#how to taste wine without swallowing

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation ( f) oral (m and f receiving) fingering, spit kink low-key, cum swallowing, reader is innocent DON'T read if you don't like that, mutual pining, obsessive Gojo, he can't get hard if it's not you, this whole damn chap is smut so, aftercare and feelings. A little bit of angsttt, a lil bit of cuteness, demisexual reader and pornstarr Satoru what a pair.

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC 10.6k!

<<<Chapter One - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Three>>> (coming soon)

Chapter Two

“Come in.”

You shyly take him in, how fucking gorgeous Satoru Gojo looks, shirtless with just a pair of dark jeans sound low on his hips, showing that perfect body up close. You can smell the shampoo he’s used, wafting in the fancy penthouse, just standing there and staring with your lips parted.

Pull it together!

“Thank you, it’s good to see you again.” You say softly, when he shuts the door behind you with a gentle click, and you eye him now, his gorgeous eyes bright and glittery, lips quirked up.

“You sure saw a lot of me.”

“Shit.” You cover your face, and he gently eases your hands down, smiling at you, laughing just a bit.

“Where are your glasses?”

“Contacts today. Do you um, like them?”

“I do, they’re cute on you, but I do like seeing your pretty eyes better.” He’s gently cupping your face as he murmurs, you’re trembling from his touch, his proximity. “Take off your converse. Keep on the kitten socks.”

“You like these huh?” You’re feeling so comfortable already, despite your nerves, of why you’re here, how fucking bold you are, so out of your comfort zone, but it feels fucking perfect. You ease off your shoes, and he kneels, making you gasp, as he runs his fingers over the soft fleece of those socks.

“They’re so hot. Shit.”

“They a-are?” He sighs, pressing a kiss on your thigh and looking up at you then, on his knees, he can inhale your arousal, making him almost press you up on the wall and eat you then and there. He barely controls himself, knowing you’re clearly not experienced, kissing your other thigh and standing slowly.

“Very hot. Need a drink?” You nod shyly, and he takes your hand, as you cross the luxurious expanse of his beautiful home, the finest furniture everywhere, plush shag carpet that would be impossible to clean, over to his kitchen now. “Pick your poison sweets.”

“Do you have wine? I do drink that a bit.”

“Do I have wine? Psh, what vintage, what year?” He pulls open a blue lit wine fridge then, stocked full, and you blink in surprise, peering down with him.

“Nothing fancy! Goodness, I like Rose?”

“Rose it is.” Satoru opens it with ease, some fancy electric cork opener that fascinates you, just making you cuter as you study it. “It isn’t that fancy, swear, this bottle is just ten years old.”

“Isn’t that fancy then?”

“No, not really, but it’s really sweet. You’ll love it.” He leans up, as you take in the enormous kitchen, he reaches a high up cabinet, snatching up two crystal glasses, your fingers brushing the pretty black marble.

“Your home is gorgeous.”

“It better be, fucking expensive as shit.” You can’t stop the little nervous laugh, praying you don’t snort this time jesus that had been embarrassing, thanking him when he hands you a glass filled with pretty pink liquid.

“Thank you so much. Mmm!” You taste it and sigh, eyes fluttering shut as the juicy strawberries hit your tongue. “Oh it’s to die for.”

“I taste better.”

You almost spit out the wine, and he’s grinning and wiggling his brow, you take another sip for courage. “That will be burned into my brain.”

“Good, it should be. I can think of a lot of things I’d love burned into my brain right now.” He sips that wine, just a drop spilling, which you lean over to brush off with your thumb, sighing as he grabs your wrist now, pulling you impossibly close. “Images of you have been steadily fucking me up since that night.”

“So it’s not um, one sided?” He scoffs, setting down both of your glasses, walking you until your back is against the counter, his scent overtaking your sense while his touch burns you.

You wondered, was it the party, was it in your head?

No.

His touch is everything, your eyes are drawn to his, while he leans lower over you now. “One sided?”

“Well, it’s insane and… Satoru I don’t just see you as some object, please know that, we could just… talk and I’d be happy.” He pauses as you murmur nervously, looking down, biting that lip too hard.

“Think I’d mind if you used me? I’d let you use any part of my body.” You gasp, eyes wide when they go up to his now. “Think you haven’t been on my mind since I blew that smoke in your mouth?”

“I didn’t know if- mnh!” He’s pressed you against the counter now, arms barring you on either side, your breath comes so fast as he towers over you in his elegant kitchen, eyes locking on his, head falling back just so.

“I wanted to respect you, despite my very disrespectful thoughts, of everything I wanna do to you.” He’s leaning lower, cupping your face with a hand now, breath mingling as he brings your face so close, lips a mere centimeter away. “Filthy things, I’ve been thinking of.”

“O-oh y-yeah?” He can’t stop his little laugh at you, sighing and tilting his head, pressing a kiss on your lips, just a brush of them that ignites need in your body, heart and fucking soul, which you try to shove down, to focus on how good your skin feels against his.

“Precious little thing, would be so fun to ruin you. Filthy fucking thoughts. But we’ll start with this one.” He picks you up now, you cling to him, arms around his neck, as your eyes meet, and he’s holding you like it’s nothing, hands gripping your ass under your skirt, squeezing and pressing you against him. “I wanna watch your pretty face when you cum so hard you can’t think.”

“God, Satoru…” He’s kissing you again, carrying you effortlessly to his room, you can’t even look at the luxe surroundings, enwrapped in his arms, drowning in his messy, expert kisses. “Mnh!”

“The little sounds you make.” Satoru certainly doesn’t fuck girls that aren’t co-stars or in the industry, but he can’t think of any time he’s ever been this ready, this filled with need for anyone. You feel so perfect in his arms, but you look even better when he pulls up, seeing you in the center of his huge bed, pretty lips swollen from his kisses.

“I love kissing you,” at your sweet words he pauses, and you clear your throat, feeling that flush hit your cheeks, looking down at his chin, touching it gently with a finger, before slipping fingers down his throat. “Too much?”

“No, I love making out.” You smile in relief, he should say how much he loves kissing you, but he doesn’t do that, right? He doesn’t just go dating, falling in love, with his lifestyle, it would just drag a good girl like you down, it’s why he held back, but now that you’re here, he can’t prevent himself from feeling it all.

He wondered, was it in his head?

How good you tasted, felt, your scent?

It wasn’t, and it’s even more intense now, the need unfulfilled by jerking his cock to you constantly, nothing like your soft, yielding lips and body under his, your breasts so soft even as nipples press hard through that fabric. He pulls back, littering kisses down your chest, your collar bone, watching you writhe under his sure touch, his ardent mouth.

“So good, ah!” Your hands grip his blankets, sweating just slightly as he drags down your cardigan, moaning then.

“No bra?” You’re shaking your head, and he smirks now, some of that LA Satoru Pornstar showing through. “Slutty.”

You giggle, before you moan, as his kisses delve lower, and he reveals a breast fully with an unbutton and tug, sighing as he sees one of your pretty tits. “I’ve never been called that.”

“I’m always called that.” You both laugh again, it’s easy, fuck, you feel so good just being under him, his huge hand gripping your breast now, eliciting a moan. “Like me calling you slutty when you’ve been such a good girl, hmm?”

“Oh my god.” He’s chuckling again, the man knows his effect, but you can’t argue, all you can do is gasp out, as he plucks a taut nipple between two fingers.

“Perfect tits, mmm.” He’s kissing down one now, tongue lapping your nipple, tastebuds rolling over the peak, and your eyes flutter shut, tummy clenching with ache for him. “Pretty, perfect, bet all of you is.”

You’re melting under his expert touch, perfect pressure everywhere you didn’t even know you were craving. “You’re so sweet.”

“I taste sweet too. Remember?” You’re furiously blushing now, covering your face as he grins down at you. “You asked, you know, slutty, it’s proven now.”

“It is slutty,” you’re giggling before he yanks the material apart further, mouth latching on to a sensitive peak. “Mnh, Satoru!”

“Mmhmm.” He’s sucking your nipple, pulling back with a pop of his lips, trails of saliva dripping from lush lips, and your heart won’t stop hammering, hot desire shooting through you.

A girl that has to have feelings.

But you already fucking do, admitting it or not, it’s more than his beauty, it’s so much more. You don’t want to scare him off, you just want to experience this, the longing so tangible it’s eaten you alive all week. The videos of him and your friend, him and other girls, dying to know what it feels like, but the way he is with you?

It’s different.

He’s gentler, more careful, sweet, with every caress you’re getting wetter, but also you’re falling into the abyss that is him. “What all have you done before, sweetheart?”

His question brings you back to the matter at hand- experience. “I have had sex once.”

He blinks now. “Once a day?”

You snort at him, as he grins, undoing the rest of your sweater and sighing at how beautiful you are. “Silly. No, just once with my ex, but I guess it was not very good, we split up the day after.”

“Your pussy probably ruined that boy.” You’re giggling again, god it feels good, natural under him, no wonder he’s just so very popular. He makes you feel so pretty as he’s slipping up your skirt, moaning softly. “Oral?”

“No.” He pauses a bit, running his fingers up and down your slit.

“Fingering?”

“Ah!” You can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips when your sticky wetness pours against his fingertips over your panties.

“Asked a question, pretty.”

“Hard to focus.” You’re crying out again, when he eases them down your thighs, eyeing your bare, glistening cunt and almost losing it.

“God it’s perfect.”

“Oh, Satoru, you don't have to say that.” His jaw clenches a bit, eyes narrowing, those white lashes shielding just a bit of the dazzling blue.

“I mean it, I am kind of an expert, you know.” You’re flushed underneath him, so adorable as you run a hand up and down his body, feeling every strong muscle, his cock is twitching, aching to fuck into you. But he holds back a bit, spreading your thighs, hands slipping up them now. “That’s why you asked, because I’m an expert?”

“Because I’ve never felt so comfortable, so…” you trail off, looking down shyly, lashes casting dark shadows on your cheeks, from the soft light over head. “I haven’t felt so wet.”

“Fuck…” He’s running his finger up and down your slit, watching you fall apart from that damn near, thighs tensing, your eyes shooting back up to his own. “You are soaked.”

“It’s a new problem.” He grins again, cocky and self sure, but there’s something to that smile, you try to pin it down but soon he’s thumbing your clit, and you’re gushing further down his hand, dripping onto his bed. “Oh!”

“You touch yourself?” You nod, covering your face again. “Show me.”

“Show you?” He nods, easing back and gently pulling your hand off your face, until your fingers are kissed so sensually, and he puts it down to your pussy, enjoying the color spreading across your cheeks. “Like now!?”

“It’s how I’ll know what you like. Women please themselves better than most men do, so I avidly study. Are you a clitoral girl, a g spot girl? Penetration, friction?”

“It’s like a science to you huh?” You’re fascinated, but not as fascinated as Satoru Gojo is when he’s watching your tiny little fingers part your plump folds, pressing up to find your little clit. The action is sexier than anything he’s seen, and he’s seen so many lewd, wanton things, but this?

God you’re just art.

How your lips part, brows together in concentration, as his hands press into the plush of your thighs, blue eyes drawn right to your slick cunt, drooling wetness out of your little hole. He’s barely hanging on by a thread, a man of his experience and profession, decimated by the pretty girl tentatively rubbing her clit for him, in nothing but a little skirt shoved up her hips, that sweater laid out under her. 

“Mnh!” Your quiet little moan elicits something feral, he tries to remain calm on the outside, give you a smirk, as he leans down, pressing a kiss on your inner knee, feeling you tremble underneath him.

“So you like your clit played with?” His husky words just make you wetter, more sensitive, as you play with yourself spread wide for this man.

“Y-yes.” Your little nod is met with a gasp, as you look at his fingers, slipping slowly up.

“Can you cum from it?”

“Usually… the wand…” He kisses higher up your thigh, watching as you get so wet you’re slippery, fingers slipping as he watches you avidly, watches the way you’re shifting, tilts his head to see where you’re pressing.

“She’s probably tiny and hard to get. Allow me?”

“Yes sir.” He chuckles at that, taking his thumb and pressing up, hitting your clit so good you can’t take it. “Oh! Oh my god…”

“She’s very tiny. But that’s good, easily stimulated,” Satoru’s murmuring now, touching your slick, bare cunt, making him die to taste you, pressing the quivering little clit while you cling to his wrist, whining out. “You like that, sweets?”

All you can manage is a nod, as he brings you to the edge, pleasure filling you, the sighs mixing with the sounds of your slick cunt clicking in his room, echoing and making it even more lewd, wild, while you let the man you hardly know touch you. Fuck you want him to, as he presses up harder, and you’re gripping his forearm, feeling those muscles tense as he works you.

“Satoru!” He moans softly, god he loves how you say his name.

“Ready for a finger inside you? Bet you’re so tight.” You nod nervously, when he slips his middle finger in then, so long it’s insane, making you gasp out, as he exhales, moaning out softly with you. “Knew it, so tight, but… here’s a spot baby.”

He curls his finger just so, and you’re gasping for a breath, while his thumb still presses your clit, your body writhing as he builds pressure. You are so tight, he’s questioning how much work up you’d need for his cock, but he’s sure it’d be worth it, to stretch this perfect little cunt out. He swipes back a little drop of drool off your lips when your back arches off the bed, tits begging for his kisses.

You realize then, it’s not just his skill, how good his thick finger feels inside of you, how beautiful his lidded eyes are, it’s the energy emitting from his being, with every exhale, how he looks at you underneath him. You gasp as he hits a spot deep inside your slick walls, making you see white hot stars for just a moment, soft cry escaping your lips, you’re so wet you can hear it, the squelching of your cunt so loud in his penthouse.

But it’s not just how good it feels, you know it’s something more, how Satoru looks at you like you’re the prettiest thing there is, like you’re all there is. His other hand strokes your hair back, as your thigh hitches up over his hip, allowing him to sink deeper with an impossibly long finger now. The way he feels, his weight on you, everything about him overwhelming all your senses.

“Look at you, fuck…” His soft murmur causes his hot breath to brush your lips, you taste just how sweet he is, your hands gripping his chest, as your eyes roll back with how his fingers hit. “There you go, feel her pulsing around me, can you take two, sweetheart?”

“They’re so thick…” He chuckles now, cocky in his little grin, pulling one out to suck it off, and your throat goes dry, seeing his cheeks hollow, and his own eyes fluttering shut as he moans.

“It tastes so sweet, god.” He sucks his other clean finger, tapping your thigh now. “Relax, if you can’t we’ll go back to one, okay?”

“Y-yes.” You’re so cute laid under him, the little squeak when he slips two into your tight little cunt making him chuckle. “You’re laughing at me.”

“You’re so adorable. Sorry.” He’s smiling at your half assed little glare, but you’re all flustered, your cheeks heated to the touch when he presses his lips on one, sinking both fingers in now, making you cry out at the stretch. “Loosen up, sweets, relax. Just feel it.”

Just feel.

But you feel too much.

Fuck.

You nod as he leans up, dying to yank his lips down on yours, craving the connection even as he eases you to relax, to take more of him, and when you do, when you’re that full, your moans get throatier, cunt slicker. He exhales as he feels it, as he watches you, easing back to shove that skirt higher up, to look at your little hole sucking him in so greedily.

“God I wanna bury my fucking face in her, can I?” Your lips part in a gasp, when he’s laying prone between your thighs, easing his fingers out to spread your lips, watching your little hole wink and twitch as it leaks more of your arousal out of it.

“Y-you do?” He smirks now, soft tousled hair falling over his brow, you brush it back then, making him even harder, cock twitching in response to that, as he inhales your scent.

“I would die to have you cum all over my face, drown me in it.” How is he. He’s insane and ruining you. “Your cunt is even fucking cute.”

“How can it be cute!?” He’s chuckling again, breathing against you, and yours comes faster, breasts rising and falling in your open sweater.

“They can be cute, especially yours.” He smacks a kiss on it - ‘muah’ making you giggle then, instantly relaxing, as you realize…

You trust him.

He’s a stranger, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like you’ve known this insane man forever, exhaling and spreading your thighs more, he notices the action, you relaxing under his palms, earning more of him dying to enter you. But he has this feeling, that once he does?

You’ll fucking ruin him.

Your taste alone is sweeter than any wine he’s had, the most corny shit he should not come up with in his sex addled mind, but you make him think of more, of every reaction of your pretty body. How you cry out, your sighs, the way your hips shift now, your little hands gripping his shoulders, nails pressing in, making him vividly picture how good it’ll feel when they’re raking down his back.

“You want it, hmm sweets?” He asks again, kissing higher, sighing as he nears you, feels your heat against his face. You nod then, shyly, and he leans up a bit, pressing one more kiss over your hood, chin brushing your needy little clit. “I need explicit consent, enthusiastic consent before we go further.”

Fuck he’s perfect.

You’re playing a dangerous game, you already feel yourself falling into the unreal swirling blue storms of the eyes looking up at you, from between your thighs. Your hands relax then, cupping his cheek, which he presses a kiss on your palm, and you decide any of him is worth it, how badly he makes you need him, how willingly your body is ready to respond, your heart needs to stay in its chest.

“Yes, I would love you to, please.” Your words end him, sweeter from your lips than he could imagine, and with that he doesn’t just lick you, no, Satoru Gojo devours you then and there. “Ah! S-Satoru!”

“Mnh…” He’s buried his face against your pretty pussy, and fuck he’s ruined further just from it, from sweet arousal seeping into his tastebuds, as he dives that tongue in your pulsing little hole. You’re tensing under him, tummy trembling when he presses down on it, making his next stroke so intense you start to fall apart under him, hands yanking his silky locks.

You taste sweeter than anything.

And fuck if Satoru Gojo doesn’t have one hell of a sweet tooth.

The way he devours you then is surreal, you’re clinging to his hair just to grasp the earth, his hungry moans vibrating your sensitive clit as he flicks his tongue up to it, sucking it in his hot mouth, making your toes curl under those socks, the sensations so overwhelming, and he’s just getting started. He’s got that smug look in his blue eyes when he glances up at you.

Your taste is something he can’t describe, Satoru loves eating pussy, but fuck if you’re not an entire delicacy, spread just for him. Some possessive, psychotic instinct takes over then, knowing he’s the first to kiss your pussy, lap you up, having you pull his hair so hard it hurts, as he presses his cock against the mattress. Why is he so fucking feral over you?

Every insane fucking instinct kicks in while he slathers your cunt with his saliva, his tongue lapping up your juices, and god there’s so much. You’re soaking his face, manicured nails pressing against his scalp, while you scream out hoarsely. Your moans and little cries just make it more intense for him, when he’s flicking his tongue just so, making you writhe under him.

He grabs at your hips, dragging you more impossibly on his face, and sucks on your clit, hard, making you jolt and moan his name now, your body arching off the bed. Satoru is relentless, his tongue flicking and circling, his teeth grazing, and it’s driving you wild, making you want to grab him and push him deeper, grind against his face. But you hold back, biting your lip, your hands tight in his hair as he devours you.

“You can fuck my face till you cum, don’t hold back.” His whisper is met with a lewd kiss on your clit, grinning against you now, you feel every line of those straight white teeth on your sensitive cunt.

“I c-can’t do that!”

“Yeah you can. Use my face till you get off.” You’re blinking in confusion, even when he’s literally been with so many women, you can’t help but feel special, how he looks at you then.

“You sure?” He nods, and you yank him against you then, to his satisfied moan, hips arching up to fuck his pretty, perfect face now, grinding on his long, talented tongue, as he continues to fucking ruin you with each stroke. “M’cumming!”

He just moans, as you can feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that’s going to shatter you, hitting your tummy and making it clench, the heat spreading while he works you so good, like he knows your body better than you do. And then he does it, he pushes his long tongue inside you, curling it just so and pressing on your gummy walls.

At the sensation your hips pause, his nose bumping your twitchy little clit, and you cum so hard you’re blinded, your body shaking as you scream out, so loud it should embarrass you, but he’s loving it all. Your cunt squeezing and spasming around his tongue, pussy pulsing with the force of your climax. He groans into you, the vibrations sending aftershocks through your body now.

“Oh my god, oh my f-fucking… Satoru!” You’re pushing at him now, when he flicks his tongue back on that clit, making you clench around nothing now, struggling as he pushes you into another fucking orgasm. “S-sensitive!”

“Good.” His first word since drinking you up. “Messy, slutty little cunt, she loves it huh?” He’s damn near talking to your cunt now, smacking another messy kiss along it, face glistening with you, making you flush. “Can you cum one more time?”

“It’s a lot I…”

“You can, hmm? C’mon, one more f’me, pretty please.” You manage a shaky breath, nodding while he sinks a finger into your pulsing hole.

“Oh! Mnh!” You’re reduced to noises, words can’t be formed when he curls his finger just so in your messy cunt now, pressing up and hitting the sweetest pressure, your hands grip his blankets until they crumple underneath your hands, as he pushes you once more, this time more intense. “Cumming, cumming!”

“Mhmm.” He just moans that, watching you with dilated blue eyes that appear almost black, curling a long finger so deep you shatter, weak and dazed as you come down from the high, blinking away stars.

“Holy fuck… what the…” He’s sighing now, easing his finger from your tight little cunt, pressing kisses to your inner thighs, as you brush back his hair, trying to catch your breath. “You’re better than any vibrator my god.”

“Of course I am.” He’s grinning, when you swipe off your slick, embarrassed and flustered. “You’re so messy baby.”

“I’m so sorry! I’ve never done all this!” You lean up on your elbows, looking at the wet spot under you, drooling across your thighs, and all over his lips and chin.

“It’s sexy, stop it.” He leans over you now, you gasp as his hot heavy length presses against you under his pants, taking several shaky breaths, eyeing his lips.

“Can you kiss me again?” Your whisper is raw and vulnerable, you’re trembling under him, as he leans closer. “Sorry I just need it.”

“Of course, you should taste yourself.” He slams his lips down, the charge between you both unreal, you’re drinking yourself off him, thighs pressing against his hips now. Your hands slip up his strong back, feeling how hot his skin is, while his tongue delves into your mouth, and you taste your sweetness.

“Thank you.” Your little whisper ends him then, between smacks of kisses between you two, he should be thanking you for letting him, since when has he thought that way? “God, fuck that was intense.”

“You came pretty easy for me, you know.”

“Oh!” He’s grinning and wiggling his brows, and for a moment it feels too natural, too easy to be under him, making you both pause.

This was what he did for a living.

He’s certainly having fun, but you can’t get too confused.

“What else would you like to do? Are you sure you’re ready for it all?” His intent makes you so nervous.

“I wanted to suck you? Is that okay?” Satoru’s cock hurts so bad it takes everything to hold himself back, from grabbing your pretty face and fucking it, stretching that little throat out. He thinks he’s dreaming, swathed in your taste, your scent, brushing your now messy hair back gently.

“Is that okay? Fuck yes.” You giggle now, as he helps you sit up, switching positions and lying on his back now. You are almost naked, the skirt still on along with your kneesocks - those kittens, so cute he thinks - something so seductive about you keeping them on as you get on your knees.

“He’s very pretty. Is that weird to say?” He shakes his head, letting you unbutton his pants now, watching you avidly, your hair falling to the side, just over one breast, which he puts back over your shoulder now. He watches you shiver from the contact, goosebumps on your breasts.

“He’s very pretty, I already know this.” You roll your eyes a bit at him, but his laughter dies when his cock is free, and he’s helping you take the rest of his boxers off his slim, long legs. “Blushing again?”

“It’s bigger in person!? How.” He’s just beaming, you’re sure this is merely stroking his enormous ego, but you can’t help it.

“The camera subtracts two inches.”

“Does it now?” You’re leaning down, hair brushing his thighs as your tiny hand wraps his thick, massive cock, tracing a pale blue vein under taut skin, watching as he jerks, whining out softly. “Is that okay?”

“God yes…” He’s swallowing now, it was easy to be conceited eating you out, but he’s a fucking mess when you barely touch him. He shuts his eyes, trying to pull himself together, he’s supposed to teach you, not get flustered like some damn virgin, about to bust from a touch. “Have you jerked one?” You shake your head. “I’m so confused, how did you have sex at all?”

“He just put it in, and it hurt.” Satoru frowns now, seeing the expression on your face.

“You can’t just put it in, you’re stupid - ah - tight.” You’re stroking a bit, laying down now, breaths against him.

“Two virgins I guess we sucked.” You muse softly, sighing a bit. “But you’re… much, much bigger.”

“Well I wouldn’t hurt you. Okay?” You nod then, smiling because you already know, pressing the flat of your tongue to his slit, making him whimper, the sound has you pause, as you taste him, sticky precum coating your tongue.

“You are yummy.” Satoru can’t take it then, yanking you up and making you gasp, pinning you beneath him. “Satoru, let me suck it please?”

“I can’t take it.” He kisses his taste off you, drool pooling in your mouth as he hastily unzips your skirt. “I’ll bust quick.”

“How? I’ve watched you, and your stamina-”

“No stamina right now. Shit stamina.” He’s kissing you again, and something shifts, hungry and desperate, overwhelming your senses, filled with him. Your hands grip his obliques, feeling them tense as he moves, as he breathes with you. “Let me have you cum again.”

“I wanted to make you cum.” Your soft whisper elicits a low growl from him, as he clutches you so tightly you almost can’t breathe, wondering just what the fuck you’re making him into. “If it’s fast won’t that mean I’m doing good?”

“That’s one way to look at it - ah!” You’re touching him between your bodies, stroking him again, watching how his lips part, his jaw clenched, muscles so tense his arms are shaking. “Shit, okay.”

He stands now, as you’re on your knees, brushing your hair into a ponytail and holding it there, pulling just a bit as he touches your cheek. “Tell me what to do?”

“Open.” His soft command is husky, reverberating through you, as you do just that, forward on your hands and knees, as he slips the tip of his cock against your open lips, painting the precum along them like the prettiest gloss. “Fuck…”

You stay open, god you’re a good girl, aren’t you?

“That’s it, use your tongue sweetheart- f-fuck…” As you do just that, and his cock fills your mouth, Satoru loses his tentative control, pulling your hair so hard you cry out just a bit. “Shit, you okay?”

You pull back with a pop, looking up at him with dilated eyes, lidded and full of desire. “I’m good, I um… liked it.”

He pulls it again, pricking pain that makes your cunt impossibly wet again, as you suck him in, trying to remember what you’ve seen before. Satoru’s moving now, sucking in a breath when he sinks deep in your throat, feeling you gag around it, he has to pause his thrusts, exhaling.

“Relax the throat, just like that, such a good girl, aren’t you?” You’re whining out, pressing your thighs together as you suck up and down his length, so long he makes you choke, tensing. “Breathe through the nose, there you go.”

You’re listening so perfectly, would you listen to anything he said?

Satoru’s never been one for too much bdsm, but fuck if you don’t elicit every goddamn thought of anything he’s seen. Tying you up, blindfolding you, making you cum until you faint from it, waking you up and doing it again. He struggles to cling to any sense of composure as you shut your eyes, nostrils flaring a bit, sucking him in so deep inside your tight throat, squeezing him.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, look at you. Sucking him so deep, can you bottom out?” You try to concentrate, relaxing your throat, nodding just a bit, and Satoru can feel the bulge of his cock in your delicate throat as he brushes his hand along it, sighing at how goddamn sexy you are.

His abdomen flexes, the muscles taut and defined as his hips move, as his cock pulses in that tight chamber, gripping him and making him think just how perfect your pussy will feel. The thoughts of it have him fucking your face harder, faster, as you reach down, touching yourself, unable to take it, balancing on one arm now.

“Gotta touch your pussy again, love my cock so much?” This isn’t Satoru’s ‘pornstar voice’ no, it’s husky, desperate, broken, as he feels you pushing him closer and closer with each suck, flick, gag, god when you gag it feels so good, so much he wants to keep causing it.

You’re slipping two little fingers in your slick hole, they slip in easily which has never really happened before, but how can it not when Satoru had stretched you with one of his long, thick fingers? Something is heady when you look up at him under your lashes, hitting your own spot, whining and choking on his cock, watching the flush of his cheekbones, feeling him tense.

You feel so much, more than just sucking a beautiful cock, the intensity and care of him fucking your throat means too much, how he’s delicate, careful, holding back. You see it in his tense body, you feel him shaking, holding back so he doesn’t hurt you, testing just what you like. And you want to please him, god you do, you want him feeling just a bit of what he just gave you.

Satoru’s breaths themselves are pornographic, heavy and stuttering, his words broken as he fucks your face so goddamn good, you’re pumping your fingers in quicker, but god nothing felt like his. Long and thick, compared to yours, so short and not hitting a goddamn thing, squishing and clicking, along with the sound of your suction, slobbering all down Satoru’s length now.

“You’re so good, d-didn’t need a lesson, for shit- ah! Mmm!” He’s louder than you expected, in the clips you watched he was a little more quiet, he’s so loud and vocal while he thrusts, pausing then, pulling back, letting you take a dizzy breath.

“You like it?” Your whisper ends him, he shakes his head.

“Like it no.” That wasn’t a good word for whatever your innocent mouth is doing to him, he’s had the most practiced girls, he’s had multiple sucking him at once, as he came all over their faces, crossed eyes and tongues sticking out. But nothing is like your nervous little look, as he grabs your hand now, yanking it off you.

“Ah!” You’re gasping as he sucks your cunt off them, moaning as he does, making your jaw drop.

“I’m about to cum, where do you want it?” You turn into a flustered mess when he releases your spit soaked fingers.

“Wanna taste you.” Your answer has him desperate, he’s pressing your lips open again, cock shoving deep, you moan around him, pushing Satoru over that ledge.

“Wanna swallow all my cum, like a good girl?” He knows what that does, it’s so clear, and you manage a nod, when he fucks your face faster and faster, hands gripping your face delicately for as hard as he’s going. “Ready baby?”

You merely whine out, shaking as you feel him pulse in your throat, he pulls back, and then you feel it, hot and sticky, so much cum, ropes of it pouring in your mouth now, as Satoru whimpers again. This time you know it’s different from what you heard, his usual moans, looking up to see his eyes fluttering shut, his hands gripping your face harder as he keeps filling your mouth.

You swallow him all down, he is sweet, just a tiny bit bitter, but flooding your senses as your hands grip his thighs, and you suck him all down, every rope of white cum filling your throat and now your tummy. You’re so full, sucking more and more, until he’s sensitive, gasping.

“F-fuck, god, I’ve… you…” He can’t form a word, as an innocent, nerdy little thing has destroyed him, made him into a whimpering fucking mess.

How the fuck.

He eases back, and tilts your chin up, as your hands slip up his abdomen, brushing the soft white hair above his still hard cock. “Lemme see, did you swallow it all?”

You nod, opening as he guides your jaw, and he sees your pink tongue, your mouth devoid of his cum aside from some that had spilled on the corner of your mouth. Satoru exhales, swiping at it now.

“Want more of me?”

“Yes.” It’s instant, you don’t even think of it.

“Then open again.” You do just that, when Satoru spits right down into your open mouth, lewd and filthy, the saliva stringing down until it hits your tongue. “Swallow.”

You gulp him down, as his hand wraps your pretty throat, and he can’t stand it then, a cock that’s cum twice today won’t go away, it’s coming back if anything at how debauched he’s made you. How obedient you are, looking at him in shock, wiping at your lips, cheeks tinged with color.

“Pretty fucked out little doll.” You whine out as he kisses you again, craving his lips more than anything, the way you feel in his arms, as he presses you against his hard body. “Are you sure you’ve never done it?”

“Y-yes, um… you’re very sweet.”

God. Ruining him.

You’re ruining him.

He’s kissing you again and again as his phone goes off, he smacks at it, scowling, mouth back over yours, tits squished in his huge hands. His cock is hot and heavy against your thigh when it’s going off again, he sighs, leaning up and peering over at it on the nightstand.

“Manager, shit.”

“It’s fine, go ahead Satoru.” You whisper, stroking his cheek now, he moans and kisses you again, before leaning up now.

“Yep.” He answers, still running his hands down your tits, your nipples, eliciting cries you try to bite back, much to his pleasure. “Yeah I know I just… have wanted to do solo for a bit.”

You’re trying not to listen in, caressing a bicep, feeling just how strong and cut he is, while he smiles down at you. You hear the manager’s voice, and watch Satoru roll those baby blues, sighing now, sitting up a bit. You go to do so as well, but he gently pushes you down, shaking his head.

“I don’t wanna do the gang bang, too many dicks.” You can’t stop the little laugh, and Satoru smirks at you, pressing a little kiss to your collarbone. “You’re gonna scare my friend off. Yeah I have friends, the fuck?”

Satoru continues the conversation, still kissing on you, something you didn’t know how badly you needed or craved after doing so much with him, god his cum is inside you, along with his spit. Imagining him just… leaving you… or sending you home after he came was a big fear, and what you expected, but the fact that he’s so touchy is making you feel even more comfortable.

It’s like you’ve known him.

Since you met him you felt that way, your heart aches at his cute, almost boyish grin, while he keeps speaking. “Fine, I’ll do the shoot if it’s that much money, but I swear I’m tired of Sukuna lately. And Toji? Ugh. Fine, fine then.” He hangs up his phone, and you bite that lip, making him gently tug it. “I hate gang bangs.”

“That’s not something I thought I’d hear from anyone?” He tosses his phone aside, kissing up the side of your neck, making it tickle. “You have a shoot?”

“Yeah, I avoided them all week.” He pauses then, not wanting to say why, surely you don’t… feel anything other than pleasure, right? And if so, you’re a good girl - what if this life hurt you?

“Why are you avoiding it?”

Satoru sighs, kissing up to your ear, dying to say it - you.

But that’s fucking insane.

“I get a little exhausted sometimes from it all, I figured I’d focus on the OF.” He leans up, brushing fingers across your cheeks, still hot to the touch, your gaze affixed on his collarbone now. “I really hate working with Toji and Sukuna. Suguru is fine, we’re so close I guess. But those two are so annoying. And one girl, four dicks? Dicks touching, balls touching.”

“Oh god.” You’re nervously laughing as he does. “So why do it?”

“It’s my job, I can’t keep turning em all down, already got my manager angry as fuck clearly.” He sighs now, because he can’t even fathom having a girl under him, it’s like you’ve done something.

“So a gang bang.”

“Yep. Ugh. Let’s not talk about it.” He’s kissing you again, and you can’t help but again feel envious of anyone that gets him, and you damn sure should not think this fucking way. “Do you want more?”

“I think maybe a pause. Because that was a lot. I’m a little worn out.”

“Amateur.”

“I’m not a pornstar!” You shove at him playfully and he laughs again, but this time you feel it, the tension, his hand gripping yours gently, warm and wrapped around your little wrist, as it rests on his chest.

“There are amateur pornstars you know.”

“Well that certainly couldn’t be me. I don’t think I’d let so many people see me naked- not that I mind that you do! Did that seem judgy!? Shit-”

“Shh. No, you’re just you, and that’s okay.” You heave a breath of relief, hoping he would never think you’d judge him, as you fall deeper into that gaze. “So when is your next lesson, student?”

“Student!” You can’t stop the blush, the giggle, that makes him die for you over and over, when the door opens. “Oh!”

“I forgot to mention, I share the penthouse with Suguru.” He quickly buttons your cardigan, as you slip on your skirt, and the two of you hear kisses and soft moans, Satoru steps out curiously, literally still naked. “Oh, hey Mandy.”

“Gojo!” Suguru is kissing down a pretty girl's neck as Satoru leans in his doorway, dick just out like he couldn’t care less, and you step up behind him, earning Suguru’s curious gaze.

“It’s the pretty girl from the party.” He smiles, as the girl - Mandy, you guess - looks at you as well, and you recognize her.

“Oh it’s Jenna’s friend, hi.” You wave and she giggles, bouncing over to you, while Suguru takes his jacket and shoes off. She gives Satoru a kiss on the cheek, then takes your hand. “You take the best pictures of her, oh my god!”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you.” Satoru finally goes to slip on his jeans, giving you all a good look at his little round ass, as he slips them up over them. “She told you I took those?”

“She did. Hey, I’d pay good money for a shoot.”

“Oh, I don’t do it professionally…” Satoru comes back now, a hand at the small of your back.

“You took those of Jenna?” You nod now. “Shit they look pro.”

“There are always side hustles love.” Suguru says now, holding a hand out to you, and you put your much smaller one in his, as he brings it to his lips. “We didn’t officially meet. Suguru Geto.”

You give him your name shyly, and then he’s dragging Mandy to his room, as she waves at you now. “If you change your mind, let me know!”

“I will.” You’re fidgeting a bit as they shut the door, laughter echoing through Satoru - and Suguru’s - penthouse. “A co-star?”

“She’s mainly Suguru’s co-star, but I’ve joined in. That is about as close to dating as he gets I think.” There it is, the word - dating. He clears his throat then, tilting your chin up. “Seriously, those pictures are so good. I didn’t know you took them.”

“Jenna is just beautiful, it’s easy.” Satoru frowns, watching you look down nervously.

“I mean lighting, angles baby, that shit matters in the industry. You said you did graphic design?” You nod. “Not too far off art in general, and bodies are art.”

“You think bodies are art?” Satoru leans down now, one hand on either side of you.

“Yours sure is.” His words do too much damage, words you die to hear from his perfect lips, but here you are - falling - when you know damn well you can’t.

“You’re way too nice.”

“I am not even. I told you I’m an expert.” He grabs your waist now, and you can’t stop your heart from racing, from feeling too much, for a man that apparently will be having a whole gang bang tomorrow. No, you have to keep this separated, you got pleasure, he did, and that’s okay.

Right?

Get out of your head!

“Let’s get you something to eat, bet you forgot hmm? You’re all shaky.”

“You notice a lot.”

“I like to pay attention,”

He’s perfect, aside from… his job is to fuck people.

Shit stop caring!

“Let me heat you up something, come on.” You follow him into the kitchen, hearing the moans and cries, and Satoru smirks as he peeks at his phone. “They’re really on cam right now.”

“Oh!”

“Wanna see?”

“No, no. No way.” Satoru turns on the microwave, leaning on the counter, eyes raking over your body slowly, you feel it like a caress.

“Only watch me, hmm? I’m so special?” His lips turn up, and he’s teasing, but you almost say yes, he is, holding it back nervously.

“Maybe you are.” You want to seem teasing, fun, but your voice is just soft and nervous, Satoru’s lips part, as if to speak, then the microwave beeps. “You don’t have to feed me, Satoru.”

“Yes I do. It’s nothing, I have a million of these meals, and they’re full of protein- you need that after sex you know. Sit.” You sit up on the bar stool now, as he places the little meal in front of you, then turns to the fridge, to give you the best view of this man’s back.

God it’s sexy, the curve of his spine, the dimples in his lower back, the bulging muscles so defined, your mouth goes dry for a moment. He pulls out a water bottle, before going over to one of those pretty white cabinets, pristinely clean for two bachelors living here you notice. He takes a little packet, smiling at you as he tears it now, pouring it in.

“Electrolytes, for the waterfall.”

“Oh god.” You’re covering your face as he laughs, the sound is so nice, it’s too nice, how thoughtful he is, when he shakes up the bottle and hands it to you.

“It’s hot, stop. Eat.”

After eating as much as you could, and drinking most of the bottle he’s mixed up, Satoru has you in the bathroom, tenderly helping you clean up, fixing your outfit while you’re waiting on your ride. He is by far the sweetest guy you’ve met, careful when he wipes you up in places that make you blush, then tackling your hair with a flat black brush.

Satoru’s brushing your hair gently, you see him towering over you, behind you in the reflection, so careful as he slips that brush through your messy hair, so relaxing you almost fall asleep. “You’re spoiling me.”

“This isn’t spoiling, sweetheart.” God the thought of spoiling you fucks him up. Images of fucking you in just some diamond body chain, and nothing else, brings the cock he’s trying to calm down get hard all over again. “Aftercare is important.”

“I see this. You do… for your co-stars?”

“Of course I always make sure they’re cleaned up and okay, but especially for you and not being so experienced. I imagine you didn’t get that with your ex?” You shake your head a bit.

“I thought we were in love, after that I really closed off. But no he was sweet it was like we both were a little too sheltered, and then that kind of cinched it, that we weren’t compatible. Do you think everyone can be physically compatible?” Satoru purses his lips then, shaking his head.

“I can make anyone cum, because I know how, but,” his hand puts down the brush, now he’s eyeing you in the fancy gilded mirror, brushing your hair over your shoulders, studying your pretty face. “I don’t think everyone ‘vibes’ if that makes any sense.”

“It does, actually.” Was that it, you two mesh well? Not whatever fantastical ideas run rampant in your addled mind? When he rests his chin on your head now, holding you, you try to remember, Satoru is sweet, he does this with his costars. He’s just a good guy who knows women.

It can’t be more.

While Satoru remembers that he could not ever be good for a girl like you, and he shouldn’t even let this happen, because you’re fucking his brain up. The thought of fucking anyone makes him cringe, god all he wants to do is bury his face between your thighs again, keep having you cum. He’s got to remember you trust him to show you things, and that’s all it needs to be.

He has a career he loves, right?

His hands slip further down your body, your breaths quicken, his big hand splayed on your tugged cardigan. “You really are art.”

“Satoru, the things you say- mnh!” He’s lost now, cupping you between your thighs again, as he presses you against the counter, eyes so bright with those shrunken pupils, as you feel fingers glide against your panties again. Your eyes roll back, head falling against his chest.

“Let me have you cum one more time before your car gets here?” You weakly nod, how can you not, and he moans, bending low so he can slip your panties to the side, fingering you with two, you try to cover your cry, and he yanks your hand off your mouth. “Wanna watch that pretty face.”

You’re so fucked.

He has you gushing down his fingers, making a mess all down thick knuckles, hasty and quick in the bathroom, as his lips touch the shell of your ear. “I can’t wait to sink my cock so deep in this perfect cunt.”

“Ah! Satoru… ngh…” You’re ended, wrapped in his dangerous embrace, eyes losing focus when he murmurs again.

“Look at yourself when you cum.” You never have done this, you’ve never seen your face this way, the way your eyes are so dilated, you can barely see a ring of their color anymore, your parted lips, when he slips another hand under your chin, keeping your face forward.

You’re pulsing around his fingers once more, this time so sensitive from your orgasms it’s even easier for him, when he kisses up your neck, up to your ear, breaths heavy against it. Your vision shakes when you’re getting closer, ass arching while he presses you even more against the marble sink, the soft cream walls all fading as you begin to shatter.

“Art… see?” His whisper is so raw and genuine, you nod weakly, falling against his strong body as he eases his fingers, pressing them to your clit and eliciting one more orgasm, running in circles while he watches you, hungrily, and you know it even more, cunt spasming for him.

You really fucking like Satoru Gojo.

You want to be dumb and say what’s in your heart, but it can’t be, it’s his enigmatic charm, it’s his sweetness, it’s how sexy he makes you feel. It’s his presence it’s… god, all of him, intoxicating like some drug, and you’re not sure if a taste of him is anywhere close to enough, when he takes his fingers out, leaving you empty, putting his fingers to your lips.

“Suck.” His quiet orders are so easily obeyed by you it drives him to insanity, pulling you close as you taste his fingers, eyeing how sensual and fucked out you look in his arms, wondering how he lets you go.

*****

The Next Day 

The bright lights of the set are fucking blinding, there’s too many dicks, that must be it, not the girl that’s in his fucking head constantly, that he would do anything to have gushing down his face again. The one he kept thinking how beautiful her goddamn eyes were while she swallowed him, versus just thinking of the pleasure, no it was more, far more.

“Satoru, you really need Viagra buddy.” Sukuna says with a chuckle, when the director yells - cut! - and Satoru sighs.

“Oh fuck you, it’s all your dicks.”

“You look like you really don’t mind-”

“Toji, stop.” Suguru pauses him before Satoru and Toji fight as they tend to when they butt heads on a shoot. But, the directors wanted the top stars, and here they all were in one room with a beauty, who pauses sucking Sukuna and jerking Toji then, looking at Satoru curiously.

“I need a minute.” Satoru’s manager frowns now, having seen this before in the last shoot. He comes up to him now, as Satoru frowns at his usually at least semi hard cock just hanging there, irritating him to no end.

“Go take a break. Try to… get back to it.” Satoru nods, heading to the dressing room and downing a bottle of water from the fridge, leaning over the counter where they do their makeup, though Satoru never really needs anything but a little clear mascara for those long white lashes.

He came in your mouth, he had you on his face, shouldn’t that have fulfilled something, the longing and desire? Did he need to fuck you to actually be able to function? Or if he fucked you would he be good and ruined!? Considering her mouth and hand could do nothing to him, and his annoying co stars talking shit certainly didn’t help anything.

How were you?

He hadn’t heard from you today.

Since when does he care if a girl hits him up? He frowns now, wrapping a towel around his hips, hanging low, pulling up his cell phone and seeing it then, making him smile, and he sees how lovesick and goofy the smile is in the mirror. He immediately tries to stop it, the grin, but his lips keep twitching when he looks at the text again.

Good Girl🫦 (yes that’s what he saved you as, no he’s not sorry) I hope you have a great shoot today, Satoru. I am not working tomorrow if you’d like to get dinner? Is that weird? It’s weird. Just have a good day! Ignore me!

He laughs a bit, you’re too fucking adorable and just awkward, god he fucking loves it.

🌽🌟 Satoru (yes that’s his name in your phone, no you’re not sorry) You’re cute. Of course we can do dinner, you pick a spot?

He sits down as the three dots do more to make him hard than this stupid ass shot, wondering at you then. Was dinner code for a lesson, or did you want to hang out with him? Spend time? He fears that would make him fall just as much if not more as touching you, kissing you, because god if he doesn’t just love listening to you talk, like that night at the party.

You fascinate him.

Good Girl🫦- I sure can, six pm work for you?

🌽🌟 Satoru - Sure thing sweetheart.

When he calls you sweetheart you can’t stop the goofy smile on your face, but then you remember where he is. He’s probably on a break from… a fucking gang bang, and you can NOT be jealous about that. You cannot be upset that you already want him to yourself, greedy, stupid and selfish. God you knew you probably couldn’t handle this well, but the fact that it’s more intense than you anticipated is hard to swallow.

But you want him near you, even just for dinner, you were so nervous he’d turn you down, but god if you don’t enjoy his presence altogether. He makes you laugh, he makes you feel so good, as if this… emptiness you’ve had for a long time is filled by a big white grin and sparkling blue eyes.

🌽🌟 Satoru - We’re friends, right?

Good Girl🫦 - Absolutely, no matter what ‘lessons’ we do, I want to be your friend.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Then can I get a favor, pretty please? I will make it up by buying us dinner.

Good Girl🫦 - Of course, what is it?

🌽🌟 Gojo - Another picture of you.

You’re flushed now, surely on a shoot with a beautiful girl he didn’t need some picture of you? You’re home now, just in gym shorts and a crop top, hair in a messy bun, your glasses on.

Good Girl🫦 - Satoru I look like crap.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Bet you look hot.

Good Girl🫦 - Picture of what?

Satoru sighs in relief, biting his lower lip, wondering if he should just come out and fucking say it - he doesn’t think he can get hard if you’re not there, in his head, if he doesn’t see you. It’s a theory that’s getting more and more tangible by the moment, that he doesn’t know if he can perform his damn job anymore because your taste is soaked in his tastebuds.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Your perfect tits, please? I’ll show you mine.

You giggle then, shaking your head, skin so overheated when you nervously look in the mirror in your room, scattered books and stuffed animals covering the dresser. Can you do this, take a picture of… your body for him?

Good Girl🫦 - why? Aren’t there tits for you waiting?

You’re bratty, he didn’t realize till now. It makes you hotter.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Not even close to as pretty as yours - and there are so many dicks and balls. Help your friend out :’) I will make sure I kiss them as a thank you.

Good Girl🫦 - Image.

You freak out as you send it, the picture of your tits in your mirror, and Satoru moans out loud at it. Yeah, he saw them, but fuck, you’re perfect, hair up in some messy bun, your glasses on the bridge of your pretty nose, little baby yoda plush front and center against your mirror, god it makes you even hotter. You’ve wrapped an arm under them, pressing them up and together.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He’s throbbing now, looking down at his cock straining the terry cloth towel, scowling back at the phone, realizing he thinks you have put some spell on his perfect cock. Are you some witch disguised as a sweet little thing!? He eyes your tits again, almost whining at how pretty they look, at how badly he’d love to fuck you between them, cum all over them.

He’d cum on every inch of your body.

🌽🌟 Satoru - You’re so perfect.

You’re covering your face, sighing as his words - probably just being nice - are too much, they mean too much from him. You’re questioning everything you are and everything you’ve ever known, throbbing with need from his mere words, nipples aching for his touch. You look back at the phone, fingers hovering on the cool dark screen, shaking slightly.

Good Girl🫦 - You still on set?

🌽🌟 Satoru - Unfortunately. That brightened my day. My cock is smiling, you know.

You snort at that.

Good Girl🫦 - You’re silly. I’ll let you get back to work.

He doesn’t want to get back to work.

He wants you on the set, but fuck if he’d let anyone else touch you if you were his-

Wait.

What fucking kind of thought is this!?

He doesn’t think that way.

Looking at your picture again, he rushes back out, trying his very best to keep up the tentative erection, he can’t manage to get involved however, touching skin that’s not yours seems wrong somehow. You’re not together - he doesn’t date, he can’t date - but he can’t stay away from thoughts of you here instead, and how he’d film just the perfect video with you instead.

You would never, but the porn he imagines you two could make is what feeds his brain for the next twenty minutes or so, he tries to let the other men fuck her, as he lets her jerk him, or suck him, shutting his eyes and picturing the tits on his screen. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to cum, finally settling to jerk himself, when they’re all putting the money shot on the star.

He wants to cum all over your pretty face, god. He vividly sees it as his ropes of cum pour out, and he notices with relief the shoot is over. Usually he would have some friendly banter, but he’s distant, odd as he cleans up, it feels like he’s so uninvolved, even that night he’s staring at your pretty tits again, cock in his hand when you’ve messaged him.

Good Girl🫦 - Sweet dreams, Satoru.

Fuck.

He wants you in his bed so bad, but not just to finally fuck into your perfect little pussy, shit it would be nice to hold you. He’s never done that. To just kiss on you and watch your cute reactions, the little giggles you make. His cock throbs in response, since when has Satoru became someone to masturbate to a fucking photo?

You’re laying there, hating the thoughts in your mind, that he was with someone else today - but you’re friends. Friends with some ‘lessons’ that should not mean as much as they did the other day, not just the pleasure, or how badly you want him inside you, no it was his sweet kisses, him brushing your hair, fuck he fed you and made sure you were okay constantly.

You just want him, any of him.

Cruel, cruel joke - making you fall for a pornstar who will never date. But, here you are, watching three dots move now.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Good night, sweetheart.

The LOVE on chap one is insane for me, I am so glad you all love it! Taglist is closed bc it's too much but I'll keep everyone updated!! <3 I hope you enjoy I can't waittt to hear your thoughts hehe

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

[lamefish]

kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”

[sheloveschai]

bathing with ambessa (18+)

dom! ambessa x fem! reader

older woman/younger woman, slight exhibitionism, thigh-riding, sub! reader

i cannot get this woman out of my head sitting on her lap (or her face) would solve so many of my problems URRGGHHH

“breathe, child.”

water sloshes against the sides of the luxurious bathing pool- a shuddered gasp echos back off the blue and gold mosaic walls of the room.

a bead of sweat rolls down your spine as a partially nude worker dumps another vessel of water near your bodies, and with it, a veil of steam rises giving the illusion of intimate privacy from the guards on standby.

ambessa, in all her esteemed glory, lounges lazily with her head tipped back over the edge of the pool- a warm cloth draped over her eyes. a goblet, which lays in a large rugged hand, is filled near to the brim with a rich red wine.

the other rests on the hollow of your throat- a calloused thumb ever so gently brushing over your slick skin.

“good, little one,” the warlord practically purrs. a grin graces her lips as she feels your hands slip from her shoulders and down to her submerged abdomen, your hands pressing against her scarred v-line for leverage.

her hand, in return, glides from your throat, over your shoulder, before disappearing down under the water to rest on the curve of your rocking hips- not guiding, not pushing, just to simply rest upon.

“such a needy little thing,” she hums. “taking what you so desire.”

a shaky exhale escapes your lips at her words. her low and husky voice adding to your sinuous desires. your nails ever so slightly dig into her intimidating physique as your cunt throbs in need.

with your slick folds spread open over the impressive muscle of her thigh, your clit rubs deliciously over the bumps and ridges of her battle-won scars.

your wanton gasps and whines ring throughout as your head tips forward in deadweight- causing your gaze to connect with the older woman’s breasts.

just beneath the water you can make out her soft nipples. her breasts are heavy and ripened with age, and though not littered with scars won over battles, stretch marks ripple over them like hieroglyphs seen carved into ancient monumental displays.

your hand moves quicker than your brain and suddenly you’re cupping one of her breasts, raising it up and out of the water- exposing it to the colder air. you practically watch in awe as her dark nipple hardens between your fingers as you press and flatten the heavy globe against her chest.

and without a second thought, you’re lurching forward and enveloping her nipple into your warm mouth. you would’ve swallowed her whole if you could’ve, but instead you resort to swirling the sensitive bud around your tongue; licking, nipping, sucking as though you were trying to milk her.

“look at you,” ambessa rasps, a hint of humor underlaying her lust. “starving for my body. my, you’d do anything to have a taste, wouldn’t you, child?”

a low groan rumbles out of ambessa’s chest at the feeling of the scrape of your teeth, the wet heat of your tongue. in an effort to take more of her breast into your mouth, your knee presses against the slick folds of her cunt as you slide further down her thigh.

and the fearsome warlords back, ever so slightly, arches off the edge of the tub.

“like a kitten in heat, you are” she taunts, though there is no covering how she bucks her hips up in order to grind her aching pussy against you.

she begins to move in time with you, the friction your knee provided sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core.

her position of leisure and relaxation did not slip, though. with her legs still spread wide, head tilted back, ambessa had the clear headedness to bring her steel goblet up to her lips without spilling a drop of the red liquid.

with an air of authority, she licks the remnants from her now stained mouth, stretching her arm back over the edge of the pool to set the cup down- without a tremor to be seen.

with both of her hands now free, she removes the cloth from her face, revealing her dark lust-stricken gaze.

her hand slowly delves between your legs, separating your slick cunt from her thigh. she teases you for a moment, smirking as she rubs your aching nub with a feather-light touch, before pressing a digit to your entrance.

“there you go, sweet girl,” ambessa praises, sliding another thick digit along her first, your walls fluttering around the intruding appendages. “now you may have my touch.”

her thumb continues to rub slowly circles on your clit as her fingers pump in and out of you at a relentless pace.

“cum for me” she murmurs huskily as she gazes down at your desperate form still suckling at her tit. “show me how my body brings you pleasure.”

she could feel your body tensing, your muscles coiling tight as she worked her fingers inside you. she could tell you were close, the way you desperately clung to her- the way your walls squeezed around her, urging her deeper.

and it wasn’t until she curled them just right, hitting that spot inside you that had you seeing stars, did you cum.

your body convulsed, muscles squeezing around her fingers as wave after wave of pleasure came crashing down upon you. ambessa held you close as you rode out your orgasm. your body shook, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

she could practically feel your heart pounding against her chest. and as you slowly came down from your high, you pressed soft kisses and licks into the bitten skin of her breast.

“enough, child” she grunts, finally pulling you away from her raw nipple. “i desire your mouth elsewhere now.”

[luxcuriousao3]

Task Force 141 + The Best They've Ever Had

Just thinking about you being the best fuck the boys have ever had.

warnings: smut (obvi), piv, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, protected sex, fingering, briefly mentioned s/m but no actual s/m, reader is kinda a fuck boy (fuck girl?), slight hint of dacryphillia if you squint maybe, no use of y/n

Gaz

You go for Gaz first—he's the prettiest, and he's incredibly smooth. He charms you easily, makes you comfortable enough to invite him back to your place despite having just met that night. He's all confidence and no arrogance. He knows he looks good and he knows he fucks good. He's sure he's going to blow your mind, leave you aching for more…

Instead, you give him head so good his climax comes early, his come flooding your mouth. A broken moan leaves him when you swallow and look up at him through your lashes, a sweet, innocent smile on your face, but your eyes are sultry enough to get a man hard in seconds. His spent cock twitches valiantly, but his orgasm was so strong that he knows he won’t be able to go again for hours.

He’s incredibly embarrassed, but he tries not to show it, and gets you off twice in apology—once with his fingers and once with his mouth. You see him out at the end of the night. He was hoping to stay longer, perhaps get to fuck you after all, but you’re a busy woman, and you’ve got things to do early tomorrow morning.

Gaz doesn’t tell the rest of the boys about this particular hookup, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from Soap—but he keeps the memory of it close for long, lonely missions.

Price

Perhaps surprisingly, Price is your next victim hookup. He doesn’t get out much, but you manage to catch him on one of his rare nights off.

He takes you back to his place, a small but neat flat not far from the base he’s stationed at. There’s a fine layer of dust on all of the furniture, showing how rarely he’s home, and he’s amused by you jokingly asking if he’s actually breaking you into someone else’s apartment.

He pours you both a glass of wine, and you talk for a while as you drink, continuing to get to know one another. Well, it’s really just him getting to know you—he’s a private man, and he knows how to talk without actually saying much—but he finds that he doesn’t mind that. You’re quite a talented speaker, genuine and animated about every topic that comes to mind. Your little quirks and mannerisms only make you more attractive.

Once both your glasses are empty, and the two of you have drifted close enough to touch, he cups your chin in one hand and leans down to kiss you. He can feel you smile against his lips, and you pull away with a little giggle that makes his brows raise in curiosity.

“Your beard tickles,” you tell him, before sitting up a little more so you can kiss him again. It’s endlessly endearing, and he can’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, his cock chubbing up in his jeans. He’s eager to find out if his beard will tickle your cunt, too.

Not too long later, he gets his answer—a resounding yes—as well as discovers a new addiction. You taste like heaven, like well aged whiskey, like his favorite brand of cigars, and he suddenly realizes he no longer wants to die in the field in some fiery blaze of glory.

He’d much rather you just smother him with your cunt.

Unfortunately, he has a duty to his country, so he reluctantly shifts you off of him so he can breathe. It’s for the best, really, because he’s about to come just from eating you out. You don’t give him a chance to rest, though, moving down his body and sinking down onto his hard cock. You both gasp at the same time—Price from the pleasure, and you from the stretch. Clearly, you hadn’t realized just how thick he was, and now you’re tearing up and pouting while sat on his cock. He shushes you sweetly, stroking your cheek and rubbing your clit, enamored by the adorable picture you make. Soon enough, the sting fades, and you start riding him like your life depends on it. He plays with your tits the whole time, sucking and licking your nipples, his hands on your hips guiding your movements.

When he comes, it’s pure ecstasy. He’s never felt this good before, not even with his ex-wife. He knows then that he wants to keep you—and he can only hope that his seed filling your sweet pussy takes root deep in your womb.

Silly you forgot to put a condom on him, and of course, he didn’t see any reason to remind you. You sigh when you realize, and mutter something about getting the morning after pill. His grip tightens on your hips for a second, but he forces himself to relax. It’s only eighty percent effective, he tells himself. There’s still a chance.

Ghost

You meet Ghost next. You see him at the bar, all broad shoulders, bulky muscles, and towering height. But what makes you throw caution to the wind is the mask. You sidle on up to him, give him your signature sweet smile when he looks you up and down, and don’t let it phase you when he just grunts in reply to your greeting. It takes longer than it usually would to get Ghost back to your apartment—most guys are raring to go once you give them the signal—but after a few gentle touches, one long winded ramble about a topic you’re passionate about, and a couple shots, he gets that familiar look of want in his dark eyes, and you know you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker.

You don’t expect him to be a gentleman, but he insists on making you come on his fingers before he even takes his clothes off. It’s actually really fucking hot, and you’re even more eager than usual to return the favor. You sink down to your knees to try and suck him off, but he effortlessly hoists you back up and tosses you onto the bed, slowly undoing his belt and pulling it off. You spread your legs wide for him and bite your lip, half hoping he’ll snap the belt against your cunt or bind your wrists with it. Instead, he tosses it aside, opens up his fly, rolls on the condom, and presses inside you. He’s fucking massive, and you grasp one of his hands in yours as you whimper and whine through the stretch. He goes slow, at least until you’re adjusted—and then he’s obeying your demands as you order him to give it to you harder, faster, more, more, more.

Ghost has to keep stopping to just grind into you, because the way your tits bounce as he rails you, the sounds you’re making, and the tight, hot, wet grip of your pussy is too fucking much. He’s never been one for hookups really, hasn’t fucked anyone in ages, but there was something about you. Pretty face, beautiful body, and clearly into him, even with the mask—it’s not something he experiences often. He’s struck with the sudden urge to pull off the mask and kiss your lips, swallow every gorgeous gasp and moan you let out—but he can’t, won’t, so instead he buries his face in your neck, panting harshly as he thrusts into you, hard and fast, just like you’re begging for.

When it’s over, and he’s filled the condom with a frankly concerning amount of come, he stays buried deep in your pussy, with you pinned beneath him, his face still tucked into your neck. He doesn’t want to move, and the fact that you seem content to let him stay like that only makes him want you more.

When you finally shift like you want to get up, he has to fight the overwhelming urge to just ignore you. Instead, he finally pulls out of you and sits up, letting his eyes rove every inch of you as he does up his trousers. That little smile you give him makes his heart stutter, and he's torn between fleeing and begging you to let him stay.

You make the decision for him, thanking him for a great fuck and asking him if he needs you to call him an Uber.

Pride stinging and chest aching, Ghost walks back to the barracks.

Soap

Soap’s a stray dog that just wants a forever home. A handsome, lonely, loveable, eager mutt. So when he’s pounding into you in the back seat of your car because he was too excited to wait till you got back to your place, moaning and grunting and whining like the puppy he is, the words just slip out.

“Want ye, want ye tae be mine, please bonnie, want ye all fer myself.”

You coo at him, finding how pussy drunk he is adorable, and thread your fingers through his mohawk to pull him in for a kiss. He groans into your mouth as he comes, humping you through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You giggle, pulling back to nibble at his stubbled jaw as he pants in your ear.

“So?” He asks, voice wrecked but hopeful, and you feel a little bad when you realize his words weren’t just dirty talk. “What aboot it, lamb? Will ye be mine?”

“My pussy that good?” You tease him, trying to let him down easily. You can tell he realizes, his eyes tightening just a little in disappointment before his expression smooths back over into the cocky one he’d charmed his way into your pants with.

“Best I’ve ever had,” he answers, and you can hear the truth of it in his voice, even as he winks at you, holding up a two fingered salute. “Scot’s honor.”

“Pretty sure it’s scout’s honor,” you correct him, but he just smirks and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “Scot’s honor is better. We’re a loyal bunch.”

And Christ, but he’d be a loyal dog to you, if only you’d keep him.

[anantaru]

— doing his eyeliner while sitting on his lap

including. xiao, neuvillette, zhongli

genre. fluff, gn! reader, slightly suggestive

— xiao

"hey, you're shaking xiao, i can't focus."

"tzzz, i'm not," xiao rasps— ugh, you're just so pretty, you know? with a faint dusting of light clinging to your eyes, delicate yet indifferent, as if the universe itself had carelessly bestowed it upon you. he believes there was something unsettling in your gentleness, a quiet radiance that seemed to exist beyond the confines of this world— beyond reason, beyond him.

his hands grip around your waist like you might disappear if he ever dared to let go of you as his ears were dusted a telltale red, to be fair, xiao cannot keep his hands of you, and in his opinion it should always be like this, never too far from each other— forever as he snuggles himself a little closer towards you.

you shift slightly, adjusting your position on his lap as he tenses like a tightly wound wire, his thighs firm beneath you, muscles twitching as if resisting the urge to latch onto you with his soft lips.

you bite back a smile, dipping the tip of the pencil against his lower lash line as his breath shudders, yet this wasn't fear, don't misread xiao for his reaction, it was not from discomfort— just something inside of him reacting almost fragile, tenderly beautiful yet he didn't quite know how to name such emotions.

"hah xiao, you're holding onto me like i might fall," you tease him, brushing your thumb under his eye to soften the colored line.

xiao swallows thickly, his gaze flickering, searching yours as his arms tighten around you, a quiet plea, a contradiction? "i wouldn't let you," he responds quietly, his words alone turning your heart aflame.

it was racing so fast to the point that it might rupture through the shape and flesh of your body. it's almost laughable how dearly you two adored each other— how the conqueror of demons, fierce and untouchable alike, was now just a man beneath your firm hands, coming undone over the slightest trace of your body moving atop.

his warmth seeps through his clothes, one by one, through yours, yes, burning into your skin where his hands grip your waist like he's afraid you'll slip away. he needs you, xiao does, and you can feel the faint tremor in his fingers as you press the liner to his other eye, his breath uneven, his body an open book— tense, passionate, but leaning into you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered.

"there," you whisper, pulling back slightly to admire your work.

xiao doesn't let go of you yet, instead he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his shuddering breath warm against your heightened skin, his touch a quiet fire, burning through your flesh and sinking deep into your very bones— although not with pain, but with the kind of warmth that made you realize you have always been cold without him.

"…do the other eye, please," xiao's voice was barely a muse, but you knew what he meant by it,

"stay,"

— zhongli

"I feel like you're enjoying this a little too much," zhongli finds it almost comical on how fast you could determine his mood as you accused him of the obvious— and the next smile he returned towards you felt slow as his hands easily rest at your thighs.

he tilts his head ever so slightly, offering himself up like something meant to be worshipped, when in fact, such was the case considering who he truly was.

"how could i not, love?" he exhales, his voice rich like aged wine dripping down the tip of your tongue— or honey, yes, now we got it, the sweetest of them all— spilling, slow and golden, from the corners of your mouth whenever you kissed him. as if even your lips cannot contain such excess, as if the world itself conspires to make you taste too much, feel too much, drown in the deep pleasure of it.

"my love, perched on my lap, so close, so intent, how could any man resist?"

you roll your eyes at him in order to hide your boiling all the more flustered expression, but the way your fingers tremble just slightly as you drag the liner along his lower lash line ultimately betrays you.

zhongli's amber gaze watches you, unreadable, indulgent as you bite down your lower lip, "hold still," and warn, ignoring the heat curling at the base of your spine.

"as you wish," he responds cheekily.

and yet, his voice descends— lower, smoother, as if sinking into the very marrow of the moment, curling like smoke in the hollows of your ribs, "though i wonder—" zhongli continues confidently, unraveling something unseen, something inevitable.

his hand slides up slowly, fingers curling at the nape of your neck, the touch featherlight, barely there, but you feel it like a brand, searing into your very being, leaving a mark of endless pleasure.

"—is it i who needs to stay still," his thumb brushes over your pulse,

"or you?"

your breath hitches as his lips curl at the edges with a slightly amused demeanor— an expression not quite a smile, not quite anything at all.

oh, he knows.

"i should stab you in the eye."

zhongli chuckles as his grip tightens, his chin slightly tilted, just a fraction, just enough that your noses almost brush, "if you must."

he winks, "though, i’d much prefer if you kissed me instead."

you swear the next line you draw on him will be just a little uneven.

— neuvillette

the storm groaned against the windowpanes, a ceaseless murmur like the whisper of some distant, unnameable grief as beneath you, neuvillette sat in stillness, his breath deep and steady— like an anchor against the restless howl of the wind.

his hands, resting with an almost absent-minded lightness upon your hips, betrayed neither urgency nor hesitation, only a quiet inevitability— the controlled rise and fall of his chest beneath your touch was steady, as if the weight of existence itself laid upon him and yet he bore it without complaint.

"you're very patient with me," you hum at him, your voice barely above the hush of the rain as your fingers find his chin, tilting his face with a careful adoration.

his skin was cool beneath your touch, smooth like polished marble— an artifact of restraint, a monument to something vast and unknowable, "and you're very careful," he replies, his voice low, "i find it… comforting."

you smile at him as your fingers trace slow paths along the delicate sweep of his lashes, the elegant lines of his face as the patience in him was almost sorrowful, an acceptance of longing as though he has lived with it for too long to protest.

then, without warning, he moves— a shift, so fluid and inevitable, and before you could catch your breath and register what was happening, neuvillette's face was buried in the curve of your neck, his lips barely parted against your skin.

an immediate warmth spreads through you, a heat that knots itself into the quiet places between your ribs.

although you freeze, your breath catches on something unnamed, something trembling between desire and disbelief;

"n-neuvillette?"

your voice sounded like a question, yet your body revealed an answer— your fingers curled at the nape of his neck, the press of his lips a silent confession.

his arms come around you at last, gathering you in, as though he has finally allowed himself this.

his nose brushes along your pulse, "mh? what were you saying?" as his arms tighten around your waist just slightly, holding— not trapping, just holding.

"you're supposed to sit still," you chide playfully, but your voice came out softer than you originally meant to.

he exhales, lips ghosting against your throat. "forgive me," he murmurs, "you are warm, i find myself comforted by your presence."

"—and you take such care of me."

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[littlesoulshine]

intro

for being a good boy, you decided to give arty a little treat. you set the table—linen, crystal, and a single candle lit, flickering low; around it roast chicken, green beans, and a perfect glass of red wine, his favorite. you wear something sheer with no bra or panties on. art walks in, wearing his gym clothes, and freezes like a deer in headlights.

“shorts off,” you say, without looking up. he obeys instantly, dropping like he’s allergic to disobedience. you tilt your head just slightly, pointing to the chair at the head of the table. “sit.”

he moves fast, you straddle him before he’s fully settled, one slow grind of your hips as you guide his cock inside you—bare, of course. no prep or foreplay. he gasps, hands flying to your thighs like he might hold on—

“no,” you say, catching his wrists. “hands in your lap. or i stop.”

he obeys, trembling already. you can feel every twitch of him deep inside you, stuffed full, throbbing against your walls. 

you pick up a bite of steaming hot chicken, blow on it, and bring it to his mouth. “open, baby.”

he does—lips parting, tongue just barely peeking out. you feed him. as you stare at him, he chews slow and swallows hard (moaning as you softly tighten around him.)

you moan low in your throat—not from pleasure, but from power he’s giving you. he’s shaking under you, hips pressed against the chair, your cunt keeping his cock soaked and tight. he wants to thrust, wants to fuck up into you. but he knows he can’t (only on his birthday, new years, or any time you tell him to).

he gets a bite of green beans next. his lips brush your fingertips and he moans.

“you love this, don’t you?” you murmur, picking up your own fork. “sitting still like a good boy, stuffed full of my cunt, while i feed you like the dumb little pet you are.”

“yes, ma’am,” he breathes. “i love it. love being inside you—so warm—so tight—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can.” your voice cuts sharp. “and you will.”

he bites his lip. his cock twitches inside you. you feel it—so fucking desperate, pulsing with every heartbeat. you take a sip of wine. press the glass to his lips next. he drinks, soft whimpers caught in his throat, neck flushed and glossy with sweat.

the sight makes you clench and he choke from the pleasure. “mommie—please—please just let me move, just once, just a little, i’ll beg—i’ll do anything—”

you cut a piece of meat. feed it to him. “no.”

his eyes flutter, while he continues to pant with his cheeks red and balls tightening.

you lean in, lips brushing his ear, giving him little kisses. he makes a incoherent sound, somewhere between a sob and a moan. his hands tremble in his lap, making him cry all soft and wet, with pretty glassy eyes.

you press your hips down just a little. his hips jerk up and you instantly slap his thigh. “sit still, baby.”

he nods as you feed him again, but he’s so far gone by the time you’ve finished your meal, his cock was soaked, balls super heavy and lips shining with spit, wine, and your praise.

you set down your fork and look down at him. “you want to come?”

“God—yes—please—i’ve been so good—”

you rise off his pretty cock before slamming down again, and lifting up again that being his breaking point. he screams, high-pitched and all. his cum spurts painting his belly, chest, even his chin. he jerks, sobs, full-body trembles, hands still clasped in his lap. you bend down, scooping a little with your fingers, feeding it to him while trying it for yourself, moaning at how good he tastes. “mhm, this is good.”

special tags: @inbred-eater @faiszt @cherrygirlfriend @nemesyaaa

inspiration ➳ my lovey @rafesplaymate

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 11)

A/N: oh my god guys I finally wrote the next part! Please like it lol. I did see this as the end of the story but I purposely kept it open so if I ever did want to write more I could

Special shoutout to @lunargrrrl because without you saying that you loved this story I probably wouldn't have even touched it for at least another month (I love your writing so much I would do anything for you)

Word count:

Warnings: oral sex, scissoring, little bit of angst?

Taglist: 3440

@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos @dorabledewdroop @toomanylesbiancouples @accidentally-made-a-sideblog @chiar4anna @lonelyhalfwitch @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna (sorry if I forgot you or if I put you twice, I just copied and pasted the taglist from the part 10 and then whoever said they wanted to be on it recently)

“Hey!” You call after your step-mom as she struts through the parking lot back to her car, never breaking a stride, leaving you to chase after. “Agatha, wait!” 

She doesn’t even turn around, just unlocks the door and slides in, and she’s turning on the car when you finally make it into the passenger seat. 

You’re a little out of breath, so you take a moment to compose yourself. Agatha is staring forward, hands gripped on the steering wheel. “What was that?” You’re finally able to ask. 

Her knuckles turn white but she doesn’t answer. She shifts into drive and pulls forward and you can see how tightly her jaw is clenched. 

“Agatha, will you please talk to me?” You’re begging at this point, you don’t know what else to do, because something is wrong. That wasn’t her plan. 

Although, neither was fucking you in the bathroom. 

Your body betrays you and the concern you’re supposed to be feeling right now and heats up at the memory. You can still feel her thrusting inside you, your hips hitting the cold sink top, her hand wound in your hair making you watch yourself get absolutely railed by her. 

Stop. 

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, to get your mind out of the gutter, and Agatha finally pulls into the driveway of her house. 

It’s a good sign she didn’t take you back to your mom’s house, you suppose. She slams the car door after she gets out and storms into the house, you following hot on her heels. 

Agatha goes right to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine. She takes a long sip and a deep inhale, and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she opens her eyes, she finally looks at you like she’s seeing you for the first time. 

“I’m sorry I did that with you there,” she says and you almost laugh. Is that what she was upset about? 

You shake your head and steal the glass from her, taking a gulp and wincing at the bitter taste. Agatha raises an eyebrow at your blatant underage drinking in front of her, but says nothing. You swallow the wine hard and make a face. “Don’t be. It was kind of hot,” you admit, and she chuckles humorlessly. And then a thought dawns on you. “Wait, do you think he’s going to think something happened in the bathroom? Cause we both went, and then you came out and said you wanted a divorce.” 

There’s a glint in Agatha’s eye. “You really think he’s going to assume that I fucked my stepdaughter against the sink in a restaurant bathroom and then decided to break things off?” 

“Well…” You trail off, the leap to that conclusion seeming a bit implausible, especially for him. Your dad has a hard time focusing on things that aren’t himself. “Seems like we’re in the clear, at least.” 

Agatha snorts and drains the rest of the wine. There’s still something off about her, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice softening. “I mean, are we okay? I know we said earlier that we didn’t know what this would mean for us –” 

She cuts you off by slamming the glass down on the countertop so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t break and then closes her eyes to take a deep breath. You freeze. “I’m sorry,” Agatha says eventually, but it’s unclear if she’s apologizing for the reaction or for something else. Maybe for the whole thing between you? 

There’s an uneasy feeling that starts to grow in your stomach. Is she going to break things off with you too? 

Not that there’s anything to break off, is there? It hasn’t even been that long since this thing started, but it’s been intense. More intense than anything you’ve ever felt. 

You know that it might kill you if she walks away now. 

“Do you not want this?” Your question is like a stab to your gut, you’ve never sounded smaller in your life, and your heart pounds heavily in your chest while you wait for an answer. You need to know.

Agatha’s hands fidget on the counter, it looks like she wants to pour herself another glass of wine, but she refrains. “We can talk about what happens next later,” she says levelly and walks away without another word. 

The pit in your stomach only grows. How did you go from being fucked by Agatha’s strap not even an hour ago to this cold distance between you? She had been so possessive, so inflamed by the thought that you would even entertain another woman. 

The sound of her footsteps recedes up the stairs. What does she expect you to do? She picked you up from your mom’s house, and you can’t exactly call her to come get you. 

So you go upstairs and find Agatha in her bedroom, swiping at her face while she’s throwing clothes into a suitcase. You momentarily lose your train of thought when she slides open a drawer and you see about a dozen sets of lacy lingerie. 

Agatha clears it out and dumps it into the suitcase. 

And then your brows furrow in confusion. “Wait, you’re moving out? Why not make my dad?” 

She looks at you like she didn’t even realize you had come in. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get an apartment closer to my job. Your dad can do whatever he wants with this place, he’s the one that wanted it in the first place.” 

“Oh. Okay,” you say, a little dumbfounded. Everything is happening so fast, completely spinning out of control, and you don’t know what to make of it. She spares you another glance before standing up and moving to clear out her nightstand. 

She takes out a vibrator and the rope she tied you up with just yesterday and places them on top of the lingerie. 

“At least we don’t have to worry about my dad catching us anymore, right?” You try to joke, but definitely not the time or place.

Agatha stiffens. “Honey,” she starts, and you know you’re not going to like this. 

“No,” you interrupt. “You’re getting divorced. We don’t have to sneak around anymore, or at least not as much. I like you, Agatha, and I don’t know how you feel about me–” 

“I’m leaving your father because of you,” she snaps and it’s like you’ve been slapped in the face. A thick silence settles over the two of you and you can see how hard she’s clenching her jaw. 

“What?” You whisper. “He’s having an affair, I feel like that should be your main priority.” But your heart is beating fast and you feel like you’re getting close to getting something real from her. 

She rolls her eyes and faces you directly. “Obviously. But I was thinking about it before. He’s not the only one who’s been having an affair here.” Was she leaving him because it’s the right thing to do? Or–

“So…” The pieces are scrambling to connect in your mind. “You want to be with me?” 

Agatha scoffs like the idea is ridiculous. “Be with the eighteen year old about to go off to college and find plenty of girls her own age to fuck?” 

She’s insecure? You can tell Agatha doesn’t completely understand how she’s feeling either, you can see the storm brewing in her eyes. She’s conflicted, torn between her own feelings. 

You walk over to where she’s standing and put your hands on her shoulders. Agatha doesn’t even meet your eyes. But then you slide your hands down her arms, onto her hips, and sink down to your knees. 

Now she looks at you and swallows hard. You can see the effect you’re having on her, her blown out pupils, and it only spurs you on. 

Your fingers fiddle with the zipper on your pants, carefully watching her face for any sign of hesitation. You drag the zipper down slowly and she helps you take off her pants and steps out of them like she’s in a trance. She’s still wearing the strap-on, it still smells like you – fuck, don’t get distracted. 

You loosen the harness and slide that down her legs too before leaning in and nipping at her thigh. 

“Let me show you how much I don’t want someone my own age?” You offer, gazing at her through your eyelashes. 

Her hand tangles in your hair and you let out a quiet gasp. “Go ahead, babygirl,” she says in a low voice, the voice that always gets you going, and pushes your head in-between her legs. 

It’s a bit of an awkward position, with her standing above you, stance slightly widened with you on the ground in front of her, but you make it work. 

You flatten your tongue and lick through her folds, collecting her wetness and moaning at the taste. It’s something you’ll never get tired of. You think you could easily spend hours eating Agatha out, and that’s something you’d like to try if she lets you. 

When your tongue flicks against her clit, her hand tightens in your hair and she lets out a moan and you do it again, desperate to please, desperate to hear more sounds fall from her lips. She lets out a little gasp when you suck on her clit, and you do it harder. Agatha’s hips jerk and she tugs on your hair, causing you to moan against her pussy. 

“God, honey, right there,” she says hoarsely and you double-down on your efforts, rubbing your tongue up and down over her clit while maintaining eye contact. Her groan is deep and she keeps brushing away the hair that falls over your face so she can see you. 

Your hands trace her thighs, the front and the back, and you dig your nails into the skin, leaving crescent indentations. The muscles in her legs tighten and she tries to roll her hips against your face but the position you two are in makes that challenging. 

So she steps back, your tongue still moving instinctively even though her pussy is gone, and you whine her name. 

She smirks and runs a hand through her hair, collecting herself for a second. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy just wants to move to the bed.” 

Agatha walks to her bed, sits and leans back, spreading her legs for you. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of her dripping cunt that was on your face not a minute earlier and you move to stand up, but she stops you. 

“Stay on your knees,” she orders and you clench around nothing. The carpet is rough on your skin, but you can feel yourself getting wetter from her intense but appreciative gaze as you practically crawl across the room for her. 

You finally get to her and you push open her legs even more, first deciding to kiss up the length of each inner thigh. She shakes beneath you, especially when you get close to the heat between them, and she gasps when you nip at the pale skin. And then you dive back into her pussy, thrusting your tongue inside her, and she’s able to grind much more on your face without fear of falling over when she’s sitting like this. 

Your stepmom rides your face and all you have to do is open your mouth and stick out your tongue and she does the rest; she drags her pussy all over, small huffs falling out of her mouth at the exertion. Agatha takes what she needs from you until you can feel her clenching and her hips start to falter – she’s getting closer. 

You slide your hands around the backs of her thighs and pull her even closer to you so you can take over, sucking roughly on her clit and then curling your tongue inside her and repeating, all while Agatha moans uncontrollably above you, her hips jerking with each touch to her clit. 

“Fuck, babygirl, right there,” she chokes out, you can feel her throbbing, feel her walls fluttering around your tongue, and you don’t change a thing about what you’re doing, keeping the same pace and speed to gradually build up her orgasm. You can feel her body getting tighter and tenser and you know she’s about to cum. 

You give her one last filthy lick up the length of her pussy and then suck on her clit harshly, and she cums all over your face, getting it absolutely soaked. 

As if you’d ever complain about that. Agatha looks so hot coming apart for you like that, and you can’t believe she’d ever think you’d rather have a college hook-up than her. 

It takes her a moment to recover, but when she tilts your chin up, you beam at her, and you can still see the heat in her eyes. 

And even though she just fucked you hard in the bathroom, you need more too. You surge up off your knees and almost knock her backwards with the force and capture her lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and lips. 

She groans at the taste of herself on you and you straddle her lap, pushing a thigh between hers so you’re both able to grind on each other while you kiss. Her hands hike up the dress you’re still wearing so she can cup your ass and guide you on her leg, pushing you down harder against her, and you have to break away from her mouth to moan. Your underwear is absolutely soaked and clinging to you, almost getting uncomfortable. 

Your fingers fumble with buttons on her silky button-down and eventually you get so exasperated that you just rip it, buttons flying everywhere around the room. Agatha chuckles in amusement and tugs on your underwear, and you reluctantly get off her for a second to take it off. 

But then you climb back on her, your lips finding hers again, and this time when her hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer, she does fall back with how hard you’re grinding and kissing. 

You don’t care. Instead, you get an idea. You’ve never tried it before, but it seems like this would be the perfect time to. 

Sitting back up, you ignore Agatha’s confused look and chew on your lip. She lets you angle one of her legs up and over your hip, while you put your other leg over hers. When your eyes flick back up to Agatha’s, you can see recognition on her face and she looks positively excited. 

And then with a deep breath, you lower yourself down and a gasp escapes your mouth when your cunt touches hers. 

“Fuck, honey,” Agatha says and you have to pause before you become overwhelmed with pleasure. 

You slowly roll your hips and you both moan. “Mommy,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” 

Her hands settle on your waist while you lean forward, bracketing her head with your arms, and she helps you move against her, your wetness mixing with hers and making it easy to slide against each other. 

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you are,” Agatha murmurs, maybe more to herself than to you, but there’s no denying how much effect those words have on you. Your clit pulses and you keen, your movements becoming sloppy, but Agatha’s hips rise to meet yours and there’s an absolute mess between the two of you in no time. 

Your head drops down so you can pepper kisses against her chest and sternum, mouthing at her breasts through her lacy, gray bra. Agatha jerks beneath you, her clit stroking against yours and you pant hotly against her skin. 

“Mommy,” you whisper, your head starting to spin with how good it feels. Her wetness, being able to feel all of her so intimately, her ragged breathing, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest. You drag your tongue over the skin at her bra line and her back arches off the bed.

Your limbs are entangled and the movements become short ruts against each other, hands flying from cheeks to hips to breasts to thighs and you can feel the tension building in your stomach. Agatha is getting closer, too, she’s breathing into your open mouth and the only sounds in the room are the two of you moaning and the slickness of your wetness. 

“Fuck, right there,” Agatha says tightly, your clit finding hers, and the two of you grind just like that, the stimulation almost too good. “God, sweetheart, you feel so good.” 

Your hips stammer and she pulls you in for a kiss, strokes her tongue into your mouth, and you cum all over her pussy, the dam inside you exploding. Pleasure races through your veins and you think your mind goes blank for a second, absolutely no thoughts except for Agatha. 

She follows shortly after, her body twitching under yours and you can feel her orgasm as she rides it out against you. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever felt, and the embers of the heat inside your stomach flicker. 

You stay on top of her for a minute or two, just soaking in the feeling of her against you like that. 

And then Agatha stiffens. “I don’t know if your dad is coming home tonight, but we should probably get cleaned up.” You groan at her mentioning your dad right now, right after possibly the best sex you’ve had in your life, but she has a point. 

You get off her and find your underwear, sliding it back on and fixing your appearance in the mirror. Agatha gives you a wolfish grin and a low whistle at your reflection and you roll your eyes playfully. 

She pulls on an entirely new outfit, her pants strewn on the floor somewhere and her shirt completely ripped open, and then she washes off the strap in the sink and puts that in her suitcase, too. 

It’s as you’re following her downstairs, carrying the other suitcase she quickly packed in your hands, when your dad opens the front door, looking flustered. 

“Agatha, please, talk to me,” he begs when he sees the two of you, eyes darting in confusion between you, probably wondering what you’re doing. Your stepmom walks right past him, and you awkwardly follow. “Sweet pea,” he says, this time referring to you. “What is going on?” 

“I know you’ve been cheating,” Agatha says, pausing when she gets to the door to whirl back around to face him. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach and you almost laugh. “I’m getting a hotel tonight, and then I’ll look for an apartment. You can have everything in this house. I’ll be talking to my lawyer tomorrow.” 

It’s the quickest settlement you’ve ever seen. When your parents got divorced, they had gone back and forth for months, bickering over the smallest things like blankets and game boards. You couldn’t be more relieved that Agatha just wants a clean break and no hassle. 

She opens the door and walks out of it, you only two steps behind, and you close it after you’re both outside, ignoring your dad’s calls for you to come back. 

You both wordlessly walk to her car and she opens the trunk to put her suitcases in. She didn’t pack all of her stuff, she will still need to come back and get the rest of her clothes and whatnot, but it’s a good start. You’re more than willing to come back by yourself and get the rest of her belongings, too. 

Agatha gets into the driver’s seat and you slide into the passenger’s. It doesn’t seem to be a question that you’re coming with her. 

“I know you don’t really want to talk about what happens next for us,” you say quietly, needing to get some things off your chest. “We don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But just know that I’m not going to do what he did, or throw you away like that. I really like you, Agatha. And if it’s just like this for however long this lasts, I’m okay with that. I just want you.” 

Her eyes stay on the road and her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she won’t. 

But then her hand slips down across the center console and interlocks her fingers with yours and she squeezes. You can see the hint of a smile ghosting her face. 

You squeeze back. That’s all the answer you need. 

[gyuzgrl]

all I need //csc//

summary- ceo!cheol just really fucking misses you, okay?

Glass in hand, you glance at the bottom of your laptop, briefly checking the time.

11:34 pm.

Seungcheol's never been this late before, but you're at ease- courtesy of the barrage of messages and calls he sent earlier this evening. At exactly 4pm, the first notification went off-

'hey sweetheart, work's piling up so I gotta stay back late tonight :('

Within a minute, there was another.

'is that okay? or do you need me home early?'

And then your phone rang, with his assistant calling to inform you that he'd be home late. It makes you feel all gooey and fuzzy inside, how thorough he is when it comes to your feelings. It's clear that you're a priority. Nothing comes before.

After you assured him for the hundredth time that you'd be fine, and that he could take his time saving the company or whatever, he went back to work. Sure, you ate together every evening and watched dating shows and stuff, but one night away from that shouldn't be too hard, should it?

For you, this newfound me-time gave you an opportunity to crack open a bottle of red and start working on your novel- the perfect evening in your eyes, but for Seungcheol?

Time away from you is his own inferno- a circle made especially for him.

Obviously, you miss him too... It goes without saying, seeing how your eyes fleet down to the time ever so often, how your thigh trembles as you rock it up and down, how you nearly jump out of your seat when the doorbell rings.

Grabbing your wine goblet, you dance your way to the door- elegant as a tide, and pull it open for your man.

"hey you," you grin, tilting your head to the side as a fond sparkle lights up your eyes.

Before you can say anything more, Seungcheol steps towards you and pulls your body into his, placing his lips on yours.

It's breathtaking.

His lips suck desperately at yours, trying to take you in as much as he can. Like a man lost in the desert, Seungcheol drinks you in- parched.

He's been starved of you all day, far longer than he'd like, and it's been eating away at him, wearing him down until now.

Letting his lips cradle your lower one, he nips at the tender flesh, sighing when he gets a taste of you after having waited all day.

You gasp against his mouth, holding your glass high to the side, letting your free arm rake through the base of Seungcheol's scalp. The way your nails drag against his skin has him growing weak, and he can feel his patience wearing thin.

In desperate need of air, you pull away, gasping, stuttering.

"hi," Seungcheol whispers, hands finding your waist as he admires you. "missed you."

Beaming wide, your lips find his in a brief peck, and you let your gaze meet his- now scanning over your body, pupils blown wide at how beautiful you look.

Donned in a white satin robe barely long enough to cover your thighs, hair puffed wildly around your face, skin bare and glowing- god, you made it look so easy.

"how w-"

No time for words. Seungcheol shuts you up with another kiss, this time pressing his lips to yours harder than before. A few whines of protest bubble up your throat, but are quickly swallowed up rather greedily as he pushes his tongue into your mouth.

Walking you backwards, he grabs the back of your neck, taking large strides forward that you can't seem to keep up with. Your little backward stumbles are a tad bit too slow for his liking, and in one steady motion, Seungcheol hoists you up, holding your weight on one arm as the other threads through your hair.

A surprised "mmph-!" leaves your lips, and you try your best to keep your wine from spilling all over. One hand held precariously at a 90 degree angle, jutting out over his shoulder, you try to keep your balance, but he makes it so damn hard.

Soon enough, the red liquid begins to slosh around, whirling higher and higher against the walls of your glass, until a tiny splatter escapes it's confines and lands on your exposed wrist.

"baby-" you pant between kisses, wriggling away from his lip-lock, "it'll stain if i don't-"

Seungcheol flicks his gaze from your face to the bead of liquid rolling down your wrist, and licks his lips.

He sets you down on the dinner table- where you were working, originally- and stands between your legs, taking hold of your hand.

"we don't want that, do we?" he muses, taking your glass and setting it aside.

You shake your head, gulping as he lowers his lips to your wrist, licking a delicate stripe up your inner arm- following the path the liquid set. Transfixed, your breaths grow shallow, eyes focused on the deft movements of his tongue.

How the wet muscle peeks out from between his lips, just barely visible, has your head spinning. You can't help but want to feel him somewhere...lower. There's an all too familiar heat pooling between your legs, and you need him to come fix it.

Desire builds within you, swelling to an unbearable crescendo until you can't take it any longer. With a firm tug, you grab his tie, diverting his lips back to yours.

As your lips meet once again, your senses flood with the sharp notes of wine lingering on his tongue. It's sweet and rich, and on his lips?

Oh, it tastes divine.

With one hand on his tie, you slide the other back to Seungcheol's hair, fisting the loose strands just above his neck. The dual stimulation- on his scalp and neck- is just a little too much for him, and he sinks to his knees, feeling each joint buckle under your touch.

"easy-" he warns, voice husky as his throat quivers. "can I ea-"

"yes,"

You interrupt with a breathy plea, and Seungcheol's hands pry your legs apart slowly.

"please tell me you're we- oh my fucking god-"

To his dismay, you're completely bare under your robe. No panties, nothing.

"thank you thank you thank you-" he mutters, and it's unclear whether he's saying it to you or to some higher being. For all you know, to him, you're one and the same. Especially now, with how effortlessly you control him, how you know him, Seungcheol can't help but pedestalize you.

He parts your legs wide, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your glistening cunt, and he spares you one last glance before closing in. Your jaw falls slack as his tongue makes contact with your folds, licking through them, right up to your clit.

Effortlessly, Seungcheol finds where you're most sensitive, and cradles your nerves with his lips while he prods you with his tongue. He alternates between suctioning and nudging, coaxing your clit out of hiding, and you gasp when his tongue makes direct contact.

"s-shit," you pant, your grip tightening on his hair. The additional pull makes him groan, and you feel the deep rumble of his voice running through your nerves.

Spurred on by the noises you make, Seungcheol quickens his pace, his sights set on your high. He'll do anything to taste you, anything.

As he laps at your cunt- devouring you like a man starved- your legs begin to shake, thighs quivering with the tensing of your muscles. With each flick of his tongue, you feel your stomach tighten further and further until you can't hold back any longer.

The tension in your belly is unbearable, and your lips give way to desperate, helpless moans, loud enough for your neighbors to hear. You don't care, though. You'll deal with them tomorrow.

Right now, all that matters is the two of you, alone in your own universe.

"fuck- m'gonna cum oh my go-" you moan, dragging out the last syllable into a high-pitched whine as your orgasm crashes into you.

Seungcheol grins against your cunt, flicking his tongue up and down, working your through your high. When your thighs begin to close in around him, he holds you open, backing away for a second to let you recover.

"you taste," he pants, "so fucking good"

And with that, his lips find your cunt once again, this time prodding your entrance as he collects your arousal, savoring your taste.

Your legs try to force themselves shut- overstimulation setting in- but they're no match for his brute strength.

After he's certain there's not a drop left to be spared, Seungcheol places a gentle kiss to your clit and rises to his feet.

"did I say I missed you today? 'cause I really fuckin' missed you today"

You smile through shallow breaths, trying to settle your lungs after whatever that was.

"you did?"

"every second of the day. you're all I need."

A gentle blush makes its way up your cheeks, lighting up your skin, and Seungcheol smirks.

"you're on my mind a lot more often than you think, sweetheart" he leans closer, caging you in between his arms.

"when you're at work?"

"especially, when I'm at work."

Leaving words for a later date, Seungcheol scoops you up in his arms, one hand hooked under your knees and the other supporting your back.

"baby!" you squeal, legs fluttering as he walks over to the bedroom.

He sets you down on your duvet, letting the crisp white sheets engulf your body, and crawls over you. Settling on his knees, he brings a hand up to his collar, undoing the top buttons of his shirt, and your eyes grow wide.

No matter how many times you've seen him, the sheer muscle there is to this man will never fail to astonish you. Peeking through his split neckline, the firm outline of his pectorals greet your hungry eyes. It's a slight glimpse- nothing more- but it has an unmistakable desire surging through you.

"want me to take it off?" he teases, fingers halting at the next button.

You nod eagerly and he chuckles, quickly pulling apart his shirt to give you what you want. Before long, the white fabric is tossed aside to some corner of the room, and Seungcheol's body comes into view.

"oh my,"

Every ridge, every contour of his torso is nothing short of perfection. He's spent years crafting his body, and it shows. From his heavy chest to the shocking definition of his abs- he's stunning.

As he moves closer, inching forward with his arms set on either side of your head, you see the way his biceps tense, working to support his weight. They're big too. Big and strong and sturdy- you feel safest in his arms.

Nothing in the world can hurt you here.

"you're so beautiful," he whispers against your lips, placing a gentle kiss there before leaning back to undress you.

Deft fingers work to untie the knot of your robe, pulling it loose in a matter of seconds. Seungcheol flicks his gaze up to yours, asking for permission as he pulls the silk apart, unwrapping you like a present- although he's being careful, you can tell, deep down he's trying not to rip that robe apart.

Prying the fabric off of you, Seungcheol's throat goes dry.

Your body has him in awe. It isn't possible to be this beautiful, he thinks. It really isn't. Your skin glows under the dim lights, hair strewn around your face, eyes glittering so bright they'd put the sun to shame. It's a messy, real kind of beautiful. The kind of beautiful you see when you know you're in love.

And Seungcheol knows now that he is.

"I-" he hesitates, taking in a shaky breath.

You scan his face for any signs of discomfort, brows scrunched as you're met with an overwhelming sense of affection. Affection that you're certain you return.

For a moment it's silent, just you and him staring into each other's eyes, thinking the same thing. The wide expansion of his pupils seems different today, as though lust and desire isn't the cause of their dilation.

It's love. Adoration.

"I-" he starts again, but the words stick like velcro to the back of his throat, and you run a hand along his chest soothingly.

"me too"

Seungcheol gulps, shivering under your touch, and leans in, pressing a longing kiss to your parched lips.

It starts of slow and gentle, mapping out the motions of your mouth, and then it shifts. He pushes harder, the kiss growing intense, as if he's trying to show you his feelings. Desperately, feverishly, you pant into each other's mouths, locking lips in a way you haven't before.

"I love you-" he breathes, speaking the words against your puffy lips. "i love you, y/n"

Tears prick your eyes, the intensity of the moment weighing down on you, and you can't help the whimper that slips past your lips.

"Seungcheol-"

"I know, sweetheart"

"Seung-"

He cuts you off, kissing you deep, before making his way down your body, until he's at your feet. In a flash, his pants are off, leaving him in his boxers, and he takes hold of your ankle.

"what are y-"

"shh, just- just let me take care of you, okay?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle, "lemme make you feel good"

You gasp when his lips make contact with your skin. Somehow, this feels more intimate than anything you've done before.

Seungcheol peppers soft kisses up your leg, earning pleased jolts and squirms in return. With each sound you make, each quiver of you body, the corners of his lips twist up into a satisfied, knowing smirk.

Reaching your thighs, he presses a teasing kiss to your throbbing clit, pushing a little harder to make you jolt the way he likes.

"oh-"

Your lips part, giving way to a loud gasp as your hips jerk upwards, and Seungcheol's smirk widens.

"still sensitive, sweetheart?" he asks, painting on a worried, innocent pout.

You know damn well he did that on purpose. There's no hiding that.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you huff, half-pleased that he knows your body better than you do.

Seungcheol marches forward, determined general that he is, and kisses his way past your legs and over your torso, moving slowly as he goes along.

Desperate, you feel your clit throb uncontrollably despite just having cum mere minutes ago, and you squirm under him, eyes bearing into his, pleading silently.

"stay still," he mutters, preoccupied with your skin. "wanna take my time with you"

Your heart flutters at his words. A gentle smile creeps up your face- one you can't seem to contain- and he pouts, pausing at your collarbone.

"what?"

"nothing," you smile.

Seungcheol grins back, resuming his work on your chest, working his way up. The boyish smile turns into an evil smirk when he reaches the crook of your neck, right where you're most sensitive.

Most responsive.

He nips at the tender skin, placing his lips firm against your neck as you shiver under him. A loud, pleased sigh leaves your parted lips, and you tilt your head to the side, offering him further access to you.

It's adorable- to Seungcheol, at least- how easily you give in to him. The way you get so desperate for his touch, so eager for more, has him feeling like he's on top of the world.

"cute." he mumbles, the low tinge of his voice resonating right below your ear. It sends a trail of goosebumps scattering over your shoulder, prickling your delicate skin.

Seungcheol finds his way back to your lips, placing a gentle, loving kiss there, and draws back, stepping off the mattress momentarily to push off his boxers.

You marvel at his naked figure, staring shamelessly at his skin like you've never seen a cock before. Although, to be fair, you've never seen one like his.

Long and thick and veiny- god, he's like a dream come true. Earlier on in the relationship, when you'd first slept together, you couldn't even get all of it in without bursting into tears. The thought excites you now- being split open by him until you're sobbing on his dick.

He shakes his head, chuckling at your wide-eyed adoration as he settles back onto the duvet, shuffling up until his back hits the headboard.

Wordlessly, he beckons you over with a quirk of his fingers, and you scramble onto his lap instantly.

"you know what to do, don't you, baby?" His voice is low and rough, sending shivers running along your spine. You nod, aligning yourself over his cock, sucking in a shaky breath when the head nudges at your entrance.

"fuck-" he drawls as you sink down on him, squeezing so tight it almost hurts. No matter how many times he's drilled into you before, the initial stretch is always deliciously painful.

Your jaw falls slack, shoulders tensing as you feel him split you open. Shaky, clenched fists loop over his neck, forcing his head forward, right in front you.

As you sink further, you breathe out trembling exhales, moaning softly into his mouth, while he does the same. With each notch you move lower, Seungcheol's hips strain harder and harder to keep still.

He knows he can hurt you. He knows you need time to adjust to his size.

"y/n," he breathes, gritting his teeth as he forces himself to hold still, "baby I can't- oh fuck-" Seungcheol breaks out into a loud groan when you sink down completely, thighs landing flush against his.

Your eyes shoot open, brows set in a deep scrunch, and you meet his stare- heavy and intense. It's as if he's pushed the air out of your lungs, and your voice has gone somewhere with it.

"breathe," he soothes, moving his hands to hold your thighs, "you gotta breathe, baby"

You suck in a trembling breath, and he holds you up, pulling you off his cock just a little.

"there we go, that's it sweetheart,"

When your breathing returns to normal, Seungcheol pushes into you, lifting his hips while he lowers you back onto his girth. A helpless cry leaves your lips and you clutch onto his shoulders, tears pooling in your eyes.

He sets his pace, starting off slow, pushing into you gently to get you used to his size, before things take a rougher, more forceful turn. Once he sees that you're well accommodated, Seungcheol thrusts up into you, hitting all the right spots in an instant. You moan, digging your nails into his skin, and he hisses, shoving himself harder into you.

"Seungcheol oh my g-"

Your walls spasm around him as he thrusts into you, moving at a brutal pace, shoving his heavy cock into you with force enough to break the bed frame. His biceps contract as he lifts you, holding you up while he slams his hips against yours.

It's honestly shocking how strong he is.

With each thrust, you feel your body tense up, and that familiar, sought-after knot begins to form deep within your tummy. You clench down around him, and he chokes out a guttural- "oh fuck"- through gritted teeth.

Taking on the challenge, Seungcheol tugs you down onto his length, all while his hips increase their pace, and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You see stars.

"Seungcheol- please- oh my fucking god," you cry out, voice shaking pathetically with the impact of his thrusts.

He uses you like a toy, lifting you on and off his dick like you weigh nothing to him, controlling your body as you sit helpless against his strength.

The veins of his cock drag against your walls, carving their shape into you ruthlessly, and you can't help but take it.

Take everything he gives you.

"that's it, sweetheart-" he grits, "so fucking good for me"

His praise only adds to your arousal, and you feel yourself on the verge of pleasure, almost about to let it all go. Through heavy, merciless thrusts, a hand leaves your thigh to flick at your clit, and you let out a shrill, surprised cry, as your body falls victim to an electrifying orgasm.

You let out a sob, calling his name while tears spill over your cheeks. Seungcheol silences you with a kiss, licking into your mouth, bullying his way inside. His hips continue their movements, thrusting up into your poor, abused cunt to chase his own high, and soon after, he follows suit.

Blowing his load deep inside your hole, Seungcheol moans against your lips, and you gasp, feeling fuller than before.

"take me so well," he pants, "you're fuckin' perfect for me"

Drained, you nod weakly, the burn of your thighs finally catching up to you. He smiles sheepishly, lifting you off himself and placing you back on your duvet.

A thick, creamy mixture spills out of you, and Seungcheol gulps as he watches. The view before him is more than tempting, and he feels the blood rush back to his cock, but he knows better.

You're already spent.

"you did so good, baby," he smiles, dismissing his thoughts, kissing your forehead, "I'll run us a bath, hm?"

It's cute, honestly, how caring he is. Even cuter that he thinks he can just get away with it.

You shoot him a sly, coy smile-

"I thought you missed me"

[dieseldame]

𝗕𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗔𝗺𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮’𝘀 𝗚𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗗𝗼𝗴 𝗪𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗕𝗲 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲:

You don’t serve Ambessa Medarda—you belong to her. A blade sharpened by her hand, a weapon unleashed only when she deems it necessary. And when she calls you back, you come. Not because you want to, but because you must.

“ Her voice cut through the chaos of the battlefield, low and commanding: — Enough.

You froze mid-swing, the blade in your hand slick with blood. Around you, the enemy staggered back, their fear palpable. But it wasn’t them you feared. It was her.

Ambessa stood at the edge of the carnage, the crimson banner of Noxus billowing behind her like a storm. Her gaze locked onto yours, sharp as the sword in her hand.

— Heel. — she said, and you obeyed. Because that’s what a good dog does.

Your loyalty to Ambessa is absolute—but it’s not without its own jagged edges. She saved you from the gutter, pulled you out of the mud and gave you purpose. But she also knows how to keep you in line.

“ — You’d be nothing without me. — she said once, her voice a razor slicing through the air.

You didn’t flinch. — And you’d be dead without me.

The corner of her mouth twitched—approval or amusement, you couldn’t tell. — Careful, — she warned, her tone dripping with danger. — You’re biting the hand that feeds you.

— Maybe the hand should stop teasing. — you shot back, your lips curling into a feral grin.

When she unleashes you, there’s no holding back. You don’t just fight—you decimate. You are her wrath given form, a storm of blood and steel that leaves nothing standing.

“ The first man fell before he even saw you move. The second barely had time to scream. By the time the last one dropped, your hands were slick with blood, the taste of iron thick in the air.

Ambessa watched from a distance, her expression impassive. When it was over, she approached, stepping over bodies as if they were nothing more than broken tools.

— Messy, — she said, her voice calm. — But effective.

You wiped the blade on your sleeve, smirking up at her. — Isn’t that what you wanted?

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The weight of her gaze was enough.

For all your ferocity, there’s no question who holds the leash. She doesn’t need to shout or threaten. A single look from Ambessa, and you fall in line.

“ She leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear. — Do I need to remind you who’s in control?

Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t falter. — You could try. — you said, the defiance in your voice a thin veneer over the truth.

Her hand wrapped around your chin, firm but not cruel. She tilted your head, forcing you to meet her gaze. — Good dogs don’t bite. — she murmured, her tone laced with warning.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. — Good dogs protect their masters.

Her lips twitched into a smirk. — And that’s why I keep you.

Your relationship isn’t just about loyalty—it’s about survival. You’d die for her, and she knows it. But deep down, you know she’d do the same for you.

“ — Why do you keep me around? — you asked once, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Ambessa didn’t answer right away. She took a sip of her wine, her gaze distant. Then she turned to you, her expression unreadable.

— Because every blade needs a sheath, — she said finally, her voice soft but firm. — And every storm needs a calm.

It wasn’t the answer you expected, but it was the only one she’d give.

There’s a fire between you, unspoken but ever-present. Every glance, every touch lingers just a little too long, charged with a tension that neither of you will name.

“ Her hand brushed against yours as she handed you the blade, and for a moment, the world stilled.

— Careful, — she said, her voice low and deliberate. — That’s a dangerous weapon.

You met her gaze, your breath hitching. — So are you.

She didn’t reply, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk. The air between you crackled, heavy with something more dangerous than steel.

Ambessa doesn't need to command you often. You know her expectations, and you exceed them without question. But when she does pull your leash, it's always at the exact moment your bloodlust threatens to consume you.

“ The enemy commander fell to their knees, gasping, clawing at the gaping wound you'd left in their chest.

— Kill them. — your instincts roared, muscles tensed and ready to strike again.

— Stop.

Ambessa's voice cut through the red haze like a blade, and your hand froze mid-swing. You turned to her, chest heaving, fury still burning in your veins.

— Not yet, — she said, stepping closer, her gaze locking onto yours. — Let them crawl. Let them beg. We'll show them mercy when it suits us.

Your grip tightened on your weapon, your jaw clenched, but you didn't move. You didn't need chains to be bound to her will-her words alone were iron.

You are more than her protector-you are her shadow, ever-present and unrelenting. Where she goes, you follow, your presence a silent promise of violence.

“ The nobles whispered as she entered the hall, their eyes flickering to you as you trailed behind her like a ghost.

— Is that really necessary? — one of them sneered, gesturing toward you. — This is a banquet, not a battlefield.

Ambessa smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. — A good general knows that every room is a battlefield.— she said smoothly.

Her hand brushed against yours as she passed, the briefest touch grounding you. You didn't speak-you didn't need to. Your silence was louder than any threat.

Your relationship is a constant push and pull, a power struggle where the stakes are as high as the tension between you.

“ — You think you could lead without me? — you challenged, your voice low and laced with defiance.

Ambessa's eyes narrowed, her presence filling the room like a storm. — Careful. — she warned, her tone a blade at your throat.

— Or what? — you pressed, stepping closer, your pulse pounding.

Her hand shot out, gripping your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze. — Or you'll find out what happens to dogs who forget their place. — she said, her voice calm but seething with authority.

You didn't pull away. You couldn't. The power in her eyes held you captive, and for all your bravado, you knew she'd already won.

Every scar on your body is a testament to your loyalty to the battles you fought for her, the blood you spilled in her name. But some wounds cut deeper than flesh.

“ — You shouldn't have taken that blow. — she said, her voice hard as she stitched the wound in your side.

— I couldn't let them touch you. — you replied, your tone matter-of-fact.

Her hands stilled for a moment, and you thought you saw something flicker in her eyes-anger, or perhaps something softer.

— Fool. — she muttered, resuming her work. But her touch was gentler than before, her fingers lingering just a little longer on your skin.

For all the battles you've fought, the fiercest one is the unspoken tension between you. Every glance, every word is a spark, threatening to ignite the storm that rages beneath the surface.

“ — You're reckless. — she said, stepping closer, her voice a low growl.

— And you're controlling. — you shot back, your breath hitching as she invaded your space.

Her eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you. The air crackled with tension, heavy and electric.

— If I didn't control you, — she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear, — you'd burn the world down.

— Maybe the world deserves it. — you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

ㅤㅤㅤ

[pucksandpower]

Bite Me

Day 25 → Monsterfucking 💋 Carlos Sainz

Warnings: 18+ content, vampires, and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

Carlos lies beside you, the weight of his arm draped over your waist, fingers tracing absent-minded circles on your skin. The room is dim, with only the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting silver shadows on the walls. You shift slightly, turning your head to meet his gaze — those dark, unfathomable eyes that hold centuries of secrets.

He catches your movement, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re restless,” he murmurs, his voice deep, rich like aged wine. “What’s on your mind, mi amor?”

You hesitate, the words forming but refusing to leave your lips. His eyes search yours, and you can feel him pulling the thoughts from your mind without effort.

You’ve always wondered about it — how he knows you so well, how he can sense the shift in your emotions before you even understand them yourself. It’s not just the years you’ve spent together. It’s him, something innate, something ancient.

“Why haven’t you ever bitten me?” You ask, the question finally slipping out, almost a whisper.

Carlos’ fingers still on your skin. His gaze hardens, though his hold on you remains tender. “Why do you ask this now?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, though your heart betrays you, thudding loudly in your chest. “I’ve just … I’ve been thinking. You’ve told me about what you are, how you became this way, but you’ve never-” You swallow, feeling suddenly exposed under his scrutiny. “You’ve never fed from me.”

He sighs, the sound heavy with a burden only he seems to carry. “It’s not something I take lightly.”

“I know that,” you say quickly. “But … don’t you want to?”

Carlos shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you, his expression unreadable. “Want to? Amor, of course I want to. There is nothing I want more than to taste you, to have you be a part of me in the most intimate way possible.”

You shiver, both at his words and the way his gaze darkens, almost as if he’s imagining it now. His thumb brushes your lips, his eyes following the movement as if he’s mesmerized.

“But I won’t do it,” he adds, pulling his hand back as if burned by the thought. “I refuse.”

“Why?”

Carlos’ jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to the window, to the world outside. “Because you don’t understand what it means, what it does. It’s not just a bite, cariño. It’s a claim. A bond. It’s forever. I won’t risk your soul for something so … selfish.”

“Selfish?” You frown, pushing yourself up to mirror him. “Carlos, you’re not selfish. You’ve never asked me for anything. Not even this. But what if I want to?”

His eyes snap back to yours, sharp and intense. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Then tell me. Help me understand.”

Carlos leans back against the headboard, running a hand through his dark hair. The movement is so human, so vulnerable, that it makes your heart ache. “It’s hard to explain. It’s not like in the stories. The bite — it’s pleasure, yes, but it’s also pain. It changes you. It connects us in ways you can’t undo. If I bite you … you’ll be bound to me. Forever. There’s no turning back from that.”

“And what if I want that?” You ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “What if I want forever with you?”

His eyes close, a pained expression crossing his features. “You deserve more than this life, this half-existence. You deserve to live, to grow old, to have children if you want them. You deserve a future that I can never give you.”

“I want you,” you say, voice firm. “I’ve always wanted you. You’re my future, Carlos. You know that.”

He shakes his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “I’m not worth that sacrifice.”

“Let me decide that,” you counter. “You always talk about protecting me, about giving me a choice. Well, I’m choosing now. I choose you. I want all of you, not just the parts you think are safe.”

Carlos’ gaze softens, the conflict in his eyes evident. He reaches out, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he repeats, but this time, there’s a crack in his voice, a tremor that betrays his resolve.

“Then show me,” you challenge, leaning into his touch. “Show me what it means. I’m not afraid.”

“You should be.”

“Maybe. But I’m not.”

For a long moment, the room is silent, the tension between you a palpable thing. Carlos’ breath is shallow, his grip on you tightening, as if he’s trying to anchor himself, to resist the pull of his own desires.

“I’ve lived so long,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper. “Seen so much. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”

“Then don’t,” you whisper back. “Don’t lose me. Keep me. Isn’t that what you want?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes darkening, the conflict in them warring with the longing you can see. It’s so close, the tension between you a hair’s breadth from snapping. His breath mingles with yours, his lips hovering just above your skin, his eyes locked on yours.

“Carlos,” you breathe, and it’s both a plea and a surrender.

His hands tighten on your face, and for a moment, you think he’s going to do it, that he’s going to give in to the primal urge you can feel radiating from him. But then, with a low growl, he pulls away, rolling onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm as if the darkness might swallow the desire coursing through him.

“I can’t,” he mutters, the words thick with regret. “I won’t do that to you.”

The rejection stings, even though you understand his reasoning. But it doesn’t lessen the ache in your chest, the longing you feel. You roll onto your side, facing him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart — an oddity in itself, a reminder that he’s not like you, that there’s a gulf between you no matter how close you are.

“Carlos,” you say softly, tracing patterns over his skin, “if you won’t do it, then tell me why. What are you really afraid of?”

His arm falls away from his eyes, and he turns his head to look at you, his expression weary. “I’m afraid of losing you. Of what that bite would do to us.”

“Then let me reassure you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He lets out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter. “You say that now, but you don’t understand. You wouldn’t be the same after. You might hate me for it. And I couldn’t live with that.”

“I could never hate you,” you insist, moving closer, so your body is pressed against his, your warmth bleeding into him. “I love you, Carlos. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks at you, his eyes softer now, full of a tenderness that melts some of the hardness inside you. “You say that now. But forever is a long time, amor.”

“Not long enough,” you counter, brushing your lips against his, a gentle reassurance. “Not for us.”

Carlos’ fingers trail down your spine, slow and deliberate, making you shiver. “You’re too good for me.”

“Or maybe you’re too good for me.”

He laughs softly, but it’s a sad sound, full of longing. “I don’t deserve you. Not your love, not your devotion. But I’m a selfish man, and I can’t let you go.”

“Then don’t.”

He looks at you, and you see the decision forming in his eyes, the resignation mixed with desire. “If I do this, it’s forever. You’ll be mine, completely, in ways you can’t even imagine.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. “I know. And I’m ready.”

Carlos closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as if trying to steady himself. When he opens them again, they’re darker, the brown nearly black. He leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a thrill down your spine.

“Do you really want this?” He asks one last time, his breath hot against your skin, his fangs barely grazing the surface.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Yes, Carlos. I want this. I want you.”

His grip tightens, and for a split second, you feel the sharp points of his fangs press against your skin, poised to break through. The world narrows down to this moment, the sound of his breath, the feel of his body against yours, the anticipation so thick you can barely breathe.

But then, just as quickly as the moment comes, it passes. Carlos pulls away with a low growl, rolling off the bed and standing, putting distance between you. “No. I won’t.”

You sit up, confused, hurt. “Carlos-”

He holds up a hand, his back to you. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t condemn you to my life, to this existence. I love you too much to do that.”

You stare at his back, anger and hurt knotting in your chest. The distance he’s put between you feels like a chasm, like something that might never be crossed again. But you refuse to let it end here, to let him make this decision without understanding how much it means to you.

“Carlos, turn around,” you demand, your voice trembling, but resolute.

He doesn’t move. His shoulders are tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It’s like he’s fighting a battle within himself, one you can’t see, but can feel in the air, thick with unspoken words and untapped emotions.

“Please,” you plead, softer now, trying to reach him. “Look at me.”

Finally, he turns, but the expression on his face is one of torment. His dark eyes are haunted, filled with a deep sorrow that makes your heart ache even more.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he says, his voice rough, as if every word is a struggle. “This isn’t just a moment of passion, amor. This is your life we’re talking about. Your soul.”

“I do understand,” you insist, pushing yourself off the bed and taking a tentative step toward him. “I’ve thought about this, Carlos. I’ve thought about it so much. And I’ve made my decision. I want this. I want you. All of you.”

He shakes his head, backing away from you, the pain in his eyes cutting deep. “And what happens when you regret it? When you realize that you’ve given up everything — your humanity, your future — for someone like me?”

“I won’t regret it,” you argue, closing the distance between you. “I love you. I want to be with you. I want to share everything with you, including this.”

Carlos’ jaw tightens, and he turns his head away, as if he can’t bear to look at you. “You’re asking me to damn you, to bind you to a life that isn’t really living.”

“Maybe that’s what you believe,” you say, reaching out to touch his arm, the warmth of your skin meeting the coolness of his. “But that’s not how I see it. To me, this is living. Being with you is living.”

His eyes snap back to yours, and there’s a flash of something — desperation, need, fear. “You’re asking me to do something I can’t undo. Once I bite you, once I take your blood … there’s no going back.”

“I know,” you whisper, your fingers trailing down his arm, finding his hand and squeezing it. “And I’m okay with that. I’m ready.”

Carlos’ hand trembles in yours, and you can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying so hard to protect you — even from yourself.

“Please, Carlos,” you beg, your voice breaking. “Please. Don’t push me away. Don’t make this decision for me.”

He inhales sharply, as if your words have struck him, and for a moment, you think he’s going to deny you again. But then his grip tightens on your hand, and he pulls you against him, his arms wrapping around you in a fierce, possessive embrace.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “But if this is what you truly want … if this is what you need … then I’ll give it to you.”

Your heart skips a beat, relief flooding through you. “It is. It’s what I want. More than anything.”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of longing and torment. “There are so many places I could bite you,” he says, his voice low and husky, each word laced with desire. “So many ways I could claim you.”

Your breath hitches as his hand trails up your arm, his fingers ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Carlos’ eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck, right where your pulse beats furiously beneath the surface. “Here,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “The neck is traditional. It’s intimate, close to the heart. But it’s also dangerous. One mistake, and …”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you know what he means. The neck is risky, the blood vessels close to the surface, the possibility of draining too much, too fast, always a threat.

“But there are other places,” he continues, his lips moving down to your collarbone, kissing the hollow there. “The collarbone is sensitive, a place where the skin is thin, the blood rich. It’s … pleasurable.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt, your body trembling as he moves lower, his mouth trailing down your arm, stopping at the inside of your elbow. “Here, the veins are close to the surface. It’s a slower process, more drawn out. Some say it’s the most intimate because it’s less about hunger and more about connection.”

His lips graze the inside of your wrist, and you shiver, the sensation almost too much. “The wrist is quick, efficient. It’s what we use when we’re in need, when we’re desperate.”

You’re barely breathing now, your pulse pounding in your ears as he moves lower, down your body, dropping to his knees before you. His hands glide over your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your nightgown, exposing your skin inch by inch.

“But there’s one place,” he says, his voice a deep rumble, vibrating through you, “that’s the most pleasurable of all. The femoral artery.”

You gasp as his hands part your thighs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin there, his mouth hovering just above the spot he’s describing. “It’s deep, powerful, connected to the core of you. The blood is richest here. It’s where the pleasure is … overwhelming.”

Carlos’ words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and desire coiling in your stomach. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense, waiting for your response.

You nod, your voice catching in your throat. “Yes. Yes, Carlos. Please.”

His eyes darken further, a predatory glint flashing in them as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, right where the femoral artery pulses beneath the skin. “Are you sure, amor? Once I do this, there’s no going back.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation and desire. “I want this. I want you.”

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, as if steeling himself, before looking up at you again, his gaze locking with yours. “Then lie back, mi amor. Let me show you what it means to truly be mine.”

Your heart races as you do as he says, lying back on the bed, your legs parted just enough for him to kneel between them. He moves with a grace that belies the intensity in his eyes, the hunger that you can feel rolling off him in waves.

He leans over you, his hands bracing on either side of your hips, his body caging yours in. You feel his breath against your skin, the warmth of it contrasting with the coolness of his touch. His lips ghost over your thigh, making you shiver, the anticipation almost unbearable.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need, but also with concern.

“I won’t change my mind,” you assure him, your voice steady, despite the wild beating of your heart. “I trust you, Carlos. I want this.”

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a long moment, before he lowers his head, his lips brushing over the spot on your thigh where the artery pulses. You can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding back, even now, trying to control the hunger that you know is clawing at him from the inside.

And then, with a soft growl, he gives in. His fangs sink into your flesh, piercing the artery, and a shock of pain lances through you, sharp and sudden. But it’s quickly followed by something else — something warm and deep, a pleasure so intense it takes your breath away.

You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation floods through you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that’s almost overwhelming. You can feel him drawing from you, the pull of your blood as it flows into him, as if he’s taking a part of you into himself, claiming you in a way that’s both physical and spiritual.

Carlos’ grip on your thighs tightens, his body pressing closer to yours as he drinks, the growl in his throat deepening, vibrating through your skin. The connection between you sharpens, the bond forming in that moment, and you can feel him — his emotions, his thoughts, the depth of his love for you, the hunger that’s been denied for so long.

It’s too much, and yet not enough. You want more, need more, the sensation building to a crescendo inside you, threatening to drown you in its intensity. You can’t hold back the cry that escapes your lips, a sound of both pain and pleasure, as Carlos drinks deeply, the bond between you solidifying, becoming something unbreakable, eternal.

And just when you think you can’t take any more, when the pleasure is about to tip into something else, something darker, Carlos pulls back, his fangs sliding from your flesh.

Your body trembles beneath him, every nerve on fire as the sensation of his bite fades, replaced by a different kind of need — one that is more intense, more primal. Carlos’ lips linger on your thigh, his breath hot against your skin as he laps at the small puncture wounds, each touch sending sparks through you. The pain has morphed into pleasure, a deep, pulsing ache that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Slowly, Carlos begins to kiss his way up your leg, his mouth tracing a path of heat along your skin. Each kiss is deliberate, a promise of what’s to come, and you can feel the tension building in your core, tightening with every brush of his lips.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. His eyes are dark, filled with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ve never tasted anything sweeter,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “You’re everything, mi amor. Everything.”

The words send a rush of warmth through you, and you gasp as he presses his mouth against the bundle of nerves that’s already so sensitive, so primed. His tongue flicks over it, teasing, tasting, before he sinks his fang into the delicate skin with a precision that leaves you gasping, your body arching into him as the sharp pain gives way to an overwhelming flood of pleasure.

It’s too much, too intense, and you feel yourself tipping over the edge, a cry tearing from your lips as the pleasure crests, crashing over you like a wave. Carlos doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping at the release, drawing out every last ounce of your pleasure, until you’re trembling, boneless beneath him.

As the aftershocks of your release fade, you’re left panting, your heart racing in your chest. Carlos pulls back, his eyes heavy-lidded, his lips glistening with the remnants of your release. There’s a reverence in the way he looks at you, a kind of awe that makes your heart squeeze.

“I could never have imagined …” His voice is husky, almost reverent as he speaks. “You’re perfect, mi amor. I’ve never tasted anything so sweet, so pure.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath, your mind spinning from the intensity of what just happened. But even through the haze, you can sense the change in him — the way he’s looking at you, the way his touch is more possessive, more reverent.

He sits up slightly, one hand still resting on your thigh, his thumb brushing over the marks he’s left on your skin. His other hand rises to his mouth, and you watch, mesmerized, as he bites into his own wrist, his fangs piercing the skin with ease.

The sight is strangely beautiful, the dark blood welling up from the wound, and your breath catches as he holds his wrist out to you, the offer unspoken but clear.

“If you take this,” Carlos says, his voice low and serious, “there’s no going back. Our connection will be permanent, unbreakable. It will be something that words can’t describe, something that transcends everything.”

You stare at his wrist, your mind racing. You’ve come this far, crossed lines you never thought you would. But this — this is different. This is forever. It’s not just about desire or love; it’s about binding your soul to his, about becoming something more than human.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. But there’s nothing there but certainty, a deep, unwavering conviction that this is right, that this is what he wants — what he needs.

“Carlos,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. “Are you sure?”

His gaze softens, and he leans down, brushing his lips over yours in a tender, lingering kiss. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, mi amor. You are everything to me. Without you, there’s nothing. With you … there’s everything.”

His words wrap around your heart, and you know, deep down, that this is what you want too. You’ve always known. There’s no turning back now, no second-guessing. This is the moment where everything changes, where you choose him — forever.

You reach up, your hand trembling slightly as you take hold of his wrist, your fingers brushing over the wound. The blood is warm, almost hot against your skin, and as you bring his wrist to your lips, you can feel the connection between you deepening, solidifying.

Carlos watches you, his gaze intense, as you press your lips to his wrist, the taste of his blood filling your mouth. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced — a mix of power and warmth, a connection that thrums through your veins, setting every nerve alight.

As you drink, you can feel the bond forming, something deeper than love, more primal, more eternal. It’s as if your souls are intertwining, becoming one, and you know that this is forever — that no matter what happens, you’ll never be alone again.

When you finally pull back, you’re breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Carlos leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both come to terms with what you’ve just done.

“We’re bound now,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and reverence. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever.”

The weight of his words settles over you, but instead of fear or doubt, all you feel is a deep sense of rightness, of belonging. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. “Te amo,” he says, the words filled with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “More than I ever thought possible.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you pull him down into a kiss, needing to feel him close, needing to solidify the bond you’ve just created. He responds immediately, his lips moving against yours with a passion that leaves you dizzy, your body arching into his as the connection between you flares, burning bright and hot.

The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in a way that transcends everything else. It’s more than love, more than desire — it’s a union of souls, something that goes beyond the physical, something that words can’t fully capture.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, in the feel of him against you, inside you, you know that this is where you’re meant to be. That no matter what comes next, no matter what challenges you face, you’ll always have Carlos by your side.

And that, more than anything, is what makes this moment perfect.

***

The days blur into weeks, then months, each moment with Carlos etching itself into your very being. The bond between you deepens, growing more intense, more consuming with each passing night. It’s as if every fiber of your existence has been rewired, attuned to him and the pleasure he brings — a pleasure that has become intrinsically linked to his bite.

It happens gradually, almost imperceptibly at first. The way your body responds to him shifts, your desires sharpening, focusing on the exquisite pain-pleasure of his fangs sinking into your flesh. It’s as though you’ve been conditioned, your body trained to crave that sensation, to need it in a way that feels as vital as breathing.

Carlos notices it too. He’s always been attuned to your every reaction, but now there’s a deliberateness to his touch, a calculated precision in the way he teases you, pushes you right to the brink and then holds you there, on the edge of that abyss, until you’re practically begging for his bite.

And you do beg. You plead with him, your voice breathless, desperate, as you arch against him, needing that release only he can give. It’s a need that runs deeper than anything you’ve ever felt, a craving that consumes you whole.

Carlos indulges you, but there’s a darkness in his eyes when he does, a look of concern that lingers even as he gives you what you so desperately desire. It’s as if he knows the power he holds over you, the way he’s shaping you, molding you into something that’s more his than your own.

And yet, even with that knowledge, he can’t resist you. He’s as much a slave to your connection as you are, caught in the web you’ve spun together, tangled in the threads of desire and love that bind you.

One night, as you lie together in the dark, the world outside forgotten, Carlos’ hand drifts down your body, his touch feather-light, tracing patterns on your skin. The tension is already coiling in your belly, your body responding to him instinctively, anticipating what’s to come.

“Carlos,” you whisper, your voice a plea as you tilt your head to the side, offering him your throat. It’s become almost ritualistic now, this dance you do together — the way you give yourself to him, the way he takes.

He hesitates for a moment, his fingers brushing over the marks on your neck, the ones that have healed over but are still faintly visible, a reminder of the many times he’s bitten you there. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice low, tinged with that same concern that’s been growing more frequent lately.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please, Carlos. I need it. I need you.”

The words are raw, stripped of any pretense, and you see the way they affect him, the way his gaze darkens with a mix of desire and something deeper, something that borders on regret.

But he doesn’t deny you. He never does.

His lips ghost over your skin, soft and teasing, before he bites down, his fangs sinking into the tender flesh of your throat. The pain is sharp, but it’s immediately followed by that rush of pleasure, that intoxicating mix of agony and ecstasy that only he can bring you.

Your body arches into him, your breath catching in your throat as you cling to him, needing to anchor yourself against the wave of sensation that crashes over you. Carlos’ hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding that bundle of nerves that’s become so sensitive, so primed for him, and you cry out as he rubs slow, deliberate circles there, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

But it’s not enough. It’s never enough without his bite, without that sharp, exquisite pain that sends you spiraling into oblivion. And Carlos knows this — he knows you too well by now, knows exactly what you need, what you crave.

He pulls back from your throat, his lips stained with your blood, and you whimper at the loss, at the way your body tightens with unfulfilled need. But then he’s shifting, moving down your body, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, each one a promise, a prelude to what’s coming.

When he reaches that spot between your legs, he doesn’t hesitate. He presses his mouth against you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that has you gasping, your hips bucking against him as the pleasure builds, sharp and intense.

And then you feel it — the sharp sting of his fang as it nicks that delicate skin, a jolt of pain that sends you careening over the edge, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave, so powerful it leaves you breathless, trembling beneath him.

Carlos doesn’t stop. He laps at your release, his tongue gentle now, soothing, as if he’s trying to ease you down from that high. But there’s a hunger in the way he moves, a desperation that mirrors your own, as if he’s just as consumed by this need as you are.

When he finally pulls back, his gaze is intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and something darker, something that sends a shiver down your spine. He’s still kneeling between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

You’re still catching your breath, your mind spinning from the intensity of your release, when you see him bite into his wrist again, the motion almost automatic now, a part of your shared ritual.

But this time, something inside you shifts. As he brings his wrist to your lips, the words spill out before you can stop them, a plea that’s been building inside you for weeks, maybe even longer.

“Carlos … turn me.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and you see the way they affect him, the way his entire body goes still, his gaze locking onto yours with a look of shock, of fear.

“Don’t say that,” he whispers, his voice harsh, almost pleading. “Don’t ask me for that.”

You shake your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m serious, Carlos. I want this. I want to be with you, forever.”

His grip on your thighs tightens, and you can see the battle warring within him, the conflict between his desire and his fear. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t know what it means to live like this, to be bound by this curse.”

“I don’t care,” you say, your voice firm, resolute. “I want you, Carlos. I want everything that comes with you. I’m not afraid.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control. “You should be afraid,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You should be terrified.”

“But I’m not,” you insist, reaching up to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “I trust you, Carlos. I know you’ll take care of me. I know you’ll never let me become a monster.”

His eyes search yours, and you can see the pain there, the agony of knowing that you’re asking him to do something that goes against everything he’s ever wanted for you. But you also see the love, the overwhelming depth of it, and you know that he won’t be able to deny you — not when it comes to this.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion. “I need this, Carlos. I need you. Please, turn me.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. But then, slowly, he nods, his expression one of resignation, of acceptance. “Okay,” he says, his voice hollow. “Okay.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that’s both tender and heartbreaking. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I’ll love you forever.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, grounding yourself in the knowledge that this is right, that this is what you both want, what you both need.

And then you feel it — the sharp, burning pain as his fangs sink into your neck, deeper this time, more final. The pain is excruciating, a fire that spreads through your veins, consuming you from the inside out. But even through the agony, you can feel the love, the connection, the bond that’s deepening with every drop of blood he takes.

Your vision begins to blur, the edges darkening as the life slowly drains from you. But there’s no fear, no regret — only a deep, abiding love, a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be, where you’ve always belonged.

As the darkness closes in, you hear Carlos’ voice, soft and broken, the last thing you hold onto as everything fades to black. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with a sorrow so profound it cuts through the haze, piercing your heart even as it stops beating.

And then there’s nothing.

***

The transition from mortal to vampire is startlingly smooth, almost effortless. Carlos had warned you — countless times — about the challenges, the inevitable struggles that come with your new existence. But those struggles never seem to materialize. Instead, you find yourself reveling in your newfound abilities, your senses heightened, your strength amplified. The world feels different, richer, as if you’ve been given the key to unlock its deepest secrets.

You’ve always been adaptable, but this … this is something else entirely. The hunger that gnawed at you in the first few days is now a familiar, almost comforting presence, easily sated with each hunt. The speed and agility that come so naturally to you feel like an extension of your own will, as if you were always meant to move this way, to live this way.

Carlos watches you closely, his concern never far from the surface, but even he can’t deny how easily you’ve taken to this new life. He’d expected turmoil, conflict — a struggle to reconcile your old self with the creature you’ve become. But instead, he sees you thrive, sees the joy in your eyes each time you embrace your abilities.

What he doesn’t see — what even you hadn’t expected — is how much you enjoy the power dynamics between the two of you. The bond between a maker and their progeny is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, a connection so deep, so intimate, it’s almost overwhelming. And with it comes a power that Carlos wields with an authority that both excites and unnerves you.

It’s not something you would have predicted. You’ve always been independent, headstrong, not one to easily submit to anyone’s will. But with Carlos, it’s different. There’s something intoxicating about the way he commands you, the way his voice slips into your mind, into your very soul, compelling you to obey.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy it. But you do. More than you’d care to admit.

Tonight, the tension between you simmers, a palpable energy that crackles in the air as you move through the shadows together. You’d pushed your limits earlier, testing the boundaries of your new life, staying out far later than you should have, pushing Carlos’ patience to its edge.

Now, as the first light of dawn threatens the horizon, you can feel his disapproval like a weight, a dark cloud hanging over you as you step inside. The door closes behind you with a soft click, the sound far too final, too ominous for your liking.

“Where were you?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it, a hint of the anger he’s trying so hard to keep in check.

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant as you brush past him, heading for the stairs. “Just hunting,” you say, your tone light, almost flippant. “I lost track of time.”

Carlos is on you in an instant, his hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to a stop. “Hunting?” He repeats, his eyes narrowing as he studies you, his gaze piercing. “You nearly got caught by the sunrise. Do you have any idea what could have happened?”

You can’t help the small pout that forms on your lips as you turn to face him, your eyes wide, innocent. “I was fine, Carlos. I can take care of myself.”

But he doesn’t let go, his grip firm, unyielding. “That’s not the point, and you know it,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You were reckless. You put yourself at risk. And you made me worry.”

The guilt that flickers in your chest is quickly overshadowed by the thrill of his dominance, the way he’s looking at you now — like he could devour you whole, like he might just do it to prove a point.

You press your lips together, trying to suppress the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” you say, softening your tone, but there’s still a hint of defiance there, a challenge in the way you look at him.

Carlos’ eyes darken, and you know you’ve pushed him too far. “You need to understand something,” he says, his voice dropping even lower, each word a slow, deliberate threat. “I am your maker. When I tell you to be careful, you will listen. When I tell you to come home, you will come home. And when I command you to obey, you will obey.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, not out of fear, but out of something far more primal. The power he holds over you is intoxicating, and you feel it wrap around you like a vice, squeezing, tightening until you can barely breathe.

“Yes, Carlos,” you say, your voice a breathless whisper, your defiance crumbling beneath the weight of his command.

His gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the air between you charged with electricity. Then he releases your wrist, but the hold he has on you is far from gone. He steps closer, his body crowding yours, and you find yourself backing up until your back hits the wall, trapping you in place.

“You think this is a game,” he says, his voice soft now, almost tender, but there’s a warning there, a promise of what’s to come. “But it’s not. You need to learn, querida.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You like to push me, don’t you?” He murmurs, his voice a dark, velvet caress. “You like to see how far you can go before I snap.”

A shudder runs through you, and you tilt your head slightly, giving him more access, more control. “Maybe,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s as dangerous as it is seductive. “Then I suppose I’ll have to show you exactly what happens when you push me too far.”

Before you can react, he’s on you, his mouth crashing down on yours with a force that steals your breath, a kiss that’s more punishment than pleasure. But you crave it, need it, and you kiss him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He doesn’t let up, his lips demanding, his tongue claiming you, dominating you with a skill that leaves you dizzy, disoriented. When he finally pulls back, you’re panting, your heart racing, and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, the way he’s already won this game you’ve been playing.

But Carlos isn’t done. His hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake, until he’s gripping your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice rough with possessiveness. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

The words send a jolt of heat through you, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as he presses his body against yours, trapping you between him and the wall. You can feel his strength, the raw power that he so rarely unleashes on you, and it makes you tremble with anticipation.

“I’m going to punish you,” Carlos whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, right over the spot where he first bit you, marking you as his forever. “But you’re going to love every second of it.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his promise settling over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. “Carlos …” you begin, but your words trail off as his hand slides up under your dress, his fingers finding the heat between your legs with unerring accuracy.

You gasp, your body arching into his touch, but he’s not gentle, not this time. His fingers are demanding, ruthless, as they tease you, taunt you, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second. But even as the pleasure builds, a knot of tension coiling in your belly, you know he won’t let you have it — not yet.

Carlos leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You don’t get to come until I say so,” he commands, his voice low, dangerous. “No matter how badly you want it. Understand?”

You whimper, your body trembling as you try to process his words, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and you’re not sure you can hold back. “Carlos … please …”

He tightens his grip on your thigh, his fingers still working you with relentless precision. “Do you understand?” He repeats, his voice sharp, cutting through the haze of your desire.

“Yes,” you gasp, the word slipping out before you can stop it. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” he says, and there’s a dark satisfaction in his voice, a thrill that sends another shiver down your spine. “Now be a good girl and take what I give you.”

His fingers delve deeper, and you’re helpless against the onslaught of sensation, your mind blanking out everything except the feel of him, the way he’s playing your body like a finely tuned instrument. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t reach that peak, can’t tip over the edge without his permission.

It’s maddening, frustrating in a way that leaves you teetering on the brink of insanity, and you can feel tears of desperation welling up in your eyes as you claw at him, begging for something you know he won’t give you.

“Please,” you sob, your voice raw, broken. “Please, Carlos … I need it …”

Carlos’ wicked smile lingers as he draws out your agony, savoring every moment of your desperate pleas. His fingers continue their relentless assault, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, but never allowing you the release you so desperately crave. It’s a torturous game, one that he’s mastered, and you’re helpless under his control.

Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and tears blur your vision as you claw at his back, your nails digging into his skin. “Carlos, please,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I’ll do anything … please …”

His eyes darken, the satisfaction in them almost predatory as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Anything?” He murmurs, his voice a seductive whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod frantically, your mind too clouded by desire to even consider the implications of what you’re agreeing to. “Yes, anything,” you gasp, your voice trembling with desperation. “Just … please …”

Carlos’ lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile as he shifts his hand slightly, changing the angle of his fingers, and you nearly scream at the overwhelming sensation. But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, he stops, his hand stilling completely.

“No!” The word tears from your throat in a ragged sob, and you feel the tears spill over, trailing down your cheeks as you shake your head in disbelief. “Carlos, please, don’t …”

He captures your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look up at him. His expression is intense, his gaze locking onto yours with a force that steals your breath. “Listen to me, mi amor,” he says, his voice low, commanding. “I need you to understand something.”

You try to nod, but his grip on your chin keeps you still, his hold unyielding as he continues. “You are mine,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You belong to me, body and soul. And as your maker, it is my responsibility to protect you, to keep you safe.”

You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat as you feel the weight of his words, the gravity of the bond between you. It’s not just about possession, about control — it’s about something deeper, something primal that connects you in a way that goes beyond anything you’ve ever known.

“And you will never put yourself at risk again,” Carlos continues, his voice growing darker, more dangerous with each word. “Do you understand? You will never do anything that could endanger you, or anything that you know I would disapprove of.”

Your heart races as his words sink in, the power of his command wrapping around you like a vice, squeezing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. There’s no choice here, no room for defiance or rebellion — his will is absolute, and you are powerless against it.

“Yes, Carlos,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nod slowly. “I understand.”

His eyes search yours, as if looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you might disobey him. But you’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. The thought of going against him, of putting yourself in danger again, is unthinkable, not just because of the consequences, but because you know how much it would hurt him.

Carlos seems satisfied with your answer, his expression softening slightly as he releases your chin. “Good,” he says, his voice low, but no less commanding. “I don’t ever want to have this conversation again.”

You shake your head quickly, your heart pounding in your chest as you press yourself closer to him. “We won’t,” you promise, your voice trembling with sincerity. “I swear, Carlos. I’ll be careful. I won’t … I won’t make you worry again.”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, without warning, he crushes his lips against yours, kissing you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, your body trembling under the force of his desire. It’s a kiss that’s both a punishment and a reward, a reminder of the power he holds over you and the depths of his need for you.

Carlos’ hands are everywhere, his touch rough, possessive, as he pulls you even closer, his body pressing against yours until there’s no space left between you. You can feel his control slipping, the leash he’s kept on himself fraying with each passing second, and it only heightens your own need, your own desperate desire to be consumed by him.

He pulls back slightly, his lips trailing down your neck, and you shiver as his breath ghosts over your skin. “You drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your throat, his voice low, a growl that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. “Do you know that? You push me to the edge, and I can’t help but want to take you there with me.”

Your breath hitches as you feel his fangs scrape against your skin, a light, teasing touch that makes you whimper in anticipation. “Carlos …”

His name is a plea, a prayer, and you feel his lips curve into a smile against your neck. “Tell me what you want, amor,” he whispers, his voice dark and seductive. “Beg me for it.”

Your heart races, your body trembling as you clutch at him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please,” you gasp, your voice desperate, pleading. “Please, Carlos … I need it. I need you.”

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s both cruel and comforting, and you feel his hand slide down to grip your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist. “I want to hear you say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the spot where your pulse races just beneath the surface. “Beg me to bite you.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you know he’s testing you, pushing you to the edge of your endurance. But you’re too far gone to care, too desperate for his touch, his bite, to even think about pride or resistance.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you tilt your head back, offering him your throat. “Please, Carlos … bite me. I need it. I need you.”

Carlos growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you, igniting a fire deep in your core. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval. “You’ve been so good for me.”

His lips brush against your skin, soft and teasing, before he sinks his fangs into your neck with a sharp, sudden bite. The pain is brief, almost sweet, as it melts into a wave of pleasure that crashes over you, stealing your breath, your thoughts, until there’s nothing left but the feel of him, the way he consumes you.

Your vision blurs as the sensation overwhelms you, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms. You can feel the pull of his fangs, the way he draws your blood with each slow, deliberate suck, and it’s intoxicating, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

But even as you feel yourself slipping away, lost in the ecstasy of his bite, Carlos is there, grounding you, his hands strong and sure as they hold you close. You can hear his voice, a low, soothing murmur in your ear, though you can’t make out the words — just the sound of it, the way it wraps around you, comforting you even as he drains you.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, just as you feel yourself beginning to fade, Carlos pulls back, his fangs slipping from your neck as he licks the wound closed with a tenderness that belies the intensity of his actions.

You’re left gasping, your body trembling with aftershocks, and you can barely hold yourself up as you cling to him, your mind a haze of pleasure and exhaustion. But Carlos isn’t done with you yet. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that makes your heart ache.

He hovers over you, his eyes dark and unreadable as he studies your face, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “You’re mine,” he says softly, his voice full of possessiveness, but also something deeper, something that makes your chest tighten with emotion. “Always.”

You can only nod, your voice lost in the whirlwind of sensations that still linger in your body. But you don’t need words — he can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you cling to him, the way your body responds to his every touch.

Carlos leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s achingly tender, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions. It’s a kiss that seals a promise, a bond that goes beyond the physical, beyond the blood you’ve shared.

But even as he pulls away, his eyes darken with something else, something that makes your pulse quicken with anticipation. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous purr that sends a thrill of excitement through you. “You still haven’t earned your release, querida.”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat as his words sink in. You’re still trembling, still reeling from the pleasure of his bite, but you know better than to think he’s going to let you off easy. Carlos is nothing if not thorough, and when he promises to punish you, he always follows through.

Carlos’ words hang in the air, a tantalizing promise that leaves you trembling with anticipation. His body is a solid weight against yours, pinning you to the bed, and every touch, every brush of his skin against yours sends shockwaves of desire through you.

Yet, there’s a new tension in the room now, something more than just the heady mix of pain and pleasure. It’s the awareness that this is a punishment — a lesson, a reminder of the power he holds over you. But even as you dread the torment he might inflict, a part of you craves it, revels in the way he takes control.

“Do you remember what I told you?” Carlos’ voice is a low growl, rich with authority, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest against yours. His hand trails down your side, a teasing touch that makes you shiver. “About how you’re not allowed to tip over the edge until I say so?”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, and nod slowly. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your need. “I remember.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a dangerous smile as he watches your reaction. “Because I’m not finished with you yet. Not even close.”

With deliberate slowness, he shifts his body, moving down your length, and the absence of his weight leaves you feeling exposed, vulnerable. His hands glide over your skin, tracing patterns that make you gasp, his touch both soothing and electrifying. You try to lift your hips, desperate for some kind of friction, but Carlos’ hands are there, holding you down with a gentle but firm pressure.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts softly, shaking his head. “No moving. You’re going to lie there and take what I give you, understand?”

Your breath catches at the command in his voice, and you bite your lip, nodding. “Yes, Carlos,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.

His eyes darken with approval, and you can feel the heat of his gaze as it roams over your body, taking in every inch of you. “That’s my girl,” he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So obedient … so eager to please.”

Carlos’ hands slide lower, over the curve of your hips, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you shudder as his fingers brush against the place where you ache for him the most. But just as quickly, he pulls back, leaving you teetering on the edge of frustration.

You let out a small, involuntary whimper, your body trembling with need, and Carlos’ eyes flash with something dark and primal. “Patience, mi amor,” he whispers, his voice a soothing caress. “You’ll get what you want … but only when I’m ready to give it to you.”

The anticipation is excruciating, each passing second a slow torture as Carlos continues to explore your body with languid, deliberate movements. Every brush of his fingers, every kiss he places on your skin, is designed to drive you mad with desire, to push you closer and closer to the edge without ever letting you fall over.

“Carlos,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you reach for him, needing to feel him, to touch him. “Please …”

But he catches your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re not in charge here,” he murmurs, his voice dark with intent. “I am. You’ll come when I say you can, and not a second before.”

The power in his words sends a thrill through you, even as you struggle against the restraints he’s placed on you. There’s something intoxicating about surrendering completely to him, about giving up control and letting him take the lead. And as much as it frustrates you, you can’t deny the way your body responds to his dominance, to the way he commands you with just a word, a touch.

Carlos releases your wrists, but the weight of his command keeps you in place, your arms trembling as you resist the urge to reach for him again. He moves lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, and you can’t help the way your muscles twitch under his touch, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

He pauses just above your core, his breath ghosting over your skin, and your hips lift instinctively, seeking contact, but he pulls back again, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “So impatient,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement. “But I suppose I can’t blame you … after all, I’ve kept you waiting for so long.”

Your breath hitches as he finally dips his head, his mouth descending on you with a deliberate slowness that makes you gasp. The first touch of his tongue is a shock of pleasure that sends a jolt through your body, and you arch off the bed, a cry tearing from your throat.

Carlos hums in approval, his grip on your thighs tightening as he holds you in place, his tongue working you with a skill that leaves you breathless. He’s relentless, his movements precise, calculated to push you closer and closer to the edge without ever letting you tip over.

You’re a mess of gasps and moans, your hands clutching at the sheets as you writhe under his touch, your body straining for release that remains just out of reach. The tension coils tighter and tighter, until you feel like you might shatter from the pressure.

“Carlos … please …” The words are a broken plea, a desperate cry for mercy, and you can hear the raw need in your own voice.

But Carlos is unmoved, his pace steady, unyielding as he pushes you further, dragging out your torment until you’re trembling with the effort of holding back. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and there’s a fire in them, a hunger that takes your breath away.

“Do you want to come, querida?” He asks, his voice a low, seductive growl that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice shaking with desperation. “Please, Carlos … I need to …”

“Then beg for it,” he commands, his gaze locked on yours. “Beg me to let you come.”

The words send a thrill of anticipation through you, and you can feel your resolve crumbling, your pride slipping away in the face of your overwhelming need. “Please, Carlos,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please … let me come. I can’t … I can’t take it anymore …”

Carlos’ lips curve into a satisfied smile, and he rewards your submission with a quick flick of his tongue that makes you cry out, your body arching off the bed. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. “You’ve been so good for me … I think you’ve earned it.”

His words are your undoing, the permission you’ve been craving, and as soon as they leave his lips, you feel the tension snap, the release crashing over you in a wave of pleasure so intense it leaves you gasping for breath. Your vision blurs, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as Carlos continues to work you through it, his hands and mouth relentless as he draws out every last drop of pleasure.

It’s too much, too overwhelming, and you find yourself sobbing with the intensity of it, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. But Carlos is there, grounding you, his touch soothing as he eases you back down, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin.

When the last of the tremors finally subside, you collapse against the bed, utterly spent, your body trembling with aftershocks. Carlos lifts his head, his eyes dark and intense as he watches you, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“You did so well, mi amor,” he murmurs, his voice soft with affection as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “I’m so proud of you.”

You can’t find the words to respond, your voice lost in the haze of pleasure and exhaustion that lingers in your body. But you don’t need to say anything — Carlos can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you relax into his touch.

He shifts, moving to lie beside you, and you immediately curl into him, seeking the warmth of his embrace. Carlos wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

For a long moment, there’s only silence, the two of you lying together in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. But even as your body begins to calm, your mind is racing, replaying the events of the night, the way Carlos took control, the way he commanded you.

It’s a heady feeling, knowing that you belong to him, that he holds this power over you. But it’s also comforting, a reminder that you’re safe, protected, that Carlos will always be there to guide you, to take care of you.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can think to stop them.

Carlos stiffens slightly, and you feel a pang of uncertainty, wondering if you’ve said the wrong thing. But then he’s tilting your chin up, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “More than anything.”

The sincerity in his voice, the raw honesty of his words, takes your breath away, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Carlos …”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips soft and tender against yours, and you can feel the depth of his feelings in that simple touch. It's a kiss that seals a promise, one that transcends words, binding the two of you together in a way that’s eternal, unbreakable.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a look in his eyes that speaks volumes — a silent vow that no matter what comes, you’ll face it together. “Forever,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress, and you know he means it in every sense.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you rest your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace. “Forever,” you echo, feeling the word settle into your very soul.

In his arms, you feel complete, whole in a way you never imagined possible. And as the night wraps around you like a blanket, you let yourself drift, knowing that with Carlos by your side, eternity doesn’t seem nearly long enough.

[shinoko-oshi]

Shutting a very (nervous) chatty soap up by letting him give you head under the table of a fairly fancy restaurant?

First of all can I just say me and other anons inspire to be like you? You got courage for not making your request anonymous, knowing me I probably would. Thank you brave knight.

(also for the other ppl in my inbox I promise to get around to ur requests, I won’t forget abt you, my pookies)

Johnny couldn’t help it— really.

Didn’t matter how many times he’d seen you naked. Didn’t matter how long you two had been together. Didn’t matter how familiar he was with every inch of your body.

You, sitting across from him in that dress, laughing at his stupid jokes, your head tilted back, eyes shining under the dim restaurant lights—yeah, he was fucked.

It was like that saying, killing two birds with one stone.

The first stone? That dress, the way it clung to you, teasing just enough skin to drive him crazy, the way it hugged your curves, dipping low at the neckline, riding high when you crossed your legs.

The second? Your laugh, bright and careless, the kind that had other people glancing over, drawn in by the sound, by the way you lit up from just talking to him. And God, he loved that. Loved making you laugh, loved knowing he was the reason for the little crinkle at the corners of your eyes, the way your nose scrunched up just slightly when you smiled too hard.

And now, here he was, shifting in his seat, blood rushing south, face heating as he tried to play it cool.

He started rambling. A nervous tic. Words spilling out of his mouth without thought.

“And y’know—he said he didn’t like the color black, but he was wearin’ black, and—”

“Are you nervous?” You smirked, swirling your wine, taking a slow sip, never breaking eye contact.

“No—I just—”

“You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Maybe I’m hungry for somethin’ else.”

You chuckled, leaning in slightly. “Yeah? Then come here.”

In an instant, he was under the table, lifting the cloth to duck beneath before letting it fall back into place, cloaking him in darkness. His hands finding your legs, skimming up your calves, lips following, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

Your heel slid up his thigh, finding the hard outline of his cock, pressing down just enough to make him groan.

“Think you need to be quiet,” you teased, voice low. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, yeah?”

Johnny nodded, even though you couldn’t see him.

His fingers curled around your thighs, parting them just enough to push your dress up. He wasted no time, shoving the fabric higher until he could reach your panties, hooking two fingers around the lace and pulling them aside.

And then, without hesitation, he buried his face between your legs.

His tongue was hot and wet as he licked into you, slow at first, teasing, savoring. Then deeper, more eager, as if he’d been starving for it, as if your taste was the only thing that could satisfy him.

Your heel slipped off, leaving only your painted toes teasing against his aching cock, each nudge making him groan harder against you. The vibrations sent a shiver up your spine, had you tangling your fingers in his hair, pressing his face further against you in warning.

And then—

“Everything alright? How’s the food?”

Your head snapped up, body going rigid as the waiter’s voice pulled you back to reality.

Johnny didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. If anything, he doubled down, his tongue flicking against your clit just to watch you struggle.

You swallowed, clearing your throat, forcing a tight smile.

“Uh—yeah,” you said, voice a little breathy. “Good. Great. The food is great.”

“And your date?”

“Bathroom.” you forced out, gripping the table for balance. “Yeah—he’s in the bathroom.”

[calisources]

𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences were taken from different sources about romance, marriage and specially arranged marriage and what that entails. Mentions of affairs, mistresses, wedding ceremonies and medieval talks of what marriage entails follow. Change names, pronouns and locations however you see fit.

Marriage is a marriage, whether it is arranged or not. Both necessitate the same level of dedication.

It’s not an option to be best friends with your life partner; it’s a requirement for a firm foundation in a long-term relationship.

Arranged marriage is not always a bed of roses, but it is possible to achieve with love and faith.

It’s different for women, isn’t it? They have no choice where they go. They grow up in a prison and then get married into one.

Is there anything more courageous/stupid than saying yes to spend your life with someone you have no idea about?

The country was as much of a mystery to me as the man I had married.

One day you’ll be in love with me.

You could be a titled lady. 

I have avoided the fate my father had planned for me. Surely it is I who has won, not he.

I do not care about power and wealth, father. I want to marry for love.

But if you were matched, what do you think she'd be like?

We're supposed to be unable to keep our hands off of each other. 

In this case the time is not so important for me, the person asking for commitment is.

We are trapped by convention and must marry another.

Every good child knows: duty before your heart's desire.

I am to be a bride, but whose? 

I married you to stop the bloodshed, and you keep killing. When will it be enough- when?

I found out soon after we met that Leah’s father had promised her in marriage to some young Pole.

If I ever get into an arranged marriage, I want it to be like theirs.

Arranged marriages require effort; constantly and every day. And where there is love, you want to make these efforts.

A successful arranged marriage can help climb the biggest mountain and build the biggest empire.

An arranged marriage is like wine; it tastes good with time.

You will marry him and do your duty to your House.

You are my daughter and you will do as I say. End of discussion.

Love? What does love have to do with marriage?

He'll honour his duty to family and swallow it.

I was three when my parents promised me. When a deal was struck. 

 So I was raised to be his wife. I was taught my favorite color was gold because his favorite color was gold. I was told my favorite foods were his favorite foods

I never thought what it would actually be like to have him... be gone. 

I was raised for him, and now I am... new. I am brand-new. And I do not even know how to breathe air he does not exhale.

A bride at her second marriage does not wear a veil. She wants to see what she is getting.

Marriage is a financial contract; I have enough contracts already.

The dowry, not the wife, is the object of attraction.

Arranged marriages work like this. The girl is hardly asked and is expected to follow whatever her parents deem fit.

Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk of.

Maybe she'll be beautiful. Maybe she'll be rich. As long as she brings swords and men.

Perhaps love is a minor madness.

It doesn't matter who the seed is. The important thing is that it has a place in your womb.

Her maidenhood will seal an alliance and must be kept safe.

Every married woman knows a man can have mistresses and we must look the other way.

All I ask is, that you do not cast me aside. Have mistresses and lovers as you please, but confide in me as I am to be your wife.

A husband’s first and foremost job in a marriage is to protect and love his wife.

Touching without looking had been incredibly arousing.

In my opinion, most marriages are based either on money or the fear of being alone.

I want you in every way there is to want. I want you in any way you choose to share.

I'm free to do with my wife as I fucking please.

The marriage of convenience lasts until you become an inconvenience.

Ours is a marriage of convenience and nothing more.

From now on, you're sleeping in our room. There's no chance in hell I'm letting you sleep far away from me again.

You agreed to this marriage and didn’t even dare to ask my opinion on the matter.

You're going to bend, and so am I. We're going to compromise, negotiate, and distract each other.

Being together means our priorities are going to change.

Men marry because they are tired; women, because they are curious: both are disappointed.

I don't think I am likely to marry, Harry. I am much too in love.

It is certainly romantic to be in love, but there's nothing romantic about a definite proposal.

They are royals, whoever they marry is not their choice but who is better for the crown.

That is a match made in a boardroom.

Once you are wed to another, you will forget me. 

I will marry a man who desires me but I have no interest in. 

I will not be a secret kept in shadows. Once you are wed, I will leave.

How can I marry them, when I am in love with another? It is not fair to them, that I think of you when I’m with them.

Ever since I met you, no one else has been worth thinking about.

Behave yourself, out here, we are wed and what you do, reflects on me.

You are being sold like a mare and do not care.

Once I bore him a son, he shall be happy, I know it.

We hate one another but for peace, we must wed. At least, let us enjoy this part of the contract.

I am doing this for my family and for the terms you offer.

A marriage is simply an alliance.

All will be well, love can be found in a marriage. If not love, at least, good company. 

Do your duty and give him sons.  That’s all men want.

I will not be paraded around in a bedding ceremony. I will wed them and bed them, but I will not be humiliated. 

You think this title gives me power, but you forget, I am a woman.

I am lucky enough to have options. None who please me but at least, I can choose one.

Come to bed now, husband. It is our wedding night, after all.

[novaursa]

Hello lovie! I'm a very big fan of your fanfictions especially the Maegor and Aerys Targaryen ones!! So...maybe a dark!Maegor x daughter!reader where he's older, desperate for heirs, so he married his daughter and eventually had two sons, but daughter!reader died in childbirth along with their 3rd child?

I'm sorry if this is too complicated, if you're able to make it thank you so much!

The House That Bleeds

Requests are closed

- Summary: You birthed him an empire and then you burned it down to ashes when the last breath left you.

- Pairing: daughter!reader/father!Maegor I Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (there is no adult content, but due to the nature of the story the rating is high)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: I hope I've managed to capture everything you wanted in this story, dear anon. This is another work which I've managed to rewrite from my old fics and reuse some chapters for your request.

The bells of the Red Keep had been silent for days, as though the city itself held its breath beneath the oppressive heat of summer. You wandered through the shadowed halls like a ghost, your bare feet muffled against the cold stone, the weight of eyes ever upon you. They watched you from the shadows—maids who dared not meet your gaze, knights who lowered their helms in shame, septas who muttered prayers beneath their breath as you passed. But none dared speak what all of them feared. None dared name it aloud.

Not even you.

You had always known your father’s eyes. Hard, amethyst-colored and cold as a winter sea. He looked at the world as if daring it to defy him, and often it did—but never for long. You had grown up in that shadow, his only child, the blood of the dragon but born a girl. No sons came to him, no true heirs, no male continuation of his might. His wives bled and wept and died, their wombs unable to tame the fire in his blood. But you… you survived. Not just that—you thrived. The fire had not consumed you. And so, as the years passed and his gaze lingered longer upon you, you came to understand the terrible truth before it was ever spoken aloud.

He would not give you away.

He would take you for himself.

You stood at the high window of Maegor’s solar, your fingers tracing the red veins in the dark stone, your reflection pale in the glass. Behind you, the door groaned open, heavy boots striking the floor with familiar weight.

"You summoned me, Father?" you asked without turning.

Maegor's voice was a growl, low and measured. "Come here, daughter."

You obeyed. You always had. You turned, your silk skirts whispering around your ankles, and crossed the chamber. He stood by the great black table where the painted map of Westeros sprawled beneath his hands like a conquered corpse. His silver hair was bound back, a crown heavy upon his brow, though there was no one here to see it. His years had thickened him, not dulled him; his arms were still iron, his shoulders broad beneath layers of dark velvet and dragon-scale leather. He looked down at you with a gaze that saw everything, and nothing, all at once.

"The court mutters." His voice was quieter now. "The septons say I defy the gods."

You said nothing. You’d heard the whispers. How could you not? The High Septon had come in person to beg your father not to follow through with the horror he planned. The Faith threatened another rebellion. Your name had become a stain in the mouths of pious men, and yet none dared challenge Maegor openly.

He lifted your chin with one heavy hand, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw.

"But they forget," he murmured, "that I am a dragon. I answer to none but fire and blood."

You could feel your pulse beneath his fingers. You had not wept. You would not. But fear had a taste—bitter and hot, like ash on the tongue—and you swallowed it down like wine.

"You would make me your wife," you whispered, the words fragile even as they left your lips.

"I would make you my queen," he corrected, voice hardening. "You are the only one worthy. The only one strong enough to bear my heir. The blood of the dragon runs pure in you. There is no law older than Valyria’s, and no sin in what was sanctified by the flames of Old Valyria."

"But I am your daughter," you said, eyes searching his, desperate for something—remorse, doubt, even shame.

He bent his head close, his breath brushing your cheek like smoke. "You are mine. That is all the world needs to know."

The ceremony was held at night, beneath the light of the twin moons, in the newly made Dragonpit where Balerion sleeps. No septon officiated. Instead, the high flames of a pyre lit the chamber, and the words of binding were spoken in High Valyrian, ancient and terrible. Your gown was crimson and black, sheer and silken, clinging to your skin like molten heat. Gold circled your wrists and throat, heavy like chains. At your side, Maegor loomed—crowned and cloaked in the scales of the Black Dread himself, a beast in human form. He took your hands in his, calloused and hot, and swore not to the gods, but to the fire that birthed your house.

"This man is hers," he intoned, voice echoing through the cavernous dark.

Your reply trembled in your throat, the ancient words unfamiliar, cursed. But you said them. You had no choice.

"This woman is his." 

The flames cracked and roared as the ritual was sealed with dragon’s blood, spilled from a golden bowl and poured onto your joined hands. Your skin burned where it touched his. You did not flinch.

Later, in the darkness of the royal bedchamber—once your mother's, now your prison—he undressed you with ritual care, fingers reverent and possessive. You did not speak. Neither did he, for a long time. He simply watched you, as though trying to carve your image into memory, or into stone.

"You are the only part of me that has not failed," he said at last, his voice hoarse. "I will not let you slip away, like the others."

You turned your face from him then, not wanting him to see your tears. But you felt his hands on your skin, unrelenting, claiming, as the prophecy of your bloodline twisted itself into something monstrous.

You were not a princess anymore.

You were Maegor’s queen.

And soon—if the gods were cruel enough—you would bear the future he could not carve from any woman but you.

The birthing bed was soaked in blood.

The crimson stain bloomed beneath your trembling body, vivid and spreading like wildfire across the white linens, soaking through the furs, dripping onto the cold stone floor of Maegor’s bedchamber. It should not have been like this. Not this time. Your first son, Aenar, had been born strong, his tiny fists clenched as he screamed into the night. The second, Baelon, quieter and paler of hair, had clung to life with equal strength, suckling at your breast with hunger and fire in his eyes. You had proven yourself, again and again, as the mother of the bloodline he craved. You had done what the others could not. You had lived.

But this time, you were not living. You were dying.

You lay half-upright, drenched in sweat and silk, your skin as pale as the moonlight spilling in through the narrow window. Each contraction ripped through you like dragonsteel. Your body refused to yield, and the child—stubborn, silent, wrong—remained lodged within your womb, a weight of death that refused to be born. The Maester had long since begun to tremble, bloodied to the elbows, muttering that he could do no more. The midwives had fled. Only Maegor remained.

He stood beside the bed, arms crossed, his mouth a thin line carved of iron. He had not left your side in two days. He had not slept. He watched as if trying to will you to survive with the same sheer will that had built the Red Keep and bathed Westeros in fire. But this was not a kingdom. This was you.

And you were slipping away.

Your voice cracked, barely audible above the rustle of dying flame in the hearth. “It hurts, Father…”

You hadn’t called him that in years. Not since the wedding, not since the moment he’d crowned you with the blood of your own name and chained you in silk. But in your agony, the word returned like breath after drowning, a whispered plea that shattered the silence.

His jaw clenched. “You are strong. You are a dragon. You will not die.”

A choked sound broke from your lips—whether a sob or a laugh, even you did not know. “I’m not a dragon. I’m just a woman, Maegor…”

He dropped to his knees beside the bed, grasping your hand in his, his calloused fingers slick with your blood. “No,” he growled, shaking his head as though denying the truth could bend the will of the gods. “You are mine. You will live.”

Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, sliding down your temples. Your strength was gone. The child had stopped moving inside you, the only sound left in the room was the wet, dreadful rasp of your breath. Your lips trembled as you forced them to speak one last time.

“Promise me…” You gasped. “Swear to me—don’t force her to wed anyone. Don’t… if the child lives. Not if it's a girl…”

He stared at you. The unyielding Maegor the Cruel, destroyer of the Faith Militant, slayer of his own wives, conqueror of Westeros’s spine—his eyes finally softened. A flicker of something human passed across his face.

“I swear it,” he said, voice low, broken.

Your fingers loosened in his grip.

By the time the sun rose over the Red Keep, the child—his third son, malformed and breathless—lay in a swaddling of crimson silk, untouched and unwanted at the foot of the bed. Your body, still and serene in death, was arranged with ceremony. Flowers could not mask the stench of blood and loss. Aenar and Baelon, too young to understand, were kept away, their nursemaids whispering prayers to gods Maegor would never allow near his hall.

He stood there long after the Maester departed, long after the flames in the hearth had died out. He stared at your face—pale, perfect, marred only by the faintest smile that had lingered even after death. He did not cry. Dragons did not weep. But he sat on the edge of the bed and did not move, as though if he stayed there long enough, you might stir again, and look at him with those wide, wary eyes you once had.

“You were meant to be eternal,” he said hoarsely, brushing a lock of silver hair from your forehead. “You were meant to outlive me.”

But the fire had finally devoured even you.

And now there was nothing left but ash.

[riddlesbunny]

a little wicked

summary: Your captor summons you to his quarters and offers you a deal.

pairing: Aemond x Witch!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, power imbalance, threatening, reader is Aemond’s prisoner, dubcon, fingering 18+ MDNI

note: Inspired by Alys, of course 💚 but no physical descriptors! Idk how I feel about this but yeah…… Feedback is appreciated!

How did the saying go? When a Targaryen is born, the Gods flipped a coin? A 50/50 chance to ascend to greatness or be destined to descend into madness. It served as a reminder to the great family that dragons or not, they were mortal like everyone else. For the rest of the realm, it served as a warning: The Targaryen’s were a force to be reckoned with. Intimidating, unpredictable. When the Targaryen’s wanted something, only a fool would deny them of it or stand in their way. Aemond Targaryen was no exception to this folklore. He teetered on the brink of insanity majority of the time.

You shivered as you sat in the cold, damp dungeon. The only light came from a small barred window high up on the stone walls. You could hear the faint sound of dripping water and the occasional scurrying of rats. You wondered how long you would be trapped here.

“You, girl!” One of the burly men guarding your cell called, metal keys clanging in his hands.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen has requested an audience.”

You had been waiting this moment since you first arrived: judgement day. What would become of you? Would you be granted mercy? You weren’t even sure how many days had passed since your house was burned to ash and you were thrown in this dungeon.

Once the man unlocked the chain around your wrist, you struggled to rise to your feet, anxiety coursing through your veins.

“Come now, girl. The prince does not like to be kept waiting.

The darkness of the chamber seemed to breathe along with the prince. The room where he took solace was beautiful and spacious, but yet you found it to be almost as eerie as the dungeons. Aemond sat in a large leather chair eagerly awaiting your arrival. Across from him was a small dining table and a wooden bench big enough for two. Without uttering a word, he motioned for you to sit down. You obliged, nodding at him and smoothing your dress as you did so. Before you was a small plate with freshly baked bread and a small goblet of wine.

“You must be hungry,” he stated, “eat.”

Hungry was an understatement, you were starving. You took a rather large bite of the bread, washing it down with the wine. It was the best wine you had ever tasted. You were thankful to have something to calm your nerves.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you here.”

You swallowed the bread with quickness and wiped your mouth of any possible crumbs.

“That is correct, your grace.”

Aemond leaned forward so that his elbows were touching his knees, a fox-like grin plastered on his face.

“How polite you are,” he noted, “what do you know of me?”

Truth be told, you didn’t know much about Aemond Targaryen. You were aware of his cruelty. You knew that ever since he took over Harrenhal your life had become hell.

“You’re… Aemond Targaryen,” you blurted out, hoping he would not berate you for stating something so obvious. “You’re the second son of the late King Viserys… You were crowned prince regent not long ago, and your dragon is called Vhagar.”

You watched intently as Aemond took a sip of his own wine, silently praying you did not say the wrong thing. His Adam's apple bobbed in the candlelight as he swallowed — the longer you stared at him you realized he was actually quite handsome. Your thoughts of admiration for him were interrupted once he spoke.

“Very good. Now, would you care to know what I know of you?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood, striding over to approach where you sat. A knot formed in your stomach as he plopped down next to you, his good eye piercing through you with scrutiny.

“I know that you’re a wet nurse,” he began as his good eye flicked to your breasts so quickly you almost didn’t catch it.

“I know that you are a bastard of House Strong,” the tone of his voice had been laced with venom. You knew he hated your house and you knew he hated bastards. A thin line of sweat began to form on your forehead and your heart raced as you waited for the prince to speak again. Instead he inched closer, his hand ghosting over your thigh.

“As interesting as those facts about you may be, would you like to know the most intriguing of them all?”

Too overwhelmed to speak, you remained silent. Only giving him a simple nod in response.

“I know,” he stated as his large hand now gripped at the flesh of your thigh over your dress, “that you’re a witch.”

His statement made your blood run cold. Aemond’s fingers traced the edge of your jawline, lingering at your pulse point. Your breath hitched once again as his thumb brushed the throbbing vein beneath your skin.

“Isn’t that right, my sweet?”

He was correct. Your late mother had been teaching you magic since you were a young girl. You possessed the gift of foresight, being able to see into the future and the past. However it wasn’t so black and white. You had much to learn before your craft was perfected.

“I am not as powerful as you may have been led to believe, my prince.”

Any doubts you had of yourself, Aemond did not seem to agree on, he did not even acknowledge you. His hand found its way further down and under the skirts of your dress. Large fingers probed between your legs, pressing hard against your clothed sex. You tensed up, your breath leavingyour lungs. Your body betrayed you as you felt arousal blooming within you, dampening your small clothes.

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions as Aemond’s hand ventured deeper, snaking its way beneath the waistband of your undergarments. Fear mingled with desire, leaving you torn between pushing him away and surrendering to the agonizing threat of pleasure that pulsed through your veins. It's not as if you had much of a choice in the matter.

"I believe that we can be of service to one another," he whispered against your neck, licking lightly at the sensitive flesh. Two of his fingers teased at the bud between your legs, pinching at it lightly as they became sticky with your slick. A wave of pleasure rippled through you and you squirmed beneath him. Involuntarily your body jolted forward, allowing him better access to the spot he was exploring.

"Together, I believe we can conquer many obstacles and even achieve success."

You cringed as a moan escaped your lips.

"You shall remain loyal to me and me only," he said as he pushed his fingers inside of you. He chuckled darkly as your body trembled under his touch.

"The practice of your craft is to only be done in my presence," he continued as his fingers pumped in and out of you, stretching you deliciously — almost, but not quite reaching that spongy spot within your walls.

“You will use your powers to the best of your ability and for my benefit and in return, I shall spare you your life.”

Another moan erupted from within you as he hooked his digits up slightly, pressing into the spot you needed him most.

“Do you think you can be a good girl and obey my rules?”

Your cunt began to squeeze around his digits in response to the nickname.

As he grazed the rough patch inside of you and pressed firmly into it, his free hand pushed down on your stomach while he continued to thrust his fingers. You felt your body shake and tremble as your orgasm began to wash over you at an embarrassingly quick pace. Aemond watched in great amusement as you came undone beneath him. In this light you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, your hair unruly and your cheeks flushed crimson. A sight he would never grow tired of.

He removed his fingers from your slick and gave you a minute to gain your composure. You felt a wave of shame crash over your body, unable to look him in the eye. How did you succumb to him so easily? Thought in the back of your mind you had hoped wasn't going to be the last time something of this nature was going to happen.

Aemond used the same two fingers that were inside of you to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“So,” he smirked “do we have a deal?”

“Yes, your grace.”

He informed you that a guard would be taking you to your new quarters as he bade you goodnight.

As you entered your new quarters, you were taken back by the luxury of it all. The walls were made of stone and there was a large, ornate canopy bed in the center, a major upgrade from your own bedroom, and an even bigger upgrade from the dungeons. To your delight, a steaming bath had been drawn for you and a fresh chemise was laid out on the bed.

This was just the beginning of your very complicated relationship with Aemond Targaryen. You were still a prisoner, you were still afraid of what was to come; but there were worse situations you could be in and perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[hy6erion]

I love your work ! Spend the weekend reading it all !!💕

Was wondering if I can request something cute with mel shutting up R with a kiss when she talks about nerd stuff

𝐀 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬- 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥.

The night unfolds in slow, luxurious strokes, a painting made of candlelight and the scent of warm jasmine oil curling through the still air. The silk-draped walls of Mel’s chambers breathe in gold and shadow, catching the flicker of the flames in a way that makes the space feel suspended—untouched by time, untouched by anything but the quiet hum of the city beyond.

And in the heart of it, there is you.

Your body is half-curled into the velvet embrace of her chaise, bare feet tucked beneath you, the weight of a thick research book resting against your thighs. You are a scholar first, a seeker of knowledge before all else, and tonight is no exception.

Mel watches you from her place beside you, her body a study in practiced ease—one arm draped along the back of the chaise, the other cradling a glass of wine between her fingers. She is not a woman who moves without purpose. Every tilt of her head, every shift of her gaze, is calculated—designed to disarm, to draw in, to conquer without force.

And yet, with you, she only watches. Listens. Waits.

You have yet to notice.

Your thoughts are elsewhere, carried away on the tide of your own endless curiosity. She can see it in the way your fingers twitch against the edge of the page, in the way your lips part—just slightly—before the words come spilling forth.

“Did you know,” you begin, voice quiet, though threaded with that familiar excitement, “that mana resonance in an enclosed system can mimic organic energy cycles? If properly refined, it could—”

She lets you speak.

Because how could she not?

Your voice moves like water, fluid and untamed, slipping through the cracks of everything structured and expected. You are not careful with your words—not in the way she is. You do not weigh them like weapons or measure them like currency. You offer them freely, without hesitation, without fear of scarcity.

And gods, it is mesmerizing.

“—Heimerdinger’s equations suggest a degradation over time, but I think there’s an alternative model he failed to consider—”

Mel shifts, the movement slow, deliberate.

You don’t notice. Not yet.

“—which, if applied correctly, could lead to a near-zero energy loss in transitional states, but the real question is whether—”

She reaches out. Her fingers find your jaw, the touch feather-light, as if tracing the edges of something fragile, something precious.

And at last—finally—your words falter.

The breath between them catches, uncertain, unfinished. Mel smiles.

“You were saying?” she murmurs, her voice honeyed silk, warm and knowing.

You blink, your mind caught between the unraveling of theory and the sudden, grounding presence of her touch.

“I—I was just explaining that—”

Mel tilts your face up, just enough to catch the flickering glow of candlelight in your eyes.

“Yes?”

The syllable is a whisper, a challenge wrapped in something softer.

You swallow. “That the—”

Mel kisses you. It is not rushed. It is not desperate. It is the slow press of warmth against parted lips, the quiet hum of something inevitable unfurling between the space of a breath.

She tastes of wine and something sweeter, something richer—something that lingers even after she pulls back, leaving only the ghost of her touch against your mouth.

Silence drapes itself over the room like silk, thick and heavy, waiting to be disturbed.

Mel watches you with a gaze too knowing, too self-satisfied.

“Much better,” she muses, the curve of her lips betraying the amusement she does not speak.

You inhale sharply, blinking as though trying to recalibrate your thoughts—trying to remember the shape of the sentence you had been building, the argument you had been forming.

It is gone. Utterly, entirely gone.

“You—” The word is breathless, half-formed. You shake your head, as if that might clear it. “You could have just asked me to stop talking.”

Mel hums, low in her throat, her fingers still tracing lazy patterns along your jaw.

“And deny myself the pleasure of watching you unravel?”

Your breath catches.

The way she says it—the way the word curls around her tongue like something intimate, something meant only for the two of you—sends a flush of heat pooling beneath your skin.

Mel’s smile deepens. Ah. So easy. So devastatingly easy.

She shifts closer, not quite touching, but close enough that the warmth of her presence presses against you like a second skin. Close enough that when she speaks again, her words brush against the corner of your mouth.

“I rather like this method.”

Your pulse is a traitor, betraying you in the way it quickens beneath her touch.

The sharp edges of your mind—so precise, so measured—have gone soft, dulled by the haze of something unfamiliar, something intoxicating.

You are a woman of logic. A woman of reason.

And yet, here you are, utterly undone by nothing more than the careful placement of Mel Medarda’s lips against yours.

She sees it. She sees everything.

And gods, she enjoys it. But she is not cruel.

So, she waits.

Waits for you to find your breath again. Waits for you to find the words you are so used to wielding with ease.

You inhale. You exhale.

And then, very quietly, you murmur:

“…Would you do it again?”

Mel’s breath hitches—so softly, so imperceptibly, that you might have imagined it.

But you didn’t.

A slow, deliberate smile unfurls across her lips, golden eyes gleaming with something deeper, something satisfied.

“Darling,” she murmurs, brushing a thumb over the corner of your mouth, “all you ever had to do was ask.”

And this time—when she kisses you—there are no more words between you.

Only the quiet, steady hum of something waiting to be understood.

[cece693]

Bound By Appetite (SMUT)

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader tags: hannibal cheats on alana, but is it really when they're just fuck buddies, male reader is alana's brother, will is just a victim, adult content, smut, blowjob

Hannibal Lecter knew how to mask his desires beneath a composed exterior, but a singular glance from you always threatened to fracture that control. It was something in the way you carried yourself—taller than your sister Alana, more assured, your demeanor tinged with just the right amount of mystery to intrigue him. He had slept with Alana because it offered him a respectable facade if the FBI ever got close enough to discover his more deviant acts, but when his eyes met yours during a visit you made to your sister, he was hooked. Your presence, your voice, your insight kindled in him what Alana never had nor could dare to. You were the one he truly wanted.

That much became undeniably clear the first time Hannibal had managed to seduce you. It wasn't in his nature to relinquish control, but when his back hit the mattress and your lips explored every inch of his skin, it ignited a new hunger in him, beyond even his taste for the forbidden. It took some convincing on his part to make you see that night as something other than a mistake, and more so to establish that connection he'd been gone without for decades. Hannibal would keep you locked in his basement if you dared to reject him, but it seemed you had felt similarly.

In the hush of his home, Hannibal’s outward civility peeled back to reveal an ardent, almost predatory fixation. He viewed your body as a rare delicacy, your mind as a labyrinth he longed to explore, and your presence as an irreplaceable treasure in his otherwise carefully curated life.

It was on one of these nights—after a sumptuous meal in Hannibal’s dining room—that the tenuous calm between you and him was disturbed. The main course had been “lamb,” though you suspected (as always) that the truth might be more monstrous. You decided not to ask. The taste was exquisite, your mood as buoyant as the rich red wine swirling in your glass.

Hannibal’s gaze remained locked upon you, dark eyes alight with a contained hunger. You had already promised you would stay the night. If there was any question left about your fidelity, his intent to keep you there until dawn was clear in every subtle shift of his posture.

But a shrill tone from your phone shattered the quiet. You winced, reaching into your jacket pocket and letting out a soft apology when you caught sight of the caller ID—Will Graham. In any other situation, you might have allowed the call to ring through to voicemail, but recent events complicated matters: you and Will had begun dancing around one another, testing the waters of a more traditional relationship. You had shared a few lingering kisses. Perhaps you were curious about what normalcy would feel like, away from Hannibal’s forbidding shadow.

Hannibal’s smile thinned. Though he set aside his utensils with a flourish of politeness, you knew he loathed this interruption. You offered Hannibal a guilty look as you answered. “Hey, Will,” you said, keeping your voice even.

Will’s tone was tentative, yet warm. “I finally got you. I was worried I caught you at a bad time.”

“No, I’m just…finishing dinner,” you replied carefully.

Across from you, Hannibal leaned back in his seat, posture so calm it seemed eerie. His eyes never left you. A spark of jealousy flickered behind those carefully constructed walls of composure. It simmered deeper when Will ventured to ask if you’d like to meet tomorrow morning for a coffee at his home. You swallowed, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Hannibal said nothing, but you could sense the tension creeping into every elegant line of his body. He despises anyone vying for your attention.

“Will, I’m…I’m kind of occupied right now,” you told him, your heart jumping when Hannibal rose smoothly, circling the table to stand behind your chair.

Will persisted. “Well, I really want to see you again." He sounded hopeful. "If you don't want coffee, perhaps just a simple breakfast—" Your breath caught as Hannibal’s fingertips settled on your shoulders. Then, with disconcerting grace, he nudged your chair back just enough to create space. The scrape of the chair legs against the floor made you tense. You knew precisely what he was planning—some not-so-subtle reminder that you belonged to him.

“Will, can we discuss this another time?” you managed, your voice faltering when Hannibal’s arms slid around your waist.

Will paused, clearly sensing your unease. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, your heart pounding. “Tomorrow, yeah?”

Hannibal bent closer, his breath ghosting across the back of your neck. He spoke so quietly only you could hear: “Don’t you think Will should know his place?”

A tremor laced your spine, but you didn’t have time to respond before he slipped to his knees. Your grip tightened around the phone as Hannibal’s deft fingers worked open your belt, your zipper. He pressed the palm of his hand below your navel, urging you to shift. You could almost taste the possessive fury emanating off him—your interest in Will fueling a sort of primal jealousy he refused to mask.

“Hannibal—” you murmured under your breath, a futile protest.

He did not answer except by freeing you from the confines of your trousers, his motions precise and unhurried. The notion that you might remain completely composed on the phone with Will while Hannibal did this to you was inconceivable. But that was precisely what Hannibal intended: to watch you falter, to watch you realize that no mundane connection with Will Graham could overshadow the stark intensity he offered.

“Hey,” Will’s voice came again, “is something happening? You sound—”

Hannibal wrapped his mouth around you in a single fluid motion, and your entire body jolted. The phone nearly slipped from your hand. Waves of pleasure undercut your ability to form coherent words. You tried—and failed—to swallow a gasp. Your hand shot out to brace against the table’s edge while the other clutched the phone. “Will, I—I’m here,” you choked out, your voice embarrassingly breathy. “Just… finishing dinner.”

Hannibal’s tongue worked agonizing patterns that obliterated any chance of calm. He was deliberate—this was not a gentle act, but a show of domination woven into the pleasure. A low hum vibrated through his throat, intensifying each burst of sensation, each quiet moan you tried so hard to stifle. "Okay." Will sounded uncertain, but you didn't care, especially when you tried to not moan at the sinful image Hannibal currently created. "So, tomorrow? Or do you have something already planned?"

In a moment of pity or sadism, Hannibal eased the speed of his ministrations, letting you draw a rattling breath. He slid his hands up your sides, anchoring your hips in place so you couldn’t pull away if you tried. "Yes, tomorrow sounds perfect—" A sharp inhale caught your words when Hannibal resumed his torturous, calculated pace. “But I really have to go now. Take care." Hannibal’s satisfied murmur around you sent pleasure zinging straight up your spine. He wanted Will to hear the quiver in your voice, wanted you to know exactly who commanded your desire.

“Okay,” Will answered, perplexed. “Goodnight, see you soon.”

The line went dead, and you let the phone drop onto the table with a clatter. Freed from pretense, your head fell back against the chair, a ragged moan escaping your throat. Hannibal, no longer constrained by the presence of a third party on the line, began to move in earnest. He swallowed around you, sucking, swirling his tongue, each motion of his mouth orchestrated with merciless elegance.

Your mind hazed, every nerve lit up by the sensation. You tried to swallow the cries building in your throat, but Hannibal was relentless. This was how he expressed the depth of his jealousy, by consuming you quite literally. Possessiveness roiled beneath each caress, as though he might devour you rather than allow you to belong to anyone else.

You felt the telltale curl of heat in your abdomen, your muscles tensing, thighs trembling. Hannibal read you like a well-worn script. He tightened his hold, swallowing you deeper, coaxing you into the precipice of release. With a strangled groan, you surrendered, your body snapping taut as pleasure raked through you.

Hannibal took it all, his eyes sliding shut as he savored every moment. Only when you finally slumped back, chest heaving, did he relinquish you. He stood with his usual, unhurried poise, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb.

His dark gaze met yours—smug, perhaps, but also blazing with an undercurrent of satisfaction. You caught your breath, warmth still buzzing in your limbs. When he leaned down, you instinctively closed the distance, pressing a hard, heated kiss to his lips. The taste of yourself lingered on him, fueling your own swirl of possessive desire.

When you pulled back, Hannibal’s mouth quirked in a small, dangerous smile. He brushed his thumb over your lower lip. “You agreed to meet Will tomorrow. Perhaps something will get in the way and ruin your plans."

You said nothing, merely tightened your hold on his arm. In that searing moment, as Hannibal stared down at you with an air of unspoken triumph, any notion of a normal, innocent future with Will Graham felt like a distant dream. You might have dipped your toe in that possibility—but Hannibal’s ravenous gravity always pulled you back under.

You had already promised to spend the night—and you suspected Hannibal would ensure you stayed until dawn and beyond. The phone lay dormant on the table, Will’s name still glowing in your call history. For now, it was an afterthought. Caught in Hannibal’s thrall, you couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be—or perhaps you no longer had a choice.