Could I Request Alucard/Adrian With A S/o Who's A Polymath (she's A Writer, An Inventor, A Spokeswoman,

#i can’t function #ur the greatest writer wow #love it here

ESCAPE FROM TOKYO. // HEARTLESS.

you got me tattooed on your mind, you just want me all the time.

+ wc. 2.4k.

+ synopsis. you just wanted his attention. he just wanted your affection.

+ cw. mutual pining. car sex. alcohol mention. dirty talk. dictation(?) kink. asphyxiation. orgasm denial. orgasm control. spit kink. heavy themes of infidelity.

+ a/n. first installment of escape from tokyo! i needed a break from smc, something less plot driven and a little more fun to write while i work on that on the side, and that’s how eft was born. also, i wanted to try a different take on sanzu. a lot of people tend to focus on his more...blatantly wild side and i wanted to write him a teensy bit...subdued, in a sense. i hope it came across that way. i hope everyone enjoys! reblogs + feedback are appreciated. as always, 18+, minors do not interact.

+ playlist. taglist. masterlist.

+ special thanks to @spidermilfs for beta-ing for me! ily silvi <3

Sanzu's not too sure what kind of witch you are to cast such a spell on him, but you must be a powerful one to have him lusting after you like this.

He watches you from the rim of his glass, the neon lights in the club shimmering over your skin and encasing you in an artificial halo of blue and purple. Purple irises never waver, locked onto the sway of your hips even when he sets down his glass to lean back in the soft suede couch. Someone comes over, a bottle service girl who bats her lashes as she offers to top off his drink once more, but he waves her off without acknowledgement. She frowns and he doesn't care. He's too enraptured with the beautiful being that turned towards him, colored crystals for eyes and a sticky smattering of lip gloss over plush lips.

The way his heart thumped against his chest was inhumane. You were inhumane. You had to be to have this kind of effect on him.

Not only that, but you were dangerous. You were poison, something to stay away from as best he could like a toxic chemical in a dangerous lab. But like most dangerous chemicals, you were sweet. Alluring to his eye, causing him to salivate at the thought of you. You reminded him of his favorite narcotics-- terrible for his health, likely to get him killed, but damn difficult to say no to.

He convinced himself that was the reason why he stretched out, offering his open lap when you sauntered over. It was your pull on him, nothing more.

"Zuzu," You drawled and Sanzu licked his lips, signature smirk already pulling at the scarred corners. "You're giving me that look again."

His eyebrow twitches upwards as he looks down at you through thick lashes. "What look, princess?"

"You know," You squirm a little and he thinks it's the cutest thing. Your nails knock against his buttons lightly, sheepish expression on your lips as you bit your lip and hummed. "that look...the look you give me when you want something."

"Oh?"

Sanzu chuckled. He licks his lips, purple eyes leaving your figure for a split second to survey the area. His rings tapped against the back of the leather couch, fingers rapping against the material. "I do want something. I want a couple things, actually. Think you can help me out?"

"Like what?" Your voice tried to hold back its obvious excitement and failed. You were just so fucking cute, he could barely hold himself back sometimes. He took his time looking back at you, dragging slowly across the outline of your figure before finally, finally gracing you with an answer.

"I wanna leave this place." He mutters, trained on your expression. Your eyes never left his face, flickering between the way his mouth moved and the intensity of his own weighty gaze. "Wanna go back to the car and feel that pretty pussy on my fingers. I want to watch your cute face make the cutest expressions for me tonight. Think you can help me out with that?"

You two were out of the club in less than ten minutes.

It's risky. Sanzu knows it is. But he wouldn't be Sanzu if he gave a fuck.

He's partly grateful for the partition and the confidentiality clause his driver is forced under. The second you two duck into the awaiting limo your hands are already timidly twitching, innocently grazing over his thigh and your lashes flutter as you bat doe-like eyes at him in wanton. Subtlety wasn't something particularly observed between you two in private. There was no reason to be subtle. You both were iniquitous in your own right and Sanzu was akin to Satan when he felt like it. He'd drink in your sin gleefully, uncaring of whatever happened to him afterwards.

His hand snaked up your thighs in moments, wasting no time to knead and pull at the soft, supple skin. His touch makes you shiver; something that makes him smile, scars on the corners of his lips stretching as his tongue licks over glorious white teeth. His thumb, rough and calloused, smooths over the skin as he leans in.

"You want me." He whispers. It's declarative, assured, set and confident with no room to deny its validity. He watches you, eyes trained intently at the way you shudder under him, jerky and timid when you nod.

"I do."

"How bad do you want me?"

This time it looks for affirmation. Consent, in a way, movements on your thighs lulling into thumbed circles on the tops as he awaits your answer. You inhale, diaphragm opening and chest rising, breasts pressing into the satin cloth of your expensive little dress. Dior, he thinks it is.

"Badly."

"That so?" He breathes in deeply. You smell like Chanel No.5 and that ridiculously expensive drink you had him buy earlier. The grin settles on his face, teeth dragging over his full bottom lip before he hums out a chuckle. His hand moves up, ghosting dangerously close to your heat, causing your fists to clench, heartbeat pitter pattering quicker in your chest. "Want you to show me, okay? Show me just how bad you want me. Make it worth my while, pretty girl."

His fingers bump against you and you gasp softly, met with an eyebrow raise from him. "Where's your underwear?" He questions, index trailing on the puffy, soft skin. You shake your head, thighs falling open a little wider. "Didn't wear any."

"You didn't?" He tuts, index tracing over the warm lips. "Racy little thing aren't you? What would your boyfriend say if he knew you did that, hm?"

It comes out with a mocking tinge of jealousy. Your boyfriend. Mikey. His boss. The man he devoted his life to without care or thought of consequence. The man he was most loyal and devoted to, more than he was to his own family. Your boyfriend. His Mikey.

Sick, he thought, grin tugging wide on the corner of his lips. Sick that he liked the thought of this so much. This, meaning you, silently inviting him into the warmth of your soft, sacred body, allowing him to defile your temple for what could always be his last time.

You didn’t speak. You never did when he brought up your salacious affair. Instead you opted to whine, eyebrows turning down at the ends while you gripped his jacket, tugging him close to ghost on the swells of your barely glossy lips. Sanzu sticks his tongue out, tip dragging along the fat of your bottom lip, artificial taste of cherries flooding over his receptors. His tongue flicks upwards, over the outline of your top lip, before he dips into your awaiting mouth that drops open slightly more as a result of his fingers now tapping lightly against your previously neglected clit.

“Are you this needy for him too?”

He doesn’t allow you the luxury of thinking of an answer.

His middle finger taps against your clit once more before dragging its calloused length down the sensitive bud, revelling in the way your lip quivers and nails try desperately to break through the delicate hem of his suit. He drags it upwards again until the curve sits on the pad of his finger, and slowly he circles it around. The other hand drags up your body, groping the supple flesh of your tits on its way up, drumming along your collarbone and grazing your neck before his fingers splay and stretch and lock around your jaw. They press inwards gently, enough for you to feel their weighty pressure as he looks down and coos at you.

“Do you make this gorgeous face for him too, princess?”

Your eyes are glassy and glossed over, and in each passing light Sanzu can see the glimmer of the spit accumulating over your tongue. His fingers press into your cheeks, holding your mouth open wider and immediately your tongue stretches forward, pink muscle dripping in clear saliva that dangles from its tip and oozes down your chin. He leans close, forehead nearly bumping against yours as his lips pucker and purse before a clear bead heads from between the soft pink folds. His eyes train and ears perk up at the way your breath hitches, tongue writhing before stilling, fan of lashes dipping down as your own eyes lock onto the trailing liquid seep from his mouth down onto yours. Then, finally, the bead hits your tongue and your lashes flutter as your eyes roll back, but your tongue stays out. Obediently. Just how he trained you.

“Look at me and swallow.”

Sanzu thinks he sees his life in your eyes when you look up at him once more. He can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine, nor the way his grip flexes and tightens for a brief second before travelling down to your neck when your tongue dips inwards and your mouth closes, lips pursing before your throat closes and moves beneath his grip. You open your mouth again, dry of any residue, and he rewards you with a kiss.

“Good girl.”

Sanzu’s spurred on by reactions. He loves to see what he does to people, how he makes them feel. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t derive some kind of iniquitous pleasure from controlling the amount of pain his victims felt. It’s why he was so good at torturing people, why Bonten garnered the name it got. He loved to see the control he had over someone. He loved to be in control of something no one should have control over.

His infatuation with you was inevitable, he supposed. You were just too good. You couldn’t hold back how you felt if you tried.

It’s reminded when the fingers around your throat press in, squeezing until your breathing is reduced to a soft wheeze, blood pounding in your ears. At the same time he’s pushing into you, thick finger stretching your sodden hole and the sensation is delicious as it is welcomed and familiar. Your eyes flutter and roll, chest raising, sticky sounds of slick gently popping in the air. Sanzu hums in approval, slowly easing in and taking his time at first, just to see you cave.

“There it is,” he comments slickly, licking at his canines. “There’s that face I love so much.”

His fingers flex, drawing back and before you have a chance to whine he shoves it in again, this time middle joined with his ring finger. His palm slaps against your clit with each skilled thrust and the pads of his fingertips curve inwards, nestling against the top of your walls, right against that spot he knew made you shake. And you did, thighs quivering and gentle little moans falling from trembling lips, sloppy sounds of growing slick making you shiver in delight. Sanzu knew your body better than anything else and every time he got the chance to play with you he reminded you.

“Zuzu,” you mewl cutely and his dick throbs in his pants. He squeezes your throat tighter, feeling the way your walls pulse and suck around his fingers. He dips to your face to kiss your cheek, panting in your ear soon after.

“Think I should let you cum on my fingers, princess?” He nibbles on your earlobe. “Think I should make a mess of your pussy and send you home to him?”

“Sanzu,” you weakly call out and he knows you’re in no state to answer. His movements sink into you and don’t pull out, instead opting to draw out your high by massaging right into that needy spot. It’s mind melting, causing your toes to curl in your heels and you try best to gasp out. The feeling in your head is light now in the best way, lack of oxygen and his ministrations the closest thing to ecstasy you’d gotten all night. But Sanzu knows it’s not enough. He knows his prodding only keeps that building feeling from falling and nothing more. It doesn’t elevate it, it doesn’t let it fall, it keeps it sustained. Pleasure keeps coursing through your body, making your pussy wetter and wetter by the moment but that’s all. It’s never enough to make you cum.

He can’t. Well..not today.

You’re nearing Mikey’s penthouse now and he knows his time with you is winding up. He knows he has to let you go to your rightful man, and selfishly he grows to dislike it. With his hands perusing the landscape of your body he’s reluctant to let you go, but he knows he has to. So, first, he releases the grip around your neck, careful not to bruise the skin.

He swipes across your gumminess one more time before pulling out slowly, hissing at the web of slick that pulls across his fingers. He can’t help himself; dipping the same fingers into his mouth he moans at the taste, own lashes brushing against his cheeks as he savored over your syrup. He pulls away only to place a kiss to your lips again, grinning at your slightly fucked out expression. He dips between your legs and smacks your pussy lightly a few times, chuckling at the yelp you make when his ring taps against your clit.

“Go on.” He mutters with a sigh as the car pulls in front of Mikey’s complex. “Take his pussy home to him. He’s got better use for it than I do.”

He watches you from behind lidded eyes as you pull yourself together with a nod, sparing him a short kiss to his scar before you dip out of the car to the other bodyguard assigned to escort you to Mikey’s room. You wobble, be it from being finger fucked to hell or from the alcohol Sanzu couldn’t tell, but the possibility of it being from him has him smirking to himself nonetheless. He sighs to himself when you look back, now ways away from the car, and turns his eyes to examine the watch on his wrist.

You were something unearthly. Only that could explain the foreign sliver of jealousy that bloomed dark over his already charred heart. Jealous that you’d give yourself to Mikey once more. Jealous that Sanzu hadn’t claimed you before his boss did. Jealous, most of all, that in spite of, he’d be crawling back to you the second your pretty eyes and lopsided smile flashed in his direction again, a silent beg to indulge himself in you once more.

“Take me home.” He pulls across the partition and calls out to the driver, who simply nods and follows his instruction. All Sanzu could do now was wait on your call once more.

Some kind of witch indeed.

taglist: @shiwhore @miytsuya @kugoinks @sanzudopeamine @risano @zvchinni @scummy-simp @h-a-r-u-c-h-i-y-o @chloe-nanami @ssanzuu @chsetlantc @rinrinfoxy @shigarakistomura

crossed out names couldn't be tagged!

Kindergarten teacher! Choso Headcanons

cw: nsfw/sfw, fluff, smut, dub-con, dom/sub, fingering, rough sex, oral(m!receiving), creampie, degradation, hair pulling, unprotected sex, public sex, no prep, toxic (?) relationship, dom!choso

an: inspired by this art kindergarten teacher! Choso everyone! I'm on my knees

Kindergarten teacher! Choso who is nice to everybody, especially to his students. He loves giving stars and compliments to his students on their little achievements. Got a perfect mark on a test? you got a star on your hands. Finished coloring the activity too early? you got a star on your wrist. Done Memorizing the first 10 letters in the alphabet you got a star on your cheeks.

Kindergarten teacher! Choso who notices every small detail on his students. He memorizes everything from head to toe. From the slight change in his students' head accessories, the minuscule purple heart on his students' new manicured small nails, to the tied ribbon knot on their shoelaces.

Kindergarten teacher! Choso who loves giving flowers to his students. Choso has a small backyard in his house and he personally grows each flower to perfection. He wanted them fresh and free from any toxins so he never missed any day watering them. Choso especially likes giving dandelions, daisies, and lilies wishing all his students to grow with a very active and optimistic outlook in life. He loves children, he very much loves them treating each one as his kid.

Kindergarten teacher! Choso who braids his students' hair with the most gentle care, making sure to brush each tangled strand carefully without pulling the roots of their scalp. On top of the cute mermaid-style braid, he also likes finishing the look with a rainbow pin on both sides of the hair.

Kindergarten teacher! Choso who Hugs and coos his students to sleep. After a long day of playing games, reading books, coloring pages from the worksheets, and singing songs, his students love it when he picks them up, rubs their backs, and coo's them to sleep as they gradually close their heavy lids escaping their world on their dreamy land. Choso would then tuck each of his students on the thickly matted floor and kiss their foreheads before he begins his afternoon duties.

Kindergarten teacher! Choso where you decided to work as a cook in the daycare because the tall, dark-haired man you've got a crush on is working as a teacher there. Choso, that was his name, from the moment you saw him to the day you decided to work here you knew that there was something mysterious behind those dark orbs and you weren't wrong. He was lovely in front of his students, always smiling, always laughing but he is a 360 degrees monster behind closed doors. He is a 30-year-old promiscuous man who plays roughly with several kinks. He loves doing it rough, sadistic. He is degrading, he seeks pleasures when you are struggling beneath him. He loves it so much when your knees are all bruised, eyes red and wetty, and lips are swollen while you are gagging on his cock struggling to take his length. He loves fucking your mouth deep, pushing your head down on his pubes until you are out of breath.

“F-fuck fuck I'm gonna cum and you'll fucking take it all.” You can feel his cock throbbing as it pulses inside your mouth and just like that you felt your tongue full with thick ropes of cum. A mixture of bitter and salty, still trying to catch your breath, Choso grabbed your chin and watched your doey eyes glisten with tears and lips spilling his creamy-white seeds. You are attempting to swat his fingers on your chin and reach for a napkin to spit his seeds when he tightens his grip on yours and scrutinizes you under his dark lustful eyes. He then began to command you with his low deep voice.

“Swallow.”

Weak and shuddering under his gaze you began to follow his command mindlessly. You swallowed his semen while looking him directly in the eyes. Fingers catching his load that spilled past your lips and sucking them shamelessly. You heard choso laugh manically, his lips formed on a smirk as he stroked your head like his personal fuck doll.

“Good fucking girl.”

Kindergarten teacher! Choso who fucks you senseless and whispers dirty stuff in your ears while his students are fast asleep. your tears are rolling down on your cheeks eyes turned on the back of your head. Unable to think properly while his 3 fingers are knuckle deep on your hole and his cock on your ass. The lewd sound coming from your mouth and the slapping of skins is driving you crazy. You are so wet, so messy. Cheeks soaked from tears, tongue lolled out your mouth, body filled with sweat and pussy drunk from yours and choso's cum. He was pushing both of your seeds with his fingers inside your cervix while fucking your tight ass hole. You can feel your stomach tighten ready to release another load yet choso is stimulating both of your holes without mercy.

“So fucking filthy, your such a fucking dirty girl. You like this right, getting fuck by me? Getting both of your holes fuck, God your such a slut!”

“C-choso too big I c-can't anymore please, I'm gonna cum”

“Shut up slut be useful for once and take my cock like a good girl yeah?”

Kindergarten teacher! Choso who stuffs your dirty undies on your mouth to prevent you from moaning so loud. After tucking all the kids to sleep he went on his way to play his kind of games with you. He folded you on the counter, pushed your chest against the marbles of the kitchen, and gripped your waist tightly as he shoved his cocked on your pussy forcing you to take his whole length without prep. Jarred from the sudden force on your hole you reached for your pussy and began stimulating your clit to ease the pain on your hole and make you wet when Choso pulled your hair and whispered in your ears.

“Did I tell you to touch yourself? No, right? Then remove your dirty hands on your pussy or I won't let you cum.” Cringed from the thought of not cumming you dispelled your fingers from your clit and painfully took choso's thrust on your hole. He was ramming his hips so deep and so hard that you were unable to contain yourself and spilled a boisterous moan out on your lips so he gripped your jaw and shoved your dirty undies on your mouth.

“So fucking loud! Do you want to wake up my kids, you dirty slut?”

Kindergarten teacher! Choso who's quick to shove you off his cock one time when a student came by the kitchen finding him after waking up from her sleep. Her hair was messy, hands rubbing the sleep on her eyes and mouth yawning. Afraid of being seen like that choso immediately pushed you off from his lap making you fall on the side. You were still shivering from his release, his semen spilling on your legs, breath still heavy, when he pulled his pants up and squeezed your ass one more time before catching his student in his arms. Fixing her messy hair and leaving small kisses on her temples.

“Teacher, what are you doing here?”

“Hmm, nothin princess, I was just asking y/n what meal we will be having today.”

“B-but we already ate our lunch, teacher!” Choso looked in your direction, delighted with your fucked-up state. Hair is messy, lipstick-stained on the corners of your mouth, clothes are crumpled and legs are shaking. He then formed an incessant smirk on his mouth before answering his student's question.

“No princess, it's for me. I haven’t had my dessert yet right, y/n?”

PATCH SIX UPDATE COMING NEXT WEEK - SPOILER BELOW

It is finally happening my fellow Astarion and BG3 lovers! The long-awaited new patch is on its way (probably arriving on Valentines day but this is not confirmed).

Larian confirmed new KISS ANIMATIONS will be coming as well as camp idle animations and multiple bug fixes!

Here's an example of one of the kiss animations involving Astarion and Halsin for all those #halstarion fans:

You can read Larian's Twitter/X post here.

Are you excited??

𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘴𝘫𝘴𝘩𝘧𝘣𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘺𝘢!

ah hi! I love your writing so much so I’m so excited requests are open. Could I request a short fic (if possible) of fem!reader x alucard of them both pining for each other for a long time & maybe one day they just snap b/c it’s too much & make out? (Or… more than that if u want.)

A classic! This is the first ask since I opened requests and here’s a scenario that fell down the hill. It then snowballed turning into a fic that is excruciatingly in Alternate Universe territory *guilty laughter* hope you like some of this, anon.

To be free

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!reader

Rating: T

Count: 1.6k

Tags & Warnings: Mutual pining, Angst, It just happened, Adrian has 0 idea what to do with this, Here's some unsavory Alucard traits, He means well but ugh, Context of battle, Mention of death, alternate universe, dark fantasy AU, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved emotional tension, Second Person POV, Alucard POV, more tags coming

Summary:

The murder of Lisa never happened. Instead, sometime in the future there is strife in the vampire world with an alliance of rebelling war chiefs over territory and Dracula is forced to respond. Reader character is an apprentice learning the doctor trade under Lisa, and a friend of her son.

Will post part II soon but wanted to share this for now

All characters depicted are 18+

I.

Wallachia, 1485

“Faster!” comes the sudden strike, the wooden staff colliding with your shoulder.

“That hurt!” you hiss, ducking your head as a flash of gold gains on you.

“Well for god’s sake, move your feet!” Adrian snaps, falling upon you with frightful ease.

You retreat, movements slower, your legs fumbling. “You... you’re awful...” you pant, “This is too much, even for an average recruit!” you barely parry before being flung aside by another vicious strike.

You gasp as he’s upon you again, leaving you struggling to regain your balance. “I do not train you to be average,” Adrian throws in the tone he only ever uses with the other soldiers. “I train you to stay alive,” he kicks your legs from under you before you can preempt him.

You swear, cry out and grab at his shoulder; a surprised son of Dracula crumbles together with you in a heap to the ground.

Your faces come to be so close you can see the hint of swirling lights in his eyes. “That was unfair,” you whisper, breathless.

“Who ever said war is fair? Do you think the enemy will care for your codes of honor?” Adrian asks, unaffected by the effort—he’s not even flushed—his forearms propped on either side of your head. “Now pay attention and stop wasting my time, else you find someone else to teach you.”

He’s mainly like this, nowadays. Morose, at times even scowling, having little to no patience. His words scald often, and this change came and stayed with him for a while now. When Adrian tries to rise, however, your thighs turn into a vice around him; a sudden shift of unexpected strength, and then you’re sitting atop him, pressing him into the earth.

You grin, holding him down, finding some familiarity in it. You’d slept beneath cold skies back to back, huddled against each other for warmth before; you knew him in a physical way, one demanded of practicality. When you lean closer to his face, you see ice and even distaste, and stupid words gurgle in your throat. “I do pay attention, more than you think,” you say with a hint of satisfaction, which soon fades at the look he’s giving you.

“Rise to your feet, please.”

“I listen. I hear your words, harsh when once they’d been kind. I feel this wall you’re raising higher and I don’t understand why. I’m not your enemy. I’m...” your voice fails when his eyes narrow. “I’m your friend. Come back.” You watch his face, the shape of the mouth you know, down to every detail.

“I am right here, to my dismay. Now rise, don’t make me ask again.” But he does not do so himself, possibly giving you the choice of dignity.

“Tell me why you do it. Why you’re so dismissive, why you seem to make yourself scarce whenever we’re in the same room for long.” Why he acts like this task is something he loathes, even though he was the one who offered to include you in his daily routine when you’d made your wish to train known. You sound wanton in your demand now, you know, but he near always pushes you to the end of your tether lately. Today had been another rushed, supremely uncomfortable sword fighting lesson besides. Why are you like this? The words bite into your tongue, but you dare not ask them, afraid of what they might bring; you don’t want to fight him, not now.

Before, when Adrian welcomed you to stay for the friendship you had, he was open in manner and kind; but lately there is no reprieve, and you sense the tension in him as though it were a living thing. It turns him into a merciless trainer and hard to please—it also makes him ten times more infuriating to be around.

Adrian gazes up at you, inert, but the tension in you seems to bleed into his own body. “I do it for you,” he answers late, his voice gentler like a bleak reminder of before. “I do all of it for you.”

“I should be grateful, then?” you mutter into his shuttering stare. “For this?”

A softness to his eyes, a clench to his jaw; you feel compelled to do something you have not the courage to.

“Move.”

Defeated, you nod and rise, quietly regaining yourself as Adrian comes to his feet. You retrieve your staff, back turned to him. “I think I’ve had enough for today.”

You start when your weapon is roughly pried from your hand. “As you wish,” Adrian says. The hardness in his voice makes you flinch, like talons leaving raw and festering places in their wake.

As you turn, he’s already leaving the practice yard with rushed steps. You fall limply against a tree trunk, covering your face with your filthy gloved hands, wanting more than anything to be free of this.

Having reached the armory, you wipe your sweaty brow with your hand, then attempt fluid movement. The leather practice armor you’re using until a better suited one is ready hinders your motions. You blow a stray wisp of hair out of your face, yet panting from exertion. It has to be done; it has to be done. 

You attempt to undo the fastenings and utterly fail, resenting having to train in full battle gear, but one tireless tutor insists this is the way. With a huff and a pull, your attempts cease. 

A heavy hand is on your shoulder; heavier than it used to be. It urges you to turn.

“You slouch,” come the soft words. Deft fingers aid you out of the constraint posed by the armor and you go still, throwing the speaker a brief, scathing look he cannot see, focused as he is on his task. 

“I try,” you say.

“I need more focus, mere blinks of moments matter here,” Adrian says without looking at you.

Before you reply, he finishes and turns away, arms raised and hands pulling at the tie in his hair.

His aloofness is even more biting than usual; has something happened? You’ll need to speak to him, because you can't help but feel somehow... you can't define it exactly. A heaviness, a weariness over your heart as it beats. You can't but feel he's being unfair.

This familiarity in your concern, though natural now, has taken long to develop. The two of you crossed paths once, had bled to stay alive and became close along the way through a string of unbelievable though unavoidable events. You still laugh at the absurdity of it sometimes: meeting and befriending the son of Vlad Dracula Tepes, meeting Lisa his mother and becoming her aid after Adrian offered for you to stay until you found your bearings. You, finding Dracula with a family of all things.

Having nowhere else to go, you stayed, of course you stayed. This was a household, the semblance of a strong-knit family, or at least—for you—the proximity to one. And if you were being bluntly honest with yourself, you starved for this: a purpose, a goal. It led you to accept the schooling suggestions from Lisa Tepes. It had you deciding to train in arms so you could defend yourself if need be. And you, well… you were apprentice to his mother now, learning her trade, living here, eating and walking and seeing him—though thankfully (or painfully), less and less lately as the days pass.

You stare out the window, to the shadow lengthening across the trees and the horizon, over a scattered front where white smoke billows eerily into the air against the violently bruised sky of evening. Beneath it, two factions will inevitably clash. You shudder, chewing the inside of your cheek. “How stupid. I should learn to save lives, not take them,” you murmur, placing your gloves on a rack in the training hall. 

“Remember, these are vampires. And you may end this, it was your wish afterall,” Adrian looks over his shoulder at you.

“I know.” You turn from him, rummaging in your own things, hiding the flash of pain on your face. “But I have to learn.”

All is prepared, and you overheard the others speaking of it at the recent council. They would start at the following evefall to be stationed along camp lines across the valley. You turn your head left and right, roll your shoulders, grimacing at the stiffness in your upper body.

“Here,” Adrian says, approaching and presenting you with a vial containing a clear liquid.

“What is it?” you reach and take it from his hand. 

Adrian walks away and takes a seat at one of the long tables laden with pieces of armor and weaponry. He rolls the sleeves of his crinkled shirt up to his elbows and reaches for a whetstone, then his sword. His golden flecked stare turns on you, briefly. Cold light creeps through narrow glass windows, finding him. “A salve, did Mother not get to those yet? Use it on your muscles in the evening.”

You swallow. “No, not yet. When are you leaving?” 

He lowers his eyes as a metallic sound scrapes away the silence, and you watch him whet the sword placed horizontally in his lap. “Tomorrow.” Another wail of the stone, like glassy cries of pain.

Of course, you knew; merely wanted to hear him say it. You near as Adrian works, continuing to sharpen and wipe the blade with a cloth in turns. “Are you afraid? Are you well? I know you were reluctant to join this, I—” But it was he who said that in wisdom, we too know fear. It keeps one alive, it keeps one fighting.

“I'm well,” Adrian cuts in. The answer is impassive, his eyes averted from yours, set on the motion of his hand.

His stilted replies leave no room for doubt—the wall is up and you’re more than eager to get out of here. You sling the bag with belongings over one shoulder. “Good eve, Adrian,” you say. “Actually rest, you’ll need it.” And without lingering, you turn, leaving him behind with as much dignity as you should possess.

Part II

OMG HI i follow your other blog and i absolutely adore all your stuff <3

i’m just here to request but please don’t feel pressured cause ik you’re really busy with life, college and all your blogs etc.

how about mikey, draken and whoever else you want in a scenario where they hear rumors that the only reason the reader is still with them is cause they’re scared to leave cause yk they be dangerous

angst to fluff pls!

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃

PART TWO — baji and hanma

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: sano manjiro and ryuguji ken

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: stop bc this is kinda sad like poor boys but also i rly like this prompt omg. i got lazy and only did two but also thank you !! so glad you like my other blog bby <3

✿ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍

draken hasn’t spoken to you in days, and you’re at your limit. it’s the text on his phone he wakes up to that forces him to trudge to your home.

‘it’s over if you don’t explain what’s going on.’

he stares at the text for far too long, can’t find it in him to face you—he doesn’t think he can handle it. but he figures that if he’s bound to lose you, it shouldn’t be like this.

you open the door unimpressed, cold and distant as he walks in with slumped shoulders, sitting on the edge of your couch hunched with his elbows leaning on his knees. for such a large build, your boyfriend looks oddly small as he waits for you to supposedly crush his heart.

“what is going on, ken? why haven’t you spoken to me in days? are you tryna end things?” you ask question after question. “at least do it like a decent person, you coward,” you spit.

he looks up at you, eyes uncharacteristically lost, pooled with so many emotions, you can’t quite read them all. but the one that stands out is defeat.

“i’m not the one who wants to end things,” he croaks, laughing bitterly. “how…how could you think i’d hurt you,” he whispers, voice shaky. frowning, you forrow your eyebrows, shaking your head in confusion.

“what? what do you mean?”

“i heard what people have been saying,” he mutters, glaring at his lap. his fists clutch the fabric tightly, knuckles almost white with the force with clenches them with.

draken’s never known a home, not really, but he likes to think he’s found one in you. and it stings, it feels like a layer of him has been ripped off, leaving him raw and sore at the thought that maybe this hasn’t been home all along.

but he still can’t help but feel like it is, and he can’t bear to lose it. he wants to be enough, needs to be enough for you to stay—wants you to see that he’d hand you his heart while it still beat if he could, if it was for you. but perhaps you believe otherwise, and it leaves him in despair.

“what have they been saying, ken?” you pry gently.

“that you wanna leave,” he raises his voice, staring at you desperately—his eyes beg you tell him otherwise. you flinch slightly at the sudden noise, but it makes him falter, eyes draining of any hope left. “i wouldn’t…i—i could never,” he whispers. “i’d never hurt you.”

there are tears pooling at his eyes, and they shock you, making you quickly come forward, cradling his face in your palms. despite his mind screaming no, he leans into your touch.

“of course you wouldn’t, kenny,” you agree, leaning down and kissing his forehead. “why would i think you would?” he buries his face into your stomach, taking in your words as he hugs you close.

“i thought…i just heard—” you cut him off.

“it’s okay,” you soothe, tracing the tattoo on his temple with your finger. the familiar action makes the tension in his shoulders ease—and you always manage to do that, you’re what keeps him upright. “it was just a misunderstanding. i don’t wanna leave. and i could never think you’d hurt me,” you promise.

it’s warm in your arms, and they cage him so securely—they give him a purpose and a home and a sense of belonging all at once. and he’s not sure how he’ll function without them, but he’s glad he doesn’t have to. the gentle drag of your finger across his temple reminds him you’re here, and he knows he’ll go whatever lengths to keep it that way.

“love you,” he whispers hopefully. leaning down, you peck his lips sweetly.

“love you too,” you smile.

✿ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘

mikey wanders through your campus halls with draken beside him, on their way to wait outside of your class to finish when he hears whispers in the halls, turning his head with a raised brow. everyone keeps a distance from him, and he’s used to that, but the words he catches through the quiet murmurs make his heart plummet and mind wander.

“that’s the boyfriend.”

“he’s that delinquent.”

“poor thing can’t even leave him, he’s too dangerous. i’d be scared to if i were dating him.”

frowning, mikey stares down at the floor, fists and jaw clenched. he feels a hand on his shoulder, and before his best friend can offer any words, he’s off, turning and making a beeline for your room, barging in and marching right up to you.

“mikey? babe, what are you—hey! let go, i can’t leave right now, i have a test tomorrow—mikey, are you listening? hello?”

but he pays no mind to your words, bottom lip trembling slightly and shoulders tense as his grip only tightens, making your eyebrows furrow in concern. you let him lead you out of the doors and behind the building, his eyes meeting yours.

and they shock you. they look hurt, betrayed even, there’s hints of doubt and fear behind his irises, and it makes your heart shatter. reaching your hand up to cup his face, you pause when he pulls away, turning his head to the side. you can make out the small tremble in his lips this time, taking a step forward to carefully get closer.

“so, is it true?” he mutters. tilting your head, you stare at him bewildered.

“babe, what are you talking about? is what true?” staring at you with tear glossed eyes, he crosses his arms.

mikey’s always been a bit doubtful of what really compelled you to say yes to him. maybe it really was fear, maybe the only reason you’d indulged him was for the sake of your own safety. or worse—perhaps you’d realized he wasn’t what you’d wanted, too scared to leave him now for fear of his name.

but he could never hurt you, he’d known that from the start. but it dawns on him that maybe you don’t know—you might not know just how much he really loves you. and the pain that you might not love him back as fiercely, or love him at all, is scalding.

“you wanna leave me?” he breathes, voice shaky. “what’s stopping you, huh? think i’ll hurt you or something?” this time, a tear escapes him, and your face softens, hand reaching to cup his face again. he lets you this time—because truth be told, even if you tear his heart to shreds and toss it aside, mikey is still yours to have. it’s always been you, and he doesn’t think it ever won’t be.

“who put that idea in your head, silly,” you smile gently, brushing the tear away with your thumb. pressing a small kiss to his cheek, you bring him into your arms, rubbing his back with one hand and carding through his locks with the other. “‘m not scared of you,” you whisper. “you’re just a big baby deep down,” you tease. but the message is clear, and he’s grateful, clutching onto your shirt tightly as he sinks further into your embrace.

“but the…the people—”

“what do they know, baby? they just run their mouths,” you soothe, turning to press another kiss to his temple this time. “i love you, you know. wouldn’t ever wanna leave.”

“promise?” he whispers—and he should be surprised how quickly you can mend the withering of his heart, but he knows that as long as you’re there, he’ll be okay.

he’ll always be okay if he has you.

“promise,” you murmur.

“kay,” he mumbles. “love you too.” and he does, you know he does, your heart in sync with his, always.

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

please do more bad boy aone it was amazing

❥𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?? 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 (✧︎﹃ ✧)

Anything (König x Reader)

The 1st instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I have no idea how we got here

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic description of violence || Graphic description of injury || Graphic language

“You’re a liability.”

The words rang like a church bell. You were never one for petty violence but in that moment, after he’d so calmly said the words, you thought that you just might kill him.

“A liability?” You hissed, glaring at your superior like he’d grown two heads. “I’m a sniper, Sir, not a fucking ninja.”

The captain simply shifted his weight lazily, unfazed by your temper. He’d dealt with it many times throughout the years but it hadn’t bothered him because you weren’t inherently his. You were somebody else’s spitfire, under another unit’s command; but now you were part of the 141 and you needed to learn.

“Come on, Birdy. You know I’m right.”

Birdy.

You had Soap to thank for the name. ‘Snipers and birds both shit on people from above’. It wasn’t creative and honestly you could have thought of one hundred better names to offer, but once Ghost started addressing you by Birdy, it was set in stone.

When you said nothing, he continued.

“You can’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag,” he scoffed, swallowing a snort when your eyes widened. “Sniper’s need to defend themselves too, Birdy. You learnt that the hard way, remember?”

How could you not?

The knife wound had healed but the memory of it had not. Images of the hooded man wedging a blade into your shoulder flickered across your vision. Fists bearing down onto your jaw. Fingers wrapped around your throat.

A chill skittered across your skin.

“So, what’s your suggestion?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

When the corner of Price’s mouth quirked upward, you’d already begun to regret asking.

“Simple, really.” He shrugged, “someone’s gonna train ya.”

Your stomach dropped and a cold shiver traced the length of your spine.

“Who, Sir?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Ghost’s not here. Everyone’s on leave.”

Price smirked.

“Not everyone.”

___

You felt nauseas.

Anxiety had your stomach in a death grip, and it was all you could do to not throw up. Pacing up and down the gym mats, you tried to cool your nerves.

There was only one person that had remained a complete anomaly to you and now he’d been given literal permission to beat the shit out of you.

Training.

You remembered what they loved to call ‘training’ at your old unit. You’d never been the fastest or the strongest, that was not your job. You were the one who could take make an impossible shot a kilometre away, but that’s not what ‘training’ entailed.

Your body ached at the memory.

There was a small noise by the doorway and your body stiffened. He was letting you know that he was there, his equivalent of a knock.

You both knew that he could have had you on your back whenever he pleased.

“König.” You acknowledged him as confidently as you could, turning to face the beast head on.

The giant stood in the doorway looking like the fucking bogey man himself.

“Birdy,” König inclined his head. Those dark, watchful eyes observed you from beneath his hood, taking in your visage. Heat licked the back of your neck and you began to sweat under his gaze.

He was clad in his usual getup from the waist down, the tactical cargo pants and the hefty boots being his barracks favourite. It was the hoodie that had caught you by surprise, you’d seen it a few times in passing, but up close it rendered you breathless.

“I didn’t realize you were staying with the 141,” you said, swallowing nervously as he stepped into the room, ducking his head to avoid hitting the frame above.

This was a sick, sick joke.

“My transfer was approved,” was the only explanation that he offered you.

You knew, logically, that what had happened between the both of you had been a misunderstanding. It was a communication failure on behalf of the brass that had almost gotten you killed but the idea of working with him, training with him, made your stomach drop.

König’s hands got to work removing his gloves and the memory of those fingers wrapped around your throat made you flinch.

You’d set up a sniper’s nest atop the rooftop, watching the entrance of the building the 141 was infiltrating. They were going to flush out the target and send him running right into your line of fire.

No-one had been informed of KorTac’s involvement.

You’d heard König before you’d seen him, the dismantling of your trip mine giving you enough indication to roll onto your back to investigate. By then, he was already upon you.

You’d kicked the rifle from his hands but that was where your advantage finished. He’d dragged you by your ankles from your weapon, straddling your flailing body as he got to work. The knife he’d brandished stabbed into your flesh violently, and at first, you’d thought he only punched you.

Until the searing hot pain bloomed across your body and blood sprayed across his hood.

Those emerald eyes were wild and hard as he gripped your face over your balaclava. You couldn’t think to react, dizzied by the agony of knife he twisted into your skin. His palm covered the entirety of your features, fingers tight against your temples as he pulled your head forward then smashed it back into the concrete.

You thought your skull had exploded.

Fists ploughed into your jaw but it was as though you were numb now. Finally, his fingers were drawn to your throat, squeezing tightly as he leaned in. The cloth of his hood brushed against your battered body, filling the space between you as his lips pressed against your ear.

“Your fight is finished,” he hissed heatedly. Then König pressed down into your skin.

You don’t remember what happened afterward. You knew that he’d been called off by his chain-of-command just in time to stop himself from ending your life, but that was according to Soap.

You were in a coma for two weeks.

It took you months to recover.

And only once you came back to work, fit to fight and ready to go, had you discovered that König had applied to transfer into the 141 shortly after the incident. KorTac had offered him up to fill in your position while you recovered.

Not only had the bastard nearly killed you but he’d taken your place.

Now that you were back, he would lose his place as a sniper and be back to running with the team on the ground.

König watched you carefully from where he stood.

“You’re my instructor,” you said plainly, stating the obvious. “Price made you my hand-to-hand combat trainer.

“Ironic, isn’t it,” his voice came quietly from beneath the hood, a small snort following in suit.

You would have laughed had you not been so fucking terrified. You were about to take your place back on the team, a position this giant clearly wanted and now he was given the chance to put you back into the hospital with no questions asked.

You wouldn’t be able to do anything against him. König was a mountain of a man, a force to be reckoned with, and while he tried to make himself as disarming as possible it was implausible to hide that frame.

“Did you want to get started?” König asked, leaning his hip against the table beside him. He was so casual for someone who had nearly killed you.

“No,” you said simply.

“Are you not up for this?” König ventured carefully, pushing off the bench and taking a slow step towards you. Your heart thrashed against your ribs at his approaching figure and you forced yourself to stay still. “You still have bruising-“

“That’s what happens when someone shatters your fucking face, cunt,” you snapped, casting your gaze from his. You were hoping that he wouldn’t bring it up, everyone had danced around your condition for so long. No one spoke about how fucking ugly you looked as you tried to recover.

“It was an accident,” his voice was hard, almost bewildered at your sudden aggression. “We both paid the price for someone else’s mistakes.”  

“Don’t talk to me about paying the price, you fucker,” you snapped, shoving against his chest. König yielded a step and it infuriated you even further to know that he’d allowed it. “You got the fucking job you wanted, you got the transfer you wanted, you got the training you wanted. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-“

“You wanna know what I got?” You snapped, shoving him harder this time. König’s eyes narrowed and he snatched your wrists, holding them against his ribs to stop your assault. You continued anyway, walking his body backward until his heels hit the wall. “I got put into a fucking coma.”  

König’s gaze softened, his chest heaving beneath your hands. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your fists, you could hear his breaths grow ragged.

“I know,” he murmured, his fingers tightening on your wrists. “I was assigned to watch over your bed for those two weeks."

You stared at him for a long moment, sniffling and gasping for air after your rant. König lowered his head and his grip loosened.

“What I did to you…” he trailed off, unable to meet your gaze. How ugly must you have become that he couldn’t withstand looking at his own handiwork?

You turned around, hiding the hot tears forming along your lashes. You were so fucking ashamed by the terror gripping your throat, embarrassed by how much your image affected you. You hated feeling disgusting. You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you at all times it was suffocating you, they gawked and stared and whispered about how your 'pretty face was ruined.'

You began to understand why people wear masks.

“You ruined me,” you rasped. “And I couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

König was silent from behind you, mulling over your words. You couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your outburst. He had stabbed you, shattered your skull, broken your nose and jaw and nearly snapped your neck- he deserved to listen to you yell at him at the very least.

Fingers slid over your shoulders, slowly turning you around to face him. You tugged against his hold half-heartedly, vision swimming beneath never-ending tears.

“Look at me, Birdy.” His voice was soft and pleading, his hand slowly moving to cup your bruised jaw. You froze as he manoeuvred you, forcing you to face him square on. König slowly lowered himself to rest a knee on the ground, leaving him still taller than you but closer to eye level.

With the hand that was free, he reached for his hood. You swallowed nervously as he carefully pulled it from his head, resting the cloth on his upright knee.

Dirty blonde hair lay splayed across his forehead, the length curling by his ears. Dark brows framed the emerald gaze that watched you intently, taking in your visage as you observed him. All of him.

The scars caught your attention.

Winding from his upper lip, across his eye and leaving a line through his brow, the winding length of damaged skin presented itself. There was another scar along the bridge of his nose that travelled across the width of his cheekbone and into his hair.

“Do I…” König trailed off, full lips parting as he mused over his next words. You stared in awe at the innocence of the freckles smattered across his features. “Are you afraid of me?”

You said nothing for a long moment, mesmerized by the features of a man that had haunted your thoughts for months. He’d been the centre of your existence for so long, the reason you ached and the reason you’d bled. König had plagued your every waking moment ever since the incident, and now he knelt before you. He was on his knees baring his vulnerabilities to you, knowing you could destroy him with it.

“Of course,” you whispered; your voice shaky as you met his gaze.

König’s expression became pleading, “then let me teach you how to beat me.”

His thumb lightly caressed your purple cheek, brows furrowed as he took in his handiwork. “Let me pay for what I’ve done by teaching you how to never let it happen again. And when you finally beat me, revenge will be yours and you may do as you wish.”

“Anything I want?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

A wry, sad smile pulled at the corner of König’s mouth.

“Anything, mein vöglein.”

My little bird.

____

Next Chapter

TALK DIRTY TO ME

how konig, ghost, and price talk dirty in bed.

thirsts : open

—

konig is surprisingly vocal when he’s rutting into you, though it’s probably not in the way you think. most of his words come out in hushed whispers laced with obscenities. he seems to lose any sense of shame he usually has because he’s just too drunk on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him.

“feels s’fucking good—“ he mindlessly babbles out.

his large palms are stretched out on both sides of you, fingers digging into the mattress, while he keeps you caged underneath him.

“such a greedy pussy,” he groans out with another roll of his hips. “keeps suckin’ me back in…”

you can feel his hot breath fanning your face while his darkened eyes are stuck — transfixed — on the creamy white ring that covers his cock. the sloppy sounds that fill the room seem to only grow louder with each thrust, as your arousal practically drips down his balls.

“just begging for me to fill ya up,” he hissed out, as he presses down on your stomach which makes you whimper in response. the noise somehow flips a switch in him and has könig fucking into you even harder.

“s’that what ya want? need me to fill ya up, fuck a baby into this pretty cunt?”

price just exudes dominance in all aspects even with his dirty talk, his words are more praising than anything else though. he’s always coaching you through things and telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he knows it gets you off and he also just can’t help but spoil you.

“mhmm, just like that, baby.” he mumbles out as he lazily guides your movements, helping you bounce yourself up and down on his cock.

there’s a smirk on his face that he can’t even be bothered to hide when he hears you whining at the praise. he thinks you’re adorable when you’re like this, so desperate for him yet so adamant on not asking for his help. you could be such a brat sometimes, he’d have to deal with that later.

“doing so well,” he says with a groan as he thrusts his hips up in time with your movements. “but you don’t think you’re gonna make me cum just from this, do you?”

it doesn’t take much effort for him to flip you over and have you at his mercy. your legs are now lifted over his shoulders while his dick is fucking you even deeper, the tip prodding against your sweet spot just right it has your toes curling.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” his movements are slow and controlled, he knows you’re close — he can feel it — but he’s not going to reward you unless you use yours words.

“come on, princess. all you have to do is beg and i’ll have you screaming for me…”

everything ghost says is absolutely filthy, he is all about the little details. he doesn’t actually notice what he’s saying in the heat of the moment, all he knows is that his words have your cheeks flushing to a pretty shade of red, and he loves it.

“you’re such a fuckin’ slut for me even your pussy knows it.” he practically growls. “look at this sloppy mess you’re making.”

he ruts the tip of his cock against your slit, coating your folds with his pre-cum. “jus’ gonna slip in with how wet you are..”

your arm is slung over your face as a way for you to hide your embarrassment, you know he’s right, there’s no way you could deny it. something about the way he talks to you when he’s pent up like this has your pussy throbbing.

“fuck, need to be balls deep inside this cunt.” he breathes, as he eases his way into you, the fat head of his cock slowly splitting you open as he makes you take in more and more of him.

the veins on his length rub your slick walls deliciously and it’s not surprising that you’re already twitching and creaming all over him as soon as he bottoms out.

“that’s it, there’s my slutty girl.” his raspy laugh fills the silence. “stop using that pretty head, all you need to do is cum for me.”