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iloveinej · 3 months

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Unquenchable

Theodore Nott x reader

Catagory: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Handjob, dom!reader, they're in looove

Summary: Theodore and her venture down a path they'd never stepped upon. Because of Theodore's insatiable desire and her new night dress.

Words: 3,7k

AN: I have nothing to say. Enjoy.

She could feel his eyes on her, even if he tried to hide them by reading the book resting between his fingers. She didn't know why he was so inclined to always have his eyes on her. Especially when she was only brushing her teeth, lather covering her lips and running down her chin. She didn't look attractive at all.

But what she didn't realize was that the silky, skintight nightgown she wore gave Theodore the perfect view of the behind of her thighs. And the fabric ended right below her behind, teasing Theodore's poor old heart to death.

It was the first she had ever worn something so revealing, especially in front of him. Usually, she buried herself in her brother's old clothes and rags, finding them to be the most comfortable clothing.

And not that she didn't look dashing in those, but this was new territory for Theodore, and he wasn't taking it very well.

His heart was increasingly picking up speed and the apples of his cheeks were burning with either shame or lust, which one he didn't know. He was lucky that the duvet was covering the lower part of his body, otherwise, his desire would be much harder to hide than it already was.

(Name) threw a last, suspicious glance in Theodore's way, noticing his clenched jaw, before leaning over the tap and spitting the remains of the toothpaste out before washing it off her lips. Then she sauntered out of the bathroom, closing the door and absentmindedly rubbing her eye out of exhaustion.

Theodore's eyes were glued to her face as she floated around the room, blowing out the warm candles that were scattered on her many shelves and drawers, slowly inciting the room into a solace of darkness. The only thing helping her see being the last candle on the nightstand, which she waited to blow out.

Instead, she lifted her side of the duvet and crawled under, glowing at the warmth it provided. As an extra procedure turned over to Theodore and efficiently latched onto his bare side, her arm hugging around his torso and her head being buried in between his neck and shoulder.

It wasn't often that they got a chance to be with each other during the night times because of Hogwarts rules and the partition between the boys, girls, and different houses. This is why these moments are always highly appreciated, no matter where, how, or when.

Her nose, lips, and forehead rest comfortably on his pulse point, ears perking at every beat of his heart and bathing in the comfort of being so close to him. She doesn't think about how fast it is beating, or how Theodore's breathing is slightly uneven. Before, when she lay down, she didn't notice how he directed her legs when she wrapped herself around him so that she wouldn't accidentally grace his, at the moment, very sensitive area.

"Are you done reading soon?" She asked, his skin muffling her words and the air tickling his neck. And he raised his arm which he formerly circled her and stroked her hair back, his eyes stuck on the pages. "Only two pages left. Then I'm all yours."

A girlish smile lit up her face and she buried herself even deeper into his neck, not letting Theodore see how easily he made her insides melt and her face heat.

And as promised, after reading the last two pages of the chapter, he closed the book and put it on the floor. And (Name) took the honor of leaving his side and blowing out the last candles, this time letting the room be cast in a shadow.

Theodore eyes were glued on the back of her body as she leaned forwards, and painfully remembered the hard piece of trouble that throbbed between his legs. Before, when she was pushed up against him and his eyes actually could focus on the words in his book, he had forgotten how turned on he was. But it seemed everything she did right now made his pent-up mind turn to the less innocent part of his brain.

(Name) stopped all her movements when a large palm placed itself between her shoulder blades and gently pressed. Not to push her, but to feel her skin, how her muscles moved beneath his hand. The hand travels from its place in the middle of her back, up to her neck. Her arms gained goosebumps when Theodore cupped her neck between his fingers and thumb, fingertips almost reaching to her throat.

A sigh of delight is all she can muster when he rubs circles into her neck, carefully turning her head towards him. His black pupils had taken over his iris, only leaving a rim of his brown-stained, lust-blown eyes. Those eyes were something unfamiliar, something (Name) had never seen before. Not even in their most passionate moments, which to his dismay had only been the hidden snogging in the corner of the school library where she could guarantee that none of her siblings were watching.

The hand behind her neck traveled to her shoulder, and she swallowed when he gently pushed her down into the pillows. And she held her breath and watched with bug eyes as he crawled on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, and laying his arms on either side of her face to keep his body from crushing her.

And he stared at her, intense eyes locking with hers as if they were trying to tell her something, to imply something. And she didn't understand, but the tension in the air made her crazy and she longed to snap it like a twig between her fingers.

She let her hand travel from her side, up to the back of his delicate neck. She mimicked the hold he had on her before, and gently pushed him closer so that she could claim his lips with her own

Warmth and relief spread like wildfire in her stomach when Theodore returned her kiss with more eagerness and power than she had ever seen him do before. A sigh of delight escaped her nose, and she basked in the love Theodore provided for her every day, every minute to every second.

Her arms encircled his neck, and she slowly pulled him closer, letting him rest all his weight on her body. He moaned airily into her mouth, and (Name) saw it as an opportunity to let her tongue invade his mouth. She could feel how he melted against her body as she took control, forcing the kiss to become deeper, more sensual as she massaged his tongue with hers.

Theodore didn't know what to do with himself, for he had never experienced someone taking such control over him. Both body and mind were completely devoted to her and he had no longer any wish to think for himself, only to let her lead him through.

Slowly but surely, she slowed the kiss down, and Theodore found himself frowning when she disconnected their lips entirely. Spit collected on her bottom lip and without breaking their intimate eye contact, he leaned down and sucked the liquid off her lip. A sweet, closed-mouth moan echoed in her throat and Theodore felt how his hardness throbbed in his boxers.

"If you only could understand how absurdly amazing you make me feel." He mumbled with lidded eyes.

Her chest was heaving against his bare one, and she looked at him as if he was the reason for all the good in the world and all the good in her life. His skin erupted in flames and he, once again, leaned down although this time connecting his lips with the column of her throat.

A hand buried itself in her locks and she had no choice but to close her eyes as his lips traveled along her neck, at first only planting innocent pecks, letting his rosy lips leave invisible prints on her skin. Before he found the point right under her jaw and sucked.

"Oh, Theo." She simpered as he sucked, licked, and kissed the space, abusing it as a way of showing his love.

Her words made his hand tighten in her hair, and whilst she loved the attention she was receiving, she wanted to have more control. Theodore needed to be the princess for once. The one who would just stand there and accept the kisses and love. So she slowly enclosed her legs around his hips, squeezing him with her thighs as her hand traveled to his hair.

"You're always so good to me, taking care of me. And I love you so, so much." He sighed shakily into her neck, both because of the praise and also because of his crotch that was now pressed up against hers, and he needed almost all of his control to not grind into her and provide to his inextinguishable thirst for her.

"You own me, you own my body and you're the only thing on my mind." Theodore sucked harder on her neck, teeth grazing the blue area.

"And I own you, Theodore." And it was his downfall. He couldn't help himself but let his hips grind into hers and he grunted at the immense pleasure that spread along his stomach. And after that, he couldn't stop. Like he had been cursed, he continued to push himself against her, a secret fantasy of being inside of her, feeling her walls around his cock pushing him to continue.

"Please." He begged." Please let me make love to you." She almost choked on her tongue at his confession, and that accompanied by the pressure of Theodore's hips grinding into her made her mind foggy.

"I would to have you." A breath got caught in her throat as pressure once more ripped through her body. "But I don't want our first to be in the same house as my parents." The movement of his body came to a slow halt, trying to control himself and respect her wishes. A few playfully pecs were placed on her collarbones and a giggle escaped her lips at the tickling of his lips.

He pulled away from her body and met her eyes, intense gaze making her confidence waver and her body heat soar. Just for a moment, she contemplated to let him have her right in her childhood bed. To let him have his way with her. But with the ounce of self-control left in her body, she stayed in her decision with the knowledge it could bring more problems than pleasure. For him, her, and the rest of the family.

A hard kiss on her lips broke her out of the daze, and Theodore gently rolled off her body, settling at her side with him facing her.

"You sure it's alright?" She asked lightly, fingers tracing the shape of his nose. Her eyes did discreetly look down his body lightly gesturing to his crotch. With fingers under her chin, he lifted her face to his again, this time placing a lighter pec on her forehead.

"I'm sure, I'm here with you that's all I need. Nothing more."

"Are sure? Otherwise, you can-"

"I'm sure, never been more sure." With a gentle smile on her lips, she nodded, eyes fluttering shut when Theodore continued with her previous movements, fingers tracing her nose. "Go to sleep."

But she couldn't sleep. It was impossible. Butterflies were racing against her inner organs, in her belly and other places she had never felt the tickling feeling in. Her entire body was buzzing. Just the thought of her making the boy next to her so troubled, in a good way, was thrilling. Because he's Theodore, the attractive, brilliant, and kind Slytherin who everyone wanted to be or to be with. And he chooses her.

The boy next to her shuffled in the bed, body turning so his back faced her. She played as still as possible so he wouldn't notice her being awake, or to wake him for that matter.

But just when she was sure he was sound asleep, he sat up in the bed, throwing his legs over the edge and her heart beat in worry when his head hung lowly into his hands. She was about to lay a comforting hand on his back but he stood up before she had the time.

"Theo?" She asked and he turned around, startled by her voice. "You okay?"

A smile lit his face and he kneeled before her, kissing her lips quickly. "Just going to the bathroom." Even though her room was dark, the moonlight revealed an unmistakable redness on the apples of his cheeks and she looked down to see his problem still present, and once again her body erupted in a buzz.

Before he could walk away, she grabbed his hand, stopping him. He looked at her with a question in his eyes, and she looked away in shyness.

"I can- I can help you if you want?" Her big eyes raked over his face, waiting for an answer while his face displayed a handful of different emotions.

"You don't have to, I don't want to force you." She flushed at his gentleness, but couldn't dismiss the new, lustful edge in his voice.

"I want to help you. Alright? I want you." When he didn't say anything, she tugged his hand towards her, enough so one of his knees met the mattress.

"Do you want me too?" Her voice took a change and her eyes searched in his. As an answer, Theodore grabbed her throat and pulled her into a searing kiss, tongue licking over her lips when he pulled away.

"I want you to, need you, truly." And he was about to go into a second kiss, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"Good. But on one condition." He listened idly, lips kissing on the pad of her finger. "You have to be quiet, at all cost. You can't make a sound, if you do I'll have to stop."

She gently positioned him on his back, brain going ten miles on hour at the newfound confidence, at the newfound domination. He nodded slowly and his eyes were hooded with the lust of anticipation.

Thedore was a naturally dominant person per se. In their relationship, in his life, and in his friend group. With a hand on her back, he guided her the way he wanted, and with the preeminence in his voice, she found it hard to deny him. But now, with his panting chest and pleading puppy dog eyes, she wondered where Theodore went, without complaining of course.

With shaky hands and Theodore's eyes intently on her, she reached for the edge of his underwear, fingers picking at his waistband. Her knees clenched together when Thedore put both his arms behind his head, face shining with confidence. And in the most loving way possible, a small part of her wanted to break it down.

Slowly, she pulled the underwear down, with the help of Theodore raising his hips. When she laid eyes on his crotch, she swallowed and looked at Theodore, who had his lip in his teeth.

As if he could see her hesitation, he gave her a nod. "It's okay, Lovie, you can touch me."

And in pure curiousness, she let the tips of her fingers run up his length, feeling the warmth emitting from his body. A gasp made way from his mouth and he threw his head into the pillow. In fear of believing she hurt him, she pulled back, hand landing on his thigh.

"Theo? Sorry did I hurt you? I didn't mean to." She stressed, massaging his thigh in comfort. But he only shook his head, trying to slow his increased breath.

"No, no don't stop." His voice cracked pitifully as he pleaded, but she wasn't convinced.

"Theo Im not su-"

"Please for the love of Merlin, touch me. I swear I'm going to explode." The doubt was replaced with fire in her entire body. And she did the same movement again, running her fingers up his length.

Once again, a gasp escaped his lips, and a rare, blissful expression covered his face. His eyebrows scrunched upwards and a small smile on his open mouth.

And she wanted more of this reaction, craved it even. So she continued to run her fingertips up and down, biting her lip to hide her smile at his panting and puffing.

"Come on, love, I know you can do more than that." He didn't. But she could do more. She met his eyes, who were intently, expectantly staring into her. Like he was daring her. Holding his eye, she took a loose grip on his cock, doing an experimental stroke.

His eyes snapped to where his body met her hands, and a small, low moan forced itself from his lips. So low she almost missed it, but she's glad she didn't. She forced her thighs together, rocking back and forth as she began to twist her wrist to give Theo relief along with herself.

He only continues to stare at her moving hand, his stomach and thighs flexing with pleasure. And she notices, of course, she does, and lets her free land on the place connecting his pelvis and thigh, slowly massaging it to get him relaxed. It does quite the opposite.

He throws his head back, straight into the pillow. "Fuck." He whispers as one of his hands clenches around the sheet.

Without even meaning to, she speeds up her hand movements, her body reacting automatically to his pleasure. And he bucks into her hand at the new feeling, a groan, louder than before resonated pleasantly in her ear.

"Merlin, shit what the fuck are you doing to me." He moaned desperately, taking satisfaction in her warm palm, in the intense feeling in his pelvis and length. In his entire body. It was like he was high.

She giggled lightly, bashfully continuing her stroking without a notion of how the sound affected him.

An idea formed in her head, a memory of a knowledge Theo himself revealed not long ago at all. She took her other hand, which was stroking his thigh, and gripped it above the hand on his lenght, and let her thumb run over his tip, using a little pressure

And Theodore let out a moan, a borderline whine. And it didn't stop.

She continued the abuse on his tip, along with rapid strokes of his length, and different types of whines, groans and moans left him, one after one. And they were loud, too loud.

"Shhh, Theo you need to quiet down." Deep down she knew he wouldn't, especially with her continued stimulation of his cock.

"Can't- Fuck. I can't, I can't." He cried head tilted down to take a peek at her hands. Bad Idea as his length throbbed in her hands, sending him into a new fit of moans.

So she stopped. Only as an attempt to quiet him.

But it left him unsatisfied and searching for stimulation, violently continuing to buck his hips for any kind of friction, sounds of complaint echoing in the room.

"Theo you said you could be quiet, so be quiet!" She whisper-yelled desperately, pushing his hips to still with one of her hands. But he just couldn't be quiet.

Now, he was instead whining over the lack of stimulation, thrashing his head from side to side at the lost feeling.

"Theo for the love of good shut up." At the sudden stern tone, he shut his mouth and turned to her, big puppy dog eyes staring at her with admiration.

They sat quietly as she listened after a single sound. But luckily, there was none. And she could let her shoulders relax.

"Good job Theo." She smiled, and pecked his lips, him chasing after her when she sat straight again.

The pace of her hands picked up again, and Theodore tried his utmost to keep his sounds down. But it was so difficult.

And he thought he would be able to hold himself quiet until her hands sped up greatly.

She watched with awe in her eyes as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips vigorously meeting her wrist as he fucked her hand, moans of her name and whined curses fleeing his pink lips.

"Fuck. I th-think." His head arched into the mattress, interrupting his sentence with a moan. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-im-" She panicked as his voice took a turn for the loudest, and without thinking she slapped her hand over his mouth, although with a force that pushed his head further into the pillow.

His entire body twitched violently at the harsh gesture, and his eyelashes fluttered when white-hot pleasure overtook his entire life.

Without meaning to, he threw his hand over the one covering his mouth, gripping it tight as the other squeezed her thigh in a bruising grip. And he came with a long, guttural moan, straight into her hand as she continued to stroke him through his high. And she didn't stop, not until his body had stopped convulsing completely.

When he was done, his chest was heaving as he chipped for air, and she placed a concerned and clean hand on his chest, rubbing it slowly.

"You need to slow your breathing, don't need you to faint on me after that." He nodded lightly, head too heavy for anything else. He took her hand and bullied his breathing to a normal pace, even if it burned his lungs.

He forced his eyelids open, and her body, once again, flushed at the half-lidded look he gave her. As if she hung the moon and stars for him.

But, what he didn't know was she had a last trick up her sleeve. She raised her dirty hand to his lips and slowly and carefully licked every bit of him left on her hand.

Theodore let out a small gasp, and his handanded on her thigh massaging it to the erotic picture, fighting another hard-on with his life.

She leaned down and was about to connect her tongue to his lower abdomen, ready to lick the cum of his godly body. But she only had time to graze him before he took her cheeks in his hands, squeezing them while lifting her head in distress

"No no no!" He stressed, and she started at him with, big, questioning eyes." Fuck. I love you, but you're gonna get yourself another piece of trouble if I let you continue." A laugh of surprise jumped in her chest, looking down at her lap, her body warm and humble.

"Youre seriously amazing, you know that right." He breathed out, a smile in his voice. And a chuckle bumbled in her throat, head hazy with bliss.

She kissed his palm. "And I love you, lovie."

-----

So... That happened

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gangplanksorenji · 4 months

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Kinknuary Day 11: Riding

Pairing: NMIXX Haewon x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,359

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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You’re making a fool of yourself, and Haewon too.

You tend to be an attentive person, capable of being aware of anything and tend to go straightforward but you’re just acting like you’re oblivious and god, you’re bad at it. Thankfully, Haewon is worse at reading your true emotions towards her and that’s a sigh of relief—you didn’t want it this way but it just feels uncanny being romantically involved in a relationship with her, even though you’re one of her close friends.

I guess, you’re just in the “friend’s zone” no matter what happens, but you could never be so sure because sometimes, she can be unfathomable.

“God, I've been so stressed lately.” Haewon thuds at your couch as she stares up at the ceiling, feeling a little exhausted from the earlier party the both of you attended.

“Maybe you’re just being too harsh on yourself, Haewon.” You remark as subtle concern emanates through you in which, Haewon jokingly teases you with that, not before rolling her eyes and letting off a scoff towards you.

“Wow, you’re concerned for me, hm? That’s not you—that’s not you!!” She changes her lazy demeanor into a lively one as she looks at you with a surprised face (knowing it’s genuinely sarcastic), rushing towards you and then holding your shoulders as she slightly shakes you, teasing you even more as her dorky personality shows.

“Yah, stop it!” You brush Haewon off with your arms as she pouts after you remove her hands all over you, a little bewildered with your possibly irritated approach. “I’m just saying that you’re maybe just overworking yourself on too much, that’s all.”

Haewon reflects for a bit, thinking that you’re maybe right in these circumstances as she takes this a little too seriously. Maybe approaching such deadlines and procrastinating too much isn’t going to do the job, and setting time schedules to do productive things would be the right call and you’re letting her know how she can be more efficient and she can do better than that.

Of course, you’re thoughtful about her, even though you may act like a hypocrite sometimes and deny it, there’s still a heart inside you that values her as much as she does towards you. The sign of the hint of anxiety painting her face earlier as she overthinks about it is alarming for you, and you don’t want Haewon too feel like that everytime, even when there are times (like earlier) that she should enjoy and have fun but because of it, it’s going towards the opposite way.

“Yeah, maybe I am—sorry though…”

You paint a confused face from her nigh-melancholic remarks as you’re not used to seeing Haewon being down all of a sudden. “Sorry for what?”

“You know—how I acted a little off earlier, at the party. I know I should be enjoying it earlier and I’m sorry for that…”

Haewon is now being true and open to herself and it’s great to see that she’s vocal about it. Brushing off the whimsical atmosphere from earlier, you offered her to sit down onto the couch as you’re all ears on what she just said. You’ve never felt this serious about addressing your concern towards her and of course, you reassure her by stroking her hair and letting her know that everything is going to be alright because you’re there by her side, as always.

“You don’t need to be sorry, Haewon. You just need to plan things ahead and you’ll cope out of this, alright? I’m here to help, too.”

Haewon smiles at your reassurance, feeling genuinely thankful with your thoughtfulness even though you don’t really show it to her often. “Yeah, thanks though—maybe I needed that…” Not so long after, awkward silence ensues between the both of you as it’s clearly obvious that the both of you aren’t used to being thoughtful against each other but nonetheless, the both of you (especially Haewon) appreciated your kind words. “You know what? I wanna do something since I’m getting pretty stressed lately.”

Ah yes, the usual dodging and the turmoil of current topics—it’s a classic move by Haewon and with those words and that tone being uttered by her mouth, this can mean two things and it’s pretty straightforward: it’s either she wants to battle against you in an online game or basically, she wants to destress by having sex with you. The former is pretty obvious since she loves playing one-versus-one games with you whenever she is feeling competitive, or if she just wants to relax and chill out, then she’ll invite you to play some farming games yet the latter, is something interesting and somewhat, what piques you into this moment. Sex isn’t new for the both of you as you casually do it with whenever the both of you feel like it and it’s also the time where the both of you confess your kinks, wants and some experimental stuff that you both want to try. It even comes to a point where the both of you needed to take breaks because on how wild and exhausting you guys went into and also buying some soundproof foams just for your neighbor’s ears to be saved mostly from Haewon’s screams of pleasure—and it’s always bleeding your ear, every goddamn time but you didn’t care.

Well, I guess the both of you are the freakiest friends to ever exist.

“Just say you want to have sex with me, Haewon.” You’re straightforward and stern whilst Haewon is in utter hypocrisy and in denial. Even though she’s back at her usual roots when it comes to gaslighting you, you can’t deny that her eyes are glistening with lust as soon as you say those words and you're not oblivious nor stupid to not think about it.

“What if it’s not the case, huh, pervert?” You’re not affected by that knowing it’s just one of her tactics of another gaslight and soon, she’ll eat her words up.

“I highly doubt it, Haewon. I bet you’re wet as fuck right now imagining my cock ravaging your tight pussy—”

“Yah! Not too fast, idiot…” Haewon lightly punches your shoulders as she feels aroused at what you’ve said, crossing her legs a little as she can feel her urges finally turning her on. You know how to pick her locks and as much as she wants to deny it, she can’t help but voice out her needs as the inevitable desires that she’s been seeking for is now making her a different girl. “But you’re fucking right—I want it now~”

Of course, she’ll give in to her own desires in some time as she swiftly hops her figure to mount over your clothed nether region and rubs her hips greedily onto it. You, smirking in delight, finally caught her eye as you tease her with her needy state, her constant small whimpers and biting of lip is a good reason behind it.

“See, I know you’ll give in soon, Haewon—I know you.”

“Fuck you—just shut up and let me do my thing.” Haewon continues to grind onto your crotch in which you loved the feeling because of how mutually arousing it is for both parties. You and your hands didn’t become idle as you encouraged her with more dirty talk and your hands caressing the slender finger that her outfit shows, your eyes lighting up in admiration as her body is simply the epitome of perfection. Of course, with both your desires needed to be attended as soon as possible, the both of you didn’t waste time to strip off your the clothing that has been preventing the both of you with such enchanting touches as Haewon starts the show and you, picking up the scraps and following her steps.

With the hot scene being taken in place, you want both parties to be busy with something torrid and—there you go, pull her wrists to initiate such an intimate kiss and she eagerly reciprocates like always. The kiss was full of profounded fervor as every second finds vigor in every peck and neither of you chose to even pull out, not even Haewon herself because she just fonds herself indulging into it further. Knowing how you’re insatiable and delectable at her end, she wouldn’t dare to act tough and push you just to pull out and say that she doesn’t want it—you’re pretty confident that she won’t retaliate as it’s working effectively so far but you could never be so sure. Why is this such a big deal? Well, there are a couple of things why and here are those: firstly, Haewon wants to go straight to where she wants her needs to be unattended, no matter which hole or whatever she may think of; second, kissing Haewon this intimately like this is like finding a needle in the haystack as you know that she doesn’t really indulge into deep kisses like this and that’s why you’re a bit perplexed that she’s not pulling out of your lips’ warm embrace and lastly; Haewon doesn’t really want to share her true feelings as she’s afraid of spilling something out of her mouth that could make both of you uncomfortable. Some of these conclusions are mostly correct as with years of knowing her, you knew that these are the possible reasons but you could never be so sure.

Speaking of the devil, it didn’t last that long as she pulled out and as much as you want to indulge further, that wouldn’t be possible as the both of you untangle each other’s lips and hurriedly catched breaths, chasing oxygen. While you were utterly satisfied that you got to taste her luscious lips, Haewon, on the other hand, isn’t really a fan of it—and again, peak hypocrisy is possessing her and obviously, she’ll deny that she felt more than greatness making up a torrid kiss with you.

“We’re not going to make love with all of these kisses—I want you fill me up, nice and easy—”

“Stop acting like you didn’t love it, Haewon.” You roll your eyes out as you express annoyance and a hint of disappointment towards her hypocrite actions. You know she loved it, considering how her hands involuntarily coursed it’s way onto the back of your neck, stopping her from stripping her outfit and with that, she can’t help but embrace defeat as she doesn’t have a strong weapon up in her sleeve to fight back.

“You’re so annoying! Maybe I did because you’re a good fucking kisser—there, happy?” Of course, Haewon expresses her discomfort with your sudden intimacy as every word is laced with sarcasm as every isn’t genuine because you could feel and you know her too well. You know she isn’t seriously angry in any means and meant to just annoy you and tease you, so you didn’t find her “furious” demeanor too serious.

“Hah, come on, Haewon, you’re no fun! But honestly, I’ve been wanting this all along, not gonna lie to you.” Helping her strip away her clothing with the dexterity of your hands, you get rid of it one by one as you can see Haewon’s face getting curious and puzzled, wondering what could be the real cause of your wants.

“To kiss me intimately, hm? ‘Cause all I really know is that my lips are as addicting as my tight pussy, isn’t it?” Opposite from Haewon’s hypocrite approach and repudiative personality in terms of vocalizing each self’s wants, you, on the other hand is more straightforward and optimistic, always lying onto complimenting people as it gets better for both parties and you still keep the persona even with Haewon, but teasing and mocking is inevitable as it’s such a guilty pleasure to see Haewon being annoyed or angry at you.

“Well, you’re definitely a clever girl with that judgment, Haewon.”

You can’t lie about that as every feature Haewon has is pure art as you all love them equally but one must prevail and it’s pretty obvious for you since you love the thought of just mindlessly hammering her tight, warm cavern until she submits into full submission and lust. As she completely undresses the possibly hectic clothing out of her scrumptious body, you were met with a simple yet lethal look that complimented the slender curves of her body: a white-laced bra followed by a set of white panties in which, would be deemed useless once the show starts over. You don’t want her hanging by a thread, leaving her almost naked as you undressed your clothing off, unbuttoning your pants as quickly as possible and yanking it off you and then throwing it out on wherever it lands on the living room, as well as removing your polo shirt off within a speed of light. Leaving the both of you with only a single defense left before you drool on each other’s bodies, the both of you didn’t even hesitate for a single bit as you removed the last bit of your iron walls and immediately, your eyes collapse onto each other’s remarkable features: you eyed her perky breasts and her taut nipples, as well as her probably wet cunt from all of the dirty talk from earlier and Haewon eyed your fully-erect length like it’s a meal to be savored and used, her eyes getting lit up with lust in every throb it does.

“I’m just going to say this again, because I’ll know you’ll tend to forget it—” Haewon gets dangerously close towards you as she’s inches away from feeling her touch but she has other plans, and tends to whisper such factual claims that you’ll absolutely agree on. “—I’ll rock your world today to the point that you’ll forget anything except my tight pussy around your rock-hard cock.”

Well, she isn’t wrong, because whenever the two of you had sex, it always ends up with both of you succumb onto your needs as the moans of satisfaction is enough as an evidence and also on how much arousal and stimulation the both of you are into whenever you fuck each others’ brains out. In your words, she’s truly the epitome of a switch but now, you’ll let yourself be the meal that she’ll devour but she has more thoughts kept in her sleeve.

“Well, Haewon—how do you want me today, hm?”

“You know, since you’ve been so good on me lately and I’ve been wanting to do this with you…” You set off a puzzling look as Haewon softens her tone, wanting you to be all ears on what she has to say as curiosity fully sets you off onto asking her what she wants for now.

“What would you want to do, Haewon?”

Haewon fixes her position as she lets you lay down onto the couch, relaxing yourself as you fully immerse yourself onto what she’s going to be up to and she utters, “I want to ride the living fuck out of you—that’s what I want to do.”

Well, that wasn’t much of a hard guess since the position and her mounting onto your crotch is indeed an obvious sign that she wants to ride you. Well, this wasn’t new on your watch as she rode you for like months ago and would love to experience it again and here you are, fulfilling that dream of yours. This wasn’t anything you’d really want to do with her as you find this unorthodox on your own words because you’d rather fuck her and gain the better leverage and dominance to handle her body in which, she fully submits to.

You won’t complain since it’s also an arousing thought with Haewon having to ride your cock like it’s her last and you’ll give her what she wants.

She started off with such leisure strokes that made you groan in pleasure, such sensual sensitivity also adding to the twist and making everything better. Not so long after, she teases her glistening lips onto your throbbing shaft, as you can already feel the wetness enveloping your tip and soon enough, you grew impatient with her antics, and you need to let her know about it.

“Aren’t you going to ride me or just tease the living fuck out of me?”

“Just wait, you horny fuck—” Haewon glares at you with an intent to faze you but it was the opposite. The anticipation is too much to handle and you can’t take anymore, and neither does she. “—foreplay is an important element so chill your horny ass down.”

But you know she can’t resist feeling your entire length inside her and you can sense it even if she tries to deny it, like how she always does. So, without any time to waste, she slowly hops on your cock as it sluggishly engulf her tight walls and the feeling is just too good to be true, making the two of you moan in need and pleasure. She slowly sinks in your whole length as it didn’t take long before her butt meets the skin of your thighs and ensues at such a slow pace that’s pleasurable enough to make you feel butterflies. As she’s fully indulging towards her own desires, she finds herself picking up the pace as she grinds her hips onto a moderate pace and inevitably, she tends to moan out her satisfaction as your whole length makes her feel good.

“Not gonna l-lie—ahh, y-your fucking cock is so big that makes m-me feel good…”

“And your wet cunt is so tight that it’s j-just too good to be true.”

Again, feelings are mutual and you won’t dare her to stop even if you can’t take it—you just find yourself wanting Haewon to ride you until your balls are fully drained. Feeling euphoric, Haewon’s hands course its way onto your chest as she aids herself on a better pace as she caresses it from time to time, reassuring you on how great it feels. Just with her touch, you could sense and read how she feels at that very moment and it’s all just peak pleasure at its finest. She expresses such a smug demeanor, confident on how great she’s riding you even though it’s not even a minute that you’re inside her—you know how she loves it genuinely when shows such emotions of confidence and pure lust, her assertive demeanor letting you know her primal desires and her satisfaction.

Thanks to her wetness, it wasn’t really the hardest to take her all as she maintains her pace and eases herself up with every thrust she does at your raging length. She just finds herself moaning too much as your cock does wonders all over her body, constant pleasure surging in her veins and with all of those events occupying your mind, Haewon is now trying to accustom herself onto this new profound pace. Every clapping of her cheeks onto your pelvis sends vibrations all over the living room as the sound adds up to the sinful symphony the both of you composed a while ago—and god, her hypnotic bouncing really sends you into overdrive as her pussy just feels so great that you just wanna bury your entire length inside it all day.

“You’re riding me so well, Haewon—keep that pace just like that—fuck!

Of course, you encourage her well in order to maintain the incredible feeling that has been coursing down your veins. Haewon’s hips now slam hard in every time she fucks herself onto you and it’s an incredible feeling, especially when your hand course its way onto her supple butt and give her hard spanks and as a response, her velvety walls clench tightly and you groan in a hint of pain because of it.

“You like that, huh—you like me riding this fucking dick like it’s my last? You like how my pussy clenches? You like filling myself up balls-fucking-deep? Shit—I fucking—I can’t stop riding this dick!”

“Yeah, Haewon—I never though this will this fucking good—ride me harder and faster!”

You can’t really stay idle and just relax while Haewon is gyrating her hips like her life depends on it. So, encouraged with her wetness enveloping your entire cock and the squelching of it in every thrust she do, your hips starts to oscillate such a pace that increases the fire of lust between the both of you as the trajectory of both bodies muster such libido that’s unstoppable. Her hands are now gripping your shoulders as the pace is now the wildest she could ever imagine, uttering such erotic moans that blesses your ears and arouses you into oblivion. Haewon still maintains her wild pace as you increase yours too, your balls now wildly slapping against her puckered hole as her juices are now staining the couch as everything doesn’t matter right now except the paramount of delighted sex—you’ll probably regretting having a sensual intercourse with her on your couch as it’s going to stained enough for you to maybe change it.

You could never ask for more when every man’s wish is fulfilled at this moment and god, Haewon is one of a kind when it comes to her sexual masterclass and as the top of the pyramid, her scrumptious, insatiable body is all for you to feel and use. With all of the monstrosity the both of you went into, it wasn’t long until Haewon felt herself inching closer to the promised land and wanting herself to go near it. In the point of no-return, she conveyed such profanities that can outstand the most sinful discordants as her thighs quiver and voiced out her nearing high to you.

“No–oh god! I’m g-going to cum s-so soon! Shit—your cock makes me feel so good!”

“Hah—and you’re bickering earlier that I cum so prematurely, huh?”

Haewon shows off an irritated disposition from your mocking remarks as she retaliates, articulating such a mindful response even though her mind is being clouded with sex and pristine pleasure. “Shut the fuck up and m-make me cum sooner, how about that?”

That, you won’t be denying to do. You’ll please her as much as she does to you and finding such a better way to opt for a climax, you ram your pelvis onto her pulsating cunt harder as her walls clench even harder than ever before. If she’s going to achieve her high this euphoric, might as well add up to the sensation she’s feeling as your fingers directed onto her emanating heat, swiping her folds in a rhythmic tempo in aims to stimulate it further and help her chase her own high sooner.

Whenever her pitch reaches the crescendo, it’s the point where everything ascends and your ears wish to fall deaf as her throat escaping such lustful symphonies comes to a halt, voicing out her climax and Haewon fully succumbs onto her orgasmic trance. With such an unstoppable approach as lust fuels Haewon’s mind, she further penetrates herself deeper and harder onto your whole length as a rivulet of her own nectar stains your pelvis and onto the couch and god, it’s rich and volume which makes you think on how euphoric she felt at this given moment. When the pace of her hips gradually decreases, you can find yourself doing the job by thrusting upwards and chasing your own orgasm too as the high-drunken Haewon helps you with your own reward too, riding you with an incredible pace as she didn’t mind the sensitivity that comes right after.

“What the fuck, Haewon—you came so much… You better find money to change this fucking couch ‘cause fuck—you stained this so much.”

“What do you mean—god, I fucking hate you but fuck—I can’t r-resist your cock!”

Such oxymoron is laced within that sentence as she cursed herself to submerge onto her devilish desires to the fullest, finding her wild pace again as you relaxed yourself and let her do the work. Even though Haewon may love the fact that she’s riding the living life out of your whole length with her walls begging a healthy load to be deposited deep into her cunt—yes, the fulfillment of your orgasmic trance will soon be near as you stop Haewon with her current remarks which earns an irked disposition painting her face.

“Why the fuck—”

“You want my cum deep in your pussy, right?” She nods without any question as her face quickly fades into a delightful one as she anticipates your load in the fullest of manners.

“Gosh—just ram my pussy like y-you meant it—oh god—f-fuck! Just shoot i-it deep in m-me—fuck, harder!!”

Now switching another position, her legs now hug around your waist as you carry her and ravage her tight, snug pussy like it’s your last, every thrust meant to make her forget about anything except you and your cock. Within a few more thrusts, the inevitable will soon come and there’s no one or nothing on earth that can stop this monstrosity. Within the vigorous pumps and the numerous moans she’s letting out to encourage you more, you let go of your grip on hers as you push your entire length in her, burying it balls-deep as you groan with your anticipating orgasm and god, it’s so fucking much.

Haewon finds this endearing that you’re this stimulated with another position she loved trying. Her mind comes back into being clouded full of sexual desires as you shoot ropes of thick, warm semen that filled her up to the brim in which, she damn treasure as every second that passes is just being closer onto the paramount of every delight possible—your mind now full of bliss as it does wander all over your mind. The both of you fall limp on the couch after such a steamy session and an ecstatic orgasm of yours as silence ensues but ragged breaths fills the air, and suddenly, no one talks as exhaustion envelops all over your bodies and drowsiness doing its job.

You never thought that she’ll be into this more than what you expected and you just want to rest and maybe, opportunity seeks its victims tomorrow or possibly, even later—who knows how fate can make your destiny?

#kinknuary 2024 #nmixx smut #haewon smut #nmixx x male reader #haewon x male reader

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bigbeanbear · 3 months

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I don’t really understand how some people can interpret Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship as “sisters” or “uninteresting” if they have finished Hazbin Hotel Season 1 completely, because Chaggie’s love languages (both mutual and unique ones) are so obvious.

Their mutual love language is obviously “Physical Touch”. From the start, their hands are on each other constantly. Sure, they are not a PDA couple like Moxxie and Millie, who like to passionately tongue kiss in public, but they LOVE holding hands to support each other. Plus a lot of small gestures like touches on face, shoulder and thigh, just come very naturally to them like an old married couple. I think they enjoy their more intimate moments in private, as Charlie kisses Vaggie on the lost eye in their bedroom, or they deep kiss in an empty hallway.

When it comes to the unique ones, Charlie’s giving love language to Vaggie is “Gifts”. Even when she rants about Vaggie hiding big secret from her to Alastor all the way to Cannibal Town, as soon as they are in Rosie’s emporium, Charlie lands her eyes on the souvenir section and immediately picks up that keychain doll that somehow resembles a chaggie love child for Vaggie. Also, I think it’s possible that the red bow and eye patch that Vaggie wears all the time were gifted by Charlie too, considering how the red theme symbolizes Charlie, especially in the pilot, these things are the only red parts on Vaggie contrasting her own grey/white color theme. Giving gifts showing how much Charlie loves Vaggie makes sense, she’s super rich as the Princess, and Vaggie owned nothing when she was left in Hell. So I definitely think Vaggie appreciates and cherishes all the small gifts from Charlie.

On Vaggie’s side, her unique giving love language to Charlie is “Act of Service”. She manages the hotel for Charlie, supports Charlie’s dream no matter what, and swears to protect Charlie with her life. It also makes sense, considering Vaggie had been a faithful soldier for years, being in service for the person she loves most just comes naturally from her. Again, Vaggie had nothing when she was left to die, so she devotes her whole body to Charlie. I can see that it’s kind of unhealthy to Vaggie’s own psyche, since she sees no value in her own being and feels worthless if she cannot be useful to Charlie, but I think it is something the show might explore in the future. Charlie seems to enjoy receiving service from Vaggie too, she appreciates how much Vaggie’s done for her, and considers them as a team with herself leading and Vaggie executing. Vaggie is very good at materializing Charlie’s plans too. I don’t see anyone analyzing this, but Vaggie’s persuasion of Carmilla is pretty well done that efficiently gets to the weakest spot of Carmilla. Vaggie is the one that acts.

Chaggie is not the perfect sapphic couple, but what makes them kind of outstanding is them being a deeply-in-love stable couple beyond the initial crush and honeymoon phase. I like having such representation like them.

Btw, the script writer of episode 3 and 7 highlighting Chaggie’s relationship is Ariel Ladensohn, who is a lesbian in a stable relationship irl, so I have some faith that the show can do Chaggie justice in the future seasons.

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maya1525 · 10 months

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After-School Activities

18+ MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Satoru Gojo, Toge Inumaki, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuuta Okkotsu

WARNINGS✩࿐unprotected group sex in the classroom, Male Teacher x Female Student, overstimulation, teasing, praise, size difference, Fem! Receiving oral, anal, vaginal sex, cream pie, choking, tit-fucking, multiple Fem!Reader orgasms

BONUS✩࿐Reader gets fucked in a skirt

Word count✩࿐7.1K

Summary✩࿐This is part 2 to my jjk series (reading part 1 isn’t necessary, but it is appreciated) The school changed the living situation for the students and they have to live in shared apartments. The reader is living with Megumi Fushiguro, Yuuta Okkotsu, and Toge Inumaki. She is being shared among those three as their girlfriend. Satoru Gojo figures out what’s going on between the four students and (for his own selfish desires) decides to give them a lesson on how to please the Fem!Reader.

A/N✩࿐I made a few minor changes to this fic, I hope you like this updated version better. Not sure where my mind went when I wrote this… I hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing from multiple viewpoints.

“How long have you been standing there?” Questioned Megumi as Yuji leaned against the island casually.

“Oh, you know. Like ten minutes. I’m surprised none of you heard me come in. Yuuta was taking too long to grab his running shoes, so I came up to see what the hold-up was. Gotta say I’m impressed.” Yuji smiled, eying all of you with approval. “It was like I was watching a porno in real life!” Megumi let out an irritated groan at his friend's choice of words, while Yuuta face-palmed himself

“Shoot, I completely forgot you were waiting for us! Sorry man kinda got distracted.” Okkotsu flushed as he picked his t-shirt up off the floor. Toge pried you from Megumi’s lap and covered you up more efficiently with the blanket. Not liking the fact that Yuji eyed you with such lust. He pulled you into his arms protectively and led you upstairs to your bedrooms.

“Aww, so is that a ‘no’ then? It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone about your guys’ interesting relationship!” Called out Yuji from the kitchen, you let out a little giggle. To be honest, you never thought of Yuji in that way before. But if you were ever given the chance, would you let Yuji do you? You pushed the thought away as you shakily walked up the stairs, hanging on tight to Toge’s hand. Yuuta followed close behind with his hand on your lower back for support. Toge led you guys to his bedroom and personal bathroom. You’ve showered in his bathroom a couple of times before, typically after sleeping and having sex in his room. The smell of his sandalwood-scented candle always made you feel invited.

Inumaki got the bath ready for you, while Yuuta pulled you into him for a sweet hug, “You did so well taking all three of us for the first time.” You felt his smooth voice through his chest. He pulled away to smile down at you fondly, but then a shocked gasp left his lips. “Inumaki, look what you did to her!”

Toge brought his attention from the bath's temperature towards you, his expression changed to an excited one. He quickly got up and turned you to face the mirror. There on your face, you had his matching cursed speech markings.

This was a side effect of your cursed technique, which allows you to digest any curse user's DNA and mimic their abilities (to a lesser extent). Depending on how much DNA from someone you consume the effects of their techniques will vary.

Toge eyed you proudly and tilted your chin upward to his face. He opened your mouth to look at your tongue. He nodded as a gorgeous smile formed across his features, his viper seal was on your tongue just like his. He pulled you close to his lean porcelain-colored chest and gave you a gentle kiss.

Toge and Yuuta carefully removed the soft blanket from your naked body and led you to the nice warm bath. They took turns washing you as carefully as possible. They treated you as if you were a delicate doll. You felt so relaxed you snoozed off a bit in the bath. You groggily remember Toge carrying you to his bed afterward, and then Yuuta kissed your forehead before he left.

You woke up slightly when you felt Inumaki’s smooth hands run across your skin, as he rubbed lotion on you. Not a single part of your body was missed. His fingers ghosted over your nipples, across your stomach, and dipped down between your sensitive thighs, causing you to shiver.

“Toge, I’m cold. Cuddle me.” Your words melted his heart, he could never say no to you, especially the way your soft voice sounds extra cute when you’re sleepy. He covered you up in his dark gray comforter and pulled you into him. Snaking his arms around your waist, while resting his lips on the back of your neck.

Megumi felt guilty about how marked up your neck was from him, but secretly he couldn’t help but feel a flash of pride knowing he was the one who left them on you. He let you wear his uniform shirt to help hide the hickeys since it had a turtle neck. It was extremely baggy on you because of how petite your figure was. Your school uniform was a black button-down short-sleeve shirt paired skirt that fell midway down your thighs, along with black thigh-high socks. His turtle neck covered your face partially, but when you’d move slightly or speak, Toge’s curse speech marks would become noticeable. During class, you got a few curious glances from the girls, Satoru even flashed Toge and Megumi a proud and knowing smirk.

“And that’s it for our lesson today,” Gojo said clasping his hands together, everyone stood up and began to grab their belongings. You were about to head out of the door when Gojo spoke up once more, “Y/n you wouldn’t mind staying a little later to chat, would you?” You froze right in your tracks; Megumi, Toge, and Yuuta all shared shocked looks for a split second. “Don’t worry boys, she’s not in trouble,” Gojo smiled devilishly at their reaction.

“Uh- yeah, that's fine Sensei.” You said politely.

Once everyone else was gone and the door closed behind your boyfriends Gojo leaned back in his chair as he eyed you through his blindfold. “So, how are things going?” He said nonchalantly with the smirk on his face never faltering.

“Good.” You found yourself fiddling with the waistband of your skirt nervously.

“And your living situation? It looks like those three are treating you well.” His smooth voice rang out.

“Yes, they’re all very nice to me,” You sighed warmly.

Gojo let out a hearty chuckle, “Oh, no need to be so mousy.” He stood up from his chair and placed both of his hands on his desk, leaning towards you in a dominating manner, “Like I said you’re not in trouble... Do you have any idea why I asked to speak to you?”

“No-” You said shortly, but then changed your mind “Well, is it because of my... appearance?”

Satoru snickered once more, “Right on the nose!” He praised, “My first question is-“ He lifted his index finger to represent the number one, but then he hooked the Megumi’s collar at your neck. He pulled down the fabric to expose your neck covered in possessive love bites. Now Toge’s cursed speech marks on your cheeks were visible as well. You gasped in shock.

“Did Megumi leave those on you? Hmm?” You were appalled, he then gently gripped your jaw and tilted your head side to side as he inspected further. His presence was so overwhelming, that you felt too nervous to speak. A familiar feeling in your stomach began to stir up, arousal.

“Aww, cat got your tongue?” Gojo cooed with fake pity. “That’s ok, you don’t have to answer me. It’s written all over your pretty face. But please answer this next question; Toge emptied himself in your mouth, didn’t he?” His dirty words caused you to shudder.

You were beyond flustered, “Yes, he did.” You said defeatedly, and Gojo’s smug look increased.

“I’m guessing Yuuta’s involved too?” Satoru hummed as you felt a faint blush creep across your cheeks. You nodded shyly. With his grip still on your jaw he placed his middle and index fingers against your lips - they looked so kissable to him.

“Are you able to use your cursed technique through saliva? I’m curious to see how long it can last through a kiss-“ he cupped your face firmly and brought his hot lips to yours. His tongue snaked its way into your mouth for a split second. You were too shocked to move or believe that this was happening!

Your phone in your skirt went off, someone was calling you! You tried grabbing it but Satoru beat you to it. Your phone screen had said that Yuuta was calling, he slid to answer with his thumb as he kept his fingers on your lips.

“Hello?” He hummed smugly, bringing your phone close to his face and putting it on speaker for you to hear.

“Oh, uh- hey Gojo, I’m guessing that you and Y/n are still talking then?” Yuuta said in a confused tone.

“Yeah, we’re still talking,” Gojo said smoothly, with a wicked smirk. If he wasn’t wearing his blindfold he would’ve winked at you.

“Um, well are you guys almost done? Just wondering, since I’m outside waiting for her.” Yuuta explained.

“We’re just finishing up, don’t worry.” Gojo paused, “Are Megumi and Toge waiting out there as well?”

Yuuta went silent briefly, “Yeah, we are.”

“Perfect! Why don’t you three come back inside? There’s something important I need to teach you guys.”

Gojo had you shirtless in seconds, the younger men were baffled at how effectively he undressed you down to nothing but your school uniform skirt. Your bra was particularly flung off by the flick of his fingers. They watched captivated as the experienced man stripped you. It was as if he was a skilled magician showing off an elaborate trick right before their eyes. He’s clearly done this countless times before.

All of their mouths water for you. The energy in the room shifted immensely. You could feel their longing eyes staring you down as if you were a delectable meal.

You felt so vulnerable sitting on Gojo’s desk with nothing on but your skirt on. He had you bring your feet onto the edge of its hardwood surface, and he gently guided your torso back with his large suave hands. He had you leaning on your elbows. “I’m having her in this position, so you can all see clearly what I’m about to do.” Explained Gojo in a matter-of-fact tone, he had all three of them sit at desks up close to his. “Make sure you pay attention to her reactions and her facial expressions.“

Satoru stood behind you so he was facing his students, he placed both of his warm hands on your shoulders. He massaged them lightly, “no need to be so nervous,” He whispered down into your left ear, “Relax...”

You tried your best to ease your nerves, but you couldn’t help but feel anxious. Gojo’s magical hands made you melt to his touch within seconds. ”Good girl.” He uttered under his breath, his seductive scent filled your senses with how close he had gotten to you.

His hands then slid across your collar bones and then he ghosted them down to your perky breasts. Groping them gently from behind, you held back a quiet moan as he teased your nipples delicately.

“Don’t hide your cute sounds darling, let them hear you enjoy this.” Satoru purred.

He then gave your breasts a rough squeeze causing you to tense up in pain, “Did you guys just see that? She doesn’t like it when I’m rough with her tits, be gentle with them from now on.” He then caressed your breasts again but this time much gentler.

Gojo moved his torso closer to your shoulder as if he were a snake enveloping its prey. He lowered his head down to your collarbone to give it a fluttery kiss, causing ferocious shivers to wake in its place. He grazed his lips up to your hickey-covered neck to place another kiss. “Ahh…” You sighed at the feeling.

“Her neck is extremely sensitive, Megumi you took advantage of that. Good job.” Gojo praised his pupil against the crook of your neck. He tested the waters and licked up your neck slowly, earning another sigh to escape from you. He loved how reactive you were being to his touch. Your cute little moans made a tight feeling swell in his chest (and in his pants), oh he will take his time and savor you for sure.

With his hands still lightly teasing and caressing your bouncy breasts. He brought his lips to your right ear, licking the lobe ever so fluently, causing you to arch your back instinctively. A lazy smirk made itself known on Gojo’s handsome features. No one has ever done that to your ear before and the heat from his breath alone gave you goosebumps. Right before everyone’s eyes, your nipples grew even more pebbled. Satoru delicately kissed your ear making you squirm with bliss. You felt your voice get caught in your throat at this new sensation. The neediness between your thighs increased tremendously. He hasn’t even touched you down there, but you could feel the dampness in your underwear skyrocket. As if the feeling wasn’t exquisite enough Satoru amplified your emotions tenfold by whispering in a voice too soft for anyone else to hear. “I bet you’re a soaking mess right now. You want me to take of that?”

“Okaka.” You heard Toge growl under his breath. You flashed your attention over to see Inumaki sitting at his desk with his arms crossed, his hardened gaze staring directly at his teacher.

“Don’t worry Inumaki, I’m just giving her some words of encouragement.” Gojo sighed lightheartedly. “Words are just as crucial as actions when it comes to the art of… seduction.”

Satoru placed his hot mouth back to your ear once more, initiating you to arch my back without thinking. He then removed one of his hands from your nipples and brought his index and middle finger to your lips, “suck 'em.” He ordered.

You obediently parted your lips slightly, and his long fingers pried their way into your mouth. They immediately went down your throat, your breath remained calm as you gently sucked them with ease. Your gag reflex has improved tremendously, compared to the first time you deep-throated. It was with Yuuta’s dick. He was so sweet and patient when you got used to the feeling.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to suffocate yourself.” Yuuta gasped out as you choked on him, his fists tightened around the sheets as he tried to calm down at the new wonderful sensation he was experiencing. You were curious to see how far he could go down your throat, so you forced yourself deeper onto him. You felt happy to give him so much pleasure with your saturated mouth. A few tears escaped from your eyes, and then shortly after your nose began to run. Regardless, you loved the way Yuuta’s sweet dark eyes rolled to the back of his head and how his black hair fell messily in front of his face. “You feel so good…” he struggled to say while you slurped his rod.

Remembering that now while you sucked on Gojo’s fingers, caused your panties to dampen even more. You flickered your eyes over to your boyfriends. Making eye contact with Toge first; you could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted you. Megumi had a similar look on his face but was still curious to see what else Satoru planned on doing to you. While Yuuta had such a needy look on his face, he was turned on and fought the urge to run up to the desk and snatch you from his teacher's grasp.

Gojo’s words brought your attention back to him, “I’m impressed that they were able to corrupt an innocent beauty into such a little slut.” You naturally sucked on his fingers a little harder when he called you a slut. You’ve never been degraded before, but when he said that you felt even more turned on. Gojo chuckled, “Oh? Do you like being called a slut?” His voice sounded deeper than usual.

Satoru then moved to your other ear to tease you with his viper-like tongue. You pictured his tongue down between your legs and you couldn’t help but whine onto his fingers. Gojo was drunk with power at the moment, he got off to the thought of doing you right here and now in front of your boyfriends. His cocky smile not leaving his face throughout the whole ordeal.

He reluctantly removed his fingers from your mouth and got up from behind you. He kneeled at the front of the desk but still made sure everyone could see what he was doing. You felt his large hand sweetly touch your ankle. Then he ghosted his fingers up your shin and to your thigh, lifting your skirt to expose your drenched underwear.

“Aww you gotta little excited, didn’t you?” He announced, you felt so lewd when everyone’s lust-filled eyes stared directly at your wet panties.

To your disappointment Gojo didn’t even touch your underwear, you felt him place a hand on the inside of each of your plump thighs. He gave them a gentle squeeze causing you to gasp with delight.

“Yep, my suspicions are correct. Not only does your girl have an extra sensitive neck but her thighs are just as bad.” The way Satoru talked about you, reminded you of the way expert mechanics talk about cars. “Please tell me that at least one of you knew that?” He directed his attention to your three boyfriends.

“Shake-shake,” Toge spoke up, causing Megumi and Yuuta to whirl their heads in the cursed speech user’s direction. No one except you could notice the proud glint in Inumaki’s eyes.

“Oh? Do care to elaborate.” Satoru said to you as he gently rubbed your soft skin, erecting a sigh of delight to come from your lips.

“Toge likes to give me full body massages from time to time, which most of the time leads to…” your cheeks grew hot as if you weren’t already aroused.

Your thoughts drifted to when Inumaki discovered your sweet spots on the inner parts of your legs. You were on your tummy in his bed watching TV as he massaged your naked ass. He started with your neck and shoulders and worked his way down. You enjoyed the feeling of your ass being massaged by his slick lotion-covered hands. As soon as he slid a hand down onto your thighs a loud gasp of satisfaction came from you. Toge immediately pulled his hand away with the fear that he hurt you, “Takana?” His voice rang with concern as he brought his face in front of yours.

“It’s ok! You didn’t hurt me, it felt good but also sensitive at the same time.” You blushed.

The look in his eyes got what you meant, so he situated himself back behind you to rub your thighs again. He managed to make you whimper uncontrollably with his teasing hands. His curious fingers were delicate at first, but then increased pressure- which drove you wild. Your entire body twitched as you flung over to close your legs. You were greeted with a sly smile and a playful look in his gorgeous violet-colored eyes. “Inumaki, be nice.”

His reflexes were slightly faster compared to yours and managed to get a hold of your right leg pulling you into him, dragging your back across his sheets in the process. He flung your leg over his shoulder as his lips came crashing down on yours for a heated kiss.

Megumi fought the urge to fuck you on that damn desk himself. His pants felt unbearably tight as his dick grew harder for you. How did Gojo manage to get you so turned on when he hasn’t even touched your pussy yet? The desperate way you looked at him as Gojo teased your overly sensitive thighs, made him ache for you so badly. He knew that Satoru was experienced and was helping you guys unlock new ways to get their girlfriend rilled up, but he felt impatient watching him tease you so blatantly.

You became a squirming and whiny mess because of Satoru’s hands on your soft skin. You felt your walls crumbling from the inside, as you lost your self-control. You felt too hot, too turned on, and too empty. “I-I…” I want you to fuck me, anyone to fuck me. You couldn’t muster up those dirty words, so you babbled uncontrollably.

“Hmm? What is it dear?” Gojo’s lazy smile irritated you, he knew what he was doing but chose to keep you in this desperate state.

“You’re not- ahh,“ another wave of pleasure hit you hard, his damn hands were so close to your soaking core. “You’re not doing a good job.” You managed to say between gasps.

“Oh? Be more specific hun, what am I not doing a good job at? Is there something else you want me to do?” That bastard knew what he was doing.

Toge couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the blindfolded man. Yes, he did have good tricks that he planned on teaching them; but Inumaki wanted to be the one responsible for those cute gasps and moans coming from your mouth. While at the same time, he was intrigued at how unraveled you’ve become.

“I…” you trailed off once more, in your desperate state you still felt too shy to say it. His skilled hands were so close yet too damned far away. A sudden wave of bravery overcame you. You shifted your weight onto your right elbow and leaned forward with your left hand. You snatched one of Satoru’s hands and set it on your drenched panties. “Touch me here,” you begged.

Your beautiful pleading eyes and words melted Gojo’s heart, you sounded so adorably horny to him and he loved it. He ghosted his fingers along the line of your pussy lips causing you to grind your core onto his fingers for more friction. “You want me to touch you here?” You nodded, your voice caught in your throat with excitement. “Tell me that’s what you want.” Satoru taunted.

You glared at him when he pulled his hand away, “Please sensei.” You pouted, “Make me feel good.”

That’s all Gojo needed to hear, in one skilled motion he removed your saturated underwear. Yuuta’s mouth watered at the sight in front of him, it took all of his strength and willpower to remain seated and watch his teacher at work.

Your dripping cunt was now exposed for all to see. Gojo slid his fingers against your folds to gather some of your juice onto them. He brought his slick-covered fingers to his mouth to have a taste, as if he was trying a delicacy. “Heavenly.”

He then directed his attention to his students, “So when it comes to pussy worshipping there are three ways to go about it. Eating. Fingering. And fucking. I’ll demonstrate in that order.”

He placed his warm finger on your clit, prodding it gently, making you whimper with anticipation. His fingers suddenly swiveled around your bundle of nerves with such speed and pressure causing you to moan embarrassingly loud. All you could feel was a hot white pleasure, and you came immediately onto his fingers.

“Oh fuck.” Gojo groaned as he ripped his blindfold down around his neck and brought his handsome face down between your thighs to drink up your squirting liquids. You couldn’t believe you came that fast and that suddenly.

Megumi, Toge, and Yuuta watched astonished as you came onto Gojo’s fingers. They didn’t know you could finish that fast, they all wondered what else their teacher was capable of.

The feeling of Satoru’s skilled mouth drinking you up made you feel so hot. You never would have thought that something so lewd and inappropriate as this, would ever happen with him, which made you enjoy it more. He kept his sultry mouth on your pussy, expertly zigzagging his tongue over your wet folds. You saw his brilliant blue eyes look up at you friskily. His hands gently rubbed and gripped both of your thighs.

“Instead of directing your attention onto one part of her body at a time, it’s crucial to stimulate more than one area. This will make her a slutty mess for you.” He hummed against your slick privates, the vibration of his voice feeling so good you clenched your tight hole yearningly.

As if he knew your pussy craved attention, right on cue he plunged his tongue inside of you. “Mmh, Satoru!” Your cunt practically squeezed his tongue further into you, begging him to tongue fuck you. His skilled mouth sent you over the edge once again, you instinctively gyrated your hips as you rode out your second orgasm. His eager mouth enveloped your pulsating cunt as he drank from you again.

Yuuta was awestruck when he so you come undone again. He didn’t even know that it was possible for you to cum twice in such a short amount of time. He made sure to memorize the way his sensei moved his mouth on you.

Once Gojo finished drinking from you he reluctantly pulled his face away, revealing that the lower section of his face was glistening from your overly saturated cunt. He looked over towards his male students, they were all clearly turned on by how he made you so wet and ready. “All of you are going to eat Y/n out, Megumi you’ll go first.”

Megumi immediately got up from his desk with a starved look on his attractive features, he was more than willing to help contribute to making you feel good. His teacher scooted over and now Fushiguro was situated between your legs. “Show me what you know.” Satoru’s lustrous voice rang out into the quiet classroom.

Your boyfriend slid his tongue up your folds and onto your clit, erecting a sigh of bliss to come from your lips. He could grow addicted to the taste of your sweet arousal. He swiped his tongue over you again, but this time faster and with slightly more pressure. Fushiguro remembered how you became undone when Totality’s fast tongue slid across your clit so he copied that method. You squirmed underneath his hot mouth. Gojo smiled at how fast his young pupil was able to move his tongue on you. Without thinking Megumi brought two fingers up to your dripping cavern, but Gojo grabbed them with a knowing smirk, “Not yet, let’s give Yuuta a turn.” Megumi obeyed and unwillingly pulled his mouth away from you, as Yuuta hurried over, practically kicking his desk out of the way in the process.

“Fushiguro, why don’t you give your girlfriend some love while Yuuta eats her out?” Satoru purred as you felt his large hand stroke your thigh in a comforting manner.

Yuuta settled between your legs with a ravenous look in his dark eyes. Megumi leaned against the desk and kissed you passionately. You could taste yourself on his lips. The sudden feeling of pleasure woke through your body once more, as you felt Yuuta’s tongue swivel across your folds, in a manner similar to Gojo’s. “Mmm.” Your moan was swallowed by Megumi’s avid kisses.

Yuuta then lowered his mouth so he could tongue fuck you, while his slender fingers stroked your sensitive nub. Satoru was pleased that Okkotsu was focusing his attention in more than one spot, as he instructed. Yuuta burrowed his face between your legs as if he didn’t need air to breathe. Gojo was impressed by how enthusiastic Yuuta was about eating your pussy. The thought of teaching you to sit on his face while he ate you crossed his mind for another day of teaching.

“Let’s give Inumaki a turn before she cums Yuuta.” Satoru chimed while prying the dark-haired boy away from your soaking cunt. Okkotsu moved to the other side of the desk to kiss your neck, while Fushiguro and you frenched feverishly. Yuuta’s slick mouth trailed kisses up to your ear, making you writhe in ecstasy.

Inumaki unzipped his face covering and grabbed both of my thighs towards his face, similar to the way Yuuta did. You always loved it when Toge would eat you since the heavy amount of cursed energy coming from his mouth felt like static. He latched his lips onto your clit and sucked hard, “Inumaki!” You whined onto Fushiguro’s lips, the sensation was too much for you to handle.

You felt overstimulated; with Inumaki’s buzzing mouth down on you, Satoru’s eyes raking over your body, Megumi’s heated kisses, and Yuuta’s steamy mouth on your ear. All of which drove you to the edge completely. You arched your back and flung one of your hands into Toge’s platinum white locks, “Cum.” He mumbled against your sloppy cunt, you tried to clamp your legs down onto him from the intense feeling of your release but his strong grip on your thighs kept you in place. He drank from you as if we were a starved animal, his alluring face between your legs made you go weak in the knees.

After cumming three times now, you felt like a rag doll. They could all easily manhandle you if they wanted to, which you wouldn’t mind at all. Your exhausted gaze drifted downward to see that Satoru had the largest tent in his pants you’d ever seen. The thought of him squeezing his huge member inside of you made you shiver with anticipation and fear.

Satoru took the initiative and stuck his middle and index fingers inside your dripping entrance. “Ahh!” You moaned out enjoying the feeling entirely. Toge was still between your legs and began to lightly kiss and suck on your thighs, little did you know he was leaving hickeys all over them.

Gojo pumped his long fingers in and out of you in a steady rhythm. He loved how your walls clamped down on him whenever he went a little too deep. He then arched his fingers so they were stroking your G-spot. He lifted his hand from his firm grip on your hip and announced “This is what I’m doing inside of your girl right now. That will make her cum for sure.” While his other hand in the air mimicked what he was doing inside of you so everyone could see.

It was all too much for you, and you couldn’t take it anymore. All this teasing and touching your overly sensitive body, “just fuck me already.” You whimpered quietly. Not sure if you directed your words to your teacher or one of your boyfriends. You were too overwhelmed to care who did the dead. As long as you could feel one of them fill you up. A dashing smirk came over Gojo’s face. While you sensed Megumi and Yuuta exchange a glance with one another.

Gojo’s fingers inside you went still at your lewd request. “Here Toge, take over.” Gojo took his fingers out of you and licked them clean as he walked to the other side of his desk. He stopped behind you, with his blue iridescent gaze looking down at you. “If you want me to fuck you, I’m going to need your mouth on my dick first.”

You felt Toge’s slender fingers begin to pump in and out of you, as he brought his mouth down to your clit. Megumi and Yuuta shifted their attention to your breasts, each licking and sucking your nipples as if they were a treat just for them. Gojo unzipped his pants and his massive dick sprung free, ready to play as ever. You gasped at his size but weren’t surprised because of how tall he was. Satoru adjusted your head so it dangled off the edge of his desk. Your mouth watered uncontrollably as he lightly guided his dick to your lips. You licked his velvety tip first and then his entire length. Making sure his entire penis was coated with your drool. You carefully took one of his balls into your mouth to suckle, he let out a little hiss of pleasure.

“You’re doing so good.” Gojo purred with approval as he placed both of his hands on your head. You mustered up as much bravery as you could to take him down your throat. Immediately, panic began to arise in your chest, due to the lack of air; but that was soon replaced by your dirty thoughts, enjoying the fact that this was happening. I bet this looks so hot to him. You thought, and you couldn’t be more right.

The sight before Satoru was a moment he will never forget. Your small throat squeezed him snuggly, causing his dick to twitch with pleasure. He was able to see the outline of his massive cock in your throat. The way your mouth salivated uncontrollably, along with your tongue beckoning him further down made him crave you even more. He’d be satisfied finishing your mouth right here and now, but the greedier side of his personality wants to claim your pussy as his. And that’s just what he’ll do.

Gojo then took himself out of your mouth, and a long strand of your drool connected your lips to the tip of his dick. “Which one of you would like to take her ass?” Gojo asked with a deep voice.

Toge mumbled “shake-shake” through your cunt as he ate you. He lifted his head out from between your thighs, his lips shining with your wetness.

“Perfect, coat your dick with her pussy juice before you shove it in. So it doesn’t hurt her as bad.” His wise teacher instructed. Toge slipped three of his fingers inside your sloppy pussy to gather as much wetness as possible (which was pretty easy). He wiggled around inside of you, causing you to whimper uncontrollably. While his other hand unzipped his pants. He removed his fingers from you, making you feel suddenly empty and needy.

His lust-filled eyes stared at you as he stroked his dick with his wet hand. You were more than ready to get filled up. Satoru had Toge take your place on his desk so he was laying on it. Gojo picked you up as if you were weightless and had you straddle Inumaki in reverse.

You gingerly settled yourself onto Toge’s sprung dick. You felt grateful he was slick with your wetness, otherwise, it would’ve been a bit more painful.

“Ahh.” You heard a small groan of satisfaction come from him. Inch by inch, you let gravity take you down further onto him until he was in you completely. Your skirt hid what was going on below you two. You felt Toge’s nails dig into your hips from his firm grip on you. You could tell he holding back the urge to pump into you wildly. To calm himself, he began to gently kiss the back of your neck and ears. Making you shiver in response, your nipples instantly become pebbled.

Satoru had unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his well-toned muscles, his pants draped to his thighs and his dick stuck out proudly. He settled between your legs, lifting up your skirt. He guided his massive member to your wet folds. The anticipation caused you to whimper as he slowly pushed the tip inside of you. Gojo clenched his jaw with concentration as he focused on not plowing into you just yet.

You became a mewling mess, “I don’t think you’re going to fit.” You cried as Satoru shoved himself another inch into your slippery pussy. You could already feel him rubbing against Toge’s penis lodged up your ass and he was not even halfway in yet.

“Don’t worry hun, I’ll make it fit. Megumi, put her mouth to use.” Gojo groaned as your walls clamped down on his extensive member. “Yuuta climb on top of her and fuck her tits.”

Megumi did as his teacher instructed, his dark blue eyes gleamed down at you as you opened your mouth for him. Sucking on him hungrily, you enjoyed the taste of his precum leaking into your mouth. Megumi loved how enthusiastic you were for him, “Ugh... you’re such a good girl.” He groaned out as he caressed your head gently.

Yuuta agilely maneuvered on top of your torso, he put his weight onto his knees being extra careful not to squish you. He unzipped his pants to set his elongated member free. He spit down onto himself and guided your hand up to his dick to stroke him. You enjoyed his warm smooth texture. Pumping him quickly, you earned a few gasps of pleasure to come from his lips.

Satoru couldn’t take it anymore, and plunged himself deep into you, instantly hitting your cervix. A cute and muted, “Ahh! Sensei....” came from your stuffed mouth at the sudden feeling, creaming onto him. Your pussy pulsated around his rod with delight.

“Shit. Your slutty little cunt can’t handle me.” Gojo hissed under his breath, loving the fact that your body cums so easily for him. He settled into a solid rhythm, pushing in and out of your petite body. He made a note to get you for himself sometime. He’d love for you to moan his name, and see your adorable face distorted in pleasure because of him.

Toge, felt your release drip down onto his thighs and penis, which helped lubricate him. With the extra wetness, he increased his speed. He rapidly pounded up inside you. He bit down onto your shoulder passionately, his hot breath initiating goosebumps to rise on your smooth skin. “Oh Toge...” you panted onto Megumi’s dick.

Yuuta began to rub himself onto your supple bouncy breasts, his penis felt hot and hard against your squishy skin. He was able to get a perfect view of your gorgeous face. He loved the way your pretty eyes watered as you deep-throated Fushiguro. Even though what you were doing was incredibly lewd, he knew that in his heart he would protect you. He would kill for you, and there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you. The thought of love crossed his mind, but was afraid to say that word too soon.

“Grip her neck Okkotsu.” Ordered Gojo from behind him, snapping him out of his ogling over you, “she’ll like it.” He heaved as he shoved himself into you once more.

Yuuta tentatively brought his lean vein-covered arm up, and his fingers went around your throat and gently squeezed. “Mmh.” You moaned out, enjoying the feeling of being at his mercy - especially from your shy and sensitive boy.

Hearing you whimper, awoke a dark urge inside of Okkotsu. The thought of fucking you with his hand around your throat made him pump his dick faster against your squishy and sensitive tits.

The way Yuuta’s dark eyes looked down at you with such dominance, caused you to clench your walls around Gojo and Toge suggestively. Erupting groans from both men inside of you. Gojo’s grand penis kept hitting your uterus with every stroke. He went in and out effortlessly because of how drenched he was from your soggy cunt. Satoru and Inumaki stimulated you simultaneously, their speed accelerated dramatically along with the power behind their hard thrusts. “You’re taking us so well hun.” Panted Gojo with approval.

Your legs began to tremble, you could feel your release building up again. You felt Satoru’s skilled fingers run against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs feverishly. The sensations they made you feel were too much for you to handle, and you came undone. Drenching Satoru in the process.

You whimpered onto Megumi’s dick as his hips began to move a bit rougher against your mouth. Yuuta’s movements against your breasts had increased in tempo as well. “Ahh.” Yuuta sighed with pleasure, as strands of his cum squirted all over your breasts, painting you like a picture. His grip on your throat tightened, causing you to clamp down a bit more on Megumi’s penis lodged inside. Earning a groan of pleasure to come from Fushiguro. He sprayed himself down your throat and you drank him eagerly.

“Shit, her pussy is too tight and wet. I’m gonna cum.” Gritted Satoru through his teeth. He cherished the way your petite body welcomed him in so easily. He was clearly much too big for you but got off to the sick thought of that at the same time. He gripped your little waist tightly as he shot his bountiful load of seed deep against your cervix, knowing it’d reach your uterus in no time. Toge came shortly after, you could feel him pulsate through your ass as he released himself deep inside of your bowels. A delicious groan escaped his lips as he bit down on the back of your neck.

Megumi gingerly pulled himself out of your mouth and leaned down to give you a sweet kiss. Yuuta carefully hopped off of the desk, as Satoru removed himself from your used sloppy hole. His cum spilled out of you like a waterfall. His gorgeous blue eyes raked over the mess he made in you. He helped you up and off of Toge. Your legs felt like jelly when you stood up, so you leaned against Yuuta for support. He tried to help you put your bra on, but couldn’t get the clasps figured out. So Satoru took over as he explained how the contraption worked.

You felt Inumaki’s and Gojo’s cum drip down your legs from underneath my skirt. All of your clothes were a disheveled mess, but at least the walk from class to the dorm building was a short one. Toge sneaked his way over to you to hug you from behind, you rested your head on his shoulder sweetly. Megumi came in front of you two to kiss you passionately, “You’re so perfect.” He gave you a heart-melting smile with a quick hug, sandwiching you between Toge and himself. Okkotsu approached you from the right and gave you a small peck on the forehead, while you felt his comforting touch on your cheek.

Satoru walked up to you with an affirming look in his eyes. He brought his face down to yours to kiss you tenderly, “You were exceptional dear.” He hummed against your lips. “If you ever need anything, ask me.”

Abruptly, the door to the classroom opened, “Here’s my late homework Gojo!” Said an all too familiar voice, Yuji Itadori stood in the doorway of the classroom with a can of soda in one hand and a packet of papers in the other.

“Uhh, it smells like sex in here!” As soon as the words left his mouth a knowing look flashed over his face. He realized how messed up everyone's clothes were. Noticeable strands of gooey liquid rolled down your legs. “Did you guys-?” He cut himself off with pure shock and then his expression changed to a hurt one, “without me...”

Gojo briefly walked up to Itadori and took the packet of papers from him with a smirk. “As a matter of fact,” Satoru sighed lightheartedly, “we were just performing some after-school activities.”

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psuedosugu · 4 months

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OMG your Vox with a pop star darling was perf!! Can you please do one where Vox starts to fall in love with his assistant who’s an imp?? At first he’d be in major denial because of the class differences but he’s just subconsciously SUPER doting towards her. Pen out of ink? Guess he'll just have to buy a brand new pack for her! Forgot her lunch? Obviously he'll just give her his!! Sorry if it's long :((((

thank youuu !! this idea is so interesting and no, its definitely not too long, i personally like longer asks better tbh !!

cw: stalking, manipulation, and things of the sort

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✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you had always stood out to vox as one of his assistants the whole time u had worked for him.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || at first he didn’t recognize his feelings as romantic.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you were a really good assistant. you were organized and always knew what to do, plus you knew how to handle his outbursts

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he appreciated you and thats all…right?

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || it was the little things that made him realize what his feelings really were.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || the way your nose scrunches up when you laugh, the way ur eyes glimmer when you’re given something to do, things like that.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you were such a delicate thing.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || once he realized, he tried to deny it all he could.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || his brain was at war with his heart. you were an imp. he was an overlord! things could never work out with you two..or could they?

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || its not like there were any written rules on it, plus he could use this power imbalance to his benefit.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || vox favored you over all of his other workers and assistants, everyone could tell, even you.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you were naive, thinking that it was a sign to keep going, to work harder to get more of his approval.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || at first it was just him being visibly nicer to you than he is with others but then things started to escalate

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || getting paid significantly more, longer breaks and more vacation days,

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he even started buying you things, wether it be lunch, more office supplies, the latest tech (which he definitely didn’t use to spy on you), expensive jewelry, anything and everything you’d ever need.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you tried to decline them, you didn’t need all this, but he refused to take them back. you were his favorite assistant, after all!

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he also threw flirty quips at you from time to time which confused you to no end.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he felt a pang of jealousy in his chest whenever he spied on you calling or texting other people (he could definitely look through your phone, texts, and calls)

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he wanted you all to himself! you didn’t need anyone else.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he’ll probably ask you to move into the building with him, “-so you can work more efficiently!” he says.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || if you said yes, you two would live “happily ever after”. he would coerce you into a situationship of some sorts. not an actual relationship, though, do you know what that would do for his image?

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he would keep you close, though, close enough to the point where you wouldn’t want to leave.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || if you said no, though, or showed any sign of leaving, oh, that just wouldn’t do.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || what do you mean you wanna quit? he makes you uncomfortable? just calm down for a second, look into his eyes for a bit…and there! see, its fine, everything is fine.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || and you don’t have the strength to refuse.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you spend the next few days in a hazy blur. you want to stay. you want to stay? vox does feel slightly guilty, hypnotizing you into staying, but he has no choice. you’re his, and you need to be protected! what if something happens to you?

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he stays doting over you, making sure you’re okay and stuff, he really is trying his best to make this comfortable for you, so pleasee don’t make this harder for him.

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check out my masterlist!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin vox #vox x you #yandere!vox x reader #vox

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ghouljams · 29 days

Note

Me with regular Konig: baby boy. Baby. Let me pay him on the head and call him a good boy.

Me with fae! Konig: nasty. Nasty horrid man. Mangy alley cat. He has fleas all over. Give him a bath.

Me with Regency! Konig: Whore.

It's funny to me that Konig in the fae AU - as the "ultimate predator" - would have no reason to growl.

In the animal kingdom, an animal that growls wants to scare you away. An animal that doesn't growl wants to kill you.

Why alert your prey of your attack? Animals only really growl to scare away another animal instead of fighting it so they can conserve energy: Snakes hiss and rattle so they don't have to use up all their venom and be left vulnerable for another attack while they use valuable energy to produce more. Animals growl to scare predators away if they think they can't win the fight or don't want to get seriously wounded in the fight.

Konig would have no reason to doubt his ability to win a fight. Konig would have no reason to worry about conserving energy, he can find food easily. Konig would have no reason to fear being wounded because who could touch him?

And it makes sense that Konig wouldn't want to scare away those he wants gone, it's more efficient, easier, and more logical to kill them, that way they can't come back.

You know why he would growl? To impress a mate.

I mean, if he can't kill someone (however temporarily he'll let them live) lest he risk being banned again he can still make a show of it. Mate doesn't let him show how strong he is through his normal methods? Look, even these magical beings are scared of a measly little growl.

He would enjoy showboating I think too. How deep and rumbling his growl can be. Using his vocalisations to express other feelings as well.

You've also mentioned him enjoying the hunt with Libeling and stalking her without much noise but letting her be aware of his presence so she can feel at ease and he gets the thrill of the hunt. Which would tie into how he wants to respect her and wants her to see him and appreciate his strengths but not necessarily fear him too much.

I think it would be cute that during their first couple meetings Konig growls and Liebling of course assumes it's him throwing his weight around or trying to scare her and is upset. Whereas poor Konig is shellshocked because he didn't even mean to growl it just happened. For the first time in... Ever? Maybe?

He growled because he knows Liebling wouldn't like how else he deals with problems - why is he changing his behaviour for a human? He growled because he wanted to impress her - when was the last time he ever had to try to impress? He growled because for the first time in aeons he wants to communicate with another being - he's so used to wanting to maim and kill and hunt that he mistook the intense feelings as the same instincts he always had but were they something more?

Liebling, angry: Did you just growl at me?!

Konig, dumbfounded: did I just growl at you?

Just, Liebling angry at Konig while Konig is having an existential crisis.

Regency König is a WHORE.

Fae!König absolutely has no reason to growl. He has no reason to do a lot of things that he does in the modern age, he only does them because it helps him blend in. König has extremely weak magic, the man can use it but he's not adept wit it, he only taps because it helps him look more fae. He didn't growl until he met Liebling, because she considers it more polite than just ripping people to shreds.

König's natural noise is something more akin to clicking. Sort of like the Predator, but I also think of it like mandible clicks, something reverberating and distinctly inhuman. He's based off of a mammalian predators, but I don't think he made normal mammal sounds for a LONG time. Speech is sort of new to him, same with disguising himself. This is why he tends to lose control of his form when he's not paying attention to it(thank God for Liebling being a monster fucker).

You're dead on the money that König respects Liebling and wants her to see his power without fearing him. He has a huge amount of respect for her, not only because she's the only person that stands up to him, but also because she's incredibly smart and self sufficient. König loves how much she doesn't need him or want him, she has no desire for his power and so he has no issue giving it to her.

I think he growls for Liebling because he truly sees her as his better, as the one person that can match truly him. There are a lot of firsts from König in his relationship with Liebling, and a lot of confusing feelings that he's never really had before. Lust, sure, but love? Nope.

"Did you growl at me?" You try to fix the disbelieving glare on your face, your cup of tea half raised. König stares at you like he doesn't believe it either.

"Did I?" He asks, as if that will get him out of this.

He didn't mean to growl at you. The rumble in his throat had just slipped out. Something deep and aggressive had taken hold of him, something warm in the pit of his stomach. You eye him suspiciously, glaring over the rim of your cup. König can't offer an explanation. He hasn't made that sound before. There's no reason to warn anyone of his teeth, if they can see them it's already too late. But you...

You glance at the people passing by, enjoying the sunshine, the weather nice enough to sit outside your favorite bakery after work. Your lashes dust against your cheeks when you blink, your skin looking warmer for all the sunshine. You're close enough to see his teeth and yet you're not running scared. You've seen them, and you still sit across from him, still turn your attention away from him, your bare neck on display with all the trust in the world. You're so lovely.

The sound bubbles again, a reverberating growl in his throat that pitches down, attempting to escape lower. You glare at him from the corner of your eye and turn to face him.

"What?" You question, spit it like a swear as you set your cup down. König blinks, sits back in his seat, straightens to sit taller. He doesn't know. He has no reason to warn you of anything, no plans on eating you. He doesn't even growl at the fae unlucky enough to get caught in his claws. What threat could you possibly pose to him that he needs to warn you away? What energy does he need to conserve? His teeth don't run out of bite, his claws still rip and tear, he is as much the monster he always has been, and you are still small and soft comparatively.

"Nothing," He tells you, because truly there is nothing. He doesn't know what there might be to make him do this. "You're beautiful," he offers instead. Compliments always make you look away from him, and this time is no different. You press your hand against your cheek, leaning against the edge of the table and turning away from him. He can almost hear the blood rushing to your cheeks, feel the pout of your lips against his hand.

The sound settles lower now, rumbling in his chest pleasantly with the contraction of his lungs. It thrums through his vocal cords, and against his tongue, as soft as the curl of your fingers. You don't look at him this time, seem to try and twist further out of his view. Something sparking like recognition in your eyes. König tips his head to study you, brows drawing together.

Is it concern that flutters in his stomach? Is it aggression that clenches hot in his chest? Does he growl at you because you're so much greater a threat than he is?

"You're purring," You mumble, voice muffled by your hand, "it's embarrassing."

You say that, but all your lovely spider-silk tethers glow a pleasant gold, and König's heart beats a little faster.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #fae!König #1fae1 #long post #meta meta meta

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

Text

Idée Fixe.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Some not SFW elements, yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, depictions of general & social anxiety disorder, depictions of a panic attack, mentions of anxiety medication, Chrollo administers medications to Reader without her consent, and mentions of religion. Also Chrollo just really, really sucks. Word count: 12.3k.

You met a strange man at the arboretum today.

Perhaps you aren’t in a position to describe others as ‘strange’, considering your latest proclivity for expressing earnest thanks to any honey bees you happen across for their service. After much contemplation, however, it’s ultimately the word you arrive at. ‘Strange’ not in a disconcerting sense that inspires fear, but just being out of the ordinary enough to exude an undeniable allure. A raised panel on the floor you stumble over yet suffer no serious injury from.

Well-kept gardens might be the closest imitation to heaven on earth. That’s what brought you to this little oasis hidden in the desert that is urban life. It’s the type of day romanticists wax poetic about: baby blue skies, puffy clouds, and moderate temperatures with a light, forgiving breeze.

You situated yourself strategically, so you’d be beneath the shade of a magnolia tree whose pink petals kept fluttering down as if in greeting, and near a patch of daffodils that matched the shade of your gingham dress. Blades of grass tickle your legs, but not unpleasantly so, they scratch an itch found only in nature’s loving reprieve. There’s no thought of upcoming assignments, what to eat for dinner, or if buying that purse you thought was a steal at 30% off was a good idea or not.

It’s just you and your book.

Until it isn’t.

Every woman is connected in the experience that is trepidation whenever a man randomly approaches. There’s no telling his intentions, if he has any. You’re left to smile awkwardly and temporarily realign yourself with religion by praying to a higher deity for his hasty departure. You map out potential escape routes and recall the pepper spray situated in your impulse-bought purse. He gently calls out “Miss”, confirming that he hopes to speak with you.

At least he has the propriety to stop a few paces from where you sit, electing not to intrude on your personal space. This causes your shoulders to relax. In the few seconds you’ve been made aware of his existence, you recognize his appealing features. He has loose, dark hair, along with wide and seemingly unassuming eyes. His outfit of a dark gray turtleneck accompanied by a black jacket and pants somewhat strikes you as odd, considering spring is in full bloom. Two other details steal your attention away from this; those being the beige wrapping around his forehead and his spherical, turquoise-colored earrings. It’s like he was caught undecided between wanting and not wanting to attract attention.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he begins. You try not to think about how pleasant his voice sounds. “I’ve been trying to make sense of the directory, but I’ve never been the best with directions. Do you by any chance know how to get to the Starling House?”

You nod. It’s a quaint, centuries-old mansion, maintained by the non-profit that oversees the flora here. Getting over the initial apprehension from his approach, you try verbalizing the most efficient path to get there. This proves more difficult than you expected since the arboretum is vast and has few waypoints that can be used for reference. Still, throughout your explanation whose unhelpfulness you grow painfully aware of, he patiently nods and makes no attempts to rush you through.

This willingness to put up with your scattered description wins over your sympathy, pushing you past your sheepishness.

“I guess I’m not good at giving directions. I could just show you the way, if you’d like.”

“I’d hate to disturb your reading, but… if it isn’t a bother, I’d certainly appreciate it.”

You’re already setting your bookmark into place. “It’s no bother. This is my second time reading it, anyway. So don’t worry. I’m not being left off on a cliffhanger or anything.”

He smiles at that. When you’re preparing to stand, he extends his hand, a gesture that gives you a momentary pause. Well, you are wearing a dress. You suppose it’s the polite thing for him to do. You accept his unspoken offer and he hoists you up without the least bit of exertion on his part. His hand is warm and bigger than yours, slightly coarse too, surprisingly. His immaculate presentation gave you the impression of a trust fund kid or something in that vein. He’s tasteful in ensuring his touch doesn’t overstay its welcome.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

You catch a hint of his cologne. Sandalwood, amber, and leather blend together to form a delightfully woody fragrance. As amazing as he smells, you create a little distance, walking ahead motioning for him to follow. His longer legs have no trouble catching up, yet he never creeps too close.

The short journey that you expect to only be accompanied by the sounds of cardinals chirping and house finches singing is interrupted by the man speaking up again. Oddly enough, you don’t mind.

“Do you find your thoughts on Prince Myshkin’s initially endearing simple heartedness changed, knowing how the book ends?”

You pause, taking a moment to realize he must be familiar with the work. This revelation fills you with a tentative giddiness. It isn’t often you have a chance to delve into your literary thoughts to a willing audience. There’s plenty more you could say on the subject, but you try to exercise restraint nonetheless.

“I thought I might, but I found myself more critical of the other characters instead.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

He appears genuinely interested, otherwise, you would’ve kept it at that.

“Ah, well, maybe it’s that they serve as proof that innocence is never meant to last. Or if it does, it’ll inevitably be punished. There are moments where I feel frustrated with the Prince’s naivety… but then I stop and wonder why it’s so bad to want to see the best in people. Does that speak to a flaw in his character, or to a flaw in the character of others? Maybe it’s both. I can’t help but feel the Prince’s case is more sympathetic.”

His eyes never leave yours while you give your answer. Heat rises to your cheeks and you internally groan over the prospect of making a stranger listen to your ramblings. He was probably just looking to make casual conversation, not everyone wants an existential crisis on a Saturday afternoon.

“You must be someone who wants to see the best in people as well,” he surmises. There’s no hint of mockery in his tone — he’s oddly sincere. He says it with a hint of bittersweet nostalgia.

Before you can hazard a response, you come across a sign displaying information for an event at the Starling House. The building itself lies in waiting atop a hill less than a quarter of a mile ahead. He stops to read it, as do you, operating under the assumption he came here for the event. It seems that they’re displaying historic artifacts from around the area. You suppose this will be where you part ways. You’re about to wish him well when he sighs, the miffed noise stopping you.

“I got the time wrong,” he frowns, staring at his wristwatch.

The sign says the event begins at 6:00 p.m. and a quick tap of your phone reveals it’s 4:00.

“If you’re looking for a way to burn time, there’s a nice garden behind the House that’s always open to the public,” you explain. This piques his curiosity. “If the sage is in bloom, you might get lucky and see some hummingbirds.”

“That does sound lovely,” he says. Then, his lips quirk up, promising the start of a smile. “Would you care to join me, Miss…?”

You give him your name and he nods, as if deciding it fits you.

“[First]. I understand if my tour guide wants to get back to her reading, though.”

Bashfulness creeps up your back and threatens to sink its fangs into your neck. Your heart’s rhythm takes an erratic cadence. He’s posing the proposition in such a lighthearted way, offering an easy out if you want to take it. You internally weigh your options on a scale that’s worn from overuse. He’s being friendly, you tell yourself. That’s all it is.

“Well, I guess I’d be a shabby tour guide if I didn’t show you where the gardens are.”

On the brief walk to the gardens, the man introduces himself as Chrollo. You both situate yourselves on the same stone bench. You sit on the right, he sits on the left. Once again, he leaves you plenty of space, never testing boundaries. The scent of nascent sage wafts in the air. While you scan your surroundings for hummingbirds, he tells you that his work often necessitates travel, hence his unfamiliarity with the area.

“Does it ever get lonely?” You ask, not thinking much of it. He gives you a look you can’t quite place, so you elaborate. “Traveling all the time, I mean.”

He tilts his head, more inquisitive than offended. “What makes you think it’d be lonely?”

“I just think I’d get homesick after a while, always being in an unfamiliar place. I’d miss my family and friends.”

When he continues staring at you in silence with those unreadable eyes, you swear you want to slam your head repeatedly against a wall. Not everyone has a good relationship with their family or people to call their friends. The weight of your potential insensitivity comes crashing down on you like a tsunami.

You move your hands around wildly, rushing to correct your discourtesy. “Uh, I mean, that isn’t to say you need those things!”

“You don’t think I have any friends?”

Your face must be radiating more heat than a furnace. Still, the embarrassment doesn’t reach a point where you’re unable to notice his omission of the word family. “I didn’t—”

Contrary to the reaction you were expecting, Chrollo laughs. Not a little chuckle, but a genuine laugh, hearty in a way that stands in stark contrast to his otherwise reserved demeanor. The smile it imprints on his face somehow feels different than what he’s displayed before. Those were always so well timed, lasting as long as necessary and never a second more. It hits you then just how handsome this man is. Alabaster skin, soft and glossy hair, lips as rosy as the blush on his cheeks from his outburst of laughter.

It doesn’t last long, he’s quick to school himself. The speed he does so is almost unnatural. “I apologize, I’m only teasing. You’re very expressive, [First].”

You let out something between a huff and a sigh. “God, I felt so awful…”

“I can tell,” he puts his hands up in mock surrender when you send him a non-threatening glare. “To answer your question… I’ve never thought about it much. I suppose it is lonely at times.”

This revelation pours a bucket of ice-cold water over the embers of your indignation. Your face softens and a stinging pain shoots throughout your body. You can’t bring yourself to remain miffed when you’re the one who dredged this topic up. People use humor as a means to cope, that may be what Chrollo does.

“Enough about me, though. I’m far more interested in you.”

You shift in your seat. Did it always feel so warm out?

“Here, let me guess. You’re certainly a student. Hm… of the humanities, perhaps?”

“You got the student part right,” you agree. “I’m majoring in criminal psychology.”

There’s something like a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh? Is that so? You want to catch criminals, then?”

“Er… not exactly. It’s more that I want to help them.”

He blinks. “Help them?”

“Not, like, as an accomplice,” you earnestly reassure, to which he smiles, “How do I explain it… take the city around us, right? It’s considered one of the most dangerous in the United States of Saherta.”

As if on cue, a cacophony of police sirens begins blaring in the distance.

“In the 80s and 90s, there was a surge of incarceration, yet crime as a whole set higher records each year. The policy at the time was ‘build more prisons, give longer sentences’. Obviously, that didn’t work out very well for anyone… except for private prisons maybe… that’s a whole different beast. Anyway, you reap what you sow. Crime rate is going down, but communities were gutted by these policies. There’s still a lot of work to be done. I want to understand ‘deviant’ behavior so I can see what safety nets would benefit them the most.”

Chrollo is such an excellent listener that unlike before, you no longer feel the pressure to remain succinct and have little qualms completely delving into your passion. His body language suggests total engagement.

“Ah, so you view crime as a result of societal shortcomings.”

“It’s more nuanced than that,” you shake your head. “Hell, even when there were only four people on earth according to the Bible, Cain went ahead and committed murder anyway. That’s like… killing 25% of the population… how messed up. Wait. If there were only four people on earth, who did Cain go on to marry? How does that work…? Asexual reproduction…?”

“The Quran says Cain and Abel both had twin sisters,” Chrollo offers.

“Alright, that makes more sense than asexual reproduction. Okay! Enough about theology! Back to crime. There’s no totally eradicating it, but there is circumventing it. That’s what I want to help do.”

You’ve been so preoccupied with verbalizing your thoughts, you failed to notice he’s scooted slightly closer to you. There’s enough room for decorum yet you can’t help feeling slightly flustered. Why this cute guy is still hanging around despite the fact you casually mentioned asexual reproduction not once, but twice, is a phenomenon that transcends human reason.

This is so going to be one of those interactions that haunts you periodically at three in the morning for the rest of your life.

“It’s a noble pursuit,” Chrollo comments. Then, he places a hand to his chin. “Forgive me if this comes off as pessimistic, but… what if you put in all that work, only for nothing significant to change?”

You shrug. “I’ve considered that plenty, trust me. It’s fine if I don’t kickstart a utopia. So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.”

“One person, huh?”

It seems more like a rhetorical musing on his part, so you allow yourself to be momentarily distracted. In your peripherals, there’s a flash of colors, shades of green and red bleeding together. A low buzz accompanies the sporadic sight. The blur moves erratically, high to low, then low to high.

You cover your mouth to stifle a gasp, then whisper to your companion, “Chrollo! Look! A hummingbird!”

The thrum of nature is a wonder you’ll never tire of. It inspires awe that reflects in your eyes like a mirror, enchants without needing to cast a spell. You wrongly assume that Chrollo must be partaking in the same miracle that has stolen your attention. He’s fixated, yes, but not on the right subject matter. He’s still staring at you. This disruption of your expectations can only be explained away by the possibility he hasn’t spotted the creature yet. To remedy this, you slowly point in the hummingbird’s direction. Finally, he breaks his gaze from your form, acknowledging what it is you find so fascinating.

By then, it’s too late. Your newly made acquaintance departs as swiftly as it arrived.

“Aw, that’s a shame,” you lament. The disappointment you’d feel if you were in his shoes would be immeasurable. “You didn’t get to see it for very long.”

You have no concrete proof, but you swear every smile he wears is different than the one before it.

“It’s alright. I saw something far better.”

Curious, you glance to your right, searching for whatever it is. You must’ve misinterpreted whatever he was looking at before. “Something better than a hummingbird?”

“You could say that.”

The remainder of the time you spend together is relatively uneventful. Chrollo asks you a great deal about yourself, ranging from your hobbies to book recommendations. You try to return the favor — as is only polite, in your opinion — yet the conversation never lingers on him long before circling back to you. It isn’t until you say you feel vain talking about yourself so much that he offers some morsels of knowledge. Aside from traveling for his occupation, he’s something of an antiquarian, hence his interest in the Starling House’s event. He also reveals he has colleagues coming into town soon, the aforementioned ‘friends’ you questioned the existence of. The way he teases is so devoid of malice, you can’t bring yourself to be upset.

The hour flies by. Good looks aside, he’s a remarkable conversationalist. There’s never an awkward silence or social misstep. One could even call him perfection incarnate. His steady cadence, command of language, meticulously formed ideas… they’re reminiscent of cogs in an automaton turning together in complete harmony. Paradoxically, this immaculate image speaks to some underlying defect in his character he mustn’t want anyone to see. There is such a thing as being too perfect.

For whatever reason, this draws you in closer rather than repelling you.

Chrollo’s disappointment is palpable when he glances at his watch. It’s then you’re reminded that all good things must come to an end.

“I—”

“It—”

You both start and stop talking at the same time. When it’s made obvious you intend to stay silent until he speaks his piece, he motions to you with his hands, insisting you go first.

“It was very nice meeting you, Chrollo,” you say, your voice softening. It’s amazing how you can feel your previously discarded sheepishness returning in real-time. Amazing and annoying. “I, uh, hope you enjoy the event.”

“Please, I should be the one thanking you,” he insists. Then, for such a well-spoken man, he goes uncharacteristically quiet. Deliberating on some issue you’ll never be privy to. “You’ve already helped me a lot, but could I possibly ask for one more thing?”

You give a nod.

“May I have your phone number?”

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

You continue staring at him.

He continues staring at you.

His request echoes through your head like it was spoken in a vast cavern. Phone number… phone number... you have one of those. He is asking for it. He wants to remain in touch. Indeed, that is what the statement normally means. Ah, it must be in a platonic sense! It’s nice to have someone to talk to, especially since you both share many interests. Not many of your friends are chomping at the bit to discuss if obtaining the philosopher’s stone was a literal practice or meant to be interpreted metaphorically.

Whoops, you left the poor guy waiting for a response.

“S-Sure!”

He hands you his phone without delay. You put in your contact info, then hold it up for him to take. His fingers brush over yours when he picks it back up and you shiver.

Well, that was certainly nice. You’re forming a blossoming friendship. You love making new friends. The word repeats in your head as if it were a broken record. Friends, friends, friends. Don’t look too into this. Put your magnifying glass down, brain. The stupid three pounds of gray matter delight in tormenting you with outrageous ideas and conclusions. There’s nothing flirtatious happening here.

“Also, I hope you don’t mind my saying so…” he trails off, weaving a web you willingly allow yourself to get trapped in, “But you are very beautiful, [First].”

…

Ohhhh, he’s been flirting with you this entire time, hasn’t he?

Going on a date is a harrowing experience.

For some unknown reason, your traitorous amygdala regards going to a café at noon with the same severity it would if a lion were actively chasing you down. Your flight or fight response raises the banners of war. The army it amasses digs its trenches, readies the cannons, its matches lit to fire off the artillery on standby. Who is the dreaded opponent, one may ask? No one. Absolutely no one. Incredibly enough, you can actively recognize this fact, and still, your physiological response claims it knows better.

Social anxiety is so stupid. You thought you and your body were supposed to be on the same team. Whatever inspired this mutiny, whether it be serotonin deficiency or some other science-y term you can’t pronounce, you most certainly don’t appreciate it.

To be fair, your parent’s reaction didn’t inspire much confidence. Your dad was asking for information on Chrollo you’re 90% sure could be used to conduct a background check, whereas your mom posited the idea he’s a human trafficker. You felt like a lawyer trying to plead your case for why it’s okay that an adult such as yourself may go on a date (sacrilegious, you know, premeditated murder would be more excusable). With some solid arguments and a few instances of stretching the truth (this sounds far nicer than the word lying), the tempest was dissipated. If Chrollo ever were to meet your parents, you’ll have to tell him he’s actually a sensitive, poetic soul that donates to orphanages and saves kittens from burning down buildings. He’s also celibate. More important than any of those things, though, he’s a political centrist.

Suddenly everything in your closet either felt prudish enough to befit a woman entering the convent, or raunchy enough you’d need to wear a trench coat to leave the house unobstructed. In the end, you find a skirt that’d pass your middle school fingertip test and a cute blouse that shouldn’t land you in purgatory.

Your hands are shaking when you go to do the winged eyeliner on your left eye. Then you sneeze while applying mascara, granting a raccoon appearance you could’ve done without. You feel wound up so tight there a mere poke could shatter you into millions of pieces. This is great. Millions of years of evolution led up to this. That selfish, inconsiderate fish should’ve never grown legs and stepped on land. Everything’s gone wrong since then. Fuck that fish.

Ultimately, you succumb and take one of your ‘stage fright’ medications. If it’s doing anything to help, you can’t tell yet.

You have to beg your dad to stop staring out the window with a pair of binoculars.

Eventually, a sleek black car pulls in front of your house.

Following the theme of the day, you almost trip over yourself walking out the front door. Your phone buzzes — no doubt it’s Chrollo telling you he’s here — but you decide to just go to the car rather than text him back. He must’ve spotted you, for he exits and gives you a wave. You’re grateful he did that while a considerable distance away. There was a time a guy waved at you and you thought he wanted a high five. Needless to say, that was a traumatic incident no amount of therapy could help alleviate.

“You look absolutely lovely,” he compliments. Your Broca’s area temporarily malfunctions at this bold declaration. Fortunately, you gather yourself fast enough to stop yourself from saying “you too”.

“Thank you,” the phrase comes out as smooth as butter. You silently congratulate yourself for your immaculate delivery of two words. “Wow… you have such a nice car. And here I thought you were a fellow member of the middle class. Am I allowed to touch this?”

Chrollo chuckles, having gotten used to the peculiar way you word things after all your electronic communication. No matter how you expressed yourself, he still texted you back, so you figured he must be okay with whatever it is you’re doing. He would’ve blocked you by now otherwise.

His reply comes as he holds the passenger side door open. “Ah, don’t worry. There was a bit of a mixup at the car rental place. I wasn’t expecting something of this quality either.”

You tuck this piece of knowledge away for later, should any sugar daddy-esque allegations be thrown your way. One can never be too prepared.

Sinking into the leather seat is a luxurious experience, although it's cold against the exposed area of your thighs. Chrollo slides into the driver’s seat not long after and sets the car into drive. You silently wonder if your neighbors think you’ve gotten into an Uber.

The short trip to the café soothes your electrically fried nerves. You’re once again reminded of how good he is at making you forget your anxiety, he could put SSRIs out of business. Or maybe the propranolol is finally working. Whichever it may be, by the time you both order your drinks, you feel more giddy than nervous. Is it a good idea to drink a caffeinated beverage when anxiety threatens to drag you into limbo at any second? Probably not. Does that mean you’re going to wisely choose a different beverage? Nope.

The sunlight is harsher in the afternoon, but you find this is offset by an occasional breeze. No one else is present in the outdoor dining area except for you and Chrollo. You choose the seat facing a row of bushes so you can observe the house finches and house sparrows fluttering about. One little fella is helping itself to a dirt bath in the freshly spread-out mulch. You coo at the adorable display, pointing it out to Chrollo who admits it is a precious sight. You’ve made it your raison d'être to convince him that every bird is equally fascinating, whether it be a rainbow lorikeet or a common pigeon.

He takes the first sip of the drink you recommended.

“Well? What do you think?”

“It’s good,” he decides with a smile. “I can see why you get it so often.”

“Right? I’ve thought about conducting an Ocean’s Eleven type heist to get the ingredients they use to make it.”

“Oh? Do you grant a moral exception to thievery?”

Despite how lightheartedly he phrases this, his eyes have a certain intensity to them. You mull over the question for this reason.

“Hm… it depends, I guess? Some people need to steal to survive. I probably wouldn’t care if a rich person or mega-corporation got stolen from either,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow at your last statement and you hastily add, “A-As long as no one gets hurt, of course.”

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his amusement. “Your reasoning is very cute.”

You groan and shrink back into the garden chair. “I know, I know, that probably came off as terribly naive and self-contradictory… the issue is complex. Giving a one-size-fits-all type of consensus feels impossible. How about you? What do you think?”

“Coveting is mankind’s original sin,” Chrollo begins. He’s using a tone that tells you to prepare for an in-depth explanation. “It’s a theme that’s recurrent throughout history. David and Bathsheba, Hades and Persephone, Heathcliff and Catherine… we always want what we cannot have. This dilemma never leaves us entirely. We either ignore it, despair in it, or succumb to it. The desire to steal is as involuntary as the diaphragm contracting for us to breathe or the electric signals that cause our heart to beat.”

A house finch begins its soulful serenade in the background.

“Wouldn’t you say that calling it involuntary implies we can’t control it, though?” You query.

“The only way to exercise total control over it is to kill it.”

“Some parts of us are better off dead,” you decide. “Getting what you want doesn’t guarantee satisfaction. The examples you listed… maybe they were happy for a time, but ultimately, their transgressions caught up to them.”

“Is a moment of bliss not worth a lifetime of anguish?”

“Maybe, if I was a sensualist.”

He rests his chin on his fist, the skin beneath his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Is that what you’re saying I am, darling?”

Your eyes widen and you almost choke on your drink at the unexpected pet name. Warmth floods your cheeks and you take a long second to recompose yourself. Your blatant display of embarrassment further fuels his amusement, he actually chuckles. You consider kicking him under the table, but decide that isn’t very ladylike. Then you remember it's the twenty-first century, and to honor your feminist ancestors, you scrunch up a napkin into a ball and fling it at him. Although the aerodynamics of your makeshift projectile are questionable, it almost hits him. Until he catches it with admittedly impressive reflexes.

“You have a good throwing arm.”

“And you should consider retiring from your white-collar job to join a baseball team,” you take a sip of your delicious drink. This is definitely the most memorable date you’ve been on. “But no, I don’t think you’re a sensualist. I honestly don’t know how I’d classify you. You’re jaded… almost misanthropic. You acknowledge the world for what it is, but it’s like you once thought it could be better. You don’t care to be proven right or wrong about it anymore, you want something else.”

“Ah… when put that way, I must seem pathetic,” he muses, his casual air hardly matching the severity of the words spoken.

“Not at all!” Your passionate outcry appears to momentarily take him aback. “If you’re still looking for something, that means deep down, you have hope you might eventually find it. To me, that’s admirable.”

He regards you for a few moments, before closing his eyes, his countenance strangely content. “You’re a very interesting woman, [First].”

“Pfft, not really.”

“I’m afraid this a point I’ll have to insist on,” or so he says, but you both know he secretly relishes his contrarian ways. “I have to wonder, though. How is it you came to gather any of this about me?”

“Your opinion on books.”

He blinks. “Pardon?”

“We interpret media through a lens that’s formed by our experiences, so… I dunno. You can just infer a lot from what a person gets caught up with in a story.”

In Chrollo’s case, what he doesn’t pay attention to is equally telling, although it took you a while to notice his unique display of apathy. He’d brush on certain themes while giving a rather surface-level commentary. Playing it safe, almost. He still had such an excellent way of weaving his words, that telling it came from another person's loom was difficult. It wasn’t until you hit on a subject he truly cared for that you could tell the difference. He’d give insights so particular to him that they must contain the true essence of his character.

Even if it is a mere glimmer.

He speaks your name.

“Hm?”

“About what I’m searching for…” he unwraps the napkin you unceremoniously threw his way earlier, smooths out the wrinkles, then returns it. “I think I may have found it.”

Everything has a way of escalating faster than you anticipated.

You’re about thirty minutes into the movie Perfect Blue. For some time now, you’ve been praising its merits to Chrollo, who recently said you should watch it together. This begged the question of where. In the months since you’ve begun dating, while your parents have taken a liking to him, you didn’t think the subject matter of the movie should be proudly displayed in your living room.

To remedy this, Chrollo suggested watching it in his hotel room.

You couldn’t fully explain your initial apprehension if you tried. You felt comfortable around him and have been alone together plenty. Yet for some reason, being alone with a man in a hotel room produced this mental image you weren’t sure you were ready for. He never pushed you or asked why you seemed hesitant to take things further than kissing and some light petting. His lack of questioning had the unintended side effect of birthing different doubts.

Does he not want anything else? Is he only acting like it doesn’t bother him? Will a day come when he tires of your squeamishness and simply moves on?

It’s this taunting mantra that haunted you in the lobby, the elevator, then the long, impersonal hallway to his room.

Your chest feels heavy enough that you wonder if lead has filled your lungs.

When he sat next to you on the couch, you barely registered his presence, much less his question if the temperature in the room felt agreeable. At some point, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Then his hand began to meander, although his attention never left the screen. He played with your hair. Gently stroked your forearm. His hand wandered down, down, down, to the hem of your skirt. He straightens the lightly bunched fabric out. Your heart pounds.

Chrollo’s fingers stay there, seemingly placated.

During the scene where Mima sees her reflection as her idol persona, his hand creeps onto the exposed skin of your thighs. He gives it a gentle, tentative squeeze. A soft gasp leaves you and your attention turns to him. Immediately, your eyes meet his in the dark. The side of his face is lightly illuminated by an array of cool tones. He uses his free hand to cup your chin, the pad of his thumb rubbing your lower lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

He speaks the question with such rapture, low and quiet.

Your heart violently hits your ribcage like it’s trying to burst free.

Silently, you nod. He tilts his head to the side and slots his lips against yours. There’s a pleasant buzz that tries so hard to overpower the frantic adrenaline pumping through your veins. Your body is at war with itself; indulgence or indignance. It’s a conflict that’ll never have a winner. You want to enjoy it — and you are, you think — so why does your biological makeup hold you as a prisoner without ransom? He tastes nice, feels nice. He did everything right. You don’t want to tremble at what’s a normal aspect of a relationship as if it were death itself hanging over your head.

It’s this mounting frustration at your condition that spurs you into action.

While maintaining the languid kiss, you situate yourself on his lap, a gesture that causes him to inhale sharply. He may be as surprised at your boldness as you are. You snake your arms around his neck and intensify the kiss. Humming, he reciprocates your ardor. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you grant him entry. He tastes of dark chocolate and mint, a combination you wish you could get drunk on, if only to put your tense body at ease.

One hand squeezes and massages your thigh, the other cups your feverish face. In this position, you’re afforded no modesty. You can feel your skirt hiking up, exposing more of you. His fingers explore the new territory. They venture dangerously close to your panties, though he doesn’t go beyond there, as if respecting an invisible barrier. The cocktail of emotions this invokes is impossible to properly sort through.

Can he feel the heat emanating from your body? Your pulse which finds new highs every minute? You want to lose yourself, but you can’t, your anxiety always drags you back kicking and screaming. It is an unforgiving warden that thinks you’d be better off in a cell.

Chrollo admires you when you pull back, in desperate need of air. You’re starting to feel dizzy and you don’t know if it’s the right kind. There’s something hard forming beneath where you sit. His lust for you is apparent, and you want to please, want to be normal. It should be fun. Your friends regale you with stories of taking strangers home and never feeling more than butterflies in their stomach. That’s what you want. Not this contortion of the aforementioned organ that makes you think your insides are slowly liquifying.

You still haven’t fully caught your breath, each one growing more shallow, more panicked. He finds other ways to entertain himself, namely, by lavishing your clammy skin with kisses. Your jawline, neck, then collarbone. He’s so calm you think you might be envious. Finally, he works his way back up, teasing your earlobe with his teeth, his breath warm as it fans against you.

Thump, thump, thump.

“[First],” his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Garbled, distant. “Should we take this to the bedroom?”

You break into too many shards to fix.

You get up. Straighten your skirt. You think you mutter something about needing a moment. Your legs don’t feel right. They move anyway. The bathroom’s door knob is like ice. You grab a hand towel. Turn on the faucet. Soak the towel until it drips water down the sink basin. Sit on the floor. The tiles are almost as cold enough to help. You place the towel around your neck. Your ears are ringing and you wish they’d stop. You hug your legs to your chest. What is it you’re supposed to do? Breathe?

It’ll pass, it’ll pass, it’ll pass.

It always does.

Just hold on a bit longer.

Feeling comes back in your hands first. It spreads throughout your body, though the antidote is far too late. Exhaustion is the next thing you register. The kind that seeps into your cells, makes your limbs feel like dead weight. Cognition returns as well. You remember where you are, who you’re with, what you’ve done.

It’s been a while since you’ve experienced one of these. Somehow, it’s worse than you remember. Infinitely worse.

A shiver runs down your spine. Has it always been so cold? You wonder what temperature your body was running at for you not to have noticed sooner.

How nice it is that your homeostasis decided to return. Is your sympathetic nervous system giving itself a pat on the back? Celebrating and popping champagne bottles at yet another job well done? We’ve done it successfully again, folks, you imagine it cheering. We’ve stopped her from doing something completely normal and harmless!

You’d laugh, but this time, you can’t bring yourself to.

As tempting as it is to stay here and pray for the tile floor to swallow you whole, you sincerely doubt that’ll happen, so you’re left with the far less appealing option of being an adult and facing the predicament you’re in. Getting back up, you’re treated to a glimpse of your reflection.

The change in your complexion would make any onlooker think you’ve seen a ghost.

Abruptly, you’re fourteen again, trying to get your mom’s attention so you can beg her to take you home because the social gathering of ten or so people is just too much. Next, you’re fifteen, talked into some weekend youth getaway because saying ‘no’ makes you feel guilty and the car ride has another two hours remaining. You feel sick, terribly sick, but you don’t want to get sick, because then your peers would think you’re strange, so you sit there and endure. Then you’re sixteen, locked in the stall of your high school bathroom, trying not to pass out because you think it’d be an inconvenience to anyone that happened upon you.

You thought you were over this. You’ve done the therapy, read the self-help books, and taken your medication every day like clockwork.

What’s left for you to do?

Why does it always come back?

Chrollo asks if everything’s alright when you walk back over to the couch. You say yes. He then asks if he can get you anything. A glass of water, please, is your reply.

You can tell he’s examining you when he hands the glass over. Your face warms — not in a fun way. The television screen is dark and yet you’re fixated on it like it’s the most intriguing thing in the world. Going from feeling as if you’re a stranger in your own body to being hyper-aware of everything never fails to give you whiplash. You can hear the low thrum of the air conditioning, footsteps coming from the hallway, the steady drip of the sink he filled your glass from. You think to rub your eyes then stop yourself; that’d smudge your mascara. It’d be nice if he could at least think you’re pretty as you struggle to hold yourself together.

“Was it something I did?” Chrollo questions. He almost sounds… curious, a concept you furiously scrub from your head. You’re exhausted and your brain is waving the white flag. Attributing false interpretations to his words is not going to help.

“N-No, not at all, I, um,” you have the words, you just don’t want to say them, so you opt for taking another drink instead. The glass runs out of water, your safe haven disappearing with it. “Just… a panic attack. It happens… sometimes.”

“Entirely unprompted?”

You gnaw on your lower lip. “Kind of…? It— nothing about it is exactly logical. I can know I’m fine, believe it too, and still, that doesn’t matter. It’ll happen anyway. I guess I have some reservations about that level of physical intimacy, but what my body decides to do is completely overkill.”

“You always minimize the role your anxiety plays in your life,” Chrollo points out. You’re grasping the glass tight enough that your knuckles hurt. “You can’t mention it to me without making light of it in some way. Is there a reason for that?”

Well, he’s got you there.

You’re about to joke and ask if he’s the one studying the behavioral sciences, when you realize that’d just be proving his point.

So uncharacteristic acrimony bubbles to the surface instead.

“A reason? I can give you more than one. It’s stupid, it’s annoying. The most simple things become like a fucking life or death experience for me and I can’t stand it,” you feel tears gather at your lower lashline but you’re too far gone to care. It’s a good thing your mascara is waterproof. “And then I… I think sex sounds nice, but when it actually gets to the moment, I feel so guilty and anxious and wrong that I leave my partner frustrated or thinking they’re some sort of monster.”

Usually, Chrollo's countenance is difficult to read, but there’s this raw emotion that makes itself known. Understanding? Relief? You don’t know for certain. It disappears without a trace, leaving you no way to confirm or deny your intuition. It’s probably too fried to be reliable, anyway.

“Hm… you must think all this would put me off, then. Make me want to move on to someone else.”

A knife stabbing you in the gut and twisting its blade until your viscera turned to mush would hurt less.

“Sweetheart, I was already aware that it was worse than what you let on,” his voice sounds so kind and near, you marvel at it, the gravitational pull drawing you in. You barely realize he’s brought you into an embrace. Your cheek is against his chest, right above his heart. His has a calm, steady rhythm, whereas yours is picking back up once more. “Your avoidance of talking on the phone, how soft your voice gets when interacting with strangers, the way you act like you’re an inconvenience by asking for the slightest assistance.”

The tears you tried holding in break free, soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

“I find these qualities of yours very endearing. You can go from passionately speaking about your interests over dinner to going shy the second the waiter walks over. You care so much, feel so much… it’s a wonder to me. You experience this life in the exact opposite manner I do.”

With the hand he isn’t using to keep you secure against him, he rubs your back up and down.

“Ah, my poor, sweet girl. What a tender heart you have,” he whispers. His grip on you tightens. That’s when you hear it — the undeniable sound of his heart beating a bit faster than it did before. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Not after all the effort I put into stealing it for myself. No, I’m almost hurt you entertained the thought. Have I ever treated you with anything less than the utmost care? Hm?”

Chrollo starts to pull you away from him, yet you refuse, clinging adamantly to his torso in an attempt to hide your face. He ignores the way you shake your head and by exerting the slightest force, achieves his original goal. His fingers find purchase on your chin, which he tilts upward, allowing himself an unobscured view of your puffy eyes and runny makeup. He smiles, wiping away your tears with such gentleness, he must think you’re made of porcelain.

Sniffling, you remember he asked you a question, and attempt cobbling together a coherent response. Such is the polite thing to do. “I guess not.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“... The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to conduct an in-depth case study for your future dissertation on GAD and SAD?”

His visage lands somewhere between mild bemusement and exacerbation. “I know you’re smarter than that. Try again.”

“My winning personality, once you wade through all the mental illness?”

“That certainly plays a role.”

“I know I’m cute, too. I suppose that helps. Otherwise, I’d be completely and utterly fucked.”

“Yes, yes — you are terribly cute.”

Sensing your hesitancy to land on a definitive answer, he decides to spell it out himself. “I’m fond of you, to a degree I previously thought myself incapable of. I have a… callous disposition, for lack of a better word. Yet for whatever reason, this doesn’t seem to bother you. I’ve never cared for subjective terms like ‘good’ or ‘evil’, but… if there is goodness in this world, it’d be found in you.”

Chrollo’s knuckles brush against your cheekbone as he speaks, seemingly bewitched by the glittering stream your tears left behind. Tangible proof of your emotions that tumult like a tempest, whereas his often remains an unmoving body of water.

You take his cheeks in your hands and glare at him. This time, when your lower lip trembles, it’s with righteous anger, not sorrow. “Why do you always talk about yourself like you’re the world’s biggest villain?”

His eyes slightly widen — you’ve never used a tone like this with him before, or anyone else, for that matter — though his composure doesn’t wane for long.

“So what if you don’t think everything is sunshine and rainbows? You aren’t heartless; you just know the dangers of putting your heart on display for everyone else to see. I can’t blame you for that, from what you’ve told me.”

He’s never been particularly forthcoming about sharing details from his past. What you do know is that he grew up in extreme poverty, without parents or a guardian, scraping by with some other children in a similar situation. You never pushed to learn more. There was this quiet melancholy that possessed him in the rare moments he shared glimpses of his childhood. The specters that haunted him could almost be felt lingering in the atmosphere, turning the air heavy and thick.

“You lost a precious friend in such a cruel way. That loss of innocence, it’s unforgivable, it’s completely unfair…!”

This time, your tears aren’t for you, they’re for a little boy you’ll never know and a girl that you couldn’t if you tried. “I don’t get why you’re so harsh on yourself. You act like you’ve done something unforgivable.”

He parts and closes his lips. Whatever he intended to say, he must’ve decided against it. Instead, he pulls you back against him, almost greedily. He presses kisses atop your head then murmurs a few words you can’t quite catch. Your body is deprived of energy, having flickered through almost every major emotion a human being can experience. If your parents wouldn’t have fussed over the act, you could’ve fallen asleep on him for the night.

The person who inadvertently caused your blistering anxiety is also the best balm for it.

It’s unexplainable, teetering on the edge of delusion, this sentiment that he could shield you from all harm. He’s always so sure of himself when you remain plagued by indecisiveness. He can talk you out of any irrational thought, anchor you when a stressful situation is beginning to be too much, and understand you almost eerily well. He’s able to piece together your chaotic thought processes with next to no context. He listens to you, remembers everything you say (and you mean everything), and genuinely values your input, even if he disagrees with your opinions.

This level of an intimate connection is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

“No one’s ever cried for my sake before,” he thinks aloud. He’s stroking your back again, almost mindlessly. You swear there’s something magical about his touch.

“Do you think I’m weird?”

“There are a lot of words I’d use to describe you,” he decides. As always, he’s clever at avoiding questions he doesn’t wish to answer. “Currently, the one that stands out to me the most would be…”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you.

“Warm.”

The arboretum is far different in autumn. Green leaves have transitioned into rich auburn and golden shades, hesitant buds nowhere to be seen. The grass beneath your feet is crunchier, the foliage dry and scattered, almost as if it were trying to form a protective sheath for the earth. No longer can you hear the melody of grasshoppers and buzzing from busy bees. The wind whistles when it blows, the underlying frostiness biting at your cheeks and ears.

“Ah, would you look at that, it’s a junco,” Chrollo points out. You cover your mouth to muffle a gasp. Thanks in part to your guidance, he’s gotten better at identifying different types of birds. While you’d like to think it’s because he appreciates them too, you’re convinced he finds your excited reaction far more interesting.

The little blob of black and white hops to and fro, using its feet to rummage for anything edible. You silently lament your lack of birdseed. You’ll have to settle for cheering the tiny friend on from afar.

Hand in hand, you both traverse the area of your original meeting. Sweet nostalgia swirls in your chest. You’ve always found it befuddling how a single chance encounter can permanently change the trajectory of your life. In the moment, you have no idea how your actions will go on to form ripples that influence the future. Whether this is chaos theory or some other fancy metaphysical-sounding concept, you haven’t the slightest clue.

What you do know is that meeting Chrollo was a catalyst for something greater.

A wave of chills cascades over you.

“Are you cold?” He inquires, his tone having this ‘I told you so’ quality to it that you don’t appreciate. You’re wearing a light beige, plaid fitted blazer, that while chic, doesn’t have much insulation. You waved off his initial concern by saying you’ll warm up once you both get to walking around. So much for that.

“Cold is a mindset,” the chattering of your teeth doesn’t do much to help your cause. He raises an eyebrow. “Mind over matter… mind over matter…”

Chrollo shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick, dear.”

“You sound like my grandma.”

“The one who tried taking my head wrappings off, or the one who kicked me?”

“A combination of the two that coalesces their tendency to fuss over me.”

“You’re very easy to fuss over,” Chrollo chuckles at the face you make at him. “You’re absolutely precious. It’s a mystery to me how you make the smallest acts endearing.”

At this, you strike a dumb pose, winking at him all the while. “Aha, it’s no mystery. You have my irresistible charm to thank for that.”

He sighs wistfully. “Indeed I do.”

Although the sage gardens behind the Starling House are no longer in bloom, you decide to swing by anyway. The plans for the remainder of your day follow a similarly simple yet pleasant precedent. You’re going to go window shopping in a quaint commercial district, grab something to eat at a pub, then end the night off with a movie. Chrollo’s trying to convince you to watch some indie flick that’s in black and white and uses a 1.19:1 ratio. You want to watch Alien, a classic he’s never seen like the weirdo he is.

The walk isn’t long or monotonous. It’s so idyllic that you could believe you’re the only two people in the world.

However, that isn’t the case. Upon entering the garden, you’re quick to note the presence of another.

A young woman is kneeling down, murmuring under her breath. She’s acting as if she’s lost something and can’t find it. Frowning, you detach yourself from Chrollo, approaching her with the intent to offer your assistance. She doesn’t lift her head upon hearing the obvious sounds of your footfall. She just continues blindly grasping at the ground.

“Miss?” You ask, to which her entire body freezes. “Did you drop something? I could help you look for it.”

She mutters another incomprehensible jumble of words.

“Hm? What was that?”

You lean over in an attempt to hear her better.

Then, much to your confusion, she enunciates your full-given name. Even while doing this, she doesn’t spare you a single glance.

“Have to… have to…” she’s back to being difficult to make sense of, “I have to…”

A strange sensation possesses you.

Have you met this woman somewhere before? You do a quick mental scan of her disheveled appearance and come up with nothing definitive. Her hair is matted, her complexion sallow and her cheeks sunken in. Her disoriented state stirs concern within you. It’s a good sign that she’s still conscious and exhibiting motor functions, but the longer you examine her, the more you can tell she isn’t in a proper state of mind. You don’t want to leave her out here alone in such a vulnerable state. You try to push aside the uncanny feeling that came from her apparently recognizing you when you’re certain you’ve never met.

Chrollo speaks your name. Turning around, you face him just in time to catch a surreal expression forming on his countenance. His eyes widen slightly, his lips part, then he’s reaching out for you.

The passage of time grinds temporarily to a halt.

And then there is a visceral burst of energy.

It’s as if a blizzard manifests from the direction the woman is hunched over in. There’s this thick, harrowing tension that causes your legs to buckle at the knees. Swirls of negative emotions wrap around you in shadowy tendrils. Grief. Hysteria. Rage. Bitterness. Most notable, however, is the sickening yearning to inflict harm. How can a human being produce and project such raw feelings? It’s like hatred itself has been given a palpable form, submerging you in a swamp of mire.

You don’t understand what’s happening to you, but you do have this primal foreboding that the longer you’re exposed to it, the more endangered you’ll be.

In the millisecond it takes for you to blink, Chrollo is no longer in your line of sight.

It’s strange, you think. There are no knives, guns, explosives; or anything that could hurt you in the traditional sense. In a way you could understand and reliably assess the threat level of.

And still, despite this uncertainty, you have this unshakable premonition that death isn’t far away.

You wake up in a bed that is not your own.

Your body is drenched in sweat, your muscles sore, and your head feels as if it’s being clamped in a vice-like grip. Trying to get up proves to be a poor decision. Nausea and dizziness force you to lie back down. You take shallow, frantic breaths, wincing at yet another wave of throbbing coming from your temples. Your senses aren’t reliable either. The first few times you open your eyes, dark spots dot your vision. Then there’s your hearing, or lack of. There’s this distant ringing that while slowly fading, isn’t replaced by anything better. Your hearing grows so muffled you almost think earplugs have been jammed in your ear canal.

Groaning, you manage to lift yourself off the mattress with trembling arms. The dark spots fade away enough for you to make out your surroundings.

You’re in Chrollo’s hotel room, lying on his bed.

It’s nighttime. The digital clock sitting on the bedside table reads 3:40 a.m.

The next thing you do is feel around for your phone. It should be in the back pocket of your jeans, but it isn’t there.

The brisk air takes your breath away when you tug the comforter off. Your body groans with protest at all the movement, yet you ignore its request to lay back down, the situation at hand far too perplexing. Your outfit is the same as the one you put on this morning, aside from your boots, which sit together near the wall. You then assess your body for any physical injuries, finding nothing visible to explain your current malaise. Are you hungover? Frowning, you dismiss the idea. You know your tolerance well and never try pushing it.

Taking small steps and using the wall as leverage, you make your way over to the adjoined bathroom. You fill a dental cup with water and down it instantly. After satiating your thirst, you call out for Chrollo, your voice gravelly with sleep.

No response.

Sighing, you slink over to the closed bedroom door. Your equilibrium steadies itself enough that you only need to grab onto something every few steps. The handle doesn’t budge. You try again, exerting more force — still nothing. The subsequent attempts end in the same manner. There’s no denying it, it’s been locked. That begs the question of why. Safety, maybe? It’s possible Chrollo stepped out for whatever reason and wanted to ensure no one could get to you. Then again, that’s what the deadbolt on the door leading to the hotel hallway is for.

You don’t want to start rattling the door and making a scene when you’re certain there’s a solid explanation for this. He has to come back eventually, his stuff is still here. Although, you can’t help noticing how sparse his personal belongings are. The book he was reading no longer sits on the bedside table, the framed picture of the two of you gifted by your parents isn’t on the wardrobe either. Next, you check the closet, finding it in a similarly desolate state. You once pillaged a shirt of his when you grew tired of wearing a dress, so you know its usual presentation. The hangers remain on the rack yet everything else is gone.

Chrollo told you his job had placed him in this city indefinitely. Is he planning to move to another hotel?

Not knowing what else to do, you sit on the edge of the bed. The former pounding in your head has soothed into a far less egregious dull ache. You must’ve been asleep for a decent chunk of time, this initial grogginess is what you experience upon first waking up in the morning. You hope you weren’t unconscious for too long. It's an unsettling thought, being in that vulnerable state, totally shut off from the world.

A few minutes of absentmindedly admiring the twinkling lights that make up the city skyline’s pass.

Then you hear the door handle jingle.

Chrollo silently examines you. It’s almost as if he’s gauging your entire being, anticipating what is to come. His mouth is set in a straight line and he’s standing unnervingly still. There’s this intensity to him that has you breaking off eye contact. Your mouth goes dry and you temporarily forget how to form words. You had so many burning questions in his absence, why is it that they've been wiped clean from your head now that he’s here?

When you find the courage to look up at him again, there’s not a vestige of his former expression. The grave lines have smoothened out and you no longer believe you’re face to face with a stranger.

“How are you feeling?” He’s quick to close the distance. The mattress dips, adjusting to his presence by your side.

“Oh, uh, not the best, but… I don’t think it’s anything serious,” you say. Silvery moonlight shines into the room, illuminating him in an otherworldly veil. Goosebumps line your skin when he takes the side of your face into his hand. He’s cold. “I’m mostly just confused. Is— is everything okay? Why am I here?”

“How much do you remember?”

Remember, remember… that’s right, you hadn’t given that much thought. You pick through your hazy memories aloud. “Well, we were at the arboretum, just walking around. I remember heading to the gardens behind the Starling House. Then… um…”

You squint and furrow your eyebrows together. It’s as if your recollection was a film reel that had been trimmed after that point. You try piecing together a mental image of the garden. Hummingbirds? Sage? No, that isn’t right, you’re thinking of its spring appearance. The colors would be more muted, there’d be less shrubbery. The image grows sharper.

Then there’s a shadow.

Vaguely human-shaped, situated right in the middle of the mosaic you’re trying to form. Their outline isn’t solid, it’s splotchy, like water paint left to run on a canvas.

Finally, something clicks.

“That woman!” You exclaim. The corner of his lips twitch downward. “That’s right! Is she okay? She seemed so out of it.”

“I’m not sure.”

“How is that possible? You were—”

“Let’s focus on you for now,” he cuts you off. There’s a finality in his voice you can’t bring yourself to challenge. “Can you tell me what symptoms you’re experiencing?”

“Um, some disorientation and a headache.”

“I see. I’ll get you some painkillers, then.”

You grab his wrist to stop him when he starts getting up. “I’d really prefer you told me what happened first.”

When he doesn’t immediately acquiesce to your request, you quietly add, “Please.”

His eyes soften at your gentle, uncertain timbre. He intertwines his fingers with yours and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Earlier, when we arrived at the garden, you grew lightheaded and fainted.”

You take a moment to process the information. It seems plausible enough, yet the more you mull over it, the more little details start to catch your attention.

“Okay…” you trail off, pursing your lips. A vengeful throb from your head causes you to wince. He notices — frowns — then places a featherlight kiss against your forehead. The thoughtful gesture doesn’t invoke any pleasant warm fuzzy sensations. “So I fell unconscious for over ten hours and you didn’t… call an ambulance…?”

“That is correct.”

You shuffle in your seat, momentarily taken aback at how easygoing he’s acting about the entire ordeal. “Why?”

“I’ve been monitoring your vitals,” he reassures. Sensing your growing apprehension, he adds, “I can promise that you were never in serious danger. I would’ve acted accordingly if you were.”

The phrase ‘acted accordingly’ doesn’t tell you much either. What does he mean by that? Is there some threshold you needed to enter for him to have taken you to the hospital? Your various volunteer experiences with the city’s vulnerable communities taught you that if a person is unresponsive for over a minute, an ambulance should be called, just to be on the safe side. Besides, isn’t that just common sense? Chrollo is an intelligent man. You can’t fathom any line of reasoning that’d justify not erring on the side of caution.

You glance at the clock again. 4:03 a.m. glows in the dim light of the room. It’s late. You wonder what your parents—

Holy shit.

“Do my mom and dad know?” You glance around as if expecting to find them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have insisted on calling emergency services if you were unconscious for that long.

“I didn’t inform them, no.”

“What?” You make no attempts to tone down your incredulity. “Then— they must be out of their minds with worry! My phone, where’s my phone? I need to tell them I’m okay!”

You shoot up off the bed too fast and your body doesn’t take kindly to the rushed movement. Debilitating lightheadedness causes you to lose your balance. Chrollo steadies your swaying form and helps sit you back down. You scoot away from him as far as you can, your thoughts an absolute mess. Nothing here is making sense. It’s not even a puzzle that’s missing a few pieces, there’s almost nothing to work with at all.

He’s staring at you in that strange, anticipatory manner again. It makes your stomach churn.

“My phone, Chrollo,” you hold your hand out. “There’s no way you don’t have it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t give it to you,” he sounds apologetic too, which makes your subsequent temper flare up even worse.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss, exasperation winning out. You were trying to be reasonable, but that is over and done with. “You’re acting like— like there’s nothing weird happening! Can you please take this seriously? You’re really starting to freak me out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I knew this wouldn’t be easy for you, so I wanted to remain calm for your sake.”

Your tongue couldn’t properly form words if your life depended on it. Sure, remaining calm in a crisis is helpful, but he isn’t acting like this is a crisis. He’s treating it as if he was burdened with sitting you down to relay bad news that no one else had the heart to share.

You’re starting to think you don’t know the person you’re talking to.

“For my sake,” you repeat in a wry deadpan. “If that’s true, then tell me what’s actually going on, Chrollo. Because I know you’re bullshitting me.”

Not calling the ambulance or informing your parents, withholding your phone… then there’s the matter of how he got you here in the first place. Did he carry you through the lobby? No good samaritans thought it was unusual to see a man carrying an unconscious woman up to his room? Hotel staff these days are trained to have a vigilant eye for these situations too. Not one person thought it might be a good idea to ring up law enforcement over such a blatantly suspicious act?

Nothing is adding up.

“I’m being more forthcoming than you think,” Chrollo says, as if he’s doing you a favor. He tries reaching out for your hand again, only this time, you don’t allow him. “Everything I’ve said and intend to say is the truth, even if you don’t particularly like it.”

That’s a hell of a creative way of putting it!

“Who was that woman earlier? What did she do to me?”

“I have someone ironing out the details, but from what I’ve gathered, she was sent with the intention of killing you. I don’t believe she was aware of the fact herself until you entered her vicinity, triggering the necessary condition for the true culprit’s ability to activate. Otherwise, I certainly wouldn’t have allowed you to get so close.”

Someone was sent to kill you? You? A run-of-the-mill college student who has no enemies to speak of? It’s not like you’re a part of the fucking mob. That can’t be right, not to mention the bizarre jargon he’s using. There’d be no plausible motive. If he says she was sent, and you choose to believe he isn’t making this all up, that implies it was premeditated. Not a spur-of-the-moment decision. That’d almost make more sense.

That is, unless…

You stare at him, eyebrows knitting together.

“If you’re telling the truth — and right now, that’s a big fucking if — does this have something to do with you?”

“That’s my clever girl,” he praises, entirely devoid of condescension. The pure fondness in his voice makes you sick. It’s almost as if he’s delighting in watching you piece this nightmare together. “Yes, you haven’t deliberately done anything to earn the wrath of the wrong people. They simply know getting to me is near impossible, hence their decision to go for the next best thing instead. That’d be you, dear.”

“Oh my god,” you bury your head in your hands. “Why… why am I not freaking out more? I should be hysterical, or, or— I don’t know…”

“Beta blockers,” he reveals. You look at him like he’s speaking another language. “In anticipation of how… touchy this conversation was going to be, I thought it might be best for you to be in a good headspace while receiving this information for the first time.”

“You drugged me?”

“If that’s how you want to look at it.”

“Because that’s how it is!”

A lump forms in your throat and lodges itself there. Are you stuck in a hellacious dream? Or hallucinating, perhaps? Visual hallucinations aren’t supposed to be this cohesive or clear. There has to be another explanation. Something you’re missing that’d make this all go away. The beta blocker admission certainly holds weight. Your heart rate, while slightly elevated, isn’t anywhere near as chaotic as it should be. It’d explain the general malaise, fatigue, and lightheadedness too. That, and you doubt you’d be able to think this clearly if there wasn’t something heavy pumping through your system.

Your eyes hesitantly settle on Chrollo, who sits there perfectly still and almost relaxed. He’s observing you like a hawk.

“Listen,” you try using a mellower voice. He raises an eyebrow at your drastically different approach. “You had ample opportunity to hurt me and you didn’t. That must mean you have my best intentions at heart, right? Why don’t we try to work something out, because this isn’t sustainable. My absence isn’t going to go unnoticed.”

Chrollo sighs, heavy if not unsurprised. “Sweetheart, I’m not suffering a break from reality, although I’m sure you’d prefer to rationalize it that way. I assure you I’m lucid and everything I’ve done is intentional. You’ll come to accept it eventually.”

It isn’t going to help, yet you feel your remaining grains of patience slip through your fingers.

“What’s this talk about a ‘condition’ and ‘ability’, then?” You challenge.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d mention that,” he doesn’t sound like you landed on a reason that’d prove him wrong. “How to explain it… you once told me you think there are phenomena in this world that can’t be explained by empirical evidence. Consider this an example of that. I’m sure you must’ve felt it before you fainted. An intense, concentrated sensation that awoke your primordial fear. Bloodlust.”

You want to argue until you run out of breath, but this description does strike a chord. Reality itself feels as if it’s drifting further and further away. In an awfully cruel twist, Chrollo and his collected disposition is the most grounding factor you have to latch onto.

“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in,” he finally replaces that matter-of-fact tone with something resembling compassion, “But know this: you’re not in any danger. Neither are those you care about, so long as you act sensible.”

Shivering, you hug your arms around your chest. “How can you say that to me so easily? I thought… I thought you…”

He’s enveloping you from behind. You didn’t even see him move. Weakly, you struggle against his hold, but you’re not in any condition to put up a fight. In the event you were, it’s doubtful it’d make much of a difference. He’s strong. It goes beyond physical strength, into some esoteric realm you’ve become forcibly acquainted with. He’s exerting this slight pressure that makes your heart skip a beat, despite the medication. It isn’t comparable to what you experienced in the garden — there’s no malice — it feels more like a warning.

“You’re surprisingly sensitive to Nen,” he murmurs, humming contentedly when you go limp against him. His chin rests atop your head and his arms ensnare your midriff. “How interesting. No matter. Whatever your fascinating brain concocted is still true. You may think me merciless, but if you knew me, you’d find this to be my greatest act of mercy yet.”

“I thought I did know you,” is your weak reply. You don’t recognize the sound of your voice.

“The parts of me I wanted to show you, yes,” he moves your hair aside so he can press a kiss to the nape of your neck. “And a few glimpses you gleaned in your own way. Really, you are such a sweet girl. Willing to overlook discrepancies to see the ‘good’ in me.”

Heat rises and ignites on your cheeks. “I-I could scream, you know.”

“You could.”

That’s not the reaction you were expecting.

“You’re… not going to try and stop me?”

“No,” he responds. “I’ve always found experience to be the best teacher.”

“You really,” you heave a humorless laugh, uncertain of what else to do, “You really don’t see anything wrong with this?”

He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, marveling at how your pulse remains steady, thanks to his intervention.

“‘So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.’”

“What?”

“It’s what you said the first day I met you,” Chrollo explains, nostalgia evident. “I’ve thought about those words often. Your effulgence, your desire to do right by others. It made me wonder if there could ever be anyone more perfect for me than you. You, whose pretty neck I could snap before you’d ever realize what happened, stirred up a sentimentality in me I thought myself incapable of.”

Sandalwood, amber, and leather. His scent is the same as that day.

Are his intentions?

Is this a prophecy he himself ordained and always intended to see fulfilled?

“You stole my heart, and as recompense, I will steal you. Think whatever you want about me, dear. Just don’t think I’m selfless enough to ever change my mind.”

#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere hxh x reader #not sfw #my stuff

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sorceresssundries · 16 days

Text

Shades of Green

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Tav finds herself in possession of a most revealing letter. Tempted and confused, she retreats with her thoughts to the silent sanctuary of a library. One-shot.

Warnings: Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Fucking Against a Bookcase...

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This is inspired by Atonement, and contains elements of the book/film but with a different plot and in a different universe.

Shout out to @heyitsjaki for the inspiration - this one's for you, babe!

The blanket of dusk had begun its descent, with the lingering warmth of the sun settling in for another stifling night. The open windows of the Elfsong tavern did nothing to cool the skin of the adventurers preparing themselves for the evening ahead; they just welcomed the sounds of a city slipping into a night’s reverie, as market stalls were swept away and parents chased giggling children off to bed.

Tav had changed her outfit three times. Figaro had sent her out of his shop with a bundle of dresses, but she had struggled to pick the one most appropriate. The long-sleeved black ensemble, with its intricate lace, felt stifling against her sun-kissed skin, while the pale blue option left her feeling too juvenile for the occasion. Eventually, she settled on a backless silk number which echoed the emerald of her eyes. It skimmed and spilled over her body as though it were made of liquid.

She was trying lipstick and appraising herself in the mirror when she heard footsteps behind her; footsteps with no reflection.

“You look divine, darling.” Astation’s voice was as silken as her dress but with none of the comfort. She ignored him, knowing where this was leading.

“I assume there will be nothing to my… taste… being served at this dinner party?” He drawled.

"If you're wondering whether Rolan will be serving goblets of blood at his inaugural hosting as master, I'd venture to say it's highly unlikely." It had been a mere couple of days since they had efficiently removed the former master of Ramazith's tower. Grateful for their assistance, Rolan had extended a formal dinner invitation to all involved—a chance, perhaps, to both express his gratitude and showcase his newfound position. Though the timing might not have been perfect, the prospect of an evening away from the Elfsong, wearing clothing absent of bloodstains, held collective appeal.

“Well, then we find ourselves in a bit of a tricky situation, my sweet.”

Tav turned round to face him, and caught his eyes roaming her body. “There’s no need for predatory looks, Astarion.” She kept her voice clipped, businesslike. Theirs was an arrangement which she had always kept uncomplicated, despite his occasional attempt at complication. “You may take what you need, as long as you promise to be on your best behaviour this evening.”

“Aren’t I always?” He flashed his roguish smile and approached her with barely concealed hunger. She sighed and tilted her head back to allow him what he needed.

“You smell like warm vanilla” Her murmured as he inhaled against her skin, before pressing his lips against the thrumming pulse of her throat and sinking his teeth into her. The second her taste kissed his tongue, he moaned instinctively. She was the first bite of an apple after a day of starvation. The feeling of it was always over-personal, and despite Tav having no romantic attachment or desire towards him, there was a soft flush of intimacy which came from the feeling of him gripping her and basking in her taste. It almost felt like worship. Tav let out a gentle gasp as he gave one final, meaningful swallow and then stepped back, panting. She knew it took restraint to stop, and she appreciated the effort and, well, manners, of him prising himself away before he was asked. They were both breathless, her a little dizzy, and he handed her a handkerchief from his top pocket to press against the bleeding puncture wounds on her neck.

“Thank you darling” He bowed his head “That will make the evening much more bearable.”

Upon leaving Tav’s room, he bumped into Gale standing outside the door holding a letter. From his tense posture and grim expression, Astarion guessed he had been there long enough to catch wind of the vampire’s early evening snack.

“Hear anything interesting?” Astarion lilted, relishing the hardness in Gale’s usually soft eyes. “You know, she certainly is delicious.” His voice was a silken purr which Gale wished to choke from his throat. The scarlet of Tav’s blood had left a smear at the corner of his mouth, sin-red and mocking.

Their relationship had always been tense, and that tension had only tightened when Gale became aware of his and Tav’s bloody arrangement. He did not know the details of it, or how much of herself she gave to him during these trysts, but he knew that she deserved better than to be the bloodbag of a leech, or the plaything of a roguish manipulator. His fierce feelings on the matter occasionally spilled into his interactions with Tav, a fault he felt much guilt over. He hated feeling like this, possessive over something he did not even own. He loved her, and sometimes love felt like fury. He was determined to make things right.

Astarion’s cheeks were slightly flushed from the blood which now bloomed through him. Her blood. Gale had heard his moan, her gasp, their shared breathlessness; and had wanted to burst the door open and stake the vampire where he stood. He gripped tight to what little composure he had, and focused on not crumpling the letter in his grip. The veins in his forearms were raised in tension, and resembled cracked bolts of blue lightning against his tanned skin, shooting out from where his sleeves had been pushed up. His breathing was slow, considered; but flared.

“I heard enough.” Gale stowed the letter away in his back pocket, but not before Astarion’s eyes glimpsed it. Gale was not a man who dealt out threats like trump cards, he had always preferred a battle of wits over blades, or the cut of a sharp word over a knife, but he was not above displaying violence if necessary. He felt like it may become necessary.

“If I ever hear that you’ve taken a drop more than she is willing to give, there will be no shadow dark enough to hide you from me.” Gale asserted, his tone measured. “Besides, our little journey will be over soon, and I’m sure you’ll be back to your previous self in no time.” He took a step closer, and wiped away Tav’s blood with his thumb. “What a shame it would be to make an enemy of one who can conjure up sunlight.” With that, Gale walked away, unaware that Astarion's swift fingers had liberated the letter from his pocket.

It lay temptingly in Astarion’s hands, and without a moment's hesitation, he indulged his curiosity, devouring its contents with the same gluttonous reverie as he had Tav’s blood. There was a beat as he re-read it twice, shocked at what the restrained Wizard had written. "How delicious," he mused, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. With a calculated nonchalance, he slipped the letter under Tav's door, and slinked away with a cocky grin.

Tav had forgotten how to breathe properly. The handwriting was unmistakable. The ink was his deep purple. It even smelled of him.

Dear Tav,

In my dreams I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt.

In my thoughts I make love to you all day long.

Gale.

She felt she had missed something, somewhere, in their short time together. A code she had not cracked, a riddle she had failed to solve. He was affectionate, flirtatious occasionally, charming always, but after spending so much time touch-starved and lacking company Tav had assumed his feelings were akin to those of a drowning man who had been thrown a rope from a passing ship. She had longed for him many times, she had even pushed the thought of a fierce kiss into his mind one magic-filled evening, and he had pulled away…

She had hoped that after Elminster eased the urgency of his condition, that maybe something would come of it. That he would find his way into her tent one night and let himself come undone after a year of being bound so tightly. But he had not. She had not pushed it, he was a man burdened and she did not want to add to it.

She could not think of this now. Not here. Not when they were about to spend an evening in the company of their friends. She re-read the note again and felt herself flush, if only he was aware of her own dreams, of the temptations that whispered and caressed whenever he tensed his muscles in arcane focus, when the sweat borne from summoned fire beaded his brow, or when his voice sank low to pull measured incantations from the depths of his muscled, hair-smattered chest. She shuddered, and fanned herself with no relief. She could not think of this now.

The hours at dinner ached onwards, with Gale sat just out of Tav’s direct eyeline. He was on the opposite side of the food-laden table, a few places along - and he was so aware of her that she may as well have been the only other person in the room. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, lips painted with a colour that made them look bitten. He wanted to deepen the colour with his teeth. He thought her dress made it look like art, she looked like poetry, like no artist would ever be tongue-tied or word-blocked again with her for a muse. Ironic, really, with how thick his tongue felt in his mouth just from looking at her. He thought her dress was the most silken, tempting, beautiful thing he had seen someone wear.

It was perfect, and he wanted to ruin it.

Tav had been avoiding his gaze all evening, afraid for him to look at her and see the truth. She was convinced it was waiting there, unabashed and obvious, and with one glance would be pulled from its poorly concealed hiding place. To look at him now would be stupid, reckless, dangerous. Her eyes flicked up, and he caught her.

He was dark fire, He was looking at her the way a caged man would look at freedom, like she was the bright crack of light through prison walls or the sound of the ocean to a land-locked seafarer. She thought he may drag his searing eyes away, as he had done so many times before, but he did not. He did not even attempt to simmer his gaze. He stared at her with an intent that kissed fire down her spine, she needed relief from it before she smouldered into ash.

“Excuse me.” She breathed out an apology to guests who were paying her no attention, and with as much silence and grace as she could conjure she swept from the room, feeling the silk of her dress dance along the floor behind her.

She poured herself through the first door she found. A library. Dimly lit and, thankfully, empty. What a relief, here there were only book bound spells and dusty stories to witness her unravelling. There must have been thousands of books here, and hers was the weakest spine in the room.

The truth of it was, she was afraid. Something had now changed, and could not be changed back. The group of them still had challenges, battles and decisions ahead. Overdue justice would be delivered and fresh blood spilled, with a high chance that blood would be their own. Losing herself to her feelings for Gale, acting upon her fantasies, spiralling further into loving him would potentially be an act of selfishness and hard-headedness she couldn’t justify. She wasn’t sure if by keeping herself distanced, she had been protecting others or herself. If she let it, that distance would force itself closed, and she did not know what the outcome would be.

But.. his note… The weight of his lettered words were notched in the fragile space behind her eyes, like the forceful pressing of a typewriter on delicate paper. Even if the ink of the confession could somehow be washed away, the shape of it was indented into her.

She would allow herself a few moments of stillness, in the silence of the library. How odd, she thought as she gazed around. She was in a room with vast, precious knowledge - and none of it really mattered. No piece of paper would ever matter as much as the one which had slipped like a secret under her door.

A soft creak announced Gale's presence in the doorway. His posture was formal, his expression obscured by the dim, flickering candlelight. All evening he had been unfairly distracting in fitted suit trousers and a crisp white shirt. A smart black bow-tie had once adorned his collar, but the stifling heat of the lingering party had caused it to come undone, and it now hung loose and forgotten. Several buttons on his shirt had been unfastened, offering a glimpse of his chest hair and the bruise-coloured orb beneath. Against his olive skin, the white fabric seemed to deepen his complexion, accentuating his rugged features, and his sleeves were pushed up to reveal the firm muscles of his forearms. So much for her moment of stillness.

“Are you alright?” He moved towards her and she could not retreat from him even if she wanted to. She was against the bookcase at the far end of the room, there was no stepping back from him now. “You seemed… flushed at dinner.”

“Quite alright.” Her tone was more brusk than she intended it to be, more formal than she wanted.

“I thought maybe Astarion took more from you than was necessary earlier.” His tone suddenly had a sharp bite to it. “My mistake, it appears you are both perfectly satisfied.”

She did not like his implication. “Did you have a thorough listen? Before you delivered your sordid little letter?”

There was a beat of silence, and the air shifted, the hard aura of him became soft and panicked. He didn’t say anything, though Tav had the feeling he was reaching for something to clutch at. She didn’t let him get to it.

“Does it taint your dreams, knowing that he feeds from me? The dreams where you kiss my sweet, wet cunt?” The words were fired with archer's accuracy. She regretted it the moment it was said. “I’m sorry” She was flustered in her apology, “I shouldn’t have..”

“You should never have seen that letter”

“You slipped it under my door?”

“No. I did not.”

Their breaths were heavy. Anger and tension and built-up frustration crackled through air made of gunpowder.

“So…You did not mean what you wrote?” Gale thought she almost sounded disappointed, and he clutched onto that thought with desperation and fanned it till it burned.

“That’s not what I said.”

Out of self-consciousness, or awkwardness, or just to find something for her hands to do, Tav fiddled with her hair and moved it back off her shoulders. The innocuous motion allowed Gale full view of those two, small puncture marks. They were still slightly pink, the area around them bruised. He moved forwards, and her breath caught in expectation of being kissed. Instead he stood, jaw tight, brows stern and brushed the bite marks with his thumb, barely touching her.

“It does not taint my dreams, but it does haunt my days.” His voice was a slip of envy. His thumb stayed at her throat, but his fingers moved to caress her jaw, tilting her head upwards so they were locked in another heated stare. Tav finally understood.

“I am not his. I never have been” she pushed herself up lightly on her toes, until her nose brushed against his and their breaths became each other’s. “I am yours.”

The match was lit. He pressed himself fully against her and she bumped back against the books with a gasp caught in a blistering kiss. His hands ran along the cool silk and grasped at it in swathes, as all his pent-up need for her came crashing down in the silence of the library. It took all his resolve not to rip it to silken tatters. She gave one sweet, quiet moan against him and he lifted her up, pinning her against the bookcase before slipping a hand between them, to discover she was not wearing underwear.

“Too hot” She breathed, her words dancing with laughter.

“I’ll say.” Gale growls, and with a swift, single-handed undoing of his trousers he pushes his hard cock inside her. There is no time for grace, or teasing, or even manners. She is wet enough, and he needs to fuck her.

They were not silent, their breaths were heavy and Gale swallowed Tav’s soft moans against his tongue, but there were no more words. There would be other times - Gale would make certain of it - where he would pour obscenities into her ear, where he would brand into her every sordid thought he had ever had, and relish teasing primal, guttural sounds from her sweet, parted lips.

He had fantasised about her in worship and in sin. In silent libraries, in cold cramped tents, or in back rooms of rowdy taverns. He envisioned teasing her relentlessly until she succumbed to shuddering release with just a few deft strokes of his tongue, or seizing her from behind in the secluded alcove of a crowded bar, losing himself in the depths of her until he surrendered to blissful oblivion without even making eye contact. He wanted the burning, consuming intimacy of knowing her in every way a person can be known. In the softness of her body and the sharpness of her mind. In his thoughts he made love to her all day long, and in his reality he was determined to do the same.

But for now, he could only growl as he fucked her hard against the bookcase of the library, with the muffled sound of chatter and laughter audible from the party next door.

“Gale..” Her voice was staccato and lust-soaked and as loud as a gunshot amongst the dusty shelves. He put his hand over her mouth to keep her ecstasy contained, and struggled himself not to cry out in pained pleasure when she bit him. The way she was splayed like an open book before him, his hand pressed against her, controlling the flutter of pages, her spine flattening against the bookcase was maddening. In this position, with her pinned by the desperate, aching weight of him and using a foot perched on a rolling ladder and a hand gripped in his hair to anchor herself, he can feel each quiver and shake of lithe muscle. A bowstring pulled tight for too long, threatening to buckle and release.

This was it, he thought, his reason for living. Not her exactly, not just her, but touch, hope, sweet torture, and succulent moments that would satisfy both the hungry and the starved. Gods, was he starved. Starved and craving to spend the rest of his life full of her. He couldn't thrust himself into her as hard and recklessly as he would have liked, not like this. Her position against the wall relied too much on the press of his hips and chest against her. Instead, he ground and rutted into her, ensuring his pressure hit her in every place she needed it. The silk of her dress caressed her skin, some of it draping between her legs and over where the two of them were connected. It was becoming soaked. Ruined. Just the way he wanted.

She began to ripple, still waters turning to coursing tides. The grip on his hair became tighter, and when she came the fluttering of her tight cunt was enough to force him over the edge with her.

In the hazy, burnt-out aftermath of passion, hope glowed. Gale never relented in his affection; he wrapped an arm around her waist to gently guide her feet back to the floor. Cupping her flushed cheeks, he bestowed worshipping kisses upon the freckles of her face, trailing down her neck and shoulders with a soft, peaceful touch. The air between them was delicate, mingled with breathy satisfaction. He pressed kisses to her lips, another and another, as she giggled quietly, gently—a sound just as precious and intimate as the ones she had offered when she came against him.

“I love you.” He whispered, and she thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard. She said it back, and suddenly the thing that could not be changed was spoken. Bound. Sealed.

“I was going to give you a letter this evening.” Gale continued with his forehead resting against hers “A different letter. There were two in my pocket, the one you received was just.. erm…”

“Catharsis?” She offered with a smirk.

“Something like that, yes.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a letter. A twin to the one from earlier in all except content.

Dear Tav,

Please forgive me for my jealous behaviour. The truth is, I feel rather foolish and light-headed in your presence. Tav, I don’t think I can blame the heat! Will you forgive me?

Gale

She laughed loudly at the ridiculousness of it, of how polite and genteel his carefully crafted words were. At how he must have scrawled the other letter in pent-up desperation, only to put it aside and instead craft this… feathered, dainty thing. She wasn’t sure which letter she preferred, but she knew they were two sides of a precious coin. The two sides of him.

“I think we can assume you are forgiven.” For a few more intimate moments, they make the most of the library’s silence.

“Do they think they’re being subtle?” Karlach’s brash voice is suddenly heard from the other room. Despite their illusion being shattered, the sound of her laughter mixed with Gale’s drowned out Tav’s fear. She would embrace change, and him along with it.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #gale x fem tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale fanfic

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nibbelraz · 4 months

Note

SQH + An Ding Idea

-An Ding runs similar to a sort of college campus, everyone writes about An Ding basically doing everything for the whole peak.

(Architecture, Accounting, Business, Operations, Textiles, etc. etc.)

There's no way every disciple can learn all of the things An Ding does, and be able to perform them to a high quality.

So, perhaps SQH is the one who starts it because he realizes how kind of fucked the An Ding mechanics are. (Or system helped out, or possibly SQH god powers because that little guy is real busy and instituting all of these plans would take a whole long time)

But An Ding ends up running like some sort of campus, with a bunch of disciples specializing in different areas. Younger disciples take all of the essential classes, and then pick one or multiple areas of study/specialization. And they get real good at them, because specialization and not covering a million jobs at once means quality goes up. And I think SQH would just take in kids at the masses, just gathering up pretty much any kid with no place to go even if they have no real cultivation potential. Because running An Ding means they need a large number of disciples. He has a recruiting system or something, so there's a little girl in the street who fashioned her rags into a slightly cuter skirt. And an An Ding person is like 'hey, you like fashion? Textiles? You can do that for as long as you want if you join An Ding.' room, board, safety all for people who enjoy these sorts of trades to be able to specialize them and produce all the things the sects need. Street kids who are good with numbers or good with carpentry get taken into An Ding, no cultivation potential needed just kids who have passions but no way to enjoy them in their current situations.

This would also mean so much less outsourcing for the peak, much easier to work in house if it can be set up correctly.

Do the An Ding kids still get pushed around and shit on by other peaks, yeah for sure none of those peaks ever appreciate all the work An Ding does. But these kids are fine anyways because as soon as they get back on An Ding their solid, their doing what they enjoy and what they're good at. Who cares if some buff bai zhan kid teases them for being An Ding, they get to go to woodshop after this and the hall master is teaching embellishments and decor carving!

(one of the req. Classes would be a year long 'how to deal with Bai Zhan' training)

OH MAN OHHHH MAN I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH??? OHHHHH THIS IS GOOD YES YES A THOUSAND PERCENT

Qinghua running the peak that has each category to specialize in is great. They handle literally everything for course they need more man power and of COURSE THEY NEED PEOPLE TO LEARN SOME THINGS THAT ARE VERY SPECIFIC INSTEAD OF A THOUSAND THINGS AT ONCE ohhh OH I love the does that he takes in just anyone

I wonder if he takes in whoever doesn't make it from the other peaks. "Trust me you don't want to be at Bai Zhan peak. You actually get to do what you like here" also I feel like there has to be a group that does the heavy lifting from all the stuff they get so there IS a group that are ready to fight anyone who picks on the other An Ding kids

This means An Ding must have the most disciples of course its HUGE, imagine if he doesn't tell the other peak lords

He's just like "fuck it what are they going to do? Tell me I can't when efficiency has SKYROCKETED AFTER MY SYSTEM!"

Yes YES i would read a fic with this premise so FAST I absolutely love this idea

Wonder what the whole "campus" of kids think when Mobei Jun starts popping in randomly

#svsss #shang qinghua #sorry responses to asks are slow ive had a LOT happen #bUT GODDD I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH IM SHAKING WITH HOW GOOD IT IS #CAMPUS AN DING EVERYONES HAPPY AND HES HELPING ALL THE KIDS THAT DIDNT HAVE A CHANCE GODDD #perfect #anon im obsessed with this #going to be in bed thinking about all the possibilities #nib text #ask

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tswhiisftteedr · 2 months

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Carmilla x reader NSFW? Specifically, eating out after a long day at work. The two going a few rounds from the pent-up stress?

I’m pissed, please take care of me ☆ One shot

☆ Employer!Carmilla Carmine x Employee!Fem!Reader:

After a shitty day at work, you and your boss who is simultaneously your girlfriend, decide to let the days stress go by ‘working out’ your frustrations.

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise kink, Oral Sex(Both Female Parties Receiving), Bad Spanish, NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 2549

Note: So this a combination of 3 requests, sorry @hyenalover2630 if you don’t like this cuz that’s not what you asked for, I did a one shot instead of headcannon so sorry agin but I though rounding up similar requests would be a smart move. Also this one shot is a bit on the shorter side so that’s that.

Author Note: Soooo, I’m back from the dead, 38 request in my inbox, 15 of them being just Adam requests lol.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Finding yourself in hell was more than just a lousy situation—it was a downright nightmare. Amidst the chaos, the moral decay, and the ridiculous housing prices, you were desperate for any job that could keep you afloat. You applied everywhere, except under Valentino; you wanted no part of that mess.

So, it wasn't surprising when you ended up as a grunt in the marketing department at Carmine Inc. But you were a hustler, always quick, efficient, and responsible. Your work ethic didn't go unnoticed, especially by the big boss herself.

You couldn't help but admire her in many ways. She was a badass, running a successful business with an iron fist, yet she had a sense of fairness. And let's not forget, she was easy on the eyes, which only fueled your crush.

After a meeting she personally set up, you scored a promotion to be her personal assistant. But even with the big leap, you didn't slack off. Your efficiency was still on point, and Carmilla appreciated it.

As your role in the company evolved, so did your connection with Carmilla. It all started with those little touches—a hand on your shoulder here, a pat on the head there—that seemed innocent enough at first.

But soon, those gestures became more frequent and intimate, like her guiding hand on your waist or the way she'd ask you to stick around after hours for a chat and a drink.

The formalities started to fade away, with Carmilla calling by your first name and encouraging you to do the same, replacing your usual ‘Mme. Carmine’ by the overlords name. It was like she was inviting you into her inner circle, blurring the lines between boss and friend.

As the months passed and you continued to excel in your role as her assistant, Carmilla couldn't help but notice a shift in her feelings toward you. Your hard work and dedication were undeniable, but it was more than that. She found herself drawn to you in a way she hadn't expected. Plus, the fact that you were a beautiful woman did help in growing her attraction for you.

It became increasingly obvious to Carmilla that you harbored feelings for her as well. Your nervousness whenever she was around spoke volumes, manifesting in stutters and how you would visibly warm up whenever her gaze met yours. It was a telltale sign of the attraction brewing beneath the surface.

Furthermore, she couldn't ignore your subtle cues for validation and compliments. You seemed to thrive on her words of affirmation, going above and beyond in your tasks just to earn a simple ‘great job’ or ‘I'm proud of you, Y/N’ from her lips. ‘And who could blame you? With Carmilla being the hot Hispanic woman she was, who wouldn't want her singing their praises?’

After two months of silently pining for each other, where Carmilla was keenly aware of your feelings while you remained oblivious to hers, she decided it was time to break the stalemate. She orchestrated a meeting after hours, summoning you to her office to address the unspoken tension between you.

As you sat down, she wasted no time in getting to the point. With a mix of nerves and determination, she confessed her own feelings, revealing that she had long known about yours as well. It was a moment of vulnerability for both of you, but also a turning point.

The conversation didn't end there. Carmilla proposed taking a chance on each other, suggesting that you go on a date that weekend to explore the potential of your connection further. You agreed, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension at what lay ahead.

The subsequent dates were nothing short of magical, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and shared moments of intimacy. With each passing day, your bond grew stronger, and it became increasingly evident that what you shared was more than just a fleeting attraction.

By the fifth date, it was abundantly clear to both of you that you wanted to take things to the next level. Over a candlelit dinner, you shared your hopes and dreams, expressing your desire to make things official. And as you toasted to your newfound love, you knew in your heart that you had found something special amidst the chaos of your workplace.

Despite the enchanting aura that surrounded your relationship with Carmilla that usual had you on cloud nine, today proved to be shitty day nevertheless.

First, there was the debacle with the rogue shipment. Some brainless thugs decided to mess with a Carmine truck, oblivious to the glaring logo emblazoned on its side. Needless to say, they met their demise, but not before causing a heap of trouble.

Then came the catastrophe with the catalog files—a rookie managed to obliterate an entire folder of vital content. The painstaking recovery process left you on edge, uncertain if the files would return unscathed or corrupted.

And if that wasn't enough, that blasted Vox bastard had the audacity to cancel yet another meeting with Carmilla, marking the third time in a row. The gall of him, treating her time as if it were disposable. You couldn't stand that attention-seeking-whore man-child with his oversized ego and incessant need for validation.

As the day dragged on, you finally collapsed onto your bed, still fully dressed save for your shoes. Frustration, exhaustion, and pent-up tension weighed heavily on your shoulders. It was a relief when Carmilla entered the room, her expression mirroring your own.

With a sigh of resignation, she joined you on the bed, her presence offering a sense of comfort amidst the chaos. In that moment, without a word exchanged, you found solace in each other's presence, united in your shared frustration and exhaustion.

Sighing heavily, Carmilla reached for the bottle of beezeljuice resting on the nightstand, taking a generous swig before passing it over to you. You accepted the bottle, mirroring her earlier gesture as you took a deep gulp, relishing in the familiar burn as the liquid slid down your throat. It was a small but comforting ritual, a shared moment of indulgence amidst the chaos of the day.

As the evening steadily slipped away, the weight of your troubles began to dissolve, replaced by a gentle warmth that spread through you like wildfire. You found yourselves leaning closer, your bodies pressed together as you sought solace in each other's embrace. Your lips met in a heated kiss, passion exploding between you like a bolt of lightning.

Your tongues danced a fiery tango, exploring every inch of each other's mouths with a fervor that belied your exhaustion. As your hands wandered, exploring the curves of each other's bodies, you couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of hope. Despite the challenges and tribulations that the afterlife threw at you, you were a force to be reckoned with.

"Acércate, mi amor," Carmilla murmured against my lips, her voice low and sultry as she pulled you closer. "Today has been a living nightmare, but your presence makes everything better. You're the wind beneath my wings, my sweet girl."

Her praise was music to your ears, making your heart flutter and your cheeks flush in delight. To hear her speak such kind words, to know that you brought light into her day was like floating on cloud.

Unable to contain your desire any longer, you broke your kiss, your breaths ragged and hearts pounding in sync. Carmilla's eyes smoldered with hunger as she reached for the buttons of my shirt, skillfully releasing each one until it pooled at my feet. Your undergarments followed suit, leaving you naked and vulnerable in her capable hands.

In turn, you mirrored her actions, slowly peeling away layers of her clothing until she stood before you in nothing but her ballet slippers and stockings. Her skin glowed under the dim light, her statuesque figure an ode to her grace and power. As you gazed upon her, you felt a raw, unbridled hunger stir within you, a primal urge to taste her.

"Mi alma," Carmilla whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation. "Can you be the good girl i know you are, take care me? Will you be a sweetheart and eat me out?."

Without hesitation, you knelt before her, her scent enveloping you as you parted her legs and settled between them. Your fingers traced delicate paths along her calves, sending shivers down her spine.

As you approached her core, Carmilla's fingers threaded through your hair, guiding your head between her legs with an air of completely control that sent shivers down your spine. You reveled in her power over you, knowing that she desired to be in charge, to assert her authority in this moment of vulnerability.

"That's it, mi vida," she purred, her voice a seductive symphony that resonated throughout the room. "Show me how much you love pleasing me."

Your tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive skin at the apex of her thighs, drawing a gasp from her lips. Her hands tightened in your hair, urging you forward as you dove between her legs. The taste of her was divine, almost making your head spin.

Carmilla moaned softly, her thighs clenching as you explored her folds with reverence. Each stroke of your tongue was deliberate, each flick a testament to your devotion. Her groans of pleasure echoed around you, a symphony of lust that only heightened your desire to please her.

“Eso es todo, lo estás haciendo tan bien, fuck! Keep going, my beautiful girl.”

As you delved deeper, your tongue probing the depths of her pussy, Carmilla's moans grew louder, her body arching with each stroke. Her fingers twisted in your hair further, grinding you against her with a firm hand that you hungered for. This display of dominance was intoxicating, igniting a fire within you that mirrored her own passion.

"Just like that, mi corazón," she encouraged, her voice thick with lust. "You’re being such a good girl for me.”

Your actions became more fervent, your lips and tongue working in concert to bring her pleasure. Her hips bucked in response, her sighs and gasps filling the room with the soundtrack of our passion. You reviled in her reactions, feeding off her energy as you explored every inch of her tender flesh.

Carmilla's breath hitched, her grip on your hair stronger than ever before as she neared her climax. Her body trembled beneath you, her whispered praises— ‘That’s my girl’, ‘So proud of you, you’re doing such a great job’, ‘I love you so much my beautiful girl’— urging you onward.

As she reached her peak, Carmilla's back arched, her moans filling the room like a thunderous roar, “¡Ya me vengo!”. Her body convulsed, her climax washing over her in waves of ecstasy. You took pride in the role you had played in her release, revelling in her praises as she came down from her high.

Panting, she pulled you upward, her lips claiming yours in a searing kiss that left no doubt as to the power she held over you and the loved you share. "Great job, my love," she breathed against your lips. "Your tongue truly is a work of art."

Then, without warning, Carmilla reversed your roles. With a swift motion, she pushed you onto your back, her eyes gleaming with newfound determination. Your heart raced as she positioned herself between your legs, her gaze never leaving yours.

"Now, it's your turn," she growled, her voice deep and sensual. "Spread your legs for me, Y/N."

You obeyed without a moment of resistance, your nerves jangling with anticipation as she lowered her head. Her tongue darted out, tracing a path that sent shivers cascading through you.

Each touch was electric, her tongue exploring every inch of your body with a precision that left you breathless. Her absolute control and expertise was entrancing, and you craved more. Your hands gripped the sheets, seeking purchase as she continued her exploration.

With every lick and suck, you grew closer to the edge, your moans mingling with her satisfied hums. It wasn't long before you could bear it no longer, and with a “Go for it, sweet girl”, your body thrashed beneath hers as you climaxed. Waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you weak and breathless.

When you finally came down from your high, Carmilla lifted her head, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Perfect," she purred, her voice a siren's song that enchanted you as if you were a sailor.

As soon as your senses were regained, Carmilla had wasted no time in resuming her ministrations. Her tongue dove back into the folds of my heat, her appetite for pleasure seemingly insatiable. You writhed beneath her, unable to contain the surge of pleasure that coursed through me.

Her fingers dug into your hips, holding you steady as she feasted on you with unwavering passion. Your moans filled the room once more, intertwining with her satisfied grunts. The intensity of her attack overwhelmed you, pushing you to the brink once more.

Overstimulated by her persistent attention, you cried out as you climaxed once more, your body shaking with the force of the experience. When you finally came down, panting heavily, Carmilla released you, her eyes shining with victory.

"Now, that's what I call some well spent frustration," she said, her voice still thick with desire yet quite comforting and sweet. "What do you say we take a moment to catch our breath?"

You nodded, your body still trembling from the intensity of the intercourse. As you lay there, your hearts pounding in sync, you couldn't help but marvel at the relationship you shared. Despite you differences, your love had brought you together in a way that felt both natural and exhilarating.

Carmilla's hand traced lazy circles on your stomach, her thumb brushing across your navel as she gazed into your eyes.

The quiet was a welcome relief, but there was something eating at you that you just had to vent about. "Okay, but seriously, that Vox dude is a major asshole, right? I mean, he's practically begging for a meeting and then bails three freaking times in a row. Am I the only one who thinks that TV demon is just a whiny little prick?”

"Mi amor, the beacon of my day and the guiding star of my night—" Carmilla responded emphatically. "I couldn't fucking agree more with you. That guy, and his associates, are just a bunch of overgrown kids with way too much damn power for anyone's good. If it weren't for you and my daughters, I swear to Santa Maria I'd probably have blown my fucking brains out by now dealing with their goddamn irresponsible behavior.”

After Carmilla's passionate outburst, silence descended once again, but it didn't last long. Before you knew it, both of you were erupting into fits of laughter, finding humor in the absurdity of it all.

You both instinctively drew closer, holding each other tighter than before. Despite the shitty day you had endured, there was comfort in each other's embrace.

As you nestled against each other, a thought crossed your mind: ‘maybe karma was real after all.’ If finding reassurance in Carmilla's arms was your reward after such a terrible day, perhaps the universe's scales were fairer than you had previously believed.

Thanks anons and @hyenalover2630 for requesting!

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Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

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