer bellows, “Ah, you’ve got Kamo’s girlfriend, one of our most beloved F1 WAGs, yelling as the finish line draws nearer- so close! So close! Will he make it?” As that chequered flag raises, his familiar car speeds. “Push now, boy!”

His engine roars - and so does the crowd, split-seconds later. 

“And in the final corner, it’s Choso Kamo who seizes the chequered flag—! He wins the Italian Grand Prix! What a drive! What. A. Drive.”

Choso doesn’t give a single shit about the few victory laps, he doesn’t even wait for a final discussion with his pit team. 

Zooming right past the finish line and further along the main straight. Right where it was most visible to you from your seat, he’s immediately punching on the gas pedal and swerving the absolute monster of his racecar. 

Right then and there on the tracks.

Right into the shape of a…heart?

You’re giggling behind your hands as the commentator cackles– “A celebration for his eighth win this season, Kamo shows off his title- and his love!”

Surrounding you, you can hear the crows coo and cheer, you can already taste the fizzy champagne being popped. And in nearly no time, your boyfriend has pulled his car up to the parc fermé - running right through the outline of a heart he’d drawn in celebration.

Running right up the stands to you-

But not into your arms.

No, not at all. 

Instead, Choso Kamo drops to one knee right before you.

The audience loses it- and you hear the booming loudspeakers squeak. “Wait- wait’s what’s happening in the VIP box?! Choso Kamo- it can’t be-”

And Utahime, without a single word, digs inside her purse and throws a small, velvety ring box over within the blink of an eye. One that Choso catches with ease. And oh, he just looked so pretty.

The same boy you met all those years ago - lengthy hair mussed up from his helmet, rosy lips quivering, face flushed. 

“Is everyone in the pits watching? Is everyone at home watching? This is absolutely sensational! Choso Kamo has just seized the moment to propose to his long-time girlfriend, an incredible celebration of love we’re seeing here on the tracks today.”

So in love. 

Choso whispers, “It would be a dream…if you would marry me, my girl?”

Tear-filled, you can only nod. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, and every folk in-between — we have a winner—!”

A/N. The things I would do for him cannot even be spoken into existence.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[orbitvenus]

  ― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[text ID: I belonged always to whatever was far from me and to whatever I could never be.]

[orbitvenus]

snoopy items by sissi.ceramics

[orbitvenus]

"how are you a virgin and this perverted?" ☆

your best friend geto looks like he's been accosted. eyes wide, jaw slack, face all but screwed up in surprise at the words that have just come out of your mouth. what was it you said you were reading about? triple penetration? he might pass out.

you can't help but laugh at the look he's giving you. "what? you didn't watch porn when you were still a virgin?"

without warning, he snatches your phone right out of your hand and squints at the screen. "my porn was tasteful," he tsks. "this is... uncouth."

"uncouth?" you try to take back your phone, just for him to roll over in bed and hold it out of reach. you're half on top of him in seconds, clawing at his bulky arm. "give it back!"

"what is dac..." he stifles a laugh at the way you try so desperately for your archive of erotica. "...dacryphilia?"

"you don't know? what, no game? no hoes? bitches?"

"i manage, thank you," he rolls the both of you over and pins you down against the mattress, which has your breath hitching in your throat for some reason. it makes him smirk like a fucking idiot. "what, nervous?"

no... yes? you don't know. suguru has never made you feel nervous... jittery, maybe. you'd use nauseous, in both the good and bad way. sometimes he gives you this look that makes you feel like you have food poisoning. your body seems to react to him at the extreme.

you've always been touchy with each other. your friendship has been physical since day one—if you aren't touching, you're not in the same room. it's just how it's always been, a hand on his arm as you walk together, or his arm around your shoulders when you're seated. it's... normal. familiar.

so this—suguru pinning you down by the wrists, his long black hair falling down to tunnel your vision right onto that pretty face of his—probably shouldn't get you this wet.

or wet at all, really.

"tears," you say, for some fucking reason. "dacryphilia, it's crying, or making someone cry. like being overstimulated, or... humiliated, to the point of tears. or just crying for the sake of it."

geto looks down at you, and you try not to watch the muscles of his arms bulge as he keeps you locked beneath him. "i know."

you frown. "you know?"

"i just wanted to hear you try and explain it," he laughs. "fucking pervert."

"i'm going to kill you slowly," you wriggle beneath him. "get off me, suguru."

"or what? you'll cry? i think you're into that..." he teases, and manages to shift both of your wrists into one hand so that he can reach for your phone again. he thumbs it open and resumes your 'history' tab with a shit-eating grin. "virginity loss... best friends to lovers... size kink... corruption... breeding? really?"

"shut the fuck up," you hiss. you buck your hips up, not to throw him off—because you can admit he's bigger, heavier and a whole lot stronger than you are—but out of pure frustration. except your movement only presses you tighter against where his thighs cage your hips, and you freeze. you think something pathetic leaves your lips, but you can't quite hear yourself over the mortification bubbling up in your chest.

"oh?" he notices, of course.you want to claw his stupid handsome face off. "don't tell me this is working for you."

"it's not," you snap. "you are so fucking full of yourself, geto."

"suguru," he corrects you. "say it properly. and by the look on your face right now i'd wager that you'd rather be the one full of me."

god you hate him sometimes. "embarrassing me isn't funny."

"it's a little funny."

"fuck you."

"you look like you'd love to," he lowers his hips a little, and for the first time in your life, you feel the weight of a rock-hard cock pressing against you. "tell me to stop and i will. we can go get food or something, forget this happened."

the switch in tone from teasing to gentle makes you smile, which makes keeping up the disgruntled act a lot harder. the thought of verbalising your need right now makes you nauseous, so you opt instead for a shake of your head.

"great," he nods, and slowly releases your wrists. "you can take that back whenever you want, just tell me and i'll back off."

"what are you..." you're cut off when suguru hands you your phone back with a scrunched up nose.

"read it," he says. "out loud. if you stop, i stop."

you're confused only until you check your screen and see that geto has opened up one of your most recently read pieces and scrolled down to a rather graphic scene of the main character being eaten out by her best friend. it's a little ironic, considering the state you're in, but you can't bring yourself to be embarrassed when your own best friend is kissing down your stomach and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your shorts.

he's going to go down on you? but he's hard, and for as much porn as you've read, most of it depicts the guy taking what he wants.

"aren't you going to... you know? fuck me?"

your shorts and panties are pulled down in one swift movement, and suguru buries his face in your thigh to stifle his laugh. his body shakes with the force of it, which makes you frown. your pussy is a few inches from his face, and he's laughing like the prospect of taking your virginity is funny.

"you couldn't take me," he smiles up at you. "now read."

suddenly self-conscious, you try clamp your thighs shut, just to (once again) find yourself pinned down by his strong arms. "this is weird," you whine. "you're my... i mean we... you know? friends. best friends."

holding eye contact, suguru slowly lowers himself down to press a chaste kiss to your clit. it's not much contact, but it makes you jolt nonetheless. doesn't feel like how you had imagined it when you'd lay in bed late at night with your nose in a book and your hand between your legs. this is... better. feels right.

"still weird?" he asks, to which you nod without really meaning it. "weird like your porn on that phone?"

"suguru i swear to god if you don't—oh my god."

you forgive that man for all of the teasing he'd one as soon as he gets to work on you. flattening out his tongue against your pussy and tasting you for the first time has him already grinding against the mattress, and has you squeezing your eyes shut as you try to process this new realm of pleasure. you're glad he doesn't tease you for being so wet, but that he instead uses it to his advantage and starts making an even bigger mess of you.

his lips latch around your clit for only a few seconds. he hollows out your cheeks and you think you might die with how overwhelming the sensation is, but it's over all too soon. geto pulls back to do two things:

one, tie his hair out of his face, and two, tell you to start reading.

not wanting to miss out on these newfound pleasures of the flesh, you unlock your phone and start on a random spot on the screen, your voice a lot more shaky than you want it to be.

"he, uh... he ducks down and licks a stripe from entrance to clit, collecting... collecting her wetness on his tongue and falling in love with the taste of her enjoyments."

suguru, suddenly good at following instructions, does as written and leads his tongue upwards. you moan at the contact, but notice suguru starting to pull away at your lack of reading, so you go on.

"she loves the way he feels. he kisses her, uh, sweet center, before continuing to use his tongue to toy with her."

you can feel suguru smiling against you. "sweet center?" he laughs, but continues his ministries nonetheless. you roll your eyes, this has been a lot better of a read when your brain was fogged with unsated need. longing for the man that is now between your legs.

"growing messy, his focus shifts to her clit. his tongue dances with the bud of nerves as he brings two fingers of his left hand, ring and all, and pushes them inside of her. curling upwards until she—"

"is that what you want?" suguru cuts you off.

"yeah, yes. i think. just go slow."

"keep reading."

you clear your throat as suguru starts tracing circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue. he looks a little silly doing that, you note as you glance down to enjoy the view for a moment, but god does it feel good.

"curling upwards until she's an ecstatic mess of fulfilled wants. he completes her, in both soul and now flesh. fills her with his fingers in preparation for his—oh god, suguru, right there."

you hadn't even noticed him pushing into you, you were that eager to feel more of him. his fingers curl up as described in your reading material and suddenly he's brushing over a spot you've never discovered on your own. it blurs your vision, sends your skin hot.

"can't.. can't read anymore," you whine, bucking your hips up in some masochistic need for more. anything bigger than this and you'd keel over, you think, but you'd take anything suguru was willing to give you. "gonna—"

he allows it. encourages it, even. quickens his pace on the fingers plunging in and out of you, and starts making out with your pussy like a drunken virgin would. it's good in a way that shouldn't be: messy and needy and you think perhaps that suguru is just as close to coming as you are.

your orgasm is intense. your back arching off the bed and your body trying hopelessly to get more of sugurus touch. you think you moan his name, though it could be a babbled string of 'i love you's that you'll refuse to acknowledge later on in hopes that giving you head wasn't enough to ruin your friendship.

suguru moans loudly against your pussy as he tastes your release, the vibrations no help for your sensitivity, but his hips are stuttering against the mattress and you can tell even through your haze that you've made the cocky idiot cum in his pants.

serves him right.

and because the two of you are friends before you are... whatever this is, the both of you are falling into a fit of laughter upon your comedowns. suguru's lips glisten and your chest heaves with each breath you take, and he's climbing up the bed to press a kiss to your cheek.

"better than reading about it?" he asks.

"nope," you grin, which earns you a mean look that soon gives way to another laugh from him. "you could do it again some time if you wanted, though."

"please. i want to find out what skills you've picked up reading all of that weird shit." he pulls you into his arms and, despite being a little sweaty, you find yourself melting comfortably into his embrace.

"you couldn't keep up with me," you sing-song.

"yeah? try me."

"ever heard of male sounding? whip it out, sugu."

"ha. shut the fuck up."

part two here

[orbitvenus]

INEXPERIENCED PERSON GETS A LITTLE “LESSON” | SYLUS (LADS) X AFAB!READER

WARNINGS: SMUT, TH1GH GR1NDING, READERS FIRST TIME, 0RAL (RECEIVING), M1SSIONARY, UNPROTECTED S3X, MULTIPLE 0RGASMS, CREAMP1E, MDNI/18+ CONTENT

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

“I… I don’t really know what I’m doing, Sylus. Like, at all.” The words tumble out between nervous laughs as you fidget with your hoodie drawstrings.

Sylus leans closer, eyes locked on you as if you’ve just handed him the best gift of the night. “No experience?” His smirk deepens. “Oh, sweetheart… you’ve been holding out on me.”

Before you can stammer out a defence, he’s already closing the distance between the two of you. One big hand braces against the wall behind you, boxing you in. His breath is warm on your ear when he murmurs. “Guess that makes me your first lesson, yeah?”

His touch is deliberate and unhurried. Fingers tracing along your jaw, tilting your face up until your lips part on instinct. Sylus doesn’t kiss you right away. He makes you wait, makes you shiver under his gaze. “Relax,” he says, voice low and teasing. “I’ll show you exactly how this goes.”

The first kiss is slow but commanding, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes you clutch at his shirt. He chuckles, catching your wrist and pinning it against the wall. “Already grabbing? Eager… I like it.”

Every move after that feels like instruction. The way his hand slides down your side, guiding your hips closer. The way he pulls back from the kiss to murmur another command. “Part your legs for me… yeah, like that. Good girl.”

Sylus wedges his leg between yours, your clothed core pressing lightly against the fabric of his trousers. The material is soft, but the friction sparks a heat that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

He notices immediately, a low hum of satisfaction slipping from his throat as his hands find your hips. “There it is,” he murmurs, guiding you closer until the friction deepens. The rough glide of fabric against you draws a soft moan from your lips and his smirk widens at the proof of your reaction.

“You feel that?” he asks, voice husky, his thigh flexing just enough to make you shiver. “I want you to move for me.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, testing the friction, but soon your movements find a steady rhythm, moans and soft sounds spilling from your lips. The heat builds with every press and you can feel him responding beneath you, the fabric between you doing nothing to dull the intensity.

His hands move to rest on your thighs, helping you. His thumb brushes lightly against your skin, and the sensation makes your back arch, a sharp moan breaking free. “That’s it… just like that,” he murmurs, voice low and ragged.

The friction, the closeness, the way he’s watching you, it’s all too much. You let your movements grow more deliberate, guided by the heat between you and the sound of your moans mingling with his low groans.

Your body shivers as the knot inside you tightens with every press, every glide, until it finally snaps in a shuddering release that leaves you breathless, trembling against him.

ꪆৎ

Now you’re sprawled across his bed, every inch of you exposed, while Sylus hovers above with hungry eyes. His gaze drifts slowly down the length of your body, lingering like he’s memorising every curve, every line, every inch of skin laid open for him.

His hand comes to rest on your hip, warm and grounding, thumb tracing lazy circles that make your breath hitch. “You have no idea how perfect you are like this,” he murmurs, the words roughened by the strain in his voice.

You shift beneath him, the heat of his body sinking into yours, and he leans down, pressing his lips to your collarbone. The kiss is slow, almost reverent, but the scrape of his teeth that follows sends sparks racing through you. His mouth trails lower, leaving a heated path across your skin, until you’re arching toward him without even realising it.

He shifts, strong hands coaxing your thighs apart with ease, his movements unhurried yet possessive. When he lowers himself further, one of your legs settles over his shoulder, leaving you exposed beneath the heavy weight of his gaze. Then you feel it, his breath against your core, hot and deliberate, making your stomach tighten with anticipation.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, unsure where to place your hands. Finally, you press them into the duvet, the fabric bunching beneath your grip. It grounds you as the rest of your body feels like it’s unravelling, strung tight with the ache of waiting for his next move.

Sylus leans closer, his fingers parting your folds as his mouth finds your heat, sending shivers through every nerve. The warmth of him between your thighs, the deliberate way he explores with his tongue, makes your chest tighten and your breath hitch.

A low, satisfied murmur escapes him, and you shiver at the sound, the intimacy sending waves through your core. His tongue darts inside you for a moment, teasing and precise, each flick sparking a shiver that runs through your entire body.

Soon he's got your body arching off the mattress, that familar knot forming in your lower abdomen once again. He's groaning as his tongue hungrily laps at your cunt, the pleasure building up much quicker than you had expected and your fingers twist in the fabric beneath you.

Soon, he has your body arching off the mattress, that familiar knot forming low in your abdomen once again. He groans, tongue lapping your cunt hungrily and the pleasure builds up quicker than you expected. Your fingers clutch the fabric beneath you, twisting it as waves of heat ripple through your body.

Between broken moans, you call his name, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Your second orgasm edges closer, sharp and relentless, and your thighs tremble, threatening to clamp around him. He pins them carefully, holding you in place as his mouth drives you higher.

Pleasure spirals through you, a storm you can’t control. Every nerve screams, every shuddering breath catching in your throat. Then the release crashes over you like wildfire, stealing your words and leaving only whimpers and quivering gasps. Your body trembles, suspended between ecstasy and exhaustion, utterly undone.

Sylus rises, hovering over you once more. This time, he lines himself up with your heat, letting you adjust to the lingering waves of pleasure. His tip, slick with precum as he brushes it against your folds, pressing just enough to make you shiver and your breath hitching as anticipation coils tight in your stomach.

“Sylus…” You whimper. “Put it in.”

“Darling’s giving orders now, huh?” he murmurs, one hand planted firmly next to your head, the other gripping his length. His smirk is dangerous and the view of him above you makes your body ache with need.

“Please…” you whine, your fingers letting go of the bedsheet before landing on his hips, tugging him closer, desperate for every inch of him.

Finally, he sinks into you slowly, letting you adjust to the fullness. Each inch presses deliciously against you, making your back arch instinctively, fingers digging into his hips.

“Feels… so good,” you gasp, voice trembling as your walls stretch around him.

He begins to move, slow at first, letting each stroke draw out the tension, before picking up a steady, demanding rhythm. You’re caught in the delicious torment of sensation, every thrust sending shivers from your core to your lips, moans spilling uncontrollably with every delicious movement.

Sylus leans closer, forehead brushing yours as he kissses you and his hand travels from his length to your hips as he drives his cock deeper into. With every thrust, heat and tension twist tighter in your lower stomach.

Your moans grow louder, ragged and uncontrollable, matching the steady rhythm of his thrusts. Fingers claw at his back now, nails grazing skin as you press into him, desperate for every inch.

“Such a good girl for me,” he growls, voice low and teasing, sending heat curling through you. His hand slides to your chest, teasing your sensitive skin, and the combination of touch and movement makes your vision blur with pleasure.

The tension in your core twists tighter, every nerve ending on fire. You’re caught between begging and surrendering, hips moving instinctively against him, breath hitching with every delicious thrust.

Then, just when the pressure becomes unbearable, a shiver rips through you, waves of pleasure crashing over your body as you cry out, your whole body trembling beneath him. He holds you close, driving through the last delicious moments, until you’re left breathless and quivering beneath him.

Sylus soon follows, his climax crashing through him as he cums inside you. His breaths come in ragged gasps, chest heaving and you swear you could have orgasmed for the fourth time that evening, every nerve screaming in delicious overload.

A/N - ALSO THANK YOU TO @/PROMPT-HEAVEN FOR THE PROMPT IDEAS! PLEASE FIND THE EXACT POST HERE!

© 195MG 2025 - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARISE, TRANSLATE, OR SHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS.

[orbitvenus]

🚨 Emergency Call for Help ، A Newborn Baby in Danger Amid War, Desperately Needing the Basics to Survive 💔

I am a mother who has just given birth to my baby girl, Eva Claire, sleeping like an angel in my arms, while my three other little children cling to me inside a tent torn apart by war.

My baby came into this world with no milk, no diapers, no clothes, no bed, no blanket, no electricity, no clean water, no source of power or stove to heat her milk… and not even a safe shelter to protect her from the scorching heat of the day and the freezing nights.

We are in urgent and desperate need of:

🍼 Baby formula & feeding bottle

👶 Diapers & baby clothes

🛏️ A small bed & blanket

💧 Clean drinking water & a safe place

🔥 A small stove & a fan – the tents are unbearable in this heat

🔋 A solar panel & small battery

🏠 Rent for a room or the cost of a tent to shelter us

🥗 Healthy food for me as a mother, since I lost a lot of blood after delivery

🍞 Nutritious food for my little children

💊 Some urgent medicines for the kids

Please… don’t let my newborn spend her first days in life suffering without the bare minimum to survive. Your donation could mean the difference between life and death for her and her brothers. 💔

PayPal: @cjhibb

PayPal: @cjhibb

[orbitvenus]

it's 12:40 am, and i'm not ovulating, but i had thoughts, and now i'm wet 😞 pls enjoy rough sex with sylus 😩

cw: 18+, spitting in mouth, pussy slapping, overstimulation

Your legs kick out when Sylus bottoms out in you for the fifth time. You try to shove at his shoulders, but your hands are weak and trembling, barely managing a push.

A sharp thrust has your eyes rolling back, and another has your legs attempting to close around his waist. But one of his large hands grabs hold of one of your legs to spread it wide, leaving you stretched and open. Then he's fucking you mercilessly, the head of his cock hitting your cervix as a ring of frothy cream forms around the base of his cock.

He leans down to kiss your open mouth, fucking his tongue in its warmth while you let out muffled whines. Then he's grasping your cheeks between his thumb and index fingers, making sure your mouth remains open. He spits directly onto your tongue, does it one more time and watches, pleased, as you automatically swallow it down.

His hand slips down to your throat, applying enough pressure to render you dizzy as he continues to pound your soaking cunt. He notes how it spasms around him, how it eagerly pulls him in further and how it's still so fucking tight after five rounds.

Fuck, it's perfect.

You're perfect.

There's a sudden knock on the door followed by a voice.

"Sir, your clients are ready for you."

A rough thumb to your swollen clit has you cumming with a scream, head shaking while you squirt so hard on Sylus' cock, forcing it out from the pressure. Sylus groans lowly, leaves your clit alone in favour of slapping your oversensitive pussy, causing you to cry as you arch away from it. But Sylus drag you back, slaps your cunt again before stretching you wide on his cock again.

You're drooling, toes curling and nails dragging over his clothed back.

It's paradise.

"Five minutes." is all Sylus says, aiming to flood your poor pussy with his cum one more time.

[orbitvenus]

may all your favorite fanfic writers never lose their hyperfixation and love for your blorbos so they keep writing fanfics about your blorbos forever

[orbitvenus]

➡️ And then this happened...

[orbitvenus]

[orbitvenus]

Teaser for ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Dragon’ Hybrid!Dragon Sylus Story

The Dragonette bends her head back and looks at the sky. “So why do you do this? For the other Hybrids, for babies like Daliah…for me?”

Sylus goes unnaturally still beside her, the kind of stillness that wasn’t human, wasn’t even dragon, but something far older. The silence stretches long enough that the distant laughter of the hybrids starts to feel like a taunt. Then, just as she begins to think he won't answer at all-

"Because no one came for me.”

His voice is gravel wrapped in velvet, too controlled to be a snarl but too sharp to be anything else. He doesn’t look at her; his crimson gaze stays fixed on some invisible point in the middle distance where memory and rage blur together. "And when I clawed my way out?" A humorless grin splits his face as he finally turns his head toward her, revealing fangs that gleamed too brightly under sunlight they weren’t meant for. "—I made sure nothing like those pits would stand so long as I could burn it down."

A second passes before he leans back on one elbow with forced ease, tail flicking dismissively even though tension still corded through every muscle beneath scaled skin, as if daring her to call it sentimentality rather than spite.

She flips a stone in the dirt. “I remember then putting us against each other. We were so young but so angry….”

It takes a monumental effort for Sylus to keep his hand from curling into a fist. He hated the memory of those times—being pitted against a fellow hybrid because of some twisted, cruel game.

His gaze never wavered though, his voice still cool and controlled when he finally broke the silence. “They wanted violence. We gave it to them... and to each other.” There is no guilt or shame in his words—just a hard, cold truth. “Or do you remember it differently?"

Her claws flex into the earth, tearing furrows in the dirt. “I remember you winning,” she mutters, but there’s no real heat behind it—just exhaustion. A breath later, her voice drops lower, barely audible over the rustling grass. “….And I remember them dragging me out of that pit while you were still standing."

Sylus goes preternaturally still beside her. The air between them thickens with something unsaid, something neither of them had ever acknowledged until now. Because they both knew what came after losing a fight in those rings.

New owners. New chains. New ways to break a dragon until it forgot how to roar back—

His tail lashes once before coiling possessively around her ankle without thinking, an instinctive claim he doesn't bother disguising, When he finally speaks again, his voice is rougher than gravel "Not this time."

[orbitvenus]

[honk honk!] translation: Piero (clowns) what?! just a clown and his dog, nothing much to speak of! eheh... (my MC Ana is the dog...the dog is she...) (Beel alts under the cut. Warning, blood.)

[orbitvenus]

synopsis: you show sylus how humans show affection. he shows you how dragons show affection.

content: smut, little/no plot, biting, bloodnight blaze references, dragon sylus being dragon sylus, just one dick 2 is scary sorry :(

The fire at the cave’s mouth burned low and steady, its amber light spilling over stone and scale alike. Outside, the abyss stretched into forever — no horizon, no ground, just endless dark stitched with faint, glimmering stars. Sylus sat near the opening, one arm resting lazily on his knee, the other braced against the rock.

You came in quietly, plush towel draped over your shoulders, slightly damp strands of hair sticking to your neck. The warmth from the small fire curled over your skin, prickling your cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was from the heat… or from the way Sylus looked in this light.

Moonlight slid over the hard lines of his profile, over the polished curve of his horns, catching on the sharp gleam of his eyes. The firelight made his scales glow like embers under obsidian, and for a long moment you just… watched him. 

“Are you going to stand there all night?” he asked without looking at you. His voice was as cool as the wind beyond the cliff.

“I might,” you said, padding closer until the fire’s warmth fully wrapped around you. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you plan on saying anything interesting.”

That earned you a brief glance — sharp, assessing — before he looked back out into the dark. “You came here for conversation?”

“I came here to sit with you,” you replied, lowering yourself to the stone beside him. “Maybe you’ll talk if I'm lucky,”

The fire popped, sending a curl of smoke drifting into the open air. For a time, he said nothing, and you let your gaze wander over the sweep of his wings, the subtle shift of muscles beneath his scaled shoulders.

“Foolish human,” he murmured finally, “always putting yourself where you don’t belong.”

“Maybe,” you said lightly, “or maybe I’m exactly where I should be.”

That got you another look — longer this time, his eyes reflecting the fire. Neither of you spoke, and the silence settled between you like a shared blanket. Eventually, you leaned against him, letting your head rest just under the line of his shoulder.

His body tensed, scales cool and hard beneath your cheek. You could feel the faint vibration of his breath.

“What,” he said slowly, “are you doing?”

You smiled against him. “I like you. And this…” you shifted just enough to glance up at him, “…this is how humans show affection.”

His expression didn’t change much, but his eyes sharpened, something unreadable moving behind them. “Affection,” he repeated, tasting the word like it was foreign. “You think if you show me affection you can obtain a fiend's love?”

You hummed. “Mhmm… aren’t I greedy?”

He exhaled through his nose — not quite a laugh, but close enough to stir the hair at your temple. His gaze turned back to the abyss, though you could feel he was still thinking about your words.

The fire’s warmth pressed into your side; his presence was heavier still, grounding. On impulse, you tilted your head and pressed a brief kiss to the side of his face — the smooth, cool line of scale just at his cheek.

He didn’t move at first after your lips brushed his cheek, as if the gesture had rooted him in place. The only movement was the faint flicker of firelight dancing across his scales, turning them molten gold and deep bronze.

After a moment, his gaze cut toward you. “Your audacity knows no bounds,” His voice was low, even, but you could hear the faint rasp in it — like the words cost him something.

You tilted your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Have you ever kissed anyone before, Sylus?”

His brow furrowed, as if you’d just asked him the most ridiculous thing in the world. “What do you think?” The scoff in his tone was clear, but there was a shadow of something else beneath it… something almost self-conscious.

“Mm,” you hummed, leaning an elbow on your knee. “First kisses are important, you know.”

The fire crackled between you, the scent of smoke and charred pine filling the cool night air. Beyond the mouth of the cave, the abyss stretched endlessly, lit only by a thin wash of moonlight — but in here, it was warm, the heat from the flames mingling with something hotter coiling in your chest.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’ve never kissed anyone before either… have you?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden turn of the question. You could feel the flush on your cheeks deepen.

“No… I didn’t meet many people in the sanctuary,”

Something in his posture shifted — subtle, but unmistakable. The set of his shoulders tightened, his tail giving the faintest flick against the stone. “Then why… are you trying to kiss me? If they’re so important,”

Your mouth curved in a softer smile. “Because…” The word slipped out before you could stop it, but whatever explanation you might have given faded, the thought dissolving in the space between you as you realized how close you’d leaned in.

The fire popped. You could hear the faint echo of the wind in the abyss, the low, steady rhythm of his breathing. His scent — a mix of smoke, earth, and something sharper you could never quite name — wrapped around you, making your pulse trip over itself.

Neither of you seemed to decide on the moment — but suddenly, he was leaning in too. Your noses brushed, the heat of him mingling with the fire’s warmth, your lips parting just slightly in anticipation.

And then, his mouth was on yours.

It was tentative at first, almost testing — as if he wasn’t sure how much pressure to use, how long to stay there. His lips were firm but unfamiliar with the motion, warm on your already flushed skin — the contact was enough to make your stomach flip.

When you finally broke apart, your breaths mingled in the firelit space between you, and you swore the red along his cheeks wasn’t just from the flames.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, you asked softly, “Do you like it?”

He grumbled something under his breath, looking away as though the question was an intrusion. But the corner of his mouth curved almost imperceptibly.

Then, his gaze flicked back to you, sharper now, a glint of mischief breaking through the reserve. “Do you know how dragons show affection?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “No.”

He didn’t explain — he simply leaned closer, slow enough for you to feel the heat of his breath against your skin. He slowly brought his clawed hand up — touching your cheek with an uncharacteristic tenderness, before brushing the hair surrounding your neck away.

His tongue traced a deliberate line along the curve of your neck. The wet heat of it sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could catch your breath, his teeth sank into you — not deep enough to truly hurt, but sharp enough to make your pulse stutter.

A soft sound escaped you, half surprise, half something else, and then his tongue was there again, soothing the sting, lingering just long enough to make your skin prickle. A deep rumble resounded from his chest — almost like a purr. The slide of his tongue over your skin sent heat rushing between your thighs — you found yourself quickly pressing them together desperate for some kind of friction. 

When the sting finally subsided, he placed a soft kiss to the mark blossoming on your skin. He drew back just enough to meet your eyes, his own carrying that faint, smug challenge. “Do you like it?”

You didn’t look away. “Yes.”

Something flickered in his expression — you’d caught him off guard, and you could feel the heat between you deepen, shift. Your voice was softer now, threaded with something headier.

“Can I show you more?”

The fire’s glow flickered low, casting Sylus’s silhouette in molten gold and shadow. His slight nod was almost imperceptible, but it was enough—a quiet permission that set your breath catching.

You shifted, the towel slipping from your shoulders, silk nightgown whispering against your skin as you moved to straddle his lap. His body was solid beneath you, the scales along his thighs cool at first, but you could feel the heat radiating from deeper within him. You braced a knee on either side of his hips, close enough now to catch the faintest ripple of his scent — smoke and some darker note you still couldn’t name.

Your hands slid over his shoulders as you leaned in, catching his mouth with yours. This time, there was nothing tentative about it. His lips pressed more firmly against yours, and you felt the hesitant shift of his hands — a clumsy slide over your hips, almost as if he was unsure where they were allowed to rest. His claws didn’t press hard, but you felt the careful scrape of them through the thin fabric as they traced upward, brushing the curve of your waist, then gliding slowly along your back.

The heat pooling low in your stomach spread, insistent and impossible to ignore. Your fingers found their way into his hair — thick, silken strands slipping through your grasp — before you reached, almost without thinking, toward the base of his horns. The moment your fingertips brushed that polished ridge, his breath caught. A sound escaped him — low, unguarded — more of a muffled moan than a growl.

It startled you enough to still your movements. You leaned back just enough to search his face, your voice soft, curious. “...Does that feel good?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and instead of answering, he glanced away — as if the question itself was too exposing. His tail shifted against the stone, restless.

You let the silence linger only a moment before trailing your finger along the curve of his horn again, slower this time, testing. The effect was immediate — his jaw clenched, his chest rising sharply as a deep, almost involuntary growl rumbled out of him. His hand shot up, fingers curling firmly around your wrist, not quite squeezing but enough to halt the motion.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, his voice rougher now, the words vibrating against your skin.

You tilted your head, the barest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “You like it,”

His eyes locked with yours — a mixture of irritation, warning… and something darker, hotter, just beneath the surface. He didn’t answer, but his silence was an answer of its own.

You kissed him again, your lips parting to let the heat between you deepen. His grip on your wrist loosened, his other hand settling low on your back, drawing you closer until you were pressed flush against him. Without meaning to — or maybe without caring — your hips rolled forward, the friction sparking through you like a struck match.

His breath hitched sharply, and before you could pull back, his hips lifted to meet yours — a short, uncontrolled buck. The sudden movement of his hips beneath you sent a sharp, delicious jolt straight through your core. Your breath hitched, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped past your lips—his name, barely more than a whisper, trembling in the night air.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, flushed and burning with need.

“What’s wrong?” Sylus’s voice was low, edged with concern and something teasing as he tilted his head.

You swallowed, voice thick with desire. “I want more,”

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. “I thought you were showing me.”

You let your hands slide down to the thin straps of your silk nightgown, fingers trembling slightly as you eased them off your shoulders. The fabric slipped silently, pooling at your waist and revealing the bare curve of your chest to the firelight’s glow.

“You can touch me,” you breathed, voice barely above the crackling flames.

His eyes darkened as he hesitated for a brief moment, hands lifting carefully—too carefully—over your skin. His claws, sharp and lethal by nature, traced gentle, reverent paths across your exposed flesh, each touch careful not to break the surface. His fingertips skimmed over your ribs and then circled your nipples, a contrast of scaled strength and delicate caution.

“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly, voice thick with uncertainty.

You swallowed the heat rising in your throat and smiled shyly, nodding. “You can also use your mouth… like you did on my neck.”

His lips parted in a slow, deliberate way as he leaned forward, breath warm and teasing as he pressed his mouth against your skin. The first kiss was featherlight, tracing a path down your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He worked his way lower — tracing his tongue over your pebbling nipples, before capturing them in his mouth with a soft suck.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your fingers tangling greedily in his silken hair. You reached again, fingertips grazing the base of his horns. The effect was immediate—his body tensed and a low, guttural groan rumbled from deep within his chest. The vibration of the sound sent a fresh pulse racing through you, making your skin flush hotter under his touch.

Sylus’s eyes flicked up to yours, mischievous and darkening with a playful hunger. Without warning, his teeth grazed your nipple in a teasing nip, light and precise.

You jumped, startled, a sharp inhale cutting off into your own warning. “Sylus–”

He smirked against your skin, lips brushing your sensitive flesh. “What? I thought you liked it when I bite.”

Your cheeks flamed with bashful heat as you bit your lip. “It’s… sensitive there.”

His hands tightened around your waist just slightly, a slow, deliberate pressure as he whispered against your skin, “Good.”

The firelight flickered, casting shadows that played across his sharp features as your lips met his again — slow, searching, deepening kisses that sent a fresh tremor of heat spiraling through your body. Your hands slid from his shoulders down his chest, tracing the smooth, obsidian-like scales, feeling the solid strength beneath each ridge and dip.

Your fingertips brushed against the faintly glowing gem embedded in the center of his chest, pulsing softly beneath your fingers like a heartbeat. Warmth seeped from it through your skin, settling deep inside you with a strange, soothing ache.

You let your hands wander lower, fingers teasing the taut muscles that tapered just above the belt of his dark trousers. The cool contrast of scales and warm flesh sent an electric thrill through your veins. You felt him stiffen beneath your touch — the subtle, almost imperceptible hitch of breath, the flush blooming at his cheeks.

“Feeling bold, sweetie?” His voice was low, trying to sound confident, but the faint pink stain coloring his face betrayed him.

You smiled, teasing, your hands tightening slightly on his chest. “Don’t you want more?”

His brow lifted, surprise flashing in his eyes. “What? You want to… mate with me?”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment you couldn’t meet his gaze, shyness blooming hot in your cheeks. Your hands froze against his skin, uncertain.

He cupped your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he coaxed your eyes to meet his. His voice dropped, tender and steady. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

The softness in his gaze wrapped around you like a warm cloak, easing the flutter of nerves. But as you looked into those deep, glowing eyes, a quiet thought crept in — what if he’d mated before? The idea stirred an unexpected sting, a jealous flutter you hadn’t expected.

Your voice came out quieter this time, a fragile question. “You… haven’t before, right?”

His lips curved in a slow, knowing grin. “Hnh. Is that jealousy I hear?” His tail flicked lazily behind him, eyes glinting with amusement. “Careful, little human. You’re starting to sound like a dragon,” He leaned in until his breath brushed your ear. “Possessive. Territorial.”

You felt your cheeks heat even more under his gaze, but you didn’t look away. That only seemed to please him further — his grin sharpening into something smug, predatory, as if savoring the proof that you wanted him all to yourself.

After letting the silence stretch just long enough to make your pulse race, he finally huffed a quiet laugh, pressing his forehead to yours. “No. Never. And I wouldn’t give myself to anyone I didn’t intend to keep,” His lips brush your cheek. Then, softly: “Dragons mate for life.”

You held his gaze, steady and intense now, breath catching with resolve. “Then I want it. I want you.”

That earned you another smirk — softer now, but no less self-satisfied — as if your admission had been exactly what he wanted to hear all along.

Your hands resumed their gentle exploration — fingers brushing over the tension in his arms, tracing the strong lines of his shoulders and the sweep of his scales as they shifted with his movement. His hands slid from your waist, sliding lower, drawing you closer still.

Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his full height. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, clinging as he lifted you effortlessly, your bodies pressed tight. His arms supported you with sure strength as he carried you toward the heart of his lair.

The nest awaited — a plush burrow of expensive furs and silks, soft and warm under the fire’s glow. Precious gold and gemstones were scattered around like stars caught in a velvet sky, reflecting the light with gentle sparkles. The scent of rich leather, wildflowers, and something deeply ancient filled the air.

He settled you gently onto the soft pile, eyes gleaming with promise and something fiercely tender. The crackling of the fire softened, and the abyss outside faded away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in heat, shadows, and a beginning that burned brighter than any flame.

The silk nightgown had slipped down to your hips, leaving you exposed and trembling with anticipation. His eyes darkened as he looked over your body, the glow from the gem in his chest pulsing softly in time with your quickening heartbeat.

Sylus’s lips found your collarbone first—featherlight, reverent—trailing a path of fire across your skin. Each kiss was slow and deliberate, awakening every nerve it touched, sending sparks of heat that crawled beneath your flesh. His breath whispered against your throat: “Do you know how to mend a soul so greedy it’ll burn for you?”

“You quench his desires... you feed him with every inch of you.”

His mouth punctuated his words, lips mapping a delicate path along your body. “From fingertips—” a kiss to the pad of your fingers. “To earlobes—” a nip at your ear.

He lifted his gaze to meet yours, lips brushing against yours in a lingering, possessive kiss before whispering, “You’re all mine.”

“Yours,” you breathed back, heart pounding.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his hands moved again, sliding the nightgown the rest of the way down your legs, freeing your body completely to his touch.

“I’ll start with your warmest spot,” he murmured, voice low and husky, as his mouth traced the edge of your underwear. His breath was hot, teasing, sending shivers coursing through you.

He placed a soft kiss to the fabric, right on your twitching bud. He inhaled deeply, eyes narrowing with something like awe.

“Do you know what your scent reminds me of? Steamy and sweet... like cherry wine.”

His fingers slipped beneath the soft fabric of your underwear, sliding it slowly down your thighs, revealing more of your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His hands were careful, the tips of his claws gently grazing, never sharp as they made their way down your legs.

He pressed lightly against your most sensitive spot. His fingertips circled your clit with exquisite gentleness, the contrast of his cool scales and the heat of his touch setting your nerves alight. You gasped softly at the exquisite torment.

Then, without warning, his tongue flicked out—soft, wet, teasing—darting over your slick folds. “Does that feel good?” he asked quietly, voice thick with barely contained desire.

Your breath caught in your throat as a soft moan slipped free, your head falling back against the silks. You nodded, your fingers tangling greedily in his thick silver hair, urging him on.

His tongue grew bolder, flicking and curling through your folds with a mixture of slow patience and tentative experimentation, mapping you out for the first time. Every movement felt deliberate, but sometimes uncertain—testing, learning what made you gasp, what made your thighs twitch.

“Mmh… you taste so sweet,” he murmured against you, his breath warm on your skin, before dipping back in. “So soft… I could drown here.”

He kept his eyes on you as much as he could, glancing up between strokes, gauging every reaction—your parted lips, the way your chest rose faster, the subtle jerk of your hips when he hit the right spot. Your fingers threaded into his hair before sliding up to grip the base of his horns, a shiver rolling visibly down his spine at the contact.

When you pushed, guiding his head with the leverage, he groaned—deep, low, vibrating against you—and the sound alone made your back arch. His nose bumped your clit with each stroke, sending sharp pulses of pleasure through your core.

He tried circling his tongue one way, then the other, testing pressure, pace. When your moan broke higher, he repeated the motion, almost eager, chasing the sound. “Like that?” he asked between licks, his voice rough, and when you whined in answer, he pressed closer, letting you grind against his mouth, letting you set the rhythm.

Your hips rocked harder, using his horns for leverage as the tension in your belly coiled tighter, every flick and press driving you toward the edge. His moans came freely now—half from the taste, half from the sheer effect you had on him—each one sending delicious vibrations into your most sensitive spot.

The pleasure built fast, cresting in waves so intense your whole body trembled. Your muscles clenched around the empty ache inside you, a shuddering climax ripping through your body until you thought you might break apart. You gripped the furs beneath you with one hand, his horns with the other, riding the aftershocks as your breath came ragged and uneven.

Sylus lifted his head slowly, lips glistening, cheeks flushed, chest rising with heavy breaths. He looked almost dazed, like he’d just tasted something rare and couldn’t quite believe it. His mouth traced its way back up your body—small, sharp nips at your thighs, a lingering kiss at your hip, then slow, wet trails up your ribs. By the time he reached your neck, his lips were dragging open-mouthed kisses across your pulse point, teeth grazing with every pass.

Your fingers slid down, finding the hard heat straining against his trousers. You curled your hand around him through the fabric, a needy little sound escaping your throat—

His hand snapped out, catching your wrist in a firm, possessive grip. “Ah-ah,” he rumbled, his voice low and edged with mock-reproach. His eyes gleamed, but there was something unreadable behind them. “Remember how you teased me earlier… you really think I’d let you touch me that easily?”

A small whine escaped your throat, trying to pull free. “Sylus, please—”

His grip only tightened, thumb brushing lazily over the inside of your wrist in contrast to his unyielding hold. His voice dropped lower, quieter, more serious. “Maybe we’re done for tonight.”

Your stomach sank, your heart thudding in panic. “What? No—” Your arm twitched with the force of trying to break free from his grasp.

He tilted his head slightly, a smug little smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Dare to resist me?” His gaze raked over you, lingering shamelessly. His lips ghosted your ear. “Bite me, then.”

The sudden challenge lit a spark of heat in your chest. You hesitated, then sank your teeth into the warm skin of his neck. He inhaled sharply, his body shuddering against yours.

“Yes,” he growled, the sound almost broken. “Harder.”

You bit down again, feeling his pulse jump beneath your mouth. A low, strangled sound left his throat, somewhere between a groan and a gasp.

His lips crashed into yours without warning, the kiss rougher, hungrier. You were still catching your breath when you tried for him again—your free hand sliding down, desperate—

He caught your wrist a second time, stopping you cold. His gaze locked on yours, fierce and commanding, his breath fanning over your lips. “Beg me,” he murmured, each word deliberate. “Beg for my help.”

Something in his tone, half-smug and half-uncertain, made your stomach clench tighter. You swallowed hard, pride dissolving under the ache between your thighs. “Please, Sylus… please,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I need you—need to feel you—” Your words broke into a desperate whimper. “I’ll do anything… just—please.”

His eyes darkened further, the thin thread of his composure fraying as your desperation spilled out. His chest rose faster, and the corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he was trying not to smile at the way you were unraveling for him.

A deep growl rumbled from his chest as he crushed his mouth to yours again, his hands fumbling at his belt buckle. The leather slipped free with a soft sigh, and his pants fell away, freeing the thick length that made your breath catch.

Your eyes widened, heat pooling in your belly.

Sylus’s molten-gold gaze locked on you, pupils narrowed to slits — almost snake-like, his breath hot against your cheek. The faint shimmer of his dark scales caught the moonlight, tracing over the curve of his shoulders, the swell of his chest, and down to where his hips pressed to yours. 

He smirked faintly, hovering just above you, his voice low and molten. “You’re sure you’re ready to handle me?” His gaze burned into yours, hungry and unblinking. “Once I start, I’m not stopping until I’ve had every last drop of you.” His lips brushed your ear, his breath scorching. “And if it hurts… bite me. Hard.”

The warning only sent a hotter ache through you. “Please, Sylus,” you breathed, the words trembling with need.

He shifted down, hips sliding forward just enough for the thick length of him to nestle between your folds. He groaned the moment his heat met your slickness. “God… you’re soaked for me,” he rasped, rocking his hips so his length glided through your wetness, the ridge of him catching on your clit.

The friction made you moan, your hips arching instinctively to press harder against him. Each slow grind had you shivering, the base of him nudging against your swollen bud in a rhythm that made you clutch at the silk. His claws flexed against your thighs, holding you still just enough that he could control the pace, but his breathing grew ragged, his control fraying.

When he finally pushed forward one last time, his tip breached you with a stretch that made your lips part in a gasp. He didn’t stop — inch by deliberate inch, he sank into you, filling you so deeply it stole your breath. The burn gave way to a molten fullness, your walls clenching as he bottomed out, his hips flush with yours.

A sound tore from his throat — half growl, half groan — and he ducked his head, horns grazing your temple, as if the closeness could fuse you together.

“You feel…” he panted, “…made for me.”

He started moving — not slow, not careful, but steady, his thrusts sinking deep and pulling nearly all the way out before driving back in. The furs rustled beneath you with each motion, his scales brushing your skin, heat rolling off him in waves.

Then, in the middle of a particularly deep thrust, his claws slipped. They caught on the softness of your hips, leaving sharp stings in their wake. You yelped.

He froze instantly, pupils tightening. “Damn it— Humans… too fragile,” he muttered, more to himself than you. Then softer: “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” you cut in, breathless, reaching to take his hand. You laced your fingers together, feeling the strength in his grip soften, the warmth of his palm anchoring you. The moment stretched — intimate, grounding — before his hips rolled forward again, slow and deliberate, as though savoring you.

His mouth found your neck, licking over the racing pulse there before sinking his teeth in just enough to leave another mark. “You’ll wear my scent for days,” he growled against your skin.

Your back arched into him. “Please… more…”

A smug, shaky laugh rumbled in his chest. “Greedy little thing.” He pulled almost completely free before thrusting back in with enough force to make you gasp, his hand sliding behind your back to lift you. In one smooth motion, he drew you upright onto his lap, your thighs spread around his hips, your chest pressed to his.

Now, every thrust drove upward, deep enough to make your vision blur. You ground down against him, chasing every stroke, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you. One clawed hand gripped your hip, the other tangled in your hair, pulling your mouth to his for a hungry kiss that stole what little breath you had left.

Your walls fluttered around him, the pleasure building too fast. “Sylus—”

“Cum for me,” he commanded, his thumb slipping down to circle your clit, careful to not scratch your delicate skin with his claws. “Let me feel your desire,” he purred.

You broke apart with a strangled cry, your walls fluttering and clenching tight around him as if to keep him buried inside. Sylus ground into you, hitting that sweet, devastating spot over and over, each thrust wringing another gasp from your lips. An animalistic groan tore from his chest—raw, unrestrained—as the sensation of your heat and impossible tightness drove him closer to the edge.

He didn’t give you a chance to breathe. The moment your body convulsed around him, nails digging into his scaled shoulders, Sylus drove you back into the furs with a low, guttural snarl. His hips snapped into yours, the pace quick and unrelenting—every thrust a hard, deliberate push as he chased the sharp edge of his own release. The nest shifted beneath you from the force, silks bunching around your back, and the sound of his hips meeting yours was wet and obscene.

“God—” his voice broke into a deep growl as his claws tightened against your thighs, holding you open for him. His molten gaze was fixed on the way he disappeared inside you with every rough stroke. “So warm… so tight… mine.”

You could feel him pulsing, straining, every movement heavier, needier, until he finally slammed deep and stilled with a shuddering groan. His release poured into you in thick, hot waves, and the deep, satisfied rumble in his chest vibrated straight into your bones. His eyes fluttered closed for a heartbeat, savoring the moment—savoring you.

But he didn’t pull out. Didn’t even think about it. His hips began to roll again, slower now, dragging the length of him over every oversensitive nerve inside you. He lowered himself to you, his tongue sweeping up the side of your jaw to your cheek in a slow, possessive stripe, tasting the salt of your skin before kissing you—deep, claiming, and endless.

You gasped into his mouth when his tail slid forward, curling around your thigh and tugging it wider. The new angle let him sink deeper, the tip of him grinding right into that tender, aching spot that made your toes curl. You whimpered his name, over and over, each breathless plea fueling the fire in his molten eyes.

“That’s it… let me hear you,” he murmured, voice low and rough. His hand slid between your bodies again, scaled fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your vision swim. “Every sound… every breath… it’s mine.”

You could only cling to him, trembling, nails catching on the ridges of his shoulders as he worked you toward another climax. His gaze locked on yours, so intense you swore he could see into your very soul. “You feel it, don’t you?” His lips brushed yours, his breath ragged. “Our bond. No matter where you run, no matter how many lifetimes—your body will always call for me.”

Your answer was a desperate, broken moan, your hips lifting to meet his deep, steady thrusts. His tail tightened its hold, his pace drawing out every sweet, unbearable pulse of pleasure until you were nearly sobbing from it. He kissed you again, gentler now, but still tasting of hunger and heat—his claws tracing down your ribs, his body wrapped around you like he could shield you from the entire world.

“You were made for me,” he breathed against your ear. “And I was made to keep you.”

Every thrust was deliberate now—deep, steady, dragging along every aching inch inside you like he was memorizing the shape of your body. His molten gaze stayed locked on your face, drinking in each shiver, each quiver of your lips when his hips pressed flush against yours. The slow grind of his pelvis sent a constant ache of pleasure straight through your core, and the combination of his thick length filling you and the circles of his scaled thumb over your clit had your body coiling tight, trembling under him.

“Sylus—” His name slipped out on a gasp, your hands clutching his shoulders like you might fall apart without him holding you together. “C-close– gonna—”

“That’s it,” he rumbled, his voice a mix of heat and tenderness, claws grazing lightly along your ribs before settling against your waist to hold you steady. “Let it take you. Give it to me.”

The pressure broke with a cry, your body arching into his as the climax tore through you. Your walls clenched down around him in hard, rhythmic pulses, dragging a shudder from his chest.

“Fuck—” His voice cracked into a growl, hips stuttering as the feel of you squeezing him tight tipped him over. He sank deep and stayed there, releasing into you in long, hot spurts, the thick heat flooding you sending aftershocks straight through your already spent body. You felt every twitch of him inside, the deep throb that matched your own aftershocks, his muscles locking and then shuddering as he rode it out. His forehead dropped to yours, his breath hot and ragged, the heavy drape of his wings casting you both in shadow. The tremor in his tail finally stilled, curling tighter around your leg like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Neither of you moved for a long moment. The only sounds were the soft rustle of furs beneath you and the mingled rhythm of your breathing. Slowly, his grip shifted—not loosening, but changing, one arm sliding under your back to pull you fully against him. His weight settled over you, protective and warm, his wings folding low around the both of you like a cocoon.

When you could finally breathe again, you managed a soft, teasing whisper. “So… did I move you with my human love?”

The tips of his ears flushed dark, his gaze darting away as a low, embarrassed grumble rumbled from his chest. “You…” He didn’t finish, just huffed, clearly unwilling to let the words out but unable to hide the way his hold on you tightened.

He shifted slightly, and the movement made you twitch and tremble around him. His eyes snapped to yours immediately, a flicker of worry breaking through the heat. “Are you… alright? Was I too rough?”

Your smile was small but certain. “I’m okay.” Your voice was just above a whisper now, growing hoarse from all the sounds Sylus pulled from you. You lifted your head slightly, just enough to place a gentle kiss to his cheek.

For a moment, something unguarded lingered in his expression—concern laced with a tenderness that felt heavier than the furs beneath you. Slowly, his body relaxed, and he wrapped his arms tighter around you, pressing you close enough to feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, and the deep rumble of his breathing pulled you toward sleep. Just before you drifted fully, you felt the ghost of a touch—a soft kiss pressed to your forehead—followed by the quiet sigh of a dragon who, in his own way, had just given you every piece of himself.

a/n: im writing the second chapter of still burning i swear. its just that i sat down to write it and suddenly i had 12 pages of dragon sylus smut in front of me. strange how that happened. this idea has been festering in my mind for ages before i even started writing i had to get this out. i will spend the rest of the day locked in though promise <3

[orbitvenus]

[orbitvenus]

ꪆৎ cockwarming while smoking a blunt, cowgirl, chocking, overstimulation, rough sex; 1.3k; mdni

you’re straddling him lazily, buried to the hilt, unmoving, not because you’re teasing, but because it just feels too fucking good to stay like this. his cock throbs deep inside you, heavy and twitching, as you pass the blunt back and forth, your thighs pressed against his, skin sticky from sweat and heat.

he watches you take a slow drag, through eyes half-lidded, his jaw clenched, fingers digging into your hips like he’s holding himself back by a thread.

“keep that up,” he mutters, “and i’ll fuck you so hard you’ll drop the blunt.”

but neither of you moves. the only thing that shifts is your breathing, shallow and messy, as the weed settles in your veins. the feeling of him inside you starts to blur with the buzz.

then you grind.

just a little.

just enough.

a groan erupts from his throat, low and wrecked. his grip tightens on your hips. his cock twitches inside you.

“that how we’re doing this?” he growls, gaze burning into you now.

you take another drag, slow and sultry, lips wrapped around the blunt like a threat. like a promise. you know exactly what you’re doing.

his fingers twitch. his cock jumps. 

“thought this was cockwarming, not cockteasing,” he mutters, voice thick with smoke and restraint.

you exhale, a thin stream of haze curling between your smirk.

“then stop me.”

his eyes flash.

you shift your hips, just enough to grind your clit against his pelvis, enough to make you both breathe a little harder.

“shit,” he whispers, hands clenching. “you're gonna regret that.”

you grin. “good.”

his jaw clenched so tight it looks like it might crack. his eyes darken, something fierce and possessive flashing through them. you can feel the tension coil in his muscles, the restraint about to shatter. the blunt is barely between your fingers when he grabs you by the throat and flips you onto your back, your head hitting the soft mattress underneath the two of you. 

“you think you can ride my cock, act all innocent, and just get away with it?”

you don’t even answer, you can’t. not with the way his hand squeezes the sides of your throat and his hips slam up into you before you can speak, knocking the breath from your lungs. the blunt is somehow still fixed between your fingers and the weed haze is gone. all that’s left is him, inside you, on top of you, fucking you like you owe him something.

his pace is brutal, like he’s punishing you for teasing him and the way his grip is tight on the sides of your throat, is painfully arousing. you close your eyes, letting them roll back as you let the blissful feeling drown you, really focusing on his cock pistoning in and out of you, and the way he’s choking you–

you moan. not a gentle, soft moan. a loud and unrestrained moan, drawn-out. 

“still teasing me?”

oh, he sounds pissed off.

you weren’t really teasing him this time but you let him believe you were. 

you clench around his moving cock, chuckling as he glares down at you, however the mischievous smirk planting on your face doesn’t last for long.

“you really don’t know what you’re starting, do you?” 

he presses his body flush against yours, the weight of him grounding and overwhelming all at once. his mouth crashes down on your neck, teeth grazing your skin, his breath hot and ragged. his grip shifts, one hand tangles in your hair, holding you firmly in place, while the other slides between your bodies, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock buried inside you.

the blunt finally falls from your fingers, forgotten and lays on the wooden flooring of his bedroom. his hips jerk forward sharply, thrusting deep and fast inside you. the sudden movement steals your breath, your body jerking with the impact. your walls clamp instinctively around him, clinging to the pulse of his cock, desperate for more, but he’s relentless, driving into you harder than before.

you try to catch your breath, but his pace gives you no chance. his hands roam over your body, some rough, some almost possessive, dragging you closer to the edge without mercy.

his teeth nip at your jaw, then trail down your collarbone as he grinds his hips into yours, each movement claiming you like you’re his territory.

“did you think this was a game?” he snarls, voice low but brutal. “you wanted this. now you’re gonna take it.”

your skin prickles with overstimulation, senses on fire. the heat of his body, the slickness between your legs, the haze of the weed mixing with the raw need flooding your veins. it’s overwhelming and you realise you’re not in control anymore.

and you don’t want to be.

his hips slam into you with unforgiving force, each thrust a pounding declaration that you’re his. your back arches instinctively as his grip tightens on your hips, nails digging into your skin like anchors.

you’re drowning in sensation, his cock filling you utterly, the slick heat mixing with the sting of his relentless pace. every inch of you burns. your muscles tremble and your breath catches in ragged gasps.

he leans down, breath hot against your ear, voice rough and dangerous. “look at you, all fucked out and still dripping for me. you wanted this, didn’t you?”

your body betrays you, clenching hard around him, squeezing him tighter as waves of overstimulation crash through your core. tears prick your eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming rush of pleasure and need.

he shoves you down harder, fingers digging into your thighs, spreading you wider without a shred of gentleness. “don’t you dare slow down. not now.”

your moans crack, raw and desperate, mixing with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. he fucks you like he’s trying to bury every last ounce of control you thought you had.

“say it,” he commands, voice gruff and harsh. “say you’re mine. say you want me to ruin you.”

you barely manage a broken whisper, voice thick with lust and haze, “please... don’t stop.”

his laugh is dark, almost cruel. “that’s my girl.”

he keeps pounding, relentless and deep, chasing his own release while pushing you past your limits, your body overwhelmed, mind melting into a haze of heat and sensation.

his thrusts begin to falter, hips stuttering as he nears his edge. his breathing hitches, ragged and uneven, lips pressed hard against your temple as he buries himself deeper inside you.

“you feel that?” he rasps. “that’s me. coming for you.”

your walls clamp instinctively around him, squeezing tight, drawing him closer to the edge. overstimulation crashes over you again, hotter and more urgent than before, your body trembling with the effort to hold on.

he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates through your core and with a final, powerful thrust, he cums, spilling inside you, the warmth flooding through your insides.

your body shudders, overwhelmed, as the waves of his release ripple through you. your legs shake, your breath comes in short gasps, and tears spill freely down your cheeks, not from pain, but from the intensity of being utterly undone.

slowly, he pulls out, still panting, and wraps his arms around you, holding you close as your heart pounds in your chest. his fingers trace gentle circles on your back, soothing the storm inside you.

“you’re perfect,” he murmurs, voice soft now, filled with awe and something tender beneath the roughness. “you took everything like a fucking champion.”

he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“here,” he says, reaching for a bottle of water nearby, handing it to you with a crooked smile. “drink up. you earned it.”

you lean into him, the high from the weed mingling with the afterglow of everything he gave you. wrapped in his arms, you finally begin to come down, safe, warm, and utterly spent.

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