#i have no idea why he just popped into my head and i wanted to draw him lol

[menlove]

"Life After the Bastards: 30 Years On, Macca Tells All"

"Blamed for the break-up for the biggest band in history, Paul McCartney downsized rapidly to cultivate a successful pop smallholding. Yet a bountiful solo career was always dominated by two famous partners, he tells Paul Du Noyer."

i said i'd do this ages ago and then the horrors happened, but this is a written up version of an interview by paul du noyer with paul mccartney from mojo's july 2001 issue.

sidenote: this seems to be the source for the claim that john thought "dear boy" was about him, which is why i bought the magazine because i haven't been able to find a digitized version of the interview and wanted to get the context. but it's a very fascinating interview just in general so it's definitely worth a read!

Wings were a band who seldom felt the feathery end of the critic's quill, but this year we're seeing Paul McCartney's biggest effort so far to rehabilitate the second most popular group he ever belonged to. He's released a double-CD and a documentary, both called Wingspan, that tell the story as he would like it told. And you soon realise that there's more than a muso's pride at stake in this project. "The great thing is," he says, "it vindicates Linda. I know she wanted to do the Wingspan thing. She knew if it was laid out correctly, people would get the idea. With all the slagging off she got, like the famous tape at Knebworth..." (This illicit cassette, from the mixing desk of a live show at the outdoor venue, was for years a dependable source of satirical mirth in music business circles; Linda McCartney's off-key vocals circumnavigate the chorus notes of Hey Jude, while anonymous engineers hoot cruelly.)

"The truth was," her loyal widower continues, "she was doing this (he stands, raises his hands to clap above his head). She was being the big cheerleader: 'Hey Jude, naah-naah-na.' But you don't see the visual, you just here this out-of-tune voice, and I know she always wanted the record put straight. And this does. You see her playing. You hear her singing beautifully. And you see what she was to the group. You see why she had to be in the group. She becomes the ballsiest member of it..."

He settles back on the sofa, here in the Soho office of his MPL company. Around his neck is a slim pink tie of the kind that Elvis used to wear. On his feet are trainers that look less like a gesture to trendiness than a concession to comfort. Just behind him is the Art Deco statuette that appears on a couple of Wings LP sleeves. The other great thing about the Wingspan film, he says,was being interviewed by his daughter Mary. (That's her face you can see, peeping out from Dad's jacket on the cover of the first solo LP, 31 years ago.) "I'd never had such a long natter with her, as doing this. And I used to say to my kids, You're the only ones who never ask me about The Beatles. Their friends would come round and say, 'What was it like being in The Beatles?' I'd go (adopts pompous old git voice), Well, let me tell you... And my kids would all go out the room: 'Oh bloody hell, he's off...' That's how kids are, they don't want to hear about that shit. But their friends would, so I'd chunder on..."

In fact he chunders on about The Beatles a lot more than you might expect. Or about one Beatle in particular, at least. The World's Most Famous Living Liverpudlian is anything but reticent when it comes to the World's Most Famous Dead Liverpudlian. It's quite contrary of him, because for the first 20 years after the group split up, he showed a stubborn reluctance to discuss the subject with his interviewers. They wanted to ask about John Lennon; he wanted to discuss Back To The Egg... Then came a reconciliation with his past that culminated in the Anthology exercise, when the moratorium on Beatle-talk was entirely lifted. And now, in 2001, when the promotional agenda has switched back to Wings, you almost have to coax him off the subject of John Lennon. Is it just force of habit, or maybe the need to exorcise some kind of long-nosed, bespectacled, sharp-tongued ghost inside his head?

Taste restrains Paul from claiming any posthumous victories over John, though it's no secret that he still has some differences with Yoko that are as wide as the Atlantic that normally separates them. But he can't resist smiling at the irony of Lennon spending his last few years championing the sort of domestic cosiness that was once a derided part of the McCartney stereotype.

"Yeah, it's lovely. But you're right to say they were stereotypes. Everyone thought John was the hard, working class hero. As you know, if you look at his house, he was actually the middle class one, from Woolton. We were the scruffs. He had the full Works Of Winston Churchill: nobody any of us knew had that. A set of encyclopedias was the most that anyone in our class had. But he had The Works Of Winston Churchill, and he'd read 'em, I think.

"There were so many stereotypes of John. And I love the fact that in the end- it's one of the great blessings of my life, seeing as he got shot- that during the last year, we made it up. Thank God for that. I would be just so fucked up now, if I'd still been arguing with him and that had happened. I was thinking about it just the other day. It was cool that I'd started ringing him. We'd had a bread strike over here and I rang him and I was saying, What are you doing? He says, 'I'm breaking some bread.' Oh! Me too! Imagine, with the stereotypes, John and Paul talking about baking bread. He'd just had Sean, and he was talking about just padding round the apartment in his dressing gown, putting the cat out and changing the baby.

"And I'd been doing all of that, and as you say, I'd been stereotyped for it. It was really warm to be able to talk to him that ordinarily, finally. It was like we'd got back to where we'd been when we were kids. It was like we could actually talk about stuff that didn't matter, but somehow it did matter..."

Back in 1970 neither John nor Paul, nor George or Ringo, would find The Beatles an easy beast to walk away from. Paul and Ringo seem to be at peace with it now; John would probably have become so; George never has. Besides the legal wranglings and the personal rancour that persisted between them for a while, there was the unique problem of getting used to living in a world that you no longer ruled.

Pop in the 1960s was like a pyramid. At the top obviously, were The Beatles. Around them and just below, were Dylan, the Stones, the deposed King Elvis, and so on down to the broad base of innumerable also-rans. But pop in the 1970s was more like range of mountain peaks, topped by anyone from Elton John to the Sex Pistols. There was also no unified hierarchy any more, and there hasn't been one since. McCartney can't have found the new world order an easy proposition. But he overcame his doubts the same way that he overcame his blacker periods in The Beatles. In other words, he worked.

It's one of those first post-mop top albums that we discuss in detail today. McCartney (1970) and Ram (1971) were curiously anti-climatic in their day. The first was home-grown, small-scale, contentedly modest, like a record made for his private diversion. The second was sprawling and eccentric, full of unfinished tunes and nonsense rhymes. This was an era when former Beatles were still expected to return from the mountain bearing tables of stone (which Lennon and Harrison certainly attempted to do), not these gaudy, giggling indulgences. Three decades later, McCartney and Ram have endured far better than anyone expected.

It's typical of McCartney, though, that he's still insecure about their worth. He has a peculiar, wrong-end-of-the-telescope way of assessing his talent. He tries to talk up McCartney by telling you that "Dave Stewart really likes it", or boasts that a hippy van driver once yelled across the LA traffic, "Ram! Great album dude!" Recently his girlfriend Heather Mills put it this way: "He is a genius but doesn't realise it, which is delightful."

Towards the end of The Beatles you were dying to get back to playing live in a band, weren't you? But your first move is to go the opposite way and do a totally solo album.

Yeah. I couldn't have another band because I wasn't sure The Beatles had actually broken up. It was on the cusp: we hadn't broken up when I started it, so it was just me doing some solo stuff. And then we had broken up, but things hung on. It basically started from John's decision to leave the band, which came when I said I think we should get back together and do some little gigs. And he said, "Well I think you're daft and I wasn't going to tell you until after we signed the Capitol deal but I'm leaving the band." (Mimes an axe falling) That was, like, The Moment The Beatles Broke Up. But it wasn't in the open until a few months later, when I issued the McCartney album and did this press release with it, which virtually had the announcement. I finally blew the whistle on it. And John was annoyed, even though he hadn't said anything. It turns out, he told me later, that he wanted to be the one who announced it. He was jealous that I beat him to it. But I felt that three or four months was enough to wait around. Either we were just going to fuck about for another year, or we had to actually say to people, "You know what? About three or four months ago we actually broke up." So that was how that happened.

So in your head, The Beatles were still together when you were making McCartney. Whereas the outside world heard it as "What Paul did after leaving The Beatles." I think it seemed a strangely low-key record, as a result.

No. It was on the cusp. There were a lot of funny things around at the time. Allen Klein: he was the one I wanted to sue to get out of it all. But everyone said, "He's not party to any of the agreements, he's just an outside guy. So you'll have to sue The Beatles." So I got into this terrifying thing of having to sue them, scared more than anything of the fact that, as you say, people would just see this album come out, hear my announcement and then hear I was suing The Beatles, without knowing any of the context. So I knew I was in for problems. And I tired my best in the press to say, "Oh, blah blah blah, it was Allen Klein, blah blah." So it was a shitty time for me. The only option was to either let him take it all, and the guys just swim along with him, or fight it. He said I was fine, "Don't worry, McCartney loves me" and all of this. And I knew I was hating the bastard. But to get out of him I had to sue the guys. And, as you know, Liverpool, the mates, no matter how much we were arguing, it's one thing you don't ever want to have to do. So I knew the perception of me would, like, be deadened from there on in. And I suppose in many ways I've been fighting that for 20 years. But it was a clear choice: do that and possibly save it all- or even lose it and pay the lawyers' bills, which was not a terrific option- or just let Klein take it all. 'Cos the others were just with him, gung ho. So I took the option of suing him and had to live with that perception, including: "This is what Paul's done as his first move after leaving The Beatles." Which was actually the nicest bit of the perception: I did an album after The Beatles, so what? The worst thing for me was, I sued my best mates. But the thing is, looking back on it, they now say "Thank you, you got us out of it, we wouldn't have Apple, there'd be no Anthology, no I record, it'd all be in someone else's pocket now." It was the right thing to do, but I knew I was walking into the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Very scary, but it was one of those moments in your life when you have to do it.

And, of course, we were hearing McCartney just after Abbey Road, which was at the opposite extreme.

Very produced, yeah.

Despite the problems going on around it, McCartney sounds a pretty cheerful affair.

Yeah, it was, because of Linda. I was just starting with Linda and in my mind the album was my escape from it all. I'd get home, new baby, that joy... any readers who've got a new baby, it transforms your life. I hadn't had a baby before, though we had Heather from Linda's first marriage. Home was a great solace for me, and making this record was "Yeah, this is what I love to do." The rest, outside, was shit, but coming inside it was like a little cocoon. So I either made the album all at home or went down to a little studio in Willesden. Lin and the baby in the control room. Young married life is a very special time. And I always liked doing things on my own. I was the kid in Liverpool who sort of went on a bus to the next stop, to Penny Lane, and got off and just looked around: "Who lives there?" I still like that, it's in my personality to just go somewhere and watch people. Last night I took the Tube home. We went to the theatre, couldn't get a taxi anywhere in the West End. I really get a charge off that. George never used to. His dad was a bus driver. I'd say to him, even when we were famous, I love getting on a bus. He'd say (astonished), "The bus? Why? You've got a car!" But you're just looking at people. And now of course, with fame, they're looking at me a bit.

There's one or two on the Tube last night, cracking up laughing. Guy in a baseball cap, decides he's got to cool himself out, pull it together, gets off at the same stop: "All right mate? Good luck!" So that's where the record got its happiness. And when the time came to release it, I finally had to deal with Mammon, which was Apple. Ring them up and say, "Er, can I have a release date?" Neil [Aspinall] gave me a date. I was kind of boycotting Apple, and Suddenly Mammon decided to change my release date for (adopts sarcastic tone) the massive Let It Be album. And I'm, "You fucking bastards! I've got a release date worked out! How can you do this?" I can't remember what happened, but I certainly shouted loud enough. So it was Rage Against The Machine, me against them. That's why it was a good album for me, and it's pretty funky, some of the little pieces like Momma Miss America have a great sound on them. I was like a professor in his laboratory. Very simple, as basic as you can get, a joy to make. (Scans the tracklist) Teddy Boy was good, I'd tried to make that with The Beatles but no one was having much patience with me. Maybe I'm Amazed was about the biggest song on it. And Kreen-Akrore was about an Amazon tribe I'd seen, who were fighting for survival, I went into the studio and recorded the sound of a bow and arrow going past the mike. Even now that album has an interesting sound. Very analogue, very direct.

The next album, Ram, is famous for its supposed attacks on John and Yoko, isn't it?

Well, Too Many People was a bit of a dig at John, because he was digging at me. We were digging at each other in the press. Not harsh, but pissed off with each other, basically.

Have I misheard, or does it really start with the words "Piss off"?

Yeah. Piss off, cake. Like, a piece of cake becomes a piss off cake. And it's nothing, it's so harmless really, just little digs. But the first line is about "too many people preaching practices". I felt John and Yoko were telling everyone what to do. And I felt we didn't need to be told what to do. The whole tenor of the Beatles thing had been, like, each to his own. Freedom. Suddenly it was, "You should do this." It was just a bit the wagging finger, and I was pissed off with it. So that one got to be athing about them. Once you start, the ball starts rolling. There was a picture that we had for Hallowe'en of the two of us in silly masks that we picked up at a kids' shop in New York. I'm Wimpey out of Popeye, and Linda was another character which looked a bit Oriental. We heard later that they thought that was a dig at them, but it actually wasn't. So when John did a piss-take [in a postcard given away with his Imagine LP], he held a pig instead of the ram. This wasn't posed. Me and Linda decided to catalogue all our sheep, so there's a photograph of me holding every bloody sheep in the flock. Over 100 of them. I was supposed to be cropped out.

Is that where the title came from?

I remember driving up to Liverpool at some point and deciding that Ram would be a good title for an album, then the picture came, and you can "ram" a door down, and a "ram" is a male, like a stag. It just seemed like a good word. Monkberry Moon Delight I liked, so much so that it's in my poetry book. "My long-haired lady." Very '70s. Ram On is a cute little thing on a ukelele, 'cos I used to carry one around with me in the back of New York taxis just to always have music with me. They thought I was a freak, those taxi-drivers. Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey was an epic thing, a Number 1 in America, surprisingly enough. I like the bit that breaks in: "Admiral Halsey notified me, da-da-da, had a cup of tea and a butter pie." It's a bit surreal, but I was in a very free mood. I like all of that. It must have freaked a few people, 'cos it was quite daft. Back Seat Of My Car is very romantic: "We can make it to Mexico City." That's a really teenage song, with the stereotypical parent who doesn't agree, and the two lovers are going to take on the world: "We believe that we can't be wrong." I always like the underdog.

I think John might have taken Dear Boy as an attack on him.

Dear Boy wasn't getting at John. Dear Boy was actually a song to Linda's ex-husband. "I guess you never knew what you had missed." I never told him that, which was lucky, because he's since committed suicide. And it was a comment about him, 'cos I did think, "Gosh, you know, she's so amazing, I suppose you didn't get it.

The LP sounds like you had more tunes lying around than songs to use them in. A lot of the tracks are like medleys of different ideas.

Yeah, Long Haired Lady goes off a bit, Back Seat Of My Car goes off a bit, Big Barn Bed comes off Ram On, that's right.

No writer's block at that point, then?

No, I've been very lucky about writer's block, touch wood. It occurred to me the other day that me and John never sat down on, what was it, 295 songs me and John wrote? And on those 295 occasions, we never came away without a song, which is fucking phenomenal. The only time we nearly did, was Golden Rings, which became Drive My Car. It was "duh-duh duh-duh golden rings..." Um, this is not gonna compute. Finally, we had a ciggie and a cup of tea and our humour came back and Drive My Car came out of that. Some people analyse songwriting. I've never known about it. It's fingers crossed, every time I sit down to do it. I just dive right in and hope for the best, and it seems to work.

Were you feeling in competition with the other ex-Beatles, now?

Yeah, we were all in competition. Which was a weird thing, trying to avoid each other's release dates, like we'd avoided the Stones' release dates in The Beatles. When John or George released an album, I'd check it out, to see where he was up to. I think the truth, as a lot of people have said, is that we were missing each other. We missed the collaborative thing, of John saying, "Don't do that" or "Do that". Sparking each other off. For a while I was certainly very conscious of it. The only good thing was that I had been writing without John for a while, towards the end of The Beatles, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. It was still a pretty big shock just not to be hanging out with these guys. 'Cos I'd hung out with them since I was 17.

Even when you were not writing together, on later Beatles records, there must have been a stage in the process where the others listened to your songs, and vetoed them or otherwise.

Exactly. John brought me Glass Onion. I remember him out in the garden in St John's wood saying, "What do you think of this?" We would just run it past each other, like you would run it past a mate or a producer. And he actually asked me, "D'you think I should put in this line about the Walrus was Paul?" I said, Oh yeah! It's brilliant. I just generally tended to agree with his stuff, and he tended to agree with mine- like in Hey Jude, i was going to knock out that line about "The movement you need is on your shoulder." He said, "You're not, that's the best line in it." So, often it wasn't negative but bolstering each other up. I might go through the whole studio experience thinking, This line's not right. But the minute he'd signed off on it, I thought, This line is ace! Similarly with him and Glass Onion. It was the strength of unity.

It's always striking that, of the four solo Beatles, George and Ringo got off to the strongest starts.

Yeah, George's All Things Must Pass. As he said, it was just like a diarrhea, he must have held it in for so long. And he had Phil [Spector] and a lot of really good people. And George was just so pissed off with us. I mean, all that anger just came out. Which is a good thing for an album, the "I'll show you" factor, which I had later in Band On The Run, when two of the members left the night before. So George and Ringo did get off to very good starts. John and I took it a bit hard, but all in all throughout the years we all did pretty well as single acts.

You formed a band for Ram, but it's not yet Wings.

Not yet, no. Denny Seiwell turns out to be in the band. Hugh McCracken who plays on a lot of it, who was nearly in the band. He came to Scotland to rehearse, but he was such a New York guy that he didn't really like to be away from America, and I can see that. New York is such a satisfying town, you can walk one block and get anything, whereas you can't do that in the Mull of Kintyre...

The first official line-up of Wings, which makes Wild Life, includes Denny Laine.

Denny came from The Moody Blues. I'd seen him when were out on tour with The Beatles and we'd played with them. My enduring memory is of one night up in somewhere like Edinburgh on tour, we'd had a few drinks and we decided that The Moody Blues would play The Beatles at snooker on this very beautiful, full-sized snooker table. Instead of being sensible and playing one at a time against each other, in a kind of league, they all got on one end of the table and we all got on the other, and I'm afraid the table got trashed. Oh shit. So I knew Denny, I knew we could get on personally and I liked his voice, particularly from Go Now, which I championed. I remember taking that around the BBC in its early days and saying, "Have you heard Go Now by The Moody Blues? It's my favourite record of the moment." And those producers would take notice of us. I was also used to having another lead voice in the group with me, so Denny became that.

And this time there's a friendlier song for John.

Dear Friend was to do with John, a bit of longing about John. Let's have a glass of wine and forget about it. A making up song.

Finally you do what The Beatles wouldn't agree to do, and get back on the road.

It seemed to me that for a band it's essential. We'd given it up in '67 with Sgt. Pepper when our new decree was, "The record will go on tour and we won't. We'll make a great record and send that out instead." But what happened after that was, we made some good records, but missed the stimulus of going out on tour. We missed seeing the whites of their eyes and getting a reality check: "They liked that one, they didn't like that one." And we hadn't done it for so long that my choice was, Either give up music, or continue to make it. I wanted The Beatles to go out as a live band, therefore I ought to go out as a live band. So we got a band and hatched the plan of going out on the university tour. Didn't want a big supergroup, a Blind Faith-style thing. I wanted to try and learn the whole thing again, hopefully learn some new things, rather than just repeat The Beatles things, which had all been done, and been about as successful as anyone in the world was ever gonna be.

But you took the informality to extremes, not even booking hotels.

No gigs or hotels or anything. Looking back, I can't believe we did that. We had the van, the dogs, the kids, and it was just madness. It was like I'd never been in The Beatles, I couldn't rely on any of that fame as a crutch. We went up to these universities, and fate had it that a lot of them were having exams. We didn't ring them up and ask if they'd be ready for us. And the other thing was we walked into power cuts: it was the time of the Great British Three Day Week. My image now is of trying to find our way around the dark North with a torch. Is anyone in? Like trying to find a gig in a mine. But we found a couple. Nottingham was one. Lancaster we played. Newcastle City Hall. Durham. When we did find places it was really cool. The students had a good time.

And you had the unfamiliar experience of handling money again.

Yeah, it had all been cheques and accounts and stuff, bank statements. And suddenly it was 50p on the door. So we came away with these bags of coins, which reminded me of Peter Sellers in Tom Thumb: One for you, two for me... We just counted them out in the van afterwards. Good experience, going through all those hardships, and it got us together as a band.

But that line-up wasn't to last, and nor did any Wings line-up. Why?

I've never actually thought about it. I know it happened but I've always blanked it. Probably, in my mind, a band is a democratic unit. Everyone has an equal vote, and in The Beatles for 10 years that had been the case. So if Ringo didn't like one of our songs, which wasn't often, Ringo could veto a Lennon & McCartney song. That meant everyone felt good about themselves. But in Wings that wasn't the case. I was the ex-Beatle. So I saw myself as the leader of the group, which I'd never been in The Beatles. There wasn't a leader in The Beatles. People had said that John was, and later people had said that I was, but neither of us ever acknowledged it. It wasn't the deal. People would ask, "Who's the leader of the group?" We'd say there wasn't one. I think once or twice in Hamburg, in the early days, John said, "I am." But we got pissed off, so it became a democracy. But Wings wasn't. It wasn't a dictatorship, but we weren't all equal.

By the '70s there was suddenly lots of other big acts: Led Zeppelin, T. Rex, Bowie, Pink Floyd, even The Osmonds in their way, or Abba. Was it difficult, as a Beatle, to adjust to the new landscape?

I knew it was going to be difficult. There was this thing of Follow The Beatles. You found yourself just one of the acts in the Hit Parade, rather than the undisputed leaders. But I knew by starting the group from scratch that we had to work our way up So anyone like Zeppelin or Bowie who'd been building during the '60s and had now arrived, naturally took precedence. You just had to understand that there are people bigger than you. And it gave us a benchmark. We thought, "We'll be as big as you one day." It was very weird for me, starting all over again. But it wasn't the world's worst thing. It was quite sobering, really. It's good to be knocked off your perch. There was a lot of that with Wings. Not only was I doing things for myself with the band, I was personally doing things for myself, living up in Scotland, mowing the field with my tractor. In The Beatles, the office used to buy your Christmas tree for you. Now I was buying my own Christmas tree. I enjoyed that . It's unhealthy to think you're the big cheese all the time. Within The Beatles, we each reminded each other that we weren't. But I think there is a big risk with stardom. I'd ring up a restaurant and say, Have you got a table? "Sorry sir, we're full booked." It's Paul McCartney here. "Oh! Certainly, Mr McCartney!" I've never been comfortable with it.

It seemed like you were uncomfortable with The Beatles' legacy for most of your time with Wings.

The thing about Wings was we bought into the myth that it could never be as good as The Beatles. I knew it was the world's most difficult thing to bite off. Everything we did was in the shadow of The Beatles, which had recently been this phenomenal band. So we did everything with quite a lot of paranoia. And it's only on looking back, that I think we did a lot of great work. You look at '76, we have this big, big tour, and at first everyone wants to know, "Is this gonna be a Beatles reunion? It's rumored that McCartney blah-blah-blah, George Harrison and Ringo Starr are going to join him on-stage, and John Lennon blah-blah-blah." So it was rumoured The Beatles were going to re-form. Even in our most successful year they were taking our success off us. It was, "Well maybe The Beatles will re-form, that would be good." But the great thing was that three weeks into the tour it was suddenly, "Who cares?" It doesn't matter. This is a great band. And at the end of it we go and set some big world record. So that's good to see. We did this thing that we set out to do. And we needn't have worried.

[keanusbabydoll]

TEASE

paring: teacher!negan smith x fem!reader

warnings: 18+content, huge age gap (reader is off age tho), inappropriate relationship, rough sex, heavy smut, oral (m), daddy kink, p in v, unprotected sex, degrading, dom!negan, slight overstimulation, spanking, teasing

wordcount: 4.8k

masterlist

. • °✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ . • °✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ . • °✧༺ ༻*✫

the classroom was unbearably dull. numbers blurred together on the whiteboard, and the droning sound of negans voice filled the room. normally, his deep, confident voice was something you found intoxicating, but not when he was talking about maths. hell, you hated maths. it was nothing but a collection of confusing numbers and equations you didn’t care for.

but negan?

oh, you cared about him.

your dark, forbidden secret. your thrill.

for seven months, you had been entangled in a secret affair with your teacher. he was everything you weren’t supposed to have, and that made it all the more exhilarating. the risk, the stolen moments, the way he looked at you when no one else was watching. you weren’t just his student; you were his, in every way that mattered.

and lord, was this intoxicating.

right now, negan stood at the front of the room, writing on the board, his muscles flexing beneath the tight fabric of his shirt. the way he moved, the way his strong hands moved as he wrote on the board, had you absolutely hypnotized. every once in a while, he would steal a glance at you, a smirk tugging on his lips as if he knew exactly what was running through your mind. he always did.

warmth began to spread in your whole body the longer you watched him, flashbacks of how you guys had just fucked a few days ago clouding your mind. he always fucked you so good, it was addicting and always left you longing for more.

as he continued to explain a new topic, which you had zero interest in, an idea sparkled in your head. why should you have been the only one who suffered? you wanted him to crave you as much as you craved him in that certain moment.

a grin was plastered on your face as you reached for your phone under the desk. you waited until he sat down at his desk, giving the class independent work. then, with deliberate mischief, you typed out a message. your heart pounded as you hit send and your eyes wandered to the front.

negan’s phone buzzed beside him. his head tilted slightly, curiosity flashing across his face as he reached for it. the moment he saw your name pop up on the screen, his sharp eyes locked onto yours. you leaned back in your chair, biting your lip teasingly as you watched him read the message.

what i’d do right now to have you fuck my brains out until your name is all i can remember, daddy.

his entire demeanor shifted. you could see it. his jaw clenched, his fingers tightened around the phone for a second before he placed it back down with a controlled exhale. you knew exactly what you were doing. teasing him had always been your favorite game. his nostrils flared slightly, and his tongue ran over his bottom lip. you knew that look.

trouble.

you had lit a fire, and you knew you’d be dealing with the consequences soon. and you were fucking in for it.

for the rest of the lesson, tension crackled in the air between you. every time he glanced your way, his dark eyes were filled with unspoken promises. you could barely sit still, your pulse racing in anticipation. you felt the heat creeping up your neck as the minutes dragged on until, finally, the bell rang.

“alright, get outta here,” negan announced, his usual smirk in place as the students began packing up. “try not to forget everything i just taught you the second you step out the door.”

you stood up, gathering your things, and made your way toward the exit—only to be stopped by his voice.

“not you.”

your stomach flipped. you turned to see him leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, his gaze locked on you. the last student filed out of the room, closing the door behind them. the second you were alone, he stood up, his pointer finger making curling motions— signing you to come closer. with shaky legs, you slowly moved towards his desk. his huge form was now towering over you, his hands resting flat on the wooden surface. his brown eyes were filled with something dangerous, boring right into your soul.

“you like teasing me, huh?” his voice was low, rough, sending a shiver down your spine. he leaned in closer, only inches away from your face, the air between you charged with electricity. “you think it’s funny to send me shit like that in the middle of my damn class?”

you bit your lip, tilting your head slightly. “i don’t know what you mean, mr. smith.” your voice was full of innocence but the look in your eyes was telling a different story. negan chuckled darkly, shaking his head before reaching for you. his hand wrapped around your throat, just squeezing in the lightest bit, just enough to make your breath hitch.

“that mouth of yours is gonna get you into a lot of trouble, sweetheart.”

your lips parted slightly, your pulse racing by now. “maybe that’s what i want.”

he exhaled sharply, his grip tightened before he yanked you closer, his lips crashing against yours in a heated, bruising kiss. his beard scraped deliciously against your skin as he pulled you even closer, forcing you to take everything he gave to you. the kiss was rough, possessive, his dominance unmistakably. his free hand moved to your waist, letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh. you couldn’t stifle a moan which was right swallowed by negan’s mouth.

when he finally pulled back, his breath was hot against your lips. “that what you wanted?” you licked your lips, your voice just above a whisper. “not enough.”

negan chuckled darkly. “greedy little thing.” his fingers trailed up and down your side before he took a step back, his smirk returning full force. “i’d love to teach you a lesson right here, right now, doll. but…” he glanced around the empty classroom. “something tells me we’d be interrupted.” you groaned in frustration, making him huff out amusingly, his fingers now gripping your chin. he leaned in again, his voice dropping to a growl. “meet me after school. by my car.”

your stomach flipped in excitement. “yes, sir.” his grip tightened as he let a finger trace over your bottom lip. “good girl.”

with that, he released you, stepping back as if nothing had happened. “now get outta here before i change my mind.” while nodding your head, you turned on shaky legs, heading for the door. just as you reached for the handle, he called out one last time.

“oh, and sweetheart?”

you looked over your shoulder, finding his gaze dark and filled with promise.

“you’re in for a long night.”

. • °✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ . • °✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ . • °✧༺ ༻*✫

school finally ended to your huge relief. since negan’s lesson you couldn’t think straight anymore, all you could think of was him and what he would do to you. and you couldn’t wait to find out. the whole day long this fire in your core wouldn’t vanish, just the imagination of what would happen later got you fucking soaked.

the sun was slowly starting to set as you walked towards the teacher’s parking lot, your heartbeat picking up speed as you spotted negan. he was leaning against his car, just finishing a cigarette. as soon as he saw you, that signature smirk curled his lips. “took you long enough, sweetheart.” he teased, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “thought you might’ve decided to avoid tonight’s destiny.”

you scoffed. “not a chance.”

he chuckled, biting his bottom lip as he opened the car door for you. “get in.”

the command in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you obeyed without hesitation. as soon as you settled into the passenger seat, negan shut the door and rounded the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. the air inside felt thick, heavy with tension.

the engine rumbled to life, but the real problem was the way his hand immediately found your thigh. you bit your lip as he started driving, his fingers resting there—warm, firm, possessive. you knew that he would do anything to repay you for that stunt you pulled earlier. and teasing was a good start.

he could feel how your body tensed up, how his sweet torture began to set in, began to affect you. but you tried your best to hide it, to play it cool. you didn’t want negan to win so easily, after all, you were the one who started this whole game.

negan let out a low chuckle, knowing damn well that your strategy wasn’t working. you turned your head sharply, eyeing him closely. “what?”

“nothing, doll.” he replied defiantly, keeping his eyes on the road while his smirk widened.

his hand slid higher, thumb now caressing your soft, covered flesh. you squirmed under his touch, your own body betraying you. your pulse sped up and your breath hitched when he slowly lifted his hand higher and higher, stopping by the waist band of your pants. “negan…” you breathed out, gripping the edge of the seat, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but he was relentless. “what?” he copied you, a devilish expression plastered on his face.

you just sighed out, knowing that there was no way you could win this. so you just gave in, let it happen. let him have the victory. “that’s what i thought.” he rasped, looking at you with darkened eyes, his digits slowly slipping into your pants.

a groan almost escaped negan’s mouth when he felt that wet spot on your panties. “look at that, doll. i haven’t even touched her yet and she’s fucking soaked.” he didn’t waist another second to force his digits inside your panties, immediately finding your hardened nub. he began to rub slow, delicate circles around it, eliciting quiet moans from you.

his fingers slid down, circling your wet entrance while collecting your slick before he dragged it up again and continued to stimulate your clit faster. your breath was getting heavier and heavier, your poor hole clenched around nothing— desperate to cum and to be stuffed full of him.

“that’s a good girl.” he murmured, glancing sideways to watch your reactions. you could slowly feel how that sweet coil in your stomach began to tighten, waves of pleasure running through your whole body. your hand gripped his wrist, feeling his motions and how fast he worked on your clit. your eyes were closed, mouth agape and a string of moans left your lips.

but then suddenly, when you were just one or two minutes away from your high, he completely pulled away. it was so quick, that you didn’t even register that his hand was removed from your pants at first. instantaneously, your eyes snapped open, a confused mask covered your face as you turned to look at him. “daddy…” your voice was a mere whisper, a pout forming on your lips.

“now don’t be such a needy little thing, doll.” he grinned as he turned the engine off. and that’s when you first realized that you were already at his home. the whole care ride long you had been caught up by the pleasure he gave to you.

he got out of his car, while you opened the door with a trembling hand. as soon as you stepped out, he had you thrown over his shoulders, walking towards the entrance. a small yelp escaped your mouth as you held onto his leather jacket tightly. “gonna have so much fun with you, baby.” he groaned as he slapped your ass with force, making you squirm at the sudden pain.

the second the front door shut behind you, he was all over you. he had set you down, gripping your waist as he as he pinned you roughly against the cool surface, his hand on your throat. “time for your fucking lesson,” he murmured against your lips before hoisting you up, his hands gripping the back of your thighs, carrying you towards his bedroom while his lips captured yours in a messy, heated kiss.

he pushed the door open, immediately making a straight beeline to his bed. in a flash, he had you thrown on the bed, his dark eyes staring down at you—filled with lust. you propped yourself up on your elbows, glancing up at him with your prettiest doe eyes. “you have no idea how hard it was for me to control myself today, baby.”

“you didn’t actually think that you’d get away with this shit, right?” he crawled on top of you, caging you underneath his body, his voice a low growl against your ear.

“wasn’t my intention to.” you replied defiantly, wrapping your legs around his torso to pull him closer. “you’re a real brat today.” he smirked, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. you closed your eyes, finally receiving what you wanted so bad, but in a matter of seconds, you suddenly couldn’t feel his weight on you anymore. “strip.”

your eyes snapped open at his words, catching him towering over you by the edge of the bed—his face was dead serious, nothing playful covered it anymore. “now.” his tone was so low, it almost seemed intimidating to you. you didn’t spend another thought before you shuffled to your feet, tearing your shirt off. his eyes were on you the whole time, his intense stare was sending shivers down your spine. next, you unbuttoned your pants, pushing them down your legs until you stood in front of him in only your lingerie.

he crossed his arms as his eyes seemed to darken even more. “all of it.” it was scary to watch how quickly he could change his whole demeanor. but that was exactly what you loved about negan— his harsh, dominant behavior.

hesitatingly, you reached back, unclamping your bra and tossing it away, which was quickly followed by your panties. “good girl. on your knees.” he instructed, and immediately you obeyed him, sinking down right in front of him. you watched him through your lashes, waiting for his next move. he eyed you closely, oh, how desperate you were looking at him, how your thighs rubbed together to relief that ache in your core if even just in the lighted bit. his cock hardened even more at the sight, there was no way he could wait any more seconds to finally feel your plump lips wrapped around him.

“what the hell are you waiting for? start.” he growled, gesturing to the bulge right in front of you. while keeping your eyes on him, your hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it before you unzipped his pants, pushing them down his legs. his onyx eyes darkened even more when you wrapped your fingers around the waistband of his boxer briefs, finally letting his cock spring free. negan stepped out of his clothes and removed his shirt, impatiently waiting for you to continue.

your stare wandered to his rock-hard dick, admiring the way it throbbed with need. his tip was angry red, beads of pre-cum leaking out of it, a small whimper leaving your lips. that burn in your core only seemed to get stronger and stronger. your mind was too dizzy to care about keeping your confidence up, or to tease him further. in an instant, your hand wrapped around it, squeezing a little bit before you began to pump him. negan immediately hissed out, his hand reached for the roots of your hair, pulling firmly. “c’mon suck daddy’s cock like a good little girl.”

you brought your lips to his cock, pressing a few kisses to the shaft, licking along that vein before you finally wrapped your lips around his swollen tip. with an impatient groan he pushed his cock into your mouth, immediately bucking his hips forward when the warmth of your mouth welcomed him. you tried your best to relax your throat, trying not to gag— which never really worked out.

you began to bob your head back and forth while sucking firmly—creating a pleasant vacuum. “fuck, doll. fuuuck.” he growled, his grip just tightening. your pussy throbbed, god, you needed him. you could feel how your juices oozed out of you, coating both your thighs. your movements only sped up, taking him faster and faster, determined to bring him to his high. negan couldn’t— he couldn’t hold back anymore. his senses were taken over by the sweet feeling of your mouth.

his free hand joined the other, completely grabbing ahold of your head as he began to fuck into your mouth. you opened your mouth wider, letting him use your hole for his own pleasure. “just like that, baby.” he grunted as he pushed your head forward in rhythm with his thrusts, causing you to gag around his length. he didn’t care a bit how much you sputtered, how many tears streamed down your face and thrusted his cock deeper into you. you quietly sobbed, looking up at him through a blurry vision as he hit the back of your throat over and over again.

negan glanced back down at you, loving the way your tears coated your cheeks, how powerless you were beneath him. you could feel how his dick twitched frantically, his movements turning harsher. “gonna cum into that pretty mouth of yours.” you moaned in reply, sending vibrations through his cock.

your hands gripped his thighs for support as he moved in and out of your hole, chasing his release. “fuck, baby!” his voice was a deep rasp as he bucked his hips into you, pulling you flush against him until the tip of your nose touched his pelvis. a strangled cry rang through the room as you squirmed beneath him, your nails digging into his flesh. and then, you could feel how his thick liquid spurted down your throat, holding your head in place to make sure you got every last drop of it. the heavy, salty taste of his cum immediately overcame your senses.

with a deep groan he pulled out and released the grasp on your hair. “c’mon, swallow.” he breathed as his hand gripped your gin, forcing you to look up at him. you innocently blinked at him a few times before you swallowed everything he gave to you. “fucking, good girl.” he devilishly chuckled, his thumb gliding over your bottom lip.

“now, get up.” he commanded, gesturing to the bed. “i want you on all fours. head down, ass up.”

your legs instantly moved toward the bed, crawling on top of it on your hands and knees, placing yourself in the middle, exactly the way he ordered. negan watched you with sharp eyes in this submissive position, a growl ringing through the room at the sight of your glistening pussy. only on display for him. he could feel how his cock hardened again, it was always so easy when it came to you.

during class, even just a small glance to your cleavage—which you always wore intentionally for him to see—got him going.

“hands to your back.” were the last words you registered—obeying him—before he got on the bed, positioning himself right behind you. a small whimper left your lips as you felt his tip nudging your entrance. “please.”

smack.

a stinging pain cursed through your body.

he gripped where your wrists crossed, pulling your upper body up. you could sense how he leaned down, how the heat radiated off his body. “are you gonna tease me like that again?”

smack.

“or have you made up your mind to finally behave and be a good girl for daddy?” he was so close, his hot breath was tickling the skin of your neck.

“yes! i’ll be good, i promise! just— please!” your words came out as a pathetic, desperate whine, your cunt was begging to be filled. that all too familiar chuckle rang through your ears as he straightened up again, placing a hand on your hip. “what do you want, doll?”

“negan! please— fuck me!” you couldn’t take it anymore, every nerve in your body screamed for release. you were so needy, you started to wriggle your hips, pushing them back against his cock but he kept still. a frustrated groan came out of your mouth as a tear glided down your cheek. “negan, i swear i’ll be—fuck!” you cut yourself off mid-sentence with a scream as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull.

negan just forced his entire length inside of you with a harsh thrust, completely bottoming out. “oh my god!” you cried out as your mouth hung open, trying to get used to this sharp pain abusing your lower body. you could never get used to him, not in this world. his cock was something different.

“you feel so fucking good, baby.” he grunted, gripping your flesh tighter as he began to move in slow, shallow thrusts, your wetness making it easy for him. your face contorted, the sting of his size cutting through you but the pleasure you received easily drowned it out. his tip pressed delicately against that one spot—settled deep inside of you—which he knew you loved so much. “you alright, sweetheart?”

“yes, harder! please, daddy.” you whimpered and as soon as he heard your words, his pounds got harsher, got faster. negan got lost in the way your walls wrapped around him so perfectly, how they helplessly clamped down on him. his eyes focused where your bodies connected, where he glided in and out of you so effortlessly, how your hole swallowed him up. “fuck— you’re taking me so well, baby. gonna fuck you stupid.”

your back arched in ecstasy when he wrapped a hand around your torso—releasing your wrists— and pulled you up even more, forcing your back to arch uncomfortably. a string of high pitched moans left your lips when he was able to hit that sensitive spot inside of you with great force, igniting sparks. “negan, negan,” you cried out at his strength and how good he was making you feel. and you could say, you were at a point where his name was all you could remember.

“that’s it, doll. scream my name.” he grunted, clashing his hips even rougher against your ass. you could feel how his free hand slid down your sides, tracing a line down to your core before he spanked it, making you squeal out in reply. “you like that, huh? you like getting fucked like the slut you are?”

“mmhh— yes, negan!” you managed to splutter out as he began to rub your clit in furious circles. the sudden sensation sent sparks through your whole body, making your thighs quiver uncontrollably. this only fueled your intense pleasure, and you could sense how that tingly feeling in your abdomen got stronger and stronger.

negan groaned when he felt your walls contracting around him, squeezing him so perfectly tight. “you feel so good, baby, fuck! are you gonna cum, sweetheart?” he breathed into your ear, licking the spot beneath it. “yesss—i’m close!” your eyes were shut and your head tossed back to lean against his chest. “not without my permission.” he chuckled darkly as he pulled out of your hole, the circles on your clit stopping as well.

a pathetic cry fell from your lips.

he actually pulled out of you.

your nearing orgasm faded away in mere seconds as tears pricked in your eyes. “negan… i— please.” you begged him, you needed him to fill you up again, needed him to make you orgasm. but this was his torture, his way of making you pay. he knew how much you hated it when he edged you, when he denied your orgasm. it was always amusing for him to watch. how your moans and begs turned even more desperate, how you would do anything to make him continue. you always were on his mercy. every single time.

“have you learned your lesson?” he growled, sending a harsh slap to your ass. “god! yes, i swear i’ll be good.”

“you’re lucky i love that sweet pussy of yours so much.” he smirked, and in the blink of an eye he had filled you to the brim again. this time he was so deep, you could feel his tip kissing your cervix. immediately, he was pistoning in and out of you like a fucking animal, he was giving you all he had. “negannnn!!” it really was the only word that seemed to come out of your mouth. he was the only thing you could think of—it was like he had a spell over you.

his fingers went back to assaulting your poor clit and in mere seconds that knot began to tighten again. with all that pent up frustration, that teasing, your highly craved orgasm seemed to come even quicker.

you knew you were on the verge of cumming, you just needed him to go even rougher. "f-faster, negan." you managed to choke out and he didn't need to hear that twice. with his head tipping back in ecstacy, he increased the speed of his hips clashing against your ass. his deep, harsh pounding, the abuse on your poor aching clit, the sound of skin clapping roughly together, the intense smell of sex in the room— it was all too much for you.

“fuck! i- i’m cumming!” a pornographic moan echoed through the whole house, the coil in your stomach finally snapped and pushed you off the edge. a long and powerful orgasm crashed through you as you threw your head back in bliss. negan pressed a calloused hand into the flesh above your pelvis, making your high all the more intense. and you thought you were seeing stars. you couldn't help yourself but screamed out his name, rolling it off your tongue in the most ecstatic way possible.

“yeah—cum all over my cock, little slut.” negan snarled, focusing on his own pleasure now completely. he kept his demonic pace up as he pushed your body forward again. your face was mushed up against the sheets and your hands hand onto them for dear life.

you almost thought you were passing out. the sensations you got to experience were indescribable. you were still lost in your previous orgasm, the after waves sending shockwaves through your veins and not to forget the overstimulation on your clit. it had you squirming and squealing beneath him. “god, negan. please, s-slow down.”

in reply negan landed a firm slap to your ass, making you shriek at the sudden sting. “shut your mouth and take it like the fucking whore you are.” his words sent shivers down your spine as you felt another slap to your ass. by now his handprint must’ve been imprinted in red on your skin.

you were a mess, your whimpers grew louder and louder as you let him use you. his fingers finally removed from your clit as he gripped at your hips. his groans got louder and his breath sharper by second. you knew he was close. “you want daddy to fill that pretty pussy up?”

“yes, daddy! please!”

the aggressive slamming of his hips became more erratic as a deafening growl rang through your ears, you felt his cock twitching hard, filling your velvety walls with his thick ropes of cum. “fucking hell, doll!” he shamelessly grunted, pushing his seed deep inside of you.

you moaned at the sensation of feeling so full while he made sure that he emptied every bit in you. negan mumbled something beneath his breath before he stopped his thrusts, eventually pulling out. you whined at the sudden emptiness.

he collapsed beside you, pulling you with him in the process. your face was resting against his chest and you could hear his racing heartbeat as he tried to calm down from his high. your hand was drawing small circles over his skin, your breathing still hard.

“you did so good for daddy, sweetheart.” negan smiled as he pulled your face up. he pressed his lips to yours, claiming them in a slow, passionate kiss while pulling your exhausted form closer. “i should tease you more often.” you mumbled against his lips, a smirk plastered on your face.

“and i should punish you more often.” he chuckled, capturing your lips again.

if negan fucks you this intensely and roughly every time you’re teasing him, then this will become your new mission in every single class with him.

requests are opened ☆

[freyito]

hello hello!!! may i order an idia flavored curry rice plz?? blinks cutely) ty!!

✭ pairing(s): idia shroud x gn reader

★ in which: idia is WAY too confident that he can out miku you.

✩ curry rice black forest cake w/ idia shroud!

✦ entry for my 1k follower event, Freyito's Maid Cafe! check out the link to figure out how to send an order!!

✧ a/n: ykw anon. im so glad you changed your mind because this gave me SUCH a banger idea that i couldnt go to sleep cause i was writing it out in my head. teehee :)

🗒 cw: gn reader, ffxiv sneak, just embarrassed idia :3, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.7k

ᴘᴜʀᴇ ᴇᴠɪʟ | ꜰʀᴇʏɪᴛᴏ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪᴅ ᴄᴀꜰᴇ !

It was late at night, and you had been on call with Idia. He was grinding out materials for some new transmog that had dropped in his game, and cursing the drop rates. You, on the other hand, were grinding out Project Diva Mega Mix for no particular reason. You had just made up your mind that you wanted to full combo some extra songs, and now you were hellbent on doing so. Plus, it provided some nice background music for Idia and his grind sesh.

By now, you had two songs finished and full cleared (albeit, with 97% accuracy), and you were working on your third, Sweet Devil. You already had four failed runs, your hands were starting to cramp a bit, and Idia’s smart remarks weren’t helping you. Not to mention, you always found the mvs distracting. Too much happening in the background while you were trying to focus on the notes.

You slump back in your chair with a huff as you watch the small word ‘safe’ pop up and interrupt your combo. You watch for just a moment as the symbols fly past on the screen, a barrage of ‘miss’es following shortly after. You finally exit the mv, balling your hands into a fist and then stretching out your fingers.

“I thought you were, like, a god at rhythm games,” Idia chides. You can hear the smile through his mic.

“Well sometimes it takes a couple tries,” You sigh, shaking your head. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure it does,” He chuckles. When you look at his stream, he’s finished up running maps and his character is now toiling away by the marketboard. “I bet I could do it.”

You raise your eyebrow, though he can’t see it. “Hm, what’s the stakes?”

“We need stakes?”

“You’re insulting my integrity as a rhythm game player. I want there to be a deal.”

A silence follows your voice, but you can hear him shift back in his chair. “Okay. What do you want to bet, then?”

Hm. You yourself don’t know exactly what you want if you win. Maybe you could get some gil off of him in game, but that didn’t feel like enough. You look around your room, before spotting something rather intriguing. It was a forgotten purchase, a pastel pink maid dress. It was rather cheap material, but still served its function. You were sure if you looked for them, you’d find the rest of the pieces…

“Loser wears a maid dress,” You declare triumphantly. “I got one in my closet.”

“... I, uh, don’t wanna ask why you have that,” He mumbles, “But I guess I accept. It’d be pretty nice to see you in a maid dress, heh…”

“Don’t act like you’ve already won. You haven’t even opened the game yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, just lemme put this up on the marketboard and I’ll get on the game…”

You lean back, content to wait and give your hands a bit of a break. You can’t help but smirk at not only making Idia eat his words, but seeing him in a maid dress would make you… quite happy, to say the least. The light pink would pair well with his hair and– you have to stop yourself there. You’d rather not distract yourself any further, nor allow yourself to get cocky. You can’t get ahead of yourself, or else you risk losing perhaps the most precious award you could ever have. 

“Okay. I’m on. Which song was it again?” Idia finally speaks up. When you look back at his stream, he’s ended it.

“Sweet Devil– Hey, you should stream your screen,” You point out, tabbing back into your game.

“I’m getting to itttt,” He drags the last letter, like it was too much work, as if he had not streamed his games every time you two called.

You watch as the ‘stream has ended’ switches to his screen, scrolling through the songs before landing on sweet devil. He changes difficulties to extreme, then waits for a moment, like he’s expecting you to say something. You decide to mess with him a little bit, staying silent a little longer.

“I’m waiting,” He groans, and you can almost hear his eyes roll. “I know you’re watching. I heard the little viewer noise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You chuckle, “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Idia doesn’t even grace you with a ‘go’, or anything of the sort, simply starting the song, following your words. You scramble to tab back into the game, quickly selecting the song. 

The song and mv start up, and soon after the notes come in. You do your best to focus, to try and block out the MV, the bright pink lights of Miku’s room and Miku herself made it hard to follow the notes, especially with how fast they were. Still, you find your rhythm relatively easily, considering you knew the song and charting by heart. Normally, you’d be super conscious about the progress bar beneath the screen, checking to make sure you were well above the ‘excellent’, marker. However, you were too determined to focus. And unfortunately, that would be too much of a distraction. You don't even focus on if your hits are 'good' or 'excellent'.

The hold notes scare you the most, considering you always end up slipping up on them, somehow. Either that, or you don’t hold them for long enough and panic when you can just press the other buttons on your keyboard. You tell yourself, over and over again, in your mind, that you can just use the other set of keys. You have to. You can’t risk allowing Idia to have any sort of edge on you.

Three minutes feels like five, or even ten. Idia has been far too quiet during this, not even muttering something under his breath. You feel grateful for a moment, if you heard anything on his side, you’d probably mess up. Maybe you could mess him up. Yes. No. Ugh, if you did, you’d probably mess yourself up, too. And if you had messed him up, he’d complain and call for a redo. You would rather never play this song again, to be honest.

Just as your fingers start to tingle– a result of adrenaline, for some reason–, the word ‘success’ comes up. Behind the notes, Miku turns her little devil tail into a spear and throws it as a planet. You do your best not to celebrate too early, still having to go through with the last couple seconds of the song. You were just happy to have nailed the challenge time, more than happy. 

After the last couple of notes, you’re able to lean back and relax. For a moment. When the ‘clear’ screen comes up, you feel your heart jump at the percentage. 101.53%. You look over at Idia’s stream and can’t help but laugh. 99.07%.

“No,” He utters weakly, with an agony in his voice you have never heard before. He doesn’t say anything else.

“Yes,” You feel maniacal, an odd elation spreading through your chest. You don’t even exit the game, hopping out of your chair. “You stay right there.”

You pull the dress from your closet, listening to Idia frantically call for Ortho from your headphones. The rest of what he says is unintelligible, given the distance between you and your headphones as you rummage through drawers to find the rest of the costume. You find the cuffs, stockings, and even a headband with cat ears. It’s a little bent, but you’d fix it on the way.

Hurriedly, you stuffed the costume into a bag, grabbing your phone and turning on the flashlight. Slinging the bag over your shoulder and rushing out of your house. You keep your flashlight pointed at the ground so you don’t trip, running as fast as you can to the Hall of Mirrors. Like it is a high-stakes situation, time is precious. If you can’t make it to Ignihyde’s dorms soon, then you will never see Idia in a maid dress, even if you won the bet.

The minute you reach the Hall of Mirrors, you practically throw yourself through Ignihyde’s mirrors, scrambling through the halls with harsh breaths. Your heavy footsteps echo through the halls as you make your way up the steps and to Idia’s room, clutching the strap of your bag. Ortho is there, in front of Idia’s door, opening it just a crack.

Seeing you, the boy lights up, smiling at you from underneath his mask. “Oh, hey, Idia. They’re here!”

“Nooo!” Idia squeals, and you can what him scrambling from his chair to close the door.

You shove your foot into the crack of the door just as Idia tries to open it. He uses more force than he means to, squeeze your foot slightly. You don’t emote, despite how much it hurts. Which scares Idia. But you don’t care. You won the bet. And he needs to pay up. Ortho stares blankly, trying to figure out what has Idia acting this way, before scolding his brother.

“That’s mean! You shouldn’t try to shut your partner out, especially like that!” 

Idia shrinks back a little. It’s clear that Ortho doesn’t know what has you on such a warpath, and you are quite happy with that. Finally, you smile a little, opening the door with your other hand. 

“Ortho…” Idia murmurs, turning his gaze away from you and his brother. “We’re gonna, uhm, game all night. Just us two. So, uh, you should get some sleep.”

He sounds utterly defeated, and Ortho remains none the wiser as to what you were about to subject poor Idia too.

“Huh? But you called me here?” Ortho tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.

“I-I didn’t mean it– er, It was a mistake,” 

“... Okay! I’ll leave you two be. Have fun!”

And with that, Ortho hovers away, happy to leave his brother in your hands. By then, Idia knows he’s lost. You take a step in, handing him the bag with the dress and accessories in it. You don’t even speak to him, feeling a bit too giddy about your win, and prize.

“Uhm… can you at least stay out there, while I get changed?” His voice is shy, understandably so. 

“If you lock yourself in there, I’ll get Ortho to break it down,” You place your hands on your hips, in an attempt to seem confident.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

He’s right, you were well aware that your threat was kind of empty. But there’s no way you were going to let him get away.

“Then I’ll get those Heartslabyul first years to kick the door down.”

He lets out a small ‘eep’ at this, frowning. “Okay, okay, I won’t lock the door. Fine. You win.”

He doesn’t allow you any time to reply, taking the back and closing the door all too quickly. You can hear him shuffling about and the clothes rustling, and you feel your stomach flip-flop with nerves. You fidget with your hands and turn your back to the door, pretending like you actually didn’t care all that much so that Idia could get dressed faster, like that would work. You cross your arms, tapping your fingers against your biceps while you wait.

After a while, you hear the door crack behind you, and you turn around way too excitedly. He barely peeks through, giving you a look akin to a pleading puppy. He didn’t open the door all the way, insistent that you had to slip in through the crack, in case any one else would look out and see him. He’d rather save himself the embarrassment.

Finally squeezing through the door, he shuts it quickly. You, on the other hand, are greeted with a sight. His entire face is red, the tips of his hair flickering a bright pink as he looks away in embarrassment. The dress is a little short for him, so he clutches to the hem of the skirt and pulls it down a little. The pink worked well with his hair and his skin, just like you thought. It’s cliche, one of the dresses that was copy pasted from all those maid animes and what not. But still, you think it fit well.

“This is so cheap,” Idia complains, tilting his head up. “Okay. I dressed up. Can you go now so I can get back in my pajamas?”

You realize he’s missing something. The cat ears.

“No. No, I’m not leaving until you put the cat ears on.” You state simply, looking around for where they are.

He grimaces, deflating even more. “Please no. I think I might die. Actually, I’m going to die. Right now.”

“I won the bet fair and square, it’s not my fault. Where are they, Idia.” You speak with such a stern voice, it almost scares him. He finally, hesitantly, points to his chair, his grimace deepening as he looks back at you. “Put. Them. On.”

He groans, turning around and grabbing the cat ears. He gives you one last look, begging you to just let him go. Maybe you’re being a little too sadistic, but c’mon, Idia in a maid dress. That’s it. You plan to make the most of it. Slowly, he lifts the headband over his head, then lowers it down. Now you have your own Idia cat maid in front of you. You can’t help but smile, absolutely jubilant to see this poor man wearing such a cute dress.

“Okay. Can you go now, please,” He pleads once more, bringing a hand up to his face.

“Can I at least take a picture?” You hold up your phone.

“N-no! Please, no. I’m already at my lowest point, don’t have to kick me while I’m down…”

“Okay, okay,” You decide to finally allow him some mercy, “I won’t. But… I don’t think this image is ever leaving my head any time soon.”

He sighs and shakes his head, avoiding your gaze. But he doesn’t reply. Well, that won’t do. You decide to come up with a quick excuse to stay.

“Well, I ran all the way here, in the dark, it’d suck if you sent me back,” You try to play it cool, tilting your head a little and looking up through your lashes at him. This earns you a deeper blush.

“Stop it,” He huffs, turning his head. Met with his set up, he realizes you two are technically still on call. And he finds his way out. “Your pc is on, you know.”

“Huh.”

“It’s on. You’re still in call.” He points to his monitor.

Your blind blanks for a minute, before you panic a little. You would like to stay and see if you can get him to stay in the maid dress for a little longer, but at the same time, you’d rather not blow out the power supply of your pc. That thing is too damn expensive. And you love it too much.

“Okay. Bye.” You huff briskly, turning on your heels and waiting for the door open before running back down to the mirror that connected the Ignihyde dorms to the Hall of Mirrors.

Idia yelps as the door slides open fully, stepping back and pressing himself against the wall so no one would see. Like anyone else was up at this time. He listens to you rush down the hallway, before letting out a breath. Once the door is shut all the way, he’s quick to wriggle out of the dress, throwing the cat ears, cuffs, and stockings (which ended up ripping a bit) to the corner of his room.

Almost breaking the zipper, he yanks it down on the back of his dress and throws it alongside the scattered recipes, before staring intently at it. Why couldn’t you have just waited for him to undress and take it back? He didn’t want these god forsaken items here. In his room. That reminded him of you. That’s like the cheesiest romantic thing couples do! And in this fashion, perhaps even cringey! He wants to burn it, so bad. Or throw it out. But what if someone somehow finds it in the trash? And then they link it back to him? That’d be the worst scenario. The absolute worst.

He continues to stare at it for a minute, before reaching for his pajamas that were hanging off the back of his chair. Fine. He’ll leave the stupid costume alone for now. Perhaps it’d come in handy one day. Give you a taste of your own medicine… or something.

© freyito, 2025 | maid cafe event | maid cafe masterlist | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | strawpage | star header by roseschoices , dividers by cafekitsune , headers by yours truly

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[pagelets]

Rumors- C.S

Synopsis: when a romantic trip to the mountains gets a little tense because of a dating rumor. Inspired by this song.

Word count: 2.3k

Disclaimer: showering together, lots of touching, doesn't have smut but I don't think it's completely sfw (tbh idk haha).

Notes: Hi, guys! This lil idea popped in my head and I couldn't help but write it hehe. Also, reader has curly hair cause I forgot to take my delulu pills in the morning haha if your hair isn't curly just pretend it's so you can enjoy the story (honestly doesn't actually change anything).

It's the end of January. Lunar New Year holiday. The weather is still cold, and there's nothing better than spending this time in a warm cabin in the middle of the snow with the love of your life. Soobin has wanted to ski in the snow for a while now, and being able to take you with him feels like a dream.

He walks through the soft snow, leaving footprints behind. It’s freezing, and even with warm clothes, he feels his muscles stiffening, his cheeks reddening, and the hairs on his body bristling. He quickens his pace toward the cabin he rented for you both to spend a few days in, kicking off his boots at lightning speed the moment he reaches the porch.

In an instant, he's inside the house. It's silent except for the soft hum of the heater in the background. He takes a deep breath, the warmth of the room soothing his lungs, and his body, rigid from the cold, finally relaxes. He removes his winter jacket and walks through the house, looking for you. The wooden floor creaks slightly under his steps.

As he approaches the shared bedroom, the distant sound of water hitting the porcelain shower floor grows louder. He grips the doorknob and hears your sweet voice humming Heaven on the other side. He smiles— you’re his biggest fan. So he opens the door slowly, the fruity scent of your shampoo filling the air. He inhales deeply, hoping to intoxicate himself with your scent. You don't notice when he steps inside the bathroom. He finds it amusing. So he simply crosses his arms and leans against the marble sink, watching you with curious eyes.

When you turn to grab your toothbrush from the sink and find Soobin standing there with a goofy grin, you jump, startled, "Ah! Damn it! You scared me! How long have you been there?" "Long enough to enjoy your little performance" "Ah… that was nothing...". He grins, "I think it was adorable". He heard you sing before, but his words still make you blush. Embarrassed, you look down at your feet and change the subject, "Why did you leave so early?" "I went to buy food" "Why? I could cook for us" "I know, and I love your cooking, but I wanted to surprise you since you always cook for me. But… well… I didn't have the courage to give you anything I made myself", you laugh, "So you bought it instead?" "Yeah, but it’s a surprise. Spoiler alert, it's something you really like", he says, his voice is low like a whisper. You smile, "You're adorable" "No, you are", he replies, a bit shyly.

You observe him— he looks so good in long sleeve shirts with his long hair cascading down his shoulders, "Hey, Binnie", your voice is soft, almost sensual, "Hum?" "You're cold. Come warm up", his lips part slightly in surprise, "How do you know I'm cold?". You giggle and point to your nose, right at the tip. He mimics your gesture, trying to understand what you mean, until a lightbulb pops above his head, "Ah! My nose is red, isn't it?". You nod, laughing, he's so cute.

But he's not just cute, you know that. You've been beneath his bare body before, feeling the heat of his skin, experiencing how his raw masculinity turns you inside out just to put you back together again. And you see it now as he undresses before your eyes— first, the black long sleeve shirt, revealing his lean torso, his defined abdomen, almost as if sculpted by a renaissance artist. Then, the black sweatpants, followed by his boxers, which hide the very cause of your ruin.

You step aside as he enters the shower. The two of you stand under the cascade of hot water amidst the steam, just looking at each other. He swallows hard. Soobin has seen you naked countless times, but every time feels like the first— he’s mesmerized by your curves, every inch of you. And then, his body panics. His throat tightens, his stomach flutters, and his heart skips beats. Nerves take over.

You’re too perfect.

You laugh because the water makes his bangs fall over his eyes, "What is it?" "Your bangs", he blinks, unable to see anything. Running his fingers through his hair, he pushes it back. You look at him as if he were the Monalisa, mesmerized, barely believing he’s real, "I like it when you wear your hair up" "Really?", he smirks, stepping closer, "I should wear it like this more often, then. Since you like it so much". This time, you swallow hard. His voice is lower, more sensual, and he’s so close you can feel the heat of his body even with the hot water pouring down both of you.

The atmosphere in the bathroom grows heavy, the tension between you is almost palpable, like if you don't touch each other soon, everything around you will explode. Slowly, your hands brush his shoulders, running downward on his abdomen, timidly exploring every part of him. Even though you know his body by heart, every new touch teaches you something new— a new sensitive spot, a new place that makes him shiver.

He watches you without blinking, your touch sending waves of electricity and oxytocin coursing through his veins. Then, he touches you too. His hands move from your back to your breasts, squeezing gently, fingers brushing your nipples in slow, circular motions. You shudder, your breathing grows heavier, so heavy he can hear it. Then, his hands settle on your waist, gripping firmly, pulling you even closer, your bare bodies pressing against each other, warmth flowing through your skin.

Slowly, he leans in, lowering his head, his lips brushing yours. He murmurs, a smirk on his face, "You know… I would’ve joined you even if I wasn’t cold". You smile against his lips, and then he claims them in a warm, slow, mindful kiss— tasting every inch of your mouth, sensual and deliberate. There’s nothing cute about the way he holds you in his arms at this moment.

Your heavy breath blends with his, your hands gripping the back of his neck to keep your legs from giving out under the overwhelming rush of dopamine flooding in your veins. You feel his heart pounding hard against yours, his hands now sliding from your waist to your ass, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. You giggle. He pulls away, laughing with you before resting his forehead against yours.

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply—your scent, your presence. You don’t need to take it further. Not every act of intimacy is defined by sex. Sometimes, a touch, a kiss, a single word is enough. Being close to him is enough for you.

After a few more minutes in the shower, you both decide to eat before his stomach growls loud enough to shake the mountains. He dries off and gets dressed quickly before his phone starts ringing:

‘Manager'

He frowns. He’s on vacation— with you. There’s no way they’re trying to burden him with work right now. He ignores it and turns his attention back to you, drying your hair with a towel, you look so beautiful in his oversized shirt. His phone buzzes again, he checks the screen:

'Manager'

“Shit", he mutters, "What is it, Binnie?” “My manager keeps calling me" "Then answer it", you say nonchalantly. He looks at you like you just said the most absurd thing in the world, "What?” “I’m on vacation with the love of my life. I’m not answering anything work related”. You laugh, he overreacts so easily, “Then just send him a text" “Why?” “So he knows you’re unavailable for the next 5 days”. He looks at his phone, then at you, “Well… only because you asked".

You smile, satisfied, and continue drying your hair. Soobin opens his messaging app, there's at least a hundred unread messages. His fault for keeping notifications off when he travels. He clicks on his manager’s chat— twenty messages asking him to call back. He exhales sharply.

Choi Soobin: ‘I’m unavailable for work matters. Please take that into consideration'

It takes less than a minute for a reply to pop up:

Manager: ‘Just look at this and tell me it’s not true'

He sends a link to a popular Korean gossip magazine, “What is this?”, Soobin mutters. His jaw drops as his eyes scan the headline:

‘TXT MEMBER CHOI SOOBIN RUMORED TO BE DATING ADULT FILM STAR'

Imediately, a lump forms in his throat. It’s almost funny how stupid it is, yet just the thought of you reading and believing it sends chills down his spine. He quickly replies to his manager.

Choi Soobin: 'Of course it is not! I don’t even know who this woman is'

Manager: 'Thank God. We’ll sort this out as soon as possible and make those responsible pay'

Choi Soobin: 'I don’t care about the money. Just make sure the truth is known'

Manager: 'I'll handle it'

Soobin locks his phone, his heart in his throat, and looks at you. You’re fixing your curls, first brushing through them to form ribbons, then scrunching them with your hands. He loves this little ritual of yours— the way you take care of yourself, the way you embrace yourself as you are.

He steps closer and hugs you from behind, burying his face in the curve of your neck and taking a deep breath. Your hair cream smells like watermelon, "I want to eat your hair". He looks at you through the mirror, your eyes meet and you know something is wrong, “What did he tell you? Do they already want to take you away from me?” “No. They don’t”.

He knows you trust him, and if he says it’s not true, you’ll believe him. But the people who spread dating rumors about idols are skilled at making nonexistent evidence look completely real. He fears you’ll find out— not because he lacks trust in you, but because he’s terrified of losing you. He can’t imagine a life without you. At the same time, he knows that if you go online, see the headline and realize he knew but didn’t tell you, then he’d really be at risk of losing you.

So he decides to ignore the tingling anxiety in his stomach and begins to speak. "Apparently, there’s a new dating rumor". You look away, stopping your hair routine. You swallow hard, not because you fear betrayal, but because you fear ruining his career. The thought of everything he worked so hard to build crumbling because of you is terrifying. "About… you and me?", you ask, your voice unsteady. Against your back, you feel his heart pounding like crazy, “N-no. It’s about me and an actress. A porn…”, he wants to tell you, but his voice falters. Still, you already know what he was going to say.

Your eyes widen and meet his in the mirror. Tears roll down Soobin’s face, "Y-you… you know it’s not true", he sobs, "Yn, I would never…”, he can’t speak anymore, fear grips every fiber of his being. You turn to face him but he drops to his knees, burying his face in your belly, soaking the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. You know it’s not true. The Choi Soobin you know would never do something like that. Even so, you let him have a moment to process the shock.

You run your fingers through his hair, holding him against you, "Hey, it’s okay," your voice is calm and sweet. He looks up at you, his face red, his eyes still teary, "Come here", you call him. He stands with your help, his body still trembling, "These people don’t even know you well enough to make a plausible rumor”, your voice carries a hint of amusement. He chuckles, though his voice is still hoarse, "I know". You wipe his tears, holding his face in your hands, "It’s okay. I know I’m the only one in your life" "Yes", he nods quickly, repeatedly, "The only one. Today and for the rest of my life". You smile, "I love you, Soobinnie" "I love you too, Yn. So much".

He seals the moment with a kiss. He tastes the salt of his own tears spilling from his eyes again. It breaks your heart to see what some people put him through. He pulls back slowly and wipes his face, "Don’t cry, baby. You are going to be okay" "As long as you’re by my side, I will. Please, stay with me for forever". He looks down and takes your hand, "Be my Mrs. Choi". This time, you are the one crying, but differently from soobin, your tears are out of happiness, "I can't imagine myself not being your Mrs. Choi". He smiles and presses a kiss to your hand— right where your ring will be.

At night, you both fulfill another dream: skiing together. You’re standing at the top of the mountain, the snow creating a white blanket covering everything below. You’re both terrified, "So… who’s going first?", you ask, trying to mask your nervousness, "I think the saying goes, ‘ladies first" "But the groom walks down the aisle first". Groom. Soobin is your fiancé now. It’s surreal to think about it, "BUT before being a groom, I’m a gentleman. So, I insist, you go first".

You roll your eyes and put on your ski goggles, "Fine. Pussy" "Hey! I’m not...". But you’re no longer listening. You’re already sliding down the mountain, skis on your feet. The wind rushes against your face, but the sensation is freeing, "YN! SLOW DOWN!", you hear Soobin shouting from behind, but you ignore him.

The speed is thrilling but you’re forced to stop when you see a child in your path. You brake, sliding until you fall into the snow like a sled. From a distance, Soobin sees you with your face buried in the snow and hurries over, worried, "Yn, Yn! Are you okay?". You hear the concern in his voice, but you’re laughing, "I’m fine! That was fun" "Thank God". He places a hand on his chest, relieved.

You take advantage of his lowered guard and pull him into the snow. You make snow angels together, laughing, enjoying each other’s company.

You know this man is yours.

And he knows you are his.

No rumor could ever make you both doubt that.

[almondcroissantsandink]

he would like to shoot some fireworks into a tornado please

[sysig]

Growing closer than expected (Patreon)

[beevean]

Hector: Young Master...

Alucard: Don't call me that. You obey one master already. My voice holds no power between these walls.

Hector: ... I understand how you feel. Then, how shall I call you?

Alucard: Alucard.

Hector: I... did I hear that right? Alucard?

Alucard: Yes. My father named me Adrian, as his son. I reject him and his desires for me. I stand opposed to everything he is.

Hector: ... very well. Then, may I ask you a question, Alucard?

Alucard: You may.

Hector: Why did you oppose your father from the very beginning?

Alucard: He wants to honor my mother, who dedicated her life to helping people, with death and misery. She would be distraught to see what he has been doing in her name. I believed that he would stop out of love for her. I was wrong.

Hector: I thought... that destroying that village was reasonable, after what they did.

Alucard: Yes, I remember the thirst for blood in your eyes. My father raised you well.

Hector: ... I... I'm sick of bathing in blood, Alucard. I fear that it's too late for me.

Alucard: Hector. Why are you here?

Hector: I wanted to talk to you--

Alucard: Why are you here in this castle?

Hector: ... I wanted power. I wanted to live.

Alucard: Did you find what you sought for?

Hector: Yes.

Alucard: Are you satisfied?

Hector: I'm breaking into pieces, Alucard. This is not the power I wanted. I am no longer a living being! I'm-- I'm a mere sword, stained with the blood of innocents!

Alucard: That's not true. You're standing, breathing and thinking. Hector, this is not the place for you. You aren't cut from the same cloth as Dracula or Isaac. You can still do something. Take that power that you gained, and use it as you wish.

Hector: What about you?

Alucard: ... Dracula's blood flows in my veins. I will always be my father's son. You don't have to be.

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my lady?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course… Satoru.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

~  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

“It was… good.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

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

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

“You’re not… eating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You skip ahead again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

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

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About the estate?” he asks. 

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

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

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

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

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

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

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

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

“S-Satoru–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[rafesweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[madamechrissy]

Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you’re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already,  you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long  tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a-  “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.” 

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru  @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby to the rescue

- gojo satoru x reader

in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

genre: immense fluff !! baby gojo and dad!gojo shenanigans~

note: based on this and this reel. with this i hereby declare that anything past chapter 235 is null and void HAHA anyway, i truly want to post remarried empress au by this week but since 261 leaks hurt me so much, i need more fluff so have to postpone it to next week :') tagging @karikari19hikariiii <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Your husband Gojo Satoru... is handsome as hell, which means your baby son is also undeniably good-looking.

"Why do you pout at me?" Satoru poked his squirming baby's cheek while pursing his lips too. "C'mon, smile! That auntie is smiling at you!"

Everyone who passed by them in Shinjuku shopping district turned heads to admire him and his pumpkin just a little longer, and Satoru visibly enjoyed the attention. He smiled back at them, occasionally winking even.

If only they knew how pretty his wife was too...

Wait, no! On second thought, if they know how hot you are, there will be problems!

You had left him to go to the nearest pharmacy to restock some things, while Satoru decided to entertain his baby in the toy section. He basked in the starry-eyed looks people were giving him... until he heard some strange sounds and turned to his baby boy—

—who was chewing the beak of a duck toy with all his might. Satoru was mortified.

"—! Let that go! Your mama will beat me if she sees you eating this!"

Your baby paid him no mind though, desperately pushing the duck into his mouth. Satoru sat him on one of the empty racks and began the tug of war—

"Let go!" he reprimanded. "You're so naughty, gods—!"

Some people were now openly giggling at both of them. His son tried to resist by rolling, and Satoru clicked his tongue. He then yanked the toy away until his baby finally let it go, sniffling sadly that his papa wouldn't let him have the duck.

"Oh, you..." he picked him up again and consoled the pumpkin. "You can't do that, you hear? First, it's not clean. Second, mama will grow two heads to chew you and me both, understand?"

No, your son totally didn't understand a thing. Satoru sighed, seeing his little blue eyes welling up with tears. He ruffled his head and pulled him close. "There, there... I'll get you ice cream, okay? Now let's go."

Satoru was determined to turn his son back into a smiling, happy baby. But just as he was about to head towards the ice cream parlor, he encountered the most unbelievable sight—

"Miss! I guarantee you'll love this credit card features!"

You. That was clearly you, and a salesman (or a bozo, in Satoru's eyes) was trying to bother you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no— thank you—"

Yet the bozo was still persistent, like the pesky fly he was. "You can use it to pay for your monthly beauty treatments! Someone as pretty as you..." He eyed you from head to toe, blinking suggestively. "Oh my! Your skin is flawless! You have to maintain it this way! I can also give you recommendations for—"

You were wearing a flare dress that made you look so young and petite, and obviously, Satoru too was lusting after you. And true, your skin was smooth like a soft serve of mochi, but still!

You are meant for him and his eyes only! Oho, this bozo would get heavenly punishment.

He had to get to you somehow, but this was public space and if he cooked up some sort of shenanigan, you would put him in sex ban. I can't have that! so Satoru wracked his brain to think of another way...

Once again, his gaze fell on his now calm baby, who was also looking at his mama over there with utter curiosity. And an idea immediately popped up in his mind.

"Hey, kiddo, look at that, a bad man is trying to take your mama," Satoru nudged him as if trying to egg him on. "We can't let that happen. Will you help me to save her, hmm?"

"Mama..." your baby looked back at him so innocently before smiling. "Mamaaa!"

"Good boy." Gods, his baby was so adorable, he almost felt bad for doing this but...

Swallowing his guilt, thinking he would make it up later, he pinched his son's butt a little too firmly—

"WAAAA!" and suddenly, the little boy burst into tears, and even Satoru was surprised by the sheer volume of his wail.

The sudden inconsolable sound of your baby sent you scrambling in panic, your eyes wildly searching for him, completely disregarding the credit card man. "My baby!"

"Eh?" the credit card man was visibly surprised. "Oh... so, you're married...?"

You immediately made your way towards Satoru and snatched your baby from him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, there, there... What happened to you?" you shot your husband a distaste look as your son kept wailing. "Satoru, why is he crying?"

He nonchalantly shrugged. "Maybe missing his mama? Dunno~"

By now, you had completely forgotten the credit card bozo, but he still looked at the three of you in mild surprise. Satoru took this chance to approach him and whisper in his ear:

"You see, my wife doesn't need your credit card," he whistled. "My cards or lumpsum money will do more than enough."

After seeing how pale the bozo looked, Satoru chuckled darkly... before leading you and your son away from the crowd, with one arm possessively around your waist.

Epilogue

"I'm sorry— I'm sorry, okay!?"

Satoru looked down at his son in utter hopelessness, as the little boy refused to be held by him, looking at him with teary, resentful eyes, and backing away from him in his playpen.

Can babies hold a grudge? Satoru didn't know, but his son definitely was not happy with him, and he couldn't think of any other explanation other than his sin against him back this afternoon.

"I've bought you mochi ice cream!" he opened his palm to reveal the treat. "Don't you want some? Papa will give you some, yeah?"

Baby looked skeptical now, and at that moment, he resembled you so much—accusing eyes, pursed lips, exactly like the expression you would pull when you were unsure of what Satoru might do next. He almost chuckled at the resemblance, feeling giddy.

"C'mon, forgive me, yeah?" he patted his son's little beanie and offered his hand for him to take, eyes crinkling in fondness. "Now, here comes your treat, come closer?"

Your baby crawled closer, seemingly accepting him, and Satoru was all smiles, until—

Whack!

It happened in a flash. He could have avoided it, but he was too taken aback. The pain exploded in his jaw, so intense that he grunted loudly.

"What the—?! You... you—! You kicked me— in the face!"

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. "Shut up, mom!" prank with JJK men.

➜ featuring: nanami kento, gojo satoru, geto suguru.

➜synopsis: your child(ren) has a death wish for sure.

➜note: wasn't able to pick a name for nanami's child. also sorry to the anon who sent this, i had a hard time understanding the request at first. anyway, part 2?

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

༉‧₊˚. NANAMI KENTO

“You need to start learning how to fold your clothes,” you mention casually to your daughter as you carry a basket of warm laundry to the couch.

“Why would I do that?” Nanami’s eyes look up from his book, but he doesn’t budge.

“When you move out, you will only have yourself to rely on,” you continue with the advice and your daughter rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Ugh moving out this, moving out that. Just say you want to get rid of me.”

“What–I would never, I’m just reminding you that one day you will become an adult and–”

“Oh just shut up, mom!” 

You truly gave birth to a mini you, a prankster. When you first saw the tiktok trend, you and your daughter had giggled to yourselves at the thought of getting a reaction out of her father. Though, you did warn her of the repercussions. Your husband did not play when it came to showing respect to you.

“I beg your pardon?” Nanami sits up from the couch so fast, it almost makes you jump out of your skin. You don’t have time to react, or hold him back before he is storming towards the kitchen where your teenage daughter was hiding. “What did you just say to your mother?”

“I said shut up, because she was bothering me.”

“And you think that’s one way to speak to my wife?” You see his eyebrows furrow, he even slams the book he was reading down on the kitchen counter so hard that his arm veins are about to pop out.

“Kento,” you walk up behind him, calling out his name softly.

“No, let me take this.”

“No baby listen–”

“I said I will take this.” It’s only when he repeats himself in a stern manner, that your daughter starts to giggle nervously.

“Daddy, it was a prank.”

“Yeah, baby it’s a prank.” You rub his shoulders and biceps reassuringly. Your daughter quickly wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest.

“I’d never be disrespectful like that.”

“Yeah well, it almost gave me a heart attack,” his voice is now much softer and warmer as he exhales, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair. He pulls you towards him and kisses your forehead before patting his daughter’s head.

“Now, whose idea was it?”

“Mommy’s.”

“Hey!” 

༉‧₊˚. GOJO SATORU

“Hey Ryuu, could you take out the trash please?” 

“No, I’m busy.” Satoru’s ears perk up at the sound of his son’s tone. But he doesn’t budge from where he’s standing in the kitchen.

“Baby, it’s been sitting there all day and it’s full. Could you please–”

“Shut up, mom. I said I’m busy.”

Normally, Satoru wasn’t easy to rile up. His relationship with his son was hilarious, one where he doted on his child whilst the latter pretended as though he couldn’t stand all the love and affection he received from his dad. But despite all the love that Satoru had for his son, you were number one. You come first, you are his wife and the mother of his child. When his son will leave, you will be the one he gets to spend the rest of his time with–and when he decided to marry you, a child wasn’t even in the picture.

So he will be damned if he was just going to stand there and let his son talk to you like that.

You freeze when you feel a sudden surge of cursed energy–you knew your husband when he got angry, it clouded over the rational part of his brain. So when you see him start to walk upstairs where his son is, you have to physically grab his arm to stop him. Thank god the infinity was off.

“Satoru– toru! Baby!”

“Who the fuck does he think he is, huh?” His eyes are glowing. You really shouldn’t have played this prank on him.

“It’s a prank baby.” 

“A prank?” It’s fascinating how this man can go from 0 to 100 back to 0 so quickly. He calms down so fast, glancing at the top of the stairs where he sees his son standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I told her it would be a bad idea.”

“I–hey! I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,”

“I did,” Ryuu starts to walk down the stairs and past you two. “He’s said it before. He doesn’t play when it comes to people showing you respect, even if it’s his own son.” 

Satoru can only sigh at his son’s words before staring at you. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t…But I won’t lie, seeing you riled up like that–”

“I’m too old to have a sibling!”

༉‧₊˚. GETO SUGURU

Your girls were a giggly mess. You shush them before saying very loudly.

“In what world is this acceptable?” 

“Mom,” your daughter, Tsukimi, feigns an annoyed tone, refusing to look up from her phone. “I really don’t care.”

“But I do.” You stand over her bed, motioning for her twin sister to get into the role as well.

“Does it matter?” Asahi uses the same annoyed, bored tone. One that quickly catches Suguru’s attention. He walks into the main area from the garage before hearing the argument upstairs. 

Quickly wiping his hands with the dirty rag attached to his pants, he starts to make his way up to your twin daughters’ room to see what it was about. 

“Of course it does, I’m your mother.”

“You’re really just pushing it.”

“You sneaked out last night! Do you know how disappointed your father will be?” Suguru freezes up at the revelation. But he doesn’t let his disappointment or anger get the best of him, maybe the four of you can work this out–your girls were at a rebellious age, this was bound to happen and all he needs to do is figure out a way for all of you to get along without–

“Aren’t you supposed to be our best friend or something?” Tsukimi sits up on the bed, furrowing her eyebrows in a way that reminds you how similar her and her father’s features are. 

“Right now I’m your mother.” 

“Oh would you just shut up?”

A loud slam makes the three of you flinch, and you turn to find Suguru standing by the door looking as angry as a raging bull.

“Who said it.”

“Wha–”

“Who said it. Who was it?” He is so furious you could see steam coming out from the top of his head. “Have you lost your fucking minds to be talking to your mother like that? Did I fail at educating you or what?”

“Suguru–”

“No,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room. “I need to talk to them.”

“No wait, listen–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” When you see that he had a stern look on his face, you realize that you need to save your daughters from the prank.

“It was a prank. I promise you.” 

“It really was a prank,” your twin daughters are sitting on the same bed, looking as sheepish and as guilty as ever. 

“And it was my idea,” Tsukimi adds. 

“And I didn’t stop her.” Your thumbs trace his cheeks, smiling apologetically at him. “Sorry,” 

Suguru sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he shakes his head.

“Fucking prankters. That almost gave me a heart attack.”

“But admit it, we’re good actresses, right?” Asahi asks with a grin and Suguru chuckles before ruffling her hair.

“Yeah, you sure are.”

➜ ┊: COMMISSIONS | KOFI

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[sleepymarimo]

toji x reader // sfw!

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t remember the last time he was gifted something.

“you got me what?” he asks again, kicking his sandals off at your front door for what seems like the millionth time.

you rise from your couch, the wood creaking slightly as you do so. “just some stuff for you to keep here so you stop using mine,” you reply, the shrug of your shoulders indicating how little of a deal it is.

in the kitchen, you rinse out the glass you’d been using. toji’s footsteps are barely audible over the sound of running water.

“there’s a few pairs of sweats in the hall closet,” you tell him, setting the glass down to dry. “and some other stuff in the bathroom. shampoo, body wash, toothbrush…”

the assassin lets out a small huff, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway. “you tellin’ me i reek or something?” he accuses, more so to brush off the odd feeling building in his gut.

“maybe.” comes your playful quip, your head tilting as you rest your weight on the counter and look at him. “but seriously, you just come around so often,”- his nose wrinkles at that, as he knows he crashes here much more than he should- “that i figured i’d just get you your own things. it’s not like it cost me an arm and a leg.”

with a yawn you stroll toward your room, lightly poking his chest as you pass him. “plus, you use up all of my stuff, dummy.”

he grunts, his eyes following you until you’re out of sight. “i don’t need fancy clothes or any of that crap,” he murmurs to himself, taking a few steps toward the hall closet.

his large hands wrap around the handles, sliding the doors open until he sees a pile of clothes resting on one of the shelves. three black tees stacked atop three pairs of sweats, some boxers and socks in a little box, all for him.

he picks up a shirt without hesitation, the fabric smooth against his calloused fingers. his brows furrow in concentration, maybe unease. this is for him, it’s his, and maybe that’s why this shirt is the softest one he’s ever felt.

with a gruff exhale, he snatches a pair of sweats and a clean pair of boxers, his steps unhurried as he heads for the bathroom.

the fan hums above him as the lock clicks into place, his eyes immediately darting to the shelves to see the new toiletries. his stuff.

inside the shower, toji’s shoulders sag.

it’s as if the water is washing away his defenses, the rugged, nonchalant exterior he wears now melting away in the comfort of your shower.

toji pops open one of the new shampoo bottles, taking in the scent and pouring it onto his palm. he wonders if this smell reminds you of him, if you put some thought into each item.

while he rubs it into his hair, he thinks about if he should pay you back. it’s not like he asked you to get him all this stuff, but still.

even when you’d first started letting him crash on your couch, you hadn’t demanded much in return.

“just don’t make a big mess and be decent, alright?” he remembers you saying.

and he was just fine with that. free room and board just for something so simple? he’d be a moron to decline.

it was only after around a week that he felt a familiar itch. he wouldn’t be in your debt, wouldn’t wait for the day when you’d inevitably ask for something.

so, he offered what he always did- himself. that’s what women usually wanted from him, anyway.

his idea didn’t exactly go as planned. if anything, it made him feel more conflicted, made him wonder why the hell you kept him around.

were you just lonely? did you enjoy his company?

“oh, no… i don’t do that,” you’d said, holding your hands up, flustered but adamant. “you don’t have to sell yourself to me or anything. who does that? like, what?”

the water patters on the tile floor, his body and mind feeling more clear and clean than they’ve been in a long time.

when the faucet squeaks shut, he steps out and snorts as he sees a new, fluffy black towel hanging beside yours behind the bathroom door. he grabs it, rubbing his scarred skin dry and running it through the damp strands of his hair.

the new clothes feel like heaven, truly.

in your room, engrossed by your phone, you barely hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. toji’s steps are almost silent, his arms crossing over his chest as he watches you beneath the covers.

he’s amused as you snicker at some post, the dim screen lighting up your face in the otherwise dark room.

“let me crash here, yeah?” he suggests, though it’s more of an order.

you’re startled, rightfully so, hiding your phone against your chest while you sit up straighter. “oh, you scared me! new clothes and you think you’re all that, huh? too good for the couch?”

yet, even as you chide him, you’re peeling back the covers for him, grabbing the extra pillows and moving them out of the way.

a satisfied grunt leaves him as he spreads out on the mattress, careless of the space he takes up. he tugs the blankets over his person, settling in like a big cat.

he curls into you. you don’t mind.

while you scroll along with one hand, the other supports his head and absentmindedly strokes the skin of his cheek.

his eyes watch you, his breaths becoming more steady and even. he’d never admit how much it means to him that you’d gotten him new clothes, new toiletries, practically a new home.

it’s more than he deserves, but he finds himself wanting to take as much as he can get.

he’s yours, even if he doesn’t know it. and, as the days go by, he wonders if you can be his, too.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Incubus

NSFW Art the Clown x F!Reader

Prompt: Reader is out with one of her friends when she runs into an interesting looking clown. Later that night, he seems to visit her in a dream. (Kinda going off the idea that Art is a supernatural being who can appear in people's dreams at will).

CW: Art being a freak, use of sex toys, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, choking, creampie

a/n: to quote Cassie from Euphoria "AND YOU CAN ALL JUDGE ME IF YOU WANT BUT I DO NOT CARE! I HAVE NEVER EVER BEEN HAPPIER" really going back to my sexy-clown-fucker roots with this one gang

~~~

Halloween Night.

You and your friends had been planning to go out like you had since you were teenagers. Getting dressed up in your sluttiest best Halloween costumes, going to your favorite spot in town to eat, then hitting up some parties.

Your group took up a large table at the same old diner you always met at. Friends pregaming with flasks and shot bottles they snuck in. Some more blitzed than others. As you got older, the desire for partying was beginning to leave your body. Wanting to be completely black out drunk in public becoming more embarrassing than exhilarating.

So when your best friend decided she wanted to mess with one of your fellow patrons, a lump formed in your stomach.

A tall man dressed in a half white and half black clown costume sat at one of the tables alone. Giant shoes adorned his feet, the tip of his long nose had a black dot on it, and a bald cap with a tiny hat rested upon his head. He had been staring at your group since he arrived. Most of your friends too out of it to notice.

Your friend walked over, leaning over the table he sat at. Pushing her cleavage directly in his face as she spoke to him. “Nice costume,” she batted her lashes at him. His expressionless face stared at her. A semi aggravated frown on his face. Everyone at your table began giggling as you watched in horror. She took a seat directly in his lap, wrapping one of her arms around him. She tugged at the hat on his head, smacking it down with a pop. “Awe, look how cute. But dontcha think it would look better one me,” she grabbed the hat off his head. Pulling the string and placing it down on her own.

Embarrassment ate away at your insides. All your friends stared and snickered at the situation. The man seemingly unfazed. She flicked at his nose with her finger. You could not take it any longer.

“Oh my God,” you grabbed her by the arm and yanked her away from him, “I am so sorry. If I had known she was going to do that I would’ve stopped her sooner.” You ripped the tiny hat off her head. “Here’s that. Once again I’m so sorry—“

“Why do you keep apologizing to this freak?!”

You shot a look at her, brows pushed together in frustration. Pulling her outside of the restaurant. She fought for you to let go of her. Stumbling in her drunken state.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! Why are you acting like this?” You were hurt by your friend’s actions.

“Why do you even give a shit, Y/N? That’s just some random skeezeball in a restaurant. I could fuck him and we’d never have to see him again.”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” You shouted, folding your arms over your chest. Taking a deep breath and blinking away the feeling you were harboring.

She stood in front of you with a look of disgust on her face. Her hand planted firmly on her hip. A laugh erupting from her. Wrapping her hand around your wrist and pulling you back inside. Presenting you in front of the table of all your friends. “Go ahead if that’s really how you feel, Y/N,” she cocked her head to the side.

“I— I, uh—“

“Y/N said she’s embarrassed by us. Guess we huwt hew widdle feewings!” Your friend pushed out her bottom lip and mocked you. The entire table laughed at you. All your so called friends calling you names like “Debby Downer” or “Sour Puss” or “Buzz Kill.”

You stood frozen in shock. Unable to believe all your friends you had known so long were treating you this way. All of them a little drunk, but not drunk enough for them to not know what they were doing.

“Come on, everybody. Since we’re so embarrassing to be around. You can stay here,” your friend patted you on the head as she and everyone else threw some cash on the table to cover their bills. You were in disbelief. Feeling abandoned and hurt. Ashamed.

You looked over at the Clown Man who you were defending previously. His gaze fixated on you, expression completely emotionless. Sharp eyes cutting into you. Walking over to him one last time as you began to leave, “I really am sorry she did that. I hope your night goes better than mine.” You gave him a closed mouth smile as you walked out of the restaurant. Lifeless eyes watching you exit.

You held yourself as you walked home. Cold breeze hitting your revealed skin, sending chill bumps down your body. You tugged at the short skirt you wore when you saw a group of guys staring at you. Suddenly uncomfortable in your costume. You arrived home and began getting ready for the night ahead. You did love passing out candy. Something you really had not got to do in a long time. You loved seeing all the kids dressed up, excited for their sugar filled treats.

Time passed and the knocks on your door were scarce. Disappointed in the lack of trick-or-treaters. Feeling like you had lost all love for this holiday. One that was your favorite. Deciding to pass on dinner and just bake some cookies instead.

You sat on your couch mindlessly watching TV. The lack of trick-or-treaters had you drifting in and out of sleep. Finally dozing off…

You were in a dark room. Only lit by candlelight. A musky smell filled the air. You looked down to see yourself completely nude. Wrists and ankles tied to the frame of the large bed you laid on. Confusion ran through you.

Footsteps filled the room. Straining your neck to look down the dark hallway through the open door. Complete silence coming from the darkness other than the loud clap of shoes. The Clown from the restaurant earlier walked into the dim light. Facial expression flat, eyes piercing down at you. Heat dripped down your body knowing he was seeing you completely nude and on display. Approaching the edge of the bed, his head falling to the side as he stared at your bare pussy. A wicked grin crept upon his face.

His hand dug deep down into the bag he carried. The sound of all different textures of things tussled against each other as he went shoulder deep looking for something. An excited look washed over his face as his hand gripped around what he had been looking for. Pulling a deep red, microphone shaped vibrator from the bag. Your entire body flushed.

He crawled on the edge of the bed between your spread legs. Clicking the vibrator to the setting he thought you would enjoy most before teasing around your pussy with it. You moaned at the sudden sensation. Your thighs began trembling as he edged closer and closer to your throbbing nub. When the toy finally found its place on your sweet spot you called out to him, your hips arching at the feeling. Making circular motions with the vibrator, pulling every noise from you he could. Watching as your chest heaved with each shaky breath.

The waves of your first orgasm washed over you like a tsunami. Every inch of you quaking as pure ecstasy pumped through your veins. The Clown smiled at you from the position he was in. A prominent tent pitched through his satin suit. You bit your lip watching him palm himself through the fabric. Mouth beginning to water as the spot of his suit grew darker with his pre-cum. You rolled your hips at him, encouraging him to fuck you.

Dark eyes shot up to look into yours. Hand never leaving his erect member. Your eyes pleaded with him, a small quiet “please” falling from your quivering lips.

His hand clawed at the fabric around his cock, ripping open a hole big enough for him to pull himself out. Eyes unable to look away from how his gloved hand wrapped around his member. Tugging at his erection, his head falling back ever slightly as he savored the feeling of his hand. Almost like he was putting on a show for you.

His body weighed down the bed as he positioned himself to be directly in front of your aching core. Head of his cock prodding at your entry. Tremors of anticipation quaked through you. His lips were barely parted as he looked down at your face. Hooded eyes enjoying the view of you. He rubbed the tip against your folds, collecting all the remnants of you on himself. Ready to delve in.

… A loud knock at the door pulled you awake. You had been dozed off for a few hours now. It was almost too late at night for kids to be out. You sat up, grabbing the bowl of candy off the table in front of you. A second more aggressive knock. “On my way!” You called out as you walked to the front door.

Opening the door to a familiar costumed man. The Clown your friend had been rude to earlier. Little old to be trick-or-treating, but you did not care. “Oh— Hey! It’s you,” flashes of the dream you had been having about him ran through your mind. Heat rising to your cheeks. You swallowed heavy. A toothy grin painted his face as he waved excitedly at you. Holding up a black garbage bag asking for candy from your bowl. You smiled grabbing a large handful of candy and putting it in the bag for him. His eyebrows rose as his mouth morphed into a perfect ‘O’ shape. His hand went up to his lips blowing a silent kiss at you. You caught it with your hand and placed it on your cheek with a giggle.

“There plenty more where that came from. You’re probably my last trick-or-treater for the night. I’ve got all this candy left,” you shook the bowl tossing the candy around in it. The Clown stood before you not saying anything. Eyes staring at you with a wicked grin on his face.

The loud sound of your fire alarm going off made you jump right out of your skin. You looked over your shoulder then back at the man in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Oh— Oh, Crap! I forgot about the cookies I put in the oven!” You rushed back into your house leaving the door wide open. Running into your kitchen and grabbing the oven mitts you had left on the counter, pulling the charred cookies out and throwing the pan into the sink, running cold water over it. Smoke engulfed your kitchen. You opened the window over the sink, fanning the thick fumes out of the window with your oven mitt. Coughing as you accidentally inhaled some of the tar.

You leaned over the counter, hearing the squeak of shoes approaching you identical to what you had heard in your dream. You looked up to see the Clown examining your house. Waving his hand in front of his face as he scrunched up his nose at the smell. You sighed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even get to introduce myself to you yet. I’m Y/N.” He waved at you acknowledging the introduction.

“Don’t say much do you?”

He shook his head aggressively.

“Hmm. Then how am I going to learn your name?”

He gleamed excitedly. Coming over and grabbing you by the wrist. Pulling you to your fridge where you had countless letters, newspaper clippings, and coupons pinned. He pointed to a picture about the local go-cart racing tournament that happened a few weeks back.

“Cart?”

He made an ‘X’ with his hands, shaking his head in disagreement. He reemphasized the ‘X’ before holding up one finger.

“Okay, minus one letter.”

He nodded with a bright smile.

“Car?”

He folded his arms over his chest, a look of disappointment on his face. His head falling to the side with a look that said “really?”

“Okay. Okay. Art?”

He jumped up and down clapping his hands with joy. Nodding his head rapidly. Clearly thrilled that you were so good at guessing.

“Art! I like that name,” you smiled suddenly realizing that his grip around your wrist stayed. Blushing at how close your bodies were to each other. Remembering your fantasy you were having about it pulling heat to your face.

“Well, since you’re already in here might as well make yourself comfortable. If you wanna sit in the living room I can bring you a glass of water or something,” you smiled. His wide eyes stared at you, smile never leaving his face. He slowly gave you a thumbs up before spinning on his heel and going into your living room.

“Can I tell you something crazy?” You smiled as you sat the glass down in front of him. He nodded. “I— you were just in my dream.” His mouth morphed into an ‘O’ shape, eyebrows raised in intrigue. “I dozed off after I got ditched at the diner. And we were— uh— well, you were. I was—“ Embarrassment washed over you. Realizing you were about to admit to having a sex dream about a complete stranger.

He made an okay gesture with one hand, sticking his opposite pointer finger into the o. You blushed at his insinuation. You nodded coyly. His face fell into a look telling you he thought your thoughts were naughty. Chastising you with his finger. You smiled. He rested his chin on one of his hands propped against his leg, waving for you to continue with the other.

“OH! No, you don’t want to hear the details or anything. It was…” you hid your face from him slightly. Unsure of what to say about the dream. Too awkward to fully admit it.

Art crawled off the couch, resting his chin on your bare knees like a begging puppy. A large frown decorating his face as he fluttered his eyes at you. Wide eyes stared down at him in your lap. Your nerves were set on fire. The source being where his chin touched your bare skin. You swallowed back hard.

He pressed his lips into the skin of your exposed thigh. Biting the soft flesh, leaving grease paint anywhere his lips touched. You felt your body quiver as his teeth dug into you. Bites turned into long licks. Saliva painted your exposed skin. “Art~” you moaned loving the feeling of him on your skin. A wicked grin crept on his face.

Partially gloved hands pried your legs open. Sadistic eyes stared at your clothed core. Noting how you had already soaked through your panties. Licking his way up your skin before planting a sloppy kiss on your core. You slid down the couch exposing yourself better to him. His long tongue lapped over your soaked entry, sucking on the fabric. Your hands gripped his head, eyes rolling back as he worked on you.

He suddenly stood up. You fluttered your eyes up at him. He walked over to his previous seat on the couch. Digging through the black trash bag he carried with him. Making a surprised face when his hand found what it was looking for.

Everything was so familiar...

Pulling something out and hiding it behind his back. Gesturing for you to join him. Patting his lap as you got closer to him. Hesitantly you straddled him. He leaned back into the couch, hooded eyes scanning your entire body. A mischievous grin painted his dirty teeth. He grabbed at your panties, ripping them clean off. Holding them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, eyes rolling back into his head. Over exaggerating his exhale and putting your ripped garment down into his trash bag. The cool air against your now exposed core sent chills across your entire body.

There was a sudden hum coming from behind Art. He pretending to look around as if he could not find the source of the sound. You blushed at the realization of the noise. Revealing the same deep red want from your dream. You gasped.

"That's the same one from my-"

He cut you off by pressing the toy against your throbbing clit. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. You rolled your hips against the vibrating silicone. Fire igniting deep inside you. Lost in the feeling.

Art watched how you played with yourself on the toy. His cock begging for the same attention the vibrator was getting. He smacked the side of your thigh to get your attention. Pulling you from your horny, dumb state. Your eyes meeting his gaze. His brows furrowed together as he pointed down to his erect cock. You continued your motions as you reached around to unzip his clown suit. Sliding the satin off his shoulders. His pale, slender body revealing itself to you. Propping yourself up so he could shimmy the material around his ankles. Noticing how he wore no underwear under the suit. You smiled as you stared at his cock.

Your first orgasm was rapidly approaching with the pace of the toy pressed into you. Art's gloved hands guided you down onto his member. Throwing his head back as you sunk down. The way your walls sucked him right in. Almost like your body was begging to be fucked. He blinked hard, his jaw agape. Hands encouraging you to bounce up and down. From the first few hops your orgasm took over you. Moaning his name and shaking. Walls gripping his member inside you. Art licked his teeth, mocking your orgasm face.

You expected him to move the wand so that he could fuck you to his own high. However, he pressed it firmer into your aching nub. Your hips rutted forward. Shocked expression taking over your face as you panted above him. Sweat decorating your skin.

"I-I can't do an-another one," you pleaded with the Clown. Your senses in overdrive as your pussy still spasmed around him occasionally. He pouted, mocking your pleas. Nodding his head to tell you, you would be having another one. Shaking entirely as he began a relentless pace inside you. Snapping his hips flush against your ass with each aggressive thrust. You cried out with each crack of skin. Overwhelmed with how good he felt inside you.

Fingers dinging into his bare shoulders. Gripping him tight enough to break the skin. His own fingers held your hips with a bruising force as he continued bouncing you on him. Feeling yourself approach another orgasm. Air hitching in your throat feeling your skin burn with pleasure.

Art reached one of his hands up and wrapped it around your throat. Squeezing tighter than anyone had ever before. Having you seeing stars, feeling like you could faint at any moment. Truly taking your breath away from you.

HONK!

A silver horn was shoved in your face as he released your throat. Bringing you back to the situation. Also causing you to grip his member again. He mimed a laugh when your body jumped at the sudden noise.

His head fell back against the head of the couch as he savored the feeling of you wrapped around him. Knowing his end was approaching. Sloppily thrusting up into you, circling your clit with the want. Willing you to cum at the same time. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Wishing you could lean forward and bite at his flesh. Decorate his skin with your markings. But you were far too close to your second high to change positions now.

Screaming out to him as you came far harder than the first time. You felt Art shoot up into you, spilling his hot seed into you. Continuing to thrust up into you as he rode out both your highs. Watching how he leaked out of you and pooled around his base. Smiling for a moment before his face fell flat. He helped you off his lap, sitting you beside him. Standing and attempting to reach his zipper on the back.

You stood and helped him. Making sure to pull the zipper away from his skin to prevent any accidents. Art turned and tipped his hat to you. You blushed as you stood in front of the man who just rocked your world.

You watched as he grabbed his black bag and threw it over his shoulder. Heading towards the door. Turning to blow a kiss at you one last time.

Catching it and placing it on your lips. Blowing one right back at him. He pretending to rub the blush off his cheeks.

And just as quick as he had entered he exited your home. You waved goodbye. Choosing not to question the stranger you had let into your home for a quick fuck.

Watching as he disappeared into the night.

~

[END]

// Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing for Art. You really gotta get creative when you can't use dialogue lol. I hope you enjoyed this story! I plan on writing more for him, so if you have any requests please send them my way! Or if you want to be tagged in anything let me know! //

{tags}

@hoe-for-daddywise | @cup1d-ends-here | @xenoanamorph | @getmeoutofhell |

[allllium]

Comfort

~ Some Sappy Jason Todd x Reader

~ Playing with Jason's Hair

~ Fluff, a little overthinking, WC: 981

- You play with Jason's Hair -

You are usually very good at understanding things about your boyfriend, Jason. It took you no time at all to find about his nightly activities and everything about his family. But on the other hand, you can't seem to understand him at all.

You've tried not to ask him about certain things because based on hints from his family, he's had some bad shit happen in his life.

However, the more questions you don't ask, the more that seem to pop up.

You haven't asked him why sometimes he flinches away when you touch him but other times he leans in.

You haven't asked him why his hands make fists when you're trying to sleep at night.

You haven't asked him about the scar along his chest or his aversion to certain foods.

All because you're too scared to make him uncomfortable, or maybe because you don't know if you could stomach it.

You're laying bed and waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Somehow, you take less time getting ready for bed than he does. You suspect it's because he needs a couple minutes to process everything that happened during the day.

As usual you have a million thoughts running through you're head all at the same time. 99% of them are about him.

When he finally comes into your shared bedroom and gets comfortable in bed, you're debating whether or not to talk to him about some of the things you can't get out of your mind.

You decide against it. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable or bring up any bad memories that might affect his ability to sleep through the night.

He can obviously sense your unease, you don't hide it very well.

"What's wrong?" His raspy voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Nothing, sweetheart." You try to play it off.

"Uh huh." He says blankly.

"I'm just thinking about things, is that a crime?"

"Depends on what they are." He pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms around you.

"Nothing bad."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"If someone's bothering you, you should tell me."

"Why is that?"

"Well I have an ability of getting rid of people."

"Oh my God Jason you can't joke about that." You look at him in amused shock.

"Who says it's a joke?" He asks, face completely serious.

"Okay no killing people on my behalf." You chuckle and he copies. "I'm just trying to figure you out more."

"Why?"

"Cuz I want to know more about you?"

"Like what"

"Right now I want to know what you want." You pull away from him in order to sit up a little bit.

"I don't want anything at the moment."

"Yes you do. If you didn't want anything your fists wouldn't be clenched and your eyes wouldn't have that look. Like you want to say something but can't."

"You really want to know?" He asks.

"Yeah I really do." You immediately reply.

"A couple months ago while we were watching a movie on the couch, you played with my hair and it was very comforting. And the best sleep I've ever had."

"That's it? I've been driving myself crazy trying to think of explanations and you're telling me you just want me to play with your hair." You question him in disbelief. It's been months of overthinking thoughts and random mind rampages for something you haven't even noticed you were doing.

"I didn't know how to say it." He shrugs, not looking into your eyes. "It sounds childish."

"No it doesn't. Everyone has different ideas of perfect comfort and I happen to agree with yours. Jason, if you want something from me all you have to do is ask."

You lean over to give him a quick, sweet kiss.

"I'm not used to that."

"Well you better get started."

"Fine, would you play with hair so I can go to sleep, Angel?"

"Only because you asked so nicely."

It takes a second for you both to get rearranged so it's comfortable. You're now laying on your back with Jason half on his side, half on top of you with his head on your chest.

It's almost amusing how quickly he falls asleep but above all else you feel a sense of pride at the fact that you're the one giving him this feeling.

He said this was comforting. He said this was the best sleep he's ever had.

And you're the reason he's having these things.

You stay up longer than you probably should have. This time the thoughts running through your head aren't worrying or overwhelming.

They make you happy. Happy enough to fall into a very sound sleep.

You wake up to coffee on your nightstand and a missing Jason.

"Jason." You call out and he quickly comes running.

When he walks in the room, you immediately begin questioning him.

"What is this?" You ask with an ounce of suspicion. You're worried it's a repayment of some sort.

"It's coffee. A hot caffeinated drink."

"Why?"

"Because you like it and it makes you irritable for far less time in the morning."

"Jason you don't have to do things for me just because I did something for you."

"Yes I do. Because words won't let me explain how grateful I am for you."

"Since when are you so sappy?"

He sits on the bed next to you.

"Don't be mean to me right now, I'll take it away."

"Fine. Continue your speech."

"I know it's a small thing for you but I haven't felt comfort like you give me in a very long time. Maybe even ever. And I need you to know that."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to give that to you."

The next thing you know, you both have giant grins on your faces and you're both happier than ever before.

[pleasureable]

Star Shopping !

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ in which you’re asked to star in Thanos’ new music video

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you were a well known Instagram model, with your career being launched after you had posted a random selfie of you taken on your digital camera

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the virality of your picture practically launched you into virtual stardom with you gaining a pretty big following after that

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ your followers loved you for your beauty and style, as your instagram page was littered with pictures of you posing in clothing items such as big fur coats, mini skirts, leather tops and bottoms and bikinis

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you were pretty popular amongst rappers for some reason, with some even asking for permission to use your pictures in promo for their music

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you had been familiar with Thanos for a little while now as you had seen his performances a couple times—more specifically his performance at Rolling Loud fest. you liked his music and you thought he was pretty cute but you had never really interacted with him before

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Thanos was practically obsessed with you, though. he would always like your posts, even commenting “😍😍” on some of them—of course, fueling some rumors of hidden romance between you two

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he had finally messaged you one day, his name popping up in your dms

@thanos

u down to be in my music video, pretty ?

@y/n

sure why not lol

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ after a few days of exchanging messages you finally booked a flight (that he, of course, offered to pay for) to L.A—where the video would be filmed

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once you had landed and settled into your hotel room a bit, you and Thanos had met up for coffee—he explained the vision he had for the video, as well as telling you what he wanted from you in terms of your appearance in it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “I’m thinkin’ of like, just having you as the main focus of the video” he said. you were incredibly flattered, how couldn’t you be? a big, hotshot rapper like him wanted to plaster your face all over a piece of his work. “main focus?” you asked, a touch of uncertainty in your voice. you had been in some music videos before, but just as a background character, never the lead girl. “Of course, I wanna showcase your beauty as much as I can.” he responded.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ your nerves were at an all time high as you drove to the filming location the day of the video shoot. once you got there the makeup artists began to work on you, minimal makeup, just as Thanos had earlier requested (he did want to showcase your beauty, after all)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the on-set costume designer had chosen to dress you in a tight, mini white dress—a ushanka style hat being placed on your head to finish the look

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the music video idea followed two lovers who spend the night recording each other on a camcorder, engaging in stupid shenanigans around a mansion, showcasing and capturing carefree moments of each other

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ walking onto set, you could feel thanos’s eyes all over you, admiring the way your body fit your dress and how the ring lights placed on set perfectly highlighted your facial features

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once actual shooting had begun, the romantic chemistry between the two of you was undeniable

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the romantic poses you were placed in by the director and Thanos himself obviously weren’t doing anything to dampen the atmosphere

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ nearing the end of shooting, you were scripted to be holding the camcorder while staring into Thanos’s eyes, an implied kiss taking place before the screen would go black, thus marking the end of video

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ though, once you got close enough to his face to the point where the tips of your noses were touching, the sexual and romantic tension had gotten unbearable. you had been very much aware of Thanos’s attraction to you prior to him asking you to be in his video, and you never quite expected you and him to be in the predicament you were in now.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ without even thinking, Thanos smashed his lips against yours—to your delight. pent up frustration causing the kiss to be slightly lewd, though you both quickly pulled away before you got carried away

“that definitely wasn’t scripted mr. Thanos.”

“Of course it wasn’t, pretty.”