"How Many Likes Do You Think This Will Get You?"

nsfw gamer!perv!mean!neighbor!scara x fem reader. fingering, oral(m recieving), scara is obsessed w readers lips and eyes(you'll see), unprotected sex, idk what else but have fun kekw I'm literally writing part two of this cus I have an ideaaaaa

your back is pressed hard against the wall. the yelling from the front the side of the weak drywall is from your neighbor, scaramouche. it was normal, from what you’ve heard, he’s always playing games. and he rages. hard. the way he yells out comms to his teammates and curses them right after for fucking up is a common occurrence on your apartment floor.

to be honest, you hadn’t even seen him for the longest time. just the way his mocking, sexy tone spits at an opponent when he takes them down. you would bang on the wall a little, and he would quiet down for just a little while before yelling out again.

that was until about a month ago. it was late. you were slightly buzzed, but not enough to take you out of your senses when you crossed paths with the purple-haired man. you're fumbling with your keys, dropping them as he passes you by with a snort. you retort, telling him to stop laughing! nothing was funny, you were really struggling here! he raises his arms in mock innocence. he never said it was! stop assuming things you don’t know.

you pout. it's cute, he thinks. so when you do manage to pick your keys up after much struggle, he hums to catch your attention. he motions for you to follow him, and you do. you don't even know why, but who wouldn't follow such a pretty man if they were in your shoes?

"just sit here. maybe when your eyes and brain start working together again, you'll be able to get back into your own home."

the noise you make in retaliation has jolts of electricity traveling to his ears. it was light, high pitched. almost a whimper. he shakes his head and makes his way towards the kitchen. when he returns with a glass of water, you're passed out. scaramouche rolls his eyes and hooks his arm underneath your legs so he can lay you down. he's watching you closely, the rise and fall of your chest, the soft breaths escaping from your parted lips. those lips...but he decides to hold off on what the devil on his shoulder is telling him to do.

when he wakes up, there's a thank you note on the spot you were asleep in the night before. the cup he placed for you is empty. he picks the glass up, pressing his lips onto the mark your lipstick left on it.

after that, you became a literal thorn in his side. you always seemed to catch him whenever he was coming back from whatever he was doing. you're texting him to shut up while he's on the game, or sitting in his living room with him while he watches the stupid show you put on, just like this time.

but someone calls you. unknown number? ah! it was probably for the delivery you had. so you excuse yourself and step out of his home. five minutes pass. then ten. it's weird. not that he cares, but shouldn't you be back by now! so he goes to look. your door is cracked open just the slightest bit, so he lets himself in. it's not new, he's always showing up unannounced anyway. he's padding his way to your room and he sees you with a.. pc?

yeah! your pc! you explain to him that you've been waiting for it to come so you can start building it.

"you want to build a pc?"

he doesn't actually mean to laugh. but it's almost absurd. even he almost broke his in a fit of rage while trying to get it working. what makes you think you can do it all in one sitting? but you rebound quick. telling him to fuck off so you can get to work. he picks a nice spot on your bed, facing the desk and floorspace you choose to work with while he lays back. when you glance up, the way he's looking down at you has you writhing. like a predator studying its prey before it pounces.

maybe he was right. this wasn't easy at all! why would you even subject yourself to this? he's stifling another laugh when you groan out in frustration once again. you're practically whining his name out as you're asking for help and he chooses to ignore the twitch in his pants as he drags himself towards you. rather than joining you, he's placing himself on the desk chair and bringing what you've done up to the desk. he looks around a bit, going between the manual and the semi-built contraption before asking you to hand something over. even though you didn't get as far as you wanted, he hates that he has to admit you did a hell of a good starting job.

"you're not gonna take it apart?"

he shakes his head as he looks down to answer you. or, he was going to. but the way you're perched up on your knees, big eyes staring up at him has his voice catch in his throat. he turns back to continue working, but a thought crosses his mind.

"pass me that screwdriver over there."

it's far, so you place your hand against the cold floor and stretch over. he almost moans at the unadulterated view of your ass, tiny shorts riding up as you reach out. you hand it to him and he can't even remember what he needed it for! but he shoves it in anyway so he doesn't look like a complete idiot.

after what feels like forever, the monitor runs without an issue! the breath of relief followed by a long drawn-out thank you is all that he hears. you're still on the floor, so you lean your head against the side of your chair. but the way he purrs your name out has you craning your head up to meet his gaze.

he's looking at you with that look again, and you can't find the strength to push any words out. his lips curl up before he speaks.

"now now, you can't let me go without giving me a proper thank you, hm?"

those pretty lips of yours are wrapped tight around his cock. the grip he has on your hair is so tight, almost bruising as you drag yourself up and down his length. he doesn't hide the way he groans, eyes trained on you as yours are squeezed shut, trying so hard to take all of him.

"fuck, always knew-ah. always knew this mouth would feel so fuckin' good."

his words are practically yanking the arousal out of you as you whimper against him. he hisses at the vibration, shoving himself deeper into your throat as you tighten the grip you have on his thigh.

"look at me.."

and you're just so fucking gorgeous. your cheeks are red, lips swollen around him. your tear-filled eyes threatening to spill as he fucks into your mouth now. his eyes never leave yours. they cant. it's that cute face of yours that sends him over the edge, hips still bucking up as he tries to ride the high out for as long as possible. when he finally frees your mouth, your labored breaths bring his attention right back to you. you were the one supposed to be "thanking" him, but he couldn't leave such a pretty thing like this.

which is why you're laid up between his legs, cunt getting abused by his slender fingers while his other hand tugs at your nipples. his palm is pressed flat against your swollen clit as he pumps those two fingers in and out at a delicious pace. he's curling his fingers at all the right spots, the heel of his palm pushing down at just the right moment that has your body spasming under him. tsk. he didn't even get to fuck with you a little before you came. but it's good to know how sensitive you are to him.

he shifts out from behind you so you can lie fully down. in a second he's on top, lips harshly catching yours in a rough kiss. the way his tip pokes at your entrance has you gasping into his mouth. he quickly slides his tongue into your mouth before pushing into you.

the way he fingered you is nothing compared to the stretch of his cock. he's much thicker than you anticipated, and when he finally bottoms out, the warmth of his breath and the closeness of his body have your eyes falling shut. you can feel everything. every vein, every twitch. the way his breath hitches when you unconsciously squeeze down on him. but that won't do. not at all. his hand finds your jaw in a strong grip.

"look at me when i fuck you."

so you open your eyes. his eyes are hooded, gaze heavy as he pulls out of you slowly. but the force of the thrust has you arching off the bed. he keeps it like that, hitting you fast and hard so that the only thing you can cry out is a mess of begging him not to stop. his free hand finds your hip to raise you up slightly and that change of angles has you seeing stars. your fingers are bunching the sheets as his name falls from your lips over and over as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

your breath becomes more jagged, your hand moving to grip the wrist that was still holding your face. you're whining about how close you are. his grip tightens and raises your head up slightly to give you one instruction. cum.

and you do. it's heavy on your body, broken sobs and moans leaving you as your eyes roll back. the warmth around his cock mixed with that expression is sending him spiraling too, releasing straight into you. the last thing you remember is his lips on the side of your face before you drift off into a much-needed slumber.

part 2 here!

lowkeyartist!sukuna who makes videos in his room to post on his instagram. Most of it is just him making new tunes that would most definitely be sampled by an artist sooner or later, while some are covers.

But I think what people mostly know him for is the different lady - or ladies - they see in the background sleeping in his bed. His name on twitter grows hectic whenever they see the girls in the back in some of his videos, slamming and dragging his name. Regardless, he stays radio silent on it.

It’s not until a song that had used one of his vids for a sample went popular and he begrudgingly goes live on instagram for his first Q&A due to popular demand. The questions flood in when his fans realise it’s not bullshit and he actually is there to talk with them.

And, like true Sukuna signature, there’s a mystery lady in his sheets behind him. The live notices immediately when he shifts a little to the edge giving them a glimpse of you, almost like he wants them to see.

“Does it wobble? Don’t make me end this live,” he says sternly, trying to subtly read questions that aren’t about you behind him in the chat. He finds it funny how the whole internet has been in an uproar this past year due to your constant impulse on making your hair look different every other month - different girls, like he’d ever, the thought makes him scoff.

“Why do you bring over so many girls? what do you mean? It’s just one,” he teases, his head turning over his shoulder to peek at you - yep, still sleeping.

His taunts to the questions have everyone on edge, and you’re just peacefully in dreamland. His scowl deepens when he sees many people question his honesty on the last answer, so he finally breaks and he reveals the long awaited truth.

“It’s just one girl because it’s my fiancé, we’ve been together since I started this shit,” he leans back in his chair, relief flowing through his veins now that everyone knows, “why does she look different all the time? My girl’s just impulsive.”

White Day💌🐈‍⬛

oh, how he long to grow old with you. to suffer with back pains, headaches, and strands of silver hair shining in the sunlight together. to drive around and reminisce to your kids about your high school years, to come home to you and your voice, your kisses and your sweet embrace. he wants to build a home with you, whether it’s far away and in the feild where the sun sets beautifully every night or if it’s in a small, cramped apartment— decorated with things that make it a home. to hold your hand every night and listen to your whispers and laughter when he tickles your sides, to kiss you early in the morning before he goes to work, tucking you in. to see you in the morning everyday.

but for now, he’s gonna have to hide that pretty velvet box for a little longer, just until he gets your parents’ blessings.

HINATA, kageyama, oikawa, , KITA, miya twins, AKAASHI (hq), megumi, GOJO, ITADORI (jjk), CHUUYA, dazai, jouno, KUNIKIDA (bsd), WRIOTHESLEY, CHILDE, kazuha, zhongli, ayato, DILUC (gi) + ur favs !

『 First Time 』

☼ synopsis: You're the serpent hashira's first.

☼ character: Obanai Iguro

☼ wc: 2.9k

☼ cw: female!reader, afab!reader, no dynamics, virginity loss, experienced reader, handjob, mutual masturbation, oral (reader giving), cum eating, fingering, creampie, slight overstimulation

☼ Kinktober masterlist

Being with Obanai was an experience itself, every time you made it over one wall around his heart, you found yourself facing another one. It's not that you minded it, you would climb and tear down thousands of walls over and over again if it means having him in your life. The first time he dared to kiss you was the first time you stayed the night at his place, the room pitch black and any source of light long erased before he took his bandages off. He felt so stupid for behaving like this but he didn't want to risk losing you, he just couldn't. His cold hands were holding yours so you wouldn't cup his cheeks when his slightly chapped lips gently locked with yours. It felt as if a ghost was kissing you, a touch barely there. “Nai… I won't break,” you whispered against his lips when you pulled away ever so slightly. The shuddered breath against your lips broke your heart, his nerves clear on display because he knew you could be able to feel the scars if he moved in any closer.

Little did he know when morning came and the smallest specks of sunlight illuminated his face you could see what he was hiding behind the bandages that were now shifted and you found yourself staring. Uneasy at the feeling of being watched he woke up, the blood in his veins freezing when he felt the morning air hit his bare skin and saw your eyes on his face. His first thought was to cuss you out, to shut you out of his life but these thoughts evaporated when your soft thumb gently caressed the long scar on his right cheek, your face coming closer to his. “You don't need to hide from me… you're beautiful, Obanai Iguro,” you whispered and the next thing he knew were that your lips were back on his. How could you say such things? Didn't you see how disfigured his face was? But his racing mind had no choice against the love you showed him, tender lips locking with his, your hands cupping his cheeks and once you pulled away you looked at him as if he put the sun and all the stars in the sky just for you. His heart skipped a beat when he realized just how much you feel for him and that you accept him the way he is.

The relationship moved slow and steady and you never once pressured him into anything he's not fully comfortable with, always asking consent before holding his hand or kissing him and most importantly, you let him initiate new things so he wouldn't get uncomfortable. The first time his tongue danced across your lips took you by surprise, but you gladly let him enter, swirling your tongue around his as the kiss grew more intimate and his grip on you became more desperate. He wanted to be closer, bodies next to each other and touching wasn't enough. Every pore of his body was screaming for you, yearning for your love and gentle touch but he pulled away - not allowing himself to have you, not yet at least. Your body felt like it was on fire, yet you didn't stop him from retreating since you knew that giving his body to you entirely takes so much of him and he's simply not ready for it yet.

When he allowed you to touch him for the first time it was once again pitch black, the darkness giving him some security because you wouldn't be able to see him completely. Your hand slowly traveled down his lean body until you reached the hem of his pants, the bulge you grinded against while making out moments before so prominent beneath the fabric. Despite his well controlled breathing he struggled to do so this moment and you hesitated to reach into his pants - did you change your mind? Did you realize he's not good enough for you? His mind was racing once again and you leaned your head onto his shoulder

“Nai…Breathe,” you reminded him, feeling that he was holding his breath for a while now and only when he exhaled shakingly, you caressed his abs again.

“We don't have to-” you began but he bucked his hips towards your hand. “I need you to,” he whispered, fearing that any other volume would tear this moment apart and he hated to admit how his body was screaming for your touch.

You nodded silently and breathed in his scent before kissing his neck gently, your hand slowly disappearing into his pants and a little strangled “ngh” escaped his lips when he felt your hand stroke over his hard length for the first time. Unsure what he even imagined it to feel like, it exceeded his imagination, the feeling his own hand gave him couldn't be compared to yours. Smiling against his skin you smeared his pre cum over his tip before pumping his shaft with a little pressure at a slow pace. Obanai’s slender hands clutched onto the sheets at the feeling, jaw tensing up as he tried to hold any noises back but you could hear him pant hard - cock twitching after mere seconds of your touch and you retreated your hand.

“Nai… could you take them off?” You whispered into his ear, not wanting to stain his pants from making him release within their confides but he shook his head “it's enough,” he mumbled back, not wanting to get you dirty with his cum, you deserved better.

You wanted to protest, to give him the sweet release he craved and also earned but you respected his boundaries and simply cuddled up to him, the wetness between your legs not important. Patience was the key and when he's ready to bring you pleasure he would let you know, until then you would just touch yourself silently in the bathroom so he won't notice and feel bad about it - he knew though but he never brought it up, unsure how or if he could pleasure you properly.

Giving him handjobs became more and more frequent and sometimes he finished it himself, not allowing you to please him to completion just yet. One day you had a small idea and gave him a little smile instead of letting your hand wander down his body like so many times before

“Can you touch yourself for me? This time without anything on?” You asked curious, wanting to see his reaction and he surprisingly nodded, slowly undressing you but he couldn't hold your gaze when he opened his pants so you reached for his hands, gently kissing them.

“Wait. Let me just-” you hummed and turned to stand behind him, back to back as you took your top off as well, skin touching skin now and you could feel the goosebumps erupt on his skin from feeling you this close.

“We can stay like this and just touch ourselves, yes?” You suggested, always making sure he was okay and the next thing you felt was how he lifted his hips ever so slightly to take his pants off, now sitting bare behind you which made you follow suit.

Obanai was the first to initiate it, his slender hand wrapping around his pale cock and slowly stroking it up and down just like you always did for him. The previous make out session left you drenched, almost grinding yourself to completion on his bulge but you didn't want to tease yourself further, eager fingers dipping to your core to gather some slick before rubbing your fingers over your clit. The sweetest noises escaped your mouth when you could feel your lover leaning against you for support, the slick noises of your fingers curling inside your velvet walls almost driving him insane with lust until the knot in his abdomen snapped, releasing over his hand with a strangled moan, letting you follow suit as you came around your own fingers, your other hand rubbing your clit in fast circles as you moaned his name. Hearing his name moaned like this let the blood freeze within his veins, but it would be his new favorite noise of yours, letting him hear just how desperate you are for him as well.

“Can I turn around?” You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper as he gave you a noise of approval in return, feeling your arms wrap around his upper body only a second later and you slowly reached for his right hand, kissing his shoulder.

“You're so beautiful Obanai… so perfect,” you hummed into his ear as you brought the cum covered hand closer but he locked up, not letting it close to you.

“Let me taste you… I promise it won't harm me,” you reassured him and he gave in, not wanting to deny you anything but his head fell back against your shoulder when you took two of his fingers into your mouth, your tongue working over them as if it would be his cock. Once they were all clean you pulled away with a lewd pop, hiding your face in his neck right after when you saw the blush on his cheeks, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Maybe next time he would allow you to fulfill that fantasy of his.

These little moments went on until he was comfortable enough to face you while you gave him a handjob, eventually allowing you to wrap your soft lips around him and he swore that if a heaven existed, he made it there in these moments. His hips were bucking aimlessly as you bobbed your head up and down his length at a fast pace, one of his hands clutched over his mouth to keep the noises at bay while the other held onto the sheets for dear life. The twitching of his cock let you know that he was close and every time you could feel the anxiety rise up so you looked up into his eyes as you soothingly ran your hands over his thighs, nose nudged against his pubic bone and it did the trick for him. Seeing you so cockdrunk from giving him pleasure let the butterflies in his stomach go wild and he released down your throat as the softest groans escaped his lips. He didn't mean to buck his hips further in your face but it felt so good when you swallowed around him, he just couldn't get enough when his mind started to wonder how tight and warm your cunt would feel around him. A twitch of his cock made you pull away, your saliva slowly running down from his tip to the base.

“Do you want me to go on?” You asked slightly surprised since he wasn't so eager for more after he came, far too sensitive and growing reserved again which you respected. He nodded in response, trembling hands pulling you onto his lap by your hips, staying there to hold you tight and you got what he wanted, smiling down at him.

“You sure about that?” You asked just to confirm your suspicions and earned another nod, followed by a soft but firm “yes”

Gently you took one of his hands and guided it towards your mound and let go again. Obanai stared up at your eyes, looking a little lost and unsure how to proceed and if it would be any other time it would have made you giggle but you didn't want to ruin his newfound confidence in physical intimacy.

“You saw how I touched myself… Can you do it for me? It will make it more pleasurable to take you after,” you explained, parting your legs a little further to make it easier for him to reach your dripping wet cunt.

He gulped but nodded, the image of how you rubbed your clit before two of your beautiful fingers dipped into your core was burned into his mind and he recreated your movements as if it's second nature. The way he massaged your clit in circular motions made you gasp, grinding your hips against his hand to get more friction but he got the hint, giving you exactly what you needed. Obanai might be inexperienced but he observed your reactions to everything, taking mental notes on what made you moan louder as he slowly pushed two slender fingers into your heat, moaning in sync with you.

Your velvet walls were so tight around his fingers already, making him wonder how he would fit inside of you. A spongy spot within your core took his attention when the pads of his fingers pushed against it, letting your moans raise in pitch and taking him off guard out of fear he hurt you but the way you clenched around his fingers let him know otherwise.

“God you're so good at this… I'm so close,” you mumbled mindlessly between moans and it fueled Obanai's need to get you to come undone from just his fingers as he repeatedly curled his fingers against your sweet spot. The moment he brought his thumb down to play with your clit, it was over for you, your walls spasming around his skilled fingers and his name falling off your lips like a prayer. He almost came untouched by the angelic sounds you made, making him love his name as he watched your orgasm take over your body only to slide his fingers out of your tight cunt when you’d calmed down.

With a curious expression he brought his hand closer to his face, your slick almost dripping from his fingers as he pushed them past his own lips to taste you, just like you tasted his seed. His pupils blew wide and he groaned when your arousal melted against his tongue like silk, never having tasted anything so divine and he knew that he wanted more, growing hungry for your sweet release but you snapped him out of these thoughts, seemingly reading his mind.

“Another time, Nai… do you want to-?” You asked quietly, hoping he didn't change his mind because you needed to feel him inside of you. Once more he nodded, confirming that he wanted more as you positioned yourself above his achingly hard cock before holding his shaft to line him up. He took a deep breath when his tip touched your folds for the first time and despite wanting to hold back on his noises, a desperate “ngh” escaped his scarred mouth when you lowered yourself onto his dick. You placed his hands on your hips so he could take control, unsure how slow you needed to be but he pushed you down in just one thrust, fearing he would die if he couldn't be inside of you entirely. The harshness of this thrust knocked the air out of your lungs and you fell forward into his arms.

“Hmm just like that," you encouraged him when he began to thrust erratically, the slight curve of his cock letting him hit just the right spots inside of you and the strength his thrusts held pushed you to the edge once again.

Obanai had to flip you over, needing to rut into you as if it's the last thing he would do. Desperate for your moans, struck by the love you held for him, he came unexpectedly, the tight heat of your velvet walls far too much for his virgin cock to handle. His eyes were screwed shut as breathless moans fell from his mouth, making him look ethereal above you, the dim light illuminating him just right.

It didn't matter to you that he came early, not having expected for him to last long during his first time but it clearly bothered Obanai who brought his hand between your bodies that were glistening with sweat so he could rub your clit once more. “I need to feel you around me,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, overstimulating himself by staying inside of your pussy but it was all worth it when the knot in your abdomen snapped a second time, your back arching so beautifully against him as your cunt fluttered around him, milking him of everything he had to give. Your orgasm was enough to trigger another one of his, only able to pant and whimper into your neck as he fell apart, eventually just resting his weight on top of you.

Gently your arms slithered around his slim frame, enjoying to have him this close for once before it got too much for him, having to excuse himself from your embrace, still needing to get used to being held for an extended period of time but you didn't mind, simply kissing his shoulder before getting up, his seed slowly running down your thighs in the process and the view sent a shiver down his spine at the thought of having released inside of you. He didn't mean to taint you with his cum but he knew that you would have wanted it that way so he gave it to you.

“Are you coming? I drew a bath,” you called out from the bathroom, hoping you could soak your sore body in the hot water with your lover together. He sure was inexperienced but his will to be enough for you sure made up for it.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟐

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 6.5k of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: This is my first kinktober fic! I'm sorry this took so long y'all but last week been low key hell and I was sick for a lot of it. Also I did struggle with this a bit since this one I decided to do as an whole fic instead of PWP and now its gotten to be so long its definitely going to be in two parts. Sorry there's no smut in the first part, but there is some fluff and some juicy build up. I've never written for Choso before but he's so baby girl omg I'm obsessed with him now but still I'm a bit nervous posting this. sorry if its dog.

Enjoy!

“Ever felt a knife rip through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath?”

Those were the last words a nameless student heard before Ghostface's hunting knife shined menacingly in the air and came down to claim its newest victim.

Shluk! Shluk! Shluk!

Metal slashed through flesh with razor precision.

Gurgled death cries are silenced as the lifeless body collapses to the ground. 

A thick pool of blood began gathering around them to fan out and travel around their body down the slanted titled floor to drain. 

Choso breathed in deeply. 

A wave of calm washed over him. 

Peace. 

Almost in an enlightened state, he felt the most serene after a kill. 

It was beautiful. 

Blood was beautiful.

The surging stream of blood that would eventually slow to a trickle, the abstract designs of its splatter and the way it swirled around the body splayed across the ground like paint on a canvas.

Like a painting. 

A death painting… and the knife, his paintbrush. 

This was his art.

Choso can recall the first time he actually saw blood beyond a minor scrape. 

He couldn’t have been more than 6 years old. No doubt trying to impress his younger brother Yuji by balancing on top of the monkey bars. After all this time Choso isn’t certain as to how, but he lost his footing and fell flat on his face onto the unforgiving concrete below.

Screams of children filled the area once Choso pushed himself up onto his feet. He immediately felt wetness rush down his face. However, rather than cry or panic a young Choso cocked his head curiously when he noticed his reflection on the metal jungle gym. A warped view of his face mirrored back at him but he could still make out the bright red fluid cascading down his features staining him in red. 

Choso didn’t know how long he stood transfixed, mesmerized by the sight of rouge river that flowed from him until Yuji ran back crying with their parents in tow. 

It was how he had the scar across the bridge of his nose till this day, which became unsightly enough he had decided to get a black bar tattooed over it as soon as he turned 18. 

From then on he couldn’t deny his growing obsession with blood and seeing it leave the human body. All of which had led him here to this university to attain a PHD in Forensics. 

He picked this university, not only for their program but it was the perfect small town playground for Ghostface, a local urban legend from years ago he decided to revive once he felt as he had attained enough knowledge not to get caught.  

Choso was meticulous in his process. 

Ironclad alibis, no distinctive patterns and no victims with any connections to each other, nor him. Additionally, he had memorized all the angles of the university’s security system (thanks to a security guard he had bribed then promptly killed). 

His victims' lives were just his means to an end for his art and most students on this campus wouldn’t amount to much anyway outside of that was how he justified it. Choso did like toying with them on occasion though, fear made the blood pump faster and spray harder once he finally did catch them. 

Sadly, he could never admire his creations for too long though before needing to make his own exit. 

Almost midnight. 

Ten more minutes before campus security makes another round.

He took one last glance at the scene of carnage he had created before disappearing into the night. 

☠

In just a mere 2 hours, the news of another Ghostface murder spread across campus. 

The university’s students were either scared, scattering back to barricade themselves in their dorms. Or curious, lingering around the crime scene near the safety of the news crews and reporters who had gathered to see who the unlucky victim was this time.

No one however, is likely more curious than you: A third year forensics undergrad, who was just itching to get a real glimpse of your first real crime scene, a Ghostface copycat killer crime scene at that! 

You had even left a huge frat party (to be fair it was about to get broken up soon anyway) to trek across campus in the bitter cold of late fall. 

“Y/N, let’s go back–,” one of your pledges whined, “–it’s cold and my feet hurt in these heels!”

“Shh, Stassi, shut up! What if this is an initiation test?” another pledge whispered. 

Your sorority pledges chatter on behind you and you almost forgot you brought them along. It’s not like you wanted to but, like it or not, they were attached to you at the hip like little ducklings until rush was over.

With a clap you turn on your heel to address them.

“Ladies–” 

However you abruptly stop once you see your Forensics TA, Choso Kamo, taking what appeared to be a night jog across the campus quad. 

Was he going to the crime scene too? Your face instantly lights up and your pledges look around confused.

“Wait here girlies! I’ll be 5 minutes max…. No, I mean it. Wait right here!”    

Your pledges huff quietly, but agree. 

They had no choice really as you were already skipping as fast as your not-so-sober legs would carry you in 5-inch pumps over the quad lawn. Truthfully, that was not something they were trying to do too, especially not to chase down what looked like some creepy emo nerd.

“Choso!”

You call out to him and wave, but he doesn’t look like he sees you as you hurry towards him.

“Hey Choooo! Wait up!”  You puffed out, trying to maneuver over the grass in your heels. 

Choso sighed recognizing your voice, reluctantly slowing his pace. He would have kept on jogging but he knew you would keep calling out to him and draw even more attention that he really didn’t need right now.

Finally catching up to him, you grab Choso’s arm and loop yours through. He flinched slightly at your touch but you knew he always seemed a bit jumpy when it came to physical contact, so this didn’t phase you. 

If anything you thought his reactions were kinda cute.

“Where are you going weirdo? All the action is back that way!” You teased with a big grin and pointed in the direction of the crime scene.

Choso tries to ignore how his adrenaline was pumping even faster from you holding on to him than when he was running, especially dressed as you were. 

You looked sexy as hell utterly ridiculous.

You were decked out in a sailor costume, which was pretty much just a poor excuse for lingerie at this point. Your white sailor flap collar attached to nothing more than a sparkly navy bra with shiney white and red trims, leaving your midsection exposed showing your cute little belly ring in the shape of an anchor. 

This was complemented by a dangerously short yet matching sparkling navy pleated skirt which sat low on your thick hips. Your shapely legs were the most covered part of your body yet still looked overwhelmingly tempting in red glittery garters, attached to white opaque stockings in glittery red heels.

“I’m the weirdo… but you’re dressed like that in 40 degree weather.” Choso retorted, brow raised.

“Duh Choso–” 

You released his arm to give him a twirl in your outfit, not noticing the way he nervously wet his lips watching your skirt rise with your little spin.

“–The ‘Get Nauti’ party was tonight silly, where have you been!?”

Oh you know, just casually killing someone. Choso resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

Of course he knew about the party. 

The campus had been littered with fliers for ‘Get Nauti’ for the past two weeks. Nothing Choso would ever be interested in as he would rather stab himself in the face than attend a mind-numbing party with a bunch of bro-for-brain frat guys. 

However, he did take advantage of the opportunity to create another death painting as Ghostface with the rest of campus preoccupied. 

He couldn’t tell you that though obviously.

“Gym,” Choso said flatly and shrugged, “Heading back to the dorms n-”

“–You mean you aren't going to the Social Sciences building!? Don’t you remember?!” You cut him off in your excitement. 

“The police said they would let us forensic students look at the next crime scene!”

Your face had a warm glow and your movements slightly swayed. You were clearly drunk.

“No Y/N, they said they might let the PhD students, like me, look at the crime scene… and that was only a slim ‘maybe’. You’re still just an undergrad”, he reminded you, much to your dismay as you puffed your cheeks.

But seriously, Choso thought, even the incompetent local police would have enough sense not to let you on the crime scene dressed as you are now, even if you were a PhD student. 

“Awe no fair,” you whine dejectedly. “But you should go, Cho! Then you can tell me all about it! Pleaseeee, I’m dying to know what a Ghostface crime scene looks like. I hear it’s kinda gruesome!”

You gazed up at Choso through fluttering long lashes as you poked out your cherry glossed lips. It was a pout that could famously leave any frat boy at your mercy, but it never seemed to stir Choso much (that you could tell at least).

Choso swallowed. 

On the contrary, your charms worked rather well on him. His mouth was dry and he unconsciously clenched and unclenched a sweat ridden palm behind his back. 

The hell were you doing being this excited over a crime scene? One of his crime scenes for that matter? 

Choso really didn’t know what to make of that.

“Y/N it’s late. I still have papers to grade. I’m going back to my dorm now and you should get home too,” Choso said flatly, trying to keep his cool although fatigue was etched into his voice.

He was in peak physical form but still feeling the strain given he just chased his last victim all over the Social Sciences building. Not to mention still having assignments to grade. All which would be fine if he also wasn’t on edge from you right now as well.

“Booooo…Choso yo– ahchoo!” You sneezed from the cold. 

The effects of alcohol could only do so much to keep you warm in these low temperatures while you were standing still. 

With another sigh Choso unzipped his black track jacket, taking it off and putting it around your shoulders. 

He was doing so as much for your sake as his own. Choso couldn’t help but notice your boobs looking like they were going to pop out of your flimsy sailor bra at any moment when you folded your arms underneath them for warmth.

He was really doing his best to maintain eye contact with you.

“Awe thanks Cho, you’re so chivalrous!” You giggled, blushing as you snuggled into his jacket. 

You could still feel his body heat lingering on the material but the heady scent of oak and sandwood from his cologne warmed you even more.

You also couldn’t help but stare as the black compression turtleneck he wore underneath clung to his body like a second skin. You had suspicions he was fit but you never saw him wear anything beyond his dark colored button ups and shaggy sweaters when in class. 

“Now go home, Y/N. You shouldn’t even be out here alone this late.” 

Choso’s stern voice snapped you out of your ogling.

“But I’m not alone silly!” 

You pointed to the group of scared and shivering freshmen girls also in various states of sparkly undress all for the sake of ‘getting nauti’ standing on a paved path not too far off. 

They looked absolutely miserable. 

“I have my pledges!” 

Choso gave you an incredulous look. You were too clueless. 

“So let me get this straight… You are drunk. You have drunk freshmen with you, who shouldn’t even be drinking in the first place…and you plan on taking them to a murder scene? Where the cops are?” You made an “OH” face and absentmindedly laughed as you came to the realization it probably wasn’t the best look for Chapter VP of the AKAs to take a bunch of drunk and terrified freshmen pledges straight into a recent crime scene. Even if you could put an academic spin on it as it was relevant to your major classes.

Yikes, and on second thought, your house mom would flip her entire shit if she found out.

“Go home Y/N,” Choso said again, shaking his head.

“Besides, you should be more focused on the Chemistry lab midterm on Monday. You know you can’t afford to fail.”

You sulked but relented, he was right. On both accounts.

As your T.A. for that class Choso knew better than anyone just how much your grade depended on passing that lab and you hadn’t even so much as glanced at your notes yet this week.

“Aye Aye, Capitan Choso, sir!” you teased giving him a salute with a wink and lifted knee, your sailor skirt lifting a bit higher.

It was a cute move, or it would have been at least if it hadn't caused your weight to shift all on to one foot. The heel of the sparkly red glitter pump baring your weight sunk into the patch of soft soil beneath you causing your foot to pop out of the shoe as you tumble forward. 

You would have definitely ate shit and embarrassed yourself in front of Choso, your pledges and whoever else was walking across the quad at this time of night if Choso’s quick reflexes didn’t catch you. 

You let out a squeak and waved your arms as you fell tits first onto Choso’s hard chest. 

Shit. 

Choso could feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through the flimsyass costume you wore. He tried hard to focus on how cold it was outside. Anything rather than how warm your body felt up against him or how his biceps tensed from the tight grip of your delicate fingers that sought stability from him.

You grinned sheepishly. You thanked him for catching you not realizing the position you were in nor the torment you were putting this man through.

Setting you upright quickly, Choso crouched down to retrieve your shoe. 

His plan was to simply place it near your foot but he felt your hand land on his shoulder and you raised your dainty foot up expectantly.

Any attempts to avert his gaze proved futile as Choso couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling up the length of your leg. 

Your opaque white stockings practically glowed in the darkness illuminating the shapely calves it covered and thick thighs the tight material cut into. Your hips strained against your garters up until your –he caught himself and his eyes snapped up immediately.

He was a killer, not a perv at least he was trying not to be.

Gingerly making sure to only touch your ankle, you were giggling again as he put your shoe on your foot and placed it on the grass again.

“Thanks Choso! You really are a lifesaver, ya know! I can’t bend down in this skirt.”

“Don’t mention it.” Choso quickly replied, pushing his bangs out of his face in exasperation. 

Really don’t. 

Choso was trying to forget the flash of red lace he saw that barely covered your plump pu– No he had to stop, you were technically his student even if he was just a T.A.

He would surely have to kill you if he popped a boner right now. He was trying to keep a low profile already and did not need to add ‘sexual deviant' to his name from a student harassment claim.

“For real now, go home Y/N.” Choso silently pleaded you would just listen this time. 

He always felt more compulsive right after a kill and didn’t know what he would do if you stayed around him like this much longer.

You finally relented to his relief, nodding and mumbling a sad little goodnight pulling his jacket around your shoulders tighter as you turned to leave back to your pledges. 

Choso started to leave as well but your voice stopped him as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“You know Choso…” You smoothed your skirt down behind you and flashed him a pageant winning smile, “I don’t mind that you saw them.”

Before Choso’s short-circuiting brain could even process what you said you were bouncing off back to your pledges. “Okay ladies, now make like Bey and get in formation! Back to the Soro house!” 

Your pledges erupted with various replies from– 

‘Thank God!’’ 

‘Did you just go over there to steal that nerd’s jacket? Boss!’’

‘Was that your boyfriend, Y/N?’

‘Y/N’s bf is a starter on the football team, she doesn’t want that weird emo dork.’

‘No, sis did you see his muscles– That emo look is still kinda hot right now, huh Y/N?’ 

‘Awe, but I want to go back to the frat!’ 

–all fluttered from the group of chattering girls as you cheerily led them back to the Sorority house. 

You laughed at their comments hoping Choso couldn’t hear them though, as they were a bit embarrassing. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, there was no way for Choso not to hear your rowdy group of drunk giggling girls, he’s sure the whole quad did. 

Choso rolled his eyes as a chill took over him as he started the jog back to his dorms. 

He was glad he had given you his jacket though. The way his body had started to respond to you just now the frigid jog back to the dorms would do him good. 

He just wanted to shower, grade a few papers then go to bed, he didn’t want to end up fisting his cock to you again tonight. 

You had plagued his peace for too long. It wouldn’t do him any good to think of you, it’s not like he could ever have you. 

Sure you went to the same university but you might as well have been from two different worlds. 

You were a popular sorority undergrad with the attention of virtually the entire male population on campus. 

Choso was a PhD student who was used to fading in the background, most avoided him due his looks and academic focus anyway. 

He only had an affiliation with you because his scholarships were tied to being a T.A. for undergrad forensics classes. 

Also you did have a boyfriend. 

An asshole neanderthal football-wide-receiver boyfriend who he would have been tempted to kill already had he not served his own purpose as a reality check and barrier for Choso.

Oh and had an eccentric obsession with blood going for him and was also the Ghostface copycat killer, that too. 

He was sure that would go over well with you, Choso mused sarcastically.

☠

Upon returning to his dorm Choso took a shower, graded papers and tried to fall asleep but inevitably jerked his cock off to you.

Twice. 

The sounds and images of your ditzy little laugh and skippy little panties consumed him as soon as he closed his eyes. The phantom feeling of the way your nipples felt pressed against his chest and how you clung to him desperately had him feeling near insatiable. 

Choso admittedly thinks of killing you often. Just to get some peace of mind.

It wouldn’t be difficult at all to pull off. It’s not like you could put up much of a fight against him.

He didn’t want to break his rule of killing anyone with a connection to him but Choso had also never had anyone stir him the way you did. 

You were a distraction and liability to him. If he killed you he could finally stop thinking about you…right?

You would make a beautiful death painting too.

Choso imagines thick red blood splattered across your curves. 

The fatal gash from the femoral artery in your thigh oozing out a continuous stream of blood. The cut would have to be considerably deep too considering how meaty your thighs were. 

Would the blood streak down your long leg as you desperately tried to hobble away from him in your slutty red heels?

Or would you collapse in fear and surrender to him fully? Landing in such a way that allowed the blood to redirect backwards and soil the flimsy red panties poorly concealing the fat of your cunt as you cried out in fear.

Fuck. 

He was hard again. 

He reached over to his night stand for his lotion bottle– practically empty thanks to his nonstop fantasies of you.

God, he was pathetic.

☠

The school week that followed was relatively uneventful. 

You passed your lab midterms much to Choso’s surprise. Although you always seemed to pass with a relatively decent grade despite how you struggled to get there. Holding firm to your B average in the class and 3.3 GPA in your major overall.

He had to admit you were a better student than he originally gave you credit for. It makes him recall when he first saw you last spring. 

You were a late enroll to Forensic Biology 101. Not only that, you burst into the third class of the semester nearly 15 minutes late.

Oblivious to all the eyes your disruption earned, you leaned on your knees as your chest heaved from exertion giving the entire class an amazing view of your tits spilling from your pink crop top adorned with the prestigious “AKA” sorority. 

You definitely would have given the class an additional show from bending over in your tight green jean skirt had your ass not been facing the door. Choso eyes couldn't help but travel down the length of your legs, your glossy white painted toes peeking out strappy pink pumps. 

You smiled brightly once you caught your breath and apologized for your late entrance but you were newly voted chapter vice president and had just come from your first meeting. 

Surely you had the wrong classroom.

“Er– this class is Forensic Biology 101 young lady.” The older male professor had given you a once over also thinking you must be lost.

“Mhm, yup! I’m Y/N! I just changed my major!” you beamed and handed the professor your schedule.

He looked at it and back at you twice.

“Hm, well so it is…but you are already behind, little lady. Go and take a seat next to the T.A. in the back, Choso Kamo, he will catch you up.”

Just his luck. Choso didn’t want to babysit some sorority bimbo who would probably drop this class in two weeks once the labs started. 

Your university was famous for the forensics program. If you graduated you were all but guaranteed a job at a prominent lab in a major city but more than two thirds of undergrad students dropped it once the rigorous labs began. 

You didn’t look like you would last.

Especially when you told him your interest in forensics came from watching Dexter. You told him how you thought the actor was hott and how his kill rooms were ‘so cool.’ Choso definitely rolled his eyes at that and wrote you off as a soon-to-be drop out.

You proved him wrong though. 

You were a bit of a ditz and a huge clutz but Choso came to understand t's more because you had about a billion different things going on in your head at once rather than you just being dumb or careless. 

You were also a hard worker. 

It was admirable how many activities you were involved in yet still tried as hard as you did in your classes. You always came to his T.A. review sessions and even sought him out at times while he was in the research library to ask him questions. 

You were a good student and he was a horrible T.A. for even thinking of you in this way. 

The campus bell tower struck noon in the distance and Choso looked down to see that he had only read a single paragraph since he sat down to study thirty minutes ago.

Fuck, he had lost himself in thinking about you again. 

Choso put a hand over his face. 

He was sitting alone at a picnic table on the outer, less populated edges of the quad trying to read a textbook but every time he heard a high pitched giggle he snapped his head up thinking it was you.

Class schedules were a bit different due to midterms and he hadn’t seen you the entire week other than to administer the lab but that didn’t mean you didn’t still plague his thoughts more increasingly as of late.

It was making Choso a bit reckless. 

Needing to relieve stress he had created 2 more death paintings. A mistake as it was rumored the local police would soon reach out to bigger towns for more help and perhaps even the FBI would send an agent soon to campus if this kept up. 

He had to move more carefully. 

Maybe make it look like there were multiple Ghostface killers for starters.

“3 Victims, One Week: The Copycat Ghostface Reign of Terror Continues!” 

You read aloud adding a bit of dramatic flair to your voice as you recite the front headline of the campus paper and jar Choso from his thoughts of you. 

Speak of the devil.

You approached Choso at his table and he immediately noticed you were wearing his jacket again, well more like swimming in it as it was clearly too big for you.

This time though you were bundled up in a scarf, leggings and heeled booties. He was glad his face was already a bit red from sitting out in the cold because he couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from forming that you looked even sexier cozied up and comfortable in his jacket than in the slutty sailor costume.

“I don’t know why you even bother reading that shit Y/N. They never have any interesting details anyway.” Choso tried to feign disinterest in your arrival but his leg was already slightly bouncing under the table, nervous energy returning.

“Well I have to! You wouldn’t go to the crime scene for me last Saturday, remember?”

How could he forget?  

However a part of him did want you to view it though, his masterpieces, his kills. 

See how glorious their blood looked sprayed on the walls, the ground, and the general surroundings of his victims. 

But he knew you’d never appreciate them the way he did even if you were a forensics student.

“Oh and sorry!” 

You interrupted his thoughts once again.

“I meant to give you back your jacket, I’ve been carrying it with me hoping I’d run into you but I ran out today and forgot mine…whoops! I hope you don’t mind me wearing yours a bit longer?”

Your saccharine smile has Choso sucking in a hard breath. 

At this point he would prefer you to just keep it, he couldn’t trust himself if he had it back with your scent all over it knowing you had been carrying it around all week.

He would never know any peace.

“Keep it as long as you need.”

“Kay!”

You smile at him as you haphazardly plop your overstuffed tote bag down next to him, which of course spilled all its colorful contents all over the table. 

“Oh Crap!” 

You lean over to reach for your bag but almost spill the tray of hot coffees in your hand.

“Y/N, Watch out!” 

Choso grabbed the tray before it could spill all over his and your belongings and sat it down on the table with a small exhale.

“Oh! Thank you!” You flash him a big grin. “I got this one for you!” 

You handed him a grande cup with ‘pumpkin spice dirty chai’ scribbled on it.

Choso preferred his coffee black and he has definitely told you that before but you always just brought him whatever sugary drink you ordered saying he needed to ‘try new things’. 

He wasn’t about to turn you down though, caffeine was caffeine and as a PhD student he needed all he could get. Choso also knew it was your way of thanking him for helping you so much in forensics.  

“Thanks...” Choso mumbled taking a sip. Shit this is actually good.

You sat down next to him, a little too close for comfort with your spandex clad thigh brushing up against his leg.

“Whatcha reading? Is it for your thesis?” You were perilously close leaning on him as you looked over his broad shoulder onto his textbook.

“Yeah, some forensics texts I need to review for citations. This section focuses on serology and bloodstain pattern analysis,” Choso stated knowledgably. 

“Oh! Like in Dexter!” 

“Yeah, Y/N, like in Dexter.” 

Maybe Choso is growing a bit soft as he can’t resist but to crack a small smile at your kid-like-enthusiasm for the subject, you were incorrigible. 

Choso also doesn’t miss the way your eyes sparkle when you ask him to tell you more about his research. 

And so he does.

Sometimes Choso forgets how easy you are to talk on the subject. To be frank no one outside his own PHD program ever asks him about his thesis so before he realizes it he’s letting his guard down to indulge you.

You both get so lost in the conversation to the point it hasn’t even phased Choso yet that you are now actually leaning on him. 

Your soft cheek rests near his shoulder and your body angles deeper into his as you point to ask him about a passage on the page which he begins to break down.  

You try to focus on his words but in the midst of Choso’s explanation your eyes stray from the text up to his face. 

You feel your body start to warm.You always thought he was attractive. His dark looks never deterred you if anything they were refreshing from the crew cut preppy jocks around you. Even more so with his piercings in.

Choso never wore any of his piercings during classes or while in the research library. You counted six facial piercings in total from the three on his brows to the septum, labret and finally the black bar piercing through his tongue that darted out exposed with the movements of his mouth. 

Studying him further you discover for the first time his tattoo across the bridge of his nose was actually covering a scar. It looked old but like it had been deep. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if it had hurt him and why he chose to cover it. 

You didn’t even realize you had reached out to touch it until you felt his gaze snap to you. 

Stunned and a bit embarrassed, you withdraw your hand.

“Ah, sorry I just noticed your tattoo was covering a scar…” you trailed off hoping he wouldn’t be annoyed with you.

Annoyance was the last thing on Choso’s mind as finally registered how you had melded yourself into his side body. 

Although his usual reaction would be to withdraw back, you might as well have him chained down to the table now as he was practically immobilized by you not even being able to look away. 

“Uh, yeah it happened years ago when I was a kid...I fell off the monkey bars, there was a lot of blood.” 

No one had even recognized it since Choso had it covered years ago. You were the first.

“Oh no! I loved the monkey bars, we used to climb up on them all the time when I was little. I guess those things are kinda dangerous huh? Actually, I’m kinda shocked I never fell, a miracle right?” 

You laughed and Choso found himself smiling at you again. 

You were too accident prone so it really was a miracle. 

“Yeah, good thing you never fell Y/N… It would be a shame to have to get a big ugly tattoo on that cute face.” 

Choso swore on his life those last words only were said in his head but from the way your eyes widened he knew he fucked up.

“I- that is.. I meant-”

Choso smacked a hand over his face. He can’t believe he just said that out loud to you. He was really losing it. 

“So you think I’m cute?” you teased giggling. You angled your head so you could look up at him from underneath his hand.

“Yeah, about as cute as the blood splatter diagram on this page.” he teased you back. A small smirk on his features as he peeked at you through his fingers.

“Hey!” 

Choso chuckled. Little did you know he actually paid you a huge compliment comparing you to something he thought so alluring as blood.

You grab the hand covering his face as your smile widens and you playfully struggle with Choso. 

You don’t become aware of your close proximity until you almost bump noses.

Choso locks eyes with you and you feel your tummy tighten as you bite your lip. 

You’re still holding his hand and after a while you work up the courage as your other hand comes up to touch his face. 

“Your tattoo isn’t ugly Choso,” you breathe out softly.

Choso closes his eyes as you trace the scar beneath his tattoo. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing but your hand involuntarily begins to travel across his face and his piercings until they graze over his lips and he opens his eyes again.  

Startled by the sudden hungry look in his eyes you pull back your hand but he captures it in his own, him being the one to trap you this time.

If either one of you just moved even an inch forward your lips would touch. You see Choso’s lips part when–

“Yo! Hands off my girl, freakshow!” 

“Dean!?” You pulled back out of Choso’s embrace, floored to see your boyfriend and some more of his football buddies heading towards you as you knew they still should have been at practice around this time.

“Oooh he’s in for it now messin’ with Dean’s girl.” Dean’s football friends snickered.

Choso audibly breathes out in exasperation. The moment was ruined and he really didn’t have the patience to deal with your neanderthal boyfriend and his football lackeys who all shared a singular brain cell. 

Didn’t they have a ball or something to chase?

“Uh hey, Dean I..” 

You stop yourself when it’s clear Dean is ignoring you entirely as he approaches the table. Not even looking your way to greet you. 

His aura oozes faux tough guy bully and walks straight up to Choso to size him up leaning on the table to tower over him.

“I’m talking to you, freak. You think you can put your hands on what belongs to me?”

Choso doesn’t look up at him but his grip instinctively tightens on the pen in his hand under the table as if it was Ghostface’s hunting knife. 

Dean’s show of bravado going ignored by Choso pisses him off even more that his teammates are with him and the tough guy act is failing to have any real effect. 

Tch. 

With a swift movement Dean knocks Choso’s coffee over on the table, its half drunken contents falling on both you, Choso and his books. 

This has Choso rising out of his seat as he thinks your boyfriend must have an unknown death wish.

Choso’s pen is still in his grasp but by his side now. It would be too easy to drive it into Dean’s neck before the dolt even knew what hit him. A bit extreme, but it could be considered an unfortunate accident of self defense if Dean struck first.

Fortunately, you stepped in between the two in order to diffuse the situation without picking up on Choso’s murderous intent. 

You chewed your lip. This was low key, your fault. You technically were dating Dean. Although Dean was always the furthest thing from your mind when you were around Choso. 

You didn’t even feel guilty for being caught as you’ve had your own suspicions for a while Dean had been cheating on you anyway, you just couldn’t prove it. You were still dating him more out of convenience than anything else, other jocks and frat boys left you alone knowing you were with him.

The only guilt you actually did feel was for Choso. This wasn’t his problem or relationship but of course Dean was a big enough asshole to make this into an actual issue with Choso since it was becoming clearer how little respect he had for you.

“Dean, what the hell is your problem!? You got coffee everywhere, this isn’t even my jacket.” 

“Don’t what the hell me Y/N, you're so fucking dumb you’re going to let this freak get in your pants when– wait you’re wearing fucking his jacket!?” 

Dean was yelling now and a small crowd was forming and starting to take out their phones to record. 

You could not let this turn into an incident.

“Dean chill the entire fuck out, would you?! It was cold, so he let me borrow it– He’s just my T.A.”

A wave of harsh realization washed over Choso. 

Just her T.A.

Right.

Choso is no one important to you, especially with your football boyfriend and social standing on the line.

He’d let whatever the fuck almost happened between the two you just now make him forget that. 

Not anymore.

“That’s right. I’m just her T.A. So if you’ll excuse me.” 

Choso turned from you both to salvage what he could of his books and leave.

You couldn’t place the emotions in Choso’s words and it made your chest tighten up. But you weren’t trying to write him or your almost-kiss off. 

You didn’t mean for it to come out that way but you really lacked the proper words in these kinds of situations.

“Where do you think you’re going, loser?”

Dean grabbed Choso’s shoulder but the intense murderous look in his eyes made Dean release him just as quickly as if he had been burned. 

Even his football goon friends unconsciously took a few steps back feeling the very real threat in Choso’s eyes. 

Choso smirked as he left. Thought so. 

“W-wait Cho–”  

You want to stop him but feel Dean’s rough grip on your wrists.

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.” 

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag. 

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off. 

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: I promise it won't take as long for the second part to come out. I'm half way done with it already! I was just going to wait and post it all together but a like 12k+ word post all at once would be insane lmfao. After I am finished with this prompt the next 3 stories I will do will be from Thrilling Ghouls as they are all much shorter PWPs in the 3-5k range and I won't have to stress so much since I'm realizing all my Smooth Criminal prompts are longer fics and it takes me like a week or more to write them.

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13

comment on m.list to be tagged in future Kinktober '23 stories

please stop to take a look at this wonderful art of the last scene that @laikatsuki created, tysm again pookie bears!!!

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to come steal your panties although comments and likes are appreciated all the same!

PART 2

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

I.

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year. 

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face. 

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue. 

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer. 

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places. 

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly. 

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him. 

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side. 

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now. 

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” 

V.

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure. 

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing. 

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his. 

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

Sacrilege

Knight Rengoku x Female reader

Summary: Sir Kyojuro Rengoku is appointed as the princess personal bodyguard due to rising threats of violence from the enemy kingdom. He would do anything his dear princess orders and desires. His sole purpose is to keep the princess safe and content.

Tags: Porn with a bit of plot, slight dom reader, oral (female receiving), virginity loss, p in v, fingering, masturbation, missionary, riding, arranged marriage, forbidden love

Word count: 6.7k

* ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ * 𓂂 ꙳ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ * 𓂂 ꙳ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ * 𓂂 ꙳

Every aspect of your life was controlled since the day you were born. Not only your life but also the one of your parents. They were promised to each other for the sole reason of royal bloodlines. That was the same direction your life was currently headed and you did not, could not, come to terms with it.

The idea of being stuck in a loveless marriage for the sole reason of pumping out babies filled you with something worse than dread. Looking at your mother was like looking into the life of your future self, a sad and miserable reflection staring back at you. All your Mother accomplished in her life was to give the royal family 6 children. Your brothers, however, had a better life set for them. The eldest was the sole heir to the thrown and was given the opportunity to chose his own wife as long as she was nobility which is a far better freedom than the one you were granted.

You were set to be married off to an enemy kingdom once negotiations were to be complete. You thanked god that their king was just as stubborn as your father when it came to settlements and you prayed the quarrel would never end. But once those negotiations were settled, your job would be to marry the eldest son and provide as many children as possible and as soon as possible. In all honesty, you would rather die before that happens.

The only thing you were able to control in your sad life, was your personal bodyguard. A knight specifically assigned to you when threats to the kingdom arose. The royal family had to protect you at all costs, after all, you were going to be used to settle disagreements between kingdoms.

That knight was to follow your orders without hesitation. After all, who would suspect you ever having ill intentions? The knight followed every single of your commands. The only one order he would never obey was to leave your side. There was a time where you would desperately try to shake him off your trail. He would follow you everywhere and would always stay exactly four steps behind you. He was like a bloodhound. No matter where you hid or how hard you tried to lose him, he would always find his way to you.

At the end, he became an aspect of your life you were able to control. After you got used to him being a thorn by your side, you decided to push his limits and see what orders he would follow. At first you requested silly tasks for your own amusement like making him walk your dog and clean up after him during your morning strolls or make him cut up your food and feed you as if you were a child. More than anything, you expected him to be enraged and snap at you for treating him like a common maid, but he never gave you the satisfaction. However, as time went on you noticed that any task involving him being in close proximity to you would incite a flushed reaction from his end.

Once you caught wind of that, it became the only thing that brought you amusement. Your demands became bolder like asking him to help you change into your over complicated dresses or making him give you massages when you became too stressed. All of this just to see that flustered expression of his. He never once declined any of your commands which you found entertaining. Of course, all of this was done behind closed doors. The rest of the servants tended to be gossipy and you did not want them to spread any misinformation.

However, one rainy night completely changed the dynamic of your relationship. The stress of being scrutinized for every aspect of your life, for every decision you made, had finally caught up to you. Nothing in your life was under your control except for this. As your hands wondered beneath your sleeping gown you realized this was something you would always be in control of. The need to forget everything that made you worry was strong, and you desperately sought that sweet release.

This was the only time during the night when you could be alone. Your knight would either be right outside your bedroom doors or patrolling in the nearby area, so you figured that as long as you were silent, you would be able to obtain that sweet release.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips when your fingers lightly brushed against your clit. The action bringing excitement and anticipation to the rest of your body. The bundle of nerves was aching to be touched and you granted that wish by drawing soft circles on the area. This caused the rest of your body to tremble as breathy sighs escaped your lips. Being the only female in the royal family meant that you were a virgin. You were promised to whoever your father decided to trade you off with.

This, however, did not change the fact that you were able to pleasure yourself. You reveled in the idea of being in control of something. Being able to control your climax was enough to settle your nerves. However, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you felt as if something was missing.

You continued to draw circles around your clit. You slowly increased your speed as the pleasure caused your legs to tremble. Soft gasps escaped your lips as you felt the wetness gather in your core. The finger pleasuring your clit soon wondered to your aching hole. Your finger slipped in easily due to the wetness. Opening your legs wider caused a shudder to escape your lips as you granted yourself better access. Adding another finger, you curled and scissored them searching for that spot that never failed to drive you over the edge.

What a sight you were. Your legs were up and spread open revealing your sopping cunt. Your lips were swollen from how hard you bit them trying to keep quiet, and your hair clung to your neck and forehead from the slight sweat you were building up. Once your fingers curled to that sweet spot, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out soft moans.

Accounting the rain, you believe no one would be able to hear your sharp gasps as you slowly built up your orgasm, or even the lewd wet sounds that filled your chambers. However, you were greatly mistaken.

After finishing his patrol faster than usual, Rengoku made his way back to your chambers only to be met by strange noises. Your sharp gasps made him believe you were having trouble breathing, so he took it upon himself to urgently check on you.

Without warning, your bedroom doors were swung open and his eyes shot wide open when he witnessed the compromising position you were in.

The first thought that ran through your head as your eyes met was anger. You were annoyed that he interrupted you when you were about to climax.

While maintaining eye contact, your fingers sped up. The squelching noises growing louder and your shudders were the only noises that filled the room. You desperately kept trying to reach that high again. “Well, are you just going stand there like a buffoon, or are you going to do your job and help me?” Your lust took the reigns as you spewed those words from your mouth.

He stayed silent for a moment which gave you enough time to come to your senses and realize what you were asking of him. Before you could speak, with that same flushed expression that always brought you amusement, he answered,

“As you wish my princess.”

That night set a chain of events that led you to the moment you were currently in, his head hidden underneath your dress as his tongue swirled around your clit. Anytime you demanded anything like this from him, he never argued or offered his opinion. He just followed orders like a good soldier. There was never any penetration since he always made sure to use his fingers and/or mouth to drive you over the edge.

Sometimes you wondered if he enjoyed this as much as you, since he never stopped until you tapped out from exhaustion or overstimulation.

You were currently supposed to be on your way to the opera, but instead you were in the back of the stagecoach with your dress ridden up to your hips as he held your thighs back, spreading you open for his tongue. The trees in your large estate shielded the stagecoach from prying eyes and was far enough to drown the lewd sounds you would make. You didn’t even make it out of the estate before your lust and impatience took over.

“Mmm… your tongue feels heavenly.” Every time you would compliment him, you could feel his body trembling almost as if your compliments brought him pleasure.

He just hummed in acknowledgment. The vibrations adding to your pleasure as his tongue delved deeper into your sopping hole. You couldn’t stop your hips as they moved along his face. Your body desperately seeking further stimulation. Your trembling fingers tangled into his golden locks pulling on them the closer you felt the dam break. A part of you would’ve like to reward him, to make him feel as good as you were feeling, but the way his eyes met yours along with his flushed cheeks and the juices dripping down his mouth hinted that this was more than enough for him.

As he sucked on your clit, a long thick finger teased your hole. He would slip the tip of his finger in, the wetness allowing him easy access, and softly begin to pump and curve his finger. The sensation was too much that you felt the familiar build up of your orgasm. It was so close that your vision went dark from the anticipation and the pleasure.

“Please… I’m so close.” You managed to whisper.

If only you knew you would never have to beg anything from him. That was not your place.

“Anything you wish, my princess.”

His mouth connected to your clit once more while his finger increased its speed causing your legs to tremble around his shoulders. The grip you had on his golden locks was enough to almost rip his hair out, but he did not complain. His eyes connected to your face as you came undone around him with a loud groan. You tried to bite your knuckles to stop you from making too much noise, and how he wished you could just be as loud as you wanted. To let everyone know that a commoner like him brought the princess to tears with how intense her orgasms were. The orgasms that HE caused.

He licked you clean along with his fingers, savoring your sweet taste.

“Well, it looks like we should be headed back soon before we raise any alarms. You did well Rengoku.” You said as you fixed your dress and hair, trying to get rid of the evidence these acts ever took place.

As Kyojuro took his place in the driver’s seat, he tried so hard to make his throbbing cock go down. He tried taking deep breaths along with thinking of any other distracting thoughts either the sky, the trees or the birds, but you always made your way back into the spotlight of his mind. How he wished he could claim you as his, but he knew that was not his place. You were royalty and he was just a farm boy who wanted to fight for his kingdom. If the royal family ever found out about his sacrilege towards the princess, he knew he would get executed without question.

But you were just so addicting. It was like doing heroin, he knew it was wrong, but he could just not resist the high. The night that he walked in on you was not on purpose. The noises you were making were almost as if you were having difficulty breathing which sent him into his fight or flight response. When you asked him to help you, every sane part of his being was screaming at him to turn around and leave, to pretend he just didn’t walk in on you knuckle deep and leaking all over the bed, but he was weak and you were divine.

Every time you requested him after that, he never failed to be there. It was as if you had him on a tight leash, always available to do your bidding. You were his Aphrodite and he would always worship you as such.

Once he was able to calm down, he set the carriage on its way back to the castle. However, both of your hearts dropped when you saw your father waiting outside the castles doors. There were times when you would go months without seeing him, so seeing him here without it being a special occasion or without any notice, made your thoughts race and hearts drop.

After holding the carriage door open for you and helping you down, Kyojuro broke the tense silence first,

“Your majesty.” He kneeled in front of the king, not able to make eye contact. You, on the other hand, gave a curt bow and tried to settle your nerves. Your hands began to sweat and your heart felt as if it was going to jump out of your chest. Your father had not said a single word since you arrived, and it was difficult to read his hard expression.

“Where have you been?”

“We just came back from the opera. I was beginning to feel as if I was going to die of boredom.” You fanned yourself, acting nonchalant.

“Guard, at ease and stay put.” Your father’s booming voice commanded towards Rengoku. Whatever it was that your father wanted to talk to you about, he made it obvious that he wasn’t in a hurry. It was almost as if he knew, and that paranoid part of yourself kept screaming at you that he knew.

You feared he would send his guards to execute Rengoku right there at the steps where you left him. Why else would he separate him from you? Still, you weren’t dumb enough to begin rambling first, as you waited for him to begin with whatever it was he wanted to discuss.

“I want you to get your affairs in order.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Father?” You urged him to continue.

“The east kingdom and I have come to an agreement. You will be sent to their castle to familiarize yourself with your new home and your new fiancé. I will join you in a few days time to oversee the royal wedding.”

The wedding would seal whatever agreement they had come to terms with. Hearing those words made your heart drop to your stomach. You knew this day would come, but you were not ready. It was too soon. You were not ready to leave everything behind and be bound to a complete stranger.

You were not ready to part with your knight.

“Another thing I wanted to mention, once you get married, I want you to… consummate the marriage and be with child straight away. That will be the only way for this peace treaty to fully become fulfilled. Do I make myself clear?”

You bowed slightly, not as a sign of respect, but as a way to hide your expressions. “Yes father.”

“Good. You shall head out tonight. I want everything done as soon as possible so I can forget about this mess.” He walked away without another word. As soon as you heard the palace’s doors doors close behind you, signaling his departure, you dropped to your knees and began to sob. You could feel the servants eyes on you as they continued to pass by, trying to get their chores done, but none of them dared say a word to you. It was not their place to speak their mind in matters regarding the kingdom.

You were so engrossed in your own thoughts and sadness, that you did not feel the soft touch on your shoulder.

“Princess… we need to start packing.” Came Rengoku’s soft and reassuring voice.

Taking deep breaths, you tried to regain your composure. You let him help you up and guide you to your chambers.

Once the door closed behind you, you continued to quietly sob. Without a word, Rengoku began putting together the things he knew you wanted to take. His fingers caressed the material of your dresses as he placed them on the bed. Almost as if he was trying to memorize the feel of the material. Rengoku felt defeated too. The most likely scenario would be that your new husband would probably send him back to his kingdom. Rengoku will be seen as an outsider and a spy if he was to stay there, so there was no way he would ever see you again after the wedding.

This day was bound to happen, and he thought he was prepared. If only things were different. If only he were royalty, maybe he would’ve had a chance to remain by your side if at least just for a little while longer.

“I’ll get a carriage ready and send a maid up to help you pack.” When he was about to reach for the doorknob, he felt your arms wrap around his torso. Your head nuzzling against his back armor. He froze under your touch, unsure of how to proceed or what to say.

“Please stay…” you sobbed, “I want to remain by your side as long as possible.”

You were afraid he was gonna push you away. What if he did not adore you the way you adored him? What if he just followed your orders because he was your subordinate?

Now that you were coming to terms with the fact that you might never see him again, your true feelings for him began to rise. At first you believed that your feelings were just driven by lust, but now you realized that you did not see yourself without him. Without your protector.

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. I’m so scared.”

This was the first time you spoke to him like an equal. You were showing your vulnerable side to him and all he could do was hold you.

“It’s your duty. Just like my duty is to protect you.”

“Then protect me. Don’t let this happen… please.” He remained silent at your request. This would be the first time when he was not sure he would be able to follow through with your orders.

——

You tried not to keep sobbing as you were on your way to your new home. The only sounds that filled the air were the thuds of the horses hooves hitting the dirt road, and the occasional snorting from the horses. You massaged your eyelids to keep them from swelling. The coldness of your fingertips soothed the area, but no matter how hard you tried, silent tears continued to slip down your rosy cheeks. You didn’t want to arrive at the new kingdom with obvious signs of distress.

Kyojuro had been silent since you spoke about how you really felt towards this situation. You figured it was due to the fact that he was just following your orders and he did not really care for you the way you thought he did.

You sighed heavily as you stared out the window of your carriage. The rustic buildings became less and less and soon replaced by the trees of the thick forest that swallowed your kingdom. The feeling of hopelessness consumed you as you realized there was no way around this. This was your fate. This was what you were born to do and your only use as a princess.

The trip towards the east kingdom was long enough to require staying overnight at a formal hotel. There was an upcoming small town that belonged to the east kingdom which was were you would stay for the night. The last night of the life as you knew it. The last night you would spend with your knight.

——

You watched the stars out of the spacious balcony of the luxurious hotel you were staying at. You could see Rengoku near the stables, settling the horses of your carriage down for the night. He was so gentle with the horses. Offering them small smiles and pets as he spoke to them. Most likely telling the horses sweet words as if they were puppies. You couldn’t help but smile at that. It made you realize that whoever Rengoku ended up with, he would be nothing but loving and gentle towards them. How envious you were of that person. Slight guilt built up in your gut as you realized you basically took advantage of him. As his superior there was no way he could deny your requests without fear of retaliation. You made a mental note to apologize to him before arriving at your destination.

Once you changed into your nightgown, you tried to settle beneath the covers and enjoy the last night you had for yourself, but the room felt dark, cold and lonely especially in the giant lone luxury bed you were in. The heavy armored steps outside your door let you know that Rengoku had returned from the stables into his assumed position, and you were debating whether to ask him to join you in bed.

Of course, there was no ill intent behind your request. You just wanted these feeling of loneliness to go away.

As if he read your thoughts, there was a knock on the door before his deep voice asked if he could come in.

“Just checking if you have anything out of the ordinary to report. Although we are on the high end of town, it does tend to attract thieves.”

“Can I request one last thing from you? You know, before our journey ends tomorrow?” You interrupted, your mind too preoccupied to acknowledge what he was saying.

“Anything my princess.”

“Can you lay with me? It is a chilly night and I don’t feel the fireplace warming up the room enough.” You requested shyly, your eyes not able to meet his amber ones as you were sure your cheeks were flushed. This was not the worst thing you’ve requested from him, so you weren’t sure why you were acting this pathetic.

“As you wish.” He bowed slightly. A sign of the respect and admiration he still had for his princess.

Before joining you, he began to take off his armor, revealing a white long sleeve dress shirt along with black trousers. The shirt fit loosely around his torso, a deep v-cut showing off his perfect chiseled chest. Your hands ached to feel his body under your fingertips. As much as you invited him in with good faith, you couldn't help the filthy thoughts that clouded your mind.

Little did you know, he felt the same way too. The way your nightgown clung to your body in a way that your usual dresses failed to do, leaving nothing to the imagination. Not to mention your cute messy hair that was usually in a neat and elegant style. All these factors made him want to defile you, but you were the princess. You were royalty, and he believed you shouldn’t be requesting things like this from a commoner like him.

You scooted over leaving a generous amount of space between you as to not make him feel uncomfortable, and as much as you wanted to reach out to him and feel him underneath your fingertips, you turned away from him acting indifferent.

However, as you were trying to drift off into sleep, you felt him close the space between you and drape an arm over your hip.

“You stated you were cold, I cant let my princess suffer like that.”

Your heart leaped every time he called you ‘his princess’. It was a warm fuzzy feeling that spread across your chest which you’ve never felt before. It made you nuzzle against him, cherishing the feeling of his warmth that you might never feel again.

With how comfortable you felt, you began to drift off again, that is until you felt something hard poking your lower half. You weren’t as clueless as to not know what it was. He believed you were fast asleep with how your chest softly rose and fell, so he let his mind wander and delve into those lewd thoughts of his which immediately made his cock ache from how hard it was.

You didn't dare move, enjoying the way he was rubbing slowly against you. His breathing became shallow and low whimpers would leave his mouth here and there. The noises he was making made wetness pool between your legs. You were aching to feel more, aching for him to cloud your mind and make you forget all your problems like he always does.

He felt pathetic, but he couldn’t control his body. He felt like a dog, but you were just so soft and warm. The desire was unbearable unlike anything he’s ever felt in his life.

You knew it was wrong, but your body moved on its own. You rubbed your ass against him making him let out a painful wince.

“Princess… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

You interrupted him by turning around and crashing your lips into his. It was a heated kiss full of desperation and desire. Teeth clashed against each other as you took control of the kiss. Your tongue dancing with his as your hands held unto his face desperately, as if you were afraid he would disappear.

“I need you my knight.” You whined against his bruised lips. A string of saliva connecting your mouths.

It was as if a switch had flipped. Any thoughts of future consequences were shoved deep into his mind and all he could focus on was your lustful gaze and how soft and warm your body felt against his. You belonged to him for tonight while he has always been yours.

His hand came up to your face. His rough thumb caressing your flushed cheek. He looked at you with so much adoration as if he were staring at a deity. “Then use me as you please, my princess.”

That was your cue as you closed the space between you again. Your hands roamed his muscular arms and broad chest while he still seemed hesitant to touch you, but he was just afraid he would loose control and take over. You were his superior, so you were in charge. Desperate to feel him, you guided his hand under your nightgown and towards your chest. His large hand engulfed the soft mound making a soft moan escape your lips. The way his fingers pinched and groped your breasts was making the ache between your legs unbearable.

“Please… I need more.” You whispered against his lips, begging for some relief.

“Anything for you, my love.” He began to place kisses against your cheeks trailing down your jaw and neck just to stop briefly by your chest. He nuzzled your right breast, taking your clothed nipple into his mouth while he pinched your left breast. It was almost as if he was teasing you since you couldnt stop the way your hips lifted trying to obtain some sort of friction.

He felt comfortable enough now to worship your body properly without the fear of being caught lingering in the back of his mind. He wanted to take his time exploring every inch of your body, since he never had the chance to before, but seeing the way you desperately sought relief made him take pity on you.

You soon felt his breath against your clothed pussy making you shudder. God, how he had missed your pussy. If it were up to him, he would be tongue deep in your pussy for hours. Your wetness had leaked and formed a Heavy wet patch on your lacy panties. He couldn’t stop himself from licking a stripe along your clothed wet slit. You tasted so divine that it was almost intoxicating. He was like a man who had been wondering the desert for days before finally having a sip of water.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath before ripping your underwear off of you making you yelp. Without missing a beat, his mouth enclosed around your clit as he softly began to suck. Your thighs trembled around him as you moaned, finally being touched exactly where you wanted. Soon the room was filled with lewd wet sounds that didn’t fail to turn you own even more.

“Such a good boy.” You whined into your hand trying to keep your moans low.

“Tasty… you’re so tasty… so sweet..” his incoherent babbling filled the air. The first time he’s ever been vocal while you performed these sinful acts. He would usually stare at your face as he lavished your folds, but this time he was entranced with the way your tight wet cunt would swallow his fingers. He loved seeing the way your hole would clench around his fingers the closer he drove you to your release.

“Use your mouth more.” You shuddered. Your sentence coming out more demanding than you intended, but either way he was eager to comply, moaning as his mouth encircled your throbbing clit.

Once he felt your thighs tighten around his head as you released around his mouth, he couldn’t help but to desperately fuck himself into his wrist. Your praises and the way you moaned his name making his cock throb. It was almost painful how desperately he wished to be inside you.

As if you read his thoughts, your hands cupped his cheeks as you dragged him up to your face for a deep messy kiss. “Put it in. Please put it in.” You whined desperately against his lips.

Those words were enough to cloud his judgment and to silence the voice in the back of his head screaming about the consequences.

“As my princess desires. I am yours to command.” He moaned against your cheek. His lips leaving sloppy wet kisses down your jaw and neck. He quickly rose to remove his dress shirt, but too desperate to remove his trousers.

He was mindful of your virginity as he slowly and steadily guided the head of his cock through your weeping hole. Your legs immediately clenching around his hips due to the painful sting. Your wincing pulled at the strings of his heart.

“Shhh… I know my princess. It’ll feel better I promise.” He kissed and nibbled on your lips as a way to distract you from the pain. Oh how hard it was trying to not just slam into you. Your tightness causing whimpers and moans to escape from his lips.

“So tight princess… all for me.” He babbled. His eyes hazed over with lust at the way your squirmed and twitched beneath him.

The pain began to slowly subside as the stretching of his cock began to cloud your mind with pleasure.

“Mmm… faster.” You commanded breathlessly as your soft hands roamed his hard body. You loved the way his muscles felt under your touch, hard and contracting every where you roamed.

His hips began to roll faster, filling the room with sinful squelching. The slap of skin on skin grew louder and you feared the sounds could be heard by other patrons down the hall.

He whimpered and moaned against the crook of your neck, trying his best to keep quiet. You felt so heavenly around his cock and all he could think about was to fill you to the brim with his cum.

“My beautiful princess… ah~ I want you to carry my babies.” The pleasure became so unbearable that he had to close his eyes. Just seeing your beautiful flushed face with your swollen lips and disheveled hair was enough to make him want to cum. Not to mention the way your innocent looking eyes locking with his made him feel.

“I would love to carry your children my handsome knight.” That was all he needed to hear to release deep inside you as his moans filled the room. The strange feeling of his warmth inside was enough to make you join him in that high. Your legs trembled at his sides as you clenched the sheets beneath you. This was much more intense than when he used his mouth.

He collapsed next to you, shoving his sweaty golden locks out of his face. Any timidness that lingered quickly disappeared as you craved that high again.

“Awww… don’t tell me my knight is spent already.” Came your taunting voice as you crawled up his lap. You rubbed your juices along his softening cock which immediately became rigid at the sensation of your cum dripping down his shaft.

“You told me I could use you for my pleasure, and I’m not done yet.” There was a new malicious look of lust glazed over your eyes that ignited the fire within his core again.

“Let me worship you like you deserve.” His heart stopped as he watch you remove your robe. The fireplace reflected the slight sheen coating your beautiful body. He swore he had died and gone to heaven. This couldn’t be real. There was no way you were about to sit and bounce on his cock.

“Fuck… you don’t have to do this. I’ve defiled you enough, my sweet.” His hips betrayed his words as he thrusted himself between your folds.

You made him shut up as you shoved yourself down his length in one swift move. Both of your moans filling the room. Any concerns about being heard long forgotten. His cock stretched you so deliciously that it was addictive. It made you wish you could have his cock deep inside you all the time.

His throbbing tip hit your g spot perfectly that with each bounce, it drove you closer to the edge. Yet, you didn’t miss the way he trembled and whimpered beneath you. He was so blinded by pleasure and he demonstrated it by balling his fists into the sheets, anything to keep him grounded to reality.

“I… I want you to fill me up again… Kyojuro.” You felt so close, but you didn’t want to climax before feeling him coat your tight he walls.

He groaned hearing his name roll so sweetly from your pretty mouth. It was enough for him to sit as he held you so tightly he shoved you down on his cock as deep as he could before releasing inside you. He moaned breathlessly against your ear leaving opened mouth kisses wherever he could reach.

There was something about watching this man come undone beneath you. There’s nothing like seeing your powerful, indomitable warrior reduced to a whimpering wreck as he loses himself in you. It’s a power which omly served to intensify your climax.

You felt your orgasm drip down your thighs and dirty the trousers he never took off.

“I love you… my beautiful princess.” His confession made your heart still. All the thoughts of your responsibilities rushed back and hit you like freight train. All you could do was remain silent as you held onto him. Not knowing what to do or what to say.

He felt as if he overstepped his boundaries, but he couldn’t stop himself from uttering his next sentence.

“Let’s run away together.” He muttered against your neck making you shoot up in surprise.

“I’ll look after you. I’ll provide for you. If you’re with child I’ll look after both of you.”

You remained speechless.

“It may not be the lavish life you’re accustomed to, but I promise I’ll take care of you.” He kissed your cheek and forehead. His kisses just dripping with the affection he had for you.

You really did not want to go through with the arranged marriage. You wanted nothing more than to remain by your knights side, but what about your kingdom?

Well it’s not like you came from a loving family, but you couldn’t help but still feel guilty. Not to mention you would probably end up executed once your future husband finds out that you are no longer pure.

“I love you too, Kyojuro.” You held his face so softly as you brought him in for a soft kiss. A kiss where you just poured all your emotions for him. No one had ever made you feel the way he did. His heart fluttered at your actions.

He chuckled against your lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up and let’s get the hell out of here, my love.”

——

Running away with Kyojuro was the best decision you could’ve ever made. You both ended up at his family’s farm which was secluded deep in the woods at the base of a mountain, away from either kingdom. It was located on an elevated hill that was covered in beautiful sunflowers in which, once you reached the top, gave a beautiful view of the mountains. It was secluded enough from the nearest village that no one would ever think of looking for you there.

You doubted anyone would try to look for you anyways. Kyojuro made sure to make the carriage seemed like it was attacked and ransacked before setting it on fire. He also made sure to leave his weapon and his armor damaged enough that it made it seem like he did not survive the attack.

Word from the nearby village, according to Rengokus family, was that your father blamed the other kingdom for your disappearance and declared war on them. Even though the other kingdom denied the accusations, your father had made up his mind and nothing could change his views. He was a stubborn man who believed you would never run away from your duty. Not to mention the state he himself found the carriage. It just helped seal any doubt he had.

But you could care less about what your family was up to.

Kyojuro had introduced you to his parents along with his little brother. To say you were shocked by how similar the Rengoku men looked was an understatement. And if his family recognized you, they didn’t say a word. The story Kyojuro had told them was that he had met you in the nearby town your castle was located in and that it was love at first sight. Neither you or his family doubted that part of the story.

His family accepted you with nothing but love and open arms. And as the years went by, they became the family you never had. You had grown close with his mother who taught you everything she knew from cooking to baking to house chores.

Of course, Kyojuro would never let you lift a finger when he was around. As much as you protested, he promised to keep treating you as a princess and that’s what he was going to do as long as you were by his side.

Eventually, he along with the help of his father, ended up building a small cottage on the other side of his family’s property, and when Kyojuro had decided that enough time had passed from your disappearance, he proposed and held a small wedding ceremony in the family farm where no one other than family and a small amount of close friends where invited. Not soon after his parents began asking for grandchildren. How you did not become pregnant your first night together will always be a mystery to you.

But eventually, you became pregnant multiple times throughout the years and gifted him four beautiful children. Three boys and one girl who were the spitting image of their father. Oh how you held a grudge against him for that.

However, no matter how much time passed, he never failed to make you feel as giddy as he did when you first met. He never broke his promise about treating you like a princess either. He would always do everything you said and always made sure you were content. He also never failed to thank you for choosing him and giving him a chance. He gave you a wonderful life where you knew nothing but peace, stability and love.

If you had the chance to do it all again, you would walk down the same path over and over again.

Yandere Seven Deadly Sins

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, gangbang, harsh language, sexual exploitation, bondage, zero holes safe, and more, read at your own risk

♡ FEM reader

Pride is an artist, and you, poor dear, are lucky enough to be his muse.

You’d caught his eye one day simply by coincidence while working your part-time job as a barista.

And though it had been a rather unorthodox request—between balancing school and work and constantly finding yourself both strapped for cash and strapped for time—you’d decided to quit and take him up on his offer—as what he was offering was about twice what you could make at the cafe anyway.

He’s not that much older than you, but he’s old money. And while you're stuck in community college, he goes to an elite art school—which he doesn’t even show up to, 'cause why would he? They can't afford to kick him out anyway, given his father’s donations make up half of their yearly budget.

And so he's free to self-study as much as he wants.

Yeah... he’s a little too used to getting what he wants—exactly how he wants it—without delay. So when you struggle to come to your sessions on time due to having to take the bus to the other side of town, he decides to solve it by buying you a car. And when he doesn’t feel like that’s sufficient enough, he buys you an apartment right above his own studio. And when you try to reject, he only has three concise words for you.

“Don’t be stupid.”

The way he says it leaves very little up for debate. In fact, it leaves you mute each and every time. 

It was nice in the beginning—you didn’t protest to anything other than his overpriced gifts. You were flattered and blushy and giddy and more than happy to sit pretty for him for hours at a time while he sketched and sculpted and painted and whatnot. It was essentially nothing in comparison to the luxuries he gave you in return.

But you think, at some point along the way, he must have forgotten that he only owns the artworks he makes of you—not you yourself.

“N-naked?” you stutter, looking at him wide-eyed where he stands in his usual apron—flecked with the proof of your countless sessions. Honestly, it was getting to be a little strange posing for him in a room stuffed with a myriad of sketches, paintings, and statues of yourself. Hadn’t he had enough?

“I can’t capture you correctly when you wear all these rags,” he says—clinically, though with a pinch of impatience just shy of vexation—eyeing you from head to toe, almost with a look of disgust while beholding your clothes, despite being the one who’d bought them. “They obscure everything. So take them off.”

You knew he’d probably had about a hundred models undress for him, and stand here—old, young, men, women—you knew it probably didn’t mean much to him. He probably regarded it the same way he does everything—without even batting an eye. However…

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do that…” You fiddle with your fingers, standing there, still dressed despite him standing ready at his easel, foot-tapping while waiting for you, already with a stick of charcoal between his fingers. 

“Why are you making a fuss? You think I haven’t seen a naked body before?” he jokes, but without humor—no, rather strictness as if you’re wasting very precious time. “This is standard practice—don’t make it anything than what it is.”

There he goes again with those very final words that make you feel all in all kind of silly.

You bite your lip and mull it over before ever-so-begrudgingly uttering a weak little, “Okay…”

You suppose he was right. This is a job, and it’s just nudity—just another shape in the eyes of an artist—it doesn’t mean anything—is what you tell yourself while you undress. Still, you can’t help but feel flush—heart pounding in your chest as you fold your clothes all neatly for some other nervous reason. 

“Resume the pose,” he says—almost like a drill sergeant. And you jump into place, timidly rushing over to the chaise where you lie down like before.

This does feel like it would be a better painting, you admit. More reminiscent of Renaissance art and such. Not that you know much about it, but thinking back to field trips through the museum, you seem to remember having seen plenty of portraits of naked ladies lying on pretty but uncomfortable sofas just like this.

He seems very invested, at least. A deep furl between his brows, nearly scowling at you while he works—though you’ve come to learn that it’s just his concentration face.

After a while, he sets his charcoal down and wipes his blackened hands on his apron.

You sit up, asking, “Are you done?” All but ready to leap from your seat to your clothes and finally cover yourself again.

“No, keep still,” he all but reprimands—voice intense as he stalks across the floor over to you with determination written plainly across his face.

You draw back in place as he rests his knee on the chaise and leans forward. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come and correct your pose, but you couldn’t help but flinch this time around, feeling just a bit too exposed.

His hands are warm and overworked, both dry and a bit clammy all at the same time. You didn’t mind much when you wore clothes, but it felt a bit too intimate now as he touched your bare skin. But you bear with it despite that.

Eyes closed, you repeat that same line from before—it doesn’t mean anything, this is standard practice, it doesn’t mean anything.

It works in calming your breath for a moment, but then he grabs your tit.

You gasp, jolting back while stuttering, “Wha–what are you doing?”

And yet, he keeps his steal gaze just as fixed and unfazed as before, sighing at you as if you were overreacting, before stating rather simply, “Getting a better understanding of your body.” He then reaches toward you again, showing no concern for how you shrink away. “It’s easier to replicate when I know it by hand.”

Again, you let his voice silence you, and again, you closed your eyes and let his hands wander—around your chest, up your neck, down your belly, and then—

“Wait! That can’t be necessary—” you blurt out, this time with your arms and hands shooting forth to distance him.

“Oh, trust me—it is.” Again, he pays you no mind, simply bearing over you with his entitled hands roaming whatever place he so wishes and chooses. Only clicking his tongue at you when you squirm, “Don’t fuss.”

You don’t exactly push him away, though you don’t exactly make his pursuit easier for him—lying there beneath his touches, wiggling and whimpering, though not really protesting either as he feels your slit.

Your fingers curl into his arms, gripping his messy shirt streaked with paint and coal—as his fingers run through your lips, teasing your entrance and your clit. He twists his hand around and presses his thumb down on the pearl after it perks for attention, then enters you with his pointer finger—drawing out wetness before promptly feeding you another.

You bite your lip as they curl and spread within you, testing you out while rubbing firm circles into your clit.

Gingerly, your hips return it, starting to move in tune with his ministrations. Thighs trembling, keeping your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you start to pant—small moans leaving your lips with every breath, feeling it build within you—a small flame at first, nursed until it fills and all but fights for room within you before finally bursting.

“That’s it—that’s the expression,” he purrs—voice much softer than usual—cupping your face with his other hand, holding you steady while taking in those dopey eyes sparkling with pleasure and those parted lips that never dare speak up—eyeing you like he's the proud owner of a prized possession. “Perfect.”

He hums, sounding pleased, then gets off you shortly after, sauntering back to his easel.

“You can get dressed now. I got what I needed,” he states, picking the stick of charcoal up again, ripping the last sketch off for a fresh sheet before starting anew as if nothing had happened.

And you, still lying there, are left just as mute as usual.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Touya, Hawks, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Baro ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi

Wrath is your ex-boyfriend who refuses to get it through his thick skull that the two of you are over.

Any time you talk to another guy, he beats him up—to a fucking pulp, no less. 

He’s always been that way, and still, it wasn’t always like this…

You started dating each other when you were young. He was rough around the edges, and you liked that about him—tattoos from his neck down to his ankles—the type your parents would have a heart attack if you ever brought home.

He was going to be a professional fighter, he’d say—mixed martial arts. He had all the rage and zero technique, but still, he’d land some of the best on their ass all through pure strength of will alone. 

He was near impossible to train, though—always too wired to be able to take any pointers. And that’s why he needed you. You were his reliever. He’d fuck you like it was his last day on earth, and suddenly he’d be able to do anything. Like an enhancement drug, everything would start moving in slow motion, and he could somehow see all the moves of his opponent before they ever made them.

You admit you liked hearing him preach about it. It made you feel important—made you feel as if half the win, or at least some of it, was yours. And when he started raking in the dough as the champion, winning multiple titles across several tournaments, you were more than happy to be his lucky charm and cheer him on from the sidelines.

But then, you had this awful and sudden feeling of being just that—a tool for his success and nothing else. Sure, he’d give you presents—pretty things he thought suited you well—but you hadn’t gone on a date since his career started, nor had you had a proper sit-down dinner together either. He’d stick to his diet regime, be out training at the gym all day, and you’d be home, going about your own business.

And while you were doing that, you’d think—about the nature of your relationship. And what you found is that all it really entails in the end is him demanding a fuck whenever he needed it—before a tournament, before training, before an interview. And then, after coming to that glum conclusion, you can’t help but feel like nothing more than another one of those items he keeps loose in his gym bag.

And those thoughts only got validated when you tried denying him sex for the first time…

You were just curious, really—curious to see what he’d do. If he’d beg, if he’d plead, if he’d say boo, don’t be that way while down on his hands and knees for you.

But of course... he can’t get anything else but angry.

“If you’re not gonna give me the one thing you're useful for, then what the fuck do I keep you around for?” is what he’d said—no, barked. “You think you’re special? If you’re not gonna put out, I might as well go out and find me someone who will.”

He’d fucked off to some other room with a huff and left you standing there. 

And you don’t know, amidst the shell shock and the ache of your heart coming undone... suddenly, you had no idea why you were there or with him or what you were supposed to do—and when you found no answer to any of those questions, it made no sense for you to stay. And so you went to your shared bedroom—or his bedroom, as a matter of fact, which you’d stayed in for the last months—quickly grabbed your things—your things specifically, and not all the other stuff he’d thrown at you—and stuffed it all haphazardly in your bag, then gone out to the entryway to put your shoes on.

That’s when he’d reared his head again with the gall of asking, “Where the fuck are you going?” 

He hadn’t had that same raised tone as before. No, this time it was lowered—frayed—with a touch of urgency and unease as if balancing on the edge of a knife—as if he knew he'd done something wrong and was reaping the consequences and yet still hadn't the balls to simply apologize and correct it.

And so, you hadn’t answered him.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” he’d stated then, coming closer, ready to grab your arm with that hint of alarm in his voice increased. “Hey, I asked you fucking a question—”

That’s when you’d twisted around and slapped him. You’d put all your might into it as well, though you doubt it compared to much of what he’d felt in the ring. 

And still, he’d looked at you as if he’d just lost all his titles. 

He hadn’t said anything else after that—just stood there with his mouth agape as you opened the door and slammed it shut behind you. In fact, you don't think he even dared do so much as take a breath.

You’d gone and crashed at a friend's and rethought your life. There was no way you could ever go back, after all—not after what he’d said. Treating you like a stay-at-home whore. Who the fuck does he think he is?

What an asshole—you'd tried convincing yourself as you cried yourself to sleep…

The days and weeks after were nothing if not fucked up and toxic, to say the least. You’d go out to have a fun time and try to forget about him, but he’d always show up out of the blue to ruin everything—being his usual douche self. 

Though… you can’t exactly claim to be any better than him—not after finding yourself in bed with his number-one up-and-coming rival.

Of course, it ends up all over the news—big headlines plastered on every gossip platform pushing your private affairs for all to see—a real media circus if there ever was one.

You end up back in his apartment. To talk, he’d said—a pretense you had a hard time believing in. He’s never been one to talk much. Honestly, you don’t know why you even bothered coming over when he asked. There might even be a chance he’ll kill you. This is how most homicides start, after all.

The two of you sit in silence for a couple of minutes. You look off to the side, waiting for him to speak because fuck knows you have nothing to say. 

Meanwhile, he just stares at you—his big, hulking body leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands braided before his face. It’s the type of posture he’ll have when sitting in the corner of the ring—he’s got that same look in his eyes, too, deadset on you.

It makes you a little nervous, actually—maybe he really does plan on killing you.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks suddenly.

You almost scoff—almost roll your eyes, but you end up simply returning his dead glare. “Is that really what you asked me here for?”

He doesn’t answer that question. He just keeps staring at you.

You huff out a sigh, “I don’t know, maybe I just wondered what it would be like to be fucked like a woman for once and not someone’s toy.” 

You don’t know why you decided to take it there when you both know why you’d done it. What other fucking reason would there be other than to get back at him? It’s a stupid question to begin with, and so you give it a stupid answer in return. And you won’t deny it feels fucking good—seeing him like this. Five o’clock shadow, eyebags, and uncut, disheveled hair. 

He looks like a wreck, and rightfully so. Fuck knows what a mess you’d been before you finally managed to drag yourself out of bed. Funny what the single simple thought of revenge can do for someone so lost.

He scrapes his thumb down his jawline, over his stubble—a deep sigh running through him as he leans back on the couch. Offering no other reaction as he says, “I can sit here and act threatened, but you and I both know he was shit compared to me.”

He throws his arms up against the headrest, chin tipped up. Thinking he can hide it, thinking you can’t see right through him—to how hard he’s fighting to upkeep the poker face. 

He’s forgetting who his opponent is.

“I know you, babe—I know your body. And there's no fucking way some shitstain you just met–”

“His dick was bigger,” you interrupt—face blank because two can play that silly game, and you do it better.

He’s shut up for a moment—you can see a vein pulse, but it’s quickly stifled, and he smirks instead, snickering despite his grit teeth, “Sorry, that must'a hurt given how much you cry with me.”

This time, you don’t refrain from scoffing and rolling your eyes, “That's all you have to say? Thought you were a fighter.”

“You want me to get jealous? Is that it?” he accuses then, starting to crack, throwing your scoff back at you, “Tch—should've fucked somebody important then.”

This time, you skip the eye-roll and flat-out laugh instead, “I'll keep that in mind. Next time, I'll call up your dad-”

That did it—got him out of his seat and everything. “Shut your mouth.” Standing big and hunched, all muscles and fury.

And you react in kind. Glad that you’re finally getting somewhere. “Make me.”

"You're fucking–" He clenched his fist in the air, scrunching his face in frustration, withholding a growl before releasing a heavy sigh instead.

Dropping his arms, shoulders slumping—hanging his head the same way whilst mumbling under his breath, “Fuck this… fuck this entire thing.” 

And just as quickly as he’d sprung to his feet, he flopped down on the couch again. 

“I don't wanna play games…” He looks up at you—now with the look of a starved and beaten dog. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

He reaches out slowly—big hands cradling your thighs, pulling you towards him gently, and you let him—put off by that strange new look in his eyes.

“You can fuck half the world, and I'd still only want you.”

It’s an odd confession. Unexpected coming from him. You’d anticipated more of a fight, not whatever this is. Looking at you with glossy eyes on the verge of tears. Suddenly, you feel kind of mean, struck with this sense of guilt for having reduced him to such a state.

“Don't take the high road. It doesn't suit you,” you declare, though without much bite.

And he just sighs, “Fuck that, we’re even now.” Pulling you even closer still—into his lap—he makes you straddle him. Forehead to forehead without kissing you yet. “So, are you gonna let me fuck you, or are you really gonna make me beg?”

And though you would kind of like to see what he’d look like on his knees, the sight of him like this was good enough proof that he’d learned his lesson despite it not being an apology.

Besides, he'd been all too right when he’d said the other guy couldn’t fuck you like him.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kyotani, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Shido ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Uvogin

Sloth is a street urchin.

You volunteer at the homeless shelter and can’t help but feel extra sorry for him. He’s only around your age—so young yet with no future to speak of.

This winter, given it’s going to be an especially harsh one, all volunteers have been asked if they have any spare room they can be so kind as to give to those less fortunate. And though you’re not that well off yourself, you still have an extra room you’ve only been using as storage.

So, unable to look the other way, you decide to clean it out, get a bed, and host him.

You took precautions first, naturally—just to be safe. But, from what you could tell, he’s neither a drug addict nor has any criminal record to speak of. No, he’s just another abandoned kid who'd society had failed.

This is the least you can do to correct its wrongs.

And, of course, he falls in love with you for it. Not only do you give him a place of rest—but you make him warm food, give him fresh clothes, do his laundry, draw his bath, watch movies with him every night, and always ask him if he has everything he needs. You even cut his long, shaggy hair for him and give him luxuries such as face-lotion. 

You’re a saint, too good for a filthy sinner like him, but he’ll never let you know that... No, your pity feels too nice—taking such good care of him—he’s going to leach off of you and your honeycomb heart for the rest of his life if he can help it.

He doesn't look too bad after he cleans up, and after a few more weeks of eating well and getting enough rest—he stops lurching and starts standing up straight, looking lanky and lean with muscle—at which point you can’t deny he’s even a little hot. You know… in that scrappy sort of way.

You feel weird about it, of course—guilty even. He’s a homeless guy you’re housing—you’d be nothing if not downright evil if you took advantage of him. But after a few weeks of settling in, he starts feeling like more of a normal roommate and not a stranger. And with that familiarity, you both lose the distance and become more lax and loose around each other—wearing less, talking casually, not afraid to brush up against each other, and before you even know it, you find yourself folded in half beneath him on the living room couch.

You don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into—but his cock’s so big he’s pounding the sense right out of you with every thrust.

He’s not even going fast. No, rather slow, actually—taking his time as if savoring it. But that doesn't take away from the pleasure bubbling up inside of you where his strokes hit so heavy, resting deep within, so fulfilling that it all but replaces your better judgment with the sole need to squeeze him with all you've got.

“Mh, you’re pussy’s so nice and warm—I could stay inside you forever.”

You’re so wet it’s ridiculous—like never before—like you’re the one who’s been starved and neglected and not the other way around. Getting your breath all but knocked out of you, getting fucked so utterly full, he’s making you kick your feet and curl your toes in the air, bucking your hips back into him like you’re desperately begging for more.

He’s got your knees hooked over his arms, keeping you neatly pressed under him. “You’re so good to me—so, so sweet, you must be the sweetest girl in the whole entire world. My guardian angel.” 

All you’re able to do is babble and moan in return—misty- and cross-eyed with your dewy face cradled in his hands. 

You just hold onto his wrists while he speaks fondly against your lips, “You saved me when no one else even bothered looking. Let me return the favor—give this pretty pussy all the thanks it deserves.”

When he re-angles and hits you in a different spot, the switch in your lower belly is immediate—making your whole body seize up and shiver, breath shuddering in your throat, followed swiftly by a pulse migrating from your core all throughout your body, tasting oversweet on your tongue enough to make you drool. 

He locks lips with yours, slurping your spit up sloppily and keeping himself fully sleaved as you peak—feeling your wet, gummy walls tighten and flutter, rippling along his length like a rush of kisses. 

Then, right before it fully dies down, he picks up the pace again and rekindles it—because fuck knows he’s well-rested and over-due and the farthest thing from done with you just yet.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Suna, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Togame

Gluttony is a five-star chef. 

You start off as a waitress at his restaurant. And yet, he’s the one who developed an appetite—for you and your pleasing smile and that busy-bee swing you have in your hip as you hop around from table to table. 

He licks his lips at the sight of you more than he does the food he makes. He even had the uniforms altered in your image—made the skirts shorter and shirts tighter.

He's utterly shameless, but who can blame him? You’re such a little bite-sized treat—he just has to taste you.

And taste you, he most certainly does. 

For breakfast and for brunch and lunch and dinner and supper, as well as a midnight snack.

“Your pussy juice is my favorite,” he groans from between your legs.

Fat-muscled chef’s arms, tattooed with all types of silly patches, curled tightly around your thighs, keeping you close despite those times you try and push away when it gets to be a little too much—because fuck knows he doesn’t have the same reservations. Nose and tongue and chin deep in your slit, slurping you down while filling you up with his words, “I want to flavor every meal I make with you.”

You keep a hand over your face, kissing your knuckles, sometimes with a bite—whimpering pitifully, “Gross…”

Of course, you can’t help but cringe when he says things like that. He’s your boss, after all, not a porn actor. Still, you don’t say it with much conviction. It’s just that you get so embarrassed you don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles, still with his face buried. “Don’t be childish.” Words muffled as he doubles down on his efforts of sucking on your clit like a piece of candy.

“I’m not,” you whine. “You're just weird.”

He smacks off of you at that, a refreshing sigh leaving him rugged and raspy, a devilish look in his eyes as if he’s about to eat you for real. “I’m a world-renowned chef—are you implying I don’t know my flavors?”

Everything in your gut coils with anticipation, nearly rumbling with need, while he pulls your lower half up and even closer—face glossy with the way he’d gorged himself already—licking his teeth now as he refocuses on your clit alone.

Flattening his tongue on it while he speaks, sounding like some type of beast, “I’ve tasted everything the world has to offer. And I'm telling you, this pretty little thing between your legs is the best there is.”

You can’t stand looking up at him. Beyond embarrassed, you hide your face with both hands. Mumbling out a weak, “Pervert...”

Again, he snickers, shaking his head as if he’s ripping into flesh when he’s really just got his tongue out—straight motorboating your poor pussy.

When done, he drops you onto the bed again, grinning while replying to your insult, “Can’t argue with that,” before promptly kissing and licking up your belly—with fingers replacing his tongue, pumping you on his knuckles, getting you ready. 

He groans when his mouth reaches your chest, lips wrapped around a nipple, “If only these titties had milk. I could feast on you from every position.”

You don’t know if you should giggle or grumble—he’s such a baby—and a spoiled one at that. But really, his fingering is making it difficult to do anything but stammer and try and keep it together, “We talked about this—I’m not taking hormones just to breastfeed you, you weirdo.”

He whines then, “Please—it’s my only wish in the entire world—I need it.”

You struggle to argue, feeling like you’re under siege—an onslaught set out to make you breathless. “Well—” you pant, gritting your teeth and bearing it. “We can’t always get what we want.”

“Oh, I’ll see about that.” He takes it as a challenge, this time really locking his lips around your nipple and suckling—releasing just briefly to say, “I bet if I suck on these babies enough, they’ll give me what I want.”

He keeps his fingers working diligently while at it—used to multitasking—curling and spreading them out within you, pumping you so fast, you barely have the time to beg him to “Stop that—” before you’re already shaking and cumming for what must be the seventh time already.

He laughs breathily, kissing your teat goodbye as he lifts himself up again. Pulling his fingers out of you, he brings them to his lips and blithely sucks them off. 

“You know I can’t stop, dear. I’m so hungry—I’m ravenous.”

You watch him from over the tips of your fingers. So hot and mortified you think you’re soon to pass out. Breathing heavily behind your hands, muttering, “You’re a glutton—that’s what you are.”

Again, he just cheerfully snickers, bowing down to your halfway-hidden face with a smile. “I hardly see how it’s my fault I can’t get enough of you.” 

He spreads your legs again and finds his place between them.

“You’re the one who got me hooked—so you better take responsibility for it.”

♡ BNHA – Kirishima, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Todo ♡ HQ – Bokuto, Ukai ♡ BLLK – Baro, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Uvogin ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

Lust is your boss. He's the owner of the strip club where you work, your pimp when money’s tight, as well as the porndirector of all your lovely little films.

Yeah, you might as well have a tramp stamp of his name on your ass, the way he practically owns you…

He's around ten years older and has basically taught you all about sex from when you were only a fledgling in the industry. You live at his studio above the club since he keeps all your money in a bank account under his name, calling you his little sugarbaby and telling you you’ll get an allowance and that you can get more if and when you ask him nicely and tell him what it’s for. 

“Don’t be a brat, baby. You know how I hate it when you're a bad girl,” he says when you raise the topic of moving out, treating it as if you’re a child threatening to run away from home.

“I don’t belong to you. Give me what you owe me.”

Honestly, you have no idea where you got the courage. 

But is it courage? Or is it just plain stupidity? Because, though you’re increasingly more terrified as you quickly watch him lose his temper, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. And so, if you knew this is what was going to happen—why the fuck would you put yourself through it?

Must be madness.

“I give you everything, don't I? Food, clothes, a home,” he chastises, bearing over you while you’re down on scuffed knees, holding your wrist in a bruising grip and your face just as fiercely—nearly tearing the skin off your cheeks with the bite of his nails.

“And still, you have the fucking nerve to act like a goddamn bitch.”

You hiccup on sobs, spluttering out a desperate “Please—I’m sorry–”

"You and your entire slut body belong to me, you understand that?"

"Yes-yes—please—I'm sorry! You're right! I belong to you! I'm sorry!"

That seems to calm him just a bit—at least enough to take the bite away from his voice, now cooing at you in an ugly mocking attempt at sweetness, “Yeah, you do every single little thing I ask. ‘Cause if you’re not gonna behave like a good girl, I have no other choice but to treat you like a bad one.”

He lets your audience be rowdier than usual that night, allowing them to slap and grab, then forces you to have an extra rough shoot afterward—with tighter bondage, more toys, bigger guys making use of you like a piece of meat, smacking and choking you as they find out how many cocks your holes can fit, every last one finishing on your face.

Then, when you’re all done and all used up for the day, he brings you upstairs—home, sweet home—where he treats you to some much-unwanted after-care...

You shiver and shake despite the hot water. Sitting in the bathtub, laying back with your spine against his chest, feeling thin like a sheet of paper, all crumbled up and torn—sniffling and sniveling as the after-shock of the day still ricochets through you like wind through a hollow husk.

“The shoot today was rough, huh?” he drawls, washing you with his own hands. Stroking your poor sore cunt despite how it makes you whimper. “Yeah... was it a little too rough for you, hm?” 

You don’t do anything in return—but your body language says enough on its own, and he allows it to be your answer.

Sighing heavily, he wraps you up with both arms and squeezes you tighter, chin resting atop your head.

“You know… if you’d just be my good girl, I’d give you a good girl to-do list. Let you stay here all day, do some house chores while I’m gone, make love when I get home, hm? Doesn’t that sound better?”

He traces a welted bruise on the inside of your thigh, one you got from the shoot—roughly the shape of a hand, and a dozen more others layered on top of it. It makes you suck in a hiss.

“But if you’re gonna be a bad girl, then this is what you get.” 

He settles into the grove of your neck, purring against your ear. “Are you gonna be my good girl from now on? Hm?”

You bite your lip, breath shuddering while nodding pitifully.

And still, he insists, “Say it so I can hear it.”

The water’s gone cold around you—just like everything else, as you say, “I’ll be a good girl.”

He seems pleased, at least. Nuzzling against your cheek with chin stubble and a smirk, asking, “Yeah? Whose?”

Your voice is small and pathetic, nearly a wince, “Yours.”

He groans then, “That’s right. My good girl.” Lifting his hand from the water, he takes hold of your chin, fingers pressing into those designated sore spots as he angles your face toward him and gives you a heartless kiss before growling against your lips, “And don’t you ever fucking dare forget it again.”

After he’s finished washing you up, he carries you out to bed. It's one you fear much more than the one down in the studio.

Because in this bed, just like every night in this hellhole… he starts teaching every last one of your holes who they belong to.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Reo, Shido, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

Envy is your enemy. 

Or, well, no, he’s not your enemy, but you’re most certainly his enemy. 

You’re just not aware of it because of what a ditzy and clueless airhead you are. 

But fuck, he can’t stand you—you and your fake personality, acting all bubbly and sweet, cheering him on, always telling him to do his best—condescending little bitch acting like everyone’s friend—like he doesn’t see through you right to your rotten core. You don’t fool him—he knows you’re as bad as the rest of them, so just quit pretending like you’re better or something.

You’re under the false impression that the two of you are friends. You just think he has a strange sense of humor, but you laugh politely even when you don’t always get the joke.

Well, maybe it’s not so much politeness, but the fact that you have a big fat hopeless crush on him.

It infuriates him. He throws your niceties back in your face as insults, and you just laugh. How low do you think of him? Honestly? How tall is that high horse of yours that you have your head constantly in the clouds?

Poor you… you just think he’s so cool—always saying what he feels like, not a lame people-pleasing goodie-two-shoes such as yourself. You can’t help but follow him around like a lost puppy all day long. You’re always making sure you sit next to him during lectures—heart almost beating out of your chest, holding back from squealing when your prayers are answered, and the two of you are finally paired for a project together. 

It really feels like the universe is on your side, and so you just can’t stop yourself from going the full mile—making chocolates and preparing him a hand-written love letter. You know he’ll think you’re a little silly, that he’ll make fun of you for it—but you can’t expect to get anywhere without putting your heart on the line, can you? For a chance at love, the risk must be worth it!

Yeah, you’re such a hopeless romantic—you feel it as he punches his fist through your ribs when he rips out your poor heart and stomps all over it. 

“I fucking get it already! You’re little miss pretty and popular. Would you quit rubbing it in my face, or do I really have to spell it out for you? I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. You,” he seethes through grit teeth. “Go pick another one of the hundreds dying to be your partner and leave me the fuck alone!”

You shrink where you stand, shocked doe-eyes rapidly welling up like a flood, lips wobbling as you choke on your words, “Oh… okay… I’m sorry… I just… I–”

“You-you-you what?” he barks at your stuttering. “Spit it out already! What the fuck do you want?”

“I just-I-I just always thought you were amazing. So…”

His face contorts, scrunches up in a grimace different from anger, though not without it, as he spits out, “What the fuck are you on about now?”

But his voice is a little diminished now, with confusion usurping the place of his hate, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts because… what did you actually just say?

“I just, I really like you–” you repeat, hanging your head, only barely able to mumble through the tears blocking your throat. “But I guess I’ve just annoyed you all this time—I’m sorry...” 

Only now does he notice you’re trying to hand him something—a flat little box with a pink note attached. 

“This is for you, but I understand if you don’t want it.” Unable to look up, you just stretch your arms out until it gently bumps into him. 

Baffled, he accepts without thinking.

“I’m sorry—I’ll leave you alone from now on.” And then you run off, disappearing with a sob that all but shoots him through the chest.

And slowly bleeding out, he remains standing there, eyes glued to where you'd left—mouthing the word what…

What did you just say? 

Like? Him?

Did he mishear you, or did you just confess? 

No way—that can’t be it, right? 

But what the fuck is this heart-shaped letter, then?

"What the fuck did I just do?"

You look like you’ve been crying your eyes out all night the next day—your usual bubbly personality reduced to a ghost in a shell, walking the hallways like a zombie, slowly and without purpose, eyes on the ground—letting everyone bump into you.

You don't even so much as bat an eye when someone runs straight over you, fully knocking all your books and folders onto the floor. 

You just get on your knees and start recollecting them.

A newfound hate flares up within him at the sight. “Hey, you!" He stomps over. "Watch where the fuck you’re going next time, dipshit.” 

You look up at the sound of his voice—flinching before you notice it’s not directed at you.

No, rather, he’s got a boy up against the lockers, lifted by his collar onto the tip of his toes. Face only a few inches from his, glaring at him harsher than he’d glared at you yesterday.

“Now apologize to the girl before I punch your ugly face in.”

You stare at the altercation with large eyes, only able to blink as the boy who’d bumped into you starts spluttering on the verge of tears, “I–I’m sorry–I didn’t see you! Sorry!”

You don’t answer. Shocked and speechless, you remain on the floor in confusion, asking yourself why’s he doing this? Didn’t he cuss you out yesterday, or was it all a bad dream like you'd hoped?

He throws the boy on his way, then gets on his knees down alongside you—proceeding to help you gather your things.

You only watch on in wordless bewilderment until he starts muttering something under his breath.

“I’m sorry I made you cry yesterday.” He stacks all your things in a neat pile next to you while continuing his apology. “And for being an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

He keeps his eyes fixed to the floor where his hands busily roam around until there was nothing more to retrieve.

He then hesitantly looks up at you—eyes flittering—a little too ashamed to hold your gaze as he says, “Your chocolates were really good.”

That’s when your heart starts fluttering again—as if new life was just breathed in and revived it.

He can see it as well—how you light up like a rekindled candle.

“They were?” you gush, shuffling closer on your knees all excitedly—face brighter than the sun on cloudfree summer day.

It blinds him—nearly stunts him, only able to utter a meager, almost shy, “Yeah.”

He then slings his bag in front of him and pulls something out.

A lunchbox. 

“I made you these..." he swallows thickly. "As an apology…”

He’s utterly red—from the tips of his ears to his neck and entire face, even his hands.

“For me?”

“Yeah..." He reaches it over stiffly. “They’re not as good as yours, though...”

You eagerly accept despite his nervousness, popping the lid off where the two of you sit—right there in the middle of the hallway floor, with other students walking around you like water passing two rocks in a stream.

His blush grows ever more intense as you pick one of his crudely made chocolates up, not even examining it before throwing one into your mouth.

It was his first time making anything that required a recipe. And they most certainly did not come out well, but he figured the embarrassment was part of his atonement.

He didn’t actually expect you to try them.

But there you are—lying through your teeth, saying, “I think they’re great!”

He can only scoff out a soft laugh. “Of course you would.” 

Turns out, you really are just a nice person after all. You don’t have the heart to be mean at all, do you? Yeah, you don’t even have it in you to feel any of the ugly things he keeps inside. In fact, he bets you don’t even have the means of knowing such ugly things exist.

That must be what he’s envied about you all this time…

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shinso ♡ JJK – virgin Sukuna, Megumi ♡ HQ – Tsukishima ♡ BLLK – Rin, Sae ♡ DS – Genya

Greed is your clingy childhood friend. 

He doesn’t want to share you with anyone and gets viscerally jealous each time you hang out with others. It’s as if he feels boils rising beneath his skin, simmering with a violent need to kill anyone and everyone you ever come into contact with—even if it’s just a passerby who accidentally brushes against you.

He can’t stand other people—how they think they can just come along and be your friend when he’s been your friend since you both were in diapers. What? Do they really expect him to share you with them? Just like that? No way. You’re his best friend. They should all go find themselves their own.

Actually, the term best friend doesn’t even really cut it… It’s a little too childish. You’ve both grown out of it. And besides, it never really fully encompassed what the two of you actually are to each other. You’re so much more than just friends, after all. Yeah, what you really are is soulmates. Yeah, that sounds more right. Soulmates.

And the bond between soulmates is like the bond between an addict and their favorite drug. You wouldn’t ask an addict to share his favorite drug, now would you? No. Not unless you’re prepared to either kill or be killed.

But he can’t say he blames them for wanting you, either. Of course, they’d want you—anyone would.

He pities them, actually. And you make it no better for the poor suckers, stringing them all along—acting as if there’s enough of you to go around. Well, there just isn’t. And even if there was, he shouldn't have to share you with anyone.

Yeah, the problem here is you. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand that you’re his. 

Well… seems like he’ll just have to teach you once and for all, now, doesn’t it?

“What’s… this?” you mumble groggily once you wake, sluggishly tugging your bound wrists—not yet aware of what they are. Your eyes blow wide once you do—voice turning sharply frantic, “What’s happening?”

“We’re having a play date like we used to.” He comes into view just as the panic sets in—and though his face has all the familiarity to be a sign of comfort, his words evoke no such feeling within you.

“Remember? How we used to play house?" he says. "Granted, we're a little older now… so I thought I’d change it up a bit.”

He stands before the bed you’re currently lying tied down on. But he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s something very wrong about all of him. Seeming way too at ease for the situation.

“Instead of making mud pies…” he continues. “I'm gonna fuck you and give you a creampie.”

Your heart lurches up into your throat at his words, and you choke. Your clothes from the day have been removed, leaving you naked. You spot them lying on the floor in a heap while you spastically look around for clues as to “What the fuck’s going on? This isn’t funny–”

“Shut up,” he says—his demeanor still as nonchalant as he climbs on top of you and pushes something past your lips, nudging it deep down in your throat.

Feeling it as it scrapes your tongue, you can tell it’s your lace panties, and you gag—shaking your head, trying to dislodge both it and his fingers, but he holds you steady.

“I have things to say. So, be a good friend and listen.”

You start crying then—brows cinched as you look up at him in terror, full-tremoring now while struggling under his weight and the all-too-intimate way he starts touching you.

“I'm glad you’re still a virgin…” he suddenly says, running his hands down your breasts, catching your nipples between his fingers.

You twist in disgust, halfway convinced you’re having some godawful fucked up dream—that this just can’t be happening—but somehow, at the same time, something deep in your gut that’s been lying there for a while ignored by your kind heart doesn't find it completely without warning, having felt how strange he'd been acting as of late—always looking at you a certain way and saying certain concerning things—certain concerning things he’s saying right now, “I’d kill all those little toy friends of yours if you were ever so stupid to let them have it.”

He glares at you—looking every bit angry, and yet you can’t describe it exactly. Something about that look in his eyes makes him seem like a complete stranger to you. Then he cracks a smile, and it makes it all the worse. Bowing down until his forehead presses clean against yours, noses rubbing against each other.

“But I think you knew. Didn’t you? Knew how it wouldn’t be right. Knew it was mine to take.”

He shuffles backward until he’s separating your thighs instead of straddling your waist. And you croak with an especially full-chested sob as his touches travel further down along with him—with savage goosebumps running rampant across your body once he rubs his thumb crassly over your slit.

“You see?” his breath shudders in his throat—thick with something mortifying that’s bound to ruin you forever. “It’s so happy to see me.”

You whine and scramble, trying to force your thighs shut—but he has the upper hand—keeping you spread with his body while two of his fingers slip through your lips and bully themselves inside.

He pumps them in and out with zero regard to how you recoil—only sneering at the way you worm in disgust, “At least your pussy understands where its loyalties lie.”

It’s not long before his ministrations draw wetness, and he pulls them out—inspecting them in the dim light he’s left on. Rubbing the digits together before putting them in his mouth.

You close your eyes with a whimper while listening to the sickening sounds of him sucking them clean.

He puts both hands around your neck next. He doesn't squeeze hard, but your breath stops nonetheless. Eyes stinging with both spent and still-welling tears.

“I’m upset with you,” he states, brushing his lips over your parted ones, still stuffed and silenced with your own underwear. “But I’ll forgive you if you apologize and swear to me that you meant it when you said we’d be friends forever.”

That look in his eyes—you still can’t explain it. Desperate, desolate, deranged, and enraged—something downright sick.

“But since you can’t talk right now, you’ll have to prove it some other way...”

One of the hands disappears, and you hear the following sounds of a zipper being undone, then the rustling of his pants being shoved down.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll know.”

The room tastes of blood and something rotten as he frees his cock and graces your clit.

“Actions speak louder than words anyway, after all, don’t they? So cum on my cock, and I’ll cum in your pussy, so we can seal our friendship again—just like the time we married each other on the playground.” 

He enters you, and you think you might just die in the mix of horror and grief.

And yet you remain perfectly alive—even as he rips through you and splits both you and your heart apart.

“You can think of this as the honeymoon,” he whispers. “Always and forever, happily ever after, never apart.”

♡ BNHA – Deku ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tendou ♡ BLLK – Bachira ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

I MISSED YOU SO MUCH……………………………………………. OKAERI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! don't go on another 500++ day journey again…..