natural selection | lohen x reader | NSFW | oneshot
summary: your mother told you that a good bunny never trusts a hare. you're sorry, but you can't be the good girl she wanted you to be.
themes: hybrid-canonverse!AU, hybrid-hare!lohen, hybrid-bunny!reader, breeding kink, teasing, bunny mannerisms, dry humping, mating press, standing sex, light humor, porn with feelings, smut and angst, they're in love your honor ♡
word count: 2.7k
It had been approximately seven days since you made accidental eye contact with a hare. Coincidentally, it had been approximately seven days since you were last able to catch a break.
“Too slow!” Lohen exclaimed. “Seriously, Bunny, try a little harder, won’t you?”
Your head whipped around desperately, trying to find the inconspicuous hare’s voice within the dense woods surrounding you. The floppy set of bunny ears on your head were no match for those of Lohen’s—a pair of hare ears that stood straight and were able to detect sound like no other. Feeling your heart pound against your ribcage, you were entrapped by the dire sensation of fight or flight. To run meant to invite him to chase, but to fight was certainly going to end in disaster. What was there for you to do other than to stand paralyzed, unsure of when or how Lohen was going to torment you this time?
“Boo!”
You screamed when you heard his voice, and with a maniacal laugh, he barreled into you. The momentum of your collision sent you both tumbling across the earthen ground, snapping branches and crushing fallen leaves in your wake. Your head was spinning by the time you stopped, that frustrating hare pinning you to the ground beneath him with a cocky grin on his face. You could already feel the bulge in his trousers, pressing into you as he leaned closer.
“You’re terrible at this,” he said, laughing. “Can’t you make the hunt a little more fun?”
“No!” you replied in a sputter. “I didn’t agree to it in the first place!”
“You think you’re gonna be agreeing to it if some other hare catches a whiff of you? If anything, you should be thanking me. It’s great training.”
Your chest heaved with erratic breaths. Staring up into his crimson eyes, your legs squirmed around his hips, heels digging into the mossy ground. Lohen watched you with his shiteating grin, letting you rut against him as your instincts overwhelmed your sensibilities. Rather whiny about it, you wailed, “What kind of mate are you?!”
“Oh, so now I’m your mate.”
“You’re the one who went and decided it!” you sputtered. “Be responsible for your actions!”
“I didn’t decide anything. All I said was that you’re a bunny and I’m a hare. It’s literally in our nature to fuck like crazy, so why not fuck each other?” His teeth peeked through his grin, one of his tall hare ears twitching as if it were nodding in agreement. “Less risky that way, yeah?”
You fervently shook your head. “Don’t talk to me about risk! You’ve put my life in danger for your ego ten times already!”
“Hey, hey—I’d never put you in danger,” he replied stubbornly. “I just use you to attract danger. I love messing with those horny rabbits that come running after you. It’s great entertainment. But,” he said, eyes twinkling, “I’d never let them touch a hair on your pretty little head, Bunny.”
“So then why do I have to train for it?!” you whined. “If you’re going to handle them anyway, then cut the theatrics and fuck me when I ask you to!”
“Jeez,” Lohen said, wincing. “Someone’s needy. To think just yesterday you smacked me for grabbing your ass.”
“You grabbed my ass in public!” you growled. “At work! In front of so many knights!”
“So? How else are they gonna know you’re mine?”
“You are so irritating!”
Your nails clambered for purchase along his shoulders, your hips humping against the curve of his lap. Wetness spread through your undergarments, soaking into the crotch of his pants as you repeatedly mashed yourself into him. Lohen watched you struggle, snickering as he saw fit.
How did you even end up like this? You were simply a new addition to the Knights of Favonius’s ranks, and not even as a member of the militia force. Your role was one that was both simple and safe, a career path that your parents had always desired for you. Your mother had warned you time and time again that a good bunny remained out of the line of fire, kept her head down, and did not get entangled with hares.
“Lohen,” you were whining, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your cunt throbbed, your hips flailing up against his. “Please, I need you.”
“Oh? ‘Need’s a strong word, Bunny.”
“You motherfucker,” you gasped, nails digging into his coat. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it?”
He snorted. “I think you’re begging plenty already, Bun. I’m just taking in the view, you know?”
“Ngh,” you grunted, hinging your knee forward, then back. Again, you pressed your crotch to his, and your leg moved with a mind of its own, your foot stomping into the ground beneath you. You pressed your eyes shut, feeling a shamed heat spread through your neck and into the tops of your cheeks. Your leg jerked repeatedly, and as your stomping grew faster, Lohen only laughed. Leaning his mouth down to your jaw, his voice ghosted hot across your chin.
“You’re so cute when you start thumping, Bun,” he purred in a low, rumbling voice. “Almost makes me wanna fuck you.”
You thumped your foot again, your heart pounding ten times as hard. Letting out a series of embarrassing, dissatisfied grunts, you wriggled beneath Lohen, your animal instincts flaring through your core. Slick upon slick upon slick—you were far too ready for him, but just like a troublesome hare, Lohen did not abide you. Your nails clawed at the fabric of his cape, tears budding the corners of your eyes when your angered grunts mixed with needy whimpers.
What would your parents think if they could see you now? What would your mother; the woman who warned you about hares since you were a child; say, were she privy to how attached you had become to one? You were supposed to be your parents’ golden bunny, yet here you were—laying on the forest floor with a hare on top of you, pleading for him to fulfill your carnal desires.
The worst part was that you didn’t care. Let your parents weep over their disappointment of a daughter. Whenever this hare set his hands on you, you felt alive.
“Please,” you were whispering, high-pitched and breathy. “Lohen, please, I—ngh.” Another involuntary thump of your foot. “I want you.”
He chuckled against the soft of your floppy ear. Giving you a playful nibble, he whispered, “Good job, Bun. I think I like the sound of that a little better.”
You exhaled, your breath shaking as it exited your throat. Lohen reached down to his hip, and when you heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper, you whined his name. He glanced at you with those gorgeous red eyes of his, the ones that had gotten you so whipped for him in the first place, and gave you a smirk so coy, you could die for him right then and there.
It wasn’t the fact that he was a hare that had you so entranced by him. It was the fact that that hare was Lohen.
“Lift up for me?” he asked, giving your legs the lightest of touches. You moved in accordance with him, and as he guided you through it, he said, “Uh-huh, like that.”
His teeth poked through his charming smile. Eyes roaming the length of your body, Lohen purred, “Good girl…you’re so flexible.”
Your knees quivered by your head. Truly, you weren’t built to bend or twist like this, but for Lohen, you would try.
“So pretty,” he murmured, his hands stroking the backs of your upturned thighs. His eyes were trained on your cunt, a flush of red decorating his grinning face. “Are you as wet as I think you are, Bun?”
Desperately, you nodded.
He relinquished a close-lipped laugh. “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that.”
The sensation of his hot glans against your slick folds sent you curving back into the moss. You reached for your knees, keeping them held back for him, even though your body burned from the strain of it. Making sounds that you’d rather die than hear when you weren’t in a mating state, your toes curled into your flailing feet.
“You’re thumping the air, Bun,” Lohen said, like it wasn’t already obvious. He continued to smear himself up and down the length of your cunt, providing barely enough stimulation to suppress your feral urges. You recalled how full he made you feel, every single night over the past seven days of knowing him, and grunted pitifully.
Hares were generally larger than bunnies—faster and far more powerful, too. Maybe that was why you were so attracted to Lohen, who was lithe like a bunny on the surface, yet so unmistakably hare below the belt. The stretch of his tip against your hole, teasing you, had you sobbing.
“Fuck—me,” you choked out, trying to thump, thump, thump. “Lohen, please. Do something useful, please.”
His sly grin fell from his face. Staring down at you with an open mouth, he began to pant into the air, his ears twitching erratically. Watching your face still, he rubbed his beading head against your sensitive clit, and in a murmur, said, “I wanna breed you so bad.”
That was the thing about hares and bunnies—they both had an insatiable desire to fuck, fuck, fuck—but they weren’t compatible for breeding. That was why bunnies like you were taught to be wary of hares like Lohen, with their silver tongues and promises of sweet nothings. Your whole life, you had been taught that a hare only wanted one thing from a bunny, and that was to use her as he saw fit.
“Bun,” Lohen said, red-faced and gasping. “I wanna breed.”
You couldn’t, and yet—.
“Put it in,” you gasped back. “Lohen, if you want to breed, you have to put it in.”
He let out an odd, strangled noise. Maybe he appreciated the fact that you didn’t point out the obvious, or maybe he was getting influenced by your own state of need. Whatever the case, Lohen’s thick head sank right into your dripping hole, and with a gradual push of his hips, you were full of him.
Were you crying? Were you calling his name? Or were you praying to the Archons above for forgiveness?
“How do you—,” Lohen’s breath hitched. “How do you want me, Bun?”
“Hard,” you slurred. “Hard, Lohen, hard.”
His boots shuffled across the grassy forest floor. Half-squatting over you, Lohen placed his hands to the back of yours, helping you keep yourself ever so delicately folded in half for him. After a glance at you, assessing your comfort level no doubt, he quickly smacked his pelvis to yours.
You were flailing again, your throat hoarse from your cries. Slowly, Lohen’s girth retreated within you, and right when you were just a touch from empty, it shoved into you all at once all over again.
“Lohen,” you were sobbing, your nails digging into your own flesh. “Lohen.”
“Bun,” he panted back. “You’re…so fuckin’ tight.”
The slam of his hips punctuated his sentence. This was almost too much for you.
“Fuck, I…” Lohen hissed aloud. “I want to breed so bad, Bun. Fuck a bunny right…into you.”
With each final word, came another forceful pound of his dick inside of you. Your lower lip was quivering from your sobs and whines, and when Lohen noticed, he squeezed his hands around yours, hesitating.
“How do you want me?” he asked tenderly.
“Harder,” you choked. “Even harder.”
Lohen held you midair. It was unfathomable, how quickly he could fuck you while also supporting all of your body weight in those lean arms of his. You had never doubted Lohen’s strength, but it was times like these that reminded you just how lucky you were to have a hare like him.
Your back was pressed to a nearby tree trunk, giving Lohen the leverage to grunt by your ear. The way he chuffed and whined, nuzzling against your floppy ear with lustful fervor all the while, made your mind feel fuzzier than the ears atop his head. The pound of his hips was relentless, reminiscent of a hare in rut, and as the wet slaps of his body against yours filled the air around you, you worried for a moment that you may attract the attention of any keen-nosed rabbits who happened to wander by.
“Bunny,” Lohen was gasping. “Your pussy feels so good.”
What could you do in response to that, other than grab a fistful of his hair and wail? His breath hitched against your sensitive ear, and in a growling voice, he asked, “You gonna take it?”
Yes, yes, yes—of course you would.
“How much?”
All of it. All of it.
Lohen laughed, that giggle slowly turning into a hot moan. Pounding you so fast that you weren’t sure your womb would make it through this, he dug his teeth into your neck and groaned.
“Bunny,” he mumbled through mouthfuls of your skin, sharp pain mixing with sweet pleasure. “I wanna give you a hare that looks just like you.”
Why did your eyes bud with tears, when you thought about the impossibility of it?
“Fuck, Bun,” Lohen gasped, fucking you so hard your back shifted up the tree with each thrust. “You’d be such a good mom.”
“Please stop,” you sobbed, your nails clambering for purchase in the flesh of his shoulders. “Lohen.”
“You’re gonna give me what I want,” he whispered, the bridge of his nose ghosting against yours, “won’t you, Bun?”
You biologically couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t.
“Yes,” you whined anyway, throbbing and clenching around his plunging dick. “I will.”
His eyes widened. A shadow of darkness cast across his face, and in a soft, tiny whisper, he said, “Thank you.”
His mouth was on yours before you could think to respond. He kissed you hard, filling your mouth with the taste of mint bubblegum, a silly habit of his that you had found quite bunny-like for a hare, but was quickly becoming one of your favorite parts of him. Stretching your arms around his neck, you pulled him in close, the taste of your salty tears dancing between your clashing mouths. There was euphoria, there was longing, and there was a gnawing ache within you—the pain spurred from your inability to meet your mate’s needs.
If only you were a hare, like him. Strong like him, fast like him, able to keep up with his every move the way he was able to keep up with yours. Maybe then things wouldn’t be so hard for you. Maybe Lohen would be happier.
“I love you,” he said when your lips parted, his cheeks as crimson as those sweet eyes of his.
Your lower lip trembled.
“Fuck,” he spat, his eyes fluttering shut. “Here you go, Bunny.”
Dear Gods, this was what you needed. To feel him pumping you full, filling your womb with every last drop of his love for you. To cum from the pure stimulation of his affections; gasping, hot, and blinding; knowing that even if his seed would never take, he loved you.
“Good girl,” Lohen whispered fiercely, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Really good girl.”
“I love you,” you whined back, hiccuping through your sobs. “I wish I could be a mom for you.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry over it, Bun.” He smiled, his eyes softening. “You know I was just saying things, right? I don’t want you to stress over it.”
“I just,” you croaked, “want to give you what you want.”
“…You really do love me.”
You nodded. Lohen chuckled.
“Well. I’m glad you picked me, Bun.”
Your hands smoothed out around his shoulders. He leaned in so close, his smiling lips brushed yours.
“You can do it,” he crooned. “I’ll just fuck you until you can. Sound good?”
You smiled, laughing in spite of your tears. Nodding, you said, “That sounds wonderful, Lohen.”
“One more time then?”
“One more—time!”
Leaning your head against the pine-scented bark, you offered your prayers to Celestia. Once more, your favorite hare began another passionate attempt to complete you, and you couldn’t have been more enamored with him if you tried.
Sure, you may have been a bad daughter. Disobedient and unwise. But whenever Lohen touched you, you never felt anything but the love between you. If that was so wrong, then you didn’t mind being bad at all.
a/n: as soon as i did more research into bunnies vs hares and realized they couldn't mate... i was like shiet lets turn this a lil angsty. p.s. did yall know bunnies thump and grunt when mad? teehee.
this is a oneshot that is tumblr-exclusive (for now)! if you liked it, please consider leaving a heart! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡ might crosspost it to AO3, but im not sure if i might want to continue this hybrid!AU so i'd rather wait and see first.
if you would like to be tagged for my genshin x reader content, please check my rules post! ♡
🩵⊹ lohen's bunnies Ი𐑼🩵
@windsgasp, @hk-library, @pandasandcreampuffs, @swansloves, @captaintucki,
@fionnalovesanimeboys, @konzumeken, @jiaennie, @loonytunesmith, @darealsubreposter,
@orphicmasterpeace, @h1ghscore, @narumichii, @lohensn1wifey, @zhongloml,
@curiouslilbeast, @thatoneem0kid, @julie0444, @illegalseaweed, @rinsowangiy,
@solluxyuriblast, @irrelevant-kermit, @ang3lfall, @kithewanderingme, @thimiko,
@prettysweet02, @arisaturn, @agathawells, @kirbykirbx, @aoi-schoenheit,
@heavyonsloth, @thatoneem0kid, @s-shsh, @soonette, @rioceanid
masterlist | ask | ao3 | more of this pair
yan stalker lohen school(senior) au by chance 👀👀👀 all i req is hes obsessed w reader and beats his meat to a picture of reader changing
a wolf in rabbit's clothing
yandere!lohen x afab!reader (gn mostly, but lohen calls reader "missy" sometimes)
summary: you took a newly enrolled student, Lohen, under your wing, helping him navigate the challenges of university life. you expected awkward questions, nervous conversations, and the usual struggles of a freshman adjusting to campus. what you didn't expect was him. adorable, eager to learn, and perhaps a little too attached to you, lohen seemed harmless at first. it was easy to mistake his behavior for nothing more than a harmless crush. but behind his sweet smile lurked something far more disturbing — an unhealthy obsession with you.
tags: lohen is lovesick/down bad, stalking, masturbation, modern uni au, lohen is unreliable narrator
tw: yandere, stalking, mention of poisoning, nosebleed, lohen is gross while jerking off
oushiiiii anon, the nostalgia hit me right there 😭 i loved that concept when i was younger. let's make a compromise since i said this isn't a request blog— i like your idea and i can give it a try, sooo... i wrote it, but with a uni au + reader who's a senior instead, okay? <3 especially since i already have an idea for the second (smut!!) part, sooo... hehe, see you soon. and... it was supposed to be a drabble, but... well! enjoy!
Lohen started to forget where his space ended and yours began.
It started small enough that you never had a reason to worry about it — his hand resting on the small of your back as he steered you through crowded halls, his fingers catching yours "by accident" when you reached for the same notes, the way he'd lean in close to read over your shoulder, his chin nearly grazing the top of your head or arm, close enough that you could feel him breathing. And somehow, his touch was always cold, but never detached. Quite the opposite, though.
You'd laugh it off. He's just… clingy. That's what you told your roommate when they raised an eyebrow over how he sat pressed against your side at lunch, even though the bench had plenty of room. That's what you told yourself the time he fell asleep against your shoulder during a study session and didn't wake up — or pretended not to — for almost an hour, even after your arm had gone fully numb. You considered Lohen just… like he was your pet, you must admit.
When you met him for the first time, he reminded you of bunny. You don’t even know why, but he was just… so sweet it made you instantly like him. Lohen approached you in the library, asked you about a book you were just reading — and that’s how both of you realized that you study the same field. You proposed that you can help with some study material and he happily accepted. Your friendship with Lohen began and you learned very fast that he was a playful brat who loved to tease you, but also… he was quite cute. Maybe that’s why he seems to be a rabbit to you, because sometimes Lohen was such a gentleman, but he also loved to bite you teasily.
Well, in theory, of course. Even if he was super-touchy, he didn’t manage to really bite you. Yet.
Today, his hand was on your thigh.
You were sitting on the library floor, books spread between you, your knees to chest and his hand had landed there sometime during the last twenty minutes, fingers idly tracing slow shapes against the fabric of your clothes like it was the most natural place in the world for it to be. You hadn't said anything. You probably should.
"You're tense," Lohen murmured, not looking up from his notes, like he could feel it through the material. Like he was always paying that kind of attention to your body, even when his eyes were somewhere else.
"I'm fine."
"Mhm." Lohen’s thumb pressed against your thigh, his smile widening. "Do you know blood's dripping from your nose, missy?"
Your eyes widened, and at that moment, Lohen lifted his hand from your thigh to your chin, stopping the blood from dripping onto your notes. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket for a tissue and gently pressed it against your nose.
You should have moved his hand, but as always, you let him stay to take care of you, even if it made you… very flustered. And Lohen smiled to himself again, satisfied, as he pressed the napkin a little too hard to your skin. You moaned painfully, which made his breath stop for a second, blush appeared on his face.
You looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, standing unmistakably too close. The tension hanging in the air was almost impossible to bear. Lohen seemed lost in intense thought, and the sight of his dilated pupils unsettled you. There was something in his gaze — something almost hungry, something unfamiliar, something you'd never seen before.
You sprang to your feet, hurriedly collecting your notes, and Lohen had no choice but to step aside. You couldn't care less whether the blood was still dripping from your nose. All you needed was fresh air. And a chance to steady your heart, which was beating far too fast.
This time, Lohen had gone too far. He'd gotten far too close.
"Heading back to your dorm, missy?" Lohen asked as he helped you gather your belongings. "I'll walk you back. You're still weak. I don't want you collapsing on the way." A mischievous grin tugged at his lips. "If you're going to faint, at least make sure it's into my arms."
You rolled your eyes.
"Lohen, what have I told you about your knight complex? You'll have to find another damsel in distress—" you started, only to feel the metallic taste of blood bloom in your mouth. Lohen was already offering you another handkerchief. You accepted it with an awkward yet appreciative nod.
"Fine," you conceded. "You can walk me back."
Lohen relieved you of your belongings so you wouldn't have to carry anything more than necessary. He even offered you his arm — his hand, too, of course — but you declined with a polite shake of your head. The two of you made your way toward your dorm in comfortable silence.
He insisted on walking you all the way to your door, wanting to make absolutely sure you got back safely, but you firmly put your foot down.
So there you stood in front of the entrance to your dorm, and you could see it in his eyes — he wanted to be rewarded for being a good boy. He was always like that, hungry for your praise, desperate for your attention.
"Thank you, Lohen," you said, carefully avoiding his gaze so he wouldn't coax anything more out of you. He only followed your eyes with an eager tilt of his head, leaning in just enough to make you laugh. "Okay, okay. Stop acting like a puppy." You shook your head with a smile. "Thank you for helping me... You're..." You let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh. Good boy. Narcissist."
You took a small step toward the entrance.
"I'll see you... at the party next week? I won't have any free time before then. Sorry."
Lohen's smile never faded. He nodded with easy understanding.
"It's alright. Oh, give me the handkerchief. I'll throw it away on my way back," he offered sweetly, making you feel, once again, like crushing him. You handed it over, and as always, he took the opportunity to linger, letting his fingers brush against your hand for just a moment longer than necessary. "Getting old isn't much fun, huh?"
"Lohen..." You narrowed your eyes at him. "I'm only two years older than you."
He burst into laughter. Of course. Every single time he managed to be genuinely sweet for more than a moment, he just had to tease you.
After saying your goodbyes, you finally parted ways. As always, Lohen waited outside until you'd made it up the several flights of stairs to your room and waved to him from your window. He waved back with that unmistakable boyish smile of his.
The moment Lohen returned to his apartment, he yanked his belt loose, desperate to rid himself of the tension he'd been carrying ever since he'd seen the blood trickling from your nose.
Fuck. He'd been hard for the past fucking hour. If they hadn't been in a public place, he would have thrown himself at you and fucked you right then and there.
Instead, he had to settle for his own hand — still stained with your blood and the lingering memory of your touch — a long with the used handkerchiefs from earlier that day and the photo he'd taken of you some time ago.
As soon as his cock sprang free from his pants, he slapped against the bed beside his phone, rubbing against the pillow.
Lohen groaned your name, clutching the handkerchiefs tightly in his hands before pressing them to his lips. One of them he could still lick clean. The other he wanted to keep as a souvenir, at least until another opportunity presented itself to collect more of your blood.
He breathed in your scent, and his free hand finally wrapped around his aching, neglected erection. Lohen stared at the photo of you as though under a spell. Thankfully, despite the distance, the camera had captured the best part.
Your oblivious expression as you changed into your pajamas. The slight furrow of your brows. Your tired eyes. Your hands gripping the hem of your shirt.
Of course, he had plenty of other pictures of you, but fuck, this one was his favorite.
You'd been so comfortable after your shower, hadn't you? You'd completely forgotten to close the blinds. But how could you have known someone was watching you? That it was your beloved freshman friend, of all people? It wasn't Lohen's fault he'd fallen for you so hopelessly. He had every right to. After all, you'd taken such good care of him.
Lohen rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock, imagining it was your tongue instead. Shamelessly, he sucked on the handkerchief, unable to think of anything except that it could have been your skin after one of his bites.
Fuck, he wanted to leave marks on you so badly. To mark you. To make sure everyone knew you belonged to him, and him alone.
Lohen tightened his grip into a fist and began fucking his hand without restraint, surrendering completely to the fantasy that it was your throat. Fuck, if only he could tangle a hand in your hair and thrust deep into your mouth. Oh, if only you knew that your dear little bunny was such a fucked-up pervert. Such a complete fucking weirdo.
You liked that about him, didn't you? The way he was so sweet, yet always teasing you. And it wasn't an act, either. Lohen really was like that. You just didn't know about his... other side.
But there would be time for everything, wouldn't there? After all... the party was only a week away. And he had a very special surprise planned just for you. A sweet surprise! Oh, he was certain you'd love the homemade drink he'd prepared. Every one of your favorite flavors. And just a little aphrodisiac — to help you finally stop holding yourself back.
Lohen knew perfectly well that you desired him too. You were simply embarrassed, weren't you? Embarrassed that you'd fallen for someone younger than you.
He quickened his rhythm, making no attempt to stifle the groans or the whispered repetition of your name that escaped his lips. God, he needed you. Needed his older, caring student. He wanted you so desperately he could hardly think — wanted to have you in some deserted university walkway or a restroom stall, fuck, you hadn't the faintest idea.
As he drove himself relentlessly toward release, every thought narrowed to a single obsession. The sounds he imagined you'd make for him.
The pained moan you'd let out earlier that day had sent a painful throb through Lohen's cock beneath his clothes. He was honestly afraid that if he heard that sound again, he might not be able to stop himself.
But you were lucky.
Lohen was an honorable man. Your truly knight. He'd patiently waited until he got home before jerking off to that half-naked picture of you. He'd been such a good boy for you, hadn't he?
You really should praise him more. You had no idea how completely your praise drove him out of his fucking mind. A guttural growl escaped him. It didn't take long before he came into the blanket he'd stolen from your room some time ago. It still smelled like you, and paired with the handkerchiefs stained with your blood that he'd managed to acquire today...
God, he was so fucking turned on. Would you still call him a good boy if you knew he'd come because of you?
Lohen cleaned up after himself, humming softly under his breath. He wasn't bothered that you wouldn't have time for him this week. It gave him the perfect opportunity to prepare — and to sharpen his knives. Studying wasn't exactly a concern; everything came effortlessly to him anyway.
But don't blame him for looking you straight in the eye and lying about needing your tutoring, okay? He just wanted to be close to you.
Trigger Warnings: Implied Stalking, Violent Behaviour, threating and obsessive behaviour. This is all fictional , I do not condone toxic behaviour irl
🍎Jason had good grades, a good social life with lots of admirers so nobody understood why he ran off every chance he could to hang out with you. Most his teammates had nothing against you but you were just so average they couldn't understand why he was so fascinated by you and you thought the same thing. You met Jason the same time as everyone else so why did he insist that you specifically watch his matches or go to the same parties as him, even when you said parties aren't your thing!
You were walking along the campus's dorms, carrying groceries home. Like a Hunter bringing home their prey for their pack, which might sound overdramatic for doing the food shopping for you and your housemates but it was really heavy! You huff out, whilst getting to the outside of your dormitory entry. Before you can get your mate to buzz you in you can see a shadow comsume the sun that had been your only friend on this treacherous journey to the shops. "(Reader)! Do you need help?" Jasons already leaning in to take a bag from your hand. You felt a little overwhelmed having his hand brush against yours so you let go, "Thank you!" You could actually take your key out and let him into your building. You make your way to the elevator. You didn't really know what to talk about with Jason, he's so popular he probably already knows all the uni news. Jason never had that issue with you. "So I heard you and what's his name? The weird guy in the back of your class, have been talking. Is he bothering you?" The elevator door opens with a little ding and you lead the way out. "No, no he's nice." You dismissed Jason. Unable to see how he rolls his eyes at your compliment for another man but before he can protest the two of you are already at your door. "Thank you Jason! It's very sweet of you." And with that you left him, alone and loveless.
Few days later, the sun was out again and the universities star basketball team was practicing outside, on the communal courts where they could appreciate the weather. Jason forever the sharp eye didn't just see the ball, opponents and his teammates but also that guy you've been talking to. Walking along texting someone, the idea it could be you brought out a deep rage in him. So when he got the ball he 'attempted' to score just for the ball to horribly slip out of his hand and over the fence. He tried to yell a warning but the balls already connected with the guys head, knocking him to the ground. Jason's hand covered his mouth in complete 'shock' as him and some teammates rush over. His friends went to get the ball whilst Jason repeatedly apologised to your friend. "Aw! Mate I am so sorry! Here,let me help you up." He grabs hold of the guy hand with a vises grip. "Come near (Reader) again and I'll make sure to knock your teeth out." He wishepered in the guys ear before faking shock when he gets pushed away. His victim ran of whilst Jason acted confused and hurt himself. His teammates comforted him, saying accidents happen.
🍎You on the other hand were not happy your talking stage blocked you. Staring at you phone whilst walking back from class, who blocks someone at midnight!? What did you even do!? You signed, your love life didn't seem to be improving how you thought it would at university. Almost on queue now every time you feel bad about yourself or your social life. Jason comes through the crowd straight at you. You know it's not intentional but it always feels like salt in the wound when he's around. "(Reader)! Hey!" He's always so excited to see you, you don't get it. "Hi." You sighted out. "I was going to get some drinks with the team tonight, all their mates are coming so I was wondering if you would come to!" You sigh, Maybe because your own social life wasn't all that you felt worse being around his "You know they don't want me there." You saw how Jason face drops a little. "But I want you there! Isn't that enough?" He steps closer, gently reaching out for your hand. "I care about you (Reader), like a lot. I think about you all the time! I have, I have a massive crush on you!" You feel your head snap up at his face, "I'm sorry, huh!?" You thought he was overly friendly sure but not in a crush way.
Jason doesn't say anything more, he doesn't feel like he needs to. His short black hair shines in the sun but not as much as his eyes did with hope. His blue eyes pleading with you to resiprcate his emotions. You eyes drifted away from his eyes to the people now starting, because they knew who Jason was, You saw how some gorgeous people were observing. You've seen them before, they're from Jason's class and you can just see how better they'd be for him. You're so average you wouldn't even be a cute 'ugly and pretty' duo. "No, no I'm sorry. I don't feel the same way." You back up awkwardly and rush back to the safety of your room. That was so awkward, you just wanted the earth to swallow you up. You spent the afternoon finishing off uni work and watching shows. It was very peaceful until your roommate bursts in "You turn down thee Jacob Till!? Are you dumb? He's a dream boat!" You can't help but feel judged. Your roomie sat on their bed with an apologetic look, "Sorry, Just I thought you two were already dating. Why don't you like him?" You sighted before spinning your chair away from your desk. "He's just not in my league. He should be with someone as hot or athletic as him." You swing back on your chair to face your work.
The next day was a weekend, time for everyone to relax, catch up with work and friends! You took the liberty to sleep in. Neglecting your daily routine for slumber and peace, a completely understandable action motivated by nothing more than the need for comfort and sleep.
🍎Jason took it personally however. Your curtains weren't opened when he walked by for practice, Which meant he was thirty minutes early because he couldn't watch in. His head was still racing whilst he practiced shooting hoops in the mean time. "Hey man!" He can hear the captain behind him, "So, I'm not a gossip! I hate that stuff but my girl told me you got rejected by (Reader)." The mention of your name made him lose focus and miss his shot. "You can do so much better then them!" In an attempt to cheer him up He's done nothing more than frustrat Jason. "Right, cheers. yeah." He storms off whilst all the other teammates come in confused.
Jason throws his gym kit into the ground if his room. All his roommate were out, having fun so nobody can hear his fists repeatedly punching the wall in rage. What was wrong with Jason? Why didn't you like him? Did he say something wrong? He couldn't bare to think about who you actually like. He sighs, resting his head in the wall. Whatever he was doing wrong he would fix it. He swore by it. It wasn't him however to make the first move. Along with messages from his concerned friends or just people trying to get him to like them, he recognises the unique sound your costum notifications for you.
[Hey! Are we okay? I didn't mean to upset you.] The words burn into the back of his skull. Of course you didn't mean to hurt him, you couldn't possibly do that even if you tried. Had someone reached out to you. He hates when his social life bleeds into yours. He wants it to just be the two of you. Like back when you two were children.
🍎 Jason was lonely, shy child. Completely devoid of any meaningful connections. His father never taught how to care about people and he was never shown care until you came along. You weren't even from his school, you met at the community playground outside of his run down apartment block. Some kids were picking on him, throwing rocks at him. He tried to hide within the climbing frame it isn't until he heard a new, kinder voice that he lifted his head from safety to see the scene. That's were he laid eyes on you for the first time. Yelling at his builles, causing such a scene every adult seemed to be paying attention now. The parents seemed embarrassed their children and took them away. Leaving just him and You. He didn't really know what to say, he just observed as you asked if he was okay. He simply nodded.
He was too shy to say anything. He watches as you slipped out of his life. That's when he realised he needed to get more confident in talking with people. Which he did, he talked to people all the time. Perfecting the persona of a charmer until he ran into you again, five years later. He was fourteen, in the concert basketball court. Avoiding his father as he was in a mood. He noticed you walk past, you must leave near by. He tried to open his mouth and say something, anything but he couldn't. You made him too nervous. And you slipped out of his life again. Third time was lucky, he overheard that angelic voice of yours on a train, discussing with your friends which university was your first choice. One, he can easily get into with his grade.
Jason has already sent years yearning for you. A few more means nothing to him. He will make you fall in love with him.
Go wild with it if you'd like, I rarely see any Matsuda fics so I'd love to see how you write him! Thanks :3 🫶🏾🌸
Ooo I love this idea 👀 let’s get started
Obsessive Justice
With the increased reports of criminals passing away due to a sudden “heart attack” the office has been busy. More detectives join the “Kira Investigation Team” , which means more head detectives in the office. Thats a good thing, right?
Matsuda was always considered the child of the team. Nobody took him serious, but cmon who could? Hes barely a man as it is. Or thats what he tells himself. 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓱, 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽, 𝓬𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭, 𝓭𝓾𝓶𝓫, 𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵, 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓴, 𝓷𝓪𝓲𝓿𝓮 those words flood through his brain every morning, every time he looks in the mirror, every time dares to open his mouth just to be ignored, scolded, laughed at by his comrades. Why can’t anyone see his potential? That hes fucking worth something?
It was a stormy morning in Tokyo, Japan. And the building was busy. Sounds of chattering clashed with the raindrops hitting the window. Outside was grey, too grey. You could almost hear the wind knocking off leaves if it was quiet enough in this room. The office was rather warm and plain. Tall tan walls with cheap fake plants in every corner and carpet floor, that’s all there really was. Matsuda stood at the coffee maker watching the steam from the hot water flow from below him, the sound of the machine buzzing being the only thing filling his mind. God he needed to get out of this office. It was too much. the rain, the constant chatter, every day he wakes up just to be walked over like he’s not shit. Not shit to his coworkers, his friends, his fucking-
“So after we print our copies we are orde- Matsuda are you even listening?” With that Matsuda finally snaps out of his daze. “Hm..? Oh yea yea! The copies of course!” He said as he nervously laughs scratching the back of his head. But Aizawa didn’t find anything funny, instead he shoves a pile of papers into Matsudas chest as if he’s built of brick. “If you want to be apart of this investigation, act like it. We don’t have time for childish fools like you. This isn’t a recess. So use your damn head for once. Or are you too dumb to. Open your eyes son, people are dying for Gods sake! Be useful and take these to room 403.” ….That hit a nerve, and it hit hard. Not only did it hurt Matsudas feelings, but it confirmed his degrading thoughts. He was as stupid as much as he was foolish. Is that all hell ever be? 𝓝𝓸 𝓷𝓸 𝓷𝓸 𝓷𝓸 it can’t he has a purpose right? He has a meaning right? He’s just as important as everyone else… right?
Matsuda barges out the door clutching his papers in one hand and his chest with the other. It’s too much, he’s feeling too much over a stupid comment his coworker made? Did he take his anxiety meds today? 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽. Yea that’s what it was, he was just being soft like usual. Of course he was, he’s just a little boy. Always was and always will be. Matsuda forces himself off the door frame and move through the hallway. “403 403…. Cmon cmon be useful for once cmon 40-“ His mind stops, everything stops. The rain, footsteps, voices, computers, it all stops. Why did he pause? He should keep going to get the copies finished!! Why can’t he move? Why was he …mesmerized? He’d seen pretty girls before, so why was this time so different? He was experiencing some kind of new euphoria he never felt before.
You wore a white short sleeve blouse with a black pencil skirt. Topped with your favorite silver necklace with a dainty goth cross charm and small silver skull earrings to match, only showing when your hair is tucked back. On your shoes wore cute black coach branded kitten heels and a small black coach bag with cute keychains. Your hair was in an half up half down with a spiderweb claw-clip holding the top up. Matsuda examined you top from bottom like art . Because you were art. You looked manmade. Nobody could ever be this naturally beautiful. Every curve and every corner of your face and body was perfect. You had your own style even at work. He liked that. He loved that. Everyone in this building is equivalent to a robot, same plain expression, same plain suits, and same plain briefcases… something in you you had color. After realizing he’d been staring like a creep, he finally snaps out of his long daze to continue walking.
On your phone you look at the text that was sent to you. “𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 403 𝘩𝘶𝘩?” You thought to yourself, taking a U turn down the hall looking at the numbers of each room. You were new to the whole building and just moved into town. After a huge argument with your parents you were finally kicked out for good after the last 4 times. They were shitty anyway, always has been. Ever since the day you found ou-. No you can’t think about it, not right now.. you’re at work. Tokyo is meant for new opportunities, new experiences, new friends. That’s what your here for you tell yourself. The past is the past. You’ll find the right people.. your at swear. There’s a good thing your best friend already lives in Tokyo. You haven’t seen her in a while which is understandable, a girls gotta be busy.
Matsuda realizes he’s been walking behind you for a while now. Every turn you take he takes. God he looks so fucking creepy. Have you noticed him? You would’ve said something if you did right? Or maybe your too scarred to. No you can’t be aware, you would’ve at least turned around, right? 𝓖𝓸𝓭, 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭, he begged to himself. Not because he’d look suspicious, but because he couldn’t help but to look at the way your hips swayed side to side when you walked. Or the way your hair moved with you. And God the way Something about you was addicting, too addicting. Wait-why is he thinking this way? 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 How could he have such perverted thoughts? He should be ashamed of himself… Matsuda mentally beats himself up, just like he always does.
Your eyes finally meet a plate number reading 403 put onto the wall beside a door. The damn building was like a maze. Every hallway and room looks almost the exact same. How the hell do people get around here day to day? You’d lose your mind. “𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵?” You scoff at your own joke. As you walk in your eyes search for a clock in sheet. Theres a printer station in the corner, a counter full of office necessities, and there, clock in station. The last thing you notice was the cheap police badge decorations floating from the ceiling along with golden stars. “𝘊𝘶𝘵𝘦 “…. you thought. You take that as their attempt to bring life to the room, though not doing much help… it’s the thought that counts. The place needed life. Everything looked so boring. Where’s the color? You and your best friend are fashion freaks and would have this place looking pretty in no time.
Shortly after you enter you hear footsteps following behind you making you turn your back. You expected to see some cranky old person since thats majority of this buildings population. Instead It was a young man. You couldn’t tell if he was older than you or not though due to his babyface, but he looked around your age. he had a shaggy but well kept haircut, black hair, and big puppydog eyes. If your being honest he looked kind of… helpless? The timid kind. He wasn’t bad looking, but something in him looked like he was struggling. Was it because you startled him? His expression was neutral, but those big brown puppy eyes looked like they were screaming for someone to help him. You out of all people knew that look way too well considering your terrible childhood. Was it because you caught him off guard? You should say something. Before you could open your mouth he beats you to it.
“oh- sorry.. did i startle you?..im just here to copy papers, ill be out your hair no. worries!!” he says. His cheeks grow a bright pink in embarrassment while he scratches the back of his neck, making you feel bad. Getting nervous around new people was never new to you. Considering the fact that you grew up as a quiet kid. So you understand where hes coming from. “You didn’t startle me at all its okay! Im only here to clock in.” You give him a warm smile while taping your index finger onto your side. It was a habit you always had whenever you felt overwhelmed or anxious. You grew this habit growing up back in your home town. Nervous about a test? Tap on the table. Stressed over your parents? 𝘛𝘢𝘱….. 𝘵𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘱 It eased your nerves. He gives you a cheeky smile back before you made your way to the clock in table.
Matsuda couldnt help but to stare.. your legs were shaped perfectly and looked so smooth, that skirt fitting your body so well, and oh that smile you gave him made his heart flutter. That was the nicest action anyones done for him this whole week. As he walks over to print his copies, the only thing he could think about was your angelic voice repeating and repeating, the way your glossy lips formed into a smile, everything about you was just so addicting… Hes In the same fucking room as you, the same room as the most prettiest girl hes ever seen in his life. Was he flipping through papers too loud? Was the sound of the machine bothering you? He didn’t want to scare you off. Matsuda wasn’t a bad guy, he means all good right? Once his copies were finished, you were gone. Matsudas heart sunk. “Damn she was beautiful” he said to himself. Even though he was disappointed that you left, it felt like a heavy weight lifted off his chest. He was trying so hard not to startle you, so hard to do everything just right and not make it too awkward. Will he ever see you again? The building is massive, you could be from any unit.. He curses under his breath bringing the copied papers with the words KIRA bolded on the front into his hands. Just before he leaves, he passes the clock in sheet. On the sheet wrote “y/n”. Y/N……y/n. Was that really your name? It suited you so well. “Y/N” he says testing the way your name sounds under his tongue…
The day ended fairly for you. It wasnt your official start day, you were in training. You were showed the navigations to rooms youd need to go to, your duties, and who your boss would be. Being a detective was what you’ve dreamed of since you were a little girl. Your grandpa was one and you swore to him you’ll be one to make him proud. Damn do you miss him… You sigh as you open the door to your new apartment. Yourbest friend was supposed to help you unbox over the weekend. Besides the boxes scattered across the floor, your wall decorations were put up in the bedroom. A bunch of band, anime, games, and horror movie posters filled up the wall along with your collection of action figures, antique dolls, fairy lights and other room decor. This room would be the last thing you’d expect from a detective you laugh to yourself. Some people just never grow out of their old interests. The “professional” outfit you wore felt like a cosplay. You tried to fit a little of the “you” in (the skull earrings, cross necklace, spiderweb claw clip.) but jeez it feels like you have to be a robot to fit in. Good thing you’re damn good at your job.. thats why you were hired to work with the best of the best to catch Kira. But the “weird” girl never really grew out of you. You change out of the tight pencil skirt and extremly uncomfortable blouse and into an oversized affliction tee.
Just like any other night, Matsuda couldnt sleep. That anxious feeling always creeped back to him, latching onto his soul. Was it depression? Is that the reason for all of this? He should get checked out. 𝓔𝓶𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓼𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 the word stung somewhere in his heart, making him curl into a tighter ball than he already was in. He thinks back to the interaction he and you had in 403. The way your finger subconsciously tapped on your side. Were you anxious too? Do you understand how he feels?? He doesn’t want to be alone in this void. Sure hes a cheeky, bright, childish guy from the outside.. but when is it time for someone to see the real Matsuda. When will it be time for someone to see his raw emotions? Would she want to see him? The real him? He wonders if you guys like the same things. He noticed your re9 keychain on your purse. Matsuda loves that game. “This is stupid” he mumberd under his breath. How could he be dreaming about a random lady as if it’s some high school crush. Theres a mass killer in his damn hands that hes not doing shit about, 𝓤𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 the word hit harder than the last. And finally after around 30 minutes, Matsuda cradled himself to sleep.
AHHH okay guys I tried. tell me how you like this one. Im trying to portray Matsuda as the needy type yk? I also would like to add songs so drop some recommendations that you think would suit this fic If you like how this fic is going pls like and follow!! Im onto making a chapter two.
Synopsis. 8010—DOKI-DOKI-GF: Are you a complete n’ utter nerd that just can’t seem to find a girlfriend? Have you lied to your family and told them that you’re seeing someone (when you really aren’t)? Do you need to save face at the next family dinner before your uncle makes fun of you until the end of time? Well, call our hotline NOW to access Tokyo’s #1 rent-a-girlfriend service!
Choso Kamo, unfortunately, is all of the above.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!rentaI girIfriend!reader, nerd!Choso Itadori family shenanigans, meeting the family, fake dating, UncIe Kuna is MEAN, they’re onto you…, getting kicked out of restaurants, Iove hotels, vírgin!Choso, first times (his), PÚSSYDRÚNK CHOSO, making him crawI, oraI (f + m), fíngering, spítting, bíting, p taIking, scientific taIk HAHA, commands (from you), créaming his pants, making him cúm earIy, multiple o’s (him), MAJOR overstím, pánty-sníffing, ríding, making him whímper, making him cry, somewhat gágging (him), teaching him, creampíes, sIight cùmfIation, implied marathon, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.0k
A/N. HEHEHEH-
“—I’m so happy you’ve found your person, Cho…” Itadori Jin coos- tearing up.
“P-papa, people are staring.” Choso huffs, spooning the syrupy-sweet cherries on his sundae over to Yuji’s.
“I know, I know.” Jin bats a hand, not-so-discreetly dabbing underneath his eyes using his sweater. “It’s just- your uncle and I were getting so worried, y’know?” He gestures at his younger twin brother next to him—looking comically buff in that pretty pink ice cream parlor seat. Jin had chosen this place. “And although we didn’t lose hope-”
“Who’s we?” Sukuna snorts.
“I uh…well.” Jin adjusts his glasses and looks over at Itadori Wasuke - currently scooping out his own cherries to flick into the neighboring table’s cups when they weren’t looking. “Father and I didn’t lose-”
“I did.” Wasuke looks squarely at his oldest grandson, “No offense, kid- but I bet ¥400 that you’d die alone.”
Sukuna nods seriously, “I bet ¥20,000.”
To which you’re finally…reaching over to intertwine your fingers with Choso’s.
…Choso drops his cherries.
And you’re letting out such a sweet, sweet giggle - even sweeter than the linger of cherries on his tongue - before you duck underneath the table to help him pick them up.
Choso was already on his knees crawling after those damn cherries- and all it takes is a single glance at your face oh-so-close to his, in such short proximity, for him to jolt—and bang his head against the underside of the table. So hard that the glasses clink against one another, and Wasuke groans as he misses in his valiant cherry canons.
So loud that half the parlor stares at your little table.
“Oh no.” You’re reaching out in concern as Choso rubs his achin’ head. “Honey, are you-”
“I-I’m fine—!” Choso turns his face away - and the only things you could make out were the frames of his chunky glasses…and the burning red on the tips of his ears. Blushing. Though you’re not convinced, and once you get a little closer- he’s waving you off more fervently than ever. “I promise, I promise! I can handle it…babe.”
You quirk a brow - “If you say so, sugarplum.”
He almost jolts once more- too much…?
However, before you’re thrusting yourself once more into the stratosphere of emotional fathers (at least, one of them) and glowering uncles, you inch yourself closer to the nerve-wracked man - as quick as a flash. And then you’re pressing your lips to his right cheek—just a graze, just a peck.
But it’s enough for Choso to yelp-
And bang his head against the table once again.
“Easy there, tiger.” You’re giggling at him, “I need you in one piece.”
“N-need me…” Choso whispers to himself- perhaps thinking that you won’t hear.
And it’s a small mercy that you’re handing to him - pretending that you didn’t hear that. Instead, you’re throwing yourself back into your seat, and presenting your most-practiced smile at Choso’s eavesdropping family members.
In little-to-no time, Choso’s popping back up and plopping all those floor cherries into Sukuna’s black coffee. The older man swears.
Jin covers the seven-year-old Yuji’s ears.
And then your boyfriend’s excusing himself hastily to the bathroom. Leaving you alone with them.
Unsure how to proceed, there’s a few minutes of silence before you’re speaking first. “Quite the lovely place, isn’t it?”
“Yes- yes.” Jin snaps out of his little reverie—he’d been watching over your interaction with such unabashed pride. Such loving nosiness. Out of all the fathers of clients that you’d happened to meet, you think he might just be your favorite…He beams. “I’m so glad you like it, dear. I mean- the first girl that Cho’s introducing us to-”
“The only one.” Sukuna coughs.
“-I just knew I had to impress. I picked this one specifically because it advertised itself as a place that’s both family-friendly and open to coup-”
“So you met the wimp…how again?” Sukuna interrupts. And he ignores the look that Jin throws at him.
“Six months ago at university.” Choso’s finally finished up at the bathroom, within earshot of the table. He takes his seat right next to you.
“I hope you washed your hands.” You whisper to him.
“Of course, I did.”
The two of you had already repeated this tried and true story at the very start of your introductions. And it was clear that Sukuna was fishing for something…more.
You make a show of reaching for Choso’s hand on top of the table—intertwining your fingers with his. They were fingers much longer and thicker than yours- that you might not have expected. The most sensual calluses from what you assume to be turning pages of books. The softest touch nevertheless.
You squeeze his hand and shoot him a simpering smile.
Itadori Jin just about faints.
Sukuna scoffs at his overdramatic older brother, “S’that so…?” He then crosses his tattooed arms, “You don’t seem like the type to like ah- biology and hemorrhages.”
“It’s biology and hematology, uncle Ryo.” Choso answers crossly, “And no- we met in the campus library.”
Then you’re the one to pipe up. “Cho here- oh, sorry, Choso-”
“Call him whatever you like—!” Jin cries.
As his brother attempts to wrangle him back into his seat, you smile appreciatively and continue. “Cho here was the one that helped me find a textbook I’d been searching for for weeks.” Just to add a little flare to it, you’re squeezing his hand once more and staring deeply into his big, beautiful brown eyes when you speak. “He knew even better than the librarian! And he was just so nervous- stuttering and- and did I tell you that he almost tripped over himself handing me that book?”
Jin, so very interested in your story, shakes his head aggressively.
Meanwhile Sukuna merely rolls his eyes- though you note that he and Wasuke don’t interrupt you for a second.
“Yeah…that was when I knew.” You conclude. Patting lovingly at his arm, “And of course, it did take a few weeks of being friends for Cho here to finally build up the courage. But he did manage to ask me out in the end—”
Sukuna raises one mean, coral-pink brow.
And you’re elbowing your boyfriend.
“-didn’t you, honey?”
It was rather difficult to convince your boyfriend’s family of the story of you two meeting- especially when your boyfriend himself looked as though this was his first time hearing it…Choso kept an expression of sweet euphoria—something soft. Like he was watching a romantic movie play out.
One that was starring in- and you needed him to say something…
“Huh? Yes?” Choso blinks- sense coming back to him. “O-oh, yes.”
And then he straightens up.
Possessively placing his hand on top of yours, “I saw her and I just…knew she had to be mine-”
“See now, that where yer lying.” Sukuna leans over the table with a devilish smile- pointedly ignoring his brother’s swatting. “There’s no world in which Kamo Ultimate Loser Choso—had his first kiss with a biology textbook, asked out the high school lab skeleton before any real person - would be the one asking you out.”
You’re stiffening as he points at you.
“Are you just someone he’s paying to lie? Because whatever he’s paying, it surely can’t be enough-”
You’re plastering on your smile, “If by ‘pay’ you mean love and cherish me then-”
“Then I know my nephew would no sooner woo a damn lab rat than a real person.” Sukuna scoffs, crossing his arms and falling back into his seat. “Especially one so pretty.”
Jin looked tense- and he’d forgone swatting at Sukuna underneath the table to now openly pinching his bicep. Still, the pain seems to do nothing to bate his suspicion.
“More sundaes, everyone? More sundaes?” Jin asks in a strangely high tone.
The only ones unaffected at the table was Yuji currently plucking at his sundae cherries, and Wasuke who stared at them with the internal debate as to whether or not he should fling those at the neighboring table, too. You almost wanted him to—anything to distract from the terseness that had suddenly taken over.
And to your surprise - it’s Choso who’s the first one to speak. “Why, uncle Ryo…” Those doe-like eyes of his narrow into an expression you’ve never seen made by the sweet, sweet boy thus far. “-jealous?”
Sukuna startles- “The hell did you s-”
“Dagnabbit I almost had it this time-” Wasuke gives up on considering and swipes one of Yuji’s overabundance of cherries to throw into their neighboring tables glass. It’s a hole in one.
“Grandma, do that again—!” Yuji squeals and claps his hands.
“Huh, where? I’m grandpa-”
“Everybody silence!” Jin’s voice raises above than the rest - and into every corner of the ice cream parlor. Echoing. He hadn’t realized it in the heat of the moment, but he found himself standing as he stopped the chaos—and rushed to sit down after some apologetic bows at the wider population being subjected to the catastrophe that was…their family.
And his next apology is directed at you. “My dear, I cannot tell you how sorry I am-” Now instead of pinching Sukuna, he outright gives the man a brotherly smack upside the head. Unafraid of doing so; Jin makes it hard enough that even Ryomen Sukuna winces. Now you understand how he kept his title shining as older brother…“-that I am related to a bunch of buffoons, and Yuji.”
“Yuji has been quite the distinguished gentleman.” You’re nodding at Yuji and his ice-cream-covered grin. “But it’s alright, Mr. Itadori. Honestly- promise I wasn’t offended by anything said.”
Your hands have seemed to find a permanent home in Choso’s - at least for the time being - and you squeeze his.
“I understand that you’re just ah- cautious as the first girl to meet you like this but…I get it. Really.” Jin’s expression just seems to melt as you keep speaking. “Cho really is someone special to me. And I want to protect him, too.”
Next to you, you hear Choso suck in a shaky breath.
“Really? And you truly promise that it hasn’t been too much?” He probes with shining eyes. “Ryo here can get a little too mouthy-”
“Hey!” Sukuna starts—then immediately winces as Jin’s fingers twitch towards him again.
“Please do forgive him- it’s in his nature.”
“Absolutely promise. And I don’t hold anything against Mr. Sukuna, either.” You knew to hit juuuust where it mattered - and referring to Sukuna using such a title made the man straighten in his chair a little. “Choso did warn me that his family might be a little…excited. But to be honest with you, I always have had a soft spot for big, loud families.”
“Well…” Jin blushes happily, before reaching across the table and shaking your hand. “You may call me Jin, if you’d like. And I’d like to welcome you into our big, loud family.”
“I’m so honored- thank you.”
“The honor is all ours.”
“Oh no, it’s ours.”
Sukuna glances at Choso and scoffs. Underneath his breath, “That’s as long as that wimp has paid for-”
The table rattles as Jin kicks him underneath it. “The honor is all ours. Isn’t it…younger brother?”
“Ye-yes—” Sukuna wheezes. His large hand comes slamming down- merely something to hold onto his dear life for. “Welcome to the family, girl.”
You beam like it’s the happiest day of your life.
Head rested on Choso’s shoulder, and your head nodding at the flow of conversation. “This is cooler than the Turritopsis dohrnii.” He breathes.
Save for the brief hiccup earlier- you’d consider your first meeting with Choso’s family to have gone swimmingly. And sure, perhaps Sukuna held the faintest inkling of suspicion that what the two of you had was a ruse—but he’d been shot down almost immediately by Jin.
And thank goodness for that.
“Let’s celebrate by getting the double double heart-shaped cones- oh, I wonder how they get them into that shape?” Jin hums. “And then I want chocolate chips, dipped in the bubblegum drizzle and- oh, hello.”
He beams as their server nears the table.
“I would like-”
“Sir, we’ve been getting complaints of cherries being flung into people’s glasses and we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh.”
Because of course…Ryomen Sukuna had been completely correct.
As the group gets up to leave - perhaps to another diner downtown or so - you’re refusing to let Jin apologize. And you’re still holding onto Choso as though he was the dreamiest boyfriend in the whole wide world, and you were the luckiest girlfriend—as dreamy as he may be…you weren’t the girlfriend he’d been dating for the past five months.
In fact, you weren’t his girlfriend at all.
In fact, you’d only met two hours prior.
You were #1 Rental Girlfriend in all of Tokyo. And this time, you’d been hired to save face at a family get-together.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time that you’ve had to pretend your way through such a predicament - more people than one would think had less and less time for love. Especially not in this day and age. Especially not when work and responsibilities latched onto you like a starving tick, and though its blood supply might be modest at first, it only grows hungrier and hungrier—greedier, until you’re bone-dry. Bone-dry. Bone-dry. And it still feeds- what’s next? The bones and all?
And society still looks at you with the same standards—yes, the parasite’s gotten bigger, but why are you so frail?
And before you know it, you’re hiring a rental girlfriend to prove to your parents that yes- you can still be a functional and well-balanced adult still!
This was exactly why you continued being a rental girlfriend.
It’d started out as a side-job during your first year of university—your friends were all getting partners or throwing themselves into their studies. And you needed something fulfilling to pass the time.
Then, your best friend suggested getting a part-time job.
You’re sure she didn’t mean as a rental girlfriend.
But you couldn’t help it - it’d been the first advertisement for Hiring that’d popped up once you’d searched online!
And it was meant to be for a few weeks initially- really, you hadn’t planned on continuing this career for so long. Let alone making it a sort of career.
That morning, you’d opened up your approved application for Doki-Doki-Girlfriend and determinedly made your way to the interview section - promising yourself that you’d run at the first sign of anything off. The interview was being held at the Doki-Doki headquarters: this pretty pink-colored building in downtown Akihabara that had formerly been a host club. It’d been dimly-lit and draped in old perfume and even older sex.
Though you’d been nervous the first time you entered, you’d been quickly taken by the Doki-Doki owner—Tsukumo Yuki.
The first thing she asked you was what your type in men was.
And when you’d answered - through your shock - that it was the shy, stuttering type- she laughed that that was about 95% of their clientele. So you’d be lucky, perhaps.
Yuki, as she insisted you call her, explained to you the ins and outs of being a rental girlfriend. To smile. To simper. To be sweet but not overly so.
To never let them pressure you into anything. They weren’t the type of rental business that offered other sorts of services.
What people were searching for above all was a connection- for at least this brief moment in time. And the both of you would understand this transaction: it was the fantasy of a human bond that you were selling, and they were buying. It was your time. It was your emotional investment.
But later…you would come to genuinely connect with most of those you worked with.
After that interview—which you passed with flying colors, you spoke with some of the other girls working there and decided to continue with the job opportunity. Much to Yuki’s delight, who’d taken a liking to you almost immediately. After that was the training period - during which you accompanied some of the other rental girlfriends on their dates.
You were introduced to some as their friend—and as many guys as expected were actually flattered to be seen with two ‘girlfriends’ in public.
You took notes on conversation topics. You watched their behaviours.
You understood how they’d change their approaches according to the needs of their clients, and you absorbed it all.
After a few weeks of observation, you were finally added to the roster of rental girlfriends to go on your own dates.
You just didn’t expect to shoot to the top of the ranks.
#1 in Tokyo.
Perhaps one of the Top 5 in the entire country—only three years after starting, in your fourth year of university.
The clients adored you.
They draped you in gifts. They went on repeat dates - spending extra just for a minute of your time, though you often refused the additional amounts. Of course, there would be no funny business (and this was something you made quite clear within the first few minutes of meeting a new client). And excluding one or two unsavory clients that were quickly blacklisted from Doki Doki, you’d grown rather fond of your regulars.
There was the older woman who’d practice speaking to women through you- for when she planned on getting her first girlfriend. There was the excitable college student who tested out date spots with you. There was the pensioner who wished to take a monthly stroll through the park, simply talking about their day.
It was the feeling of belonging amongst strangers. Connecting with people you never could have imagined finding common ground with before.
And you believe, through this line of work, you began to understand humans better.
Humans were all just…really, really lonely.
Choso had been the same when he came to you.
It had been a working day like any other - you’d been called to the front desk of Doki Doki in order to be given a briefing of your next date. It was all standard processes, really.
Name: Kamo Choso
Age: 23
Occupation: Student
Prior appointments: None.
Prior love life: None.
Purpose: Client seeks a rental girlfriend to sit through a family dinner with his family, pretending to be his girlfriend. Prior backstory required to be able to maintain the conversation and create the illusion of a loving relationship (5 months). Flirting and mild physical affection.
Extra notes: Client says to please be wary of his extra ‘rowdy’ family.
And so, you’d accepted.
You met up with the aforementioned Choso—and found yourself a little taken aback at just how…cute he was.
Nerdy. Nervous.
Pushing his glasses up as he frantically introduced himself - that, too, messing his name up a few times before actually telling you.
Exactly your type. Yuki had been right.
He was your age, and went to - it turns out - the same university as you. Though the two of you hadn’t seen each other before, Choso confessed that that might be because he was cooped up in the library most of the time.
He bowed at least a dozen times through apologies for the trouble- even though you assured him that meeting a family wasn’t anything out of your way. And then he insisted on paying extra, on coming up with a code should you want to leave, on—you shook your head and grabbed his hand. “So, how did we meet, boyfriend?”
You always did enjoy the ones where big families were involved - sure, they might be more awkward in the long run…but those types of dates always did manage to make you feel so warm inside. Big families. Big emotions.
And the biggest, perhaps, of all had been meeting the Itadori family.
They’d been unlike any other family you’ve ever met.
And that was saying a lot.
Thus, you’re letting out a prolonged sigh the moment you’re stepping outside—it was some downtown diner that the six of you had ended up at after your less-than-ceremonious exit at the ice cream parlor. Sukuna had been craving something hearty after living through that introduction on just sweets and coffee - and Jin had suggested one of their favorite ramen places.
It was only after you’d sat down with them at one of the booths - the one they called their ‘usual’ - that Jin had revealed that when they referred to it as ‘their’ ramen place—they really meant the their.
In everything but ownership.
This was the first restaurant they’d gone to celebrate Choso’s first birthday, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Jin’s mother had passed, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Yuji was born and Jin was granted full custody.
And you couldn’t help but feel a strange sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach. What was that you said about family-oriented dates being the most awkward in the long term?
At least the ramen had been the best you’d ever tasted- and the conversation flowed freely. Even Sukuna seemed to forgo his initial suspicion to make some conversation with you on Akihabara’s best spots.
And in the end, you were walking out of that ramen restaurant with a full stomach and an even more full heart.
Waving to the retreating backs of Jin, Sukuna, Wasuke, and a sleeping Yuji—you’re turning to Choso once they were completely out of sight. “Your family is…”
“Abhorrent?” He pushes his glasses up with a crooked smile. Choso had eased up around you significantly compared to your initial meeting outside the Doki Doki building, stammering through an adequate backstory for your faux-relationship, though he still seemed to be the nerve-wracked type.
“No…” You pretend to think.
“Overbearing?”
“No.”
“Savages?”
“Certainly not.”
“The servers at that ice cream parlor would disagree.” Choso mutters, “How about aneurysm-causing?”
“No.” You’re shaking your head once again, before turning to him with a smile. “They’re loving.”
Choso says nothing, but the tips of his ears burn.
“They care about you a lot- even your uncle was making sure I wasn’t some stranger just taking your money.” Well…
The long-haired man pushes his glasses up with a sputter of confirmation- or at least something that sounds like it. “I-I suppose ah- in their own…ways they’re rather…” Choso swallows a few times, and you’re watching his face as he does so—the Sun was dipping past the horizon now, and cracking its golden yolk over the grooves of his worried face. Handsome. Choso Kamo was just so handsome.
With his lashes dark and draping over his cheekbones. With his lips pouty and bitten whenever he was thinking deeply about something. With his stature so tantalizingly tall—though he didn’t even seem to be aware of it, as he navigated the world like a newly-birthed fawn.
He was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen - glasses and all.
“—caring.” Choso finally finishes his sentence.
You’re letting a smile stretch across your lips- and before you can think twice, you’re clasping Choso’s hand once more. You’d been doing it so often over the course of the date that it almost feels- natural now.
“You know…you paid for five hours of my time, Choso. Do you know how much more time we have left?”
“Two hours, fourteen minutes and—” He grows ever-redder as he stares down at you. Were you…leaning in? Pressing yourself against him? Fuck. “-f-fifteen seconds.”
“Mmmm, I do love a smart boy.” Beginning to tug him in another direction from the path to the Doki Doki building - though you leave enough leeway that he can stop should he want to. Choso follows you like a dog on a leash. “I don’t usually do this, but if you want to spend the rest of your time with me then…I know this ah- other place we can go to?”
“Like you want me to c-call my family back for another family dinner?” Choso asks, eyes bulging.
“Oh no, no.” You laugh. “This place isn’t family friendly at all.”
.
.
.
“A-a love hotel-”
“One room, please. Standard.” Interrupting Choso, you smile at the receptionist.
“Will that be for an allocated time or overnight?”
“Hmm…” You glance sidelong at the gawking Choso next to you- looking around the hotel lobby as though it was some sort of attraction. “Overnight, please.”
As the woman behind the desk continued tap-tap-tapping away at her keyboard, you take a moment to look at Choso - now adjusting his glasses to make sure that he was seeing right. That really was a bowl of condoms sitting on the front desk. As the heat rushes up the back of his neck, you’re wrapping your arms around one of his own—and pressing your body against his. “Everything alright, Cho?”
He’d been like this ever since you started heading him in the direction of the glitzy love establishment. Pink walls. Fluorescent lights. He’d agreed to going…elsewhere to continue your date- but he’d expected your apartment or something! Choso had been stunned but allowed you to lead him in front of the love hotel, and once outside you turned towards him once more. It was the first time you yourself was doing this with who was supposed to be a client. “And you’re really su-”
“Yes.”
And that was that.
The lobby was quiet…too quiet. In a way that made your spine tingle with anticipation.
“That’s a…a real bowl of condoms.” He exclaims- earning a look from the receptionist.
“That is. Is this your way of saying that we don’t need any?” You joke…mostly. Then the key gets slid over to you - Room 143 - and you’re nodding at the receptionist. “Thank you.”
The two of you make your way down the lust-pink corridor and take the elevator up to your room - jamming in the key to open up a space that looked as if a honeymoon threw up all over it. Rose petals on the floor. Faux candles flickerin’ on the beside cabinet. Rows upon rows of even more condoms lined on the middle of the queen-sized bed.
If you looked at it from the right angle, it formed a few hearts.
“I didn’t mean we shouldn’t use them…” Choso’s the first one to speak- and he visibly gulps as you close the door behind you two. “It’s just…I-I’ve never done this before.”
Your eyes widen—you’d been suspecting this ever since you entered. But to have it actually confirmed…“No fooling around before finals or anything? Nothing to de-stress?”
He shakes his head n’ bites his lower lip. “Nothing. I haven’t even had my first kiss, to be honest…” Choso looks up at you with those nervous eyes. “Is that okay?”
“Okay?” You smile. Walking over to twist your hands into his lapels- and tug him to you. “It’s perfect. And since you’ve shared a secret with me, I’m gonna share one with you, okay?”
He nods.
And so you’re leaning in so that your lips are grazing - just grazing - his pretty, blushing ears. “It turned me on more than it should’ve, seeing you on your knees in that parlor.”
Choso gasps-
And then your lips are on his.
Then you’re tucking his cute, shivering bottom lip into your mouth—and sucking softly. Choso lets out the most guttural groan at the act- and his hands tremble in mid-air not knowing what to do.
“Don’t be shy.” You’re cooing at him - reaching up and guiding one of his hands to be on the back of your neck—the other one on your ass. You lean into his surprisingly firm chest, “Although…I find it really cute when you’re shy.”
His involuntary whimper gets swallowed up by your own lips.
You’re the one that’s guiding him through the sensual motions of your mouth. Kissing and kissing him till he’s senseless.
Till those thick glasses of him have been knocked ever-so-slightly askew.
Till you’ve left him weak in the knees - literally.
Choso Kamo is melting into you—he’s letting his hands grasp your body as though a forgetting man holding onto his last memory, a drowning sailor holding onto a lifeboat. It doesn’t even feel real to him. And he can’t stop himself as his hands, his body, his knees buckle n’ he’s sliding doooooown the expanse of your body- lips breaking contact with yours with a pained grunt.
Before he knows it, his knees are hitting the floor.
And he’s peering up at you with a desperate expression; brows pinched, mouth kiss-bitten and trembling. Expression something of dazed awe. It makes your pussy clench at just how utterly pathetic he looks. “Everything alright, baby?”
“Ngh- yes.” You watch as one of his hands automatically shoots to cover his crotch - he was rock-fucking-hard already.
“You suuuuure?” Teasing. There’s a devilish twinkle in your eyes that’s reflected through his as utter indigence.
And without saying anything more, you step backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Bouncing a few times. You’re sitting yourself down on the plush bedsprings, crossing your legs- and watching him through half-lidded eyes. Not a single word comes out of you.
But it doesn’t take a single word for Choso to realize what you wanted with a jolt—
He crawls to you.
He crawls to you.
Choso’s letting his features twist into something akin to embarrassment - with the tips of his ears so red that they were practically radiating heat - as he edges closer. As he shifts on his knees. As he crawls just as he had been doing in the ice cream parlor—except this time, the only cherry he was searching for was that cute lil’ wet spot between your legs.
Your dress was short and already hiked up to reveal those pale pink panties.
Was that a little bow on top?
Though it seems like an age before he’s finally able to reach close enough to affirm that- yes, that was a little bow on top. Choso finally manages to without combusting, and looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes.
“Please…” He begs.
You’re softly caressing his cheek- almost lovingly. And Choso’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into the touch in an almost feline manner.
Moving to his jawline. Moving to the back of his sweaty scalp.
And then you’re shoving his pretty face between your legs—and Choso’s letting himself gladly be shoved. Manhandled. His chin sticks against the foamy mess of your panties, so wet with all your leaking juices. His nose digs between the plushest parts of your swollen pussylips. And Choso lets out a hallowed breath as he gapes his mouth ever-so-slightly wider-
“Awww, why so shy, baby?” You’re cooing down at him.
With your hand clasped onto the back of his head- you’re guiding Choso’s mouth to better plaster against your pussy. For him to find his balance.
“S-s’like a second kiss.” Choso sputters out. And you’re grinning.
“Naughty, are we?” You had a feeling that this was going to be a loooooot of fun…
Choso’s mouth was parted. And his lips were rubbin’ incessantly up and down the outline of your cunt—up and down, up and down.
That flimsy fabric of your panties was just glued to your sopping wet pussy, and he’s able to slot his lips over your folds perfectly. Managing to string down a line of hot wet kisses where you needed him the most- “Mmmm…” You’re arching your back with a deep groan as his nose fits between your pussylips—the pointed tip pressing on your clit. “Just like that, Cho. You can go deeper if you like, y’know that?”
“H-how, baby?” He rasps. Those pleading eyes of his were just so cute- and Choso can’t last too long speaking without pressing a few more open-mouthed kisses on your cunt.
“You want me to teach you?” You’re asking him, to which he nods. “Mmm, well open your mouth a little wider- just a little wider-”
And he does- his cute canines snaggin’ against the top of your pussylips.
“You can just start off by kissing lightly, baby. Remember how we did all that kissing earlier?” Nodding once more. “Yeah- just try to replicate that.”
“M’gonna do my best, baby…” He’s starting off soft at first- slow. Almost timid in his movements as he properly slots his mouth over your pussy - over your panties - and kisses n’ sucks lightly.
“Fuck- you study biology, so you know where the good spots are, hm?”
“The glans clitoris a-and the…” Kitten kisses. “-the labia minora contain an immense number of nerve endings.” Chaste pecks—but every single droplet of your pussy’s juices splashed onto his tongue seems to leave Choso Kamo reeling.
Eyes drawing to the back of his head. Ragged pants emanating from the back of his throat.
And he’s pushing himself deeper, deeper, deeper - making out with your pussy so desperately, depravedly that his glasses were crushing against your pelvis—“Easy there, baby. Easy.” The only way to even get him to take a breath is to tug him back using his hair. “We have more than ‘nough time, okay?”
“Mhmmmm…” He nods through a pout- lips sucking off the juices seeped into your panties. “All night.”
“Eager boy. Next, I want you to use your tongue, okay?” His expression turns into something startled. “What? Not scared are you, Cho?”
Choso shakes his head furiously—as though he couldn’t stand the mere thought of it. “N-no.” He hisses, hot breath gluing to your leaking core - the way he was just so…greedy to lavish your pussy left you even wetter. And he was gladly allowing the excess residue to land all over his face and end up sliding off, “No no no- not at all. This pretty labia- Mmmpf—”
Whatever else was on the tip of his tongue gets muffled-
For then Choso’s flattening his tastebuds on top of your pussy. Those swollen pussylips. Movin’ his muscle siiiiiiide to the siiiiiide and then up and down the line of your slit.
You whine, “Oh- just fuck me with it.” Tugging on his locks, “Fuck me with your tongue- ngh, the way I know you’ve been wantin’ to since we met. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you were looking at me…”
“I was…” He pleads. He prays between your legs. Zig-zagging his tongue wildly.
And then after he’s sucked off your panties all clean - Choso reaches one of his hands upwards to try and take off those useless undergarments-
But you’re faster than him.
And you’re stopping him with a searing pull at his scalp. The nerdy man lets out a sudden yelp and looks at you with the prettiest doe-eyes. “Ah ah—” It almost ached your heart to act so mean to him, not giving him exactly what he wanted. But more than your heart- it was your pussy that was throbbing. “Now who said you’ve earned the right to take them off, hm?”
“B-but…” Choso’s peripherals widen - they were glazed-over with lust. “How can I reach the tunica mucosa if I don’t take off—”
“You don’t have to take it off, right?” You hum. “Eat me out through my panties-”
Just the mere sound of that sentence makes Choso moan.
“-and…” And you’re cocking your head to get a better look at where his hips were starting to rut. Against the rickety frame of the love hotel’s bed, he was grindin’ and crushing what seemed to be an aching erection. “-don’t touch yourself, either.”
Choso’s free hand immediately halts in its tracks.
He’s shooting you a pained look- but more than that, it was flooded with pure, unabashed need.
Something dark. Something primal.
Choso’s tipping his head back and letting you plough your pussy against his mouth- in rough, rapid grinds. You don’t wait a single moment for him to catch his breath—and that seems far from his main priority in the first place. He’s merely flopping his lengthy tongue out - so pinkish n’ pretty - and slithering it past your panties.
Riiiiiight underneath, after a few tries he manages to ease it past the rim of your puckered entrance.
You’re letting out a semi-shocked gasp once you feel your convulsing walls streeeeetching at the girth of him. He was thicker than you’d expected- with the ridges of his tastebuds melding to your inner channel. And without any experience, Choso doesn’t know how to ease into it - which works just as well for you as he’s expanding his thick tongue inside of you. And then thrashing n’ thrashing away. “Sh-shit, keep going, Cho.”
“What- hck! what do I have to do?” He manages to somehow ask between heavy gulps. And even that amount of time spent parted with your pussy means that he’s letting out loooong, luxurious licks inside your velvety walls to make up for it.
“H-huh?” You blink down at him through your bleary eyes. “Keep going, ngh- faster, baby.”
“No, I just meant…” Choso blinks those big, beautiful peripherals at you. He kept both hands on your thighs to press himself ever-deeper—he couldn’t get enough. “-what do I have to do t-to take off your panties? I wish to see all of you…that pretty vulva like a flower, the- ngh, prepuce…”
The mere thought has him ruttin’ away against the bed once more.
“How about you make me- haaaah, cum, baby? Hm?” You smile down at the desperate man, “And you have to do it before cumming yourself, m’kay?”
He can’t remove your panties.
He can’t touch himself.
He can’t cum before stuffin’ his face between your legs and making you cum first—
Choso was in heaven.
Even through the obscurement of his now-fogged glasses, Choso’s features twist into something primal- and he lets out a looooow whine before drag-drag-dragging his tongue into your clingy walls again. Thrusting in and out at a frenzied pace—the nerd was eating you out like a man starved.
Almost wolfish.
Choso was suckin’ and biting and snarling deep into your cunt. His glasses stick against your clit, and every single time he was forced to part with your pussy in order to breathe felt like fucking torture to him. “The clitoral nerve network consists of about 8000 to- ngh, over 10000 nerve endings-” Before you know it, he’s spitting. Letting it smear down your panties. Then dragging one of his calloused thumbs down that buttony nub. “-and baby, I need you to feel every single one.”
“Ohhhhh, fuck.” Your back arches deeper into him. Hands planting against the mattress in order to steady yourself, “A man that knows anatomy is dangerous.”
“And then the tunica mucosa…those spots there are also-” Such a priggish smile spreads across Choso’s mouth - one that you’re feeling on your cunt - as he swabs his tongue inside and stimulates some of those sweet nerve endings he was talking about. The hooked end of his muscle pushes apart your clingy walls, and somehow manages to find those sensitive areas so easily- “-effective…”
“Shut up and eat me out.” Pushing him deeper between your legs.
“A-and that’s not to mention—” But of course, you should’ve known that it isn’t easy to shut a STEM major up when it comes to their subject of interest. Choso most of all. And that nerdy man is babbling away whilst he’s slipping his tongue in and out, in and out, of you at a furious pace- until it was nothing but a pinkish blur squeezing away between your pussylips. “-the Gräfenberg spot-”
“You mean the g-spot?!” You’re wailing out.
“My favorite.” Choso nods, with your clit sucked into his mouth. Holding your panties to the side. He now alternates between rolling his tongue over your sensitive nub, and pushing it deep into your hole—stretchin’ you out juuuuust enough for his fingers to slip n’ squelch their way inside.
You’re letting out the shrillest keen as two of his fingers scissor apart your cunt’s walls, pushing up into their spongy surroundings to mold his sheer size into you. He’s softer on the tips of his digits, and rougher against the sides - “Easy there. Fuck, easy…” Choso’s sucking in a harrowed breath.
“I should be the one saying that to you.” You huff. Because Choso wasn’t dry-humping the foot of the bed whilst eating you out anymore - he was way past that.
Now solely keeping himself pushed- wedged in one place because just a little more friction and he’s bound to be cumming. “I-I’m alright, baby.” He tells you, “The Gräfenberg spot is located on the anterior wall, so right…up…”
Just a single press up into the roof of your cunt makes you buck - not having pressed on your sweetest spot just yet but-
“And then about two- three inches deeeeeep—” The loudest, sloppiest squelch! echoes across all four corners of the love hotel room as he eases inside. Roverin’ about inside your tight, wet channel for a few strokes before an explosion of pleasure runs right through you. “-right- there-”
“Fuuuuuuuck, oh.” You simper out. “There- right there- ngh.”
And then he’s thump-thumping his perfect fingers inside your cunt- accurately pinpointing that one spot inside you with his digits like a searchlight. Again and again. And don’t think that his mouth wasn’t working overtime—Choso kept his maw permanently gaped on top of your clit and had his lips hollowed with a constant suctioning motion.
Letting out broken moans off into your cunt all the while-
Choso manages to slip in a third finger- though those damn panties kept getting in the way. “Baby…” There’s a rasping, almost guttural tone to his words that you don’t recognize at first- you’re even raising onto your elbows to make sure that this was the same Choso Kamo.
But it sure was.
Glasses pressed up against your cunt—getting wetter by the second. “Baby, you’re experiencing vaginal contractions and tremors. Your pulse is faster. Your transudate is leaking even more- you’re getting wetter. And your clitoris is growing even, mmm-” He savors the feeling of your nub being pulled n’ dragged into his mouth. “-more swollen.”
“A-and that means…?” Though you already have an inkling of it.
“You’re going to orgasm, baby.” He never sounded more confident than when he was speaking science between your pussylips. “And I need you to cum aaaaaall over my mouth, okay?”
“Was planning to.” You whisper-
And it’s with a few more strokes, with a few more gashes of your pussy against his face, that the pressure that’d been building in your pelvic region finally explodes.
It thrums through your body faster than you can announce it—making every single vein, artery, and axiom within you vibrate until they’re sizzling at the sheer pressure. It felt as though your body was on fire. And the hottest it could get was at your sopping core- shoved against Choso’s pretty plush mouth and getting draaaagged through the violent peaks of your high.
The best you’ve ever had.
Choso manages to locate your g-spot right when the pleasure was hitting you the most - and you’re getting the faint suspicion that he was counting your throb-throb-throbs until he’d timed it just right. “One…two…”
Thrashing his fingers deepest.
Damn-near tearing your panties.
Shoving his erection against the bed.
And his tongue would move over your clit in an almost soothing motion- “Your vasocongestion m-means you’re sucking me up even- ngh, more. Fucking tight.” He spits. “Myotonia and contractions. Your orgasm’s strong, baby.”
“Didn’t need science to tell me that.” You comment.
Thrown through your orgasm.
It’s a crescendo then a plateau, and then when you’re finally done - Choso keeps jabbing his greedy fingers into you just for a few seconds longer. Fucking you through it. Fucking you past it.
You’re so sensitive by this point that you’re sobbing- pushing on his sweaty forehead. “Baby—oh, baby I’m done.”
“Done…?” He rasps. Eyes bleary as he raises them up, seeing you on your elbows. “Oh.”
“And you did as I wanted.” It takes much more effort than you expected to detach him from your quivering pussy - still a little sensitive from your previous orgasm. It was incredible. A part of you almost couldn’t believe that it’d been poor, inexperienced Choso Kamo that pulled that out of you.
He’s setting your cunt free with a whimper n’ a loooooud slurp!
Watching slack-jawed as you peel off your soaked-through panties and throw it right at him- it makes you gasp when Choso catches it with one hand…
Then brings that flimsy fabric riiiiight up to his face to sniff, to suck off the remnants of your syrupy sap. Not a speck of regret.
“Filthy.” You leer.
And then you’re tightening your hold on him—merely than sound was enough to wrench out a yearning croon from him. Preventing Choso from chasing after your cunt once more, “Now now…you don’t want to continue losing that virginity of yours, baby?”
“I-I do.” He eagerly nods.
“Good. Then get on the bed f’me.” You’re patting at the space beside you.
Soon enough, your positions are somewhat flipped - Choso finds himself lumbering onto the bed. Back against the mattress. Skin searing at the heat that your body had left behind.
He lies where you did- and you’re making quick work of discarding his graphic t-shirt (proudly claiming ‘I found this humerus’ next to a picture of a bone) and his trousers. The tent in his boxers was jaw-dropping—Choso stood proudly erect, thick and looking heavy between his legs, his bulbous tip kept trickling out more n’ more precum the longer you stared.
And had he just…
Taking off his boxers to make sure—you’re revealing his cock. Long and rock-hard.
It slaps against his soft core, and leaves a heart-shaped mark of sap. Just about seven or so inches in length- though the longer your gaze lingers on him…the longer he seems to look. Shit, was he about nine inches, maybe? And he wasn’t too thick - just flared enough at the tip that he’s sure to make your walls feel it.
But Choso had an abundance of pretty, long veins decorating down the shaft—underneath the tip, creating patterns down to his base. One which had a few sparse tufts of curly brown - almost black - hair.
Yet what you’re interested in the most was how Choso was so damn hard that his blushin’ red tip looked just about ready to fall off—
“I c-couldn’t help myself, baby.” Choso admits shyly. His hands reach downwards to try and cover his mess- but you’re waving him off. “Having you cum aaaaall over my mouth made me- ngh, want to cum as well.”
“I can see that.” You smirk.
“I didn’t mean to.” He insists, voice growing urgent as the silence stretches - fearing that you’d perhaps refuse to continue as he somewhat broke his promise. “P-promise, I didn’t mean to! It’s just that your tunica mucosa was squeezing me so tight- and your vaginal lubrication just tasted so sweet-”
“Choso?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Shush.”
“I- oh.”
Because, initially, you’d planned on riding the man senseless. But now you were leering yourself closer—almost sake-like in motion.
Staring deep into Choso’s widening eyes once you’re hovering yourself over his shivering legs. His long abdomen. And pressing a cute peck right on the top of his frothing tip—the splashes of his precum were syrupy-sweet. And they were combining with Choso’s cum from earlier to add a salty tint-
“So messy.” You’re whispering as you run your tongue ‘round and ‘round the top of his shaft. Cleaning him off until he was shining. “Are you gonna make a mess like this inside me too, hm?”
“D-don’t say something like that…s’gonna make me cum again.” Choso pleads.
And he really was serious - his words were on the verge of shattering.
You’re letting out a giggle- right into his aching hot cock. The vibrations sprint through his body and make him buck up into you—body before his mind, he doesn’t even realize until he’s doing so with a startled yelp. “My apologies-”
“Mmm, keep going. Get some practice in before the real deal.” You hum once more.
Choso seems as though he’s about to sob - this was too good for him - as he fucks his cock into your mouth a few more times. You relax your throat to take down most of him, and the parts that you can’t get milked with one hand.
Once. Twice. Thrice and quadruple before his flared tip starts twitchin’ wildly—draaaaagging up the soft insides of your throat, he leaves a salty aftertaste behind that makes you realize…
You’re pulling off of his cock with an emanating pop! “But you’ve got to save that up for inside, got it?”
He’s nodding so hard you idly wonder whether he might get whiplash. “Yes, baby. Anything for you, baby.”
“Mmm…” Climbing up the expanse of his body, you’re kissing Choso squarely with the same lips. “Just how I like it.”
And then your knees straddle Choso’s slender hips, your thighs press against his sweltering skin - you reach behind you to grab ahold of his cock’s base—and the sudden squeeze is enough to make him jolt. Bodily. He’s letting out a visceral shiver, “B-baby…”
You guide his ruddied tip to you—and just the barest, briefest smooch of your sweet pussy makes him jolt. Just feelin’ his hardness press up against your softness.
It makes him drive his hips off the mattress suddenly.
“Ah ah-” You warn. “Take it easy, baby. We have all night, don’t we?”
“But…” Choso’s eyes flicker between your face n’ where the two of you were about to connect. Something in him seems to almost break. So close. So close- “That’s so unfair. Your pussy feels like this and you’re expecting me to take it easy?”
A hand claws down your arched spine.
“Not even the textbooks could replicate how good it feels- m’not even inside you yet and I feel like I’m going insane.”
You swipe a thumb down his throbbing tip—catching a bead of white that was threatening to pour out. “I told you. As long as you keep it inside, Cho.”
And then you’re letting your hips lower - aiming to seat yourself down on that toned pelvis of his. “Ohhhh, fuck.” Your back bends, your head tips backwards as you’re taking in the inches of him. It’s a slow process - given that Choso was much larger than average - and you’re wrenching out primal moans as his thick length invades your core. A sweet prodding vein down the side of him was already massaging your insides—“You’re so big, baby. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”
If he heard you, then he doesn’t make a show of it.
Choso’s handsome features scrunch up into something of pure ecstasy as he dives his cock deeper into you. Hands flying to your waist. Bottom lip stuck between his teeth. “Inside-” He whispers.
“Hmmm?”
“Inside- inside.” Choso gets out through heated pants. His mouth was moving a mile a minute- fuck, even his mind was. But he couldn’t possibly juggle any single coherent thought when his cock was sucked between your soft, soft pussylips and getting practically drained already. “A-am I really going inside? Or is this just a dream, baby?”
Without waiting around for an answer- he’s pinching his arm.
It leaves an angry red mark that proves to him that no…life really was this sweet.
“I am?” As though still in disbelief.
As though this in and of itself would be enough to make him cum and- oh, shit.
He really was cumming.
It seems to take the both of you by surprise, and Choso’s lunging his hips completely off the mattress - slamming his cockhead into the springy back of your cunt.
Bouncin’ off at the sheer force for a few seconds- it isn’t long before he’s then scouring deep into your walls and letting his bawling divot run free. Cumming in less than a single stroke inside you. “Oh- oh, shit.” Choso’s mouth waters, a single line of spittle running from the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry I…”
But he doesn’t have an answer.
He really, truly doesn’t.
“Pussy got your tongue?” You giggle.
This was his first time - and your pussy just felt that good all wrapped ‘round him and keeping him hostage.
His cum’s flooding you with a warmth, spreadin’ from the in-betweens of your legs and then right upwards. The satiny tresses of it rush uuuuup your walls n’ then right back down—those goopy layers then getting fucked back in by his desperate semi-thrusts.
Squelch after squelch as he accumulates the cum like frosting on top of his swirling tip. Shoving.
Choso scrunches his eyes shut and tears start to well up behind- now he was crying, too? Crying just by putting it in?! Buried like this, he feels like he’d do anything for you right now. He feels like he could lay his life on the line for you right now. He feels like—like—he could really truly ask you to become his real girlfriend now…
“Baby, I think I love you.” Choso blubbers up. “Do you want to marry me?”
“Let’s get dinner first.” You giggle, lovingly patting his cheek.
“Oh…”
If you could feel the way his ruddied tip twitches inside you (and you could) then you’re not teasing him for it…much. Simply a smirk before you’re veering your hips down until he’s bottomed-out.
Clit massaging against the scruff of his happy trail. Pussylips struggling to squeeze around his sheer size. “Fuck.” You’re groaning, starting up a lecherous pace that keeps Choso’s toes curled - his head thrown back into the pillows, his skin blushing. He was flustered.
But more than that- he wanted more.
And sending a silent word of gratitude to the chance of the universe and science itself, Choso slithers that same right hand of his between your sultry legs. Sheened with slick.
You were making such a mess fucking him whilst you’re still keeping his cum inside you—he scrapes his calloused thumb up, up, uuuup the few inches of his cock still left to fit inside. Collecting the slimy layers of slick up until the folds of your pussy. Reaching it up to his mouth-
“Now, now.” You tut. “Are we just going to waste that, hm?”
“Oh…you’re right.” With a quiver of his lips, he then plunges it back inside. Then repeats the motion again and again until you’re feeling stuffed to the brim—with both his cock n’ his sappy fluid. Like you said before, it all deserved to stay inside.
And you better keep it.
The rickety bedsprings creeeeeeak—! as he meets your pace.
Choso continues, “Not just cum.” His curvaceous thumb swipes your inner folds again, “But that bulbourethral fluid deserves to stay inside, too. How else m’I gonna fill you up, baby?”
“Oh, of course.” You coo, something sensual. “But don’t think that that’s going to be your last time cumming tonight, Cho.”
His eyes damn-near bulge out of their skull. “E-excuse me?”
“It’s not even your last time cumming in this hour.” Oblivious - or so you pretend to be - to his growing concern n’ his gaping mouth. You’re bowing your body into his—manoeuvring your hips in somewhat of a circular motion, the slightest figure-eights and curves, that drag his tunneling cock juuuuuust right against every nook and cranny of your walls. Every hidden spot. “You’re gonna cum for me at least twice more, right?”
“I-I—I don’t know if that’s even possible!” Choso sputters, pushing his glasses up with his free hand- it was glossy with the excess of your slick from earlier.
And without warning, you’re leaning down to lightly lick off a bit of that glittering sheen.
Choso moans n’ feels his overly-stimulated length jolting away inside of you. “Baby, just consider the refractory period. Has it even been a few minutes since I last…?”
“Just about.” You’re smile. “Should be enough, no?”
“Though it varies based on age and health- when I can cum next depends on the blood redistribution, and how long prolactin and serotonin lasts in the body.” Choso admits then, albeit a bit sheepishly. “And I’m still fuh-feeling so goooood, baby- fuck I can’t—”
“But my smart boy’s gonna find a way, right?” Even if he couldn’t cum again, however - it was just too cute to watch Choso squirm like this. “When I said I wanted it inside, I wanted it stuffed inside, Cho.”
“S-stuffed…” He breathes - almost hypnotized by your pussy.
You’re grinding and swervin’ and clenching around his vein-loaded length in ways he could’ve only ever dreamed about before…“Mhm. Need it pouring out of me.” You beg, putting your best pleading expression on. “Need it up until…”
Hands scouring up his front to press down on your stomach- almost up to your chest.
“-here.”
You pout.
“If m’not bloated with your cum, Cho, is there even a point?”
“No there isn’t.” Choso’s jaw drops—as though the epiphany had just dropped on him. And no sooner are the words leaving his worry-bitten lips, he finds himself pumping wispy ropes of cum deep past your entrance.
He doesn’t even know how he did it.
His body just seems to listen to you more than himself - and Choso jerks his pelvis up in synchronization with the faintish strings of cum that escape him. Thoroughly into your cunt. Thoroughly coating it on top of your womb.
You’re shivering as you feel the thin excess thwack! against your deepest innards. Such a lecherous feeling that cannot be replicated.
Every time he strikes your spongy cervix, Choso lets out a sudden whimper. He sobs. He groooans. He’s fighting to clamor onto your body in any possible way that he could - your waist, your legs, your tits. It doesn’t matter where, Choso just needed to grab ahold of you and perhaps try to get you to fucking slow down—
“Please.” Every single letter in that word is botched with a cry, “P-please. Baby, keep riding me like this and you’re going to make me cum again-”
“Isn’t that the point? Third time’s the charm?” You ask.
“Oh…” It’s then that he remembers that you’d said twice more- he has to cum twice more. Hiccuping, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Cocking your head with a smile, “And would you like to stop?”
“Not at all.”
Then you’re planting one hand in the middle of his defined chest for balance. Throwing your head back and ridin’ him silly.
Choso cries beneath you. Choso babbles. Torn between the pleasure of having those sweet, sopping lips wrapped ‘round him- and the insanity of his orgasm just barely bating before you’re attempting to hurtle him into another one. This was almost too much for his just recently-lost virginity, but Choso begs for more, more, more. “Please- please- that anterior wall of yours is so clo-”
With your other set of fingers then shoved into Choso’s pretty mouth- spit splashes from the sides of his lips. But he’s taking you so happily—“No no, keep going.” You tell him once his brows raise in surprise, “I just wanna watch my poor boyfriend struggle just a bit.”
“Mmmmpf- soooo good.” He lets out an agonized moan, muffled through the intrusion of your digits. You’re swirling them ‘round his mouth and watching him lightly choke on them. “I need to c-cum just once more, huh?”
Choso’s tears were enough to wash off the fog from his glasses lens.
And he blinks those teary eyes up at you - a few times before one of his hands slithers between your legs. Almost difficult, considering how the space between your two sweaty, crashing bodies was practically non-existant—but his long fingers find a way to thumb apart your puffy pussylips. Nearly swollen shut.
He runs the doughy tips of his digits across your clit, “Around it…just light kisses.” Choso murmurs to himself. “Juuust a little- ngh.”
A single squeeze of your fluttering walls leaves him reeling.
“And then the good spots-” Peering down at your glossy cunt through his glasses, his half-lidded eyes. “The primary erogenous zones are the clitoris and introitus. Then the periurethral surrounding the urethra is also…oh…” Alternating between bashin’ his swollen cocktip against your g-spot, and thoroughly massaging every good spot he’d memorized.
“Shit…” You suddenly clench around him. “Keep going.”
He was seeing stars at the mere action. “And then the- hngh, even the perineum…” Fingers dipping just a liiiittle downwards to roll over that spot. He was unabashed - not in the state to be as he usually would. “And then fucking- at least as much as I can…here…” Slack-jawed, gaze unfocused. “My favorite is the clitoris.” The nerd presses the crescent pad of his thumb down on that knob.
Your hips are stutterin’ at the sheer amount of pleasure overwhelming you. Choso has taken up stimulating your clit in constant circular motions now. “I th-thought you said your favorite was the g-spot?”
“Both.”
As if on cue, he’s banging his thick tip against that ooooone spot.
Choso was stimulating you almost too well. Leaving you the one speechless as he drills his hips into you at a relentless pace—almost painfully desperate.
“Good boy.” You whisper.
“Just need to make you- mmm, cum soon.” He states. “Because if you cum…then I’m sure to cum, too.”
Shoving a third finger in his mouth, he moans as he sucks. You hum, “And you’re sure you’re a virgin?”
“S’just everything you t-taught me.” He insists, mouth full yet listening to every word you said - if you expected an answer, then he was giving you an answer. “And sometimes…I’d search up…things online…”
“Online? Poor, innocent Choso Kamo watches porn?”
“Not that, I get too shy.” Choso responds. He blushes all the way down to the roots of his hair, “But using my textbooks, I’d- hah, read through them…study them…look at all the diagrams…”
You smirk. “Ever jerked off to a textbook, Choso?”
His jaw drops. “No…” Although you remain rather suspicious of the ever-deepening blush that seems to invade his cheeks—all the way down to his collarbones. “But I did jerk off just today.”
“Today?” One of your brows raise, “Don’t tell me this was- hah, before we met or…?”
He shakes his head. “After. After.” Big, bulbous tears make their way down his cheeks - and Choso tastes the salt on them as they splosh across his lips. You do too, as you kiss him. “S-snuck right into the bathroom at that ice cream parlor and- oh—”
“And what for? Saw a pretty someone at the neighboring table?”
Shaking his head even harder- “It was…you.”
“Me?”
“You said that thing- fuck, you said you needed me.” Choso’s dark chocolate-brown eyes glaze over as if he’s reminiscing the very moment. Living in it. “Under that table. And I couldn’t run to the bathroom faster to r-relieve myself.” Ah, this was that time then…
Your faux-boyfriend’s brows are then knitting.
His cock tunnels into you at an even more accelerated pace - one that leaves your head dizzy. Flinching at every run of his thumb down your pulsing clit.
Choso finishes, “But I only lasted two pumps- the thought of you, ngh—” Thrusting in so deep that it felt as though, if he could go past your gooey cervix, then he long since would have. Choso thumps against the back of your cervix and remains there, “-wrapped around my cock and usin’ me to make your anterior- pussy feel pleasure was just too good of a fantasy for me.”
It’s a lewd admission.
It’s almost startling to hear this from Choso above all.
And it’s exactly what’s making you cum—just in time that he is. Your orgasm is prolonged and has been building up ever since he tickled your g-spot for the first time- “C-cumming—!” Belatedly, the announcement leaves your lips.
But Choso already knows.
He can already feel the rhythmic clenches of your sopping wet walls - the soft thing he’s ever felt. They’re tightening around him and tuggin’ on his pistoning cock like you didn’t fucking want him to leave.
Toes curling. Back arching.
The bang after bang after bang right on that target of your g-spot meant that your orgasm was being intensified. Every peak left your thighs clenching around his waist, and you bounce your hips up n’ down furiously. Up n’ down. Up n’ down. “Yes- yes, yes, yes—and you’re c-cumming too, Cho.”
“I am?” Choso blinks his teary eyes down at your lower halves. The smacking of skin-against-skin was deafening, and Choso’s pelvis was rawly red due to the sheer friction.
But more than that…he was feeling his even redder tip twitch a few times. Once. Twice. Thrice- before the warmth of bliss takes over his body. It’s a wave of euphoria even stronger than the last few, and it makes the nerdy boy flinch his hips up into yours- agonizingly good. He was hammering into you so animalistically- jabbing short, sloppy semi-thrusts. “I am.” Choso gasps out. “I’m cumming-”
He’d predicted as much earlier, but it actually worked?!
“M’filling you up, aren’t I?” Choso blabbers, a crazed smile on his face. “This virgin…I was able to stuff this pussy full.”
Lovingly patting your cunt.
“So much so that- hah, look she’s even struggling to- ngh, take me. That cervix uteri is all flooded, huh? All drenched in me?” Through the waves of your high, you’re feeling your orgasm fizzle and pop as he rolls his thumb doooown your clit a few more times. “And these pretty labia of yours are all swollen- bloated with my cum, hm?”
“Mhm…” Before you blink a few times. “Oh- this one was shorter than the last though, wasn’t it? Maybe we need to go again- heh.”
“S’it already done? I…but I’m still…” Choso jabs out numerous more thrusts before he’s pulling out.
And whilst you’re interested in the squelch! and the feeling of hot, wet cum splashin’ out of you and onto his toned hips—Choso himself is more interested in the way his cock twitched n’ feels like he’s cumming…but nothing is actually coming out.
“Orgasmic anejaculation?” He states in shock. “Baby, you’ve made me cum dry—”
“Oh.” Lips parting, you look down to watch as his pretty reddened tip jolts about irritatedly as though he was in the throes of his orgasm - and he was. It’s just that nothing was coming out.
“I-it’s likely that this is due to the lack of semen replenishment. Thus, if there’s none left to-”
“So fourth time’s the charm, right?” You cock your head down at him with a smile.
Another time?!
His half-hard length twitches in interest.
“You really are going to be the death of me.”
Choso really, really needed to ask you out after this.
.
.
.
Ryomen Sukuna knew that the two of you weren’t dating.
He knew it.
He just had no way to prove it.
That is…until one day, just a week after that initial introduction to you, Jin had bothered Sukuna into visiting his nephew. He’d made some cookies—some of your favorites that you’d briefly mentioned at the ramen place, and Jin had immediately gotten to work scouring through his recipes. Flipping through some of grandma’s old cookbooks - he really did get his love for cooking and baking from her.
And then trialing batch after batch of cookies in order to make the perfect one.
And Sukuna hadn’t minded, of course - no one in the house had. They each got to scarf down the ones that Jin deemed as ‘failed’ and they turned out as great as ever. Sukuna honestly didn’t know what more perfection Jin was searching for—especially not for someone he knew Choso was surely paying you in some manner…
There was no conceivable world in which his nephew - as much as Sukuna respected him, for the sole reason that he was related to him (and anyone in some proximity to the great Ryomen Sukuna can’t be all that bad…) - would ever have enough courage to ask a real person out. Let alone someone as electric as you?
Let alone have you say yes?!
Something was up. And Sukuna was on the case.
At least after he finishes this mountain of cookies…
Either way, it took an entire week for Jin to perfect his cookies. And once completed, he’d thumped Sukuna over the head with a couch cushion and told him to go deliver them to Choso.
Unfortunately they hadn’t managed to catch your address or anything of the sort - and there was no telling when Choso would have enough time between his studies and library-haunting to visit. Thus, it’d be easier to just have Sukuna (who was far too busy doing a whole load of nothing) drop the cookies off at Choso’s apartment and let him give it to you.
Jin could trust Choso with handing them to you safe n’ sound.
He couldn’t trust Sukuna not to swallow them whole on the way, however…
So it was with a tonne of brotherly intimidation and threatening brandishes of that cushion that Jin waved Sukuna off—‘you better not eat those cookies, Ryo.’
But Sukuna promised. He promised.
He had other, more important, things on his mind - like cornering Choso into admitting that the two of you actually weren’t dating. Maybe if he didn’t relent so easily, he’d even look around the apartment to check for signs of you or anything you’d left behind—after five months of dating, surely, there’d be some evidence, wouldn’t there?
And then maybe he’d eat the cookies- hah!
The perfect plan.
Ryomen Sukuna what a genius you were, what a mastermind—who said that Jin was the smarter brother?! It was Sukuna that liked literature and poetry (wait, was nerdiness genetic?) No one should underestimate the sheer underappreciated brilliance of a prodigy like-
“Choso’s uncle?” He gapes as you answer the door- and you’re just as beautiful as he remembered you. And oh, alright—Sukuna admits you’re beautiful. Gorgeous, actually.
Which is also why he found it hard to believe that Choso could ever manage to bag you- sure, he wasn’t bad looking…but that’s only because Choso was related to him.
Then again, he wasn’t any Ryomen Sukuna.
A Ryomen Sukuna that was feeling rather…a lot…small as he looks at you.
Your eyes widen as you recognize who your visitor was, though your smile never falters.
“Oh, Cho should be right out. Please come in, have you eaten breakfast yet? You should join us!”
Opening the door even wider, though he stands as still as a statue.
“Is…everything alright.”
No movement once more. No answer, either.
“Ummm, maybe it’s more comfortable there then?” You’re awkwardly smiling at his lack of a response - this certainly wasn’t the Ryomen Sukuna that you’d met at the family dinner…And perhaps at the same time, you’re realizing why.
Because you weren’t just answering Choso’s apartment door—you were doing so in nothing but sleep shorts and a humerus-related t-shirt that was most definitely not yours. And above the hem of that ratty t-shirt were a series of bite marks, nail marks down your neck…such an obscene display that makes you immediately yelp and tug your neckline upwards.
Though Sukuna remains gawking. “I uh…”
“I am so sorry.” You’re blubbering away, and when your neckline fails to cover you adequately without showing off the similar marks on your midriff- you’re reaching your hands up instead. “We’d just been making breakfast, and I’d completely forgot-”
“No, that’s fine uh…” Goodness, when has the rough n’ tough Sukuna ever floundered like this? “It’s my fault for coming unannounced um…”
“What’s this?” Another voice sounds from inside the apartment.
Soon enough, Choso’s joining the two of you at the door—he’s in JBA sweatpants and pulling on a t-shirt as he walks. With whatever mercy that the universe had granted Sukuna, Choso sneaks up behind you, so he doesn’t see whatever similar markings might have been left on him as Choso finally wears his t-shirt properly.
There’s amusement in Choso’s tone as he adjusts his glasses and speaks, “I never thought I’d see the day that you apologize to anyone, uncle Ryo.”
Choso throws an arm over your shoulder - the intimacy was palpable. Something far more different than at the ice cream parlor, and yet…Sukuna should’ve recognized the same admiring glint in Choso’s eyes back then, too.
The apartment behind was messy in that domestic way. There were eggs frying on the stove.
“Sh-shut it.” Sukuna spits. “This is all your…girlfriend’s fault.”
Ah, you really were his girlfriend. The great Ryomen Sukuna has been wrong. How could this be? How could he fathom such a thing?
Synopsis. Geto Suguru cannot love. Geto Suguru cannot long. Geto Suguru cannot desire to touch—and especially not a non-sorcerer such as you. Not in his past, his present, nor his future. That’s until a visit from the three ghosts of Christmas might just force him into admitting the one wish he’s been denying himself all these years: you. In his bed.
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, cuIt leader!Geto, based on A Christmas Carol (2009), canon fix-it, takes place during JJK 0, three ghosts, slight angst, hurt + comfort, TIME TRAVEL, pIot, YEARNING Geto, forbidden Iove (you’re a non-sorcerer), feraI Geto, pússydrúnk Geto, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, p sIapping, spítting, he's DESPERATE, overstím, DÚMBIFlCATION, manhandIing, matíng presses, BRÉEDlNG, mentions of kids, overspiIIing, possessive Geto, mentions of the future, creampíes, cúmpIay, confessions, second chances, getting together, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.5k
A/N. Happy holidays from Santa Tony!!
24th of December, Christmas Eve.
Geto Suguru couldn’t love you.
But that wouldn’t explain a single thing he did.
His temple’s red torii gates had a curse stationed upon either side to alert him whenever someone walked through it - those seeking his healing, yes - but one non-sorcerer above all. He couldn’t explain that. He’d ordered some of his association members to sweep that empty room just a hallway down his own on a daily basis, in anticipation of someone’s visit - an anticipation of you, unspoken. He couldn’t explain that.
He was currently seated at a long table with the closest of his association ‘family’ discussing plans for tonight. It was the very day these last ten years had been leading up to: the day he was going to put an end to non-sorcerers.
Today, the most important day of his life. Humans, the most hated kind in his heart.
And yet—there was one human in his mind.
You.
He couldn’t explain that.
Geto runs a hand through his long silken hair, letting the edges curl around his fingers like tendrils of night. Swallow him up.
He remembers how, in middle school, he used to be a source of envy for boys and girls alike because of this very hair. They’d braid it. They’d pin flowers in it. He wonders where those little human classmates of his were now. Doing well? As much as a human could. Dead? Well, after tonight…Now he can’t remember the last time he combed his own hair without Nanako and Mimiko gently sitting him down and doing it themselves, after a long while spent seeing their pseudo-father accumulate knots. Unsolvable knots.
Geto would’ve cut it all off if it didn’t mean looking in the mirror and seeing his father look back at him.
Then again, you did tell him you found his hair beautiful one time.
He lets out a subconscious sigh, and that seems to catch the attention of those around him.
“Pa—I mean! Geto-sama, you seem tired.” Nanako’s bleached hair quivers as she leans in concern, her painted lips pouting together. Her and her sister were the ones seated closest to him - on either side just like two arms. “You’re starting to get, like, eye-bags and crease lines! You should just get some rest already-”
Just as Geto was raising his hand to wave off Nanako’s worries with a smile- “It’s true, Geto-sama.” Her sister’s speaking up. The darker-haired of the twins looks at him seriously, “Don’t think we haven’t noticed that you haven’t been sleeping much these days. Are you…” She hesitates, “Are you having second thoughts-”
“Never.” Geto says, firmly. “Never.”
She breathes out and he isn’t quite sure whether it’s in acceptance or relief, “Then please remember that rest is important in any well-executed plan.”
“I don’t believe I have given you any reason to think that I should fail in my plan?” Geto asks, his simpering smile spreading across his face.
And the reactions are instant—
“No! No please do not misunderstand me, Geto-sama.” Mimiko protests.
“You would never fail us, Geto-sama-”
“I love you, Geto-sama~”
“What the twins say is true.” Miguel’s the only one to cross his strong arms across his chest, gaze piercing even though his perpetual shades. He levels a look down at Geto, “Just as we trust your leadership, Geto-sama, you have to trust that your family will be just as competent.”
Geto almost chuckles, “I know my family is competent.”
“Then let us handle the rest of it, Geto-sama!” Nanako pips up in determination, to which her twin nods fervently. “Right now all that’s left is to revise your masterful plan- so you just get some sleep and we’ll wake you up before it’s time for action!”
Their dark-haired leader makes a noise of weak dismissal, “But-”
“We promise we have it all covered!”
That particular sentence was followed by some passionate tones of agreement echoed around the room, drowning out Geto’s slight protest with ease.
He heaves out a meaningful sigh, he did admit that his eyelids were feeling heavier day by day. There was a fatigue he couldn’t explain that had taken up permanent residence in his bones - it had become one with him. He admits that part of it likely had something to do with the sleepless nights spent poring over their battle strategies, but part of it seemed to stem from something else, too…
He just wished he knew what.
Geto shakes his head free of the thought, and hopes it looks like he’s just shaking his head fondly at his family. “You all…” And with only the briefest hesitation, he’s bracing his hands upon either arm of his chair and standing up. “On Christmas eve, we will commence our widescale attack on Shinjuku including Tokyo Jujutsu High. You are to wake me one hour before the plan is to be executed, and not a single minute later.”
They breathe out sighs of relief, and Larue announces- “Anything for you, Geto-sama~!”
Geto Suguru takes one last glance behind him as he leaves the meeting room: the handful of sorcerers that he considered his true family. They pored over scraps of paper with his own neat handwriting displayed on them, reading through the perfect attack positions and hiding corners in Tokyo Jujutsu High. He would know.
They beam at him, and he can’t help but crack an easy smile back—yes, maybe this truly was the way it’s supposed to be. They would wake him up.
In the next few minutes, Geto’s walking through the sprawling corridors of his temple. Quite the large building. Quite the ancient building. Quite the secretive building - even before a maddened cult leader had come to take residence in this place.
The well-polished wooden floors seemed to creak with invisible footsteps, and towering beams held up a gilded roof. It dappled soft patterns on a garden that was now desolate and dusted with the first frost of Christmas. Those specks of nothingness lifted with a winter draft, seeping in through the cracks of the floor-to-ceiling sliding panels. Seeping inside.
From the slices of the outside that Geto could see through the panel, he spots a singular paper red paper strip tied to a nearby pine. It was one of those long vertical papers that people wrote wishes on - your work, surely. Not many people came to this temple to wish.
All he has to do is reach his arm through the half-open divider to catch the flapping wishing paper—I wish for a peaceful new year for us all (especially the ever-stressed Geto-sama!!)
Geto chuckles, before his eyes dip further.
And may my love come true.
And then his gaze narrows.
He’s not quite sure what that sudden stab of pain in his chest means - nor does he have the time and patience to ponder upon it, really. Pondering is what turns such things dangerous. It’s best to leave some thoughts untouched, if you don’t think about it then it hasn’t happened.
Somewhat.
Geto’s tearing the wishing paper off the tree and tucking it into his sleeve, striding his way into his bedroom. The only time that he actually slows down is when he passes by the bedroom that had been allocated to you.
You were Shoko’s friend before his. And to this day, he still isn’t quite sure what made you follow him to his doom that day of his defection rather than staying behind with the friends you always knew and trusted - and Geto Suguru hadn’t asked, either. He’s sure it was a long story anyways.
The only right he’d done by you was refusing to kill you.
At least until tonight, he’s not sure what will happen once his plans are thrown into motion - the eradication of all non-sorcerers, how sweet it had sounded when he first said it.
And it wasn’t as if you were entirely oblivious to his schemes, either. You were an honorary member of his association, he supposes, and he knows that most members don’t understand why you were here either. You had your own life. You had an office job. You had a family. You had connections with the outside world—and yet, when the clock hit 5PM at the end of your shift and your friends all made their excuses to go home, the only home you went to was Geto Suguru.
He still didn’t understand why. He would never.
Nor does he know why he peaks his head inside your bedroom with a knock at your door, a subtle smile spreading across his face at the vision of you on your bed and reading. “Am I interrupting?” He always said that non-sorcerers had a certain stench to them - that stench of weakness.
He’s always found that he basks in your flowery scent.
“Oh? Look who came back down to Earth.” You’re looking up from your book and smiling - far wider and far brighter than he ever could nor would deserve. “I thought you’d be locked up inside that meeting room until New Year’s.”
“If we were then we wouldn’t be able to carry out the plan.” Geto reminds you—our plan. As if you would ever concoct such a thing when it was entirely him.
“Ah, of course.” You close your book and swing your legs to place your feet on the floor with utmost casualness. Staring at him for what feels like a lingering few seconds, before you finally sigh. He never wanted that sound of tiredness to leave your mouth ever again. “Then I suppose this might be a good time to tell you that I’m leaving the temple. For good.”
He shouldn’t feel as shocked as he does, “What-”
“Oh c’mon, Suguru.” You’re still maintaining your smile, with a glint of exasperated fondness. But how could you just smile at him like that? How could you smile? Tone almost as if you were soothing a crying child and nothing more than that, “Don’t look so shocked, we both knew this day was going to come.”
Was it him? Was it he who made you sound so exhausted? “I don’t understand. The plan-”
“Constitutes that all non-sorcerers are to be eradicated for the betterment of jujutsu society.” You finish off for him, and he’s slightly taken aback by how you’ve memorized his very words. Geto never realized how many mealtimes shared with you that he must have spent talking about this plan. He never realized. The smile on your face grows slightly sad now, “And I know what you see me as.”
What? He wants to demand, but the word never comes out.
“I should’ve hoped that after ten years I- nevermind.” You’re cutting yourself off and looking away from him—and he wants to tell you to continue. He wants to. But what right does he have when he can’t even speak his mind freely himself? “I have never hoped to change you. Not then, and I certainly will not right now. But I can’t stand to have my blood stain this temple.”
You’re standing up then, and his hands reach out to you before his mind can fully compute why.
You don’t seem to notice his abrupt movement, only rounding the bed and crouching down where your bags were in the middle of being packed. “When you succeed-”
“If I succeed?”
With your back turned to him like this, he couldn’t make out the expression on your face as you continue speaking. He almost wants to walk up to you and turn you around to face him himself. “I only ask that it doesn’t have to be you personally- send someone else to kill me off. Maybe Miguel or Negi. I’ll be in Sendai.”
He clenches his jaw, that very same outreached hand now clenching at his side. “You wish to be killed by Miguel or Negi?”
“Any one of your family.” Your tone doesn’t reveal a thing, and you speak as if a silent part of Geto hadn’t been counting you amongst his family for a long, long time now. “Just not you. Not even one of your curses.”
“Just not me.” Geto repeats, hollow.
And, before, in high school he always did end up knowing the right thing to do. He always did end up knowing the right thing to say. He always did end up knowing the right thing to feel. Or, at least, what felt like it to him at the time.
But this Geto Suguru doesn’t.
This Geto Suguru is more lost than he was at seventeen.
He turns his back to you as you were doing to him, he wonders if you can hear his silent movements. Gaze lowered to the polished wood underneath his sandals, “I understand.” He takes his first step out of the human’s bedroom, it rings out emptily. Geto Suguru was never too good at goodbyes. “I will see to it that your final wish is followed.”
He hears your soft sobs follow him to his own bedroom.
.
.
.
Geto’s sleep is fitful and more painful than if he’d have stayed awake.
He doesn’t remember the walk back from your room and changing into his softest robes, but he does remember hoping that by changing his clothes, perhaps, he could shed the weight that seemed to have settled in his chest. It doesn’t quite work and he sleeps facing upright.
It hurts. It hurts.
At one point he wakes up wondering whether he should ask for Negi or someone to call for the association’s healer. At another he wakes up with his tears plastering his cheek to the pillow and he’s not quite sure why, brain sleep-muddled enough that he thinks they may have been your tears. But you weren’t here, and you will never be now.
At another point he wakes up and it’s all darkness.
Geto’s blinking his slightly swollen eyes at the void that doesn’t need to blink—what was the time? When he’d fallen asleep, the soft blush of dusk was still filtering in from his window - but right now it was darker than it would be at the pitch dead of night. Like a thick veil covering the outlines of his curtains, his furniture, his own self.
Did they forget to wake him up? Fuck- he hastens to reach out and slam a hand down on the cuboid alarm placed on his bedside table. Squinting at the darkness for a sign of those green digital numbers and—
Nothing.
Geto sits up and claws at the darkness to grab that damned clock in his hands- stupid human junk. He’s pressing every button on it that he can feel for and physically shaking it to get it to work. And yet, its dead clock face only seems to laugh and laugh and laugh at him-
“That won’t work, Geto-san!” Comes a soft, boyish voice - almost a whisper, almost the soft breath of wind that he could’ve explained away as the sounds exhaled from outside his window had it not been for the way that every single hair on his body raises. Cold fear gripping him for the first time in ten years. And Geto stills. “Time is irrelevant here.”
Because he knew that voice from anywhere.
In a movement so sharp and so primal that it nearly gives him whiplash- Geto Suguru drops the alarm and faces the foot of the bed.
Before him stands a man- a boy, more like. And the moment he sets his sights on him, Geto doesn’t know how he ever missed him.
This sudden ray of light in the night.
Grinning. Beaming.
Not only in his expression, but in every particle he was made up of. It was obviously not a person of this realm: body composed of what looked like a golden mist faintly shaping into the figure of a human, rays of light casting wherever he hovered, the flares of his existence flickering as if the darkness within Geto’s room was threatening to swallow him whole. In the hazy outline of his round face, Geto could see the warmest smile he’d seen in some time now. Other than yours. In his hand, he sees that this…thing held an oversized candle snuffer made of brass.
Past that, he could only see the semi-translucent upper half of the boy, but he already knew that his feet didn’t touch the floor. Didn’t have to. And had it been anyone but who Geto knew him to be, then he would’ve thought himself gone mad to think that this was some apparition and not a Special Grade curse.
Still, he uses his cursed technique to mentally summon every cursed being he knows - and finds that none appear before the ghost of Haibara Yu.
His entire body feels as though someone had poured ice-cold water over him.
Geto’s feet push him further and further up the mattress until he hits the wooden headboard, words coming out as if he’d just run a marathon. “You’re-” Cutting himself off with a burst of his own cursed energy, as if to exorcise this being. “You can’t be-”
The boy only grins wider.
And Geto’s voice almost breaks, “You aren’t-”
“Have you forgotten me already, Geto-san?” Brief sadness flickers in Haibara’s eyes - before he’s hovering closer to the other man, and Geto’s scrambling away from him like a madman. “I didn’t think it’s been that long.”
“It’s been ten years—” And Geto Suguru has seen dead bodies. He’s even seen dead bodies become reanimated with the help of jujutsu. But this was Haibara—young, grinning, happy Haibara with his soft eyes and his softer heart.
The Haibara that he’d welcomed with an over-the-top party on his first day at school. The Haibara that he’d share his rice with when it was too much. The Haibara that he remembered that last conversation about sweets with before his final mission. Haibara that lay cold and dead on Tokyo Jujutsu High’s examination table.
Geto was twenty-seven and Haibara was still sixteen.
That bowl-cut of his just the way he remembered - but when has he ever looked this much like a child? Or maybe it’s just Geto who’s grown up. “It’s been ten years and you’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be alive-”
“And I am not, Geto-san.” Haibara smiles sadly, and the other man wonders just why he made others make that expression. In every route of his life, in every realm.
The golden figure floats away slightly, and Geto lunges after it- “Who summoned you-”
“No one.”
“Which human practiced the occult-”
“No one.”
“What cursed technique then-”
“No one’s, Geto-san.” Haibara finally utters, just as patient as he remembered him. He floats around the corners of the room as if inspecting, “I am no one’s son.” Placing a hand on the wall that Geto’s room shared with yours, “Someone is crying here, Geto-san.”
Something wounded within Geto twitches, and he finally bows his head. He finds that he was kneeling on the mattress - when did that happen? When did his voice grow to be such a tired, dreary thing? “What do you want from me, Yu?”
“So you do remember me!” The boy gleefully laughs, hovering a full lap around the grand room before coming to a stop before the grim-faced man. And Geto almost wants to ask—how could he forget? It was hard not to look back at Haibara when he peered up at Geto in such a way, “I am the ghost of your past, Geto-san.”
“The past?” He asks, growing more and more confused by the second.
“Your past.” And before Geto knows it, the younger boy has one warm hand clasped around his. Feeling like the soft fan of early morning sunlight on his skin, he tugs Geto to his feet and leads him in the direction of the doorway. “Rise—and walk with me.”
Where Geto was sure they’d be walking out into the hallway of the temple, he blinks as they step through the door frame and finds himself…in another room entirely.
It was one that wouldn’t have looked out of place in any school, really.
Your average seats and desks. Your average windows. Your average mediocre artwork lining the walls. Your average human students that buzzed and flittered about in a way they only could when the teacher was out.
He gasps, swivelling behind him to find that the door to his bedroom had disappeared.
And in its place was an open classroom door, kids whizzing by in the corridor.
The only reason that Geto even knew that this was his middle school was because of the tiny version of him, with his feet propped on the desk like a king. Chair balanced on two legs. Handsome face raised into the air. Shoulder-length hair in the hands of one of his classmates. His father hadn’t been too far off when he claimed that his son would be popular, and it was quite the regular occurrence for him to be called out for confessions by both boys and girls - not that he paid too much attention to these fleeting emotions.
Not that he….
“I know…” Geto breathes out, barely even a whisper. There’s a knot in his throat that no amount of swallowing can deter, “I know this place…this was my old middle school.”
“Your lips are trembling.” Haibara observes, not unkindly. And as Geto turns away from him with his mouth tightened, the boy-ghost swiftly hovers to the other side of him. “And what is that? On your cheek, Geto-san?”
“Nothing.” He grits out, the back of his hand coming to swipe at his wet face. He hasn’t cried like this in ten years. Not this much. “There’s just something in my eye- it’s always so damn stuffy in this place.”
“Do you remember your days here?” The spirit asks softly.
“Remember?” Geto almost chuckles, “I live a thousand deaths reliving them.”
“Then look…” Haibara looks back and forth between the past version of Geto Suguru and the current. “I don’t remember you ever being so red, Geto-san. At least, not unless you were in the presence of her-”
They both peer at the old version of him.
“Shush, Yu.” Geto bites out, moving even closer to his flush-faced self. “I…I don’t remember myself being so red either. Who was—oh.”
His heart drops.
In a sea of faces, there are only a few that one can recognize at first glance.
To Geto, yours was right there at the top.
You were the one - undeniably the one - seated behind him. You were the one with your smaller fingers weaving through his silky hair and dividing it into sections. You were the one with an armful of flowers that you were carefully placing.
You hadn’t even been in his class-
“Isn’t young love sweet?” Haibara floats closer, pointing at the younger versions of yourselves: you, chattering on nervously as you fill the silence while braiding Geto’s hair, Geto pretending through a blush that he was registering a single word you said.
Humming absent-mindedly along, voice higher than Geto ever remembers it being.
Geto looks at him in question.
And Haibara always answers, “Those sweet middle-school memories you had? You can thank her for those- as you can thank her for many things. She wasn’t in your class, no—” And Geto wonders whether he can read his mind, “-but she did come to you at every lunchtime without fail. A friend of a friend. You two were friends by chance. You remember now, don’t you?”
His mouth parts, “I…I do-” How could he ever have forgotten?
“And you remember the day she left?” Before Geto can stop it, the background dissolves once more- except, it’s the same classroom. The same set of students. The same him.
It might as well have been the same day had it not been for one glaring absence - you.
And it was clearly affecting the Geto in the memory, as well. He seemed…dimmed. He had his head resting in his arms on the table, looking up alertly any time the classroom door opened—and then pushing right back down any time it wasn’t you. No one talked to him.
Geto looks away.
“It’s the first time you’ve been so upset, right, Geto-san?” Haibara questions, his eyes lowered with emotion. “Loss is something you’ve had to face from a young age, and I apologize-”
“You don’t need to apologize.” He almost snaps, looking back at the scene. “Her- what happened to her?”
“Family moved. Guardian’s promotion to Tokyo.” The spirit replies simply, “It was a sudden endeavor, she didn’t know it herself until it was time to leave.” And then Haibara cracks a sheepish smile, “If you thought you were upset, you should’ve seen her.”
He pleads, “But why didn’t she tell me-”
“Why didn’t you ask?” Those large eyes stare at him - once they were a beautiful brown, probing. Now they were golden. Now they were asking why he didn’t take the time to probe you, to know you, to even know what middle school you’d gone to-
“I didn’t…I didn’t remember-” Geto’s breath hitches, he felt the tears coming on once more.
Haibara wraps an arm around his dark-haired friend’s shoulder, “It’s understandable. It was just that summer that you discovered your cursed technique, Geto-san, I wouldn’t blame you. And you shouldn’t blame yourself.” He then attempts to put his arm around the other man’s shoulders, but ends up floating right through.
“I want to leave.” He whispers, and Haibara looks at him curiously. “Show me something else. Please.”
Haibara nods, but he looks at the past memory once again. “Poor, poor boy.”
Geto doesn’t know which version of him he’s talking about.
The golden spirit then reaches down to clasp Geto’s hand once more, now trembling and pale. “Come on…let’s see another past.” And Geto feels his surroundings melt away into nothingness and something entirely new once more
This time when he met you for the first time.
Well, when he met you again for the first time.
“—and this is Geto Suguru.” Shoko gestures towards the black-haired boy, slightly loose in his uniform. Ah yes, Geto remembers that she’d been the one to conduct the introductions between him and you, her best friend from her Tokyo middle school.
And he could see it only now, that slight sparkle of recognition in your eyes.
Mixed with the vagueness of something else the second he’d stuck his hand out in a fresh new introduction.
Something sad.
“Pleasure to meet you.” The past version of himself purrs, hair not pulled back in a bun as it had come to be in his second year. This was just a few months since he’d started at Tokyo Jujutsu High, he remembers, and the greenery of the campus grounds had never looked more lush. Everything had been alive those two springs. “Ieri here has talked a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope.” You’d managed out a smile, and now he wonders how.
“Only.”
Shoko wrinkles her nose, “Don’t get caught up with this one, when he breaks your heart I’ll have to break his nose and Yaga would give me detention for that. Don’t wanna break my streak just yet.” His past self protests, though his current can only bitterly chuckle at the truth.
The short-haired girl then catches a flash of blue and white in the corner of her vision and groans, “And here comes the other one. He’s almost worse and will definitely hit on y-”
They’re flicking through more memories, remnants of such.
You’d hung out with the three of them sporadically after that. Geto sees the party they’d thrown for the first-years, Nanami and Haibara. Geto sees parts of missions he can’t remember—and then parts of a mission he can. The Star Plasma Vessel. Geto sees his last moments with Haibara, and when it looked like the spirit of his dead friend was about to stop on one particular moment where he’d first seen Haibara’s dead body- Geto reaches out and shakes his head.
To which Haibara had smiled sadly and kept going.
Ultimately, they stop on a busy road in Tokyo.
It was here that a younger him, donned in all black and keeping his head lowered, was weaving against the crush of the crowd. Step by step. Heartbeat by heartbeat. Unsure which one was the harder feat to accomplish.
Geto knew this moment. But he doesn’t remember it being so dim in this memory.
There was a trembling in his lip that he’d never noticed as Geto walked away from jujutsu society that day, walked away from his one and only best friend.
“Are you The Strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re The Strongest?”
It was a long walk alone.
At least, until he’d bumped into…you.
“Watch where you’re-” The current Geto hovers nearby, seeing the exact moment that you look up and let your eyes widen in recognition. And as Geto turns to step aside and keep on walking- you’d reached out and clasped him by the fabric of his sweater. “Wait- wait, Suguru?” It’d been some time since he’d started spiralling, since you’d all hung out together - but you wouldn’t mistake that face for the world. “Where are you going looking like that? Why do you look so—”
Sad.
Geto now realizes it’s what you’d been trying to ask.
Instead, you’re questioning. “Are you alright?”
But he’d turned back to you with only a dead smile. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”
“I don’t know- Shoko told me you’ve just been a little…” You trail off, and he’s sure you’d been briefed well enough by your friend. Holding up the snacks in your hands. “I’m actually going to meet her right now, would you like to come with me?”
“I’m afraid not today.” He tilts his head, turning to leave once more.
But you hadn’t let up- gripping his soft fabric again. “Where are you going?” Perhaps feeling that you’d simply been asking too many questions, you blurt on. “Actually- it doesn’t matter, just take me with you!”
To this day, he doesn’t know why you’d asked to come with him. It’s what led to this in the first place.
He turns to Haibara with his mouth open in a question-
“Why?”
Geto snaps his head to his past version, he doesn’t remember this part.
“Wh-what?” You ask nervously.
“Why?” The younger him repeats.
“Because…” And his ghostly self was on edge awaiting your answer, knowing the him in this memory was far too much of a mess to remember. The metallic packets in your hand rustle as you squeeze them tighter, “Because it looks like you could use something to eat.”
He wants to reach out and touch you—he does. But his hand passes right through you, and Haibara clasps it instead.
“It is now-” He starts, his soft sibilance. “-it is here, that I leave you.”
“Wait-” Geto clamors forwards as the other man reaches for the candle snuffer that had been in his other hand this entire time, fingers gliding right through the mist of his body as he tries to stop his friend’s spirit. Perhaps to bind him to him. “Wait a minute, Yu-”
He only smiles sadly, “We will meet again, Geto-san.”
“No-” Geto feels his throat run ragged, “But there are so many more things I need to tell you- so many more things I need to ask you—did you suffer then? Are you suffering now? Please know that I’m sorry-”
“We will meet again.”
“Yu, don’t leave me—” He cries, “I miss you—”
“And just as I miss you, every candle must go out some time, Geto-san.” The top of Haibara’s bowl cut disappears beneath the brass, the only thing that one could see of him was his smile. He attempts to embrace him, but his arms go right through him. “Everything good and painful must come to an end.”
Darkness.
.
.
.
Light.
Blue.
Aquariums.
It’s the only thing that Geto sees at first, and though he can’t see it - he can feel the scorching summer sun basking down on him. It covered him entirely and birthed a glow behind his squinted eyelids. Gentle, at first, though slowly growing more painful the longer it lingered on his skin. Like a kiss grown too fierce.
Push and pull, the sighs of the waves.
When was the last time he’d been to the beach?
“Not in about ten years, stupid.” Oh.
Now that voice was harder to pinpoint than Haibara’s had been, though nevertheless striking a wound in him that he thought he’d bandaged up quite well all those years ago. It seems he wasn’t quite well at licking his wounds after all.
Geto hastily blinks his vision back and takes in the sight of none other than Riko Amanai before him. It was like a vision.
He remembers it all: the Okinawa beaches, the aquariums, the sound of a gunshot. The same black hair in pigtails. The same school uniform. The same wide dark eyes of hers that danced with mirth. The only start difference now was in the way she held a flaming torch in one hand, casting fiery shadows on the whirling aquariums around them. She wasn’t quite the candlelit vigil that Haibara had been, though something about her seemed much…grander than he remembers her being. As if he’d shrunk before her.
Geto’s eyes shift from her glowing figure to the taller woman next to him—ah, he does remember that she had a caretaker with her. Though her name he cannot remember.
“Misato Kuroi.” The older woman speaks, and even now she seems so much wiser than him. Was he getting close to her age? She shoots him a wry smile, “Though I do not blame you for forgetting, I bet you not to speculate my age.”
“M-my apologies.” He utters out.
“Haaaaah?” Riko drags out in a disbelieving tone, her eyes going wide with surprise. “Whaddaya mean you’re just gonna apologize like that? You were so much more fun back then- hmpf, now you’re like an old man-”
“Riko-san, please.” Misato begs.
And Riko quietens down, though she does not completely stop her grumbling. And though Geto might have been somewhat stunned into silence at first, he can’t help but plant a palm down on the girl’s head and ruffle her hair. Was she always this tiny? “No no- she’s right. I have become an old man as of late, haven’t I?”
Riko turns away from him with a harrumph and a string of muttered words.
“What’s that? Could almost hear ya.” Geto teases.
And she responds slightly louder, in a slightly choked-up tone. “And you’ve gotten all those dark circles and worry lines! You just look so tired- hmpf, old man.”
“Is that so?” Geto playfully asks, but he looks up at Misato who’d been examining.
“I’m afraid to say she’s right, Geto-san.” Misato sadly replies with a slightly bitter smile. “These ten years have been hard for you, haven’t they?”
He feels something clog up in his throat, and instantly looks away.
It’s Misato who first breaks the silence - still seemingly the only adult in the room, even after all this time. How ironic was that? “But that’s exactly what we’re here to help with, aren’t we, Riko-san?”
She places both hands on the shoulders of the girl with the torch, and lightly nudges her forward. “I guess…” The little girl sighs, looking at him meaningfully. “We’re the ghosts of your present. We represent peace, love, and the present—yours.”
Peace and love? Geto has the sudden thought that his present likely had none of that, though he keeps it to himself. He’s sure they can read his mind either way. “Take me wherever you want then, spirits.”
Riko and Misato look at each other.
She’s then raising the curdling torch as high as her arm could reach, casting an oasis of yellow on the glass of the aquariums around them. Aquariums—Geto has memories of those during his time on Okinawa. His first and his last.
“Touch the glass.” Riko announces.
And Geto doesn’t waste a second of his present.
The moment the edge of his fingertips rests on the cold glass, it feels as if he’s drowning. He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He can’t feel anything but the wash of water down his entire being as though a shower that had burst, as though he’s standing underneath a waterfall, as though he’s being dragged through a pool of cold water and ending up on the other side.
He gasps as soon as the water trickles away and he can finally take his breath.
“Wh-what the hell was that?” He sputters out, still feeling the faux water in his lungs. Looking down at himself to realize that not a single inch of him was actually wet- “That was the most unpleasant feeling-”
“Oh shut it, old man.” Riko interrupts, “And look.”
“Look whe- oh.” All he has to do is look up to know where he is. If his middle school classroom wouldn’t have looked out of place in any other school, then this particular one wouldn’t have looked in place anywhere but in Tokyo Jujutsu High.
It was the second years’ classroom.
Open space. Blackboard. Scuffed floor. Where the last remnants of the sun melted over the horizon and bled through the open windows, casting a glow on every wooden chair and desk. Ones that he was sure had his name doodled on some of them, along with a few more salacious drawings from his youth.
But Geto isn’t searching for them right now, he lets his eyes stay only to the man seated on the chair closest to the window. Legs propped up in a way that he’s surely gotten told off for before, balancing the chair on two feet as he looked at the sunset outside.
Gojo Satoru’s sadness was palpable even with his blindfold on.
“Satoru…” Geto takes a step forward, but there almost felt as though there was an invisible screen between the two of them. And he could not go any further.
Misato held him back with a kind hand on his shoulder, “Keep watching.”
Gojo rests in his contemplative silence, and he doesn’t know whether he’s seen his best friend brooding such as this ever before. Well…other than on the day he left. There was such sadness about being The Strongest.
There’s a soft knock on the door and the three beings from the other realm turn to see Shoko there. Her dark circles heavier than ever. “I see you’re taking your teaching duties with utmost seriousness.” She deadpans.
“Why, you know~” Gojo starts off. Before the smile falls from his face and he turns to the window once more, “He’ll be here tonight.”
“He will.”
“And the students-”
“Your students will be fine.” Shoko reassures, walking up to her longtime friend. She keeps a desk between them and takes a seat, gliding the tips of her fingers down the shaky engraving of her name on the wood. The empty desk stood loudly between them.
“I know.” Gojo sighs, “It’s not them.”
“Then?”
“It’s just…” And Geto has never seen the Gojo Satoru trail off a sentence, Geto has never seen Gojo Satoru struggle to put something into words. “It’s just the students that we were-”
Shoko waits patiently for his answer, and so does Geto.
But the only thing that Gojo’s doing is to bark out a laugh, so bitter. “How did it come to this, Shoko? What a way to spend Christmas eve.”
“Satoru.” Shoko looks away from her best friend, reaching deep in her pockets for a cigarette. Each occupant in that room right now startles at the sound of her phone starting to ring, and she looks at the screen before walking away. “Your students need you.”
A second knock rings out, and Geto only needs to hear his soft, stuttering voice to know that it’s that Yuta Okkotsu kid. Him and his curse.
His fists clench.
“Touch the glass, Geto.”
He does, and the scenery melts.
Whizzing past glimpses and gazes into the lives of the newest set of first years at the school, and then the association members right now who were planning pillage.
Until finally they stop. It’s the same sunset that reaches out through windows that are much narrower and of a darker wood than before…and yet a completely different room. He recognizes it to be the ones at the rooms of his temple, and never realized just how much more dreary they were in comparison to the sprawling windows at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
More specifically, he realizes he’s in your room.
Bags packed. Closet empty. You’re staring out the window.
Like a little lark aching to break free. You have your phone held against one ear, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that might have once-upon-a-time been his and a pair of underwear that makes his face heat. “Yeah…yeah, mhm…I know. I don’t think that it’s something I regret, Shoko.” Ah—Geto doesn’t think that he’s surprised it’s Shoko on the other end of the line. He knew that the two of you still met up occasionally, though you were always good at keeping the place of his hideout secret. “Yes, I would choose to go with him all over again.”
As you walk through your room you’re running your hands through the flat surfaces and crevices. Slight shadows of the items that had been here, you thumb over them sadly.
“No, you don’t need to pick me up- I can take a taxi, I promise.” You slightly chuckle, he doesn’t think he’s heard you laugh like that in a long time. “Of course I’m coming to see you first, who do you think I am?”
You stop before a stash of snacks you always had to share with some of the association, to share with Geto.
“I can’t wait.”
“What are we doing here?” Geto quietly asks, though he knows why.
“Keep listening.” Misato insists.
You’re turning your profile slightly to the side and oh…you have never looked more beautiful in his eyes. Even with the slight swelling around your eyes. “Why I did it?”
Geto feels his heart race.
“Because I love him, of course.”
Geto feels his heart drop.
He wanted to reach out to you.
He wanted to hold you.
And you’re sighing as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had just been lifted off of your shoulders, as if you hadn’t just uttered a sentence that had slid the world out from underneath his feet. You turn back to your feet and say, “I honestly think I’ve got everything covered but I need to buy your Christmas gift still and—”
And it just sounds like everything is underwater now.
Geto turns to Riko in a panic- “But I didn’t even touch the-”
“Don’t be greedy, old man.” She knits her brows and pretends to be cross, before breaking out into such a sad smile. “It’s time, Geto.”
And before Geto knows it, she’s lunging forwards and wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. He doesn’t feel it, and he doubts she does either, considering the way her otherworldly arms seem to glide right through him.
But to him, it’s enough.
“Thank you, Geto Suguru.” Riko whispers, audible even above the pressure of bubbles and water and something mystical roaring in his ears. It increases and increases. It swings his body around. “For everything.”
Misato pats him the same way on the shoulder, “You will do great, Geto-san.”
He looks up at the two with tears in his eyes, movements slow as if he was engulfed in a bathtub right now. “Thank—”
Before the glass seems to shatter, and suddenly he can do nothing.
Darkness.
.
.
.
Light.
But the sort of light grey where it was the sun peeking out tentatively through the clouds as though a harried mother with a lantern: knocking on doors, calling out in garbled vain, seeking help from anyone that could help her find her missing son.
But he’d been long buried.
Geto Suguru stands before a grave.
He doesn’t know which cemetery this is - certainly nothing in Tokyo, nothing near where he’d buried his parents’ bodies himself. Just as he had killed them. It seems rather to be some sort of unmarked patch of land, where even the memories of souls went to die. Deader than dead. Darker than night. Done deal.
He looks around in alarm and finds that he wasn’t alone, beside him but unknowing that they were: Gojo Satoru, Shoko Ieri, Masamichi Yaga, and you. All of you with the surroundings to your eyes swollen and the whites within all red.
He could tell you all had been crying.
Yet another tear slips from behind Gojo’s mask.
You’re sobbing into your hands.
Gojo rests an arm around your shoulder and brings you soothingly to him, to which Geto can’t believe that he feels that stab of selfish jealousy. He wants to touch you. He wants to touch you. He wanted to touch you.
He’s wrenching his eyes away from the tragic sight and surveying his surroundings - it really was a dead place. Dreadful. It wouldn’t have been made more joyous a setting had it been a birthday celebration thrown there instead. Behind the solitary tree in the distance that stuck out like a spindly hand from the ground was Nanako and Mimiko, watching the procession hidden.
He wonders why they were—behind him, a hooded figure.
Nothing but a shadow grown from his own. He could see no face, he could feel no emotion, he could feel no warmth. So this must be the ghost of his future.
Even in the distance, he could smell the metal tang of mortals without cursed energy milling about with their lives. Humans.
“Spirit…” Geto rasps out, somewhat shocked that his voice was working in the first place. “Who is the man lying in this grave?”
There’s a sudden crash! of thunder as if the sky was collapsing in on itself. There’s a sudden gale of wind as if the world itself was howling in laughter at his question- and Geto’s thrown against the sheer force of it, just as the hooded figure’s skeletal hand stretches out and points directly at the emotionless gravestone. Blank.
Words write themselves into the stony slab, in a script that only Geto seemed to be able to see - for no one in the funeral procession moved an inch.
It writes—
Geto Suguru.
“No…” Geto’s voice leaves him. He whirls around to face the masked figure, “It’s me- it’s me—and yet, why show me the memories of my past and present if I am to die? Why give me false hope that I may change?”
And with another clap of thunder, the rest of the writing reveals itself.
Born: 3rd of February, 1990.
“I am not the man I was-” Geto seethes, feeling as though his sanity was starting to slip him. The spectre doesn’t show any sign of hearing his pleas, he fights against the icy winds. “I am not the man I once was and I demand you answer my one question- are these the shadows of things that may be? Or the shadows of things that will be?”
Until the storm trundles its last line.
Died: 24th of December—
Geto feels his blood run cold.
Tonight. He was to die tonight.
He blinks again and none of you all are here, the only thing that greets him is the sight of the ground splitting up where his grave was meant to be—opening up for him. A gaping abyss. A maw of death. Its splintering reaches the tips of his very feet, and the dark-haired man stumbles precariously- struggling not to fall inside-
A bony hand on his shoulder steadies him. Death-cold.
Geto looks back slowly as the ghost of his future tugs back on his hood.
To reveal the spitting image of…Geto Suguru. His mirror reflection, if a little more menacing, with a strange line of stitches decorating the top of his forehead. It was himself.
And it was he who pushes himself into the grave.
He who sees the shreds and snippets of more grief, and new students, and a pink-haired boy with immense power much like his, and a shutdown in Shibuya, the deaths of his daughters, something a far greater danger than he was, you running into Gojo’s arms once he’s unsealed, more grief, grief, grief, grief, death, death, death, death, death.
Darkness.
.
.
.
Light.
He wakes up in a cold sweat to the light of the hallway, Nanako and Mimiko who had arrived to wake him up in time for his attack.
The first thing that Geto Suguru does after waking up from death is hug his daughters long and tight and promise them that everything will be okay. The second thing he does is cancel his plans to wage war on all non-sorcerers.
The third thing he does is run to your room.
.
.
.
You’d walked all the way up to your door with your packed bags when Geto Suguru had flung it open.
Your eyes snap down to the creaking door hinges—you were sure you’d locked it shut earlier in the night. Unsure you could handle more of this very man you loved walking inside.
But here he was.
Towering at your door frame.
Heaving hard enough that this breath tickles your face.
Looking as if he’d just seen a ghost-
“S-Suguru?” You ask with bated breath, and he’s snapping his eyes up to meet yours in an instant. The pure animal thrill that runs down your spine barely even has the time to register before Geto’s predatory body lunges towards you-
Your bags are on the floor.
Your knees are hitting your bed.
Falling backwards with Geto’s feverish body on top of yours.
Pouncing on you like an animal that’d just cornered his prey, gasping straight into the crook of your neck. He noses down the column of your throat and driiiiiiinks you in, mouth watering at the mere scent of you. “Please-” It’s a garbled, choked up groan that sends zaps of electricity straight to where your pussy was growing wet. “Please let me-”
“Yes—” You’re breathing out, heart hammering at your chest. You weave your fingers into Geto’s sweaty black locks like all those years ago, “Yes yes yes-”
“Fuck.” And he flinches as if your very confirmation sets his entire body on fire.
Rapid, ravenous fire. In absolutely no time, Geto’s shoving you further up the bed with his pawing hands and spreading your shaky legs wide open.
You never realized he was just so strong until you had both of Geto Suguru’s roughened hands pinning your thighs to the mattress. Unmoving even a single inch with him. Merciless.
You were in this cute lil’ skirt that you’d thrown on right before leaving, and he’s rip-rip-riiiiiipping it straight off of you with absolutely no care or concern as to whether the noise would echo out until the other association members would hear.
Throwing it somewhere over his shoulder, he’s pinning your shifting hips down and shoving his pretty face nose-deep into your clothed cunt. “M-mmmpf! Suguru-”
“Wanted to do this for so long.” He rasps out, voice just a slightly higher pitch as if he himself couldn’t believe it. Geto isn’t using his tongue on you immediately, he’s sticking the prominent line of his nosebridge between the crevice of your cunt and simply spending his time sniffing at your wet pussy.
Just so filthy.
You gasp as you feel the cold breeze of him taking in your dewy scent and groaning at the perfume of it. “Wh-what are you-”
“Wanted to do this for so long.” Merely repeating, you’re then shut up by the vertical sensation of his nose rubbin’ up and down that sopping slit. Aaaaaall the way from the bottom to the top where your throbbing clit was. Letting the sheeny wetness of your juices seep right through your panties and drench him already, “For so long for so long f-for—”
And then a speck of your slick falls into his mouth, and the very first time Geto’s tasting your pussy he’s stuttering. Voice breaking.
The Geto Suguru who could hold speeches before the tens of thousands in his association without a hitch - he was tasting your pussy through your drenched underwear and going absolutely speechless. Thoughtless.
Simply moving on pure animal instinct as he bites down on the thin fabric with a snarl- tearing right through your panties to get to your naked pussy. Exposing it all for him to see and admire and spit down on.
Exposing it all for him to lean down and press a hot, open-mouthed kiss on top—mwah!
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
And the fourth is what it takes for Geto to reach his limit and shove the tip of his pinkish wet tongue between your swollen pussylips. Like two more puckered lips kissin’ him back, Geto’s moaning primally at the back of his throat the moment he feels your tight hole start to squeeze him—so tight that he might not even fit-
“Wanted to f-fit inside so badly.” He gasps out thickly, drool glimmering down either side of his lips. You almost have half the mind to ask whether Geto Suguru was pussydrunk already, “Always dreamt about fitting inside your pussy like this-”
“F-fuuuuck, Suguru.” You’re whining, back throwing in the air into the perfect curvature.
And Geto only holds down one side of your hips and keeps you pinned down to his face, using your bouncy flinches to fuck your pussy back down on his face. “Always wondered how tight you’d squeeze me. Always wondered what it’d f-feel like to have you ngh- wet on my face like this-”
“You seriously have the filthiest mouth—” You gasp, blinking down at him through your tears. “What do you even mean ‘always’-”
“Always.” He emphasizes, leveraging your hips down to drag against his attractive features. It leaves a snail-trail of glittery slick that drips down the point of his nose- and Geto feels your velvety walls clench down on his tongue in resistance one last time before he’s fishing his tongue back out.
Making you shiver with the sudden emptiness, you’re just starting to miss his hot girth inside of you before his fingertips come back down—smack! Soothing over the sting that makes you yelp, he hisses out as if the strike had hurt a part of him as well. “Always being…” You wait for his answer with your heart thundering at your throat (and your pussy). “-since I ever even knew what eatin’ out a pussy was.”
“Oh—” You’re blubbering out stupidly when Geto ruthlessly pulls your pussylips aside with his two fingers.
Stretchin’ your hole out to take his fat tongue with absolutely no practice- merely letting his slimy crown slip inside before bashing and bashing every inch of your walls he could reach. “Always wanted it to be- hah, you- your pussy.” Geto’s blabbering out between every rapidfire thrust of his tongue, grunting between every breath as if moving away to even breathe was painful. “Ridin’ my face just like this, mmmmm.”
The most lecherous slurps! and sounds kept on pouring out of you - ones that you didn’t even know were possible for you to make.
It rings out in the cozy bedroom like a backtrack that he wanted to record as his favorite song - his girl’s pussy. “Yeahhh, always wanted to get that pussy o’ yours to speak up t’me- heh.” Pistoning your tight channel with his rugged tongue, “Always wanted to let my tongue speak fer itself. Always wanted to memorize all your pussy’s sweetest spots just right.”
Just then you’re hiccuping as he swabs a spot besides a particular bundle of nerves, making sobs clog up in your throat. “O-oh, Suguru!”
“Yeah- always wanted to have you moan my name like that, ngh.” Grumbling out, the tips of his long canines end up snagging on your tender folds and making you sob. “Always wanted—fuck.”
A pin-pricking sensation that made you gush out in even more arousal against his face, drenching him all the way down to the bedsheets. “Suguru, I think you’re getting exactly what you wanted-”
“Not quite.” He growls out, and your mind gets thrown into a frenzy by the sheer amount of vibrations travelling up from your treacly cunt. Geto stares you deeply in the eyes with his dark, dilated pupils as he finishes off—“If I could have it exactly how I wanted it, then every man before me would be here and watching just how much I ruin you, gorgeous.”
The very tip of his flexible tongue just grazes your g-spot and makes you cry out, “You’re almost there- a-almost there, just a bit to the left-”
“I know.” Geto grins - and you can feel it against your sopping wet lips. “You think I didn’t read up on this years before?”
And in absolutely no time, Geto has his tongue plunging back out of your snug channel- though, not without a few more pushes n’ pulls that leave you reeling. Almost as if he couldn’t bear to part with his greedy maw with your pussy just yet.
Before completely spittin’ on your cunt and shoving two of his slender fingers inside your hole.
It’s a direct hit. Gliding all down your walls before you’re finally ending up with the cult leader’s knobbly fingertips pushin’ down on your g-spot as if it was nothing but a cute button for him to toy with. “I’ve always wanted to eat this fuck- pussy of yours out, and you think I didn’t do a little bit of reading up?” He’s gurgling out, lips plastering onto your clit. “Of course I did- of course I did.”
“You did you did—!” You’re whining out, your jaw dropping straight down to hit your chest with the way he had you fucked stupid with his fingers.
And he seriously did.
His honed digits were drag-drag-draaaagging viciously back and forth, letting the curves of his joints massage your velvety walls whilst he hit your nerves constantly like a target. “Always wanted to be the best this cunt’s ever- ngh, kissed. Always wanted t-to mark my spot out so you can feel me messin’ up your pretty insides even when m’not eating you out. Always wanted to eat you out until I’ve lapped every other man away from inside you-”
“Y-you don’t have to worry about them, Suguru.” You gasp out, face twitching with pleasure when that only makes him plunge and pull his lengthy fingers even harder in response.
And Geto knows you’re simply talking about anyone else simply in response to his own words - but that doesn’t stop the irrational stab of jealousy. He attempts to fuck you dumb, but you’re stubbornly digging the feels of your feet into the sheets and bucking. “You don’t have to worry about a single one because-”
“Because—?”
“They’ve never made me cum.”
Oh.
Oh.
And you’ve never quite felt anything like the way that the utterly ruined look in Geto’s eyes made you feel. A zap of something carnal shuddering down your spine.
Before Geto’s tuggin’ his hand back to pry aside your soaked pussylips- before he’s pursuing his now-swollen lips and spitting- before he’s filling up every single orifice inside of you by thrusting back in not just two, not even three, but four of his incredible fingers.
You’re shrilling out at the stretch that makes you see stars behind your lids, pupils swirling within the whites of your eyes.
And Geto’s dark brows knit together, a thin line of sweat trailing between them as he gluttonously stares down at the way your hole was just stretched so wiiiiiide-wide-wide for him. “Fit.” He spits through a growl, “Fucking fit-”
“S’going in—” You’re mewling out, your head throwing back into pillows that were now drenched with your sweat. “Oh- oh my god, it’s going in-”
“Want it to.” Geto echoes out broken fragments of his usual mantra, “Need it to- I’ve been talking s’much about what I want, but this is what I need.” He just sounded so desperate—a man begging with his shattered throat.
He’s lavishing his tongue down along the slit of your pussy and rollin’ sweetly over your clit- making the sharp bolts of pleasure shock you into taking him inch by solid inch. Only faintly aware in his mind that you were struggling to take his sheer size, “Always wanted you to take f-four of my fingers. My lucky number. Always wanted you to fit all of my- ngh- dick—”
“Wha’s that gotta do with fitting four fingers, Suguru?” Stupidly questioning, your head lolling from side to side as he ruts from within.
And for that your naughty pussy gets a gooood spank.
“How else would you fit my cock inside if you can’t even fit my fist?”
And was he fitting his—no, you’re finding out that that was all just a tactic to disarm you into looking down. Into locking sights with your glistening wet pussy in the exact moment that Geto Suguru shovels all four of his fingers inside with just the loudest, most lecherous sound.
He’s on your cunt immediately- lapping up every stray bead of slick that sprays out of you, sliding his puffy lips down your slit and at your gooey orifice where you were taking his mean fingers, gluing ‘round your clit and sucking.
Geto’s handsome cheeks hollow around that sensitive nub and you sob, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face. “Sh-shit- Suguru, I don’t think m’gonna last too long…”
To that he doesn’t even answer.
Only increasing his sloppy ministrations until you can barely even keep a grip on his hair-
His free hand reaches out to hold you down onto his scalp- almost as if he was telling you to go wild using him. “You want me to…” He merely nods at your wobbly question, nose crinkling in carnal amusement at the surprised look on your face. Grabbing two handfuls of Geto’s long, beautiful hair you’re using it as leverage to properly fuck your honeyed cunt back, back, back into him. “Please- p-please let me cum-”
As if he’d do anything but.
Anything but eat your pussy out like a madman. Drilling every inch of his fingers inside you and swervin’ those calloused buds around and around. Smoothing out each tiny crevice. Bruising them. Letting them memorize the pattern of his unique fingerprint—
With a few more vulgar strokes, you’re finally toppling over the edge of your high. “Cumming-” You sing out, your bed creaking in synchronization with the way you were rutting back needily onto his face. “Cumming cumming cumming-” Chasing your high.
“Mmmm—” Geto’s purposefully moaning around your clit and making your body shake with your orgasm. “Always wanted-”
“Yes yes yes-” Hiccuping through your tears, your heartbeat thumps away in your ears. It felt like every droplet of blood in your body had amplified and suddenly you were about to burst with pressure.
“Always wanted to-”
Tears roll uncontrollably down your cheeks at the way he somehow managed to strike your g-spot precisely during the peaks of your orgasm- making the waves of bliss last longer and overtake you. “Yes- keep going keep going-”
“Always wanted to make you cum a second time in my mouth.”
You gasp, “What?”
But the only answer you’re getting is Geto’s strong arms manhandling you deeper against his face and lashing his slick-glazed fingers into your deepest depths. Zig-zagging inside. Scissoring two by two apart so your cunt’s stretched out like never before.
These prolonged digits were just so stretched in your dewy juices by now that it made it easy for Geto to move them back and forth at a blurring pace. “Always wanted it-” He gasps, that sinful mantra again that you knew didn’t bode well for your sanity. “Always wanted to have you o-overstimulated enough that you- mmm, cry.”
“But I already am-”
“Overstimulated enough that you can’t even remember your own name—”
“Oh, fuck…” You whimper.
Though you were slowly getting there with each ravenous rut of Geto’s digits. As he’s pinning you down and fishing your most delicate spots with his fingers, you feel those spit-slicked lips of his wrap around your clit. “And you only hafta- mmm-” He groans out against that sensitive nub, the mushy tip of his tongue drawing out what seemed like an obvious ‘G.S.’ on your clit. “-remember my name- because s’what you’ll be taking, anyway.”
And you don’t even realize that you’re crashing right into your second high of the night until Geto’s eyes seem to light up. A soft chuckle leaving him-
“Always knew you could do it.” He fingers you ruthlessly through that one, too. Puckered fingerpads ending up at your g-spot between each wave of bliss, almost glued there. “Always knew- fuck. And what’s your name, gorgeous?”
“M-my name?” You’re babbling out eyes dazed and merely taking the oncoming pleasure.
“Mhmm—your name, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit with his free hand, “Now.”
“I can’t…” Pouting out in a way that he just found too cute, “I can’t seem to remember-” Your mind was truly hazed, sparking uselessly and registering nothing but the feeling of his fingers and mouth. Just too good.
“Oh, you’re dumbified alright-” He titters, finally letting go of your treacly cunt once he feels your high bate. Geto removes his mouth with a soppy mwahhhh- “My poor girl can’t even remember her own name- s’alright, I’ll teach you.”
You squirm, “Y-you will?”
“Yeah.” Geto pins your restless hips down and raises himself - face all flushed and lacquered with a clingy few layers of your sap. It dribbles down the edge of his chin as he kisses you firmly on the mouth, “Say it w’me now-”
“Mhm—”
“Mrs. Geto Suguru.” At least you would be in the future he’s creating.
Oh, he was just mean. And you’re whining helplessly into the kiss when he bites down on your lower lip with his sharp canines, blubbering some jumbled repetition of—“M-mrs. Geto- ngh, Suguru.”
“My good girl.”
Geto pulls away and finally starts shedding the rest of his clothing- to which you motion to try and do the same for yourself, but he’s merely stopping your hands then and there. Then and there teeeearing down that t-shirt of yours that was really his, and unhooking your bra with a single motion behind your back-
“S-seriously, what’s gotten into you tonight, Suguru?” You’re gasping out as the cold night air hits your exposed body and makes your nipples harden.
He’s placing two singular kisses on both your tits before answering, “Let’s just say, mmm, I saw the future.”
“Saw the future?” You gape - could someone really get this pussydrunk? Maybe he’d actually gone mad…“Suguru, are you oka-”
“No.” Taking care of the robes that he’d worn to bed, you’re realizing that Geto wasn’t wearing underwear once he discards of that singular soft layer. And it wasn’t exactly a secret that Geto Suguru was positively chiselled - you knew that sort of vigorous strength and agility training that he did. Had to do.
So it was not much of a surprise to you once you see his firmly toned pecs, flinching slightly at the cold. His washboard abs. His meaty thighs. His Herculean body that was covered in a thin film of sweat that made him look almost otherworldly.
You’re not even done gawking at the muscular rest of him before a sudden glimmer of creamy precum makes your gaze drop down to…his cock.
Standing upright.
Rock-hard and veiny.
The most furious red shade on his tip.
The excess of his precum coating him n’ all his veins in a glistening sheen.
The slightest tufts of messy black at his base, from which Geto’s greedy balls throbbed. He was so hard that it looked like it physically hurt. That globular tip of his smacked the front of his abs and left a splotchy wet smear that you almost wanted to lick away, and you’re mindlessly reaching forwards to do so when-
“And did you know what I saw in the future, gorgeous?” Geto’s gruff voice startles you out of your little reverie, making you shake your head ‘no’. He then places two hands on your hips to drag you down the bed and meet his toned hips, “Well- heh, I can’t really tell you that yet, my girl. But I’ll tell you what I didn’t see…”
Your mind was absolute mush and you’re trilling. “Wh-what was that, Suguru?”
“You. Pregnant.”
He puckers his red, thickened cockhead against your hole. Slightly rutting against it like an animal.
“So how about we fix that?”
And then he’s pumping in just the first inch of his thiiiick reddened cock, making your plush hole stretch out into the same wide ‘o’ that he was fucking your cunt into. His bulging tip. The meanest kiss.
Geto feels the hotness of your pussy clench ‘round him and grooooans, letting his head fall in front of him to cover the two of you with his inky black hair like a curtain. “O-oh.” His entire heaving body wracks with shivers, as if merely the first feeling of your cunt broke him. Goosebumps prickle across every inch of his skin. Cock pulsating inside you a mile a minute. “Fuck, your pussy’s so good. Your pussy’s so good I almost forgot how badly I wanted to do this-”
“Do what—oh.” The words are barely out of your mouth before Geto’s hands are on you.
Like never before, he’s gripping your thighs so hard that it’s almost painful. Feeling his neat crescent nail marks embed against your skin, “Put you…” Geto trails off in his gruff tone, breath hitching any time he was half-rutting inside. Just probin’ with his swollen erection, “In a liiiiittle something called a…”
“In a…” But you already know what he’s trying to say.
Because Geto’s strong arms are on you in an instant. Flexing and bulging any time he’s moving you ‘round as if you were nothing but a ragdoll.
He rests both your tired thighs on top of his broad shoulders, tapping one of them on the sides. “Lock those ankles f’me…mmm, good.” Bending you all the way dooooown in half until your joints pop with pressure and the caps of your knees are hitting your tits. “Bend all the way like thaaaat- in half now, in half.”
“I am I am-” You hiccup. And though he hadn’t even bottomed out, this made Geto’s blushin’ tip stab deep enough that you nearly feel him in your throat.
Just fucking and fucking and fucking you.
Quickly, sloppy ruts just to fit himself inside.
With a low chuckle, he’s lacing both hands atop your sweaty crown. “Mhm- and fuck- y’know what this is called? Always wanted to put you in one of these, gorgeous- y’know it? It’s called a—”
“M-mating press.” You mewl out.
And Geto’s roughly stroking out a thrust that makes you see stars, “And who taught you that, hm?” He’s hissing out between clenched canines, something in his tone that sends shivers down your spine. “Some other man put you in one of- hah, these?”
Your eyes nearly bulge out of your damn skull, “N-no, never! That’s not how I-”
“Fuckin’ good.” He rumbles out, leaning down to catch your lips in a sultry, sultry kiss. But Geto was just feeling so mean at this very moment that he’s snagging your lower lip with his teeth and dragging. “And it better stay that way because I’m the one tha’s been wanting to breed this pretty pussy for so long-”
“I know, Suguru, I know.” You sob out—tears freefalling down your cheeks faster than you could even register them due to the sheer size of him - and the fact that your sultry pussylips couldn’t stop simply suckin’ him in. “Fuck you’re going in so deep- c-can almost feel you at my-”
“Cute lil’ womb, right?”
And you’re hearing Geto Suguru bottom out inside you before you’re actually registering it using your muddled brain. It’s with the sloppiest squeeeelch! that all his veiny nine inches are sucked up to the bottom of your pussy.
All of him throbbing inside you.
The very lining of your cervix is being banged by his rounded red tip, drivelling out slick deep at your core. “H-heh…” Geto’s letting out a drunken giggle, somehow angling his hips so that his pointed cockhead moves in circular motions. Making you feel him eeeeeverywhere in your awaiting womb, “I hope you know that I’m a jealous man, my girl.” He’d be damned if he let any other man fuck you full of his cum first. “And I’ve claimed this pretty womb first.”
Your jaw drops, “Like you’ve always wanted to?”
“Like I’ve always wanted to.” He grins, something so sleazy that you never thought you’d see on his pretty, pretty face.
And without hesitation, Geto’s dragging and dragging all the way back out to…pull out?
You’re opening your eyes in confusion, your disappointed noise barely out of your lips before Geto’s fully thrusting back in. Red tip to thick base.
Again. And again. And again and again-
He’s fucking into you like a madman, simply pointed swipes of his cock trying to find your sweetest spots. It’s with no issue that he’s stretchin’ out every line and crevice along those soft walls of yours, letting the sheer thickness of his shaft rub up against your nerves.
The patterns of his veins sending white-hot stars sparking up your spine, tears beading at the corners of your eyelids. “Yes- fuck, it feels so good.”
“Mmm, you like that?” Geto’s gasping out, the edges of his kiss-swollen lips twitching up into a smirk. He’s almost immediately getting his answer, however, by the way your sopping wet pussy only seems to glisten out in even more wads of slick.
Slipping in miry ribbons down the slit of your cunt and getting smeared on his thick base. He drawls out, “Yeahhh, f-feels good, doesn’t it? Ngh- I’ve always wanted to hit this pussy’s cervix. I’ve always wanted to let this womb of yours know that I’m gonna be the one to breed her all full—me.”
Because god fucking dammit he might’ve seen the worst possible outcome of his entire life in his future, one that he himself had barely even entertained prior. But fuck- if he isn’t going to do everything in his power to make sure that he makes of his future what he wants it to be.
If he isn’t going to make sure that he has you in it.
And if a little bundle of chaos with his hair and your smile was in the picture as well, then, that only made his daydreams all the more sweeter.
Fuck, he never realized how badly he wanted it.
A baby—to fuck you so full of his baby. He’s pinpointing every single spot inside you with his massive tip, more and more of the black-haired man’s precum escaping from your hole by the second.
Almost unthinkingly, Geto lifts a hand off of your scalp and grunts- “Don’t think of running now, gorgeous.” Before bringing his slightly roughened palm down the front of your core, resting right over where his thick tip bulged your pussy’s walls. Your cervix. Your womb. “Fuck- I’ve always wanted- here-”
“What was that, Suguru?” Slightly taken aback at how the ever-eloquent Geto Suguru was having a hard time keeping his sentences coherent.
He presses down firmer above your stomach, feeling himself as he sinks iiiiiiiin and out of your cunt. Almost slowing down until you could feel every sensual texture of his cock, “Right here.” The pressure was almost incredible with the addition of his hand, “Right here- s’the spot. I’ve always wanted to fill you up until every woman, man, person, animal in-between could take one look at you and know what I’ve done to you.”
“O-ohhhh my god—” Whatever little response was on the tip of your tongue is instantly being swallowed up by your uncontrollable moans.
Escaping out of you whenever Geto funnels his achin’ cock harder, deeper, more sinfully in. Escaping out of you when Geto simply reached over and pinched your poor neglected clit.
He doesn’t feel a single inkling of regret as he tug on that cute lil’ knob between your pussylips whilst he fucks you, “I’ve always wanted to see what you’d look like with my- ngh, cum spilling out of you because your poor pussy can’t take it. And have others try to imagine what it looks like.”
“There’s already so much-” You’re wailing out at the feeling of such heaps of syrup splosh out between your legs as if a waterpark.
And Geto’s taking just one look between them and snickering to himself, “Even more, gorgeous.” The way he said it made you realize that it wasn’t just a promise - to him it was a challenge. And he was ploughing right on, “So much more- so much more. Enough to end up with you all round and glowing and they’ll know that I did it. I filled you up like that. I did it I did it I did it-”
“Suguru, p-pleeeease—”
“They need to know that you’re mine.” He rasps out, his pinkish divot ending up shot straight against your g-spot. Hitting that particular area of sensitivity perfectly, “You were mine then. You’re mine now. And you’ll be mine in the future.” Your cunt suffering from the brutal slashes of his mushroomy tip after each word, the breaths between spaces being filled up with his accurate thrusts. “And if I fuck you pregnant that’s all they’re gonna be thinking about, isnt it?”
Fuck, it almost felt like he was going insane.
With every word out of his mouth, with every gluey wad of pre he was emptying out into your womb. Not only did that glimpse into the future make him want to avoid it—now he simply couldn’t have a future for himself if it didn’t include you, his daughters, and this all-new addition to the Geto lineage. He wonders who his third daughter would take after more.
“H-hope s’gonna be your pretty eyes and your smile- always wanted a daughter with that beautiful smile.” Geto muses out, holding you even tighter in this mating press. It felt like all the blood was rushing to your head, and you could feel your stomach starting to spark with an all-new high.
“Oh please-” You start to sputter out, “Suguru, m’gonna c-cum again soon-”
“So do it then.” He certainly wasn’t gonna stop you - especially not after that old wives’ tale he heard that the wife had to cum, too, in order for a baby to be conceived.
And Geto wasn’t taking any chances here.
He was twisting his fingers even more fervently on your clit, and bashin’ your g-spot so many times that you’re sure it’s starting to bruise. “I know it- I just know it.” He babbles on, more pussydrunken than ever. “I just know it, gorgeous, if m’ever seeing my future again then it’s gonna be with you—”
“Suguru…” You mewl tearily, feeling a lump at your throat where his rounded tip seemed to be plummeting straight through to your lungs.
“You and my three daughters. On Christmas eve. Around the Christmas tree. Opening up presents we wrapped the night before-” Just as he imagines it, his strawberry-red tip spurts out a few warm ribbons of slick that splosh! around your channel. Keeping his hand pressed to your womb and humming, “With another one on the way, hm?”
You gawk, “Y-you’re insatiable.”
“That I am.”
And Geto doesn’t even realize the way his body instinctively pours out reverse cursed energy into yours to keep you from fucking breaking underneath his strength.
From fucking passing out as he’s rutting ferally harder and harder.
The bed groans heavily at the movements of his hulking body.
Leaning in so close now that you could feel the skin of your face start to perspire because of his breaths. Geto’s forehead pressed against yours, Geto’s cocktip pressed against the end of your cervix “Hope she’s gonna love her pretty momma just as- haaaah, I do.”
And then you’re crash-landing into your high without warning, without any signal from your own body that you were going to do so. It zips through your veins at lightning speed, completely taking over your brain until it felt all fuzzy and fried.
Toes curling.
Back arching.
He fucks you through this nth high of the night just as sinfully as he did with all the others - just as perfectly. Somehow swabbin’ your gooey crevices right on time with the peaks of your euphoria, he manages to pump his plump tip towards your g-spot and your womb at a dizzying pace.
At a pace that leaves you cockdrunk.
Your body twitches with the twinges of pleasure, sobbing. “Please-” You’re wrapping your arms around Geto’s neck, pushing his inky locks slightly to the side. “I love you too, Suguru.”
And that’s all it takes for Geto to also grit his teeth and let his throat rip with a guttural groan as he finally cums. Exploding out in white-hot pleasure and in the gooey white wads that occupy the space within your tight cunt. There was simply so much of it that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, his loooooooong miry ribbons splashin’ against the roof of your cunt and dribblin’ down every orifice possibly inside you. “Fuck, don’t even say that.” His voice was octaves higher by this point, completely maddened. “Don’t even—oh, don’t even know what you do to me.”
“I’ve always wanted to tell you.” You’re taking his own chant from him.
And that only makes his heavy balls throb even harder, as if he was emptying out all his ivory syrup and still wished there was more.
Despite the constant overflow from your hole, a sheeny circle escaping down your thighs and gluing the skin together- at least, it would have had it not been for Geto’s fingertips scooping up that slick glaze and pushing it back inside your cunt.
The doughy tips of his fingers curl against your elastic hole and make you shiver- still so sensitive from your ongoing high. Not that Geto even hesitates before putting his all into fucking you through his own—pounding every wad of his seed inside you. His cock glazes with even more slick, making slipping inside you even easier. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.” And he titters to himself as if there was a joke there that you didn’t entirely understand, “And I would ask for n-no sweeter death, my girl…” Was that a tear running down his cheek?
You’re pressing your forehead to his, eyes fluttering shut. You still shook with the tremors of your orgasm, but still managed to keep your tone even. “I’d never ask for that, Suguru.”
“I know.”
Outside, it was a dark night greeting the 25th of December.
.
.
.
24th of December, Christmas Eve (one year later).
“Hurry hurry, all according to plan—!” Your voice calls out across the cozy Tokyo apartment, slightly muffled by the pile of gifts you carried that was as tall as you.
Geto’s taking one look at your teetering self and chuckling, “Here- let me take that from you, gorgeous.” As handsome as ever. A Santa hat on his head.
And though you admit that it was an incredible relief to your arms to have your husband take the burden of the gifts, you can’t help but sweep a glance over the apartment. Pondering out loud about all the other tasks that were supposed to be done before 7PM- “But, Suguru, let me! You worry about getting all the stockings ready-”
“Already stuffed to the brim, my girl.” He winks at you, and you suddenly feel too hot underneath your appallingly ugly Christmas sweater (it had been a gift from Yaga, how could you not have worn it tonight?)
You raise a suspicious brow, “Everyone’s? Ours, Nanako’s, Mimiko’s, and the baby’s?”
What a spoiled little girl! Only three months old and already having a Christmas stocking larger than her own self, Geto wants to say - but doesn’t. He knows he’s just as guilty as you in spoiling your three daughters, “Ours, Nanako’s Mimiko’s, and the baby’s, and Satoru’s- you know how he gets when he sees candy that’s not for him.”
“You’re right.” You agree, “And what about setting the table-”
“Done.”
“Getting the twins to clean their rooms-”
“Done.”
“Finishing decorating the Christmas tree-”
“Done.”
“Oh! How about finally setting that letter of confirmation for your post as new teacher at Tokyo Jujustu-”
“Done. Done. Aaaaand done.” Geto smiles, setting the gifts down underneath the table in a way that seemed so effortless. It must be the training, how unfair! When he’s standing back up again it’s with an arm thrown around your shoulder, the both of you admiring the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree you’d set up as a family.
Its lights sparkled like miniature suns, like candles from a night unforgettable. Customized baubles of marine animals and ocean-blue. The portraits of friends and family lost. “We’ve done everything, gorgeous. Now we only wait for them to get here.”
“It’s beautiful, Suguru.” You respond, and he only pulls you closer.
Resting his cheek against the top of your head, “I know.”
Nanako and Mimiko were still getting ready for the Christmas party and you knew you had to fetch them soon before the guests got here, you knew you also had to wake the baby up from her nap to get her into the Christmas festivities with everyone else, you also knew you had to check on some of the fruit tarts right now, you knew you had to congratulate Geto properly on finally earning his position as a third-year teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High after many examinations and meetings with the elders. After many days spent proving his change.
It had been tough, you admit. In many ways.
But you were here.
But, for now, you two simply bask in each other.
You’re not sure how long it is before the doorbell rings and you’re forced apart.
“We should…get the door.” You say.
“Mhm, we should.” And he kisses you.
“Santa’s kissing mommy, totally gross!” Nanako calls out as she passes the two of you, finally finished getting ready and heading to the kitchen to snag some desserts before it was actually time.
Mimiko follows with your cooing third daughter in hand, “Don’t look unless you want your spirit of Christmas to be scarred for life.” She tells the near-infant seriously.
“Come now, you two.” Geto sighs, shaking his head like the father he was.
You’re giggling softly up at him until the bell rings once again- before immediately starting to get rung at an annoying staccato. Gojo. Then immediately stopped as if someone had just smacked his hand away from the bell. Shoko.
And you already knew by the two hefty sighs that Yaga and Nanami were there, too.
Stifling your giggle, you and Geto walk up to open the decorated front door. Both of you opening it in unison—
“Merry Christmas!”
A/N. Awww I just rewatched this movie the other day and it was too sweeeeet. Hope all of you are having a joyous season regardless of whether you celebrate or not <33
HEYYY I JUST FINISHED READING YOUR LOHEN FIC AND IT WAS AMAZING 💗💗💗. i absolutely love how you portrayed him... so if i could perhaps request another part 2? or just lohen smut 😋😋
Warnings: afab!Reader, overstimulation (both m and f), Lohen being a bit of a meanie, cowgirl, prone bone, badly written smut methinks read it at your own risk I'm just the prophet (｡﹏｡")
Can be read as a standalone or as part 2 to this
It was always a 5050 when you and Lohen had sex. Either he gets high on adrenaline and hunts you down to fuck you to oblivion, or you have to put in the work to ride him raw.
Looks like it was the latter of the two this time.
You two had stripped yourselves of your uniforms, laid bare as Lohen leisurely draped himself on your bed, and you tried to prepare yourself to take him in.
Luckily for you, the foreplay made you slick enough to slip him right in without wiggling around. Lohen raises a brow at the ease of penetration, smugly watching as your wetness envelopes his cock.
"Oh shut up," you smack his shoulder, embarrassed at your own state, "it was a long day for me too, okay."
The bastard simply shrugs as he folds his arms behind his neck, his pose relaxed and cool compared to yours.
"I didn't say anything Liebling."
"You clearly thought about it."
He smirks as he tilts his head, his eyes urging you to continue.
You huff as you stabilize yourself using his shoulders, and start riding him slowly.
Now you certainly enjoyed riding him, especially on days you were particularly worked up. However, it was only in the heat of the moment that you found the passion to do so.
Turns out today was not the day.
You whimper as you struggle to find a pace, clumsily riding him, your cunt making slick noises echo through the room.
Lohen does nothing as he watches you, hands still folded behind, looking like he was enjoying not the sex, but the sight of you struggling to find your pleasure.
You try, you dig your nails in his shoulders, just the way he likes it. You try to lift yourself off his cock and slam yourself on it. But you can only do so a few times before giving up and grinding on it again.
Eventually, Lohen puts his hands on your hips, bringing your grinding to a halt as you whine from the lost pleasure.
"Looks like my bunny can't give me the 'reward' she promised me before," he muses, tracing patterns on your waist with his thumb.
Your vision grows cloudy as you whine, " M'sorry Lohen, I couldn't-I can't-"
"Hey, hey, shhhhh," he shushes you as he wipes a tear that had slipped, "I never said I didn't like it. My pretty little darling, trying so hard to please me. I could die a happy man right here."
Little did you know, everything was going according to his plan. He knew you were too tired to ride him. His little bunny being a dutiful little assistant for the acting Grandmaster for the whole day, how could he ever be angry at you?
He lets you grind your sweet cunt all over his cock, dripping as you whine from not being able to chase your own high.
Oh, you were so adorable like this, he almost felt bad.
He chuckles as he grabs your waist with his arms and turns you around with him still inside you, throwing you on the sheets with little grace as you gasp and struggle to grab a hold of something.
He lowers himself to bite your neck, your moans melting him to you.
"Bunny," he whispers, raising himself to lock his lustful eyes with your own, "If you were tired, you should've just said so."
You whine as you wrap your legs around his waist, arching yourself to thrust up to chase stimulation. Unfortunately, he had you pinned down hard to the point that when you gasped as he gave you a firm thrust, your nude chest stuck to his.
"L-Lohen, pleaseee-"
He smirks as he digs his fingers deeper into your waist, blunt nails threatening to break the skin and drawing blood.
"Please what Buns?" He nips at your ear, "You gotta ask nicely when I'm the one taking charge, you know that right?"
You turn your face away from him, trying to preserve some shame from him.
Too bad it doesn't work on him.
"I see..." he mulls over, "so you're not even gonna be nice about it."
Suddenly, he pulls out of you and manhandles you to flip you on your stomach. Before you'd even complain about the emptiness, a sharp thrust punches all the air from your throat leaving you speechless.
He digs his hand in your hair, his fingers drifting across your scalp before grabbing a firm hold of your hair form it's roots.
"Since you don't know how to be nice about it," he sneers in your ear as he pulls your head up, " then perhaps, I'll be 'mean' about it as well."
That was your last warning before he pushes your face into the pillow and starts thrusting with force enough to shake the entire bedframe. You curl your hands in the sheets next to you as you try hard to bite the pillow and muffle the shameful moans escaping your lips.
Which was short-lived as Lohen pulls at your hair to get your face out of the pillow. He laughs ruthlessly as he quickens his pace, his other arm pushing your lower half further into the mattress as your screams echo through the room.
"Aww...am I being too mean to my Liebling?" he mocks sympathy, "Weren't you the one who refused to ask what it was that you wanted? Besides, it's supposed to be my reward. Either you're giving it to me, or I'm taking it for myself."
You moan louder as he bites your nape, leaving visible imprints that will bruise in the morning.
"B-but L-Lohen-slow down please!!"
"Slow down please~," he mocks you in a whiny tone as he thrusts deeper, "do you even hear yourself, little bunny?"
"Now then," he sighs, halting briefly, letting your face drop into the pillow as he licks his lips, "time to take what I was promised."
If the thrusts before shook your bedframe, you were convinced what came next was sure to break them.
Not that you two haven't broken them before.
He thirsts deep and fast, hitting the sweet spot that makes you moan every single time. Every single one of those thirsts determined to ruin you for tomorrow.
You scream as you feel his fingers pinching one of your nipples hard, rolling them with his thumb and finger.
You whine, grabbing the sheets under you for stability, "Lohen w-wait not that hard it hurts-"
"But you like the sting, don't you?" he growls, twisting it in response.
It didn't take you long to cum, not with the way he was abusing your hole and your nipples. But you knew better than to expect a break from Lohen.
Feeling you tighten up around him, he moans as he sped up further, thrusting into you with reckless abandon as he chases his own high.
He finally cums, grunting and slouching on you as the wet mixture of your arousals dribbles from your cunt down to your pristine sheets. You sigh as you bring your arms in front of you to bury your face in them.
Oh, how foolish you were that this was the end of it.
You yelp as Lohen, still buried inside you, gives a few hard thrusts and then picks up his pace from before, pounding into you while you twitch, overwhelmed with pleasure.
"L-Lohen," you blurt out shakily.
"I did say I'll take my reward if you were unwilling to give it yourself. What? Are you so heartless as to deny me something like this?"
"B-but," you whimper out, "but you already came."
"Ah, I see," you could almost hear the smugness in his voice, "I must apologize, but I want-"
He leans down to bury his face in the dip of your neck.
"-more."
You feel the hand previously in your hair slither down to your cunt, two fingers stroking up and down as they soak themself in your cum.
He brings the two fingers to your lips, shoving them in your mouth, fondling with your tongue as you taste both of you on them.
You obediently suck them in, licking off all the juices from them. Once you were done with sucking his fingers dry, he takes his fingers out, tilting your face sideways to replace them with his tongue.
His tongue digs into your mouth, probing to reclaim the essence he fed you moments ago.
You were too busy moaning while he was kissing you to notice his fingers, which were playing with your tongue, explore and slither down to your cunt. Only noticing it when you scream in the kiss as his fingers pinch your wet clit hard enough for you to see stars under your eyelids.
You squirm and bring your hands behind you to grab his shoulder, your nails scratching his skin as his pace stutters. The fingers playing with your nub, however, show no sign of stopping as he rubbed it harder with his other hand twisting your sensitive nipple.
You tried to break off the kiss, your throat brimming with screams sourced from overstimulation. But Lohen pushed further in, refusing to let your lips go as he swallowing every single moan from your lips like he'd been starved of them. The wet sounds now reaching your ears as he keeps driving his cock in your warmth.
You scream down his throat as you cum for the second time that night, Lohen drinking it down as he follows right after you, filling you to the brim with his release.
Both of you collapse on the bed as he lets you break off the kiss, catching your breath from being overstimulated as his cum leaks from where he's inserted in you.
Eventually, the feeling of being stuffed with his cock was too much, as you squirm and whine for him to pull it out.
As he unplugs himself from you, more cum leaks out. Lohen flips you around on your back and pulls your knees apart, watching his cum slowly ooze from you and drip down.
"Stop watching," you whine as you bring your arms to cover your face, flustered at your own state.
He chuckles, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, adding more charm to his disheveled look. He rips out the sheets underneath you, using them to clean you and him before tossing them to the side.
He plops down next to you, pulling you to him for post-sex cuddles. You allow yourself to be tugged towards him, grumbling about how he really just fuck both of you to the point of overstimulation.
He pushes the hair out of your face, gently caressing your face as he watches you with a reverence people usually save for their gods.
"Sadistic asshole," you murmur as you slap his chest.
He laughs as he takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles in a rare show of chivalry, his long, dark lashes brushing the back of your hand.
"Ich liebe dich, Liebling."
a/n: wrote this after an indefinite break of 3 days and a lot of smut readings after (somehow fell into the atla tag ummmm I like firelord zuko) god this is BAD I do not know how to write smut lmao sorry if this is BAD yk ദ്ദി(ᵕ—ᴗ—) also kept it short cuz I am still practicing writing smut lol
@luminarylorecat Do not repost, translate, adapt, feed into AI, or claim this work. Reblogs and links are appreciated; copying and reuploading are not.
The rest cure - Yandere Victorian psychiatrist X Fem reader
Contains- forced institutionalisation, medical gaslighting, non consensual touching, infantalisation, unbalanced power dynamics, doctor/patient
The doctor is a kind man, always kind and firm like he is talking to a child. That is how he describes you, over your head as you sit in your armchair during visiting hours, eyes on the floor. You don't look up, up at their faces in case they changed suddenly from how you remembered. Instead you hold your embroidery tightly.
"As docile and soft like a child, she is responding very well to her stay here. I have seen a marked improvement since she first joined us."
You wore a blue day dress and bonnet when you first came here. Flanked on either side by your father and brother to keep you from running back to the carriage. When the door was shut behind you in the room you were a wild thing. Screaming obscenities that would have your mild mannered mother wash your mouth out with carbolic. Hurling the few objects decorating the room at the door and walls. Pulling out your hair and smacking your head with your hands at first before moving on to hitting your head against the wall. Then he came into the room as though you, in your torn dress with your hair half loose, were a regular debutaunt. Asking you whatever was the matter? With those kind eyes of his. And you in all your bewildered exhaustion just sobbed out that your betrothed ran away to elope with your cousin.
"No no there was no need for anything drastic, soft restraints if anything but that was on the occasion her episodes were too much and she was at risk of hurting herself or others. But after a sedative she always calmed down easily. Most days she is able to be without such restrictions."
A hand atop your mouth pressing the sweet cloth to your nose and the other cradling the back of your head, rocking you to sleep as you tried to fight back. They weren't all violent. Sometimes you'd shriek like a banshee convinced something was after you, others you would withdraw for days not eating or speaking, or you'd be found barefoot in the chapel convinced that if you were to stop praying you'd die then and there. Mostly however, you were a ghost, exhausted and sullen. Holding conversation but never interested in existing there.
"Now now I don't think it would be best for her to return home just yet- I do understand that you are her father sir, but I am the doctor who you chose to take care of her. And I do so as if she is my own daughter, which is why I must insist that she is to stay at the asylum until she is completely stable. Returning home too early will no doubt lead to another nervous breakdown once more."
Hands. Hands. Hands. A thumb resting on the swell of your bottom lip. His girl. He calls you his girl when it's the two of you. His girl who he won't ever abandon to the cruel outside world. A world that you're far too weak and fragile for, one which will only break you further. Can't you see how embarrassing it is to have someone like you blighting your family tree. No upstanding young man would wish to marry a madwoman, lest her madness infect his children. It was a silly thing that caused all this fuss wasn't it? You were so perfect for everyone weren't you? Smiling and sweet but that wasn't enough, the shame of being jilted made you do such foolish things did it not? Perhaps he ran because he could see it in you first before everyone else could? Come now there's no need to rage, let the doctor soothe you until you exhaust yourself out.
"She does take care of her room- Ah no sir she's never alone completely there's always a nurse or alienist such as myself checking in on her. I have found while we can trust her to not be a danger to herself she often becomes highly anxious when alone and that of course is best to be avoided. But yes she has responsibilities that we trust her with, and when she completes them we do reward her with a return of certain privileges. There was an incident a fortnight back where she riled up many of the other women but that is long forgotten now."
Other places are worse. It shows that your parents still love you because they pay to keep you here, in the countryside hospital. They tell their friends thst you've gone to stay with a maiden aunt. Or is it a sanitorium for your weak health. Either way everyone pretends that you're not in the madhouse. The doctor doesn't like it when you call it that. Especially in that sing-song repetition you led the other women in one lunchtime just to spite him like the little vixen you are. He brought the restraints that time. Scrubbed the dirty words clean from your mouth until you vomited the carbolic for good measure after he threw you over his knee. The nurses never looked under your drawers to find the dark violet and chartreuse hand prints. Nor does anyone but you and him know exactly how it burnt with cruel humiliation when he had his fingers knuckle deep in you, slipping in while you were still smarming from pain. He only grabbed the soap when you screamed again. Calling him such dirty names that a young lady like you should never call a man.
"Back to discussing her progress. We've made steps in the right direction, I've found it's good for her as it is for all women to have something to look after. It awakens the maternal instinct in hysteric patients I find. Her case is interesting yes as she is not a complete hysteric you are correct sir. But she does have episodes where she presents with often the exact same symptoms as most typical hysterics have, the only irregularity is that once her episodes end she presents as a typical neurasthenic. She lashes out then returns to utter mental and emotional exhaustion as if nothing occurred. It is an odd one certainly that seems to trigger breakdowns completely sporadically."
He keeps a bird cage in the office, the parakeet chirping it's own little melody. He calls you his bird, his little finch. It's your duty to clean the cage and feed the bird. Everyone has their chores to do, keep their minds and hands too busy to claw at itself. You're always alone in the office with him, morning and evening coming in to feed the creature once you yourself ate. Once you summoned up enough courage to ask if you could move the cage into your own room, to tend to the bird easier. He only smiled, a hand at the small of your back as he told you that he needed to ensure you were supervised in case anything were to happen. Why, did you wish to no longer have your little meetings with him? Had he upset you somehow? He only wants what's best for you, you're not like the other patients, you need a different hand when it comes to taking care of you. And it has to be his hand.
"Coming forward I think that the progress we are making is steady, madness can often be a lifelong struggle but in time we will be able to make sure that she is easier. So hopefully in the future she may be able to stay at home and have visits from me occasionally rather than stay here. Of course that is a long ways off but it is the goal we aspire to with all our residents. Until then I think it's best to keep the current course of treatment."
Oh. The needle has slipped, hanging halfway out your thumb. Nobody has noticed. You almost want to press it in again but then everyone will see and you'll lose your visitor privileges again. You need them to see you, your mother and father to look at you and smile like you're cured. So you can come home where you wouldn't be tended to by a doctor who enjoys to make you squeal like a mouse in his grip. It will all be better once you're cured. And if you say anything about him, about his hands under your chemise during private treatments, about him coaxing you to be good for him when he locks the office door. If you say anything about that then they will all think you've gone worse. He's told you what people do to girls who get worse.
summary: it's been a few days since lohen nearly got himself killed fighting rerir, and he's still under your care — convalescing, clingy, and shamelessly milking every second of it.
topics: lohen is down really bad, nsfw (morning & sleepy sex, vaginal penetration, a little bit of voyeurism i think), lightkeeper&medic!reader
[second part — after dark]
i think i'm making lightkeeper!reader agenda…,,,
english is not my first language. please correct me if i got something wrong, thank you!
A few days had passed since Lohen had been seriously beaten up by his fight with Rerir, and you had to admit he had never frustrated you and impressed you more than he did that day.
You happened to be stationed at the camp that time, filling in for a colleague from your unit. You didn't mind it, and it seemed like it was shaping up to be a genuinely peaceful day.
And then evening came, and Varka ran into the medical tent with Lohen on his back. Given how bloodsoaked Varka's clothes were, you were certain he was the injured one — until he laid the vice-captain down on the bed.
His condition was terrifying.
Had it not been for the fact that Lohen somehow still had his eyes open, his lips curving into a smile at the sight of you, you would have been certain you were only looking at his corpse. A moment later he naturally allowed himself to faint, now that he was aware he no longer had to try, because you would take care of him and keep him alive.
It took you the entire night to stabilize his condition. As an experienced and skilled medic, you had dealt with similar cases many times before, and even though you had been in a relationship with Lohen for some time now, you had managed to keep your emotions in check throughout. You knew that this damn idiot would live, because people like him always had luck on their side — but when, near dawn, another one of his wounds reopened, you could no longer hold back tears of frustration.
That was when Lohen woke up too. "I've died, haven't I? That's why I'm seeing an angel."
The tears of frustration turned into irritation, which you poured entirely onto Lohen for being reckless and irresponsible. You were so swollen inside with your own feelings, stress, and exhaustion that in the midst of it all, you didn't notice the expression on his face. This time he wasn't hiding his true emotions.
He knew perfectly well that he had failed: he had been too weak. He was a weak, insufficiently strong mortal. He had nearly gotten himself killed, and if not for Varka — and yet he had the audacity to claim he would be able to protect you?
But despite how absurdly furious you were with him, you were still incredibly proud of him. Surviving a clash with such a powerful anomaly and on top of that remaining conscious through kilometres of Varka's marathon with him on his back was already an enormous achievement. Most knights — or even Lightkeepers — wouldn't last even a minute on that battlefield.
Lohen listened to this with wide eyes while you wiped yours, tears still streaming down your face. He had expected everything: that you'd curse him out, call him a stupid, mindless idiot, that you might even break up with him. And while a genuinely unkind string of words did leave your mouth, he never would have thought you'd tell him that it wasn't luck that he survived.
Luck was for inexperienced, average knights. You, Lohen, are stubbornly and genuinely strong. If you had walked this earth as long as Varka, you would match him without hesitation. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re absolutely fucking idiot.
After those words, Lohen pretended to faint again, and you sighed, calmed yourself, stitched his wound closed once more, and then, completely spent, carefully lay down at his side in a way that wouldn't accidentally hurt him. You finally fell asleep, leaving him completely undone by your words.
While Lohen had already known before that you weren't going to let him go, he was now certain he had to somehow ensure that even after death, you would never know a moment's peace from him. Never again.
Tonight you were, of course, sleeping beside him again. Lohen hadn't even needed to push you into it (though he had been prepared to) because his condition was still poor and required constant monitoring. And for some reason he had become terribly clingy, so you'd had to temporarily abandon your duties — for which Varka had to pay Starshyna two of his knights to compensate for your absence from the team — in order to look after him. He was like a sick child who needed attention and comfort at every turn.
"Oh—Fuck," Lohen groaned quietly, waking from a very intense dream.
Dawn was nearly breaking when Lohen felt a painful erection straining against his trousers. Although his entire body ached, his libido, rather than dropping, had surged sharply — and the worst part was that he knew perfectly well why. He desired you more than usual after your recent words. You had appreciated him. You had unknowingly comforted him in the worst possible state he'd ever been in mentally. Now he needed to properly fuck you for it, or he felt like he'd die if he didn't do it soon.
For the past few nights he had somehow managed to restrain himself due to his limbs being non-functional, but today he felt significantly better. Before you had fallen asleep you had noticed that too — by the way he had wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close against him in the night.
Through a gap in the tent he could see that there was still enough time to deal with his peculiar problem, so without hesitation he got to work, slowly kissing along the back of your neck.
God, he really had missed being fully functional. The pathetic rubbing against your backside and breathing in your scent as he left damp kisses along your neck made him tremble with arousal. He needed you so badly, so desperately needed you, that he didn't even notice his grip becoming more and more possessive. It even briefly crossed his mind that if he had died that day, he would have resurrected solely to kill anyone who dared comfort you in his absence or try to take care of you. You were his and his alone — he would never let you go.
A soft, tender bite to your earlobe had your eyes fluttering open, drowsiness washing over you. For a moment you were certain you were still dreaming — until you felt a warm vibration against your ear.
"Good morning, nightingale," Lohen whispered, his left hand travelling from your waist to your thighs until it slipped beneath your nightgown. You let out a small squeak as your warm skin met his ice-cold fingers.
"Lohen, what the hell," you mumbled, flustered, immediately flushing. It wasn't the first time Lohen had shamelessly made a move on you, and you had no objections to it in principle — but not when the camp would soon be waking up, and when there was still a considerable risk that his body would suffer for it. "Go back to sleep, for archons sake."
"Mm, I don't think so," he chuckled, then dragged his fingers low enough to slide along your folds. You grabbed his hand to stop him, but he only threaded his fingers through yours, using your own hand to touch you through the fabric of your underwear. You inhaled sharply, and that set him alight even further. "I need to fuck you, archons. Fuck, let me do it, please."
As he said it, you felt his hardness pressing against your backside, his face still buried in the curve of your neck. His warm breath and lazy, languid kisses against your skin sent shivers through you. You glanced toward the gap in the tent and swallowed, noticing the light growing outside.
It hadn't escaped you that Lohen had asked. Never — not once in your life together — had you heard the word please from his lips. His low, hoarse voice, dripping with quiet desperation, sent an electric jolt down your abdomen and straight to your core.
"L-Lohen, fuck, we can't," you answered, trying to stop his hand. He stilled, and you turned your face slightly toward him to look at him. And that, honestly, was a mistake. You had never seen him more aroused or more hungry-looking — his eyes were practically devouring you, and if not for the fact that he couldn't make any sudden movements, he most certainly would have been fucking you already. "Everyone's about to wake up, first of all. And second of all, your wounds could reopen. Do you have any idea how much work goes into stitching them back up?" you added, pressing your thighs together to steady yourself.
Lohen, however, wasn't listening to a single word of your speech, staring at your face as though it were a painting. Fuck, those sleepy eyes of yours could send him to war — you were so unbearably endearing when you were still half asleep.
"We still have a little time, darling," he murmured, amused, moving his hand to your hip. He winced slightly with pain — and pleasure — when you tried to gently push him back, but it only created a delicious friction (and pain from his still-unhealed ribs). "Don't make me suffer. Take care of your patient."
"Lohen, for archons sake, you have a broken arm, broken ribs, a sprained ankle, massive unhealed wounds, and —"
"And a perfectly healthy cock," he finished for you, grinning roguishly. You rolled your eyes, so he moved his hand along your hip to your cheek, turning your head further toward him to kiss you tenderly.
Lohen kissed you in a thousand different ways. From stealing quick pecks in public when no one was looking, just to annoy you, all the way to intense attempts to steal the breath from your lungs when you were completely alone. Every time he was infuriatingly insufferable about it — he loved tormenting you, loved sucking on your lips until they grew sensitive and then biting them, often until they bled. He loved, to your endless exasperation, pushing his tongue as deep into your mouth as possible, as though he meant to devour your soul or somehow leave his mark inside you permanently.
Sometimes he kissed you as though the world was ending tomorrow, and sometimes he drew out your kisses in such a languid, unhurried manner, as though you had all the time in the world within your blissful little universe.
This time it felt like something in between — and you felt it through your entire body. A shiver passed through you.
When he pulled away, a thin thread of saliva lingering between you, he pressed his forehead to yours and stroked your face with his thumb. "You don't even realize how badly I need you right now."
Fuck. In your entire life you had always been quite good at being assertive. You also knew very well that you should be refusing him right now.
But the moment he said those words, looking into your eyes as though you were the only person capable of saving him from whatever was happening right now, or in his head in general — even you couldn't say no to him.
"Fuck—Alright," you said, at which he nearly lunged at you immediately, so you had to grab him by his choker to hold him in place. "But not here. Not like this. You'll reopen your wounds. We need to— Archons, come on, I'll help you up."
You propped yourself up on your elbows and hauled yourself off the cot, which had only been serving as a makeshift bed anyway. It was genuinely a miracle it had held two people, but apparently you were both within the weight limit.
Lohen obediently accepted your arm to lean on. Only then did you notice the sheer size of the tent in his trousers, and you swallowed. Archons — what had gotten him like this? Because this didn't look like his usual morning erection that showed up from time to time.
With slow, careful steps you shuffled over to the desk. You sat him down in the chair, checking that everything was alright and that nothing was hurting him. Even if it was, he was evidently hiding it well enough — so you sighed and sank to your knees to untie the drawstring of his pyjama trousers. He threaded his good hand through your hair, watching you with devotion, and exhaled sharply when his aching cock finally sprang free from his underwear.
You wrapped your fingers around him and stroked slowly a few times, and when you were just about to take him into your mouth, Lohen tugged on your hair to pull you back.
"As much as I'd love that — I actually, truly need to feel you, nightingale," he muttered, and his tone sounded as though he were drunk. God, you were genuinely starting to worry about him, but you couldn't deny that you loved hearing him admit it so openly. He always tried to draw those admissions out of you instead, often through methods that left you voiceless. "Fuck, I'm going to die if you don't start riding me right now."
You were too confused and still too half-asleep to tease him about it. Instead you swallowed, stood up, pulled your underwear down and off, and stepped toward him. You braced one hand against the arm of the chair, and he pulled you down into a deep, passionate kiss as he slowly guided you to sink down onto him.
You moaned into his mouth when you felt the head of him brush against your clit. You broke the kiss.
"L-Lohen, if you notice anyone coming near, we need to stop immediately," you started, looking at him seriously while he smiled at you with that wicked glint of his. "And we go slow. No unnecessary movements on your end, understood?"
He nodded — just get on with it already. He slid his hand beneath your nightgown and closed his fingers around your waist, and you took hold of the base of him and sank down, painstakingly slowly, until you felt all of him inside you.
You both breathed sharply into each other's mouths. Lohen didn't look away from your eyes for even a second, staring into them with an intense, consuming focus. You could have sworn he was already trembling, as though he were close — which made you hide your face shyly in the curve of his neck and wrap your arms around his. That sudden shyness of yours, and most likely the fear of being caught, only fuelled him further.
He nearly thrust his hips to set a proper pace, when your hand came down to his chest to hold him in place. He understood the message, so he tipped his head back against the chair and exhaled roughly as you set your own slow, sleepy rhythm.
"Fuck. You're going to kill me, sweetheart," he whispered.
Lohen's body was usually terribly cold — this time, though, you felt almost scorching heat radiating off his skin. You couldn't help it that your eyelids began to droop against his neck, desperately chasing after the last scraps of the sleep he had brutally stolen from you earlier. Still, you kept enough focus in your movements not to hurt him.
For Lohen, however, it was nothing short of torture. He genuinely, truly needed to drive into you as deep and as hard as he possibly could. He couldn't hold back the quiet, pained but deeply erotic sounds falling from his lips into your hair as you rode him like you were punishing him for something.
To find even a little relief, his fingers found your waist again — this time closing around the fabric of your nightgown rather than your skin, so as not to grip you too hard. He sensed that might read to you as a signal that something was wrong, and he absolutely did not want you to stop. The camp could come under attack right now and he still wouldn't pull himself out of your tight warmth. Not for anything.
"Ha—fuck, you feel too fucking good. You're taking me so well. I missed you so fucking much, nightingale," he said, almost deliriously.
He'd had relationships in his life, of course. And he liked sex. But he had never felt this matched with anyone the way he did with you. You awakened something animal in him — his libido had grown considerably since you had met, which was already absurd, and now it had somehow climbed even higher — and he simply could not keep his hands off you whenever he had the chance. You fucked like rabbits, and archons, Lohen had no idea how he had ever lived without you.
Thinking about it now, swallowed up by your wet, clenching walls, he thought he might have actually killed himself if you had rejected him that day. Not only had you thoroughly scrambled his mind to the point where he couldn't stop thinking about you — his body needed you the way someone needs something they've become addicted to. The thought that there could exist some reality in which he had tasted you and then lost you filled him with a sick, hollow dread.
He felt you quicken, as though you wanted to fuck those thoughts right out of him. In any other circumstances, being the masochist he was, he would have been absolutely beside himself with your pace. This was, technically, gentle sex — or at least it was supposed to be — and yet, purely because of his sexual frustration, he was whimpering and whining as though you were taking his virginity.
He helped you along a little with his hand, allowing for slightly deeper movements. You moaned against his collarbone, tightening your fingers on his neck and shoulder. Lohen growled low in his throat, feeling himself slowly approaching the edge — it was almost embarrassing, it had never happened to him this fast before.
"F-fuck, I'm close," he muttered, sounding completely delirious by now — which made you shudder, and with trembling, already-tired hips you gathered the last of your strength and pressed down harder, still maintaining that slow, sweet, sleepy rhythm. He groaned, feeling an overwhelming urge to sink his teeth into your neck to muffle the pathetic sounds coming out of his mouth. "I cannot f-fucking wait to — ah, fuck you properly. I-I won't let you go for fucking h-hours, sweetheart."
You clenched tighter around him at those words. Lohen's thighs were shaking with the effort of holding back from driving up into you with everything he had.
And then he heard footsteps.
He lifted his gaze toward the gap in the tent. Damn, it was already light enough outside — someone had evidently gotten up early. But he was so desperately close to his release, and he could feel from you that you were just as close. He pulled you in against him, sliding his hand to your back, and inhaled sharply through the pain as your chest pressed against his ribs. It blurred instantly with the pleasure, but he had done it solely to be able to better control the situation.
Your soft moans were echoing in his ears when someone suddenly approached the tent. Through the gap, one of the knights peered inside — as it happened, one of Lohen's own subordinates, Gunther — who went completely still at the sight.
Gunther made eye contact with Lohen and felt dread crash through him, but his body refused to obey, transfixed on the scene before him. He watched your hips rise and fall so enticingly on the vice-captain's cock, as though you were his own personal little plaything (oh, if only he knew it was Lohen who had been begging for access to you... and that if Lohen could have, he'd have been fucking you senseless himself already...). Your moans were absolutely beautiful, practically hypnotic. Fuck, you were worth every sin.
Your relationship with Lohen was a secret — not because you wanted to hide it, but because you didn't feel the need to announce it. You still had your respective duties, and some might consider it unprofessional, especially given the seniority of both your positions.
Remembering that, Lohen possessively bit down into your neck, holding eye contact with his cadet with sick satisfaction. Mine.
The unexpected bite made you nearly cry out with pleasure, clenching around him harder than you ever had before. He felt you come undone on his cock, felt how greedily you took all of him for yourself. And still your movements didn't stop — you kept going, carrying him over the edge too. As his own peak crested, Gunther had already fled, newly blessed with the sight of your climaxing body.
Lohen came inside you with an intensity that left you breathless — you could feel him filling you to the point where your eyes rolled back, your legs giving out from beneath you, undone by his drawn-out, low groan and the iron grip of his hands on your waist.
You collapsed against him, spent and unable to move, panting against his skin while he stroked your back soothingly.
"Thank you, doctor. I feel so much better," he laughed softly, and you pulled back to look at his face. He was completely flushed, his smile curled in a way you knew all too well. Like he'd just gotten away with something. Catching your suspicious look, he quickly pulled you into a tender kiss. "Fuuuuuck. Stay with me like this for a moment, nightingale."
"Y-you know I can't, Lohen, ugh, let me go," you wriggled out of his hold, reluctantly. Lohen let out a mournful groan as the warmth of you left him. You felt, with some embarrassment, his release beginning to trickle down your thigh, so you quickly pulled your underwear back on — though Lohen, as ever, looked thoroughly delighted by that sight, making you flustered. "Fucking clean yourself up, I'll be right back."
He rolled his eyes in amusement, then did exactly as you'd told him. You disappeared behind the curtain, and he heard the rustle of fabric — you were most likely getting yourself ready to start the day. The thought that you would be walking around all day with his release inside you made his cock pulse again.
He tipped his head back against the chair. Archons, have mercy. Heal me so I can fuck her soon properly.
When you returned from behind the curtain, you were already dressed for work. He smiled, almost boyishly, as you helped him back to bed with a perfectly composed, professional expression. A moment later the noise outside had already begun — the sounds of hungry, freshly woken knights making their way to breakfast. He could see you breathe out in relief, unaware that anyone had caught you at all.
"Sweetheart," Lohen addressed you, as you leaned over his bandages to check that everything was in order. "After breakfast, would you send Gunther to me? If you don't know who he is, you definitely know Ursula — just ask her to point him out. Tell him I have some duties to hand off to him."
You nodded, and just as you were about to leave, Lohen caught you by the back of the neck and pulled you down into a teasing, yet unbearably deep and almost longing kiss. Oh, there he is.
"I'll bring you coffee with breakfast. I think you can have caffeine again by now," you murmured as you pulled away.
"What would I ever do without you, darling?" he smiled sweetly, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You're the best."
⤷ TW: yandere themes, obsession, toxic attachment, threats of violence, and self-harm.
pt. 1
I thought agreeing to date the school's most feared delinquent was a temporary survival tactic. I didn't realize that a single, panicked "yes" had just handed him the keys to my entire life, starting the very next morning.
Rian practically leaped to his feet, a little too fast, his massive frame nearly colliding with mine. He spent the next three blocks to the school entrance dusting off his own knees with frantic, aggressive slaps, terrified that a speck of dirt on his pants might somehow offend my eyesight.
“I'll carry your backpack," he blurted out, his large hand hovering awkwardly near my shoulder strap, trembling like he was trying to defuse a bomb. "Let me carry it. Please. Your shoulders look small today. Are you eating enough? I can buy out the cafeteria. I'll fight the lunch lady if she doesn't give us the whole tray of yakisoba bread."
"Rian, no. My bag is fine, and please don't fight the staff," I muttered, keeping my eyes glued to the pavement.
The walk through the main gates was nothing short of a public execution. The moment Rian stepped onto school grounds, the casual morning chatter of the student body died instantly. Whispers broke out like a wildfire in a dry forest. Students actively pressed themselves against the lockers, burying their faces in their textbooks just to avoid eye contact with him.
Rian’s demeanor shifted on a dime.
The soft, watery adoration in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, lethal glare that swept across the courtyard. His jaw tightened, his breathing slowing down into a heavy, menacing rhythm as his eyes locked onto anyone who dared look our way.
"They're looking at you," he hissed under his breath, his knuckles cracking with a sound like snapping twigs. "They’re breathing the same air as you. Do you want me to gouge their eyes out, (Y/N)? Just say the word. I’ll clear the whole courtyard. You won't have to look at their ugly faces ever again."
"Rian, look at me," I said quickly, panicking as his hand drifted toward the heavy silver chain hanging from his belt loop.
His head snapped toward me, the murderous intent evaporating instantly. "Yes! I'm looking! I'm only looking at you!"
"Keep your hands to yourself and just walk me to my class," I ordered, discovering very quickly that treating him like a poorly trained Doberman was my only line of defense.
"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, a flush of pure ecstasy returning to his ears.
By noon, I thought I had survived the worst of it. Rian’s classroom was on the third floor with the seniors, while mine was on the second. I had managed a few blissful hours of obscurity, almost convincing myself the morning was a fever dream.
Then came lunchtime.
I was sitting at my usual desk, unlocking my phone, when my two best friends, Maya and Ace, slid their chairs over.
"Okay, spill," Maya demanded, slamming her hands on my desk. "Why did the school's grim reaper escort you to homeroom this morning? Are you in debt? Do we need to call the police?"
"It's... complicated," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "We're... dating?"
Ace choked on his melon soda, coughing violently. "Dating?! (Y/N), he has a body count! And I don't mean romantically! I mean he literally leaves a trail of destruction wherever he goes! You can't date him, you'll get wrapped in something dangerous!" Out of pure, protective reflex, Ace reached out and grabbed my forearm to pull me closer. "Listen to me, we need to get you out of here—"
BAM.
The classroom door slid open with a violent, heavy bang that made half the class jump out of their seats.
There stood Rian. He was holding the three insulated lunch bags like a shield, but his face was completely shadowed, his dark hair falling over eyes that were entirely locked onto Ace’s hand on my arm. The room dropped to freezing temperature in an instant.
"Let. Go. Of. Her."
The words came out as a low, dangerous rasp. Rian closed the distance between the door and my desk in two sharp, terrifyingly long strides. Before Ace could even blink, Rian’s massive hand gripped Ace’s collar, lifting him clean out of his chair by the fabric of his uniform.
"Rian, stop!" I screamed, standing up.
"He touched you," Rian whispered, his face inches from Ace's pale, terrified expression. His eyes were wide, fixed, and completely devoid of sanity. "I saw him. He touched your skin. I'm going to snap his fingers off one by one. I'm going to feed them to him."
"Rian! If you hurt him, I will never speak to you again!" I yelled, desperate. "I'll break up with you right now!"
The threat worked instantly.
Rian dropped Ace like a sack of potatoes. Ace hit the floor, gasping for air and scrambling backward under Maya’s desk.
Rian turned to me, his massive frame trembling violently. The terrifying, murderous delinquent vanished, replaced by a boy who looked like his entire world had just ended. He fell to his knees right in front of my desk, his head bowing so low his forehead almost touched my shoes.
"Don't break up with me," he choked out, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate panic. "I'll be good. I promise I'll be good. Just don't look away from me. I only did it because I care. I brought the lunch you like! Look, I kept it warm."
He fumbled with the insulated bags, his hands shaking so badly he could barely unzip them, presenting the bento boxes like an offering.
The entire classroom was dead silent. Thirty students watched in sheer shock as the most feared teenager in the city knelt at the feet of a completely average girl, begging for a second chance over a couple of lunch bags.
I looked at my terrified friends, then down at the shaking giant at my feet. I let out a long, exhausted breath, reaching out to gently pat his messy, dark hair.
"Get up, Rian," I muttered softly. "Let's go eat on the roof. Just... keep your hands to yourself."
Rian let out a shaky, breathless hitch, his wet eyes looking up at me with a terrifying, unhinged, and completely devoted smile.
"Okay," he whispered, his voice steadying as he stood up to follow me. "Anything you say, my angel. Anything for you."
NSFW: SMUT-heavy, dub-con, Lohen is a sadomasochist, riding (cowgirl), oral (m and f recieving), face-fucking, cum play, implied heat (reader), collaring, choking, spanking, degradation and humiliation, cum marking, a bit of edging, blood as sexual stimulus, edging, your honor, he's a freak!
(If you find some more, please let me know.)
As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!
NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes.
Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.
“Lah– Loh– Ahh~ Lohen–!”
Your broken whimper barely makes it past your drooling mouth before Lohen throws his head back and laughs. This cruel sound echoes through the burrow like he’s just heard the funniest joke in Mondstadt.
“Ohhh, poor little kitten~” he cooes, voice dripping with fake sympathy while his crimson eyes glitter with pure sadistic glee. “Look at you, barely conscious, tongue hanging out like a cheap whore in heat. Pathetic.”
You sob, trying to ride him, weak hips rolling in shallow motions. Your thoroughly abused pussy makes embarrassing squelching sounds every time you sink down on his cock, pushing out thick globs of his cum, dirtying his thighs and abdomen, soaking the blanket. His belt around your throat serves as an improvised collar, and it digs in as he tugs at it, yanking your head forward so you have to look at his pretty, smirking face.
“Aww, is the big bad lynx tired already?” he pouts, voice sweet and condescending. “How embarrassing. I thought predators were supposed to be strong~”
He suddenly bucks his hips up hard, slamming into you with enough force to make you cry out. Then he does it again, laughing breathlessly, while more tears strike down your face and you try to bring your trembling thighs together with his lean hips in the way. Vice Captain smirks at the attempt, slapping your bruised bum with two of his palms.
“Too weak, huh? Fine then!”
With one vicious yank on the leash, he pulls you off his cock completely and roughly flips you onto your back. The sudden movement makes you nauseous, but Lohen pays no attention to that. He hooks your trembling legs over his shoulders, folding you in half until your knees are nearly touching your shoulders. Your fluffy lynx tail is trapped awkwardly beneath you, twitching weakly, fur matted with cum leaking out of you.
“Here ya go,” he growls, eyes wild and manic as he lines his aching cock back up with your leaking entrance. “Nice and open so I can breed you like the dumb bitch you are.”
One brutal thrust and he buries himself to the hilt inside your cum-filled pussy, moaning loudly, but it quickly dissolves into cruel laughter as he starts pounding into you with reckless force.
“Fuuuck– still so tight even after I’ve ruined you,” he whines, voice cracking with overstimulation, yet he refuses to slow down. “My personal lynx onahole.”
.
.
.
Yep.
That’s you.
Probably wondering how you got here, huh?
Well, let's rewind a bit.
Pretty little bun bun. That's what you saw. Sleepy crimson peepers half lidded like he just woke up from a nap about slaugering yet another ruin guard. Twitchy nose that wiggles when he's thinking about... what, manslaughter? And those ears… Silky, with the softest inner velvet you've ever seen. They flick and flop and flutter with every single emotion that crosses his deranged little face.
And you, stupid little apex predator that you are, looked at this deranged little creature and thought: prey.
Bottom of the food chain, theoretically. It's written in the goddamn stars, etched into the bones of the world by evolution itself. Natural order of things: cute little bun buns get eaten by big scary kitty cats.
And you are, obviously, from the second group. A whole ass lynx hybrid, honey. Tufted ears that swivel like furry radar dishes, picking up the faintest rustle of prey in the underbrush. Claws that could fillet a boar and use its ribs for toothpicks. Unmatched speed (oh, how he would mock you later), and strength (and he still could pin you down effortlessly). And that natural swagger that screams louder than any roar.
So you got comfortable. A bit arrogant. Fucking stupid, if you ask me.
But you probably wonder what exactly you did to end up in that burrow?
Well, you flicked one of those silky soft mint ears in the hallway outside the library and called him a bottom of a food chain right in front of Sucrose, who choked on her own spit and practically teleported out of existence in a cloud of panicked anemo particles.
You thought you were being funny. A little harmless fun, yeah? A playful swat from the big cat to the little bunny.
Mistake!
Because that particular bunny came off the assembly line fucking defective. They dropped him on his fluffy little head as a kit, or maybe his momma drank some bad firewater while he was in the womb, or whatever. You don't know what exactly happened, but something crucial snapped. Instead of developing a healthy ‘oh gods please don't eat me’ fear response to things with fangs, his brain rewired it into an obsession with the specific threat of being eaten.
To put it bluntly, Lohen looked at your proud predator stride and saw a dumb, pretty recruit who he could reduce to a drooling, cunt clenching, begging mess.
And oh, this motherfucker knows that he’s pretty and has something to seduce you with. He's got those big crimson eyes that can go from ‘uwu I'm just a soft little bunny’ to ‘I'm going to skin you alive’ in the space of a heartbeat. He's got those long legs that he loves to show off, wearing those high boots that cling to every lean line and curve. And let's not even mention his ass, presented so perfectly in those tight white trousers. He's got this lean and flexible body that he loves to show off.
After that single incident with a flick, it starts small. A hand on your lower back, fingers splayed, pressing just a little too firmly, lingering just a little too long. Him demanding you for the training. His hip bumping yours when he falls into step beside you.
"Vice Captain, what are you doing?" you hiss, trying to sidestep away.
"Walking with my favorite recruit," he says, beaming up at you. His hand finds your elbow, tucking himself against your side like he belongs there. His body is warm and surprisingly solid against yours. "You smell nice today. New soap?" He inhales deeply, nose practically pressed to your neck, and makes a satisfied little sound. "Mhm. That's the good stuff."
You try sparring, because you're still operating under the adorable delusion that size and species fucking matter. You're a lynx hybrid, and he's a rabbit. It should be easy; there is no way it wouldn’t work.
So you corner him in the training yard, claws half-extended, tail lashing behind you.
"Alright, cottonball," you sneer, putting every ounce of predator into the word. "Gonna bounce away like a good little snack?"
Lohen just tilts his head and looks at you with those dead fish eyes, and a little smile plays at the corner of his lips.
"Snack?" he echoes, voice light and airy. His eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a breathy little moan as his spine pops as he stretches. "Oh, kitten…" He drops his arms and rolls his shoulders. "You’re such a stupid, feral little pussycat. I guess it’s my responsibility to train you to sit, stay, and ro–"
You lunge, fed up with his nonsense.
Your claws catch his collarbone, and three perfect furrows bloom red and angry against his pale skin. Blood wells up immediately, fat and ruby-red and hot, coppery scent hitting the air between you.
Honestly, you expect him to let out a high-pitched squeak of fear and bounce away, running like a good little prey hybrid.
Instead?
"Hahhhhnnn~" The moan vibrates straight from the depths of his chest, travels through the air like a physical touch, and lands with a throbbing ache right in the core of your suddenly traitorous cunt.
"What the fuck?" you hiss, stumbling back a step. Your claws are still wet with his blood, but you are afraid to tear your eyes away from him.
His ears go flat, plastered against that messy hair. His whole body shudders, and you watch, transfixed, as a visible tremor runs down his spine and makes that plump little tail give an excited thump-thump-thump against the small of his back.
"Oh, kitten~" His voice is dripping with something absolutely filthy. "You have no idea how good that felt."
He rolls the wounded shoulder, watching a thick droplet of his own blood snake a hot trail down the corded muscle of his bicep. His tongue darts out and drags across his lower lip, chasing the scent of his own blood mingling with your sweat.
Your breath hitches when Lohen steps forward, right into your space. Close enough that you can see the way his pupils have swallowed the crimson of his irises almost completely.
His hand comes up, but your body is frozen, caught between predator instinct and something that's coiling hot and tight in your belly. His fingers find your chin. Tilt your face up. His thumb traces along your lower lip.
"Look at you," Lohen murmurs, and his voice is liquid condescension. "Big, scary lynx. All those fangs and claws. And you're standing here, terrified." He leans in, his lips brushing yours. "Want to know a secret, kitten?"
"What?" Your voice is barely a whisper, and you hate how shaky it sounds.
His free hand grabs your wrist, still wet with his blood, and presses it flat right over his heart.
"I'm not scared of you," he breathes. "You know what I am?" His hips roll forward, and you feel it – the hot, hard, throbbing line of his erection pressing against your hip. "I'm intrigued." He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, that unhinged smile spreading across his pretty face. "Imagine what you'd do to me if you actually tried to eat me…"
His hips give a tiny little jerk against your thigh, and you feel it again, pressing insistently into the muscle. He's rock hard from you clawing him open, hell, from talking about you wanting him.
"But here's the thing, kitten." His voice drops to a conspiratory whisper, lips brushing yours with every word. "I'm not the prey here."
Something snaps in you – fear or fury or some unholy cocktail of both – and you jerk forward and sink your fangs into the junction of his neck and shoulder. You taste blood, hot and metallic and his, flooding over your tongue.
His body goes rigid against yours, every muscle locking up, that plump little tail thumping frantically against his back.
And then you feel the pulse of his cock, twitching in his pants, soaking the fabric of your pants. His whole body shudders with a broken sob tearing from his throat. His hands fly up to grip your hair, holding you against his neck, keeping your teeth buried in his flesh as he humps your leg like a filthy animal.
"Ffffffuck– yes– fuck, don't stop–"
You release him, shoving him off, stumbling backward. Your mouth is smeared with his blood, but still, you are the one who is shaking like a leaf under his gaze.
Lohen just slumps back against the training post with a blissed-out smile spreading across his flushed face. His croth is visibly wet, but he doesn't seem to care.
"You're a freak," you spit, voice trembling. "A fucking freak."
"Yeah." He pushes off the post, sauntering toward you with that bouncy walk. "But I'm your freak now." He tilts his head, showing off the bleeding bite mark. "Fair's fair, kitten."
He pats your cheek, and the touch is so fucking condescending, especially from the guy who came in his pants when you bit him. You thank the anemo archon that at least nobody is on the training grounds to witness the whole embarrassing incident.
"See you at morning roll call, pet." Lohen winks, turns, and hops away, that fluffy tail bouncing with every step.
And suddenly, the day after, because the universe is a cruel cunt that loves to watch you squirm, Varka is slapping your shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise in the shape of his palm: "You're under Lohen's command now!"
Your brain short-circuits. " Wh– The... the rabbit?"
"The Vice Captain!" the beefy wolf hybrid corrects, beaming like he just handed you a puppy. "Sharpest mind and aggressive tactics I've ever seen. You'll learn a lot. Just... try not to let him get under your skin. He's got a talent for it."
Congrats, this herbivore is your boss now.
And then he's just... there. Everywhere. All the goddamn time. Bastard is basically shitting on the very concept of your freedom, and you can't even catch him to return the favor.
You smell the astringent bite of mint just around every corner. The air gets cold right behind you sometimes. When you spin, weapon drawn, claws out, ready to gut the stalker, there's nothing. Just the phantom thump-thump-thump of that fluffy tail and a breathy giggle that echoes down the hallway.
And the notes. Slipped under your door. Tucked into your boot. Folded into your training notes. Sometimes, to your genuine horror, appearing on your nightstand in the morning.
"Saw you stretching today. You are so… flexible…"
"You growled at that deer boy who bumped into you. Got me really worked up."
"Wore my tightest pants today. Did you notice? I saw you looking. ♡"
The dog hybrid boy who takes an interest in you doesn't know any of this.
He's new, transferred from some border outpost, all muscle and misplaced confidence. He's been watching you for a week now, his hopeful eyes tracking you across the mess hall, the training yard, the corridors. You've noticed, because, well, it's hard not to notice. He's big, and he smells like wet dog, and his tail wags every time you so much as glance in his direction.
And tonight, in the Angel's Share, he makes his move, sliding into the seat across from you with a blush so heavy it could rival a fresh sunsettia's colour.
"H-hey there," he slurs, visibly nervous. His scent is all eager-pup arousal and cheap ale. "You look really pretty today… N-no, that's not– I mean, you're always pretty, it's just today I finally got the guts to–"
The air turns sharp with frost before you even see him. One moment, the dogboy is stuttering through his confession, the next there's a slender, scarred hand fisting into his hair, yanking his head back at a brutal angle. The cold steel of a knife presses flat against the column of his throat, resting there with the weight of a promise.
"Sniff sniff."
Lohen inhales theatrically right beside the hybrid's ear, his nose brushing the fur, his crimson eyes fixed unblinkingly on you. A wide, sharp, utterly unhinged smile splits his pretty face, revealing those deceptively dainty incisors. His voice is lighter than chimes, softer than a lullaby, and it’s the most terrifying thing you have ever heard.
"Mhm. That's the smell. It's like... warm cream and soft flesh, isn't it? Makes your knot swell up just thinking about sinking into that wet heaven, huh?” Lohen's grip on the dagger tightens, and that unhinged note becomes more prominent in his voice. “But here’s a problem… You've been sniffing around what's mine, pup. That's very, very rude. Do you know what happens to rude strays who try to take what's mine?"
The knife tilts, just a fraction. A single bead of red wells against the poor bastard’s skin and rolls down the poor guy’s throat. The dogboy makes a keening whimper that cuts off when Lohen’s grip tightens.
"I'll tell ya," Lohen continues, still in that gentle tone. His eyes never leave yours. He’s putting on a show, you understand, and he wants you to witness every second. "First, I take this dagger, and I carve out your eyes. Then I pack your throat with cryo shards. Then I open your belly and watch the light leave your eyes while I pull out your insides. And when you’re finally dead, I’m going to take your fucking dick–”
He presses the knife a little harder, and the dogboy sobs.
“–and I’m going to have it in a jar, like a talisman. I’ll hang it on the wall of the burrow where I keep my mate, so every time I breed her to tears, she can look at it and remember what happens to anyone who tries to take her from me.”
Lohen pauses, tilts his head, and that smile somehow softens into something almost fond. He pats the trembling boy’s cheek with two condescending little tap-taps from his free hand.
"But I'm feeling generous tonight, because my beloved is right here watching, and I want to reward her patience. So I'll give you one chance.” He licks his lips, and you feel the twinge of something warm in your belly. Something that you shouldn't feel in that situation. “You’re going to walk out of this tavern while having your organs in the original packaging. Next, you’re going to write the transfer request. Finally, you’re going to fuck off back to that shithole that you crawled out from before sunrise. Are we clear?"
The dogboy nods eagerly. Lohen wrinkles his nose, releases him with a shove that sends him sprawling to the floor, and watches with lazy satisfaction. “Good pup.”
Poor dog hybrid scrambles to his feet and bolts for the door, slipping once in a hurry.
“Bye-bye~” he sing-songs cheerfully in the dead silent tavern. Every patron is staring. Lohen ignores them all, turning to you, twirling the dagger between his fingers with a casual elegance that makes your stomach clench and your cunt throb. That unhinged smile melts into something softer, but no less terrifying.
"Wha’?" He asks, as if he hadn't just graphically detailed a murder in a public establishment. "Can't have the strays thinking you're available."
You sit frozen, heart hammering against your ribs, every instinct screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything except sit here while Lohen saunters closer. He stops between your spread thighs and looks down at you with those black-hole eyes, pupil swallowed irises gleaming with mania and adoration in equal measure.
"I'm not yours," you manage, voice trembling. "You can't just scare away people who try to approach me!"
Lohen smirks, leans in, lips brushing the shell of your fluffy ear, breath scorching.
"I can, and I just did," he whispers and pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. His hand, the one still holding the dagger, comes up and rests the flat of the blade against your cheek. The metal is ice-cold, and you flinch. He traces the edge along your jawline, feather-light, never breaking skin.
"I'll see you soon," he breathes, patting your burning cheek with a knife. “Try not to drip too much on Master Diluc's floor.”
Lohen winks, turns, and hops away, that fluffy tail giving a sassy little flick with every bounce of his perfect ass. The tavern slowly returns to life, whispers filling the silence he left behind as you sit there, frozen.
Since then, it’s gotten worse.
You're losing yourself. That sassy predator that you were decides to rest somewhere inside of you, and no matter how hard you try, you can't bring it out.
It's humiliating, really.
Every time you catch a glimpse of those soft ears or that juciest piece of ass you’ve ever seen on a male, you have to restrain yourself from reaching out and touching. The dreams are the worst – dreams where he pins you down and whispers the most horrific words while doing even worse things. You wake up soaked and gasping, fists full of sheets that reek of him because the sick bastard has been breaking into your room and rubbing his scent all over your bedding. It's not helping that your heat is nearing rapidly, making you more sensitive and jumpy.
So one day you finally snap. All it takes is too much wine mixed with this creeping dread curling in your belly. Just enough liquid stupidity to think you're still the fucking predator in this equation.
You corner your Vice Captain outside the city gates under a sickly yellow moon.
"Why don't you just bounce away, you little freak?!" you snarl, swaying, fur bristling along your tail, claws itching to rend. "You're a rabbit! You're supposed to be scared of me! That's the whole goddamn deal!"
Lohen turns to face you with an expression of serene delight, as if you've just offered him the most precious gift imaginable. A visible shiver that starts at his nose and travels down his spine, ending with his fluffy, cream-tipped tail giving a sharp thump-thump-thump against the stone archway that he's leaning on.
"Scared?" he repeats, and there's a laugh bubbling under the word when he steps closer. "Oh, kitten, you are really that dumb~"
He stops right in front of you, close enough to kiss, and tilts his head, those big crimson eyes looking at you with mock innocence.
"You're just a big, growly kitty with a wet little cunt and a brain that short-circuits every time I shake my ass."
"I am not!" The words tumble out, angry but unsure.
"You are~" He reaches up and flicks your nose, like you're the cute little pet. The audacity makes your claws twitch, but your body refuses to move. "You're so easy, kitten. I barely have to try. A little ear flick here, a little bounce there–" He demonstrates, bouncing lightly on his heels, "–and you're drooling."
Pissed off, you lunge at him – claws out, fangs bared, all that rage finally reaching its peak – but your drunk limbs are stupidly predictable. Lohen sidesteps easily, hooking one leg behind yours and catching you as you stumble. One deceptively strong arm snakes around your waist. Your legs buckle, and suddenly his face is too close, watching you with that unnerving stillness.
"There we go," he coos, holding you upright as you gasp and shudder against him.
"F-fuck you–" you spit, but it comes out as a sob.
"Soon, kitten. Just let me–" He shifts his grip, and the world tilts violently. One arm hooks under your knees, the other braces your back, and suddenly you're on his shoulder, staring at the mud and cobblestones whizzing past in a blur as he carries you into the treeline of Wolvendom.
You claw at his arms, his back, anything you can reach. Your nails leave furrows in the fabric of his coat, tear the cotton of his shirt, and draw thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades. He just moans louder and speeds up, those stringy legs eating up the ground.
“Put me down!” You whine, trying to punch him in the ribs with your knee.
“M’kay!” Lohen suddenly agrees and drops you into some kind of hole under an ancient oak. You land on a pile of blankets so soft they must've cost your entire year's salary.
It's a den, you understand after a second. Dug deep, shored up with gnarled roots, the air inside cold and still and smelling faintly of mint. There's a flask of fresh water. A neat little pyramid of sunsettias. A plate of fine steak, cut into delicate little ribbons. And in the center of it all – the nest. A little hollow lined with soft grasses, even more blankets, and what you now recognize as tufts of fur he's plucked from his own tail and ears, woven together to cradle two bodies.
"Lohen, this is–" you breathe, scrambling backward on the blankets until your back hits the earthen wall. "You can't just–"
"Can't what?" He's kneeling in the entrance, a dark silhouette blocking out the stars, pulling his shirt over his head with a languid roll of tight muscle. His pale torso is a fucking roadmap of battles, scars overlapping scars, some old and white, some newer, pink and puckered. And among them, fresh, still-bleeding furrows from your claws, beading crimson. You take note of the imprint of your teeth on his neck.
"Can't claim what's mine?" he finishes for you, crawling forward on hands and knees. "Can't build a proper den for my girl like any self-respecting male? Can't bring you offerings and keep you warm and safe and full? Can’t help my mate with her heat?" He leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. His face is centimeters from yours, those black-hole eyes boring into your soul. He smiles, predator-sharp.
"Get off me, freak!" You bare your fangs and roar, trying to scare this fucked in the head herbivore.
"Make me." Lohen grinds his hips down, and you feel the hot, hard, throbbing length of him pressing against your clothed cunt. The pressure is perfect, and a moan escapes before you can stop it.
"C’mon, make me!" His smile widens and his hips roll, slow and filthy, dragging the ridge of his cock along your slit through the fabric. "Tell me you didn’t rub this cunt raw while dreaming of me…."
You try to shove Lohen off, but he catches your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand – one fucking hand, and he's a small animal hybrid and a herbivore at that, how is he so fucking strong – and leans down until his lips brush your ear.
"I've been courting you for months," he whispers, and the words drip off his tongue like honey laced with ground glass and obsession. "And you... Ohhhh, you've been waving this dumb little kitty cunt in my face the whole time. Flicking my ears. Making me bleed. Letting me stalk you..." He pulls back, looking down at you with those wild eyes. "And now... finally... I have you exactly where you belong. In my den. In my nest. Under me."
His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing past your lips and into your mouth. You taste salt and skin and him – sharp, clean, intoxicating. He pushes deeper, gagging you slightly, and his eyes flutter closed.
You bite down on his thumb, hard, to make this fucking freak recoil. Blood wells up instantly, hot and metallic, flooding your tongue. But instead of yanking his hand back, Lohen's whole body shudders with a guttural moan that seems to tear itself from somewhere deep in his chest. His hips jerk frantically, grinding his clothed cock against your cunt, and you feel a fresh gush of wetness soak through both your pants as he nearly cums right there.
"Ffffffuck– yes– do it again, bite me harder, make me bleed, make me hurt–" His free hand releases your wrists and flies to his own pants, fumbling with the buckle.
You release his thumb, panting. Your mouth is smeared with his blood. "You're sick."
"Yeah." He's grinning, blood smeared on his lip from where he bit it himself, pupils blown so wide his eyes look like black voids. "Terminally sick for you."
Lohen pulls his thumb from your mouth and licks the blood off, eyes never leaving yours, sitting back on his haunches, and now those nimble, scarred fingers are working his belt buckle with single-minded focus.
When he’s done, the leather slithers free with a soft hiss, and Vice Captain holds it up, considering it, then drapes it around your neck so tight it makes you cough.
"Pretty," he breathes. "You'd look so pretty in a proper collar. Maybe I'll have one made, engraved with my name. 'Property of Lohen' What do you think?"
You can't tell him to fuck off when the collar tightens on your neck. He unbuttons his pants, slides them down those stringy thighs, and kicks them aside. His underwear follows.
His cock is... god help you, it's pretty. That's the word that slams into your brain, unwanted and undeniable. Pretty. Pale and flushed pink at the tip, curving up slightly toward his belly, slick with pre-cum that's been leaking steadily and soaking a dark patch into the front of his discarded underwear. It's not massive, but it's thick enough that you know it'll split you open oh so sweetly. Below it, his balls are drawn up tight, heavy and full, the skin taut and slightly darker, clearly aching with the need to empty themselves inside something– someone.
Specifically you.
"Pretty, right?" Lohen reaches down and wraps a hand around his cock, giving it one lazy stroke. A thick bead of pre-cum wells up at the tip and drips slowly down his shaft, catching the faint moonlight filtering through the burrow entrance. He catches it with his thumb, brings it to his mouth, and licks it clean with a soft hum. "Mmm... Want a taste?" He smears another bead onto his fingers and holds them out. "Open up, kitten. Sample the goods."
You clamp your mouth shut, turning your head away. He tsks softly, disappointed but not surprised, and crawls forward again, sitting square on your chest. His weight presses your back deeper into the blankets, pins your arms at your sides, and leaves you completely helpless. That bobbing cock taps insistently against your sealed lips as he settles, leaving a tacky smear of pre-cum across your mouth.
“Oh, kitten,” he drawls, slow and syrupy, his head tilting so his ears flop adorably to one side even as his crimson eyes blaze with absolute, clinical madness. “Still playin’ hard to get? After all the notes I left? After I bled and came in my pants with your teeth in my neck?”
He wraps the tail of the belt around his fist once, twice, tightening the improvised leash until the leather bites into the tender skin of your throat. Your breath hitches into a strangled wheeze, vision spotting at the edges as the collar cuts off your air.
“S’alright. I like you feisty. Makes it so much sweeter when you finally break. And you will break, kitten.” He rolls his hips, grinding his soaked cockhead across your sealed lips, and laughs when your nostrils flare involuntarily.
You glare up at him, defiant, mouth clamped shut. Lohen just smiles and jerks the collar hard. The sudden constriction forces a choked gasp from your lungs.
He uses that exact moment to thrust his length into your mouth in one merciless thrust, not stopping until his swollen balls are pressed flush against your chin and the fat, leaking head bullies its way past your gag reflex.
Your throat convulses violently around the intrusion, muscles spasming and squeezing him desperately. He throws his head back with a loud moan that echoes through the burrow, his silky mint-green ears pinning flat against his messy hair while his fluffy cream-tipped tail thumps wildly against his own ass in ecstatic beats.
“Ahhh– fuuuuck yes, there it is~” he sobs out, voice cracking with pure bliss as his hips grind forward until your nose is smashed into the soft mint-colored hairs, his musky scent flooding your lungs until you can’t smell anything else. “This is exactly where you belong, kitten. On your back in my nest, throat stuffed full of bunny cock like the stupid whore you are.”
Lohen drops the leash, and his fingers twist viciously into your tufted lynx ears and the hair at the back of your scalp, yanking your head back at a brutal angle to straighten your throat into a helpless fuck-sleeve.
There is no time to adjust as he starts fucking your face with fast and punishing thrusts – each one dragging his thick cock almost all the way out before slamming back in until his balls slap wetly against your chin. Obscene, wet gluck-gluck-gluck sounds fill the burrow as stringy ropes of throat slime, precum and drool bubble out from the stretched corners of your mouth, pouring down your chin and tits in messy rivers.
“F-fuck– squeeze me just like that, kitten–. You’re doing s-so good for me, makin’ me feel so loved,” he groans, eyes half-lidded and soft with obsessive adoration. His hips snap faster, turning the slow face-fucking into something meaner. Thick globs of your spit fly everywhere with every brutal plunge, splattering across your lips and cheeks.
Your vision is blurring from the lack of air and the constant battering of his cock against the back of your throat. Tears stream down your face, mixing with the thick strings of spit and pre-cum, and despite everything, your cunt is clenching desperately around nothing. Your hips twitch and roll uselessly in the air, searching for friction that isn’t there. Lohen’s nose twitches, catching the scent immediately, and he lets out a delighted little giggle.
“Ohhh? How embarrassing. You’re supposed to be the predator, but one taste of bunny cock and you’re already gushing like a broken faucet. Don’t worry… I’ll take care of that sloppy hole soon enough. But first–”
He suddenly pulls out with a wet schlorp, leaving your throat gaping and empty. You cough and gasp desperately, thick ropes of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the glistening tip of his cock. Before you can even suck in a proper breath, he shifts his weight, sitting heavily on your chest with his knees pinning your shoulders down. His hand wraps tight around his throbbing shaft right above your ruined face, stroking himself with loud squelching sounds while you heave.
“Gonna paint this pretty face,” he growls, voice low and trembling with the edge of orgasm, “Gonna cover every bit of you in my cum so no one ever forgets who this stupid slut belongs to.”
You’re too wrecked to respond. So Lohen does it for you – two fingers hook roughly into the corners of your mouth, prying your jaw open wide while his other hand pumps his cock faster, the wet shlick-shlick-shlick growing louder and more desperate.
“Stick your tongue out.” And you fucking do, like a mindless dumb kitty, too fucked out to think. “Yeah, jus’ like that– good girl~”
His hips jerk into his fist, ears flicking madly, fluffy tail going rigid behind him as the pleasure spikes. His voice starts breaking, words turning meaner and nastier the closer he gets.
“You think that fucking stray could ever make you feel like this? Huh? You think anyone else gets to see you like this? I’d gut them. You’re mine. Mine to– aah~”
The first thick rope of cum erupts violently across your forehead, splattering hot and sticky all the way up into your hair and across one eye. The second heavy spurt lands directly into your open mouth, coating your tongue in salty heat and overflowing down your chin in creamy rivers.
“Take it– take every fucking drop, you greedy bitch–”
The third and fourth jets stripe across your cheeks and nose, the excess dripping down into the hollow of your throat, where the collar bites painfully into your skin. More cum splatters across your twitching lynx ears, matting the soft fur, while another thick glob lands on your closed eyelid, sealing it shut with sticky warmth.
When the last watery dribble finally leaks out, Lohen slaps his softening but still twitching cock against your ruined face a few times – pat-pat-pat – spreading the mess even more. His breathing is ragged, but his eyes are zeroed in on you.
“Lookin’ so cute,” He pats your cum-smeared cheek with genuine affection, then slides off your chest, leaving you gasping and soaked and utterly debased.
But if you thought this was it… oh, poor baby… poor-poor baby…
His hands find the waistband of your pants. You try to buckle, coughing, one eye closed because of his spunk that threatens your eye. That does nothing to stop Lohen. He yanks, and your pants and underwear come down in one rough movement, the fabric tearing slightly at the seams, baring your traitorously weeping cunt to the cool air of his burrow.
As if bewitched, Lohen drops to his belly between your legs, arms hooking under your thighs to yank you closer, and presses his nose directly against your slick folds. His ears flatten, his tail thumps against the floor, and a guttural growl rumbles from his chest – a sound no rabbit should ever make.
“This is what I’ve been dreaming about,” he breathes, the words muffled against your pussy. “Gonna fuck this kitty cunt so thoroughly it’ll reject anyone else. You’ll be a one-rabbit woman.”
Lohen drags his soft, deceptively innocent pink tongue in one long stripe from your clenching entrance all the way up to your throbbing clit, collecting your slick like it’s nectar. Then the real hunger takes over. He buries his whole face in your cunt – nose grinding hard against your clit sweetly, tongue stabbing deep inside you, lapping and thrusting wildly.
You arch off the blankets with a broken moan, lava flooding your veins. “F-fuck– Lohen–!”
“Mhm…” he hums loudly against your folds and pulls back just long enough to spit a thick glob of saliva right onto your swollen clit, then slaps his tongue against it, massaging the swollen bud lovingly.
“So fucking tight and wet,” Lohen slurs, mouth still half-buried in your cunt. “Could eat this pussy for days, until you’re just a stupid pet who cums every time her owner comes home. Would you like that? Huh?”
“Lohen– please–”
“Please what?” He pulls back suddenly, lips shiny, chin dripping with your arousal, that unhinged grin splitting his face. He folds your thighs up and apart, nearly bending you in half so you’re forced to watch him work. A long strand of your slick stretches from his bottom lip to your cunt before Lohen laps it up with a happy little moan.
“Gotta be specific, kitten. I’m just a dumb bunny, remember? Tell me exactly what this sloppy cunt needs.”
A sob rips from your throat as the temperature of your body spikes up, your heat slowly claiming you. “I need– cum–”
“Whaa~? Say it properly!” He dips down again, dragging his tongue agonizingly slow through your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit. “Need me to make this pathetic pussy cum?”
“Yes, please! Need ta cum!” You whine with a voice so thin it almost sounds alien.
“Good little bitch~”
Lohen dives back in, tongue fucking into you, nose grinding against your clit. Two fingers suddenly stretch you, and you cry out. Lohen curls them upward to hit that spot that makes stars explode behind your eyes. His hand leaves your thigh and snakes down between his own legs, and you hear the frantic sound of his fist stroking his shaft while he eats you out.
And when you’re so close, right there, right on the edge, your claws shredding the blankets, your back arching–
Lohen stops.
The orgasm dies instantly, leaving you a convulsing wreck. Your denied cunt spasms violently around nothing, and more hot tears spill down your cum-streaked face as you choke on a broken wail.
“C’mon, move that fat lynx ass,” he giggles, voice bright and cruel as he gives your trembling thigh a patronizing little tap.”Need you to cum on my cock. Gonna show you what ‘fucking like rabbits’ means~”
You can only shudder, edged out of your mind, drooling and crying into the nest that reeks of mint and cum. Your hips twitch uselessly, seeking friction that isn’t there.
Lohen clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. Then, with terrifying ease, he manhandles you like you weigh nothing. Those deceptively stringy arms and compact muscles flip you onto your hands and knees in one smooth motion. Your face smashes into the soft blankets, ass forced high in the air, cunt and tight little hole completely exposed to his hungry gaze. Your fluffy lynx tail lashes wildly in humiliated protest, but he just grabs the base and yanks it upward, pinning it out of the way.
“Archons, fuck yes,” he breathes, as he kneads your ass cheeks roughly, spreading fat globes wide apart until you feel the cool air kiss your dripping folds and puckered hole. “And to think that you were so stubborn to admit that we are meant to be! Bad kitty…”
The first sharp slap cracks across your ass, hard enough to make the fat jiggle and bloom bright red. You yelp, claws digging deeper into the blankets. Vice Capitan watches the mark form with manic glee, ears flicking excitedly, that fluffy cream-tipped tail thumping wildly against his own back.
His palm rains down again and again. Each impact sends shockwaves through your body, turning your ass into a burning canvas of handprints. Every slap pushes you closer to the edge without letting you fall. You’re drooling messily onto the blankets, thick strings of slick, cum, and tears soaking the fabric as you whimper and sob into the nest.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Lohen stops, palms smoothing almost tenderly over the bruised flesh. But the gentleness is a lie – he spreads your ascheeks again, spitting a thick glob of saliva right onto your puckered hole before his leaking cock slides hot and heavy through your drenched folds. He coats himself in your slick, letting you feel every throb, the fat head nudging your entrance just enough to part your puffy lips before pulling back before you can envelop him.
“Ah-ah-ah~” he tuts, voice dripping fake sympathy as he slaps the heavy head of his cock lightly against your labia. “You really thought I was gonna let you cum that easily? No, no, kitten. Say you are mine first.”
You can’t answer – your voice is gone, replaced by ragged pants and whimpers.
“Say it,” Lohen repeats, a dark edge sharpening his words. He leans over you, chest pressing flush to your back, one hand snaking up to fist the belt still around your throat. He yanks the end of it, forcing your head up and your back into a painful arch. His other hand reaches toward his discarded coat, and you feel the flat of his knife press against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
Your breath hitches in arousal when the metal tip scrapes against your mound.
“Tell me your soul belongs to Lohen,” he whispers hotly against the shell of your tufted ear, voice low and venomous. “Say it, or I’ll keep you right on the brink until you’re nothing but a babbling mess begging for bunny cum. I can do this for a very long time…”
The knife traces a threatening line up your thigh, never breaking skin but promising it could. And what little remains of your pride shatters completely.
“It’s yours,” you choke out, voice wrecked and trembling, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “Lohen! Please– Please–”
“Good mate,” he praises, planting a chaste kiss atop your head, right between your ears. The words sound genuine and reverent that they make you blush deeper, face turning crimson. “See? Wasn’t so hard.”
Lohen releases the leash slightly but keeps you arched, then sits back on his haunches. His hand tightens in the fur at the base of your tail, yanking your ass closer. The other grips your bruised hip hard enough to leave fresh marks.
His throbbing cock lines up again, the leaking head kissing your quivering hole. Your whole body tenses, every nerve screaming in anticipation.
"Welcome to the bottom of the food chain, kitten," he whispers, voice dripping with undiluted triumph.
His hips roll forward.
.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!
Series Masterlist: Creatures Features
I saw this crazy battle maniac 2.0 (hi Childe) in Varka's story quest and just couldn't... I had to add him. Yeah, I'm sorry for neglecting this series so much. Hope that you like this part at least haha!
SYNOPSIS: after numerous failed arranged marriages set up by your parents, you thought the one with the vice-captain would follow the same pattern. you're proven wrong when he subverts what an expected greeting should be given.
𖥔 WORDCOUNT: 3.3k (pls give it a chance...) ┆ 𖥔 TAGS. @millurie @axolotsofluv @tragedy-of-commons @al97649 @bisouyuo @aritsukemo -> come join the taglist here!
𖥔 WARNINGS: mentions of beer and drinking, reader is from snezhnaya and has a dendro vision, reader also has lowkey/implied mommy issues, mentions blood and a wound, arrange marriages obv, cameo for varka, ragbros, jean, lisa, and albedo; not fully proofread; expect mistakes!
♪ FINAL NOTES .ᐟ this one is for my fav lohen kissers ari and yuomi 🤍🤍i genuinely didn't expect for this to b this long but oh well. art credits: @.su3ka_ on x!
"you are to be wedded to the vice-captain of the fifth company."
that's how it all began — a simple dinner with your parents as they dropped the bomb of your new marriage candidate. you tried your best not to appear vexed. keyword: tried. but unlike you're ever admirable cousin, jean, your face gave away more than your words ever could.
your brow twitched, the small fork in your hand clattered to the porcelain plate. your mother threw a disapproving glare, while your father coughed into his fist. "now, [name], my dear—"
"don't "my dear" me, father." you bark out, "what happened to giving up on setting me up for another failing marriage."
"you haven't even met the vice-captain," he argued.
you rolled your eyes in bemusement, "and you have? what happened to not involving yourself with 'pitiful, mongering barbarian?""
"your marriage has been decided," he stated sternly. he set his utensils with force enough to rattle the entire table as he raised his head like he always did when someone challenged his authority as a duke. "you are to be wed to vice-captain lohen." a tired sigh escaped him, a gloved hand pinched between his brows as he heard you stand from your seat and dash out the dining room. "arranged marriages aren't all so bad, [name]!"
"not all bad, you say?!" you shouted from across the corridor. "take a look at your relationship with mother before you say that!"
your family arrived in mondstadt at dawn. the trip to dorman port was as you expected—humid, and all too bright in comparison to the snow of snezhnaya. the people smiled often, too, you noticed. well, you supposed this was the land of freedom after all. you're quite tempted to see where the winds would take you when all you've grown up with are the blizzards and snowstorms that knock at your windows like an incessant friend who can't take no for an answer.
still, despite your curiosity about what the wild berries in the bushes would taste like, you willed your feet to stay rooted at the docks. your father greeted everyone as usual; your mother hid half her face in disdain behind her fan. like you, she had a lot to say about the weather, but you doubt she'd sugarcoat any unpleasant comments she had. people have told you that you took after her the most — too straightforward, too quippy, too wild to be a duke's heir.
"and you must be the duke's heir," a voice commented. you snapped your head up to the noise and realized, in mortification, that you had to crane your neck to even meet his eyes. you grip the silk of your apparel in alarm. "i'm varka. knight of boreas, grandmaster of the knight of favonious!"
the grandmaster pressed a closed fist to his chest, a grin plastered on his face as he bowed his head. "from now on, you will be in our care. if you encounter any problems, please don't hesitate to inform me. or lohen."
lohen.
you wondered what he's like.
as varka stood back to his full height, he offered you a hand to guide you to the horse you'll be riding to the city. "the roads are treacherous here, your grace. using a carriage will only lengthen the time to get to the city." he had explained earlier when your mother had complained at the lack of proper transportation. you sighed in dismay when she threw another hissy fit, your father right behind her as he guided her onto the horse, gathering the many layers of her gown. he was probably chastising her for not heeding his warnings. you turned around and let varka lift you to the saddle (and when i say lift, i mean lift. the man even had the audacity to laugh and ask if you were eating properly.)
you tuned out the rest of mother's tantrum in favor of soaking in the sights of your new home. it was… starkly different. you could actually see the path, albeit it was… unrecognizable; wild flowers bloomed from the soil, and small critters would gather atop rock formations to tilt their heads at you. when you thought no one was looking, you gave them a small wave. a smile bloomed on your face when the small squirrel jumped in delight before scurrying away with its friend.
"you're quite the charmer, your highness." you turned to your left and watched as varka reign his horse slow it's pace and match yours. his sky-lit eyes eventually fell on the mount you had been riding, a low whistle escaping his lips. "that horse you're riding is infamous for throwing off any rider that touches his saddle."
you feel your anxiety spike, quickly looked down to your horse before you calmed down. "you should've said that earlier, grandmaster…"
he laughed, hearty and whole. like the feeling of joy existed in the air that wafted in the surroundings and encompassed the space of his lungs. "ha, ha, ha! i heard rumors about you being blessed by mother nature herself, your highness! ah, forgive me. i know i shouldn't indulge in such rumors but the moment you had stepped off that boat, i had a feeling you were special."
you blinked up at him (cursing the very obvious gap in your heights in your mind) and couldn't stop yourself from asking, "why is vice-captain lohen here?"
there's a shift in the air. subtle, almost as if it never happened to begin with. but you saw it. the way varka's eyes widened for just a fraction, how they looked at anything but you, and how he changed the subject faster than any warning of an avalanche you've heard.
the trip to the main gates was spent in silence after that. you didn't dare to ask the question again, or even bring up your fiancé's name. afraid of the suffocation the knights would have to endure as the words fell from your lips.
lohen. you trialed in your mind. it was short enough to remember, but unique in a way you've only ever heard it once. lohen. you looked up to the sky, the day had barely passed despite it feeling like you've travelled through half of teyvat already. when the sun peeked around it's shield of clouds, you wondered where your fiancé was.
mondstadt was welcoming. welcoming enough for your father — all up-tight, and no funny business — to indulge in a few rounds of beer in a quaint bar in a corner. "it's angel's share," you're mother informed, already half-way through her glass of champagne when she found you in a dark corner on the second floor. "owned by the most sought after bachelor in mondstadt — diluc ragnvindr."
"if he's so sought after, why wasn't he a candidate?" you asked, swirling the apple cider in your glass.
"naive child, i've told you numerous times already. he could have been, if you hadn't burned his letter in the fireplace like a fool."
ah, now you remembered. you were high on emotions that night and the thought of leaving home with a man you didn't know sent you into a spiralling tantrum that ended with you burning the stacks of marriage proposals on your father's desk. you distinctively remembered a burgundy envelope and an owl seal amongst them.
you took a careful peek at your mother who had dropped herself on the seat in front of you, much to your disdain. when she clicked her tongue, you took it as your cue to let your gaze fall like it always had in her presence.
"because of your foolish mistake, you're stuck with this half-witted, war-mongering vice-captain."
"'warn mongering'?" you asked.
she rolled her eyes at you, drinking the remaining champagne and slammed the delicate glass in front of you. "the boy is a monster, [name]." she said, "that lohen is unbecoming. i can't wrap my mind around how he, of all people was accepted into the knights."
the way she said lohen's name — as if the very letters seared her tongue and offended her existence — made something churn in your stomach. you didn't know him, you reminded yourself, there's no point in defending him. in fact, with varka's prior reaction to you questioning his whereabouts, you're left with little but too much all the same; lohen was someone distasteful to be around.
"are you even listening to me, [name]?!" your mother rattled, "listen to me, dear archons above what have i done to deserve such a disobedient child—"
you stood from your seat, the legs of your chair dragging across the floors before it dropped with a painfully loud thud. chatter paused, songs finished abruptly, and you simply smiled. "i'm tired, i'll be retiring for the day." you excused yourself from the others, bolting to the stairs, only to be stopped when the grandmaster weaved himself between you and the exit.
"now, your highness, you can't leave yet!" he said, one hand still holding a wooden mug of beer.
you raised a brow at him, your patience growing thin when he continues to block your path regardless of what step you took. "grandmaster," you warned. "please, step aside."
but he only shook his head, a finger scratched his chin while his eyes darted across the many faces in the bar. "y-you can't!"
"and why not?"
"because… um… you see, we were, um…"
while he was busy thinking fo an excuse, you sent out a silent prayer to the tsaritsa that barbatos doesn't smite you for landing a blow on one of his knights (though calling it a blow would be an exaggeration when the grandmaster was double, if not triple your body mass). at best, you had landed a strong enough blow to his side to tickle, tickle, him to drop his guard and wheeze out of your way.
finally! you thought. you were almost free from this stuffy, beer-stinking room!
but as you opened the door, a force from the other side pulled it forward, taking you along with it. everyone gasped, and you shut your eyes to brace for the impact, already imagining the scolding you were about to receive if even a single scratch were to grace your face. but it never came.
instead, heavy and dirtied hands caught you by the forearms as your face planted into someone's uniform stained with blood. you stayed there for a moment longer than what would be considered necessary.
"well, ain't this a lovely first meeting, your highness!"
you felt the blood drain from your face as you realized who you had just fallen into. with a heavy sigh and grumbled curses, you lift your head enough to catch a glimpse of a face that did not match the tone of his voice. his eyes were something straight out of a fairytale, but it's not what you'd describe as "princely" or even a "knight" — they had no light, like never-ending, encompassing pool of carmine that bleeds into the sky.
your mother was right, lohen was a monster.
"what? do i have something on my face?" he asked, and you're mortified to realize that you had been caught staring right into a rabbit hole of his gaze. the pads of his gloves dragged from your forearms down to cup your palms — gentle, sure. you think you can feel the callouses from how he uses his weapons, and yet… "you okay there? i'm starting to think i'm not the only delusional one here." he joked with a chuckle under his breath.
"excuse me?"
"just a joke! no need to be offended, your highness," he assured you, but it did little to quell the somersaults that your stomach continued to perform. his skin was pale, maybe as pale as the snow back at home, and there's a single guiding star beneath the right of his eye. his mouth moved, and you thought what he said was funny when the other patrons laughed. but you didn't hear it. not when your hand, the one your father swore would never know the feeling of blood, dragged a thumb over the bleeding scratch that etched his cheekbone down to the side of his chin.
"what a wound. it must be painful," you muttered before a familiar condensation of dendro energy pooled at where the blood continued to stain his cheeks. "hold still," you asked, and against everyone's expectations, lohen did as you asked. he stood still, very still. when half of the wound had closed, you began to wonder if he was even breathing.
when his cheek was fully healed, only then did you finally breathe out a sigh of relief. noticing how the room had gone quiet, you became acutely aware how little distance was left between you and the vice-captain. with reddening cheeks, you let out a cough into your first, and stepped back. the warmth of his hold left a scalding trail on your skin that raised the hairs yet left you wanting for more, all the same.
lohen stumbled back, too. a hand clumsily tugging at the collar of his uniform, before both hands dusted down his shirt, cursing when he realized blood had managed to stain the spot you had planted your face in. when your eyes met again, you noticed the obvious flustering of his cheeks. it contrasted nicely against his pale, snow-stricken complexion. and it made the blush that crept up his ears all the more obvious.
your staring context was broken when you hear a snort from behind you. your head whipped to see the culprit, only to find varka ducking his head down just as you glared at him. he waved a hand in apology, setting his cup of beer down the counter, and going past you just to stand besides lohen.
"your highness, allow me to introduce to you the vice-captain of the knight's fifth company." a heavy hand was placed on his shoulders, and your eyes met again. this time, he didn't look away, nor did you think he cared much for the obvious red on his cheeks. "lohen, this is their highness, [name]. proud heir to snezhnaya's dukedom, who also happens to be your fiancé."
lohen rolled his eyes, shrugged off varka's hand on his shoulder before reaching for something behind him. "can you tell me something i don't know, grandmaster? i do more than just fighting, you know."
"that's rather hard to believe, but sure! whatever you say!"
annoyed by his superior, lohen swiftly delivered an undamaging kick to the grandmaster's shin. the latter only laughed at his attempt, before shoving him forward, nearly sending you both toppling over if you had not caught him by the shoulders as he did with you.
"stupid grandmaster, i don't need your help," he grumbled under his breath.
you tilted your head curiously, slotting you perfectly in his visage that he stumbles over the next few words. "help with what?"
you heard the other knights holler and whistle, the grandmaster behind him laughed even harder as he passed you both, taking up his previous station by the bar and watching with amused eyes. "the same reason why he wasn't there to greet you when you arrived, your highness!" varka explained. "come on lohen, don't get all shy on us now! you we're all fire and spirit when you proposed the idea, where's that spirit gone?"
"drowned by your noise if you don't shut the hell up!" lohen shouted amidst the sea of laughter and cheering. "damned nosy assholes. who even said you were in on the plan in the first place?!"
"i'm… a little lost."
as he finally remembered who he was in proximity with, the blush on his face worsened, and the cheering grew louder. he slipped from your hold, taking a deep breath and continuing his grumbling, throwing a glare at the head that belonged to the grandmaster as he finally fixed his posture.
couhing into his fist, lohen did one final lookover his appearance — fixing the collar of his shirt, dusting down his cape, and brushing the bangs over his eyes. he took one step, then another, until he was only an arm's length away and you had to stop the squeek that nearly slipped from your throat when he took your hand in his, while the hand behind his back revealed a bouquet of local flowers in mondstadt.
"i apologize, for not greeting you first. i know it's not exactly very "knightly" of me," lohen paused, his thumb rubbing mindless circles on your knuckles as his gaze flickered from your face to the flowers in his hold. "and appearing all battered and with a wound on my face is… unbecoming. but i promise, it was for a good cause. that being this." he motioned for you to take the bouquet. when you gingerly accepted them in your hands, he straightened his back again. "welcome to mondstadt, my fiancée. i hope you'll like it here."
"'welcome to mondstadt, my fiance.' now where, pray tell, did you learn to smooth-talk like that, lohen?"
the vice-captain only rolled his eyes. he continued wiping down his spear in jean's office (why it had to be here, lohen didn't know. and fankly, he was too tired to know.). "it was a formal welcome. since all you wanted to act like a stick had stuck up your ass, i decided to be… more me."
"more you, as in revealing your year-long crush on the duke's heir?"
"when have i said that?!"
albedo and kaeya shrugged, but the all-knowing and teasing smiles on their faces had lohen's heart hammering in his chest. when lisa chuckled and closed her book, only then did he realize that he had abruptly stood from his seat, his polearm lay forgotten on the floor along with the cloth he was using to clean it.
"now, now, don't tease him you two. it must have been hard to gather all those flowers in starsnatch cliff with the activity of the abyss."
"thank you—"
"and confessing isn't exactly an easy thing to prepare for! the fact he even showed up is a miracle in and of itself."
"lisa?!"
"enough, you three."
when jean arrived, only then could lohen relax and sit back down on his seat. he picked up his polearm and glared at kaeya when the man snickered at him.
"now that we're all here, we will be discussing the appropriate accomodations to the duke and his family," jean's eyes landed on lohen first. "thankfully, master diluc had agreed to house them for a while until we finish the deal with northland bank." then, she nodded towards lisa and albedo's direction, "the duke's only request is that their highness's studies in alchemy to be continued, so i'll be trusting you both in that regard."
"thank you for trusting us, dear jean."
"yes, we'll do our utmost best."
jean smiled, shoulders finally relaxing, "that leaves kaeya and me with managing their transportation when the duke and duchess return. now lohen," the vice-captain stiffened. a shiver ran down his spine when he met jean's eyes and watched in horror as even her lips tugged into a teasing smile. "it'll be your job to assist them in any and every field. you are their hand-picked knight, ensure that they remain safe until the weeding."
"it offends me that you think i can't even do something as simple as that," lohen complained.
"ah, ah. i'm not finished.
"huh?"
jean smiled, in fact, everyone in the room smiled. and lohen felt cold, ice water was dumped over his head when the next words followed.
"as their fiancé, be sure to woo them now and then. it took a lot of effort from master diluc to get your name on their candidate's list after all."
summary: clark has always prided himself in being one of the good guys. and he is, for the most part- until you come along. suddenly, his hands are in places they shouldn't be while his mind plagues him with visions of you being oh-so-sweet beneath him.
clark kent x fem ! reader
themes: 18+ so mdni, yearning and a whole lot of it, jealousy, clark just can't help himself. kinda feral!perv!clark trying to be as respectful as possible but lowkey failing. filthy in the best way. enjoy! x
Clark is a good guy.
Always has been, and Ma would certainly like to think that he always will be. At school, he never got so much as a stern look and pointed gaze- after all, he was a sweet little kid that smiled a bit too much and tried to take up the least amount of room possible. His teachers loved him, the envy of all his peers.
During High School, Clark kept his head down. Did his work in a flurry of soft smiles and polite nods, offering help when needed, kindly rejecting any flirtatious advances under the bleachers that would result in him getting into trouble.
"You're somethin' else, Kent." Lana rolled her eyes at him once, flicking the spectacles on his face just a little of their axis.
College followed suit. While his friends joined fraternities and disrespected sorority sisters, Clark diverted all his attention to perfecting his degree. Sure, he had a couple pecks here and there, a few misunderstandings with a handful of very drunk and slightly deprived college girls- but hey, at least he didn't take it any further.
All in all, Clark Kent grew up with the belief that he wasn't like that. He was kind. Respectful. Ma would tell him so, and Pa would go to the ends of the earth to enforce it; listen 'ere, Clark, a lady should be left alone unless prompted otherwise. You hear?
He'd nod. Pa's shoulders would relax, and Ma would place a dear old hand on her heart at the relief of her son turning out just the way she'd hoped.
But then one day, during an intense intern briefing amidst the bustling bullpen of the Daily Planet, Clark Kent met you.
And he soon realised that he might not be such a 'good guy' after all.
Because it wasn't enough that your skirt was always far too short, or that the lip gloss you wore blinded him no matter the lightning in the room. It wasn’t even the way you laughed, bright and careless, like you had no idea what it did to the people around you- what it did to him and every fibre of his superhuman being.
It was everything else.
Your perfume would linger in the newsroom ten minutes after you’d left, sweet enough that Clark could still catch it when he bent over his desk. Every time he did, his chest tightened with something ugly; vanilla sugar and lemon, wrapped in a pretty gold ribbon of guilt and shame.
He hated it, but he also couldn't get enough of it.
Your voice would carry on over everyone else’s, no matter how crowded the bullpen got. It was like his hearing had singled you out on purpose. Your heartbeat, your exhales, the slight pucker of your lips when an article brought on confusion.
Every other sound in Metropolis dulled itself accordingly, just so he could hear you ask Jimmy if he wanted coffee, or laugh at something Lois said, or mention your boyfriend in that absentminded little way that made Clark’s jaw lock so hard it ached.
And god, your boyfriend.
Your dumb fucking boyfriend.
Clark never usually swore (it didn't come to him as naturally as the likes of golly and gosh). But fuck, Superman on Red Kryptonite himself wouldn't have the mirage of different profanities that Clark did for the man you called yours.
Funnily enough, he had never even met the guy.
Didn’t need to. He hated him anyway.
He hated the way your phone lit up and brightened your face when you glanced at it. Despised the little smile that curled at your mouth when you typed back. Loathed the thought that someone else got to touch what Clark could barely stand to look at for too long.
However hard Clark made you laugh, however red your face flared after every shh little compliment thrown your way- it was never enough.
Someone else got to walk you home, kiss that gloss right off your lips, hear you laugh when no one else was around. Someone else got to climb over you at night, cover your gorgeous frame with theirs, fuck you gently into the bed until the early hours of the morning.
The thought would come to Clark late at night, when the city was finally at rest and he had only his thoughts to keep him awake. He'd envision you writhing beneath him, soft voice dripping like honey in his ears, moaning his name like a prayer and begging, pleading, for his touch.
His release would come quick. But on the nights the guilt settled in too deep, it wouldn’t come at all- and he’d spend the next few hours lying awake in silence, trying to atone for every impure thought he’d ever had about you.
It made something mean curl low in his stomach, something he’d spent his whole life pretending wasn’t there.
Because Clark was supposed to be good. He was supposed to smile and hold doors open and politely excuse himself when you leaned over his desk to point something out, cleavage threatening to spill, exposed neck so inviting he felt like a rabid animal; your mere existence flooding his senses so completely that for one humiliating second, he forgot his own name.
Lately, being around you felt less like admiration, and a hell of a lot more like drowning.
You’d walk into a room and he’d know it before he looked up. His whole body knew. The tiny hitch in his breathing, the way his shoulders went rigid, the awful, immediate awareness of where you were- crossing your legs at your desk, tugging your coat off your shoulders, leaning your cheek into your palm while you read over some notes.
Clark noticed all of it. Against his will. Against every decent thing Ma and Pa had ever taught him.
Eventually, he did the only thing he could think to do.
He booked some time off.
He told Perry he needed a break from the city, his eyes never quite leaving the floor. "Ma and Pa..." he scratched the back of his neck nervously, the lie coming out in one smooth sweep, "They've been asking for me. Some fence panels fell, Pa's heart... just wanna be there in any way I can."
It wasn’t a lie, exactly. The Kent farm always had something that needed looking after, even if it wasn't an immediate fence post. There were always animals to feed, fields to tend. Plenty to keep a man occupied.
"Take the time off, Kent. You deserve it."
After that, the situation became a civil war in his mind; one that had him at a loss no matter the outcome.
He convinced himself day after day that the dirt under his nails, the sweat on his back and the ache in his muscles would drown out the ache you’d left somewhere far deeper. He busied his hands, giving them something to do other than grip the base of his cock at night, eyes squeezed shut, pretending it was your skin beneath his legs and your mouth wrapped around his tip.
He needed Kansas air in his lungs instead of your perfume in his office, your laugh in the elevator, your voice drifting over cubicle walls and undoing him with every syllable.
He thought distance would help. What with Ma’s cooking and Pa’s quiet talks on the porch, there was simply no way the trip home wouldn't knock some sense back into him; remind him who he was, who he was supposed to be.
Even in Smallville however, you followed him.
And by the time Clark came back to Metropolis, he was exhausted in a way no amount of sleep could fix.
But you weren’t there.
Your desk sat empty.
Chair tucked in. Computer dark and oddly enough, collecting a light blanket of dust.
At first, Clark thought you were just running late. You were always stuck in traffic, and coffee lines always seemed to double in size whenever you walked into a café. He tried not to look at your desk every five minutes as he ran out of excuses to make on your behalf.
By noon, he was making mistakes. The backspace was hit more than a coherent sentence was formed; typos littered his edge of the column. Missed calls had Lois smacking him on the shoulder with a rolled-up newspaper. For someone so in tune with the written word, Clark even found himself reading the same paragraph three times over without taking in a single word.
Finally, he looked up from his monitor and asked Jimmy as casually as he could manage. Though the other man barely glanced up from his camera, Clark got the only answer he needed.
“Oh, she took some time off. Started a few days after you left, I think.”
He swallowed, nodding slowly, and that should’ve been the end of it.
But Jimmy kept talking.
“Guess her and her boyfriend broke up. Saw her crying in the break room last week. Lois said she’s staying with family for a bit.”
Clark didn’t hear the rest.
The words lodged themselves somewhere deep and awful, echoing through his skull all day. He hated how quickly his pulse kicked up.
Broke up.
You and your god-awful fucking boyfriend that made Clark swear (albeit in his own mind) had broken up.
And you were single.
A hot, selfish feeling unfurled in his chest before he could stop it.
You had been hurting. You had been crying. Yet the first thought that crossed his mind- before concern, before decency, before anything good that he was taught all his life- was that there was no boyfriend anymore. No one standing between you and him, the line between reality and fantasy dissolving into a thin blur in the week he spent throwing hay bales and flying circles around the equator.
That night, Clark lay in bed staring at the ceiling of his apartment, the city humming beyond his windows. For the first time in weeks, he found his restraint collapsing completely.
He let his mind wander, hands itching to free the stiffness in his boxers. He stroked long and deliberately, steady, the way he'd always imagined your first time with him would be.
He wasn't like that ex-boyfriend of yours. Wasn't selfish or needy or desperate. No, Clark would kiss the ground you walked on. He'd fuck you nice and slow, praise you like you were the God, make you come so hard the other guy would feel like fiction. He's not just Clark Kent after all- he's Superman, and even Superman has a few fun tricks up his supersuit sleeve.
You were a rocket. He'd overheard your conversations with Cat in the break room in the past, each one lewd and inappropriate but addictive all the same. Your ex could only last so long, only cared for a few unimpressive positions- but Clark, Clark could last forever and a day if you wanted. You burned hot and filthy and Clark knew he could match you without breaking a single sweat.
You'll come back to work soon- tired, maybe, eyes a little puffy from crying, soft from the heartache. You'll lean against his desk again, this time with no mention of another man. No absent little smiles at your phone. No reason for Clark to pretend he doesn't need you like oxygen.
He'll be there for you. Whether it's a shoulder to cry on, someone to vent to or an outlet in general, there's no other place he'd rather be.
And if, somewhere between the late nights at the office and grateful smiles meant only for him, you start needing him a little too much… you can't expect him to refrain from giving you what you want, surely?
Clark Kent is a good man. A nice man.
But if leaning into the bad is exactly what it takes to finally have you under him instead of just in his head...
- ,, 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : ryusei shidou can’t get enough of the pink lemonade you ordered ! (not proofed, im tired😴)
It was so hot outside, but it just seemed to never phase shidou. You’d been out together for a few hours now, walking around, buying things, and window shopping.
You could’ve sworn you were about to pass out until you saw a lemonade stand; your eyes sparkled.
“Hey Ryu, I’m gonna get some lemonade, do you want some??” you ask, already heading towards there, bringing him with you by holding his hand.
He raised his eyebrows, lemonade? That was probably the worst thing to have in this heat. He’d prefer a water, you should prefer a water, but nope, you’re determined to get lemonade.
“Nah ‘m fine, i’ll get some water somewhere” he replies coming along with you.
“Okay, suit yourself.” You get in line and order yourself a strawberry lemonade. Once you get it, you immediately grab a straw, open it, and take a sip. Pure bliss.
You continue walking for a bit until, “Hey ryu i’m gonna go to the bathroom, hold my drink, and keep it cool, please?” you say, already walking off before he could ask how he’s supposed to begin to ‘keep it cool,’ it’s lemonade, with ice, and it’s 90F/32C outside.
He's holding your drink while waiting like a good boyfriend. He looks around, but he doesn't see any vending machines for places that would just sell water.
"Mannnn....this sucks." he complains, his eyes drift down to your pink lemonade. The thought of drinking something sweet in such hot weather was revolting, but that's probably just his soccer side talking.
"It probably tastes like shit." but he can't take his eyes off of it.
So he gives in and takes a sip.
When you come out of the restroom, you see Shidou, but...he's drinking something- oh my god- that's your drink!
You rush over, snatching it from his hands, "Ryu! This was insanely overpriced- you should've gotten your own!" you complain.
"I was just tasting it, your taste buds aren't as fried as I thought!" he compliments you, it really did taste good
You can't help but roll your eyes, "okay lets go get you your own then." You start heading back the way you walked before, but he's grabbing you and holding you.
"It tastes better from yours though" he fake pouts, while you're looking at him he takes the cup taking a long sip.
"RYU-!"
By the time you get the cup back, the only thing left in it is ice. just ice. not a single drop of the pink lemonade you'd paid for.
“Sorry pretty, you shoulda protected it better.”
You were irritated so you walked ahead without him. You wouldn’t stay mad long, you never do but still you had a very good reason to be upset.
Only for him to catch up immediately, wrap an arm around your shoulders, and shove ANOTHER pink lemonade into your hands.
Because while you were complaining earlier, he secretly bought you a second one.
"Huh-?" you're shocked, how did he get another one? and so quick? the lemonade stand you went to before was a good 2 minute walk behind you guys.
"There was a stand right beside us, but I guess you were too angry to realize cutie." he kisses your temple.
After he'd taken the first sip from your lemonade, he knew he was gonna drink it all, so when he looked around and saw a lemonade stand right by where he was waiting, he ordered another one. It was a different stand, but who cares? He was sure they used the same stuff anyway.
You were caught off guard because Shidou usually acts carelessly. For a second, you stare at it, unsure of what to do next..
Then while you’re still staring at the drink, he leans down beside your ear and says:
“Relax, pretty. I wasn’t gonna leave you lemonade-less.”
And OF COURSE, not even five minutes later he’s stealing from the second cup too, but not as much this time..
You are, by all societal metrics, an absolute degenerate. You haven't touched grass in months, your sleep schedule is entirely dictated by tournament brackets, and your primary source of dopamine is starting flame wars in the comment sections of competitive gaming forums. You spend twenty hours a day in a dim room, surrounded by empty energy drink cans, aggressively typing slurs at teenagers online. You are a certified, unwashed loser, and your gorgeous, multi-millionaire Yandere!RichBoyfriend thinks you are the most precious thing to ever walk the earth.
Yandere!RichBoyfriend is a highly successful corporate executive who dresses in tailored suits and conducts high-level board meetings, yet his phone is constantly buzzing with notifications from your stream or your social media rants. Yandere!RichBoyfriend doesn’t just tolerate your online toxicity; he finds it incredibly endearing. While he’s sitting in a glass high-rise negotiating business mergers, he’ll casually scroll through your latest 40-tweet manifesto where you’re cyberbullying a random streamer over a video game patch, a soft, doting smile appearing on his face. "Look at them go," he’ll think proudly. "So passionate."
Yandere!RichBoyfriend completely funds your pathetic lifestyle, and he does it with an intense, possessive joy. He treats your bank account like a bottomless pit for bad decisions. If you mention offhand that you want a rare $5,000 legacy skin for an obscure first-person shooter, the money is transferred to your digital wallet within 30 seconds. You’ll be mid-match, screaming into your headset, and a notification will pop up: Account Credited by your Yandere!RichBoyfriend. He doesn't care if you're wasting his wealth on literal pixels; he loves knowing that every ounce of entertainment you experience is entirely branded by his wallet.
Yandere!RichBoyfriend thrives on the fact that your lifestyle makes you completely dependent on him. He wants you to be an unmarketable, anti-social hermit because it means no one else will ever see your value or try to take you away from him. If you ever have a rare moment of clarity, looking at your messy room and muttering that maybe you should get a part-time job or go back to school, he will instantly shut it down with overwhelming, suffocating luxury. He’ll crawl into your gaming chair, pull you into his lap, and kiss your forehead. "Why would you ever do that, sweetheart? The outside world is exhausting and cruel. Stay right here. Buy your skins. Let me take care of the bills. You belong in this room with me."
Yandere!RichBoyfriend handles your terrible hygiene and health habits with a doting, overbearing discipline. Left to your own devices, you would survive entirely on instant ramen and stale chips. He compensates by hiring a private chef to drop off gourmet, nutrient-dense meals at your desk, forcing you to eat them while he sits on the edge of your bed watching you. If you haven't showered in three days because of a competitive grind, he won't be disgusted. Instead, he will literally carry you out of your gaming chair, run a warm bath, and wash your hair himself, turning your lazy neglect into an opportunity to handle you like a fragile doll.
Yandere!RichBoyfriend is your silent partner-in-crime when it comes to your online feuds. If a group of internet trolls starts ganging up on you and doxxing your account, they don't realize they've just signed their own corporate death warrants. Your boyfriend won't just report them; he will hire private data analysts to track down their real identities. By the next morning, the people who were bullying you online will find themselves fired from their jobs, kicked out of their universities, or facing sudden, mysterious lawsuits. He will hand you his tablet while you're waking up, showing you the data. "Look, love. The people who stressed you out yesterday no longer have internet access. You can play your games in peace now."
The true extent of his madness is that Yandere!RichBoyfriend has designed your entire environment to keep you a permanent, pampered prisoner. He loves that you are too socially anxious and lazy to leave the apartment. He has effectively built a high-tech, luxury fortress around your degeneracy. You are a toxic, screen-addicted loser to the rest of the world, but to him, you are a perfectly captured creature trapped in a digital terrarium, and he will gladly spend millions of dollars keeping you greasy, comfortable, and entirely his until the end of time.
Yandere!RichBoyfriend has a literal, calendar-tracked intervention system for your clothing. Left to your own devices, you would comfortably live, sleep, and sweat in the exact same oversized, food-stained grey anime hoodie for six weeks straight. He draws the line at biological warfare. He’ll walk into your dark gaming cave, pinch the hood between two fingers with a deeply amused but firm look, and pull you out of your chair. "Sweetheart, we’ve crossed the thirty-day mark. This hoodie can practically stand up on its own. It’s going in the incinerator." You’ll whine and fight him for it, but he’ll already have a plush, $1,200 designer replacement waiting on your bed pre-washed with his personal signature cologne so you smell exactly like him the second you put it on.
Yandere!RichBoyfriend treats your disgusting desk setup like a toxic waste site that he is privileged to clean. While you’re fast asleep at 7:00 AM after a grueling 14-hour ranked session, he’ll quietly slip into your room in his pristine Tom Ford suit before heading to the office. He’ll methodically collect the mountain of empty energy drink cans, the crusty delivery boxes, and the crumpled chip bags, wiping down your custom mechanical keyboard with specialized tech-wipes. He doesn’t find it gross; he honestly finds it deeply comforting. The messier your desk is, the more it proves you haven't left the room, and that makes his possessive heart soar.
Yandere!RichBoyfriend has a massive, hilarious double standard when it comes to toxic behavior. If you tell someone on Twitter to delete their account and jump off a bridge over a bad movie take, he thinks you're a comedic genius and will literally bookmark the tweet to show his executive buddies as "peak modern satire." But if a random user replies to you, calling you "clueless" or "lazy," his entire corporate demeanor drops into pure malice. He will literally use his company's legal department to issue cease-and-desist letters for "digital harassment" to random teenagers across the country just to protect your right to be a menace in peace.
Yandere!RichBoyfriend handles your absolute lack of a sleep schedule by forcefully adapting his own. He knows you won't log off until the server resets at 4:00 AM, so he’ll bring his work laptop into your room, sitting on your bed under the dim glow of your RGB strip lights, quietly approving multi-million dollar corporate budgets while listening to you scream at your teammates through your headset. The second your match ends and you let out an exhausted groan, he’s already behind you, massaging your tense, hunched-over shoulders. "Good job tonight, love. You carried. Now, bed. I have a board meeting in three hours and I need to cuddle my favorite loser."
Yandere!RichBoyfriend weaponizes your laziness to ensure you never have a reason to interact with another human being in the physical world. If your PC mouse starts clicking weirdly, you don't even have to look up a replacement. By the time you wake up the next afternoon, three different top-of-the-line gaming mice will be neatly unboxed on your desk. You don't have to talk to the delivery guy, you don't have to run errands, and you don't have to look at the sun. Yandere!RichBoyfriend has streamlined your entire existence into a seamless pipeline of digital instant gratification, completely cutting off any survival instinct that might force you to step outside.
Yandere!RichBoyfriend has a habit of "buying out" entire gaming servers or lobbies if he thinks they're making you too stressed. If you’re throwing a massive, keyboard-slamming tantrum because a specific multiplayer game is riddled with cheaters or has terrible queue times, he won't tell you to play something else. Instead, he’ll make a few phone calls, buy a massive block of shares in the indie dev studio, and force them to fast-track a private, dedicated server just for your IP address. He’ll walk into your room and slide a glass of iced coffee onto your desk, kissing your cheek. "There you go, sweetheart. I bought the devs. The netcode should be fixed now. Go break some hearts."
The ultimate reality of your dynamic is that Yandere!RichBoyfriend has successfully turned your self-destructive habits into his perfect trap. To the rest of the world, you are a shut-in, anti-social internet troll with zero life skills. But to him, your complete lack of functionality is a masterpiece. Yandere!RichBoyfriend loves that you can’t cook, refuses to clean, and doesn't know how to pay taxes because it means you can never leave him. You are his highly expensive, deeply toxic, pampered little house pet, safely locked away in a golden cage built of fiber-optic cables and designer sweatpants, and Yandere!RichBoyfriend wouldn't trade your greasy, chaotic self for anyone else in the world.
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