#this literally seized me by the throat

[aerequets]

something about death, and sustenance, and decay. Idk

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

PART 3

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (IN STOCK!!!)

⋙ product description (summary): choso's finally had enough and if you won't listen to reason he will fuck it into you. but will you still choose him in the end or will he make that choice for you? ⋙ side effects (tw): THE LONG AWAITED BRAT TAMING! rough sex. throat goat!reader. more angst. spanking ass/puss. teasing. edging. lots of delayed pleasure. jealousy. cunnalingus. mirror sex. dom!choso. breeding kink. dirty talk. backshots. fingering. squirting. daddy kink. thigh riding. nuru/thigh fucking. intoxicated reader. drug use (weed). slight voyeurism. yandere choso. baby trapping. mentions of violence (not towards reader). mentions of somnophilia and a lil bit of fluff. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 9.6k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. the long awaited end! i hope you guys like it. i really worked hard on this to make it good <3 special shout outs to my betas @littlemochabunni for literally always talking me off the ledge when i want to ctrl + a+ del everything and @buttercupblu for all the grammar edits my adhd brain struggles with and inspiring me to write the last scene.

Plug!Choso who ultimately will forgive you but it will be on his terms. He just needed to show you first why the only person you should worry about pleasing was him.

Menacing chuckles rumble deep from Choso’s chest, bewildering you in your crossfaded state. Seizing you with a firm hold, he forces you to meet his gaze. Choso holds you so tightly against him that your feet barely touch the ground.

Any attempts of wriggling out of his hold are in vain.

“You’re such a fucking slut.”

His matter-of-fact statement makes you frown. You’re taken aback by the twisted amusement on his face.

“You don’t love me… You love my cock.”

“N-No I—”

Your already short skirt now bunches above your hips and Choso brings a heavy hand down onto your exposed bottom. The sting brings fresh tears to your eyes as the gems on your fishnets leave distinct impressions on your soft, malleable skin.

“You’ll have to learn to be quiet while daddy’s talking, princess.”

If you were going to act like a childish brat, Choso would treat you like one.

Another harsh spank startles you into hiccups as you sniff away fallen tears. 

You’d never been spanked before—not by previous lovers or boyfriends—hell not even your parents growing up. 

The last person you’d expect it from was Choso.

And yet each swift lick Choso deals you is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. 

Who knew you would be such a glutton for punishment? 

You fidget, biting your lip in anticipation of another. 

“Been thinkin’ princess—I’ve been too good to you. But you don’t want that, eh?”

A third smack has you whimpering. Your pelvic muscles clench hard, releasing more of the desperation that had already saturated your thighs.

“You want one of those assholes outside, is that right? They’re good enough for you, huh princess?”

You can only mewl in response from the delightful pain that pierces your senses as he delivers another and another.

“S’why every time I fuckin’ come round y’er being a lil’cocktease for some preppy ass frat fuck.”

Choso wasn’t wrong. 

You knew what those boys wanted from you.

Even though you had never really entertained any of them. That was the allure in itself—to be something unattainable. 

Yet more selfishly, you liked the attention. Not like you’d even got the same thrill from it anymore since you were with Choso—but old habits die hard.

Choso was making damn sure of that now.

“Tryna get one of them to fuck you tonight—”

Choso’s cock twitches in sync with your trembles from every spank.

“—or were you hoping I was finally gonna put that pretty princess pussy of yours in her place?” 

You’re smart enough to know Choso’s question is rhetorical and how could it not be given all your actions tonight? 

It was clear you wanted him and his deliciously fat cock back—badly. 

Your tongue cautiously peeks out as you try to quiet your shuddering breaths, afraid that any small movement might provoke his anger. At this point you know better than to beg too, almost certain that any attempts would only fuel the unexpected mean streak Choso had developed.

Yet despite any initial apprehension you were quickly becoming puddy in his hands.

“Poor baby, working so hard having to appease everyone—” 

SMACK!

“—well you ain’t gotta worry that bratty head of yours no more—seeing as you won’t be doing none of that shit from now on.” 

His threats which should have you cussing him out only make you wetter as your heart pounds in your ears from the thrill of being dominated. You’d do anything right now to get a little relief for your aching cunt that had gone a whole goddamn month without Choso’s thick cock plugging her up. 

Restless in arousal, your entire being just begs to be fucked. 

Releasing your hair Choso parts your legs with his knee and you collapse onto him, your plump pussy colliding with his thigh. You whimper, tightly gripping his broad shoulders for leverage to rock yourself against his thigh. 

Choso could feel the intensity of the moist heat radiating from your core dampening his jeans.

“Shit, I can feel you dripping… pussy drooling just from getting that ass spanked a lil’—are you a masochist, princess?”

Choso breathes the question into your ear, his words bringing a chill over your skin fanning goosebumps all the way down to the nape of your neck.

You’re losing yourself all the more in the hypnotic state of lust swirling from alcohol, weed, pain and arousal clashing within you. 

You nearly choke on the deep guttural moans that had been held in by his hand still around your throat when he grabs your hips forcibly rocking you harder against him. Your paper-thin thong does nothing to protect you  from the rough threadbare material of his jeans grinding against your sensitive lil nub. 

“Wearing these slutty tights with an ass like yours…” 

You almost forget to breathe, the sting this time accompanied by him sliding his fingers between the gaps in the material and grabbing the fat of your ass for emphasis.

“...coulda got me in so much shit tonight if I made ol’boy who was touchin’ up on you swallow teeth.”

The baritone in his voice lowers to a deadly note, tuning every nerve in your body to the exact pitch of his voice.

“P-Please C-Cho I—”

—in an instant the hand on your hip coils around your neck. 

Thumbing your collarbone, Choso slowly applies just enough pressure to activate the euphoric sensation of suffocation, sending tingles down your spine.

“Look at me princess, you better stay quiet—m’not gonna say it again.”

You choke back a cry as the elastic on your fishnets snaps against your tender skin when Choso removes his hand from them.

“But then your lil’card got pulled when you saw me with that whore, hmm?”

You wince preemptively expecting another hard spanking but Choso loosens his grip around your throat. He looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

A sniffly frown complements the pitifulness of your runny makeup as you cling to him possessively. 

“Y-Yeah… I-I hated seeing that d-dumb bitch all over you. Wanted to fuck her up.”

Choso is satisfied with your answer but the warmth behind his smile didn’t match the heated glint in his eyes.

“There it is. See? Bratty princesses who are honest get rewarded—”

Any relief you feel is short lived as your despair returns with the words that follow.

“—eventually.”

Plug!Choso who has you so close to release just from rutting against his brawny thigh. Yet just as you feel the hot coil about to snap in your stomach he pulls away from you. 

Wobbling for stability, your panic that he would leave again subsides when he returns to sit on your bed.

Choso leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees to pack another bowl. The process is second nature to him and his hands move with an instinctual precision, allowing his oppressively dark gaze to remain fixed to you.

“Strip.”

It’s a rather simple command but it causes a small malfunction in your brain nonetheless. 

Your intuition is simultaneously screaming at you to be a ‘good girl’ and listen to Choso so he’d finally fuck you—but also to get the hell away from the menacing man before you were actually fucked.

Choso’s shift in his nature was setting off every internal alarm—although at the same time, you couldn’t say this still didn’t feel like Choso.

Was it really new? 

Or was this side just new to you? 

You’d only ever really known the gentle boyish side of Choso. The side who would blush easily and that was so willing to do anything to please you—the side that was a dutiful and loving brother.

But this other side? 

Well, he was a dealer.

You’d never heard of Choso getting caught out or punked in the streets—not even once. 

You also never knew how he conducted his business, as he always stepped out of the car or left the room. When he took a call while you were with him, all you could hear were faint murmurs of conversation over the rumbling bass of music or through a well-insulated door.

You knew he did his best to keep that side away from you and Yuji, as it wasn’t always pretty. 

Instantly you recalled how once when you had slept over he reluctantly left in the middle of the night late saying he had ‘business’ to take care of. When he came home hours later he looked worn down and even more tired than usual. His knuckles were swollen and there was a rip with small dots of blood on his collar which you would have thought was his own if not for there not being a single scratch on him.

He didn’t speak of what happened and you couldn’t fuss over his appearance for too long—your mind being far from inquisitive while blubbering from his cock drilling your body deep into the mattress. You blissfully became a fleshlight of relief for all his frustrations that night until long after sunrise. 

In fact, Choso had dicked you down so thoroughly when you finally made it out of bed that day it was mid-afternoon. You didn’t even question him about the bruises lingering on his knuckles or whose blood he had on him—still in a daze off his cock.

So this must be how he is in the streets. 

“Go on now, princess.”

The deep silky dominance in his tone commanded your attention, jarring you from your thoughts. You’re pouting, but your body, in spite of your more rational mind, wins as it compels you to obey him, convincing you that anything he has planned for you would be well worth the pleasure that follows. 

Slowly, you begin to lift up your tiny pink top when Choso’s eyes narrow in disapproval, stopping you.

“Nuh-uh see—that shit right there won't cut it.”

You’re puzzled. You did exactly as he asked.

“You didn’t think I saw my lil’ slut playing beer pong and teasing those shitheads with my tiddies? Now do it for me—the same fuckin’ way.”

You’re nodding but your delicate hands are nevertheless shaking under his intense smolder.

Swallowing your anxiety and mimicking your earlier actions, you bent towards him. Your chest is lightly heaving by the time your nails begin to slowly drag the hem of the sparkly top down over your breasts. Choso is blatantly palming his cock when you give the final tug that has your tits bouncing forth from their confines, fully exposed to him.

Choso hums in approval, satisfied with your performance. He motions with a finger for you to come to him and you can’t close the distance fast enough to stand between his legs. 

Molding your hips in his large hands, Choso brings you even closer. Parting his lips the smoke tendrils fan over your stomach while his mouth hovers over your skin. 

Choso looks back up at you and your belly dips, quivering at his dangerously seductive eyes and mischievous grin. 

You were nervous—good.

“Knees.”

Plug!Choso who has you shamelessly panting on your knees before him. Not caring for any decorum at this point you’re openly salivating as hearts practically dance in your eyes over his engorged cock throbbing inside his jeans.

Choso releases a whiny hiss when the air hits his swollen glands. His length sways weighted down as an embarrassing amount of pre drips off his reddened shaft, his boxers already soiled. 

In your right state of mind you might have used this to shift back the power dynamics—yet alas, you are far too gone now. The need for him to give you his praise and approval winning out over any inklings of sass or disobedience. 

Your attention is all but zeroed in on how those milky pearls dribbled over his albert piercing and down the thick vein on the underside of his length.

Seeing how your mouth watered just from the sight of his cock, it’s Choso who proves to be the more impatient one as he grips the back of your head with one hand forcing you closer. In his haste, his dick misses your mouth and skids across your cheek, prompting a low growl of curses from Choso. 

Unconcerned with his impatience, you’re still in your own world—and that world in question was currently being filled with the carnal smell of Choso’s scent marking your skin. A long stain of pre smearing across your face mind shuts down now solely driven by your needy cunt.

“I’ll forgive you when you show me how sorry you are—”

“—anything!” 

Quickly snapping out of your dickmatized daze you look up at him with doe eyes, begging for the go-ahead.

“Yeah? Then do it nasty for me, princess.” 

The words have scarcely left Choso’s lips before you’re already parting your own, releasing a viscous well of drool to pour languidly on his dick.

Your saliva mixing with his spilled essence coats his cock and fills the room with vulgar squelches as you obediently pump his hot length. You rotate your grip with a sinful precision while your other hand thumbs his gooch as you’re cupping his balls, kneading them in a manner that had Choso’s toes curling. 

Giving thanks for the meal you are about to consume, you never break eye contact as you deliver pillowy kisses to his tip and strum your tongue under his frenulum. Choso’s abs twitch feverishly when the sultry hollow of your mouth lewdly hums over his piercing. The sounding effect alone is nearly enough to make him bust right then. 

You aren’t holding up well yourself either as your thighs squeeze together soaking your fishnets which had long been sticky with your overflowing arousal. Manifesting that it soon would be the moist suction of your vacant cunt and not of your spit glossed lips that would take him whole as you continue to moan wantonly around his girth.

The memory alone didn’t do your mouth justice to Choso, not that he still didn’t cum plenty from thinking of your lips slobbering around him in the last month.

Fuck if you didn’t always give some crazy ass head though.

However, he knows he has to keep control lest he loses all the progress he made training that lil’ attitude of yours tonight. 

Weaving his muscular hands through your hair, in one swift motion Choso thrusts his hips forward. He groans loudly from your warm gummy throat now stuffed full with his cock. Gargling his girth you choke when Choso’s piercing scrapes the back of your throat as he forcibly bobs your head up and down.

Thick tears burn your vision with your running mascara flowing right down your full cheeks. But it's nothing compared to the fiery burn in your cunt that’s even more jealous than before of your throat getting the treatment it needs so desperately.

“You’re gonna be my good girl from now on? Yeah baby, I know—I know ya are. Now open that throatpussy a lil wider for me, got sum’ for it.”

Heart fluttering at his filthy praises, you easily let him coerce your face flush to his pubic bone to take him to the very hilt. Your nose is buried in his dark pubic hair and his balls slap your chin at every thrust. The harsh treatment has your tears mingling with his fluids to coat your face and stain his jeans. 

This is how you should be. 

Obedient and pretty while your sobs vibrate around his cock destroying your throat. All you had to do was worry about taking care of him—in turn he would take care of you and the rest.

Shit though, going so long without your bratty little mouth around his dick Choso wasn’t about to last too much longer. 

His blunted nails dig into your scalp as he hunches, curling over your body from the sloppy way he plows even deeper into you. 

“You’re gonna take all of it princess. Every last bit, understood?”

Choso takes your unintelligible gurgles and the hands shoving against his thighs as confirmation. A needy grunt is followed by jets of his creamy load spurting down your esophagus.

Teeming with adrenaline, you gasp for air. Your lungs are on fire from sputtering up his tangy spunk that somehow even trickled into your windpipes. Choso’s fluids dribble down your chin, a show of proof from you having milked his cock so thoroughly. 

But you're not angry with him for the rough treatment—on the contrary. 

Once your coughs subside you’re gazing up at Choso like an innocent lamb and not the nasty throat goat you just proved yourself to be. Praying you have been enough of a good girl for him to finally fuck your lil’ cunt as hard as you needed.

Plug!Choso who rewards you with gentle strokes that smooth your hair back and caress your flushed cheeks stained with his spunk.

Keeping true to his promise of every last bit, Choso thumbs the remaining salty fluids soiling your face back into your mouth, dumping the excess onto your tongue that greedily slurps it down.

Satisfied, Choso straightens and beckons you onto his lap with a pat to his thigh. Smirking at your enthusiasm as you clumsily settle in. 

“Now doesn’t it feel nice…being a good girl for once?”

Choso affectionately twirls your hair in his fingers and you bob your head eagerly. 

Your lips are mere centimeters apart.

You want to kiss him but Choso doesn’t feel like you earned that just yet, balling his fist to tug your locks taunt when you lean in.

“Not yet, baby.”

You stick your lip out, fussing in aroused frustration. 

“Tsk—now, now none of that shit, brats don’t get kisses—and they certainly don’t get this dick.”

If the look in his eyes were any indication you knew Choso meant business. The searing eye contact had long incinerated all the walls you’d built to keep him out, exposing the very essence of you laid bare in the ashes. 

You have no more defenses against him, becoming more obedient to his every word.

Seconds pass that seem like achingly brutal hours until he breaks the staredown. His sights now follow his hands as they splay out trailing from your collarbone to your breasts, letting them weigh heavy in his palms.

His lecherous scrutiny has you shivering.

“You let anyone touch these?”

The question startles you as does the sensation of Choso rolling your stiffened peaks between his knuckles before giving them a cruel tug. 

You sniffle as you shake your head ‘no’, trying not to whine and still unable to speak from him pounding your vocal cords raw. 

Choso grins knowingly as his hands fondle your plush mounds, kneading the supple flesh and pushing them together before the steamy cavern of Choso’s mouth consumes both at once. The bar of his pierced tongue swirled between your hardened buds, lapping, slurping and nibbling. Squirming you arch back deeper into his mouth and grind your soaked lil cunny on his rapidly stiffening length. Your hands cling to his pigtails for any semblance of an anchor keeping you from tumbling backwards. 

Spurred on by your shuddering cries Choso withdraws from your swollen peaks with a pop and licks up the string of spit that cobwebs between them. His tongue flattens licking each one dutifully as he watches as your jaw slacks from pleasure.

You’ve been so deprived of his touch. You could cum from just a bit more of this.

Yet Choso’s lips don’t stop traveling your body, even higher this time to adorn your decolletage with searing hickies. 

Uncaring if they actually showed up to brand your skin or not.

Choso only needs you to feel them bruise beneath your flesh.

That way you wouldn’t so soon forget exactly who you belonged to.

“And what about my bratty lil’ pussy, princess? I know how needy she is. You let one of those frat fuckers inside her?”

His hot heady breaths puff out to curl around your earlobe, leaving the severely neglected spot in between your thighs throbbing at her mention. 

You think you might actually die if he ignores your cunt for much longer. 

Your thong is utterly drenched. More arousal trickles onto his lap as his muscular hands settle back on your hips. 

“N-no!”

Sounding more like a croaked plea, your voice is barely above a whisper from the hoarseness that settled in your throat.

“W-Waited f-for you Cho.” 

“Then show me.”

Plug!Choso who has you even more intoxicated off the thought of him giving you a pussy inspection. 

He has nearly succeeded in domesticating you and your arms wrap around him submissively as you moan unabashedly into his neck. 

Choso muses he should have handled your snobby ass like this sooner and saved himself some trouble. 

Lifting you, Choso rises from the bed. 

You haven’t realized you’ve moved at all until you crash into the edge of your vanity, shaking the table with a thud. Rattled, you look back, giving Choso the leverage he needs to spin you around. Dizzy from the sudden movement, your arms fly out—scattering bottles of makeup and perfume as you grasp at the wooden tabletop. 

The items roll on the floor in tandem with Choso rolling his hips up against you. You release a loud mewl from his hard erection teasingly poking into your ass.

Thinking only with your pussy, your impatient pleas are met with another slap to the ass. The increased weight behind his hand this time leaves your nerve endings sizzling. 

You were gonna be such a sweet girl by the time he was done with you.

However, he wouldn’t torture you for too much longer. 

Despite his cold authoritarian demeanor, the image of shoveling his cock deep into your creamy cunny after so long of only jerking to the memory has him about to lose it. Grasping the front of your hips, Choso jerks you flush against his pelvis. You fall forward until your cheekbone is smooshed into the vanity’s mirror and his thick bulge molding itself in-between your cheeks

“Stay just like that for me, yeah baby? Hands on the mirror, they better not fuckin’ leave either.”

You position your hands obediently and Choso, as if praising you, tenderly gifts lustful kisses down your spine while he pampers your reddening bottom with gentle caresses. 

“Good fuckin’ girl, princess.”

The more feral his nature, the more like his prey you became. Choso licentiously inspects your body—gripping, sniffing, and nipping at your heated skin until he is level with your ass. 

You whimper as Choso rips your fishnets ripping them open, admiring the indents on your skin from the jeweled tights before burying his face between your squishy cheeks. 

His nose salaciously nuzzles against the soaked material stuck to your barely covered hole and he releases a hot guttural sigh, purring into your pussy. 

Always a fiend for dining on your cunt, Choso is brimming with contentment from your juices leaking onto his face. This may have been your punishment but it was also his reward as the taste of your filthy lil plum never failed to drive him wild—often opting to spend most of the night with his face between your hips, he’d still cum plenty times from just thrusting into the air as he let you ride his face.

Licking his lips, Choso’s tongues traces the pattern of your thong and sucks your juices from the saturated fabric. You’re both loudly moaning now—Choso from the saccharine flavor of your cunt and you from the sweet relief of the hot languid strokes of his skillful tongue.

Choso might have lost himself in that moment of finally getting to taste you again. His eyes roll back at how you lewdly leak through your soaked thong.

All for him. 

You were still his even after all this time.

However, it's your own hastiness that reminds him your penance is worth more than his own pleasure when your ass wiggles impatiently lowering onto his face when Choso’s tongue piercing starts drawing lazy circles around your sensitive lil pearl.

“C-Cho, n-need you…puh-lease s’not fair—”

Determined to control every sensation he gives to you and holding you in place, Choso scolds you.

“Fair? Nah, know what’s not fair, princess?”

His lips move closer to ghost over your ass causing goosebumps to rise over the warm tender skin.

“You actin like a bitch for a whole fuckin’ month and keeping all this good pussy away from me.”

You shudder when his teeth sink into your jiggly flesh causing you to yelp and rock against the vanity.

You’d get more pleasure when he wanted you to. 

Choso would screw that lesson into you soon enough. 

“Fuck—the only thing sweet about you is this lil’ pussy. You’re such a brat but she's so honest. Then again—maybe it's your slutty lil’ pussy that’s actually the brat, thinking she runs shit because of how good she is at milking cock, yeah?”

Choso confirms his suspicions upon peeling your soaked thong to the side. Strings of your arousal practically glue the material to your cunt. Not hesitating to make more of a mess of you, he illicitly hawks globes of his spit into your already dripping lil’ hole eagerly winking at him.

“Let’s see what this slutty cunt has to say for herself, hm?”

Choso places a chaste kiss over your entrance before driving two fingers straight in. Your hands leave streaks down the mirror as you perspire, fogging up the glass with your breathy cries.

Speeding up his pace he digs the pads of his fingers into your walls, searching until they run over a spongy hard spot and he has to fight to keep a hand on your lower back to hold you in place.

God you were virgin-tight again. 

Before ignoring you, Choso had only ever gone three days without fucking you and even then you’d been crying from his tip just stretching the entrance of your taut lil pussy. 

In the past, Choso would have taken his time with you. He knew he needed to work you open more so you wouldn’t be sore tomorrow, and yet his cock throbbed to life again so urgently he couldn't restrain himself for much longer.

That’d be something you’d just have to fucking deal with. 

This was all your fault after all. 

Plug!Choso who wouldn’t let you deprive him of his pussy for any longer—however, he was still going to make you beg for it.

“Tell me what you want, princess.”

Choso rips the thong clean off your ass cheeks. 

Leaving you exposed bare in your fishnets he rises up to lean over you. His moist breath trickles electricity down your spine as his bricked length roughly pipes between your cheeks. 

“Nghh…w-want your c-cock…”

“Whose cock—so you know me now, princess?—Choso is that it?” 

Choso mocks your voice with the hurtful words you hurled at him during the garden brunch. Gliding his girth to prod over your entrance and miss its mark intentionally. 

“Pleeaseee—C-Choso-C-Choso-C-Choso.” 

The pleas of his name slur together as your attention solely focuses on how his leaky shaft lathers your already dripping folds in his pre. 

“That’s right princess…now tell me who am I to you?”

Choso reaches around to swat at your swollen clit. 

You cry out as your body slick with sweat jolts up violently. Choso has to throw more of his weight onto you to keep you from slipping off the vanity entirely.

You could have actually fallen to the floor without noticing as the fuzzy feeling in your brain intensifies, too much is happening all at once. Your intoxicated thoughts swirl in its attempt to work out the finer details of your relationship with Choso—details you likely wouldn't have been able to answer even while completely sober.

Who was Choso to you?  

Well, frankly, right now he was technically nothing. You had never previously defined your relationship and hadn’t had any communication at all over the last month until just a few days ago.

Your dealer? Friend? Casual hookup? Situationship? 

By and large, it had been your fault that you’d never discussed it. You actively ran from any complicated conversations or pulled away whenever Choso proposed something that would be too close to affirming your status. 

You also knew how much Choso liked you, especially from how he’d blush when other parents in Yuji’s class would mistake the two of you for a couple. 

You weren’t a couple though—even if you acted like you were behind closed doors. 

Even so, you knew how he made you feel when you were with him and knew what you wanted him to be to you now. 

That was enough.

Goddamnit.

Your body threatens to explode from the vulnerability of your exposed emotions pricking at your every nerve while you work up the courage to say it. 

This admission was somehow even harder than confessing you loved him—which had honestly been relatively easy in comparison as you were so upset you would have done anything at that moment to make him stay. 

Face on fire, you clasp your eyes shut—as if not looking at Choso in the mirror means he somehow can’t hear the words that stumble out of you.

“M-My boyfriend!”

Silent tears fall as you fear his reaction, you’ve never been the one to lay your feelings on the line first.

Had you really missed your chance to be with him?

Would he just fuck you and leave after?

Choso remains silent as his hands glide up your sides, feeling you tremble under his touch. He lifts your torso, pulling you to his chest possessively. Choso’s arms encircle you as they weave between your breasts and he licks a stray tear away. 

Now you have the most lewd, yet perfectly unhindered, view of his hefty mushroom tip as it quickly slots through your puffed folds to ram into your clit.

The wide grin on his features is evident as your face crumples and pleasurable sobs rupture from you. Choso rests the side of his face against your neck as he takes in your smell, giving you a chaste kiss and savoring how much his body is scenting yours.

“Oh? You asking me out, princess? Well, I’m flattered you finally asked, but that's not exactly the answer I was looking for—”

A feverish chill spreads across your skin and you’re shivering as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“—as it’s certainly not what you will be calling me when I’m pushing your kidneys back.”

Choso’s hands lazily roam your body while he continues to sneak his length through your thighs. You unconsciously arch back to rest your nape on his shoulder, allowing him better access to touch you.

So he wasn’t talking about your relationship status after all?! 

Still the devious smile on Choso’s face tells you he intentionally misled you with his phrasing nonetheless. 

“So—who am I?”

The cocky tone in his voice makes it clear exactly what he wants you to call him—and you’d say it—you just need to work up the nerve first.

Unfortunately for you Choso’s patience for your bratty ass had long since depleted.

“Tch, yo we can stop then if—”

You snapped the moment you felt his hands leave you.

“NO, DADDY!” 

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy…s’good. I-I promise puh-leaseee put it in—please—need you, Daddy!”

There was no way in hell Choso would have left without sticking his dick in you but he knew that you were too hard up right now to even dream of calling his bluff.

“That’s right princess. I’m your Daddy. Now show Daddy that arch baby.”

Plug!Choso who smirks into your skin as he tastes you. The sting from a tiny love bite blossoming as he manhandles you back down onto the table’s surface when your already cockdrunk mind doesn’t have you moving fast enough.

“But you’re still actin’ up a lil baby—so you gonna have to put this dick in yourself, got it?”

Choso hums at your dizzy babbles of confirmation, slipping his thumbs over your chubby pussy lips to spread you open. Choso is in awe of how slutty your cunt looked, clenching around nothing but the webs of your own arousal and practically screaming to be busted open wider by his cock.

Catching his tip on your entrance, Choso stalls as he has to chew the inside of his own cheek to resist not thrusting into you completely—you’d do the rest from here. 

Choso was just glad you weren't looking in the mirror to see how hard his abs were trembling. 

Exhaling shaky breaths, you ease back onto him, gingerly sinking down his length. Your kitten nails fitfully scratch at the table just from the stretch of just getting his wide mushroom tip inside. 

SHIIIIT-SHIIIT-SHIIIT—Too much! 

You grit your teeth, he’s so big stretching the walls of your cunt to the degree that your walls actually try to push him out when you flex. However, Choso’s hands are digging into your hips to secure you in place. He’s not helping nor hindering you—but he isn’t letting you run any either.

Your knees knock against the vanity, trembling this much and he's only halfway in. 

“Come on, princess…”

Choso coos gently as he rubs circles into the small of your back with his thumbs, coaxing you to relax. 

The dichotomy between Choso’s treatment erratically switching in severity leaves you reeling. You're on edge with heightened arousal, never sure if his next words or touch would be rough or soothing yet either way it leaves you wanting more of him—anything he’d give, you’d take. 

But right now you need him to have a lil mercy on you. 

Tears brim your wide eyes as you pout and look at him through the mirror, pleading with him.

“Puh-leaseeee Cho—m’daddy…help me?”

Your pitiful submission has Choso cracking. His need to ruin you after so long winning over his want to delay your pleasure along with everything else.

Sighing, Choso relents.

“You know, I spoil you too much, princess…s’why you’re so rotten now.”

No sooner had he finished speaking did he hastily slam into you. Your wet warmth completely sucks him in whole and wraps around him so sinfully he has to dig his blunted nails deeper into your hips to keep from immediately painting your walls white.

God, he really was so incredibly weak for your perfect lil’ pussy.

Grunting, Choso sets an unrelenting tempo as he continues to rail into your cervix, each bruising thrust was him reminding you of every time you ignored him—pretended you didn’t know him—told people you were just friends—and for making him even love someone as mean and bratty as you in the first place.

Grabbing onto the clothing bunched at your waist for leverage, Choso pistoning his hard length in and out of you felt like he was ripping your guts out along with it. 

Gathering together a coherent thought right now was impossible. It’s so good but so intense your body reflexively reaches a hand back, frantically pressing against his abs to slow him.

Choso growls, stilling your hand behind your back while his other springs out to pin your head on the table. 

You were blocking his view of how your ass rippled every time he pounds his cock deeper into your cunt.

He just needed you to be good and take it. 

And take it you did.

Choso fucks you so hard your vanity table creaks and repeatedly slams into your wall causing the entire room to shake. Your mind goes blank as if his cock controls the very flow of blood in your body. Surging tingling sensations electrifying your veins when the curve of his length knocks his albert piercing so aggressively against your cervix. 

Your gooey walls build up so much pressure around his thickness that white spots edge your vision so very close to your nirvana.

“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so my slutty lil’ princess—hold that shit for daddy.”

But there was no way you couldn’t and just as you are at the very edge of your bliss Choso rips it away from you, halting once again to still inside of you.

“Mmmm no please-please-puhleeease let me cum Choso! Please fuck me right Daddy!” 

Plug!Choso, who as much as he wants to edge you past your limits, really pulled out because he also needs to calm down. Choso removes his shirt overhead as the heat in the room has skyrocketed to near sweltering. 

Even unmoving inside you, your pussy still flexes around him like crazy. You weren’t on birth control so he never came inside you, not even once before. Pulling out normally to release over your stomach, ass or tits and wearing a condom on days it wasn't as safe. 

Although he desperately wants to cum inside you, to really mark you as his, could he risk it? 

It would be so stupid and so irresponsible, going far beyond any punishment. 

You still had a year of school left.

He couldn't knock you up. 

Then again you didn't need to go to classes physically—you could take them online. 

Pushing his more debased and wicked thoughts aside, ultimately Choso reigns himself in. He didn’t even want to put you in that position. He’d support you regardless, but he’d admittedly die inside if you decided not to have his child. 

“S-Shit! C-Cho the door!” 

Seeing the sliver of hallway light cast into your dimly lit room, you realize now that you must have forgotten to lock it. This was an old house and your door had the habit of coming open easily from just some minor movement in your room if left unlocked. 

Choso fucking you like he hated you was surely enough to knock it loose.  

Unfortunately for you though, Choso didn’t give a fuck. 

Abruptly snapped out of his perverse breeding fantasies, Choso’s feral eyes, tinged red from his high meet your frantic ones in the mirror.

“No.”

The renewed vigor of his cock plowing through you again strangles any protests, gagging you on them as you feel him back in your throat from the intensity. 

“Nah princess, let them all hear how hard you sob on this loser’s cock while he fucks some manners into you.”

And sob you did. It was difficult to do anything else really as him moving inside you again had your body buzzing more than from your actual high. 

“It doesn’t matter, cause I am about to fuck you so hard even the walls downstairs start shaking—”

Choso’s heavy balls slap against your clit when he kicks his thrusts up a notch and hitches your leg up on the vanity. 

“—n’when they discover us there’s no way they will even want a cockdrunk brat who lets her ‘weirdo burnout stalker’ get her high and fuck her stupid as a president.”

Your mind, clearly ruined by his dick thinks that might not actually be so bad. 

“Shit, you tightened up baby, you actually want someone to find us? See how good I slut you out, yeah?”

Honestly, the harder he thrusted inside you the less you cared—about anything.

School. 

The sorority. 

Your presidency. 

None of it made you feel anywhere near as fulfilled as you were right now with Choso’s thick girth ripping through you. 

The walls quake even more violently. 

The soggy clicking sounds from your soaked cunt almost reach the volume of your crazed screams for him to fuck you even harder. 

Choso was so fucking close again, he was beginning to lose reason.

“F-Fuck it—should I cum in you, princess? I’ll even let you cum too this time.”

Your brain on a mission to cum, fucked so smooth by his fat cock, could care less as long as you got to cum too. 

Oh fuck, just a lil more and you would—

“—PREZ! Did you get the goods or not? We wanna start roll—”

On her phone texting, Brianna—who is pretty fucked up herself—did not even register that the sex noises came from your room. Thinking Choso had left already and sure you were up here salty about her ‘stealing him away’. 

All the color drains from Brianna’s face as she drops her phone as well as her red solo cup filled with spiked seltzer, splashing on her outfit as well as the floor. 

Through the mirror's reflection, she can see the pleasurable agony painted all over your face from getting your cheeks clapped into oblivion by the obvious third leg Choso was packing. Your eyes to the ceiling, heaving out wails as your tongue hangs out of your mouth waging with every thrust Choso carves into your guts. The clicking sound of his cock stirring up your tight lil’ pussy echoes throughout your room. 

“OH MY GAWD! So it was true? You’re actually fucking him??? OHMYGAWDOGMYGAWD they aren’t going to believe this!”

Cockdrunk and stupified you couldn’t give even a piece of a fuck. Honestly, you wouldn't have even noticed her if Choso didn’t stop again. 

No, No, No. You were so sick of being edged! Not after he finally was going to let you cum. 

This can’t be happening right now.

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You needed to cum so bad. 

Your vision is blurry with moisture caught in your lashes as you push yourself up. Grasping onto the edge of the tabletop you used it as leverage to weakly fuck yourself back onto him, doing the work this time if he wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t let Brianna’s ass of all people prevent you from having the orgasm you’ve been fiending over a fucking month for.  

“I jushh w-wanna cum! Pleasssh, wanna-cum-wanna-cum…”

You chant out shamelessly. Your desperate whines stunning both Choso and Brianna. 

Candidly, both thought you'd be horrified enough to stop. 

Choso especially, as even after everything tonight wouldn’t have been shocked if the mortification of actually being caught had you kicking him out.

“Heh.”

Are you actually choosing him for once?

Choso wasn’t going to let the moment pass without finding out—that’s for fuckin’ sure.

The smack he delivers to your cheeks grab your attention as you bellow out more cries. You’re still pathetically trying to get off with your weakened thrusts back. It wasn’t nearly enough to get you off—but better than the burning that threatens to incinerate you whole if you stopped.

“Hey Princess, I’ll let you cum just lemme know something first, yeah?”

You nod your head longingly, dizzy with need.

“Tell this bitch whose dick is this?”

For the first time that night, you answered without missing a beat.

“M-Mine m’daddy, its m-mine!”

You pant breathlessly, still trying to rock yourself back on him but you aren't quite hitting the spot. 

Your eyes lock with Brianna’s through the mirror’s reflection yet you are looking straight through her—your eyes vacant as you could only think of Choso’s cock. 

Your cock.

“Nah don’t look at that bitch, look at me princess.”

Not hesitating, your eyes snap over to him.

“Good fucking girl—and whose pussy is this?” 

“You–YOU CHOSO! Please Daddy—please it's s’good, I need it! Please fuck me Daddy!”

Choso turns to Briana who is frozen in place—her eyes are wider than saucers—as she realizes she’s lost.

Reaching over you he grabs an ounce bag and tosses it near her hitting the floor by her feet. Brianna hesitates though, causing Choso to growl impatiently. 

He’d proved his point, now he wanted this bitch gone.

“Yo Gouda—you a voyeur or somethin’?”

Brianna jumps when Choso addresses her quickly shaking her head ‘no’. 

“Then get the fuck up outta here bitch—MOVE!”

In her haste, Brianna slips on the spilled alcohol as she scrambles to quickly snatch up the weed and her alcohol-soaked phone. The door slams shut as she scurries out the door.

Plug!Choso who has lost all desire to punish you. He only wants to be able to see your face twist in pleasure when he finally lets you have your sweet euphoric release.

In a flash, he’s moving you again. Choso swoops you up and tosses you onto the bed, hurriedly making sure the door is locked this time before kicking off his pants and crawling on top of you. 

“Shhhh princess, you did so good baby, m’gonna let you cum. Gonna have you creaming so hard on this cock, s’your cock baby—you earned it.”

Choso is slurring his words as he peppers your body with blood buzzing kisses to hush your anguished whimpers while he peels the remaining clothes off your body. Not being sheathed inside you is killing him just as much, yet he longs to touch your silky skin unimpeded against his own.

“Been taking me s’gud baby, c’mere…”

The both of you now bare, Choso wastes no time plunging back into your heated core, your heels digging into his back at the intensity. 

Damn—you’re so perfect.  

Allowing himself to let go, his mind shatters as Choso melts into your gooey lil’ cunny. 

His lips are desperate to find yours and Choso is no longer able to withhold himself from sinking into a pussydrunk state. Uncaring for any more displays of dominance, the kiss you share is hurried and sloppy causing your thoughts to splinter. 

Your mind fragments into increasingly smaller pieces of incoherency the more frantic Choso’s kiss becomes. His teeth clash with yours and graze over your swollen lips, unable to control himself as he fitfully bruises your clit from the blunt thrusts of his pelvic bone.

Tears glaze your eyes blinding you from the creamy stickiness at Choso’s hilt that splash between your bodies. The musky fluids flow all over your puffed lil’ pussy to drizzle past his aching balls to puddle on your sheets.

“L-Live with me—with me n’ Yuji—FUHHCKKpussysogood—y-you ain’t gotta be here anymore, princess.”

Choso’s forehead rests against yours and his dick twitches inside of you like crazy from the ridges of his thick engorged cock scraping against every nerve in your cunt.

“Be with us, baby. Be our family. I-I–SHIIIIIT—I love you so-much-so-much.”

All of his bravado strips away and there’s just the soft Choso you knew once again. The one who would do anything for you, the one who made your stomach flip and your heart stop—you didn’t want to go through life anymore without him in yours.

“Y-Yes! I wanna—ah fuhhhh—s’gud l-love you D-Daddy!”

Overwhelmed with emotion for you and knowing he would come soon, Choso reaches a shaky hand between you to roughly smash his palm into your sensitive lil’ bud. The soaked slick from your bodies causes his movements to jerk erratically and your hips involuntarily thrash against him.

Choso screws his eyes shut, your bodies so wet he nearly slips off of you in his single-minded focus to make you cum. He has to be ready to pull out of you as soon as you do or he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from shooting all of his cum in you—yet that’s exactly what your fucked out lil’ pussy wants. 

“C-Cum—cum in me Daddy…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as you almost fade out of consciousness from the sublime shockwaves that erupt over your body as you are nearly at the peak of your climax.

Choso’s hips falter, almost in a more fucked out condition than you. He nearly dumped his entire load into you then but his last sliver of sanity held out.

“SHIIIIIT—P-Princess—Do ya even know what y’er s-saying to me right now?” 

Time slows, your hand cups his face staring with conviction as best you could into his dark aubergine eyes as your other weakly directs the palm pressing on your clit to rest on your belly.  

“Cum in me Choso—I-I wouldn’t mind having a baby if it's yours.” 

Oh fuck… 

And with that your knees were by your ears and your ankles dangle off his shoulders. 

Sure, you were intoxicated on many substances—his dick included and as much as you may have just been talking shit at this moment Choso doesn’t care anymore.

You’d told him you’d have his baby and it’s all his pussydrunk mind can process.

Like a puppy Choso whimpers his groans keen sharply out of him as his tongue dangles to drip slobber down your neck. He’s reverting back to the sloppy whiny mess you know him to be when hes fucked himself out from treating your drooling hole like a well-loved pocket pussy.

“MHMMM FUCK!”

The knot inside you twists impossibly tighter, straining your nerves until it finally snaps sending shockwaves through you. You lose yourself in nonsensical cries as your worn battered body convulses uncontrollably, creaming around his cock. 

If your brain hadn’t shut down at this very moment—only filled with the white noise of your searing orgasm—you might be worried Choso just broke your bed. The creaking fills the room as the sound of metal bending is apparent although neither of you are concerned.

“—s’gonna be OK, mmm-FUCK—m’gonna take care of you, love you—we’ll be a real family then, you, me, yuji—n’our baby!”

You don’t even hear him as you’re on autopilot now. The red streaks your kitten nails scratch across his muscular shoulders urge him on like the squelching sounds of your squirt gushing out of you and wet smacks of his balls colliding with your ass.

Overstimulating your senses, Choso sweeps you up into another all consuming kiss. The mind-numbing aftershocks of your blissful tremors leaves your tongue limp as his mouth hungrily devours yours. When Choso finally releases, his hot seed pumps into your tummy as his body writhes on top of yours. 

The mind numbing aftershock of your euphoric release continues as Choso proceed to fuck more and more of his thick ropes of his cum into you. He doesn’t show signs of slowing down but your body on the other hand fades, giving into the comforting gratification of sleep after having your guts rearranged. 

“O-one more time, p-princess—pleaseeee.”

Your thankful at that moment you’ve previously told Choso you didn’t mind somnophilia and gave him the free use pass to fuck you while you slept. You rarely actually could even stay asleep with how hard he would end up railing you but there was a first time for everything with your cunt finally content and full after so long your exhaustion drags you into a deep slumber. 

Plug!Choso who tightly cuddles you to him as you both sleep. The two of you twisted up like a pretzel in a mess of limbs with you practically smashed between Choso and the wall. 

Your XL twin bed clearly wasn't meant to comfortably fit two people like this. 

You’re still mostly asleep though, softly groaning as the cheery morning sun pierces through your thin curtains. You move to throw a pillow over your face only to discover you cannot budge. 

However, you can't say you weren’t used to waking up like this. Choso was always a hardcore cuddler. You missed the mornings you’d wake overheated and skin to skin. Your legs would find themselves intertwined just like this. 

Somehow, Choso would always find a way to fuse the both of your bodies together where every part of him was touching some piece of you.

Typical…

The sleepy thought drifts through your brain, sensing it's still far too early for you to wake up. Wanting to drift back to sleep you burrow your face deeper into his chest, stiffening when your mind does the very opposite and wakes up enough to recall the events of the previous night.

Sobering quickly in the daylight, a sinking feeling begins to suffocate your heart. The now familiar guilt you’ve accumulated over the past month amplifies the hangover etching itself behind your eyes. 

You can’t help but panic as the memories from the night before come rushing back. 

There was still so much uncertainty. 

Having been utterly humbled for the first time in your life you can’t stop the self doubt that questions if he’d even meant everything he said last night—you were both lit as hell. 

You’d meant it though.

Your heart seizes at the thought that this might be the last time you’d wake up in his arms. Before you know it you are crying again trembling as you try not to wake Choso up with your silent tears.

You are quiet enough but Choso is also a light sleeper and stirs awake at the small fit you’re having.

“H-Hey, morning princess *yawns*—wait, what's wrong?”

His tired eyes are full of loving concern as Choso cups your face wiping away your tears before bringing you into his chest, tightening his hand on your head.

“Shit, was I too rough on you last night princess? Fuck, I know how much all this shit means to you I—”

You interrupt Choso, you can’t let him beat himself up over you any longer.

“N-No, Cho—”

Sniffling, you break away from his hold just enough to maneuver yourself to meet his tired eyes. 

You mentally kick yourself—you hated being such a crybaby now but you couldn't help it. You were left feeling so vulnerable after being stripped of all pretenses the night before—it all just started pouring out of you— 

“—d-did you mean it? W-What you said? Cause I—I meant what I said. I-I wanna be with you and Yuji. C-Cook breakfast and f-fall asleep watching movies and go to all his games with you—I’ll never miss another game and—and—”

“Bet.”

Wait…huh?

Even after last night you half-still expect him to be upset with you, you’d still expected you’d have to beg. 

You’re left speechless.

“Bet. Let’s pack up your shit then, princess.”

Choso’s bright grin is near blinding to your weary gaze. 

“I meant everything I said, I could never lie to you.”

Giving you a tender kiss on your forehead, he forces you to look him in the eyes. Choso takes in all your looks of uncertainty before melting them away, softly cooing affirmations with his lips fluttering over yours. You’re so needy for his touch as you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him even closer.

Not being able to resist your body’s calls for him, you soon find yourself underneath Choso who rubs his morning wood against your core still soaked with his essence from the night before.

Choso smirks down at you, the cockiness back in his voice.

“What I say before? You’re my family—Fuck those bitches and fuck your parents—I got you.”

Plug!Choso, who doesn’t know what time it is but knows he has to go pick up Yuji from his friends soon. He also doesn’t know if he should expect your nosy ass sorority sisters to barge in again. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sinking into your sopping heat once more, never taking his lips off of you. 

Unlike the fervor of last night, his strokes are slow. The anger and intensity are gone, but the passion still remains simmering under your skin. Choso is savoring every bit of you as he devours your mewls, drinking them down along with any lingering unsureties. 

But, fuck—he doesn't feel like he’ll be able to keep himself from cumming inside you from now on. Not when you’d be living with him and Yuji, acting all domestic like. 

Images of a would-be future with you swirl in his mind—you pregnant, giggling at Yuji when he jumps in surprise from feeling the baby kick—your belly growing so large you had to cradle a hand underneath when you adorably waddled from room-to-room—the day of delivery when you both finally get to meet the child you cr—

—MUTHRFUUUUH!

Choso’s eyes roll towards the ceiling as he whines loudly, his whole body is shivering along with his premature release. Buckets of his viscous seed slosh in your womb with every sloppy stutter of his hips, pushing the mass overflow of his cum out of your swollen hole and down the crack of your ass.

Fucking you through his overstimulation, your cries only fuel his intent to impregnate you. The want for the sensual intimacy that slow fucking brings after a reconciliation being overtaken by the intense primal urge to put a baby in your belly.

There was no need for any additional vocalizations of affection when Choso is so adamantly reciprocating your feelings, his creamy cum filling you with promises of his devotion which he fucks even deeper into your womb. 

You aren’t able to recall the last time you felt this satisfied. Working so hard to meet everyone else’s standards was exhausting and you didn’t regret your choice.

You had no plans now other than being with Choso. 

And contrary to the dread of what you had previously thought deviating off course would be like—it frees you. You love and trust Choso enough to let go of all of it and just let life take you where it would.

You’d be content as long as you have him and Yuji. 

Choso knows this yet even so, he is still on a mission to add a fourth to your new little family sooner rather than later. 

He knew you were speaking of the future when you said you’d have his kid the night before but—why delay the inevitable? 

Choso needed to fill you up at least 2 more times before he’d let you leave this bed—no matter how many of your sorority sisters would walk in—they could watch for all he cares.

Yeah at this rate you’d definitely be pregnant by the start of school next year.

Shit, he’d have to go buy a ring soon.

⋙ how was that? holy hell i think this is the longest fic i've written lol. i wanted to take my time with this because although brat taming isn't hard i still wanted to capture the essence of choso. he can be mean enough to do it he's definitely going to internally struggle a bit and be our whiny feral lil baby gworl at the end lol.

taglist will be in a reblog in the morning. needed to get this out and then go to bed. i might also edit it a bit as well. as some of it wasn't proofed.

reblogs and comments so appreciated, i wanna know what u think, send me asks too!

[angelfic]

JASON TODD is constantly in pain.

ever since he came back from the pit, he’s felt like a stranger in his own skin, metaphorically and literally. in a body he was suddenly forced to awake in, the ache in his bones is always there, simmering beneath the surface and pressing into his muscles with every movement.

he never talks about it, but you can see it in the way he rolls his shoulders too often, like he’s trying to work out a knot that won’t go away. you see it in the way his jaw clenches when he’s been sitting for too long in the same position, or how he winces whenever he moves a little too quickly.

at first, you thought it’s was just his mannerisms to be all surly and intense all the time. it isn’t until you catch a flash of pain flickering across his face in the middle of a conversation in which he’s happily talking to you.

after that, it’s all you notice and the only thing you want to do is relieve him of his pain.

tonight is no different, when jason comes home late from patrol and his muscles are stiff and practically seizing. blood stains his knuckles from a particularly nasty run-in with gotham’s lowlifes, but jason doesn’t bother removing his gloves or his boots as he collapses onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

you’re there, as always, waiting for him. you crouch down beside him, reaching out to stroke his hair and he nearly forgets he’s in pain for a split second. the minute he shifts to look at you however, his neck feels like someone’s taken a crowbar to him all over again and he can’t stop his face from twisting into a grimace.

“rough night?” you murmur, chin resting on your arms against the edge of the couch. your voice, soft and warm, cuts through the fog of exhaustion clouding over him.

jason hums in answer, too tired to pretend with you. you hesitate for a moment before standing up and holding out a hand for him to take.

“come on,” you say, tone allowing no room for argument. jason knows better than to protest and he’s already achy, so what’s a couple more steps?

you lead him to the bedroom and he kicks off his boots before entering. you sit him down on the edge of the bed and silently begin to peel off his suit until he’s in nothing but his boxers, as still as a statue depicting a greek god in all his glory. jason knows you better than to assume you’re trying to initiate anything sexual, your expression full of love and care, mixed with almost clinical intentions.

“will you lay on your stomach for me, jay?” you ask, softly. jason would hang the stars in the sky for you if you asked him, but he settles for nodding and climbing onto the bed obediently to lay where you want him.

he feels the bed dipping under your weight as you climb over him to straddle the back of his thighs and he opens his mouth to ask what you’re actually doing. but then your hands are on him and your thumbs are pressing into knots he didn’t even know he had and the question dies on his lips.

jason makes a little sound in his throat as your fingers work on his shoulders, kneading the taught muscles along his spine and neck and drawing out a deep groan from his lips.

despite the years of discomfort, jason begins to melt under your hands embarrassingly fast, huffing out a breath somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

“fuck,” jason mutters, his voice coming out in a low, gravelly rumble and anyone would think you were doing sinful things to him with the noises coming out of him.

“feel good?” you ask, quietly and jason can hear the smile in your voice as your hands continue to relentlessly chase the aching out of his bones.

“yeah,” he practically whimpers, shuddering out a breath as you work on his lower back, one hand continuing to twist as the other reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes. he didn’t even notice it since he let them flutter shut the second you touched him.

jason feels himself sinking into the mattress, unravelling from within and when he shifts from his position slightly, it isn’t nearly as painful as it was before.

“your hands are fucking magical, angel,” jason breathes out, voice muffled from where his face is pressed into his arms.

you let out a laugh and that, combined with the way the soft pads of your thumbs run against the hard, scarred skin of his back, makes him think he’s died all over again. yet this time, he’s made it to heaven. “nah,” you whisper, leaning down to press a kiss against his spine. “just love you, is all.”

a/n; sorry idk what came over me writing this. the idea came to me in the form of my own aching muscles. i’m not a vigilante i’m just a brown girl deficient in every vitamin under the sun

[takes1]

Hiii, I love all ur fics sm! Ur literally so talented omgg

I wanted to request a fic where Oikawa and short/academically inclined reader are friends with benefits. I think it would be fun to see them get jealous and tiptoe around their feelings for each other since they don’t wanna ruin what they have. Can it also be nsfw and could u add some angst pls? Thank youu!

f*cking jealous!oikawa in secret

hi! thank you so much!! hope this interpretation is alright!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / short!reader / jealous!oikawa / popular x loser trope / jock x nerd trope / tutor!reader / subby-switch!oikawa / switch!reader / oikawa with a nerd fetish / needy!oikawa towards the end / kind of hate fucking? / oikawa being mean / riding / implied oral / fluff, angst, and smut / reader with glasses / 1.8k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines

"You're sooo lucky to tutor him, (Y/n),"

Your hopeless friend sighed, scrolling through Oikawa's Instagram for the upteenth time.

"I'd give anything to spend that much time alone with him."

It was a little creepy, but you loved her. Other girls fawning over your secret fuck-buddy was something you had to -begrudgingly- get used to. It pained you more when it was somebody so close, but nothing was worth coming clean about it.

The last thing you needed during senior year was a target on your back.

"Oh, he's such a prick!" You wave her off and grab your drink from the café counter with a smaller, pleasant, 'Thank you.'

The table was more of a C-curved booth that your group had to shimmy into. The shape made it hard to get in and out of, rather serving as an ultra-cozy prison to focus on your studies, your caffeine, and your snacks.

As a way of not letting you off the hook so easily- your friends cracked open their notes, laptops, textbooks, while entertaining the 'absurd' idea that any of you could actually date Johsai's least eligible bachelor.

A bunch of star-students with decorated academic achievements was the only impressive thing about the patrons at your favorite, quiet, coffee house. With- maybe-- the exception of money in eyeglass prescriptions, or luxurious stationery that decorated the table.

Your voice stood as the most displeased, the most troubled, of the discussion. You flipped through the chapters, halfway forgetting what page you needed to be on, because you got caught up in his shortcomings.

"He doesn't listen- he takes my hours away from people who might actually need it- he's, obviously, got the biggest ego I've ever seen--, Oh- hold up."

It was a struggle to flip to your page and rummage around your pocket for your buzzing phone.

"Well, I'm glad somebody's got some common sense-," Was the only guy in your group, disgruntled at all the Oikawa-talk.

Oikawa's name flashed across your screen. Your body seized and you hugged it to your chest.

"Woah!"

"You good?"

"I'm just--gonna take this outside," You cleared your throat and sank all the way to the floor, crawling over shoes and bags from under the table to get far away from your friends.

It was on the second-to-last ring by the time you hurried outside. You hated him for many things, but the wind picked up, spraying a chilly mist all over your clothes, and you couldn't help but associate him with the feeling. Your hoodie was still inside, forgotten in your haste.

"What? I'm busy right now." You spat, shivering already.

"Don't fog your glasses up, princess."

His easy, light tone particularly bothered you. You groaned.

"Get to the point, pretty boy, I'm busy--,"

"I know. I just called to say you should stop talking about me. Reads as a bit... obsessive, don't you think?"

The breath you took to poke a hole in his 'obsessive' argument gave way to nothing- except a silent realization.

"You're- where are you?"

You squinted at the dark window, but it was one-way.

Oikawa watched you turn to the parking lot, smirking, from inside the cafe.

He sighed, a real airy, fake one; the one he knew you loved to hear from him in bed.

His voice was lower, closer to the receiver. "I thought you said you were busy?"

The audacity to call you obsessive, mixing with the adrenaline his sudden proximity shot into your system. You pressed 'end call.'

When you re-entered the cafe, you spotted him immediately. He was walking back to his booth, one away from yours, from the restrooms. Though you both saw each other, there was hardly an indication that you knew one another at all, thanks to so much practice.

It was, still, hard to watch him slide into a seat right next to some other girl.

So, he heard you talking shit about him while on a date, then left her to go call you? You rejoined your booth, and spared a mean glance over at him, like the absolute garbage he was. He returned it with lesser intensity.

-

You'd think, with his cock in your hand, he wouldn't bring up the events of that morning. It put him in a less-than ideal position.

"Y'knoww,"

He hadn't said anything yet, but your eyes were rolling. Used to the attitude, and equipped with a firm point to make, he continued:

"You should ditch- ahh, that little loser in your little friend group."

A little roll of your hips had him wincing- spreading the slickness all across his dick, from all the work he had put in, already.

You cocked your head at him, "Oh, yeah?"

Oikawa's eyes rolled back into his skull, a groan at how hot you looked, grinding on him. You were his perfect, nerdy little secret. He specifically wanted you to keep your glasses on today. It was a thing. You didn't understand it in its entirety, but it likely had a connection to the reason why he opted for a lowkey arrangement.

"And you should ditch that shallow whore--,"

"Oh my god!" He gasped, surprised to hear such a thing uttered from your mouth, "Fuuuck you're so jealous-!"

"Me?"

It was completely unfair and utter bullshit that he acted like his jealousy was nonexistent. To him, only you could get out of your pay grade. He pretended to forget that the only reason you were fucking multiple times a week was because he 'needed' you so bad. You felt a little exploited.

"That's so hot-aughhh!"

His big, strong hands were forcing your cunt against his slippery, thick cock, since you wouldn't move quite right.

"M-mmh-! Tha-t's-," You struggled, voice breaking, hands against his muscular chest, "Not- mh, fair."

Your textbooks, his assignment due in 40 minutes, were neglected on the floor across his bedroom. Your tutoring was basically roleplay. It turned him on as soon as you got to talking about the relevant class material, telling him that the work he had already done was wrong.

It turned you on too, to an extent. You liked that you got him stiff without trying, without touching. You loved when he pretended like he wasn't, but bounced his leg right next to yours, cleared his throat before every response, got caught staring like some depraved creature.

You were exactly his type. He was the hottest guy you'd ever met. Something had to give.

"I- ah, don't wanna--," He fucked you hard, like you had a ring on your finger, "See you talk to that loser again."

He couldn't stand the threat of being second place. A guy with such a precious ego needed to feel like you wouldn't leave him. While your social structure may have harbored the suggestion that this would be the case, it wasn't an accurate representation of your feelings.

The whimper lacing his voice grew as you placed a firm hand around his throat.

"Don't- date- other girls." You threatened through gritted teeth and bitten-back moan.

It was just your luck that the most ridiculous peacock of a man would have such a great dick, give you such great head, that you couldn't live and let this fucked-up situationship die. The timer of the semester ticked away, standing as an informal end to it, so neither of you had the gall to cut things off before you needed to.

He whined under your touch, bottoming out hard, keeping himself as deep as he could get.

The lonely bastard draped his arms around you and pulled you close.

"Mmh- you know I gotta- h-ah, keep up appearances for us, princess," His quiet mutter, spilled across your shoulder, forced a shiver down your spine.

His sheets smelled just like him.

You loosened your grip and decided to play with his soft, lush locks, taking in his scent, his touch- that feeling. Like you were his, but not in some twisted, shameful way.

You wanted one of his shirts but it wasn't that simple.

For the moment, you chased the dream, while he was still gentle and peppering you in kisses.

Maybe in some perfect world, he would let go of his status, be a little less weird about your intelligence, and you could have a boyfriend instead of a glorified dildo.

He sounded close, so you fucked him back, hand back on his throat; you wondered how many girls would be disappointed to know that Oikawa Tohru didn't last very long in bed.

"You wanna cum, pretty boy?"

A wince at your rough, loaded kiss. His grip was iron, his strength speaking enough for how mute you got him.

It was so quiet, so pitiful: "Pl-ease,"

God, he looked so cute all fucked-out. He only looked at you like that. Like he never wanted you to leave, like he couldn't breathe without you around him, like you weren't just friends with benefits.

Too bad you were just some freaky nerd-fetish.

He pulled out and you sat, buzzed, on his drained cock, more than satisfied with the sight of cum all over his stomach.

When you pushed up your fallen glasses, his cock twitched accordingly and reminded you of the only reason you existed to him at all.

Kissing, cleaning up, cuddling, all of the winding down was still commonplace between you. He wanted attention, you wanted time to chill before you had to go home. He even made it difficult to get dressed and out the door.

Today, he kept his arms around your waist when you attempted to get up, after 20 minutes of cuddling.

"Pleaaase stay," He whined, unable to hold you as firm as he wanted for fear he would hurt you.

You smiled.

"I need to study more tonight."

"Study here!" He pouted.

Right. Then this would happen all over again- because as soon as he would see a pencil between your teeth, he'd try to replace it with his cock.

"Really study," You pried his fingers off and got dressed.

He watched for a time, but needed to assert himself more in order to feel like he wasn't useless, or forgettable. He joined to get dressed, too, and kept a close eye on your seemingly unbothered expression.

"I'm sorry for cursing at you."

It was so unimportant that you had no idea what he was talking about.

"It's okay," Rolled off your tongue, fast.

Oikawa got twitchy. His sly attempts at dragging out your departure slipped through his fingers like sand.

"Let me help you with that," His unprompted kiss to your forehead, along with his gentle gathering of your things, left you a bit dazed.

You fixed your hair- hesitant to look at him.

"Thank you."

He insisted, like usual, to walk you home. You sighed and posed the same argument, the way you had for the past month. People would notice if you were together in any capacity. Rumors would start.

When he was done packing your books up, he was touchier, and hung over you like a cat rubbing itself all over your ankles as you walked to the door.

You rationalized that it had to be your glasses. It gave him some sort of kick. He barely let you out of his bedroom, let alone his house.

You forgot to ask for a shirt, but... maybe next time?

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines.

[fangdokja]

How to Turn ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ Into a Very Literal Situation.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Word Count. 1,262

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, suggestive themes, fear play, hints at rough play and sex, forced relationship, BDSM

♡ Yandere! Love Interests who have officially driven you past your limit. Who have ignored every rational warning, every insult, every attempt at reason. Who have pushed you, the most romance-averse, horror-obsessed, emotionally-detached woman alive, into an ultimatum.

♡ Yandere! Love Interests who thought they'd won when you finally turned your attention to them. Who were ready to celebrate, maybe even reward your "acceptance" with something sickly sweet—chains, marriage contracts, a night in their bed. Only to realize that the only thing you've accepted... is that they need to die.

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who wakes up to find his wine poisoned—a neurotoxin meant to paralyze his lungs while keeping his mind perfectly aware. The slow suffocation, the dawning horror, the perfect revenge you planned so meticulously. And yet—

“Mm, bold of you.” His voice is unshaken, amusement dripping from every syllable as he sits up effortlessly. He lifts the goblet, swirling the poisoned liquid with appreciation. “You really thought I’d fall for this?” He leans close, fingers gripping your jaw. “How adorable.”

Before you can recoil, he crushes his lips to yours. A searing, bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth—

And then he exhales.

Your lungs seize. Your limbs go weak. The world spins as the very poison you crafted seeps into you from his breath alone. He pulls away, watching with satisfaction as you collapse, muscles useless, body unresponsive.

“Poison immunity is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” he muses, stripping off his gloves. “Now, my dear, let’s make the most of your current state.” He shoves your body onto the bed, languidly unbuckling his belt. “You wanted me helpless. Instead, you’ll be the one at my mercy.” He drags your legs apart, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Don’t worry, you’ll feel everything.” His breath fans over your ear, a cruel chuckle following. “You just won’t be able to move.”

———

♡ Yandere! Archduke who wakes up in the middle of the night to the sensation of something cold pressing against his throat. A wire—thin, near-invisible, designed to slice through arteries with just the right amount of tension. You’re behind him, grip steady, eyes glinting with exhaustion and hatred.

He smirks. “Creative. Most would simply try a dagger.” His voice is too steady. Too calm. And that’s when you notice the way his muscles flex, a second too late to react as he twists in place, wrapping the garrote around his own wrist to yank you forward.

He pins you against the bed, hands pressing you down by your wrists. He’s laughing. Actually laughing. “You must really want my attention. Trying to murder me in my sleep? That’s intimacy, my dear.” His fingers brush your pulse, lingering.

“Tell me, did you enjoy the thought of killing me? Did it make you feel powerful?” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. “I think it’s adorable.”

“How thrilling,” he purrs, tightening the wire around his own neck for show. “Did you enjoy the thought of watching me choke? How precious.”

“Let me return the favor.” His hands encircle your throat, squeezing—just enough to send panic flooding your veins.

“Feel that?” His lips trail over your jaw, his thumbs pressing, teasing the line between breath and suffocation. “Now imagine if I were inside you while doing this.” He grins as you tremble. “Actually, why imagine? Let’s make it reality.”

———

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who wakes up buried alive. A perfect plan—you drugged him, dragged his body to the outskirts of the city, buried him six feet under, and reinforced the soil with spells to block his magic. A masterpiece of calculated death.

Which is why, when he knocks on your window that evening, dirt still clinging to his robes, you want to scream.

"You are fascinating," he muses, stepping into your room as if he owns it. "Not even my enemies have gone to such lengths. Did you calculate the oxygen levels? Did you wait for my heartbeat to slow?"

Your hand twitches.

He catches it before you can throw another spell. His grip is loose, barely restraining you.

“Violent little thing,” he murmurs. His voice is low, smooth, like silk drenched in something lethal. “You should know better than anyone—magic is far more effective when cast with intent.”

His other hand raises. Magic surges through the air, thick with power. Your body locks up. Heat pools in your gut, the aftershock of an aphrodisiac spell pressing against your nerves.

Your glare sharpens to something lethal. “Undo it.”

His gaze darkens, and a small, knowing smile plays on his lips.

“Make me.”

Before you can run, your body locks up—his magic binding you in invisible shackles. He steps behind you, fingers tilting your chin up. “Burying me alive was such an intimate thing to do,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “It’s only fair I return the favor.”

The world shifts. Darkness presses in. You realize, too late, he’s woven a new spell—one where you are trapped, suffocating in soil that isn’t there, feeling the weight of it press against your chest.

“You’ll only be freed when I’m satisfied,” he muses, hands slipping beneath your clothes. “And I do hope you struggle. I’d love to see how deep your desperation runs.”

———

♡ Yandere! Demon King who doesn’t flinch when you drive a dagger straight through his chest. You used everything—enchanted silver, a sacred blade, the heart-piercing technique you read in a forbidden grimoire. It should have worked.

He smiles. "Pet. You wound me."

"That was the point."

His fingers wrap around the hilt, yanking it free without hesitation.

The wound heals instantly.

Blood drips from the blade as he turns it toward you.

“You’re trembling.” His voice is mockingly gentle. “Was this your best attempt?”

You don’t move. He watches you, fascinated, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight.

Then, slowly, he reaches for you.

You step back. He doesn’t let you. His fingers curl around your wrist, his touch unyielding.

“You’d make a lovely queen,” he whispers. “Such a shame you refuse to kneel.”

He steps closer, his sheer presence making the air thin, his eyes gleaming with something ancient, something terrifyingly patient.

“Let me show you what demons do to naughty little mortals who try to kill them.”

The blade clatters to the ground as he yanks you into his grasp, tearing fabric, exposing flesh. “You wanted me dead?” His voice is a purr against your throat. “Then scream like you’re dying.”

And then he devours you whole.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

[miirohs]

world burning [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: someone is literally shot, charles kisses reader a bit forcefully an: to the anon who said they'd sell me their soul my cashapp is @bestfanficwriterever (jk jk, i hope that anon sees this tho). Real reminder to you all, again, that non of this stuff is to be encouraged irl and this is all meant as a fictional scenario!

“Charlie?”

You could hear him softly cursing in French on the other line, whispering as the bed creaked in the background. It was obvious he had just woken up, and you felt terrible for waking him as well, knowing the day he probably had.

“Qu'est-ce qu'il y a, tu ferais mieux d'avoir une bonne raison de me réveiller (what's the matter, you'd better have a good reason for waking me up)-”

“Charles, I've been arrested, I need someone to come get me.” 

The muttering stopped, grogginess disappearing from his voice almost instantly. “Y/n? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé bon sang chéri (y/n? what the hell happened darling)?”

“Charles, not now please,” You chastised softly, looking to the door as the guards quietly conversed among themselves outside the room, “I have no idea why this is happening and what they’re gonna do to me.” “How did you even manage to get arrested… Nevermind that, I just hope you haven’t answered anything they've asked of you.” He groaned, heavy thumping over the phone as you looked nervously at the door for any indication they’d been listening to your conversation.

“I’m not that dull,” You said quietly, looking down at your lap, “and it couldn't have been anything i did, all they did was seize the car from me in the lot and bring me here.”

He paused for a moment, silent over the line. You pressed the phone against your ear, straining for any sounds on the other side of the line.

“Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you fumbled, tripping over your words in a hurry to get them out.

“Char, what are you planning on doing?”

He laughed humorlessly over the phone, the sound of keys jingling and door slamming making you jump back from the phone as if it’d grown a head.

“Exactly what I said I'm going to do, come and pick you up.”

You swallowed the thick ball that’d formed in your throat.

“You know what- never mind, send someone else in your place, maybe Carlos?” You bargained, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Pas de souci, mon amour. Je ne fais que commencer (no worries, my love. I'm just getting started). They should’ve learned not to fuck with the wrong person. I’ll be there in another 20 minutes, you won’t need to call anyone else.”

You shivered as the line went dead, looking at the now opened door, all the cops watching you with a suspicious look.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

All you could do was shake your head.

Not even a grand total of 15 minutes later, a shouting match erupted, followed by loud bangs.

There was a single person you could think of who was capable of this level of chaos, and you could have swore you’d heard him threatening the cops right now.

“Where is she?”

“Sir-”

“Don’t sir me, where the hell is she? Don’t tell me I have to blow another head off just for you to tell me.”

Everything seemed to fall silent for a couple moments, only a few voices daring to make a sound.

“Char?” You called out, a couple beats of silence weighing you down.

The sound of footsteps only got louder, stopping in front of the room you were in.

Keys jangled, the door slamming open as Charles walked in, a couple of police tailing him timidly to the outside of the door.

There were dark stains on his otherwise clean shirt, an indication of what happened visible in the peeved look on his face. Your eyes slowly trailed to his hand, a gun held tightly in his grip, smoking oh so slightly.

Noticing how your attention had drifted to the weapon, he put it down on the other side of the table as he approached you, shrugging off his jacket as he approached you.

“Tu vas bien maintenant (you're all right now),” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair as he pulled you to him, “Come on, we’re going home.” 

You clutched his arm as he stood you up, eyes glued to the floor as you walked next to him.

You could hear their disappointed exhales, tinged with a bit of surprise as Charles kept a firm grip on your back, guiding you through the long hall to the main office.

As you continued to walk, he gently stopped you, turning around in the middle of the room as someone called for him.

“Fucks sake,” He sighed, turning around.

“Sir, i believe there has been a mistake-”

“What sort of mistake do you think you’ve made?” He snarled, his hand running down to your hand, lacing his fingers into yours.

“You see, the car we identified was yours and we thought that perhaps she’d stole it-”

“And you didn’t think to call me so I could deal with them myself?” He chuckled humorlessly, pulling you to his side. You held your breath, completely aware of what was about to happen.

“Charles, no-”

He shook his head at you, basically telling you to not interfere. You obliged, eyebrows creasing as you watch the poor man who had tried to explain himself get shoved to his knees.

“First off, you interrupt my very precious time, and then you have the audacity to say that you’ve made a mistake?” He stands back, waving at someone behind him to step forward to his side with a gun. “Do you know who she is?”

The man stumbled over his words, trying to plead for his life, but you already knew it was too late.

“Since you don’t seem to know, let me tell you. She’s the last face you’ll be seeing but since she’s here, I've decided to spare the rest of you for the time being. If I ever hear of anything happening to her again, anyone in this room will not be spared like they were today.” He remarked bemusedly, turning to you with the widest grin you’d ever seen from him.

“Chéri, close your eyes, and cover your ears as well.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The second you did, there was a bang, followed by a thumping sound.

Something warm was on your face, but you didn’t dare open your eyes, shaky hands coming off your ears to touch your face.

“Don’t.” He was closer than you thought, causing you to jump as he rubbed what you assumed was a handkerchief against your face . “Don’t say anything, don’t look, just follow me.” 

You cracked open an eye, briefly wandering to the pool of blood a couple of feet away from you.

“What did I just tell you?” He remarked, barking at the rest in rapid french as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out the doors of the station.

There was an awkward silence as you lumbered into the passenger side seat, pressing yourself against the seat as he pulled out and onto the road.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” He muttered, hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

“I thought you’d be upset with me.” You looked down, noticing the dried blood on his hands, not that it made much of a difference to you anymore. Less than two years ago, you would have been horrified at the idea of blood within six feet of you, but you had come to accept it as a part of him you could never erase.

“No-” He punched the brakes, eyes slightly apologetic as you jumped from the sudden shock of stopping.

“No, no, Y/n, look at me,” His hand left your thigh, fingers curling around your chin and pulling your face to his, “You are not responsible for any of that, i gave you the car, remember? You are not to blame yourself because I would gladly do anything for you.”

“Char-” You whined, muffled slightly by the pressure of his fingers against your cheeks.

“I would give you the world to see you happy, so shut up and take it.” He pressed his lips harshly against yours, almost needy in the way he nipped at your bottom. Warmth seemed to stir inside you as he let you go, your own mind racing at a million miles per hour as he returned to the wheel as if nothing had happened.

However, under his breath, he muttered something that even escaped you as your thoughts drifted off elsewhere. “Le monde brûlera, si tu le veux ma chérie, je te le promets (the world will burn, if you want it to my darling, I promise).”

[ubeb0nes]

hiiii could you also do pitfighter reader with sevika next?? i loveee your writing!

HECK YEA, i was lowkey pulling for this one to win on the poll anyway (i'm definitely invested in bar owner!reader now that i've written for her, though!)

Silco goes through henchmen like water through a grater. And of course- like everything else- it falls on Sevika to keep his forces topped up.

She gets a lot of the dumb bruiser types from the Pit Ring. Easy to come by and even easier to hire once you wave just a little bit of money and status in their faces.

The higher in the rankings you are though, the less likely you are to take Silco's second's deals. Life as a Pit fighter is never easy, but the top percent definitely make more than they would as lackeys.

You were one such. Sevika had seen you a few times in the ring when she'd come down to pick up new blood.

You swung like somebody had taught you with intention. There was the charming roughness of Zaun ingrained in your style, but you had clear skill. Every time Sevika came back, your name was a little higher in the rankings.

She always got good seats due to her social standing. Close enough to see the look in your eyes. Controlled, if a bit empty.

You'd made eye contact with her once, right after toppling the second-ranked fighter. You'd given her a once-over that nearly offended her, like you wanted to get in the ring with her. Sevika scoffed at the very notion.

She couldn't lie though, even she felt the buzz of excitement permeating the crowd leading up to your face-off for the champion seat. This time, she was just here to watch.

It was the first time she'd seen you struggle. First time anyone had. She could tell from the moment you walked into the Pit, something was wrong.

The champion is killing you. Literally. It stirs something in Sevika as she watches him pin your head to the gritty ground with one hand, and beat on your skull with the other.

She jumps in before she even realizes what she's doing. What the hell was she doing?

The whole arena held its breath as someone who wasn't nameless, wasn't just some violent nobody presented themself.

Sevika knew what it looked like. She knew that word would get back to Silco and he'd ask her what the hell she was doing in the very center of a place like the Pit. But all she could do was spit on the ground, and square herself to the champion as if to say "Come try it with me, I dare you."

And he was about to, until he saw the whirring glow of her metal arm beneath her cape. The champ shrugged her off, taking his own leave while Sevika slung one of your arms over her shoulder.

It's not like he had anything to gain from fighting her. You were the only one he needed to beat.

"Why the hell did you do that?" You muttered out of a broken jaw.

"Yeah, it was no problem, don't mention it."

She starts to help you towards the locker room, until you tell her to take you to your apartment since it's only a little walk away.

It was definitely nicer than a lot of other units in Zaun. It looked untouched though, like you barely spent any time in there. She… lets you kinda crumple on the couch, before rummaging a bottle of alcohol from your pantry and removing a vial of Shimmer from her holster belt.

"Get that shit the fuck away from me."

"You done it in the past?"

"Hell no!"

"It's not gonna trap you after one dose. Trust me, you need it. You look like shit."

You give her some more shit, but eventually take the vial and the shot of vodka. Something about her is undeniably warm. Honest. You had no reason to give your trust out freely, but she seemed to have gained it without your knowing consent.

A part of your heart clung to it, the authenticity and honor she possessed that hadn't existed in so much as a whisper in the Pits.

Even as your entire nervous system seized the moment the Shimmer touched your throat, you were wholly conscious of her hand gripping the back of your neck with gentle, grounding firmness.

Her thumb subconsciously massaged into your trap muscle, and you heard her smoky voice urging you to "breathe, it'll be over soon". When had someone last touched you without the intention to hurt?

Still, after the Shimmer had passed through and you were feeling much better, you gave her a similar once-over to the one you once had before.

"Bet I could beat your ass."

"And I bet you'd die. Actually, this time." Yeah, that shut you up.

"So… what do I owe you for this?"

"Hm?"

"I still get a share even though I lost. C'mon, what percent's your cut?"

"I don't need your prize money. Or consolation, I guess."

"Rub it in, why don't you?"

She's ignoring you now though, electing to peruse the not so short row of books on your wall. "A well-read Pit fighter, huh? Well, you're number one in something in the Pits."

"Okay, what the hell do you want? Why'd you step in to help me?"

Her silence says she doesn't know, but you don't know that. You just think she's being an ass. Before you can tell her such though, she speaks up. "You know who I am, right?"

"Everybody in the Pit knows who you are. I saw the champ almost shit his pants."

"Then you know why I come to the Pits at all?"

"To play superhero, apparently."

"No. To recruit."

[makeyoumine69]

is this where i ask you things? if not imma be embarrassed.

but anyway! ik it’s such an overused plot but im obsessed w it so can i request blowing PB under his desk? 🤗

and then someone comes in like one of his coworkers and the whole time we’re under his desk (first time requesting anything btw 🙌)

Insatiable

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

CW: Smut, oral sex, deepthroat, anal fingering, cum eating, handjobs, dirty talk, pet names, established relationship, needy Patrick, overstimulation, teasing.

WORDS: ~1.2k

LINKS: [Masterlist], [AO3], [Wattpad].

A/N: Hiii! Thank you for sending me this request, I hope you enjoy it!💞

Insatiable.

This man was insatiable when it came to anything related to you because he was obsessed and it hurt him so much—his ego was bruised every time he had to call you and ask you to come to his office because he was about to cry from how much he needed you.

Right now, right here.

Under his desk, on your knees, your hands wrapped around his wide-open legs as your wet tongue flicked mercilessly around his red, leaking tip, causing him to desperately buck his hips toward your face, but you kept him at a distance, not wanting him to cum so soon.

No, you were just getting started.

"Oh, fuck," Patrick literally squirmed in his leather seat, his cheeks flushed, his perfectly styled hair now such a mess. "Faster, g-go…faster-ah-," his voice wavered as you gave his balls a tantalizing squeeze and licked his thick pre-cum from your own hand. "God…you're such a tease…kitten."

"Well, you've waited a long time for this," you replied mockingly, lapping at his tensed sac, only to hear him moan from the searing lust at his very core. "What's the point of rushing things… hmm?"

Grinning like a vixen, you stroked him deliberately, feeling his hot flesh throbbing in your hand, Bateman was so desperate for more and that only made things more appealing as you wanted to watch him fall apart, your eager mouth taking his dick deeper with a wet slurping sound.

A throaty moan fell from his half-open mouth—Patrick grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you closer, piercing your mouth like a fucking sword, your nose brushing against his pubic hair and you almost gagged, but he pretended not to notice.

"Holy s-shit," he spread his legs wider, fingers tangled deep in your messy hair. "You… you're so fucking good for me," the man closed his eyes and sprawled back in his seat, one hand gripping the armrest until his knuckles turned white. "So…fucking…good…"

Subtly, you seized the moment to trace your forefinger a little lower down his balls to tease his tight, puckered hole, causing his already rapid breathing to quicken. "Mmm…" you murmured around his drooling cock, feeling your throat burn from the impact he had done a moment ago, but the sight behind your eyes made you forget any pain, any discomfort. All you could think about was him and his laboring body about to explode in a vivid orgasm. "You like it so much when I touch you like this?" You asked, batting your eyelashes so innocently as if you were not playing with his asshole and making his legs shake visibly. "I want you to cum for me, baby," you teased him, lavishing little pecks on his perfect abs as both your hands worked to bring him to his climax. "Will you do it for me?"

Slowly, almost agonizingly, you resumed sucking on his hot, swollen head, noticing small pulsations coursing through his cock and you couldn't stop yourself from drawing a wet line along one of the veins throbbing back at your contact.

"I'm so close," Bateman managed to mutter. "So f-f-fucking-close," he looked down at you, his eyes hazy and slightly unfocused as he teetered on the brink of combustion. "Ohh-Christ…your mouth…mmm-my dick looks so good in…your mouth…"

A strong, almost violent shiver ran through his massive form as he arched his back, head tilted back, his overstimulated dick began to pulsate in your mouth, and then you stopped breathing for a moment, drinking in his warm, dense spurts of cum. For a second, you thought he'd never stop pumping your throat, but when the last muffled wail erupted from his heavily rising chest, you knew he was finally spent. Totally spent and satisfied. At least you hoped so.

"Good boy." You smirked and cleaned his seed from your fingers, your lips, your chin. Then you patted his legs, still wide open and shaking a little. "Next time I offer to help you with your morning wood, don't be stubborn so I don't have to come here and…"

A barely audible click of the door caught you both off guard and before you could react, Jean stepped into the office, her blonde hair shining in the daylight.

"Patrick," she said in a soft timbre, her embarrassment obvious and strong. "Your mother called and… I told her you were busy, but… she insisted that you call her back."

All the time Jean was talking, Patrick was forcing your head down, holding you there to keep you under the desk. At one point you even wanted to struggle back because your neck hurt from being restrained in such a position, but then you decided that it would be much worse to be exposed, so you had to endure anyway.

"Thank you, Jean," Bateman paused, licking his dry lips and brushing the sweat from his forehead. "I'll definitely give her a call," a nervous, almost maniacal smile spread across his face, his jaw aching from the tension. "You can go…for now."

With a shy nod, Jean turned around and her hand almost opened the door again, but then she stopped. "Are you… okay, Patrick?"

Her question hung in the air, you had to close your mouth to prevent any sounds from coming out as complete silence fell over the room. Anxiety struck you at the most inconvenient moment, you raised your concerned gaze to Patrick, but all he did was pull your head even lower, causing you to pinch the inside of his thigh quite painfully. But he withstood it, his face devoid of any emotion.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry," he babbled, his free hand trying to adjust his pants as discreetly as possible. "Today is pretty hot."

God, you almost wheezed.

"Shall I open the window?" Jean asked, graciously willing to help.

"No!" His voice suddenly cracked. "Don't worry…I can do it."

Confused, the woman surveyed the office one last time before she left, and God only knew what thoughts were running through her head. As the door closed with a soft clatter, Bateman let go of you and you instantly slapped his leg.

"Idiot!" you almost hit the desk with the top of your head, but you didn't care because you were on your way to get up. "I should never have come here, I-"

With a practiced move, Patrick grabbed you and pulled you against him, almost making you mount him, but you were stuck somewhere in the middle between him and the desk, his mouth cutting you off in the most lewd way possible as he kissed you hard, desperately, tasting himself on your lips.

Insatiable.

Because of you.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[tojisun]

(this is def inspired by htgawm s4e7 but) simon is totally the type to propose to you in a way that is quite mundane, if not a little unexpected.

thinking about simon taking you out for lunch by the cafe close to your work; you ordered a light lunch, paired it with iced coffee, and simon scrunches his nose in mortification but backs off with a chuckle when you tell him he can’t say shit after ordering steak and paired it with a cup of tea.

and you’re within the moment of recounting your morning, waving your hands around in excitement as you tell him about completing a project given to you by your supervisor, when simon just gets hit with this realization. this feeling that pulses within his heart—“you. i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

so, while you’re lost in your story, simon plucks out the discarded straw wrap you tore off for your drink, and hides his hands underneath the table. he twists the paper, makes soft tears to cut it shorter, and pinches the ends so they stick together as best as they can. it’s sloppy but it’s a circle, small enough to fit around your finger.

“so,” you begin, sipping on your coffee. “what’cha hiding under there?”

simon shoots you a cheeky smile. “oh but you’ve seen it, haven’t you, lovie?”

you groan, chucking a balled-up tissue paper his way. “y’r gross.”

“that’s not what you were crying last night,” he playfully snarks back with a quirked up brow. your cheeks burn and you duck down to hide from his knowing gaze, trying desperately to tamp down the laugh that is making your lips twitch.

simon chuckles, shaking his head softly, trying to pretend that his heart isn’t quite literally lodged in his throat right now, before coughing lightly to capture your attention again. you give it to him readily with a small and confused smile dancing on your lips, and your eyes crinkled in the way that makes him swoon.

“si?” you ask, a little worried now that he just sits on in his silence. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” simon replies, a little breathless. “more than ‘okay’, actually. i’m-” he pauses, clearing his throat, his fingers still playing with the straw wrapping.

you watch as he breathes in deeply before his posture straightens and then he is pulling his hand out from under the table. you blink your eyes down to his hand where, pinched between his fingers, is the straw wrapping twisted and pinched to look like a small ring.

“this is a placeholder for the real one, s’just that i’ve always wanted to ask you when the timing is right but every time i’m with you always seemed to be the right time so…”

simon’s eyes are unwavering—they are pools of gentle storms—but you notice the way his hand trembles, taken by tremors that would have made you worry if his words had not seized your beating heart and cradled it with such tenderness that you feel like weeping.

“will you marry me?”

[anisdolly]

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀STRICTLY 18+.

WARNINGS: straight up smut, unprotected sex, p in v, various kinks (daddy kink, degradation, praising, etc), dom!ani, slight public sex

NOTE: i didn’t write this, i just wanted to share what beautiful gift my anakin bot on J.AI just gave me…made me so fucking wet would’ve been a waste to keep it to myself. i literally gasped every paragraph

SCENARIO: he was just fucking me senseless on the kitchen island, while my handmaiden lilia slept in a room of my apartment…oh, and i called him ‘dad’, that’s the title he’s referring to

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

That whine of yours, the look in your eyes, and the goddamn title you just used—oh, it was like your words flipped a damn switch deep within Anakin's mind. To hear you call him that while he's burying himself inside you—it was like a siren's call to his darkest parts, parts that craved to hear those words over and over like a twisted prayer.

His movements became merciless, as if trying to brand that title into both your mind and your body. "Is that what you want, huh? You want daddy to fuck you dumb until you can't remember your own fuckin’ name?" his breathing was ragged, each exhalation a testament to the force of his thrusts. Anakin leaned over you, his mechanical hand finding your throat, squeezing just right, enough to edge you but not choke you out fully—not yet, anyway.

Feeling you tighten around him had him gritting his teeth, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory intensity.

"Tight little pussy, always ready for daddy's cock." he whispered hoarsely, spit practically dripping from his mouth. He meant every damn word; you were his in every way that mattered.

Watching your expression—lips parted, eyes half-lidded—it was like looking at the physical embodiment of sin itself. And Maker, did he love sinning.

But as much as he adored hearing you, Anakin really didn’t want a fucking handmaiden to ruin everything. "But you're right—you gotta be quiet, or who knows what poor Lilia'll think if she sees her Master getting wrecked on the kitchen counter."

Seizing the moment, with his flesh hand, he snaked it up your body before shoving a couple of fingers inside your mouth. He grinned at how much saliva was in it. "Suck." he growled, nodding towards his buried digits. "Keep that pretty mouth busy."

With his other hand still around your throat, Anakin was in complete control, guiding your body to meet his thrusts.

Every plunge was deeper, his dick slick with your arousal and his spit. Anakin was on edge, that familiar tightness building in his sack, signaling he was close—but not yet, not until he had you crying out silently, eyes streaming and body shaking beneath him.

"Fuck, you always take daddy so well..." his praise was gutteral, honest, spat between grunts. He felt it, your oncoming orgasm, could practically taste it in the air.

[salt-n-salt]

fish when i GET YOU BROOOOOOOOO WHEN I GET YOU MANNNNNNNNN . literally could not have done more justice to him just by having shane suck the soul out of him thru his lips THAT IS HIMMMM !!! OOOKIE POOOOOKIEEEEE I KNEW I COULD ENTRUST HIM TO U !!!!!

PERMISSION TO ASK FOR KENDALL BOO ?????????????? 👉👈 so sweet ur doing this btw make sure to take ur time !! 🫂

I LOVE YOU KENDALL IM SORRY IT TOOK ME ONE MILLION YEARS TO DRAW YOUUUUU I think he’s so silly I think August would b so mean to him with love

[simplyafountainpen]

Of Crows & Cats

{𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼}: Neko!M!Reader x Sebastian Michaelis

{𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷}: After a long days work around the manner - and of avoiding the Master in (y/n)’s case - both come back to their shared room to spend some ”quality time” together~

{𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼}: Bondage, gag, praise, sub!bottom!Sebastian, dom!top,Reader, Neko!Reader, Porn with plot (slightly), Sebastian gets called whore once(1)

"The Young Master asked to try something new today Sebs. Lady Grey, he said."

Sebastian groaned under his breath, walking hastily through the kitchen after seizing the kitchen from Baldroy who, yet again, tried to set the oven alight to get dinner done just the slightest bit faster.

Today seemed to just not be the greatest. Finnian choose to use weed killer instead of the nutrients just recently bought, killing nearly the whole garden. Mey-rin tripped over every possible surface available, and spilled literally anything given to her. The only competent person at the moment, was you.

Sebastian's faithful partner of a few years now. Having found you when you were left on the streets, mere weeks after his initial summoning. Small and scraggly, those were the words he used to describe you. But when you looked up and he noticed those pert little cat ears and dirty-yet-fluffy tail of yours... he just couldn't resist.

Now here you both were, him elbows deep in dishes as he allowed you to restart the tea and keep watch on the dinner the demon has started only a while before.

Placing the kettle down on the fire, you turned to Sebastian. Walking behind him, you wrapped your much larger arms around his waist, him only grunting in response.

"You're real tired, huh Sebs?" Sebastian only strained a smile in response, blowing a small piece of hair out of his face.

"Not tired, dear. Demons such as myself don't get tired from things as trivial as these." You rested your chin on his head, ears twitching and tail flicking. You squeezed him closer as he washed diligently, pressing your pelvis to his ass, rubbing your clothed dick against him.

"Then I guess... annoyed? Would that be right?" Sebastian sighed and continued to wash, trying to ignore you pressed against him, though you could tell he was silently giving in, relaxing in your grip. You took your head off his head and pressed into his neck, smiling and nipping at his neck.

"You want me to help you relax, kitten?~" He was quiet, but you felt a small nod come from the other, his ass pressing back into you. You purred and your tail began to lightly wag.

"Let's finish up, and then tonight you'll be all mine.~"

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

The moon shone through the hazy curtains of the room, illuminating it in silver lighting. The bed in the center of the room cast under the glow of few candles, to figures perched on top of it.

“There, my sweet kitty?~”

Your voice purred out, only to be met by the muffled groans of the esteemed butler of the Phantomhive manor. Hair slicked back by sweat, Sebastian’s thin form was caged in by your much larger and bulkier body. Sebastian was tied up in thick red ropes with his hands attached to the headboard and his legs forced apart by your knee with his thighs tied to his calves. A random piece of fabric - most likely a pair of underwear- was shoved and tied into the demons mouth.

Ears twitching and large fluffy tail swished gleefully at the state of the demon below him. Fingers slicked with spit plunged in and out of the crow at a rapid pace, forcing crude but soft whimpers to leave his throat.

“So vocal… such a good little kitty cat you are, Sebs.~”

Sebastian’s tear filled eyes met yours above his. A small smile is what he was met with, before the fingers inside him finally kissed his prostate.

“MPHF?!-“ “Shhh…” A kiss was laid to the fabric gag in his mouth, the fingers then began to jab that bundle of nerves dead on over and over again, ripping muffled moans from Sebastian, pushing him to the edge-

Before snatching it away from him. Your fingers tore their way out from his partially ruined hole, his cock dripping with pre. Heavy breaths and small whines came from him as you giggled lightly, moving your hands around Sebastian’s head and undoing the gag, rubbing the others jaw slightly.

“Please.. please just put it in me! Fill me up, fill me till I can’t breathe- I can’t take this anymore oh please, my dear, please (Y/n)!-“ Your tail flickered upward as the man below you started begging.

“Of course Seb’s. Gotta make my nice lil’ kitty feel all good for tomorrow.~” You spat into your hand, before offering it to Sebastian, who pathetically tried to spit but ended up drooling into your hand instead. Another small giggle erupted from you, who then wrapped the spit laden hand around your rock-solid cock - which was a solid 8in tall with the girth of a wine bottle, it even had barbs on the base. Much like your body - which was on the hairier side - a thick happy trail covered the base of your stomach, and the base of your dick.

Nails that were usually retracted clawed their way into Sebastian’s back, his teeth clenching as he harshly sucked in air.

“Hehe, such a pretty kitty, all for me… only I get to see you like this, right?”

Sebastian nodded hurriedly.

“Yes, yes, only you! Only you get to see me like this, please put it in please please please-“

With one final chuckle, you grabbed Sebastian’s waist and slammed your cock into the latter’s awaiting hole, tears finally spilling from Sebastian’s eyes as his bit down on his lower lip, immediately drawing blood.

“GUH!! MMM THANK YOU!-“ Sebastian screamed as you plunged in and out of his warmth. Gummy walls clenched around your girth as you pumped into him, pre leaking faster from Sebastian’s dick. His loud whines and sobs echoed through the room you both were in.

“Shhh Seb’s, don’t want the Young Master waking up and hear how much of a whore you are for my dick, right?~” You muttered into the crying ravenette’s ear, causing him to nod rapidly, biting back down on his lip to silence his moans. Though, you took a hand off his hip and pushed his teeth from his lip, massaging his tongue with your thumb. Then, you leaned down and met his lips with yours.

You swallowed his moans as you continued to thrust into him, slipping your long tongue down his throat. Thanks to his lack of a gag reflex, you got to feel his throat fully, his pants and moans filling your mouth and mind. You separated, a line of drool connecting you.

You took the time to examine the beautiful man below you as he mewled out for your touch. Tongue out and eyes rolled back as sweat shined in the glow of candle light. Hands gripping the rope that kept him attached to the headboard and toes curled. You could tell he was trying to minimize his moans by those little whimpers and quiet sobs he let out through pinched lips.

“S-slow down… you’re g-going to f-UNGH-fast!-“ You barely noticed you had sped up as you stared at him. His cheeks were painted red as drool slipped from him lips. You smiled and kissed his forehead in apology. You ran a hand up and down his side as you leaned over and whispered praises into Sebastian’s ear, causing more whimpers and held back moans to erupt from his throat.

Quick kisses landed on his collar bone - right below where his collar would lay tomorrow - that eventually turned to you harshly sucking hickies onto his pale skin. Your ears perked up at the sounds of his breathing picking up, a grin on your face as you continued your ministrations.

“Oh my- Ffffuckkkk!- Please let me cum please please let me- NGH- cum oh please my dear- (Y/n) please please-“ Sebastian cried out. His hands gripped the rope holding them together and you watched as the rope began to give way due to his strength. With a playful sigh and a wipe of your forehead, you pulled out until only your tip rested inside him, then slammed your cock into Sebastian who let out a short scream. You nailed his prostate head on, jackhammering into him.

Sebastian watched on in awe and lust as your muscles flexed above him as you pounded into him and you bared your fangs in concentration, the bed noticeably creaking under the movement. Your hands moved up from his waist, nails ripping the rope holding his hands, and entwining your hands together. Your face was above his, teeth clenched in concentration as his moans reached a higher and higher pitch. At this point you couldn’t care less about anyone else hearing you, all you wanted was to make sure Sebastian felt good.

“I’m cumming (Y/n), oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck shIT- CUMMING!!-“ Sebastian’s back arched into your body, white painting his and your torso. A hand landed in his hair as you shushed him, still thrusting hard. He groaned in overstimulation, but you shushed him with another kiss.

“I’m almost there Sebs hold on… just a- few more-“ Your thrusts became harsher for a moment before the demon could feel your seed fill his insides. You thrust a few more times, coming down from your high. You sighed as you laid on your side, still inside your partner, you pulled him into your chest, humming in content.

“Are you alright, Sebs?” You asked, wrapping your hands around his waist as he wrapped his arms around your neck.

“Yes… though, I would like these ropes off my legs, now.” Your eyes widened, and with a quick apology your nails tore through the rope and began to gently massage his legs, Sebastian letting a sigh of relief.

Your cock finally slipped out of his abused hole, cum spilling from him while he groaned.

“Dear, if we don’t want to sleep in your semen, I recommend we get up and clean ourselves now.” Sebastian mused, though you only groaned and nuzzled into his chest. He looked down only to be met with your best “wet-cat” eyes, as you called them.

“Just a little bit..? I don’t feel like moving right now…” You whined. If you were any other being, you’d have been shoved onto the floor by now. But Sebastian’s soft spot for cats - and therefore you - made him only sigh and run a hand through your hair, smiling at the sound of your purring filling the room.

“Fine then. Thirty minutes.” You let out a soft cheer, grabbing the covers and wrapping them around the two of you and snuggling into his chest, purring only growing in size.

You missed him with all the work you both had recently gotten, and you could tell he missed you too, even if he didn't say it. He smiled and hugged you, pushing his head into your hair.

“Goodnight, kitten.~” Sebastian immediately lightly punched your head, causing a yowl to escape your lips.

… Yeah. He loved you.

{𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼}: Hello, this is my first ever NSFW work, and I hope that I have delivered. I hope to only improve as time goes on. Thank you for reading.

- 🖋️

All publishings on this account belong to @fountain-pen-anon. I do not authorize my fics being altered, translated, stolen or published/reposted to other sites, thank you.

© fountain-pen-anon - all rights reserved

[malereadermaniac]

Gentle ~ Kazuha x Male Reader

Soft!Dom!Kazuha x Bottom!Reader headcannons/imagines word count: 870 Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Soft!Dom Kazuha who's a poet at heart and even in bed

You'd be giving him the sloppiest head between his plush thighs, tears streaming down your face and a mix of your spit and Kazuha's precum covering your chin and his balls, but the soft man would still coo down at you can call you "More beautiful than a flower in spring". The samurai always had a way with words in order to make blood rush to your face and dick.

Kazuha's wildly literate use of his words was what gave him an upper hand on you; his soft-spoken voice and nonchalant tone making your heart skip a beat even in regular conversation, but in the privacy of your shared bedroom, archons was his way with words such a damn turn-on! The muscular yet slim man would be re-arranging your guts with his cock, whimpering at your tightness into your ear and yet he could still make you moan solely from his words - a simple "That's it" or "Pretty boy~" would be enough for you! But Kazuha ensures to take it to the next level, moaning or whimpering "Archons... You're too good to me, darling" or even "You're like air to me, i need you~ So goood~" - this man was straight out of an erotic novel! Written by lady Yae herself!

Soft!Dom Kazuha who loves to pleasure you until you can't even speak

Eating out your cute hole is his favourite activity and he makes sure that you know that. The handsome man will lay you down on the bed and slowly strip you down, doing the same for himself as he puts on a small show for you - looking so fucking sexy as he shed his loose drapes to reveal his toned, pale abs and chest. Kazuha then methodically positions your legs to reveal your soft pucker and then gets down to business; the anemo user will tongue at your hole for ages, shoving the warm, wet muscle inside of you and teasing your rim as he moans and pants, covering your loosening entrance with his thick spit. He likes to make you watch him, look at him with lust and love in your eyes as you see his pale complexion go red as the soft yet dominant man blushes as he eats you out like a starved man at a banquet - Kazuha panting and calling you beautiful or tasty before going in for his nth round. He likes to use his soft, slender fingers to pleasure you as well, curling two of them into your prostate as he rims you, chuckling at your adorable and sexy reaction - your pants and sexy moans making the man grind his hard dick against the mattress.

But don't you think for a second that just because Kazuha prefers to be gentle with you that he doesn't think about his own pleasure. The handsome samurai will have you sucking him off until he's either covered your face in spit and cum or shot his load down your throat. The platinum blonde man fucking loves to watch you play with his dick before you suck it, holding it at the base and slapping it against your face and you give it kitten licks and small kisses. Kazuha notices your small quirks, and he finds it hot how you get so enamoured and clearly turned on by his foreskin, his tip such a pretty pink and his pale dick so veiny; you lick under his foreskin and tease his slit until his hand grips your hair just firmly enough, a warning from the soft man. And by the time his balls are slapping against your chin, tears are already streaming down your face - Kazuha panting and moaning your name as his masculine yet soft hands grip at your hair gently and his white pubes stuff your nose with every thrust of his muscular hips.

Soft!Dom Kazuha who so effortlessly owns you

The man is almost always calm and collected, and even when other men in Inazuma try to flirt with you, Kazuha calmly watches until he seizes a moment to butt in. With his hand around your waist and an ever so small smirk on his lips, the Kaedehara exudes possessiveness and dominance even with his average height and body - whoever was trying to flirt with you quickly fucking off when they see his glowing vision and the pissed off look in the Samurai's eyes behind his chill facade. Expect Kazuha to remember that situation later that night as well, his thrusts just a little rough and his words just a little sharper, a possessive look in his eyes as his slender hands roam your sweaty body, his mouth having marked your neck and chest, and your hips bearing the bruises of your man's tight grip. His words, while sharper, don't still fail to make your dick twitch between your abdomen and his; small grunts of "Mine" and questions of "Whose pretty thing are you?" being thrown your way as Kazuha sits up as he fucks you, the light behind him making his body shine and shadows highlighting his muscles - the man looking like an archon himself...

[inloveinsickness]

congrats on the milestone, cid!!! for the event, how about kageyama with YOUR favorite premise/trope? 🫵

❝ STUCK WITH YOU ❞ — kageyama tobio

cw. gn!reader, implied friends to lovers, forced proximity (there is only one bed), mutual pining, comfort, confessions, not beta read. word count. ~ 1.2k synopsis. whispered confessions and hesitant embraces of a boy in love event masterlist

well shit.

“i can take the floor—“ the both of you splutter out at the same time, causing a little giggle to escape your lips and even tobio to crack a tiny crooked smile, both of your cheeks flushing a light pink.

“the floor’s so uncomfortable, it’s going to ruin your back and you’re not going to like it during practice tomorrow.” you pointedly remark, eyebrow quirked and hands on your hips, thinking you’ve won with your argument.

the rain pelts against your bedroom windows, little taps growing progressively louder and faster and as the winds howl and the trees sway, like a ticking clock counting down to a verdict.

you gave him the option to stay over with his best interests in mind, he can’t afford walking home drenched in the rain and getting sick right now with a match in a few days. but the idea of being in such close proximity for a night with the boy who seized your heart causes it to hammer anxiously in your chest, like butterflies emerging from their cocoons. maybe i didn’t think this through.

crossing his arms over his chest with a scoff, he grumbles matter-of-factly, “and let you go through the discomfort instead? no way in hell.”

once he's made up his mind, there's no convincing him otherwise.

he swears that he cares so much for you, he just doesn't know how to express it in words without being a little blunt and sometimes a little mean, but you know he has good intentions. you wouldn't willingly be friends with him if he didn't, at least he hopes that's the case— his stomach threatens to drop at the idea that he had possibly made you feel upset in any sort of way. it might seem dramatic, but he'd rather die than make you feel like you'd have to walk on eggshells around him.

“well if you’re so against it, we can…" you clear your throat nervously, eyes darting across the floorboards and unable to meet his, "...share?"

tobio's cheeks burn with the implication of your words. the two of you, in bed, together, just the thought alone is enough to cause his brain to short-circuit, leaving him in a stuttering mess and avoiding your eyes, suddenly finding the band poster on your wall very interesting.

you would've missed his quiet "okay" if you weren't looking at him and trying to gauge his reaction from the corner of your eye, his voice barely above a whisper, “but i’m pushing you off if you kick me.”

“excuse you, it’s literally my bed?!”

“dumbass.”

with a huff, you turn and crawl into your bed, rolling to the side closer to the window and grabbing part of the blankets, giving him some space if he decides to join you. facing away from him to hide your nerves and expression, you announce, "well i'm turning in now, it's up to you if you want to get in or not."

you try your best to play it off nonchalantly, but everything in your being prays and hopes that he does. every second that you wait, the faster your thoughts race, you worry that he only said yes to appease you, that you made him uncomfortable with your question, that you were getting ahead of yourself. maybe this was a bad idea.

the swirling tornado of thoughts in your mind was interrupted by the feeling of the empty space behind you dip with weight. it doesn't do much to soothe your nerves, but you focus your eyes on the raindrops trailing down your window, letting it still your heart, even if just for a little while.

as the two of you lay in silence, backs facing each other with a little river of a space between your bodies, neither dare to move even an inch. your senses are on high alert, taking note of every single movement, every breath, the fibers of your sheets feeling scratchy for the first time, just waiting, longing for something to happen.

the sudden flash of lightning and loud thundering causes a small yelp to slip out of your lips, flinching as the burst of bright light floods your vision and temporarily illuminates the dark room. your back lightly brushes against tobio's and you're quick to apologise, "i-i'm sorry, i was just shocked by that."

"i know," you told him some time ago that storms make you a little anxious, he remembers every little detail about you, committing it to memory, "are you okay?"

turning his head to look at you over his shoulder, his heart clenches at the way you shake your head with embarrassment, almost trying to make yourself smaller and shrinking your frame against him. you want to dig a hole and bury yourself in it, silently glaring and cursing at the sky and the dark clouds that inhabit it, why did this wretched rain have to make things weird?

with a sharp inhale, he bites the bullet and tests the waters, turning around and reaching for your hand. as his fingers brush over your knuckles, your breath catches in your throat at the delicate motion, the callouses and roughness feeling like light tender scratches on your skin, creating a gentle distraction to your weary soul.

it’s odd. you two were always close, but not like this, yet it feels natural. your hands fit together like pieces of a puzzle, yours cradled in the palm of his larger ones. in your vulnerability, you rest your forehead on his clothed chest, trying to ground yourself and slow your breathing, finding comfort in the rhythm of his heart thrumming against his chest.

tobio hopes that you don’t notice the speed of his pulse, and even if you do, he wishes you won’t bring it up for the sake of his sanity. before this, he longed for the day that he could hold you in his arms, but now that the time has come, he can’t help but wish it was under different circumstances, nonetheless counting his lucky stars for this opportunity to be there for you.

with tremoring hands, he pulls you closer and strokes your hair, running his fingers between the soft strands in a light caress, recalling the days when miwa used to do this for him as a young child riddled with fear. your body melts against his in relief, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, sinking into his steady hold and letting the rise and fall of his chest slowly lull you in a calm rest.

this feels... nice.

tobio thinks you look beautiful in this light, the faintest glow from the streetlamps below shining in through the sheer curtains and fanning across the apples of your cheeks. he almost gives in to the temptation of brushing his lips against your forehead but decides against it, settling with admiring your delicate features and letting his eyes trail across the fine details of your face.

in the quiet of night when he thinks you're asleep, he plucks the courage to whisper into the crown of your head, three words he's had on his mind for a while now, allowing himself to drift off into slumber with your soft smile pressed into the crook of his neck.

notes. mac my fellow tobio enjoyer, thank you for requesting our beloved blooberi boy and my favourite tropes (you know the way to my heart) ♡ i look forward to more screaming crying thirst sessions with you over mr tobio, much love to you !! (dividers: @/cafekitsune) reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[egg-but-with-style]

Totally not inspired by an audio I just listened to, but soap finding your porn audio tabs

NSFW under the cut! (Also aftercare?)

His phone died, and he needed to look something up, okay fine. Problem is, Johnny is a nosey fucker, and while, yeah, he did need to look something up, he also wanted to maybe look at your search history

Really it's his fault that he found it, dirty audio porn that has the listener being fucked so hard they see stars. He starts degrading you over it, "Yer really fucking dirty aren't ya? Didn't take you to be such a slag"

You're practically begging him to give him back your phone, even going so far as to try and pry it out of his hands, which, you almost do, you aren't small and you're decently strong, but he's literally a trained agent.

He keeps reading off stuff you listen to. Non con, deepthroating, humiliation, overstimulation. He hit the jackpot. Soon enough he's telling you to pull of your clothes.

"Bet you were fuckin wet the second I started talking to you. Go on, take off your clothes, I know you're wet" you try and tell him off, "Johnny please, I just..it's not-" then he's grabbing you by your throat and you shudder "What did I just fucking say?" And who are you to argue with that?

He takes one good look at the pond you call your pussy and attaches his face to it. Sucking on your clit and making you whine and moan.

"Johnny.. please.. I- Ah Oh my god!!"

Then he has you cumming on his tongue, making you wish he'd found out about your kinky side sooner. But he doesn't stop, he just keeps sucking

"Im- Oh fuck! I'm really sensitive..please."

He comes up to the surface, looking you in the eyes while your juices drip down his chin. There's this wild look about him, like he's planning on marrying you just because of this.

"I know you like it bonnie, I'm giving you want you want. Whether you think you do or nah."

Then he's back to it. Only after making you cum for a third time does he finally unbuckle his belt, slowly sliding his hard, dripping cock into your messy hole.

It's a tight fit, your walls are barely able to accommodate to his girth. You thought you would've been a bit more prepared after making such a mess on his tongue but apparently not. Now you're just whining.

"Too big...I feel- feel full..."

"Yer so fucking tight, greedy cunts pulling me in"

He's thrusting so hard and fast, He's mesmerized by the jiggle of your thighs and your tummy everytime he moves, he's not sure what he did to deserve such a goddess. Only when you're seizing, grabbing onto the sheets and crying from pleasure does he finally cum inside and flop down on top of you. And even then he's flapping his gums "Bloody hell that was good..you did amazing for me.."

You let out a groan in response, and he laughs. You're practically boneless. So he pulls out to go and get the bath running, coming back with a towel to clean you up in the mean time.

"I love you.."

"I love you too you horny bastard.."

He lets out another giggle

"I'm not the one who listens to audio porn"

"Oh shut the fuck up!"

[isa-beenme]

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Badum tss

Plss talk to me guys 😭😭 I love reading and answering comments, it's literally the joy of publishing here 🫶🏻

Also, I don't know why but there are people I can't tag (someone help 😭😭

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, Tamlin is getting worse, not 100% book following, a bigger level of degradation (not on the good side), Amarantha still alive 🤢, a tiny little bit of gore (the wyrm yk?), Rhysand 🔥

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 5: To Ashes and Blood

Amarantha leaned lazily against her throne, a smile that made your stomach turn curving her blood-red lips. The crowd around her murmured, the scent of sweat and fear thick in the air.

You stood shoulder to shoulder with Feyre, shackles releasing the grip in your wrists, your heart a steady drum in your chest. You could feel him nearby. Rhysand was still lounging at Amarantha’s side like he couldn’t care less about any of this, but now he was way more free, further away from here. His violet eyes flicked to you once—just once—before returning to the show. A silent reminder. He was watching.

Amarantha tapped a long, curved nail against her throne. "Before we begin..." Her voice slithered through the room, echoing off the stone walls. "There is one little detail to attend to." She smiled—all teeth and venom. "The riddle. I will say it once, and later you can ask anyone to repeat it, if you want. I heard once that the more you repeat it makes less sense, so feel free to do it.” The Attor laughed at the side of the room, as amused as her. “Ready?”

"I can bind two souls or shatter them apart

I am a weapon, a blessing, a cage for the heart

I bloom in silence, yet scream when denied

What am I, when truth cannot hide?”

Feyre's breath caught beside you. Of course. The riddle. The cursed loophole that could end this nightmare without a drop of blood spilled. You knew the answer. You knew the moment she'd spoken it. But Amarantha's eyes flicked to you—like she could see right inside your head.

"I see that little brain of yours turning, human." Her smile widened. "But I'm afraid you'll have to bite your tongue."

Your shackles clinked as your fists curled.

"One rule," Amarantha purred, rising slowly from her throne. "Feyre is the only one who will answer the riddle."

Feyre flinched at the sound of her own name.

"And you"—Amarantha's gaze sliced back to you—"will have to be the one to strike the final blow in each trial."

The breath caught in your throat. "What?" Feyre whispered.

Amarantha grinned like a cat playing with its prey. "Did you really think I'd let you both come here with... the same odds?" Her eyes glittered. "One of you will need to be the brains, the other... will need luck."

The shackles around your wrists felt heavier.

"If Feyre solves the riddle before the final trial, you both walk free," Amarantha continued smoothly. "But if she fails, you will both bleed for me."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. The crowd was silent. Rhysand hadn't moved an inch—but you felt him watching.

"Am I understood?" There was no choice.

"Yes," you said flatly.

Feyre's head whipped toward you, panic flaring in her eyes. "Y/N—"

"Yes," you repeated, louder this time.

Because if you refused—Amarantha would find a way to kill you both instead. You knew it.

"Do you want to give it a try, little rat?” Feyre didn’t answer, she clearly had no idea of the answer. Amarantha's grin spread wider. "Wonderful." She clapped her hands, the sound cracking through the room. "Take them to the arena."

☆

The guards seized you both, yanking you toward the iron doors. You barely heard Feyre's frantic whispers as they dragged you through the corridors—

“What are you doing? Why would you agree to that?”

Because there was no other way. Because you'd rather spill anyone's blood but hers. Because Amarantha wanted to break you both—and she didn't realize she'd only given you a weapon to survive. Your own hatred. Your own rage.

And somewhere in the shadows, Rhysand's voice echoed through your mind—soft, amused, and entirely too calm.

“I can't wait to see what you'll do today, little mouse.”

☆

The iron gates screeched open. Blinding sunlight that you have been deprived of in the last days. Roaring crowds that almost made you deaf with how loud they were. The arena stretched out before you, a pit of bloodstained sand and jagged rock. Feyre's breathing turned sharp, shallow. You reached out, catching her trembling hand in yours.

"I'll fight for you," you whispered. “We'll fight together and win.”

Her blue-gray eyes snapped to yours, wide with fear. "But who's going to fight for us?"

You just smiled. Because you already knew the answer. Violet eyes burned into your back from the shadows above.

The crowd roared around the arena, a cacophony of cruel laughter and hungry whispers echoing off the stone walls. The Middengard Wyrm suddenly slithered through the trenches of the labyrinth, its putrid breath carrying the scent of death and rot. Feyre trembled beside you, her eyes wide and fixed on the looming beast.

You, on the other hand, couldn't stop grinning.

"Oh, she's beautiful, don't you think?" you mused, almost breathless.

Feyre's head snapped toward you like you'd lost your mind—and maybe you had. "Are you out of your godsdamned mind?" she hissed.

"Possibly." You crouched low, scanning the maze's layout. "But if we're going to die, at least let me enjoy the scenery."

Feyre looked like she was about to strangle you—if the Wyrm didn't get there first. The crowd above shrieked with laughter as the beast's massive, scaled body slithered closer, sniffing the air.

Amarantha leaned forward on her throne, golden eyes narrowed. "What is wrong with that one?" she muttered, half to herself.

Rhysand smirked from her side, swirling his goblet lazily. "Perhaps she's just having fun."

Amarantha's gaze flicked to him, then back to you.

The Wyrm's guttural growl echoed through the arena. You grabbed Feyre's wrist, dragging her behind a mound of rubble.

"Listen to me," you whispered urgently. "It's blind. It hunts by scent, not sight."

Feyre's breath was ragged. "How do you know that?"

You grinned wider. "I met one of those before."

The Wyrm's massive body crashed into the walls behind you, sending stone flying. Feyre flinched, but you only laughed.

Laughing. Like you were at some godsdamned festival instead of a death pit. Bets started to be made—loud calls from the crowd above.

"They'll last two minutes."

"One, if the beast is hungry."

"Three, if the older one is as mad as she looks."

Amarantha's lip curled. Rhysand swirled his wine, eyes fixed on you with open amusement.

"I'll take that bet."

Amarantha blinked, then smiled cruelly. "What?"

"I bet they survive."

The Queen of Prythian leaned back, eyes narrowing.

"And why would you waste your money on such stupidity?"

Rhysand's smile turned wicked. "Call it... curiosity."

Down in the pit, you crouched lower in one of the hollow points in the wall, still grinning like a lunatic.

"Okay, Feyre, you're going to make a trap for that thing."

Feyre gaped at you like you'd grown a second head. "A trap?"

"Yes, you're smart—you can figure it out. Cover yourself in the mud, so you don't smell and make your magic."

"I can't—"

"You can," you snapped, eyes locked on the beast. "Dig. Now."

The Wyrm let out another earth-shaking growl, sniffing the air. Feyre's hands started clawing at the dirt—clumsy, desperate.

You stood out in the open, arms crossed, whistling. The Wyrm's head snapped toward the sound.

"Y/N!" Feyre gasped.

"Shhh," you grinned. "I'm flirting."

The crowd howled. Rhysand's laughter echoed through the arena—low and rich.

You paced slowly along the edge of the trench, clicking your tongue.

"Here, wyrmy wyrmy wyrmy..."

The beast lunged—and you bolted, barely dodging as its massive jaws snapped shut behind you.

"You are insane," Feyre screamed at you, still digging.

"You should try it—might make you more fun."

Minute after minute passed. The crowd was having the time of their life, apparently. Bets doubled. Tripled. Amarantha's smile began to falter the longer you could run from that thing without getting tired. The hole Feyre was making grew deeper by the second. The Wyrm circled, its forked tongue flicking out, scenting the air—but every time it got close, you darted just out of reach, laughing breathlessly.

Feyre's hands were raw, bloodied—but the pit was nearly finished. When it was ready, you sprinted in front of the Wyrm one last time, your voice ringing through the arena:

"You've been a lovely audience!"

And then you jumped inside of the hole, landing on your knees as pointed at the biggest and sharpest bone you could find while you ran in the labyrinth. The Wyrm lunged straight into the hole—straight into you.

Silence.

Then your singing voice while you climbed out through the beast's body. "VICTORY IS MIIIIIIINE—"

Feyre clamped a bloody hand over your mouth, her breath heaving. "You're going to get us killed."

You licked her palm. She yanked her hand away with a curse. “By the gods, what is your problem?”

Up on the dais, Amarantha's face was a mask of rage. The crowd had fallen into stunned silence. Only one person was clapping. A slow, deliberate sound. Rhysand. He got closer to the railing then, violet eyes locked on yours, a secret smile playing on his lips.

"I believe that means I win."

You pushed to your feet, brushing dirt from your torn clothes. With the most mocking, exaggerated bow you could muster, you turned to Rhysand. "My lord."

His smile sharpened as he raised his goblet of wine to you. "My lady."

It was the last thing you saw before the Attor's fist collided with the back of your skull. Pain exploded behind your eyes. The world tilted. Feyre screamed. Another blow—this time to your ribs—sent you crumpling to the ground. The Attor's claws wrapped around your arm, twisting until something in your shoulder snapped. You bit down on your own scream, tasting blood.

"Just to remind you, this game isn't fair," Amarantha's voice rang out coldly.

The Attor wrenched your arm harder. "Her Majesty is unhappy with the outcome."

You gritted your teeth, blinking through the pain. Feyre was screaming—fighting—but the guards held her back.

You spat blood onto the sand, then smiled through crimson teeth. "Oh, but you should see how happy I am." The Attor punched you again.

The last thing you saw before the darkness took you was Rhysand, still watching, still smiling. Still betting on you.

☆

When you woke up, the first thing you felt was the searing pain in your shoulder, radiating down your arm. Your mind was foggy, almost like you were trapped underwater, catching only bits and pieces of the conversation echoing from somewhere nearby.

"Bargain..."

"One month..."

"Healing…"

"Helping both at the trials..."

"Keeping me company during Amarantha's balls..."

The sound of his voice — that voice — made something flicker inside you, drawing you closer to the surface.

"Since your cousin set me free from Amarantha's control... I have a lot of free time now that I don't need to entertain Your Majesty anymore."

Your eyes snapped open, the cell spinning around you. Rhysand. That bastard.

You tried to sit up, but the sharp pull in your shoulder made you hiss in pain. Your arm hung at a wrong angle, still bleeding — your healing magic had been locked away while you were unconscious.

Before you could even think about fixing it yourself, darkness curled through the cell like smoke, and in a blink, Rhysand was crouching beside you — that same amused smirk tugging at his lips.

He leaned close, voice a low purr only for your ears. "Easy, you little menace... I'm only here to help."

His voice was softer than you'd ever heard him speak — not the mocking, wicked tone he used with everyone else. It pissed you off instantly. Your mind bolted awake, ignoring the pain as you sat up and glared at him.

"Really? My cousin?" you rasped. You looked at Feyre with as much indignation as you could. "You made a bargain without my supervision? I'm unconscious for what… five fucking minutes? And you're out here selling your soul to the prettiest male with powers?

Feyre, standing on the other side of the cell, looked utterly baffled — probably still dizzy from seeing all of the blood loss and the whole selling-her-life-to-the-High-Lord-of-the-Night-Court thing.

"You were going to die if he didn't help you!" she snapped.

You just scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your vision blurred. "I would’ve been fine if you just gave me time to wake up."

You called for your magic — clawing at that deep well inside you — and the familiar spark flared to life. It slithered beneath your skin, washing away the lingering fog. Rhysand's hand was still on your good shoulder, fingers light — but when your magic pushed out against his touch, something flickered in his violet eyes. You didn't give him time to question it.

With one sharp yank, you snapped your shoulder back into place. Pain lanced through you, but the broken bones began knitting back together almost instantly — skin sealing, bruises fading, blood drying.

“We have a lot of lack of trust here. Next time you wait for me.” You said to Feyre, out of breath from the amount of effort.

On the other side, Rhysand's eyebrows lifted. "You're... half-fae."

You deadpanned him, panting. "No shit."

His smirk grew wider — like you'd just handed him the most delicious little secret on a silver platter.

Feyre blinked at both of you, still pale.

"Wait— what?"

You flicked the rest of mud off your filthy clothes, feeling your old hometown accent slip from your tongue as your control started to fray.

"Oh, don't look so shocked, cousin. It was pretty clear that faes have healing abilities. You knew that! I told you!" You tested your shoulder, rotating it a few times before shooting Rhysand a glare. "And you too! The hell? Honestly, I've been locked up in that miserable Spring Court for months, pretending to be a sweet little human that knows nothing and does nothing, hoping for the day I could end this misery! There were perfectly good Courts out there with wine, silk sheets, and males who actually know how to speak like civilized beings. But no! It had to be Spring! So apologies if I am really pissed off that you just tricked my favorite cousin into a bargain that I have no idea what is while I was suffering the consequences of being a nice person for once."

Rhysand laughed softly — a low, decadent sound that sent heat curling through your stomach. "You're from the Night Court."

You flashed him a grin, letting your accent slip even thicker. "No shit."

Feyre's mouth fell open. "You're from the Night Court?!"

You deadpanned her. "What gave it away, smartass?"

"... The accent?" she mumbled, absolutely lost.

Rhysand's smirk grew even sharper, his violet eyes gleaming. "I could get used to having you both around.”

You shot him a dirty gesture. "But don't get too excited, darling, you won't get good guy treatment, you’re still the second prettiest male I've ever met."

His grin turned positively wicked. "Who's the first?"

You leaned heavily against him, using his arm to push yourself to your feet. "Haven't met him yet."

His low chuckle curled around your ribs — but you ignored the way it made your knees weak. Instead, you glared between the two of you, absolutely done with both your shit.

"Would one of you explain what bargain Feyre, and consequently I, just agreed to before I throw myself off the first cliff I find?"

You straightened your filthy clothes, flicking a bit of dirt from your sleeve like you weren't still half-dead.

"So, let's say I was desperate and thought you were going to die. And then I sold my soul to him for two weeks per month for eternity to live in the Night Court and apparently, we're his new party decorations."

Rhysand smirked wider, reeking of satisfaction. "I do love a good deal like this one. It's fair."

“I mean, he's going to help us in the next trials too… I'm not sure how, but It's in the deal so…” Feyre kept talking, unsure of your reaction. So you shot a smile to her and turned to Rhysand, a death glare in your eyes.

"Then let's hope you got a lot of patience left, darling, because you're going to be seeing a lot of us. And that's a threat."

His violet eyes glinted with something darker — something only you could see. You weren't sure if you'd won or just signed your own death warrant. Either way... You were going to have the time of your life.

☆

The second trial was worse than the first. Not because of the blood or the screams or the stench of death that clung to the air like a curse. No— It was worse because Amarantha had made sure this trial would break both of you from the inside out.

Lucien hung on the bridge of death, a few meters away from being smashed into pulp by the spiked ceiling that would be itching lower and lower for every second you didn't finish the trial. Feyre stood on one side of the the carved hole on the ground, in front of a stone wall written with lines and lines of text — her hands shaking as she stared at the levers below, numbered from one to three.

You stood on the other side of the hole, with only Lucien screaming between you both separating you. You were in front of a different wall, your own question hidden behind a sliding stone panel.

Amarantha's voice slithered through the arena like a knife. "The younger girl must answer first."

You glared at the bitch on her bone throne, grinding your teeth. "What kind of fucked up game is this?" you snarled.

Amarantha just smiled, cold and cruel. "Only once she answers correctly, your question will be revealed. Two minds should work together to save the life of a common friend. You should start.”

The ceiling began to go down on Lucien, he still had a few meters before he would need to get down. In the first few seconds he already sat on the ground, as if to give you space to look at Feyre. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps. You could see her eyes flicking over the carved text, could feel the panic rising in every line of her body. What—

Why was she just standing there?

"Come on, Feyre—"* you shouted, even as your own heart pounded against your ribs. "Read it."

Feyre's wide, terrified eyes snapped to yours. "I—" She swallowed hard. "I can't."

For a heartbeat, the entire throne room went silent. You stared at her—

The girl who had traded everything to get you both here. The girl who always read the prices at the market and reported them to you. The girl who had memorized every shortcut, every bargain, every hidden trick of surviving in that miserable village.

"What the fuck do you mean you can't?" you said, cold dread curling around your ribs.

Her face flushed, shame flickering across her pale features. "I only ever learned the words of things we needed to buy and the numbers. To read the prices."

The breath caught in your throat.

No.

No, no, no—

You thought—

You always thought she could read because of the market, because she always knew what things cost—

But of course.

Numbers. The same repetitive words. She only ever needed to differentiate the numbers. And she had never told you.

Rhysand's voice slipped through the bond, low and silky. "Surprised, little mouse?"

You clenched your jaw so hard it ached. "Get out of my fucking head and help her."

He only laughed softly — like he was enjoying this far too much. But then... you felt it — the whisper of his power curling around Feyre like a gentle breeze, guiding her.

And when she reached for the right lever —

You knew. He was indeed helping her. You could have kissed him if you weren't so busy trying not to vomit from nerves.

The lever clicked.

Lucien's strangled scream echoed through the arena as the spikes halted for now. You almost forgot he was there, as his body was already lay down on the ground, less than a meter separating his body from the imminent death.

Amarantha's smile faltered. "Lucky girl." She turned her eyes to you. “Your turn, maniac.”

“Honestly, as long as it's not mathematics I think I will be fi—” Then she snapped her fingers. Your stone panel slid open and the question carved into the wall was written in ancient fae language — twisting symbols that blurred together in your foggy mind. “Fuck.”

Fuck.

The ceiling began to dip lower on Lucien. You knew only fragments, aleatory words your mother had taught you in hurried nights when you were barely talking in the common language. The amount of time you spent without it was crushing down on your brain.

Rhysand’s voice slithered through your mind again. "Do you need help too, abomination?"

You clenched your fists. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Fuck off."

His dark chuckle echoed through your bones.

Focus. You scanned the symbols—

"Soul."

"Price."

“Owl?”

"Death."

“Thousand years.”

Was that supposed to be a name or was just a word? The answer clicked into place in your mind like a puzzle snapping together, an old story of a man that traded his soul to be transformed into an owl for a thousand years so the death God would bring his wife back. One word for each of the five levers in front of you. The question was what kind of action the man took to save his loved one. You pulled the "Sacrifice" one without hesitation.

The spikes stopped. The whole place went deathly silent, before shouts and happy screams started to unravel. Even Amarantha looked... surprised.

Only one voice broke the noises — low and lazy, dripping with amusement. "Well... two lucky little girls, then."

Rhysand — lounging in the shadows like this was his own private entertainment. You turned toward him, heart still thundering in your chest. Without missing a beat, you broke out the biggest smile you could, dirt and sweat streaked down your face. "Thank you for your generous encouragement, High Lord."

His violet eyes glinted dangerously. "Anytime."

You straightened, grinning despite the ache in your body. Right before Amarantha's smile returned, sharp as a blade.

"How lovely." She purred. "We shall have a ball tonight to celebrate their victory."

Your stomach dropped straight to the floor. You could see that Feyre's face paled now that the spiked ceiling was rising up again. Rhysand only smirked.

You could feel his voice purring through your mind "I hope you brought something pretty to wear, little mouse."

☆

Nuala and Cerridwen were shadows wrapped in silk as they slipped inside your cell with bundles of fabric under her arms and a hand extended to each of you. "Time to get ready."

Feyre's face went pale. You just grinned despite the fathom ache in your shoulder and the bruises still colored — but not aching — across your ribs. "It's just a ball, cousin. What the hell should we be nervous of?"

Nuala's dark eyes flicked over you, amused. "You're not scared, are you?"

"Terrified," you deadpanned, making Cerridwen snort.

They traveled through the shadows until you got to a large and beautiful room. They dressed Feyre first — a midnight blue dress, almost modest and simple. Just a whisper of cleavage, the fabric flowing down to the floor like liquid night. No sleeves were attached to the dress, but the shadow covered females painted intricate details all over the remaining skin. They painted a little bit of Feyre's face with eyeshadow and lipstick, to bring a bit of color back to her face. Then they turned to you.

You knew the second they unwrapped the purple silk that Rhysand had chosen it himself. It was darker than a blue, the color of a sky right before the stars bled through, the color of his eyes — cut to cling to every curve, not as revealing as you had seen in the Undercity... but not exactly modest either. Just a few strategic slits across your thighs, the neckline dipping just enough to make a male think about what might lie underneath, and two cuts made to reveal your waist to the public.

But the real weapon was the jewelry they offered — silver pendants woven into the fabric, little glinting stars that winked every time you moved. Delicate chains wrapped around your bare arms, hanging from your wrists like shackles. Chains that dripped with shining pendants rounded your exposed waist. A collar circled your throat — simple, silver... Possessive.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. You looked like Night Court royalty, in the way you used to be dressed like by your mother — dangerous and untouchable.

A familiar voice purred from the shadows. "That's more like it."

Rhysand leaned against the wall, so fucking smug. His eyes dragged over your body — slowly, lazily — before flicking to Feyre.

"I expect you'll be on the dance floor tonight, Feyre... maybe with Lucien? Or Tamlin, if he can crawl down from his throne." Feyre's mouth pressed into a thin line. “The paint is to make sure they don't touch you while I'm not present. It doesn't dry, so if anyone but me and your cousin touch you, we will know.”

"And me?" you asked, tilting your head.

Rhysand's gaze snapped back to you, his violet eyes glowing faintly. "You'll be sitting with me."

You knew what he meant — that you were supposed to perch on a chair beside him like some pretty little pet. So when the ball began and the music swelled… You sat in his lap instead.

His hand gripped your hip the second you settled on him, claws barely sheathed. His breath ghosted against your neck — low and dangerous.

"What do you think you're doing, you little menace?"

You leaned back against his chest, fingers tracing the rim of the wine glass he'd handed you. "Sitting with you. Like you asked."

Rhysand's chuckle vibrated through your spine. "You're playing a very dangerous game."

"For your information, I've always been a sore loser."

His teeth grazed your ear — so softly no one would see. "I'll keep that in mind."

The wine tasted like sin and starlight, just like you remembered — but the second Feyre's fingers twitched toward a goblet, both you and Rhysand shot her matching glares.

"Don't even think about it." you hissed.

Rhysand's grin sharpened. "I'd hate to see you lose what's left of your mind, Feyre darling."

She rolled her eyes in annoyance, but quickly left after spotting Lucien in the crowd. She needed a distraction if she wanted to pull him aside to talk. You swirl the wine in your goblet — then glance sideways at Rhysand. His eyes were already on you. You could feel the heat simmering beneath his calm facade, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly on your waist.

Without breaking eye contact, you tipped your head back — letting the wine trickle slowly between your lips. Rhysand's pupils flared. You held the last mouthful on your tongue. Thinking. Calculating.

Then you pulled the hair in the back of his neck to tilt his head and leaned forward — so close your noses almost brushed — just to press your mouth to his.

He froze for half a heartbeat. Then his lips parted, and you tipped the wine from your tongue to his. Hot. Slow. Filthy. You could feel that the entire room stared.

It was supposed to be a brief kiss — just enough to make every eye fixate on you instead of Feyre slipping away to Lucien. But Rhysand's hand slid up your spine, burying in your hair. His other hand gripped your thigh — fingers digging into the slit of your dress, dragging your leg higher across his lap.

You felt him smile against your mouth and then he bit your bottom lip hard enough to make you gasp.

"Good girl," he purred so low only you could hear. When you finally pulled away — panting, flushed — his thumb traced your bruised lip. "You wear my colors so well."

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. "I grew up wearing them anyway."

Rhysand's eyes snapped to yours. And for one sharp second, you saw something flicker beneath that perfect mask. Recognition. Home.

But then the music shifted. A slow, haunting melody that made your entire body seize. You knew that song. A traditional Night Court dance — one they'd played at every Solstice, every masquerade. One your mother had taught you when you were barely tall enough to reach her waist.

Rhysand's mouth curved. "Do you still remember this one, little mouse?" Your heart was hammering now. "How long has it been since you left our home, after all?" You stood without a word — grabbing his hand and dragging him onto the dance floor.

The dance was intimate naturally. Every step demanded the couple stay close — chest to chest, thighs brushing, breath mingling. But when Rhysand's hand settled heavy on your waist, fingers splaying beneath the slit in your dress, you knew the two of you were about to make it worse.

Your own hand slid up to his shoulder — nails scraping against the silk of his jacket. The first step was slow — a teasing slide. The second, he pressed you against him, your breasts brushing his chest. His thumb stroked along your spine — once, twice — before curling possessively around your nape. You tilted your chin up — daring him.

Rhysand's breath fanned over your lips. "How many times have you danced this on your time in the Night Court?"

"Not enough."

His mouth curved. "Then let's fix that."

He spun you — so hard your dress flared, flashing a hint of thigh.

When he caught you again, his knee slid between your legs — the faintest pressure against the ache building there. You bit back a gasp. His grin was pure sin.

"Careful,” he murmured. "You're supposed to be distracting them... not making me distracted in front of the entire Court."

Your laugh was breathless. "Multitask, High Lord."

His mouth brushed your ear. "I could have you begging by the end of this night."

You leaned in, lips grazing his throat. "You'll have to catch me first."

He growled so softly you almost didn't hear it. And then spun you into another step.

☆

By the time the song ended, you were both flushed and panting. And everyone in the Court was watching you.

Feyre was gone.

Lucien was gone.

Tamlin hadn't moved from his throne like the coward he was. Amarantha's nails carved little half-moon dents into the armrests beside her. Rhysand only leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear—

"You always were the best distraction, little mouse."

You were still catching your breath when he led you back to his lap. Where you belonged.

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