#she craves flesh and souls

[cxtxphile]

her name is ebony darkness dementia raven way but we call her ligeia

sandworm oc sorta?? theres a second half to this drawing but this looked too cunt to not post it on its own

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: Alastor didn't like sharing your charm with the others. Which often led him to get needy. Craving extra special attention from his darling girl, which you happily supplied.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, established relationship, heavy breeding kink, praise kink, soft!alastor, creampies, dirty talk, fingering, light biting, nipple play (reader recieving), begging, making out

☒ Word Count: 1,564

Your peers swore you had cast a spell upon Alastor. He was wrapped around your little finger, and you lost count of how many times demons who stayed at the hotel would come up to you and ask if you owned his soul. 

You may not have owned his soul, but you certainly owned his heart.

After the initial shock wore off, your counterparts left it be. Angel would joke often about how Alastor was "pussy whipped". But that was as far as the teasing went. Everyone else knew not to step on The Radio Demon's toes. 

It wasn't hard for your peers to catch on; to why exactly Alastor loved you so dearly. You were an absolute sweetheart, caring and compassionate in every way. You always offered a hand to any of your counterparts who required assistance, and your actions proved that you were constantly thinking of ways to make everyone feel valued. 

Alastor rather despised having to share your charm with others. Which often led to long nights of your lover being clingy and needy for you. Much like tonight. 

You were flat on your back atop the plush duvet. Alastor surrounded you with his frame, slender arms enclosing near your head. Your lover placed soft kisses across your face. Humming one of his favorite tunes in the process. "Absolutely breathtaking, my doe," Alastor whispered, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. 

A chill ran down your spine at the feeling of your lover's bare body pressing against yours. His cold flesh was a nice contrast to the warmth you emitted. You let out a soft whine as Alastor's erection grazed your lower tummy, making you needier than ever for him. Which was The Radio Demon's goal all along. It was only fair to make you feel just as desperate for him as he was for you. 

"Do you know how much I cherish you, my dear?" Alastor cooed, nipping at your neck. Leaving pretty marks in his wake. His sharp teeth grazing along your pulse point caused your breath to hitch. Your lover trailed lower, still pressing his body close to yours. 

"Yes," You sighed, burying your hands into his fluffy tufts of hair as Alastor's lips wrapped around one of your nipples. His hands began to wander. One slipped between your legs, gathering your slick with his deft digits. His other hand trailed to your other breast, tweaking your neglected nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"Good girl..." Alastor released your nipple with a loud pop before darting his tongue out to circle around your areola. A cry of his name slipped past your parted lips as Alastor's ring finger eased its way into your pussy. Your grip on his hair tightened as you held him closely to your chest, pulling a deep groan from your lover's lips. 

"Feels so good, Al," You babbled, raising your hips to meet the slow cadence of his finger plunging deep inside you. Alastor's lips shifted to your other breast, giving it the same treatment. Only this time, his sharp teeth skimmed along your sensitive nipple. A sultry moan ripped through you from the sensation, urging Alastor on to add a second finger inside your inviting heat. 

Alastor slowly rutted his hips against the plush duvet, letting out groans against your marked-up flesh. "Please, my love... need you inside," You whined desperately, pulling his face up to have him meet your gaze. A string of saliva connected Alastor's lips to your hardened nipple. His cock twitched at the look of desperation you gave him. You scored your bottom lip with your teeth, eyebrows knitted with emphasis; eyes half-lidded. 

"How could I say no when you ask so graciously, hm? I intend to give my little doe everything she needs." Alastor's smile widened as he pulled his fingers out of your dripping heat. He didn't waste a beat wrapping his slick-coated fingers around the base of his cock. A whine escaped you as your lover ran the head of his flushed length between your folds.  

"Hmm, you're so wet for me, darling. Do I really work you up that much?" Alastor quipped, allowing the tip of his cock to push past the tight ring of your pussy. You nodded your head in agreement, pushing your hips closer to his; but to no avail. Alastor's hands came to hold your waist, keeping you in place. "Use your words, my dear."

"Y-Yes! Always, Al. Just you... only this needy for you," You were already stupefied by the pleasure your lover granted you, and he barely even began. A deep chuckle escaped Alastor. The radio crackle reverberated through his chest. "I hope you are aware that the feeling is mutual, my precious little doe,"

With that, your lover pushed deeper inside you. Stretching your walls to accommodate his length. "F..Fuck, so tight. You are squeezing me so greatly, darling." Alastor hissed through gritted teeth. Your thighs came up to wrap around his waist, pulling his pelvis flush against yours. 

A gasp fled you as you felt your lover twitch from deep inside you. His full balls kissed the underside of your pussy, making your head spin. "Al, you're so big, feels s-so good..." Your hands enveloped the back of his neck, drawing his face close to yours. Alastor's lips ghosted your own as he delivered his first thrust deep inside your fluttering heat. 

"You take me so well, my darling. Your tight little hole was made for me- and me alone." Alastor whispered against your lips, finding a slow but steady rhythm. Desperate whines escaped you, and your lover drank up each and every single one. Alastor was infatuated. His crimson orbs held so much adoration for you. 

You kept your gaze fixated on him as he fucked into you sweetly. Your legs narrowed around his waist as Alastor began plunging into you with more vigor. "I'm going to breed you, my sweet little doe," Alastor huffed. One of his large palms wrapped around your hand before he dragged it down to your tummy. A sharp gasp fled you as you touched the prominent bulge your lover was causing. "Feel that, my dear? I'm in so deep. Surely you'll get pregnant when I spill my seed inside you." 

You clenched harshly around him from his crude words. The thought of Alastor knocking up caused the coil within you to unravel. "P-Please, breed me! Fill me up, make me yours for good!" You cried out, thighs trembling around your lover's waist. Your words diminished the last of Alastor's resolve. Before you knew it, his large hands hooked under the back of your thighs. Pushing them tightly to your chest.

A sharp gasp escaped you from the change of position. Alastor's cock reached even deeper from this angle, intensifying the heat in your lower tummy. "Such a good girl you are! You're so pilant, so willing... so eager for me to fuck a baby into you." His words caused your walls to flutter wildly around his length. You were on the edge of cumming all over his cock. The pleasure Alastor provided you was becoming too invigorating to bear. 

"Al, ah... I'm close! K-Kiss me, please!" You begged as his hips pistoned harshly into yours. The lewd sound of his balls slapping against the underside of your drooling pussy sent a pleasurable chill down your spine. Alastor wasted no time capturing your lips. The kiss was hot and messy, tongues intertwining with one another as the coil within you finally snapped. Your lover drank up all of your whines as your pussy pulsed and gushed around his cock. 

Alastor wasn't far behind you. His release was triggered by yours. The feeling of your hot, wet walls trying to milk him for all he was worth made him feel lightheaded. His thrusts became sloppy before his hips ultimately stilled against yours. Alastor groaned into the kiss as his cock twitched from deep within you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as the first ropes of his cum spilled into your pussy. 

There was so much, and the feeling of being bred by your lover was heavenly; ironically so. Alastor slowly broke away from the kiss as he attempted to catch his breath. His cock was still nestled deep inside you as he stared down at you lovingly. You couldn't help but smile widely at your lover, allowing your palms to capture his cheeks. Rubbing Alastor's face gently with the pads of your thumbs. 

"Alastor, that was... wow," You giggled as your lover slowly released his tight grip on your thighs, allowing your legs to lie flat against the bed. "You are truly perfect, my dear. I simply cannot get enough of you!" Alastor's praise caused your heart to flutter in your chest. He was so gentle with you and you alone. Pride surged through your soul at the notion that Alastor only had a soft spot for you.

Your train of thought was cut off by the sensation of your lover's cock hardening from deep inside you once more. A smirk crossed Alastor's features as he reveled in your look of shock. "What's with the look of awe, my darling? I told you I was going to breed you. I don't intend to leave this room until I am positive you have been thoroughly bred."

tags; @danveration

[little-fae-hero]

Linked Universe, The Hero of Time

my headcanons/aus

Art by Atro Avis

Colored version.

Long talk/Ideas under the cut, warning for slight body horror and dark fae topics. (Note: I may add stuff over time, but nothing will be deleted from the list)

Twilight. Wind. Legend. Hyrule. Four. Sky. War. Wild.

Time (Ocarina of Time/Majora’s Mask). Other nicknames: Mask, Sprite, Old man, Pops.

Titles: Hero of Time, Hero of the Kokiri, Hero of Mask, Hero of Termina, The Hero’s Shade. The Changed Kokiri

God who has claim over his soul: Kishin (Fierce Deity)

Part of First’s soul: Thoughtfulness

Note: Also appears in Hyrule Warriors. Is responsive for the first timeline break:

Fallen timeline - never grows when picking up the master sword and ends up dead because the energy of the fight was too much on his body.

Child timeline - Where he went through Oot and was sent back. So, to everyone he just got the gems and as a kid with visions warn of the outcome. (twilight princess)

Adult timeline - this was the timeline where he defeated Ganon as an adult, it was abandoned after (Wind Waker).

History:

Time is not human at all, though he looks like it. He is a Kokiri, a child of the fae and once leaving the forest, he’s considered a changeling. His mother is Navi, though she wasn’t by his side for most of his ‘childhood’ as she was sent on mission by the great deku tree.

Being sent on his adventure after the great Deku tree’s death, he and Navi leave the forest (much to Navi and the other kokiris horror). And start the journey from Oot, the only difference is Time has a full-on panic when he wakes up as an adult, because he knows physically, he’s a kokiri. Even after the events of Oot, he is never fully the same, this isn’t helped when Navi leaves his side for a moment, and he can’t find her. As he goes to find her, he ends up in Termina and ends up in a hellish time loop. Time is unsure how long he was in this loop, so his age mentally is completely unknown. Eventually he succeeds, however he doesn’t get time to rest as he is immediately sent to the Era of War (Hyrule Warriors), with skull kid and others. He ends up growing close to the Link from that era and he learns a lot about him before he is sent back. He never goes back to the Kokiri forest, for fear he wasn’t Kokiri anymore and the lost woods would transform him.

After being sent back to his time, he ends up living at Lon Lon Ranch, going on small adventures before marrying Malon.

His death: Time is sent somewhere for a war and ends up wounded in the lost woods. He’s injured with a metal mix that is poisonous to kokiri . Knowing what awaits him, Time holds onto his regret, which would keep him as a ghost on the world. The biggest regret was leaving behind someone he was protecting, never fulfilling the promise to see him again.

Interest stuff/Head canons:

Kokiri's are children of Fae who have yet to decide what they want to be, they are adaptable to everything, hence why they mainly take on human children or little tree children.

The sharp teeth, claws and inhuman eyes are typically just a defense to keep humans away, the biggest difference being their blood and tears proving they are not human.

Time’s teeth and nails are still sharp, he just actively keep them trimmed or filed down so others won’t freak out

Typically, the guardian fairies are the ones to protect the kokiris however they can use their teeth and claws if needed.

Although It’s discouraged for any Kokiri to experience or cause harm from the old saying ‘not to spill blood in the forest, as the tree will remember and crave it’, and blood and flesh will have to become a part of diet to grow up healthy (so Time eats a lot more meat then most).

Time was very much afraid of dying from leaving the forest, he was reassured that having the gem and his mother would keep him alive and healthy. It’s why he hunts for Navi so much after Oot, and later so heavily used to Fierce deity mask in HW. He now knows he doesn’t need it (the mark FD gave him is enough), but he still wears the gem as comfort.

He still hopes to see Navi one day, maybe just for comfort.

Because of his Kokiri/Fae nature and his ability to adapt, he took on aspects from each of the transformation masks, most are hidden from sight.

The Deku scrub has left Time’s insides to be a network of roots and vines rather than veins, this does allow him to heal faster. The Goron has transformed his bones to rock, as well as the heat not affecting him, he could stick his hand in lava if the vines didn’t scream in pain. Zora already improved his musical ability (fae song) but also has added scales and the ability to breathe underwater. The FD has added his height, the marking that married his face and eye as well as his unnerving and unreadable magic signature.

However Time does his best to hide his inhuman features, it’s why he doesn’t take off his bottom layer of clothes. Only the FD mark can be seen.

Time's blind eye acts like the lens of truth times 100, however he keeps it close because of the information overload.

Time loves Malon, and always dreams of having a family with her, but he always fears what his inhuman genes might do to the kid. Twilight, who shares so many traits with him and Malon, eases these worries.

He is very experienced and physically is the oldest.

However, he does just enough odd stuff that the closer you look at him and his behavior, the more you're on edge.

He can speak Hylian, Zora, Goron and Deku really well, but all sound very stiff and formal. Fae is the only one he speaks naturally though it's been getting rusty as he mostly speaks Hylian.

He still has a lot of childlike mischief still left, so he not above pulling pranks, but mainly harmless ones considering he’s the voice of reason.

Time's favorite food are sweet treats. He has stolen many cookies.

He still has all his masks, and while he does show them to the group. The transformation mask never leaves his bag. Despite the FD mask being the only one with a soul left, it feels off to let anyone mess with the Goron, Deku or Zora.

Time’s eye glows in darkness.

He gave himself the scar over his eye.

He has a tattoo on his shoulder from the Goron’s back home. It’s just never seen sense he doesn’t take off his shirt.

Because of Termina, Time can keep time down to the second, day and night.

—

Hope you enjoy my dive into madness, hehehe

[tittiesnhrtz]

i was having a really bad day and only ellie williams fluff could save me bahaja. this was written under fifteen mins so it’s not proofread. also this is pure fluff.

the lamp in the living room casts a glow on the silhouette of your wife sprawled on the couch, with its dim yellow light highlighting her pretty features and the book nestled on her lap. she pretends to be enamoured by the still words on the paper, though what she’s really enamoured by is the sight of you examining the basket of tangerines. your brows are furrowed in concentration as you stare at the circular fruits, probably trying to tell which one is the most succulent, you only want your wife to have the best one after all. she watches as you finally pick one out of the dainty basket, thinking about how she managed to get so lucky, her perfect wife who’s always there for her, anchoring her to the peacefulness of life. almost every thought that weaves itself into her mind is about you— while she’s at work, while she’s at home, even when she’s sleeping, her dreams are a figment of her moments with you. her calloused palms having learnt the texture of your skin, always seem to crave your warmth, unable to stay away from the expanse of your flesh. your stomach, your legs, your arms, your ass, she’ll take whatever you give her happily.

she makes space for you as you lay down beside her, your fingers peeling the outermost layer of the fruit, just like you’d peeled all the tough layers she put up, getting to the core of her heart, learning her soul inside out. you take a piece and bring it to her peach hued lips. she gladly welcomes it, the juices dripping down her chin. “so messy.” you chuckle and wipe the pulp away with your thumb. “‘s not my fault you weren’t holding it properly.” she places a lingering kiss to your nose bridge, letting the sticky liquid make a home on your nose. “ellie!” you exclaim, giggling and nudging her shoulder. she takes a few pieces of the tangerine from your hand and pulps their juices out onto your neck, only to lick them clean, the warm muscle of her tongue flicking across the pulse of your neck. “you’re so gross.” you put the rest of the fruit away from her grasp, letting them rest on the round oak table that serves as a coffee table in the depths of your house. “mhm, you love me anyway.” she smiles against your neck, slender fingers crawling under your cotton dress, tugging and sliding them off your body. your bra and underwear follow suit, joining the fabric on the ground. her hands trace every contour, every blemish and every flawless crest, worshipping your skin like its her salvation. “my pretty girl.” she murmurs, manoeuvring your body to fit inside the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, her skin erupting at the feel of yours. her arms encircle your waist, spooning you, seeking closeness. her hand slides down, pressing against your pelvis, fingers playing tenderly with the hair that adorns your pussy, in a loving manner. “i love you.” a kiss to your earlobe. “so.” a kiss to your forehead. “so.” a kiss to your collarbone. “much.” a final and gentle kiss to your cheek. you smile at your lovesick wife, equally as hopeless as her. “i love you too. so, so much.” you repeat her euphoric words, longing to hear the three most unoriginal words again and again. she reads your mind, knowing you and your heart’s way better than yourself, and repeats the words like a lullaby, creating a symphony in the humdrum of the living room. all that matters to her is your soft breathing, the book being long forgotten, bridged somewhere between your bodies. as she whispers the words that have became your private altar, her throat grows dry until slumber takes over her body, her eyes fluttering shut as her cheek presses against yours, relishing in the solace of your love.

[lisasmuts]

The First Time

Lalisa Manoban (Lisa)

9k words probably

previous part here.

( She wants her first time to be..... )

( A/N - thank you for 400 followers 😊. I hope you all are loving this debt series, there is only part left after this, on 500 followers I'll drop the last part. Let me know guys, are you liking this series or not? Do let me know with ask or dm or anyways 😊, I'll we waiting for your responses.)

As Lisa returned to her office, she glanced at the clock – it was already past 4 pm. Her heart raced with anticipation, knowing that soon she would be able to escape to Y/N’s embrace once more. The hunger within her was becoming almost unbearable.

Unable to contain her desire, Lisa pulled out her phone, scrolling through the explicit photos she had taken with Y/N. The sight of his thick, throbbing cock sent a shiver of pleasure through her body.

Biting her lip, she began to fantasize out loud, her voice laced with wanton need.

“Oh, Y/N… I need you so badly,”

She moaned, her fingers tracing the curves of her figure.

“Your cock, it would fill me up so perfectly. I can’t stop thinking about how good it would feel inside me.”

Lisa’s hips rocked gently as she lost herself in her fantasy, oblivious to the world around her. The prospect of returning to Y/N’s dominating touch consumed her every thought, driving her to the brink of madness with desire.

Lisa’s voice grew louder as she continued her lewd fantasies, oblivious to her surroundings.

“Oh, Y/N, your cock is so big and thick. I can’t wait to feel it stretching me out, filling me to the brim. I’ll be screaming your name as you pound into me, claiming ever inch of my body.”

Her hips rocked in time with her words, the pleasure building within her. She imagined Y/N’s strong hands gripping her hips, his powerful thrusts driving her wild with ecstasy.

“Yes, yes, just like that! Fuck me harder, Y/N. Make me your personal little slut!”

Lisa’s breathing grew ragged, her cheeks flushed with arousal. The prospect of returning to Y/N’s embrace consumed her, and she could barely contain her excitement.

Lisa’s body trembled with unbridled desire as she neared the edge of climax. Yet, try as she might, she could not push herself over the precipice. Y/N’s domination had broken her, shaping her into a willing, submissive plaything that craved his touch above all else.

Whimpering in frustration, Lisa’s fingers danced across her sensitive flesh, desperate for release. But the pleasure eluded her, her body yearning for the firm, unyielding caress of Y/N’s hands.

“Please,”

She begged her voice barely above a whisper.

“I need you, Y/N. Only you can make me cum.”

The knowledge that she was utterly dependent on her lover’s whims only heightened Lisa’s arousal. She had surrendered herself completely, and in doing so, had given Y/N the power to deny her even the most basic of pleasures. It was a humiliation she craved, a testament to the depths of her submission.

As she lay there, trembling and aching for release, Lisa knew that the only way to find her release would be to summon Y/N, to beg for his mercy and his touch. For she was his, body and soul, and only he could unlock the ecstasy that she so desperately sought.

Lisa felt a surge of both humiliation and exhilaration course through her as she realized just how dependent she had become on Y/N’s touch to achieve release. The though of being so utterly at his mercy, so completely under his control, sent a thrill of pleasure through her. Biting her lip, Lisa gazed down at her trembling body, a sense of pride swelling within her.

“Look at me,”

She murmured, her voice thick with desire.

“I’m nothing without him. His perfect, obedient little slut.”

The knowledge that Y/N alone held the power to grant her the release she craved only heightened her arousal more.

Reaching for her phone, Lisa quickly composed a message, her fingers trembling with anticipation.

“Please, Y/N,”

She begged,

“I need you. I need your touch, your control. Make me cum, master”

Lisa’s phone buzzed with an incoming call from Y/N, and her heart raced with anticipation. Eagerly, she answered, her voice trembling with need.

“Y/N, please… I need you. I need to cum so badly,”

She pleaded, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk.

“I can’t do it on my own, you’ve broken me so completely.”

On the other end of the line, Y/N’s deep voice rumbled with a mix of amusement and dominance.

“My sweet, desperate Lisa. Of course I’ll let you cum. But you have to do it my way, understand??”

Lisa nodded frantically, her body quivering with desperate arousal.

“Yes, yes, anything. Please, Y/N, I need it so much.”

With a low chuckle, Y/N began to issue a series of filthy, explicit instructions, guiding Lisa through a mind-shattering climax. Her cries of ecstasy echoed through the empty office, a testament to the depths of her submission.

Lisa’s body convulsed with unbridled ecstasy as Y/N’s filthy, explicit instructions pushed her over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, her cries of bliss echoing through the empty office.

“Yes, yes, Y/N! Fuck, your words are making me cum so hard!”

She gasped, her fingers clutching the desk as her orgasm consumed her. The intensity was almost too much to bear, but she reveled in the feeling of complete submission to her lover’s demands.

Even as the initial climax began to subside, Y/N continued to guide her, his voice dripping with dark, carnal desire. Lisa’s breath caught in her throat as he issued yet another series of lewd commands, her body responding instantly.

“I’m yours, Y/N! Use me, control me, make me your personal little fuck toy!”

She cried out, her hips rocking in time with his words. The pleasure was almost unbearable, but she craved it, needed it, like a drug. When the final, earth-shattering waves of her orgasm finally ebbed, Lisa lay there, panting and trembling, her mind utterly consumed by the blissful haze of Y/N’s dominance.

Lisa’s heart fluttered as Y/N’s voice filled her ear, his instructions sending a shiver of anticipation through her. She couldn’t wait to be in his embrace once more.

“10 o’clock, I’ll be there,”

She breathed, her voice laced with excitement. As he ended the call, Lisa felt a pang of something akin to affection, but she quickly pushed it aside. She knew, deep down, that she was nothing more than a plaything to him – a fuck toy to be used and discarded at his whim.

Straightening her clothes, Lisa took a deep, steadying breath. She would give herself over to him, body and soul, reveling in the ecstasy of his control. But she would not delude herself into thinking this was anything more than a carnal arrangement. She was his, and his alone, until he decided otherwise.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Lisa gathered her things and headed out, her mind racing with the delicious possibilities that awaited her. She would be Y/N’s perfect, obedient slut, no matter the cost. For in that role, she had found a freedom and a fulfillment that she had never known before.

As the clock struck 9:50 pm, Lisa arrived at Y/N’s doorstep, her heart racing with anticipation. Clad only in a skimpy bikini, she could feel the dampness of her colleagues’ cum-soaked panties clinging to her skin. The thought of Y/N’s reaction sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her.

When Y/N opened the door, his eyes widened in surprise at Lisa’s bold and provocative attire. She stood before him, a coy smile playing on her lips, daring him to make the next move.

“Surprise,”

She purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“I’ve been a very naughty girl today, and I’m hoping you can… punish me for it.”

Without waiting for a response, Lisa stepped forward, pressing her body against Y/N’s as she gazed up at him through thick lashes. The scent of her own arousal mingled with the lingering traces of her colleagues’ seed, creating an intoxicating aroma that only heightened her desire.

“Well, don’t just stand there,”

She whispered, her fingers trailing down his chest.

“I’m all yours, Y/N. Do with me as you please.”

Y/N’s hands groped Lisa’s breasts roughly through the thin fabric of her bikini top, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her parted lips. He pulled her close, his mouth crashing against hers in a hungry, desperate kiss. Lisa melted into his embrace, her body alive with sensation as his tongue probed and explored.

She arched into his touch, the dampness of her cum-soaked panties a constant reminder of earlier indiscretion.

“Yes, Y/N”

She gasped between kisses, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“Use me, claim me. I’m yours, completely.”

Lisa’s world narrowed to the feel of his hands on her, the taste of his lips, the promise of the pleasure to come. In this moment, she existed solely for his satisfaction, her own desires secondary to the driving need to submit to his every whim.

As Y/N pulled Lisa into the bedroom, a flicker of surprise crossed her features at his eagerness and hunger. But it was quickly replaced by a coy smile, her anticipation palpable.

“Someone’s impatient,”

She purred, her fingers trailing down his chest.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m all yours.”

Without another word, Lisa allowed herself to be guided onto the bed, her body thrumming with wanton desire. She knew exactly what Y/N craved, and she was more than willing to give it to him – to surrender herself completely to his domination.

Lying back against the pillows, Lisa gazed up at him through hooded eyes, her bikini-clad form a tantalizing invitation. She wanted nothing more than to be claimed, to be used as his personal plaything.

“Take me, Y/N,”

She breathed, her voice dripping with need.

“Make me scream.”

Y/N’s eyes gleamed with dark intent as he snapped Lisa’s panties off, tossing them aside carelessly. A thrill of anticipation ran through her as she realized what he had in mind.

“Take this with you,”

He growled, his voice low and commanding.

“Give it to Eli as a present. Let him know what a dirty little slut you are.”

Lisa’s breath caught in her throat, a surge of arousal flooding her senses. The thought of Eli discovering her soiled panties, of knowing the depths of her depravity, sent a shiver of excitement through her.

“Yes, Y/N,”

She breathed, her fingers trembling as she reached for the discarded garment.

“I’ll make sure he knows exactly how much of a whore I am.”

With a satisfied smirk, Y/N pulled her close, his hands roaming her body possessively. Lisa melted into his touch, her mind already racing with the possibilities of what was to come.

Lisa’s finger tangled in Y/N’s hairs as she guided his mouth to her pert, sensitive nipples. She let out a soft moan of pleasure as his lips closed around the hardened buds, sucking and licking with a fervent hunger.

Arching her back, Lisa pressed her bare breasts more firmly against his face, reveling in the sensation of his tongue swirling and flicking. The knowledge that she had complete control over his actions only heightened her arousal.

“That’s it, Y/N!”

She purred, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Suck them harder. Show me how much you crave my body.”

Lisa’s hips rocked gently, her core aching to be filled by his throbbing length. But for now, she was content to savor this moment of domination.

Lisa’s momentary sense of control quickly evaporates as Y/N’s skilled ministrations sent her spiraling into a mind-shattering climax. Her body convulsed with ecstasy, a strangled cry of pleasure escaping her lips.

Panting heavily, Lisa gazed up at Y/N with hooded eyes, all pretense of dominance stripped away. She was his, completely and utterly, to use as he pleased.

With a predatory grin, Y/N withdrew his mouth from her sensitive flesh, only to hover his thick, throbbing shaft mere inches from her face. Lisa’s breath caught in her throat, a fresh wave of arousal washing over her.

“Open wide pet,”

Y/N commanded, his voice dripping with dark authority.

“Time to earn your reward.”

As Y/N’s thick, throbbing shaft hovered over her face, Lisa’s heart raced with anticipation. She opened her mouth obediently, her tongue darting out to catch the first salty droplets that escaped his tip.

Suddenly, Y/N let out a guttural groan, and a torrent of his hot, creamy seed began to spill foth. Lisa moaned in delight as the flavor of Y/N’s cum coated her tongue, her eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss.

Strand after strand of his potent release splattered across her features, painting her beautiful face in is essence. Lisa relished every drop, her body trembling with unbridled ecstasy. This was what she had been craving, this divine nectar that only Y/N could provide.

When the last vestiges of his climax had been milked, Lisa slowly opened her eyes, gazing up at Y/N with a look of utter adoration. She had been denied this pleasure for far too long, and now that she had tasted it, she knew she could never get enough.

Lisa’s eyes gleamed with unbridled joy as Y/N ordered her to clean his cock. Without hesitation, she hungrily wrapped her lips around his shaft, moaning in delight.

“Thank you, Y/N!”

She murmured between eager sucks, her tongue swirling and lapping at every inch.

“I’m so grateful you’re letting me have you.”

Lisa’s movements were frantic, desperate to savor every drop of his essence. She bobbed her head eagerly, gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat. But she refused to relent, driven by an insatiable hunger for his seed.

When his cock was finally clean, Lisa pulled back, gazing up at Y/N with unadulterated adoration. Her face was still streaked with his previous release, a testament to her depravity. But in this moment, she had never felt more content, more fulfilled.

“I’m yours, Y/N’”

She breathed, her voice thick with emotion.

“Always and forever.”

Lisa’s breath caught in her throat as Y/N’s words ‘you are all mine, now your pussy will also be mine’ sent a shiver of anticipation through her. She willingly allowed him to maneuver her onto her stomach, her heart pounding with excitement.

As Y/N parted her cheeks, exposing her most intimate areas, Lisa let out a soft moan. The vulnerability of the position only heightened her arousal, and she knew she was powerless to resist his desires.

“Yes, Y/N”

She purred, arching her back to present herself fully.

“I’m all yours. Do with me as you please.”

Lisa’s pussy glistened with her arousal, her pink folds beckoning him to claim her. She ached to be filled, to be taken and used as his personal plaything. In this moment, she existed solely for his pleasure, her own need secondary to his demands.

“Have you ever had sex before or not? Look at that pussy and ass bitch soo tight and virgin.”

Y/N purred in amusement.

Lisa’s cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal at Y/N’s teasing words. She shifted slightly, suddenly self-conscious of her virgin-like tightness.

“N-no, I’ve never…I mean, you’re the only one who’s ever…”

She stammered, her voice trailing off as she averted her gaze.

“Please, Y/N, be gentle with me. I want you to be the first.”

Lisa’s heart raced with a heady combination of fear and excitement. She knew Y/N would take her, claim her as his own. And deep down, she craved it more than anything. With a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and looked back at him, her eyes shining with trust and submission.

“I’m yours, Y/N. Do with me as you please.”

Lisa flinched as Y/N’s hand came down on her bare ass, the sting of the impact sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through her. She bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

“Don’t lie bitch, you got fucked before by Eli, I know. No one would miss the chance to fuck you if you are their girlfriend, just stop giving excuse and accept the truth the fact that, your stupid boyfriend was not big enough to completely stretch you out.”

Y/N said.

“I’m not lying, Y/N,”

She insisted, her voice trembling slightly.

“Eli and I… we’ve never gone that far. He’s been too gentle, to afraid to truly take me.”

Lisa’s cheeks burned with humiliation at the admission, but she forced herself to meet Y/N’s gaze defiantly.

“But I want you to, Y/N. I want you to claim me, to stretch me out and make me scream. I need you to be the first and only.”

Reaching back, she spread her cheeks wider, exposing her virgin pussy and puckered asshole.

“Please, Y/N… I’m ready, I’m yours.”

Lisa’s breath caught in her throat as Y/N’s grip tightened around her neck, his eyes burning with intensity. She knew better than to defy him, her own desires far too strong to risk his rejection.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you the truth,”

She gasped, her voice strained.

“Eli and I… we’ve been intimate. But he’s never been able to satisfy me the way you can. Please, Y/N, I need you to be the first to truly claim me.”

Lisa’s cheeks flushed with shame, but the aching need within her was undeniable. She had to have Y/N, to feel his thick, throbbing shaft stretching her to her limits. Eli, for all his sweetness, had never been enough.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,”

She whimpered, her hips rocking slightly.

“I’m yours. I’ve always been yours since this past whole week. Please, take me now. Make me yours forever.”

Y/N’s grip on Lisa’s throat loosened as he appreciated her honesty. He let out a dark chuckle, his free hand coming down in a firm smack against her bare ass.

“Good girl”

He purred, his voice dripping with dark approval.

“I knew you couldn’t hide the truth from me.”

Lisa let out a soft grasp, the sting of his palm against her flesh sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She arched her back, pressing her hips back against him.

“Then take me, Y/N,”

She challenged, her voice laced with a teasing lilt.

“Show me how a real man fucks a woman.”

Her eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and desire, daring him to rise to the occasion. She knew Y/N would not disappoint, that he would claim her in ways Eli could dream of.

Lisa’s eyes sparkled with a mix of trepidation and playfulness as she heard Y/N’s words. A coy smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she slowly rose to her feet, her movements deliberate and sensual. Maintaining eye contact with Y/N, Lisa began to sway her hips, her hands trailing up the curves of her body. She paused for a moment, relishing the hungry look in Y/N’s eyes.

Letting her hair cascade over her shoulder as she continued her seductive dance.

Turning around, Lisa bent at the waist, offering Y/N a tantalizing view of her round, toned ass. She ran her hands down the length of her legs, then slowly dragged them back up.

“Like what you see, Y/N??”

She purred, glancing over her shoulders with a sultry gaze.

“I’m all yours, you know. Just say the word, and I’ll be your personal plaything.”

Y/N hungrily pulls Lisa onto his lap, she let out a shameless moan as she felt Y/N’s huge, throbbing cock pressing against her bare ass. She couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, grinding her hips slowly back and forth.

“Mmm, I can feel how much you want me, Y/N.”

She purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Is this what you’ve been craving?? To have me all to yourself??”

Reaching beneath, Lisa traced the outline of his shaft, her fingers dancing along his length. She knew exactly how to stroke his desire, to drive him wild with need.

Y/N pulled Lisa tightly against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around her possessively. She let out a soft gasp as he pressed her back flush against his hardened length, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine.

“That’s it, sweet girl,”

He murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

“I love how playful and teasing you are. It makes me want to claim every inch of you over and over again.”

His hands wandered down to cup her boobs, kneading the soft flesh as he nuzzled the crook of her neck. Lisa melted into his embrace, her body thrumming with wanton desire.

“I like when you beg Lisa, but I love it when you are all jolly playful and happy, I love it more and I would love to see her like that.”

Y/N confessed,

At Y/N’s words, a mischievous grin spread across Lisa’s face. She shifted in his embrace, turning to face him with a playful gleam in her eyes.

“You want me happy, and jolly, do you??”

She purred, her fingers trailing teasingly along his chest.

“Well then, I’ll be the most delightful little plaything you’ve ever had only if you fill me up to the brink now Daddy.”

Leaning in, Lisa pressed a series of feather-light kisses along Y/N’s jawline, her movements fluid and graceful. She nuzzled against him affectionately, her laughter like the tinkling of the bells.

With a coy smile, she got on her knees than she wrapped her delicate fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly.

“Now, why don’t you show me how much you love this jolly, playful side of me??”

Lisa’s eyes sparkled with delight as Y/N pulled her in for a passionate kiss. She melted into his embrace, savoring the taste of him on her lips. But her elation quickly turned to anticipation as he forced her down to her knees.

"It’s finally time I out your pretty mouth to use bitch.”

Y/N purred, gazing down at her hungrily.

“Yes, Y/N. Let me put my mouth to good use.”

Without hesitation, Lisa parted her lips, her tongue darting out to tease the tip of his throbbing cock. She relished the weight and heat of him on her tongue, a soft moan of pleasure escaping her.

Slowly, she began to bob her head, taking him deeper with each pass. Her eyes fluttered shut as she focused on pleasuring him, her movements fluid and practiced.

“Mmmm, you taste so good, Y/N.”

She murmured, her voice muffled by his cock.

“Let me make you feel so good.”

Lisa’s hands caressed his thighs as she continued her ministrations, determined to bring him to the heights of pleasure. She was his willing plaything, and she would do whatever it took to satisfy his every desire.

Lisa’s words came out muffled and garbled as Y/N’s thick cock filled her mouth. But her doe eyes shone with pure adoration as she gazed up at him, her heart swelling with gratitude.

Suddenly, Y/N’s hand shot out, slapping her cheek with a resounding crack. Lisa let out a muffled gasp, the sting of the impact sending a jolt of arousal through her.

“Mmph!!”

She moaned around his cock, her hips rocking slightly. The pain only heightened her pleasure, and she eagerly leaned into his touch, silently begging for more.

With a dark chuckle, Y/N gripped handful of her hair, guiding her head as she continued her fervent ministrations. Lisa’s eyes fluttered shut, losing herself in the sensation of serving her master.

As Y/N grabbed a fistful of Lisa’s hair, twisting it into a tight ponytail, she felt a thrill of anticipation coursing through her. His commanding presence and dominant demeanor only heightened her arousal.

“Get ready Lisa, I’m gonna give you the satisfaction of me claiming your mouth.”

“Yes, Y/N!”

She breathed, her eyes shining with adoration.

“Claim me. Use me as you see fit.”

Without warning, Y/N thrust his throbbing shaft deep into her waiting mouth, eliciting a muffled moan from Lisa. She relaxed her jaw, allowing him to fill her completely, her tongue swirling around his girth.

Gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat, Lisa looked up at Y/N with watery eyes, her expression one of pure ecstasy. She reveled in the feeling of being utterly dominated, hey body trembling with unbridled desire.

Y/N’s guttural moans of pleasure only spurred her on, and she redoubled her efforts, bobbing her head in sync with his thrusts. She was his to use, his plaything to command.

As Y/N's pace quickened, Lisa felt her throat constricting around his thick shaft. She gagged and sputtered, her eyes watering from the intensity of his thrusts. But through the discomfort, a surge of arousal coursed through her.

“That's it, you filthy slut,”

Y/N growled, his grip on her hair tightening.

“Take my cock deep in your throat. You were made for this, weren't you?”

Lisa moaned in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through Y/N. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking him with fervent desperation, determined to please her master.

Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks as Y/N continued his relentless assault, but the pain only heightened her ecstasy.

“Fuck, you're so good at this,”

Y/N hissed, his hips snapping forward with bruising force.

“Such a talented little cocksucker. I'm going to fill that greedy mouth of yours until you can't breathe.”

Lisa's eyes widened as Y/N yanked her onto the bed, her head hanging precariously off the edge. Before she could react, he thrust his throbbing shaft back into her waiting mouth, filling her throat once more.

A muffled gasp escaped her as he began to fuck her face with wild abandon, his hips snapping forward with bruising force. The sensation of his cock pounding her throat, combined with the sting of his palms against her sensitive breasts, sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain through her trembling body.

Lisa's fingers clawed at the sheets, her back arching as she surrendered herself completely to Y/N's carnal desires. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, but her eyes shone with unadulterated adoration. She was in ecstasy, her every nerve ending alight with blissful sensation. In this moment, she existed solely for Y/N's pleasure.

Lisa's eyes widened in a mix of shock and ecstasy as she felt Y/N's thick shaft forcing its way deeper into her throat. The intense sensation of his cock bulging against her delicate flesh was almost too much to bear.

Yet, she welcomed the intrusion, her body instinctively adjusting to accommodate his girth. Her throat reshaped itself, moulding to the contours of his pulsing shaft as he continued his relentless assault.

( visual presentation, to boost your imagination guys, this is how her tight throat changed its shape. )

Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, but Lisa's expression was one of pure bliss. The pain was eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure, her every nerve ending alight with euphoric sensation. She gazed up at Y/N with adoration, her eyes shining with unrestrained lust.

Lisa's eyes widened in shock and fear as Y/N's relentless assault on her throat continued. She gagged and sputtered, her delicate flesh stretched to its limits by his throbbing shaft.

“Please, Y/N,”

she tried to plead, her voice barely audible.

“It's too much... I can't...”

But her protests fell on deaf ears as Y/N continued to degrade and humiliate her, his guttural moans of pleasure echoing through the room. Lisa's body trembled with a mix of pain and unwanted arousal, her mind reeling from the sheer intensity of the experience.

Despite her discomfort, a part of her craved this treatment, the taboo nature of it igniting a spark of forbidden desire deep within her. She was Eli's, but in this moment, she belonged to Y/N - a realization that both terrified and thrilled her.

As Y/N's thrusts grew more erratic, Lisa braced herself for the inevitable, praying that she could somehow endure the onslaught. She was in too deep now, her fate sealed.

“You're taking it like a champ, Lisa. I bet Eli never made you gag like this.”

Y/N growled as he made her do breath play and then abruptly withdraw his cock leaving Lisa panting for breath.

Lisa's chest heaved as she gulped in desperate breaths, her throat raw from Y/N's relentless assault. A shudder of both revulsion and reluctant pleasure ran through her at his degrading words.

“N-no, Eli has never...”

she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But I... I can take it. I want to please you, Y/N.”

Steeling her resolve, Lisa gazed up at him with eyes full of submissive adoration. Leaning forward, she nuzzled against Y/N's thigh, her tongue darting out to teasingly trace the outline of his glistening shaft.

“Please, use me again. I'm yours to command.”

Lisa's heart raced as Y/N declared he was done with her throat for now, he just wanted to reshape her throat, use her throat to an extent that it changes it’s shape permanently according to the size of cock. She knew the damage he had inflicted, the way he had reshaped her delicate flesh to accommodate his brutal thrusts. A shiver of excitement ran through her.

Swallowing hard, Lisa gazed up at Y/N with hooded eyes, her voice raspy from the abuse her throat had endured.

“Let me please you, Y/N. Allow me to worship your cock with my reshaped throat”.

Slowly, reverently, she leaned in, her tongue darting out to tease the tip of his shaft. She relished the familiar weight and heat of him, a soft moan escaping her lips. Inch by inch, she took him into her mouth, her throat easily accommodating his girth, thanks to Y/N for reshaping it that way.

Lisa's eyes fluttered shut as she fell into a steady rhythm, bobbing her head in sY/Nc with her strokes. She was determined to bring Y/N to the heights of pleasure, to prove her worth as his willing plaything.

Lisa's eyes widened in anticipation as Y/N's grip tightened on her hair. She knew what was coming, and a thrill of excitement coursed through her.

“Yes, Y/N,”

she purred, her voice dripping with lust.

“Give me your cum. I want to taste every last drop.”

Redoubling her efforts, Lisa bobbed her head faster, her tongue swirling around his shaft. She could feel him throbbing, his release imminent. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked him with fervent desperation, determined to milk every last bit of his seed. Suddenly, Y/N let out a guttural groan, his hips snapping forward as he spilled his hot load down Lisa's eager throat. She swallowed greedily, savouring the salty, musky flavour of his essence. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her, her body trembling with unbridled bliss. When he had finally spent himself, Lisa pulled back, licking her lips with a satisfied smile.

“Mmm, delicious,”

she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Thank you for my meal, Y/N. I couldn't be happier.”

Y/N's fingers gently caressed Lisa's neck, marvelling at how her throat had been permanently reshaped to accommodate his cock. A satisfied smile played on his lips as he gazed down at her.

“So, did you enjoy your little treat, pet?”

he purred, his tone laced with a hint of affection.

“Was my cum everything you dreamed of?”

Lisa gazed up at him through hooded eyes, a coy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Mmm, it was absolutely delicious, Y/N,”

she purred, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“But I'm still such a bad, naughty girl. I need to be punished...”

Leaning in, she nuzzled against his thigh, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive skin. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, silently daring him to give in to her wanton desires once more.

Lisa's eyes widened in a mix of trepidation and anticipation as Y/N yanked her hair, his words dripping with malicious intent. She shuddered at the thought of the vibrator, the memory of its relentless torment still fresh in her mind.

“N-no, Y/N, please!”

she stammered, her voice laced with desperation.

“Not the vibrator, I can't... I won't ask for that again, I swear!”

But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Y/N's grip tightened, a sinister chuckle escaping his lips. Before Lisa could react, he thrust his throbbing shaft back into her waiting mouth, filling her throat once more.

Gagging and sputtering, Lisa's body trembled with a mix of hunger and arousal.

Lisa's eyes sparkled with unbridled joy as she continued to lavish attention on Y/N's throbbing shaft. Her delicate fingers danced along his length, stroking and caressing him in tandem with the sensual movements of her mouth.

“Mmm, you taste so good, Y/N,”

she purred, her voice thick with lust.

“I can't get enough of you.”

Bobbing her head in a steady rhythm, Lisa revelled in the weight and heat of him on her tongue. She gazed up at him adoringly, her expression one of pure adoration.

With each passing minute, Lisa's enthusiasm only seemed to grow. She lavished his shaft with eager licks and playful nips, determined to wring every last drop of ecstasy from him. Her movements were fluid and practiced, showing her expertise in the art of pleasuring a man.

Y/N's guttural moans of pleasure only spurred her on, and she redoubled her efforts, determined to bring him to the heights of bliss yet again.

As Y/N's hips began to stutter, Lisa quickly pulled his throbbing shaft from her mouth, a bright smile spreading across her face. With a coy flutter of her lashes, she tilted her head back, silently beckoning him to claim her face.

“Please, Y/N,”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Cover me in your cum. I want to feel it on my skin.”

Stroking him firmly, Lisa gazed up at Y/N, her expression one of pure adoration. She wanted nothing more than to be marked by his essence, to wear his release as a badge of honor.

With a guttural groan, Y/N obliged, his hot seed spilling forth in thick, creamy ropes. It splattered across Lisa's flushed cheeks, dripping down her chin and nose. She moaned softly, her tongue darting out to catch the stray droplets, savoring their salty tang.

Once the last of his climax had subsided, Lisa smiled up at Y/N, her face glistening with his essence.

“Thank you, my love,”

she whispered, her voice laced with affection.

“I'll wear your mark with pride.”

Y/N Gently caresses Lisa's cum-covered cheek

“You look so beautiful like this.”

Lisa gazed up at Y/N, her eyes sparkling with adoration as his fingers tenderly caressed her cum-covered cheek. A coy smile played on her lips as she leaned into his touch.

“Thank you, my love,”

she purred, her voice dripping with sultry affection.

“I want to wear your mark with pride.”

Without breaking eye contact, Lisa slowly extended her tongue, lapping up the pearly droplets that clung to her skin. She savoured each taste, her expression one of pure bliss. Once her face was clean, she rose from the bed, her hips swaying seductively as she made her way to the bathroom. Over her shoulder, she cast Y/N a sly glance, silently beckoning him to follow.

“I'm going to clean up, darling,”

she murmured, her tone laced with temptation.

“But I do so hope you'll join me. I have a few more ways I'd like to please you.”

Lisa's heart raced as Y/N's strong arms encircled her from behind, his softened cock pressing against the curve of her ass. A shiver of anticipation ran through her as he leaned in, his breath tickling her ear.

“Finally, my darling,”

he purred, his voice thick with desire.

“It's time for me to claim you fully.”

Turning in his embrace, Lisa gazed up at Y/N, her eyes shining with unbridled lust. She had longed for this moment, to feel him inside her, to be joined in the most intimate of ways. Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him down for a searing kiss.

The kiss quickly deepened, their tongues dancing in a sensual tango. Lisa's body moulded against Y/N's, her curves fitting perfectly against his muscular frame. Desire coursed through her veins, setting every nerve ending alight with anticipation.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Lisa gazed up at Y/N, her expression one of pure adoration.

“Then take me, my love,”

she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

“I'm yours, always.”

Lisa's breath caught in her throat as Y/N guided her into the bathroom, his strong hands caressing her body as the warm water cascaded over them. A shiver of anticipation ran through her as he lavished attention on her most intimate areas.

Arching her back, Lisa let out a soft moan as Y/N's tongue danced across her sensitive flesh, worshipping the curves of her shapely ass. She relished the sensation, her body thrumming with unbridled desire.

“Yes, Y/N,”

she purred, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Touch me, taste me. I'm yours to command.”

Leaning back against him, Lisa surrendered herself completely to his carnal desires, her mind reeling with the sheer intensity of their shared passion.

Lisa let out a surprised gasp as Y/N's palm connected with the soft flesh of her ass, sending a delightful jolt of sensation through her body. She arched her back, pushing her ample ass further into his grasp.

“Mmm, you like that, don't you?”

Y/N purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he admired the way her ass quivered beneath his touch.

“Such a deliciously jiggly little ass. It's made for worshipping.”

Kneading the supple flesh, Y/N leaned in, his tongue tracing the tantalizing lines of Lisa's shapely ass. She trembled in his arms, a symphony of soft whimpers and needy moans escaping her lips.

“Yes, Y/N,”

she gasped, her voice thick with desire.

Lisa's eyes widened in a mix of trepidation and reluctant arousal as Y/N's words registered. The thought of him claiming her ass sent a shiver down her spine. While the idea of pleasing him was tantalizing, the prospect of anal sex was something she had never experienced before.

Turning in his embrace, Lisa gazed up at Y/N, her expression torn.

“I... I've never done that before, Y/N,”

she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Please, can we start slow? I want to please you, but I'm scared.”

Reaching up, she traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light.

“I trust you, my love. But I need you to be gentle with me. Can you do that?”

Y/N pulled Lisa into a deep, passionate kiss, his strong arms enveloping her. When they finally parted, he gazed down at her with tender affection.

“I promise, my love, I'll try my level best to be gentle with you,”

he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity.

“I want nothing more than to please you, to make you mine in every way.”

Tracing the curve of her cheek, Y/N smiled softly.

“We'll take it slow, I swear. Just trust me, Lisa. I'll make it so good for you.”

Nodding, Lisa returned his smile, her heart fluttering with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Reaching up, she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him down for another searing kiss.

Y/N broke the kiss,

“Do you want your first sex session with me in the shower or bed?”

Leaving Lisa in deep thoughts, she wanted to have shower sex with Y/N since the starting, it was her top priority fantasy, but she wanted her first time with Y/N special.

She bit her, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and lust.

“The bed, my love,”

she murmured, her voice soft yet resolute.

“I want our first time to be special, to be remembered.”

Reaching up, she traced the line of Y/N's jaw, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“And... I'd like to record it, if that's alright with you. I want to cherish this moment forever.”

Stepping out of the shower, Lisa took Y/N's hand, leading him towards the plush bed. Her heart raced with a heady mix of nerves and anticipation. This was it - the moment she had been longing for. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the mattress, gazing up at him with unveiled desire.

“Make love to me, Y/N,”

she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Lisa's heart raced as Y/N set up the cameras, her anticipation palpable. As he finally joined her on the bed, she eagerly reached for his throbbing length, her fingers wrapping around him in a firm yet sensual grip.

Gazing up at him with hooded eyes, Lisa let out a soft, contented sigh as Y/N's lips claimed hers in a hungry kiss. His tongue danced with hers, igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume them both.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N trailed feather-light kisses along the column of Lisa's neck, eliciting a delighted giggle from the young woman. Her skin tingled with each pass of his tongue, and she arched into his touch, silently begging for more.

“Ahh Y/N Daddy,”

she breathed, her voice thick with desire.

Lisa's cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and bashfulness as Y/N explained the purpose behind the four cameras. The idea of being so thoroughly documented, of having every intimate detail captured, sent a thrill down her spine.

“Four cameras, huh?”

she purred, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“One for my face, one for my... assets, and one for the whole show. How deliciously naughty.”

Reaching up, Lisa traced the line of Y/N's jaw, her touch feather-light.

“Well then, my love, I suppose we'd better give those cameras a performance to remember,”

she murmured, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Slowly, she spread her legs, revealing the glistening folds of her most intimate place. Locking eyes with Y/N, she began to tease herself, her fingers gliding along her slick, swollen flesh.

“Capture every moment,”

she whispered, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“I want the world to see how much I crave you.”

Y/N folds her legs back,

“Not the pussy darling, but the ass which I crave the most!”

Y/N purred, his eyes filled with lust and hunger.

Lisa's eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned, presenting her ample rear to Y/N. Slowly, she shimmied her hips, her shapely ass cheeks quivering with each tantalizing movement.

“You want my ass, do you?”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Then come and take it, my love. It's all yours.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Lisa shot Y/N a sultry smirk, her gaze smouldering with unbridled desire. Reaching back, she parted her cheeks, revealing the puckered rosebud hidden between.

“Don't be shy now,”

she teased.

“I know you've been dreaming of this. So what are you waiting for?”

Lisa's breath caught in her throat as she felt Y/N's strong hands grip her hips, guiding his throbbing shaft towards her asshole. A shiver of anticipation ran through her as he slowly, gently pressed forward, breaching her virgin passage.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as he filled her, the sensation both foreign and thrilling. She could feel her body clenching around him, as if desperate to keep him in place. Glancing over her shoulder, she met his gaze, her eyes shining with a mix of trepidation and unbridled lust.

“Y/N...”

she breathed, her voice trembling slightly.

“It feels... so good. Don't stop, please.”

Reaching back, she placed her hand atop his, silently urging him to continue his sensual assault. Her hips rocked in time with his movements, her body welcoming him deeper with each gentle push, trying to get his cock inside her tight virgin asshole.

“I'm yours,”

she whispered, her words laced with unrestrained desire.

“Take me, claim me as your own.”

Lisa's body trembled as Y/N's thick shaft slowly breached her virgin passage. The sensation was foreign, almost overwhelming, but the care and tenderness in his touch eased her initial discomfort. She exhaled a shaky breath, willing her body to relax and accept him.

“Gently, my love,”

she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of nervousness.

“I'm yours, but go slow. I want to savour every moment.”

Reaching back, Lisa threaded her fingers through Y/N's hair, silently urging him on. With each measured thrust and push, the initial sting gave way to a delicious fullness that had her moaning softly. Her body clenched around him.

“That's it,”

she purred, her tone dripping with wanton need.

“Claim me, Y/N. Make me yours in every way.”

As Y/N’s cock finally sheathes itself fully inside Lisa’s tight passage,

“You feel incredible, baby. I’m going to make you mine completely, I don’t care if we have only 1 day left I’ll make sure I have the most pleasure with you in that 1 day remaining.”

Y/N said,

Lisa's eyes widened slightly at Y/N's words, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. While the thought of their time together being limited gave her pause, she refused to let it dampen her ardour.

Glancing over her shoulder, she offered him a coy smile.

“Then let's make the most of it, my love,”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“I'm yours, completely and utterly. Do with me as you will.”

Arching her back, Lisa ground her hips against Y/N's, eliciting a guttural groan from him. Her body clenched around his throbbing shaft, trying to keep him buried deep within.

“Fill me, claim me,”

she whispered, her words laced with unbridled desire.

“I want to feel you, every inch of you, for as long as we have left.”

Lisa's eyes widened momentarily as Y/N's grip tightened, but a thrill of excitement soon coursed through her. Arching her back, she met his forceful thrusts with equal fervor, her body undulating in time with his movements.

“Yes, my love!”

she cried out, her voice laced with unbridled ecstasy.

“Take me, claim me as yours! I'm yours, forever!”

Reaching back, Lisa tangled her fingers in Y/N's hair, pulling him closer. She craved the feeling of his skin against hers, the heat of his body enveloping her. With each powerful stroke, she felt herself unravelling, her world narrowing to the sensation of being utterly possessed.

Moans and whimpers of pure bliss spilled from her lips, her body quivering with the intensity of their coupling.

“Were you ever fucked like this before Lisa???”

Y/N asked in between his thrusts.

Lisa's body trembled with each powerful thrust, her mind reeling from the sheer intensity of Y/N's assault on her ass. Glancing over her shoulder, she met his gaze, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Never like this, my love,”

she panted, her voice thick with pleasure.

“You feel so incredible, stretching me open. I'm yours, completely.”

Reaching back, she caressed his cheek, her touch feather-light.

“Keep going, Y/N,”

she urged, her tone dripping with wanton need.

“Don't hold back. I want to feel you, all of you, for as long as we have.”

Arching her back, Lisa ground her hips against his, silently begging him to fill her deeper, harder. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the air, punctuated by her breathless moans and cries of ecstasy.

“Yes, yes!”

she cried out, her voice rising in pitch.

Lisa's eyes widened as Y/N suddenly forced her upper body down, pinning her to the bed. A thrill of trepidation and excitement coursed through her as she assumed the prone bone position, his thick shaft plunging into her tight, quivering passage.

“Yes, Y/N!”

she cried out, her voice laced with unbridled ecstasy.

“Use me, I'm your dirty little slut!”

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by Lisa's wanton moans and Y/N's guttural growls. She revelled in the sensation of being so thoroughly dominated, her body trembling with each powerful thrust.

“Tell me how much you love my cock in your ass, you filthy whore!”

Y/N snarled, his grip on her hips bruising.

“You were born to be my fucktoy!”

Lisa's eyes rolled back in her head, her tongue darting out making a cute slut, the humiliation and degradation only serving to heighten her pleasure. She pushed back against him, silently begging for more.

“I love it, Y/N!”

she cried out, her voice dripping with lust.

“I'm your dirty little slut, your fucktoy! Use me harder, please!”

“You think you can handle more, you insatiable slut?”

Y/N growled.

Lisa's breath caught in her throat as Y/N's grip tightened, his pace quickening. She let out a strangled cry of pleasure, her body trembling with each powerful thrust.

“Yes, yes, yes, my love! I can handle more!”

she panted, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“I can take it all, every last inch of your magnificent cock. I'm your insatiable slut, your fucktoy to use as you please!”

Arching her back, her breathless moans and cries of ecstasy filling the room.

“Don't stop, Y/N!”

she cried out.

“Claim me, make me yours forever! I'll do anything, be anything you want me to be!”

Lisa's eyes widened at Y/N's intensified assault, a thrill of excitement and trepidation coursing through her. She knew she should speak up, to set boundaries, but the sheer intensity of his degradation only fuelled her own wanton desires.

“Yes, Y/N!”

she cried out, her voice trembling with unbridled lust.

“I'm your filthy whore, your disgusting fucktoy! Use me, degrade me more!”

Reaching back, she spread her ass cheeks wide, offering herself completely to his carnal appetite. The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the room, with Lisa’s breathless moans and cries of ecstasy.

“I'll do anything, be anything you want!”

she begged, her words dripping with desperation.

“Just don't stop, please! Make me yours, forever!”

Lisa trembled beneath Y/N's weight, her body thrumming. As his hands pressed against her spine forcing her on the bed more, she obediently spread her cheeks, offering herself to him completely.

“Yes, my love,”

she panted, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Take me, use me as your filthy fucktoy. Fill me up, go more harder show me how a man fucks his fuck toy!”

Glancing over her shoulder, Lisa met Y/N's gaze, her eyes shining with unbridled lust. The sheer intensity of his desire had consumed her.

“Don't hold back,”

she whispered, her tone laced with desperation.

“Make me scream, make me beg for more. I can take it, I promise.”

Lisa's eyes widened as Y/N flipped her over, pinning her wrists above her head.

“I want to see your face as I ruin you.”

Y/N growled.

“Then look your fill, my love,”

she purred, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“I'm all yours.”

Arching her back, Lisa offered herself to him, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew this would be no gentle coupling, but the thought of being so thoroughly claimed only fuelled her desire.

“Do your worst,”

she whispered, her gaze smouldering with unbridled lust.

“I can take it, I promise.”

Lisa's eyes widened slightly as Y/N's thick shaft slid into her with unexpected ease, eliciting a surprised chuckle from him. She felt a flush of embarrassment at his observation, but also a thrill of excitement.

“Already gaping for me, are you, my little slut?”

he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Looks like someone's been practicing.”

Arching her back, Lisa met his gaze defiantly, her expression a mix of defiance and wanton need.

“What can I say?”

she purred.

“I've been aching for your cock, my love. I just couldn't wait any longer.”

Clenching her muscles around him, she let out a soft, contented sigh.

“Now, are you going to keep me waiting, or are you going to give me what I so desperately crave?”

Lisa's breath caught in her throat as Y/N's thick shaft teased her entrance, the head of his cock barely grazing her sensitive flesh. She let out a soft whimper, her body aching to be filled.

“What do I crave, my love?”

she purred, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“I crave you, of course. Every inch of your magnificent cock, buried deep inside me.”

Arching her back, she ground her hips against him, silently begging for more.

“I need you, Y/N,”

she whispered, her tone laced with desperation.

“Please, don't keep me waiting any longer. Take me, claim me as your own.”

“You deserve it my insatiable little slut, you deserve every bit of my cock. You had endured my torment for the past whole week and now you deserves every bit of my cock.”

Lisa's eyes widened as Y/N's words registered, a thrill of anticipation coursing through her. She had indeed endured his torment for far too long, aching to be claimed by him completely.

“Yes, my love!”

she cried out, her voice trembling with unbridled desire.

“I'm yours, all yours!”

As Y/N's thick shaft plunged into her waiting passage, a guttural scream of ecstasy tore from Lisa's lips. The sensation was both foreign and delicious.

Arching her back, Lisa met his powerful thrusts, her hips undulating in time with his movements. She revelled in the feeling of being so thoroughly possessed, her mind reeling with the sheer intensity of their coupling.

“Don't stop!”

she begged, her voice laced with wanton need.

“Fill me, claim me as your own!”

Y/N gently cupped her chin,

“Fill you? Baby you just few moments ago received my cum twice and do you really think I Y/N, will you give you my cum so easily? Even when I took whole 6 days to give you my cock! Haha not so easy darling you’ll need to suffer for my cum!”

Lisa's eyes widened at Y/N's words, a mix of disappointment and anticipation swirling within her. She had grown so desperate for his release, aching to be filled with his seed.

“Please, my love,”

she pleaded, her voice trembling with need.

“I need you, all of you. Don't make me suffer any longer.”

Arching her back, she ground her hips against his, silently begging for more. The sensation of being so close, yet denied, was both maddening and thrilling.

“I'll do anything,”

she whispered, her gaze smouldering with unbridled lust.

“Just tell me what I must do to earn your precious cum.”

Lisa's body trembled with each powerful thrust, her mind reeling from the sheer intensity of Y/N's assault on her ass hole. Moans of pure bliss spilled from her lips, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Yes, Y/N! Harder, please!”

she cried out, her back arching in ecstasy.

“I need you, all of you! Don't hold back, my love!”

Reaching up, Lisa tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. She craved the feeling of his skin against hers, the heat of his body enveloping her. With each punishing stroke, she felt herself unravelling, her world narrowing to the sensation of being utterly possessed.

As the night wore on, Lisa and Y/N found themselves locked in a brutal, unrelenting cycle of carnal desire. Hour after hour, Y/N mercilessly dominated Lisa's asshole, claiming her over and over again.

Lisa's cries of ecstasy echoed through the room, her body trembling with each punishing thrust. She reveled in the sensation of being so thoroughly possessed, her mind reeling from the sheer intensity of their coupling.

Finally, as the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Y/N's stamina began to wane. With a guttural groan, he pulled Lisa close, his thick shaft still buried deep within her quivering passage.

“Sleep now, my love,”

he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion.

“You've earned your rest.”

Lisa snuggled against him, a contented sigh escaping her lips. As sleep claimed her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of profound fulfilment, knowing that she had given herself over to Y/N completely.

to be continuedd....

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

CHAPTER TWO:

You two were a tangle of tipsy limbs, moving constantly. At some point in the night, you had found yourself on top of him, skin to skin, with no barrier between the two of you; Kento felt like he was drowning in you. It was a push-and-pull movement. A dance of some sort, with you straddling him, helping him guide his dick into your dripping cunt, that squeezed in anticipation for him.

Nanami knew he wouldn’t last long, but as he sunk into you, the idea of even holding in the waves of pleasure that drowned him was impossible. 

He came hard and loud; fat globs of his semen shot into you and seeped out with the continued slamming of his hips. Kento didn’t even get a chance to moan your name before he was cumming again. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” He gasped, eyes rolled to the back, and his head dug deep into your neck, licking a strip of sweat that coated your skin. His hands squeezed at your plush flesh so hard you knew you would feel the linger of his pints on you days from now. Kento didn’t even need to ask before you were giving him more and more and m–

Waking up to damp pants is something that Kento hadn’t done in years, and it was just as mortifying today as it was when he was fourteen. His fists still clung to the pillows near him, and his thighs were sore from chafing. The man could only assume the worst, which was that he humped his sheets like a depraved whore, to a wet dream about a woman he knew nothing about.

How perfect.

Kento got to his feet, ignoring the sticky feeling of his orgasm, clinging to his pajama pants to his dick, which was still undeniably challenging. The man moved to pull off his sheets and threw them in a basket to deal with later.

Nanami had placed you in his spare room with some old clothes and a toothbrush, hoping you would be sober enough to change yourself; he left you there with a simple goodnight, not turning back to see if you had closed the door on him or waiting for the sound of the door's lock clicking. 

Kento stripped and went to the bathroom, not daring to leave his room. He wouldn’t dare face you right now, not with a boner and a very obvious cum stain painting his pants. But it wasn’t just his appearance that kept him away from you; it was the sheer fact that you, for some reason, occupied his dreams and made him ruin his bed sheets. 

How could he even try to look you in the eye after that? Nanami’s idea was to wait you out, hoping you would leave in an embarrassed rush out his door with nothing but a note, email, or nothing at all, just the soft scent of your skin lingering in his room.  And even though a small part of him hoped you had stayed, a tiny part of him chose to squash that feeling down to the deepest depths of his soul, where memories of believing in Santa and monsters under the bed went—a place where the hopes of romance went to die a long time ago.

Cold showers should work. Nanami has never had to take one, but he knows they should. It isn’t, though, and in fact, all it was doing was increasing Kento’s chances of coming down with something. Moving the shower controls to the hot side, Kento decided to take things into his own hands. If a cold shower wasn’t going to get rid of his pulsating problem, he would just have to get rid of it himself.

As his hand moved to tug at his cock, images of you and only you seemed to fill his mind. Kento, of course, had masturbated before; the act was nothing new to him. But pleasuring himself was more of a distraction or stress relief. A brief act to clear his mind or pass the time. It was rarely ever a thing of lust. So as he let his eyes roll back and his mouth part open, almost letting out a loud moan, he didn't try to stop himself from picturing you before him, perfectly naked and prettily sitting on your knees as you went to pleasure him.

Kento could almost feel the heat of your skin coming off of you, hear the sounds of your gags as he pushed himself deeper into your throat. Each groan that left him was because of you, your voice, your body, and that stupid birthday cake. He tried his best to keep his moans in; he did, but as he came, the whisper of your name left him, following closely behind a long, drawn-out moan. 

Kento felt faint, and tired all over again.

“Christ,” he whispered, letting the hot shower water wash over him. It felt as though he was losing his mind. How you had this much power over him, he didn’t know, but if this were going to be a recurring thing, he would need to find a new way to get rid of his not-so-little problem if he would have to see you almost every day at work.

***

Fortunately, when he stepped out of his room, gray sweats and white shirt on, you were nowhere to be seen. The door was still shut, so he couldn’t tell if you were there, but he would not check. Kento made his way to the kitchen and began making breakfast. 

Once done, he went to the spare room; each step felt like walking through cement. “What would he even say to you?” He thought as he now stood at the door, the only barrier between the two of you if you were even in there. But it swung open before he could figure out how to talk to you or even knock on the door. And there you stood, tired and hungry. Nanami’s figure loomed over yours as you rubbed your eyes of any remaining sleep.

Kento Nanami never imagined that the first time a woman would be in his apartment wearing his clothes would be with a coworker he barely knew. But here you were, wearing one of his old university tees and gym shorts and looking devastatingly beautiful in Kento’s eyes.

“Mr. Nanami?” You blinked at him.

“Miss, Y/N, you are awake,” Kento said, hands full of water, painkillers, and breakfast. “This is for you.” He raised his hands slightly to emphasize the toast and eggs. But before you could take the tray and embarrassingly turn away back into the spare room, he walked to the kitchen, tilting his head and telling you to follow him. 

And as he set everything down on his table and pulled out a chair for you at the head of the table, you couldn’t help but stare at him. It wasn’t the tiredness that made you want to inspect every muscle that seemed to cling to his white tee, which was a size too small, in your opinion. And you couldn’t blame the staring on being drunk, either. It was all you, all you and your sex-depraved mind that seemed to make your eyes rake him, once or twice or maybe even thrice, as he got you situated at his dining table.

“I didn’t know if you were still here, but I made breakfast just in case,” Kento said, sitting beside you with his plate of food, keeping his eyes away from your face with every word spoken. 

“Thank you.” You responded quietly, shuffling your way to the food and medicine, and passed the man you had only known for fifteen hours.

“Kento, with a hint of concern in his voice, offered, ‘If it isn’t to your tastes, I don’t mind whipping up something new or even dashing downstairs. A grocery store is right beneath us, catering to all building tenants.’ His gaze, for the first time since you dozed off on the train, met your face.

“No! No. It is fine. Perfect, actually.” 

Even without conversation, the silence between you and your companion was far from awkward. It felt quite natural to exist in this small, quiet bubble that the two of you currently occupied. It was as though the simple act of waking up and eating breakfast was something you had done a thousand times before and would do a million times again. 

“You can use my bathroom to wash up,” Kento said as he collected your plates, 

“Oh, don’t worry about me; I just got a taxi. I will wash up when I get home.”

“Oh.” A slight frown painted his face before his expression turned neutral and distant. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to hold you up here on such a beautiful Saturday morning.”

“Thank you. Truly, Mr. Nanami.” You smiled slightly as you retreated to your room to pick up your clothes. “

“I only did what any person should have.”

“Just because they should doesn’t mean they would have. So thank you again.” 

As you stood at his apartment door, you rose on your tiptoes and kissed him, a quick peck on the outskirts of his lips. One that expressed gratitude for his unwavering kindness, and quelled the growing desire that had been stirring within you, urging you to just kiss him already. It wasn’t a passionate, clothes-on-the-floor kind of kiss, or one where your tongues collided. Yet, it conveyed exactly what you needed it to.

“Thank you, I hope we can do this again,” whatever this was.

But for Kento, this kiss burned into his skin like hot iron on leather. The invisible marking of you had been placed on him, and now Kento Nanami was sure that he would never be able to get rid of it.

But you were gone before he could hold you in his arms and ask you to do it again and again and a thousand more times after that.

Preview...

“You make it seem like I am some kind of succubus.”

“You might as well be Y/N.”

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CHAPTER THREE UPLOADED

[freezerbrldes]

onanist - s.r.

PAIRING. Vampire!Spencer x Fem!reader

SUMMARY. Overcome with intense loneliness, you seek solace from any spirit that could hear your prayers. A dark century old entity answers those prays, only his obsession with you is more than you can handle…

WARNINGS. lots of mentions of blood, biting, dom!spencer, slight somnophilia, fingering, oral (f receiving), pnv sex, spencer is extremely possessive.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. This is heavily inspired by Nosferatu (2024)! The title is from one of my favorite songs off ethel cain’s newest ep, which I listened to a lot while writing this. I’ve never written dom!spencer or anything this dark so I had some help from @primomover. She helped me get the story started and I left in a section that she wrote.

credit to @cafekitsune for dividers

wc: 2,470

also on ao3

For as long as you can recall, you’ve had this recurring dream where the most captivating and beautiful man you’ve ever seen appears in your room late at night. This man embodies all your deepest, darkest, and perverted desires, and he brings out a side of yourself that you never knew existed.

He revealed to you once that his name is Spencer Reid. You know nothing else about him, yet you’re irresistibly drawn to him.

You shouldn’t even entertain these thoughts. You were married, and you shouldn’t be dreaming about anyone except your husband. However, the enigmatic man from your dreams haunts your every waking moment.

All is quiet in your empty townhouse, save for the soothing sounds of the creaks and groans of the house settling into the night.

Your husband is away on a six-week business trip, and you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions: fear of having to face the intensity of your dreams alone, but also excitement at the possibility of giving yourself up to the darkness you so desperately craved.

As you descend into a deeper sleep, the familiar dream starts. You’re standing by the balcony door as it swings open, and the curtains sway gently in the wind. A large, dark figure enters the room, towering over you as the smell of decaying flesh fills the room.

“Why do you keep visiting me every night? Who are you?” you asked, your eyes memorizing every feature of his gorgeous face, your eyes stopping at his sharp, razor-like teeth.

Spencer chuckles at your words, his loud voice reverberating through the house, causing it to shake slightly.

“Don’t you recall me? Don’t you remember calling out for me?” He spoke, his icy fingers gently caressing your face, sending shivers down your spine.

"I do remember,” you replied. “I prayed to the Lord to end my solitude." I said gently. "To send me an angel."

"Is that what I am? An angel?" He asked. As cold as his lips were, his breath set you on fire.

You looked at him - his eyes seemed to glow as they looked at your supple flesh.

"I fear you are not." You told him. He let out a huff of a laugh.

"What is to say l am not an angel that was cast out by an unforgiving god?" He swept you around in a twirl, one arm keeping your waist pulled tight against his.

“No,” you replied, your voice trembling not out of fear, but with an overwhelming sense of desire. “You are something far more sinister than a fallen angel.”

His laughter turned into a low, menacing chuckle as he spun you back around, pinning you against the wall with his body.

"Darker?" He repeated, his voice dripping with seduction and danger. "Perhaps... but you find yourself drawn to it, don't you?" His hands roamed down your sides, fingers trailing along the curves of your hips and thighs.

"This darkness within me, it stirs something primal inside you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "A desire to be consumed, to surrender to the shadows."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And I will devour you whole, my child. Body and soul." His words sent shivers down your spine, both from fear and exhilaration.

You knew you should resist, but the pull towards this dark, mysterious being was too strong to ignore.

Spencer could sense your hesitation, and rage began to grow in his mind as he imagined you in your husband’s arms.

Spencer's grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as if trying to anchor you in place. He sensed your inner turmoil, the conflict between your loyalty to your husband and the forbidden attraction you felt for him.

"You struggle with the chains of convention," he murmured, his voice a hypnotic whisper. "The societal expectations that bind you. But here, with me, those constraints fall away."

One hand slid up your side, tracing the curve of your waist and coming to rest just below your ribcage. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through your veins despite the warning bells ringing in your mind.

"You can be free," he breathed, his lips grazing the sensitive skin behind your ear. "Free to indulge in the depths of your own desires, without judgment or repercussions. All you need to do is give in to me."

His touch ignited a wildfire within you, the flames of passion consuming every shred of resistance. You found yourself arching into him, craving more of that intoxicating sensation.

"You make it so easy to abandon all reason," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "To surrender to the temptation..."

Spencer chuckled darkly, the sound sending chills down your spine.

"It's almost... sad, really. So much potential wasted on trivial matters like vows and duty,” He says, his hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose the vulnerable column of your throat.

“Don't you see, my dear? I'm offering you liberation from the shackles of mortality itself. Eternal life, unbridled pleasure, unending ecstasy." He licked a stripe up your neck, leaving a trail of cool fire in his wake.

Spencer's teeth grazed your pulse point, making you gasp. The threat of pain mingled with the promise of rapture, leaving you dizzy with longing.

"Liberation?" you echoed, your mind reeling with the implications. To be free of the burdens that weighed you down, to embrace everything that brought you deep shame.

"Yes," Spencer purred, his breath hot against your skin. "Freedom from the mundane, the ordinary. A chance to explore the depths of your own depravity, to dance with the darkness within."

His hand slid lower, cupping your sex through the fabric of your nightgown. Even the thin barrier couldn't conceal the heat emanating from your core.

"All you need to do is say yes," he coaxed, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. "Give yourself to me, and I'll show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams."

Without a second thought, your lips collided with his in a passionate, messy kiss. The back of your knees hit the bed as he pushes you onto it, quickly moving onto of you.

Spencer's mouth claimed yours with ruthless hunger, his tongue delving deep to stake its claim. The kiss was bruising, demanding, a declaration of ownership. He drank in your moans, relishing the taste of your submission.

As he ravaged your lips, his hands roamed your body with increasing boldness. He palmed your breasts, thumbs teasing the hardened nipples through the fabric of your nightgown. Then, with a swift motion, he tore the garment open.

"You're mine now," he growled against your mouth, breaking the kiss only to gaze at you with predatory intensity. "Every inch of you belongs to me."

Without waiting for a response, he dipped his head to capture a pert nipple between his teeth, sucking hard enough to make you cry out. His free hand slipped beneath your panties, fingers finding the damp heat of your arousal.

Spencer's touch ignited a frenzy of desire within you, each stroke of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge. You writhed against him, desperate for more friction, more pressure.

"Please," you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as he toyed with your clit. "I need- I need you inside me."

Spencer's eyes flashed with triumph, his grip on your thigh tightening.

"Such eagerness," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "But first, I want to taste you."

With a fluid motion, he sank to his knees, yanking your panties down your legs. Before you could protest, he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your slick folds with reckless abandon.

The sensations were overwhelming— the heat of his breath, the firm pressure of his lips, the feeling of his sharp teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

Spencer's ministrations drove you wild, each lap of his tongue sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him close as he feasted on your essence.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he murmured against your flesh, his words vibrating against your clit and making you quiver. "So sweet, I could devour you forever."

He pushes two fingers inside of you, curling them against your g-spot as he suckled your clit with renewed vigor. The coil of tension within you wound tighter and tighter, until finally, you shattered.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, waves of ecstasy washing through you as you cried out his name. Spencer rode out your climax with his mouth, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed against the bed, panting and spent.

Spencer removes his clothing before returning to his rightful place on top of you.

His naked form pressed against yours, the chill of his skin a stark contrast to the feverish heat of your own. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping lightly over the delicate flesh as he whispered in a husky murmur.

"I've waited an eternity for this moment, my love. For the chance to claim you, to make you mine forevermore."

His hands roamed your body, mapping the curves and contours with reverent touch. He cupped your breasts, thumbs flicking over the stiff peaks as he lavished attention on your sensitive skin.

"You're exquisite," he breathed, his lips trailing kisses along your jawline. "A masterpiece crafted just for me, and soon, I'll sink my teeth into your tender flesh and drink in your life force, binding us together for all time."

Spencer's words sent shivers down your spine, the promise of his bite igniting a thrill of fear and excitement. You knew what would happen if he took your blood- the eternal bond, the loss of your mortal self.

And yet, as he positioned himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, you found yourself craving that very fate. Craving the completeness, the utter possession, that only he could offer.

"Take me," you whispered, arching your back to meet his hips. "Make me yours, forever and always."

Spencer's eyes gleamed with triumph as he sheathed himself inside you in one smooth stroke. He paused for a moment, savoring the tight heat enveloping him, before beginning to move.

Spencer set a relentless pace, driving into you with powerful, precise strokes. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep within, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you clung to him, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of his thrusts.

"You feel incredible," he groaned, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight, so wet. As if you were made for me alone."

He angled his hips, reaching even deeper, and you felt your walls flutter around him in response. The sensation was overwhelming, bordering on pain, but you craved it, needed it to consume you whole.

"Yes, harder!" you shouted, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Fuck me like you own me!"

Spencer's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he complied with your demand. His lips trailed down your neck, biting slightly as he drew blood, licking it off of your delicate skin as he moans at the taste.

Spencer's fangs pierced your skin, sinking deep to draw forth a trickle of crimson lifeblood. He groaned in rapture as the metallic flavor danced on his tongue, the primal urge to feed overwhelming him.

But he held back, content for now to simply savor the taste of you. His tongue swirled around the wound, lapping up every precious drop before sealing the punctures with a gentle kiss.

“You taste divine,” his voice thick with desire. "Let me have a little taste of your essence. It's addictive."

He rocked into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "Soon, I'll take more than just a sip."

Spencer's thrusts grew more erratic, his control slipping as the hunger for your blood intensified. You felt his sharp teeth sink into the skin in between your breasts. He drank deeply from the fresh wound.

The taste of you was sublime, headier than any wine or drug. He couldn't get enough. He swallowed greedily, his eyes rolling back in bliss as he savored each mouthful.

"You're mine now, body and soul," he declared, his voice low and menacing as his mouth returns to your chest, drinking the thick crimson fluid.

You moan out in both pleasure and pain, feeling disoriented from the loss of blood. Your hands tangle into his hair, holding his head in place as he continues to drink.

Spencer kept feeding, each pull at your veins dragging you closer to the edge of consciousness. But still, you held him against your chest, unwilling to break the contact.

He pulled away, a faint line of blood tracing his lips, you felt dizzy, lightheaded. Your vision blurred at the edges, the room spinning around you. But through it all, you clung to him, your body thrumming with a newfound energy, a vitality that bordered on the supernatural.

"More," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Keep feeding."

Spencer's eyes glowed with an unholy light as he smiled, revealing his razor-sharp fangs. "Anything for you, my love," he purred, already descending upon your neck once more.

Spencer's fangs sank deeper, tearing open new pathways for his insatiable thirst. With each swallow, he felt your essence coursing through his veins, amplifying his strength, his speed, his very being.

His hips pistoned forward with renewed vigor, pounding into you with ruthless intensity. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall with each brutal thrust.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a guttural snarl. "All mine. Forever and always."

He could feel your climax building, your inner walls clenching around him like a vice. With a final, savage bite, he sent you hurtling over the edge.

Your orgasm triggered Spencer’s, the rhythmic contractions of your pussy pushed him over the edge as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling deeply within you as he drank the last of your blood.

He collapsed atop you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. Spencer lifted his head to gaze down at you. His eyes, once a vivid hazel, had darkened to an almost black hue, his face and chest completely covered in your blood.

You were too weak to move. Lying helplessly on the bed, you watched Spencer stare down at you with a wicked grin on his face.

You tried desperately to wake yourself up from this dream, but as you began losing consciousness you realized this wasn’t a dream anymore.

The last thing you hear is Spencer’s maniacal laughter echoing in your ears…

[storiesoflilies]

warning: slightly spicy, mdni!!!!

gladiator!toji was a fearsome sight to behold.

with marbled skin rippling like a river of bronze, a tattered canvas of tan and pink scars. he was violence and glory, a conqueror born from the very sand and blood of the arenas he fought in. a natural-born killer, toji craved the delicious rush that came with a fight to the death.

and yet, he was that and more.

she thought about that as the heavy iron gates rolled up for his grand entrance into the arena. about how toji fushiguro loved, and loved hard. how every night, with hushed whispers and swallowed moans, he would deeply push into her as if trying to slot his very soul next to hers. where it was safe, and he was safe, because they might not have the next night.

within a sea of people, their bloodlust traveling in waves, she never felt more alone. she bit her lips, digging bloody crescent moons into her palms, and felt her breath hitch as toji’s looming figure emerged from the shadows. the crowd roared and screamed at him, calling upon the gods for their favorite gladiator to give them a worthy show.

to them, that’s all toji was: a killer made only of flesh and bone, ready to die for them.

toji stopped in the dead center of the arena, his sword arm raised high in the air as he swept his green eyes in a full circle around the crowd, who went into a frenzy.

but he wasn’t doing it for them.

he knew she was there, watching him, waiting for him to perhaps catch a glimpse of her, praying beyond all hope that the gods would continue to spare her love from harm. that they would meet again that night in the dim light of his cell, their bare skin pressed tightly together, talking of whimsical daydreams and futures. toji would tell her how he fought for her, and how he would earn his freedom so they could be together.

how they’d live somewhere by the sea, with only the sounds of the waves and their lovemaking to be heard for miles. how they would watch the sunset every day and live off the bounty of the ocean, where they would only chase their pleasure and cultivate their own peace.

but for now, toji bared his teeth, his stance unwavering, as he prepared to face whatever they threw at him and win.

a/n: oh my, i can’t stop thinking about gladiator toji now, and i feel the extremely rare urge to write a smut drabble. i might just do it if you all ask nicely hehe :3

[daddyhausen]

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 KINKTOBER DAY TWENTY TWO : STIGMATOPHILIA 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

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「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 KINKTOBER 2023/2024 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — rhea is mesmerised by your new piercing

「 WARNINGS 」 — smut, 18 +, [ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ], tattoo!artist!rhea, dom!rhea, sub!reader, sadism/masochism nipple/clit piercings, mommy kink, public sex, oral sex, fingering, praise, squirting

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 2.3k

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x rhea ripley

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @heartbreakkidsangel @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @janetreader @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @romanreigns-supreme @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @selena-tyler-564 @alyyaanna @nightmare-freakin-viper @nev-danielgarciawife @teenagedramaqueenlisa @them4lice

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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rhea’s eyes marvelled at the design you had procured for her

it was a grand, cyber-sygial inspired piece, a heart at its centre, that would reside underneath your belly button, branching out around the soft flesh of your lower abdomen, across your hips, finally resting at the axis of where your thighs meet your hips

It was an intricate design, filled with sharp symmetrical points

definitely something that was outside of rhea’s traditional style but one that she attempted nonetheless

after all, anything for her favourite client

“and you want this piece where, exactly?”

rhea questioned with a curious quip, a small cock of her eyebrow as she examined the piece further.

you lifted up your shirt, the fabric two sizes too big, bunched up in one hand, while the other pried down your shorts ever the slightest

teasing, just a glimpse of your panties visible to rhea’s gaze and she could not help but wish her hands were in place of yours in that moment

“i was thinking around here”, you pointed out the space where you envisioned the tattoo would be and explained in detail how you wanted it to go

to be fair, your body barely had and blank canvas left at this point

your skin inked with rhea’s work, your arms held the first memories.

it was your first tattoo, a timid soul you were, staring up at her with doe eyes as she marked you with her art permanently

it was a simple design, albeit overdone in rhea’s eyes.

birth flowers of your parents and older brother, done in a fineline style on the inside of your forearm

the design now faded, melded in between various other designs of hers

her favourtite was the piece across your throat, not so because of the design itself, a neo-traditional black and white death moth, but moreson because rhea had to hold your head still between her thighs on the more intricate details

the intimacy of it, the closeness she craved.

she almost wished that you’d crane your head back just the slightest so the tip of your nose would rub against her clit through her jeans

even now thinking back on it her cunt quivered and drooled with excitement.

“i can do that for you”, rhea remarked with a subtle smirk

“go sit while i draw up the stencil for you”

you beamed excitedly and offered a toothy grin in return as you made your way to the back room, a more private area reserved for more intimate piercings and tattoos

rhea made her way to the back room, stencil drawn up in hand.

her eyes rose from her hands to see you lying on your back, expectantly awaiting her arrival,

shorts disregarded, leaving you just in your panties

“all ready for me i see?” rhea teased, a flirtatious undertone in her voice

“always“ you remarked as you mimicked her tone, eyelids heavy with a sultry gaze.

rhea hummed in response, her eyes fluttered down to the black lace, thong that adorned your pristine skin

gods, how rhea just wanted to rip it off with her teeth and devour your heavenly cunt right then and there.

rhea lined up the stencil as she tried to get precisely the right angle before she adhered it to your skin.

“you, know what, you're gonna have to take ’em for me, sweetheart.”

she tried to play it off as casual, but on the inside she was dying to just get a glimpse of your cunt.

her means were not nefarious in truth, she did need you to remove them to place the stencil on.

“forward arent you? at least buy me dinner first”

the playful words leaving your lips as you slide your panties dow your thighs as you threw them to the same spot where your shorts lie.

“spread ‘em for me a bit”, she manouvoured your thighs slightly after sticking the stencil to your stink, to gain better knowledge of how it would look from different angles

she caught a glimpse of a pearlescant bud between your thighs

“what’s this?”, rhea cocked her head in faux suspicion.

she new it was a clit piercing, the metal shimmering against your slick folds

clit still slightly puffy and swollen, the piercing only being applied recently

“cheating on me now? naughty girl”

“surely you don’t mind, damian did it for me last week”

your words only roused dangerous thoughts in rhea’s mind

sure damian was like a brother to her, and the relationship between the two of you was strictly professional

rhea could not help but let the jealousy overcome her over the fact damian has seen your precious cunt

“oh, so you let a man see that pretty cunt but not me?”

rhea’s eyes stalked across your cunt, her tongue parted her lips, licking the bottom one as her mouth watered with arousal

“i’m offended, sweetheart”

she leaned in closer, her hand resting atop your thigh, lightly massaging the supple flesh, she adored how it would fill the gaps between her fingers as she pawed at your skin, so soft so pliant .

“you know i only got eyes for you”

your response was somewhere half between the truth and a joke

rhea has always been someone who caught your attention,

you’ve always been hesitant to explore your desires with woman despite your attraction to them

“i know, pretty thing.”

rhea’s lips ghosted yours

“but i still gotta punish you for letting a man touch you”

her fingers dip lower, tracing around your piercing, clit still sensitive against her touch

your soft whimpers flooded her senses, a wave of adrenaline coursing through her veins as her fingertips ghosted over your swollen clit

“i can fuck you better than a man ever could, you know that, sweetheart?”

you whimpered out a small “yes”in response, already completely enamored with the way she was making you feel

small jolts of pleasure rushed up your thighs with each subtle stroke of her fingertips

“men dont know how to touch please pretty girls like you”

her tongue lopped out past her lips, licking and sucking small shapes into your jawline and neck

“when was the last time a man even made you cum, huh?”

it took you a while to think, her worlds spiralling in your mind.

upon your recollection, you came to notice that not a single one of your male partners ever had the decency of allowing you to orgasm

you’d come close but it would never reach its peak, it would always end with them leaving and you having to finish the job beneath the sheets, fingers buried deep in your cunt and a vibe against your clit

yet with rhea, even with her fingers languidly stroking your aching clit, you’d never felt more pleasure in your life.

“can’t think of any, huh?”

a smirk crossed rhea’s lips as she gazed upon your bewildered expression, a cocky chuckle leaving her throat

“don’t worry, pretty girl. i’ll make it happen”

her lips attacked yours in a flurry of feverish kisses. A mixture of lips, teeth and tongue colliding together in heated passion

her fingers dipped between your folds, gatherling your slick on the pads of her index and middle fingers, feeling you out to see just how deep you could take her.

“so wet for me”

her words buzzed against your lips, an ecstatic moan ripping through your throat as she inched her fingers deeper inside you

your gummy walls clenching around her inked digits, squeezing and pulling her in, welcoming the force that she brought along with it.

“shh not so loud” she scolded, biting your bottom lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough fo you to heed her warning.

her free hand fell to your breast, palming the mounds of fat and flesh in between her slender fingers, feeling the swell of your nipples graze against the fabric,

“take this off” she groaned, the hand once on your breasts not tugging up your shirt.

her wording more or less a reminder to herself than direct intrusion.

your breasts not exposed, the swell them freely bouncing against the force of her fingers, shee leered down at them, her gaze predatory as she examined the small bars that pierced both your nipples

“these have healed nicely havent they?”

she licked a stripe against your nipple, her tongue twirling around the pebbled bud, a deep moan reverberated through her throat

leaving your skin, bursting and bubbling with arousal

“mhm…”

the sound left your lips in a mere hum of response, barely able to open your eyes to gaze upon her as she worked you over

her fingernails, coffin in their shape, painted black with an iridescent shimmer each time the studio lights would reflect at certain angles

the sight itself vampiric in nature, her especially, hovering over you like a succubus ready to claim what is hers

her fingers tugged and toyed with the bar, twisting it.

the sensation riveting, like volts of pleasure directly to where she touched

and combined with the feeling of the metal, so delicately pierced through the sensitive skin

it was nothing short of extraordinary

“good girl” rhea mused, her words muddled within a mixture of tongue, flesh and lips

sucking and biting your skin

spit dribbling from her lips, across your nipple and down the underside of your breast

all the while her right hand filled and fucked you cunt much like a cock would

not that a cock could ever compare to rhea’s fingers

“gonna give mommy a taste hmm?”

her words like honey, so sickly sweet on the tip of your tongue

you nodded, bottom lip tucked tightly between your teeth a desperate and futile attempt to stifle your moans

you felt empty within seconds, your void now free of her fingers

staring up at her through half-lidded eyes, already so worn and fucked out despite the silent denial of your orgasm

her fingers made contact with her lips, grool and spit dripped from them, her tongue working around the digits just how she did your nipple mere moments ago

parting them with her tongue, licking slowly upwards, until her fingers were clean, only how you wished she’d taste your cunt

your taste lingered in her tongue, a mixture of tangy and sweet. perfection.

you could not help but admire how she towered over you, so dominant despite doing nothing of that nature in the mere seconds between actions

she kneeled before you, palms smoothing across your inner thighs, the tip of her nose grazing against your clit

she smiled into you, her breath fanning against your cunt

your thighs shook with wondrous tremors at the feeling

your back arching slightly, a small whimper catching in your throat

“easy pretty thing. relax for me”

she kissed your inner thighs letting her tongue lay flat against your cunt

allowing your taste to mingle with her tastebuds

“fuck..mmm” your thighs almost instinctively clenched around her head as her tongue danced around your clit

your skin heated, burning like furry embers as a blush crept upon your cheeks

almost embarrassed to look her in the eye as you let her tongue explore every crevice of your sweet void

she smirked against your folds

hands placed on your inner thighs, pushing them down to reveal her gaze to you once more

“dont get shy on me now, sweetheart”

she littered kisses against your clit, tongue swirling around the piercing

“wanna see you fall apart, cum all over my tongue…”

she dove into you, biting, licking, sucking, kissing any part of your juicy pussy her mouth made contact with

your taste euphoric on her tongue, ascending her beyond this mortal realm

“wanna see how good i make you feel…”

your hand weaved into the died tendrils of your hair, the black, choppy strands being tugged and pulls by the roots as she continued to consume your sweetness

“oh fuck…that’s it sweetheart, pull it harder, mommy likes that”

the sound of slick and spit accompanied her ravenous words, each syllable, each breath drawing your orgasm closer and closer

“m-mommy” you whimpered, the honorific so foreign on your tongue is almost sounded like a question

she only responded with a simple hum, far too preoccupied for ilde small talk.

your taste was too sweet to ignore

her lipstick smeared, streaks of burgundy stained your under thighs, skin to blood as it the pigment mixed with your slick

not that you minded

“gonna cum? hmm?” her voice like liquid velvet, lowered an october to display her dominance

“i can feel how close you are..mmm…you’re clenching around my tongue baby.”

you gave a meek nod, tightening your grip on her scalp

your breath shudder, release nearing, a moan ripped through your throat, so load that you immediately had to clasp a hand one your mouth

forgetting momentarily that you were still in her place of work

a sight that made rhea chuckle.

“god you taste so fucking good”

she kissed around your folds before returning to your clit

“want be to put my fingers back in, sweetheart? make you feel nice and full again while you cum? you’d like that hmm?”

“mhm…please” your chiseled out through a broken moan, feeling two of her finger slip past your folds, pumping into your at a ravenous pace

“oh fuck mmm…mommy that feels so good-“

her fingers curled up into you, tracing imaginary shapes into your cunt.

“c’mon baby, cum for me.”

she could feel your walls tighten around her

sweetness gushing around her fingers, clit sparking against your tongue, the piercing only heightened the sensation

“that’s it baby, taste so fucking sweet for me”

she pried her self away, allowing your a moment of respite as she gingerly stroked your thighs

“my pretty girl, you made such a mess”

she placed a kiss to you cunt, once which made you involuntarily shudder

“how’s about we get you clean up and finish that tattoo of yours huh?”

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[zeroxxlhero]

can i request a werewolf! vi x either human! or fairy! reader where her tail wags during it? :3 please no hunter reader! just wanna be on an equal power balance as her, or a good guy

Tail • Vi

Warnings: 18+ characters, werewolf! Vi, doggy style, Vi having a tail, creampie, reader is a regular human, cowgirl, praising, marking, rough sex

Pairings: Vi x You

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Vi's tail swishes lazily behind her as she kneels between your spread legs, her eyes dark with lust. The thick, veiny dick jutting from her crotch is already drooling pre-cum, the fat head an angry, purplish red. Your cunt clenches, a gush of wetness seeping out to coat your inner thighs. The smell of your arousal hangs heavy in the air, musky and sweet. It mingles with the scent of her, that unique blend of hot, hard Vi and something wild and feral.

That tail twitching over her ass, the only sign of her alien nature, makes you clench again. Makes your thighs tremble with the need to be mounted, to be taken hard and deep by Vi's massive cock.

You don’t have to wait long.

Vi surges forward, her cock slamming into your cunt like a battering ram. You cry out, the pleasure-pain of the sudden intrusion sending stars exploding behind your eyelids. She's so big, so fucking huge that you can feel her in your throat.

The need to breathe is a distant concern. The only thing that matters is the thick slide of Vi's cock in your cunt, the drag of her heavy balls against your clit with every thrust. She fucks you like a machine, her pace never faltering as she splits you open on her dick. The need to come, to spasm and shake and scream, is a clawing desperation in your gut. The need to be filled, to be seeded and claimed and ruined, is the only coherent thought in your brain.

Her thrusts are getting messier, her hips slapping against your ass with wet, obscene slaps. The friction is delicious, each drag of her cock against your sensitive walls stoking the flames of your desire higher and higher. You're lost in it, in the rhythm of her fucking, the slap of flesh on flesh and the squelch of your juices. You can barely catch your breath before she's slamming back in, her thickness stretching you to the point of pain.

But it's a pain you welcome, a pain you crave like a drug.

She doesn't slow down, doesn't ease up as she chases her release. If anything, she fucks you harder, her thrusts growing erratic, desperate. It's messy, sloppy in the best way possible. Like she can't get enough, like she wants to fucking devour you whole.

"F-fuck," Vi whines, her voice strained with need. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So wet and perfect." Then she punctuates her words with a particularly deep thrust, the head of her cock kissing your cervix. You cry out, your back arching as your eyes roll back in your head. "Wanna fucking cum so bad. Wanna fill this pussy up until it's fucking overflowing." Her tail is wagging now, a fast, eager thump against her ass cheeks as she fucks you. She doesn’t let up, doesn't slow down as she chases her release.

Your cunt is aching, your clit throbbing with each slap of her heavy balls against it. You're so close, teetering on the knife's edge of orgasm. All it would take is one touch, one word from Vi's mouth to send you careening over the edge.

She found what she was looking for and sank her fangs deep into your shoulder. A cry tore from your throat at the sudden rush of pain, your nails scrabbling uselessly at the sheets.

It wasn’t just a bite.

It was a claim, a primal marking that set your very soul on fire. Your cunt clamped down around her, rhythmic contractions that pushed her right over the edge. She roared into your skin, her cum erupting from her cock in thick, hot spurts that flooded your insides.

You came with a wail of her name, your eyes rolling back as ecstasy crashed over you in waves. She fucked you through it, prolonging your release until you were nothing more than a quivering, incoherent mess. Only then did she ease back, licking the claiming mark on your shoulder with a satisfied rumble.

Your shoulders slump beneath you, your weight a soothing press against her back. Your hands trace aimless patterns on her flanks, petting her the way she likes. She wriggles into your touch, a content little whine escaping her throat. Her tail is wagging now, thumping against your thigh with every beat of her heart. She turns her head to nuzzle into your neck, her tongue darting out to lap at the claiming mark on your shoulder. You shiver, the residual zing of pleasure-pain sending a thrill down your spine.

"Good puppy," you croon, scratching behind her ear the way you know she loves. "Such a good girl. Did so well, made me feel so good." Your praise is like honey on your tongue, the words flowing effortlessly as you bask in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

She sighs, pressing closer with a contented rumble. Then the rumble shifts, becoming something low and needy as she starts to move against you. Her thrusts are lazy, languid, but no less insistent. You can feel her half-hard cock sliding between your legs, smearing wetness over your thighs. She whimpers, her hips stuttering as she seeks friction. She attacks your neck with nips and licks, her teeth scraping against your pulse point.

"P-please," she whines, her voice small and desperate. "W-want you again. Need you again." She seeks your gaze, her eyes bright and pleading. The need to give in, to take her again and again until neither of you can move, is a living thing inside you. With a noise of your own, you shove her onto her back, pinning her with your weight.

You position yourself over her hips, her cock twitching eagerly against your dripping folds. Without preamble, you sink down, taking her to the hilt in one smooth motion. Vi throws her head back with a choked moan, her hands flying to your hips. She clings to you like you're a lifeline, her fingers digging into your flesh as she tries to pull you deeper. You obligingly roll your hips, grinding down against her until her cock is nudging at your cervix.

She doesn’t disappoint, thrusting up into you.

You lean down, your hands braced on her chest as you set a fast, hard pace. Your tits bounce with every gyration of your hips, Vi's hands coming up to cup and knead the soft mounds. The rough, almost bruising touch sends sparks of pleasure racing through you, stoking the fires that are already raging out of control.

You ride her like a woman possessed, your hips slamming down onto hers with every thrust. Your cunt is greedy, swallowing up her length like it's starving for it.

And in a way, you are.

You're insatiable, the need to be filled, to be stretched, to be completely and utterly owned by this magnificent creature below you. It's primal, the way you fuck her, the way she fucks you back. There's no tenderness to it, no gentle caresses or whispered endearments.

Vi's tail is a blur of motion, the furry appendage thumping against the mattress in time with her thrusts. It pools from her lower back, the length of it stretching out behind her like a fuzzy flag. The need to reach out, to tangle your fingers in it and tug, is a sudden, visceral thing. You lean back, your hand snaking between your bodies to fist around the base of her tail. You jerk her to you, using the leverage of her tail to pull yourself deeper onto her cock.

The tail tug makes Vi moan, her back arching off the bed. The sound is one of purest bliss, a wanton, keening cry that shoots straight to your cunt. You clench around her, your inner walls rippling along her length as if to encourage her to keep making those beautiful noises. She doesn’t disappoint. Her thrusts grow harder, more erratic, like you've triggered something primal in her.

The need to come, to be filled with her again, is a desperation inside you.

The need to feel her flooding your cunt, marking you from the inside out, is a physical ache.

The need to be hers, mind, body and soul, is the only coherent thought left in your brain.

The need to be one with her, to meld flesh and bone and spirit into a single, pulsing entity is a screaming demand in your blood.

The new angle lets Vi sink impossibly deeper, the head of her cock nudging at your cervix with every grind of your hips. You cry out, your head falling back as pleasure sparks behind your eyelids. Your free hand comes up to join the first, both of them tugging hard on Vi's tail as you ride her.

Your grip on her tail tightens, your nails digging into the furry flesh as you use it to impale yourself on her cock. Your cunt is gushing, coating Vi's dick in your slick arousal. The wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fill the room, mixing with the creak of the protesting bed frame.

Your clit is throbbing, each brush of Vi's pubic bone against it sending electric jolts of pleasure racing through your veins. You're close, teetering on the knife's edge of orgasm. All it would take is one more thrust, one more twist of your hips to send you crashing over the edge. But you hold off, biting your lip hard enough to taste blood as you wait for Vi. Wait for her to join you in bliss. You look down at her, your eyes locking with hers in a moment of perfect clarity.

It's all harsh gasps and guttural moans, the slap of flesh on flesh and the squeak of the bed frame as it struggles to withstand your mutual assault. Your clit is throbbing, every drag of Vi's thick cock against it sending sparks of pleasure skittering up your spine. You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of your gut.

Your bodies are moving as one, a perfect syncopation of flesh and muscle and need. Vi's tail is pulled taut, stretching her taut as she pistons into you with a singular ferocity. The need to surrender, to let her take you, claim you, own your body and soul, is a scream in your skull. She doesn’t make you wait. She seals her mouth over yours in a bruising kiss, her tongue invading, claiming, possessing. Your tongues twine, the taste of her, the flavor of your combined desires, exploding across your taste buds.

It's heady, intoxicating, a drug that you could happily drown in.

The need to be closer, to be merged, to be one is a primal demand, a clawing urgency that refuses to be denied. You're grinding against her now, your hips slamming down to meet her ruthless upward thrusts.

You slam down onto her one last time, a high keen tearing from your throat as you shatter. Your head falls back, your mouth opening in a silent scream as pleasure crashes over you in endless waves. It goes on and on, each contraction of your cunt prolonging your shared bliss.

She cum with you, her shout of your name echoing off the walls as she floods you with her release. Your pussy milks her, greedy for every last drop as you rock through the aftershocks. It's not until you've squeezed her dry that you collapse on top of her, your face buried in the sweat-dampened crook of her neck. You both lay there, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath.

The need to move is distant, unimportant in the face of this blissful lassitude. So you don't, letting Vi hold you as you drift in the hazy realm between wakefulness and sleep.

[rando5673]

ミ★🜚☙꡴ NYE

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: You and Paige on new years!

Warnings: party, drinking alcohol (reader), suggestive at the end, kissing, fluff, lesbians in love 😮, UNEDITED!

The bright beams of colourful lights continued to illuminate the large room the party was being held in. After getting ready with her and the rest of the team, you and Paige had somehow lost each other as the night went on. You had been fine for the most part, having a few drinks and dancing with your friends with the occasional flirty comment about your outfit but nothing you couldn’t handle.

However, now that the effects of your latest alcoholic beverage had began to present themselves, you found yourself slightly uncomfortable in the absence of your girlfriends touch and on edge of the ever approaching new year you wanted to celebrate with her.

With only a few minutes left until the celebration, both you and Paige were looking around for each other. You, taking a wonder through the crowd in your dazed state. Paige, getting her friends to help her push her way through crowds to get to you in her sober state. Not to say that she didn’t trust you but she had been desperately craving your touch and attention since you two got separated.

Eventually and comedically just in time, you manage to spot Paige’s head above most of the crowd and hurriedly make your way towards her. Once in her vicinity you wrap your arms around her waist tightly and lean your head against her back. You hear her giggle and turn herself around in your arms, tilting your chin to look her in the eyes.

“Glad I found you baby” she says over the music, mustering a content “hmm” from you.

Around you people begin to count down from ten, however you and Paige are still lost in each other’s eyes.

“3!”The world’s noise fading into the background as she gently grabs your chin with one hand, the other planting itself on the curve of your ass.

“2!” She leans towards your face, hers and your eyes fluttering closed. Warm breaths on each others face, yours tinged with alcohol.

“1!” You both lean into each other lips, locking in a passionate kiss while cheers and shouts litter in the background. Paige tugs you closer by the hand now on your waist and glides it to mount your thigh onto her hip, leaning you backwards to deepen the kiss as she slips her tongue into your mouth.

Pulling away, Paige’s hands stay in the same position, the one on your thigh now rubbing circles into the tight-covered flesh. Your foreheads rest against each other, eyes searching each others soul with your lips still dangerously close.

“Happy new year ma” Paige whispers against your lips, “Happy new year Paigey” you giggle in response. “Let’s get you home gorgeous” Paige says before kissing you sweetly once more.

HI!! I’m tipsy and tired and writing this at 2:18am (uk time) and posting it so if it’s awful I’ll know about it when I wake up.

HAPPY NEW YEAR! Enjoy it! I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you ♡︎

[nayziiz]

Freckles | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

In the public eye, Lando Norris was a figure shrouded in misconception. People projected onto him their own fantasies and assumptions, painting him as a hedonistic playboy living a life defined by fleeting pleasures. Yet, behind the veil of rumours and gossip, Lando harboured a far more complex truth.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't the physical act of sex that enticed Lando. Instead, it was the elusive intimacy th!

In the quiet sanctuary of their shared moments, Lando found solace in the tender details that transcended mere physical gratification. As their bodies entwined in a dance of passion, it was the subtleties that ignited his soul.

He cherished the way her head would lull back, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that swept over her, her eyes closing in blissful abandon. Each pant and sigh echoed in the intimacy of their shared space, a symphony of desire that spoke volumes without words.

But it was in the moments of tender connection that Lando found his truest fulfilment. As their fingers intertwined, a silent affirmation of their bond, he revelled in the unspoken language that passed between them. With every thrust, every heartbeat, they forged a connection that transcended the physical realm, anchoring them in a world of their own creation.

Her gaze, unwavering and intense, held him captive in a realm of shared intimacy, each glance a testament to the depths of their connection. In the hushed whispers of their lovemaking, they found a refuge from the chaos of the world, a sanctuary where their souls could intertwine without fear or judgement.

Her touch, featherlight and electric, sent shivers cascading down his spine, igniting a symphony of sensation that reverberated through his being. In the gentle caress of her hands, he found a home—a sanctuary where he could lay bare his soul without reservation.

For Lando, the culmination of their love was not measured in mere moments of release, but in the exquisite tapestry of connection they wove with each shared breath. In the quiet intimacy of their embrace, he found a love that surpassed all understanding—a love that left him breathless, craving more with every beat of his heart.at surrounded it, the connection forged in vulnerability and trust. While others sought superficial encounters, Lando craved the depth of genuine connection, a yearning that only intensified as his public persona diverged further from his private reality.

Amidst the clamour of misconceptions, there was one person who understood Lando in a way no other could. She saw beyond the facade, delving into the depths of his soul where his true desires resided. Their bond transcended the superficialities of fame and fortune, rooted in mutual understanding and unwavering support.

For Lando, intimacy wasn't a commodity to be bought or traded—it was a sacred exchange reserved for those who cherished his true self. And in the tumultuous world of fame, there was only one person capable of satiating his craving for authentic connection.

In the hushed aftermath of their shared ecstasy, Lando would draw her close, her body yielding to the gentle weight of his embrace. With a tenderness born of reverence, he would trace the constellation of freckles that adorned her skin, each one a testament to the beauty of their shared moments.

Starting at her wrists, he would press soft kisses against her delicate flesh, a silent homage to the journey they had embarked upon together. Slowly, reverently, his lips would trail upward, mapping the landscape of her body with an intimacy that transcended words.

As he reached her shoulders, he would linger, savouring the warmth of her skin beneath his lips. Each freckle became a point of connection, a tiny universe unto itself, as he traced their patterns with a reverence that bordered on worship.

Moving lower, his touch would dance across her back, following the gentle curve of her spine with a tender reverence. With each kiss, each caress, he would weave a tapestry of intimacy that bound them together in an unbreakable bond.

But it was when his lips found the freckles scattered across her thighs that the true depth of their connection was revealed. In those moments, as he traced the contours of her skin with a gentleness born of love, they were no longer two separate beings but a single entity bound by the threads of passion and desire.

And as she leaned against him, her body still humming with the echoes of their lovemaking, she would search for the few freckles that dotted his own skin, a silent invitation to reciprocate the intimate exchange. In the wordless language of their love, they found a connection that transcended the physical realm—a connection forged in the heat of passion and tempered by the gentle touch of understanding.

[aeralux]

"Pretty When You Cry" - Jacaerys Velaryon

Modern!Jace x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Like all good things, your relationship with your boyfriend, Jacaerys, must come to a (bitter) end. You always knew he was 'trouble', but his turning to stronger substances was the final straw for you. Thinking you have seen the last of him, you slowly start to let go. Until one evening, a sad brown-eyed boy stands under your window.

Warnings: badboy!Jace; SMUT; alludes to smoking weed; substance abuse (very light, not detailed); bad language; fingering; slight angst; FLUFFY

Words: 9.7k

Notes: No physical description of the reader (other than she has hair). This smut is way softer compared to my others, but I kinda like it. Mentions them smoking weed together (once), but it doesn't mean I condone it (it just fits into the story).

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

You were a cold person—a real fortress of ice (or, in other words, a 'bitch'). Always had been. Keeping outsiders at arm’s length was second nature to you; the warmth of companionship felt unfamiliar and unwelcome. That’s why it was so damn weird when Jacaerys, that threat of a guy, somehow crept his way past your defences and cracked the surface of your rigid heart.

Everyone knew Jace was trouble. He was dressed in a leather jacket, had wild hair, and had a charming smile. He thrived on chaos, making a mess of everything and everyone he encountered.

But with you, it was different. There was a tenderness in the way he looked at you, a softness amidst all that hostility. You’d find yourselves huddled in the shadows of the school, sharing cigarettes like secrets, each drag pulling you deeper into his messy orbit. Weekends melted into hazy afternoons spent sprawled on his couch, escaping reality with thick clouds of smoke, giggles spilling from your lips as you blissfully ignored the ticking clock.

But like all sweet things, that honeymoon phase didn’t last. Soon, the thrill of getting high on weed wasn't enough for Jace; he craved something stronger, something that could drown the demons clawing at his insides. That’s when he started craving cocaine, seeking out dealers and new highs, convinced the world would be brighter on the other side. But it took only one wrong turn; one bad choice. He got caught, his friend’s betrayal cutting deeper than any blade when they ratted him out.

The weight of that reality crashed down on you like a ton of bricks. Breaking it off was like tearing flesh from bone, but staying was not an option. You couldn’t tether your soul to a sinking ship. You felt hollow, your heart twisting painfully in your chest as you abandoned the love you once thought could save him. Sure, it hurt like hell, but you understood that you had to protect yourself. You had your own battles to fight, and getting lost in his darkness would only bury you in the ruins of his choices.

With a weary sigh, you flopped onto your bed, staring at old photos that felt like ghosts from another life. Each smile captured in those pictures stung with nostalgia—memories now laced with an ache that wouldn’t fade. You scrolled through them, pain blossoming in your chest as you clicked delete, one after another, feeling like pieces of yourself were vanishing along with them.

Just as silence threatened to suffocate the room, it shattered with a sharp ping against your window. Irritated, you shot up, heart racing. Those pesky crows made trouble every night, and here they were again. But then another pebble hit, and again—this was getting ridiculous. Who the hell was out there? It was nearly midnight, for crying out loud.

“Oh my God!” you groaned, rolling your eyes as you yanked open the window. A pebble narrowly missed your head, landing with a soft thud on your bed. “Stop! I have a bat! And trust me, I will use it if I have to!” Your voice carried a tinge of annoyance but an undertone of curiosity behind your words.

“Wait! No! I’m sorry, just listen to me,” came the soft, pleading voice that made your heart stutter. You froze, disbelief crashing over you like a wave. It was Jacaerys, and you hadn’t heard that voice in months—months that felt like an eternity. His parents had sent him to an inpatient treatment centre outside the city.

Your mouth hung open, breath hitching in your throat. “Jace…” you whispered, a flood of emotions washing over you. “You’re back.” The simple words felt loaded, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken between you two—the love, the hurt, the wreckage of what once was.

Everything you thought you had pushed away surged back up, a mix of joy, anger, and longing swirling like a violent storm inside you. Your heart raced with uncertainty, the possibility of fresh pain coursing through your veins. You stood there, teetering on the edge, wondering if this moment would lead you back to paradise or into the depths of despair.

"Can I come up?" His voice was soft and hesitant, a stark contrast to the insolence you used to know. It felt foreign, almost shaky, and it sent a wave of tension crashing over you. You paused, biting your lip as a million questions swirled in your mind. Had he changed, or was this just a façade? But deep down, you could no longer deny it—the way your heart betrayed you, ached with longing for the boy you once knew.

“Yeah, yeah… sure,” you managed to whisper, your voice so faint it was almost lost to the night. The moment the words escaped your lips, you felt a rush of adrenaline and fear. Jacaerys climbed the trellis with practised ease, his movements almost instinctual.

When he finally stood before you, the sight sent a chill racing down your spine. Those dark circles under his eyes. The bruise on his cheek was a sickening shade of purple. And that cut on his lip? It brought back memories of all the times he had worn his pain-like armour, too proud to let anyone see him break.

Before you could muster a single question, before you could voice the countless thoughts that flooded your mind, he pulled you into a tight embrace that stole the breath from your lungs. His body was cold against yours, sending tingles across your skin, and it took everything in your power not to shiver. You hugged him back fiercely, almost desperate, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He smelled like pine trees and the faintest hint of cigarettes—familiar and intoxicating. It was a scent that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, despite the chill of reality. All the memories rushed back, the laughter, the secrets shared in the dark, and the way he used to make everything seem okay, if only for a moment. You felt the weight of unresolved feelings crash over you, the longing too powerful to fight anymore. In that moment, it was just the two of you against the world, and it felt both terrifying and achingly perfect.

Jacaerys held you tightly, his heart pounding wildly against your chest, the rapid thumping echoing in the heavy silence around you. It was a physical reminder of everything that had brought him back to this moment. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, the softness of your curves pressed against him, and it took him back to all the nights he had spent longing for your closeness, wishing he could turn back time. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled your familiar scent—sweet and grounding—letting it envelop him like a warm blanket in the cold void of his regrets.

"I've missed you," he murmured into your hair, voice thick with emotion. Each word felt like a confession, raw and vulnerable, stripping away the armour he usually wore. "More than you'll ever know."

He sensed you tremble ever so slightly in his arms, and an urgency surged through him. He tightened his grip as if you could slip through his fingers at any moment. He understood that you had every right to be furious, to push him away, and yet, he clung to the fragile hope that a flicker of affection still resided within you, that somewhere beneath the pain, there was still space for him.

"I'm sorry," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it louder might shatter the moment. "I'm sorry for everything. For hurting you, for making you feel… God, I can't even imagine the kind of pain I put you through. But I swear to you, I’m going to make this right. I'm going to fix this, fix us. If you'll let me."

He pulled back slightly, his heart racing as he searched your eyes, desperately seeking any sign that you still cared. In the depths of your gaze, he saw layers of pain, confusion, and simmering anger, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface. It ignited a flicker of determination within him.

"Please," he urged, desperation dripping from his words, his voice cracking with vulnerability. "Just give me a chance to explain. A chance to show you that I can be better… for you."

He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that felt almost sacred. He watched as goosebumps rose on your skin, a testament to the electric current sparking between you. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours in a soft touch, but kissing you yet.

He pulled back, eyes locked on yours, his breath hitching in his throat as he waited. He needed your answer, your next move. The silence hung heavy around you, a fragile moment suspended in time, and he dared to hope, praying that you still felt something for him.

"I missed you too," you whisper, your voice quivering. With shaking hands, you reach out to touch his hair, needing to feel the proof of his presence. "Every day…every single day," you choke back a sob, leaning your forehead against his. Your fingers tangle in his soft brown curls, a familiar comfort.

Your heart aches as you take in his appearance. He looks different, the light in his eyes dimmed. What did they do to him in that centre? You want to ask, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you hold him tighter, breathing in his scent, letting it wash over you like a balm.

You don't know what the future holds, but at this moment, you know one thing for sure - you have never stopped loving him, no matter how hard you have tried.

Jacaerys felt your fingers tangling in his hair, grounding him amidst the disorder swirling inside. It was a connection he craved, raw and vital—like air, like life.

"I'm here now," he murmured, his voice low, heavy with sincerity. "And I’m not going anywhere this time."

He lifted his head, locking eyes with you, and the intensity of his gaze felt electric. "What happened… what I did… it won't happen again. I swear it on my life. I’ve finally started to grasp who I am, what I’ve lost, what I can’t afford to lose again."

His hands found your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones in a way that felt like both a promise and a plea. "You matter. More than anything else in this messed-up world. I was lost before, but every step I take now is bringing me back to you."

He could see the tears welling in your eyes, ready to spill over, and it twisted his insides. The sight of your hurt, knowing he was the reason behind it, was a weight he had to carry. But right now, as you clung to him with a desperation that echoed his own, he vowed fiercely that he would never be the cause of your pain again.

"Shh," he soothed, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek, a tender attempt to wipe away the heartache. "I know I hurt you. I messed up. God, I messed up so badly. But I promise—I'm going to be the man you deserve. The man I should’ve been all along."

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you like a stronghold, desperate to shield you from the world’s cruelty. At this moment, it felt like the air around you was dense with possibility, your broken pieces finally finding their match in each other. He poured everything he had into that embrace, pouring out a torrent of feelings he hoped you'd understand without him needing to say them.

"I love you," he whispered, each word hanging in the space between you like a confession, a truth he could no longer keep buried. "I never stopped loving you. Not for a single damn second."

His heart raced as he leaned in, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, hungering for that connection. He wanted to lose himself in your kiss, to drown in everything that was you, but he held back, desperate for your consent, your willing embrace. His body thrummed with electric anticipation, but he forced himself to wait, needing you to take that leap with him.

"My sweet boy," you murmured, your voice cracking slightly as you leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his forehead. The warmth of his skin beneath your touch sent a comforting flutter through your chest, but the sight of his bruised face twisted your heart. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, fingers trembling slightly as you traced the outline of his face, lingering on the cut that marred his plump lower lip. It was red and swollen, a stark reminder of whatever he had been through.

"What happened?" The question slipped from your lips, heavy with concern and a desperate need to understand. You searched his eyes, those deep pools that were usually so full of life now clouded with shadows. Each second that passed without an answer felt like a knife twisting in your gut. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of the months apart pressing down on you; the world had felt so hollow without him.

Even after all this time, your feelings hadn’t dulled—they had only grown sharper, fueled by the fear of losing him again. You wanted to wrap him in your arms and shield him from every pain, every fight. He had come back, against all odds. For you. Because of you. The thought was both a balm and a burden. The intimacy of the moment hung heavily in the air—a fragile mix of relief and anxiety, love and unspoken fear. You wanted to protect him, to erase the hurt from his past, but you feared that you weren’t enough.

As you looked at him, your heart ached with the need to defy every obstacle that had pulled you apart. You could see that it scared him, too—the possibility of falling back into the darkness. You drew in a shaky breath, your thumb brushing over his lip again as if your touch could somehow erase the pain he was feeling. "Please, just tell me," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "I’ll be right here, I promise." The weight of your words hung between you as you tried to bridge the insurmountable distance.

At that moment, the world outside faded, leaving just the two of you caught in the chaos of emotions—anguish mixing with an undeniable spark of love that danced in your hearts. But despite the love, the turmoil of his silent suffering threatened to unravel everything you held dear. And you would do anything to keep that from happening.

Jacaerys felt the warmth of your touch on his marred lip, a jolt of electricity firing through him that made him close his eyes. He leaned into your caress, every featherlight brush igniting a craving he'd been nursing for months. Your gentle touch, the loving concern in your gaze—it was everything he’d been missing. Shame and relief danced inside him like a twisted waltz, and he couldn’t decide which one was winning.

When you asked about the bruises, he opened his eyes, suddenly feeling exposed. The vulnerability in his gaze must have struck you, and it unnerved him. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself, knowing you deserved the truth—raw and unfiltered.

“It was a fight,” he finally admitted, his voice rough and jagged, like he was scraping it off the floor. “They threw me in detention, and some guy didn’t like that I was new. He decided he needed to make an example of me.”

There was a pause, thick with unspoken words, as he swallowed hard. It was easier to share the physical pain than the emotional weight he'd been carrying.

“But that’s not all,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “They made us go through these intense therapy sessions—group and individual. I had to face everything I’ve done, all the areas where I’ve messed up. It hurt like hell, but it was necessary. I realized just how much I’d hurt you… and how much I’ve hurt myself. I couldn’t keep running from my problems; they all caught up with me there.”

His hand found yours, fingers intertwining like they were made to fit together. He needed that connection, that anchor. “I know I can’t change the past. Believe me, I wish I could. But I’m determined to change the future. I want to be the man you deserve, the man I was always meant to be. I’m committed to my sobriety, to making things right, to being better—better for you, for us.”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, trying to find the right way to lay it all out. “And I need you. I need you like I need air. Without you, I’m lost. You’ve always been my anchor.”

His eyes searched yours, desperately seeking any sign of hope, any glimmer that could tell him you still believed in him. “I love you,” he confessed, the raw honesty crashing over him like a wave. “I love you more than words can ever say. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you give it to me, I swear I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

There was a moment of silence, the weight of everything he’d said hanging between you like a fragile thread, and he prayed it would hold.

"You kept my clothes?" Jacaerys repeated, the words sinking in slowly. His heart thudded against his ribs, a sudden rush of emotions sparking through him. The idea that you had held onto something so personal, a tangible piece of him, even after everything… it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

You nodded silently, still looking through your closet.

"You must have cared more than you let on," he murmured, taking a tentative step towards you. "All this time, I thought… I thought you'd moved on, that I'd pushed you away for good…"

He watched as you rifled through your closet, searching for something for him to wear. The action was so mundane, yet it spoke volumes about the depth of your feelings. You were still taking care of him, even now, even after all the pain he'd caused.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he watched you pull out a shirt and boxers from the closet. "Thank you for keeping them… for keeping a piece of me."

He hesitated before adding, "And thank you for giving me a chance to prove myself. I won't let you down again."

As you handed him the shirt, Jacaerys took it with shaky hands, the fabric reminding him of happier times. He looked at you, his eyes reflecting a world of sorrow and hope. "I'll change in the bathroom," he said quietly.

"Wait," you blurted out, the words escaping before you could catch them. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realised what you had said. "I mean… you're dirty from your climb. You should take a bath."

You huffed, feeling the heat of his gaze linger just a little too long, making your heart race. It felt awkward after a long time apart. "Let me get it ready for you," you mumbled, slipping past him into the small bathroom that smelled faintly of lavender.

Inside, you turned on the hot water, listening to the comforting splash as it filled the tub. You grabbed a bag of vanilla-scented Epsom salts, letting the soft grains pour into the water. The sweet aroma enveloped you, mixing with the steam rising from the tub, and for a moment, the outside world faded away.

Leaning against the sink, you allowed your thoughts to drift to Jacaerys. He was so close, yet so far away, and the tension in the air was almost tangible. Despite your earlier awkwardness, warmth blossomed within you—this was the closest you’d been in months, sharing this quiet, intimate moment.

Jacaerys watched you retreat into the bathroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he processed your words. A bath… the intimacy of it wasn't lost on him. It was a gesture of care, of wanting to take care of him, even in such a small way.

He followed you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you prepare the bath. The scent of vanilla filled the air, soothing and comforting. It reminded him of lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in sheets, enjoying the warmth of your embrace.

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice gentle. "I can manage on my own."

But even as he spoke the words, he knew he wanted you to stay. Wanted to feel your presence, your care, even if it was just in this simple act.

"Unless… unless you want to stay," he added quickly, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. "If you're comfortable with it, that is. I'd like that. Your company, I mean."

He crossed his arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious under your gaze. "But only if you're okay with it," he added hastily. "No pressure or anything. I just… I miss being close to you, even like this."

The tub was nearly full, steam rising in delicate tendrils to caress your skin. Jacaerys watched you, his eyes dark with a mix of longing and uncertainty. The silence stretched between you.

You paused for a moment, letting his request sink in. Back when you two were wrapped up in each other, it would have been the most natural thing in the world to say yes—no hesitation, no second-guessing. But now, standing at the doorframe, he felt like a stranger, a different version of the man you once knew, his tired eyes revealing a world of unspoken guilt.

“Yeah,” you replied, choosing to listen to your heart instead of reason. You turned off the tap, and the sound of the water ceasing felt louder than it should. As you faced him fully, the steam from the bathroom curled around you like a ghost, making the space feel intimate yet daunting. You hadn’t even taken the first step to undress, but already, that familiar feeling of vulnerability washed over you like warm water. It was as if your skin was made of glass, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

He watched as you turned off the tap, the sudden silence punctuating the air. The steam from the bathwater created an almost ethereal atmosphere, the mist swirling around you like a protective shield. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the moment of hesitation that betrayed your true feelings. It made his heart ache, knowing that he had put that look there—the look of a person who had been hurt and was now wary of trusting again.

"You don't have to," he said, his voice soft yet firm. "If you're not comfortable, it's okay. Really. I can handle it on my own."

He took a step forward, reaching out to touch your arm gently. "I won't push you. I know I've done enough of that already. But if you do want to stay, if you want to be close, I'd like that. I'd like it more than you know."

He searched your face, looking for any sign of your true emotions. "We don't have to rush anything. We can take it slow. One step at a time. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Jacaerys realised that he was holding his breath, waiting for your response. He wanted to assure you, to make you feel safe and secure, but he also knew that words alone wouldn't be enough. Only actions could prove his sincerity, his commitment to being the man you deserved.

He offered you a small smile, that barely touched his eyes but held a world of hope.

"I want to… I'm just— I feel shy," you admitted softly, your gaze dropping to the floor. It felt strange to be so exposed in front of him after all this time, memories flooding back. The first time your bare forms had intertwined in the soft glow of the evening light, you had both whispered sweet nothings, the air thick with a blend of naiveness and excitement.

With a deep breath, you decided it was time to bridge that gap. As you reached down to untie your pyjama shorts, the fabric slipped away from your hips, pooling at your feet. The cool air made every nerve ending alive with anticipation. You stepped out of them, now standing only in your soft lace underwear and a white tank top that draped lightly over your figure.

You could feel the warmth of his gaze on you, a mix of admiration and something deeper, causing a flutter in your stomach. The room held a quiet intimacy, filled with the soft sounds of your breathing and the faint rustle of fabric as you moved. A smile crept onto your lips, remembering those moments of gentle exploration where every touch felt electric, and every word of praise hung in the air like a shared secret.

Jacaerys felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched you disrobe, the vulnerability of the moment seizing him. The sight of you, standing there in your lace undies and soft tank top, was almost too much to bear. Memories flooded back, images of your skin under his fingertips, the taste of your lips, the sound of your moans… he had to physically shake himself to keep from drowning in the past.

He took a step towards you, his gaze roaming over your form, drinking in every curve, every dip, every inch of you. A warmth spread through him, a longing so intense it bordered on pain. His hands ached to touch you, to feel your smooth skin beneath his fingertips, but he held himself back. This moment was about rebuilding trust, about showing you that he could be gentle, patient, and everything you needed.

Slowly, reverently, he reached out to trail a finger along your collarbone, marvelling at the softness of your skin. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice husky. "Always have been, always will be."

He looked into your eyes, his own dark with desire and something deeper, something that spoke of love and yearning and a desperate need to make things right. "Thank you," he whispered, his finger tracing a gentle path down to your shoulder.

There was a moment of silence, heavy with tension and possibility. The air between you felt charged, electric, like a live wire ready to spark at the slightest touch. Jacaerys held his breath, waiting for you to make the next move, wanting to follow your lead, to show you that he respected your comfort and your desires.

The room suddenly felt too small, too intimate. It was full of nostalgia and anticipation, a bittersweet cocktail that left him dizzy with want and need and a desperate, aching hope.

Hesitantly at first, and slowly, you leaned in, feeling the warmth radiating off him. Your heart raced as you captured his lips in a soft kiss, the world around you fading into a gentle blur. Your lips moved together, soft and lingering, as a spark ignited between you. You felt his hair, silky and slightly tousled, slipping between your fingers as you tangled your hands in it, drawing him closer. The weight of his body against yours sent a thrill through you, the two of you fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

Jacaerys' heart raced as he felt your lips against his, the warmth of your breath mingling with his own. The kiss was soft, gentle, a perfect reflection of the moment—fragile and new, yet filled with the promise of something more. It was a kiss that whispered of hope and possibility, of a future where maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

His hands found your waist, fingers splaying across your skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. He pulled you closer, wanting to erase the distance between you, to feel your body flush against his. It was a need that went beyond the physical, a desperate longing to reconnect, to find that missing piece of himself that had always fit so perfectly with you.

After what felt like an eternity, you reluctantly pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, those deep pools reflecting a mixture of warmth and curiosity. “The bath will get cold soon,” you said softly, a playful smile tugging at your lips while your fingers brushed through his curls, enjoying the way they curled around your fingertips.

He was breathless, his eyes dark with desire and something that spoke of love and longing and a fierce protectiveness. He watched as you smiled, your fingers brushing through his curls, and he couldn't help but lean into your touch.

At the mention of the bath, he chuckled softly, his hand sliding down to find yours, intertwining your fingers together. "You're right," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "We should… we should get in before it gets cold."

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching your face, looking for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. When he found none, he took a deep breath and nodded, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Together?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the question hanging in the air between you, heavy with meaning and possibility.

"Do you want to?" you asked in a timid voice, your heart racing as you braced yourself for the possibility of rejection. The gentle press of his lips against yours had reignited feelings you thought you had buried deep within yourself, and the warmth of his touch reminded you of everything you had been trying to suppress for far too long.

You had already taken off your shorts, the fabric pooling around your feet, thinking that he’d want nothing more than to be close to you in this intimate moment. Yet, now, standing before him in just your shirt and underwear, your heart thudded harder with uncertainty. His eyes searched yours, and you could feel the weight of the question lingering in the air, casting a shadow of nervousness over your excitement.

You couldn't help but feel a bit silly, second-guessing yourself, even though every part of you craved to close that distance and dive into the warmth of his embrace.

Jacaerys' heart clenched at the wavering in your voice, the hesitation that coloured your words. He could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the way you were bracing yourself for rejection, and it made him want to pull you close, to hold you close and never let go.

"Yes," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip. "I want to be close to you. In every way possible."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closing as he savoured the moment. "I know I've hurt you," he whispered, his breath mingling with yours.

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers skimming over your ribs, your waist, until they came to rest on your shoulders. He gazed into your eyes, his own dark with desire and something deeper, something that spoke of love and longing and a desperate need to make things right.

"I want to be with you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "In the bath, in bed, wherever you'll have me. I just… I need to be close to you. I need to feel you, touch you, love you."

The sincerity in his voice was palpable, the honesty in his eyes unwavering. He was giving you control, putting your comfort and your desires first. It was a stark contrast to the man he had been before, and it made your heart ache with the knowledge that he had changed, that he was trying to be better.

The room felt charged with tension. The steam from the bath wafted around you both, creating a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere. The soft glow of the bathroom light cast a warm, gentle light over your skin, making you feel frail and vulnerable.

You just nodded in response. No need for words with unspoken understanding. Your fingers danced softly down to the hem of his shirt, tugging it, hinting for him to take it off. A little smirk threatened to slip out as you remembered all the times you had been here before.

Jacaerys wasted no time, flipping his shirt off with an urgency that made you chuckle. There was something so endearing about the way he was always so eager. You turned your back to him, pulling your tank top off slowly, fully aware that you were teasing him. The air felt cold against your skin, but the warmth of his gaze surrounded you.

When you spun back around, you caught him standing there, completely captivated. He was like a painting of desire, his eyes wide and filled with admiration as he took in the sight of you. Without thinking, he hurriedly worked at his belt, the metal buckle clinking softly in the quiet room. His jeans dropped to the floor, leaving him standing there in nothing but his boxers, his erection straining against the fabric.

He stepped towards you, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."

His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you. He walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bathtub, his hands sliding down your sides, your hips, your thighs.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I need you," he rasped, his eyes dark with desire. "I need to be inside you, to feel you."

His hands slid down to your hips, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your panties. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, seeking permission. "Can I?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

When you nodded, his hands hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs, his fingers trailing over your skin as he went, your breath hitching. He stepped back, his gaze raking over your naked form, his cock throbbing in response.

"Get in the bath," he commanded softly, his voice thick with need. "I'll join you in a minute."

He turned away, giving you a moment of privacy as he quickly shed his boxers. When he turned back around, he was completely naked, his erection jutting proudly from his hips. You bite back a grin upon seeing the effect you still had on him.

He stepped into the bath, the warm water enveloping him like a blanket. He leaned back against the tub, pulling you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into his embrace, enjoying having him close yet again. His pale torso is marred with purple and green bruises, but they didn't hurt, not when he was with you anyway.

Carefully, you turn your head to face him, littering his neck in soft kisses and bites, soothing them with your tongue. His skin tastes salty, filling your senses. You press yourself against him tighter, your breasts flattening against his chest, nipples hardening in the cool air. His hands slide over your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I missed this," you murmur, your lips brushing against his ear. "Missed being close to you."

Jacaerys groaned softly as your lips found his neck, your teeth grazing his skin. The sensation sent shivers down his spine, his cock twitching against your back. He tilted his head to the side, giving you better access, his hands sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

"I missed this too," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "Missed holding you, touching you, tasting you."

He rolled his hips, grinding his hard length against your ass, the water sloshing around you both. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly, his cock nestling between your legs, the head brushing against your clit.

The sensation made your core tighten, your inner walls clenching around nothing, a silent moan escaping your parted lips. You could feel the heat of him. Your breath hitched, your heart racing as he teased you, his cock rubbing against your most sensitive spot.

"Jacaerys," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Please…"

"I want you," he growled, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "Want to be inside you, want to make you scream my name."

His hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your slick folds, stroking you slowly, teasingly. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "So ready for me."

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against your lips, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me how you want me to make you feel."

His fingers toyed with your clit, rubbing slow circles around the sensitive nub. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of his touch. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Ride my fingers. Get yourself ready for my cock."

He continued to rub your clit, his other hand sliding down to tease your entrance. He circled your opening with his finger, gathering the wetness that had gathered there. "Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, pushing one finger inside you, then two. He pumped them in and out, curling them to hit that special spot inside you.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, a moan escaping your lips as he worked you open for him. Fuck, no one had touched you like this in months. Not after him. And your fingers never felt this good.

You were already embarrassingly close to the edge, his fingers making you mad with pleasure. "Oh, fuck, just like that," you whimpered, eyes screwing shut.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot that made your toes curl. You could feel the pressure building, your thighs trembling, your core tightening around his digits.

Jacaerys groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers, your moans filling the steamy bathroom. He could tell you were close, your body trembling with need. He wanted to push you over the edge, to make you come undone in his arms.

"That's it, baby," he rasped, his fingers pumping faster, harder. "Come for me. Let go."

His other hand slid up to your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The dual sensations were too much, and with a cry of his name, you came, your gummy walls clamping down around his fingers, your juices coating his hand.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. "Fuck, you're so beautiful when you come," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck.

As you started to come down from your high, he slowly withdrew his fingers from your dripping core. He brought them to his lips, sucking your essence from his digits, his eyes locked on yours. "Delicious," he purred, his voice low.

He turned you around in his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. His cock was hard and heavy against your stomach, the head leaking pre-cum. "I need to be inside you," he growled, his hands gripping your hips. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."

He reached between your bodies, grasping his shaft and lining it up with your entrance. You bit your lip as you felt his blunt tip breaching your tight heat, thighs trembling with anticipation.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Jacaerys pushed forward, his thick cock stretching you open, filling you inch by delicious inch. You gasped at the intrusion, your walls fluttering around him, adjusting to his size. He groaned at the sensation, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck, you feel so good," he rasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "So tight, so perfect."

He held himself still for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of him inside you.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Jacaerys pushed his thick cock deeper inside you. "Ahh, fuck!" you whined, your lips quivering with pleasure. You even couldn't wait for him to move, your hips starting to roll impatiently over his shaft.

"You feel so good, Jace," you mumbled, your mind going blank as you focused solely on the sensation of him stretching you open. "So big in me." You started bouncing on his cock, needing to feel more of him, to be ruined by him.

The water sloshed around you as you rode him, some of it spilling onto the bathroom floor. But you didn't care, lost in the feeling of him filling you, satisfying me. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Jacaerys groaned as you started to bounce on his cock, your tight heat engulfing him, squeezing him tight. "Fuck," he growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "You feel so fucking good."

He thrust up to meet your movements, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper into your welcoming heat. The water splashed around you both, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.

"That's it, baby," he urged, his voice raspy with desire. "Ride my cock. Take what you need."

His hands slid up your body, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. He pinched and rolled the sensitive buds between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your head thrown back in ecstasy as you chased your release. "Jace," you moaned, your voice high and needy. "Please, I need… I need…"

"Yeah? Use your words, baby," he rasped, his hips pistoning upwards, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.

You couldn't believe how incredible it felt to have Jacaerys' thick cock stretching your tight, wet pussy again. He filled you up so perfectly, hitting all the right spots deep inside. Each powerful thrust made your toes curl, your walls clenching around his shaft.

"Oh fuck, Jace!" You cried out, your nails raking down his back. "Your cock feels so fucking good inside me! Don't stop!"

You rode him hard and fast, your tits bouncing with each movement. The obscene sounds of pleasure and water splattering on the floor echoed off the bathroom tiles. You could feel your orgasm building, your clit throbbing with need.

"Mmm yeah, just like that," you moaned, grinding your hips down.

You threw your head back, your hair flying as you lost yourself in the intense pleasure.

Jacaerys groaned as you rode him harder, your tight pussy gripping his cock like a vice. "Fuck," he grunted, his hips snapping up to meet your downward thrusts. "My pretty girl," Jace groaned possessively.

He leaned forward, capturing one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive bud. His hands gripped your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he helped guide your movements, urging you to take him deeper.

"That's it, baby," he growled against your skin, his voice muffled by your breast.

Jacaerys felt like he was losing his mind with pleasure, your tight cunt squeezing his cock so perfectly. He wanted to fuck you forever, to never stop feeling you wrapped around him.

"Fuck, your pussy feels like heaven," he groaned, his hips slamming up to meet yours. "So fucking tight and wet for me. You love my cock, don't you? Love feeling me stretch you open?"

"Yes!" You cry out, your voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. "I love your cock so fucking much!"

Your hips move wildly on top of him, your cunt clenching around his thick shaft. It's like your body remembers him, remembers how perfectly he fills you up. You missed this so much, missed the way he makes you feel, the way he touches you like he owns me. Cause, after all, he was made for you and you for him.

You look down at him, your eyes glazed over with pleasure, your lips parted in a silent moan. "Fuck, Jace," you pant, your nails pressing into his shoulders. "Your cock is stretching me so good. I'm so fucking close."

Jacaerys groaned at your words, his cock throbbing inside you, the tight heat of your pussy driving him wild. "Fuck," he growled, his hips slamming up to meet yours, driving his cock deep inside you. "You take my cock so well, baby. Like you were made for me."

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, urging you to ride him harder, faster.

"I love feeling you wrapped around me," he rasped against your lips. "Love knowing that I'm the only one who gets to make you feel this good."

His release was building, his balls tightening, his cock pulsing inside you. He was close, so fucking close. But he held back, wanting to feel you come first, wanting to give you the pleasure you deserved,  wanting to feel your pussy clenching around him as you screamed his name.

Jacaerys' mind was consumed with lust, his thoughts swirling with filthy images of you. He imagined bending you over the bathroom counter, fucking you from behind as he watched your ass bounce with each thrust. He pictured you on your knees, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock as he fed you his length, your eyes watering as he hit the back of your throat.

He wanted to mark you, to claim you as his own. He wanted to leave his fingerprints on your hips, bite marks on your neck, proof that you belonged to him and him alone.

You could feel your second release approaching, your velvety walls spasming wildly around his thick shaft, your hips bucking against his. "I'm so close," you whined in a high-pitched voice, your head falling forward as you lost yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

Your mind was consumed with lust, your thoughts swirling with filthy images of Jacaerys. You imagined him pounding into you harder, faster, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. You pictured him flipping you over, taking you from behind, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he claimed you, marking you as his own.

You wanted to feel him everywhere, to be filled by him completely. You craved the sensation of his hot seed spilling inside you, marking you, claiming you. You wanted to be his, body and soul, to belong to him in every way possible.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines in their wake as you urged him on, desperate for more, for everything he had to give. "Please, Jace," you begged, your voice ragged with need. "Make me cum. I need it. I need you."

Jacaerys groaned as he felt your pussy clench around his cock, your walls fluttering and spasming as you neared your release. "That's it, baby," he growled, his hips slamming up to meet yours, driving his cock deep inside you. "Cum for me. Cum on my fucking cock."

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as you rode him harder, faster. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, urging you to take him deeper, to milk his cock for all it was worth.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he rasped against your lips, his voice strained with pleasure. "So fucking perfect."

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice rough with lust. "Show me how much you love being fucked by me."

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles. The added stimulation was all it took to push you over the edge, your pussy clamping down around his cock as you came, your juices gushing out around his shaft.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips stuttering as he felt you come undone. "That's my girl. My perfect, beautiful girl."

He thrust into you a few more times, chasing his release, before burying himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his seed. He held you close, his arms wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your neck as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

"I love you," he murmured against your skin, his voice soft and tender. "I love you so fucking much."

"A-ahh," you let out a broken sob as your orgasm crashed over you, your body going limp on top of Jacaerys. Your hips twitched involuntarily, moving on their own as the last waves of pleasure washed through you.

You collapsed against his toned chest, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, and your skin was slick with sweat and water. You felt boneless, completely spent like all the tension and stress had been fucked out of you.

Jacaerys' arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you came down from your high. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady and strong. You wanted to stay like this forever, lost in the afterglow, safe in his embrace.

But even as you basked in the warmth of his love, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this was all too good to be true. That at any moment, it would all come crashing down, leaving you broken and alone once again.

You pushed the thought away, not wanting to ruin this perfect moment. For now, you would let yourself believe in the fairytale, in the promise of happily ever after.

"I love you," you murmured against his skin, your voice raspy and raw. "I love you so much, Jacaerys."

And for a brief, shining moment, you let yourself believe that maybe, this time it would be different. That this time, your love would be enough.

Jacaerys held you close as you came down from your high, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. He could feel the way your heart raced beneath his fingertips, the way your breath hitched as he brushed his lips against your temple.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "More than anything in this world."

He knew that you had your doubts, that you were afraid of getting hurt again. But he wanted to prove to you that this was different, that what you had was real and lasting.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. "Hey," he said gently, his eyes searching yours. "Look at me."

When you met his gaze, he smiled, his heart swelling with love and affection. "I know you're scared," he said softly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "But I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay, for as long as you'll have me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks, before finally capturing your lips in a tender, loving kiss. He poured all of his emotions into the kiss, all of his love and devotion, hoping that you could feel it, could understand the depth of his feelings for you.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he savoured the moment. "I know it's not going to be easy," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work, to make us work."

He opened his eyes, gazing into yours with a fierce intensity. "I love you," he said again, his voice filled with conviction. "And I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you if that's what it takes."

Hearing his words made your heart soar, and without thinking, you pulled him into a passionate kiss. It was wet and messy, a beautiful chaos where both of you poured every ounce of emotion into that moment. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently at the nape of his neck, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin. When you finally pulled back, breathless gasps filled the air, and your pupils dilated in the soft glow of the surroundings.

“Jace,” you murmured, nuzzling your nose against his, your foreheads resting together. Your breaths intertwined, creating a rhythm that matched the quickening of your hearts, each inhale and exhale echoing the sweetness of the moment. You brushed your thumb delicately over his cheek, tracing the outline of his bruise—a reminder of the fights. “I won’t let this happen to you again. Like I said… I have a bat,” you chuckled, the playful glint in your eyes as you placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

But then an uncomfortable sting shot through your knees and thighs from being in the same position for too long. Your fingers looked like raisins from the long 'bath', pruney and wrinkled, but somehow, even that felt amusing in the warmth of the moment. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing that no matter the discomfort, you’d choose him every time.

Jacaerys chuckled at your joke, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "I'll hold you to that," he teased, his fingers tracing patterns on your lower back. "My own personal bodyguard."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of you, the feel of your skin against his. When he pulled back, he noticed the discomfort on your face, the way you shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in your knees and thighs.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice gentle and caring. "Let's get you out of this tub before you turn into a prune."

He stood up slowly, his cock slipping out of you with a soft pop, a trail of your combined fluids following in its wake. He reached down, his hands strong and sure as he lifted you effortlessly from the tub, water cascading off your skin.

You let out a soft gasp as Jacaerys slipped out of you, your body still sensitive from the intense pleasure you had just shared. He gave you a cocky smirk, clearly pleased with himself, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully.

"Show off," you teased, but there was no real bite to your words. You were too content, too happy to be in his arms again.

He wrapped a fluffy towel around your shoulders, and another around your waist, before grabbing one for himself. He dried you off gently, his touch tender and loving, taking his time to make sure every inch of your skin was dry.

Once you were both dry, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom.

You yelped in surprise when he suddenly scooped you up, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you to the bedroom. You laughed softly, the sound light and carefree, as he laid you down on the bed, crawling in beside you, pulling you close to his chest.

It was like he had never left, like no time had passed at all. He knew exactly where everything was like he had never left. It warmed your heart and made you feel safe and loved in a way you hadn't felt in a long time.

You went and grabbed fresh underwear from the cupboard, slipping it on as Jacaerys picked up the clothes you had given him from the bed. For a moment, you moved in silence, comfortable in each other's presence, content just to be near each other.

Jacaerys watched as you slipped into your underwear, his eyes roaming over your body appreciatively. He could feel his cock stirring to life again, but he pushed the thought aside, knowing that you needed time to recover.

He picked up his clothes from the bed, slipping into them slowly, savouring the feeling of being in your space again. It felt like coming home like everything was exactly as it should be.

As he slipped on his shirt, he caught sight of you in the mirror, your reflection soft and beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom. He felt a surge of love and possessiveness, a primal urge to claim you, to mark you as his own.

But he pushed the thought aside, knowing that you needed gentleness and patience. He would give you all the time you needed to heal, to trust again.

He turned to face you, a soft smile on his face. "What do you want to do now?" he asked, his voice gentle. "We could order some food, watch a movie, or just talk. Whatever you want, baby. I'm here for you."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to take your hand in his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his touch warm and comforting.

"Or," he added, a playful spark in his eye, "we could pick up where we left off in the bathroom. I'm not tired yet."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a playful smirk on his face. He knew you were sore, knew that you probably needed time to recover, but he couldn't resist teasing you a little.

"But seriously," he said, his voice softening, "whatever you want. I'm here for you. Always."

You smirked, poking your cheek with your tongue playfully. Then, in a flash, you lunged at Jacaerys, tackling him onto the bed. You landed on top of him, straddling his hips as he let out a surprised grunt.

"Well," you purred, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you leaned down, your hair falling around your head. "A movie and food does sound pretty good, doesn't it?"

You could feel his cock hardening beneath you, pressing against your core through the thin fabric of your underwear. The knowledge that you could still affect him so easily sent a thrill through you.

Jacaerys let out a surprised grunt as you tackled him onto the bed, your body landing on top of his. He grinned up at you, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you straddling his hips.

"A movie and food, huh?" he teased, his hands sliding up your thighs, his fingers toying with the hem of your underwear. "I think I can arrange that."

He reached up, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. "But first," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "I think I need a little appetiser."

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[museofhis]

Blood is Hot, like Love.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚰️ •• 五条悟. ━━ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ˚˚˚ ──✟ ⚔️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡,ㅤ𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬⠀✟ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ血液与玫瑰 ⠀⠀𝟾𝟸ᵗʰ⠀⠀[ㅤ...ㅤ]⠀“⠀𝕮꯭𝖆𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾ּ՛ & 𝕮𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌.⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────ㅤ𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳ㅤ( ♱ 𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟗 )ㅤ❚ 苦涩的亲吻.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ׄ، ㅤ ㅤ† ㅤ 𓈒 𓈒  深红色的爱蔓延  🪦ㅤ 🦇 ⎯ ㅤ𝑆ynopsis . . . As a saint, you were destined for purity, devotion, and faith. Yet, buried deep beneath sacred walls, your existence has been anything but holy—until the night Satoru Gojo, a vampire cloaked in charm and danger, finds you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╉⠀🔪⠀“⠀𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖍 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓ּ՛⠀&⠀𝖆 𝖇𝖑𝖚𝖘𝖍 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍.”⠀satoru gojo!vampire x fem reader!fallen saint/religious figure ، slowburn ? ، dark erotica ، exploration of sin, faith, and morality through a romantic/erotic lens ، sexual content ، religious symbolism (sacred/profane contrasts, desecration of altars, themes of sin and redemption) ، biting / marking ، petnames ، dirty talk ، clit play ، breeding ، belly bulge.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ 🪦ㅤ❤︎ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡. 25,187.

The monastery stood like a scar upon the earth, a stone monument that devoured daylight. Its walls were cold, eternal, and the air within reeked of incense and penance. Deep within the building, far beyond where prayers could reach, lay a forgotten basement. There, the air seemed to carry whispers, almost like a mournful sigh escaping from the cracks in the floor. The church had sealed the place centuries ago, with a fervor born of desperation, fearing what they could not understand.

She was there.

She couldn’t quite remember how she had arrived, but she knew she had once been more. A woman. A devout soul. A figure of faith. But her fate had been consumed by the flames of betrayal, her name dragged into the dust by those who had sworn to protect her. Her body—flesh and bone—was long gone. All that remained was her essence, trapped between the sacred and the forbidden, bound to that prison of stone where mortals came to forget their sins. And as eternity stretched on, fury and desire intertwined within her soul, turning her into a dangerous echo, an enigma mortals feared and the dark craved.

Elsewhere, in a world where the night seemed endless, Satoru Gojo moved with a grace only immortality could bestow. He was a vampire—one who didn’t bother hiding what he was. Humanity was his plaything, a game he always knew how to win. His eyes, blue as frost, were a warning, but his smile was a weapon more lethal than his fangs.

He had lived for centuries, and with every passing decade, the world lost a bit more of its luster. He had loved, he had hated, and now he simply existed, seeking something to shatter the monotony of his eternal vigil. During one of his hunts, while prowling human cities with his trademark carelessness, he caught wind of a rumor.

A spirit, they said. A soul unable to cross to the other side, trapped in an ancient monastery. They described her as a danger, a curse. But what truly caught his attention was how they spoke of her: a temptation wrapped in sanctity.

Interesting.

Satoru had learned that legends always carried a spark of truth, and he lived for igniting that spark to see how quickly it could consume everything.

Satoru didn’t take long to find the monastery. It was a stone colossus of forgotten faith, perched on the edge of the world where civilization seemed to dissolve into the cold embrace of the night. Beneath the moonlight, its darkened walls bled shadows, as though the structure itself knew it was a monument built on secrets and sins.

The air turned frigid as he crossed the threshold. He didn’t bother hiding his presence; no living soul would stand in his way. Yet every step echoed in the silence, a distant reverberation, as if something within the monastery recognized his arrival.

The basement called to him.

The stone steps were narrow, slick with treacherous moss that clung stubbornly to his boots. He descended in a spiral, an endless plunge, until the air around him began to change. It grew thicker, laden with a scent that didn’t belong there: wilted flowers, rusted iron, and something else—something cloying and sweet that clung to his senses like honey.

At last, he reached the final door, a massive barrier of wood and iron that had withstood the passage of time. Chains hung from it in crumbling defiance, rusted crosses hammered in chaotic patterns, as though those who had sealed it hadn’t truly understood what they faced but had done everything they could to contain it.

A faint smile curved his lips.

“They always do this,” he murmured to himself, fingers brushing over one of the crosses. “Sealing away what they don’t understand.”

With a light tug, the chains broke as if they were paper. The door creaked open, slow and mournful, as though the monastery itself exhaled after centuries of silence.

The interior was dark, but he could see you.

Suspended in the air, shrouded in shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own, there you were.

You weren’t a solid body but a whisper, a reflection caught between here and beyond. The shadows clung to you, tracing the curve of your neck, the sharp line of your collarbones, and the barely parted lips that seemed to murmur something inaudible. But your eyes… your eyes were fire, and when they met his, it was as if an invisible thread tightened, pulling him closer.

“Who dares enter here?” you asked, your voice soft yet carrying a weight that echoed against the walls.

Satoru didn’t respond immediately. He leaned against the doorframe, his smile unbroken, but there was something in his posture—a mix of respect and amusement.

“The rumors caught my attention,” he said finally, his tone light, teasing. “A temptation wrapped in sanctity, they called you. And now that I’m here… it seems they didn’t exaggerate.”

The air grew taut. You could feel his presence, the weight of his gaze fixed on you, as though trying to unravel the secrets you had guarded for centuries. But you didn’t retreat. The shadows around you stirred, alive, as if awakening from a long slumber.

“You’re the one they fear, aren’t you?” he continued, his tone casual, almost mocking, as he took a step forward.

The shadows reacted instantly, rising like a protective creature trying to push him back. But he didn’t stop. Each step seemed to challenge not just the invisible barriers around you but you as well.

And then, you moved.

Your form tilted toward him, gliding through the darkness with an unnatural grace. You let him see only a fleeting glimpse of your face, just enough for him to feel the full impact of your eyes boring into his.

“And you��” you murmured, your voice laced with a seductive defiance. “Are you another fool who thinks he can possess me?”

He laughed softly, a low, provocative sound that resonated through the room.

“No.” His eyes gleamed, the blue within them intense, almost luminous. “I don’t want to possess you.”

He took another step forward, close enough that his words felt like a breath against the shadows that clung to you.

“I just want to play with you.”

Silence followed, but it wasn’t empty. It was dense, charged with something electric, something that made even the air hum with tension. And deep within yourself, you felt something stir: an echo of what you once were, something you hadn’t felt in centuries.

The silence between you both felt alive. It wasn’t the absence of sound but the kind of quiet that wraps around two predators circling one another, neither willing to make the first careless move. The air carried an unspoken challenge, the weight of centuries pressing against your chest as his gaze refused to waver.

He stood there, his body still yet exuding a quiet intensity, as if every part of him—every molecule—was attuned to you. You couldn’t decide if he was amused, curious, or both. The soft curve of his lips suggested arrogance, but the way his sharp eyes studied you hinted at something deeper: a hunger, not for conquest, but for understanding.

Your voice broke the silence.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

The shadows around you writhed, reacting to the shift in your tone. They pressed against the walls, spilling onto the floor like liquid night, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his snowy hair catching the faint light that seeped through the cracks above.

“And yet, here I am,” he replied, his voice as smooth as velvet. He took a step forward, the soles of his boots clicking against the stone floor. “It’s funny, isn’t it? The places we’re told to avoid are always the most irresistible.”

You could feel it now, the power radiating off him like a pulse, subtle but impossible to ignore. He wasn’t like the others who had come before. The priests, the hunters, the desperate men who thought they could chain or destroy you—they had all reeked of fear. But not him.

“You think you’re different,” you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the thick air between you. “You think you can walk in here, speak to me like this, and leave unscathed?”

He laughed, low and warm, a sound that made something in your chest tighten.

“Who said anything about leaving?”

The words hung there, suspended in the tension he’d created. Your shadows lashed out, a tendril snapping toward him like a whip. It was instinct, a test.

But he didn’t move.

The darkness stopped inches from his throat, hovering there like a blade frozen mid-strike. He stood as still as stone, his expression unchanged, and slowly, deliberately, he lifted a hand. His fingers brushed the edge of the shadow as though he were stroking something fragile, and to your disbelief, the darkness recoiled—not in fear, but in retreat.

It startled you. For centuries, the shadows had been yours alone, loyal extensions of your will. They obeyed no one but you. And yet here they were, responding to his touch like a creature curious about a stranger.

“What are you?” you whispered.

His eyes gleamed, the luminous blue of them catching the faintest light.

“Someone who doesn’t scare easily,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And you? What are you, really? A ghost? A goddess? Or just another prisoner playing queen of the dark?”

The question stung, though you didn’t let it show. Instead, you stepped closer, your form gliding effortlessly through the air until you were face-to-face with him. His scent reached you now—earthy, clean, with the faintest trace of iron. You studied his features in the dim light: the sharp angles of his jaw, the almost ethereal fairness of his skin, and those eyes that seemed to pierce straight through you.

“I am not just anything,” you said, your voice laced with cold defiance. “And you… you’re a fool for coming here. Whatever you think you’ll gain, you’ll lose more.”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned in, just enough that the space between you was almost unbearable. His presence was overwhelming, like a storm pressing against your skin, but you refused to back down.

“I’ve already lost plenty,” he said, his voice low, intimate. “What’s a little more, if it means meeting someone like you?”

For a moment, you faltered. His words weren’t what you expected, and the sincerity in his tone hit you like a blow. It wasn’t flattery, nor was it the empty bravado of a man trying to prove himself. He meant it.

You could feel it now—the centuries of pain buried beneath his smile, the weight of something broken yet unyielding.

And for the first time in centuries, you felt something other than anger or emptiness.

Curiosity.

Your hesitation lasted only a fraction of a moment, but he noticed it. His gaze sharpened, the faintest flicker of satisfaction crossing his features, as though your slip had confirmed something he’d suspected.

You drew back slightly, reclaiming the space between you. The shadows swirled around your form again, denser now, like a shield wrapping itself protectively over your skin. You’d spent centuries honing your strength, fortifying yourself against those who sought to harm or exploit you. This was no different—or so you told yourself.

“And what is it you think you’ll find here?” you asked, your voice regaining its edge. The curiosity bubbling beneath your surface didn’t bleed into your tone. It was a practiced detachment, honed through decades of isolation.

He tilted his head again, considering your question. “I could say the usual—power, answers, salvation.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “But honestly? I came here because I was bored.”

“Bored,” you repeated, incredulous.

“Yes, bored.” His tone was light, playful, but the glimmer in his eyes told another story. “The world is… dull these days. Too predictable. But you?” He gestured vaguely toward you, his hand cutting through the heavy air like a blade. “You’re not dull. I can feel it. Whatever you are, there’s nothing else like you.”

The compliment wasn’t what caught you off guard—it was the honesty behind it. His words weren’t rehearsed, nor were they the empty platitudes of someone trying to manipulate you. He spoke them as if they were fact, as if his presence here was as inevitable as the rise of the moon.

You stepped closer again, testing him, your movements deliberate and predatory. “Do you think flattery will save you, wanderer?”

“Not at all,” he replied easily, that maddening smile still in place. “But I’m not the one who needs saving, am I?”

Your shadows lashed out again, not with the intent to harm but to test his boundaries. They wrapped around his wrists, his throat, the tips brushing against his lips. He stood perfectly still, unyielding, though his expression remained calm. His head tilted slightly, as though inviting the darkness to do its worst.

“Go ahead,” he murmured. “If this is how you get to know someone, who am I to stop you?”

His audacity sent a ripple of something foreign through you—not anger, not fear, but something closer to intrigue. The shadows tightened, feeling for weakness, testing his limits, but found none. Instead, they recoiled again, like a beast unsure whether to attack or yield.

You glided closer still, the room shrinking as your presence expanded. He didn’t step back, his confidence unwavering even as you came so near that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from him.

“You’re dangerous,” you said softly, your voice like silk, brushing against him. “And yet you came here willingly. What does that make you?”

He leaned forward just enough that your faces were inches apart. His breath was cool, carrying the faintest scent of iron and rain. “It makes me someone who isn’t afraid to gamble,” he replied.

“And what are you gambling?”

“Everything.”

The word lingered in the air, heavy and absolute. You could see it now—his life laid bare before you, his existence shaped by losses and choices made in defiance of fear. He wasn’t lying. Whatever he’d come to find here, he was willing to pay the price for it.

A part of you admired that.

Another part wanted to destroy him for it.

But instead, you reached out, your hand slipping through the veil of shadows that clung to your form. Your fingers brushed the edge of his jaw, the faintest touch, as light as the breath between his words.

He didn’t flinch.

“And if you lose?” you asked, your voice no more than a whisper.

His smile widened, slow and deliberate. “Then at least I’ll know I played the most interesting game of my life.”

You withdrew your hand, but not entirely. The shadows at your feet shifted again, curling and uncurling like restless waves.

“Be careful, wanderer,” you said, your tone soft but laced with warning. “The games we play in the dark don’t end well.”

His laughter was quiet, almost affectionate. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The space between you felt charged now, the tension no longer one-sided. You could sense his pull, the strange gravity he exuded, and it was beginning to unsettle you. Not because you feared him, but because for the first time in centuries, you didn’t feel entirely in control.

And that made you want to see how far he’d go before breaking.

The air between you grew heavier, suffocating yet intoxicating, as if the room itself could no longer contain the presence of you both. His words lingered in your mind, the deliberate confidence behind them stirring something buried deep within you—something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in centuries.

You stepped back, your movements slow and deliberate, the hem of your shadowy form brushing against the floor like smoke curling over cold stone. His eyes followed you, unyielding, the same maddening mix of curiosity and defiance in their depths.

“Tell me something, wanderer,” you said, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade wrapped in silk. “What compels a man to throw himself into the den of a monster? Is it bravery? Foolishness? Or perhaps…” You tilted your head, studying him. “Despair?”

The last word struck a nerve. You saw it in the slight twitch of his jaw, the way his posture stiffened ever so slightly before he regained his composure. It was fleeting, but enough to confirm your suspicions.

“None of the above,” he replied, his tone still light, but his eyes betraying the weight he carried. “I’m here because I’m curious. About you. About this place. About why someone like you…” He gestured around the room, the crumbling stone and rusted chains, the relics of a forgotten war against you. “...chooses to stay locked away when you could be ruling everything.”

The question was a knife, carving through your carefully constructed indifference. His words didn’t sting because they were false, but because they struck at a truth you’d long buried.

“Do not mistake my restraint for weakness,” you said, stepping forward once more. “This is not a prison. It’s a sanctuary. One I built for myself, to keep your kind from meddling in things they do not understand.”

“And yet, here I am,” he murmured, that teasing smile returning to his lips.

The shadows around you bristled in response, shifting like a living storm, but you forced them to still. His composure, his utter lack of fear, was a challenge you hadn’t encountered in centuries.

“You’re bold,” you said, circling him now, your voice dropping to a softer, almost hypnotic tone. “I’ll give you that. But boldness is no armor, wanderer. The last man who stood where you stand thought his faith would protect him.”

“And what happened to him?” he asked, turning his head slightly to follow your movements.

You stopped behind him, your presence pressing against his back like the weight of the night itself. Leaning in, you let your breath brush against the shell of his ear as you whispered, “He prayed to his god, and when no answer came… he screamed for mine.”

The words were a blade, cold and sharp, meant to cut through whatever façade he was wearing. But instead of recoiling, he laughed—a low, rich sound that sent an unfamiliar shiver through you.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” he asked, turning his head just enough to meet your gaze from the corner of his eye.

“It should.”

“And yet…” He turned fully now, closing the space between you until there was nothing but air separating his body from the shadows clinging to yours. “I’m still here.”

The tension was unbearable now, an electric charge that crackled in the silence. You hated how easily he unsettled you, how his presence made you feel exposed in a way you hadn’t since the night you were sealed in this place.

“What do you want from me?” you asked finally, the question slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

His smile softened, losing some of its arrogance. “I told you—I’m curious. I want to know what you are. Who you are. And maybe…” He paused, his voice dropping to something softer, almost vulnerable. “Maybe I just want to know what it feels like to face something that’s truly alive.”

The admission caught you off guard. It wasn’t what you expected, not from a man who carried himself with such reckless confidence. For a moment, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pain and exhaustion he kept buried beneath that smile.

“Alive,” you repeated, the word foreign on your tongue.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “More alive than anything else in this hollow world.”

For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like to take his hand, to pull him into the shadows with you and show him the depths of what you were. But that part of you—the part that yearned for connection, for something more than solitude—was quickly silenced.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” you said, your voice colder now, sharper. “To face me is to face the end of everything you’ve known. Are you ready for that, wanderer?”

He stepped closer, his voice low, intimate. “Maybe I am.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of his words settling over you both. You could feel it now, the undeniable pull between you, the way his presence stirred something within you that had long been dormant. For the first time you weren’t sure if you wanted to push him away—or pull him closer.

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It thrummed, electric and charged, with words left unsaid and questions that hung in the air like a blade waiting to drop. The space between you and him felt smaller than it should, as though something unseen was closing in, forcing you to confront the abyss he represented.

You could feel his gaze fixed on you, but not in the way others had looked at you before. There was no fear in his eyes, no hollow reverence for what mortals could not understand. No, what burned in his gaze was something far more dangerous: interest, raw and unadorned, a mirror of the very thing you had buried beneath centuries of solitude.

“If what you seek is to confront something greater than yourself,” you began, your voice distant, as though the weight of your words did not belong to you, “I can assure you, you will not live to comprehend it.”

You expected him to falter, for that flicker in his eyes to extinguish. But instead, his smile widened—slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the danger laced in your words.

“And what if I didn’t come here to understand?” he replied, stepping closer. The sound of his boots against the stone floor echoed, a steady rhythm that seemed to mock the stillness of the chamber. “What if I came to see how far you could go before you break?”

The shadows coiled around you, restless and reactive, wrapping themselves around your form like a protective shroud. His words weren’t those of an ordinary man, and though you wanted to dismiss them as foolish bravado, you couldn’t ignore the fire behind them.

“Break,” you repeated, the word rolling off your tongue with a mixture of disbelief and venom. Your voice dropped to a frigid whisper, sharp as the edge of a blade pressed against someone’s throat. “You’ve underestimated monsters before, haven’t you? Let me guess: none of them lived to tell the tale.”

“The difference,” he said, almost playfully, though his eyes betrayed his seriousness, “is that none of them were as interesting as you.”

Another step closer, and the air between you seemed to ripple with something tangible. You could feel the heat radiating from his body now, a stark contrast to the cold that permeated the chamber. But still, you did not move.

“You say I’m interesting,” you murmured, leaning in just enough that your voice could reach his ear like a veiled threat. “Why? What do you think you see in me, mortal?”

He didn’t retreat. Instead, he raised his chin, his expression a mixture of defiance and something deeper, something you didn’t want to name.

“I see a cage,” he said at last, his words cutting through the stillness like shattered glass. “Not for you. For the rest of the world.”

Your breath caught for the briefest moment, just long enough for him to notice. There was no malice in his voice, no mockery. Only truth, raw and unpolished.

“The cage exists for a reason,” you said, forcing your voice to steady. The shadows writhed at your feet, searching for something to anchor to. “The world doesn’t deserve what’s inside.”

“Or maybe it’s the other way around,” he countered, his response immediate, as though he had been waiting for those very words. “Maybe you don’t face the world because you know it doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

His words struck deep, their precision slicing through the armor you had crafted over centuries. It was a half-truth, but it was enough to shake you in ways you weren’t prepared to admit.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” you warned, stepping closer until your eyes were level with his. The shadows rose, curling around his neck like serpents, tightening just enough to remind him of the danger he was in. “There are things in this world you cannot conquer with words or bravado. I am one of them.”

The spark in his eyes didn’t falter. If anything, it burned brighter. “And what happens when I realize I don’t want to conquer you, but understand you?”

His words hung in the air, a truth more naked than any threat you had ever spoken. You could feel it—that fracture forming within yourself, an opening he was exploiting with every word, every glance.

There was something about this man that defied logic, defied instinct. He wasn’t like the others. Where others would have fallen to their knees before you, he stood firm. Where others would have recoiled from your shadows, he seemed to welcome them.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

“Your curiosity will kill you,” you said at last, pulling the shadows away from his neck with a sharp gesture. Behind you, the walls seemed to whisper, echoes of warnings no one else could hear. “You’re a man lost in waters far too deep. Leave now, before you drown.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just watched you, as though he were seeing more than you were willing to show.

The tension lingered, heavy and palpable, even as your shadows retreated to the edges of the chamber, curling and hissing like a nest of serpents disturbed. The man before you—this enigma wrapped in defiance and audacity—did not move. He stood as though the weight of your presence was nothing more than a breeze brushing against him.

His eyes, piercing and endless, held you captive, daring you to look away. But it wasn’t his confidence that began to gnaw at your composure—it was something subtler, something you couldn’t yet name. The air around him seemed charged, thickened with an energy that didn’t belong to a mere mortal.

“Who are you really?” you asked, your voice steady but carrying the faintest tremor of suspicion. You didn’t often ask questions—you didn’t need to. But something about him demanded it.

A corner of his mouth twitched upward, his smile teetering on the edge of mockery and amusement. “Haven’t you already guessed?”

The chamber grew colder, and yet the heat radiating from his presence remained. Your senses, honed and sharpened through centuries of existence, began to unravel the threads of his being. The steady pulse of life that mortals carried was absent in him, replaced by a stillness that spoke of death. Not the natural, fleeting death you had once known, but something darker, something eternal.

You stepped closer, your movements slow and deliberate. “There’s something wrong with you,” you murmured, almost to yourself. Your gaze narrowed as you searched his features for a crack, for a tell. “You don’t belong here. Not in this world. Not among the living.”

His laugh echoed softly, a sound as rich as it was unsettling. “Neither do you,” he said, his tone almost kind, though the weight of his words struck deep.

The realization came not as a sudden shock, but as a creeping certainty that slid into place with perfect, horrifying clarity. The way he carried himself, the unnatural stillness of his movements, the way his eyes burned with a hunger that no mortal could contain—it all fit together like the final piece of a long-forgotten puzzle.

“You’re a vampire.” The words fell from your lips, sharp and sure, yet tinged with disbelief.

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he took a step closer, his movements fluid and predatory. “And now you’ve said it,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous, as though the admission itself carried power. “Does that frighten you?”

Frighten. The word hung between you like a fragile thread, waiting to snap. No, you were not afraid—not in the way he might have expected. But you were... unnerved. Not by his nature, but by the implications of his presence here, in your sanctuary.

“I’ve faced things far worse than vampires,” you said, lifting your chin. It was the truth, but even as you spoke, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was unlike any of those creatures you’d encountered before.

His smile widened, and for the first time, you caught the faintest glint of his fangs—a fleeting glimpse, but enough to send a ripple of something primal through you. “Worse,” he echoed, his tone almost wistful. “Perhaps. But I wonder... have you ever faced something that could match you, truly?”

Your shadows twitched, responding to the unease you refused to let show. “You’re bold for a creature that feeds on scraps,” you said, letting your words cut like glass.

“I don’t feed on scraps,” he countered, his voice soft, intimate. He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that felt invasive. “And I wonder... what would you taste like?”

The question hung in the air, dark and tantalizing, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your movements calculated and deliberate. “You wouldn’t survive the attempt.”

His expression didn’t waver, but something shifted in his gaze—a flicker of curiosity, of challenge. “Wouldn’t I?”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The chamber seemed to hold its breath, the flickering torchlight casting shifting patterns on the walls. He was close enough now that you could see every detail of his face—the sharp angles, the pale glow of his skin, the faint pulse of something ancient behind his eyes.

You felt it then, the weight of his existence pressing against your own, a force that was neither living nor dead but something in between. It was intoxicating and infuriating all at once.

“I should destroy you where you stand,” you said, though the conviction in your voice wavered.

“Then why don’t you?” he asked, leaning closer, his breath cool against your skin. His voice was a whisper, a challenge, a taunt. “What’s stopping you?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because the truth—the one you refused to acknowledge—was that something about him had already sunk its claws into you. And the more you tried to pull away, the deeper they seemed to dig.

The night had a breath of its own—a low, steady rhythm that whispered through the leaves and caressed the stones beneath your feet. The sky above was a velvet canvas, smeared with clouds that threatened to veil the full moon, though its light managed to spill through in soft silver beams. You stood at the edge of the cemetery, the stillness pressing against you like an old friend.

And there he was.

Satoru sat on the slanted roof of the crumbling chapel, his legs stretched out in a relaxed sprawl, one arm resting lazily over his knee. His white hair caught the moonlight like frost, shimmering against the backdrop of night. He looked utterly at ease, as though he belonged there, perched above the graves of the dead, a king surveying a silent kingdom.

“You’re late,” he called down, his voice carrying across the quiet like a blade slicing through silk.

“I don’t answer to you,” you replied, stepping onto the cracked stone path leading to the chapel. Despite your words, there was no venom in them—just the ease that had grown between you over these past weeks.

He tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you approach. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “But I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me. And that would’ve been terribly rude.”

You stopped at the base of the chapel, staring up at him with a raised brow. “I think you’d survive the disappointment, vampire.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, carrying with it that infuriating charm he wielded like a weapon. “Perhaps. But I think we both know you wouldn’t enjoy the silence.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response, though the smallest of smiles ghosted across your lips as you stepped inside the chapel. The hollow shell of the once-holy place bore the weight of time and neglect. The pews were splintered and rotted, the stained glass shattered, leaving shards of color scattered across the ground.

From above, you heard the faint sound of Satoru shifting. Moments later, the creak of wood and the soft thud of his landing broke the quiet. When you turned, he was standing behind you, his hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his coat, that ever-present smirk lingering on his lips.

“Do you always come to places like this?” he asked, glancing around the ruined space with mild curiosity.

“Do you always follow me to them?” you shot back, folding your arms.

He grinned, sharp and unapologetic. “Maybe. You’re more interesting than the alternative.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t press the matter. Instead, you turned your attention to the altar at the far end of the room. The candles that once adorned it had long since melted into unrecognizable lumps, and the crucifix above was weathered and tarnished. Yet even in its decay, there was something comforting about the familiarity of it.

“You used to believe in this, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost reverent.

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the altar. “Once,” you admitted. “A long time ago.”

He nodded, though he didn’t press further. That was something you’d come to appreciate about him—despite his sharp tongue and endless curiosity, he knew when to let things lie.

The silence between you was comfortable, like a well-worn cloak. You weren’t sure when it had shifted—when he had gone from being a threat, an intruder in your sanctuary, to this. A strange constant. A presence you’d come to tolerate, and perhaps even...

“Do you ever miss it?” he asked suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Miss what?”

“Belonging somewhere,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the chapel. “Having faith in something.”

His question caught you off guard, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you met his gaze, your expression unreadable. “Do you?”

He chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. “I’m not sure I ever belonged anywhere to begin with.”

The honesty in his words struck you, carving a crack in the armor you’d spent so long building. He wasn’t what you’d expected—not when you first met him, and certainly not now. For all his arrogance, his bravado, there was a depth to him that you couldn’t ignore.

You took a step closer, your shadows trailing behind you like a living cloak. “Why are you really here, Satoru?”

He tilted his head, his smile fading into something quieter, something more sincere. “Maybe I just like the company.”

You held his gaze, searching for the lie, but there was none. He meant it, as much as someone like him could mean anything.

“Then you’re as foolish as you are stubborn,” you said, though your tone lacked the bite it once carried.

He smirked again, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “And you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

“Careful,” you warned, though the corner of your mouth twitched upward despite yourself.

“Or what?” he challenged, stepping closer now, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’ll finally decide what to do with me?”

The tension between you was different now, lighter but no less charged. It was a game you both played, though neither of you had defined the rules.

“Don’t tempt me,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

His grin widened, his fangs just barely visible in the moonlight streaming through the broken windows. “I’d like to see you try.”

The silence stretched, and for a moment, the only sound was the distant rustle of leaves and the faint creak of the old chapel settling.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. But in that moment, you understood something you hadn’t before: whatever this was, whatever he was, it wasn’t going away.

And, against all odds, you weren’t sure you wanted it to.

The nights grew longer. Time, ever fluid in your strange existence, seemed to stretch in his presence. Satoru was everywhere and nowhere all at once—a figure that flitted between shadows, appearing only when he chose, lingering only as long as it amused him.

You found him again a week later, perched atop a weathered mausoleum in the heart of the cemetery. He sat cross-legged this time, balancing a small book on his knee, his pale hair almost glowing under the pale moonlight.

“You’re late,” he remarked without looking up, his voice tinged with that ever-present hint of amusement.

“And you’re predictable,” you countered, stopping at the base of the mausoleum and crossing your arms. “You can’t seem to stay away from this place.”

“Neither can you,” he said, closing the book with a soft thud and finally meeting your gaze. “And yet you still pretend it’s coincidence every time we meet.”

“I don’t pretend anything,” you replied, though even as the words left your lips, you weren’t sure they were entirely true.

He jumped down effortlessly, landing before you with the grace of a predator. The proximity was unnerving, though you refused to let it show. You simply tilted your head, holding his gaze.

“You enjoy this,” he said, his tone low but certain.

“What?”

“This,” he said, gesturing lazily between the two of you. “The game. The banter. You’d be bored without it.”

You scoffed, though you felt the faintest flicker of warmth at the edges of your defenses. “You think too highly of yourself, vampire.”

“Do I?” he asked, stepping closer. His smile softened, losing some of its sharpness. “Or do I just know you better than you’d like to admit?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. You hated how easily he could unsettle you, how he seemed to peel back the layers you’d spent centuries building without even trying.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said, your voice steady but quiet.

“Maybe not everything,” he conceded. “But I know enough.”

“Enough to what?”

“Enough to know you don’t really hate this,” he said, his eyes boring into yours. “You don’t hate me.”

His words struck deeper than you wanted to admit. You opened your mouth to respond, to deny him, to say something, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was no mockery there, no malice—just a quiet, unsettling sincerity that left you at a loss.

The silence stretched between you, broken only by the distant chirp of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

“You’re insufferable,” you said finally, though there was no real venom in your tone.

“And yet, you keep coming back,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips once more.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you turned and began walking away, your shadows swirling at your heels. You didn’t look back, though you could feel his eyes on you, heavy and unyielding.

“Goodnight, little ghost,” he called after you, his voice carrying across the night like a whisper on the wind.

It wasn’t long before you saw him again. He always found you first, appearing out of the darkness like he belonged there.

This time, it was on the outskirts of the forest that bordered the cemetery. You were perched on a low stone wall, gazing out at the moonlit expanse beyond. The soft crunch of footsteps behind you announced his arrival, though you didn’t turn.

“I thought vampires were supposed to be subtle,” you said, your tone light but laced with an edge of amusement.

“Only when we want to be,” he replied, coming to stand beside you.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, the quiet stretching between you in a way that felt almost... comfortable.

“You’re not like the others,” he said suddenly, his voice softer now.

“The others?” you asked, glancing at him.

“The ones who cling to their humanity,” he said. “The ones who pretend they’re still part of the world they’ve left behind.”

“And what about you?” you asked, tilting your head. “What are you clinging to?”

His gaze turned toward the horizon, his expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said after a long pause. “Maybe that’s the difference.”

You studied him for a moment, the pale moonlight casting shadows across his sharp features. There was something in his voice—a hint of vulnerability buried beneath the layers of charm and confidence.

“You’re lying,” you said, your voice quiet but firm.

His head turned sharply, his eyes narrowing slightly as he met your gaze. For a moment, you thought he might deny it, might brush you off with some clever retort. But instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But if I am, it’s not to you.”

The honesty in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“You’re exhausting,” you said finally, though there was no real heat behind the words.

“And yet, here you are,” he replied, his smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For the first time, you wondered if perhaps there was more to him than you’d allowed yourself to see.

The forest stretched around you, dense and quiet save for the occasional murmur of the wind through the trees. The stone wall you leaned against was cold beneath your fingers, its surface worn smooth by time. Satoru stood beside you, his presence a strange constant now, like the way the moon returned every night to cast its pale glow over the world.

“I’ve been wondering something,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

“Oh? And what’s that?” he asked, turning his head to look at you.

“You’ve been alive for centuries, haven’t you? Seen things, experienced things most people couldn’t even imagine.” You paused, glancing at him. “Does it ever stop meaning something? The passage of time?”

Satoru’s expression shifted, his usual smirk softening into something more thoughtful. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s a heavy question, little ghost.”

“Do you have an answer?”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze drifting toward the trees. “The world changes, people change, but some things stay the same. The quiet of a forest at night, the way the moonlight feels on your skin, the weight of loneliness…” He trailed off, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “That doesn’t go away, no matter how many centuries pass.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with a sadness that felt too raw, too human for someone like him.

You frowned, studying his profile. “You’re lonelier than you let on.”

“Careful,” he said, his smirk returning, though it lacked its usual bite. “You’re starting to sound like you care.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t ignore the faint pang of something in your chest—sympathy, maybe, or understanding. “I just don’t understand you,” you admitted. “You don’t act like the monsters in the stories.”

“Maybe the stories got it wrong,” he said simply, his tone unreadable.

“Or maybe you’re just good at pretending,” you countered.

His grin widened, and he turned to face you fully, leaning in slightly. “Maybe,” he said softly, his voice a low purr. “But isn’t that part of the fun?”

You held his gaze, refusing to let him see the way his proximity unsettled you. “I don’t think you’re as clever as you think you are.”

“And I think you’re afraid to admit you like having me around,” he shot back, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, a sudden rustling in the trees caught your attention. Your head snapped toward the sound, your instincts sharpening in an instant.

Satoru’s expression shifted immediately, his playful demeanor melting away into something colder, more dangerous. He straightened, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkness.

“You hear that?” you whispered.

“I hear it,” he said, his voice low and steady.

The forest seemed to hold its breath, the shadows deepening as the rustling grew louder. You stepped back instinctively, your hand brushing against Satoru’s arm. He didn’t move, his focus locked on the trees.

When the source of the noise emerged, it was nothing more than a fox darting across the path, its sleek body disappearing into the underbrush in an instant.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heart still pounding in your chest. “It’s just a fox,” you said, shaking your head.

Satoru chuckled, though the sound was quieter this time, almost subdued. “You’re jumpier than I thought.”

“You don’t live as long as I have without learning to be cautious,” you shot back.

“Fair enough,” he said, his smirk returning. “But I’m here, aren’t I? What’s the worst that could happen?”

You didn’t answer, though the weight of his words lingered. What was the worst that could happen?

Later that night, as you both walked back toward the village, the air between you felt different—quieter, heavier somehow. Satoru kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“About why you keep coming back,” he said, his tone softer now.

You hesitated, your steps slowing as you considered his words. “Maybe I don’t know the answer,” you admitted.

“Or maybe you don’t want to admit it,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You stopped walking, turning to face him. The moonlight illuminated his face, casting shadows across his sharp features. “And what about you?” you asked. “Why do you keep showing up?”

His smile faded, replaced by something quieter, more genuine. “Maybe I like the company,” he said simply.

The honesty in his voice took you by surprise, leaving you momentarily at a loss for words.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he said, his grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Even monsters get lonely.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. For all his confidence, all his charm, there was a fragility to him that you hadn’t noticed before.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm. He stiffened slightly at the contact, his gaze snapping to yours.

“You’re not as invincible as you like to pretend,” you said quietly.

“And you’re not as indifferent as you want me to believe,” he countered, his voice just as soft.

The tension between you crackled like static, the air growing heavier with every passing second. You could see the faint glow of his eyes in the dark, could feel the steady rhythm of his presence pressing against your own.

But neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

And in that moment, it felt like the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the quiet between breaths.

The silence between you grew heavier, thicker, until it seemed the very air around you was holding its breath. You could feel it again—that strange pull that seemed to surround him, like gravity bending space and time to make room for him alone. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you, sharp and piercing, but the way his presence filled every corner of the moment, leaving no room for escape.

And yet, you didn’t move.

“I think you’re afraid of me,” he said finally, breaking the stillness. His voice was low, soft, almost a whisper.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you replied, though the words sounded more defensive than you intended.

He tilted his head, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and curiosity. “No?”

“No,” you repeated, firmer this time. “If I were afraid of you, I wouldn’t be here.”

He studied you for a long moment, his pale eyes flickering like embers in the moonlight. “Fear isn’t always about running away,” he said. “Sometimes it’s about the things we can’t walk away from, even when we should.”

Your chest tightened at his words, though you weren’t sure why. “What are you trying to say?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. The shadows clung to him like a second skin, shifting with him as he moved. “I’m saying,” he murmured, “that you’re standing too close to the fire, little ghost. And you don’t even realize you’re burning.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, though it wasn’t fear that gripped you—it was something else, something deeper, darker. You wanted to look away, to break the tension that was building between you, but his gaze held you captive.

“I’ve been burned before,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a breath.

“Not by me,” he countered, and there was something almost predatory in the way he said it.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his presence pressing against you like a storm about to break. “You like to play these games, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “But this doesn’t feel like a game, does it?”

You wanted to argue, to deny him, but the words caught in your throat. He was right—this didn’t feel like a game. It felt like something else entirely, something you couldn’t quite name.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

His smile faded, replaced by an expression you couldn’t quite read. “Maybe I just want to know you,” he said softly. “The real you.”

The sincerity in his voice startled you, leaving you momentarily speechless. No one had ever spoken to you like that before, with such quiet, unyielding intensity.

“You don’t even know who I am,” you said finally, though the words felt hollow even as you spoke them.

“I know enough,” he said. “Enough to know you’re not as lost as you think you are.”

His words hit harder than you expected, cutting through the walls you’d built around yourself with unnerving precision. You hated how easily he could get under your skin, how effortlessly he seemed to see through you.

“I should go,” you said abruptly, taking a step back.

But he didn’t move, didn’t try to stop you. Instead, he just watched you with that same quiet intensity, his eyes glinting like silver in the dark.

“Goodnight, little ghost,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You turned and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest. You told yourself you were leaving because you wanted to, because you needed to. But deep down, you knew the truth—you were running, and it wasn’t from him.

It was from yourself.

Days turned into weeks, and though you told yourself you wouldn’t go back, you found yourself drawn to him again and again. He was always waiting, always ready with that infuriating smirk and those sharp, knowing eyes.

The rooftop of an abandoned manor became your meeting place. It was perched on the edge of the village, its crumbling walls and shattered windows a testament to time’s relentless march. You sat together on the slanted roof, the world sprawling out beneath you like a painting brought to life.

“Why this place?” you asked one night, your voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

“Why not?” he replied, his tone light.

“That’s not an answer.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back on his elbows. “It’s quiet here,” he said after a moment. “No one to bother us. No one to get in the way.”

“No one to see you for what you are,” you added, glancing at him.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “And what am I, exactly?”

“A monster,” you said, though there was no malice in your voice.

“Maybe,” he said, unbothered by the accusation. “But monsters have hearts, too.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Do they?”

“Do you?” he countered, his gaze locking onto yours.

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat. His question hung in the air between you, heavy and unrelenting.

“I think you’re more like me than you want to admit,” he said quietly.

“Don’t compare me to you,” you said, though the heat in your voice felt more like desperation than conviction.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice soft but firm. “We’re both creatures of the dark, aren’t we?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Instead, you turned your gaze to the horizon, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions you couldn’t untangle.

He didn’t press you, didn’t push for a response. He just sat there, his presence a steady anchor in the storm that raged within you.

And for the first time, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, he was right.

The stars stretched endlessly above, their cold light casting silver trails across the sprawling graveyard. The broken stones and crumbling statues looked almost alive under the pale moonlight, their jagged edges softened by shadows. You sat on the edge of an old mausoleum, your legs dangling over the side, while Satoru leaned casually against a nearby angel statue, his white hair glowing faintly in the dark.

It had become a habit, these stolen moments in the quiet hours of the night. You weren’t sure why you kept coming back to him, why you allowed him to slip past your defenses so easily. But there was something about him, something magnetic, that you couldn’t seem to resist.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he remarked, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.

“I’m thinking,” you replied, your gaze fixed on the horizon.

“That’s dangerous,” he teased, though his tone was softer than usual.

You glanced at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “Says the man who thrives on danger.”

He smirked, pushing off the statue and stepping closer. “Fair point,” he said, his voice dropping into something lower, something almost intimate. “What are you thinking about?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing idle patterns on the cool stone beneath you. “Do you ever regret it?” you asked finally.

“Regret what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the world around you. “What you are. What you’ve become.”

His expression shifted, the playful mask he wore so often slipping away to reveal something raw, something vulnerable. He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting to the stars above.

“Regret is a funny thing,” he said after a moment. “It eats at you, like a parasite. But you learn to live with it. Or you let it destroy you.”

“Which one are you?” you asked softly.

His eyes flicked back to you, and for a moment, you saw something in them that made your chest tighten—pain, perhaps, or longing. “Maybe a little of both,” he admitted.

You studied him in silence, the weight of his words settling heavily between you. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was more than the sharp wit and disarming charm he so often wielded like a weapon. Beneath it all, he was something else entirely—a creature shaped by centuries of solitude and blood and darkness.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. “Do you regret this? Being here? With me?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. Did you regret it? The nights spent in his company, the way your heart seemed to beat a little faster whenever he was near?

“No,” you said finally, the word leaving your lips before you could second-guess it. “I don’t regret it.”

His gaze softened, the edges of his usual smirk fading into something quieter, something almost tender. “Good,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Because I’d hate to think I was the only one who felt this way.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse quickening as his words sank in. “What way?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer.

He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until he was standing directly in front of you. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing against yours where they rested on the edge of the stone.

“Like this,” he said simply, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite name.

The air between you felt electric, charged with an energy that made your skin tingle. You could feel the faint warmth of his hand against yours, the steady weight of his gaze as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

The air between you felt electric, charged with an energy that made your skin tingle. You could feel the faint warmth of his hand against yours, the steady weight of his gaze as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Satoru…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

But he shook his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Don’t say it,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

His words left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of what was happening. You could feel the pull between you, the invisible thread that seemed to bind you to him, growing tighter with every passing second.

And yet, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

It was as if the world had stopped, the only sound the quiet rhythm of your breathing and the faint rustle of the wind through the trees.

Finally, he stepped back, breaking the spell that had held you both captive. The loss of his presence left you feeling unsteady, as if the ground beneath you had shifted.

“We should go,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You nodded, though your mind was still reeling from the moment you’d just shared. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

But as you followed him down from the mausoleum, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between you—something fragile and unspoken, but impossibly real.

The walk back to the edge of the village was quiet, but not uneasy. The silence between you and Satoru felt heavier now, not from tension but from the weight of something unspoken. Every step you took beside him seemed to bring you closer to a precipice you couldn’t quite see but could certainly feel.

You hadn’t noticed it before, the way his presence seemed to alter the very air around him. It wasn’t just his physical beauty, though that was undeniable—it was the way he carried himself, as if the world bent slightly to his will. You wondered if he even realized it.

“Why do you come here, Satoru?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Your voice sounded strange in the stillness, too loud and too soft at once. “Why this place? Why me?”

He glanced at you, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he smiled, slow and deliberate. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said, his voice carrying that familiar playful edge.

You frowned, your gaze narrowing. “No games,” you said firmly. “I want the truth.”

His smile faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious. He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. The pale moonlight bathed him in an ethereal glow, his silver hair catching the light like strands of starlight.

“The truth,” he repeated, almost to himself. His gaze dropped to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again, and for the first time, you saw uncertainty in his eyes.

“I come here because it’s the only place I don’t feel… alone,” he admitted finally. “And I come to you because you’re the only person who doesn’t look at me like I’m something to fear or worship.”

His words struck something deep inside you, a pang of understanding that you couldn’t quite name. You hadn’t realized how much you’d needed to hear them until now, how much you’d needed to know that he saw you not as a curiosity or an obligation but as something more.

“You’re not what I expected,” you said softly, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning faintly. “Disappointed?”

“Confused,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” he replied, his tone matching yours. “That’s why I keep coming back.”

The honesty in his voice was startling, leaving you momentarily breathless. You wanted to look away, to retreat back into the safety of your own thoughts, but his gaze held you captive.

“Satoru,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “What are you afraid of?”

His expression shifted, the playful mask slipping away once more to reveal something raw and vulnerable. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something he couldn’t quite name.

“I’m afraid of losing this,” he said finally, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “Of losing you.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, the air thick with a tension you couldn’t quite place. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of your pulse loud in your ears.

“You won’t lose me,” you said, the words leaving your lips before you could second-guess them. “Not unless you push me away.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s the thing about me,” he said quietly. “I always push people away. Eventually.”

“Then don’t,” you said simply.

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “It’s not that easy,” he said finally.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not like you,” he said, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite name—regret, perhaps, or fear.

You stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until you were standing only inches apart. “Then show me,” you said, your voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Show me who you are.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might refuse. But then he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as if in defeat.

“You won’t like what you see,” he said softly.

“Let me decide that,” you replied.

He hesitated for a moment longer before nodding, his gaze never leaving yours. “Alright,” he said quietly. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Before you could respond, he stepped back, his movements slow and deliberate. The shadows around him seemed to ripple and shift, as if drawn to him, and the air grew colder, sharper.

And then, you saw it—the truth he’d been hiding from you all along. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, a silver light that seemed almost otherworldly. His fangs, so carefully hidden before, glinted in the moonlight as his lips parted in a soft sigh.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. You’d known, of course—deep down, you’d always known. But seeing it, seeing him like this, was something else entirely.

“Do you still think I’m worth staying for?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady.

You didn’t answer immediately, your gaze locked on his. He looked almost fragile like this, despite the power that radiated from him, as if he were bracing himself for rejection.

Finally, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you once more. You reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his cheek, and he flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away.

“You’re more than this,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within you. “You’re more than what you’ve become.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might break. But then he smiled, faint and bittersweet, and the tension between you seemed to ease, just slightly.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said quietly. “Or maybe you just see what you want to see.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, your lips curving into a faint smile. “But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

For the first time that night, his smile reached his eyes, and the weight that had hung between you seemed to lift. After spending decades in the basement of a monastery, you felt like you weren’t alone.

The silence that followed felt fragile, as if the night itself were holding its breath, waiting to see what would come next. Satoru’s gaze lingered on yours, and though his usual smirk had returned, it was softer now, tinged with something that almost resembled hope.

“You’re brave, you know that?” he said finally, his voice low and warm, like velvet brushing against your skin. “Most people would’ve run by now.”

“I’m not most people,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“No,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re not.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid settling around you like a second skin. You could feel the cold of the night seeping into your bones, but it was nothing compared to the warmth radiating from him, an impossible contrast to what you now knew him to be.

“I still have questions,” you said after a while, your voice breaking the quiet.

“Of course you do,” he replied, leaning back against the crumbling stone of a nearby grave. His relaxed posture was almost theatrical, but his eyes—those piercing, silver-lit eyes—remained locked on you, unyielding. “Ask, then.”

“Do you… feed?” The question felt heavy in your throat, your voice faltering slightly. You hated how naïve it sounded, but the truth of his nature was still sinking in, unsettling and mesmerizing all at once.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you with a curious intensity that made your skin prickle. “If I say yes, will it change the way you look at me?”

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. You wanted to say no, to reassure him, but there was no denying the unease curling in your stomach. Still, you met his gaze, refusing to shy away.

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “But I want to understand.”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it. “Honest,” he murmured. “I can respect that.”

He straightened then, stepping closer until the space between you was barely more than a breath. The intensity of his presence was almost overwhelming, and you found yourself holding your breath as he spoke.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice steady and unflinching. “I feed. Not often, and not the way you’re imagining, but it’s a necessity I can’t escape.”

Your heart raced, your mind conjuring images you weren’t sure you wanted to see. But his voice, calm and measured, pulled you back.

“I don’t kill,” he added, as if anticipating your thoughts. “Not anymore. I don’t take more than I need, and I don’t take from those who don’t offer.”

“Offer?” you repeated, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. “There are those who seek it out,” he said. “The thrill, the intimacy of it. They come willingly, and I take only what they give.”

The idea was strange, almost unfathomable, but the conviction in his voice left little room for doubt. You searched his face, looking for any trace of deceit, but found none.

“And if they don’t offer?” you asked carefully.

He hesitated, his expression darkening slightly. “Then I don’t take,” he said finally. “No matter how hungry I am.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and you realized with a start that you believed him. Despite everything, despite the fear and uncertainty still lingering in the back of your mind, you trusted him.

“Does it hurt?” you asked after a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you.

His lips curved into a faint smirk, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “Only if you want it to,” he said, his voice laced with something darker, something almost… seductive.

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, your pulse quickening. His soft chuckle filled the night air, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, amused and knowing.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real heat in your voice.

“Only when I want to be,” he replied smoothly.

The conversation shifted after that, the tension easing as you fell into a more familiar rhythm. You asked him questions about his past—where he’d come from, how long he’d been this way—and he answered with a surprising openness, sharing fragments of a life that spanned centuries.

You learned about the places he’d seen, the people he’d met, and the loneliness that had followed him through it all. And as he spoke, you found yourself drawn to him even more, the weight of his existence both fascinating and heartbreaking.

At some point, you found yourself sitting on the cold stone of a nearby grave, your knees pulled to your chest as you listened. Satoru sat across from you, his long legs stretched out lazily as he gestured with his hands, his voice weaving stories that felt like they belonged to another world.

The hours slipped away unnoticed, the chill of the night forgotten in the warmth of his presence. And as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of soft pink and gold, you realized that something had shifted between you.

He wasn’t just the mysterious, infuriating man who had disrupted your quiet existence. He was something more now, something you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply nonetheless. You didn’t feel afraid of what might come next.

The horizon began to blush with the faintest light, the inky black of the night softening to a deep blue. You remained seated on the cold stone, your legs tucked beneath you, listening as Satoru’s voice wove through the thinning darkness. There was a comfort to his words, a rhythm that held you still, though the stories he told were anything but ordinary.

He spoke of distant cities, their streets alive with sounds and scents foreign to you. Of empires that had risen and fallen, some you had read about in crumbling texts, others lost to history. His voice dipped lower when he recounted betrayals and darker truths. The weight of his centuries pressed into the space between you, but he carried them with such ease it felt almost unreal.

“And yet,” he said, his tone softening as his eyes found yours, “through all of it, I’ve never seen a sunrise quite like this one.”

You glanced away from him, toward the east where the horizon glimmered faintly. The light was fragile, like a thread stretched too thin, but it promised warmth. His words lingered, though, making you feel his gaze on you rather than the sky.

“Do you miss it?” you asked after a moment. “The sun?”

His expression shifted, though it wasn’t sadness that settled over him. “Not the way you’d think,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “I miss its warmth, sometimes. The way it feels on your skin. But there’s beauty in the night, too, if you learn to see it. You’d be surprised how many people never notice the stars.”

You looked back at him, your breath catching for a moment. The light was faint but enough to paint his features in delicate strokes of silver and shadow. There was a sincerity in his voice that made your chest ache.

“I suppose you’ve had enough time to notice them,” you said, trying to sound lighthearted.

His smile returned, slow and easy, but there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before—a gentleness that didn’t fit the sharpness of his usual demeanor. “Time isn’t the same when you’re like me,” he said. “It stretches, folds in on itself. Centuries can feel like days, and moments can last forever.”

You leaned forward slightly, drawn in by the quiet intensity of his words. “And this moment?” you asked. “How does it feel to you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he held your gaze, the space between you charged with something you couldn’t quite name. His expression softened further, his smile fading into something far more vulnerable.

“Like it could last forever,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The air around you seemed to still, the sounds of the waking world fading into nothingness. For a heartbeat, you forgot everything else—the weight of his past, the danger of what he was, the uncertainty of what lay ahead. All you could feel was the warmth of his words, the sincerity in his eyes, and the way your chest tightened as if the moment itself had reached inside you.

You looked away first, your cheeks warming under his unrelenting gaze. He chuckled softly, the sound breaking the spell, and you felt yourself relax slightly. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the words held no bite.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes still heavy with meaning.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like a shared understanding, a thread connecting you in a way words couldn’t quite touch. You let yourself sink into it, the weight of the world slipping away as the pale morning light grew stronger.

But as the sun began its slow ascent, its golden light stretching farther across the horizon, Satoru shifted, his movements uncharacteristically cautious. You watched as he stood, his frame casting long, shadowed lines against the stone.

“I should go,” he said, though the words seemed reluctant. “The day isn’t kind to me.”

You stood as well, brushing the cold from your legs. “Will you be back?” you asked, hating how uncertain your voice sounded.

He turned to you, his expression softening. “You’ll see me again,” he said. “You always do.”

The promise in his words sent a strange warmth through you, though you couldn’t ignore the flicker of something darker beneath it. You didn’t ask him to stay—it felt like too much to ask of someone like him, someone bound by rules and dangers you couldn’t fully understand.

Instead, you stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until you were close enough to feel the faint chill of his presence. “Be careful,” you said, your voice softer than you’d intended.

His smile returned, faint but genuine, and for a moment, he looked almost human. “Always,” he replied, though the glint in his eyes told you he rarely played by the rules.

He didn’t move at first, his gaze lingering on yours as if he were committing you to memory. Then, with a step backward, he was gone, his figure melting into the shadows as if he had never been there at all.

The warmth of the morning seemed colder without him, the sun’s light less vibrant. You stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where he had vanished, the weight of his presence still lingering in the air around you.

When you finally turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the space between night and day—between you and him—was growing smaller with each passing moment.

The air that night carried a sharp chill, the kind that pricked at your skin and made the world feel just a little more alive. The moon hung high, luminous and unrelenting, casting its cold light across the crumbling stones of the cemetery. You walked slowly, your steps deliberate, as though afraid to disturb the fragile quiet that had settled.

He was there, of course. You’d known he would be. It was becoming a pattern now, a rhythm between the two of you that you couldn’t bring yourself to question. He stood atop a weathered mausoleum, his figure sharp and dark against the silver sky, one knee bent as though he were some tragic angel surveying his fallen dominion.

The sight of him stole the breath from your lungs. The way he stood, his white hair catching the moonlight, the faint smirk tugging at his lips when he noticed you—it felt like stepping into a dream you didn’t want to wake from. He dropped down in a single fluid motion, his landing so soft it barely stirred the earth.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice teasing but soft.

“Or you’re just early,” you replied, matching his tone.

He stepped closer, the shadows clinging to him like old lovers, reluctant to let him go. There was something languid in his movements, something that felt almost too practiced, too deliberate. Yet there was a tension beneath it, a restlessness he couldn’t quite hide.

“Walk with me,” he said, extending a hand.

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his. His fingers were cool, his grip firm but careful, as though he were afraid you might break under his touch. Together, you moved deeper into the cemetery, the stones and statues rising around you like silent sentinels.

The world seemed to shrink as you walked, the edges of reality blurring until it felt as though there was nothing beyond this place—just you, him, and the quiet pull of something neither of you dared name.

At last, you reached a clearing, where an ancient tree stood sentinel over a patch of wild roses. The air was thick with their scent, heady and almost intoxicating. He let go of your hand and moved toward the tree, his long fingers brushing over its gnarled bark.

“This place,” he said, his voice low and distant, “has seen more grief than it should. But somehow, it still stands. Still blooms.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of them sinking into your chest. He turned to face you, his expression softer now, the sharp edges of his smirk replaced by something gentler.

“It reminds me of you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze. The intensity in his eyes felt too much, like staring into the heart of a storm.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” you said, though your voice betrayed you.

He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the faint chill of his presence. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, so light it felt like a ghost’s touch.

“You endure,” he said simply. “Even when the world seems intent on breaking you.”

The words struck something deep within you, something raw and unguarded. You looked up at him, and for the first time, you saw not the predator, not the centuries-old enigma, but the man beneath it all—the man who had carried more than his share of grief and yet still found it in himself to offer you this moment.

His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing an impossibly gentle line along your skin. You felt the world tilt, the air around you thickening as though the very night was holding its breath.

And then he leaned closer.

It wasn’t a kiss, not yet. He stopped just short, his breath warm against your lips, his eyes searching yours for permission. The moment stretched, the tension between you tightening like a bowstring.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, your chest tightening with a mixture of anticipation and fear. But you didn’t pull away.

He tilted his head slightly, the angle of his approach almost agonizingly slow. It reminded you of the stolen moments you’d read about in forbidden novels—the kind where the lovers moved as though the world might shatter if they moved too quickly. Like Catherine and Heathcliff under the relentless skies of the moors, like a specter of longing that had taken root between you.

When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was so soft, so fleeting, you almost thought you’d imagined it. But then he kissed you again, this time deeper, with a hunger that belied his earlier restraint. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as though he feared you might vanish if he let go.

You lost yourself in the moment, the scent of roses and earth mingling with the cool taste of him. There was a desperation in his kiss, a longing that felt like it had been buried for centuries, only to erupt now, with you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath coming in uneven gasps. His hands remained on your waist, grounding you in a way that felt both overwhelming and necessary.

“I shouldn’t…” he began, his voice hoarse, but the words trailed off, swallowed by the intensity of his gaze.

“Then don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain.

The corners of his lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through the storm of his expression. He stepped back slightly, though his hands lingered, his touch light but steady.

“This,” he said, his voice soft but firm, “this is dangerous.”

“Then why does it feel so right?” you asked, the words escaping before you could stop them.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He simply looked at you, his expression unreadable. But then he leaned in again, pressing a kiss to your forehead—a gesture so tender, it left you breathless.

“Because sometimes,” he said quietly, “the most dangerous things are the only ones worth having.”

The stars had scattered themselves generously across the night sky, their cold light spilling down over the darkened village and its many small chapels. These places of worship were scattered like forgotten relics, their spires reaching towards heaven in silent plea.

Satoru walked beside you, his movements as fluid as shadow, silent as the night itself. You, on the other hand, were a study in contrasts. The hem of your dress dragged against the uneven cobblestones, and though your steps were cautious, there was a reverence to your every movement.

You’d passed many churches before tonight, their doors closed and sanctuaries quiet. But this one—the smallest yet, its heavy wooden doors slightly ajar—drew you like a magnet.

“You shouldn’t go in,” Satoru murmured from behind you, his voice low and tinged with unease.

“Why not?” you asked, pausing in the doorway to glance back at him. “You’ve come with me to every other one.”

“This one feels... different,” he said, his pale gaze flicking to the building. “I don’t know why.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “Are you afraid of a church, Satoru?” you teased gently.

“I fear nothing,” he said, but his tone was softer than usual, lacking its usual arrogance. “Only for you.”

You ignored the weight of his warning and stepped inside. The interior was dim, lit only by the faint silver of moonlight filtering through the cracked stained-glass windows. The air was thick with dust, the scent of old wood and decayed incense clinging to your senses.

As your eyes adjusted to the dark, your gaze was drawn to the altar at the far end of the room. At first, it seemed like nothing more than another statue, another saint cast in marble. But as you drew closer, your breath caught in your throat.

The figure was unmistakable: a woman draped in flowing robes, her hands clasped in prayer. Her head was tilted slightly downward, her expression one of serene devotion, but it was the details that stopped you cold.

The curve of her lips. The slope of her nose. The eyes, though carved from stone, held a haunting familiarity.

It was you.

The realization struck you like a physical blow, your knees nearly buckling beneath the weight of it. Your mind reeled as you stepped closer, your fingers trembling as they reached out to touch the cold marble.

Satoru’s presence loomed behind you, his silence heavy. He had followed you, as he always did, but he said nothing. When you finally turned to face him, the look on his face was unreadable.

“What is this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze flicked from the statue to you, his expression one of careful control. “You’re surprised?” he said finally, though his tone held no mockery.

“Of course, I’m surprised,” you said, gesturing to the figure behind you. “Why would there be a statue of me in a place like this? Why would they carve me as—”

“A saint,” he finished for you.

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “That doesn’t make sense. I’ve never been—”

“Haven’t you?” he interrupted, stepping closer. His voice was soft, almost reverent. “Perhaps not in this life. But the soul remembers, even when the body does not. And they... they must have remembered you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, a strange and terrible thing. You turned back to the statue, your thoughts racing. “But why?” you asked, though you weren’t sure who you were asking—him, the statue, or the heavens themselves.

“Because they saw what I see,” Satoru said, his voice so close now that you could feel his breath against your neck. “Someone who could save them. Someone who would give everything of herself, even if it meant losing everything in return.”

You closed your eyes, the truth of his words sinking into you like the sharp edge of a blade. There was a part of you that had always known, always felt the weight of something greater pressing down on you, even when you couldn’t name it.

But now, standing here in the shadow of yourself, you felt exposed in a way you never had before. And when you turned back to Satoru, the look in his eyes only made it worse.

“You think I’m still that person?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“I don’t think,” he said, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that stole your breath. “I know.”

His words were a challenge and a confession all at once, and they left you standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable. He reached out then, his fingers brushing against your wrist, and though his touch was cold, it burned in a way that felt dangerously familiar.

“You don’t understand what you are to them,” he said softly. “What you are to me.”

“And what am I?” you asked, though your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“A miracle,” he said simply.

The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the faint creak of the old church settling around you, as though the very building was holding its breath.

And then, slowly, he stepped closer, his hand rising to cup your face. “But even miracles have their limits,” he murmured. “And I fear I may test yours.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him that you were stronger than he believed, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was a vulnerability there, a quiet desperation that left you speechless.

So instead, you leaned into his touch, your eyes slipping closed as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “Then test me,” you whispered, the words a challenge and a plea all at once.

And in that moment, beneath the shadow of your own likeness, you felt the weight of something ancient and eternal settle over you. The past and the present blurred together, and as Satoru’s lips found yours, you realized that perhaps some part of you had been waiting for this—waiting for him—all along.

The air between you was heavy, almost electric, as if the small chapel could no longer contain the gravity of your shared presence. The dim moonlight filtered through the fractured stained glass, casting broken hues of crimson and sapphire onto the worn stone floor.

Satoru stood before you, closer than he had ever dared to be, his hand still cradling your face as though you might vanish if he let go. His thumb traced the line of your cheekbone, his touch featherlight but purposeful, and every nerve in your body seemed to sing in response.

“You're trembling,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration that sank into your chest.

You hadn't realized you were, but now that he said it, you could feel the faint tremor in your hands, in the way your breath hitched with every exhale. “I'm not afraid,” you whispered, though the truth was more complicated than that.

"I didn't say you were," he replied, his gaze holding yours with a quiet intensity that made it hard to think. "But there's something..." His eyes dipped briefly to your lips, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Something you're holding back."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, but you forced yourself to speak. "And what about you?" you asked, your voice steadier than you felt. "You've been holding back since the moment we met."

His smile faded, replaced by something darker, heavier. "You don't understand what you're asking of me," he said softly, his hand sliding down from your face to rest against your neck, his fingers splayed against the rapid pulse beneath your skin. "What it would mean if I let myself... take."

"Then help me understand," you said, stepping closer, so close now that you could feel the coolness of his body against the heat of yours. "Show me."

For a moment, he didn't move. The tension between you was palpable, a taut string stretched to its breaking point, and you wondered if this was the moment it would snap.

But then, slowly, his other hand rose to your waist, his touch firm but hesitant, as though he was still unsure of his own strength. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw, and the sensation sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"You don't know what you're asking for," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin despite the chill of his body.

"Maybe I don't," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I know I trust you."

That seemed to undo him. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. And whatever he found there, it seemed to break whatever restraint he had left.

He kissed you then, slow at first, as though testing the limits of your resolve. His lips were cold but soft, and the way he moved against you was deliberate, almost reverent. It was as if he was memorizing the shape of you, the taste of you, with every passing second.

You responded in kind, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. There was no hesitation now, no space left between you, and the feeling was intoxicating, overwhelming in a way that left you gasping for breath.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-lidded and heavy with something you couldn't quite name. "You make it impossible to stop," he admitted, his voice low and ragged.

"Then don't," you whispered, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

His laughter was soft, almost bitter. "You have no idea what you're inviting," he said, but even as he spoke, his lips found your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses against the delicate skin.

You arched into his touch, your breath hitching as his hands slid lower, anchoring you against him. Every movement felt weighted, charged with a kind of intensity that left no room for doubt. This was no longer just about desire; it was about something deeper, something that tied you together in ways you couldn't yet understand.

"I could destroy you," he said against your skin, the words more a confession than a warning.

"Or you could save me," you replied, your hands tightening in his hair.

For a moment, he froze, the words hanging between you like a blade poised to fall. And then, with a low, guttural sound, he kissed you again, his hands gripping your waist as though you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

Time seemed to blur after that, the boundaries between you dissolving until there was nothing left but the sensation of his touch, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, and the unspoken promises that lingered in every kiss, every caress.

And though the shadows of the chapel seemed to press closer, as if to bear witness to the moment, you found that you didn't care. All that mattered was him -the way he held you, the way he made you feel as though you were the only thing in the world.

The chapel walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own, heavy with the weight of centuries of faith and despair. The altar before you remained still, a silent witness to a moment that, in any other context, might have seemed heretical. But here, in the dim light fractured by the pale glow of the moon, there was no room for judgment—only for what existed between you and him.

The air was thick, seizing your lungs, but the cold of his hands against your skin was the only anchor keeping you from dissolving entirely. Satoru was there, closer than he had ever dared to be, and the devotion in his gaze robbed you of all coherent thought.

“There was a time,” he murmured, his voice a whisper as his fingers traced the delicate curve of your collarbone, “when I wondered how someone could be so untouchable and yet so human.”

“And now?” Your voice barely rose above a breathless whisper, trembling and unfamiliar.

“Now I understand you’re not untouchable.” His gaze dropped to your lips, and the hunger in his eyes was almost suffocating. “You were only waiting for someone willing to fall with you.”

The confession left your knees weak, threatening to buckle beneath you, but before you could falter, his hands were there, steadying you with a tenderness that felt almost reverent. Slowly, he guided you toward the base of the altar, his movements measured as though he feared the moment might shatter.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for his lips to graze the shell of your ear.

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you brought your hands to his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I don’t want you to.”

The words ignited something within him, something dark and ravenous that could no longer be contained. In one fluid motion, his lips found yours, and the kiss was everything you had imagined and more: searing, desperate, full of a need that seemed impossible to quench.

His hands, cold yet impossibly steady, explored your body with a precision that left you breathless. Every touch, every caress, was a reminder that this man was not human, and yet, in that moment, he felt more real than anything else in your world.

“My entire existence,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and dangerous, “I have walked in shadows. And now here you are, burning even in the darkness. How could I not want more?”

The weight of his words felt like a second skin, and as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake, you found yourself clinging to him as though your very life depended on it.

The warmth of his breath cascaded down your neck, juxtaposed against the coolness of his lips. Each kiss was slow, deliberate, and yet there was an undercurrent of restraint, as though he was fighting a battle with himself even as he touched you. His hands, firm and certain, traced paths over your waist and hips, memorizing the curves beneath his fingers.

You tilted your head back, granting him access, your own hands threading through his silver hair, tugging him closer. His low groan reverberated against your skin, and the sound sent a shiver racing through your body.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he whispered, his voice ragged, the edges fraying with something that felt dangerously close to need.

“Show me,” you replied, your words a challenge, your breath catching as his lips moved lower, grazing the hollow of your throat.

The kiss deepened, shifting from reverence to something darker, hungrier. His fangs grazed your skin, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of heat pooling in your core. You knew he was holding back, denying himself, but you could feel the tension in the way his hands gripped your hips, the way his breath came quicker as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

“I could hurt you,” he murmured, his voice breaking with an edge of self-loathing, yet his lips refused to leave your skin.

“You won’t,” you breathed, your hands moving to cup his face, pulling him up so that your eyes met. “I trust you, Satoru.”

Something shattered in his gaze, and the wall he had so carefully constructed crumbled beneath your words. He kissed you again, and this time, there was no hesitation. His lips were demanding, his body pressing you back against the cold stone of the altar, and you welcomed the weight of him, the way he anchored you to the moment.

Your fingers fumbled at the fabric of his coat, tugging it from his shoulders, desperate to feel more of him. He allowed it to fall away, his own hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

“Satoru,” you whispered his name like a prayer, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you couldn’t put into words.

He answered with a kiss that stole the air from your lungs, his hands traveling lower, his touch setting your skin ablaze. His lips left yours only to trace a line down your jaw, your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate curve of your shoulder. The sharp press of his fangs was fleeting, a tease, and the anticipation alone was enough to make your breath hitch.

“Tell me to stop,” he said again, but his voice held no conviction this time.

You shook your head, your fingers tightening in his hair as you whispered, “Don’t you dare.”

And that was all the permission he needed.

He lifted you with an ease that was both inhuman and effortless, settling you atop the altar as though you were something sacred. His hands roamed your body with a reverence that made your heart ache, his lips following wherever his fingers led.

Time seemed to blur, the world fading until there was nothing but him—the feel of his hands on your skin, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, the way he made you feel as though you were the only thing that mattered.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his voice a low growl against your ear, and the rawness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine.

“You,” you replied, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him closer. “I want you, Satoru. All of you.”

His eyes darkened, the silver of his gaze nearly eclipsed by black, and for a moment, you thought you saw something almost primal flicker there. But instead of fear, all you felt was desire.

His breath caught at your words, and in that moment, the tension between you unraveled, giving way to something raw and unrestrained. His hands slid beneath the fabric of your dress, tracing the lines of your thighs as though every touch was an act of worship. The coolness of his fingers contrasted with the heat of your skin, sending shivers racing across your body.

“Do you even realize,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, “what you’ve done to me? How you’ve consumed me?”

You couldn’t answer, not with the way his hands and lips were moving, with how your body felt as though it was coming alive under his touch. Instead, you tilted your head back, offering him more of yourself as a soft gasp escaped your lips.

His mouth found your collarbone, his kisses trailing lower as his fingers gripped your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the altar. The position forced your legs around his waist, and the intimacy of it made your heart race, your breaths shallow and uneven.

“You’re trembling,” he said, pulling back just enough to study your face, his silver gaze searching yours. “Is it fear, or…”

“Not fear,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Never fear.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and before you could process it, he leaned in again, his lips crashing into yours with a fervor that stole the breath from your lungs. His hands tangled in your hair, his grip firm yet tender, as though he was holding on to something fragile and precious.

Your hands slid over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing him closer. The fabric of his shirt was a frustrating barrier, and you tugged at it, your fingers working to free him from it. He allowed it to fall away, revealing pale, sculpted skin that seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight.

For a moment, you just stared, your breath catching at the sight of him, at the beauty of someone who wasn’t meant to exist. He smirked at your expression, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice low and laced with that familiar arrogance, though it softened at the edges as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips.

Instead of answering, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his chest, letting your kisses speak for you. His breath hitched, and you felt the way his body tensed beneath your touch, the control he was so carefully holding onto slipping bit by bit.

“Satoru,” you whispered his name, your voice laced with a mix of longing and vulnerability. “I want…”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice strained, almost pained. “I know what you want.”

He lifted you effortlessly, his strength a reminder of just how different he was, yet in his arms, you felt safe. He lowered you onto the altar, his body pressing against yours, and the cold stone beneath you only heightened the heat between you.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice softer now, his gaze holding an unspoken plea.

“It’s not,” you assured him, your hands threading through his hair as you pulled him down to you. “It’s never too much with you.”

His lips claimed yours again, the kiss deeper, more consuming, as his hands explored your body with a precision that made you feel as though you were unraveling beneath him. Every touch, every kiss, was deliberate, as though he was committing you to memory, and you could feel the weight of his restraint, the way he was holding himself back even as he gave you everything.

The world outside the chapel ceased to exist; there was only him, the weight of his body against yours, the way he whispered your name like a prayer as his lips trailed over your skin. Time seemed to stretch and blur, and all that mattered was the way he made you feel—as though you were something sacred, something he could never deserve but would worship regardless.

The air between you was electric, a tangible thing that coiled and snapped like a storm ready to break. His lips were a contradiction: cool yet burning, precise yet unrelenting as they claimed every inch of your skin, branding you in ways that words could never articulate. He kissed you like a man starved, each movement imbued with a hunger that no eternity could satisfy.

“You’re intoxicating,” he murmured against your collarbone, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “I should have walked away from you the moment I saw you… but how could I? You’ve ruined me.”

You shuddered at the confession, his words carving themselves into your soul. Your hands moved to his face, cradling him as though you could hold his torment and his desire in equal measure. His eyes, those piercing silver orbs, met yours, and in them, you saw everything he couldn’t say aloud: a longing so profound it threatened to consume him.

“Satoru,” you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. “You don’t have to hold back with me.”

For a moment, he froze, his body taut as though your words had struck something deep within him. Then, slowly, a smile—soft, achingly tender—curved his lips. “You have no idea what you’re inviting,” he said, his voice tinged with something almost dangerous.

“Then show me,” you breathed, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

The restraint in his movements shattered. He captured your lips in a kiss that was unlike any before it—raw, searing, a confession of every emotion he had kept buried. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him as though he needed to feel every part of you to believe you were real.

You gasped against his mouth as his fangs grazed your bottom lip, the sharp sensation sending a jolt of heat through you. His tongue followed, soothing the sting, and the sound he made—a low, guttural groan—ignited something deep within you.

“You taste like sin,” he murmured, his voice dripping with both reverence and desire. “And I’d happily drown in you.”

His hands roamed your body, mapping every curve and hollow with a reverence that made your heart ache. There was no hesitation, no rush—only deliberate, unhurried movements that made you feel as though time itself had stilled for the two of you.

The cool stone of the altar beneath you grounded you, a stark contrast to the fire spreading through your veins. His lips trailed down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat, where your pulse beat wildly beneath his touch. He paused there, his breath warm against your skin, and for a moment, you thought he might bite.

But instead, he pressed a kiss there, slow and deliberate, as though marking you in a way that went beyond blood.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “Do you understand that? No one else will ever touch you like this.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but they didn’t frighten you. If anything, they made you feel claimed in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. You nodded, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your voice steady despite the tremor in your limbs.

His smile was wicked, his teeth gleaming in the dim light as he leaned down to capture your lips once more. This kiss was slower, deeper, and you felt as though he was pouring every unspoken word, every buried emotion, into it.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, locked in a moment that felt both infinite and fleeting. Every touch, every kiss, was a promise, a declaration, a prayer spoken in the language of your bodies.

The weight of him against you, the way his body molded so perfectly to yours, was intoxicating. His lips explored every inch of your skin, as though trying to memorize you by touch alone, while his hands skimmed the contours of your waist and hips with reverence. His fingers, cool and precise, slipped beneath the fabric of your dress, inching it higher as his kisses trailed downward, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

The shift of your clothing revealed more of your skin to him, and the way his eyes darkened at the sight made your breath hitch. He looked at you as though you were something sacred and forbidden all at once, his restraint unraveling thread by thread.

“Do you even realize what you do to me?” he murmured, his voice rough, filled with both awe and torment. His hands gripped your thighs gently, holding you steady, his thumbs brushing slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t form words under the weight of his gaze, so instead, you reached for him, your fingers curling around his wrist to anchor yourself. He smiled—soft, devastating—and leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your knee, his breath warm against your skin.

His kisses traveled upward, slow and languid, as though savoring every moment. Each press of his mouth sent sparks of heat skittering across your body, your breaths coming quicker with every inch he claimed. His touch was careful, precise, but there was an intensity behind it that betrayed his own struggle to remain in control.

“Satoru,” you whispered his name, the sound barely audible, but it was enough to make him pause, his eyes meeting yours.

There was a flicker of hesitation in his gaze, a shadow of the beast he kept caged within himself, and you could feel his restraint wavering. But then you reached for him, your hands sliding up his arms, grounding him, and the tension in his body eased under your touch.

“I’m here,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the way your pulse raced beneath your skin. “I trust you.”

Those words unraveled him completely. He surged forward, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. His hands framed your face, holding you as though you might disappear if he let go, while his body pressed against yours, every movement a silent plea for more.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and the low sound he made in response sent a shiver down your spine. He shifted, his weight settling between your thighs, and the intimacy of the moment stole the air from your lungs.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips, his voice trembling with the weight of his restraint, though his body betrayed just how much he wanted this—wanted you.

You shook your head, your hands sliding down to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “I won’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute.

His silver gaze burned into yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you suspended in this fragile, infinite moment. Then his lips found yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no restraint.

His kisses deepened, his hands sliding beneath the fabric of your dress to explore the bare skin beneath. His touch was like fire, igniting every nerve, and you arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his. The cool stone beneath you was a sharp contrast to the heat between you, grounding you even as you felt yourself spiraling.

His fangs grazed your skin as his lips moved to your neck, the sharp sting sending a jolt of electricity through you. You gasped, your fingers tightening against his shoulders, but instead of fear, all you felt was exhilaration, a heady mix of pleasure and surrender.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, his voice a low growl against your ear. “Do you feel how much I crave you, how much I need you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your head tilting back to give him more access, your body trembling beneath his touch. “I feel it. I want it—I want you.”

The admission broke something in him, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his silver eyes molten with desire. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a soft, reverent growl, as though speaking the words aloud solidified them.

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, but the certainty in it left no room for doubt.

He kissed you again, his movements growing slower, more deliberate, as though savoring every second. Time stretched and blurred, and the weight of his body against yours, the press of his lips, the heat of his touch—all of it felt like a communion, a merging of two souls that transcended the boundaries of flesh and blood.

The night stretched endlessly around you, the chapel a silent witness to the bond forged between you. And in that moment, beneath the watchful eyes of the stone saints, you knew there was no going back.

You were his, and he was yours, bound by something that neither time nor eternity could break.

His hands moved over you as though you were carved from the most fragile marble, his touch reverent yet deliberate, like an artist shaping his masterpiece. Every kiss he placed on your skin was an act of worship, slow and unhurried, leaving behind a trail of fire that seared into your very soul.

The fabric of your dress slipped away under his fingers, pooling around your hips in a soft whisper of surrender. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, but the warmth of his body pressed against yours kept you tethered, his presence grounding you even as you felt yourself unraveling beneath him.

Satoru’s gaze devoured you, silver eyes gleaming in the flickering candlelight like molten steel. The intensity of his stare left you breathless, the hunger in it impossible to ignore. He was looking at you as though you were something divine, something he had craved for centuries but never dared to touch until now.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with longing, the faintest tremor betraying the depth of his emotions. His hands trailed up your sides, his thumbs brushing against the curve of your ribs, and the softness in his touch was almost unbearable. “Too perfect for someone like me.”

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain. You reached up to cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against the sharp lines of his cheekbones. “You’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”

The words seemed to break something in him. His lips crashed against yours with a force that stole the breath from your lungs, his hands tangling in your hair as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. His body pressed against yours, pinning you to the altar, and the intimacy of the moment made your heart race, your blood singing in your veins.

Your hands found their way to the buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling as you worked to undo them. The fabric fell away to reveal the pale expanse of his chest, the faint glow of his skin illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the stained glass above. You couldn’t stop yourself from running your hands over him, marveling at the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

He groaned softly at the contact, his head tilting back as though your touch was both pleasure and pain. “You’ll ruin me,” he whispered, his voice raw, as though the admission cost him something.

“Then let me,” you replied, your voice barely audible, but the weight of your words hung heavy in the air.

His gaze snapped back to yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Then he was kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands exploring every inch of you with a fervor that left no doubt of his intentions.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer as the tension between you reached a breaking point. The feel of him against you, solid and unyielding, sent a shiver through your body, and you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against your neck, his voice trembling as his lips ghosted over your skin.

“It’s not,” you replied, your fingers threading through his hair. “Don’t stop.”

Something in your words seemed to ignite him. His movements grew more urgent, his hands sliding beneath the fabric of your undergarments to touch bare skin. His touch was like fire, igniting every nerve, and you arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his.

His fangs grazed your neck again, and this time, you didn’t flinch. Instead, you tilted your head to the side, baring your throat to him in a gesture of trust and surrender. The low growl that rumbled in his chest sent a thrill through you, and when his lips closed over your pulse, you felt the sharp sting of his bite.

Pain and pleasure mingled in a heady rush, your body trembling as you clung to him. His arms wrapped around you, holding you steady as he drank from you, his mouth moving against your skin in a way that was both carnal and tender.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were stained with your blood, and his eyes burned with an otherworldly light. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his hands cradling your face as though you were something precious.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, the words laced with both possessiveness and reverence.

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your fingers tracing the lines of his face, memorizing every detail.

The night stretched on, the boundaries between pain and pleasure, heaven and sin, blurring until there was nothing left but the two of you, entwined in a bond that went beyond blood, beyond flesh, beyond time itself.

The chapel fell into a heavy stillness, broken only by the sound of your shallow breaths and the faint rustle of fabric as his hands moved over you. The world outside the stained-glass windows no longer existed; there was only Satoru, his cool touch igniting heat beneath your skin, and the overwhelming intensity of the bond now sealed between you.

His fangs had left two faint crescents on your neck, but the pain was forgotten, replaced by the electric hum that coursed through your body, binding you to him in ways you couldn’t explain. He pulled back to study his work, his lips painted with the faintest streak of your blood. There was something primal in his expression, a raw hunger tempered by reverence, as though he saw you not just as his equal but as his salvation.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly, his voice a low vibration against your skin. His fingers ghosted over the bite mark on your neck, the contact so tender it sent a shiver down your spine.

You met his gaze, your breath catching at the way his silver eyes seemed to devour you. “It’s not fear,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He smiled then, slow and devastating, a flicker of wickedness curling at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he murmured, his hand sliding to cup the side of your face. “Because I’m far from finished with you.”

His words hung in the air like a promise, and the weight of them sent a rush of heat through you. His lips found yours again, softer this time, as though he were trying to soothe the fire he had lit within you. But his restraint didn’t last long. The kiss deepened, his hunger bleeding through, and you responded in kind, your hands moving to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

The press of his body against yours was maddening, a perfect balance of coolness and heat that left you breathless. His hands roamed your sides, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. When his fingers brushed the fabric of your undergarments, you felt your breath hitch, anticipation coiling tight in your belly.

“Let me see you,” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint as his fingers toyed with the edge of lace. “Every part of you.”

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, your fingers trembling as you helped him guide the last barrier away. The cool air of the chapel kissed your exposed skin, but the heat of his gaze was what truly burned.

He didn’t speak, didn’t move for a long moment. He simply looked at you, his expression unreadable, though the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. When he finally moved, it was with a slowness that bordered on agonizing. His hands skimmed up your thighs, his touch light but deliberate, sending shivers cascading through you.

“You’re a masterpiece,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving featherlight kisses against your skin, and the tenderness of it stole the breath from your lungs.

When his mouth finally found yours again, the kiss was slow and consuming, as though he wanted to claim every part of you with it. His hands explored with a confidence that left no room for hesitation, each touch drawing soft gasps and sighs from your lips.

“Satoru,” you whispered his name like a prayer, your hands threading through his hair to pull him closer.

“Say it again,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and commanding, his teeth grazing your collarbone in a way that made your pulse race.

You obliged, his name falling from your lips in a breathless whisper as his hands and mouth continued their exploration. The line between control and surrender blurred until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

His kisses trailed lower, his lips brushing against the curve of your hip, and the intensity of the moment left you trembling. Every movement, every touch, was deliberate, as though he were determined to savor every inch of you.

“I could spend an eternity here,” he said, his voice rough and almost reverent. “And it still wouldn’t be enough.”

The words sent a shiver through you, but before you could respond, he shifted, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was both searing and soft. Time seemed to slow, the weight of his body grounding you as his hands moved to intertwine with yours, pressing them above your head against the cool stone of the altar.

“You were made for me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice heavy with conviction. “Every part of you.”

“And you for me,” you replied, your voice steady despite the trembling in your limbs.

He smiled then, a flicker of triumph in his expression, before his lips claimed yours once more. The world fell away entirely, leaving only the two of you, bound together in a moment that felt both infinite and fleeting.

The silence between you was charged, heavy with unsaid words and unfulfilled desires. Satoru loomed over you, his frame a perfect juxtaposition of danger and devotion. He had unmade you entirely, stripped you of every defense you’d clung to, leaving you bare before him—body, soul, and everything in between.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice like silk stretched thin over steel, his silver eyes blazing with an intensity that felt like it could undo you. “Do you even know what you’ve done to me?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed the side of your neck, tracing the faint crescent marks of his bite. His touch was featherlight, a deliberate contrast to the weight of his gaze. You shivered under the caress, the heat pooling low in your belly spreading like wildfire.

“I should stop,” he whispered, though his actions betrayed his words. His lips found the line of your jaw, trailing downward in a path that made your pulse race. “I should leave you to your innocence, untouched, unbroken.”

“You already broke me,” you said, your voice trembling as you tilted your head, exposing your neck to him in a gesture of both surrender and challenge. “Don’t stop now.”

The faintest growl escaped him, low and reverberating, as though he were barely holding himself together. “You’re playing with fire,” he said, his tone caught between warning and desire, though the way his lips skimmed the sensitive skin of your collarbone belied any true resistance.

“Let me burn,” you whispered, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

And burn you did.

His hands moved over your body with a precision that bordered on worship, each touch lighting a spark that threatened to consume you entirely. He kissed you deeply, hungrily, his tongue brushing against yours in a dance that felt both forbidden and fated. Your moans were swallowed by him, his name a whispered prayer against his lips.

The fabric of your gown was an afterthought, discarded with reverent care as though he were peeling away layers of sanctity to reveal something far more divine beneath. His lips followed the path of his hands, trailing heat down your shoulders, the curve of your breasts, the soft plane of your stomach. Each kiss was deliberate, lingering just long enough to leave your skin tingling.

When his mouth dipped lower, your breath hitched, your fingers clutching at the stone altar beneath you as the sensation left you trembling. He was meticulous, his kisses and touch perfectly balanced between tender and unrelenting, his name spilling from your lips in gasps that you couldn’t suppress.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and reverent, as though you were something holy. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you for him as his lips left no inch of you unexplored. “Like you were made to be ruined by me.”

You couldn’t respond, the words caught in your throat as his mouth moved lower, his touch deliberate, skilled, until coherent thought became impossible. Every nerve in your body was alight, every ounce of tension spiraling into a crescendo that left you breathless.

“Satoru,” you gasped, his name breaking like a confession from your lips, your body arching into him as he pulled you closer to the edge of oblivion.

He looked up at you then, his silver eyes blazing with a hunger that left you undone. “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough, commanding, yet softened by the reverence in his gaze.

“Satoru,” you repeated, the syllables trembling as his touch consumed you entirely, the pleasure building to a point of no return.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a low growl of approval, before his lips claimed yours once more, sealing the moment in an embrace that left no doubt of his devotion.

He held you as though you were his salvation, his movements a careful balance of reverence and possession, and you surrendered to him completely, the line between sacred and profane blurred beyond recognition.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” he murmured, his voice rough and low, vibrating through you like the echo of a prayer in an empty cathedral.

You swallowed hard, your chest rising and falling as you met his gaze. “Tell me.”

A slow, devastating smile curved his lips, but there was nothing playful about it. “You’ve made me a sinner,” he said, his thumb brushing against your lower lip, and the weight of his words sent a shiver down your spine. “And I’ve never wanted anything more.”

His lips found yours then, claiming them with a hunger that had been restrained for far too long. The kiss was deep, consuming, his hands threading into your hair as he pulled you closer. You melted into him, your own restraint crumbling as you pressed against him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

“Satoru,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and need.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his silver eyes darkened with desire. “Say it again,” he commanded softly, his hands sliding to your waist, steadying you as though you might collapse under the weight of the moment.

“Satoru,” you repeated, the sound of his name a plea that you couldn’t suppress.

He groaned softly, the sound reverberating through you as his lips found the curve of your neck. His fangs grazed your skin, a sharp reminder of what he was, but instead of fear, it only heightened the anticipation coiling in your belly. His hands moved over you with deliberate intent, tracing every curve, every hollow, as though memorizing you by touch alone.

“Let me see you,” he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through you. “All of you.”

Your breath caught as his hands slid to the laces of your gown, his fingers deftly untying them with a reverence that bordered on worship. The fabric fell away, pooling at your feet, leaving you bare before him.

He stepped back slightly, his gaze raking over you with an intensity that made your skin flush. “You’re perfect,” he said, his voice rough with awe. “Like something carved by the divine.”

You shivered under his gaze, your arms instinctively moving to cover yourself, but he stopped you, his hands gentle but firm as he guided them back to your sides. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Let me look at you.”

And look he did, his silver eyes tracing every inch of you as though committing you to memory. When he finally moved, it was with a deliberate slowness, his hands gliding up your sides before settling on your hips. He kissed you again, his lips demanding and possessive, his hands pulling you against him as though the space between you was unbearable.

The rest of his clothes were shed quickly, and the sight of him left you breathless. He was all lean muscle and sharp lines, a predator wrapped in elegance, and yet the way he looked at you made you feel powerful, as though you were the one who held him captive.

When he lowered you onto the cool stone altar, the contrast of its hardness against the softness of your skin sent a shiver through you. His lips followed, trailing heat down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, each kiss drawing a soft gasp from your lips. His hands moved with the same deliberate care, exploring every inch of you with a precision that left no room for hesitation.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something between concern and pride.

“I’m not afraid,” you managed to say, your voice trembling as his lips continued their descent.

He smiled against your skin, the curve of his lips wicked. “Good.”

His mouth found your most sensitive places, his touch both reverent and unrelenting, and the sensation left you gasping, your fingers clutching at his hair. The tension built quickly, spiraling higher with every stroke, every kiss, until it felt like you might unravel completely.

“Satoru,” you whispered, his name a broken plea on your lips.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady, and the conviction in his words grounded you even as he pushed you further into the abyss.

When the tension finally broke, it was like a dam bursting, the release washing over you in waves that left you trembling in his arms. He held you through it, his touch gentle, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple as you came back to yourself.

“You’re mine now,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet intensity that left no room for doubt. “In every way.”

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your voice steady despite the lingering tremors in your body.

He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that lit up his face. “Always.”

The silence of the space shattered with the wet, urgent sound of your bodies meeting, a raw echo in the vast darkness surrounding you. The chill of the marble beneath your back contrasted with the searing heat of his hands, his mouth, his body claiming you without mercy.

Satoru didn’t speak. There were no words on his lips—only a hunger that devoured everything in its path. His tongue traced fierce lines down the column of your neck, biting just at the edge of pain before descending to your breasts. His mouth latched onto you with an intensity that stole your breath, sucking until your skin turned red and bruised with his presence. Each pull of his lips sent waves of pleasure straight to your core, and you moaned, not caring to stifle the sound.

“Don’t you dare hide from me,” he growled against your chest, his voice rough, as if he was on the verge of losing all control. His large hands gripped your hips, lifting you with ease so you fit perfectly against him. “I want to hear every sound, every moan, every damn scream you give me.”

Your breathing was erratic, your fingers digging into his shoulders, anchoring yourself in a storm you couldn’t escape. When his hand slipped between your thighs, there was no gentleness, only a fierce need that made you arch instantly. His touches were filthy, slick, relentless.

“Satoru…” Your voice broke, caught between gasps and sighs.

He smirked, arrogant and ravenous, but the tenderness in that expression was overshadowed by the way he slid his fingers inside you without warning. Your back arched, a sharp cry tearing from your throat at the exquisite stretch, the dirty, utterly possessive act of it.

“Stay like this for me,” he whispered, his tone burning as hot as his touches. His movements were calculated, brutal, his fingers working a rhythm that matched the erratic thrum of your heart. “You’re made for me, don’t you see it? Every part of you…”

He withdrew his fingers, leaving you aching, empty, but there was no time to protest. In one fluid motion, he turned you, pressing your back against a stone column. Your hands clung to the cold edge, and his body found yours again, pressing firmly against you from behind, his hardness unmistakable against your hips.

When he finally took you, it was with an insatiable hunger. He thrust into you in one sharp movement, his size filling you so completely that it stole the air from your lungs. You screamed his name, loud and shameless, and he growled in response, his hands gripping you so tightly you knew they’d leave marks.

The pace he set was merciless, his pelvis slamming against you with a sound almost as erotic as the moans filling the air. Each thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge, the delicious friction blending with the weight of his body, the grip of his fingers on your hips, and the heat radiating from him like a fire you couldn’t escape.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice low and guttural, almost an animalistic growl. One of his hands slid up to your throat—not to squeeze, but to keep you utterly under his control. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with the pleasure consuming you. “Only yours.”

“Always,” he murmured, leaning down to bite the curve of your neck, his tongue tracing the spot before his teeth sank into your skin. The pain was sharp, but so was the pleasure—a wave so overwhelming it made you scream as the climax tore through you like a violent storm, leaving your body trembling against his.

Satoru kept moving, even as you shook and moaned, pushing your body past every limit you thought possible. He consumed you entirely, every part of you trembling, every part of you screaming his name as he took you over the edge again and again, until the final climax washed over you like a flood, leaving your legs shaking and your mind in tatters.

At last, he stilled, his heavy breathing hot against your back as he stayed buried inside you, his forehead resting against your shoulder. His lips brushed your ear, a whisper laden with possession and promises:

“I’m never letting you go. Ever.”

And from the way your body still craved him, you knew you’d never want him to.

The silence that followed wasn’t calm—it was charged, vibrating with the tension that still crackled between you. His hands hadn’t left your body, roaming slowly now, possessively, as if grounding himself in the aftermath of what he’d taken from you. The raw friction of his skin against yours only reignited the ache he’d left, a dull, relentless thrum that begged for more.

Satoru pulled back slightly, just enough to turn you around and face him, his icy eyes burning with a fire that seemed endless. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your swollen lips, and his voice was a low growl when he finally spoke.

“You think I’m done with you?” he asked, his tone almost taunting.

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours again, demanding and devouring, his kiss so intense it stole the breath from your lungs. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming you with a brutal intimacy that made your knees weak.

He didn’t let you fall—his hands were already gripping your thighs, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. The cold stone behind your back did nothing to cool the heat building between you as he pressed you against the column again. His hips rolled into yours with deliberate slowness this time, dragging a moan from your throat as the still-sensitive nerves inside you clenched around him.

“Satoru, I—”

“You’re not leaving this time,” he interrupted, his voice rough against your ear. “Not until I’ve taken every scream, every cry, every bit of you.”

His teeth grazed the shell of your ear before his mouth traveled lower, trailing kisses and bites along the column of your throat. He left marks wherever he touched—proof of his possession, blooming like bruised flowers on your skin. When his mouth closed over your collarbone, his teeth sank in deeper, the sharp edge of pain blurring into pleasure so intense it made your vision blur.

“Mine,” he growled again, almost to himself, as if branding the word into your very soul.

His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips tightly before lifting you higher, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The angle was obscene, exposing you entirely to him, and the smirk that curved his lips told you he reveled in the vulnerability.

“You look perfect like this,” he murmured, his voice dark and filled with a cruel kind of affection. “So messy. So fucking ruined.”

The first thrust was slow, deliberate, and agonizingly deep, and you cried out, your head falling back against the stone. He held himself there, buried to the hilt, savoring the way your body clenched around him, the way your breath hitched and your nails dug into his shoulders.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Do you feel how perfectly you fit me? Like you were made for this. For me.”

The next thrust was brutal, pulling a scream from your lips that echoed in the hollow space around you. He didn’t stop, didn’t hold back, setting a pace that was punishing and relentless, driving you higher and higher until you thought you might shatter.

Every sound, every cry, every gasp of his name only seemed to spur him on. His hands gripped you tighter, his nails digging into your skin as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. His mouth found yours again, swallowing your moans as his hips slammed into yours with a ferocity that left you trembling.

And then his hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding the most sensitive part of you, circling with expert precision. The combination of his movements and the overwhelming heat of his body sent you spiraling out of control, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You screamed his name, your body convulsing around him, and he followed soon after, a deep growl tearing from his throat as he buried himself in you one final time. The warmth of his release filled you, the sensation both shocking and strangely intimate.

For a moment, the world stood still, the only sound the heavy breaths you both shared. His hands gentled, his grip loosening as he cradled you against him, pressing soft, reverent kisses to your temple, your cheeks, your lips.

But the tenderness didn’t last long.

Satoru pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes still blazing with an unquenched hunger. His lips curved into a smirk, one hand brushing your hair back as the other gripped your waist firmly. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he moved, flipping you effortlessly so that you were straddling his hips. The movement left you gasping, your thighs pressed against his as he leaned back against the column, his hands already sliding down to grip the curve of your ass.

“Ride me,” he commanded, the words both sinful and sweet, his tone dark but his gaze soft. “I want to see how desperate you are for me.”

Heat flushed your cheeks, but there was no hesitation. The lingering ache between your legs only intensified as you adjusted yourself, letting him guide you until he was pressed firmly against your entrance. Slowly, you sank down, the stretch making you gasp as he filled you completely, his size forcing you to take him inch by inch.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his voice rough, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you settled onto him. “Look at you. So perfect. Taking me so well.”

The praise sent a thrill through you, but it was the raw friction, the way his cock stretched and filled you, that left you trembling. You moved slowly at first, rolling your hips experimentally, but his growl of impatience spurred you on.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands guiding your movements now, urging you to pick up the pace. “Don’t hold back. Show me how much you want this.”

The rhythm you found was frantic and unrestrained, your body moving on its own as waves of pleasure coursed through you. His hands alternated between gripping your hips and smacking your ass, the sharp sting of his palm sending jolts of sensation that only heightened your arousal.

“You like that, don’t you?” he teased, his smirk widening as he watched your reactions. “You like being ruined by me.”

His words were filthy, and you hated how much they turned you on. Your nails dug into his chest as you rode him harder, chasing the release that felt just out of reach.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “You’re gonna make me lose it.”

But just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, he shifted, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back in one swift motion. You barely had time to gasp before he was on you again, driving into you with a force that left you breathless.

“Satoru!” His name was a broken cry on your lips, your hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders, his arms, anything to ground you as he fucked you into oblivion.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding as his hand slid down to toy with your clit, the pressure making your vision blur. “Come for me. I want to feel you.”

The climax hit you like a tidal wave, your body clenching around him as you screamed his name. He didn’t stop, his movements rough and unrelenting as he chased his own release, his growl of satisfaction echoing in your ears as he came, spilling into you with a heat that left you trembling.

But even then, he wasn’t done.

Even as you lay trembling beneath him, your body still pulsing from the overwhelming release, Satoru didn’t stop. His hand trailed down your thigh, gripping it firmly as he pushed it higher, spreading you further beneath him. The vulnerability of the position made heat flare in your chest, but the hunger in his eyes erased any hesitation.

“You think I’m done with you?” he murmured, leaning down so his breath ghosted over your lips. His smirk was wicked, almost cruel, as his hips rolled into you again, slow and deliberate, sending shocks of overstimulation rippling through your body.

Your gasp turned into a moan, your fingers clutching at his arms as the friction reignited the fire low in your belly. “Satoru—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his voice soothing despite the intensity in his gaze. “You can take it. I know you can.”

The weight of his body against yours kept you grounded, his touch commanding yet oddly tender as he began to move again. The rhythm he set was slower this time, almost teasing, but the way he filled you—every thrust deliberate, every movement precise—kept you on the edge of sanity.

One of his hands slid down to your belly, pressing just above where the base of his cock stretched you wide. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure making you gasp as he smirked down at you.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance. “That’s me, buried so deep you’ll never forget it.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, but the way your body clenched around him betrayed you, drawing a low growl from his throat. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as his thrusts became sharper, rougher, driving you closer to the edge once again.

The pleasure was almost too much, your body caught between the sharp sting of overstimulation and the addictive pull of another release building deep within you. Satoru seemed to sense it, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub slow, teasing circles against your clit.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he murmured against your ear, his voice rough but laced with a cruel kind of affection. “Go on, let go for me. I want to feel you come undone.”

His words were your undoing, the tension snapping as your orgasm crashed over you in waves. You cried out his name, your body arching into his as the pleasure overwhelmed you, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He growled your name, his pace unrelenting as he chased his own release, his teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. The sharp sting only heightened the pleasure, sending another shockwave through your body as he thrust into you one last time, spilling into you with a guttural groan.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, his weight pressing you into the altar as his lips trailed soft kisses along your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your ear, his voice still rough but filled with a quiet tenderness that made your chest ache. “Every part of you.”

You nodded weakly, your body still trembling beneath him as his hands began to wander again, stroking over your thighs, your sides, your waist. The intensity in his gaze hadn’t lessened, and a small, wicked smile curved his lips as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple.

“I hope you didn’t think I was done,” he murmured, his voice dark with promise.

And before you could respond, he was moving again.

The cold, unyielding surface of the altar pressed against your back, its edges biting into your skin as Satoru loomed over you. The juxtaposition of the sacred and the profane wasn’t lost on either of you. His movements seemed to echo the blasphemy of your union, his body commanding yours as though staking his claim on something once deemed untouchable.

His hand gripped your thigh, pulling it higher over his hip as his body pinned you firmly in place. The sensation of his cock still buried deep inside you left you trembling, the weight of him making it impossible to escape even if you wanted to.

“You’re divine like this,” he murmured, his voice reverent despite the filthy words. “Spread out on this altar, looking like a fallen saint.”

Your chest heaved, every nerve alight as his other hand roamed over your body, his touch teasing and possessive all at once. Fingers brushed over the swell of your breasts, pausing to toy with your nipples until you whimpered beneath him.

“Satoru…” His name fell from your lips like a prayer, though no deity would answer in a place desecrated by the heat of his touch.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his tone a mixture of arrogance and need. “Say my name like you need me to save you.”

When you obeyed, his response was immediate. He thrust into you sharply, drawing a cry from your lips that echoed off the ancient stone walls. The rhythm he set was relentless, each movement driving you closer to the brink, the altar beneath you creaking with every snap of his hips.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the space, mingling with your desperate moans and his low, guttural groans. His hand slid down your body, gripping your waist to pull you even closer, even deeper, as though he could somehow fuse the two of you together.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice rough as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Do you feel how perfectly you fit me? Like you were made for this—for me.”

You could only nod, your body too consumed by the pleasure to form coherent words. His lips found your neck, teeth grazing your skin before biting down hard enough to leave another mark. The sharp sting made you cry out, your hands clutching at his shoulders as your nails dug into his skin.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dark with satisfaction. “I want everyone to see these marks. To know you’re mine.”

His free hand found its way between your legs, his fingers rubbing quick, deliberate circles against your clit. The added stimulation pushed you over the edge, your body arching off the altar as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.

“Satoru!” you cried, your voice breaking as the pleasure consumed you.

But he didn’t stop. Even as you trembled beneath him, he kept moving, his thrusts rough and unrelenting as he chased his own release. His grip on your thigh tightened, his pace quickening until he finally stilled, spilling into you with a growl that sent shivers down your spine.

The silence that followed was heavy, your bodies tangled together on the desecrated altar. His lips brushed against your temple, then your jaw, then your lips, the kisses soft and almost tender despite the raw intensity of what had just transpired.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “No turning back."

The cool stone of the altar beneath you was a sharp contrast to the heat that burned between your bodies. Satoru’s lips ghosted over your jawline, trailing down to your neck as his hands wandered, calloused fingers gripping your hips with a possessiveness that sent a shiver through you.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing. “Is it the cold... or me?”

His words sent a rush of heat through you, and your hands found his shoulders, clutching at him as though to anchor yourself. “It’s you,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make him chuckle darkly.

“You’re honest, at least,” he said, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “That’ll make this easier.”

He pulled back slightly, his gaze sweeping over you with a hunger that made your pulse race. The way he looked at you—like you were something sacred and forbidden all at once—sent a thrill through your chest. Slowly, deliberately, he trailed a hand up your thigh, spreading your legs further apart as he settled between them.

“You look like you belong here,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “A saint turned sinner, laid bare on this altar for me.”

Your cheeks burned, but there was no time to respond before he lowered his head, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh. His tongue followed, the warm, wet sensation drawing a gasp from your lips as he worked his way higher, his hands gripping your legs to keep you still.

“Satoru,” you whimpered, your voice shaking as the anticipation built.

“Patience,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “You’ll get what you want. What we both want.”

When his mouth finally found you, the sensation was overwhelming. His tongue moved with precision, every flick and stroke driving you closer to the edge. The way he held you—firm but gentle—made you feel completely at his mercy, your body arching into him as soft moans spilled from your lips.

He worked you expertly, drawing you higher and higher until the tension coiled so tightly within you that you thought you might shatter. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue delved deeper, the intensity of his focus making your head spin.

“Satoru, please,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tugged him closer.

The sound of your desperation seemed to ignite something in him. He hummed against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your body. It wasn’t long before you were falling apart, your release crashing over you in a wave that left you trembling, his name a broken cry on your lips.

As you tried to catch your breath, Satoru rose to his full height, his lips glistening with evidence of your pleasure. He looked down at you, his expression a mix of satisfaction and something darker—something possessive.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice low and rough.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was pulling you to the edge of the altar, positioning you so your legs wrapped around his waist. His hands gripped your hips as he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

The sensation was overwhelming, the stretch and fullness leaving you gasping as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all-consuming. He didn’t move right away, his body pressed flush against yours as though savoring the moment.

“You feel perfect,” he murmured against your lips, his voice soft but laced with intensity. “Like you were made for me.”

And then he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one driving deeper until he found the spot that made you cry out. He smirked at the sound, his pace quickening as he chased both of your undoings, the friction and heat building until it felt like you might unravel completely.

Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure rippling through you, his pace steady yet unrelenting, building an ache that felt like it would consume you. The sharp edge of the altar pressed into your back, grounding you in the sensation of his body against yours.

Satoru leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. “Do you hear yourself?” he murmured, the words laced with both amusement and adoration. “So pretty when you beg for me.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t stop the sounds spilling from your lips, your hands clinging to his shoulders as though he were the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. His hands roamed your body, one sliding down to your thigh to keep you spread open for him, the other tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing your throat.

He kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin, each bite leaving faint marks that he soothed with his tongue. The contrast of pain and pleasure had your body arching into his, every nerve alight with the intensity of his touch.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Falling apart for me on this altar like the good little sinner you are.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and he smirked at your reaction, his thrusts becoming sharper, deeper, until you felt like he was claiming every part of you.

“Satoru,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to him.

“I know,” he replied, his tone softening just slightly, his hand brushing against your cheek. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

The intensity of his movements increased, his body pressing you further into the altar as he chased the edge of pleasure. You could feel the tension coiling tightly within you, threatening to snap at any moment. His fingers found your clit, rubbing in tight, deliberate circles that had you crying out, your head falling back as your body trembled.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice firm but laced with tenderness. “Let me feel you.”

And you did. The release hit you like a tidal wave, your body arching against him as you cried out his name, your walls tightening around him as you shattered beneath his touch.

He wasn’t far behind, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release. When he finally stilled, his body pressing flush against yours, you felt the warmth of his climax spill into you, the sensation both overwhelming and grounding.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the mingling of your heavy breaths. His hands gentled, one brushing against your cheek as the other cradled your hip. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your jaw, your lips, his touch reverent in contrast to the rawness of the moment.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “Completely.”

“And you’re mine,” you whispered in return, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

His lips curved into a smile, rare and genuine, as he pulled you into his arms. The weight of the moment settled between you, the desecration of the altar and the sanctity of your connection intertwining in a way that felt both wrong and inevitable.

As the night deepened, the two of you remained entwined, the cool stone beneath you a stark reminder of where you had surrendered to him. And though the world outside might have judged you, in that moment, there was no room for guilt—only the unshakable bond forged in the heat of your union.

© museofhis all right reserved. do NOT copy, heavily inspire, plagiarize, repost and translate my work.

[missarchive]

Hey,

could you please write a Hannibal one-shot, where he realizes he is in love with the fbi reader after she nearly dies while she was hunting an other serial killer. After this realization he persues her and has dinner with her, where he confesses in a typical Hannibal way.(preferably with smut)

my first request! thank you so so much!!! i hope you like it <3

who? hannibal x fem!reader

category: angst, smut

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! dark themes, cannibalistic references, mentions of death, blood, fingering, food, biting

word count: 2k

He watched in horror as you lay motionless on the floor, your blood painting the room in crimson rivers, a masterpiece of despair. The coppery scent filled his nostrils, igniting something primal in him, but it was overshadowed by the weight of his failure. His heart fell like carrion, devoured by guilt. If only he hadn’t been so consumed by his obsession with Buffalo Bill, so blinded by his macabre reveries, he might have caught the predator who nearly stole you from him. You were his now, his life’s marrow, and the thought of losing you gnawed at his resolve.

Jack’s frantic voice calling for paramedics was a dull roar in the background, irrelevant. All that mattered was you, your fragile body bathed in the ichor of survival. Your blood called to him—a siren’s song of life and fragility, begging him to protect what he had claimed.

The ride to the hospital was a slow dissection of his patience. He stayed by your side, never wavering, his presence as steady as a hunter guarding his feast. When they sedated you, he felt the sting of powerlessness, like a beast caged, unable to act. Seeing you pale and vulnerable in the hospital bed filled him with an ache he couldn’t name—a hunger not of the body but of the soul. You deserved better, and he would carve the world into a place worthy of you.

He’d never felt like this, not even in his darkest indulgences. You had unearthed something raw in him, something human, an appetite for connection that rivaled his other hungers. You made him feel alive, your presence slicing through his apathy as cleanly as a scalpel. You were his purpose now, the flesh to his bone, the feast he never knew he craved.

When you were discharged a week later, he was there, your shadow and sentinel. He helped you into the car, his touch lingering, savoring the privilege of your skin against his. You ordered takeout and sat together, the mundane act transformed into an intimacy that gnawed at the edges of his restraint. You wanted to know him, to taste the marrow of his history, and for the first time, he relented. He bared his scars, his childhood, Mischa—the foundation of the monster he had become.

Your arms wrapped around him, your cold hands branding his skin, and he reveled in the comfort you offered. You were his salvation, his undoing. When he stayed with you that night, your feverish body beside his, your scent and warmth filled the hollow void within him. The memory of your blood on his tongue haunted him, exquisite and forbidden, but he resisted. For now.

The next evening, you agreed to dine with him. He led you to the table, his lair dressed as an altar, the candelabra casting flickering shadows that seemed to dance with the promise of secrets. The silver serving dish gleamed between you both, an offering. When he revealed its contents—sliced thigh meat, glistening and tender—your breath hitched, her eyes wide with fear and something deeper. Desire.

“Will you taste it, for me?” he asked, his voice silken, the predator coaxing the prey.

“I shouldn’t,” you whispered, your eyes darting from the meat to his face.

“But you want to,” he said, leaning closer, his presence enveloping you like a shadow. “Don’t deny yourself what you crave.”

You swallowed hard, lips parting in hesitation. “And if I do? What does that make me?”

“It makes you honest,” he said, his voice dark with promise. “Honest with yourself. With me.”

Your trembling nod was all he needed. He fed you, piece by piece, watching as your soft lips closed around the fork, tongue darting out to savor the taste.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “What do you taste?”

Your gaze flickered to the dish, then back to him. “It’s rich,” your voice barely above a whisper. “Decadent. It shouldn’t be, but…”

“But it’s exquisite,” he finished for you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Just like you.”

Your breath hitched, and you shook her head. “You can’t say things like that. Not after everything.”

“Everything I’ve done, you mean?” he said, setting the fork down and leaning closer. “And yet, here you are. At my table. Tasting my work. Why?”

You looked away, hands trembling in your lap. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice a blade cutting through your defenses. “You’ve known since the moment you found me in my cell. We are not so different, you and I. You feel it, don’t you? That pull. The hunger.”

Your eyes snapped to his, wide and glassy. “I’m nothing like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound more predator than amusement. “Oh, but you are. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. You wouldn’t have tasted it if you didn’t want to know.”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I can’t. I can’t be like this.”

“You already are,” he said, reaching out to cup your chin. “And it’s beautiful.”

Lips quivered under his touch, your resolve crumbling. “What do you want from me?”

“Everything,” he said simply, his voice low and deliberate. “Your mind, your body, your soul. Give yourself to me, and I’ll give you the world.”

You stared at him, breath shallow, pulse hammering against your ribs. “And if I say no?”

“Then you’ll walk away,” he replied, his tone calm, though his eyes burned with a fire you couldn’t ignore. “But you won’t. Because you already know the truth.”

Your lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. Instead, you reached for the fork, hand trembling, and lifted another piece of meat. “More?” you whispered, voice barely audible.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours, and you fed him. His hands slid to your thighs, a deliberate and possessive touch, and you didn’t stop him, how could you? Your eyes met, your hesitation melting into something deeper, darker.

“How does it taste?,” you whispered, your voice soft and reverent.

His groan rumbled low in his chest as he pulled you to him, his lips finding yours with an urgency that made you gasp. The taste of you, the feel of you, was intoxicating, and he devoured it with a hunger that felt endless. “Delicious.”

You let him kiss you, let him taste you, for one long, breathless moment before pulling back, lips swollen, chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm. “Hannibal…” you murmured, voice a blend of warning and want.

He released you reluctantly but seized your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze. His fingers were firm, unyielding, but not cruel. “Say it,” he commanded, his voice velvet over steel. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Your eyes widened, twin storms of fear and longing swirling in their depths. Your breath hitched, and for a heartbeat, the room held its breath with you. The weight of his command pressed on you like a velvet shroud—suffocating yet intoxicating. You hesitated, lips trembling, caught between resistance and the undeniable pull of surrender. Finally, as though the tension within you had reached its breaking point, you nodded, voice quivering, a fragile wisp of sound.

“I’m yours.”

His eyes darkened, the amber depths of them ignited by the molten heat of satisfaction and desire. A predatory smile ghosted over his lips as he drank in your submission. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, heavy with promise and intent.

You lie there, motionless, your body trembling with the echoes of his touch. His presence is all-encompassing, a shadow that devours the light and leaves only him. You can’t escape the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes seem to bore into your soul, unearthing secrets you didn’t even know you carried.

The first bite sends a jolt of pain and pleasure coursing through you, a sharp contrast to the softness of his lips that follow. Your breath hitches, your body betraying you, arching toward him, craving the sting of his teeth even as your mind screams at you to run. But you don’t. You can’t.

His voice, low and commanding, is a dark symphony that plays at the edges of your sanity. “Open,” he says, and before you even realize it, your lips part, obeying him as though the word itself holds you captive.

The strawberry he presses to your lips is sweet, its juice sticky and warm as it drips down your chin. His tongue follows, deliberate and slow, tracing the trail it leaves. Your eyes flutter shut, the world narrowing to the sensation of him, the taste of the fruit mingling with the metallic tang of blood.

Your hands find their way to him, desperate for something to anchor you in this storm of sensation. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pull him closer, needing him, hating yourself for it but unable to resist. He groans, the sound vibrating against your skin, and it ignites something deep and primal within you.

When his teeth find your inner thigh, your gasp is involuntary. The pain is sharp but fleeting, replaced almost immediately by a rush of heat that pools low in your belly. You can feel the wetness between your legs, the evidence of your desire, and it shames you even as it thrills you.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rich and dark, a promise and a threat all at once.

And you are. God help you, you are.

He moves with purpose, trailing his lips, his teeth, his tongue over your body. Each bite, each scrape of his teeth, feels like a brand, marking you as his. And with every mark, you feel yourself slipping further, the lines between pain and pleasure, fear and longing, blurring until they’re indistinguishable.

When his fingers find you, parting your lips, sliding into your heat, your moan is loud and unrestrained. You’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet you’ve never felt so alive.

His mouth claims yours, swallowing your cries, his tongue tasting you as though he can’t get enough. When your body tightens around him, when you shatter in his arms, he doesn’t stop. He devours you, body and soul, until there’s nothing left of you but the trembling, aching woman in his arms.

And when it’s over, when you’re spent and sated and utterly his, he looks down at you with a hunger that hasn’t been satisfied.

“I’m still hungry,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear, and your breath catches in your throat.

You know what he means, and yet you don’t run. You nod, surrendering completely, because in that moment, you realize something terrifying and undeniable.

You want to be devoured.

[evvyyypeters-fics]

A Ghost In the Bed

Perv!Tate Langdon x dom!f!reader oneshot

Warnings! Pure smut, porn w/ zero plot, masturbation (male), handjob, obsession, pantie fucking, femdom, a lil mommy kink, humiliation

In honor of it being officially Murder House season (to me at least) I bring u this masterpiece I created. Inspired mainly by @fear-is-truth

It was the blood moon tonight, and suspiciously every time the sun dipped under the horizon and the moon glared down onto the cold ambience of autumn, Tate’s libido sky rocketed. His eternal teenage hormones spiking to a point that was unbearable. And it didn’t help now that you were living in the infamous ‘Murder House’, Tate’s obsession with you dark and lustrous like the red glow of the other-worldly planet.

You were out at a friend’s house tonight, Tate had overheard you asking your mom to go, and she obliged as usual. Needing you so desperately, he craved. Imagining your soft skin, biting it, tasting it’s warmth. Feeling it tingle through his cold, dead soul. The harmonic string of melodies that he could pull from your throat as he buries himself in your flesh, caressing it, pounding you. Even the way your tits rested under your shirt, your cleavage peaking sometimes and sending sparks through his body, or the view of your ass as you walked up the stairs, always making sure he followed behind you just to see it and hopefully a glimpse of your panties that day from under your skirt. The ghostly feeling of his imaginations traveling straight to his cock, twitching uncomfortably in his pants. He needed relief, and he needed it bad. If only you were there to help him, if only he knew you wanted to help him.

At first his mind muttered silent prayers that you wouldn’t somehow find him desperately rutting into your favorite pair of cotton panties, his hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as he used the soft fabric to create a strangely pleasurable friction, his pre-cum soaking them with the perfect amount of lube.

The sounds were obscene, yet muffled by the cloth. On the other hand, his moans were not. Shamelessly he whined, whimpering obscenely as he came closer and closer to the edge, using his fantasies of you as fuel as he fist fucked into your panties like a bunny in heat, but there was no final wave. No release, just the aching feeling of the weight of his hard cock, pounding. He was starting to get too desperate, his thoughts drowning as all he wanted anymore was for you to save him from this torment. He didn’t care if you hated him for it, he just needed your touch. Your comfort. To cum.

“Tate…?” A familar voice chirped curiously, the door creaking open.

Shit. He thought. You were back early.

He instantly sat up, hiding his proud cock with a nearby pillow resting on your bed. His face was beat red, his eyes watery and skin persperating with small beads of sweat. Pupils blown, his jaw slack as he stutters an excuse than hangs from the tip of his tongue, it’s clear what happened. Tate was ready for the scream, the insults, the anger, the disgust. But there was none, you surely looked surprised, but he couldn’t see any distain in your staring eyes.

“Why are you back? You weren’t supposed to be back yet!” He blurts out a little loudly, his voice trembling. He didn’t mean to be accusatory, you knew.

“I got bored and wanted to come home..” You reply slowly, taking invisble steps closer towards the bed.

“You know…what are you doing in my bed, Tate?” You ask, wanting to taunt him in his vulnerable state, see how far you can push him and make him melt even more into a puddle. He shivers as he begins to notice the growing warmth of your body leaning closer to his frozen position on your mattress. Hoping your eyes don’t look down at the conspicuous pillow, anxiety striking his heart as just in that moment you do. There’s something predatory in it that makes his spine shiver.

“N-Nothing. I just…missed you.” The words are forcefully calm and monotone, trying to sound casual. A dumb excuse he came up with spontaneously that you both knew didn’t work to hide anything.

“You missed me, huh?” You smile devilishly as you press a hand in the mattress next to him, his whole body lighting on fire, his breathing begins to labor with the pure lava of lust flowing to his dick. Your hand mere inches away from where he needed you most.

“Is that all?” He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from your hand to your gleaming eyes.

“I—uh.” He chokes on his words. “N-no..” He admits shamefully, his gaze tilting away.

“Do you want me to help you fix it?” You lean into his ear, whispering hotly against it which makes his face light up pinker, every hair on his body on end.

He swallows thickly again before nodding.

“Use your words, puppy.” You croon, pinching his chin between your fingers and gently forcing his glossy coffee eyes to look at you.

“P-Please.” He whines, causing your heart to squeeze a little.

“Good boy. Let mommy see.” You smile slyly, pulling away your hand as he lays back comfortably into the mattress, removing the pillow from over his length as you climb beside him. Kneeling over his legs.

“So naughty.” You tease as you pull away the sticky pair of panties wrapped around his shaft, precum beading thickly at his tip as he twitches from the touch or lack thereof.

His hips automatically jerk up, trying to reach your hand as you pull away the material. A small giggle slips past your lips that makes him whine into a bitten lip.

“Poor baby, all worked up, I won’t tease you any longer.” You coo, prodding a pad of your finger at the practically purple pillowy head.

He instantly lets out a muffled gutteral moan, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the pathetic sounds as you wrap your hand around him. Collecting the slick and coating his cock with it as you start a leisurly pace that slowly picks up, leading him to buck into your fist wildly.

“Let me hear you, puppy.” You say softly, watching between his perfect cock and his adorable face as he tries to hide the very obvious sounds bellowing from his throat. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.” Forcing a gutteral sound to spill from his lips as you press a finger into the sensitive head.

Your words make his heart and brain melt, the feeling of your hand on him being even better than he anticipated. He can feel himself getting closer, hips slamming at the same pace as your fist, pre-cum drooling over your hand as he moans pathetically. The sound of his voice getting thicker and more desperate, his muscles tensing.

“Cum for me, puppy. C’mon, let it all out.” You soothe, something clicks in his brain and he instantly busts, long and thick milky ropes shoot out, more than you thought was possible and drawing a long moan from his lips as his head pushed back into the pillow behind it. His thighs shuddered, toes curled until the ropes subsided and rested coated on your hand and his cock.

“Feel better?” You ask, slowly removing your hand as he comes down from the high.

Practically drunk on pleasure and blissed-out, he nods silently.

“Good. Next time, maybe just ask me first before jerking off into my panties.” You scold light-heartedly as you raise up the half-crusted fabric to the culprit’s gaze and he quickly hides his blushing face guiltily.

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