#the first heats he has will be like the last heats he had - corrupted | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherubunie · 3 months

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fucked silly ~ bff satoru gojo x inexperienced reader ౨ৎ ♡

satoru is your best friend, and he has been since the first grade. he's never trusted anybody the way he trusts you, apart from get of course. its also abundantly clear that you have the biggest crush on him, its written all over your face; especially when he takes you out somewhere expensive, whenever he compliments you, and especially when he teases you. in true gojo fashion, he want's to tease you until you're bursting out of your seams with pent up frustration, he can't help it when his cock hardens whenever you make that cute pouty face at him whenever he does so! , and today is his lucky day, when he teases you just enough for you to finally come undone. word count: 7000 (whoops) inexperienced! sub! reader x Dom! Gojo. Lots of sweet talking, praise, orgasm control, oral sex, gentle choking, very soft corruption. gagging very very gentle sex. beginning of a relationship tehe. mutual love, confessions.

"gojoooo, my feet are starting to hurt" your face flushes for the nth time as the man behind you pushes you into yet another clothing store. the two of you had been walking for 3 and a half hours around the local Shibuya shopping center since 12 pm. Gojo insisted the two of you go shopping as your birthday was next week, but he couldn't join you on the day because he was busy. so, to make it up to you he decided to take you on an unlimited shopping spree.

"but we haven't gone in here yetttt, come on there are so many cute things in here" the white headed man squeals as he pushes you at lightning speed, almost causing you to trip over yourself one too many times.

As you walk into the store, your eyes widen at all the cute articles of clothing the shop carries. you instantly throw all your bags full of other clothes and jewelry right into gojo's arms and he happily stumbles to grab them out of your hands with an amused chuckle, readjusting his blindfold. Suddenly, the pain in your feet disappears when you run around the store, looking at everything they have.

After shopping around the store for another hour, your eyes land on a gorgeous pastel blue dress with white lace tracing the hem. you turn around, eyes landing on gojo who's walking around in the mens section of the store.

suddenly, a sneaky idea pops into your head and before you can even second guess yourself, you grab the dress off the hanger and hide it in the pile of clothing you had already picked out around the store and walk towards satoru.

"you ready?" he senses you before you even say anything, turning around so his body faces yours. with a cheeky smile on your face, you grab his arm and pull him towards the check out area without saying a word.

"You are one expensive girl, you know that?" his legs spread apart slightly in the back of the bmw his private export is driving the two of you in. you feel your face heat up at his action and quickly punch his arm with a scowl.

"and you're the one who puts up with this expensive girl, you know that?" your snarky reply causes satoru to laugh, throwing one of your many plushies right into your face.

As you arrive back at your apartment, gojo directs the driver to pull into a parking spot and wait for him to return. Just like the man he is, gojo is whining the entire way to your apartment, complaining about how heavy all your bags are.

"oh shut up, I know you can carry so much more than that so stop complaining" you jokingly snap at him, resulting in a whine coming from behind you. You grab your keys from your purse and unlock your door, setting your purse on its designated hook and walking into your humble abode. Gojo walks into your room and sets all your newly bought items on the bed, you following in his footsteps.

"its around 5:30 now, what time did you say the reservation is at?" you ask the white headed man and walk towards your closet, looking at all the clothing you have yet to wear from your last shopping trip.

"I set the reservation time to 8, but if you need more time to get ready I can call them and have a time change arranged" he says, turning around to face you. You hum to yourself, debating on if that's enough time to do the makeup and hair styles you want to do.

"That should be enough time, that gives me 2 hours to get ready." you turn around to speak to him directly.

"okay, I'll be back in a couple hours, dress nicely, I'm taking you to the best restaurant in Shibuya for my best girl" his flirting sends a dagger straight to your heart, not knowing he was being 100% serious.

"get out of here, you're taking up my precious time" You spin him around and push him towards your front door, ushering the man out of your apartment.

"UH, as if im not worth your time, why do you heart me so, y/n?" you roll your eyes at him for the millionth time today and push him out the door, locking it behind him.

it takes you a second to regain yourself,,, especially after spending half the day with this stress case. before you're running into the bathroom to take a shower, shaving every nook and cranny of your body.

Your makeup and hair take up most of the time you have, giving you only 15 minutes to get dressed and put on your perfume. You dig through all your freshly bought clothing before yanking out the beautiful blue and white dress. You set it on your bed, looking at it. You even have an internal debate with yourself on if you should even wear it or not.

he doesn't see me like that, there is no point in trying to impress him.

You begin to overthink, your mind racing a million miles per minute. The two of you have gone out to fancy restaurants together before, so how is this time any different? Suddenly, gojo's words ring through your head, reminding you that he told you to dress nicely. The dress is on you in an instant, hugging you in all the right places. Your curves are more prominent and your boobs sit so nicely. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, noticing how good the dress makes you look. the blue makes your face pop and your eyes shine, confidence radiates off of you like there is no tomorrow.

Just as you are about to grab your shoes, you hear a knock at your bedroom door. You roll your eyes with a smile on your face before opening it. Satoru stands in the doorway, a smile on his face and a dozen of your favorite flowers in his hands.

"thought I would let myself-" he cuts his sentence short. You tilt your head in wonder as the tall man in front of you raises his free hand from his pocket to grab the top of his blindfold, pulling it downwards so he can get a good look at you.

His eyes trail up and down your body slowly, making your thighs clamp together and blush rise to your face.. and satoru notices your actions, but decides not to comment on it.

"give me a spin" a smile creeps onto his face as he brings his index finger into the air, signaling you to spin. You giggle to yourself before spinning around slowly, making sure gojo gets a good look at you. Your eyes lock onto his, and you can't help but smile up at him before shaking your head, another laugh forces its way out of your throat.

"stop staring at me satoru, we're gonna be late" you walk towards him, grabbing the flowers out of his hands and walk past him and into the kitchen, placing the pretty flowers onto your kitchen table. you make a mental note to yourself to put them into water before you go to bed tonight. All gojo can do is clear his throat and brush a hand through his hair, trying not to mess it up too much before pulling his blindfold back over his eyes.

suddenly, a realization hits him-

"hey wait, I don't remember buying that for you"

The restaurant is beautiful, it's one neither of you have gone to before. there is a big fish tank that compliments the side of the wall as you walk in. the lighting isn't too bright, which is nice since you don't normally like any sort of overhead lighting. The tables in the place are very nicely placed, and there are more private areas in some of the corners of the restaurant as well. Gojo does all the talking for the both of you as you look around at the place in awe. The smell in the building is phenomenal and your mouth waters at the sight of a waiter bringing out someone's dish.

The hostess takes the two of you into one of the mentioned private corners, placing two menus onto the table before turning her body to gojo to talk to him.

"im sorry, I'm aware this is very unprofessional of me but.. are you satoru gojo?" she asks and your ears perk up with interest. Gojo doesn't turn his head to face her as she speaks and answers the woman with a blunt

"yes I am" leaving no room for much small talk, but that doesn't seem to shake the hostess very much.

"oh my god, I just wanna say you're so handsome... blah blah blah" you then decide to tune the two of them out, not wanting to accidentally upset yourself. You can tell by the way gojo moves that he's enjoying the attention, but isn't flirting back, which isn't really like him, but you don't complain.

a minute goes by of the hostess rambling before gojo shuts down the conversation by asking for the waiter, leaving the hostess to shut her trap in embarrassment before walking off to grab the waiter, her cheeks red. Your ears turn back on as she walks away.

"done flirting?" you ask, only half joking. He looks at you with a smirk before he responds, taking the fork out of the napkin and plays with it.

"jealous?" you don't respond to him, all you do is roll your eyes and look down at the table.

"don't be." it takes you a second to register the man's words before your head shoots up, your eyes widening in question.

"what does that mean?" gojo laughs at your reaction and shrugs. truth be told, he's known of your little crush on him for a while now, and to say that he's flattered is an understatement. In true gojo fashion, he's been playing with you. not with your feelings, of course not! he cares way too much about you and would rather die than to hurt you in any way possible,,,, except when you're writhing underneath him as you scream his name. he's been letting the pent up frustration you have build over time until you're just about ready to burst.

He wants you to be the one to confess first.

"I'm just telling you that there is no need to be jealous!" his voice sounding hurt and his arms dramatically fall onto the table

"do you not trust me? im offended.. and I thought we were friends!" gojo over exaggeratedly look away from you, crossing his arms over his chest, causing you to laugh out loud, covering your mouth in the process.

"oh stop it, we are! I was just wondering" you bring your hands out and reach over the table, grabbing one of gojo's arms and pulling it down, trying to stop him from making a scene.

A little while later, the food the two of you had ordered is halfway gone and you're both talking each other's ear off. A comfortable silence clouds the table as you both stare at each other.. kind of, your head in your palms. Gojo doesn't want to ruin the comfortable atmosphere the two of you have created, but he has to tell you.

"y/n, I have to tell you something" his words instantly make your stomach drop and your palms sweat, your head tilts, signaling him to continue.

"I'm leaving for a couple months on a mission, so I wont be able to see or talk to you for a little while" your smile falters and your palms move from your face to your lap. You look down, thinking of your next words to say. You understood that his job as a sorcerer was dangerous, which causes him to disappear for a long amounts of time, but with your growing feelings, it gets more and more difficult not being able to see him when he has to leave.

"when will you be back?" your voice is small when you speak, signaling that you're somewhat upset. Gojo crosses his arms across his chest and leans back, getting more comfortable before breaking the news to you.

"this mission could last up to six months at the most, I leave in four days" the more you spend less and less time together the stronger he gets. you feel selfish for even thinking it, but you wish that he could spend more time with you instead of having to go out and exercising cursed spirits and saving people. of course you don't want him to quit saving people, but you just wish you could see him more than a couple times every 3-4 months.

"just come back safe, that's all I care about" you say, looking back up with a smile, trying your best not to seem upset. an awkward silence looms over the table.

"im fulllll I can't eat anything else ugh, we're gonna have to come back here some time" you say, trying to push aside the tense atmosphere. gojo completely ignores your sentence

"your dress, I got that for you today, right?" he says, leaning forward to get a closer look at you. You look down at your article of clothing as he mentions it.

"yeah, you did! I thought it was a pretty color, so I just threw it in with everything else I got" you run your hands over the fabric of the dress, you look back up at the man across the table.

"it is a very beautiful dress, but" his sentence is cut short. you tilt your head to the side in question as he grabs his glass of water, drawing it to his mouth.

"hm?" you question in a hum. Before he can take a sip, he speaks. his words shifting the atmosphere in the entire building.

"it would look better off of you" he says, proceeding to take a sip of his drink. all air was sucked from your lungs and your face instantly changes color into the deepest shade of red. your wide eyes stare at the man in front of you. up until now, he has never flirted with you, let alone anything remotely dirty, and his words have your thighs rubbing against each other within less than a second.

there is absolutely no way he just said that to me

"stop messing with me," you tell him, completely trying to ignore what he just said to you, looking away from him, trying to focus on something else- anything else.

"how much did everything come to anyways, I feel kind of bad for getting so much" you question, trying to get onto a different topic.

"who says I was messing with you.. and as if I would tell you that. it wasn't even that much. even if it was, the price would be worth it" he finishes his drink, his voice making your head spin.

after gojo pays the bill, the two of you head out of the restaurant, taking his private escort back to your apartment. the car ride consisted of the two of you singing karaoke at the top of your lungs with the windows rolled down. a few passer-bys saw you two going crazy singing TGIF by Katy Perry.

after arriving back at your apartment, gojo decides to walk you inside, grabbing your purse from out of your hands and unlocking the door for you. You step inside the apartment, taking your shoes off and kicking them by the front door.

"god, today was so much fun, thank you for taking me out satoru" you stretch your arms above your head, popping your back. the sound of the front door closes. turning around, you notice gojo's hands are in his pockets. he shrugs at you, a small smile adoring his face.

"anything for you" the silence is awkward again, the clock ticking a quarter passed 10. you play with the hem of your short dress, attempting to think of something to say.

"I should probably head out, i'm pretty busy these next few days so.." his sentence trails off. you nod your head in response, still not able to come up with anything to say to him.

Gojo takes his hands out of his pockets, throwing you the most adorable peace sign, his smile growing bigger.

"i'll try and stop by before I leave okay?I'll see you later, y/n" his hand wraps around the knob, and the sound of the creaky door snaps you out of your haze. just as he's about to close the door behind him on his way out, you call out to him.

"toru!!" you speed walk to the front door, grabbing the frame and push it open so you can see him.

"hm?" he turns around, facing you fully, all ears on you.

"I have something I need to tell you" you look down towards the floor, too embarrassed to say it directly to him.

satoru knows what's coming, he can feel it. his heart skips a beat as his cock starts to twitch slightly. even though he can't actually see it, your face looks so innocent and nervous, he almost feels bad for making you confess first. he knows how shy you get when it comes to feelings or anything that involves sexual activities. and he lives off of teasing you. seeing how red your face gets whenever his body is too close to yours or how you shy away from him whenever he compliments you. it never fails to make his dick hard whenever you get so shy.

gojo grips the top of the door frame, leaning onto the side of it. you can't seem to get your thoughts to form a coherent sentence, so you say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I really like you satoru.." your voice is so silent, you could barely hear it your self. of course gojo heard you, but he teases you anyways.

"I like you to y/n" your frustrated huff almost makes him bust out laughing, you're too adorable. Your hands form fists as you shake your head from side to side.

"no, that's not what I mean."

"oh? how did you mean it then?" his voice is mesmerizing and it feels like you're going to explode trying to tell him how you feel.

"god this is so stupid. gojo I love-" your sentence is harshly cut short as the freakishly tall man bends down and cups the back of your head, forcing your lips to collide. you gasp into his mouth before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. with his free hand, he softly grips your waist, pushing you back into the apartment, slamming the door closed with one of his feet.

Gojo moves his hand from your waist, pressing it against the wall behind you before gently pressing you into it. your hands find their way into his hair, tugging gently. Satoru groans into your mouth at your action, pressing his body into yours. Your face feels hot and your clit begins to throb as you feel every part of his body against your own. Satoru moves his hands to your waist, making you grind your hips into him. You sigh into him, but all of a sudden your mind starts to go into overdrive as you pull your lips away from his.

Gojo takes this opportunity to move his face to your neck, kissing down sweetly at your skin. His lips feel so soft and warm, but you instantly let out a partially loud yelp when starts to suck on the spot behind your ear. Your eyes close on instinct, your hands remaining tangled in his white hair.

You feel his hands slide from your waist, down to your thighs and all of a sudden everything seems overstimulating and fast.

"wait wait wait-" your voice laced with heavy breaths. Satoru instantly detaches from your neck, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek in worry.

"what's wrong love? did I hurt you?" his concern makes you smile softly. You trail your hands down to hold his face, reassuring him that you're okay.

"I've never- I mean I haven't experienced, or had... I feel so dumb" you sigh in-between sentences, embarrassment laced in your tone of voice. one of your hands comes down to play with the tie of the suit he's wearing, fidgeting with the cloth. Gojo chuckles under his breath, biting his bottom lip slightly.

"I know baby. Do you want me to go slow?" His words make you lightheaded.

"if that's okay, i've never done anything with anyone so I don't really know what i'm doing.." you whisper the last bit of your sentence, looking at his face. He smiles at you, grabbing your hands and kissing your fingertips.

"come here" he says, lifting you into the air like a princess, one arm under your knees, the other behind your back all in one swift, quick motion. You squeal in surprise, your arms wrapping around his neck.

"toru what about the carrrr" you kick your legs in his hold, giving his cheek and jaw light kisses

"I waved him off before I got out of the car, don't worry about it hun" he turns his head, giving you a quick kiss on your lips before pushing your bedroom door open with his foot. Gojo gently sets your body down on the bed, crawling over you, both of his hands planted on the sides of your body. You giggle again, reaching your hands out to wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

"you're so beautiful" he whispers right before his lips meet yours, soft and warm. your fingers find their way to his hair, gently playing with his locks as he presses his body into yours. his tongue finds its way into your mouth, exploring it. you sigh deeply into him as he presses his body against yours, slowly grinding his hips into your core. your sigh turns into a hushed moan as the grip in his hair turns into pulling.

His tongue leaves your mouth as he looks at you with a sly smirk. his face moves down towards your neck, leaving sweet kisses along your jaw and neck. one of his hands comes up to cup your cheek, caressing it with his thumb before trailing his lips down in-between your collar bones. with every gentle kiss, your breathing gets heavier and heavier.

Satoru reaches the top of your dress after kissing every nook and cranny of your neck and collar bones. He sits up and your hands fall to your sides while his warm palm leaves your cheek. He smiles down at you.

One of his hands comes down to your thigh, sliding up and under your dress slowly to meet the hem of your underwear. you sniffle a whine with the back of your palm.

"let me hear you baby" he says, his thumb finding your clit through your damp underwear, tracing tender circles. you move your hand away from your mouth to cover one of your eyes, obeying his words. His thumb presses down a little harder, giving you the friction you need. With every circle he traces, the louder your whines get. He takes your growing whines and removes his thumb from your clothed clit.

You sit up on your forearms, trying to see what his next move is. He uses both of his hands to grab your panties, looking up at you before removing them.

"is this okay?" he questions, pulling them down just a hair. your mouth doesn't move, so your head nods up and down for an answer. He pulls your underwear down and below your ankles, taking them completely off and tossing them to the ground next to your bed. then, he hovers back over you, using one of his forearms as leverage to hold himself up right above you, the other hand tracing up your thigh once more before finding your bare pussy.

Two of his fingers resume massaging your clit, this time with more force. You moan louder this time, looking directly at gojo, wishing you could look into his eyes.

As if he read your mind, he leans his head down slightly so that he can slide his blindfold up and over his head with the arm that's holding him up, slipping off his blindfold, revealing his crystal blue eyes that stare into yours deeply.

"wanna see your pretty face" he says and just like that, his long fingers slide into you, curling up and hitting your sweet spot instantly. Your back slightly arches off the bed and your hands fly to his back, nails digging crescent moon shapes into his skin through his suit.

"oh my god toru" his fingers gently pump in and out of you, curling up to touch your g-spot over and over again. you shut your eyes, pulling him closer to you.

"yeah? you're so adorable, can't wait until you're screamin' underneath me"

he watches your face contort into one of pleasure with a smile gracing his. his fingers work faster inside you, the only sounds being heard were your moans and the wet noises coming from your pussy, and gojo loves it. He loves hearing all the pretty noises you make just by fucking you with his fingers. One particular press down onto your sweet spot has you much louder than you already were, and he can instantly tell it was your orgasm approaching.

he kisses your forehead and takes his fingers out of you. before you can protest, he's forcing your body to sit up straight. the sudden change from being gentle to somewhat forceful has you turned on even more. He moves your body to partially sit on his lap, his hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress and pulls it down, unhooking your bra right afterwards.

You help him take off your dress and bra by reaching your arms above your head. He slips it off with ease and tosses it onto the floor next to your forgotten panties. His lips are on yours in a heartbeat, his pace quickening in the most tender way possible. His hand finds its way to the back of your head, lowering your body back down on the bed and breaking the kiss before you can fully lay down. He takes in the sight of you bare. As he's staring at you, he loosens his tie and takes off his suit jacket and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt.

After he partially undresses himself, he grabs one of your knees and pulls it away from the other, lowering himself directly in your center. He comes down for another kiss, this one hungrier than the last. You reach for him, putting your hands inside his halfway undone shirt and wrapping them around his back, feeling his muscles under your fingers. He grinds his growing bulge into you, a moan erupts within the back of your throat. The hand that rests on your knee moves quickly towards your waist, forcing you to grind on him the way he's doing you. A small wet patch forms on his pants the more your bodies grind together. Satoru bites your bottom lip softly before breaking the kiss, only to start lowering his head down to your chest, never breaking eye contact with you, his hair covering a little of his face.

He opens his mouth and licks one of your perky nipples. He does this a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking the bud in-between his teeth. Your moan sends shivers down his back, only fueling him to suck a little harder. His hand on your waist comes to fondle your other breast, pinching and massaging your other sensitive nipple. You throw your head back as your nails dig into his skin, sliding up into his hair and tugging on it rather hard. The action causes satoru to groan, shaking his head back and forth slightly with a cunning smile. The man above you then lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, moving in-between your breasts and trailing wet kisses down your sternum and passed your belly and abdomen before he stops right in front of your clit.

His hand on your boob retakes its place on your knee, pushing it down on the bed so you can't close your legs together.

He looks into your eyes, and without having to say anything, as if you read his mind, you nod your head quicker than you can even think. giving him the answer he needs. With your silent words, he presses a chaste kiss on your clit before darting his tongue out and licking a stripe up your already wet pussy, your bundle of nerves pulsating.

His lips wrap around your clit, beginning to suck, eating you out. Your head feels light as his mouth works wonders on you. you instinctively tug his hair, slightly grinding your core onto his face. Your moans of delight have him groaning the vibrations ringing throughout your entire body.

He laps at you as if you were the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, his hand on your knee moving to slide two of his long fingers inside your hole, curing them upwards to that familiar spot that has your back arching off the mattress and right into him. Even though you aren't looking at him, his blue eyes don't falter from watching all the pretty faces you make while he gently tears you apart. his fingers pumping in and out of you, caressing your sweet spot over and over while he eats you out.

Your walls squeeze his fingers. it's to be expected really, since you've never been touched before. but gojo is still pretty shocked with how tight your pussy is, and it's making him so much more obsessed with you.

"fuck, you're so tight, how on earth are you going to take my cock if you can barely take my fingers, hmm?" he doesn't even move his mouth away from you, his breath fanning your heat.

"oh fuck, please-" your jaw slacks open and your eyes squeeze closed. Gojo creeps back over you, his thumb coming to rub on your clit. Your pussy is beginning to sound wetter, and your hole tightens even more around his fingers.

"look at me sweetheart" your eyes have never flown open so fast in your life, immediately looking straight into gojo's. A sly smile grows as he looks at you.

"you about to cum? You're squeezin' me so tight" his sentence ends in a chuckle. you nod your head in response, but that doesn't cut it for the white haired man above you.

"words love, wanna hear you say it"

"yes toru, im so close please let me cum please please please" your high pitched whines while you speak make him just about bust in his pants, but he keeps his cool.

"hold it." you shake your head at his command, trying to hold in your fast-approaching orgasm. your palms trail towards his back once more, digging your nails into his skin as leverage to keep you grounded, as if you were going to float away. his fingers are ruthless, your wetness coming to leak down your ass cheeks and beginning to pool onto your bedding below you.

an overstimulating feeling comes rushing over you, and it feels like you're going to spill over

"please let me cum I can't- hold it, I need to please toru ple- please" your hiccuped moans become louder.

"you can cum now baby, let me hear you" with his words, you tip over that edge and his fingers make one last thrust inside you, massaging your g-spot over and over as you cum. your juices squirt all over his hand and down into the mattress below you, your knees attempt to close around his body as you finish with a particularly loud whine.

"good girl, you did such a good job for me" you take a minute to calm down, holding his body close to yours as you finish around his long fingers, it's almost like he's trying to rip you in half. his fingers slide out of your dripping hole as he wipes his fingers on his nice dress pants before cupping the back of your head, coming down to have his lips meet yours.

The kiss is hungry; desperate as he sits up, you follow after him trying not to break the kiss. your hands move to work on the remaining buttons on his shirt, fumbling with the fabric. Gojo's hands come down to work on his belt, unfastening it quickly. you finish unbuttoning the last button and slide his shirt off of him as he takes his belt off, the both of you throwing the articles of clothing elsewhere in the room. you break the kiss as he goes to stand up off the bed, unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, only leaving his boxers. you come up and loop your fingers under the last article of clothing he has on, looking straight up into his eyes. You wait a second before pulling them down, his hard cock coming up to slap his abdomen. your mouth dries at the sight of it.

He really wasn't joking when he asked how you were going to take his cock huh?

Gojo looks down at you as you lean back, so he takes this opportunity and leans down, planting both his hands on the bed and stares at you. he slowly creeps towards you on his hands and knees, your back hitting the bed frame as he towers over you.

"come here" he says, grabbing your thigh and pulls you to lay down on the bed underneath him. gasping at his action, you look up at him, noticing how much taller he is than you, taking in how big his hands are as they wrap around your thigh.

Gojo then moves his hand to his cock, gripping it in one hand and pumping it a couple times. He looks into your eyes as he does so, taking in your appearance. Your hair is slightly messy and tangled, your eyes looking at his full of love and admiration, his eyes telling the same.

"toru?" his name twirling off your tongue

"yes pretty girl?" he puts the head of his cock up to your pussy, dragging it across your slit as he coats it in your wetness. Your face heats up in a pretty pink. your eyes locked onto one another as you finally let out the words you've been meaning to for the past couple years

"I love you" your hands are on his shoulders as he pushes his tip into you, hissing as he stretches your hole and stills.

"I love you too beautiful" you feel like your heart is going to burst at his words, pulling his body down into yours, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Gojo starts to push inside you slowly, more painful hissing coming from you is the only thing being heard.

"deep breaths baby, doing such a good job for me" you grip onto him tightly as he pushes the remainder of his dick inside of you, his hips on yours. his free hand finds your waist as he keeps you in place. your breathing is heavy, but he decides not to move his his yet, waiting for you to get used to the stretch. a couple minutes go by as the pain subsides and your hips start to move against his

"toru.. please" he takes your words and starts grinding into you slowly, letting you adjust a little more before moving his hips, taking his dick out of you slowly. he turns his head and looks into your eyes and kisses your nose, cheeks, and then your lips. suddenly, he thrusts back into you, fast, bottoming out inside you as your shriek of pleasure goes straight into his mouth.

chuckling, he begins to thrust his cock in and out of you at a medium pace, keeping a steady rhythm as he fucks himself into you.

"fuck you're so tight" you whimper at his words, his thrust never faltering as your arms and pussy squeeze him tightly. you move your head to the side, giving him the opportunity to suck deep, purple bruises into your neck and collar bones. Your breasts jiggle with every thrust. one of your hands comes down from his back to the side of your head to grip the sheets next to you. Gojo sees this action and decides to move his hand from your waist to interlock his fingers with yours, holding your hand as he fucks you into the mattress.

his hand swallows yours as he grips it.

one thrust in particular has you screaming, crushing his hand as you throw your head back, your mouth open as you moan his name over and over again. a chant that is music to satoru's ears as he moans into your neck.

"so much, feels so good please toru' don't stop" you choke out, moaning louder and louder.

"Yeah? tell me all about it sweet girl" satoru praises you, edging you to continue

"so big, m' so full, it's so much oh my god" your back arches off the bed as you continue to moan. satoru lowers his face to your ear and bites your lobe, breathing heavy and letting out husky, low groans that have your pussy getting wetter.

Your legs start to shake, opening wider for him to thrust deeper inside of you, and it works, his cock brushes your sweet spot in the most delicious way, and it has you screaming, writhing underneath him.

Your walls squeeze him impossibly tighter, if that's even possible, resulting in louder moans erupting from the back of his throat and directly into your ear. he lets go of your hand and out of nowhere, his blindfold appears in his hand as he stuffs it in your mouth, muffling your sobs and cries.

"don't want anybody to hear how much of a dirty girl you are, do you, takin' my cock so prettily?" he taunts, your eyes meet his as you cup his cheek, feeling his skin under your fingertips. his palm comes down to the base of your neck, wrapping around your throat ever so lightly, barely even choking you.

satoru's hips snap against yours rhythmically, but he can barely control himself before he grips the headboard above you, fucking you deeper and your eyes squeeze shut as your whole body starts to shake and your arms are wrapping around his waist.

You start to nod your head, the words “yes" and "please" being heard through your makeshift gag. gojo feels you flutter around his cock and he himself has been holding back his orgasm so the two of you can finish together. He looks down at you, making eye contact as he speaks.

"you gonna cum sweetheart?" you nod your head, your eyes begging for release.

"cum baby, you can do it, i'm right here I got you." your nails dig into his back, scratching his skin over and over again. you close your eyes and turn your head. Gojo's hand comes down to cup your face, turning your head to face him.

"look at me baby, cum with me, such a good girl huh?" your eyes meet his as you flutter around his length, creaming all over his cock as he thrusts into one last time, shooting warm ropes of cum into you so very deeply.

"fuck, feel's so good " he throws his head back with a loud groan only for a second, then he's hovering back over you, taking the blindfold out of your mouth. he's quick to press his lips onto yours, kissing you so softly compared to earlier. he kisses you a couple more times before painting your entire face in kisses that are so light and gentle, it makes you wonder if this is the same man who was just fucking you into the mattress and forcing his blindfold down your throat.

you giggle at his actions as he pulls his softening dick out of you. he grabs your thigh and spreads your legs, watching his cum spill out of you.

"fuck, you're unbelievable y/n" he praises you again, a smile growing on his lips, his eyes filled with admiration.

"I'll be right back love, don't move" he says suddenly, getting up off the bed and running into the other parts of the house, his butt jiggling as he runs and you can't help but laugh. He walks back into the room with a damp washcloth, a glass of water and a towel. You pout as he hands you the glass of water and starts to clean you up, making sure all the wetness and cum is cleaned up off of you before drying you off.

After he's finished, he ushers you up, taking the first and second blanket off your bed and throwing them into the corner of the room to be washed later, going into your closet and pulling out two blankets.

Satoru wraps you in one of them, and wraps himself in the other. the two of you lay down next to one another, your limbs tangled and sore as you stare into each other's eyes. He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in and giving you a kiss filled with so much love, you swear you can die on the spot.

"I wasn't lying,, about what I said earlier." you tell him, not breaking eye contact.

"I know angel, neither was i."

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #smut jjk

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moondirti · 4 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑, 𝐈𝐈 [18+]

familiar! ghost × witch! reader

you are a witch trapped at home by a devastating blizzard. ghost is the demon that answers your call. ( 2 of 3 /PREV )

DEAD DOVE. RATED E. HORROR EROTICA. 9K. – AO3 heed the warnings below and proceed at your own discretion.

warnings: NONCON. graphic depictions of gore. injury. cannibalism. blood licking. slaughtering + ingesting animals. violence. degradation. body horror. hypothermia. isolation. manipulation. corruption kink. religious imagery. dark!ghost. female reader. i know i said 2 parts total but now it's a 3er.

additional tags: groping. tit fondling. rough oral (male receiving). face-fucking. cum guzzling + eating. it’s all a little disgusting and not in the good way i fear.

𝐈𝐈.𝐈

The cottage is halfway buried under snow when you run out of firewood.

It should come as no surprise, though you stare down your emptied closet like the ground opened up and swallowed your remaining reserve. Out of body, you fail to confront the cold reality that has already seeped into your walls, freezing the splintered wood of your floors, instead standing stock-still as your mind sharpens its critical edge.

Only there is no one to direct your reproach to but yourself. Weeks ago, your rune casts had predicted a crippling whiteout, thus you set out to collect enough fuel to last you the season. Yet as night waxed on the third day of your efforts, and your hands started tearing bloody from splitting hardwood all on your own, that resolve debilitated rather quickly. Like sugar steeped in tea; your will to live was already in a decrepit state, and indeed, eagerly unravelled at the first sign of adversity. Suicidal, with hindsight. A passive play at death of which you were too fearful to try and seek for yourself.

It did not seem like that at the time, of course. Rather, you justified the fatuous decision to stop (after cutting down a mere three trees) by concocting an estimate of how long it would be before you could venture out for more. Based on absolutely nothing but a desperation to curl back on your couch, sore but sheltered, you gave it one month. One month until the storm would abate. Of restlessness, fermenting in a prison you call home. To your distorted sense, four-hundred pieces of firewood seemed plenty enough to get you through it, despite admittedly lacking even a basic working knowledge of wood arithmetic.

Counting the days now, you’re almost tempted to laugh. Almost. The shroud of horror that newly accompanies death since Ghost’s lesson triumphs, after all. You are more terrified than you would have been a week ago. Still, you were not wrong – the firewood had lasted a month – only the weather does not seem to be looking up, and you’re trapped inside a quickly cooling cottage with no source of heat to get you to the thaw. The possibility of fatal hypothermia looms closer, more dangerous. Eerily relevant–

(Just a year ago, you watched a man die from the warmth of your ancestral home, face down in fresh snow outside the parlour room window. Your ageing mother had invited the pastor’s son over to help repair the stairs left unattended since your father’s death, and the man had called your fascination with the corpse morbid, nail between two teeth as he hammered down a wooden plank.

No use starin’ at a dead man, lass. Not for a bonnie thin’ like you.

But you could not tear your eyes away from his mottled skin, the blue-black ends of his fingers. Even at his burial several days later, his face displayed the same, blank expression, perpetually cast by that winter’s frigid storm.)

You imagine yourself passing in a similar vein. It will take longer, you think. You’ll be dying for weeks as your blood courses slower through you, iced by the winds that howl down your chimney. Protected, but not enough, by these walls you have been banished to live within. Unable to get even a glimpse of sunlight before shutting your eyes for the last time, the snow packed up to your windows effectively burying you without ceremony. A forgotten tomb.

You wonder if Ghost would intervene, yet your speculation is brief. His words echo like he uttered them only moments ago. Fight or die. He has long established the volitional aspects of your relationship – he owes you nothing unless you ask, and if you do, then you would rather wish you were dead in lieu of what he asks for in return. No. He will merely watch as you take your last breath, satisfied that he was right, then scavenge your carcass for his next meal. Fated to wet his mouth like the picked off crow. A long-awaited feast.

Curling in on yourself, it is all you can do to bury yourself in clothes. Your vulnerability is often a fickle thing, you find, ebbing and flowing like seawater tides gradually gorging on their shore. There are periods you feel invincible; a being made of eternal magic, unmoved by the shifts in nature bid by time. Some sequoia, whose roots pierce deep into the earth and drink from freshwater wells unacquainted with human touch. A thing truly deserving of the title witch.

Other times – these times being of increasing occurrence since the arrival of your familiar – you cannot help but to shrink back into a girl again. Raw and tender and emotionally volatile. Naked, sore lungs, as you’re pulled from your mother’s womb and forced to embrace the harsh cut of air. Ghost watches from his usual corner, a spectre practically pulsing with this voyeuristic game he likes to play. You know he’s figured out the predicament you’ve put yourself in, can feel yourself quailing at the discredit his judgement affords. The layers serve a dual purpose, then – for warmth, and to grant brief reprieve from his gaze on your shivering form.

Three pairs of socks. A tunic, a fleece, a cardigan, and a coat. Skirts over your trousers. Gloves and a woollen hat.

By the end, you have a hard time moving at all. Certainly not enough to cook, or to try tunnelling a way out of the window. No point in reading if you can’t practise your magic, either; so you mutter a quiet ignition spell over the charred firewood from last night, hoping it lasts even half as long, before collapsing on the couch and willing yourself to sleep.

Only sleep does not come.

Or, it might. Yet your mind is so occupied with your condition that it does not allow you to fully lose consciousness. You’re attuned to every particle around you, overstimulated in the worst sense, still subjected to an unsettling sequence of half-dreams. Brain flickering through pale mirages of dead crows, ice floes, of capsized rafts in arctic waters, their hulls resembling slabs of marbled meat. As you drown, you shout for help and pique at the sound of it echoing in real life, tangible enough that it shakes you awake. You nearly strangle yourself trying to wind your quilt tighter around your shoulders afterward, burying your nose in a pillow and cupping your cheeks with frigid hands.

Eventually, time joins the distortion, and you have a hard time discerning whether it’s been hours or meagre minutes. The only indication is the way in which your body starts to ache with a pain so profound, it is as though you’ve been beaten. If you weren’t frustratingly cognizant of your surroundings the whole night, your first bet would have been to blame Ghost, or at least the threadbare couch you’ve been using as a bed erring too long now. Unfortunately, the true cause of your affliction is hard to misdiagnose; a violent, merciless shivering, your muscles made to tremble as if compelled to by electric shock. The teeth chattering kind – and it is exactly the rattle of ivory against ivory that serves as a makeshift timekeeper.

Click. Click. Clickclick. Click.

It must be two hours later when you bite your tongue and jolt completely awake from the pain, swathed in your quilt like the nesting doll that sat on your windowsill back home. Though the appendage bleeds, spreading metallic bitterness onto your teeth, you wonder for a brief moment whether you are alive at all. Foggy vision. Taut skin drawing lines down your cheeks from either corner of your eyes. When you squint, it tugs tighter, and you realise at one point you had started crying. It’s hard to tell without your nose hot and runny, or your lips swollen like overripe berries. Instead, you’re rendered to a shrivelled reflection of yourself, dried tear tracks setting the image in stone. The shadow looming above you seems to agree.

“Not dead yet. But only just.”

You wish you could say his voice is any softer than standard. That the stars aligned, or that this is an ideal world where the antediluvian creature occupying your home has tapped into his small pool of pity. But he nudges your knee with all the detached amusement he prescribes to most things, like he can’t understand why you’re so easily affected by the cold.

“Ghost?”

“Almost exclusively.” He mocks.

The couch dips near your feet. You do not register why until he scoops an arm into your quilt, pulling you from warm refuge and onto his lap instead. It isn’t in you to fight, merely mewling like a feverish cat as you reach a hand out to the cushion where you once lay. Wiggling your fingers, kicking your heels.

He swats your arm until it flops back to your side.

“If only y’could see yourself like this. Bloody pathetic, pet.”

“I’m c-cold.”

“Not doin’ yourself any favours, then. This,” He tugs at the coat barely hugging your shoulders, stretched taut over your bulky layers. “off.”

When you fail to listen, he takes the initiative for you, pulling it down your arms and towards some distant corner. You don’t miss it, necessarily – it hardly did anything to keep you warm – but you protest the loss as you would have done anything else; noisily, sniffing to suppress the fresh bout of tears spooling over your vision.

“Think you exhausted every option, hm? All you can do is curl over and cry?” With his hands now at your cardigan, thumbs hooked under the lapel, you search his eyes for indication of what he intends to do. Ghost is difficult to appreciate even on the best of days, but now, without the handy glow of fire or direct stream of sunlight, he’s practically impossible. Like two mountains stood tall with no valley in between them, no line of logic exists that can explain his actuality.

(And you’ve never been the logical type – there is no precise science to why goat fat and cumin work together to lure someone into love, or why you knew to stay away from the pastor who kept your mother company. Some things exist solely in magical proportions; limiting yourself to rational thought would be doing a great disservice to what they have to offer.

But confronting Ghost on a plane where he has the upper hand is a daunting task, so you stick to what rationale can place.)

“What are you–you doing?”

“Shut it.” He folds the cardigan around your hips, clasping a colossal palm onto the back of your neck. Though you’re used to being scruffed when he’s less than pleased with you, the purpose of this is far from dissatisfaction. You know it immediately. His skin, flesh, is warmer than anything you’ve felt in a long time. A quality of comfortable, penetrating heat that sinks into your nape and slowly works to defrost your marrow, your limbs, the icy film clinging to your brain. Your eyes roll shut almost instantaneously, body slumping forward to sink into his chest. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, where the relief of warmth has not yet reached, you worry that he’ll push you off.

He does not.

Instead, his other hand slips under your fleece and tunic, smoothing over the knots of your spine to reach between your shoulder blades. There, his heat sinks to swathe your chest, and the weakly heart somehow managing to do its job, pumping blood that tickles your toes and fingertips. It drips down to your tummy too, where it weighs heavy like a tangible mass, and brings your pulse to the bud between your legs.

His touch there doesn’t last long; he pulls away only moments later, a tightness newly lifted off your sternum. One hand still kneads your nape, effectively keeping your face against his broad shoulder, but the other moves to collect your slack wrists together. It strikes you as unusual, sure, yet you’ve since surrendered your inhibitions for sake of survival. A cavewoman tradeoff. Your body purrs at the satisfaction of your baser instincts, happy to resort to this primitive state of impartiality, if only it means you’ll stay snug throughout the winter.

Yes. If anyone were to ask you right then, you would have seen it as not only plausible but entirely necessary to stay like this for the months to come. Sated and secure and just a hint impassioned, content to doze off on the lap of your tormentor. Already halfway there, lashes fluttering as you battle complete oblivion.

Only that isn’t what Ghost has in store, and he seems eager to break the illusion you hold in such high regard.

He releases your neck, guiding you to sit upright upon his tree-trunk thighs. When you object by reaching for his hands again, you find that your own are securely fixed behind your back. Completely immobilised.

Sensation slowly trickles back to you. Once numb, your skin now comes alive with frayed nerve endings, crackling, hair standing on its ends. What you find, alarmingly, is your place within a twisted example of the lesson Ghost has been attempting to teach. The lightness on your sternum not as metaphorical as you had assumed – rather, the bandages binding your breasts have been unwrapped to treacherously hitch your wrists together. The rough fabric excoriates the surface of your forearms.

Your breathing accelerates. If you’d been freezing before, you’re thoroughly iced now. Shock races through your system and persecutes everything that lulled you into this position. Stupid, stupid, stu–

“Ghost.” You hiss. “Ghost. This is-isn’t funny.”

He doesn’t respond, rolling your top to reveal the soft stretch of your navel. It involuntarily retracts when he flits over your belly button, dodging the unwelcome spread of his fingers. Your body's way of protesting, for all you lean into his touch. Too tempting not to, really. Something in him burns; perhaps a furnace in place of his heart, or a piece of hell he takes with him wherever he goes.

That primitive voice grows louder, whispering deceptively in your ear that it’s fine, let him touch you. So long as you stay warm.

You shake your head as if to jerk the instinct off your crown. Lips pursed tight now, the hand on your belly slowly climbing up. Up.

“Stop it. Stop this, I d-don’t want it.”

“I know.” He says, pressing his thumb into your waist. It digs until it hits a rib, tenderising muscle. You’re a lamb on a spit, spun slowly, roasted over an open flame. How silly of you to lean into the burn. Short-sighted to decide that it’s better than the cruel press of winter. You’ll be eaten like this.

“Then g-get the fuck off me!” You yelp, swaying on your haunches in a bid to knock yourself off his lap. Your arms are useless, but that does not mean you cannot fight. “I order you!”

That pulls a laugh from him. Or, what sounds like a laugh. As with everything, it’s his estimate of a human one, like the cicada mimics the bird; not as melodic, rather striking you with disgust so potent you feel your nausea reawakening. You might just hurl.

“And wha’ will I be granted in return? Nothin’ you have that’ll convince me to unhand you, pet.” Ghost rucks your tunic to your shoulders at last, exposing your bare breasts to bitter air. Though he gives them no time to pebble up, large paws enveloping both mounds and squeezing until your breath syphons from your lungs. “Haven’ seen a pair of tits in decades. Suppose you humans do have somethin’ going for you.”

Your words startle in your throat. Nothing about it is pleasurable, nor does he intend for it to be. His fingers take your nipples; rolling, tugging, pinching. Nails dig crescent cuts into the darkened skin there, perhaps searching for blood. He certainly treats it as though blood is the aim, and you wonder whether you’re to be hung from your bust to drain onto his waiting tongue. Just as one might press olives, no care for their pulpy bodies but only the rich oil they produce. Grease to slick their pans, to moisten their mouths.

You’ll be eaten like this.

“Stop, please.”

“Wonder what y’would look like plump with milk. Nursing my litter, rounded out with another dozen.” He sucks his teeth, contemplative. “Body wouldn’t handle it, f’you ask me. Stronger women than you ‘ave tried.”

Have. It hurts to think about. Hurts more when the insult of his words truly resonates. Stronger women. That is to say you have been exiled for nothing. That with a year of solitude and occult practice, you are just as feeble as before. Is this why he ate your crow? To prove to you that he could?

The tide pushes back out. In a great swell of loam and brine, your hatred crashes vengefully onshore. You muster all of it, dipping pails into the water and letting it weigh heavy on your shoulders. It is almost negligible, you find. You scarcely feel its burden when fuelled by a focused point to your antipathy. Your teeth stop chattering. You glare daggers.

“Let me go.”

Your final plea rolls over him like all the ones before it. “But you’re a witch, aren’t ya? Brew up a little elixir to pull yourself through the whelping. Maybe then you’ll realise how much you long to stay alive.”

Your neck snaps back. Before you can think it through, you thrust your head towards his face. There’s a crunch, a dizzying moment of choked silence, then a hot burst of moisture down your face. For a naive moment, you think you must have struck gold. You imagine drawing back to find his mask sticky with blood, or tar, or whatever demons have thrumming through their veins. A raw testament to your resolve, if he should ever underestimate it again.

But the mirage is as naive as your mother. Eventually the pain catches up to you. You realise the iron-tang at the back of your throat is not the dreg of satisfaction. The tears slipping past your lashes no longer wrought from misery. Everything, rather, an immediate response to the sore condition of your nose. Misshapen and swelling already.

Ghost hums. You hoped to see him grovelling in pain by now. The battered expectation somehow makes his condescension worse.

“Good to see y’find your spirit,” His head tilts, bullying yours into remaining still, fingers knitted firmly in your hair. “but it’s misplaced.”

Given his derision, you know not to rejoice when his other hand leaves your chest. Your shirt slumps lamely back over your figure as he lifts the edges of his mask, folding it over his mouth. In the dark, it’s difficult to map the nuances of his exposed jowls. There’s a pale curve there, a disfigured line here. Your sinuses twinge when your stare narrows, cutting through murk to place the shape of his lips.

It’s futile. You have no way to jam the gaps; no way of knowing whether he’s all man, all demon, or a foul mix of the two.

The one thing that glimmers with definition is the string of spit when he unlatches his jaw, long tongue striking like a wound-tight cobra. You would flinch if you could, eyes pruning shut, but his grip keeps you steady in place as he laves a forceful path up your chin. Tasting the metallic leak of blood, all the way up to its source.

You see it coming. Still, you can’t help but scream when he works his tongue around your nose. Loosed bones shift under your skin, steadiness fractured, cartilage support dipping inwards against the assault. He groans, and in spite of your impaired sense of smell, you get a whiff of rot-hot breath. It must all be a terrible dream, you think. The hardened muscle pressing against your inner thighs, the viscous web of saliva stretched across your face. It’s cold and you’re sweaty, and everything about the past month – the past year – seems like it has been especially curated to torment you. You would wake from this any second.

He gathers the salty drips off your eyes, the blood, every grief coating your skin. Agony blinds you – so profound it takes shape, colour. You squirm in your binds, ragged shrieks ripping from your throat.

It echoes even after he breaks away. If it weren’t for the sudden coolness of spit drying within your cupid’s bow, you would think he was still making a feast of you.

“Tha’ got you to settle, hm?”

You shake your head, exhausted. “You said–”

“I said fight, or die.” He huffs. You let silence swathe your lips, pursing them as thin as you can manage without exacerbating your injury. “Yer fighting to die, pet.”

“I just want to be left alone.”

“‘N’ what d’you think will come of that?”

“It shouldn’t m-matter.” Your conviction sound hollow when spoken aloud. If he hears it, he uses it as an incentive to strip your top back over your chest. Like a hot wire pushed through your ribcage, his warm hands toast you from the outside in. It is in your best interest not to shiver in delight; though you are still dreadfully cold, and your injury makes it difficult to pigeonhole any alleviation to your pain. “You can’t-t-t defile me on the grounds of greater good.”

Ghost laughs again. “Ain’ pretending this is for the greater good, pet. The world will thank me if one more witch freezes to ‘er death.” You’re yanked further up his lap. “I let you go, you’ve got four, five hours tops ‘till your heart fails. You wan’ to live?”

You shake your head, fervent tremors batting your pout. A nonanswer seems the only manner of resistance, now. “Not like this.”

“Clever. Tha’ still tells me you do.” He pinches the knotted peaks of your breasts, twisting until you buck wretchedly onto his pelvis. “And I wan’ to spend my evenin’ playing with your tits. A fair compromise, then.”

What sort of familiar makes the demands? You contemplate berating him out loud, lunging for the dirty insult to beat at his status like he did yours. With no room for taking the high ground, you will do anything so long as you can later say you bared your claws. So you do not wonder, for countless sleepless nights, if there was something more you should have done. You will be mean. You will go low. You will condemn him to a fate of eternal dissatisfaction, so that no matter how much he eats or kills or takes, he will always feel his stomach a gnawing pit.

Though something tells you he will not succumb to scrutiny against his honour. There is no code for creatures like him, who floss their teeth with crow meat and pluck the nipples of girls who grant them shelter. Nothing to hold them to expect the conditions of their summons.

Perhaps that’s just it.

You stir. It feels much like magic, when an incantation rolls off the tongue just right and the air shifts to accommodate it. Your heart vibrates behind your sternum, power bloating your veins, ricocheting within your skin. If Ghost feels it, he doesn’t falter.

“Be sure, demon.” You rasp, drawing your intent taut in your chest like a bowstring. He hums but does not stop, kneading your flesh to conform to the creases and calluses of his hands. “Be sure that’s what you want. I could give in without further fuss and be like a docile rabbit on your lap. That way, you will have taken two things from me tonight.”

The liquid of his eyes shifts quick. You catch its gleam in the little light, and it pleases you enough to deliver the rest of your covenant.

“By the spell that brought you here, you are bound to do what I sacrifice for.” You pause a moment. “In exchange for the blood you have ingested off my face, you will dig this house out of the snow. And for my virtue, this one evening allowance of which you have already taken upon yourself, you will collect my firewood until the season clears.”

Ghost makes an indiscernible noise from underneath. You can not tell if he is peeved or pleased, and the ambiguity shakes you. You expected some sort of acknowledgment or counter to your trick. Instead, he does not speak on it. No pitch or complaint, protest or taunt.

He just sits there, pawing at your chest like a satiated dog.

(And come morning, when your breasts are raw and tender to the touch, he tunnels the snow around your cottage and returns hours later with a hundred cedar logs for the kindling.)

𝐈𝐈.𝐈𝐈

She prefers him in the daylight

Sun floods her little home when it rises and keeps it bright until it sets. Whereas the dark plays tricks on mortal eyes, oil lamps flickering, casting shadows that always resemble something else. She likes training an eye on what he does in his usual corner; but come night, she can’t trust what she sees. Thus, her confidence strains. She flinches at every sound. Any movement will have her tucking deeper under her quilt. His empty-eyed stare glows more sinister, if anything is to be assumed by the way she will crack her grimoire open and mouth protective spells like prayers.

Perhaps she’s afraid she caused offence, that he mulls over a punishment to teach her not to make a fool of him again. Perhaps it plagues her that she cannot stop him if that is the case. He does not tell her that, already, the worst possible thing that can confront her has. Though of course she isn’t privy to it, it’s been a month since he decided against making a meal of her. Everything he does now is moderate in comparison. He’s being good.

Good, yes. In the evenings, he will venture out to do her bidding. The timing grants her a few hours rest, then, and him an opportunity to hunt for his dinner.

Good, because he waits until he’s a mile out to transform to his truer self. It is easier to strip trees of their branches and snap their spines when he stands over two metres tall. Not so easy to mend the fragile tolerance she’s gained for him, which is sure to shatter if she catches sight of his monstrosity. He eludes the possibility entirely, then.

Good, because Ghost refrains from agitating her more than he already has. And his intention in doing so does not change that decency.

That is to say, he hasn’t grown a heart. He does not care for the girl. But the passivity that necessitated his savagery has since come to pass. She’s grown claws. She fights for her say and punches through life with guile. Any more and he would be faulting her for it, like burning the meat he tumbled through mud to slaughter. It is down to him to take it off the roast, now, to revel in the succulent bite. He’s got her right where he wants her.

With some brief tampering on his part – laying out the temptation like a breadcrumb trail into the woods – she broke her invisible vow not to ask him for anything. Has it not made her life that much simpler? Her hearth burns bright and warm everyday; she does not have to worry about keeping it lit for the remnants of winter. He picks cedar for its aroma, it's even char, and she would not have access to that if it weren’t for his ability to tackle the sturdy tree. All it took was her debauchment, the vitiating of character to match his.

(And really, how debauched was it if she only endured his groping for one night?)

It isn’t too much to want, he thinks.

She thinks so too. Or otherwise decides it's worth the risk.

It is late into the evening and his dinner sits fresh in his belly, fire chewing away at the split logs he emptied into the pit earlier. The air is thick with cloying cedar and the mephitic scent of potion-brewing, his pet crouched over a bubbling pot. She has been at it for hours, the same nightly routine since she broke her nose. Tadpoles and feverfew and sage, chanterelle and wishbone and sand. Stirred, brought to a boil, thickened with spit. Then scooped out and smothered over her sore face. A modest poultice, turned cast, to help her mend correctly over weeks.

He wonders if she considered bothering him to heal her. He certainly can. But it appears as though she enjoys keeping her hands busy. Toiling through time, grinding away like water does the earth. In the aeons he’s been around, he’s seen mountains chipped away, rocks change shape, rivers bend over time – and it is always the same eternal petulance. Stubborn mediocrity built into something larger. Endurance over brute force. He doesn’t pretend to understand it, but he can recognise a reflection of it in her craft.

But she is not eternal. Every mortal has their limits.

Ghost sees the iron grow filigree in her eyes, calculations imprinting onto her resolve. When she stands and turns to him, he almost expects it. The past quarter hour has built up to this ambitious ask, whatever it may be, and he’s mapped every battle she’s held within herself over the course of it. She does not want like he does. It is only extraneous circumstance that would lead her to his service.

“I started it later than I usually do.” She mumbles, lips twisting like maggots. The hollows under her eyes are prominent, both exhaustion and hunger trimming her down to a sorry state. “I need sleep, but this can’t be heated beyond a boil.”

His cock chubs up in his trousers, aching as an array of possibilities occur to him in that second. Would he split her cunt on his fingers? Would he make her set it down atop his tongue? Her skirt leaves much to the imagination, but he imagines it bright and faithful in his head. Darker on the outside than in, glazed with pellucid slick, and shrouded in a matting of hair. The thought alone funnels salivate to the underside of his tongue.

He meets her eye, shoulders curving inward, poised to pounce.

Then, her brow spasms, and the wolfish instinct unravels as fast as it materialises.

No. He cannot push it too far, not when she asks for something so little. It took all her energy to come to him now. She will never consider it again if he exploits that beyond equal measure.

So, Ghost stands, stalking over to the cauldron and his pet. He often forgets how small she is until she cranes her neck to look up at him, all owlish blinks and delicate fingers latticed together, anxious for his response.

“I’ll wake you.” He says. The tension in her forehead ebbs immediately, eyelids sagging now that he confirmed her ingredients will not waste. Though she doesn’t move, and he makes her stand there until he determines on an appropriate return.

Moments later, he wraps an arm around her. His hand finds the jut in her skirt, where it protrudes to lap over her arse, and squeezes around the fat of one cheek. Even with the layers separating them, she is supple like softened butter. She makes a sound like a trapped mouse, jumping to the balls of her feet. The noise doesn’t deter him; he holds it there until he’s satisfied his grip will bruise.

“There we are.” When he releases her, she stumbles backwards to find her bearings against the cool press of the wall. Puts a safe distance between them. Yet her stunned silence is intoxicating, and he has to actively suppress the gluttonous urge for more. Nothing is sacred when he gets like this. “That’s us even, then.”

She nods. It is a wonder she manages to sleep at all.

(Unfortunate that the potion to heal her broken nose steals stock from her kitchen shelves. Day by day, he’s watched her sacrifice her fungi and herbs to the cauldron, prioritising recovery over sustenance. Unfortunate that she is still unable to go out for more. The winter whips cruel and merciless winds for anyone who dares step out into its storm.

Unfortunate. But not moving enough.

It is intentional silence on his part, then. For the day will come where she opens her cupboards to eat and finds them lined with dust.

And on that day, he will be there.)

𝐈𝐈.𝐈𝐈𝐈

Ghost takes his meals outside.

That is, when he comes back lugging a dead beast and a tree behind him. You’ll watch from the window as he places the latter to the side, sinking to his knees to feast on whatever he caught that day. It always varies: hares, owls, rodents. An elk if he’s lucky. Today, it is a fox.

Your heart knots with pity, mourning for the mammal who cannot grieve itself. Eyes blank and jaw swung open. Its fur, which typically strikes as a vivid red, can only look dull when set by the blood it leaves in its trail, tangled in the entrails bursting from its belly. The demon never minds the hair, nor the carnage. He balances on his haunches and pulls his mask up, sinking his teeth into the softest parts of his spoils.

Though no one holds you to the frosted glass – chanting look, you have to look – you insist on bearing witness. The gore never grows easier to behold; everytime, it is the same revulsion that stews nausea at the sight. But you sit and suffer it anyway. If anyone were to ask you why, you would be hard-pressed to find an answer.

Perhaps it is to build a tolerance for nature’s brutality. Ghost’s lesson with your crow has carved an irreplicable torment within you, revealing the jeopardy you face should you continue down your meek path. Exposure therapy is good justification, then, when your personal improvement thus far has only wrought merit. Your magic begets greater effect. You feel your self-possession flourish your spirit. Even your familiar has staved off the trouble, and you can not ask for a greater success.

But that does not capture the core of the matter. Perhaps that is to be found in him, instead.

Because when Ghost eats, his visage will fluctuate. You do not think it is something he’s mindful of. None of it looks intentional – he does not bid whetted talons or teeth, features that would aid him in gutting the fox. Rather, they appear like fish beneath a rippling brook. Swift, transient flashes of another form.

He sucks down an intestine, and his burly legs stretch so the joints are equidistant. They snap backwards, digitigrade heels extending, before you blink and they’re human once more.

He laps at a puddle of blood, and his mask parts to reveal two ivory prongs that steadily grow from his head. They curl, winding around his temples as ram horns do, only to disappear as your arid eyes burn.

He tears into cartilage, and his exposed skin flakes like charred wood. The liver; his torso extends and thins. The brain; his breath condenses to black ash, as yours would ghostly vapour in cold air. None of it permanent. All of it haunting.

The first time you saw it, you chalked it up to phantasm. Lack of sleep, insufficient nutrition. Searching for monstrosity that would better connect to the horror unfurling before you. So you set out to observe. Incessantly. Again and again and again – validating what you saw, though you received confirmation upon the second instance long ago. Sure enough, each day he reveals different parts to a whole. Excrescent spines and lofty feet. Things that have been urging for a spot in the sun, pressing under his skin.

It’s the nesting doll all over again. Little matryoshka faces, each opening to reveal a smaller version of itself within. If you are the innermost one, then Ghost is the sisyphean effort to close them over each other in descending order. Unfeasible. Too large to comfortably remain within his confines. The wood will eventually snap in your struggle, and all the painted pieces will scatter across the floor.

(You remember him just then. Craggy charm and blue eyes. Crafty hand – the same to restore your mother’s staircase – whittling the doll when you suggested he couldn’t. He wore a cross no matter the day, a habit of his father’s doing, and the silver pendant would sway with the paring motion of his hands. Lustrous against tanned skin. No doubt forged by him, too.

He used to call you macabre. Though it was footling fun at the time, you can’t help but grasp at what he meant as you track the steaming slaughter outside.)

“Do you like it?”

Water rushes into a tin basin, its metallic clang a forceful, echoing percussion. The noise is insufferable, grating on your ears, but you would rather it than have Ghost tow the pungent smell of death into your home. With his back turned to you, he washes his hands and mouth of dinner’s remnants, faucet spitting frigid reserves into the kitchen sink.

His head twists a fraction, pupils coasting to assess you in his peripheral. Small talk is not commonplace. In the weeks you have coexisted, you can count your conversations on both hands. They always seem to prefer the path of internal dissection instead, judgments flung at one another through glares and body language and not much else.

“Be more specific.” He grunts, facing his task again. From your place on the couch, you can see the way he picks his nails for stubborn shreds of fat.

“Fox.”

A sliver of pale skin, bared where his mask ends at his nape, twitches. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Ammonic. Greasy. Tough all ‘round. Slippery little fucks, too.” His voice is softer when he isn’t being caustic. Skipping over enunciations, the typical rumble in his chest quieted to a hum. “There are easier, more rewardin’ meals.”

You imagine what he may be referring to. Of every creature on this earth, only one does not have the benefit of evasion. Predators are sheltered by hierarchical canopies, demons like Ghost so powerful that they do not have to watch their backs. Birds of prey have their wings, fish their slippery scales. Even deer – slender and pregnable – are granted fleet-footed instincts rivalled only by the Pantheon’s messenger himself. It is only you, human, that is condemned to spindling, slow inelegance. Perhaps it is why so many are intellectuals, worshipers, terrors – why you yourself are a witch, sapping nature for her wares of which you do not come by naturally. That is the way things turn. Assuming the offensive to offset one’s shortcomings.

And turn back again; your effort has only imperilled you further. There is a cannibal, a monster, a man inside of your home. And you beckoned him here.

Even as the revelation occurs to you, you can’t stave your ambition. Of course you do not parley with Ghost for the sake of it. There is nothing this new knowledge grants. But since he left to do his day’s errands, your stomach has made its presence known. Opening up like an early grave, emptiness gnarled beneath a soil bed as with roots of a tombstone tree. Every moment, every word, you are reminded of its cavity. Too long, it says, you’ve ignored the pangs of hunger that seized this trench in an iron fist. Priorities, you would reply, as you surrendered food to brew your poultice. And so your nose is healed, great, but your shelves are empty and your head is faint. Hunger surplants the cold as your imminent killer.

“My mum taught me how to fix a good stew.” You begin, rolling your sticky tongue and tucking both hands beneath your bottom, cautious not to set this mousetrap off yourself. The pressure is grounding, at least; you match your breathing to the pulse you feel in your fingertips. “I trust it would be better than raw meat.”

A pause. Ghost’s spine straightens. Then, a panic. You’re thrown off your conviction when your chest flutters and you feel it in your brain. Where is that wily being? The woman who cheated her familiar into a season’s worth of labour? You feel as though you have regressed; screeching infant, lungs flaring with a rush of new air. You cannot face this, you think, but you’re already halfway out into the world. The sink squeaks off.

You just pray your stomach doesn’t make noise in the new silence.

“Is tha’ so?” He says, though does not turn to look at you just yet.

“I could try.” The words bubble like bile in your throat. It is in your best interest to stay quiet. Say no more. He’s being ambiguous so you will reveal too much in turn. The game is transparent. You can see the water-worn rocks on the river bed, so clear it’s like they’re clasped between your hands instead. Yet– “If I had the ingredients for it, ‘course.”

There. The lip of the cliff. How odd of you to see it only as you plummet towards a frothy scree. Ghost snaps, live lightning in heated air, or otherwise like the rocks that impale you on landing. In two strides, you’re cornered by a creature with scorn harrowing the space between its brows. You were stupid not to plan an escape route, stupid to arm yourself with nothing but flimsy subtlety. There was always the risk of it coming to this, you knew that.

“You think y’can rummage for loopholes, hm?” He leers, eyes searing holes into yours. “A trick is only charmin’ on the first go, pet. More than once and y’start to stink of stale piss.”

“I don’t–”

He snatches your jaw, thumb and ring fingers digging an aching grip onto either side. Your protest warbles pathetically, dies, chokes you with its rot. It’s difficult, no– impossible to decipher what he's mad at. A small, fresh part of you actually hoped he’d see your cunning as artful. But it seems your station has come back to haunt you; another mortal whose brain cannot keep up with her heart. Even if one is in the right place, you will go about chasing it in the wrong direction. Artful is too shiny of a laurel, then. Trick, too, is being charitable

“Do not play coy with me, girl. I do not take kindly to underhand deals.” Snarled right above you, spit spattering across your face. Your mandible squeaks, bone-deep pain flaring where he tightens the pressure around your face. Fox blood flavours his breath. There is a ringing in your head – shrill, like water in the tin sink. “If you need something from me, you will admit it and cope with the terms I have in turn.”

“I-I’m sorr-eeeee.” Your apology wheezes thin when he thrashes your head in place. It is either that or the relentless force on your jaw that tears a new world of pain down your neck. The tears are reactionary, then. Hot and foggy and not at all a sign of fear. “Ah- I’m sorry! I won’t– I didn’t mean to offend y-you.”

“S’too fuckin’ late for that. You’ll follow through, before I take wha’ I want anyway.” He shakes his head. “Ask nicely for what y’need then, pet. Go on.”

“Nothing! Nothing anymore, please. Jus’ let me go, Ghost.” Perhaps the universe disdains your insincerity, because in a hand dealt by its inexorable irony, your stomach buckles and purls a foul sound. Like it heard your words and protests the withdrawal, gurgling out loud to whoever will address it instead.

And he does. He does.

“You’re hungry, hm? That it?” He shoves your limp body onto the floor, dismissive of the pleas you now regulate to your feet, thrashed wildly to strike at his shin. Everything he does is callous, mean, agitated like the sulphur and magma that run thick beneath the earth’s crust. And though it is not your first encounter with a creature of that ilk – you have had your run-ins with over-excited men – the intentionality behind it has never been more flagrant. Ghost does it to hurt you. “Yeah, been neglecting you, haven’ I? Forgot pets couldn’ feed themselves.”

“I’w scrounge somefing up mysef.” You struggle, speech impeded as he crushes your cheeks inwards. Pearl dust flakes your gums.

“Should ‘ave thought of tha’ before. Even if I end up breakin’ every bone in that fine skull of yours, I won’t let up. Say it, then, you daft thing.”

The scaling of your options is instantaneous. Even as your immediate conscious lags behind, activity lights the back of your head and cracks its way out of your mouth before you can catch it. It took weeks for your nose to heal, much less your skull. You’re consuming fuel quicker than you can replenish, running on a backlog of quick-burning fat. And all of it can be taken care of if you just give in, to what will likely only be a few hours of degradation.

(Cavewoman. Primordial. Primitive impartiality, or survival of the fittest. The world has only come so far since then, and even within its concentrated civilizations, there is no aegis but for those who come up on top. You cannot expect your liberties to be met anywhere. That, you know too well.

But here, in this feral forest, at least you can use the violation to your benefit. At the very least, you will not be exiled, cast as witch for taboo of saying the greater word.

You are already macerated on rock bottom. And at the barren abyss of all leasts, Ghost will not hang a cross pendant above you as he stomps it in.)

He must see the surrender wet your eyes, for the grip on your jaw lessens.

“I am hungry.” You cry, finally, lashes fluttering shut so as to guard your tears. “I am hungry. This winter has dashed my garden and I do not know how to hunt. The cushions jab into my ribs when I sleep. I feel as though my stomach will consume me from the inside out, and I’m desperate. I am desperate, and I am so, so hungry. And I am asking for your help. Please.”

If there was any part of you that still believed he would choose pity, it is muffled and killed. You hear the scratch of fabric as he undoes his pants. Final, failing. Rustled hand behind confines, stench of musk stiffening the air. For a few seconds, you opt to remain blissfully ignorant – keep your eyes closed and imagine that the presence before your face is something different. A purifying flame, tender cut of meat, a smiling face before things fell downhill. It all sounds too good to be true, and they are. Sooner or later, you tell yourself, you have to face the misery.

So, you force yourself to behold it before he takes that upon himself.

His cock is heavy. Fat and oversized, length not having suffered for its breadth. Ruddy where the head peaks from an uncut tip, hard already, but bowed under the weight of itself. If you had anything to expel, you would’ve done so by now. A thicket of hair fledges his groyne – a shade of dark that pales his scarred skin in comparison – and it reeks of sweat and miasma.

He taps it on your cheek, prespend sticky and warm. You flinch as though you have been beaten.

“Just one thing af’er the other with you, pet. Think this’ll give y’something to fix yourself on.”

“I don’t– I’ve never–” His thumb hooks over your bottom teeth, prying your trap as wide as it can go. Drool slicks the cracked hinges of your lips. “Don’ know how.”

“Not what I’m lookin’ for.” He purrs, cruel humour gracing his tone. Somehow, it is not a reassurance as much as it is a snub. “Jus’ keep your teeth out of the way.” Humiliation washes your neck and ears, rush of blood like white river rapids behind your ears. It is the final swatch, trumpet to armageddon, before your ruin. You suck in a breath and bring your mouth to him.

Ghost meets you halfway, treating the crown of your head as an anchor to thrust forward. Immediately, you let slip his only rule, teeth snapping reflexively at the intrusion. You expect to be backhanded, have your hair ripped from your scalp in relation, or worse. It is a relief, then, when the only force you receive is a knock against your jaw. The rapping shakes your cotton-lined skull, snaps you out of your stupefaction, and you slack all muscles to accommodate his demand.

The mass feeding down your throat vibrates, an appreciative hum coursing through his body. “There you are, little jezebel. Look a’ you takin’ my cock so well.”

You make no effort to glide your tongue along his veins. To make this pleasurable for him beyond what he takes for himself. True to his word, your familiar does not punish you for it. He knots his hands around your head and fucks your face, careless, cock rearranging the anatomy of your neck as it bludgeons a straight path down. You sway, ragdoll with the motions, knees rubbing abrasively across the floor as he slides you back and forth over it.

Hypoxia spots your vision, lungs clenching furiously at the obstructed flow of oxygen. You would fasten it all shut, close yourself off from the world, but your eyes bulge a little at the edges, stagnant blood keeping them arid and open. It’s hard to dissociate. Hard to pretend that the steel-wool friction at the tip of your nose, the pendulum-consistent slaps on your chin, are not his pubic hair and balls searing unmistakable marks on your skin. And your series of gags are sloppy, lewd out in the confined air of your home. How could they be anything but damnation? There is no deluding the Maker.

(No matter how fervently he tried. Marry me, proposed down on both knees. It’ll set this whole fankle right. We’ll hold hands an’ seek penance at the kirk before th’ceremony. My pa will officiate. Yer ma will be thrilled.)

Snot bubbles from your nose, cheeks slick with tears and wayward spit. When he batters forward, it amalgamates in the soft palate beneath your spasming tongue. When he draws out, he takes it with him, viscous strings of saliva bridging the gap. It streams down to your neck, glosses your lips, webs your lashes together. You feel buried beneath its stifling coat, set down into your grave at last. Maggots worm their way into the soft matter of your brain, eat away at the tissue until there’s nothing left but suffocation. Death. Throttling void.

Your hands flail out, seeking an end to it, but all you find is Ghost.

He slows down once he nears his end.

The bruising pace he set stutters, balls tightening against your submental. It catches you off guard because, for the past ten minutes, you accustomed yourself to the patterns of his push and pull. For every plunge, there is a retreat, where you will greedily feast on fresh air before being choked back down on his cock. It is a break of tide, an opportunity to paddle your way above water to clear sea-salt from your hollows. A bay to hold onto so you do not drown.

Until now; his forearms twitch and you’re kept in place, forehead squashed onto his mons. You panic, hold on your breath breaking. The heady scent of sweat sweeps over you, laced with the tart products of your mouth – saliva and blood from where your canine pierced your cheek. Prespend, too. The undiluted stink of him. Hair tickles your lips. Your cunt flares, sudden, slickening the chafe of your thighs, but the unwelcome arousal does nothing for you.

He holds your head down and spurts his load into your gullet.

There is no room to swallow. It goes in the wrong direction, then – upward – and out your nose. You squeeze your eyes shut, disgusted scream gargling around his throbbing appendage. Distress bloats your head, temples feverish and sweating, nails digging deep impressions into your palms. It’s futile. Useless. Nothing thwarts him but the last dregs of semen spitting out onto your tonsils, pumping himself dry until finally, finally–

Ghost pulls out. You collapse onto the carpet and hack up cum until your throat bleeds.

The silence afterwards is mortifying, tension palpable enough to writhe up against. Drained, you’ve since pressed your cheek into the puddle of filth, urging pearlescent spend to seep into the fibres below. It'll be a nightmare to clean later, you process slowly. Perhaps you’ll use the bleach, and take the same sponge to your lips.

The monster above you tuts at the display, crouching to your level when you exhibit no interest in rising to his.

“C’mon, sweet. Wouldn’t want to waste your dinner now.”

But you’re too weak to lift your head. So Ghost gathers your hair, puppeteering – in a manner rather gentle for your assailant – until you can lap his essence off the floor.

It tastes like raw venison. You snivel your thanks, and imagine it is exactly that.

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chosok-amo · 24 days

Text

“ THERAPIST 'S WET DREAM！”

you need a therapist, with all the sick things in your head and luckily for you, NANAMI KENTO comes to the rescue, except he wants nothing but to corrupt you.

warning. non sorcerer! nanami kento, fingering, hand job, corruption, suggestive.

wc. 3,4k

you sit at his home office, on the couch staring at the clock on the wall. you’ve been here for months now working with him trying to get over your erotophobia— your fear of sex, nanami has been patient with you, helping you, molding poor little naive you, into the perfect sex toy for him.

the first three months of your sessions with him you talked about your fears, he listen and offered advice. you swore it would only last a month just long enough for you to take his advice to heart and find a guy to get with so that your friends would stop teasing you, oh but nanami was so sweet, so nice, so trusting, so when he told you, ‘you’re not ready yet’ you believed him.

soon those advice and just talking sessions ended up with him showing you how to masturbate, how to actually get off to just your hands, how to actually get off to HIS voice. those sessions in his home office started becoming phone calls, where he told you to call him when ever you had the urge to touch yourself.

he would instruct you through it, ordering you to leave your camera on and show him your wet pretty pussy as you desperately tried to reach the edge. of course his camera was off, he couldn’t let you know or see that he was stoking his own cock on the other line, listening to you moan and watching his little plaything naively touch herself for him.

all of his training led up to this moment, you on the couch in a outfit he manipulated you into wearing. a cute little skimpy skirt, with a fitted black, backless shirt. your hair was done neatly, your makeup was perfect, and you smelt good. he couldn’t wait to ruin you today.

“is it okay if we start the next process, hmm?” he sits down next to you, this larger hands in his thighs before he slid one over onto yours. “i think you’re ready.” he moved his free hand onto his zipper and unzipped his pants

he takes his hand off your thigh and frees his thick cock. “wanna touch it?” he grabs your wrist and guides it to his cock.

oh, good lord!

your cheeks flush red as you feel his warm hand guiding yours towards his throbbing member. your fingers tremble slightly as they brush against his shaft, feeling the heat emanating from his skin. the sight of his erect cock— his thick, veiny, tip red in anger and precum leaking— makes your heart race, and you can't help but wonder what it will feel like inside your pussy, your mouth. despite your nerves, you nod slowly, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

suddenly, you're overcome with curiosity, and despite your fear, you decide to go through with it. you wrap— barely, your small hand around his girth, feeling every vein and ridge under your fingertips. it’s much bigger than anything you've ever touched before, and you marvel at its size and warmth. you start to stroke him gently, your grip tightening as you become more comfortable with the sensation. you can hear his deep breathing, and it sends a thrill through your body.

blushing, you nod slowly, still unsure what’s happening, but curious nonetheless. your hand hesitates briefly before tentatively wrapping around his girthy length fully. it feels different than your own, warmer, firmer, more real. “i... i'm not sure,” you admit quietly, your fingers tracing the veins along his shaft.

he lets out a low groan as your hand wraps around his cock, his amber eyes flickering with lustful desire. “that's alright, take your time,” his voice is deep and commanding, filling the room with authority. he watches you intently, taking pleasure in the sight of your delicate hand wrapped around his throbbing manhood.

as you trace the veins along his shaft, he can't help but lean closer, his scent enveloping you. his large hand rests on top of yours, guiding your movements. he begins to thrust into your grasp, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. “just relax, and let me guide you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

your blush deepens as you continue to stroke his cock, your hand trembling slightly from both excitement and nervousness. you can feel his large hand on top of yours, guiding your movements with a firm yet gentle pressure. the way he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear, sends a shiver down your spine.

“i-i don't want to do it wrong...” you whisper, looking up at him with wide eyes filled with uncertainty and desire. you're torn between wanting to please him and your innate fear of being rejected. but there's also a part of you that craves this attention, that thrives on the power dynamics between you two.

despite your fears, you try to mimic his rhythm, stroking him faster and harder. the sound of his groans and the way his cock twitches in your grasp encourage you to keep going. he chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through his chest and seems to resonate within you. “there's no such thing as doing it wrong,” he assures you, his voice dripping with seduction. he leans even closer, pressing his muscular body against yours, making it clear who's in charge.

he guides your hand to stroke him faster, his hips instinctively bucking into your palm. each twitch and throb of his cock is a sign of your growing proficiency, and he revels in the sensation. “keep going,” he orders, his tone laced with raw desire.

his free hand trails down to your thigh, squeezing firmly as he watches you, his gaze intense and possessive. he wants nothing more than to claim you completely, to mold you into the perfect submissive lover.

the sound of his deep chuckle sends another wave of heat coursing through your body, causing your heart to pound wildly in your chest. you can't deny the thrill you get from pleasing him, from seeing the effect you have on his powerful frame.

“okay...” you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. as he continues to guide your hand, you pick up the pace, your strokes becoming more confident and eager. the thought of making him moan and writhe beneath your touch fills you with an intoxicating mix of fear and arousal.

feeling his hand on your thigh sends a jolt straight to your core, and you can't help but squirm slightly under his touch. the intensity of his gaze sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, fueling your desire to satisfy him fully.

his body tenses as your strokes grow more confident, his cock twitching eagerly in your hand. a low groan escapes him, his head falling back as he savors the sensation. “that's it,” he murmurs, his voice husky and filled with need.

he tightens his grip on your thigh, pulling you closer until you can feel the heat radiating off his body. his other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your flushed cheekbone. “such a good girl,” he whispers, leaning in to press a heated kiss to your forehead.

his words and actions fill you with a sense of satisfaction and pride, reinforcing the idea that you're doing well, that you're pleasing him. and it's this validation, this assurance that you're meeting his expectations, that pushes you further into exploring these new sensations.

your cheeks flame brighter at his praise, your heart pounding so loudly you’re certain he can hear it. the compliment combined with the kiss to your forehead sends a surge of warmth through your entire body.

encouraged by his words, you increase the speed and pressure of your strokes, determined to bring him even more pleasure. you can see the way his muscles tense and flex under his tailored suit, the way his cock pulses in your hand, signaling your success.

as he cups your cheek tenderly, you lean into his touch, craving more of his affectionate gestures. the contrast between his rough, dominating demeanor and his gentle caress is incredibly arousing, adding layers of complexity to your already heightened state of arousal.

his breath hitches in his throat as you continue to stroke him, your movements growing more confident and skilled. he can't help but let out a low groan of pleasure, his hips jerking involuntarily into your hand.

his grip on your thigh tightens, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh as he pulls you even closer. the heat from his body seeps into yours, creating a deliciously intimate atmosphere.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes darkening with desire. he releases your cheek only to trail his hand down your neck, tracing over the rapid beat of your pulse before moving lower to rest on your heaving breast.

hearing his muttered curse sends a thrilling rush through your veins, your strokes faltering for just a moment before you regain your focus. the feeling of his hand on your skin, tracing over your neck and then settling on your breast, makes you gasp.

your nipples harden instantly beneath the fabric of your shirt, and you bite your lip to suppress a whimper. the sensation is overwhelming, the dual stimulation of his cock in your hand and his touch on your breasts driving you wild.

you lean into his touch, seeking more contact, more affirmation of your worthiness. your heart races, and you can't help but wonder how much longer you can hold out before succumbing to the overwhelming desire coursing through your veins.

he smirks at your gasp, finding immense pleasure in your reaction to his touch. his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple, applying just enough pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

his cock throbs in your hand, practically begging for release. with each stroke, you draw out sounds of pure delight from his lips, each moan and groan echoing in the small space between you. “keep going,” he commands, his voice heavy with lust.

he lifts his gaze to meet yours, his amber eyes burning with a fierce intensity. it's clear he intends to take full advantage of every second, every touch, every moan that you offer him.

your blush deepens, if possible, at the smirk on his face and the command in his voice. despite the heat pooling between your legs, despite the growing ache that threatens to consume you whole, you obey, continuing to stroke his cock with renewed vigor.

the sensation of his thumb circling your nipple sends waves of pleasure cascading through your body. you arch into his touch, desperate for more, for everything he’s willing to give.

with each stroke, each groan that slips past his lips, you find yourself sinking deeper into the role you've been cast in— the role of his personal pleasure slave. the thought is terrifying, yet undeniably exciting. it's a dangerous game you're playing, but right now, you wouldn’t trade places with anyone else in the world.

your strokes become more purposeful, more deliberate, as if every movement now carries the weight of his approval. you can't help but marvel at the power he holds over you, the ability to make you tremble with just a touch.

looking into his eyes, you see the raw hunger reflected back at you. it's intoxicating, exhilarating, and it fuels your desire to please him even more. you find yourself lost in the moment, focused solely on bringing him as much pleasure as possible.

nanami's eyes darken further as he watches you work, your strokes becoming more confident and skilled with each passing moment. he can tell you're fully invested in pleasing him, and the knowledge only serves to heighten his arousal.

a low, primal growl rumbles in his chest as he leans in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. his tongue delves deep, claiming you thoroughly as his hands roam your body, squeezing and kneading your curves.

breaking the kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. he reaches the hollow of your throat and bites down, marking you as his. “mine,” he declares, his voice thick with possession.

he guides your hand faster, his hips bucking into your touch as he chases his impending climax. the sudden kiss leaves you breathless, your mind reeling from the intense passion behind it. his hands on your body feel like brands, marking you as his in a way that goes far beyond the physical act of biting down on your skin.

when he breaks away, the word “mine” echoes in your ears, sending a shiver down your spine. there's no doubt in your mind that he means it, that he views you as his personal property, his toy to use and abuse as he sees fit.

the realization both terrifies and excites you, pushing you further into the depths of submission. you want to be his, completely and utterly. you crave the feeling of belonging to someone so powerful, so commanding.

your hand moves faster in response to his guidance, your strokes becoming almost frantic as you try to push him over the edge. nanami lets out a guttural moan, his head thrown back as he gives himself over to the pleasure coursing through his veins. his cock twitches in your grasp, a sign that he's close to reaching his peak.

he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to pump him even harder, his pace relentless. he needs this, craves this intense satisfaction only you can provide.

his free hand finds its way to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. he pushes you against the desk, using his body weight to pin you in place. the position allows him better access to your body, his hands roaming freely over your curves.

he leans down, whispering hotly into your ear, “'m going to cum soon, and i want you to be there when i do.” your heart pounds wildly in your chest as he pins you against the desk, his large frame caging you in. the feeling of being trapped, of being completely at his mercy, sends a thrill of fear mixed with excitement through your veins.

his words, spoken with such authority and desire, make your stomach flutter. the idea of witnessing his climax, of being present for that moment of ultimate release, fills you with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

you redouble your efforts, pumping his cock with all the strength and skill you possess. each stroke brings him closer to the brink, and you can tell by the way his body tenses, by the raggedness of his breathing, that he's teetering on the edge.

desperate to be the one to push him over, you quicken your pace, your hand flying over his length with a newfound urgency. nanami's control snaps as your hand works him relentlessly. with a hoarse cry, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure.

his cock pulses violently in your grip, the first spurt of hot cum shooting forth as he starts to cum. wave after wave of release crashes over him, his body shaking with the force of it.

as he rides out his orgasm, he continues to grind against you, milking every last drop of seed from his spent member. finally, he stills, his chest heaving with exertion as he slowly comes back to himself. pulling back slightly, he looks at you with a mix of satisfaction and something darker, more possessive. “that was incredible,“ he murmurs, his voice husky from his cries of pleasure.

breathless and trembling, you remain pinned beneath him, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his climax. the sensation of his hot cum spurting onto your hand, mixing with the sweat and precum, is both shocking and strangely arousing.

as he pulls back, you catch a glimpse of the dark, almost feral look in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. this man, this powerful, dominant figure, has reduced you to a mere plaything, a vessel for his pleasure.

despite the terror that grips your heart, you can't deny the thrill of being so thoroughly used, so completely owned. in this moment, you belong to him, and nothing could ever change that.

swallowing hard, you manage to stammer out a reply, “y-yes, it was amazing. . . ” nanami smirks at your words, a satisfied glint in his eyes. he knows exactly what effect he has on you, how much you enjoy submitting to him, and it only fuels his desire to dominate you further.

slowly, he pulls away from you, standing up straight and allowing you some room to breathe. but he doesn't move too far, keeping you within his reach, ensuring you stay put.

he wipes his cum off your hand with a tissue, then discards it before turning his attention back to you. his gaze roams over your body, taking in the flushed cheeks, the heaving breasts, the glistening sex that's still throbbing with need.

without a word, he steps closer again, his fingers trailing down your stomach towards the soaked folds between your thighs. your breath hitches as his fingers graze your sensitive skin, the anticipation building inside you to a fever pitch. you know what's coming, what he intends to do to you, and the thought alone is enough to make your knees weak.

but even as your body trembles with need, a small part of you hesitates. you've already given him so much, allowed him to take complete control. is it wise to surrender yourself to him once again?

yet as his fingers inch closer to your aching core, you find yourself arching into his touch, silently begging for more. your resolve crumbles under his expert ministrations, and you know there's no turning back now. biting your lip, you meet his gaze, your eyes pleading and desperate, “please...”

nanami's smirk widens at your plea, a clear sign of his triumph. he knows just how to manipulate you, how to make you beg for his touch. his fingers slide easily through your wet folds, teasing at your entrance before delving deeper. he groans softly, appreciating the tight clench around his digits.

with a firm grip, he begins to fuck you with his fingers, setting a rhythm designed to drive you wild. he watches your face intently, taking note of each twitch and gasp, each expression of pure ecstasy.

his thumb circles your clit, applying just enough pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. it's relentless, unyielding, everything you've come to expect from him.

a strangled moan escapes your lips as he thrusts his fingers into you, stretching and filling you in ways that make stars burst behind your closed eyelids. the dual sensations of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers plunging into your dripping cunt are overwhelming, driving you to the edge of madness.

each movement of his hand sends jolts of pleasure rippling through your core, making your hips buck against his touch. you're lost in the haze of lust, your mind clouded by the need for release. “mr. n-nanami. . . ” you moan softly.

but even amidst the waves of pleasure crashing over you, you can't help but marvel at the intensity of his grip, the unrelenting pace of his movements. It's a dance of dominance and submission, and you're the willing participant, the puppet on his string.

nanami's eyes darken with lust as he watches you unravel beneath his touch. he can see the desperation etched on your features, the way your body writhes in search of relief.

increasing the tempo, he pistons his fingers in and out of your clenching heat, his thumb pressing harder against your swollen clit. he wants to break you, to reduce you to a quivering mess, and he's determined to achieve that goal.

leaning down, he captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his tongue dominates yours. the taste of your arousal mingles with the sweetness of your lips, fueling his own hunger. breaking the kiss, he growls low in his throat, “come for me. now.” the command is explicit, leaving no room for disobedience.

the raw demand in his voice shatters whatever remaining restraint you have left. with a keening wail, you surrender to the onslaught of pleasure, your body convulsing as the orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave.

your inner walls clamp down around his fingers, pulsating wildly as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you. the intensity is blinding, making it impossible to focus on anything but the searing bliss consuming you.

as the final tremors subside, you collapse back onto the desk, utterly spent and gasping for air. your limbs feel heavy, your mind foggy, as if you've been drained of all energy and willpower. through hooded eyes, you gaze up at nanami, a mixture of awe, gratitude, and fear swirling in their depths.

nanami watches with satisfaction as you come undone, your body shaking with the force of your climax. he continues to stroke your sensitive flesh, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you're a boneless heap beneath him.

slowly, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to lick them clean. the salty-sweet taste of your essence explodes on his tongue, and he savors it like a fine wine.

tucking himself back into his pants, he straightens his tie and adjusts his jacket, looking every bit the composed professional once more. only the slight flush on his cheeks betrays the passion that had consumed him moments ago.

he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “you did well today. i'm pleased with your progress.” you lay there, panting heavily as you try to process his words. a part of you feels a twisted sense of pride at his praise, knowing that you've managed to please him once again.

but another part of you recoils at the casual dismissal, the way he can so easily switch back to his role as your therapist. it's as if the intimate moments they shared were nothing more than a fleeting fantasy, a figment of your imagination.

“t-thank you, mr. nanami,” you finally managed to speak, gathering what remains of your strength, you sit up slowly, your movements stiff and awkward. you avoid his gaze, unable to bear the weight of his scrutiny, the knowledge that he holds such power over you.

with trembling hands, you begin to straighten your clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles and trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. nanami observes your actions with a critical eye, noting the way you flinch slightly when he speaks, the hesitation in your movements as you attempt to compose yourself. it's a familiar sight, one he's witnessed countless times before with his other clients.

he reaches out, his hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. his touch is gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier ministrations. “remember,” he says softly, “what happens here stays here. this is our little secret, understood?”

his thumb brushes over your lower lip, a silent reminder of the forbidden pleasures you've shared. the gesture is possessive, claiming you as his own without uttering a single word. releasing you from his grasp, he takes a step back, putting some distance between your bodies.

at his touch, you swallow hard, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin, stirring a longing deep within you. his words echo in your ears, a chilling reminder of the boundaries you must not cross.

“yes, mr. nanami.” your voice barely rises above a whisper, a mere breath of sound that carries the weight of your submission.

you nod slowly, acknowledging his authority, the unspoken agreement between you both. but even as you assent, a part of you rebels, craving more of those illicit encounters, craving him.

shaking off the lingering effects of your orgasm, you stand up, still feeling weak in the knees. you glance towards the door, contemplating whether you should leave now or linger a little longer, savoring the aftermath of your encounter.

nanami's eyes follow your movements, drinking in the sight of you standing tall despite your obvious exhaustion. there's a predatory glint in his gaze, a hint of the hunger that simmers just below the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

he steps closer, closing the distance between you once more. his presence is imposing, commanding, and you can't help but lean into him, drawn to the heat radiating from his body.

“i think you could use a moment to collect yourself,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, “why don't you take a seat on the couch? We can discuss your... progress further.”

his tone is suggestive, implying that there's more to your 'progress' than just your therapy sessions. the implication hangs in the air, a tantalizing promise of future encounters and the pleasure they bring.

#nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x reader smut #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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jhopezwrld · 9 months

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i'm your little scarlet, starlet, singin' in the garden

summary: your sweet boyfriend jay eats you out for the first time

warnings: smut!!! oral (f receiving), swearing, corruption kink, dirty talk, uhhh i think that’s it

wc: 2,042

a/n: i wrote this in like an hour & a half and i actually hate it so much. pls leave feedback lol im an attention whore

minors do not interact plz! xx

"just tell me."

"nuh-uh."

"pleaseeeeee?"

"not happening. just drop it, jay. i don't wanna talk about this anymore." you pout, turning your body away from his. you lie flat on your back, staring up at his blank ceiling, but your view of plain white is suddenly obstructed by your boyfriend. he'd been bugging you to tell him just how experienced you were since you had let it slip that your first kiss was only last year. "please, baby? i just wanna know. promise i won't laugh or tell anyone." he says, holding his pinky finger out to you to exaggerate his point.

you roll your eyes and slap his hand away. "m’not telling you, jay. it's embarrassing!" you tell him, moving your hands from your sides to cover your face, which was already heating up. you can feel him stifle a giggle at your side, which makes you whine. "see! you're already laughing at me." he straddles you, using his much larger hands to pull yours from your face. "i'm laughing 'cause you're cute, baby. everything you do is cute cause you're my girl, yeah?" he asks, bringing his thumb up to caress your bottom lip.

you nod at that, pressing a small kiss to the pad of his thumb. he smiles and presses his thumb harder at the seam of your lips. "has anyone ever put anything in here, baby?" he inquires, parting your lips with his finger and brushing his thumb over your teeth. you shake your head, too shy to verbally answer his question, but that isn't enough for him.

he removes his thumb from your mouth and instead uses his hand to squeeze your cheeks together. "didn't i just ask you a question? c'mon, angel, you know how to use your big girl words. answer me, has anyone ever put anything in this pretty little mouth of yours?"

"n-no. no one ever put anything in here." you sputter, feeling your stomach turn at the way he's speaking to you. "hmm, that's what i thought. my sweet innocent girl. has anyone ever kissed you like i have?" you know how to answer properly this time, so you do. "no, no one has ever kissed me the way you do." you answer, keeping your eyes glued to his shoulder, too embarrassed to keep eye contact with him. "s'what i thought. gimmie a kiss, pretty girl." he tells you, and you obey, looking up at him and connecting your lips.

his tongue immediately invades your mouth, brushing over your teeth and exploring the entirety of your mouth before tangling with your own. there was something so distinct about the way he tasted, like warm cinnamon and ginger. it made you shiver, which jay picked up on immediately. he pulled away from you slowly, admiring the string of saliva that connected the two of you, making you flush and squeeze your eyes shut. he moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and licking at your pulse point.

he presses one last kiss to your neck and pulls away. "s'it good baby? you like it when i kiss you like that?" he asks, although the smirk on his face makes it clear that he knows the answer. "y-yeah, i like it. makes me feel like-" you pause, not knowing how to describe what you’re feeling. he nods his head as to tell you to go on, and you do. "makes me feel warm down there." you voice. he takes his hand that had been lying by your head and places it on your clavicle "here?" he asks condescendingly.

you shake your head no, and he moves his hand down to cup your breast. "here?" his fingers find your nipple through the thin shirt and bralette that you were currently wearing. you gasp and push your chest into his hand. "has anyone ever seen you here, sweetheart?" his hands graze the bottom of your shirt, and you shake your head. "can i?" he asks, and you nod. "didn't we just go over this, baby? use your words."

you sigh, trying to articulate your point before speaking again "i want you to take my shirt off, jay. want you to be the first to see me like that." you admit. he lets out a groan and bites his lip while gripping the sides of your shirt. "arms up, baby."

you lift your arms above your head and he slips your shirt off of your body. the coldness of his room (or the intensity of his stare) causes your nipples to harden, turning into pretty peaks hidden under soft pink lace. "so fucking pretty, jesus christ." he says, dragging one hand up the length of your stomach to your right breast, palming it.

“so soft and sweet. all for me, right?” his voice is so low it’s almost unrecognizable. you nod “yeah, s’all for you, jay.” your response is rewarded soft smile before he ducks his head down to suck your covered nipple into his mouth.

you let out a squeak, tangling your left hand in his hair, while your right stays by your side, curled into a fist. his tongue laves over your stiff lace-covered bud until he’s satisfied, pulling away to look at the wet spot he left. the loss of his mouth makes you whine, silently begging for more. "can i take this off, baby? it'll feel so much better." he explains, grazing his fingers over the delicate fabric of your bralette. you know he's right. if the feeling of his mouth through your top makes warmth travel south, what would it feel like with no barrier? you nod faster than you can speak.

"please take it off, jay? wanna feel your mouth, pretty please?" you beg, batting your eyelashes at him. jay groans and adjusts the very prominent bulge in his sweatpants. his hands grasp at the cups covering your breasts and he pulls. the sound of fabric tearing hits your ears before you realize what's happening. before you can protest, his mouth connects with your nipple. teeth and tongue cover your sensitive bud, licking and biting. a moan leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

he smiles up at you and uses his free hand to play with the fabric of your sleeping shorts, which makes you buck your hips into his hands. he releases your tit, giving it one last kiss before pushing his body up to kiss you again. his knee presses in between your thighs, rubbing deliciously against your clit. he detaches your lips to press hot open-mouthed kisses to your neck. his hand again reaches down to your shorts. "can i take these off too, baby doll? just wanna make my girl feel good. can i make you feel good?"

"we don't have to do anything, baby. don't wanna make you uncomfortable, just wanna make you feel nice," he says, caressing your cheek.

"please take them off, jay? want you to touch me and make me feel good. i want you to do it, please." you say, clenching your fists at your side. he smiles at you, presses a sweet kiss to your lips, and lowers himself down his bed. coming face to face with your most sensitive area, he pulls your shorts down quickly and comes in contact with your pretty lace boyshorts.

his fingers trace the intricate patterns on your hips and slip down to rub over your covered slit. his fingers and eyes meet the sticky sweetness in between your thighs. He sucks in a quick breath and thanks whatever god blessed him with an angel like you. he hooks his fingers into your panties and slips them off. you watch his reaction closely, his bottom lip is trapped by his teeth.

it seems he's in awe of your pussy. his eyes trace the length of your folds, glued to the strings of arousal that wet your lower lips and inner thighs. "such a sweet little pussy. pretty pussy for a pretty girl. can i taste it?" he asks, his warm breath coming out in puffs against your sensitive parts. you squirm under his gaze, unsure of how to answer. "b-but what about you? wan'you to feel good too, jay."

he coos at your reply, pressing a sweet kiss to your inner thigh. "s'gonna be good for me too, baby. been wanting to taste you for so long. i think about how good your pussy will taste when i touch myself at night. might just make me cum in my fuckin pants." he admits, adjusting his bulge again.

his admission makes you whine and push your hips up, searching for pleasure. "but what if i don't taste good? or what if i-" he cuts you off by pressing his face into your cunt, laving his tongue against your honeyed cunt. you let out a loud whine, throwing your arms over your face. his hot tongue wriggles between your folds before he sucks your clit into his mouth. he splays one hand over your hips, preventing you from wiggling out of his grip, while his other hand reaches for your own.

his hand grips yours, and he squeezes, providing you with a bit of comfort. your heartbeat quickens as you feel his tongue exploring parts that only you have touched. his lips move in a way that reminds you of the way he kisses you. messy and passionate. you let yourself relax, giving in to the sensations flowing through your body. jay licks thick stripes from your hole to your hardened pearl, drinking from you as if you were leaking ambrosia.

you moan sharply, thrusting your hips into his mouth the best you can with his arm holding you down. he removes it, taking his middle finger and rubbing it against your hole. he detaches his mouth from you, keeping his eyes on your pussy as he pushes his finger inside of you. he sucks in a harsh breath “holy shit, baby. you’re so fucking tight. don’t you touch yourself?” he asks

you take a deep breath before responding. “s-sometimes, but my fingers aren’t as big as yours. it’s never felt like this before” you moan out. he smiles at you and dips his head back down between your thighs. he speeds up the movement of his finger and speaks again “that’s right. i’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” he rasps, before connecting his mouth with your clit again, sucking hard. you cry out and tangle your hands in his soft locks. he pushes another finger into your slick pussy and laps at the wetness that leaks onto the base of his fingers.

your brain feels fuzzy and the only thing you can think to say is his name. his movements speed up as you cry out, and the bed creaks as he thrusts his hips into the mattress. jay can practically feel himself spiraling at the way you’re lost in the pleasure he’s providing you. he can feel you clench around his two fingers, your orgasm impending. he doubles his efforts, suckling on your clit while his fingers press into your g-spot, and that’s what unravels you. your hips arch and you sob out a broken moan, squeezing your thighs around his head as your orgasm washes through you.

jay kisses around your thighs and eases his fingers out of your slit. as your breathing regulates, he slithers up the length of your body and places the two fingers that were just inside of you on your closed lips and taps as if to say ‘open up’. your lips part and he presses his fingers onto your tongue. he smiles as you seal your lips around his drenched digits.

“see how sweet you taste, baby?” he asks. you hum around his fingers and nod your head. as he removes them from your mouth, you peer down at the wet patch over his obvious boner in his sweatpants.

you frown at him and run your hand down his torso to the happy trail that disappears into his pants. “can i help you, too?” you question, looking up at him with curious eyes. he smirks at you and pushes his hips into your own. “i’m gonna ruin you, sweet girl.”

#enhypen smut #park jongseong smut #jay park smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard hours #enha smut #enha hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #smut #kpop smut #kpop hard hours #jhopezwrld #my writing

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feralthoughtdump · 10 months

Text

Let Me Wrap My Teeth Around The World

Warnings: minors DNI, small age gap (everyone is 18+), manipulation, love-bombing, possessiveness, social anxiety, the male gaze, financial exploitation, obsessive behavior, ownership, toxic dynamics, moral corruption, smut, virginity loss, coercion, dubcon, dark

Word Count: 4.1K

It’s been a while since Coriolanus found someone as the object of his affection. The last time was a few years ago, and it did no good for him. But this shy, sweet, beautiful Capitol girl was someone who could pose no risk to him and seemed to have wormed her way into the recesses of his mind.

She was the shy girl in one of his University classes. Rumors circulated about her wealth or lack thereof. She was some prodigy who earned her way into the school through merit rather than money, and it left an open inquiry as to who her parents were. He didn’t know what drew him in. The House of Snow had just regained a semblance of wealth and power, and associating with a girl like her could easily create cracks in the foundation.

She wasn’t wealthy enough to come from a district family who bought their way in, but she certainly wasn’t like the other students who took classes with her. Though she wasn’t wealthy, she wasn’t necessarily poor, at least not as poor as his family used to be, but he could recognize the signs of the consistent repair in her uniform, using the same stitches Tigris would use on his old clothing. It turns out she had come from a family of seamstresses and artists.

He also learned that she loved pretty things, not just spotting them but making them. Her apartment was always decorated with little knick-knacks and drawings that covered the walls. Coriolanus would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy spending time in her dingy apartment. It was small, run-down, nothing more than a studio with a bed, desk, kitchenette, and a heat pipe that screeches and clangs at the most ungodly hour. But he loves staring at how her brows furrow as she sketches or how she tucks her lower lip between her teeth in frustration. Despite being unable to help her work, she was always happy to have him around.

This leads him to her small apartment at least once a month with a new pair of pants that were a bit too long or one of his father’s old shirts

Even though he could afford to have his pants hemmed by a tailor or simply ask Tigris, he prefers going to her. After all, she’s become familiar with his preferred inseam length, and Tigris has become colder and colder towards him.

He always insists on paying her even if she refuses.

“We’re friends, Corio,” She said the first time. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“Just this once, let me take care of you.” He insisted, pressing the cash into the palm of her hand.

Just this once turned into every single time. Then, it became buying her meals and small gifts. He got her internships with other high-ranking game makers. Eventually, he convinced her that her old apartment was too small and worn down for a nice girl like her, and he moved her into a spare room in his apartment and turned the other into a studio. Then, he started taking her to parties and events she could never afford to go to, and he always made sure to buy her a dress even if she insisted that it would cost less if she could just make one herself.

When their fellow students would snicker at her, he’d slip poison into their drinks. Never enough to kill them, just to get them sick for a week or so.

Somehow, Coriolanus finds himself taking her under his wing, becoming a mentor to her in some type of way. She maintained that soft and sweet air about her, but with his help, she became someone her peers respected. Once, she was the girl who made other students in the University roll their eyes because she always tried too hard. Now, she was the girl who had connections and handed in exemplary work. She was the carefully created success story of a middle-class Capitol girl who climbed the ladder with hard work and determination. Now, she could spread her wings and fly, but only as far as he would allow.

With the arrival of winter comes the start of planning another year of games, and the Crane family was more than happy to host a commencement gala.

This time, he bought her a pretty red dress she eyed in a store window a few days ago.

The quiet gasp she lets out when he opens the box is music to his ears.

“It’s even more beautiful in person.” She whispers the fabric pooling in her hands like blood. “I can’t let you keep buying me things like this. I can’t take this.”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. She always opposes, with her voice becoming soft, objections and promises to pay him back, tumbling from her lips. But that wasn’t what he cared about. He cared about how she presented herself. He got her internships and dragged her out of that shoebox of a studio apartment. She was a product of his hard work, and he wanted to show it off. “Think of it as a gift.” He smiles, gently lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “You’ve worked hard these past few months.”

“Corio…”

“Put it on; we have to leave in a few minutes.”

…

She’s stuck to his side whenever they attend these events. Her shy demeanor doesn’t do well in large crowds, and with an endless supply of expensive liquor, Coriolanus doesn’t want her wandering about alone.

Throughout the evening, she’s been good. Smiling, looking pretty. Saying hello to the people he introduces her to, holding onto his arm, and letting him know when she’s feeling overwhelmed so he can rub circles on her back.

People compliment her, telling her how beautiful she looks. Pride thumps against his chest. Of course, she looks beautiful. The dress he picked falls on her body like it was made for her. The red is beautiful against her skin, and the fabric drapes beautifully around her hips, showing off her elegant back.

Eventually, she breaks away from him, needing to use the restroom. But after a while, he realizes something isn't right without her beside him.

He worries when he can’t see her, and he finds himself rushing through small conversations and pushing past people to try and find her in a sea of people.

Eventually, he spots her staring at the city's vast expanse, leaning on the balcony's edge. She’s slowly nursing her third glass of champagne in one hand, and the other picks at the cuticles of her thumb.

That wasn’t a good sign.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires, approaching her with a hand on her back.

She jumps at his touch, but relief crosses her face when she sees him. The last of the champagne is quickly swallowed, and she passes the empty glass to an approaching waiter.

“Nothing, really. I’m okay.”

From the tension in her forehead, he can clearly tell that she isn’t okay. Though he knows she hates it when he pries, he still chooses to do so.

“You aren’t, so tell me what’s wrong.”

There’s a beat of silence, and she sighs.

“I feel out of place, Corio. I feel like I don’t belong here.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you belong here.”

“Everyone here is just so…” She looks down at her heels, trying to find the right words “I don’t know, I’m younger than everyone, and most of the people here have played a part in the games and all I’ve done is get coffee and print papers for them.”

Her lashes flutter as if blinking away tears, and he can’t have that. Not here.

“Hey,” he lifts her chin with his fingers and strokes her flushed cheek with his thumb. “Don’t get all tearful on me. You’re with me. I promise you, you belong here.”

From the frown curling on her lips, his words clearly aren’t working, so he shifts the conversation. “What do you dream of being? What do you want to do?”

She opens her mouth but hesitates.

“Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?”

“I promise.”

“I’d like to be a designer.” A small smile starts to cross her face. “A fashion designer with my own line and everything.”

He could see a future where everyone in the Capitol wore her designs. Or not everyone. She was too good for that. All of his hard work has been put into helping her rise alongside him. If she wanted to do something, she had to be the best.

“I think you would make a great designer.” Without a second thought, he presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I know you will. I’ve seen your work.”

A giggle falls from her lips, and affection blooms in his chest. Nowadays, he wonders if he could ever love someone. But love is so subjective. He had molded her into someone who would be fit to stand by him as he rose in the ranks. Isn’t that the closest thing there is to love?

…

“Here, let me help you.”

The champagne has loosened her up, causing her to stumble on her feet. She leans against him and laughs when his arm hooks under her knees to carry her past the front door.

“Such a gentleman.” She croons. “Always taking care of me.”

“It’s what I do best.”

He sets her down on the edge of his bed so he can bend down to undo her heels. Without much thinking, he gently kisses the inside of her ankle. His eyes gaze up at her, gauging her reaction, and she shyly tells him, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

It’s as if something in him shifts. Coriolanus always harbored an attraction to her. On multiple occasions, he would fuck his fist after their little “tailoring” appointments, thinking about her on her knees, his cock stuffed in her mouth. Ever since she moved in, he’d sneak glances through the crack of her door, catching glimpses of her in stages of undress. He’s never acted upon it. His ego certainly wouldn’t be able to take the rejection, but now that she’s asking him to kiss her with those soft lips and glittering doe eyes, he’s safe to act on his desires.

He surges forward, engulfing her in his hold. Hands cupping her face to keep her lips pressed against his. His teeth graze across her bottom lip,

She smells like vanilla and roses, igniting that deep-seated hunger inside him.

He has always hungered for power within the political spheres of Panem, but right now, his hunger is hyperfocused on her. To own her, to control her.

He wants her to answer every beck and call. If he were to say jump, she would ask, ‘How high?’ If he asked her to crawl to him, she’d drag her delicate knees across whatever surface she stood on. He wants her to belong to him—mind, body, and soul.

Their lips are locked together as her hands fumble to remove her dress. Sensing her struggle, he releases her face to help, undoing the ties around her neck. She carefully lets it fall off her body, letting the vibrant red silk pool around her feet.

“I’ve never done this before.” She murmurs against his lips. “I haven’t done anything past kissing.”

“Really?” He looks down at her and wants to coo in adoration when she shyly glances away. “No one’s ever touched you before?”

“Just… myself… and this one boy from the academy a few years ago but it was over our uniforms.” She hesitates, and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. Coriolanus already owned most of her clothing, living space, and future career. It was all owed to him. But her virginity? He can truly make her his. His girl.

He crawls on top of her, caging her in his arms.

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

His fingers trace her skin, from the line of her neck past her collarbones, dipping under the white lace underwear that clings to her hips.

“These are pretty.” He flicks the rosette sewn to the center of the waistband. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Maybe. I made them myself.”

She lifts her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs. They part, creating room for him to slot himself in between her knees. Her hands reach to remove his shirt, but he bats them away.

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

As he unbuttons his shirt, he observes the way her chest rises and falls, how her lips are parted, and how her tongue darts out to lick at her lips in anticipation.

His fingers push past her lips, pressing down on her eager tongue, already swirling over them.

“Get them wet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her eyes close as she sucks on the digits. Saliva pools in her mouth, dripping past the corners of her lips.

They are released with a pop, and Coriolanus groans, the strain in his pants becoming unbearable.

Two of his wet fingers slide between her folds, teasing at her opening. A gasp slips past her parted lips at the feeling of his fingers pushing in. It was torturous how he managed to curl his fingers just right, eliciting a stifled whine from her lips. She pulls her hips away, overwhelmed by the stretch and the growing pressure inside of her. Though he knows she’s fingered herself before, his fingers must feel foreign, better than what she can do for herself.

He pushes a third inside of her, opening her up, and he can feel how she flexes around him. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but he persists, continuing to curl his fingers against that spot inside of her.

“Don’t fight it.” He demands, pistoning his fingers. “I’m just trying to make you feel good.”

Her gasps and whines eventually turn into moans. She clenches around his fingers and bucks her hips forward as if her body is begging him for more.

“I think,” She arches her back, and her voice becomes gaspy as if fighting to fill her lungs with air. “I think I’m close.”

“Already?” He spits onto her clit and presses his thumb against it. Electricity surges through her body as he rubs it in slow circles. She watches him with parted lips and shaky breathing as he fuels her oncoming orgasm. “Oh, you’re making this too easy for me.”

Her head is thrown back, and a strangled moan falls from her lips—sticky arousal floods around his fingers, and her walls spasm around them.

“There you go.” He soothes, pressing kisses to her cheek. “That feels good, huh?”

She’s laid out on the comforter, chest heaving and skin flushed. Coriolanus grabs his stiff cock through his pants, trying to ease the growing tension. But he decides he can’t wait to give her a break.

Her ears perk up at the metallic clink of him undoing his belt.

“Corio, I- I don’t think-”

He shushes her with a kiss.

“It’s alright, you can take it. Yeah? Remember what I promised?”

“That you’d be gentle.”

“That’s right.” He kicks off his pants and frees his cock from the confines of his briefs. “I’ve always been good to you, haven’t I?”

She nods in agreement, eyes widening at the size of him.

He licks his lips as he presses the tip against her cunt, slowly easing his cock inside of her.

As he sheathes himself inside of her, he presses her thighs to her chest, forcing himself deeper into her warmth.

She lets out a sharp cry and grabs his waist, trying to push him back.

“You’re too big, Corio. I don’t think you’ll fit.”

He hurries to kiss away her complaints. To distract her from the pain. He couldn’t wait. He needed to feel her. He needed her. Whispering against her lips, he soothes her. “You’re okay. I’ll go slow. Yeah?”

Broken moans fall from her lips as he bottoms out. He groans in pleasure as her fingernails dig into his back, scrambling for some kind of purchase. She was so tight, so wet, and so warm, gripping onto him like a vice.

Very carefully, he rocks his hips back and forth, letting her adjust to him. The sounds she makes, combined with the slick squelch of her cunt are obscene. Even with his slow movements, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to last long.

He drops his lips to her neck, teeth grazing the fragile skin before biting down.

“Ah- please, don’t leave a mark.”

Disregarding her words, he sucks a slowly blooming bruise onto her neck. He doesn’t care if it’s dark. He wants people to see it and know who left it there.

Maybe he does love her, he thinks. He loves how she complements him, her sweetness dampening his harsher attributes. He loves her creativity, her ambition, and how she always hungers to better herself. She’s perfect. She could be more than just a designer. She could be influential, a figure in the history of Panem.

“I have an idea.” He hums against her neck, stilling his hips.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to be part of the games.”

“What do you mean?” She impatiently shifts her hips, trying to get him to move again.

“You can be a…” he pauses to think, looking into her blown-out pupils, “a stylist. You can design the tributes' looks for the opening ceremony and the interviews. Maybe we can implement uniforms for the actual games.”

She pulls back, but he keeps her locked in place, hands grabbing at the flesh of her hips. Her eyes no longer look glazed over with lust. Instead, there’s a flash of clarity within them.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“No, Corio.” Her voice is firm. She has her mind made up. “I won’t do it.”

His lust begins to mix with anger. She can’t deny him. Not now, not ever. Not after everything he has done for her.

His hand reaches for her chin, and she whimpers.

“Yes, you will because I’m not asking.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” She struggles against his hold. “You don’t own me.”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” He snarls, fingers digging into her jaw. “I gave you this life, and I can easily take it away from you.”

“Let go of me, please.”

Earlier promises of being gentle are tossed away. She’s beginning to let out pained squeaks from the pressure on her cheeks, and the hand on her hip digs into the soft flesh, creating red divots close to drawing blood.

“Look at all that I have given you. All of your nice clothes and these fancy internships were because of me. Without me, you’d be freezing to death in that shed you used to live in.” He pulls his hips back and slams his cock back into her dripping cunt, eliciting a cry from her. “I made you who you are.” He cruelly bullies his cock into her, picking up his speed every time her hands weakly try to push him away. “All you have to do is be good for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He forces her to look at him, to stare into her glassy eyes. “Are you going to be good?”

She doesn’t reply, or rather, she can’t. All she could do was strain against him with dark, mascara-stained tears rolling down her cheeks.

Those eyes that once gazed upon him with fondness are now filled with fear.

“Are you going to be good?” He punctuates his words with a hand to her throat, giving it a light squeeze. It’s enough pressure to establish a threat but not enough to take away her ability to breathe.

Her teary eyes blink, and she nods.

“Yes,” She whispers. “I’ll be good.”

“So,” He slows his movements and brings his lips to her ear, warm breath tickling her skin. “What do you say?

Once again, he circles her sensitive clit with his thumb.

She sobs, clenching around him, and he can tell that she’s close to cumming again.

“You’re not going to cum until you answer me.”

“Please, Corio, don’t make me decide. Not right now.”

“I want-” He groans, feeling himself falling close to the edge. “I need an answer.”

She sobs and tries to look away, but the hand on her face won’t let her.

“Please.”

His face moves closer to hers, her hot breath fanning his cheeks.

“I can feel you clenching around me, and I know you can’t hold it in. Give me an answer now.” More tears stream down her face, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “If you cum before giving me an answer, I’ll ruin this pretty cunt.”

There’s a second of silence, save for the sound of his skin slapping against hers before she nods.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Yes, what?”

“I’ll do it.”

He quickens his pace, chasing after his own pleasure, and she all but screams.

The fire in his burns, ready to overtake him, but something isn’t right.

“Open your eyes.” He demands. “I want you to look at me when I fill you up.”

She blinks her eyes open, all wide and wet, and he’s unable to hold back. Tightening his hold on her, he forces his hips against her own, burying his cock to the hilt and releasing inside of her. She flutters around him, desperate gasps for air falling from her wanting mouth as she cums with him.

They stay in this position, both trying to catch their breath. Coriolanus is the first to pull away, rubbing her thighs to loosen the tired muscles.

She lays there, surrounded by his fluffy white sheets, saying nothing. He gently kisses her cheek, attempting to pull an answer from her, but when it proves unsuccessful, he leaves to draw a bath.

…

“You don’t have class tomorrow, right?”

The question draws her out of her gaze, now realizing she’s curled up in the tub with her knees drawn to her chest. The water is warm, cloudy, almost milky, and smells like roses. She couldn't bear to look at him right now, but she managed to force an answer from her lips.

“No,” she fights the urge to flinch when his fingers brush her hair away from her neck. “It’s my day off.”

“Good.” Coriolanus dips the washcloth in the tub and gently wipes it against her skin. “You’ll come with me to see Dr. Gaul. Bring your portfolio.”

Her body shudders at the thought of meeting the woman, but more notably, knowing that the man she held so much love for was nothing like the man he portrayed himself to be.

She once thought that he was her patron, but the truth was that he was her owner. All of the riches she had gained this past year meant nothing now. They weren’t hers. They were his. He had given her a life of safety where she could flourish and provide for her family, but it was one separated from the world she once knew. Her parents and friends from the fabric shop were replaced by the same obscenely wealthy elite who would have thumbed their nose at her if it weren’t for the proximity to him.

Every gentle brush of his fingers on her skin reminds her of what he’s done to her. How he now owns her.

Her mind falls to a lecture from a year ago. It was about evolution and apex predators. The boa, she remembers, was nonvenomous but deadly, wrapping themselves around their prey, squeezing their bodies until their circulation stopped and their lungs could no longer pull any oxygen. What’s more chilling, she thinks, is that they know to monitor their heartbeat, waiting for their heart to stop before swallowing them whole.

He’s wrapped himself around her, tightening his hold. She knows she can struggle, but he won’t loosen his grip. He’ll just constrict around her, tighter and tighter, until there’s no more room for her to fight—no more room to breathe.

“I’ve been very sweet on you, and I can keep doing that.” He hums. “But, I can be cruel as well. You and I both know I don’t want to do that.”

Finally, she finds the courage to look at him; those blue eyes are now colder than ever.

She tries to whisper, but when he raises a brow, she clears her throat and meekly responds.

“Thank you, Coriolanus. For everything.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction

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kqiscr · 1 year

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KINKT☆BER WEEK ONE! ー MICHAEL KAISER

MY EYES ARE UP HERE

a pretty angel like you would look better on his thigh

warnings: corruption, thigh riding, hints of degradation + praise, kaiser is a warning by himself, use of fem pet names/afab anatomy, i know zero german, i haven't wrote smut in a hot minute so give me a chance

w/c: 2.7k

i am not responsible for any minors who interact | not proofread. ktober mtl

"is there something wrong, mein liebling?" kaiser snapped his fingers in front of your face, his lips upturned in amusement as you jumped in surprise.

"huh? nothing's wrong," you quickly shook your head, embarrassed to have been caught red-handed.

not like it was your fault— he has to know about how distracting his gray sweatpants were. no matter where you tried to force your gaze, it always led back to the noticeable bulge in his pants.

although you've been dating kaiser for a few months now, things have never escalated past a few feathery touches as his fingers skimmed under your shirt while making out— or maybe a little grind from you here and there.

you wanted to see what he was hiding under that fabric, but you were too shy to. every time you would even remotely try to ask, it always led to your face heating up and you scurrying away, or you would drop the question last minute. he always teased you for being so "innocent".

he gave you a knowing look, obviously not believing your terribly said lie, but still reverted his attention back to the book he was reading.

knowing that he had the faintest idea of why you kept glancing his way, you decided to busy yourself on your phone— which also wasn't much help to distract you from how kaiser kept shuffling around, every movement making his dick print more prominent.

he had to be doing it on purpose at this point. every so often he would spread his legs a bit wider, place a hand on his thigh, and adjust his sweats. every single movement and rustle would cause you to peer at him through the corner of your eyes— not only in curiosity of what he was doing, but to see how the new angle would make the bulge look.

the more you thought about what was in his pants, the more you pressed your thighs together. your thoughts trailed off, the desperation of months of wanting him to bend you over something—anything— finally getting to you.

would he be mean and cocky, degrading you and mocking you at every chance he gets?

or would he be slow and caring, given the fact it would be your first time with him? would he praise you and give you what you would plead and beg for?

knowing him, you went with the former. not like you were complaining— you wanted him so bad you'd let him fuck you on the kitchen counter at this point. maybe even the floor.

"i'm starting to think you're a bit distracted," kaiser rasped. you were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't notice how he inched closer to you, his breath against your ear causing you to have goosebumps.

"am not!" you attempted to save yourself, hiding your face behind your phone and opening and closing random apps. maybe having the weather app open looking at the weather of a different country across the world didn't help your case.

"look at me, schatz." he placed his fingers under your jaw and angled your head to meet his piercing eyes.

you fidgeted with your hands, anticipating what he was going to say. but he didn't say anything, simply wrapped his hands around your waist and effortlessly placing you on his lap. you subconsciously throw your arms around his neck as you waited for him to say something.

"is there something you want from me?" he questioned, tilting his head to the side. you were still too awkward to answer his question, so you simply focused on the tattoo that was peeking out of his shirt's neckline, shaking your head slightly.

"are you going to answer me with words? or will i just have to force it out of you?" your eyes widened at the implications of his statement.

"what do you mean by that?" you soon found out, because he lifted you up slightly and placed you back down on one of his thighs, making sure that your legs were on either side of it,

"do you think i'm stupid, liebling? you think i wouldn't notice you staring like you wanted my pants off?" he could feel the way your thighs clenched around him at his statement as he smirked.

"i wasn't!" you were adamant on beating these allegations, although it would be nearly impossible. you were not only a terrible liar, but you were trying so hard not to move an inch. the pressure of his thigh on your cunt was getting unbearable, and you wanted him to do anything to relieve the heat that was building up.

he shuffled a little bit, bouncing his thigh in the process, leading a whine to escape your mouth. he froze for a moment before chuckling.

"pretty girl wants to get off my thigh, hm?" he raised an eyebrow as his voice lowered an octave. the sudden pitch change in his voice made your pussy throb.

hesitantly, you nodded. "please— want it so bad."

"that wasn't so hard to do, was it?" he slipped his hands under the waistband of your shorts. "now take these off."

you hurriedly took the pair of shorts off, and kaiser's eyes widened as he saw the lingerie you were wearing.

"and you weren't going to show me this, schatz?" he admired the way the shade of blue— the same color as the tips of his hair and tattoo— looked on your skin. "how mean."

before you could open your mouth to respond, he had already put you back on his muscular thigh, which was still covered by the gray fabric of his sweatpants.

his grip on your waist was sure to have you bruising as he slowly began to guide you to rock back and forth on his thigh. the friction wasn't much, but you don't remember the last time you had even bothered to touch yourself— paired with the fact that you were currently on top your insanely attractive boyfriend— his thigh felt like heaven.

you let out little whimpers and short moans that kaiser found cute. "feels good, yeah?" he asked as you began to put your hands on his shoulders and pick up the pace, trying to chase your high.

"so gooood," you moaned out, the way your cunt rubbed against the lingerie and the rough surface of his leg along with the occasional bounce of his thigh and encouragement he'd whisper into your ear.

"you look so good like this, i don't know why i didn't do this earlier," he frowned, watching the way you arched your back and leaned your head forward to meet the crook of his neck to muffle your sounds.

kaiser had always thought you were a relatively pure girl, not once hearing you say anything remotely dirty or insinuate having sex with him. for fucks sake, even the makeouts were tame enough. but having you on his thigh, not a thought behind those eyes except of how good it feels— he wanted to absolutely ruin you.

"never thought a pretty angel like you would want to drool all over my thigh." if you were in the right state of mind, you would've been mortified over the patch of wetness that was growing on his sweatpants, but right now it was the least of your worries.

he focused his attention on your neck, nibbling and biting until little blossoms of purple appeared all over, trailing down to your collarbone. his hands snuck under your shirt, unclasping your bra, earning a gasp from you. the cold from his hands made shivers run down your spine even as he toyed with your hardened nipples.

"wanna cum," you moaned out, feeling yourself get tired from doing all the work yourself. "help meee."

he felt his dick twitch in his pants as soon as you looked up at him with glossy, half-lidded eyes. he's dreamed of seeing you like this, and now that he had you like this right in front of him, he wasn't going to miss this opportunity.

"help with what? you can use your words." you only responded with a whine, mind still not foggy enough for you to shamelessly beg for him.

"p-please," you stammered, hoping that would be enough to satisfy him.

"please what? i still don't know what you need help with." you nearly scowled, trembling as he pressed his thigh harder against your covered cunt.

"i wanna cum so bad, kaiser pleaseee— wan' your help."

"now that wasn't so hard, was it schatz? of course i'll let a dirty girl like you get off on me." him putting it that way had you whining, but soon he had you moaning out his name, clawing at his clothed back.

"oh f-fuckfuckfuck, m' close!" you cried out.

"gonna make a mess for me angel? go ahead."

he watched as your hips spasmed and a drawn-out moan left your lips, helping you ride your climax out as eventually you slowed to a stop.

you look down, peering at how uncomfortable his pants seemed to be on him.

"mmm, jus' want you inside." you pleaded, a hand reaching over to palm him. he let out a hiss and looked conflicted— he was deciding if he should just fuck you right here on the couch or if he should take a moment to bring you to the bed.

deciding on the latter, he carried you bridal style to your bedroom. he let you lie on the bed as he took off his sweatpants, his boxers quickly following. you gaped at his sheer size.

"it won't fit," you complained. you, weren't exactly complaining, but you had no idea how he was even going to get past the tip.

"i just need to get you ready for me. it'll fit." he wasn't gonna lie, you whining about his size out of all things made his ego get even bigger than it already was. you nodded, trusting him.

"sloppy fucking cunt is so wet for me," he cooed as he pulled your panties to the side and slid a slender finger in. you squirmed as he began to curl his finger, adding another finger and picking up the pace. the lewd squelches echoed throughout the room.

he was prodding everywhere but your g-spot— it was on purpose, his enjoyment of not giving you what you wanted clearly written all over his face. maybe he'd make you beg for it again.

"nghh... gonna cum again," you mewled.

"you're not gonna fucking cum until i say so," he narrowed his eyes, blond and blue hair framing his face.

"wh-what?" you wailed as he pulled his fingers out, hands shooting out to stop him. "why'd you stoppp."

your slick covered his fingers, which he quickly lapped up in front of you. your face felt hot, the scene in front of you as obscene as he could make it. without a care in the world, he let out slurping sounds and snickered when he saw your flustered face.

"be patient," he glowered as he slapped his tip against your clit, teasing you as you whined. you furrowed your eyebrows, done with all his teasing.

your mouth shaped into an o-shape as you felt him slide himself in.

"shit... this pussy was made for me."

"wait-ah...you're too biggg..." you felt yourself getting dizzy over the feeling of him stretching you out, biting your bottom lip to prevent yourself from drooling all over the pillow.

"doing s'good for me." he bottomed out, and he had to physically stop himself from immediately pounding into you with the way you literally sucked him in and enveloped him. slowly he began to thrust into you, you gripping the sheets. the sheer length and girth of him was nothing like you've ever experienced before.

"ha-harder— faster...please," you trailed off as he sped up upon your request, not able to hold himself back from messing up your insides.

although it was your first time having sex with him, it was like he could just tell what made you feel good, what spots made you see stars upon stars, and what made you mind simply go blank.

kaiser was probably saying something to you, but you weren't able to understand anything, your brain dumb and unable to do anything but feel the dick that was burying into you.

"k-kaiserrr, feels too good," you felt tears pool at the corner of your eyes. "no more, no mo'"

"'no more, no more"' he mocked your moans. "you say that, but you're the one who keeps grinding back on my cock like the whore you are. didn't you just tell me to go faster?"

you didn't even notice how you were trying to move your hips back onto him— not like it would've changed anything. you would've lost it if he had actually heeded your pleas and stopped moving.

he suddenly flipped you over, making you face him as he threw your legs over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half. you looked up at him questioningly, meeting his darkened and dilated eyes.

without warning, he went back to his usual brutal pace, every thrust ending with a whine from you or a soft grunt from him. then he hit that spongey spot in you that had your vision go white. you let out an unusually loud moan that bordered a scream, and thats when kaiser knew he found what he was looking for.

"right here," he whispered under his breath as he began to bully his cock right into your g-spot, leaving you breathless and burying your head into your hands to muffle your moans. he used one of his hands to grab your wrists and pin them above your head.

"i want to hear those pretty moans of yours, liebling." you didn't even have the mind to be self-conscious anymore, you just wanted him to finally cum inside you.

oh, he loved the way that he made you dumber and dumber by the minute. he loved the way your gummy walls clenched around him. he loved the way his sweet little girl was crying and bumbling right under him. he loved everything about you.

he brought his head down to give you a quick kiss, feeling you try to get your hands out of his grasp.

"wanna feel you so bad," you pleaded, and he decided to let go, your glistening doe eyes convincing him. you immediately began to tug on his hair and then forced him down into another kiss— this time much more deeper and longer. he felt you bite on his lips, tongue brushing everywhere as the kiss was reduced to you just wanting to get as close as you can to kaiser, wanting to feel and taste as much as him as you could.

he pulled away to give you some air, a string of saliva connecting the two of you as you cried out.

"i t-think im gonna—"

"cum for me princess." his coaxing voice paired with the way he played with your clit finally brought you over the edge.

the way you almost sang his name when you came almost had him following right after you, but he wanted this to last as long as possible, even with the thick white ring that was making its way to the base of his cock.

the overstimulation was too much for you to handle, to the point where it was like you were silently screaming. it hurt, but it was too good.

"where should i cum, liebling?" his thrusts were becoming frantic and the pace was uneven, as if he was going feral. you could even swear you heard a whimper or two the closer he got to his climax.

"inside! insideinsideinside—" you babbled, wanting to finally feel him fill you up.

"f-fuck," his voice cracked as he rammed his hips into yours one last time, bringing you close as he hid his head into your chest to suppress any other sounds. you could swear that he skimmed your cervix.

after your cunt had finished milking him dry, both of you were breathing heavily, not saying a word. you assumed that kaiser was simply calming down before pulling out, but a nearly a minute passed and he never did.

"k-kaiser?" you quipped. your thighs were still trembling, and you could feel the mix of your fluids trailing out of your pussy. "are you gonna pull out?"

"did i ever say i was done?"

sorry lol i actually hate this one

#KQISCR'S KINKTOBER!! ( •̀ ω •́ )y #bllk #bllk smut #blue lock #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #bluelock #kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader smut #michael kaiser x reader smut #michael kaiser x reader #anime x reader #anime x reader smut #blue lock x reader smut #x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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radiance1 · 1 year

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Multiple businesses have suddenly been handed over to one man under the name of Masters. Multiple businesses who have some type of corruption one way or another.

The Wayne's wouldn't have even noticed, really, if the same wasn't happening in Gotham city.

It was alarming, really. Whoever Masters was he new how to pick his targets, businesses which are either small enough to go ignored, about to go bankrupt, or had rumors (which were true) about dabbling in crime.

All the businesses he took seemingly flourished under his hands, with not even a single corner being dipped in crime. Whoever Masters was, he was undoubtably a successful businessman, he managed to built an empire that was soon capable of rivaling both Lexcorp Wayne Foundation in a few years, and he was an incredibly elusive man himself.

No one knew what he looked like, nor his first name.

Only his last, Masters.

On a different note, there was another thing Tim was looking into. A new restaurant/ice cream parlor which opened up recently, it just opened up out of the blue, owned by a family that just appeared in Gotham one day.

From what he checked, there wasn't any records about any of them anywhere Tim could find, like literally nothing. Almost like they didn't exist prior to the day they opened.

There was only three people who owned the store. Vlad- no last name- the cook and owner, Danny- again, no last name- the cashier and Jasmine- once again, no last name- the waitress.

He had a suspicion- no he was very sure that Danny was a meta, one who had power over ice. They never ran out of ice, the space behind his counter was always cold (Well he did man the ice cream parlor and the drinks, but still), he quite literally watched the guy freeze someone's coffee when they tried to complain it was too hot and the most damming thing.

Their ice cream machine was never, not even once, broken.

Vlad was most definitely a fire meta, the temperature always seemed to rise whenever he was in the room, and his kitchen was a goddamn furnace, no one who didn't have at least some kind of fire resistance would be able to go in there with an apron and stay there for hours on end.

He was also very defensive over his kitchen for some reason, Tim thought it was because of the insane heat which might be part of the reason, but even to his own workers he doesn't allow them inside. Tim managed to overhear his reason as to why though.

"No offense, and in the most respectful way I can put this. But you two just throw food in the oven and hope it doesn't gain sentience."

Tim thinks he probably didn't mean that literally.

Jasmine couldn't be flagged as a meta, but he does think there's something about her. Probably has a pretty solid foundation in martial arts, or ballet, because her balance is impeccable. He quite literally watched her dance her over to different tables with multiple plates on her body.

Tim didn't think there was any type of connection between the Masters takeover and the restaurant, and technically he should be alerting Bruce to the two new metas in Gotham but.

They have a coffee to die for.

No, he should probably be telling Bruce, or at least another one of the family...

Maybe after he stops by and grabs himself a coffee, oh and most definitely one of their ice creams too.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #time drake

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sturnprime · 28 days

Text

SO WRONG IT’S RIGHT, chris sturniolo 🩵

from h ꨄ︎ ⎯ hi sooo streetboy!chris x richgirl!reader

i hope you enjoy 🩵 (join the taglist here)

chris doesn’t know how he ended up here. he doesn’t know how the two of you ended up with you situated on his lap, in your room of all places, when the two of you are utter opposites with entirely different ways of life.

he’s the type to roam the streets, indulge in late nights with his friends that keep the whole city up. you on the other hand, you’re the pristine sort; the one whose dad forbids her from being close to boys exactly like chris and has done so since you were much younger. it’s an interesting dynamic and he can’t help the thrill rushing through him as you whisper for him to be quiet. it’s adorable, the panic flooding through you even with your bedroom door locked and your window wide open to simultaneously take away the smell of his cologne and provide a getaway for him if it gets to such.

his hands are wrapped around your waist, keeping you firmly in place as his lips travel the expanse of your neck and collarbone, his way of making his mark. not that it lasts long though because you’re instantly telling him he’s not allowed to mark you, telling him the sweet bruises forming on your skin like paint strokes across a canvas are only going to get you in trouble.

chris? chris doesn’t really care and when your pleading words escape your pretty plump lips, he can only seem to laugh, sucking harder. his hands grip you further and the moment a whine falls from your mouth, the corners of his mouth tug up into a smirk— a smirk that has your skin heating up within seconds. his teeth nip the skin below your jaw with purpose, his tongue quickly moving to soothe the slight sting.

“chris—“ you begin to speak but his right hand trails up to place a finger onto your lips, effectively shutting you up.

“shh angel, thought we had to be quiet, hm?” his words are laced in a mocking tone and you want to hate them, desperately want to hate even the mere idea of being with someone like him when your entire life you’ve been taught it’s wrong but there’s just something about him that throws every last one of your principles out the window.

he tilts your chin up with his finger, his calloused hand cupping your cheek as he forces your gaze to meet his. his eyes are blue, the shade you find in calming waters, but they hold a glint of fire in them. there’s a sense of challenge that dances in the pupils, almost urging you to deny him when he knows you can’t, knows he has your polished self wrapped around his finger.

his lips meet yours in a frenzy of adrenaline, his tongue parting your lips and sliding perfectly into your mouth to intertwine with yours in an erotic tango. his lips mould with yours, the slight swelling of his own locking your mouth into place as he moves you even closer, if possible. it’s as though even a small flutter of air wouldn’t be able to pass between the colliding of your chests against one another and he loves everything about it.

when he pulls away at last, his cheeks are slightly flushed and the sight serves as a reminder of exactly what you do to him. he would never have thought a girl like you could ever fuel his desire yet here you are, innocent doe-eyes looking up at him and your lips a touch bigger than when he first laid eyes on you. he wants to corrupt you, to take away every last bit of hesitance you have and crush it between his fingers until you’re begging him to prove your dad wrong, begging him to make you forget undoubtedly why this is a bad idea.

it feels so wrong yet at the same time, nothing has ever felt more right, especially not when your bodies slot together like destined puzzle pieces. it’s an invisible bond that forms between the two of you as you hear the sound of your parents’ voices from their room, a stark reminder of why this can’t be happening. none of this can be happening when they could walk in any minute, take away the soft feeling of his hips bucking up lightly. but then… why does the way his hands roam your body cause sparks of electricity to run through the course of your veins? why does it feel so fucking good if it shouldn’t be happening?

he notices your moment of slight reluctance and he wants to pull away, tell you that this isn’t what he wants so he can save the emotional turmoil that’s going on inside your pretty head but he’d be lying. he’d be lying if he claimed wanting to be apart from you now that he knows the way you whine when you’re needy or the slight gasps he can pull from you when you want more.

in an ideal world, the two of you don’t need to worry about your societal differences or just how complicated this new development is going to be. unfortunately, that world doesn’t exist but for a few fleeting moments, when he flips you onto your back smugly and you hit your bed with a little thud, it feels like any ounce of uncertainty leaves you. your only focus is on the way his fingers tug the hem of your baby tee until it’s completely discarded elsewhere. it’s not an ideal world but it still appears nonpareil.

TAGS 𖤐 @mattslolita @eyeliketoeatpoosay @chrissturniolossidehoe @middlepartmatt @raysmayhem-72 @conspiracy-ash !

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hencheri · 23 days

Text

guilty pleasure

18+. mdni.

pairing: yuta x fem!reader

warnings: religious themes & mention of religious guilt, dubcon, corruption kink, manipulation, perv!yuta.

wc: 2.8k

a.n.: this is part 1 of a series of 2 oneshots. part 2 won't come so soon, but will be much darker with more plot.. i swear.

you’ve never thought you would lose yourself so fast in the hands of a man you barely knew. it goes against so many of your values and morals, goes against all the promises you made to yourself all those years ago when you were just a teenage girl.

the very thing you’ve always told yourself, always knew you would follow, is now your biggest sin.

you swore to yourself that you would not fall into lust with a boy that wouldn’t be your husband, or at the very least, your boyfriend.

you’ve never been the slightest interested in sex; it didn’t bother you to not know certain things, or how it felt. didn’t bother you either to be the inexperienced one amongst all of your friends who are very much sexually active.

your studies have always been more important than all of that teenage rebellion stuff. your parents are proud of you, they see a successful girl with a big future in you, and that’s all you need right now.

until he came in and ruined you to the core. nakamoto yuta.

he represents everything your parents are scared of. everything they’re against.

before that, you couldn’t remember a time you interacted with him. you weren’t interested in knowing him, even though your friends sure would have liked to know him in plenty of different ways.

yuta has always been the rebellious emo guy from your highschool that grew up to be every girl’s wet dream. he smokes, he does drugs, he drinks; any illicit substance you mention, he has done. and this was just one of the many reasons why you didn’t want and couldn’t be with him.

because yuta is the definition of sin itself.

he’s laying in your bed, shirtless, while your eyes are fixated on him, not knowing what to do. your heat is pulsing, your panties always soaked whenever he’s around, something that really never happened to you before.

he’s corrupted your mind, implanted thoughts in your brain that you’re so embarrassed to even acknowledge. if before a half-naked yuta in your room would have made you cringe, now it has you eager to take all of his clothes off and play with his cock until you’re covered in his cum.

you weren’t that down bad at the beginning, on the contrary; you were absolutely scared. you didn’t want this, didn’t want him in such a foul and perverted way.

but you think he’s corrupted you right after the first time.

it was in the library, somewhere you’re sure he’s never stepped foot before until he learned it’s where you’re hidden most of the time. at the far back end of the library, back against the bookshelves and trapped between yuta’s arms, he had whispered “do you ever touch yourself? you know, down there.”

his hand had deliberately brushed over your clothed core, sneaking under your skirt without your permission, but all you did was watch him with big, rounded eyes.

the answer was obviously that you didn’t. again, you weren’t interested, never had the time to really think about it.

“i can show you what you’re missing out on, angel,” was what he said next, and that’s exactly what he did.

fingers pressing tight and low circles on your clit until you came, spasms of your orgasm bringing you to tears.

you couldn’t even see him without thinking about what had happened, couldn’t bring yourself to look at his right hand without remembering where it had been. to say you were embarrassed was an understatement.

he passes a hand through his long brown hair, eyeing you up and down. “come, i’m gonna show you something,” he softly says.

he shows you the spot between his legs, and as you take it, you feel your stomach churning and face heating up. you sit down on your knees and he spreads his legs further apart to make space for you.

“you remember last time, right?” he asks and you shyly nod your head, recalling perfectly what you did. “well, instead of using our hands, i want us to use our mouths.”

your brows raise up, staring at yuta like he just said the filthiest thing ever — and quite frankly, he did.

“yuta, i don’t- i don’t know… that’s nasty,” you wince.

“i don’t think it is,” he replies, slightly shaking his head from side to side. he lets his eyes travel down your body, looking at your cotton shirt hugging your perfectly shaped tits — that he knows fit just right in the palm of his hands — then back up to your face.

he takes your hips and pulls you closer, “don’t you wanna know how my tongue would feel like, hm?” he’s so close to you his nose nudges you, his lips hovering over yours. “i know you wanna,” he breathes out, his mouth staying ajar, tempting you.

just to confirm his words, he slips a hand into your shorts and panties, not even surprised to find you dripping wet. he grins, satisfied that your little mind is running wild on itself, not even needing yuta’s help for that.

“see?” he retrieves his fingers, putting them right in front of your face where you can see your arousal sticking to them. “open up for me.”

as expected, you pull your eyebrows together, thinking there’s no way he will make you lick it. you were already grossed out when he did it himself the last time you were together, his two fingers entirely coated in your wetness.

seeing that you’re doing nothing, he clasps his other hand around your jaw, pulling your mouth open and pushing his wet fingers past your pretty lips.

his hand slides down to your neck, “there you go, angel. suck on them,” he instructs, his eyes focused on the movements of your mouth, warm tongue licking yuta’s digits clean.

you scrunch your eyes shut, feeling embarrassed in so many ways. but you like it. you like it a lot.

he slips his fingers out, now even wetter than before. he smiles at you, “it isn’t so bad, don’t you think?” he wipes his fingers across his chest, movement that you follow closely until he lays his hands back on your hips.

yuta leans further back onto your pillows, “what about we start slow, yeah?” he suggests, his hand hovering over his crotch, your eyes glancing down at it.

you look back up, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth. “okay…” you breathe out.

he then sweetly smiles at you, one that doesn’t fit at all with what he’s thinking about right now. satisfied with your answer, yuta helps you by parting his legs as you lie down on your stomach, hands on his thighs.

“perfect…” he lowly groans, making himself comfortable on your bed. “now, you can just undo my jeans,” he watches you executing yourself, dragging his zipper down and unbuttoning his pants. he passes his tongue over his bottom teeth, already turned on by your overly innocent face. “and pull my underwear down.”

your breath quickens when he says that, looking up at him with frown eyebrows and a pout. how cute.

he lets out a light chuckle and joins his hands to yours, thumbs hooking under his boxers. “need some help?”

you don’t respond to his teasing, only shifting your gaze down to his crotch again, tugging down both his pair of briefs and jeans. he lifts his hips up for you, and you can’t help the little gasp of surprise that escapes you when yuta’s cock springs out, resting over his stomach.

your eyes immediately roam over his body, looking at the few tattoos decorating his skin that you know your parents would disapprove of. you can’t lie that they are magnificent, especially on him. he has a butterfly on his hip and a feather on the other, placed just on his hip bones.

yuta also has a navel piercing, a detail that really makes him so much hotter than he already is. if you’d ever come home with one of these, you’re certain your parents would kick you out without a second thought.

“are you done staring?” you hear him laughing, distracting you from your thoughts.

“sorry,” you bashfully mumble under your breath, blood creeping up to your face.

“spit in my hand,” he suddenly demands, presenting you his open palm.

you’re taken aback a little, still finding it gross. “yuta-” you begin to complain, but he rapidly cuts you off.

“you’ve agreed, baby. come on, do as i say.”

you collect the saliva in your mouth, looking directly into yuta’s eyes as you let a globe of spit fall from your mouth to his palm. he then takes his cock with the same hand, stroking himself and spreading your saliva all over his length.

he grabs one of your wrists and gently wraps your hand around himself, sucking in breath through his teeth when you tighten your hold.

“now what?” you curiously ask.

“can you… can you take just the tip in your mouth?”

you try to not look repulsed by his demand, inhaling before bending down to his hard cock, parting your lips and entering the tip into your mouth.

“oh, fuck-” yuta throws his head back onto the cushions of your fluffy pillows, relishing into the feeling of your warm, inexperienced mouth on him. “yeah, just like that, angel,” he chokes out, gulping down. “suck it…”

you gaze briefly at yuta before deciding yourself to follow his instructions. swirling your tongue around his head, you go a little further down, him watching you with his mouth agape, entranced by the sight in front of him.

you have the unfamiliar taste of his precum in your mouth. it’s neither good nor unpleasant, but it’s still weird to think that you’re tasting him.

you suck like yuta told you to do, slightly bobbing your head as you figure it might procure him more pleasure and you’re right; he almost immediately moans out loud, hand coming directly to hold your hair in his fist.

you gaze up at him and your eyes connect. he’s gritting his teeth, sucking his bottom lip in. his cross pendant is sitting right on his naked chest, as if taunting you, cruelly reminding you of what you’re actually doing. you scrunch your eyes shut, breaking eye contact with yuta, and move your head up and down more vigorously, eliciting melodious moans out of him.

“oh, fuck, baby…” yuta croaks out, his head lolling back on his shoulders. he squints his eyes, watching his cock entering and exiting your mouth, traces of your red lipstick remaining on him. “you’re doing such a good job, continue like that,” he praises.

hearing that somehow makes you more embarrassed than you already are. you shouldn’t be good at this — you’ve never done this before, never even thought about doing it. but yuta’s moans and groans sounding through your bedroom make you so much wetter as the minutes pass. his sounds make you believe you want to do this everyday just to hear them, just to know that you’re the reason he’s feeling good.

it’s like the sexual desire you have for yuta is stronger than the guilt you feel for having those said desires in the first place.

his hand suddenly pushes you further down his engorged cock, forcing you to take more than you’re ready for. he fists your hair, pulling harshly and making your scalp sting.

you whine around him, pleading eyes looking up at him. “it’s fine, baby, it’s fine… you can handle it, my little slut,” he groans out the last words, very much pleased with the idea of you being his own pretty little fucktoy.

on the other hand, you don’t like it at all. it makes your stomach twist in a tight knot, eyes starting to water whether because of the lack of air entering your lungs or because of the unbearing guilt that you feel, it’s not important.

all that matters is that yuta doesn’t let you suffocate around his dick.

you reach up to grab his hand that is holding your head down, trying to unlock his fingers from around your hair to no avail.

but then he pulls your head up, cock slipping out of your mouth and slapping down against his stomach in a wet thud. you gasp, taking in big puffs of air, chest heaving up and down rapidly. you gulp down multiple times and wipe the drool that fell out of your mouth earlier off of your chin.

“shit,” yuta curses under his breath and it’s now that you notice he’s rapidly fisting his cock, all your saliva sticking to his hand and making squelching noises.

he finishes quickly after, his cum spurting out of his tip and dripping down over his hand. his pace slows down as he empties himself completely, little white beads falling over his black painted nails.

“gonna help me clean this little mess,” he says softly, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk as he gently pats your hair.

you agree, getting up on your knees and extending your arm to your nightstand where the tissue box is, but yuta grabs your hand, bringing you back in your initial position.

“you have a mouth, baby. good girls don’t let anything go to waste.”

you wince in confusion. does he really want you to lick all of it?

“yuta, please, i don’t… want to,” you refuse, glimpsing down at his cock softening in his hand.

your disobedience clearly starts to irritate him a little. “you’re okay with sucking me off, but not eating my cum?” he snickers, “stop being so difficult.”

he forcefully pulls you down toward his crotch and with no other option, you stick your tongue out and begin to lick his cum off of him, including his cock and hand. you’re surprised that it tastes nothing, but you’re still not very fond of it. it’s quite humiliating, to be honest.

when you’re done, yuta doesn’t waste any time before pushing you on your back, getting on top of you.

“it’s my turn now. i promise to be gentle,” he grins, lowering himself until his head is in between your thighs. he gets your shorts and panties off of you, greeted with the sight of your aching, wet pussy. “aw, look at this… my baby really wants me, doesn’t she?”

your cheeks heat up again, feeling so not at ease with your bare cunt at the mercy of yuta. especially when he looks at you like you’re his prey, about to eat you alive.

despite all of your conflicted feelings, you can’t ignore the pulse in your clit and the urge to just clench your thighs for some relief. watching yuta cum is surely an image you will have in your mind for a long time. it’ll haunt your thoughts, you’re certain of it.

he licks his lips and asks, “ready?”

you simply nod your head as a yes, taking in a big breath, nervous.

he dives in, his lips finding your clit and sucking on it as soon as he gets his mouth on you. you squeal, hands gripping his hair as if to get him away, involuntarily jerking your hips upward and onto his face.

you’re incredibly sensitive, and the pleasure in your stomach builds up so rapidly, even faster than when yuta gave you your first orgasm. you were already so turned on, that the quickness of his tongue is enough to bring you over the edge.

“yuta, i’m- i’m gonna…” you stutter, but you’re so ashamed of what’s happening, you can’t get the words out.

he doesn’t need to do more until you’re cumming in his mouth, legs shaking on each side of his head, tightly gripping his hair in your fists. his tongue laps at your clit a few more times, driving you through your orgasm.

he withdraws his head away from your cunt, smiling at you, “that was quick. if i knew you were this horny, i’d have taken care of you sooner, baby.” you don’t answer, but accept the kiss he gives you on the lips.

after this, you know you can’t go back. how could you possibly when he tore away the last bits of innocence you had?

#tw dubcon #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #nct imagines #yuta x reader #yuta smut #yuta nakamoto #yuta nakamoto smut #nakamoto yuta smut #nct hard hours

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toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ angel

pt.2

pairing: kim mingyu x reader

description. in which you’re mingyu’s girlfriend, so sweet and innocent that he can’t help but ruin you.

tags. smut (18+), boyfriend!mingyu, corruption kink, loss of virginity, size kink, bulge kink, dacryphilia, pure filth honestly, but also kinda fluffy w/c. 1.8k

"angel," your boyfriend coos, lifting his head from between your legs as you lean back into the soft cushions of his bed. your eyebrows are pinched together, eyes shut tight as you try to steady your erratic breaths. "angel," he murmurs more intensely again.

the finger that's on your clit has ceased the circular movements that drove you into your first orgasm, and now are being traced down into your soaked folds. you twitch at the feeling, pussy still oozing with your cum and and mingyu's saliva, the two mixing into hot and filthy and dripping mess that has mingyu's brain circuits rewiring.

"m-mingyu," you manage to say meekly, finally opening your eyes to look down at your boyfriend who seems encapsulated by the fluttering petals of your cunt.

"you taste so good baby," mingyu praises, pushing himself up, bare upper body muscles flexing as he does so, crawling up and sliding his tongue into your mouth. you taste yourself against him, moaning at the way his arms cage around you, holding you down. "can't believe i'm the only person who ever gets to taste you," he mutters, pulling away.

your cheeks burn at the words—yeah, he just ate you out like you were the last meal he'd ever have, but having him say such stuff is embarrassing and...it's turning you on. "only yours, gyu," you affirm, reaching up to hold one of his hands.

mingyu watches the way you squirm at his dirty words, grinning because yeah you're his sweet, innocent girl, and yeah he's gonna fuck you silly until you can't think about anything but him.

the way your fingers lace with his remind him that you're here with him and that he's gonna do everything and anything to make sure that after tonight, you're never even going to think about wanting anyone else—he already knows your heart belongs to him (as does his to you), but somethings need to be fucked into you for good measures, right?

"you think you're ready, angel?" mingyu asks, and the look in his eyes is so sincere you forget about how you know he's going to pounce once you give him the green light. he's already slipping off his boxers and fuck, his cock springing free—you've seen it before (had it in your mouth two nights before when mingyu taught you how to give a blowjob) but now, this is different. you shudder at the thought of something so long, so thick, so perfect inside of you. all you can manage in response to him is a dumb nod of your head, eyes zoning in on his length as you feel heat pool at your core.

"i need words, baby," mingyu says sternly, directing your gaze back towards his face.

"yeah gyu, 'm ready," you agree quickly, hooking your arms under your knees so you can pull them up next to your chest, your pretty pussy all swollen and sticky displayed in front of him.

"fuck," he hisses when he sees your eyes glossy and lips puffy, shuffling forward as he sits up on his knees, he guides his cock between your legs, wasting no time to slide it between your folds. you let out a small squeak at the sound and fuck mingyu thinks he can cum from that sound alone.

you're just so cute and so sweet and so in love with him and the thought that he's going to be the first and the only one to experience this with you has his mind racing.

he covers his length in your wetness for a few moments and then he's slipping the tip upwards so it nudges against your clit. the stimulation has you jerking a little on the bed, and mingyu chuckles at your reaction. "so fucking cute," he mumbles, before you furrow your eyebrows and glance down at what he's doing.

when the realization dawns on you, your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

mingyu's sliding his length past your clit and up your stomach so far that his balls press against your core.

he's sizing you up.

he's trying to see just how far in he's going to be, just how deep he's going to fuck you, and by the looks of it, it's gonna be pretty fucking deep. mingyu lets out a breathy laugh, and you find yourself growing more and more desperate by the second. "gyu, please," you beg, shifting your hips so he can get the message. "wanna feel you so bad."

"me too angel, me too," he tells you, still staring down at the way his cock is so big it's reaching your stomach. your hand is still intertwined with his, and he brings it up next to your head so it's pinned down. "tell me if you want to stop, yeah? promise you'll tell me?"

"i promise." mingyu shifts above you after your words, and then you feel his his arm tip prod against your sopping cunt and that's when you know it's coming.

you suck in a breath when he pushes in, and even with the prep from his fingers and his tongue, mingyu feels so big and so full inside of you. "oh my god," you gasp as he pushes in further, looking up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

kim mingyu is looking down at you with nothing less than pure adoration and absolute hunger.

your walls are hugging him so tight and you're so warm and—god he can't take this anymore—you're looking up at him with your mouth slightly open with small, breathy moans escaping your lips, and then there's those tears slipping from the corners of your eyes and an odd sense of pride fills his body.

he continues to sink his length into you, murmurings words of praise like, "you're doing so good baby," or, "just a little more angel, you can do it," and, "that's a good girl, my good girl," finally stilling once he's bottomed out.

your legs are shaking around his torso and mingyu massages the flesh of your thighs as he kisses you softly, doing his best to dull the ache that resides in your lower half.

"you feel so big—feel so full gyu," you moan absentmindedly after he pulls his lips away, and mingyu has to collect all the self control he's ever had to not snap his hips back and pound right into you. he lets out a heavy breath, dropping his head down so your foreheads can touch.

"god—fuck—you can't say shit like that," mingyu warns, and the way your eyes flicker up toward his all sparkly and innocent has his mouth running on a mind of its own. "i'm going to ruin you."

the way you squeeze him like a vise after his statement has mingyu groaning, rocking his hips into yours, a strangled moan escaping your lips. for a second, mingyu is scared that he's crossed a limit, but when he looks down at the drool that's dribbling down your chin and feels your fingers dig into the hard muscle of his back, he thinks otherwise.

"m-more," you manage out, swiveling your hips upwards so you chase more the feeling of mingyu's cock inside of you.

"angel, are you su—"

"you said you wanted to ruin me, right?" you beg desperately. "right gyu? so can you? please?" your voice is so raw and mingyu knows that he promised to fuck you silly, but it feels like he's the one who might just get lost in pleasure.

he wastes no time dragging his full length out of you, giving you less than a second's break before plunging his cock back in. your back arches off the mattress, chest pushing impossibly close to his as he grapples at your thigh, fucking you harder after every thrust.

your pussy is on fire in the best way possible—you've never felt so full before, and suddenly you're left wondering if you're ever going to be able to go on without having mingyu's cock buried deep inside of you.

squelching of your pussy's fluids echos through the room, in harmony with the slap of mingyu's skin against yours every time he sinks back into you. his length is pressing up, so massive inside of you, that you can feel every curve, every vein, and the intimacy of this all already has that hot, familiar knot bubbling up in your core.

"oh my god," you gasp, throwing your head back as mingyu adjusts his hips, hitting a new spot inside of you that has your nails pressing hard into the skin of his back. "oh my—fuck, mingyu!" you cry out as he leans up a little, moving his hands from yours and gripping your hips.

he's pulling your body into his with every snap of his hips, and the way your babbling on and on about how good, how full, how amazing this all feels—mingyu feels his own orgasm bubble up at the thought that he was somehow able to make his perfect girlfriend even more insatiable.

with his head lifted further away from you now, mingyu is able to glance over the full form of your body, and that's when he sees it. the sight has him stilling his movements, and through your cries, you look up at him with confusion. he reaches over, grabbing your hand and placing it on you stomach, and you instinctively run your palm over your lower belly until you feel it.

your head shoots up to look at it and there it is—the outline of mingyu's cock prodding against your stomach and all that's racing through your mind is 'mingyu, mingyu, mingyu.'

and then he's spilling out dirty words of his own as he pulls back and continues to the fuck into you, the imprint of his length disappearing and appearing every few moments when he thrusts back into, just as hard, just as deep as the one before.

"what a fucking angel," he grunts, "making room for my cock—fuck you're sucking me in," he moans as you clench around him, the coil that sizzles inside of you threatening to snap. "are you gonna cum baby? do it, fucking drench me angel."

and then you let go.

thrashing in his hold, you ride out your orgasm with fluttering walls and high pitches moans as mingyu fucks you through it, the sight of you reaching your end throwing him off his own. the feeling of hot, sticky cum shooting inside your fucked through cunt has you moaning, "mingyu! mingyu!"

hearing the way you call out his name, mingyu, in his post-orgasmic state, smiles to himself, watching you come down from your second high of the night.

in that moment, with your tear stained cheeks, limp limbs, and swollen pussy, mingyu knows that you were made just for him, and he would fuck you a million times over and more if it meant having you by his side.

a/n. hope u liked it! please leave likes/comments and reblog! pt.2 is right here!

#kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu smut #kim mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #📝 writing

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ace-turned-confused · 1 month

Text

proud to be yours

marcus acacius masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: marcus acacius x f!reader summary: it's the first time you've seen acacius since he took your virginity, and he has plans for a different kind of training word count: 2,7k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied / shorter than acacius / very inexperienced, unspecified age gap, pet names, smut, vague references to past p in v & loss of virginity, cock & ball worship hooray! (blowjob & ball sucking), brief fingering, comeplay & come eating, spitting, praise kink, size kink, smidgen of corruption & innocence kink, dirty talk, possessive acacius extra info: subligaculum = underwear a/n: written for @joelmillerisapunk's PPCU body worship challenge! i asked for Big Gladiator Man + C, which very fittingly stands for cock :) this has the same pairing, teeny references to & carries on from mould me for ruin, but could be read on its own :) hugs & cookies to @morallyinept for reading this over <3 <3 <3

You haven’t seen Acacius since your last training session when he took you on the ground and claimed you for himself. He informed you he was busy, saying he’d find you as soon as possible. You weren’t sure what to expect when he sought you out today and led you down an unfamiliar path, still away from prying eyes but also your usual hideaway.

You wonder if he regrets what the two of you did and doesn’t want to train you anymore, if he’s changed his mind and is simply taking you somewhere he can let you down without an audience.

The sun is already well below the mountains, the sky like a painting of pink and purple with cirrus clouds like brushstrokes. Kicking the gravel as you walk, Acacius’ bulky frame towers alongside you. You watch his hand glide through the air, remembering how his touch had blazed across your skin.

“Where are we going?”

“You will see.”

“Why are we not heading for the forest?”

“Today’s lesson will be far more pleasant at my home.”

“Your home? Are you… are you sure?”

“Relax, my girl.” He stops and turns to you, steadying you by your arms. “You know I would not endanger you — even if I did, you have proven you are more than capable.”

“What are we doing?” You call out to him as he walks ahead.

“You have quite the… inquisitive mind, rascal. I imagine it gets you into trouble, hm?”

“I suppose I do ask too many questions… you're the only one who really listens to them.”

He turns and waits for you to catch up, head cocked to one side as you come to stand in front of him. You feel a strange sense of comfort around him, comfort that nobody else has time or energy to give you. Why would they, when you spend all day longing to chase your dreams?

“It is not too much, you are not too much. I enjoy listening to you. You are far more intelligent and witty than any soldier I’ve trained… Far more beautiful, too.”

He resumes walking with a soft smile and you follow in silence, trusting that you’ll be fine to do whatever he has planned, and fighting the heat that flows under your skin at his compliments.

Stepping through wrought iron gates, a cobbled pathway wound up to an impressive stone and brick home, the surrounding gardens neat and manicured. High arches tapering down towards mosaic-tiled floors as you head inside, it’s a spectacle compared to the cramped buildings of the town centre.

He led you through the open space towards the back of his property, dim lamps lining the walls as you reached his bedchamber. You stood in the doorway, unsure if you should have followed him inside. He assured you nobody would know your whereabouts, and if they did, he’d make sure they never spoke it, a menacing grip on his sword as he unsheathed it to place down.

Now you stand, watching him remove his armour, place his chestplate on its stand and hang his skirt. His chest is still just as broad, arms and thighs still just as thick even only in his tunic. You’ve never seen him like this, neither noble nor clad in armour — just Acacius, just Marcus. The lamplight flickers across his face, catching on the silver in his hair and the scruff of his beard.

“Still so eager to learn?” He chuckles as he drags his hand down your neck and across your collarbones, your eyelids fluttering closed as your skin rises in goosebumps.

“How will we train if you have stripped yourself of your armour? I… I do not wish to hurt you.”

“We are doing a different kind of training tonight, my girl. You did so well for your first time, I knew you were born to take me.” He steps into your space, one hand rising to cradle your cheek and you lean into his touch, still desperate to please him.

“Have you dreamt of me again? Touched yourself and seen stars?”

“Yes, General,” you whisper to him.

“It felt good to become mine, yes?”

You whimper as you think back to that night — your body ached as he pushed you down into the hard earth and split you open, pinned you beneath him so he could just take from you. He did take from you, something you can never get back but something you don’t want back, not now that he’s had you for himself.

“I assume you have not sought out another man.” You shake your head in response, gaze tracing over his features as he stares you down with a dark glint in his eyes. “No other man will have you how I did… I will make sure of it.”

“As you said, my body craves yours.”

“My good girl.” Acacius smiles down at you as he curls his hand around your waist, fingers digging into your side. “And my body craves yours, remember?” He takes your hand and guides it down atop his tunic, pressing himself into you.

“Do you feel just how much I still crave you?” You nod as you stare at your hand, feeling him for the first time through the rough fabric. “There are more ways you can be mine, and many more ways I can ruin you. On your knees, my girl.”

You sink down to the floor, the hard tiles digging into your kneecaps as you shift around and try to find a comfortable position. You look up at Acacius from the floor, about to voice your discomfort when he stops you before you can speak.

“Tonight I want to show you how to make a man — me — feel good.”

“Was it not… did you not feel good when, uh… when you…” You drop your eyes, feeling heated as you stumble over your words. Your brows knit in concern — did you do something wrong the other night?

“It was well beyond good, my rascal — a sweet girl like you, so pure.” He crouches down to level with you and holds the back of your neck. “Any man would feel good with you, but no other man ever will now that you are surely ruined.”

Looking away, you notice a white tunic laid out, a gold leaf pattern running along the shoulders and down the side seams. You wonder when he wears it, or who he wears it for, distracting yourself from the worries swirling in your head.

It’s as if he could hear your concerns before you voiced them — he grabs you by the chin to force your attention back to him. “No other man will have you, and I will not have any other woman. Now that I have you, why would I need someone else?”

He drops his hand and straightens up — you feel wet between your thighs as he towers over you. You clutch your hands together, unsure what you’re meant to do for him.

Your eyes flit between his chest and arms as he pulls his tunic off, smirking at you as you realise your mouth had fallen open. He wastes no time pulling his subligaculum off and your eyes go wide seeing him up close for the first time.

You don’t care what he thinks anymore as you stare at his cock instead — he takes himself in hand, stroking lazily up and down and reaches with his free hand to cup the heft of his balls. His skin looks soft, and the small pearls that grow from the tip of his length turn him shiny the more he fists himself. You lean back on your ankles as he lets go and holds his hand out.

Placing your hand cautiously into his waiting palm, he lifts it and wraps it around his cock. Your fingers just don’t meet — it’s not just his arms and thighs that are thick. You try pressing your legs together, that familiar nightly ache having returned.

“Are you wet?” You nod mindlessly as he starts moving your hand in his, mesmerised by the feel of him and watching the skin pull back and forth over the head. “Too bad tonight is not about you. Maybe if you are a good girl I can give you what you want so desperately.”

He uncurls your fingers and holds your hand open to rest his cock against your palm, hunching over as a trail of spit falls from his mouth and onto his length. He closes your hand around him again, a small gasp slipping from your lips as the cool, wet sensation covers your palm and fingers. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he instructs you to stroke him again, before dropping both arms to his sides.

You look at him curiously as his skin glides against your hand; you tighten your fist experimentally, feeling just how hard and heavy he is. He grunts above you and you let go immediately, looking up at him in question, worried you’ve already done something wrong.

“Do not stop, my girl — all those noises you made when you felt good? Well, I make noises, too.” He winks at you and curls your hand around him again for you to continue. “You have always been such a curious girl — I want you to explore me.”

“But what… What should I do? And, what if you do not like it?”

“I would like anything you can do, my girl. You were fearless when it came to your combat training, I want that same fearless girl with me now.” You glance away as you consider what to do, your nerves clearly evident on your face as he starts making suggestions, “Stick your tongue out for me.”

You do, and he guides his cock towards your face, the tip prodding into your cheek before he drags it towards your waiting tongue.

“I want you to explore, with your hands, your mouth… I’m sure you will find you quite like this, too. Go on, taste me.”

You lean forward and lick the tip of his cock — he twitches as you do, and you taste the precome that’s been pearling since he took his clothing off. Looking at him again, he nods and it encourages you — you hold his cock up against his body, licking the entire underside of his length and he moans, his head lolling back as you keep eye contact.

“My sweet girl, I knew you would be good at this.”

You warm at his words, feeling your skin and ears go hot at his praise — you’ve only just started, and you still have no idea what you actually should do, but hearing how much Acacius is enjoying this only makes you want to do better for him.

You take his advice and flick your tongue across his tip again, breaking to stroke him and pepper small kisses up and down his length, peering up at him with a wide grin each time. Once you work up the courage, you take the tip of his cock into your mouth and try swirling your tongue around him — even barely inside you and it feels a stretch. His hips jerk forward when you push your tongue along his slit, sliding himself further into you.

It takes some time, but you work him progressively into your mouth, your boosted ego taking over as you push too far — coughing as you pull yourself off him, strings of saliva connect your bodies, one hand still around what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Slowly, my girl. You do not have to win the war all in one night.”

“Can I…” You trail off, embarrassed by your inexperience and the vulgar thoughts clouding your mind.

“You can do whatever you want, my rascal. There is no need to ask — explore, remember?”

You nod, reassured by his guidance and stroke him languidly again. He’s even harder than when you started, throbbing in your hand with an almost permanent bead of precome leaking from him.

Your eyes drop to his balls — you watched how he held them, felt them earlier. Does that mean he likes that too?

Avoiding his eyes this time in case you make a mistake, you lift a hand to feel the skin — it’s soft, with wiry hairs littered across him. You roll your fingers over him and he groans at the contact, his hand squeezing the back of your neck.

Smiling sweetly as you look up at his face again, he looks gone, and your sweet smile turns cocky — you’ve rendered him practically speechless. You take in his unburdened features as you run through everything in your mind — he likes your mouth on his cock, he likes your hands on his balls…

You don’t overthink it as you duck forwards, eyes fluttering closed as you nuzzle into the crease of his thigh and take one of his balls into your mouth and suck him gently, one hand tightening around his cock, the other grounding yourself on his leg. He pulls you impossibly close to him and you giggle, the sound muffled but coursing through his whole body.

You keep stroking him as you switch sides, shifting your hand from his leg to scrape your nails through the coarse hair surrounding the base of his cock. He groans, a string of saliva connecting your bodies again and trailing down your chin when you release him.

“Can I, um… can we do this again? Not necessarily tonight, of course! But…” You ask timidly, your voice becoming hoarse.

“I am glad to know you take great pleasure in this.”

“Are you going to cover me like you did last time?”

“Keep going and you will soon find out.” He sounds breathless as he looks down at you, “I am close — you have done so well for your first time, you have been such a good girl.”

You clench your legs together as he showers you with praises again, hoping that he’ll let you touch yourself — or touch you himself — when he’s done.

“Take me again, my rascal.”

It doesn’t take long before his body starts stiffening, cords of muscle in his thigh tensing against your hand and his grunts become louder. You sink your nails into his leg as he thrusts forwards and knocks into the back of your throat, his cock pulsing as he spills into you. The sensation overwhelms you as you feel it settle under your tongue and thicken around your gums; Acacius is doubled over above you, his large and weathered hands borderline crushing your skull from how he pulls you into him and keeps himself upright.

Unsure what to do next, you wait. The tiles are cool and hard against your knees — much like the earth he’d pushed you into previously — and his cock is slowly softening, still kept in the wet warmth of your mouth.

Finally loosening his grip to stand, everything falls silent as you look up at him. He pulls himself out and grabs your chin, digging his fingers into your cheeks to keep your mouth open and angle your head back. He leans over you, all firm chest and broad shoulders, with that same wild expression you recognise from the night he first had you.

He spits into your mouth and you whimper below him. Sliding two fingers between your teeth, he presses them down onto your tongue and dips them into the mixture of his spit and salty come, pushing it around your mouth. You grab onto his wrist to keep him longer as you lick between his fingers and swallow.

“My perfect girl.”

Pulling his fingers from you, he crouches to level with you and wipes your cheeks with his clean hand — you’re not sure when the tears had streaked your face, overwhelmed by him filling your mouth and the now unbearable throbbing between your legs. He lifts your tunic and bunches it at your waist, huffing a laugh when he sees you’re bare underneath it.

Still caressing your cheek, he dips his sticky fingers between your folds, dragging them through your slick. You tilt your hips to grind yourself against his fingers; he pushes them into you when they catch on your entrance and he laughs, watching you work yourself higher and higher, your small whines growing louder.

“My poor girl, does it not feel good by yourself anymore, hm? Now that I have shaped you for myself… You are always so good for me, let me help you.”

tagging some pookies that left kind words on my wip wednesday snippets of this, lmk if you wanna be taken off <3 @burntheedges @milla-frenchy @sixhours @luxurychristmaspudding

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @cafekitsune

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius smut #gladiator fanfiction #PPCUBodyWorshipChallenge

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

Text

call me little sunshine - ii

-summary: you come home for summer break to find a new man has moved in next door, he’s charming and mysterious so you welcome him to the neighbourhood

-simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

-warnings: mdni (18+), dark themes, smut, age gap, corruption, slight stalker!ghost, dub con, face riding, throat fucking, creampie, tiny bit of anal fingering?, choking, hair pulling, slight dacryphilia, nipple clamps, spit play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, masturbation (fem+male), degradation, voyeurism kinda, ghost has a filthy mouth, bit of perv!ghost, i think that’s it

prev part masterlist next part

a/n: okay y’all went crazy for the first part of this so here’s some fresh smut that for sure solidified me never being allowed to step foot into any place of worship

You woke up in a layer of sweat, the warm air breezing through the window doing little to cool the fire inside you, you had dreamt of him, his touch, it was seared into your skin, and you craved it. You didn't understand the desire, the way that the mere thought of him make your hair stand on end, you'd never felt like this with anyone.

Sure you had a few partners here and there, but they didn't last long, you never knew any of them that intimately, but Simon was different, his gaze set your skin on fire, you found your mind wandering to images of him throughout the day, obsessively looking through your window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

He would do the same, watch you through the window, eyes glued to your form as you stepped out of the shower, or simply sat at your desk, he lucked out, his bedroom window faced into yours, giving him a perfect view of your vulnerable form, especially that morning.

You writhed under the covers, mind tired but body unable to get comfortable in the heat, the pulse between your legs doing little to aid your efforts. You huff a breath brushing your hair out of your face, mulling the idea over in your mind, it wasn't like you could simple prance into his home and beg him to make you cum.

You run a light hand over your stomach, moving your hips to try and calm the arousal pooling between your legs, you snake your hand down over your panties, tasing over your clothed sex, your other hand moving to pinch at your nipple, a small sigh falling from your lips.

Simon had just gotten back from his morning run, his bare chest glistening in sweat as he stepped into his bedroom, moving around to find a towel when your form caught his eye, he was surprised at first, he didn't count on you being the self pleasuring type. He watched as your fingers dipped below the hem of your panties, sinking into your weeping core, he felt his cock twitch at the sight of your arched back, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut as your mouth fell open in an o shape, he knew what you sounded like, the noises you made for him like angels singing only for him. He focused on you, watching you fall apart on your own fingers, knowing they could never be as filling as his and his own hand dips below his shorts, gripping at his hard cock, he begins pumping himself in time with your fingers, emulating the sensation of you gripping him.

He keeps his eyes glued to you as you reach your peak, he swears he can make out his name falling from your lips.

Your fingers would never compare to his, large with rough skin, somehow being able to instantly find that sweet spot inside you, you pump four fingers harder, mind wandering to the sensation of him thrusting into you, your other hand moving to circle your clit as you approach your climax, your head is thrown back as moans drip from your tongue, the coil inside building before it snaps and you cum, moans of his name slipping from your lips as you come down.

Simon braces an arm against the wall, hand working vigorously to chase his own high, he watches as you pull your hands from our pussy, your slick glistening them, the memory of how wet you got bringing him to his own climax as his hips stutter and his seed spills into his hand. He blinks a few times to himself, checking out the window to make sure you didn't see him, finding that you were gone, he glances around the room, finding a towel and making his way to the shower.

You find your way to your own shower, cleaning yourself and letting the warm water clear your mind. You didn't have a lot to do today, you were supposed to meet a few friends in town, but that was about it. You grab a dress from your closet, a simple white dress with frilly sleeves, dressing before heading downstairs, you greet your parents and let them in on your plans while eating breakfast, then make your way to your car and drive into the town.

You spent a few hours with your friends, catching up and grabbing lunch, you had decided to visit the beach for a bit, checking your phone and realizing it was already nearing the mid-afternoon. You make your goodbyes and pack your things before making your way home.

You pull into the driveway, sparing a glance at Simon's house, you could tell he was home, his car was there and it made your skin crawl. Shaking the thoughts from your head you walk in your door, calling for your parents but there's no response, you hear chatting from the backyard and decide to make your way over, sliding open the door to greet your father before your eyes land on him.

He's sat back in the deck chair, legs parted, a glass of whiskey in hand as he eyes you.

"Hey honey, this is Simon our neighbour"

You swallow the lump in your throat, "Hello"

"Lovely to meet you" He smiles, extending a hand toward you, you take it, his rough fingers gripping your skin causing a shiver to run down your spine.

"You'll have to excuse me for a minute Greg, gotta use the washroom" Simon stands to walk to his house,

"Oh, just use ours, closer anyway"

Simon nods at your father, turning back to you with a smirk as panic sets in your chest.

"Lovely lad," Your father says

"Is he?"

"Oh yea, saw me struggling with that old mower and offered to cut the grass for us"

You give a small hmm in response, your father continues talking, asking about your day, you talk about your friends, the beach, your eyes glancing between him and the house inside. You watch as Simon descends the stairs, huh, bathrooms downstairs. He walks back out into the yard, sitting back in his chair, purposely spreading his knees as he pins you under his stair, your eyes shifting to the bulge in his pants.

"I've got some stuff to do if you'll excuse me, it was nice meeting you Simon"

You turn quickly from the men and make your way inside, walking up the stairs to your room. You take off your dress in favour of changing into more comfortable clothing, going to throw it in your laundry bin before noticing the clothes were a mess, thrown around. You dig through the bin, realization hitting you in the form of a sigh, your panties were gone, there was no way he took them? You think about it for a few minutes, the echoing of the men's voices in your head, you hear them say goodbye, your father stepping into the house.

You putter around your room, attending to whatever tasks needed to be done as the sunset. Finishing, you grab a book from your shelf, setting yourself down on your bed, sparing a glance through the window and you see him, front and centre in his own window, you hitch your breath, he's half-dressed in a pair of jeans, one hand on his cock, the other holding your panties. His eyes are locked on yours as he strokes himself, his hand moves to hold the underwear to his face as he breathes deeply, a small flutter comes from your pussy as he reaches down with the material, to wrap it around his length, fisting himself with it, you want to look away, it's perverse, but you can't, you're mesmerized by him, you can see this way his mouth falls open with grunts as he pumps harder, dragging the material against him, his eyebrows furrow as he continues, a few more languid strokes and you can see his cum drip from the soaked cloth, your arousal igniting your skin. He cleans himself up using the panties, tucking his cock back into his jeans, you turn from him, breaking your trance, moving from the window so he can't see you as your back collides with the wall, your breaths heavy.

It takes you a few minutes to shake the anxiety from your system, not only was he jerking off using your panties, but he wanted you to watch, it was so wrong, dirty, but it ignited something in you, some desire hidden behind the knowledge that he craves you as well. You stop yourself, trying to push the feelings down, he was so much older, clearly using you for his own sick game, he was a parasite in your body, you had to shake him.

You spent the next few days avoiding him, closing your blinds and making hasty entrances to your house, not bothering to spare him a glance when he’d show up at your door looking for your father. His presence became more common, helping your dad with his car, talking with your mother as she brought in groceries, he was doing it to taunt you, his ever-looming form casting a shadow on your days.

Simon had grown sick of the distance within a week, his attempts to invade your space proving futile, you were stronger than you looked, he just needed to get you near him and you’d be all his again, writing under him, begging him. On Friday night you had settled into your bed, no plans for meant an early night tucked in with a new book, except your phone screen lit up as the vibration rang through the air. You look at the scream, it’s a random number you don’t have saved, grabbing your phone you answer it.

“You think you can just avoid me”

“Simon.”

“I know you think about me, I saw you get yourself off at the mere thought of me”

“You’re disgusting, leave me alone”

“It’s not gonna be that easy pretty girl”

You curse yourself as his words have a direct affect on your core,

“You like when I call you that huh, my pretty little girl”

“Just leave me alone”

You hear him huff a laugh through the phone, “Not this time, not you, no you’re special, who knows maybe I’ll lock you up, keep you bound so I can have you whenever I want”

“What do you want from me” You speak but it comes out as a whisper

“I want you to admit you need me, need me to make you cum”

“I don’t”

“So it wasn’t my fingers you were imagining the other night? You weren’t thinking about my cum filling you up when you watched me?”

“No” You respond through gritted teeth

“Tsk tsk, you shouldn’t lie to me love, might just have to punish you for that”

Your breath hitches in your throat,

“Tell me, are you soaked yet, do my words have such an affect on your little pussy”

You don’t respond,

“Gonna have to use your words baby”

“You make me sick”

“Mm bet you’re thinking of my big cock right now, how it stretches you out, how full you are of it”

A small sigh escapes your lips,

“That’s my girl, I want you to open your blinds”

Your head is reeling, something takes over your body and you turn to open the blinds, he’s standing in his window staring at you.

“Hi love”

He smirks as you stare at him,

“Your back door is unlocked, you have 5 minutes to get over here,” He says and hangs up the phone, his form retreating from the window. Your nerves light on fire, you don’t want to give it but the ache in your core carries your body down the stairs, through your backyard and to his front door. You don’t knock, simply letting yourself in, chest heavy in defeat, you skulk up the stairs glancing around to find him, reaching the top and peering into his bedroom.

He’s laying on the bed naked, lazily stroking his cock as he stares at you, your throat becomes dry, the throbbing in your core more incessant as you watch him glide his hand up and down.

“Take your clothes off” He orders

You’re nervous under his gaze, slowly pulling your shirt over your head as your breasts fall freely, shaky hands moving to your pants as they pull them down, he pins you under his gaze, eyeing you up and down like you’re his dinner.

“Come”

You crawl up his form, straddling him as his arms snake under your thighs, tugging you upwards, the action forcing your body forward as your hands plant against the wall, your body is screaming as his breath ghosts over your soaked core.

“Sit”

You lower yourself slowly and he grabs your thighs, tugging you flush against his face, the contact forcing a moan from you.

“That’s better”

His hands roam over your naked form, grabbing at the meat of your ass before settling in a bruising grip, keeping you flush to him as his tongue assaults your core, flicking over your clit before he moves lower, his tongue fucking into you, the sensation has you gripping the headboard, hips grinding down onto him as his nose teases against your aching bud.

He laps at you, swallowing every ounce of slick from your weeping core as you unravel above him, you’re practically screaming above him, the feeling possessing your body as the pleasure blossoms in your chest, your impending orgasm forcing you to arch your back, your head falling back. He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and you come undone, body convulsing as you cum on his face, he licks you through it, rough hands roaming your skin as you come down.

His hands grab at your waist pulling you back to sit atop his hard cock, sitting up to kiss you, his tongue swirling yours as you give in.

“Taste that love, so god damn sweet”

He lifts you and slides out from under your body, laying you on the bed.

“Rest your head here”

He motions for you to rest your neck against the edge of the bed, your head pointed down as your vision turns upside down. His rough hands move to grab at your breasts, pinching your nipples, revealing in the squeaks you make.

“Don’t move”

He fades from your view, crossing the room before standing back in front of you, he reaches down over you and you feel a tight pinch on your nipple, you wince slightly from the pain but he licks over the firm bud, a pinch to your other nipple and he treats it the same. His face lights with joy as he reaches to give a small tug to the chain that falls between your breasts, earning a small moan from you.

“Knew you’d like those, little slut”

He kneels down slightly in front of you, the red tip of his cock staring you down as he grabs your jaw.

“Need you to keep your mouth open, think you can do that”

You nod, needing to taste him. He plants himself low enough and lines his cock up, you stick your tongue out and he runs his tip over it, his pre cum coating your taste buds in a salty layer as you lap at him. His hand is holding your chin as he presses himself in, allowing your saliva to coat him. A small grunt escapes his lips as he pushes deeper, his tip prodding the back of your throat causing tears to prick your eyes as you gag around his length.

“Fuck, doing so good love, just a little more”

You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe through your nose, your fingers grasping at the sheets as he forces himself deep into your throat, bottoming out with a moan before sliding back, only to thrust in. His pace is quick, the air filled with the sounds of your gags as your drool pools around his base. He reaches down over you, continuing his thrusts as he grabs ahold of the chain between your nipples, tugging it, eliciting a moan from deep in your chest, his cock twitches from the vibration and he keeps a steady grip on the chain.

Your tears are staining your cheeks as he pulls out of your mouth, you gasp for air trying to breath as his thumb runs over your cheek, smearing the droplets.

“Did so good love”

You give him a weak smile as your breathing regulates, your brain is fuzzy from a mixture of arousal and lack of oxygen, you don’t notice him circle the mattress, but you feel him grab your hips, flipping your body so your cheek is pressed against the sheets. His fingers tease at your entrance, gathering your slick before travelling upward to your puckered hole, you flinch as he makes contact but the grip on your waist holds you steady, he teases a finger over the entrance, circling around the muscle,

“Think I could fuck this little hole too”

You're whimpering below him, begging him not to as he presses his finger in past a knuckle, your muscles tensing as he stretches your virgin hole.

“Shit, you’re so tight, maybe another time”

Relief takes over your body at his words. He leans forward and pushes out some saliva, letting it drip down to where his finger is, the slick coating your entrance, allowing him easier access.

“One day I’ll fill all of your holes with cum, don’t worry”

His threat had you clenching around nothing,

“Simon, pl-please”

“So desperate for my cock already, little fucking whore” His finger continues to pump into your ass as you lay there, begging to be filled.

“Please, need to feel you”

“I decide what you need”

He pulls his finger out, your body contracting at the loss as he reaches a hand over you, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging you back against him, you can feel his hard cock grind against your ass, you press back into him desperate for contact. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his mouth beside your ear,

“Maybe i’ll just fuck between your ass, not give you the satisfaction of my cock”

“No! Please, need your cock”

“That’s my girl”

He grabs his cock, teasing it between your folds as you arch into him, he pushes into you bottoming out, your head falls back against his shoulder as he grunts, thrusting into you.

“Such a good fucking girl, tight pussy taking me so well”

You’re moaning against his ear, egging him on as his hand moves to circle your clit, his fingers settling a brutal pace causing your body to twitch,

“That’s it baby, cum all over my cock”

He fucks into you, his balls slapping at the skin of your ass as his free hand tugs at the chain, you're nearly screaming in his ear,

“Fuck, who’s pussy is this?”

You moan again and he fucks into you harder

“Tell me, who does this push belong to?”

“You fuck! only you Simon”

You’re weeping next to him, tears rolling from your eyes at the stimulation,

“You crying baby, shit, s’that how good my cock feels”

You nod against him

“Use your words”

“Yes! Fuck feels so good”

He’s set a brutal pace, his length dragging against your walls as he toys with your sensitive bud, keeping a firm grasp on the chain, it’s all too much, you cum with a sob, your spend coating his cock as he fucks you through it.

He pulls from you, letting your body drop forward against the bed before flipping you onto your back, his hands are gentle, removing the clamps from your sensitive nipples before sucking them into his mouth one at a time, you melt into the mattress, your limbs no longer working in connection with your mind.

He runs his hands from the valley of your breasts to settle at your neck, squeezing lightly, bringing you back. You look up at him with glossy eyes, willing him to let you be, but he keeps your eyes on him and with a deep thrust he bottoms out, his grip tightening causing you to gasp for air as your hands grab at his wrist.

“You gonna ignore me again?” He asks through gritted teeth, his cock hitting your cervix over and over. You shake your head viciously,

“Good, no one can fuck you like this, this pussy is mine”

His arm snaked under your back lifting your hips, forcing you to take every inch of him,

“You’re gonna cum for me, one more time love”

Your throat is dry, you can’t even protest as his fingers move back to your swollen bud, flicking over it. The overstimulation brings your third orgasm quickly, you clench down on him, screaming

“Simon! Please!”

“That’s it baby, one more”

Your whole body numbs from your orgasm, you’re putty in his hands as he spreads your thighs, his cock impossibly deep inside you,

“Fuck, gonna mark you as mine, want you to feel me later, want you to remember who this pussy belongs to”

His cum pools in you, the sensation forcing a small moan from your lips as he holds his cock inside you, making sure you milk him of every drop.

His hands let go of you and he pulls out, bringing his fingers to push in any spilt load that was leaking from your abused cunt. He navigates around the room, bringing you a glass of water and holding the base of your head as you drink, your body weak against the bed. He slides in beside you, tugging your firm on top of him as his fingers thread through your hair.

“Your dads leaving for something in the morning, you’ll spend the night here”

You don’t have the strength to protest, you can’t find the words to ask how he knows your father's schedule, all you can feel is his heartbeat steadily beating against you, his soft touches lingering over your skin. You felt vulnerable in his arms, you wanted to run away, you wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, instead, you fell asleep, body clinging to his.

You wake up at the break of dawn, your limbs tangled into his as you listen to his steady breaths, he's close enough that you can make out every scar, every crease on his face. He wakes to you staring at him and pulls you tighter into his form to avoid your burning gaze, he holds you for a few minutes before getting up, throwing on a pair of boxers and heading downstairs without a word. You're alone in his room giving you time to snoop around, you scan the room, it's minimal, essentially only used for sleeping.

You open his bedside table, it's filled with condoms, various toys, and your panties, your forehead heats up, quickly closing the drawer to pretend you didn't see it. You push your hair from your face and get dressed, light footsteps descending the staircase, he's in the kitchen hovering over the stove while you sit on one of the stools behind him. You watch his muscles strain as he works, his back flexing, he turns to you, placing a small plate of food in front of your form before leaning over the counter to eat his own.

You look at him perplexed, such an act of kindness after all the mind games he put you through, you can't figure him out. He opens a drawer, pulls out a keyring and places it in front of you.

"I have to leave town for a week, these open the front door"

You grab the cold metal, toying with it in your palm, feeling the coolness against your warm skin. He continues eating without sparing a second thought to the gesture,

"I can't just come over whenever I want"

"I know, but you're welcome here anytime.. for any reason," He says, eyes still focused on his plate. You pick at the food in front of you, checking the time on the clock hung on the wall.

"I need to go"

He shifts his gaze to the clock, it's 11:23,

"My dad will be back soon"

He nods at you, gathering the plates and placing them in the sink. You walk to the door and he stands beside you, his hands cupping your face as he runs a tender thumb over your cheek.

"Such a pretty girl"

You stare at him as he scans your face,

"Goodbye Simon"

You leave through the front door and walk to your own house, walking in and releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding in, your hands moving to ghost over where his were, his touch lingering on your skin.

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joelscruff · 1 year

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART THREE

part three!!!! thank you for all the amazing messages and feedback on this fic, it means so much to me. you can catch up on previous parts here, and here’s my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip💕 summary (for this chapter): after your first "lesson" with joel you're already dying to see him again, but he only has a bit of time before work. what better time than to start you on your second one? this one is pure filth lbr rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings (for this chapter): age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it’s consensual), praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), fingering, lap-sitting word count: 8.1k ao3

Lying has never felt so good.

You tell your parents later that evening that you're tired, exhausted from the heat and hoping to get a better sleep than you did last night. They've always been privy to early bedtimes; impressed by your obedience to follow the rules they don't assume anything is amiss as you walk upstairs around eight thirty with a fake yawn and a stretch.

The second you're in bed you've got your pajama pants around your ankles and a hand inside your panties, rubbing your clit just like Joel had taught you. You start slow, tender, prodding and tapping the way he'd done and then building into more of a furious pace, firm and steady. You have to bite into your pillow to keep your moans at bay, eyes rolling back as you writhe in your sheets.

"Mr. Miller," you find yourself whispering as you come down from your second orgasm of the day, breathing in and out and trying to calm your body down. All you can see behind your lids is his face, his soft brown eyes, his scratchy beard, his wrinkles...

About ten minutes later you're on round three, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat and legs trembling as you picture his handsome face, that charming smirk, his thick fingers. His voice murmuring in your ear, praising you, calling you his babygirl. You come a third time.

You're going to hell.

You wake up early, so early that the sun has barely risen yet, streetlamps still on outside as you climb out of bed and tiptoe to the window. Your parents are still home, most likely still in bed.

You consider going back to sleep but only for a moment. Your thoughts are too muddled with the idea of seeing Joel again today and getting another lesson that you head straight for the shower, unabashedly looking down at your body as you wash yourself and wondering what he'll think when he finally sees the whole thing. Will he like your breasts? Your soft tummy? You've never thought of yourself as being particularly beautiful but maybe he'll see something you don't. He certainly seems to already.

The dress you'd worn yesterday is still on your bedroom floor; you pick it up after your shower and bring it to your nose, breathing in Joel's heady masculine scent and feeling yourself throb under your towel. God, you're like a crazy person now. Obsessed. You need more.

You find that your nerves are nowhere near as bad as they were yesterday, now that you know Joel actually wants you that way. You dress a little more casually, choosing a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt. You grimace at yourself in the mirror, hating how the shorts seem baggy and unflattering, not tight and perky like your friends back at college. You're beginning to realize that your entire wardrobe has essentially been hand selected by your parents your whole life, something else that needs to change.

The clock says it's almost six in the morning and you know there's no way Joel is awake yet; you'd gotten to his house around ten yesterday and he'd looked like he'd only just woken up maybe fifteen minutes before. Still, you can't just sit around and wait for the sun to come up. You've gotta do something.

You masturbate until seven.

You're pretty sure you've had more orgasms in the past twenty four hours than anyone has ever had in their entire lives. How the fuck have you been missing out on this for so long? Your friends had talked about how good it felt, how annoying it was when a guy couldn't make them come, and you'd just listened and nodded along and pretended you were able to understand - even just a little bit - despite never having had one yourself.

"You're so lucky," your friend Tasha had said to you one morning after she'd come home from a failed one night stand where she'd had to fake it, "I'd rather have never had an orgasm than deal with these stupid boys who have no clue what they're doing, seriously."

You hadn't felt very lucky, only jealous that you were missing out on something every woman seemed to be in on. But now you're no longer on the outside, and better yet it happened with an experienced man, not a stupid boy - you almost want to scream it from the rooftops: Joel Miller made me come.

You hum to yourself as you flip some chocolate chip pancakes, it's the first time you've bothered to make anything for breakfast that isn't cereal or toast since you've been back home. Your parents sit at the table, your father reading the newspaper while your mother makes adjustments to her schedule.

"You're chipper this morning," your father says, ruffling the newspaper and raising an eyebrow, "Anything happen?"

You shrug, shaking your head, "I don't know, just... just feeling good today."

"She's gonna start volunteering at the soup kitchen," your mother informs him with a smile and you try not to wince, "She met with Bethany and Alice yesterday."

"Oh, that's nice," your father goes back to his paper, "It's good to keep busy."

"It is," you say, feeling your cheeks warm a bit as you transfer the pancakes onto a plate, "It really is."

You haven't driven your car much since you've been back but you decide to bring it out of the garage today, deciding that if there's ever been a time to buy some new clothes, today is the day. You head to the mall like a woman on a mission, wasting no time in dashing directly to the lingerie store.

You freeze outside the store, eyes widening when you see the types of things the mannequins are wearing; crotchless panties, leather bras, things with straps and spikes on them. You stare, transfixed, unsure what exactly you're even supposed to buy. You'd been so powered up by your newfound pleasure that you'd completely forgotten that you still don't know anything.

What does Joel like? What would he want to see you wear? You stand there, biting your lip and fidgeting a bit as your eyes trail back and forth between the different lingerie sets. You haven't even gone into the store and you already feel overwhelmed. You can't even picture yourself wearing half of this stuff, even looking at it makes your skin itch.

"Can I help you?" a woman asks, fixing hangers near the front of the store and giving you a smile, "Looking for anything in particular?"

You shake your head and take a step back, "Um, no. No, sorry. Not today." You turn around and walk in the opposite direction with your head down, feeling beyond embarrassed.

Okay, no lingerie. Stick to what you know.

You end up heading to the stores you're more familiar with, although you avoid the more conservative ones; you know you won't find what you're looking for in there. You end up with a few new outfits that still manage to feel casual without being too much outside your comfort zone. Some new shorts that accentuate your curves more, a few tank tops, some dresses. The dresses are similar in length to your old Sunday School dress, but this time they aren't squeezing your chest painfully or threatening to expose your breasts to the world. They're comfy but sexy and you hope Joel will like them.

The thought of Joel sends your brain into that muddled state again, sending pulsations through you as you pay for your new clothes and head back out to your car. You have to practically force yourself not to shove your hand down your shorts in a public parking lot.

On the way back home you decide to turn down Joel's street, just to see if he's up yet. You slow down as you near his house, peering out the passenger side window and squinting against the sun. You practically slam your foot down on the brake when you see him sitting on his step, strumming his guitar again.

He looks up at the squeal of your tires, looking just as disheveled as yesterday with his hair sticking up in all directions and his beard still scruffy and untrimmed. He smiles when he sees your face, instantly sending those familiar butterflies into your belly.

He mouths something to you and you quickly roll the window down, "What?"

"I just said good mornin'." he says with a chuckle, leaning against the wooden banister of his steps and giving you a boyish grin, "Where you comin' from, darlin'?"

"Went shopping," you say with a smile, gesturing to the bags in the backseat, "Got some new clothes."

He raises an eyebrow, assessing the bags and then looking at your face again without replying. You sit there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something else, nervousness suddenly pooling inside you; what if he's just waiting for you to leave?

"Well, I guess I'll-" you begin, but not before Joel interrupts you.

"Wanna come inside and show me?"

Your heart slips to your throat, thrumming wildly as you stare at him. He smiles crookedly, tilting his head in that way you love.

"Y-yeah," you say, voice so squeaky that you have to clear your throat so you don't sound like a lunatic, "Yes please."

You'd thought walking into Joel's house after yesterday wouldn't feel as nerve-wracking or as scary, but somehow it's even worse. As soon as the door closes and he doesn't immediately wrap you in his arms, you feel unsure of what to do. He gives you a small smile as he passes you in the foyer, then crosses the room in a few long strides and goes to dispose of his empty coffee mug in the sink.

"How was your night?" he asks, rinsing it out as he faces away from you.

I made myself come twice, you want to say, and then I came four times this morning. But the atmosphere doesn't feel the same as yesterday; there's no sex buzzing in the air, no flirtatiousness emanating from Joel like last time. Something feels wrong.

"Um, it was fine," you say, biting your lip, "Yours?"

"Same old, same old," he says, drying the mug and putting it back inside its cupboard, "Had a few people over to watch the game."

For some reason it's hard for you to picture other people being in Joel's house; it's almost hard to picture him having friends, which you know should make you feel ashamed. But part of you wants him all to yourself; you don't want to share with anybody else. And another part of you wonders if maybe he had any women in his house last night, which makes your skin feel itchy again.

You watch as he walks into the living room and settles on the couch, putting his feet up and looking at you expectantly. You stand there, not sure what he's waiting for.

"So let's see those-"

"This is weird."

You both stare at each other, his brow furrowing at your interruption. You feel your cheeks go heat up, feeling small and ridiculously young as you stand there with a bag of clothes in each hand. You drop them both to the floor and take a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with him.

"What's weird?" he asks, seeming genuinely confused,

You shrug awkwardly, hesitantly taking a few steps toward the living room, "I don't know," you say quietly, feeling embarrassed, "It just...it feels weird."

He sits up and you allow yourself to look at him, feeling butterflies again when you see the look of concern on his face.

"Are you uncomfortable, sweetheart? ''Cause that's okay, I won't be upset. You can leave." His words are so soft and reassuring, it makes you want to cry.

"I don't wanna leave," you shake your head quickly, "I just... I've never done this before. I don't know what it's supposed to be like."

"What do you mean, babygirl?"

There it is, the name you'd been waiting for him to call you. It's almost a confirmation in your heart that he still feels the same way, isn't regretting what happened yesterday. You take a breath and slowly ease yourself onto the couch beside him, biting your lip.

"You're acting so... normal," you mumble, trying to figure out how to articulate how you're feeling, "Like we didn't... like yesterday didn't even happen."

His face settles into an expression of understanding; he smiles slowly, nods and moves a bit closer to you on the couch. You feel his finger tilt your chin up, urging you to look into his eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, "I wasn't thinkin'," he leans forward and presses a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, exactly what you'd been expecting when you first walked into the house. You sigh against him, relief flooding you. "That's what you needed, isn't it?" he whispers, "I'm sorry, I didn't wanna assume."

"Assume?" you ask as he pulls away, scrunching your brow in confusion, "I kissed you yesterday, why wouldn't I want to kiss you today?"

He smiles, "I'm tryin' my best to make this easy for you, sweetheart. I only found out yesterday how inexperienced you are," he reaches forward to push a strand of hair behind your ear, "I don't wanna push anything on you that you don't want."

"I want everything," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I want all of it with you, I already decided yesterday."

"Okay, well that's why communication's important," he chuckles, "I shoulda asked you yesterday before you left but I was, uh-" he looks down at your body and back to your face, "A bit distracted."

You feel almost naked underneath his stare. This man has seen you come; it shouldn't make you as self conscious as it does when his eyes rake you up and down, but it still does. He smirks at your shyness, leans back in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

"You're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs, "Thought about you all night."

"Me too," you whisper like it's a secret, "Thought about you while I touched myself."

He groans and pulls back from you, eyes dark, "Don't say that, sweetheart, you'll get me hard."

You bite your lip and fight back a giggle. Part of you wants to ask what would be so bad about that, but you're also dying to show him your new clothes, especially the dresses. And you're not sure you're ready to see his cock yet, to touch it and learn what to do with it; the thought makes you feel more nervous than before.

"Can I show you my new clothes now?" you ask softly, "I bought it all for you."

He smiles and seats himself back against the couch again, nodding, "Of course, sweetheart. Lemme see."

You pick up the bags again and shuffle into the kitchen, out of sight. You hear Joel laugh lightly and you wince; should you have just changed in front of him? Would that have been the more adult thing to do? Probably, but he still hasn't seen you naked yet and you're not sure you want this to be the setting.

You don't bother with any of the more practical outfits - the shorts, the tops. Instead you go right for the dresses, starting with a short pink one with some ruffles on the shoulders. It's not exactly the sexiest thing in the world, but you know if you turned up to church wearing it you'd get an earful from your mother, and that makes it sexy in your eyes.

You walk back into the living room and a wide smile appears on Joel's face, eyeing you up and down.

"Wow," he says softly, eyes bright, "That's pretty."

"You like it?" you ask shyly, twirling a bit, aware of the way it flows up above your thighs.

"Yes, sweetheart, it's beautiful. Like you."

You can't look at him anymore, feeling beyond overwhelmed at the compliment. You quickly shuffle out of the room again to go put on another one, smiling to yourself when he laughs again, gentle and kind. You've never had anyone pay attention to you like this before; it feels so nice.

You change into a yellow one, more simple with some little daisies embroidered along the edges. Joel's eyes soften even more when he sees you.

"Babygirl, you're so gorgeous," he says softly, "You really bought these for me?"

You nod, still shy, "I did."

"Gimme a twirl," he says with a wink, and you laugh and do as he says, loving the feeling of his eyes on you, "Beautiful."

"One more, I saved my favorite for last," you say, spinning around and practically sprinting back into the kitchen, heart pounding. You mean it - the last one is by far the sexiest, the one you know he'll like best. It's the shortest, white and lacy with a deep cut in the front and looks best without a bra, which you quickly discard into one of the bags.

Standing in Joel's kitchen without a bra on makes you shiver, not just from being so exposed but because you feel so sexy. Being in a man's house half naked, knowing he's only a few feet away...who even are you anymore? You smile to yourself as you pull the dress over your head and fix it so your breasts are on display as much as possible. You take a deep breath; it's now or never.

The atmosphere changes the second you enter the living room. It's palpable; one moment you've just been having a silly little fashion show for Joel, the next you're essentially inviting him to stare openly at your breasts, which he does immediately.

"Jesus," he mutters, jaw tensing as you walk toward him and twirl slowly, showing him the back as well, the way the hem of the dress barely covers the tops of your thighs, "Fuck."

You're already wet at the roughness of his words, the reminder that all he wants to do is put his hands on you. With your arousal practically leading you, you slowly find yourself bending over in front of him, feeling as the hem of your dress rides up over your ass, exposing your panties.

"Do you like it?" you whisper.

His hands wrap around your thighs like they weigh nothing, pulling you toward him and placing you on his lap. You whimper pitifully when he pushes your legs open with his knee and cups you with his palm, noses your ear.

"You know I do," he murmurs, low and deep.

You watch as he traces the shape of your pussy with his callused fingertips, inhaling your perfume as he does it and pressing a wet kiss to your neck. You buck up into his touch, biting down hard on your lip.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he whispers, circling your clit lightly, "This why you came back, babygirl? Need me to play with your pussy for a little bit?"

You nod, swallowing tightly and whispering back, "Yes, please."

"Well, I have somewhere I need to be in about an hour," he murmurs, and you watch as his hand slips inside the loose stretch of your panties, the feeling of his skin against your pussy making you squirm, "But until then, why don't we try somethin' new? Just to see if you like it?"

"O-okay," you breathe.

You watch as he pulls your panties down your thighs again but keeps them around your knees, almost like he enjoys the sight of them still visible; he probably does. Your eyes stay glued to his hand as he brings it back up and slips two fingers past your puffy lips, rubbing your clit gently.

"Mmmm," you hum in satisfaction, tilting your head back a bit to rest in the crook of his shoulder, "Feels so good."

What he's doing isn't new; it's almost exactly what he did yesterday, except now it's with two of his fingers instead of one. You open your legs a bit wider in his lap, wishing you could see better like yesterday with the mirror.

"You know, when you were bent over like that..." he breathes, fingers rotating a bit faster, "I coulda put my hand on your back, like this," you suddenly feel the firm weight of his hand pushing against your lower back and you shiver, "Coulda bent you over just a little bit more, pulled aside those pretty panties and...."

His fingers suddenly stop their movements and you peer down, confused, "And what?" you whisper.

He slowly thumbs your clit, trailing his two fingers downward to settle lightly on where you're throbbing.

"And stuffed this little hole with my cock," he murmurs, and your mouth pops open as he slowly and carefully slips his index finger inside, just the callused tip. You freeze in his arms, eyes going wide at the sensation of having just a small part of him inside of you, "But that woulda hurt, wouldn't it?" he continues, holding his finger there and continuing to circle your clit with his thumb, "Never had a cock inside there before, right? Never been full."

You shake your head and sit up a bit in his lap, turning to look at him. He's peering at you with a calm expression, mouth upturned into that crooked smile. You bite your lip, meeting his gaze.

"Are you gonna put it in there now?" you whisper, unable to hide the way your voice shakes; in fear or in anticipation, you're not sure.

"No, babygirl," he says quickly, moving the hand that's on your back upward to cup your face tenderly, "Not today."

You feel relief flood through you; in theory you do like the idea of having Joel inside you, even though you have no idea what it would even feel like - or how he would even fit. But it's too soon, you still barely have any idea what you're doing. And he knows that, respects it, which almost makes you want him more.

You lean forward to kiss him, loving the way he thumbs your cheek and pushes his warm tongue inside your mouth. He still tastes like coffee today; it's safe and soothing.

"Know what we're gonna do today?" he asks you quietly once you pull away for breath.

"W-what?" you whisper.

"Well, as I said, we don't have much time," you look down again and become transfixed with the way the tip of his finger prods your hole, moving back and forth just a little bit, "So we're gonna see how many fingers i can fit inside you 'til it's time to go, okay?"

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you at his words, but also a tense feeling of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. He seems to sense it and he brings his hand up again to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey, don't be scared, sweetheart. I'll only put in however many will fit," he tells you comfortingly, "How many you think we can get in there?"

"I... I don't know," you feel stupid again, that inexperienced part of you on full display, "Two? Maybe?"

"Okay, we'll try for two," he murmurs, then leans forward to kiss you sweetly, "You don't have to be afraid, babygirl, I won't hurt you."

Somehow, you believe him.

A moment later he's pulling you off his lap and carefully laying you back on the couch. He pulls up your dress a bit more, exposing your pussy to his empty living room again, and dips his fingers back down to rub along your center.

"See how wet you are?" Joel whispers to you, kneeling down next to the couch and kissing your cheek gently, "You're drippin' all over my couch."

"I'm sorry," you whimper, trembling beneath his touch, and he just chuckles.

"It's not a bad thing," he reassures you, "When you get wet like that, it makes things easier for us," he slowly begins to push the tip of his index finger inside your hole and you bite down on your lip in anticipation, "Watch," he murmurs.

You watch as he slowly pushes his finger further inside; you're beyond surprised to discover that not only does it not hurt, but you can barely even really feel it.

"Hurt?" he asks you quietly, stilling at the first knuckle.

"Not at all," you breathe confidently, feeling a smile spread across your face, "Just feels like pressure."

"Good, that's good," he kisses your temple, beard scratching pleasantly against your skin, "I'll give you a little more."

You watch with bated breath as he pushes his digit all the way until it's fully sheathed inside your heat. It still doesn't hurt but the shape of him is palpable. His finger is thick and long inside of you and your breath is already coming out quicker at the fullness.

"There you go," he murmurs, and you turn your head to see him looking at you with dark eyes, "I'm inside you, babygirl."

Your cheeks warm at his words and you bring your hands up to cover your face, feeling overwhelmed. He brings his free hand to one of yours and pulls it away, smiling at you softly.

"Don't hide, sweetheart, you're doin' so good," he says quietly, reassuringly, "Pussy's so tight around me, can feel your heartbeat."

Your eyes widen a bit, "Really?"

He nods and very slowly pulls his finger out, just until only the tip is pressed lightly at your entrance. Then he pushes back in even slower, smiling wider when your brow furrows at the sensation.

"So tight and wet for me," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, "She was made to have me inside her, babygirl."

You're slowly losing your ability to form words as he plunges his finger in and out at a steady pace; it didn't feel like anything before, but the more he moves, the more he fucks you with it, the better it begins to feel. You feel your jaw going slack, eyes going hazy when he circles your clit again with his thumb and kisses the side of your face.

"You're such a good girl," he whispers, "Lettin' me do this to you."

He teases a second finger at your entrance and you feel yourself freeze up a bit, unsure how it's going to fit alongside his index. You trust him though; despite barely knowing one thing about this man you trust him inherently to take care of you. God, if your parents could see you now, laying on his couch with his index finger stuffed inside of you while he kisses your face and whispers praises in your ear. Not even God can save you now.

"Givin' you another one," he breathes, carefully pushing the callused tip of his middle finger inside you.

It's different this time, there's an odd burning sensation as he pushes your hole open with two fingers. You find yourself crossing your legs unintentionally, making a face.

"It hurts, Mr. Miller," you breathe, shaking your head, "I don't think it's gonna fit."

He stops immediately, stilling both fingers inside of you and leaning forward to nose against your cheek, "I know, baby, it hurts at first but that's just because you've never had anythin' in there. Your pussy has to get used to it."

You nod slowly, eyes searching his; he seems genuine, honest, sincere. You believe him. Your parents always taught you to see the good in people and Joel hasn't given you a reason not to trust him. Plus, all your college friends must have had similar experiences at some point and they all seem to enjoy sex; you have to trust the process.

"Okay," you whisper, "But go slow, please."

It takes a bit of time for you to adjust, all the while Joel presses kisses all along your face, tells you how good you're doing for him, how you're taking it so well. You feel hot and completely overwhelmed, strange whiney sounds slipping past your lips every time he pushes in just a little bit more. He moves his free hand to grip yours, squeezes it reassuringly as he fills you up.

"There," he finally murmurs when both fingers are sheathed inside, leaving you feeling stretched out and more full than you could have even imagined. Your eyes are hooded and bleary, lip jutting out in a pout that he leans forward to kiss, "You did it, babygirl. I'm so proud of you."

It feels so good to hear those words, to hear someone show even the tiniest ounce of appreciation for you, even under the sinful circumstances. You're beginning to realize that despite everything you've achieved in your life you've never actually had someone tell you they're proud of you; it makes tears well in your eyes.

Joel's brow furrows when he sees the tears, lets go of your hand to thumb your cheek again, "Does it still hurt?"

You shake your head quickly, sniffling a little bit, "No, it feels good, just like you said," you take a shaky breath and bite your lip, "Are you actually proud of me?"

His expression softens and he nods, leaning forward to kiss you again, "Yes, sweetheart," he whispers, "You did so good."

You kiss him again, bringing your hand up to tangle in his grey curls. You slip your tongue past his lips and feel the undeniable rumble of a moan in his throat as he kisses you back with fervor, his hand traveling down your face to settle near your mouth, thumbing the corner. When you part he traces your lips with his thumb and slowly starts to fuck you again, making your jaw drop.

"That's it," he whispers, watching your expression with desire-filled eyes, "That's it, baby, you take it. Take those big fingers."

You cry out immediately when he starts rubbing your clit again as he fucks you, completely overwhelming your whole body with a brand new sensation; you're so full, so sensitive and wet, throbbing around his long digits. It's so much and you feel the tears spill over, this time for a completely different reason.

"Shh," he coos, and carefully slips his thumb inside your mouth which you immediately suckle, eyes closing on their own accord as tears begin to stream down your face, "I've got you," you hear him murmur, "There you go, just suck, babygirl."

You feel the callused tips of his fingers brush against something deep inside you, not hard enough to make you cry out again but enough for you to feel your orgasm begin to build in your tummy. You moan pitifully around his thumb, sucking hard on it as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

Somehow he knows you're almost there, can feel the way you tighten in anticipation around his fingers. He carefully pulls his thumb out of your mouth, smiling when you moan in protest, then brings it down to thumb your pussy open a bit more. You look down at where he's touching, see the way his thick fingers are stuffed inside you, and the sight alone leaves you gasping as you start to come.

"Theeeere she is," he says soothingly, plunging his fingers in and out steadily, a wet slapping sound filling the room as he fucks you through it, "There you go."

You writhe on the couch, obscene sounds spitting past your lips. Your eyes roll back and you feel him kiss you again, shoving his tongue inside and fucking you with it the same way he fucks your pussy with his fingers. You're so full of him, he's everywhere. And you don't want it to stop.

But it has to. You're soon too overstimulated, body twitching with every touch. You feel Joel slide his fingers out of you with one final tap to your clit, still kissing you slow and deep. His hand travels upward underneath your dress and palms your belly, leaving a sticky and wet residue all over your skin. You're still so out of it that you barely register him reaching up to squeeze your bare breast, thumbing your nipple and covering it with your juices.

"Mr. Miller," you breathe when he finally pulls his mouth away, "Felt so good, Mr. Miller."

Your words make him laugh; he grins at you and squeezes your breast again under your dress, pinches your nipple slightly between his fingers. You freeze up, mouth popping open again.

"Relax, baby," he slowly reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your naked body to him, "We're done for the day, just wanna see you."

You don't protest, watching his face as he pulls your dress all the way up to your chest, eyes trailing up and down your body at your hips, your belly, your breasts. He hums to himself, reaches down again to toy with your left nipple and smiles when you tremble.

"You're so pretty, darlin', just beggin' to be played with" he murmurs, clicking his teeth, "Shame I can't stay longer."

"Where are you going?" you ask quietly, "Maybe I can come."

He smiles at that, then pulls his hand away to bring your dress back down again, settling it over your thighs once more. He picks up your legs and sits down on the couch, pulling you toward him so you're half-seated in his lap, legs bent over his thighs.

"As tempting as that is, I gotta go to work," he tells you softly, stroking the bare skin of your thigh with his thumb.

"Where do you work?"

"I'm a contractor so pretty much everywhere," he smiles at you, "But you wouldn't have much to do, babygirl. Just watchin' me measure things and order my crew around."

You nod, "Can I see you tonight?"

He laughs breathily, pulls you further up into his lap and wraps his arms around you, "You're insatiable, aren't you?"

"For you, yeah."

He laughs again and you're suddenly very aware of the hard length of his cock against your ass, straining against his jeans. Your lips part and you look down, opening your legs a bit and peering at the long shape of him beneath the denim.

"You're hard," you whisper, brows scrunching together, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, angel. It's impossible not to get hard after doin' all that to you," he says with a chuckle, noticing that your cheeks go hot with the pet name, "Oh, you like that name too, don't you? Angel?"

You nod, feeling slightly embarrassed, but he just leans forward and kisses you again, holding you to him.

"Babygirl and angel, I'll keep those in mind," he murmurs against your lips, "For next time."

"And when is next time?" you pull back and bite your lip, looking at him with a pitifully wanton expression, "You didn't answer my question about tonight."

He rests his forehead against yours with a smile, "I'll be takin' my crew out for drinks tonight. And we'll be pretty busy over the next few days, so I'm not sure when I'll get to see you next."

You frown, disappointment flooding you. He notices your reaction and his brow furrows as he brings his hands up to cradle your face and peer down into your eyes. You lean up and kiss him again, twisting slightly in his lap so your legs settle on either side of him, melding yourself against him. His cock twitches against your ass, throbbing lightly, and you can't help but smile against his lips.

"Why don't I give you my phone number?" he groans, pulling back from the kiss to look at you with darkened eyes, "So you can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures."

Your brow furrows, "Pictures?"

He thumbs your thighs and smirks, "Yeah, babygirl. Pictures."

"Of what?"

He shakes his head and laughs to himself, "Nevermind, angel."

You preen at the name again but frown when he carefully pulls you from his lap and seats you back onto the couch, standing up and adjusting his length in his jeans. Your eyes stay glued to it immediately, lips parting unconsciously at the size; is it the jeans making it seem so big or is it really that huge?

"Can I...?" you trail off, and he doesn't have to be a rocket scientist to understand what you're talking about. He follows your gaze and smiles, nods.

"You wanna see my cock, pretty girl?"

You nod quickly, pushing your legs together as he immediately reaches for his belt. It jangles in the quiet room, slapping against the floor when he drops it. You watch as he unbuttons his jeans and brings the zipper down, then pulls his cock free from the confines of his underwear and puts it on display.

You feel your jaw go slack, eyes widening at the sheer length and size of it. It's somehow even bigger than it looked in his jeans, large and thick and rock hard. The tip is wide and dark, dripping in a similar fashion to the way your pussy does, and you can't help but notice the veins lining the entire length of him, accentuating its size. This is your very first time seeing one that wasn't in a health textbook, and the vast difference between what you'd thought it would look like versus what it actually looks like is staggering.

"Th-that's big," your voice is barely a whisper, squeaky and surprised, "It's so big."

He carefully brings his hand down to hold it in his fist lightly, pulling it up a bit to give you a better view. "Big 'cause of you," he says softly, "It's all for you, angel."

You feel the tips of your ears get hot, still staring with wide eyes at where he's completely exposed. You can see the hint of his balls still hidden inside his underwear and for some insatiable reason that you can't even explain, you feel yourself begin to salivate.

"How's it gonna fit?" you breathe, brows scrunching together as you shake your head, "Mr. Miller, that's not gonna fit inside me."

He just smiles, reaches down and thumbs the wet head lightly, "We'll make it fit, babygirl."

You leave Joel's house with the image of his cock still imprinted at the front of your mind. He hadn't asked you to touch it, hadn't expected anything at all, just let you look at it for a few moments before telling you he had to take care of it in the shower or he'd go crazy. He'd tucked himself back into his jeans and given you one last kiss, written down his phone number on a piece of paper and then headed upstairs to shower. You'd changed back into your regular clothes quickly and left the house a few moments later.

Now you're driving aimlessly back home, weaving up and down different suburban streets while you think about the sheer size of him, the thickness, the veins. We'll make it fit, he'd said; the thought gives you goosebumps.

You can't put off going home forever; you finally pull into your driveway and hop out with your shopping bags. You'd shoved the white dress to the bottom after changing out of it, you just hope your mom doesn't ask to see what you bought.

"Hey there," your mother says as soon as you walk in the door, standing in the foyer almost like she's been waiting for you to come home; speak of the devil.

"Hi," you say quickly, "I went shopping, I'm just gonna put these up in my room."

She puts her hand up, "Not yet. I need to talk to you."

You feel unease in the pit of your stomach as you slowly place the bags on the floor, looking at her expectantly. Her expression is hard to read; her lips are set in a firm line, eyes assessing you up and down. You're not sure what's going through her mind.

"I was just talking to Joyce on the phone," she says, crossing her arms, "You remember Joyce?"

You nod slowly; Joyce is one of your mother's neighborhood gossip friends, the ones who keep abreast of everything going on in your little suburban neighborhood, who's fighting, who's getting divorced, who's kids are getting into trouble, etc. You feel a lump growing in your throat the longer you stand there waiting for her to speak. It's like you already know what she's about to say.

"She says your car was parked in Joel Miller's driveway," she raises an eyebrow at you, looking stern, "Is that true?"

You swallow around the lump and awkwardly shrug, "Um, yeah, I guess."

Her brow furrows, "You guess? Either you were parked there or not, which is it?"

Your face suddenly feels hot and uncomfortable as you shift your weight from leg to leg, trying to figure out what to say. Stupid. How could you have been so stupid as to park your fucking car in his driveway, knowing the way the ladies in this neighborhood talk?

"I was," you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, "I just stopped by for a bit to say hi."

"To say... hi?" your mother is still staring at you with a stern expression, eyebrows narrowing more and more the longer you both stand there, "Why would you stop by Joel Miller's to say hi?"

You shrug, "I was just being neighborly. He's new, I thought I should properly introduce myself, like you taught me."

Her brows unfurrow a bit at that, expression softening. There we go, hit her with the life lessons, that'll get her off your back.

"Honey, that's very nice of you, but I don't want you going back there, understand?"

Now it's time for your brow to furrow, looking at her with a confused expression, "Why?"

She backs down a bit at that, seemingly uncomfortable by the question. She looks down at the bags and gestures to them quickly, "You go ahead and bring those upstairs, I'm heading out to run some more errands."

"Mom," you say, trying to keep your voice soft despite the frustration you feel, "Why don't you want me going back to Mr. Miller's?"

She sighs then, bites her lip and darts her eyes around the room quickly, almost like she's looking for your father who you both know is at work. She takes a step toward you and grabs your hand, pulling you into the living room.

"Is this about what you were talking about at dinner the other night?" you ask, "When you said he was rude to you?"

She exhales deeply again and turns to you, scratching her neck awkwardly, "Listen, your father doesn't like me talking about people like this so please don't tell him I said anything."

Oh, interesting. You nod quickly, excited to hear whatever deep secret is about to be revealed, what Joel could have possibly done to offend your mother who's notoriously offended by everything, "I won't, Mom. Promise."

She takes another breath and twists her mouth into a frown, "He's... well.... honey, he's an Atheist."

You stare at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to drop the bomb. It takes you a moment to realize that Joel being an Atheist is in fact The Bomb in question, and you quickly have to pretend to be shocked, widening your eyes and raising your eyebrows in faux surprise.

"Oh, that's too bad," you say, nodding slowly, "What did he say to you?"

She shakes her head, frowning even more, "Well, I invited him over to have dinner with us after church, told him we'd love to see him at the service and then have him in our home, and what did he say in response?" she makes a sneering expression, imitating his deep southern drawl, "Sorry, lady, I'm not into all that religious s-h-i-t,", she spells it out like you're five years old, "Can you believe that? The absolute nerve!"

You can tell she's getting heated again just thinking about it and you know that laughing certainly won't help the situation. But that's all you want to do: laugh. Because picturing the way your mother's face must have looked when Joel said that to her is enough to make you want to burst. Of course he would have said that in response. Of course he would have turned down that offer immediately; it sounds like a nightmare.

You wonder if his answer would have been different had he known about you then, if you'd already been back from college. He probably would have seen you around the neighborhood and known you were the daughter of the woman asking him to come to dinner. Would he have come? Would he have even showed up to church just to get his hands on you? The thought makes you shiver.

"I think..." you bite your lip, trying to think of how to word it without sounding ridiculously obvious that he had his fingers inside you less than twenty minutes ago, "I think maybe he just had a bad day. Because I actually just loaned him my bible and he seemed really interested in it."

Your mom stares at you, disbelief flooding her face. Oh shit, maybe that was too crazy of a lie.

"N-not my bible, my hymn book," you clarify, shaking your head, "There I go, mush mouth. I meant my hymn book."

Her mouth slowly turns upwards from her frown, peering at you thoughtfully, "...Really?"

You nod, "Yes! I told him I liked the way he played and that it would be nice if he learned some hymns, maybe, um, maybe even teach me how to play them," God, you hope this is coming out naturally, "He said he'd love to."

Your mother slowly seats herself on the couch, lost in thought, "Huh," she states, staring at the wall, "That's...weird."

You shake your head quickly, "I don't think it's too weird, I think maybe we just need to go about it a different way. Maybe asking him to come to church was too much, he needs us to guide him more gently than that."

She nods slowly and you can't believe she's actually believing the lies coming out of your mouth, flowing surprisingly easily the more you talk. You know you're just doing damage control but you're slowly realizing that this is actually a great cover, a way to see Joel without having to hide from the neighbors or be sneaky around your parents. Guitar lessons. He could be your guitar teacher.

"And I think I'd be good at guitar," you continue, "I know a lot of guitar music is bad but Mr. Miller could teach me some hymns and I could even play them at church."

Her eyes light up at that, a look of positive realization appearing on her face, "That would be lovely," she says thoughtfully, "Who came up with this idea?"

"Me, of course," you say, giving her your signature fake laugh that you've perfected over the years of pretending to be someone you're not. You realize there's one more thing you can say to really bring it home, and you almost feel the fire burning at your heels when you say it: "I felt like... I really felt like God was speaking through me, Mom."

Your mother claps her hands together and stands up again, tears suddenly shining in her eyes, "Oh, honey, that's so wonderful," she walks toward you and wraps her arms around you tightly, a rare example of intimacy, "Do you need us to buy you a guitar?"

You shake your head as she pulls back from the hug, "No, that's okay, Mr. Miller's gonna let me use his."

She clasps her hands together again smiles fondly at you, "Excellent."

You still feel that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you walk upstairs with your bags, but this time you know it's because of what you've just done. Sure, you've lied to your parents before, but never like this. Never.

As soon as your bedroom door is closed you fling the bags across the floor and flop onto your bed, pulling out your phone and the piece of paper with Joel's number on it. You add him as a contact and open a new message:

just told my mom you're my guitar teacher.

You send it and spin around to shove your face against your pillow, not sure if you want to squeal out of joy or scream out of dread. You settle for a long droning noise that sounds muffled and distorted.

Your phone buzzes only a moment later and you quickly sit up again, grabbing it and opening Joel's response:

insatiable.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: feelings on fire

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aris-ink · 2 years

Note

Please. I beg you. A stepdad!Taehyung fic (with the luscious black swan hair that made me feel some things). I need it for…research purposes.

(by the way I love your writing, its so fucking good)

how can you do this to me 😩 tysm ILY angel

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!father au

warnings: allusions to corruption, manipulation, cheating, pseudo incest, masturbation, SO MUCH dirty talk, daddy kink, choking, dry humping, hints of breeding kink and size kink (tae is big, oops), some oral sex, hair pulling, praise kink, multiple orgasms, overuse of pet names (as always), this is... so filthy I'm sorry

edited.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. The soft gesture made you stir, your hazy mind slowly registering the solid warmth of his body.

"Hush, angel. It's just me."

There was a stutter in your chest, your eyelids fluttering open. You could feel his breath on your neck, a blanket of heat on your skin. Instead of finding comfort in his words, you tensed up.

This was the third night he has sneaked into your bed.

You knew his marriage with your mother has been rather... dull. He didn't seem half as invested in her life as he was in yours, and you chalked it up to the fact that Taehyung had always wanted children, so he treated you as his own.

What you didn't know, however, was that you were actually the only reason he started dating your mother in the first place. All you saw was that while they didn't seem too close, they were comfortable; your mother was busy pursuing her career anyway, most of her whims being funded by Taehyung himself. After all, the busier she was, the longer she was gone.

At first you thought he was just lonely. That he was happy to see your mother grow, and selflessly put his own needs aside in order to support her. That was why his hugs started getting more frequent. Why his hands lingered on your waist, on the small of your back. And in a way, you were right. Taehyung longed for affection; but only for yours.

Somewhere in the deepest corners of your mind, the realization was starting to emerge. It presented itself slowly, as a twist in your abdomen when you felt him pull the covers over your bodies.

It still didn't occur to you, however, that everything was the other way around. That this longing he felt was not the result of his choices, but rather the driving force behind them. Confusion muddled your thoughts as he held you. You always figured you grew to know Taehyung very well, and yet a part of him remained shrouded in the shadows, a mystery that made you feel like you were staring at a beautiful, antique painting. Like you couldn't quite figure out what was the message or the purpose behind it. But he was such a big part of your life; he has made a home in your heart, so sturdy that it seemed to become a part of the muscle, vines tangling through the windows all the way to your ribs.

Your lids were heavy with the weight of sleep, and his warmth was comforting. His arm remained wrapped around your waist, soft lips brushing against your shoulder. You shivered.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Go back to sleep, baby. I just wanted to hold you."

His grip on you tightened, his nose touching the nape of your neck.

"Long day?" You whispered back, your voice hoarse.

"Mhmm," Taehyung murmured. "Missed my baby."

His baby. The way he spoke to you made your heart flip. You blamed it on nervousness, because what else could it be? You tried to swallow. Every single night he entered your bedroom, he seemed to be getting more daring, shifting closer, his caresses bordering on intrusive. But they were so tender and felt so good. The smell of his aftershave was soothing and familiar. You wished you could drown yourself in the warmth he provided.

You didn't want to think about why.

He still kept a respective distance between your bodies, only letting his chest press into your back. You sighed softly, letting your eyes fall closed. For the last three nights, you have been so hyper aware of his presence that he usually ended up falling asleep first. By now, a little more used to his protective embrace, you were starting to consider just letting go.

And then he shuffled slightly behind you. You detected a movement that made your eyes snap open. It was subtle, but he was lying too close for you not to feel the way his free arm shifted and moved under the sheets.

And suddenly you were wondering just where his hand was, because it sure as hell wasn't anywhere on you.

Your stomach dropped as if you were falling, immediately pulling you wide awake. Your senses no longer dulled, you picked up on his shallow breathing, and it was like a bucket of ice cold water was spilled over your head. You stiffened, unable to help the hitch of your breath.

Your heart raced beneath your ribs, but Taehyung only tightened his arm around you.

"Everything okay?"

His tone was so casual, a quiet murmur laced with amusement. It had you questioning your sanity. Surely he wasn't...?

Your breath hitched again when he pressed himself closer to you. No, his hand was definitely moving in between your bodies. Slowly, but the movement was there. Heat rushed through you in a startling flood, dusting your cheeks, pooling in your abdomen.

You blinked into the darkness, trying to calmly breathe in and out through your nose.

He was not touching himself right beside you. No, that was not possible.

"Baby?" Taehyung questioned again, leaving a soft peck on your shoulder. He sounded even more amused, making your stomach clench. "Is something wrong?"

"...No," you answered in a weak whisper.

You didn't understand why. He was crossing a line, but you found yourself incapable of putting a stop to it.

At your reply, Taehyung stilled behind you. The hand that was resting on your stomach unhurriedly reached for your wrist. You held your breath, letting him guide it under the sheets, behind your back... and lower.

This was your last chance to move away. Why weren't you moving away? Why weren't you cursing him out and yanking your wrist out of his grasp?

You couldn't bring yourself to understand, and all your thoughts came to a standstill when he reached his destination and rested your fingertips on his bare cock.

It jumped in response, silky smooth and hot to the touch. That alone, followed by the realization that he did lower his briefs and palm himself right next to you made your cunt clench around nothing, a gush of wetness dampening your underwear.

He had to notice the change in your breathing. He had to notice the way your thighs clenched, too, because he grew bolder, guiding you to wrap your hand around him.

Once again, you let him. He was rock hard, practically throbbing in your grip. You experimentally gave his cock a squeeze, and almost startled at the low, obscene groan that fled his lips, right into your ear. His hips bucked into your hand.

It shouldn't have made you so wet, but it did. Your stomach kept on twisting, your clit pulsing and sticking to your underwear as you dragged your hand down the length of his cock, then back up again.

"Oh fuck..." he sighed quietly. "Don't stop, baby."

You weren't sure if this was your breaking point, or if it was the precum you felt leaking from the tip, but your head turned slightly in his direction. Taehyung didn't waste the opportunity, lifting himself up on one arm to grab your jaw and kiss you.

It was sloppy, needy, his tongue skilled and addicting, making the room spin in circles. You shifted onto your back to give him better access to your mouth, make it easier for yourself to touch him.

Taehyung groaned into the kiss. The sound vibrated through you, deep and sinful, shooting straight to your cunt.

He pulled away to stare down at your face, eyes hooded, lips parted and brows slightly tensed, high off the pleasure.

"Good girl," he whispered, his eyes falling shut, nose bumping against yours. "Fuck, that feels so good."

You shuddered under him.

"You're so- big," you stammered, your strokes firmer now, but slower too, feeling every vein.

Taehyung's mouth twitched, moving towards your ear.

"Yeah?" His voice dropped lower, the deep baritone making your hole twitch. "You like that?"

You whined, too flustered to answer him. It was impossible to push aside the fact that he was your stepfather, and you shouldn't be liking anything about this at all, let alone be participating in it so eagerly.

Taehyung didn't seem very happy with that, though. He scoffed, reaching out to touch the hem of your underwear.

"I know you're soaked and aching for me to stretch this little pussy out."

You dug your fingers into his arm, your back arching softly off the mattress.

"Taehyung-"

His name came out of your mouth in a low moan. He raised his eyebrows, wrapping his hand around your throat so tightly you froze, eyes wide as they stared up at him.

"Oh, so now I'm Taehyung? Don't play with me, baby," he tsked, choking you. "I've put you through college and taught you how to drive. I buy you all the expensive shit you want. Where is my good girl? Did you forget who I am?"

You could feel your face heat up rapidly, both from the delicious restriction of air and from his words. You shook your head, the movement so subtle it was barely noticeable, but it was enough for him. He released your neck, letting you take in a deep breath, his knuckles brushing across your cheek.

"That's better," he hummed. "Now say it, angel."

You opened your mouth, feeling him reach under the covers again to tighten your hand around his stiff cock. You went back to stroking him, wishing he wasn't staring into your eyes so intently, wishing he wasn't making you use a word you associated with affection in something so dirty, tainting it forever.

And most of all, wishing that it didn't make your pussy throb the way it did.

"Daddy," you whispered.

Taehyung groaned, his fingers sliding lower to press into your clothed clit.

"That's right, good girl- fuck, you're so wet. Oh god, baby."

You moaned quietly, desperate to feel more of his touch, encouraged by the way his fingers slipped under the soaked material to brush up against your folds.

"Daddy, daddy," you gasped, your hand tightening around his cock further, your pace unconsciously picking up.

Taehyung grunted, circling your clit sloppily, sending sparks of pleasure tingling through you.

"Good fucking girl. You want daddy's cock, don't you, baby? You want daddy's big cock to fuck you dumb, huh?"

Your thighs shuddered, parting for him, your hips lifting off the bed slightly.

"Yeah, please daddy," you breathed out, clutching his shirt. "Need to come. Please."

"Do you know how fucking hot- ah- you sound right now? How beautiful you are?"

Taehyung brushed your hair away from your face, his hot breath fanning over your lips.

"I've been waiting to split this pussy open for so long," he mumbled breathily. "Fuck my good, little girl nice and raw and pump her full of cum."

You cunt clenched needily, your heart beating out of your chest as he climbed on top of you. He pushed your underwear aside and slipped his cock in between your drenched folds without a warning, the flushed tip nudging your clit roughly.

"Please!"

You didn't care anymore about how wrong this was, or how pathetic you sounded. All you wanted was for him to bury himself inside you and stay there forever.

But Taehyung only clenched his teeth and continued to hump you, ensuring to put pressure on that little bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars.

"Can't fuck you tonight, baby," he huffed. "You'll wake the entire neighborhood, including your mother."

You whimpered, the sound strained, and it might have been the guilt or how close you were; but you felt too hot all of sudden. His cock rubbed against you so well, his balls slapping against your cunt lightly, heavy and full.

"Daddy's gonna-yeah - gonna come so hard," he moaned, his hand reaching up to grope your breast through your shirt harshly. "Fuck, come with me. Come on, baby. Cream my cock like a good girl."

He barely managed to finish the sentence before your orgasm hit you, your pussy spasming and gushing under him. Taehyung knocked his lips into yours to silence your moans, as well as his own when a hot rush of his cum flooded you, dripping down to your entrance. His cock twitched, his hips stuttering against you.

"Oh fuck," he cursed hoarsely, prompting himself up on his arms to look at the mess you've made together. His gaze burned into the white, thick ropes of his release trickling down your sensitive cunt. The enticing sight had his dick slowly rising and hardening again, his eyes dark as night as they snapped back to yours.

"Look," he breathed, pushing his hips forward to grind against you, pillowed in between your puffy lips. "Your pretty little cunt looks so good covered in my cum."

You moaned, your hips jerking under him. Taehyung caught the sound with his mouth once more, kissing you just as slowly as he moved.

"Need to keep this between us, baby," he whispered. "Not a word to your mother, yeah?"

This was the last thing you wanted to think about as your clit throbbed beneath him. You nodded quickly, trying to ignore the guilt of the thrill his words sent through you.

Taehyung caught your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling on it gently.

"Good girl. Want to come again?"

Your thighs clenched, an unsteady breath fleeing you instantly.

"Yes, please daddy."

Taehyung pushed himself up onto his knees to pull his shirt off. You swallowed, awestruck by his tanned, toned muscles. It wasn't often you got to see him like this, and combined with the sweat and the dark locks framing his handsome face, you couldn't help the fresh wetness that trickled from your already sticky cunt.

He took a seat, resting his back against the bedframe, his cock standing tall and hard against his stomach, glistening with his cum and yours. His hands tangled in your hair, gently tugging.

"Come here, baby."

Your stomach seemed to flip upside down. You lifted yourself up and got on your knees, like you already knew what to do without him having to tell you. He hummed, pleased.

"What a good girl. You gonna be quiet for me?"

You nodded, leaning forward to lower your head towards his cock, your mouth instinctively parting by the thick, swollen tip. Taehyung pulled on your hair, forcing your head up, the sting making your cunt quiver.

"We both have to be quiet, so don't do anything I don't tell you to. I won't warn you twice, sweetheart."

You licked your lips nervously.

"Okay."

Taehyung stroked your hair for a moment, before his hand began to slide towards your neck, then down your back towards your ass. He reached your cunt and pressed his finger into your clit right away, rubbing it softly. The direct contact made your knees feel weak, your breathing stuttering in its rhythm.

He placed his free hand on top of your head and lowered it back down. You parted your lips again, so close you could feel the heat coming off him. Then, releasing your soft hair, Taehyung wrapped his hand around his cock and proceeded to stroke it slowly.

"Lick the tip, baby."

The pulsing in your stomach intensified, your tongue sticking out to taste him as if you were hypnotized. At the first touch of it, Taehyung leaned his head back, a throaty rumble leaving his chest.

"You're such a good girl. Shit, suck- suck, ah, j-just the tip, angel, no more."

He pressed harder into your slippery clit, rewarding you before you even obeyed the command. You moaned softly, wrapping your mouth around the head of his cock and hollowing your cheeks to suck, too impatient for teasing.

"God," he groaned, "are you that desperate to be covered in daddy's cum? Or do you wanna get filled up instead, huh?"

You mewled, your fingers digging into his muscular thighs, the lewd sounds he made as he pumped himself faster mingling with the lewd words; and sending you tumbling towards an edge you've never experienced before.

"I can feel you dripping all over my fingers," he growled. "Don't you worry, angel, just wait until tomorrow. Daddy's gonna fill up this tiny cunt so much you'll be overflowing. Gonna get you knocked up, hm?"

Your knees almost gave out, your pussy twitching as another orgasm hit you, head falling helplessly into Taehyung's thigh. He steadied you carefully with a strong arm, continuing to stroke and massage your clit all the way through it. You whined into his skin, barely registering the praises falling from his mouth.

Until the high slowed.

Fucked out, you glanced up at him, catching your breath. He caressed your cheek, his cock in his hand again.

"Look at you," he said softly. "Such a good fucking girl. I have the best baby in the entire world."

You lifted your head tiredly, the drive to please him and live up to his expectations stronger than your shame. Besides, you wanted this; wanted to feel him come inside your mouth, hear him struggle to suppress his moans. You offered up your parted lips to him eagerly, sticking your tongue out. Taehyung's head hit the wall behind him with a dull bang.

"Oh shit," he hissed, "I love you so fucking much, baby."

Your heart twisted inside your chest. He pushed the tip of his cock inside your warm mouth, pumping the rest roughly with his hand.

"Gonna come," he groaned. "Fuck-"

The sudden rush of the thick heat on your tongue made you shudder, harsh, shaky breaths escaping his chest. You swallowed down everything he gave you, sucking softly as he twitched, pulling on your hair.

"Yeah, oh fuck, baby-"

His back arched, his eyes falling closed, thighs tensing and then slowly relaxing beneath you. You let him go with a pop, watching him breathe in and out deeply, his skin prickled with goosebumps.

He opened his eyes slowly, releasing your hair from his hold to grab your chin instead.

"Come here."

You let him pull you up, his lips warm and soft as they sank into yours. He kissed you hungrily, but with no hurry, like a lover afraid of parting, desperate to make every second last. When he pulled away, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"

You bit your lip, watching him fix up his briefs and put his shirt back on. To your surprise, he didn't leave the room until you fell asleep. He sat on the edge of your bed, stroking your hair in the dark and listening to your breathing even out.

He pressed his lips into your temple, sighing out a goodnight before making his way back to his bedroom. Your mother was still sound asleep, exhausted after working and socializing with her new elite friends. Taehyung rolled his eyes and slipped under the covers, aiming to drift off with nothing but you on his mind.

Just a little longer. Just a little longer and he could fall asleep and wake up by your side; all he ever dreamed of since the first time he saw you passing by. His wife was already climbing up the career ladder (with his help, of course), and soon she'd get an offer that he knew she would never be able to resist. She'd move halfway across the country and leave her precious, little girl and doting husband behind.

Oh well. He couldn't wait.

#yandere bts #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios

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dabislittlemouse · 1 year

Text

tainted angel🪽 (pt.4)

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 5

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon incoming, stalking

ෆ Before you read chapter 4: I will be slightly including her POV in this chapter (or yours since you can gladly imagine yourself being Keigo’s sister as well) and then it goes back on Dabi’s POV again‼️

Her POV (or yours too)

The long hours at college finally came to an end. Without wasting a second, I head home, carrying my books while leaving my friends behind. I am too lost in thoughts to even notice or hear them shout my name. Flying home would be quicker, but that was not an option due to the weather conditions. According to Keigo, I need to be way more experienced if I want to fly in a stormy weather, but I’d rather not risk getting hit by a thunder and set ablaze in the sky. Walking will do just fine.

As if it’s my new obsession, I check my phone every second, waiting for something. For a call, for another message from him. But nothing else was sent after his last message.

Tonight at 10, the alleyway right behind the supermarket. Be pretty for me..

-Dabi

My heart skips a beat at the reminder of that text message. There is no way I will go out and meet him tonight is it? Only if I’m stupid enough.

Which.. I may be.

After having a talk with my brother that day, I realised how much risk I put all of us in. Surely he told me it was not my fault, but in a way or another it was, because I let a stranger in and trusted him so easily.

But how could I not when his clear blue eyes pierce right through my own? He would know if I was lying, I’m sure he could read my thoughts.

It was very weird, the way he captivated me entirely, the way his presence screamed danger and yet I found myself intrigued by him. His husky voice and teasing comments sent a strange heat deep in my core, awakened something in me which I never knew I had. How could someone who I meet for the first time make me feel like this? The way those hands touched me, I still feel their warmth on my body, I still feel his gaze on me even though he is not here at all. Those strange marks on his face decorated with piercings, what could those possibly be?

Keigo told me to stay away from him, not elaborating why, and this is eating me from the inside out. The more I am forbidden to see him, the more I actually want to see him. My brother was very strict about it, I’ve never seen him this serious before, so for sure this has to be some big deal. As the number two hero of Japan, and as my big brother, I trust him deeply. And I want to listen to him, really, I do.

But the way this mysterious man is tempting me, I feel like I’ll fall down a rabbit hole that I won’t easily get out of. My logic tells me to not meet him tonight, it’s basically screaming at me but my so-called heart is pumping vigorously in my chest at the thought of Dabi, butterflies in my stomach almost making me feel nauseous. I am intrigued, thrilled to find who he really is. How did those flowers end up in my room? So many questions getting no answers.

Maybe if I meet him tonight I will get them.

I stay in front of my mirror, examining everything around me. Would he like my cherry scented perfume or my vanilla one? I wonder which dress he would like best, how should I keep my hair..

“What got you so excited? Going out tonight~?”

Startled at the voice, I see Keigo leaning on my doorstep, a smile on his face as he watches the mess in my room and all my clothes scattered on the floor. He was still on his hero costume, I figured he stopped by for lunch and would head back again.

“Oh- not sure if I will I just..” I scratch my neck, avoiding his gaze as I try not to make it too obvious that I’m lying. Guilt is eating me from the inside, but I’m reminding myself that I’m meeting Dabi only because I need answers.

“If you aren’t going anywhere then I figured we can hang out since I’m free,” Keigo says. “You, me, mom.. we can eat dinner somewhere fancy, I know a good place!”

“Oh?” My mouth falls slightly open, and now the guilt is worsening. It’s not often that we all hang out as a family due to Keigo being constantly busy with hero work. It’s getting harder and harder for me to make decisions.

Fuck Keigo, why would you gather us specifically tonight? Is this a sign that I should never meet Dabi?

“I don’t think I can make it..” The words come out of my mouth so suddenly, not even recognising my own voice anymore. “I have an exam tomorrow and I really need to study for that one so-”

What are you even doing? Lying like this. You’re an idiot, a total idiot.

For some reason the thought of Dabi waiting there for me tonight has my heart pumping so hard to the point I can’t even hear my logic anymore.

“Ah shame” Keigo pouts playfully. “But exams are more important, there’ll be other nights to hang out for sure. Seems like it’s gonna be only me and mom tonight then..”

If that ain’t a golden opportunity to sneak out of the house the moment they leave, then I don’t know what is.

Suddenly I feel like the 13 year old girl with strict parents who was not allowed to go out with friends. But this time it’s me, an adult, whose brother warned her, for unknown reasons, to not meet the raven haired guy with sharp teal eyes, who meant nothing but danger. But how can he be so bad when he calls me angel in a way that has me swooning and my mind going blank?

Tonight at 10, when Keigo and mom leave, I will sneak out and secretly meet Dabi. I will be pretty for him just like he asked, I’m not sure what will happen, what we will say or do, but I’m scared and thrilled to find out.

Dabi’s POV

9:30pm. Putting on a hoodie and zipping up my jacket, I head out, barely noticeable by the common folks or heroes walking down the street. For sure I could’ve put on somethin’ better to meet my angel tonight, but I can’t risk getting seen by people. That would be a real pain in the ass.

As I’m heading near her neighbourhood, I stop in my traces.

I should’ve gotten her something, fuck..

Going to a flowershop nearby, I manage to steal a pretty blue rose outside, without the lady inside noticing. It’s nothing much, but once we.. establish things, I will get my angel whatever she wants and more.

Her house is now visible, the area around it dark and quiet as the clock hits 10. The supermarket is nearby, I take my sweet time to see if anyone is around before walking further.

My slow heavy footsteps echo in the empty alleyway behind the supermarket, and not too far away I see the figure of a person in front of me.

So you actually came huh..

I can’t hold back the grin that forms in my face as I look at her, sitting there nervously, checking her phone and looking left and right like some damsel in distress. Coming closer, I notice the short white dress she’s wearing, along with a jacket, her soft golden hair falling down her shoulders. Those pretty legs of hers make me bite my lip, thigh highs sticking nicely on the plush of her thighs that I want so much to sink my teeth in. She turns at me, nervously trying to figure out who I am and backing off a bit.

“Don’t panic, princess” I smirk, removing the hood revealing my dark spiky hair. “Unless you’ve already forgotten how I look like, that would really hurt me~”

“Dabi.. of course I couldn’t forget you” she replies, a smile forming on her lovely face.

“Is it just me or do you get prettier with each day that passes by, angel? Lemme have a look at you, do a lil’ twirl for me..”

She lets out a nervous laugh, rolling her eyes but even in the darkness I can tell she is blushing. My gaze never leaves her body as she does a small twirl, showing her pretty dress.

“Satisfied?”

“Very much” I grin. “Did you get all dolled up for me like this? M’flattered..”

“Ah please, that’s how I dress everyday” she says. “Don’t flatter yourself too much~”

It’s like everything around me vanishes while my eyes lay on her, nothing else matters right now. I grab her hand, pulling her closer towards me. My finger slowly traces her jawline, putting some hair behind her cute ears. Her eyes stare back at mine, it’s the same hypnotised look she gave me that day. It makes her look so.. submissive.

“Forgot to give you this” I whisper, before grabbing the rose and giving it to her. She lets out a small gasp, looking at the rose and smiling softly. Meanwhile I feel like vomiting, being such a gentleman and gifting roses to girls is making me cringe. I am definitely not this type of guy.

But as long as I can make her fall for me..

“Thank you Dabi… this is so pretty! I love blue roses”

“You do? I’ll make sure to leave more blue roses around you then” I pinch her cheek. “Let’s go for a walk now shall we?”

She nods excitedly, her small hand intertwining with mine as she leans on me the entire time. I ask her about her day and college, I let her ramble the whole time as we head towards an empty park nearby. Usually I get annoyed easily when people talk too much, but for some reason I can stand her.

Finding the perfect spot, I go and sit on a bench.

“C’mon.. let’s sit down for a bit”

She comes closer, but stops the moment she notices the other half of the bench was still damp from the rain earlier.

“There’s not enough dry space” she says. “Let’s find another be-”

I pat my thigh with my hand, suggesting for her to sit down. She furrows her eyebrows in confusion, before letting out a nervous laugh.

“No, Dabi. I am not sitting on your lap”

“Why not? It’s way more comfy than a nasty bench” I raise my eyebrow, giving her a seductive look.

“Y-Yeah but- wait!”

Without letting her finish her sentence I grab her hand and pull her down on my lap, her warmth already invading my body as I bring her closer to me. One hand goes around her waist to keep her steady, the other on top of her thighs. It’s like the breath leaves her lungs and all she does is stare in shock. I can’t help but chuckle. Her eyes start looking around, probably hoping nobody would be here to see us like this.

“What? You worried or somethin’?”

“No I just.. I don’t think this is okay” she mumbles nervously.

“You’re thinking too much..” I groan, squeezing her thigh. “Nothing’s bad about this. All the benches here are wet so I’m just doing favor here and giving ya some place to sit on”

We stay there in silence for a few seconds as I enjoy having her so close to me, on my lap. I can feel her ass pressed against my crotch, if she starts squirming or moving I don’t think I will handle myself anymore. Especially when she’s wearing this dress..

Such easy access. But I still wanna tear it off.

“You’re really tense, sweetheart” I caress her thigh gently, whispering in her ear. “Calm down will ya?”

“Y-Yeah sorry,” she gulps “It’s just that you’re really warm for some reason..”

“Mm warm.. that sure I am. Probably cuz’ of my quirk, can’t help it honestly”

She turns at me, her eyes full of curiosity. “Oh? I still don’t know what your quirk is, I forgot to ask earlier..and you already know mine though”

“I sure do” I gently tug on one of her white feathers, making her wings flutter. “Just look..”

The white feather is still on my hand as she focuses on what I’m about to do. My fingerstips light up, blue flames flickering and slowly burning up the feather. Her eyes widen in shock, and before the feather burns up completely I put the fire off. Due to the feathers being sensitive, she squirms on my lap and winces in discomfort.

“Sorry angel” I grin, giving the half burnt feather back to her. “Didn’t meant to hurt ya’”

“So your quirk is fire.. woah, and a blue one nonetheless!”

“More like cremation, but yeah. My blue flames are way hotter than the normal ones, y’gotta be careful around me dolly. Don’t flutter those pretty wings too much around me or I might get all hot n’ bothered.”

Her mouth falls slightly open. “Is this a threat?” she whispers, her eyes glued on me.

“It’s a promise” I get closer to her, our noses almost touching together. My fingertips tap on her thigh, getting slightly warmer but not hot enough to burn her. Just warm enough to let her feel it. Her breath hitches, as I bring her even closer towards me now, her tits pressing against my chest.

“Dabi..”

“Mmm” I hum, my face nuzzling in her neck as I take in her sweet scent.

“I-Is this why Keigo tells me to not approach you? I mean, your quirk.. and uhh.. as far as Keigo’s told me flames are our weakest point” she stutters.

“That makes sense. Those pretty wings would burn up on instant” I reply, my hand slowly going further, right under her dress. She puts hers on top, to prevent me from touching her inner thighs, but I do not stop. “Though this ain’t the reason baby, y’see Keigo also associates with Endeavor, and the old man also has fire quirk”

“O-Oh yeah you’re right, sorry that was a dumb assumption..” she scratches her head.

“But I gotta tell you though, your brother may be right at some point. You should not approach me whatsoever, but here you are in some dark empty park, and on my lap.”

I place both her arms on my shoulders. Poor angel is unsure about all of this but yet lets me go further, not sure if it’s from fear or the hidden desire.

“But why?” she whines impatiently to get an answer. “That’s what I wanna know”

My face is now inches away from hers,I feel my cock throbbing in my pants. My hardened bulge is making her squirm away from me but I hold her firmly, not letting her slide off my lap. Her pretty ass is warming me up just nicely, fuck I think I’m gonna cum in my pants.

“I don’t wanna scare you off, princess. To cut things short, I had to do some bad things y’see, or at least what this society considers bad, but for a greater purpose. I don’t want to bore you with my.. activities and ideologies right now”

“Bad things? I mean.. you can still tell me though,”she insists. “As long as you haven’t done something severe such as like.. killing people or so..”

Hah, about that…

I simply ignore her stubbornness, a sinister glint lingering in my eyes as I nuzzle my face back on her neck. My hot breath makes her skin crawl, as I start placing soft pecks, while my hand continues to caress and squeeze her thighs.

“D-Dabi wait-” she stutters, placing her hands on my chest and trying to push me away. I can see the way her chest moves, the way her breathing gets heavier when I place kisses on her jaw, then gently nibbling her earlobe. She squeezes her thighs together instantly, but my hand manages to spread them again as I continue to explore underneath her dress.

“Mmmh what is it baby..” I whisper, now placing open mouthed kisses on her neck, licking and biting her skin, to the point the softests gasps and whimpers escape her mouth.

“W-Wait- I think we’re rushing things..”

She is right, I might be rushing things, but I can’t fucking resist anymore. I grind my hardened bulge up against her ass slowly, while I grunt in her ear.

I can feel the heat of her clothed cunt. My hand reaches her inner thighs, gently grabbing and squeezing the soft flesh.

“Dabi- please..somebody might see. I don’t think we should do this- and not in public!”

“Fuck them all, princess. Mmnnh I just can’t get enough of you..”

She lets out a yelp as I proceed to leave a hickey on her neck, my very first mark on her.

“I think you like this” I smirk at her flushed face.

“I don’t know..” she mumbles shyly. Poor thing, unsure if this is the right or wrong thing to do.

“Has anyone made you feel like this before?” I say, my lips almost touching hers but I don’t lean in for a kiss yet.

“No.. I don’t think so..” she whispers.

“Good” I click my lips, my hand now harshly gripping her inner thigh, my fingers digging on her skin and my knuckles touching her clothed cunt. She lets out the lewdest whine I’ve ever heard.

“I’ll make ya see the damn stars..”

Bzzzt.

Her phone ringing startles her and I let out a low annoyed grunt.

Fuck baby, you just keep moving too much my cock is aching-

Her eyes widen in panic as she looks at the screen. It’s Hawks.

“Oh my god..” she gasps. “Why is he calling now?”

“Jus’ answer him” I say nonchalantly. This is in fact entertaining for me. “Don’t want him to ruin our moment..”

She takes in a deep breath before answering him. It’s funny how she tries to sound calm, as if she hadn’t snuck out to meet her brother’s villain friend.

“Y/N where are you? I’ve been ringing this doorbell for a while” I hear the hero’s voice through the phone.

“Keigo I’m sorry I- I thought you were out with mom?” she replies. I simply rest my head on her chest, holding myself from touching her tits. How fun would that be..

“Yes I am, but she forgot something home so I decided to fly back and get it. And I forgot the damn keys at the restaurant” he groans. “Just open the door, I can’t enter through the windows either they’re all closed”

“Okay but-”

“Baby you’re sweating” I whisper, grabbing her hand as if to reassure her everything will be alright. Though the excited smile on my face is anything but reassuring.

“Kei I’m- I’m not at home. I just.. had to go to the store for a bit.. I’ll be right back”

First there was silence on the other line. Her panicked eyes stare at me, and I nod in approval that she is doing well.

“Store? At this hour?! ” Hawks says. “Y/N.. it is almost 11, there are no stores nearby open at this hour.. and even if there was, a girl can’t just go out on her own so late. What if something happened to you? You know how many villains I fight daily?”

Tch, now he started scolding and being the protective big brother he is. Gimme a break.

“I know Keigo but I’m fine, really. Since I couldn’t find anything I’m just walking home now okay? I’ll be there in a minute”

I can hear Hawks letting out a sigh, and she quickly slides off my lap.

“Alright, but don’t start wandering aro-”

“Oh come on!” I groan, not caring if I was too loud. I grab her phone and hang up on him, and she looks at me shocked.

“Dabi!! He will kill me!! What if he heard you?!” she starts pacing around, anxiety clear on her face.

“I don’t think he heard me, but even if he did, must’ve been the wind,” I grin but she is clearly in no mood for jokes.

“I have to go- we can meet another time at a more appropriate hour okay?” she says, fixing her dress.

“So you do want to meet another time huh?” I say, grabbing her chin and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “That makes me feel real happy, princess. Now go, before your brother starts looking around for you, we don’t want him to find us together~”

She gives me one last smile before running back home, I still follow after her to make sure she’s arrived safely. Don’t want any villain around to harrass her on her way.

I chuckle, fixing my pants and staring at the bulge, my cock still rock hard as I remember the warmth of her ass on top of me.

Tch. Need to do somethin’ about this quick.

Tags: @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @touyalove @awalkingshame @dabihawksluva @syrenkitsune

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