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abiiors · 2 years ago

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midnight, car lights 🌃 // george daniel x reader

a/n: a second fic for the george bbf!au that's been plaguing me lately!! (a third one is coming soon). also happy 10 years of self titled <33 i'm scheduling this to come out at midnight uk time tihi

cw: none really, just fluff and flirting. maybe a very tiny age gap?? like 2 ish years

wc: 3.3k

“let’s go on a joyride.”

those words bounce around in your head like the dvd logo, said to you at 11:50 in the night—whisper-shouted would be more accurate. from under your balcony no less, like some fucked up iteration of romeo and juliet.

so far you have failed to come up with a coherent answer for george who stares up at you expenctantly.

you lean over the railing, your curiosity piqued. "a joyride…” his words repeated back to him in a disbelieving deadpan voice.

he nods eagerly. in his hands is a tiny heap of small stones—the source of the clinks on your bedroom window that had scared you half to death. when george follows your gaze, he drops the rocks hurriedly, dusting off his hands.

“it’s a thursday night…” you point out.

he clicks his tongue. “and you’re clearly not doing anything.”

your eyes narrow at his little jab. sure he’s right but come on now, he didn’t need to point it out like that.

“my brother—”

“is out on his ‘date’.” he makes a little face at that and you stifle the urge to laugh at how icked out he looks. clearly, some more questions that you need to pester matty with. but that’s for tomorrow. right now you raise an eyebrow at the way he cuts you off and finishes your sentences.

“my parents—”

“are asleep!!” his voice acquires a borderline whiny quality. “i checked!” he confirms proudly and before you have the chance to present him with further counterarguments, he throws his hands up in the air.

“come on, little healy,” george’s grins a feral little grin, “scared you’ll get caught?”

you bite your lip, determined not to let him see your smile. it’s midnight, you’re in your pjs—an old ramones t-shirt and tiny shorts that barely come up to the top of your thighs—your hair is half out of your ponytail. in short, you’re the ugliest you’ve ever looked in front of george.

meanwhile he looks like he’s just stepped out of an indie rock magazine—black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt that hangs loosely on him and yet somehow fits perfectly and his beloved vans. at this point, you’re sure george could wear just about anything and still look drop-dead gorgeous.

“only a little drive? i promise i’ll get you back home in one piece.”

truth be told, you had made up your mind the first time he asked. a slow tingle of thrill slithers down your spine. the goody two shoes who’s never even smoked a cigarette before he came into the picture. about to sneak out the window at 11:56 pm.

“okay,” you mumble to yourself. the small smile you’d tried to stifle escapes anyway. “okay, fine.”

george grins and whoops silently, fists the air in triumph. it does something funny to your stomach–his excitement.

“hold on a minute,” you tell him before making a mad dash to your wardrobe for an acceptable pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

the subtle nude lip gloss is inviting but you know it’s too much. he’s probably just bored on a thursday night and has nothing else to do. so begrudgingly you settle on a lip balm and brushing out your hair.

it’s fine. it’s normal. and anyway, he’s not going to see you as anything more than matty’s little sister, so what’s the point?

another little rock clinks on your window followed by a soft whisper-shout.

“hurry up!” the clear impatience in his voice makes you giggle but you look at the mirror a final time, smoothing out your unruly hair. this is as best as it gets.

after all, this is not a date.

“can’t exactly fly out the window, george,” you respond drily as soon as he comes back into view.

he looks around curiously, toeing the grass and pulling it loose with his shoes. you can practically see the wheels in his head turning, generating ideas that you don’t entirely trust… matty’s friends aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed—not according to you anyway—but once george gets an idea, it is downright impossible to deter him.

“that looks good enough,” he mumbles but you catch it anyway, catch the spot his eyes are trained on and your stomach plummets about half a foot.

“have you—have you lost your mind?!” you stifle your screech halfway through, looking at the boy in front of you like he’s grown two heads.

george shrugs, looking the least bit bothered and points to the pipe next to your window.

“it’s sturdy, look,” he gives it two firm raps with his knuckles. “and there’s the brick for you to grab onto. and i’ll catch you.”

the last part has your ears perking up. you look at him with a raised eyebrow. it’s only a floor. the ground below you is soft grass that’s regularly mowed and looked after. if you fall, the most that will happen is a bruised ass (and a bruised ego). besides, the alternative is to go your through the front door and risk waking up the whole house.

“trust me!” he bounces on the balls of his feet, eager and impatient.

george stuffs his hands in his pockets, veins on his forearms taut with tension. his colourful tattoos are a stark contrast to his all-black outfit. should you trust him?

“if i fall—”

“you won’t!” he answers confidently. “i’m not going to let you get hurt.”

your heart skips a beat at how soft he sounds, mumbling the sentence more to himself than to you. a shadow of tenderness crosses his features, or maybe you’re just projecting. just a silly little girl with a crush on her brother’s best friend. a cliché.

“can’t let my best mate’s little sister get hurt,” he clears his throat. and your heart drops in your chest. of course not. to him you are nothing but matty’s sister. ‘little healy’.

“’course not,” you mutter begrudgingly and grab onto the pipe.

george stands below you, hands raised, neck craning to guide your steps down the exposed brick wall. there’s taking risks and then there’s whatever the fuck this is. regardless, you have put a disturbing amout of faith is george and now there’s nowhere to go but down. literally.

the last few feet loom between you and the ground. your sweaty palms almost slip and involuntarily a whimper escapes you.

“almost there, sweetheart,” george murmurs. that word snags in your brain. all thoughts fly away, and before you know it, you’re missing a step, foot slipping on the rough wall. there’s a split second of panic, the beginning of a scream that dies in your throat as soon as you feel a pair of hands around your waist.

warm, rough hands on soft skin.

george, holding you up.

you’re practically pulled flush against his chest, wide-eyed and flushed from the almost fall. funnily enough, the vertigo intensifies the moment you look up into his eyes. they’re just as wide as yours, mouth parted as if he was about to say something.

for a fleeting instant, time seems to stand still. the world around you fades into a distant blur as you and george remain locked in this suspended moment, bodies pressed close together, his towering over yours. his warm breath tickles your skin, and you can feel the rapid thud of his heart against your chest.

"are you okay?" george's voice is a hushed murmur, his grip on you firm yet gentle.

you manage a shaky nod, finding your voice after a few seconds. "yeah, i... i think so."

george's grip on you doesn't waver as he slowly guides you back onto the solid ground, his hands lingering on your waist for an extra beat before finally releasing you. you take a step back, both to regain your composure and to put some distance between the two of you.

"thanks," you mumble, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "i don't know what happened there." you giggle nervously, unable to stare directly into his eyes.

"no need to thank me,” he smiles, “just glad i was here."

the two of you stand there for a second, the weight of the almost moment hanging in the air. then, as if on cue, george's playful grin returns, diffusing the tension like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"good to know i can make your heart race like that, little healy," he begins with a teasing glint in his eyes.

despite the heat creeping up your neck, a small laugh escapes your lips, the tension finally breaking as you roll your eyes at his cheeky comment. "you're unbelievable, george."

“right then,” he toes a small pebble, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “shall we?”

his car is cleaner than you expected.

sure there are some receipts and empty plastic bottles on the floor, even a jacket in the back seat for some inexplicable reasons but it’s nowhere near the pigsty that is your brother’s car.

“in you go,” he motions, casually holding the door for you. internally you’re grateful that he can’t see your flustered expression.

it’s a tiny gesture, barely even a gesture really—just a boy opening a car door for you. but he’s not just a boy. he’s george—the boy who makes you mad beyond belief and annoys you with the smallest of efforts. the boy who makes you stumble over your words. the boy who is your brother’s best friend.

“my my, george,” you tease to cover up your flustered silence, “manners. when did that happen?”

george rolls his eyes as he closes the car door behind you, and you settle into the passenger seat. you notice the faint scent of air freshener, attempting to mask any lingering odors from the cigarettes he no doubt must have smoked earlier. you glance sideways at him when he gets settled in the driver’s seat, unable to hide the hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

"believe it or not," george retorts, putting the car in reverse, "i do have manners sometimes. just don't expect it all the time."

another playful taunt crawls up your throat, about to make it’s way out of your mouth when george casually just does the hottest thing you’ve ever possibly seen. your heart is in your mouth as you try not to stare at his arm behind your headrest. george, oblivious to your freak out, focuses solely on reversing the car from its little hiding spot. his cologne—something warm and smoky—fills the tiny car. a space that is so overwhelmingly him that you have to swallow roughly every couple minutes lest you do something incredibly stupid.

like grabbing his face and kissing him senseless.

especially with how inviting his light stubble looks.

instead, you pointedly stare out the window at the dull grey road beneath you.

“scared?” he teases, misinterpreting your darting eyes.

all you can do is shake your head. there’s no way you trust your ability to speak right now, especially as half of your brain is focused on not ogling his arms and hands.

this was a mistake. this was a stupid, idiotic, avoidable mistake.

“come on! aren’t you excited to do something reckless for once?”

you are, you really really are. there’s no denying it as the car finally maneuvers out of the parking spot and away from your house.

you let out a silent sigh of relief. the tension in the air begins to dissipate, and you take the opportunity to relax your grip on the seat. you sneak another glance at george, this time allowing yourself to truly take in his features.

his bleached hair is tousled—just the right amout of effortlessly messy, and his full pink lips only intensify the butterflies in your stomach. george is beautiful—from the way his hands grip the steering wheel with confidence to his jaw that tenses as he focuses on the road. all of it makes your heart race again. you can't deny your silly little crush, can’t deny all the times you have wished george was anyone but matty’s best friend. that you actually had the courage to kiss him. more than that you can’t deny all the times you’ve wished he would kiss you first.

“where are we going?” you clear your throat, distinctly aware of how breathy you sound.

george shrugs. “maccies, i think. been really craving some milkshake.”

and then he has the audacity to snicker at your gaping face. “a milkshake…” you trail off, wondering if hitting him on the head would be taking it too far. “sure, good to know i risked my life for your milkshake cravings!”

“pfft,” he blows air, taking his eyes off the road and training them on to you. “admit it, sweetheart, you were ready to, oh what was it? ‘risk your life’ for the thrill of it. don’t lie to me now, i saw it in your eyes.”

there it is again, the little flutter in your ribcage at the s-word. george seems so casual about it too, throwing it around like it doesn’t bother him whatsoever. and maybe it doesn’t, maybe he uses that on every single girl he talks to. the thought curdles in your stomach.

“fine then,” you huff, turning back to the window.

the mcdonald’s is a flurry of people—drunk and high students looking to satisfy their munchies, homeless people looking for a cheap meal and shelter. exhausted employees handing out orders with a dead expression on their face. you almost feel sad, making them prepare two milkshakes at this ungodly hour.

you turn to george who is busy studying the menu with the utmost curiosity.

“strawberry,” he mumbles to himself then turns to you. “or no, wait. banana?”

you quirk an eyebrow. “strawberry is superior.”

“which means that’s what you’re getting,” he replies and goes back to perusing.

“if you think, for even a second, that i would let you steal—”

“so territorial, sweetheart,” he teases, eyes still on the artificially lit board. “fine. two strawberries then.”

george places the orders, giving the cashier his winning smile and handing over some cash. she perks up slightly, eyeing him through her lashes while george leans against the counter. a sudden heat burns through you, wild and unpleasant.

heartburn, you tell yourself. the milkshake will fix it.

or maybe not looking at george being flirty would fix it but oh well…

so you turn around, finding yourself an empty seat and leave him to bring over the drinks.

minutes later, you almost jump out of your skin when george places the cool take-out container against the nape of your neck without warning.

“real mature, george!” the shriek causes a few people to throw distasteful looks your way but he looks absolutely unbothered and oblivious.

“such a grump,” he snickers and motions for you to follow him.

armed with your milkshake, you settle in the car once again. the car park is almost dead at this hour of the night and you wait for him to start the car back up, for him to tell you what the next steps are but george only taps tirelessly on the steering wheel. a complete 180 from five minutes ago.

tap. pause. tap tap tap. pause. tap. pause. it’s restless and rhytmless; not like his usual tapping where he’s lost in own tune. his milkshake sits untouched, condensation dripping onto the dashboard.

you wrap your lips around the straw, sucking on it noisely, sipping on the sweet, cool liquid while you observe him closely. “something’s on your mind.”

your statement makes him blink. so you’re right then, something is on his mind. he’s more fidgety than usual. in the stillness of the night, his thick swallows and knee jerks are painfully obvious.

“what’s up…” you trail off, unsure if pushing him would be the right move.

“there’s this–well. i want to–”

“this is new.” the amount of glee in your voice should be disturbing to you but you can’t contain it. because it is new.

you’ve seen george be arrogant and annoying, laddish and even on occasion, sweet. but you’ve never seen him be shy before.

“shut up,” he mutters to himself, then sighs loudly. “okay fine, it’s better if i just show you.”

you follow his movements inquisitively, his imperceptibly shaky hands as he takes out his phone and opens up a non-descript recording titled track 11

his phone screen illuminates his face in the dimly lit car as he hovers over the audio file. the soft glow casts a warm, intimate ambiance, making you acutely aware of how close you are to him in the confined space. your curiosity and anticipation mount as you wonder what he's about to reveal.

"i've been thinking about this for a while now," he clears his throat, finger lowering to finally click on the file. "and i want to share something with you."

at first, nothing happens. all that comes out of the speakers is static and then some more static. but just as you're about to speak, the car is filled with the opening notes of a song—one that instantly tugs at your memory. It's a tune that you have heard before, at different points in time. it's the song that matty’s hummed to you on days you were ill in bed, a song you heard them play at band practice. it’s a song that george and matty laboured over for days. the one that brought you all closer together.

and now it sounds all put together. the final piece of the puzzle locked in.

matty’s voice is stronger than you’ve ever heard, adam’s guitar and ross’ bass sprinkling magic onto it. and then there are the drums—precise and clear and passionate. just like how george drums his fingers on his lap now, matching the beat of the song.

when the song ends, there's a brief silence in the car. the weight of the notes and the sincerity in his eyes hang in the air, leaving you breathless.

"george," you finally whisper, "that was..."

“we finished it,” he smiles, looking down at his lap. “so we recorded it…”

“it’s…”

there you are once again, at a loss for words. almost certain that there might be actual tears in your eyes.

“that was…”

“shit? derivative? lousy?” he tries to laugh it off, covering up a vulnerable moment with his jokes but you’d be damned if you let that happen.

“perfect.”

the words echoes around the car resoundingly. there’s no challenging your opinion. the song is perfect.

“and you listen to me once and for all george daniel, if you call that song names in front of me one more time, if i hear you call it shit and derivitive and lousy again—”

before you can finish your sentence, george leans forward, crashing his lips onto yours. there’s a crackle of electricity in the air around you, the slowing down of time as if you’re having an out-of-body experience. as if you are a fly on the wall watching two people giving into the magnetic pull between them. but george cups your cheek with his hand and you jolt back into your body.

his lips are cool from the milkshake but the kiss is searing hot, teeth clashing against teeth. your bodies trying to get as close to each other as possible despite the gearstick between your seats. george tugs on your bottom lip, smiling wide as if he can’t help it—grinning ear to ear.

by the time you pull away, you’re both breathing heavily—practically panting. he doesn’t pull back entirely, instead he keeps his eyes closed and his forehead rested against yours. the grin stays on his face. wide and gorgeous and making him look so boyish.

“um,” you start and break off into a quick laugh.

"i've wanted to do that for quite some time now," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

with some hesitation, george lets go of your face, opening his eyes to look at you a second later.

“damn, sweetheart,” he sighs again, chuckling a little. “this is turning out to be a great joyride, huh…”

lemme know what you think <33

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gojorgeous · 1 year ago

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"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all.

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it.

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married.

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding.

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying.

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income.

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.”

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before.

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.”

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.

“Yes, my lady?”

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?”

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you?

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness.

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing.

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come.

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly.

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and-

“Do you like them?”

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie.

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him.

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained?

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.”

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.”

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.”

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling.

“Of course… Satoru.”

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies.

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.”

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever…

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.”

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming?

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.”

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?”

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.

“Not tonight.”

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed?

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person.

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.”

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.”

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains.

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in.

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again.

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas.

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.”

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?”

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.”

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough.

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.”

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?”

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?”

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone.

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right?

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”.

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.”

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further.

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second.

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.”

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening.

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.”

No, no, no.

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?”

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.”

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further.

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…”

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you.

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does.

“About the estate?” he asks.

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?”

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.”

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.”

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-”

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why.

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…”

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?”

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real.

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.”

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him.

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?”

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.”

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.”

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?”

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?”

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?”

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe.

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.”

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?”

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.”

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less.

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning.

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked.

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re–

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature.

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.”

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper.

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.”

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?”

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer.

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?”

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.”

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod.

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth–

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing?

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire.

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.”

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move.

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer.

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done.

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.”

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…”

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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mwphisto · 24 days ago

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First time Sylus went down on you, he came untouched within the first thirty seconds. Shamelessly.

You were perched on the edge of his bed, panties dangling on one ankle as your fingers twisted in his expensive bedding. Still fully dressed, Sylus sat on his knees before you, your legs over his shoulders and his hands encompassing the entirety of your thighs.

Nothing was near his waist, nothing to ease the ache in his groin. And yet? The second his tongue got a taste of your sweet cunt he felt his abdomen twisting and tightening with that familiar sensation of a pending release.

Naturally, he did nothing to stop it.

No, of course not. He buried his face deeper between your thighs, tongue lapping eagerly with devastating precision. It didn’t take much to coax sweet nothings out of you, his name a singular plea on your lips. “Sylus, please…”

And he was a goner, groaning against your pulsing clit as he ruined his slacks with his release. Twitching in the confines of his briefs, untouched and still needy, Sylus ate you out with the same vigor. Hips unconsciously bucking forward but only being met with air.

“Gonna cum… fuck I’m gonna… gonna cum…” you were babbling, somehow still heard over the muffling of your thighs against his ears and the obscene slurping of his lips and tongue as he drank you up.

Sylus never knew himself to be so pathetic, so hopeless, so shamelessly needy for you. His cock twitched again, the uncomfortable stick warmth in his trousers suddenly becoming hot and welcoming as his hips shifting and created the faintest taste of friction.

He was coming with you this time, ruining his pants further as you coated his tongue in the sweetest nectar.

When he pulled away from your cunt, flushed and covered in your slick, all he could do was pant. Sucking in as much air as he could muster while still being engulfed in your heady scent, your sweet musk, the wonder of what his bedroom would smell like after he was done with you.

A mix of him and you, and god dammit his cock was still hard and twitching. “Sylus…” but you couldn’t think of anything more to say, too in awe of the man before you.

“You’ve made…” he swallows, throat bobbing as he slowly shifts your legs of his shoulders and stands. “…quite the mess of me, kitten.” And you could see it then, the unmistakable darkened patch on the front of his dress pants. You were swallowing your own whimper, mouth watering at the scene unraveling before you.

“Let me help…” his fingers were fumbling, a minor tremble that nobody would notice except you. Though, your hands weren’t faring much better. Equally as shaky as you undid the belt loop and he tugged the zipper free.

Peeling the ruined garment off of your lover, you were met with the sight of his pretty cock standing at attention, covered in his own release, twitching with need.

You made one movement forward and he caught your wrist, clicking his tongue as he forced you backwards. “Never said I was done eating that pretty pussy, did I?” You attempted to protest, but his evol snagged you in place and you knew there was no changing his mind.

“Thanks for the freedom, kitten, but I’m not done with you just yet. You’ve given me a taste of something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of.”

Banner from @cafekitsune

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madamechrissy · 3 months ago

Text

I Want It All

Pairings: Yandere! Choso x fem reader

Summary: Choso needs you, no he really needs you, you are everything to him and don't even know it. You don't know about the cameras he watches you on, you don't know he's jerking his cock in his office right across from you. You see a sweet, hot coworker, sort of shy, but Choso sees all of you, and when you invite him over randomly to 'hang out' Choso knows then it's his chance, to have you forever.

Warnings: Um ALOT- extreme yandere behavior, obsessed ass Choso, videoing without consent, using his tongue ring as manipulation lol, explicit sex, masturbation, stealing panties, oral (f and m receiving) possessive and unhinged ass behavior, overstimulation, some dacryphilia, somnophilia low key, manipulation of reader, rough sex, dirty talk, belly bulges, mating press, him being oddly sweet and cute for a nutcase, you name it. Subby Choso isn't here, only batshit Choso mmkay- (Please don't read if you don't enjoy darker content, I have lots of fluffy smut elsewhere) Oneshot- WC- 9.8k

Based on Yandere Bestie Choso - art in the banner from 28 on X here - dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/strangergraphics

TYSM for 9k followers!? Ya'll are so sweet!! consider this oneshot my thank youuu

“Thank you, Choso!” You smile so bright and pretty at him every morning, as he always gets your favorite coffee from your favorite place, along with some sort of pastry that you always say ‘you shouldn’t have!’

“Of course, it’s nothing.” He murmurs softly, as the two of you ride up in the elevator up to the high floor you two work on, you’re touching his shoulder with your little hand, burning through the material of his suit.

Choso hates this job, but he stays for you.

When no one would even listen to him, you sat there and paid attention to everything, to how he misses his little brother who went off to school, to just how much he loves guitar. Every lunch break is spent with you, nodding with your hand under your chin, watching him with your full attention, only breaking to nibble or have a sip of a drink.

You made him feel so good, it’s only right that Choso Kamo makes you feel so good, and he can imagine just about every fucking way to do so. He can imagine licking your pretty pussy till you cry for him to stop, but latching on more, watching your face cover in glistening tears. He can imagine fucking you so good you’re drooling, that you can’t even function.

Choso was never this way though, if anything he was more submissive in relationships, he got used or walked over for how sweet he was, and they usually controlled him in the bed. Though Choso loves to please, the things he wants to do with you are insane, to the point he’s vividly pictured tying you up in rope, knots pressing into your delicate skin, and having his cock in all of your holes.

Every single one would be so full of him, pouring cum out so gooey and white, he’s pictured using you so vividly he’s cumming to the thoughts alone multiple times a day. You seem so interested in him, but he wants more from that, no Choso wants you to need him, in every single way.

“I would never eat without you, I swear!”

He smiles at your comments, but it’s true, you always forget to eat and that just won’t do! He can’t have you fainting when he finally gets you spread open in his bed, when he gets to decorate that pretty ass he sees under those business skirts with his hand prints.

You’re going to need energy.

Plus, he likes to watch you eat, drink water, take care of yourself, you just work too hard lately. He notices, every tired blink of an eye, and every yawn, Choso notices it all- including things only he can see - like how you shift your hips in your office chair, how you cross and uncross your legs, wearing a different color of panties every single day.

Sometimes you wear lace.

Once you wore crotchless.

He got very mad at you.

Who were they for?

Men at the office flirted with you, bustling and busy and a little more men working to women, they all were after you. He has lost count how many dates you’ve been asked on, but you always sweetly decline, Choso likes to think it’s because you already know-

You’re his.

“You should eat more, and relax a bit. Ever took a day off?” He asks you now, and you shake your head, sighing.

“Too many bills to pay.” You yawn once more, before pecking a kiss on his cheek, making him blush, which you find adorable. “Sorry, is that okay?”

“Oh it’s f-fine.” Choso is over six foot, towering over everyone, buff under that suit- you can feel it- and far too handsome for his own good, but he’s so shy he acts as if he has no clue of his effects.

On you especially.

Just being in his proximity gets you too excited, his dark violet eyes flashing just a bit as he looks down at you, when the elevator dings and you two walk out, your hand falling then. “I’ll meet you at lunch?” You tease with a wink, and he nods a bit then, that flush fading just a bit from his cheeks, while you walk into the bright, open office.

Floor to ceiling windows abound, and cubicles are all over, but Choso works in his own private office, as he’s a higher up manager, and you’re the owner’s receptionist and assistant. You prance up to your boss, Mr. Higaruma, who offers you his own kind and tired smile.

“Good morning.” He says your name softly, pouring over his paperwork then and downing his coffee, dark brows knitted together.

“Good morning, Mr. Higaruma, want me to take half your stack?” You put down your purse and your breakfast at your desk, he sighs then, running a hand through his black spiky locks.

“Would you be a doll and do just that? This weekend I got…” He looks around as if he’s not the boss, whispering in your ear. “Hungover.”

You nearly snort, covering your mouth then, and Higaruma grins at your cute expression. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine, no, it is kind of funny. But I never drink anymore, ugh.”

“One sec…” You go to pull out a bottle of tylenol now, pouring water into a paper cup. “This will help, along with something greasy.”

“Greasy?” You both start talking, and Choso glares across the office, waiting for you to just sit down already.

How close did you two need to get!?

You finally do sit down, and he eyes your panties from the camera he has strategically placed, seeing that they’re purple today, making his cock throb as he sits in his office, he goes to shut the door then, staring at the image on his phone, watching you shift this way and that. Today the lace is clinging so tightly to your puffy lips he can see the outline of your perfect cunt.

“Oh my god…” He murmurs softly, if only you were his assistant, he’d have you bent over his desk right now, but for the moment he strokes his cock over his slacks, as you cross your legs, deterring his view. “Open them for me, baby, please…”

As if on command you do just that, lean back and spread your thighs, god he can’t stand how good you look, he eyes you out of one of his office windows as you smile over at him, waving so pretty. Clueless that he’s stroking his now leaky tip against his thumb, while he smiles back over to you, eyes torn between your pretty face and the upskirt view he has.

Choso’s cock springs free as he strokes himself under the desk, whimpering softly as he pictures it inside you, this is his daily routine though, stroking himself, over and over, he does so at least every day if not multiple times, using the precum and his own saliva as lube to stroke his thick cock faster. He bets you’re so tight, he bets you taste as good as you smell.

He’s leaned back, closing his eyes and murmuring your name when he hears a knock knock knock then, but he’s already cumming. “Shit, shit, shit…” He’s trying to hide his whine as he pours hot sticky ropes into his hand. “Hold on a minute!”

“Sure thing, Choso.” It’s you.

Fuck.

Choso hastily cleans himself up the best he can, tissues swiping at the sticky mess his cock has become, some of it is sticking to his black boxer briefs when he pulls himself together, opening his door. You’re smiling up at him, and he wonders if he should feel bad. You don’t know he sees your panties every day, but he brushes it off, because it’s not like he can help himself.

It takes everything not to drag you in as you just stand there curiously. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re flushed as you look down a bit, biting that lower lip that makes him think insane thoughts. “I wondered… would you like to come over?”

“Come over!?” He’s got his eyes wide now, and you feel your cheeks heat up more, shifting nervously.

“Is that too much? Is it weird?”

“What no I… you… huh?” Choso sputters now, imagining every way he wants you, god your lips probably would feel so good wrapped around his tip, wouldn’t they? Cleaning his cum off himself-

“Sorry, it’s stupid. Ugh. We just are so close here but we never hang out? And I have no friends here, just a cat I think.” You’re babbling, as he’s staring at you like you’ve grown another head.

You’ve wanted to ask him out for so long, surprised he never made a move, maybe you’re not his type? But curiosity gets the best of you, just who is he when he’s not so shy, when he’s not all in his business mode. Those glimpses of tattoos on his arms when he rolls his sleeves up are too enticing.

“A date?” He whispers, and you giggle then.

“It doesn’t have to be. Or it could be.”

“I’ll be there, I’ll… bring wine?” He grins as you brighten up.

“I love wine!”

Oh, he knows.

He knows the brands you like, the type you enjoy, he knows so much about you already, he’s seen the outside of your home almost every night after work, just to make sure you get home safe of course. You live alone and you’re just a sweet, fragile thing, there are too many crazy men out there. Once he watches you, he leaves of course!

But he does notice you enjoy a glass of wine, you leave your window wide open when it’s nice out, petting your cat and sipping on it, reading some book. God you look so pretty when you think no one is watching, when your shoulders relax just so, in those moments his thoughts are far more pure, not like when he has to be tortured by the obscene amount of panties you have.

“I’d love to come over. Do you want me to bring dinner?” He’s trying to sound calm, not like he just noticed with horror he has some cum sticking to his pant leg then, which you seem to notice, tilting your head.

“I think you’ve got something…” You bend down, brushing it off, making his cock jerk as you look at the sticky substance curiously, blinking while he panics.

“Oh it’s just… it’s some… the glaze, from the donuts!” He’s taking your hand now, and you’re already just licking it off your thumb.

You just licked Choso’s cum.

Fuck.

“You got donuts? Weird you got me bagels this morning. Silly.” You tease now, brushing your thumb back across your skirt, smiling up at him again.

“I uh… raided the… office cafeteria.”

“You have such a sweet tooth!”

You have no idea. Once he tastes you he will never stop.

He doesn’t think he’ll even let you leave,

“I do, okay I’ll bring dessert, you do dinner?” You nod and giggle just a bit, the sound making his heart clench.

“Perfect, I’ll see you after work and give you my address.”

As if he doesn’t know.

“Sounds good.” You shut the door, and he leans his head on it, exhaling, as you curiously roll your tongue around your mouth.

What kind of donuts taste like that?

*****

“This is my favorite wine, oh my God how’d you know!?” You take the bottle of blackberry wine, it’s not even common and sold at one specific store, Choso just smiles down at you, looking far too hot in his soft black shirt and jeans.

You only see each other in business gear, but seeing rolled up sleeves revealing veiny forearms is far too much to handle, along with the dessert ingredients he pulls out. “Was just a guess, is all.”

“A great guess.” Choso just smiles softly, with his lidded gaze drifting across the little tank top and skirt you have on. Just from his gaze your nipples press up, as if they’re trying to tempt him with your every breath. Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, making his tummy clench, god he can’t wait to fuck you, fill you, when you’re ready of course, when you’re begging him like the good girl he bets you can be,

“You’re very welcome. Oooh that already smells so good.” You giggle a bit, taking the wine and bag out of his hands, heading over to where the ingredients are sizzling, you’re making steaks that smell far, far too heavenly already.

God you’re perfect, shimmying a bit when you taste the sauce you’ve mixed up, beckoning him over with your two little fingers crooked up. “Come taste this.”

Choso urges his cock to go down at your innocent words, but were they innocent really, when he sees how your lips curl up at the corner, cozy inside your pretty little kitchen. He can tell you cook a lot by the amount of mixers, grills, devices and utensils neatly lined along your light countertops.

“Delicious, oh my god.” He murmurs, after you hold the ladle to his lips, brushing some sauce off the corner of his mouth with a sigh, for a wild moment you think of kissing it off him.

But he just touches your wrist, wrapping long thick fingers around it completely, the grip so tight it excites you, before he’s just pressing a kiss on it. Great, you’re some horny slut and he’s this… gentleman or something? You could damn near jump him - how good he looks, how long you’ve been wanting this - but you make yourself act correctly, as you watch him work in the kitchen with you.

He’s got the sweetest chocolate mousse, his turn to ask you to ‘have a taste’ and you lap it up off the beater, short circuiting his brain, while he simultaneously takes in absolutely everything in your home. Every little picture, and every knick knack that comprises you. Of course he sees your cat slinking around, right before the movies he goes to pet it.

“He likes you, that’s rare.” You admit, grabbing two glasses of wine, pouring the dark swirling liquid, handing him one as you sit down the plate with the mousse, taking a bite and moaning. “Heavenly.”

He bets you taste heavenly.

He wants to say it, when you’re right next to him, your legs tucked under you, sipping on the wine, leaving a pretty lip print with the color you’re wearing, a color Choso would love to see smeared across your face. He’s tensing as you lean closer, his arm up and above you on the couch, casually strewn as if he’s not losing his mind.

He’s mapping out more of your house even as he casually brushes his hand up and down your shoulder, as the gory movie begins, and he quickly notices you are not a fan. “Everything okay?”

“Too much… oh god…” You’re suddenly against him, he pulls you close to his hard body, as you’re exhaling, shaking your head. “Scary.”

Choso’s fingers brush against the bare skin on your shoulders, when you’re burying your face against his chest, he’d laugh at how cute you are scared of this zombie movie, but you against him alone has him throbbing. Your hands clutching his shirt as your hot little breaths blow on his neck is too much, he can’t take it anymore, not having you.

His hand moves lower, brushing the sensitive skin down your arms, until he drops it to your hip, pulling you closer, hearing your breath catch as he does. Your nipples tighten in reaction, fuck it’s been a while and Choso smells so good, he feels good too. You don’t move for a moment, feeling warmth spread, mixing with the wine in your body.

You were hoping he’d make a move, as you just weren’t one to do so, but his hand doesn’t stray from your hip, as his thighs spread just a bit, and the sounds of the screams on the screen ebb for a moment. “It’s over now, are you alright angel?”

You blush at the nickname, already overheated, shaking your head and snuggling deeper. “No, it was too freaky.”

“You picked it!” You giggle a bit then, pulling back to look up at him, with eyes he can’t wait to have rolling back in your skull, his hand tightens at the thoughts, as your own grip tightens.

“I knew you liked horror, so I wanted to seem cool.” Choso watches you flush, so fucking cute then, and he pulls you more against him, now cupping your face with one of his huge hands. “Is that lame that I remembered that?”

Oh you’re so cute, as if he doesn’t know everything about you.

You’re feeling so small compared to him, when his hand takes over your face with his long, thick fingers, only making you wetter when he brushes a thumb over your lips. “You don’t have to try to seem ‘cool’ with me.”

“Choso… I…” You lean forward now, and your lips touch, but that’s when Choso loses any semblance of hope of remaining normal, calm, shy even, not when he finally gets your lips on his.

You’re on his lap before you can blink, gasping as his tongue swipes inside your mouth, barbell clicking your teeth gently, and you’re pulling back to gasp, looking down at his eyes. So dilated they’re black, he emits the softest growl as he presses your clothed cunt down on his lap, and you cry out, gushing wetness until your panties are sticky.

“God, look at you…” He whispers, his voice is so different, everything about him is, when you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, rolling your hips and feeling his thick length under his jeans.

He yanks you back down, mouths messy as you grind, as you move, nipping at his tongue ring with your teeth and pulling it, as his cock starts pulsing precum from your heat. “Choso…”

“Fuck…” He’s whimpering as you kiss down his neck, up to his ear, and he pulls you down harder, hands slipping up your skirt to grab that ass he’s stared at every day for a year. “You’re so wet.”

“S’much I… embarrassing…”

“No, no, not at all.” He’s pushing you back gently, so he can look at you, your nipples prominent against your top. He nips it over the thin material with his teeth, while you’re leaving a wet spot on his jeans.

He never thought he’d actually have you like this, silently begging him, one of your hands gripping his hair as he pulls down your top, revealing a nipple already perked up for him. You’re panting when he sucks it in his mouth, feeling the weight of the other one in his palm, your tits are even more perfect than he could ever imagine, the thought that anyone ever saw them makes him furious.

No one will again.

“Perfect.” He murmurs, as he is now slipping down his finger until it hits your clit, rolling in small circles over your panties, as he feels himself already too close, when he sees your lidded gaze, your thighs trembling on either side of him. “Can’t help yourself, can you baby?”

“Fuck…” Choso, sweet and shy and blushing, is talking dirty to you, as his barbell is flicking on your nipple, making you ache, so ready he could slip his cock in with ease. “Fuck me, please.” Your words make him pause, words you don’t just say, when have you ever asked- or fuck, begged?

Someone knocks on your door then, and you grimace in frustration, kissing him once more as he feels himself about to bust if you move once more, and the knock continues. “Should you get that?”

“It’s probably my neighbor, they're always asking for rides or for something.” You frown then.

“You’re sweet, that’s why hmm?” You just smile a bit, hoping they’ll go away, but ever persistent you hear her, shouting your name as Choso laughs a bit. “You can get it, it’s fine.”

“It’s so not fine.” You hop up, leaving Choso a moment to breathe as you adjust yourself and head to the door, where your neighbor starts going on and on, and you sigh, looking back at Choso. “Just a minute!”

“No worries.” As you step out on the porch to hear her ranting about another neighbor from what he can catch, you give him the perfect opportunity, he stands quickly, blood rushing to his head, he is so close to busting, he has almost forgotten about the little cameras he has.

He sneaks into your room now, finding it smells so much like you, your little plushies all along the dresser, which he casually takes one and puts a camera in, before opening the drawer, and seeing you do have an insane amount of panties. Just who are these all for he wonders, running a finger over your pretty bras now too, soft and silky and neatly folded.

God he wants them, but, he needs something you’ve worn, these are all clean and smelling of fabric softener, that won’t do. He eyes the rest of your room, your bed just a little rumpled, opening the drawer of your nightstand, scowling when he sees your dildo and vibrator.

You won’t get to use those on yourself once he has a say.

He thinks briefly of tossing them, but that would look a little suspicious, though he contemplates it for a beat too long, as he runs out when he hears the door shut, and stands there casually, pausing the movie as you peer in. “Just one more minute, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s all good.” He smiles sweetly, and exhales in relief, heading to your bathroom now, where he finds the pair he’d seen earlier sitting right at the top of your hamper, those purple ones that you clearly soaked, he sees the wetness left from them and moans softly, before shoving it in his pocket

Finally you’re back inside, kissing him in his arms, up on tiptoes, your own hands trailing down his body, until you’re touching him, and just the touch and he feels himself about to cum. He needs to stroke himself before he even lets you come near him, clearly, he grabs your wrists, and you pause, blinking up at him, lips in a pout.

“Am I moving too fast for you?” You ask then, brows knitting, while Choso tries to envision everything terrible to make his cock stop, panicking.

“No, I just… I have to… I got a call, while you were outside and um… I have to… leave.” He mumbles, you just blink a bit, pulling back and frowning.

“You have to leave right now?”

“Yes I… yes.” Choso kisses your forehead, before darting out and leaving you alone, standing there in confusion.

Were you coming on too strong!?

The thought swirls through your head as you take the glass of half finished wine, plopping down and sitting on your bed, frowning as you peek at your phone, he seemed so into it, was it the interruption, did he think better? You pause a bit, setting the glass down on your side table with a little clink, before laying and spreading your thighs, touching yourself with a hiss.

You’re so wet you’re sticking to them, ugh.

You call him then, right as Choso has your panties on his face, stroking his cock and moaning, he has the image of you laying on your bed when he opens his eyes and peeks at the monitor, rushing to answer your phone. “Choso… I’m sorry, but did I come on too much?”

“What? No, no…” He’s pulsing as he fucks his hand, now entranced by the vision of your legs spread like they are, it’s all he can see, when you’re shifting a bit.

“Okay um… I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

Say something.

Choso wants to so badly, but now he’s leaning forward, staring at you as you touch yourself, hearing a hitch of breath, and he continues stroking his cock as he watches you. “Cho?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I got nervous.” He admits, continuing to watch as you giggle just a bit, gathering your slick when your fingers dip under your panties, he watches your hips roll and hears your little sigh.

It’s like you know he’s watching.

“Are we still cool? I don’t want it to be weird at work.”

“No never, I-”

“I have to go.” You say suddenly, and he watches as the phone falls from your hands, glaring just a bit when you whine out, he can barely hear you, you hang up on him like a little brat.

You are rolling your finger on your clit as you smile just a bit, it’s a little petty sure, but he just walked out on you, so you get just a little satisfaction hanging up, remembering his touch, how good his hot mouth felt on your breasts. How good his length felt pressing up in his jeans, against your clit, god you can imagine how big it is when you slip two fingers in.

Picturing his tongue ring in the most wicked places, you feel yourself drenched, finally pushing down soaked panties, giving him the most perfect view when he finally sees your pussy bare. He blushes, looking away for a moment, should he be going this far he wonders, but he hears his name moaned from your lips, so he continues, wishing he could just call you back.

Just go back.

But he’s not ready- not just yet- you don’t need him enough, do you? But he can tell you’re starting to, as you’re pumping your little fingers in and out of your perfect, pretty pussy- he’s not sure he’s ever seen one that looks that good. He knew it of course but god he can’t wait to bury his face between your thighs, to lap up those juices he sees glistening.

“That’s it baby, cum for me…” He’s murmuring, as you do just that, thighs shaking, as Choso finishes with a whine, and then he could swear you almost smile at that camera, but no way…

*****

You already have breakfast the next morning.

You already have coffee the next morning?

Your boss apparently bought them for you, and you’re sitting right on his desk giggling a bit, as Choso looks on with a scowl, crumpling the brown paper bag as a coworker comes up to him then. “She’s so hot.”

Choso scowls, as another one walks up as well. “Yeah she is, damn dude I thought you were gonna shoot your shot?”

“I… she…” He’s stuttering, you gaze at him and wave a little bit, as Higaruma’s hand is dangerously close to your thigh while you’re sipping on coffee.

“Is she single then?”

“No. She’s not.” They back off when the tall, buff man glares violet eyes at them, and Choso feels his body raging, hand itching to spank that ass of yours till it’s covered in his handprints.

You notice his glare, turning away your face then, you know you shouldn’t be flirting, but you’ve never tried so damn hard to get with a guy who just leaves you in the middle of you grinding on him. He left without even a ‘goodbye’ or ‘had a nice time’ - he ran away, and part of you has your feelings hurt, because it feels like you’re making all the moves.

You could feel his angry gaze all damn day, until you see him at one point stomp off to the breakroom, and you can’t help but follow him curiously, surely a little flirting wouldn’t upset him that much, right? “Choso…”

Choso shuts the breakroom door then, pressing you against it and making you gasp, as he leans over you, one hand on the door, the other gripping you by your dress skirt, making you gasp. Your hands shoot up to his chest, as if to press him away, but when he is sliding up that skirt roughly you feel your heart thudding in your chest, feel your tummy heat up with desire.

Who is this Choso?

“Do you like him?” He demands softly - you blink a bit, biting your lower lip to hold in a slutty moan as his hand slips up your inner thigh, making you tremble.

“Who?” You whisper, smiling just a bit, but the smile freezes when he’s looming even more over you, taking over your every sense.

“Your boss, Higuruma. Do. You. Like. Him.”

You giggle a bit, breathless. “You're jealous, why?”

Choso shocks you when his fingers find you under your skirt, your cunt drooling all over his thick digits when he presses the cotton against you, you're whining out at the touch, clit twitching in response, head falling back against the door. When your eyes threaten to flutter shut, he grips your chin, making you look up at him.

“Do you like him?” He whispers again, and you shake your head nervously, hips arching for more of his touch, and Choso Kamo smirks, a man you’ve never seen do such a thing, a man that blushes and smiles sweetly. “Use your words.”

Fuck.

“No, no I like you… but you don’t- f-fuck…” He’s slipped his fingers under your panties now, exhaling against your lips, sweet breath like mocha against your lips, when he first touches your slick pussy without the barrier, he exhales, his hand on your chin slipping to tangle in your hair.

“You have no clue what I want, so was that… to make me jealous?” He demands, scowling as he sinks two thick fingers inside your gummy walls that grip him, even though he’s so mad at you, he can’t stop thinking how perfect your pretty face looks, how you’re tighter than he could imagine. He pumps inside you, hitting that spongy spot, pressing his lips right against yours. “Answer me, now.”

“Y-yes.” He laughs just a bit, curling his fingers while you’re wriggling in his hold, covering his lips with yours now, drinking in your cries as he hikes a thigh up over his hips, more and more inches of his fingers in your tight little drippy cunt.

“You wanna cum, don’t you baby?” He’s whispering, kissing up your jaw, as you cling to his suit jacket, nodding eagerly, Choso acting like this is nothing you could even fantasize, you hear the squishing of your wetness even in the room. You nod in between his kisses up your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin, as he hits just that spot like he already knows your pussy.

“Please…” You whisper out, and he thumbs your clit now, pressing against it and grinning as he feels you gush wetness, so much it’s insane to him, he’s fingering you in wonder as he feels your body tense.

“Were you a good girl? Do you deserve to?” You whine out when he pulls his fingers out just before you cum, making your lips part, when he sucks you right off his fingers, moaning at your taste, possibly the hottest thing you’ve seen.

You cannot figure him out.

“Good? Are you being good? Can’t answer?” He eases your panties back on, pressing your skirt down as you struggle to function.

“No.” You admit, his cock is pressing against his slacks, leaking precum while he is fixing your hair.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Choso’s whisper resonates through your body, which his dilated eyes trail down. “Tell him you’re not interested, and I’ll actually let you cum, hmm?”

You just nod, gulping as he stares so possessively at you. “When?”

“Tonight, I’ll be at your place. He kisses you once more, a brush of his lips like some insane promise, while everything you think you know is flipped. “I’ll be watching for when you tell him.”

With those words, he’s gone, leaving you to try to compartmentalize his words, his demeanor, as you’re aching for him, leaving you wanting twice now. You huff a bit, glaring up at him. “Fine then.”

“You’re so cute.” You scoff as you walk out, and Choso watches with a proud smile as you back off, as you sit right at your desk, and he sees just how soaked he’s made you.

*****

This time, there wasn’t any wine or awkward talk, there was no movie playing, the moment Choso walks in you’re yanking him by his collar, slamming your lips up on his as he locks the door with a click, his hands slipping up your waist. He pulls back for a moment, taking a breath, before he’s picking you up like nothing, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You were a good girl, did you tell him you’re mine?” You blink a bit then, confused, brows knitting.

“Yours?”

“Mine. Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering now, gripping your ass with his huge hands, earning your whine while he squishes it in his hands. “Did you?”

“I will.” He smiles softly, walking you right to your room, far too familiarly, but you let him, he plops your right down, so the camera will capture the perfect angle, when he starts kissing down your pretty, perfect body.

“You’re being good, a little bit at least.” He’s whispering, dragging your skirt off your hips, revealing another black lace panty, which he touches, finding it dripping with your slick. “Wear new panties every day, they’re all so slutty, do you want people to see her?”

“What? I…”

“Want them looking at what only I should see?” He’s slipping the panties up between your lips, pressing his own cock into your mattress as it’s pulsing from just being this close.

“No. I don’t want them to see.” Your whisper ends him, he laps a hot, wet stripe over panties he has pulled so tight, exhaling at how pretty you are when he looks up at your face, and your hands grip his hair. “I want you to see.”

“Me?” He’s dragging the soaking lace down your thighs, face to face with the pretty pussy he saw on a fuzzy camera, exhaling when he laps your pooling arousal from your slutty little hole. “So you want to drive me fucking crazy?”

“Y-yes…you…” Your sweet murmur along with how you taste ruin him, he’s spreading your plump lips, sucking in a breath as he sees you wide open, feeling your manicured nails pressing into his scalp while your thighs are shaking on either side of his head.

“So you know what you do to me, huh?” He swirls his tongue around your clit, tongue ring hitting it and making you cry out, back arching off the bed. “Answer.”

“N-no I don’t know… I just wanted you to… make a move I-”

“Teasing me? Making me stroke my cock till it hurts? Tsk.” Choso bites at your little clit now, and you’re screaming when he flicks the barbell on your engorged little clit, you’re gushing all down his pretty face. “That’s being bad, you know?”

“I’m s-sorry… you touch your-”

“Oh baby…” He’s looking up under long lashes. “I hope you can make it.”

“Make what!?” Your words are met with a moan as he devours you, shoving your thighs up.

“Hold them up, now.” His dominance not just shocks you, it ends you, the boy you thought you’d suck, ride, show things to, is a fucking menace when it comes to eating pussy.

No one has ever licked you like this, and he’s got two thick digits deep in your pussy, fuck his fingers are bigger than men you’ve been with, you’re spasming around them as you’re rolling your hips up and down. You’re pausing when he’s suffocating against your drooly cunt, his free hand pressing into your thigh, leaving bruises from his fingertips.

“No, fuck my face, like a pretty slut f’me.”

Yep, you’re done.

You do just that, pulling his hair so hard it hurts, as he laps up every bit of your pretty pussy, you’re closer, closer, he feels it, looking up at you with a glistening chin and lips reddened from drinking you. “Cum, let me drink you.”

“Shit…” He’d chuckle but he’s lost in you, in the girl he can’t stop watching, the girl he’s stalked for so long, just begging for him, screaming out, fucking his entire face, up to the straight nose that he buries inside your cunt. “Choso, I’m gonna… f-fuck I’m gonna…”

He just sucks your little clit in his mouth and hums, shoving two fingers and curling them up, when you’re shattering, screaming his name, and he feels himself cumming then, how can he not. His cum is sticking to his boxers, his jeans even, so much white seed pouring when you’re shaking, twitching, and he’s gasping as your thighs tighten on either side of his head.

“F-fuck… oh m-my god…” You’re weak as he leans up, smirking down at you, stroking a cheek. “Let me…”

“No, I’m not done yet.” You blink in confusion, when he stands. “Give me just a minute.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s back from the bathroom, and you’re on your knees, wanting to suck him, but he’s shoved you back down, lapping at you again, and you’re so weak, screaming out his name over and over while his tongue ring flicks your clit and he’s scissoring those fingers.

Choso had cleaned up but he’s hard again, you just do something to him, fuck why do you do this!?

“C-can’t take more… fuck me, please…” He smiles on your thigh, he’ll fuck you soon, but you’re not desperate enough yet, don’t need him enough yet.

“Cum again.” His order is met with him dragging your cunt along his face, and tears start falling with overstimulation, you’re hiccuping, pussy throbbing, so overstimulated. He’s smiling down at you, that sweet smile with dark eyes. “Oh, angel, we’re not close to done.”

“Huh? Choso… I came a lot lemme…”

“Not yet. Been waiting too fucking long.” He’s devouring your pussy again, sipping you up as you keep cumming, your pussy so sweet it’s drugging him, he’s got you bent over, fingers moving in and out as he smacks your ass, but never fucking you, just making you cum over and over with his mouth, his hands.

“C-can’t take anymore… p-please, too much…” You whisper, then he clicks his tongue, pressing kisses to your titties, leaving brutal bite marks all over your chest, thumb hitting your now sore clit.

“You’re even more pretty crying, I knew it.” You’re sniffling, tears, drool all mixing when he kisses you, and you taste your pussy on his lips, as he sticks in three, and you’ve cum so much you can barely move, fatigue dragging you with the force of each orgasm. “One more, f’me, hmm?”

“C-can’t… p-please Choso…” He’s grinning now, brushing your hair back sweetly like he wasn’t three fingers in your sore little cunt.

“Begging me, crying for me, look at you. Do you realize how bad you were today?” You sniffle, nodding, but he’s unrelenting, curling three fingers and making you cry in pleasure and pain. “You’ll get fucked when you act right.”

“Please! Too much… mnh!” Choso’s back down eating you out, he’s lapping his tongue inside your hole, you feel every inch of his tongue, down to the texture as he looks up at the mess he’s made you, you feel the lines of his teeth when he grins, pressing up the hood of your clit. “Ah, ah! M’gonna… pass out I…”

“One more time, you can take it. I need to drink more of you.” You’re shaking your head, but you can’t stop the orgasms he elicits to the point where you’re gasping and clinging to him, to stay tethered, but the last thing you remember before you pass out is violet eyes bright, and a white grin from his face.

Choso laps at you after you’re limp, how can he not, he’s already cum again just drinking your juices, but now you’re so sore even in your knocked out state you’re jerking, hissing. He’s exhaling even, and his breath on your clit with those lips spread, he can watch the poor little thing twitch.

“Oh, you’re so sweet, look at you. So comfortable with me.” He cooes, brushing back your hair as your tears are drying all sticky on your face.

He’s sure the camera caught it, but he can’t help taking some pictures for himself later, while you’re so knocked out you lightly snore, while he brushes the dried tears off gently. He goes to clean his cock off again, coming back to clean you up, dress you once more, your body limp and pliant, just begging for him even in your sleep, but Choso wants your first time with you awake.

He can fuck you in your sleep after.

Curiously he sees your phone text, some guy asking if you’re free for coffee on the preview, and Choso scowls furiously, picking it up. It’s a fingerprint lock, he kisses your hand in an apology before he uses your print, and starts scrolling though, seeing the amount of men that are in your dms. You seem to not respond to many, but this just won’t do!

What if one of them tried to take you?

Choso deletes them all, blocking them one by one, and when he’s done he stands up, tucking you in carefully, brushing a kiss on your lax lips.

“Much better. Sweet dreams, angel.”

*****

“Choso Kamo!” You’re shoving at him that morning, right outside of the office building, he blinks curiously, lids lowering.

“Didn’t eat you out enough? Need more?”

“You- what!?” You hold up your phone, earning his dopey grin. “Where are all my numbers?”

“You have your boss, unfortunately. And me.”

“That’s it aside from like my girls, what the fuck!” He’s scowling down at you now, backing you up until you’re against the wall of the building, where anyone could see you all, his thigh between yours.

“You don’t need to talk to them.”

“You’re not even my boyfriend yet-”

“No, I’m more. You’re more. Everything.” You’re whining as he kisses you, feeling the wet spot on his slacks, while he grips the fat of your ass, pulling you down on him. “You don’t need them.”

“I just-”

“Want me to fuck your pretty pussy?” You gulp now, nodding and looking down, shocked at yourself.

What this man does.

This psychotic man.

How can he look like a kitten but be such a deviant little psycho!?

“Then get in the car. Now.”

“But… work, Choso-”

“Now.” You follow him to his car, and he’s driving insanely fast, for a man that has a damn Volvo, the safest car there is, he’s scaring the fuck out of you, when he reaches a hand over, pulling you by your hair, kissing you at the light. “You want it, don’t you?”

“I w-want you, yes.” He moans at the words he’s died to hear.

“Then show me.”

Words and actions that seem so foreign, like the sweet exterior of him is peeling back and revealing how depraved he is, how badly he wants you, when you bend over, unzipping him as the car starts, and you’re bracing yourself on his thigh, revealing a pretty, thick cock. Your cunt starts drooling at feeling him inside your mouth, inside your throat, choking him down deep.

“Fuck… why did you have to make me so mad?” He demands, free hand entangling in your hair as you bob up and down him. “Can’t you see I did it for us, for you, to k-keep you… safe… from- mnh…”

Choso whines out as you’re lapping him up, his hand trailing down your spine to find you soaked, his other hand gripping the steering wheel when he comes to another stop. He has never been one to even let women suck him or give him oral very often, but now he finds he wants to wreck your tight little throat, to stop your bratty mouth, the things you do to him.

“Slutty panties, every day.” You should be concerned, worried maybe, but instead you’re soaking them further, as he hits the gas pedal again, forcing your mouth more on him, your tongue tasting the musky, sweet precum coating your mouth. “All for me?”

“Mmhmm…” Is all you can manage, as he continues torturing you over your panties, and comes to a stop, you are lifted off his cock, he swipes the pretty lipstick smeared on your cheek, slamming his lips down furious.

“Don’t drive me so insane, angel. I can’t take it.” He whispers, violet eyes so dilated they look black as he cups your face so tightly you cry out a bit. “I need you to be mine, no one else’s, can you do it for me?”

You nod weakly, body acting against any better judgement. “Y-yes.”

“You’re being so good for me, finally.” He’s smiling all sweet, as if he wasn’t admitting to being insane, and you can’t find any words to complain, when he picks you up in his arms, your arms wrapping his neck, his hands gripping your ass, you barely take notice of his house, aside from when you start seeing pictures of you all over his desk.

“What… is all…”

“Shh, baby.” He’s got you naked in moments, as you look in horror to see your pictures printed and scattered, you blush as you see lotion and tissues. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Psycho, he’s psycho…

But your pussy doesn’t really seem to care.

“Are these my panties!?” You demand, gasping when you see two pairs on his nightstand that look just like the ones you’ve had on, and Choso just shrugs a broad shoulder, arm wrapping around your body, hand slipping up to grip your throat, lips plump against your ear.

“You have plenty, too many really.”

“How-”

“Now.” Is all he murmurs, turning you and unzipping your work dress, watching as the goosebumps rise on your precious skin. “You’ll be all mine, say it angel.”

“H-huh?” He yanks that zipper until you’re completely bare, panting breaths making your chest rise and fall in Choso’s large master bedroom, where you start to see more and more things that are yours.

Missing pony tails, single earrings, a bracelet, how much of you is there exactly you wonder with a gulp, as he’s behind your bare body fully clothed. When he slips an arm around your waist, hand slipping down your tummy, making it tremble in response, your head falls back with how good it feels against any better judgement.

“You knew you did this, admit it angel.” His words are honeyed, you can feel his pout on your cheek, while he’s rubbing your clit with one hand, the other holding your body against his, curve of your back on his chest, when he grips a bare breast, squishing it in his hand and overwhelming you with sensations.

“D-didn’t know… this…”

“Tch, can’t speak already? Try… All mine. Mine, say it. Now.”

“I…”

“Now.”

“Yours.” Choso goes feral then, turning you so you’re looking up at him, and he’s cupping your face so tightly, leaning down as your shaky hands pull at the lapels of his jacket. “Please…”

“Begging, you’re so perfect, sweet like this?” You’re gulping as he steps back, eyeing your body and groaning softly, hands slipping down the sides of your breasts, down to your waist, the jut of your hips, as he drinks in your beauty. “Beautiful.”

One moment degrading, the next looking at you precious, his fingers trailing off while he then slips off his top, and you see him shirtless, his tattooed and buff body, muscles over muscles leaning to a narrow waist. A slutty waist, that’s what he has, with red tattoos along one side of his defined ribs, flat nipples, you briefly register one his pierced as he pulls that shirt over his head.

“God…” You’re trailing fingers down his body, and he turns you, until your knees hit the back of his soft bed, and you’re on your back, throwing you around like you’re nothing, slipping his pants off with your help over the plump of his firm ass, hissing when his cock is free.

“No one else can ever touch you.” His words are batshit, but your pussy is drooling, tummy clenching when he lines his blushing tip, all reddened and sticky with precum, right between your glistening folds. “No one can, right? I can’t hear your cute little mumbles.”

“F-fucking… shit…” He’s smiling a bit, yanking up one of your thighs high, positioning himself at your soppy entrance, whimpering as your hot gummy walls now engulf his tip.

“Need to hear you, words, pretty.” He’s acting all sweet, like he doesn't have his huge cock right against your hole, like he doesn’t have a screen watching your room, apps on his phone now to keep track of you, plenty of rope to keep you from leaving if he needs to, no he looks sweet.

“No one but you.” He exhales, shoving his cock inside you then, you hiss at the burn, nails digging into the strong muscles of his back as you arch up.

“G-good girl… fuck you feel perfect, I knew it.” Choso is lost then, your pussy is so tiny, struggling to take him, gushing down his veiny length to accommodate, but he’s already too far gone, he’s thought of this too much, far too much. “So fucking tiny compared to me aren’t you?”

You’re whining pathetically as he fills you, stretches you with several inches, too fucking many, your thighs tremble on his hips as he grips two of your wrists, pressing sweet kisses as he pushes them over your head, sinking in deeper and earning your hiccup of pleasure. “Choso!”

“There it is…” He’s whispering in wonder, you thought Choso would be passionate certainly, after he’d eaten you out until you literally tapped out, but the feral grin on his sweet face when he eyes you is overwhelming. He lets your wrists go to spread your thighs, moaning as he watches your tummy. “Look how big I am inside you, hmm?”

You blush as you see it, your tummy bulging and moving, he’s enamored by it, while he slows his movements, now a hand is touching your tummy, pressing just a bit to feel it. “Too much… it’s…”

“No, baby you can take it, hmm? Just like last night?”

“I passed out!?”

“You’re so pretty like that, in your sleep..” You gasp as he leans over you further, shoving your thighs up against your breasts, until you’re folded in half. “I’ll take care of you even in your sleep, you don’t have to do anything angel.”

“Choso w-what?” He’s lost now, tip slamming your cervix, pounding your pussy so deep while you’re convulsing around his length, cumming with one more slam so deep, and he moans at the sensation.

“I’ll keep fucking you, don’t worry beautiful girl. Wanted this so fuckin’ long, you know? How long…” Your eyes roll back in your skull, body struggling to keep a hold of any sense as your climax rocks through your body, as Choso’s hands press into the backs of your thighs. “God I can’t wait to fill you over and over…”

“Mnh! Too m-much…” It’s too good, when he grinds and rolls his hips, black hairs on his pelvis grinding into your engorged clit, you’re gripping those blankets, sobbing with a trembling lip as he works you, losing himself in you.

“No, you can keep going f’me, huh baby? Nod for me.” You manage a weak nod, and he’s grinning again, leaning back to spit on your clit, in a thin long trail of saliva, rubbing your clit again while sinking in your fluttering walls. “There we go, need you to take all this cum, can you?”

“Y-yes… ah m’gonna-”

“Cum, milk him baby. So good.” You’re cumming as if on command as his rough thumb and spit hits that spot, and you can’t see anything but black spots and the glow of his violet eyes and his brows contorted, when his hand leaves your clit, to press your thighs up higher. “Ready for me to fill her?”

You gulp, nodding weakly as Choso loses himself finally, in your perfect face, covered in those tears that just make him pulsate more as he finally busts his hot, gooey load so deep in your pussy, which is sucking it in greedily. You feel him everywhere as his white ropes fill your hole, coating your contracting walls, while he’s drunk off you.

Drunk and whimpering in your ear while he has your little frame folded right in half for him, your pussy so eagerly taking all he gives, so wet and messy as he kisses your swollen lips. He tastes the salt of your tears, letting your thighs fall finally, one hand entangling in your hair, pulling your head up as his tongue plunders your mouth, the other slipping down your waist, leaving goosebumps.

“God you took so much, you’re so good f’me, look at you.” You’re whining as he pushes deeper, white drizzles falling down his cock, and you blink into focus, to see his face is soft again, sweet again, like your little work bestie. He even has the audacity to blush just a bit when he leans up, caressing your face. “Perfect, pretty slut for me.”

“For you…” You should hate that, but it just makes your pussy clutch his cock, he moans then, easing out with a suctioned wet pop, his heavy cock making a sticky mess as cum starts pouring from your puffy lips. “Ah! F-fuck…”

“Look at all this, don’t you want all my cum baby?” He asks with a pout, shoving two fingers back in your pussy, watching the cum disappear with a smile.

“Too s-sensitive- you’re c-crazy…”

“You haven’t seen it all yet, baby.”

Choso has you bent over, ass in his face as he’s eating you out from the back, while you’re gripping his sheets, headboard banging on the wall when he’s back inside you, deeper like this. He has you cumming again and again, eventually tying you right up to the headboard, ropes digging tightly in your skin as he looks down at you, covered in him.

His cum, his handprints, his bites.

His, you’re his.

“I need some pictures, pretty, just a moment?” You’re delirious as you shake your head, tugging at the knots he has you in, but he’s already up, and for a brief moment you take in the surroundings, of all the things he’d stolen.

You panic momentarily when he’s back, and he’s smiling with a lidded gaze, caressing your cheek gently, down the curve of your neck. “Choso?”

“I’ll untie you, I won’t just leave you like this. Well…”

“Choso…”

“I won’t, don’t worry pretty.” He’s thinking of it, of never letting you leave the bed, he could just feed you right, keep you tied at the wrists when you needed things-

Nah.

He shouldn’t.

Right?

“You won’t leave me now, hmm?” He’s pressing kisses on your forehead so sweetly, as you sniffle just a bit, shaking your head, earning his exhale relief. “Just a few pictures.”

Choso’s snapping them then, dark messy hair falling over his brow, adding them to the collection of photos of you inside your home, from out your window mostly, along with those from last night, of course he’d printed them. He’s positioning you just so, pressing sweet kisses while he snaps away on his phone, finally releasing your wrists, rubbing them so gently.

“Are you alright, angel?” He is frowning, so concerned like he didn’t have a growing collection of your things, you just nod a bit, as he sees where your vision heads, sighing. “I’ve had a… crush.”

“A crush?”

“Well, a really big crush. I’m in love with you.” He’s cupping your face now, smiling down at you. “Maybe I was a little shy?”

You blink before bursting into laughter, you’re losing it, you may just die or be trapped here, but you’re too fucked out to comprehend it. “Shy?”

“Yeah. You’re just so perfect, I needed the right moment. But you were bad, weren’t you? Made me so jealous.” He’s glaring, hand tightening around your throat as he kisses your lips so tenderly, thumb on your fluttering pulse. “You won’t make me jealous again, right baby?”

You shake your head, letting him kiss you now.

Choso has no intentions of letting you go, it’s the next morning and you can barely walk as he’s grinning at you, shirtless and handsome, cooking up pancakes and all sorts of yummy things. Your tummy growls in response, trying to forget the horror as you’d seen you were his pc background even, his phone background, finding more and more things all over.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He comes to you, flour on his cheek which you brush off with a trembling hand. “You should skip work today.”

“I can’t…”

“You can, don’t worry. It’s for the best, that's all, you can stay here.”

“Choso, so soon?”

“I can’t have you working, I need you home, our home. Eating good…” He’s forking a bite of pancake into your mouth, as horror mixed with the sweetness mixes in your body.

“I mean, just a day off?”

“Sure, a day.” He’s smiling brightly, as if he hasn’t already sent your boss a video of your cum pouring out of your pretty hole.

He’s sure he enjoyed it, but maybe not the not so friendly message associated with it.

But you won’t need that job anyway!

“Okay, a day won’t hurt.” You sit down and wince, sore from the endless amounts of times he’d stuffed you full with his cock.

“You need tylenol and coffee!” He’s quick to grab them for you, sitting next to you, brushing your hair back as you swallow the pills so quickly, he brushes back your hair gently, oh he’s so proud of you. “Good girl, hmm? You’re gonna feel better soon.”

Choso is BATSHIT in this my god ahaha, I cracked up writing the donut scene AND the end- TYSM again for 9k followers I am so glad you all enjoy my bullshit lol. Love you all and see you in the comments hehe <3

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navybrat817 · 3 months ago

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Okay, lovelies. Power went out and I can't do my work. 😭 So indulge with me if you will and Happy Moanday.

Good Vibrations

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 650

Warnings: Established relationship, fingering, dirty talk, inappropriate use of Bucky's arm (or is it?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

Banner by the talented @cafekitsune

Just imagine that you're in the mood, but Bucky still has some work he has to finish up. The man wants nothing more than to spread your thighs apart and indulge. And he will. He’s hard just thinking about wrecking pretty hole, but he really does need to get one more thing done before he can.

So he gives you his arm to warm yourself up.

“You want me to use your arm?” you ask.

He doesn't always use his prosthetic, but offering it to you to get yourself off?

“Think of it like a personalized vibrator,” is all he says before he gets back to work.

“Then give me a mold of your cock,” you tease, hearing him laugh before you leave him be.

Propping yourself up on the bed once you’re naked it feels strange to put the metal hand between your thighs. The rest of the arm rests on your torso, the weight pleasant and not heavy. It’s easy to imagine Bucky is right there beside you, encouraging you.

“Play with your clit and open your pretty pussy up for me. Get it nice and wet.”

And you do. You rub the thumb along your bundle of nerves the same way he would. You're careful when you slip a finger through your wet folds before you push it into your soaked channel. It feels good because it's his finger. And…

It starts vibrating.

You jolt with a surprised moan when a second finger joins the first, the vibrations making your walls clench. The thumb on your clit increases in pressure, making you moan again. It dawns on you through your rising pleasure that you aren't controlling the fingers.

Bucky is.

“Neat trick, isn't it, baby?” you hear from the other room, your body quivering. “All I have to do is think about what I want my hand to do to you and it does it. You’re so wet, aren't you? Fucking yourself on my fingers.”

You cry out when the fingers thrust and curl, searching for that spongy sweet spot that only he can find. “Bucky, please,” you beg.

Your heart pounds in your chest and you can't grip his hair since he isn't between your legs, so you play with your tits instead. Pinching your nipples, groping the soft flesh. His hands and mouth always feel incredible and you can't help but push your hips down as the fingers move faster.

“Take a picture and send it to me,” he calls out with a groan and you know the not-so-subtle beautiful bastard is likely done working and jerking off. “Wanna see my fingers in that sweet pussy.”

It isn't easy to grab your phone with your ragged breathing and trembling form, but you somehow manage. Spreading your legs wider, you do your best to capture the best image. You almost drop your phone when he adds a third finger, the vibrations increasing more. Fuck, you were going to spiral in the best way.

“I… I got it…” you whine, biting your lip when you see the picture and press send. The sight of his metal fingers opening you up is so dirty, so filthy, so hot. Now you want to take more photos for him to jerk off to layer. “Please. I’m close.”

“Come all over them, baby,” he grunts. He sounds as close as you feel. “Make me proud.”

You snap, coming apart at the seams and calling out Bucky’s name as the fingers fuck you through it. You soak them and the sheets beneath you and the vibrations don't stop. The fog is still in your mind when you turn your head and see Bucky naked in the doorway, his cock thick and heavy in his hand and a smirk on his handsome face.

“Ready for round two?”

Clenching around the metal inside you and letting out a sultry moan is the only answer he needs.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business. ❤️ And I hope my power comes back on soon. Love and thanks! ❤️

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ramonathinks · 2 years ago

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Say His Name | SUKUNA

Say his name three times and he shall appear, fucking virgins before he disappear.

tags: (18+, minors and ageless blogs dni) corruption, virginity loss, monster-fucking, double cocks, mouth fucking, pet names (pet, my human, female), oral(f! receiving), handjobs, nipple play, fingering, creampies, copious amounts of cum, tummy bulge, sex in sukuna’s domain, overstimulation, mirror sex

notes: early i did originally plan an entire kinktober but lol (18+ banner/divider made by @/cafekitsune. repost from my first ever kinktober 🥂

“SUKUNA, SUKUNA, SUKUNA.” Call it childish for believing in such tales. But you wanted it to be true. Looking in the darkly lit bathroom of your dorm bathroom you groaned, blowing the candle out. You flipped the light switch back on.

You’d been hearing about it all year. But you should’ve known better than to believe a silly little legend like this. But you were a blushing and bubbling mess of a virgin. So hearing of some mysterious sexy man who fucks virgins with no strings attached seemed too good to be true and you just had to test this theory. But really you should’ve known better. You were too old to believe in such things but you were all dolled up just for him.

You’d been waiting until everyone on your floor was gone and you put on your best and sexiest lingerie. You weren’t expecting to wear this for such a man that everyone has described but you were ready. You were thinking maybe for a boy who’s eventually won your heart you’d wear this to give yourself away.

Your hair was down in a medium length silk press, wearing puffy pink ugg slides and a short pink fuzzy nightgown that hugged every inch of your body, amplifying your busty breast all for show. You even went with no panties.

All for him.

All for a no show.

Sighing, you reached for your shower caddy and got prepared to wrap your hair.

But a deep chuckle from behind, startled you. Every fiber in your being was begging you not to turn around. Your stomach clutching with a sense of fear and your mouth running dry.

“Little human.” His voice alone had you shaking but surprisingly it wasn’t all just fear, something else deep inside, something not so pure filled your body. Lust. You were still too afraid to look at him, your knees growing weak as he continued to speak.

“Too scared to turn around but all dolled up just for me. I can practically smell your sweet nectar from here.” He purred, his breath on your neck and you could feel the warmth of his body heat all over you. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” Taking his tongue, he licked up your ear before biting your lobe. “I could smell how sweet you are even before I got here. I couldn’t believe how delectable you smelled.” With hard hands, he softly grasped both of your breasts.

You released a small yelp with such surprise but your tummy fluttered. “Oh, my little human likes that…” He took note, pressed hot kisses against your neck. Squeezing your breast. With rough hands he stroked your nipples until they grew hard.

You were letting him have his way with you and you still hadn’t even seen his face. You moaned when you felt the soft drag of his claws, tugging at your gown.

“Tell me how badly you like my touch female…or I might just stop.” He pressed his hips into yours, allowing you to feel just how hard he was. “Don’t you want my cocks?” His voice was laced with something unfamiliar, he pressed his nose in your hair and did a quick inhale.

Desire pooled in your belly whenever he talked. “C-cocks?” You squealed. “I… I don’t think I can handle such a thing…” You muttered, trying to move away from him, keeping your eyes trained on your feet.

“Look at me.” He gripped your jaw in his fingers and forced your eyes to the mirror. Your pussy clenched against nothing when you saw his face. He was truly a beautiful demonic man. With sharp teeth and dark eyes that ate up your entire figure. There was colorful dark markings over his face and a sickening grin on his lips when he noticed you staring so hard. His spiked pink hair looked so soft that you wanted to pet him. “You desire is all in the air,” His told you. “Let me please you, my little human.”

“W-wait! I-um…” Your voice was hoarse and completely choked out as you stuttered, trying to find any excuse.

“You wish to deny me this?” He palmed your pussy. Dragging his hand all over the mound before trailing lower. “You are truly ravishing… in all these places.” You we’re panting and hanging on to every word he spoke, opening your thighs wider so he can feel you.

“Tell me…beg me…” His hand ran down lower, inching closer and closer towards your puffy clit.

Then he pulled away.

It was awful and your body felt cold, you even almost tripped over yourself, to which he chuckled. “Why did you st—”

Pressing his hot lips to yours he kissed you, squeezing your ass and adding his tongue. His tongue was sucking and sliding in every inch of your mouth, you could barely breathe. It felt so long and so deep, almost like he was in your throat. “I want you to beg me for my touch, I know you want it… so beg for it, or you won’t get it.” He said as he pulled away, drool on the corner of his mouth.

“Please…touch…me…” You forced the words he wanted to hear out. “I want your fingers, your tongue, your…cocks.” You whimpered a deep pout on your lips. He smiled at your honesty and he clipped your lingerie down with his claws in one swift motion.

His thumb caressed your folds softly and he groaned watching the wetness drip to the floor. Slipping one finger inside, you gasped, holding on to his wrist and grinding down a bit. Loud squelching noises filling the air every time he pushed in a bit deeper. “Tight little thing. All for me.” He dropped to his knees and licked his lips once he spread your folds open.

“Pretty little pearl.” He rasped before taking it in his mouth. Your hips buckled and thrashed against his face, your moans echoing and bouncing off the walls. He added another finger, hard. Slamming them both inside of you, stretching you wide. So much cream and slick ran down your thighs, he pumped faster inside of you.

Both of his cocks were leaking and aching but all he could think about was your pussy and just how good it taste. He groaned with his eyes closed, spreading his fingers inside as you sobbed above him.

“Please, please…” He didn’t know what you were begging for. He sucked, putting his entire mouth on you, licking up and down your sensitive clit. He pressed deep kisses before removing his fingers from your insides. He dipped his tongue deep inside of your tightness and he felt you tighten up, fisting your hand in his hair, rocking your hips.

“Sukuna!” Your eyes were filled with tears as he moaned for more of your virgin taste on his tongue. Hearing his name on your tongue had him throbbing but he resisted touching himself — wanting only to come in your tight pure virgin body.

“I’m going to— ah.” Your body snapped and shook but he continued to feast on your insides, his long tongue hitting all your sensitive spots and every muscle, you came around his tongue and he welcomed everything you gave him. Your walls fluttered against his tongue and your hands grabbed even deeper into his hair, toes curling and small sniffles filling the room.

He placed his tongue back to your sore clit and gave it a few more sucks before he smirked up at you, the pretty noises still in your throat as you tried your hardest to be quiet. Looking up at you with such desire that you felt yourself shrinking. “I was waiting so long for you…” He told you, standing to his full height. “Don’t know if I can let you go this time…”

You didn’t understand. You were still reeling down from such an orgasm. He inhaled against your neck. “Pretty little human. I’m not going to let you out of my sight. Too precious.” He took your lips again and you closed your eyes deeply, gripping his arm as you tasting yourself on his tongue.

When you finally pulled back and opened your eyes, you didn’t know where you were. All darkness surrounded you, dimly lit candles and a beautifully made canopy bed with dark sheets. You could see some sort of throne in the other part of this dark place, which took up almost the entirety of that space. The room seemed to go on forever, almost endless. You felt empty, he wasn’t there anymore. Confusion bled through your mind until you felt him take your hand, dragging you to the bed.

“What did you mean… with what you said moments ago?” You swallowed, trying not to look him in the eyes. But those deep red eyes made it almost too hard to do that. He stared you down before pushing you down to the bed.

“It means you’re mine. All mine.” His hot tongue trailed down your neck and it burned you, your weak legs thrusting against him. He lowered his hips flush against yours and you could feel just how big and thick his cocks were, it was almost disgusting how badly you wanted them. He sniffed and did a devilish grin at you. “Why fight it? You called me here. I have you. Don’t tell me you’re still scared… I won’t hurt you.” He promised.

The way his eyes held such sincerity you couldn’t look away. The flimsy material he wore, slipped off and you got a glimpse of everything he was hiding from you. The rippling abs and those dark marks similar to the ones on his face, you could feel yourself leaking when your eyes drifted to the pretty cocks he possessed.

Throbbing and veiny. Angry red tips coded in leaking creamy pre-cum. You didn’t mean to but you licked your lips and he groaned in your ear: “Female, it looks like you want to taste my cocks…” More pre-cum dripped down and you were panting at the sight, something coming over you. With a trembling hand, you reached out between you both and gripped the base of one, he twitched in your hand but you didn’t stop your assault.

He was thick. You couldn’t imagine doing this to both of his cocks at the same time, you needed both of your hands just to cover just one of them. He thrusted his hips upward, sliding himself through your hands with strained moments. He didn’t want to cum, only wanted it to be inside of you but fuck, this was heaven.

You stroked him, nice and slow. Feeling every bit of him and keeping your clouded eyes on his, both of your breathings harsh and in sync, hot and turned on. Rubbing your thumb on the tip, you watched as a bit more liquid leaked out, slipping between your hands.

“Knees. Now.” He rasped, he needed to be in your tight little mouth now. He needed it. You barley had time to move before he was thrusting himself inside of your mouth. “Fuck…ing, pretty little mouth.” He muttered, thrusting his hips harshly in and out of your mouth. His other cock begging for attention, you squeezed it hard and be released a beautiful moan continuing his rhythm.

Swallowing around him, he bellowed. “Fuck!” He had manners and didn’t want to mess up his female’s hair but he wanted you to take him deeper into your mouth. Pulling you slightly by your hair, he buried himself deeper into your mouth. Bucking his hips, you slid your mouth up and down — saliva covering his length — then you lapped at the tip, rubbing your mouth on it before slipping him back into your throat. Moaning around his cock, then you decided to switch to his other cock.

He was amazed and his toes were curling, watching you. He could see just how much of him was buried in your throat. He could hear the amount of sucking and slurping and you still had time to fondle his balls.

He was going to cum. He could feel it in the pits of his belly. Sweet moans leaving your mouth and he couldn’t take it anymore. With a deep groan, he pulled you flush to his hips and came deep inside of your mouth, his other cock jerking and spasming — raining cum on your face.

He looked at your cum splattered face and his cocks grew hard again and he knew the perfect way to end the night. “Need to be inside of you, now.” He didn’t want anything to stop him. He didn’t clean you off or anything, he wanted to fuck you as filthy and dirty as you looked.

And he would.

He pulled down your panties and looked at your leaking cunt. Smiling in delight, “All this just from sucking my cocks…naughty girl.” He lined up both of his cocks to your small hole.

“Both of them?!” You squealed with wide eyes. “They can’t both fit…” You swallowed hard and he did a roar of heavy laughter.

“Gonna just stretch you out with this one,” He rubbed his throbbing tip along your slippery glistening folds as you cried out. “Then once you’re all full, gonna add my other cock and make you cum all night, my little human.”

He lined himself back against your tight heat, almost slipping inside, he eyed your face before he thrusted forward and buried himself inside of your virgin flesh. Your nails were digging into him as you screamed, it hurt bad.

He was so massive inside of you and your walls wouldn’t let him go, clinging to him. “So damn tight.” He groaned, his hips snapped and with each thrust he was able to get deeper and deeper.

He couldn’t bare to look at you, hearing your small sniffles was hard enough. He wanted this pleasurable for you. His fingers were fast on their way to your little clit that was already throbbing for his attention, he pressed two of them against you and felt you roll your hips against his with a sharp moan, “Ah!”

He did a few sloppy thrust, his balls hitting the cusp of your ass and he could tell that you were feeling good based off how you were reacting. “Please make me cum.” You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Now with a newer angle he pressed deep into a gooey wetness that had your tongue out and you squeezing his cock even better than before.

He slammed his cock inside of you, now going at any intense speed. Rocking his hips into yours, trying to hit your sweet spot again. He pressed deeper inside of you, bottoming out. “Say my name.” He told you, softly against your lips before claiming them. His thrust going hard and reckless, stretching you out.

You felt so full, he reached down and jerked his other cock. Squeezing the tip and continuing to thrust faster, rocking the bed. “Say my name.” He said again, his hips slamming down on yours. He felt heavy inside of you and you couldn’t focus on him, drowning in a warmth of endless pleasure.

He bucked his hips and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up — to look into the mirror above you, watching yourself getting fucked before saying again: “Say my name.” This time annoyed and with a growl.

“Sukuna!” He pumped his cock inside of your little pussy, stretching it just for him and thrusting more — the hold your cunt had on his cock made him bite his lip when he withdrew himself slightly before slamming back inside.

Your eyes roll back when his tip hits your special spot again and your moans has him in a chokehold, “Sukuna, right there, please… again.” You arch your back and he grips your waist, pushing you back down into the mattress.

With a last long thrust, he fills your cervix with creamy cum that leaks out of you. His other cock bobbling before spraying you down as well, you clench around him for the final time and almost breathlessly you say his name again.

Body weak and your eyes fluttering. He pulls you closer to him and kisses your lips.

“My little human stuffed with my cum.” He purrs, wrapping a strong arm around you and you say something that he can’t hear as you drift and drift…

And drift to sleep.

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reilemon · 1 year ago

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₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊Cool Off₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

♡︎ pairing: Zayne x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: unprotected sex (oops), office sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, I think that's it?

♡︎ word count: 3.4k

♡︎ synopsis: what to do when you "accidentally" flash your doctor?

♡︎ a/n: I haven't written smut in like three years. So if you think my writing is cringe, just keep scrolling idk.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎ @its-de ♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

You finally have a day off and you want to use this free time to run errands. However, it's also a hot summer day and you need to dress accordingly. After cleaning your apartment and stocking up your fridge, you have -

meet up with your friend

shop for some new summer clothes and bed sheets

doctor’s appointment

You'd just skip the last one because you feel fine, even during the hot weather.

But you know damn well Dr Zayne will not be pleased with you if you do that. And he's not only your doctor now (and a childhood friend), but an actual friend who you spend most of your free time with. Circumstances of him being your assigned physician, some other stuff that happened in the last few months, brought you so much closer that you couldn't help but develop a huge crush on him. And how could you not when he's so kind, warm, attentive, always makes time for you, funny in his own way... you could spend the whole day thinking of all the stuff that makes you want to be more than friends.

Actually, you might be more than just friends. Lately, you’ve been going on a lot of “dates”; visiting festivals, trying new restaurants but also frequenting your favorite ones, dragging him to the arcade… he’s started insisting on being the one to drop you off at home after a night out. Just a couple of weeks ago when you were sick, he came to your place and took care of you. Both of you ended up falling asleep on your bed watching your comfort movie – actually, he wanted to read his book but ended up invested in the plot and eventually fell asleep before you, tired from his shift and nursing you back to health. You had enough strength to get up to pull out a freshly washed blanket from the closet and cover him. You lied back down, finding comfort in watching Zayne’s peaceful sleeping face. That’s how you fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself waking up on Zayne’s chest, your form enveloping his. He was gently stroking your back, waiting for you to open your eyes. You don’t know whether you were the one that latched onto him during the night, or if he’s the one that pulled you in; nonetheless, it felt surreal to wake up like this. You looked up into his beautiful hazel green eyes, and you just shared a moment of pure intimacy. Then you got self-conscious of him having a close up of your morning face, which made you immediately jump from the bed and sprint to the bathroom. So, he did manage to nurse you back to health in one day.

You really wish he made the first move already. With all the stolen glances, lingering touches, cuddling, you genuinely think he feels the same way. But you are also his patient, so maybe he feels uncomfortable starting anything, like he’s crossing a boundary and abusing his position as your physician? Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Or maybe you’re just delusional and ovulating.

Okay, back to the present. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity to see your crush (this is more than just a crush, honestly) and you add one more task to the list

get some dessert for Zayne

And you want to look cute for him, so you opt for your new backless summer dress.

☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊

“Thank fuck, I look okay.” You murmur as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom of Zayne's office.

It's just before 8pm, your scheduled checkup. Both of you were too busy to hang out for more than a week, and you can’t wait to see him. You took this opportunity to leave the heavy shopping bags on the sofa, the bag with dessert on his desk, and quickly freshen up in the bathroom. It was so hot today, still is, but thanks to the dress you didn't sweat that much.

You exit the bathroom the same time he enters the office. You catch how his usually stern gaze behind his glasses softens at the sight of you.

“Hey!” You don’t waste any time and shorten the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a peck on the cheek.

Zayne’s hands stiffly hover over your waist, stunned by the enthusiastic greeting. You always have a big smile on your face when you see him, but you’re only this forward when you have some alcohol in your system. He doesn’t smell it on your breath now though.

“Did you miss me that much, or are you trying to coax me to skip the check up?”

You pull away with a pout and a blush on your cheeks. Feeling a little embarrassed, you go and sit on a chair across his desk, steering the conversation towards the dessert you brought him.

With an entertained smirk, he sat on his chair and indulged in just chatting with you, and making plans for the evening. He feels at ease now that you’re here.

Zayne cuts the conversation short to take care of some paperwork, so you entertain yourself with your phone, checking what cafes are open. You sit there in silence, not wanting to disturb him. The room is air-conditioned and you would think you'd start to cool down, but it's impossible to do so when your crush is right across you. You try to focus on your phone but your eyes keep darting between the screen and Zayne’s handsome focused features…his hand holding the pen… his long fingers...

“You need to ask me something?” Zayne peers over his glasses.

Busted!

For like a hundredth time.

You fidget in your seat. “Um, no. I don’t wanna disturb you.”

He closes a file and puts papers aside. “I’m done. Go ahead.”

You make up how you wanted to ask him if he wanted to visit the café on your screen, only to for him to point out it’s closed when you show it to him. Not smooth at all.

You nervously scratch your back, and that when it hits you. You didn't wear a bra today!

In your defense, of course you're not going to wear a bra with the backless dress and when it's so hot outside, and it would be okay if this was just a hangout, but the main reason why you're here is because of the check up! Well, now you're getting even more flustered and you can feel nervous sweat forming everywhere. Great.

Zayne's voice fades into focus.

"Is everything okay?"

“Yeah, let’s just go find a cafe that’s nearby!” You prop yourself to sit up and make a run for it, but the seriousness in Zayne’s tone stops you.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You wave your hand “I feel great, you don't need to -"

"That's good to hear." He humors you, setting the stethoscope around his neck, eyes not leaving yours.

You engage in a short staring contest, but you never win those with him. You hold back the bratty whine as you get up and walk towards the chair. Should you address this? What would be more awkward – saying that you don’t have a bra on or just slipping off the top of the dress, flashing him? But Zayne is a professional; he probably saw plenty of breasts from other patients and didn’t bat an eye. And maybe he even noticed that you’re braless.

You sit on the chair next to him and Zayne gives you an amused look. “Good girl.”

It was like a reflex - the moment you heard those words, your hands slipped off the top of your dress. Zayne pauses, his eyes locked at the sight before him. Oh shit, did you manage to make the situation awkward after all? Just when you wanted to open your mouth to say anything, he blinks and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to do. You suck in a breath when the icy cold stethoscope touches your chest spreading goosebumps across your skin, making your nipples hard. Zayne's eyes are focused somewhere to the side, but you can see light redness peppered on his cheeks. The two of you sit there in silence while he checks your heartbeat. You try to compose yourself, take slow breaths, but your heart is giving you away.

When he’s done, he takes off the instrument and places it on the table. He clears his throat “Nothing irregular, your heartbeat is a little faster, but the heat is probably to blame.”

Right, the heat.

You hope that the redness, still on his face, and his ears, is not from the sun.

Again, you have two choices – do you pull the top up and act like nothing happened, continue the same ‘will they, won’t they’ routine – or do you want to do something about this, take the first step and find out once and for all if this infatuation is one sided?

You take his hand, making him look at you, ‘Well, can you help me cool down, Doctor?’

Zayne eyes widen slightly, switching between your hand and your gaze, only guessing where you’re going with this.

You gently place his cold hand just above your left breast ‘Is this okay?’ you whisper.

Zayne’s irises are almost black from how dilated his pupils are. As he gazes into your doe eyes, the hand resting on your chest travels up across your skin and lands on the side of your neck. He takes off his glasses, leans towards you, his lips a breath away from yours, “You’re walking on thin ice, darling.”

He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. Zayne is kissing you like a man starved, like he's been waiting for this for so long, afraid that this moment will slip away all too quickly. His other hand wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your chests together, feeling each other’s heartbeats. You moan into the kiss, surprised by the intensity of it and the desperation of his embrace. His lips are so soft and tender, just like you imagined too many times. The hand on your waist travels up to grab your breast, the sensation of his big cold hand on your heated skin making you gasp against his lips. He seizes the moment to lick your bottom lip, then slipping his tongue, yours quickly meeting it.

Suddenly, both of his hands land on your shoulders pulling away.

He utters ‘fuck’ (this might be the first time hearing him say the f word, and you’re embarrassed how excited it made you.) He holds your chin with thumb and index finger, ‘Do you wish to continue?’

You utter ‘yes’ and grab him by the black necktie locking your lips again. His hands find the top of your thighs, then sneaking their way down to bunch up your dress over your knees.

“Hold onto me.” He murmurs between kisses, and you oblige, catching onto his shoulders. Zayne grabs you by the back of your soft thighs, lifting you from the chair and placing you on his desk, so effortlessly and swiftly, like you weigh nothing.

Your fingers comb through his soft, thick hair, relishing in the fact of being able to touch it like this. His hands cup your face, distancing his lips from yours. You expectantly look up to see his tender, yearning gaze. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he kisses you again, this time softly, slowly deepening it, stealing your breath away. His soft lips move to kiss and nip at the side of your neck, his hands giving attention to your breasts again. He caresses both of them, and it doesn’t take long for one of his hands to be replaced by his lips. His hot tongue teases around the nipple. But when he starts sucking on it, while simultaneously playing with the other one with his fingers, a loud moan escapes your lips.

Zayne’s smirks against the sensitive nipple, “You need to stay quiet, darling.”

You were so dazed with lust that you completely forgot that there could be people outside his office. You bite your bottom lip and nod.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, one hand bunching up your dress more and resting on your hip, while the one on your nipple sneaks its way down, teasing the band of your underwear. You feel his fingers slide down, rubbing you over your soaked panties, making you move your hips, craving more friction.

“Fuck.” He breathes against your ear, “You’re already so wet for me.”

The fingers travel towards the band of your underwear and tug on it, and you lift your hips to let him slide it down your legs. Then he stashes your panties into the pocket of his pants.

He catches you by surprise when he kneels down in front of your cunt, your legs closing on reflex, but Zayne grabs your thighs before they could squish his head.

He gently strokes them, "Let me see you."

You’re hesitant about it, but you remember that you took extra steps when you freshened up in the bathroom. Slowly, you spread your legs, lifting your feet to rest on the edge of the desk. Cool air against your soaked pussy sends shivers all over your body.

His hands rest on the plush of your inner thighs. His eyes are mesmerized by the sight in front of him. You almost feel self-conscious by the close-up he’s getting.

"Zayne –" You squirm under his stare.

Snapping out of his daze, he meets your eyes "I’m sorry. You’re just so much more beautiful than I imagined."

Than he imagined? The statement makes your cheeks even deeper red, your pussy more wet and impatient.

Feeling impatient himself, Zayne starts by placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh. The hand on the opposite side follows the same trail, his slender fingers stopping to tease your wet folds, the contact making you gasp and involuntarily clench your thighs.

"Relax, angel." His breath fans over your pussy, not making it easier but you try anyway.

The digits slowly glide over the wetness, bathing in your juices. Your hips flinch as his fingertips lightly circle your clit, thighs trembling as digits are replaced with his hot tongue. It glides flat over your folds, stopping to circle the sensitive nub. The tip of the tongue flicks over it, circles it, again and again, your cunt dripping with both his saliva and your arousal. His middle finger slides in, ring finger shortly after, curling to reach and rub that delicate spot inside you; he sucks and licks your clit while finger fucking you, and your thighs are now shaking, toes curling, as intense waves of pleasure course through your body.

Your hold onto Zayne’s hair, and roll your hips in the same rhythm of his fingers, chasing your release, "Zayne… I’m gonna–"

He locks eyes with you and continues what he’s doing; you come shortly after, covering your mouth with your hand.

Zayne helps you come down from your high, places soft pecks on your thighs again and stands up, pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

Your hands frantically find his belt and start unbuckling it.

Zayne breaks the kiss, ‘I don’t have any condoms here.’

You shrug ‘Just pull out.’

‘That’s not very respo – ‘

‘Well, you’re a doctor; you can prescribe me some plan b pills.’ you innocently flutter your lashes.

He chuckles and starts taking off his tie and shirt, and you take a moment to gaze at the strong, chiseled muscles of his torso, his arms and those shoulders. Zayne, amused at your dazed and shameless ogling of his shirtless physique, reaches down to unzip his pants, taking them and underwear off in the same go, his hard cock smacking against his shaved pelvis. You suck in a breath when your eyes land on it. He's long and thick, curved just right, tip glistening with so much precum. You hand wraps around it, stroking and feeling the pulsing veins under your touch.

Zayne’s breath hitches ‘Are you sure – fuck…’ He groans when you press his length against your slippery folds, teasingly moving your hips.

‘Yes… I need you.’

With those magic words, Zayne swipes all the papers off the table, grabs you behind the knees and lifts your legs further, and you lean back to rest on your elbows.

His dick strokes your slit, tip teasing the entrance, but you're so impatient.

'Zaynee-' you whine.

He closes his eyes, jaw clenched. Even though your ‘friend’ is the embodiment of calm and collected, right now he’s barely holding onto his composure. His flushed cheeks and red ears, ragged breathing are exposing how badly he wanted, needed, this and how he’s trying so hard not to cum right here before even slipping the tip in.

But he doesn’t want to wait any longer; with your needy whines spurring him on, he places his red cockhead against you, your drenched pussy making it easy to slide it in.

His leg muscles tremble, trying to restrain himself from bottoming out the same second; with shallow thrusts, he slowly slides it all the way in. He towers over you, one hand resting on the desk, the other cupping your face. His hips roll at languid pace, his hooded eyes never leaving your face, watching you adjust to his size.

As you get comfortable, you grab him by back of his neck “Faster, please…” You breathe. He leans down, locking your lips into a sloppy kiss.

He slowly picks up the pace, his hand starts playing with your nipples again, and now it's really hard keep your voice down. You keep breaking the kiss in desperate need to catch your breath, but moans escape your lips as well. Zayne grabs your upper arms and pushes you down further. His muscular torso pressed against yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit.

“Zayne - I'm close”

“Try to stay quiet, angel.” he grunts, his eyes locked on your face, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He angles himself so his hand can reach down and rub your clit, and it’s too much for you - you cum a few seconds later and Zayne has to slip two fingers of his other hand into your mouth to keep you from screaming. You still whimper and moan over his fingers. He slows down to help you ride out the orgasm, and pulls out the fingers to kiss your lips.

'Is it okay to pick up the pace now? I'm so close.'

You only nod, unable to form any words. He plants a kiss on your temple and moves onto kissing and sucking your neck. Then he goes back to just looking at your face while he picks up the pace, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him even deeper. You bite your bottom lip, but at this point, you feel it's impossible to stay quiet. And now it's not only you who is making noise, but the desk, although sturdy, is starting to move and creak.

You gasp as he suddenly lifts you off the table with his big arms wrapped around your torso. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him. His hands grabs your ass and starts moving your hips in unison with his, his throbbing dick thrusting so much deeper, all the juices leaking down his balls and onto the floor.

You latch your teeth onto his neck to keep yourself from screaming while he’s panting feverishly into your ear.

‘I’m gonna come soon –‘

You meet his gaze ‘Don’t pull out.’

His hips stutter at your words, eyes widening for a second. He curses under his breath and picks up the pace. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, lewd gasps and pants interrupting.

His hands squeezing your ass in a bruising grip, he grunts against your lips, and you feel intense throbbing of his cock; warm liquid filling you up, sending shivers all over your sweaty body.

His slow pumps let his thick cum drip out, making a mess of his pants and the floor. You can feel how fast his heart is beating against your chest. The two of you catch your breath as your lips share a languid kiss, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies.

After pulling out, Zayne sits you on his chair. He kneels in front of you, caresses your cheek, his eyes full of adoration. “I never thought our first time would look like this.”

You lean into his palm, looking at him with sweet innocent eyes, “Oh? What did you imagine then?”

“I can show you later.”

#my writing needs to be hornier #guess i'm back to writing #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne smut #love and deepspace smut #zayne x you #lads zayne

3K notes · View notes

godricgryffinsnore · 11 days ago

Text

The Jumper Chronicles ♡ : A James Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : James Potter x fem!reader

summary : When James lends you his jumper on a rainy day, he doesn’t expect to fall helplessly in love every time you wear it—but the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes, it wants its favorite girl in its favorite jumper.

warnings : Intense pining, Secondhand embarrassment (from James being a lovesick fool), Excessive fluff, Friends-to-lovers tension, Mischievous teasing by close friends (The Marauders doing what they do best), Possible risk of swooning due to James Potter in love. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della’s note : Guess what? I am in a writing spree. Not complaining though!!! 😏🤌🏻

word count : 0.7k

main master list <3

banners : @kodaswrld and @cafekitsune

James Potter was in love.

Not the kind of love you slip into gently, like easing into a hot bath. No, James had fallen like a meteor—crashing, burning, utterly destroyed and reborn in your orbit.

And all it took was his jumper.

To be fair, it was a really nice jumper. Gryffindor red, slightly oversized, frayed a little at the sleeves from Quidditch training and the many detentions he'd served with it scrunched beneath his head. It smelled like mischief and cinnamon and something almost boyishly comforting.

You had borrowed it one October morning after a surprise downpour soaked your robes. James—drenched as well, glasses fogged, hair looking like it had been electrocuted—had peeled off the jumper with a cocky, “Don’t say I never gave you anything, darling,” and draped it over your shoulders.

And you never gave it back.

He didn’t ask for it either.

Because the moment you pulled it tighter around yourself, burying your fingers in the sleeves, his soul left his body and hovered somewhere near the ceiling of the common room, whispering, That’s it. That’s my wife.

You wore it everywhere. In the library, curled up on the window seat; on Hogsmeade weekends, the hem hitting just above your knees; at breakfast, where James could barely eat because you looked so stupidly adorable sipping pumpkin juice in his jumper. It was hell. Beautiful, soft, jumper-scented hell.

── .✦

“You’ve got to tell her,” Remus said over breakfast one Saturday, not looking up from his book. “Before you combust. Or cry. Or both.”

“I’m not crying,” James said firmly.

“You were tearing up over your eggs, mate,” Sirius pointed out. “You whispered ‘she even sleeps in it’ like a man watching his true love marry another.”

James stabbed his toast. “She’s warm. I mean—it’s warm. The jumper. She’s probably just cold.”

“You enchanted the jumper to stay warm all the time,” Peter muttered, sipping his tea.

“Shut up, Wormtail.”

── .✦

The breaking point came on a quiet Tuesday evening. You were in the common room, sitting cross-legged by the fire, hair a little messy, nose in a book, sleeves of the jumper covering your hands entirely.

And then—you sneezed. Just a little one. A tiny, adorable thing.

James dropped his quill and nearly passed out.

“Okay,” he mumbled, standing up. “I can’t live like this.”

You looked up, blinking. “Live like what?”

“Like—this.” He gestured at you. At the jumper. At everything. “You. In that. Looking like—like you’re mine.”

You tilted your head. “But I’m not?”

“I mean—no! I mean—yes? Or—Merlin’s pants.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t want it back.”

You blinked. “The jumper?”

“No. Yes. Yes to the jumper, no to me wanting it back. It’s—yours. It's always been yours. Or maybe it was mine until you wore it and now I can’t stop thinking about how you look like home and I’m—oh no, I'm rambling, aren't I?”

You stood, walking toward him, firelight painting your face gold.

“James?”

“Yes?” His voice cracked. He sounded thirteen again.

You smiled softly, brushing your fingers along his hand. “Do you want to kiss me, or declare ownership over all my future clothing?”

He blinked. “Is both an option?”

You laughed. And it was the kind of laugh that made angels consider quitting their jobs.

And then you kissed him.

It was warm and awkward and perfect. He smiled into it like a complete fool.

── .✦

The next morning, you came down wearing his pajama shirt.

Sirius fell out of his chair.

Remus choked on his tea.

Peter went redder than a tomato.

James strolled in behind you, smug as anything. “Morning, lads.”

Sirius: “Is it? Or is it the End of Days? Did the world tilt slightly on its axis last night? Because that’s not just the jumper. That’s your Quidditch pajamas.”

Remus: “I’d like to die. Can I die?”

Peter: “You’re unbearable now, aren’t you?”

James just grinned, wrapping his arm around your waist and kissing the top of your head. “Get used to it, boys. She’s keeping the jumper—and me.”

── .✦

And from that day on, James Potter never got his jumper back. And he never wanted to.

#della 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james fleamont potter #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter #mauraders #marauders fic #james potter x you #james potter x y/n

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smutstationchoochoo · 2 years ago

Text

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room.

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?” His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment. It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up. Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

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