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thewhumpcaretaker · 1 month ago

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⚜ Marquis of Los Angeles: Ch. 5 - French Nights

ཐི♡ཋྀ Thank you for the beta-read, @kavalyera! ཐི♡ཋྀ

Summary: Vincent has started cooperating as a ghoul, performing tasks for Sebastian at night and sleeping by day. But neither he nor Sebastian can rest peacefully.

TW: nightmares, mind control, war PTSD

The California days were only the French nights. Vincent’s body recognized them instantly as the time for sleeping, for what would have been an early bedtime in Versailles. A depression bedtime, maybe, but so much the better. After all, he had just lost everything.

He came home at each sunrise so exhausted and haggard by LaCroix’s tasks. He went from end to end of the city, delivering inscrutable messages that he himself didn’t fully understand, stumbling through social interactions in an underworld whose alliances he had yet to master, being poked at and at times outright attacked by anyone who might wish to test what LaCroix’s latest plaything could do. What hurt the most was that he wanted so badly to do LaCroix’s work effectively and he didn’t even know why. His long-term plans (to gain vampiric power and undo LaCroix completely, of course), had little to do with these daily tasks. Yet he came home miserable over every inconvenience and misstep.

The sight of LaCroix overwhelmed him. His night built towards it in anticipation, and not because of the many gifts LaCroix tried to use to buy his affection. No, it was something about the look on the man’s face, an eagerness. As if it weren’t enough to wear full lips and strong nose and glimmering eyes (all of which he loved to picture bruised and bloody and humbled), those features arranged themselves in such a gloriously domineering way. All his attention fixed on Vincent with a desperate possessiveness, an expectation of performance, and such a pride whenever he did well. Vincent wanted more of that. But the encounter itself always proved too much for him, too nerve wracking. He would snap at LaCroix until LaCroix snapped right back, and run to his room wanting nothing more than to be unconscious.

And so, vampiric sleeping hours suited Vincent immediately, as did his new sleeping quarters in the guest bedroom down the hall from his regnant.

That very first night, LaCroix informed him that it was a great honor to be given this bedroom, that it was not ordinarily meant for ghouls, only for the few diplomats significant enough to be offered a day’s stay so close to his own resting place. Here was the respect Vincent had been promised. “Come to me if you need something,” LaCroix said, “Though I’ll appreciate it if you try Sheriff first. His is the last door, on left. You will note that one must pass by his room before reaching the elevator. So if you try to run away – “

Vincent rolled his eyes. “I won’t.”

“Yes. Well.” They nodded at each other awkwardly until Vincent had the good sense to close the door on LaCroix (finding, to his disappointment, that it did not lock), and began exploring his new cage.

A fine layer of dust told him that it was rarely used. The gilded writing desk in the corner had perhaps never been opened at all, and contained nothing. Neither did the dresser - LaCroix had no nightclothes large enough for him, but he’d promised to buy him something tomorrow. Everything was a mere shell in the style of a hotel room – made to look like a home but to usher the guest onward before it could become truly lived-in. Vincent would bet money that the Prince didn’t like having guests.

With nothing to see, he switched off the electric chandelier and the sun became his nightlight, creeping almost imperceptibly around the edge of the blackout curtains. He tried to open them, to look out at the city by day, but found that they were pinned tightly against the wall at each corner. In a rush of rebellion against his situation, he tore them free, and looked out from the dizzying height of Venture Tower. His hands toyed absently with the edge of the curtain as he lost himself in contemplation. Below, the people rushed through their morning commute, pulsing through the veins of the city at a steady beat. LaCroix’s people, LaCroix’s blood rivers. And his perhaps, one day, if he could wrench them away from his master. The sun played on his skin, kissing it. He was warm, and alive. He could make the best of this. Put him above any city and he would rule it. Yes, everything would be fine, and he’d just sleep with the curtains wide open so he felt a bit safer. He exhaled shakily and sunk back onto the bed.

Vincent set about making himself at home in his lavish, canopied four poster with tasseled pillows and a mountain of gold-embroidered comforters. He pulled them around himself into a plush nest, covering all but the top of his head, and tried to cuddle away the profound sense of trauma that was settling into his bones. After all that had passed in the previous days, he'd needed this so badly: to be somewhere warm and soft and bright and soon to be unconscious. He rubbed at his wrists, where the rope had pressed into them, and his puffy eyes, and curled in on himself to fall asleep.

He was being carried, as he had once been as a child.

He was being carried to bed in the middle of the day, and he didn’t trust the thing that was carrying him at all. It was a gory, demonic figure, which he might have recognized as his father by its face if it had a head. But it didn’t, and he recognized it instead by the way it sent his heart slamming into his ribcage, the way he struggled against its touch in instant panic.

Abruptly, it dropped him. Somehow, that was worse. Vividly, so vividly that it must be real, he felt himself slam into his bed and sat up screaming in his Versailles bedroom. He threw off the tangled covers, dashed to the door to be in the presence of someone human, anyone, just the guard who stood by his room at night – and the guard was headless, gore trailing over the collar of his suit.

“Oh - bordel de merde...oh mon dieu... [Oh – holy shit…oh my god…]” He backed away trembling beyond all control, terror hitting him over and over in waves as the thing turned its headless body towards him. He couldn’t tell if he was more afraid to keep looking at it, or to turn his back on it in order to run. Tripping over his feet, he tore his eyes away and sprinted down the staircase and into the grand entrance, past headless maids and headless Myrmidons and headless butlers who all reached slowly towards him, mindless and uncaring. Was there anyone in the house who wasn’t headless? In the whole world? Or was he completely alone in some hell dimension? No one could speak to him. No one could see him or listen to him. They could only hurt him if they got to him, and he was screaming, he realized. He was screaming so much and –

And someone else was screaming too.

In the depths of the palace, someone was near him, screaming in the same agonized fear. Someone else must have a head on their shoulders. No, for once, in the clutches of his worst dreams, he was not alone.

Vincent did not stop screaming, did not stop tearing through the halls, fighting to escape. But someone was there, and he felt a mysterious kinship with them. He did not know where this poor, pitiful friend had come from, or where to look for them, but they became his constant companion. For every French night and California day that followed, the screaming of a fellow sufferer would visit him again, and whenever it did, he immediately started searching, trying to reach them.

.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸. ཐི♡ཋྀ.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.

The Los Angeles night was sunless and cold and it suited LaCroix just fine. As much as he missed the sun, he feared it more. Besides, night was clear, it was silent. Free of distractions…that was, until Vincent arrived.

Beautiful terror of a creature, Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont. LaCroix caught himself repeating his name in his head and repeating his face behind his eyes. In the midst of long meetings or bent over his desk at midnight, he glanced out the window at the blackness as if he half expected to see Vincent on the sidewalk below. Where in the city was he at any given time? And why exactly did LaCroix care?

Vincent made him crazy, made him do the most absurd things. The ghoul obeyed him, but barely. He asked too many questions. He deviated from his assignments to talk to people he shouldn’t be bothering, to chase information and probably freedom. And worst of all, he seemed so heartbreakingly miserable. So LaCroix bought new suits, and strawberry cakes, and antique books of poetry, all for Vincent. All to try to appease him. He could never seem to do the thing that would bring Vincent to heel, couldn’t win his loyalty and it unsettled him greatly. He had never felt so protective over a ghoul or so challenged by one. Every day was a struggle for control, a playfight that was more than just play. It made him invested, it made him want to break Vincent’s mind like a cinnamon stick, and at some particularly baffling moments, it made him want to break himself. To give up and just wring his hands and plead, “Why won’t you listen to me? Why do you hate me? What am I doing wrong?”

He felt nerves building in his body twenty minutes before Vincent was due for his daily report each morning at 4 AM, anticipating another chance to win him over. If he didn’t know better, he would have called those nerves exhilaration. Even joy. But he did know better, because it always ended badly, with Vincent slipping through his fingers yet again.

So he would retreat to his chambers after Vincent had stormed off, left with a dull anxiety and the inexplicable wish that someone was in the room to watch over him. To chase away the feeling that he would be shot in his sleep and never wake up.

Yes, shot. That was the real fear, even though he ran a finger along the edges of the curtains before lying down to ensure they were still securely pinned. That was what he dreamed of – the Russian invasion, Waterloo. The bayonets, the muskets, the canons. The deafening explosions that had once ended his life. Even the dreaded fire of the sun, when he dreamed of that, was a kind of gunshot, a piercing gold blaze that tore a hole in the curtains and struck him through the heart in audible thunder. Bullets went everywhere, through everything. One day, they would find him.

How absurd it was, how irrational. He would never die that way. He couldn’t understand why his mind kept suggesting it.

But lately, something cut through the thunder. A scream, somewhere close to him. And even while he bled out, wailing hopelessly, he felt some consolation in the knowledge that there was a fellow sufferer near him and they were at least screaming out together. That he was not alone.

He was dreaming of the sun as a bullet when it happened. His chest was torn open, with fire catching at the edges of the hole, spreading and spreading, slowly consuming his body. He was screaming. And, as so often happened these days, he heard someone else screaming nearby. Oftentimes, this second scream guided him, giving him something to hold onto while he lay dying. But this time, it suddenly stopped.

His own crying got worse, much worse. Whoever they were, they were dead, or had left him. He was dying alone, burning from the inside out with the flames of the sun and the desperation to be held one more time. “No! Please don’t die, please don’t leave me, come back, please, please…” He gasped uncontrollably even though his lungs were gone by now, burned to ash -

“LaCroix.”

He scrambled back against the headboard. The lights were already on, casting Vincent in a stark, washed out white before his eyes could adjust. He realized too late that his chest was shuddering violently with gasps and his face was covered in tears. He couldn’t possibly hide what had just happened to him. “What-what the hell do you want? What are you doing here?”

Vincent stared at him in silence for a few beats, breathing almost as fast. Sebastian could hear his heartbeat flying. The man must have run to his room. “It was you.” He just about winced as he spoke, as if he regretted those words. “That is – what I mean is that you were screaming.”

LaCroix wiped at his face and arranged his body into a pose that didn’t involve being flat against the headboard in terror. “Don’t be stupid. Why would I be screaming?”

“Oh, come on.” Vincent’s eyes narrowed, thoroughly unwilling to entertain his act.

“No, I will not ‘come on.’ This is entirely untoward. If you don’t have anything intelligible to say, you will vacate my room. At once.” Don’t resist me this time, please, he thought frantically. He put all his effort into the command. Just get Vincent out. Pretend this never happened. He was still so damn rattled, all he wanted was to lie down and shake.

Vincent swore at him but turned on his heels. He was halfway to the door before the implication hit LaCroix. “Wait.”

He turned back, glaring now. “Do you want me out, or not?”

Now it was Sebastian’s turn to stare at Vincent in a mix of pity and wild anxiety, and to blurt out, “My god, it was you. I heard you. From all the way down the hall…you must have been in absolute horror.”

Vincent lifted his chin, although his lips had gone very tight. “Yes. At least I can admit it.”

“But why? What on Earth could…I mean, you’ve had a peaceful life, or at least I thought – “

Vincent just flinched away from his gaze.

“…Am I wrong about that?”

“No! No. I have nothing to complain about, I have no reason to be so...” He continued to stare at the floor, flushed and breathing too fast. In another moment, he blurted out, “Please don’t compel me. Not right now. Don’t make me say this.”

“I would not, Vincent. I won’t.” The look on his face was pulling something tender out of LaCroix that he had thought was long dead. “It’s not for…times like this.”

“…Thank you.” He shifted uncomfortably. “May I go?”

“If you…if you want to, yes.” God, why did everything have to be so awkward between them?

But Vincent stopped at the door, and tipped back his head, cursing quietly. “Damn it, this is going to bother me, you’ll be in here upset and it bothers me, you always bother me and I hate it, I hate hearing you, I hate looking at you, I hate feeling like a fire alarm is going off in my gut whenever you’re not perfectly pleased, and it’s MADDENING, and I HATE it, and we’re both stuck with it, so let’s just get this over with…” And he rushed back across the room and dove onto the bed and…and…

LaCroix had not been hugged in at least two hundred years.

Not by anyone. Not his sire. Not any of the ghouls he kept at a distance. Certainly not by any of his associates. And who else was in his life? No one.

It was warm, and tight around his middle, and full of Vincent’s tip-tap-tip-tap pulse and his silken softness and his porcelain cheek and his vivacious, passionate being. It made him feel like his ribcage was cracking in half and his lungs were all over the floor. It made his brain flicker out of all functionality. It made him fucking cry. Again. A lot. And he hadn’t done that in front of another person in almost as long.

Get the fuck off of me, he was trying to say, but it didn’t work for two reasons. Firstly, he couldn’t form coherent words of any kind. And secondly, he didn’t want that at all.

He didn’t manage to say a single word before Vincent ran out of the room.

The nightmare was the farthest thing from his mind as he stared at the ceiling, his face slack with shock, waiting for something to make sense. He clutched the blanket against himself, trying to fill the space where Vincent had been. What was this longing that had been reawakened, this vacancy? To be sure, there was no gaping hole or a sunbeam bullet at the center of his body. But still, he had been shot, that much was certain. He felt pierced by a warm, burning, human sort of light.

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#marquis de gramont x sebastian lacroix #marquis de gramont #sweetblood #sebastian lacroix #vtm jw #wickblr #vampire the masquerade #whump fic #enemies to lovers #whump nightmare

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crazycurly-77 · 5 months ago

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Memory Loss - Chapter 3

To help Gibbs as best as possible the whole team took their turns to visit him and speak with him.

Your turn was directly after Duckys and as you entered the sick room and seeing Gibbs lying there you nearly broke down as every time you saw him like that. Ducky stopped telling a story, looked up at you and saw your tears. Cautiously you neared the bed and thankfully Ducky hugged and comforted you while you tried to compose yourself.

“I know, my dear. We all take it hard. But he will get well soon, I'm absolutely convinced of that. And he will boss you around once more before you know it” he said.

“Ducky…thank God for this man. He is simply wonderful” you thought.

“I have just finished my story about my encounter with cannibals in the jungle and now have to go and cook for my mother. Will you be okay sitting with him for a while?” he inquired.

“Yes, surely. I hope I can tell him something interesting” you smiled.

“Sure you can, my dear. I think there's nothing you could tell him that doesn't interest him” he chuckled and winked.

“Will you call me when he wakes up?”

“Yeah, will do.”

“Good, then have a nice day. We will see each other tomorrow. If you need someone to talk to, just phone me.”

“Will do. The same for you, Ducky.”

Then he was gone and you were left alone with your still unconscious boss.

You walked to his bed and just looked at him. He looked so peaceful as if he was only sleeping. But after a few seconds you gulped and had to look away as your guilt consumed you once more.

So you sat down, softly grabbed his hand and began to narrate to him everything that came to your mind.

“Hey boss, here I am again. And I absolutely plan to tell you so much until you wake up to make me stop” you laughed lowly. But he didn't react, of course not, he was still in coma.

You sighed and tried your best to stay calm, to stay strong. For him. Because he needed the support of you all in the fight for his life.

“You know, we caught the suspect and arrested him. Tony beated him up quite badly so he nearly had to be hospitalized, but the man really earned this. Now we have to do a lot of paperwork….

…but hey, that's your goal, isn't it? Avoiding an awful lot of paperwork and making us do it all for you. Now I see…!!!”

You laughed to yourself and nearly wished that he would shout at you for telling such idiotic things. But still nothing happened.

So you continued.

“Can you imagine, we are all missing you badly. Nobody stays directly behind us unexpectedly, no head-slaps and no one commands us to do anything. Abby is running short on caf-pow and Tony…is simply himself. At the moment he is the team leader and boy is he enjoying it. He ordered us to call him sir! I think he urgently needs a good head-slap to stay on the ground and you are the only one who can keep him in check. So you see, we depend on you and need you very much.”

You babbled all that came to your mind and hoped that it helped him in some way.

Time flew by and soon Tim arrived to take over the shift.

“Hey Y/N, any changes?”

“No, but I nearly talked his ears off.”

You both laughed dearly and then you left the hospital to go home and sleep a little.

The next day you sat at Gibbs’ side and held his hand again and told him everything and nothing, but mainly you told him what's in your heart. At least what concerned his injuries.

“Hi Gibbs, here I am again. Who would have thought?” you laughed.

“Was a joke, don't think about it. In the office everything is as always, but you are greatly missed by everyone. Abby is beside herself and me…I don't know what to do. I can't eat, I can't sleep. It pains me to see you so sick and I'm feeling very guilty that you are sick because of me. When I think about it I wanna cry my eyes out of my head.

I can't thank you enough that you protected me, but what should I do without you? Please wake up.”

Tears were stinging in your eyes again. You were hopeless and wished nothing more than for him to wake up and be himself again. But there was still no reaction from him. So you left to go home and cried yourself to sleep once more.

(To be continued...)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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#ncis #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis fanfiction

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wintercandle42 · 5 months ago

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explain the shut in au to someone who’s never heard of the game (i beg)

Oh boy you don’t even have to beg

So, the game Shut In is about a guy trying to get ready to go Outside but. His house is. Rather dangerous and strange.

Sleep in bed too long, get crushed by a shelf. Go to the basement and you risk being boiled alive by streams of steam. The staircase has been ripped up and huh how did that happen? Ig it can’t be a big jump- wrong you’re dead.

The creator of the game says it is based off their own experience with agoraphobia and things. It’s a beautiful game, though very very dark. If you are alright with such topics I highly recommend checking it out. Personally I watched Markiplier’s playthrough of it. It’s like an hour and a half or something.

Now. What made my friend @/justsomedumbstuff recommend it to me was how the Narrarator could totally be Nagito’s inner monologue. It’s so casual, self loathing, and grim. Some examples:

(If you jump down the stairs assuming the jump can’t be too far) “There’s certainly a ground floor somewhere, though. Your mangled corpse is smeared all over it. By the way, that wasn’t a very impressive jump. Lets just pretend you slipped, shall we?”

(If you pull the plug on a rather sketchy outlet) “For a split second, you feel the searing heat of over 200 volts of electricity coursing through your body. Luckily, before your head can process the pain your heart stops completely. You’re dead in seconds. You don’t even have time to reflect on your poor decision making capabilities. Which part of you thought that was a sensible idea?”

And every single death ends in “But don’t worry. Try again tomorrow.”

So uh. Yeah. Very Nagito. It got me thinking.

What if, instead of death, the Future Foundation wished to punish the Remnants of Despair further? Well. Most of them have already been killed or jailed, but they only need one or two in order to make an example of them to the world. Show everyone what happens if you stick by despair’s side.

Despair so terrible not even Ultimate Despair can withstand it.

So they place Nagito Komaeda and Izuru Kamukura in two separate simulations where time is slower, and life is torture.

Nagito’s torture is essentially the game. He wakes up in his childhood home and. Quickly learns how dangerous it is. The first day, he succumbs to the bugs in the shower. He sees them falling out of the shower head but oh no, where is the door handle to the bathroom? He’s stuck. Oh no no no no.

And he dies. It’s horrible. He remembers every detail of his death. But then he wakes up in bed again. Huh weird dream yeah and then it happens again and he knows something is Wrong.

And he has to live like this for months. In a house where one wrong step and he’s bleeding out on the floor for hours in agony before he dies. And sure, he isn’t super afraid of death at first, but after dying again and again and again and again and again and again it takes its toll.

He doesn’t wanna be blinded on the floor by a broken lightbulb again, unable to do anything but bleed out until he falls unconscious. He doesn’t want to tip over the boiling pot again, burning himself so badly that he can’t even move.

He grows paranoid. He doesn’t want to move but he’ll die if he stays in bed. He’s so hungry but going to get food means he has to climb down to the first floor and ohh it’s so uncomfortable. The walls covered in drawings and markings… and then when he gets into the kitchen. Oh it’s awful. The smell of gas. The monsters trying to get him. The darkness. He doesn’t want it but. He needs to eat.

Over and over and over again. It’s hell.

And Izuru. Izuru is stuck in that room he was kept in for so long. It’s the same routine every day. Same meals. Same time. There is nothing to do. Nothing to stimulate his mind. Just months of Nothing. He can pace but for how long will that be less boring? He can starve himself but he just. Wakes up again in bed if he dies. There is nothing he can do. He can’t escape. He cannot do anything.

He is so under-stimulated and it is driving him crazy

But thankfully, resident cutie patootie of the Future foundation, Makoto Naegi, has mercy on them and breaks them out of the simulation, realizing they’re. Not gonna be actively searching for and spreading despair anymore.

And. The state they’re in is just… depressing. He can’t let them live like this.

#thanks for the ask!#seriously!!! I love talking about my aus!!!#24’s danganronpa aus #24’s aus #danganronpa au #danganronpa crossover au #shut in #shut in game #kamukoma purgatory au #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura

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sirfrogsworth · 2 years ago

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Frustrating day.

Yesterday I talked to the hospice doctor. I explained to him that my dad is going to have visitors coming in the morning until Monday. And I was hoping we could strategize how to keep him as lucid as possible until then. I know from taking care of him for over a year that if he takes Ambien and gets really deep, restful sleep, he will be alert and coherent in the morning. 4 days ago I convinced them to give him an Ambien at night and the next morning the nurse called me and was shocked at how alert and lucid he was. She said he was being charming and funny and like his old self.

One of the common medications given in hospice is a powerful anti-anxiety med called Ativan. Near the end, hospice patients can grow very restless and frustrated. Ativan can really help them relax and be more comfortable.

So the doctor said that these two medications were not great when given at the same time. He said that the Ativan would probably help my dad sleep just like the Ambien. I was really skeptical that Ativan could replace a proper sleep aid. Dad has taken some anti-anxiety meds in the past and while they do make you sleep, it's because they knock you on your ass. And they often have hangover effects like drowsiness and brain fog once you wake up.

Against my recommendation, they tried Ativan instead of Ambien. And I knew what was going to happen. My dad was going to wake up a drowsy zombie. I just did not speak up enough to advocate for my dad.

I was unable to come in this morning because I had to accept a medication delivery at home. My dad's two sister-in-laws and his brother came for a visit. My dad was unconscious and unable to be roused. He missed the opportunity to say goodbye to his brother, who drove all the way here from Oklahoma to see him.

So today I asked the doctor if we could *please* try just the Ambien tonight and not use the Ativan until after Monday when the last of the visitors will arrive. He finally agreed to give it a try.

Maybe it will work. Maybe it won't. But I still feel if they had given it to him last night, he would have been able to communicate with his brother.

I wish the doctor would have trusted my judgment. Caretaking for someone over a year gives you important knowledge of how someone responds to different medications.

Dad is still knocked out. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

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faegoddessog · 1 year ago

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Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 36/41

Chapter 36: What a Girl Wants

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, cunnilingus, anal play (m. and f. receiving), fellatio, bondage, spanking (ass and pussy), punishment, fingering, throat grabbing (not really choking), Unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll), creampie, unprotected anal (f. receiving), loving degradation?? (please correct me if I'm wrong on that), masturbation, restraint, bruising/marks

Yup... all that and a bag of chips.

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes involved here.

PSA: You shouldn't wear a butt plug for extended periods as it could result in ulcerations. However this is a fantasy story without such parameters, so...

Chapter 36: What a Girl Wants

Even though you refused to think of time as passing, the last day together comes. You have spent the last couple days busy getting everything finalized, you’ve not had time nor energy for more than cuddling and kisses with Austin. You slept in late this morning, as though even in dreamtime you had refused to acknowledge this as your full last day on the Gold Coast. Your bags are packed, weighed and at the door by midafternoon. You don’t leave until tomorrow afternoon, but you like to be ready. You grab a bag of chips to have a little snack, wondering what to do for dinner.

Austin steps out from his office room wearing jeans and a t-shirt, hair a mess. Stretching as though he had been napping, but holding his phone to his ear.

“Yes, 5pm is good, thank you,” he says into the phone, then hangs up.

“Kitten, get ready, I am taking you to dinner,” he exclaims, ”and not one where we eat take out on the hood of the car, a real dinner at a fancy restaurant with tiny portions and good wine and people calling you Sir.”

“Ooo, that sounds awesome, I love being called Sir!” your eyes light up, tossing the bag of chips aside. “Oh fuck, um… all my dresses are packed away. I don’t have anything to wear to a fancy place.” You chew your bottom lip.

“Yes you do” he steps inside his office and pulls out your blue dress he bought you in Brisbane in one hand and strappy heels and your sapphire jewelry in the other, “I snatched them from your storage box before we moved it downstairs.”

“Oooo! Going out!” you do a little happy dance, grabbing his face and planting a kiss on him.

You open the luggage by the door, rummage around and pull out the matching butt plug. You couldn’t bear the idea of keeping it in storage.

“Shall I wear this too?” you show him,” it is an ensemble after all.”

His eyes narrow in desire and his teeth unconsciously catch his bottom lip as he nods his head.

After a good shower and clean out, you spend time, probably for the last time in a while, on your hair and makeup.

Austin pops his freshly shaven face into the bathroom holding a bottle of lube, nodding at the plug on the counter. “Can I help Kitten?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you joke with him, picking the plug up.

His lip curls and he crooks his finger with a ‘come here’ motion. You follow him eagerly into the bedroom. He has on nothing but the martini boxer briefs you got him.

“Awww, those are so cute on your tush babe.” you run your hand over the delectable curve of his ass.

“Thank you, now get your tush up there,” he indicates the bed.

You crawl up on all fours, ass up in the air. You are a little nervous, he hasn’t played with your ass in a while, and you know how big he is. But you know he’s gonna take good care of you. You prepare to relax, taking a deep breath. His hands are pulling your cheeks apart and you expect to feel lube dripping on your ass and the plug tip smearing it around.

“Oh my god you are gorgeous,” you hear him behind you and instead feel his fingers graze along your pussy lips. He leans over your body, knees urging your legs wider. He plants a kiss on your shoulder,

“I want you cumming as I push it in,” he says low in your ear. A shuddering breath escapes your lips.

“Oh,” your cunt tingles with anticipation.

He draws away from you. Suddenly you feel his wide, flat tongue slowly running from your clit, over your labia to your clenching and clean sphincter.

“Oh fuck,” this is not what you were expecting at all.

On the next swipe he dips into your furrow, pushing your juices to your backside with his tongue. He laps you this way over and over. Soon his fingers begin to gently circle your clit. He tongues you, your stomach clenches and a burst of breath deserts your lungs.

“You like that, Kitten?” he asks, a smile evident in his voice. You know he loves making you feel like this.

“Uh huh,” you nod.

“My naughty girl,” his lips brush your cheeks. His tongue lightly flicks across your rosette as his fingers massage across your pussy and circle your clit. It is fucking naughty and that makes it feel even better. Your fists clench the bedclothes as you push back towards him. Soon he replaces his tongue with the lube covered plug. Just rolling the tip around your back entrance.

He slides an arm under your leg, urging you to roll onto your back.

“I gotta lick your clit hunny, I need it in my mouth,” his eyes are shaded with rising desire.

You understand this kind of aroused oral fixation all too well. You pull your knees up to your armpits. He wastes no time, licking and sucking your pussy like a starved man. Little groans of pleasure drift from him as he indulges himself in your sweetness. Then you feel the cold hard metal against your asshole. His tongue works magic on your clit as he presses the plug in just a little. Your hands fly to his head, wrapping your fingers with his thick black hair, which he finally had cut and dyed the day before.

“Oh yeah, just like that,” you can feel the tension winding tight behind your clit.

He pushes the plug about half way in and stops. You are trying to relax around it, but you are so stirred up it’s tough.

“Fuck me with it, Austin,” your voice barely above a whisper.

He just chuckles in his chest, the flat of his tongue rubbing, rubbing, rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

With a firm grip, he slides the plug in and out. He pushes a little farther each time as your ass loosens up.

“Oh yes, just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you beg. Suddenly you are like lightning striking the ground. The winding in you breaks as your orgasm jolts you. In that second he pushes and your ass sucks in the plug and your pussy inundates his tongue with your juices.

He licks and slurps like any drop wasted is a sin. His mouth covers you and his tongue slows as you shiver. Then he is gone from between your legs.

You open your eyes, hoping to see him pulling himself out. You lie there invitingly, legs open and hands out ready for him to climb on top of you and sink into you. He rubs his obviously hard cock through his adorable underwear.

“Oh no Kitten, you’ll have to wait until later for this cock, I want you needy tonight,” he winks at you and smiles devilishly and saunters out of the room. Smiling, you mewl out a little disappointed growl. You can tell tonight will be good, beyond good.

Collecting yourself, you deck yourself out in your beautiful blue dress and sapphires. Austin looks remarkable, as always, in black trousers and boots with a black shirt and tie, topped off with a crisp white jacket and black pocket square. He looks like James fucking Bond, so scrumptious. You both know there will be paparazzi photos tonight and neither of you mention it because you both decided, independently, that you don’t care. Plus you will be wearing masks anyway.

“Mmm, you look amazing Austin,” thinking about how you will undress him later, ”is this a ‘tie required’ place?”

“I don’t think so, why?” he asks.

“I think you look sexier without it,” you reach up and loosen it, pulling out the knot and slowly dragging it from around his neck. He stares down at you, chest expanding as he controls his urge to take you right there. You undo the first few buttons of his shirt.

”I like it when your chest just peeks out," you run one finger on his now naked skin.

“I like it when your chest peeks out,” he murmurs, unable to stop dragging a finger along the neckline of your cleavage.

You are both on the verge of forgetting about going to the restaurant when his phone chimes in his pocket.

“That must be our ride,” he pulls back, digging in his pants for his phone, Surreptitiously adjusting his burgeoning hard-on.

“Yup, let’s go,” he grabs your coat and hands you your clutch and sweeps you out the door.

Masked, you walk into the Little Truffle, the maître d’ leads you into an elegant dining space with dark walls and mirrors and a gorgeous chandelier. The tables are, of course, set far apart, you figure they are probably operating at about 50% capacity.

Your waiter, Dean, is delightful and funny. He comments on how lovely you look and how your necklace is gorgeous. You thank him and say it’s part of a set that Austin gave you. Austin gives you a smoldering look, you know he is thinking about the plug in your ass, and what he plans for you later. It makes you squirm and clench.

You and Austin decide on the Degustation Menu with wine pairings. You are pleasantly surprised that the portions aren’t miniscule, which is what you expected at a French cuisine restaurant. You two have the most romantic dinner, feeding one another, laughing, sometimes talking with just your eyes as you trace the edge of wine glasses with fingers or tongues. Austin’s hand is a constant on your thigh, your arm, your waist. The few times he breaks contact, he makes sure his foot or leg is pressed up against you. It’s like he is afraid you may evaporate if he lets go. It’s comforting.

Everything was delicious, especially the panna cotta. Dean comments about how adorable you two are. When Austin remarks that you’ll be leaving for Antarctica tomorrow, which is why you are out tonight, Dean’s hand covers his heart and makes a sad face, then offers to Austin to call him up if he needs company while you are gone. It just makes you laugh. If you get jealous every time someone is attracted to Austin, you are going to go crazy. He is so objectively handsome.

Besides, Austin only has eyes for you all night. His feelings for you are evident. It’s where his fingers linger on the soft skin inside of your wrist when you feed him a tidbit from your plate. It’s the sparkle in his eyes when you laugh. It’s the cleft of your buttocks in which his inscription is currently tucked. He is just as much yours as you are his.

As you step out of the restaurant, masked and relaxed from all the wine and food, camera flashes make you jump. There are a couple people yelling Austin’s name, asking who you are and why you are wearing the same dress. Neither of you respond, getting into the car quickly.

“I was going to suggest a walk on the beach but I think they found us… “ he comments, looking out the window with his arm along your low back.

“In this dress? Oh no Sir,” you say innocently, “besides, we have loose ends to tie up before I leave tomorrow.”

He looks back at you a little confused, but your hand touches your necklace and his expression shifts into barely hidden passion. He pushes his hand lower. You lean forward, giving him access, just looking like you are resettling yourself in the seat as the car drives away. His fingertips feel through the fabric of the dress for the hard metal in your crack. He leans towards you, whispering “My Kitten” in your ear. He gently wiggles the plug, sending jolts of pleasure to your core. You try not to let your desire show in your face, but you can’t help biting your lip. The car hits a bump, your pussy swells with fluid. You turn to him, he’s staring at you with his ocean eyes all soft and you can barely breathe.

He is the most beautiful thing on the planet.

Then his lips are on yours. The taste of the citrusy desert Riesling he finished blending with the creamy vanilla of the last bite of the panna cotta he fed you lingering on your tongue. It’s like desert in a kiss, and the rest of the world falls away. It’s just you and him, in the backseat of a car. Each minute spent with his palm cupping your ass and fingers nestled in your crack another minute closer to tearing his clothes off and his being inside you. Each jostle of the drive spiking your arousal. The driver can't drive fast enough.

You can feel your saturated panties sticking to your labia as you get out of the car in front of your apartment block. There are paparazzi there too, trying to get you to respond to their questions. You force yourself to walk calmly into the building, letting Austin hold the door open for you instead of ripping it open and dragging him inside.

Once inside the safety of your apartment, your coat falls unheeded to the floor as you stride to the kitchen island, your clutch clattering on the marble surface. Austin is right behind you, toeing off his boots and removing his white jacket and tossing it onto a chair.

“I want..,” your breathy words unfinished as you turn around to find him upon you. Clutching his open shirt, you pull him to you, body and lips pressed up against his. There is no room for subtly, you need him.

He returns your kiss ferociously, just as needy as you are, hands wrapped around you.

He pulls away from your hungry mouth.

“What do you want Kitten?” he asks softly, looking down at you with fiery eyes.

You look down, licking your lips, then boldly into his eyes. You grab his wrists.

“Oh Austin, Mon Roi, I want everything,” you declare, “I want to rip the shirt off your body. I want your hands tugging my hair as you pull me onto your cock.” You lift a finger to his lips, tracing down, down to his open shirt, “I want my juices dripping down your chin and neck.”

Words just start tumbling out of your mouth, your demon pulling out the list she made months ago.

“I want to watch you jerk off on to your own stomach. I want to ride you into oblivious bliss. I want my pussy so full of you I can’t remember any other way of being. I want rope marks to run my fingers over and your hand print on my ass for a week.” You grab his hips digging in your fingers as you pull him towards you. “I want bruises from your fingertips from holding me down, as you fuck me hard.” You dig your fingers into the side of your neck.” I want you to leave bite marks on my neck as I cum. I want you ten ways to Sunday." Your eyes flutter half closed as your hand drags down your neck and over your cleavage,” I want your cum everywhere, in me, on me, all fucking night long. I want my name to drip off your lips like an incantation. I want this butt plug out and your cock in.” You take his hand and guide it up to your neck, “I want your hand on my throat as you fuck me from behind. I want you to fuck my pussy with your fingers as you pound my ass with your cock.” Your voice dips into the alto, intense with want, “I want to cum so hard I can’t see straight.” Your entire body is essentially vibrating with arousal, your pupils wide and black with lust.

Austin listens to your monologue of desire. His eyebrows twitch up at certain things, his lip catches in his teeth at others. His breath begins to sharpen as your words spill like ink in water.

“Oh my, well,” he says low and intense as his hand slowly snakes up the back of your neck to bury in your hair. He pulls your head back gathering you to him tightly. He lovingly presses his lips to yours, his body to yours. He is hunched over you, a devilish smile spreads across his lips as his other hand reaches between you. You hear the jangle of his belt popping open, ”we’d better get started.”

A devious, shaking smile spreads across your face as you lean back, gripping the edges of his shirt. You pull violently, buttons pinging off the island, the floor and the cabinets. The sound of fabric ripping is so gratifying.

“Oh girl you are gonna…..” he begins shaking his head, maybe upset, but is caught short for words in an inhale as your fingers find his sensitive nipples.

His eyes narrow as he lets his trousers fall to the floor and he kicks them away, leaving him in a ripped shirt and his cute boxer briefs. You would giggle, if you weren’t so fucking turned on.

He leans back against the counter behind him. He pulls himself out and pushes you down to your knees. His hand lands on a bottle of liquid coconut oil next to the stove. He turns it over and several drops fall onto his cock. He is inches from your eyes.

“I’ve half a mind to tie you up and make you watch me jerk off for ruining my shirt, darling,” he says, voice like honey.

“Sorry baby, but I’m not really sorry. You are too fucking hot to be properly clothed,” your hands are grabbing your own tits then down pulling up the skirt of your dress to rub your covered crotch.

He is achingly beautiful. Filling your vision with the naked ridges of his stomach framed by the black ruins of his shirt and his hand spreading the oil on his gorgeous cock. A living, sacred artifact for you to worship at.

His half lidded eyes watch your hands disappear under the fabric of your skirt.

“Get your hands out from under that dress hunny. Only I get to pleasure you tonight,” he says with a slight reprimand. You acquiesce with a little involuntary pout. Instead you run your hands up his thighs and hook your fingers on his underwear, pulling them off. He lets go of his cock, grabbing the oil again. A generous drop of coconut oil falls from the upturned bottle onto his thumb.

“Open up, love,” he smears the dripping oil clockwise onto the lips of your open and needy mouth. Your tongue curls around his thumb, sucking it off. His other hand gripping the hair at the back of your head.

“Now,“ pulling his thumb out from your mouth, ”I want you to suck that cock like you ARE sorry.”

You press your lips together, blotting the oil in like lipstick. You’ve never used oil before on a blowjob. Your lips slip over his velvety head, tongue relishing the tropical, nutty flavor. You are struck by how easily you glide down his shaft. Your tongue works its magic as he moans above you, gripping your hair. Your eyes flutter in oral pleasure and you glide up and down on him. His oiled length feels so fucking luxurious in your mouth. You lift your eyes to his, he pushes forward, hand holding your head still. He watches as his cock slowly disappears into your shiny mouth.

“Oh god Kitten, I can’t get over how fucking sexy you make…. everything,” his voice low and dripping with thirst.

You raise a cupped hand, indicating that you want more oil. He obliges. You close your fist, coating your hand and bring it to his balls. Rocking your hand back and forth you slather him in oil, pressing back over his taint and asshole with your fingers. Watching his face through your eyelashes, you press your oiled finger against his bum. His breathing quickens and he nods, stepping his legs further apart.

You smile around his delicious cock as you push your finger in. His hands are both tangled in your hair but he is holding still, moaning, lost in the feeling of your finger penetrating him. You slide in and out a little. His hips jerk a little and he pulls your mouth away from his cock. His now dark eyes looking down at you, as you finger his ass slowly, your tongue coursing over your smiling lips.

“God what are you doing to me, baby,” he says rhetorically. His eyes, intense with lust, are borderline feral.

“Use me Austin,” you say huskily, “use my mouth, while I play with your ass. I want your cum all over me.” On the word ‘cum’ you curl your finger forward to press on his prostate.

Your words and finger movement elicit a deep growl that propels him past feral. He drives his unctuous cock into your mouth again. His long fingers wrapping tightly in your coiffed hair.

Sweet Goddess, this always gets you so damn hot. You glide your tongue on the underside of his shaft as you curl your finger rhythmically, igniting his every nerve.

He is pumping in and out of your mouth making you gag periodically. When he does your pussy clenches and slippery fluid pools on your sodden panties.

You milk his prostate, sliding in and out of his oiled ass. Your other, unoiled, hand has a death grip on his thigh. Tears leak slowly out your eyes as he pulls your hair tight and rams into your mouth.

Salacious sounds continually pour from his throat to splatter around your ears. Every utterance and outcry, music to your inner demon as you thrust your finger into him harder. Feeling his prostate contract under the pressure of your finger, he jerks.

“Oh you fucking little…” he looses your hair and pulls out of your mouth just as his cum spurts out onto your tongue, your chin, your neck, your chest. You keep milking him from the inside and stroking him from the outside as he shivers and groans. His hands gripping your shoulders to keep upright. As the last of his milky semen spills from his tip, you dash forward to suck him clean in long, swallowing strokes.

“Oh fuck, stop baby,” his voice barely a whisper.

You pull back, eyes still filled with lust as you slip your finger out of him. He groans and slumps against the counter, breathing hard. You stand up and wash your hands thoroughly at the sink. You can feel his cum dripping down your cleavage. Your leg shakes and your depraved hips rock against nothing.

You feel his hands on your hips, turning you around as you shut off the water. He takes in your appearance, from your tousled hair to the creamy drips on the front of your dress.

“Look at what you’ve made me do. Naughty, naughty Kitten making me cum all over you,” his right fingers trace through the splatter of cum on your neck and cleavage.

“Lift your ruined dress like a good little hussy,” his voice oozes with command.

You gather and pull the fabric up over your hips with your wet hands. He reaches down, pressing his cum covered fingers hard against the already drenched cotton panel of your panties. You moan and shiver, rocking against him brazenly.

He uses his left thumb to push the cum on your chin up into your mouth. Your hand grabs his wrist holding it there as you suck in his thumb deep, savoring the taste of him.

“Pull your panties down,” he whispers into your ear.

Fuck. You love it when he commands you like this.

Your simple cotton panties peel wetly off your lips as you slide them to your mid thighs. He lightly grazes your dripping labia as he kisses your mouth, hand sliding to your jaw. Fuck you want him so badly. His cum on your skin is like a twisted love potion.

He maneuvers behind you.

“Like this baby?” he asks, pulsing his hand on your throat. You guide his thumb and last three fingers from your jaw to the sides of your cum spattered neck, his forefinger still pressing your jawline. His hand lightly rests against your skin with space between his palm and your windpipe.

“Ok Kitten, pull me away if you want me to let go” he says in your ear. You just nod, keeping your hand on his wrist. “Now spread those legs for me baby, and keep your dress out of the way.” You do, panties stretching to their limit around your knees.

His hand slides down your mons and curls his long fingers directly into your sopping pussy. He wastes no time trying to tease you, rocking in and out of you, palm rubbing your mons. His finger-fucking jostling the plug buried in your ass.

“My dirty girl. You are so incredibly wet. Did you like sucking my cock, huh? Did making me spurt all over you get you this wet?”

“Uh huh,” you moan.

“Are you my little cum slut?” his fingers squeeze slightly, you can feel the throb of your blood pulsing in your neck.

“Yes,” you nod in agreement, ”I love your cum” you moan.

He pinches and rolls your slippery clit between thumb and fingers before he rubs vigorously across your clit then slides into you once again. You cry out wordlessly. You are so close to cumming.

“What did you say? ‘Use me’,” his lips wet against your ear, “you like me fucking your mouth, don’t you?”

“Oh god yes,” you whine, both answering and affirming the pleasure he is giving you. His fingers are steady, yet gentle on the sides of your neck. Your breathing is just fine but you are starting to feel a bit lightheaded. He is making you feel so fucking high. Your moans rise from your throat over and over, vibrating against his hand.

“Yeah? That’s it, come for me baby, cum like the sexy little demon you are,” his finger fucking more frantic now. Your pussy is on the verge of bursting.

“Oh fuck Austin YES!” You scream as his teeth sink unexpectedly into the fleshy crook of your neck. So many layers of sensation colliding as you cum on his fingers like a string puppet, internal muscles clenching as your hips shudder.

He continues to slam into your pussy, riding out your orgasm. His arm slides from your neck down around your torso and catches your weight as your legs give out. Your juices drip from his fingers as he pulls away from your pussy to grab your waist, leaving wet finger prints on the blue fabric of your dress… his dress. You breathe deep, against him until your feet come back under you again as you turn and drape your arms around his neck. Kissing him in a post-orgasm haze until you recover.

“What was that you said, ‘you want my handprint on your ass for a week?” his lips moving along yours, “well you’ve earned that, ruining our clothes and making me so fucking horny for you.” He presses his hips to your leg.

You smile and flick your tongue out to lightly lick his lips. He turns you back around and unzips your messy dress, letting it and your panties fall around your feet. He bends you over the island, the cold surface against your nipples makes you gasp. He runs his hands along your back and down to your crack, pulling your cheeks apart.

“My kitten’, god I love seeing that in your ass,” he leans down and kisses one butt cheek, rubbing lengthwise along the silver words and sapphire. It makes your stomach clench, pushing out a little shaky moan.

“How many do you want?” he asks.

You are perplexed and look over your shoulder at him trying to figure out what he means.

Crack! He slaps your ass making you jump, “How many?”

“Oh! um…, 8?” picking a random even number.

“Alright, you have to count ‘em,” you can hear the smile in his voice.

He starts showering your ass with small swats. Tiny little pleasurable stings that make you moan as warmth spreads on your cheeks.

CRACK! On the soft rounded part of your ass.

“One,” you say trying to keep your cool. The plug in your ass adding to the sensations.

His hand rubs the spot.

“Are you sorry you fucked up my shirt?” he asks, sounding slightly ominous.

“No Sir, the rewards" you peer over your shoulder at his sexy fucking form, "outweigh the risks.”

CRACK! Warmth starts to radiate from the exact same spot.

“Two,” louder this time.

He soothes the spot with gentle rubs and kisses and soft slaps all around.

“Are you sorry you made me cum all over you?” he asks.

“No Sir, never,” you say confidently.

CRACK! Again in the same spot, it does more than sting this time.

‘Fuck’ you mutter.

“Count or we will start over, pet,” he threatens.

“Three,” loudly and quickly.

CRACK! Hard, harder than the others.

“FOUR!” you yelp out.

“That’s my girl,” his cool fingertips running gently along the heat blooming from your cheek. Then down to your crack. His fingers are playing with the base of your plug, pushing it in, pulling on it, stimulating those nerve endings. You squirm and push back at him, wanting more.

“Oh look how eager you are to have your ass played with,” he says, wiggling the plug.

“Yes Sir,” you moan.

He chuckles low in his throat and leans over you.

“I can’t wait for you to take every inch of me,” his deep baritone in your ear.

CRACK! On the other cheek, you are gonna have matching handprints.

“Oh-hoho, five, yes Sir, I want every inch,” you moan.

He peppers your ass again with stinging slaps, making sure to ‘accidentally’ bump into your plug. It feels so tantalizing.

CRACK! On top of the last.

“SIX!” you cry out.

His hand slips lower between your legs, two fingers slipping into your wet slit.

“Oh Kitten, look,” he pulls out and shows you his spread fingers. A line of slick connecting the two. You pull his hand towards your mouth, sucking his fingers eagerly.

CRACK! His other hand thrashing the same spot.

“Seben,” you moan around his fingers, ass blazing from the impact.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth. You feel the head of his cock rubbing back and forth at your entrance.

“Why so wet now?” he asks innocently, “Do you like being my wicked Kitten and needing your ass spanked?”

CRACK!

“Or is it my cock,” he plunges himself deep into you like a sword sizzling in water. You wriggle and moan on the end of his rod. God it feels so good to have inside you. You push back, frantically trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Yes baby, ride that cock, fuck back onto me,” his gravely, lust filled voice consumes your brain.

His fingers curl into the crease of your hip, digging in as he yanks you deeper onto his cock.

Your hand snakes down to diddle your clit, but he catches your wrist.

“Oh no sweetheart, remember, I’m the only one that gets you off tonight,” he grabs both wrists, holding them back by your hips using them as leverage as he rails your pussy. Hard and deep he fucks you, a deep spiral of pleasure starts twisting inside you.

“Yes! Fuck! Austin!” you keen, feeling a surprise climax approaching.

Just as quickly as he sheathed himself in you, he is out.

“NO PLEASE!“ you yell, orgasm almost ruined, breaking his grasp as you push up, his sticky cum leaving a mess on the white marble. “More, I want more, please! I’m so close!”

“Oh, but hunny, you didn’t count the last one,” he kisses your nose tenderly before flipping you around and pushing you back onto the cold marble, “let’s make this more interesting.”

You feel him slowly pulling on the plug, as cool oil drips onto your widening asshole. It feels exquisite as it slides over the drop off point.

CRACK! He is still intent on the same spot on your ass.

“One,” you breathe out, a little whine in your voice.

He starts fucking your ass with the plug.

“Oh fuck yes!” you moan, fingertips turning white as they dig into the countertop.

CRACK! CRACK! Both on the same side.

“Two! three! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!,” the deep spiral climbing again. You push against the plug working in and out of your ass.

CRACK! He isn’t waiting or soothing you anymore. He also isn’t taking it easy, he wants your ass red hot.

“FOUR!” you yell out, voice deep as pain becomes pleasure.

He pushes the plug back in, watching your ass snuggle it in as you moan. Then his cock is back inside you for one, two, three long strokes accompanied by your wordless moans. He pulls out.

CRACK! On the other side, then a hard thrust to balls-deep inside you.

“FIVE! Yes please fuck my pussy, fuck my pussy hard!” the words falling from your mouth.

CRACK!

He freezes in mid-stroke, “Who’s pussy?” he growls.

“Si-i-x, your pussy Austin, it’s your pussy, please fuck me please,” you are writhing against him.

He slowly and gently pushes in and out of you, mocking your pleas.

“Please, faster Austin, I’m so close, I need it hard!” you are begging, teetering on the edge.

“Oh how I love to hear you beg-” he slams into you hard, “for my cock, Kitten.”

“Oh fuck yes, like that, harder please, please please.”

He relents and pounds into you over and over. Quickly you are thrust into the swirl of a deep orgasm, flaming from the heat in your cheeks, the plug in your ass and the cock beating the man of your dreams is giving you.

“FUCK YES! FUCK YES!” your open palms pound the counter.

CRACK! CRACK! Your climax catapults.

“HOLY FUCK!! SEVEN, EI-EI-EI-GHT!” your bucking almost slams your head into the hard marble under you as your spasms quake your frame. It’s mind-alteringly good.

He slows his motion, worried you may damage yourself. He pets your back in long calming strokes, letting you catch your breath. Sliding out of you he gently pulls you to standing and holds you close, heedless of the cum still smeared on your chest. Your ass is throbbing most deliciously.

“Oh fuck that was good Aus,” you pant as you look up into his eyes all dreamy and weak.

“Mmm, hmmm,” his face is a picture of devotion and love. He pulls you into a sweet kiss. A kiss that pushes your hot backside against the cold cabinets. A kiss that frames your face with his hands.

“Let’s see now," he says when he comes up for air, "cum all over you: check, shirt ripped: check,” he gives you a pursed lip look.

You just smile sheepishly. He laughs, obviously not too upset.

“Hand on your throat and bite marks on your neck while you cum: check and check. Handprints on your ass,” he leans behind you to look, “Oh my, that will definitely be a check.” He is grinning ear to ear. “Now, what was at the end? Oh yes, fingering your pussy and pounding your ass, I believe. Oh and cum IN you…mustn’t forget that.”

He scoops you up in his arms, ripped shirt still hanging from his shoulders. Fuck he is strong, and hot and amazing and everything you’ve ever dreamt a man should be. You hold to him as he carries you to the bedroom.

He gently lays you down on the bed and lays himself, just as gently, partially on top of you. His dominance of you gone, spent in the throes of your orgasm. His kisses are tender, lips soft on yours, like there is nothing else in the world, like you aren’t flying away in a matter of hours. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, though he does nothing to rush to his own pleasure. His hands lightly run along your curves. His fingers leave sparkling trails on your body. You press soft moans into his mouth as his guitar-calloused fingertips spark on the sensitive bits he knows all too well.

You reach for him too, every nook and cranny of his body an opiate delivered through your fingertips. From the rippling of his abs to the soft roundness of his shoulder muscles; from the lean V at the front of his hips to the long length of his thighs; the round curve of his fine ass up along the magnificence of his lats, you are intent on memorizing every last inch of his divine form. All the while his lips are on yours, tongues dancing unhurriedly against one another. He traces those long, dexterous digits down your arm, intertwining with your fingers.

His mouth pulls away from yours, he brings your laced hands up to his mouth, planting kisses on your knuckles.

“Plug out and cock in, right?” he smiles so sweetly it makes your heart ache and your pussy clench all at the same time. You’ve never felt such a cocktail of emotions: such lust, such love and such heartache all rolled into one moment, one man.

You nod as he lets your hand go, sliding it between your opening legs. His kiss starts out light almost absentminded as he focuses on grasping the base of the plug. His pressure on your mouth deepens as he pulls. Your hand grips his shoulder, the pleasure of your stretching asshole making you groan into him. Then it slips out. He pulls away to set it aside, snagging the lube that you guys took to keeping next to the bed.

“Can I try from on top of you baby? Do you feel stretched enough? I want to feel close to you,” he asks.

“I’d like that,” you reply nodding, pulling your knees up to tilt your pelvis.

He moves up on his knees in between your legs, lubing up his gorgeous cock.

Oh. My. God. You love this sight, you want it burned into your brain.

He leans forward, intent on entering you.

“No,” you breathe, holding up your hand and lowering your knees, “Please, I want to watch you stroke yourself.”

A smile curves his exquisite mouth. Once he was shy about touching himself in front of you. Now he lifts up on his knees brazenly, angled just a bit to the side so you can watch his beautiful, long fingers stroke along the corresponding beautiful length of his cock. FUCK.

“I’ve never known a girl who gets turned on from watching a guy jerk off as much as you do, babe,” he comments, slowly gliding the length of himself for you, “tell me what you like about it.”

“First of all,” you retort, “it’s not just any guy, love. Just you, I’ve only ever been turned on like this watching you.”

He is suddenly bashful, puffing out a breath through a smile and looking away from you, long lashes hiding his eyes. All the while his hand is still moving on his dick. His coyness and brashness collide in sexy-as-fuck vulnerability.

“I like seeing your hard cock,” you explain, “the way your hand and arm get tense as you really get into it,” your fingertips brush his wrist.

His eyes lift to yours, half lidded in desire as his timidness falls away. He strokes a little harder.

“I like the way your hips push forward into your hand when you're on your knees or standing up, the way your ass tightens and your abs and thighs strain,” your words begin to be punctuated by your own involuntary breaths and sounds of pleasure.

“I love way you watch your cock in your hand, brows all furrowed when you get close, trapping that scrumptious lip with your teeth. Fuck me running,” the last murmured to you self. Your hips are rocking forward and back, the covers rubbing on your now tender ass.

“Austin just watching you makes my pussy so fucking wet, look,” you reach down and pull your lips apart, dipping a finger in your glistening entrance. A thick string of moisture comes away with your fingertip.

“Oh god Kitten,” his face is a picture of desire and want.

“Please fuck it, just a little.”

“Let me fuck it, just a little.”

You both say simultaneously, in the exact same tone of voice. The same hint of hungry smile spreads on both your faces.

Without hesitation he dives into your oh-so-wet cleft.

“Oh god yes!” you both softly moan. You pull him down to you, savoring the weight of him, the heat of him, his every fucking inch both inside and out. For a few minutes you are simply lost in one another, orgasm on neither of your minds.

This is just… the experience. The slow merging of two into one. The leisurely devouring of one another in long, slow, euphoric strokes, accentuated with kneading fingers and nibbling lips on skin. The unfurling of timeless motion as your toes drag along his calves and hamstrings, your legs opening up wider to swallow more of his length, of his soul.

Your breaths in synchronicity, eddying out against necks and ears. The blissful calm in the eye of the storm. Your eyes slip closed, focused on every feeling, every movement, filing away this moment for later.

“Look at me Kitten,” you feel his rumble as much as hear him say as his body stills.

Your eyes open to stare directly into his steel blue ones, you both forget how to breathe for a tick. Time freezes. It’s only you and him in all the world.

Long seconds pass before he lowers to kiss you, breath sucking in through nostrils. Lips sink into one another, then tongues find each other tentatively. His curls against yours. The slow, soft spell of the past few minutes is burned to ash in the sudden re-ignition of passion as you dive into his kiss, clenching around his cock.

“Do you still want me to fuck your ass baby,” he rumbles in your ear, cock slipping in and out of it’s own will, “cuz if you do we better start before I cream this pussy.”

“You mean your pussy,” you reply with a slight smile.

The corner of his lip and eyebrow raise just a bit as his head tilts as if to say ‘you’re not wrong’.

“Pourquoi pas les deux?” your slutty French demon asks, “Why not both? I want your cum everywhere and we have all night long.”

“My little cum slut,” he teases you with such tenderness, rocking in and out, “you might kill me, but at least I’ll die happy as fuck.”

You return his ‘you’re not wrong’ look, “donne moi tout, Mon Roi.”

He bites his lip, you know French flowing from your mouth turns him on, even if he doesn't exactly understand it.

"I'm gonna have to start learning French," he says.

“Give it all to me, My King,” you whisper softly in his ear.

The ‘oh’ comes out as a round breath from his lips on the way to your mouth. His hips pitch and swoop, in and out. You clench down hard, he is driving into you. His head falls into your shoulder

“Oui Mon Roi du chat,” your hands land on his ass, feeling his glutes squeeze and release.

“Cream your pussy baby,” your fingers drag up along his back, he feels so good on top of you.

“Give it to me, fill me,” one hand wraps around his back, the other cradles his head against you. Your face is buried in his hair, lips on his ear.

Your name, your real name, falls from his lips in a whisper over and over again, his speed picking up. You can tell he is close by the stuttering of his motion.

“Fuck!” he curls into you, lips dragging against your neck as he empties into you. He jerks once, twice, “Oh god,” he pants. He takes a few big breaths, then pulls back from you quicker than you expected.

“I want to watch it drip out of you,” he says, picking up his phone from the bedside table.

“Dirty boy,” you smile, lifting your legs for him.

He turns on the flashlight.

“Oh my god, it’s just a little at your entrance hunny,”

“Take a picture love, I want to see it,” you suggest.

His brow barely creases, “hmmm, who’s dirty?” he smiles, snapping pictures. “push it out baby.”

“You Austin, you are dirty,” you say with a smile, clenching down.

“Oh fuck, that is fucking hot,” one hand on his phone while the other dips his fingers into the cum trail dribbling down to your crack. A moan slips from you. His wet hand drifts to his cock, still hard, giving it one or two gentle strokes with his own cum. His body shakes as he stimulates himself.

“You are right, Kitten, I am a dirty boy,” the dimple above his left lip appearing as he smirks.

You smile, venting an appreciative chuckle, “You still all turned on hunny? Cuz I have somewhere you can put that, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna need a little minute ‘fore I can cum again,” he reaches for a bottle of water.

“Naturally, biology being what it is,” you comment, watching his Adam's-apple bob as he swallows. He hands you the bottle. Staying hydrated is important. As you let the cool water slip down your well fucked throat, he leans over to his side of the bed, coming up with two hanks of black rope.

“It’ll give me time for this,” he says, smirking.

Your eyes widen as an appreciative breath escapes you. You put the water down and offer your wrists to him. The tip of his tongue touches the corner of his top lip and he just laughs low and evil.

“No, not like that,” he leans into you, hot breath on your neck and whispers, “get on your knees.”

You stare at his eyes as he leans back, unsure of what he plans but sure that whatever it is, you want it.

“On the bench,” he motions to the end of the bed, “and get up on your toes, hands behind your back.”

You kneel there and watch him pull the first hank free of itself. Lord almighty, how is he so insatiably sexy? Safety scissors fall into his hand from the middle of the wrap, he sets them on the end of the bench. He steps close to you sliding his hands to your mons, letting his hand linger there.

“Wider Kitten,” he nods to your knees. You comply, but only barely, feeling rebellious out of nowhere. You wonder what he’ll do.

His eyebrow lifts, canting his head. Your insubordinate eyes never leave his.

Slap. Your pussy barely tingles, not much room for him to get a good smack.

“Wider.”

You open more, but not much, eyebrow lifting in defiance. If he is gonna spank your pussy, you might as well give him a reason.

Slap! More sting on that one, you barely inhale.

“Wi-der,” he says slowly, pointedly and low in his chest.

Your lip twists up and your chin lifts marginally. Your knees stay put.

His eyes narrow, as his fingertips trace over your thighs to your knees. He leans in towards you.

“Brat,” he says, before forcing your knees apart. Your outbreath a barely perceptible moan in your throat, bottom lip sucked under your teeth.

Damn that was fucking hot.

You expect him to slap you again, but instead brings the long doubled rope around your upper thigh and under your ankle, pulling the end through the loop and back on itself.

Your lip flips from under your teeth into a pout. He ignores your subtle displeasure and winds the tail twice more around your leg and ankle, slipping it through the bottom loop. He pulls and adjusts the tension, making it tight so you can’t move your leg, but not so much that it’ll cut off circulation. He threads the ends between your and thigh and ankle twice, tying them together in a simple square knot on the outside of your thigh with a long tail. You’ve never been frog-tied like this. Visions of how he might use you explode in your head.

As he starts on the other side, he brushes past your pussy with his fingertips, teasing you. Your hips gravitate forward in hopes of repeat contact.

“Tch, tch, tch,” Austin shakes his head. He looks you in the eye and places his hands on your hips and slowly pushes your hips back down. His thumbs drag down in the crease between your labia and your hip joint, charging your desire. He casually returns to his binding of you.

When he is done confining your other leg, he ties the long tails to either side of the bed frame. The second side he pulls, forcing your bratty legs open. Being so involuntarily exposed to him, to anything he wants to do to your wet, sloppy pussy, the feeling that you can’t hide yourself by shutting your legs, is exhilarating.

He stands off to the side, rubbing your dripping pussy in long strokes with his right hand. One or two dark, tiny pools of cum and juices drip onto the hard surface of the bench.

“Now,” he starts tapping your exposed pussy, “my slutty little brat, you need to be chastised for your insolence.”

Shit, you had momentarily forgotten your cheeky disobedience.

Slap! It smarts. You inhale sharply and exhale a smile.

“Oh you like that do you?” his smile seeps across his lips, “Well then I won’t stop ‘till you’ve learned your lesson,”

Slap!

His eyes glued to yours, as he punishes your pussy, lightly at first, but then with increasing intensity. You can tell he doesn’t want to really hurt you, that he’s not actually mad. It’s just part of the dominance play.

SLAP!

He keeps spanking steady, relentless, no soothing strokes in between. Your pussy is heating up quicker than you thought. You jerk and moan with each wet strike, pulling in vain against the rope. Cum and juices splattering your inner thighs. Your unbound hands instinctively try to cover your increasingly throbbing pussy.

Austin grabs both your wrists, pinning them to your low back with his left hand, digging his finger tips in hard.

“No, no, Kitten, your bratty little demon needs this,” he says calmly. He’s not wrong.

He resumes his persistent discipline. You want to take it, you want him to tell you that you are his good girl. You want him to pet you and kiss you and praise you for taking so much of his punishment. You want his fingers or cock in you along with the harsh tingles of this pussy paddling.

“Please, Austin, please finger me, fuck me,” you moan, legs and hips shaking in want, in need.

“Oh that’s not what this is about love,” he coos to you, “not yet anyway.”

SLAP!

Your pussy is buzzing, it's almost too much. Yearning for that blissful mix of pain and pleasure.

“Please,” you moan.

“Please what, Kitten,” his lips are on your neck.

SLAP!...

SLAP! …

SLAP!..

His strokes are lazy, and slower now, but no less intense.

“Please Austin,” not sure what he wants, not sure what you want.

SLAP!

“Please Austin what?” his forehead presses against your temple.

“Please. Austin, I’ll be your good girl!”

SLAP!

“Oh, I know you will, Kitten,” his lips caress your cheek.

SLAP!

“Please Austin, Stop!” you groan out.

He stops and rubs in slow soft circles that are tantalizingly good.

“Oh baby, you lasted longer than I thought you would. But I’m afraid I have to give you three more.”

A whine escapes your lips.

SLAP!

Hard. You squeal, pulling against his grip and the flesh of your thighs bulging against the tautness of the rope.

“You gonna do as I say now?” he asks.

SLAP!

Harder. You nod vigorously.

“Say it” he cajoles, petting your lips in long strokes.

“Yes Austin, I’ll do as you say,” it falls like a prayer from your mouth. Amen.

“That’s my good girl. One more baby, you can take one more,” his voice is low and soothing. He presses his lips to yours.

SLAP!

Hardest. He catches your sharp shriek in his mouth, biting your lip.

“Such a good girl for me, I’m so proud of you baby.” he lets your wrists go. Little indentations on your skin from his fingers. He lays you back on the bed, legs still tied apart. He quickly pushes the bench out of the way and smiling dips his head between your legs.

He plants soothing kisses on your pussy lips which turn into little moaning licks, which turn into wide tongue laps. Holy crap it feels so good on your buzzing lips.

Again and again his tongue caresses your lips, dipping in to flick across your clit.

Your fingers weave through his messy black locks, raking and grasping.

He has you close to cumming when he finally lifts his head, chin glossy with wetness.

“Oh god Austin, that is so good!” your chest heaving with breath.

“You got me so hard again Kitten,” his voice husky with desire, “I’m gonna untie you from the bed now. You want me to untie your legs too?” he asks, rubbing your thighs where they were straining against the rope.

You smile and shake your head.

“Dirty girl,” he says, leaning over to untie the long tails. You open and close your legs like butterfly wings, to move your hip joints.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, standing up. He dribbles lube onto the tip of his hard cock. Droplets slide down the sides before he slathers it around his hard shaft.

“Oh yes please,” your eyes following his lubed hand, the clenching of your pussy giving you goosebumps. Your bound legs give him good access as he drips lube onto your already wet crotch, rubbing it into your supple hole. You breathe out an excited ‘oh’.

He positions the tip of his cock, you reach down to help guide him into your ass. He pushes, you relax into the stretching. Holy fuck it feels so good.

He goes slow, but it’s easier, thanks to the butt plug.

Both of you are savoring every inch as he creeps deeper in, moaning low.

“Come be close to me,” you reach your arms out to him.

Then he is leaning down on top of you again, your bound legs cradling his torso.

“Such a good girl for me, Kitten,” he is saying, about half his cock is in you when he pulls back slowly.

Your eyes are rolling back in your head, eyelids fluttering. Breath ceasing to move, he feels so fucking good.

“Is it ok, hunny, are you alright?” he checks in with you.

“Fuck, you are heaven on a biscuit” it just floats from you mouth.

Having him inside you, stretching your ass, with his body laid out on yours, it just feels so glorious. You can’t help but be present in the moment. There is no virus, no pandemic, no paparazzi, no family to appease, no Antarctica, no worry, no question of the love and passion between you.

He pushes in again, deeper this time, then out.

“UGH, oh fuck,” you moan, clutching him to you.

“My good girl, taking every inch of me so well,” as he presses in deep again, his hands grasping your head.

He is kissing you, gently sucking your moans into his lungs, as he moves in and out of your ass. The sensations in your pelvic floor building, stroke by brilliant stroke.

“How is it love, ready for more?” his forehead to yours.

Your head shakes in a nod, your ‘yeah’ little more than a breath amongst the noises of pleasure already venting from your chest.

With a sensuous smile, he lifts his torso off yours to come to standing, but still buried deep in you. Your breath is coming out as soft pants, knowing what is coming. His jerking off got you so hot, he brought you close when he fucked your pussy, heightened your sensations when he spanked it, teetered you on the edge with his tongue. Now, you are desperate for release.

“How is my pussy doing baby, does it need some,” his fingers slide in, ”attention?”

He curls right into your swollen and ridged g spot. He knows exactly what he is doing to you.

“Oh shit, that’s good.” your abs tighten you into a curl, “Fuck me Austin!”

“Oh, are you my cum slut AND a cock whore?” he asks.

“I am,” you nod, your demon staring him down brazenly, “I’m YOUR cock whore. Now, fuck my ass.”

His lips press together and a deep grunting “mmm” resounds from his throat as his eyes narrow.

Whether from concern about hurting you, or just to be a fucking tease, Austin’s moves, but slowly. Then his fingers start their magic inside you. It’s so good.

“Harder,” you moan.

“Oh I don’t think so, I’m gonna build you up slowly, make it last,” his words drip from his tongue, enunciating the /st/.

“Oh fuck, Austin,” you moan. Even though you want him hard and fast, his words and pace have you creeping towards delirium.

Slow in, slow out, your walls clenching with each stroke, fingers pressing and curling rhythmically inside you. Time ceases to be counted by minutes and seconds and is now present only in terms of In/Clench and Out/Curl

His cobalt eyes are heavy with desire watching your blown pupils and furrowed brow.

In/Clench, Out/Curl.

His top teeth notching that luscious bottom lip, as yours quiver out breathy moans and ‘oh’s each time he thrusts.

In/Clench, Out/Curl

Layer upon layer of sexual tension builds.

In/Clench, Out/Curl

“Please Austin, please, please” you moan out, body shaking with near frenzy.

In/Clench, Out/Curl

His chest is heaving, breath coming in low growls. He is almost as close as you are.

In/Clench, Out/Curl

“You want it baby?” his teeth are clenched tight.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” your tone a plea rather than an answer.

“You got it," instantly he abandons all pretense of slowness and is driving into your ass, thrusting his fingers into your squelching pussy.

He is hard.

He is fast.

He is divinity in motion.

The gradual expansive energy that was creeping inside you is suddenly forced to capacity.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” the hoarse scream rips from your throat. The dams burst and you crack wide open. The shapeless screams radiating from deep in your gut almost drowning out his deep guttural outcry of pleasure. Pounding into you, his free hand grabs the rope tied around your legs for purchase. Like two converging rivers crashing and rolling over one another, his orgasm joins yours. You flood out and over his fingers as he floods in, deep inside you. Both roiling in passion, both thrashing, both screaming.

It’s Nirvana. Elysium. Heaven.

He tenses and everything is silent as the last drop of his cum pumps into you. Then you are both clinging to the other panting, shaking, moaning.

One deep breath, two, then three.

“God I love you, Kitten,” his face almost tortured with emotions, “nothing will ever stop me loving you,” his hands frame your face.

You just stare at him, caught in the maelstrom of emotions, unable to find the words for what is blooming out of your chest.

“This is unreal, Austin,” one hand tapping your own chest, over your rapidly beating heart. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know… that it could be this way, that love could feel…” you bury your hands in his tousled hair, you gaze in astonishment into his very soul, “like…this. I mean, saying ‘I love you too’ just isn't’... enough. I need better words.”

“Oh my love, your actions speak louder than words,” and his mouth is on yours.

Minutes later, you are unbound and curled up together. Neither of you are ready to leave the sanctity of your timeless bubble, even to clean up. Your fingers are playing, laced with his.

“I’m sorry I was a brat Austin,’ you say softly looking into his eyes.

“Don’t be sorry love, that whole scene was hot as fuck,” he smiles, ”I think we ticked all your boxes, yeah?”

“I think… wait, I still want to watch you cum on your own stomach,” you lazily run your fingertips over his abs.

“Baby,” he pulls you close,” I will cum anywhere you want, but I gotta shower and rest and maybe eat something.”

“You are so fucking good to me, Austin,” you curl up your head into his chest.

“Same,” he kisses the top of your head. “I just have one question, Kitten,” his voice almost amused, “where the fuck did ‘heaven on a biscuit’ come from?” he asks.

You look up at him like he is crazy, then realize YOU said it. You just burst out laughing, still high on endorphins.

“I have no fucking clue! It just rolled off my tongue,” you giggle. ”Either all your southern Elvis charm has rubbed off on me or I only had two brain cells online and apparently one was hungry?”

“Well, from what I understand, everything's better with a biscuit,” he laughs.

#Austin Butler #Austin Butler smut #Austin Butler x reader #Austin Butler fic #Austin butler fanfic #@purejasmine #@slowsweetlove #@richardslady121 #Austin Butler as sex god

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tallyanimatez · 2 years ago

Text

Meeting Riddle

Waking up in a stranger room...You don't remember coming here.

Oh wait...didn't you came here for a job interview? Wracking out your artificial brain cells till the last one, you vaguely recall that apparently you passed the job interview thanks to your effort of studying the rules and layout. All new employees are directed to their rooms and will start work tomorrow.

"I r-really wished Crowley could have given me all the-e functions from the start... "

Your memory storage wasn't the absolute best, you almost forgot everything unconsciously about your childhood up until now, even Grim was annoyed about you forgetting the forest routes. You are lucky enough to be able to navigate back with your instincts. Your bones don't work properly yet. Only your legs can function normally because of the amount of waking you always do each day.

Since you're awake now, maybe you could go clean the manor while you're at it.

"This place doesn't have a single dust...the employees must have been very careful..."

Vacuuming the floor was out of the picture because you woke up during ungodly hours, so using a broom it is, but it's odd that there's barely any dust here because majority of house cleaners never bother to clean every inch of the house as long as it's presentable enough for the employer to be pleased. It's not your business to know why though.

Creak

"Who's there?"

You frozed at the drop of the hat, also dropping the broom down.

"How dare you stay awake this late! Go back to your room immediately or it will be OFF WITH YOUR HE-."

He suddenly stopped the moment he saw you clearly. You were squeezing your hands tightly together, trying your best to look normal. Even though you don't remember the name of the person in front of you.

You know he's the Lord of this Manor judging by his outfit, a Roseheart.

"I must apologize for scaring you, but what are you doing this late at night?"

"Oh! I-I am just sweeping-g the m-manor m-m-my Lord!"

You fumbled a lot with your words partially from not being taught on how to deal with this type of situation and being frightened did not help. The lord seemed shocked by your reaction.

"Well, you may go back to your room once you're done with the main hall, if I catch you awake after, it will be off with your head!"

The Lord turned a perfect 180 degree and began to walk back from where he came, only to halt after a few steps.

"And if you could, only when there's nobody else other than you and me, just refer to me as Riddle."

The Lord-no, Riddle, walked away till you couldn't see him anymore. Though it looks like he had more to say.

Well, that was an eventful encounter.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #tallyphone call #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #riddle x y/n #twst x you #twst au #domicile au

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yunirgo · 1 year ago

Text

last kiss (eddie's version)

rockstar!eddie x reader

summary: you grieve your last kiss with eddie and miss the good moments with him

warnings: no warnings, just a little bit of angst

a/n: inspired by last kiss by taylor swift and the rerelease of her album speak now. btw english is not my first language so i apologize in advance if anything sounds weird or wonky lolz. hope you like it!! :D

wc: 0.8k

A small smile grew on your face as the kids’ laughter resounded through Steve’s living room. You weren’t even paying attention to the movie the party decided to watch tonight, but you felt warm by your friends’ presence, which would have been much better than the cold and loneliness of your bedroom.

Another round of laughter made you look at the screen this time, but your attention on the tv was short-lived.

“Oh, man! This was Eddie’s favorite scene. Wish he was here with us now,” The laughter stopped, and you tensed unconsciously, Dustin oblivious to his comment's effect on you.

He yelped when Max pinched his arm while you tried to focus on the screen, except all of their eyes were on you. You shifted uncomfortably on the sofa and softly cleared your throat.

“Sorry,” He apologized.

“It’s okay,” It came out as almost a whisper. “How is he doing, by the way?” This time, you disconnected your eyes from the movie, looking over at your friends who stared back at you, trying to disguise the pity in their eyes.

“He… He’s doing okay,” Dustin gifted you a gentle smile, which you reciprocated with a silent, painful sigh. Robin, who sat on your left, took your hand on hers and squeezed it faintly.

It had been almost a year since Eddie left to follow his dreams in LA. He hadn’t even told you about the news until a day before he left his life in Hawkins behind. However, it still felt as if it was yesterday. Bringing up Eddie around you was like walking on eggshells, and although you tried to seem okay after all these months, it still hurt like a bitch.

You tried to shake off the memories of that day from your mind by concentrating on the film, but it was useless. You sighed as you checked the time on your phone, tears starting to blur your vision.

“I should get going,” You said, standing up from the couch.

“What? We’re not even halfway through the movie,” Robin whined.

“I know, but it’s getting late, and I have work tomorrow,” Steve and Robin shared a knowing look. They saw right through your lie. They didn’t say anything else except a soft “goodbye,” the kids repeated before you walked out the door.

Once you got home and into your bedroom, you changed into a T-shirt you realized belonged to Eddie. After taking a deep breath at your reflection in the mirror, you sat on the floor by your bed and pulled a shoe box from under it.

Tears instantly fell from your eyes at the pictures you’d taken together and the notes and letters he’d written to you through your friendship and relationship. You could remember every single one of those days and the happiness you felt by creating those memories with him. While digging through them, you came across your favorite pictures. He had insisted you take a selfie with the Polaroid camera he bought you one Christmas. His cheeks were pink, and his hair was messy. He kissed your cheek on one of them. You kissed his on the next one, and in the third picture, he kissed your lips. The last kiss he ever gave you because the next day, Eddie left you, and he could barely look you in the face as he bid you goodbye.

A sob left your lips as you brought the picture to your chest, imagining it was him you hugged close to your heart.

With the little strength you had at the moment, you stood up from the floor and lay in bed.

You missed Eddie. You missed his hugs, the way he slow danced with you and rested his chin on your head. You missed when he’d kiss you while you were in the middle of saying something or when he kissed your cheek before going to work.

You missed everything. His breathing, scent, the sound of his laugh and heartbeats, his touch.

You missed Eddie.

A notification from your phone made you take a deep breath. You glanced at the device, reading the app that popped on the screen. Your heart clenched as you realized the Instagram user on it: Corroded Coffin. After clicking on it, his beautiful brown eyes and messy brown hair appeared on your screen.

Eddie’s toothy grin adorned his face while his bandmates stood behind him, imitating his expression.

God, how you missed that smile.

His smile made you smile back, but your tears started falling faster down your face the longer you admired him.

Nothing would have ever prepared you to watch his life in pictures instead of living those moments with him. Or, sleeping alone instead of sleeping with your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeats and feeling his breathing.

And worse.

Nothing could have prepared you to have his name on your lips and heart forever.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #last kiss taylor’s version #taylor swift #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurb #Spotify #eddie munson

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wtfevenami · 1 year ago

Text

Tw sui¢ide

August 20th will be one year later. It’s been almost a full fucking year and I still want to kill myself, I still want to starve myself, and I still can’t remember over half my fucking life. Why couldn’t I keep it down that time? Every other time I was fine and just went to sleep, but of course when I’ve done the math to make sure it’ll kill two of me, I throw up.

It’s been a year of closing my eyes and being back on the floor. It’s been a year of refusing to take cough medicine because I’m afraid I’ll relapse. It’s been a year of avoiding sugary artificial orange and grape flavors. It’s been a year since I could eat my favorite soup because the pasta in it is the same size as those pills. It’s been a year of trying to cut deep enough that I bleed out. It’s been a year of swallowing things that could kill me just because there’s a chance it might work. It’s been a year since I’ve been able to drink ginger ale because that’s what my mom gave me when she thought I had the flu. It’s been a year since I hurt the person I love the most.

I was unconscious most of the day after, only awake for about 30 minutes total. I remember texting him because I knew he would be worried when I didn’t show up at school on Monday. I had made the mistake of telling him what I was doing when he asked on Friday. He tried to talk me out of it, and I let him believe that he had. But the pills were already at home in my dresser, so the next day would be my last. It took me 30 minutes to type a simple “I won’t be there tomorrow but I’m alive unfortunately”. He responded within seconds and immediately started asking questions. He tried to call me I think but I couldn’t move to answer, and even if I had I wouldn’t have been able to speak.

There’s only a few things from Sunday that I remember, but I distinctly remember him saying he was confused about something I had said (or tried to say, to be more accurate) and I was just thinking “you think you’re confused? I should be dead right now” and laughing to myself.

The next day I was home alone for a bit while my grandpa picked my sister up from school, and while he was gone I ventured out of my room for the first time all day. I went to the garage to get a bottle of water and I tripped and fell on my way back inside. I bruised my arm pretty badly but my skin was so pale and grayish that it wasn’t noticeable.

I went into my sister’s room to get a book that I read, though I don’t know what it was. I went back to my room and relocked the door. I sat up in my bed reading and took 3 sips from the water. At some point I realized the bottom of my foot was wet, and when I checked the carpet was still moist where I had thrown up to nights prior. I don’t remember what it looked like, mostly because I didn’t have my glasses on and the dehydration was making everything look granulated, but I know that I sat there staring at it for a few minutes.

When he got out of school my friend texted me with an ultimatum, one I wish I never agreed to: tell someone or he would. I typed okay and sent it, but after I got out of the hospital and checked the time stamps I saw that it had been 35 minutes before I sent it.

The rest of Monday as far as I remember was me sleeping in the ER waiting room, getting an ekg, and getting my blood drawn before passing out in the hospital bed. However, when I woke up I had an IV in. I don’t remember having it put in, or the dozens of vital checks and blood draws that I apparently had every hour. I just remember hearing my parents telling the doctor that they couldn’t take me to a specific hospital.

The doctor asked me what I wanted to do and I just stared at her until I either started crying or passed out, I’m honestly not sure which.

The next day on Tuesday was the first time I had eaten in 3 days. I had Chick-fil-A. I ate six nuggets with no sauce and drank water the hospital gave me. Then they came to transport me. They strapped me onto the stretcher with more restraints than the normal ones have. There wasn’t just the waist and side rails, there were ones that made an x over my chest, some that went over my knees, over my ankles, and before they strapped me in they told me to cross my arms.

The psych ward was the worst experience I’ve ever had. I don’t remember much except that I didn’t eat or sleep much. I only ate lunch and dinner because they were required but I never ate it all. I always said no to snacks and I only ate something in the morning my last day there. A packet of peanuts. The only reason I got out as fast as I did was because I was in more distress than when I came in and agreed to do a week at the php.

Then I had to make the excuses. Why were you gone? What were you sick with? You didn’t need to be quarantined that long.

And then the excuse of covid backfired when I actually got covid a week later.

So yeah there’s all that trauma for the void. Sorry but I don’t see my therapist again for a while and the anniversary effect is real and it’s killing me.

#vent post #personal vent #tw sui attempt #tw cvt #tw sh #tw addiction #tw sh cvt #tw overdose

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poz-oh-legirl · 6 years ago

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I feel just so anxious and sick to my stomach right now for reasons I will not speak of, but on top of all of that I’m just really craving some shrimp and cocktail sauce.

#hhh #i just need to go to sleep #and see what happens tomorrow #and then either roll my eyes because it was nothing to worry about #or just avoid facebook indefinitely #we'll see #sometimes people tell me things and i just wish they never did #i wish they hadn't said anything #because here i am a nervous wreck with no way of knowing how tomorrow is going to end #im going to be anxious and sick to my stomach all day and there is no way of knowing what's going to happen #i just wish i could be unconscious all day tomorrow until after like...#6:30 ish maybe #then i can wake up and either go back to sleep because i'd rather hide from the world #or i'll just be fine #ugh it's 2 am and i hate feeling like this #i want tangy cocktail sauce right now #i want the shrimp too but if i could even just have the cocktail sauce to eat straight i'd be happy #LOL #hhhhh #i feel like this is the mood that triggers my horrible nightmares so I'm almost afraid to sleep #if i have an apocalypse dream tonight I'm going to sign up for freaking therapy because i'm tired of it #luckily it's been awhile but >_>#this is the mood.... this is the mood #why can't i just dream about Jumin #THAT'S ALL I DID TODAY ANYWAYS I JUST CELEBRATED HIS BIRTHDAY WHY CAN'T I JUST BE HAPPY WITH THAT #I WANTED TO BE SLEEPING LIKE A LONG TIME AGO IM SO MAD

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angry-geese · 3 years ago

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Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *

YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol

When We Meet Again

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

jjk masterlist

It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.

Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.

You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.

He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.

The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.

It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.

It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.

The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.

You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.

He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.

When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.

Are you having a nightmare?

The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.

There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.

There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.

It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.

The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.

His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.

His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.

Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.

You must've missed him more than he expected.

Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.

You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”

“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.

If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.

“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”

You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.

"You were calling out my name." He says.

"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."

“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.

You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."

This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."

"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.

“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”

“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Never!”

“Then I guess I won't let you go.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.

You suppose there’s worse fates than this.

It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.

“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”

“How was work?”

“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”

“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”

“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”

Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.

You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?

But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.

You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.

“Quit squirming.” You hiss.

“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”

And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.

That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?

You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.

Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.

“Stop that,” he says.

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.

“Why do I not believe you?”

His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.

You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.

A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.

So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.

“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”

It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.

His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.

“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.

“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.

“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.

“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”

Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.

The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.

Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.

But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.

You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.

Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.

"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.

You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.

You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.

Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.

You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.

Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.

Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.

The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?

“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.

“‘Toru-” you whine.

“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.

He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.

He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.

“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”

Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.

He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.

The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.

It's another moment before he starts thrusting.

Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.

Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.

He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”

You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.

He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.

A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.

“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”

And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.

The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.

He practically collapses on top of you.

Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.

For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.

You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.

You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.

“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”

“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”

You're in for a long night.

#jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #not osha compliant #goose answers #ask!#anon #gojo is just very breedable

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