"Sure Raphael, I'll Give You The Crown, If You Agree To Read Me A Bedtime Story..."

"Sure Raphael, I'll give you the crown, if you agree to read me a bedtime story..."

Art by @oniishi (Thank you so much again! Go check them out ❤)

Overstimulation with Vampire Gojo - Kinktober Day Nine

Satoru Gojo x Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: You stop by to pick Gojo up on your way to Shoko's Halloween party and, when the vampire invites you inside, things take an interesting turn. One you've been pretending for years that you never wanted. One he's been waiting years for.

Warnings: overstimulation, gojo being a total fuckin dominant asshole, teasing, dirty talk, gojo makes you beg...a lot, masturbation, fingering, mention of edging, "ice play" (except it's really just gojo's cold fingers & cock cause dude's a vampire), pussy slapping, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Vampire!Gojo felt more fitting for the Halloween vibes. I also had way more fun writing Gojo being an asshole than I expected. Anyways, Happy Kinktober, I hope y'all like the fic!

Overstimulation With Vampire Gojo - Kinktober Day Nine

Since you’d met him, it’d been all fang talk. At first, you tuned it out. He wasn’t the first vampire you’d interacted with. And given his power status, giving him any satisfaction in having any reaction beyond disinterest was off the table. So you ignored him. You ignored the way those sharp fangs glinted in the moonlight as his mouth tipped into a mischievous smirk. Especially the way his eyes sparkled as he goated you, trying to pull even the tiniest reaction from you.

Because he knew, beneath the surface, behind the eye-rolls and annoyed scoffs, you were intrigued. It came in an accelerated heart rate. Increased breathing. Dilated pupils. The way your breath hitched when he got close. How clearly your mind would wander when he’d tell you he could make you feel things you could only ever imagine.

Pure euphoria.

“Pretty sure I’ve felt that before,” you’d responded as nonchalantly as possible. Gojo simply laughed.

You’d been bitten before; you knew one of the side effects. You’d felt it, and Gojo knew that.

“But not from me,” he whispered. “Not from the strongest.”

You’d waved your hand in the air and ignored him, just as always. Just as you always would.

But the bastard, the amused, smug bastard wore you down. He was biding his time, waiting with hidden patience until you snapped. Watching with those eyes that bottled the summer sky and endless stars as you waited outside his apartment in a vintage nightgown. White. Innocent. The feedee to the feeder. His idea. Then he could go to the costume party without having to disguise his fangs. It was the perfect plan. Until he opened the door dressed in a white shirt, half the buttons undone, chest exposed, and tight black pants that left nothing to the imagination. His head cocked to the side as your stare lingered, and he knew he had his claws in you.

And so did you.

“Why don’t you come in?”

“I thought it was humans who had to invite the vampires into their home?”

“It is.” He chuckled, standing aside, barely giving you enough room to enter. You had to brush against him in the process, bare skin on bare skin. He wasn’t nearly as cold as you expected him to be. His laugh deepened, and you involuntarily flushed.

The loose cotton garment sashayed around you as you stepped into Gojo’s apartment, turning to face him as soon as you were three steps inside. The door closed with a quiet click behind Gojo as he perused your body. His eyes roamed over you as if the nightgown had melted to your frame.

“So? What is it you wanted me to come in for?”

The vampire smirked as he sauntered over to his cellarette and pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. You crossed your arms. If you dilly-dallied, you’d never get to the party on time. That meant no wine.

Gojo seemed to read your expression.

“What? You worried about lowering your inhibitions around me?” He made a show of licking his fangs.

“I’m worried about being late to our friend’s party.”

Gojo dropped to his couch and poured one glass of wine. You followed suit. He shook the empty glass at you, and you simply held up your middle finger in response. A shrug later, and he had the bottle down on his coffee table next to the spare glass and lazily sipped the decadent drink. You frowned. You were going to be late.

“Really, Satoru, we’re going to be late.”

“Answer me one question.” He eyed his wine. “And then we’ll go.”

“What?”

“Why do you pretend to act so nonchalantly around me?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you realized Gojo had leaned towards you. You held your breath as he let the tips of his fangs poke out from his smile. You needed to put distance between you, but with the armrest behind you, you had nowhere to go. He dragged a single finger down your cheek, trailed it along your jaw, beneath your ear, all the way down until he reached your pulse point. Sharp nails dug into your thighs, and you realized they were your own.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was tighter than you’d hoped.

Gojo canted his head to the side, eyes fixed on your neck.

“Your heart is racing,” he whispered almost tenderly. “Are you nervous, (Y/N)?”

“No,” you answered too quickly.

“Do I scare you?”

Deep down, yeah, he scared you. He was an insanely powerful otherworldly being. On some level, of course he scared you. But your heart wasn’t hammering against your chest out of fear. Not even slightly. Or, at least, not fear of him. But the growing ache you were feeling for him? That was worrisome. Especially since that resolve you’d had for the last few years was finally starting to deteriorate.

“No.”

“Then what,” he murmured as he leaned in and you felt his breath tickle your neck, “has your heart beating so fast?”

You couldn’t stop the image of Gojo lying you back on his couch, body pinning yours against the couch cushions, and sinking his fangs into your neck. Just one of many fantasies that have played out consciously or subconsciously. Whether his hands roamed your body, his hips rolled between yours, there was always one thing in common: Gojo bit you.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t do the same thing you always did when you thought about that. You mentally cursed the cracks in your resolve as you lifted your hand to your mouth, gently touching your canines, wondering what Gojo’s felt like.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” His mouth grazed your ear, and you sucked in a harsh breath.

“We should get going, we’re going to be-”

“If you say late one more time, (Y/N), I swear I’m going to sink my fangs into you and suck you dry.”

Curse the image that his words made you think of. Curse the ache that it made you feel.

Curse the delay that it caused because Gojo jumped on it.

“Oh.” He sat his glass down and brought his other hand up to your jaw, leaning forward until his chest pressed against yours. “Is that something you’d like?”

“Gojo.” His name was a warning.

“Usually, you have some retort, some smart-ass remark.” He dropped his mouth to your neck and pressed a feather-light kiss to it. “But it appears you’ve gone tongue-tied.”

You wanted to pull away. You wanted to push him off, but in your attempt, all you managed to do was lift your hands. Because as soon as they touched him, as soon as you felt that solid chest beneath them, all you could do was ball that soft fabric up in your hands.

For the first time, you were utterly hopeless under Gojo’s touch, and he knew it.

“Admit it.” He only hesitated a moment before you felt the faint scrape of his fangs against your skin. “You’ve been wanting me to bite you since we’ve met.”

And, damn it, you shuddered. Of all things you could’ve done, your hands tightened, your breathing grew heavy, and you shuddered.

“Party,” you blurted out.

“(Y/N).”

If Gojo’s name was a warning, yours was a promise. A promise of what he’d been saying since you’d met. A promise of pure euphoria.

“Tell me what you want.” A hand dropped to your waist and jerked you forward. Your legs parted around him. “And I’ll give it to you. You just have to tell me.”

You groaned, more frustrated than anything else. You’d already embarrassed yourself. You’d let him get this far. Fuck. Purely out of spite, you said nothing. Gojo had already gained too much satisfaction from this. From you finally starting to lose yourself in him. You wished you hadn’t accepted Gojo’s invitation to enter his apartment. That you’d bullied him until he gave in, joined your side, and the two of you made your scheduled appearance at Shoko’s Halloween party. You would’ve greeted your friends, maybe given in and danced with Gojo, gotten a tad too handsy after having a shot or two, and then gone your separate ways.

Instead, you were clutching onto his shirt like your life depended on it, trying to ignore just how fast your heart was beating--trying to slow it down, knowing Gojo was aware of it too. You shouldn’t have sat on his couch in his too-cold apartment with the last sip of blood-red wine left in his glass. You shouldn’t have thrown away years of pretending because this was going to change everything. Not just you wanting him to bite you. Just giving away that you wanted him to. That was already an arsenal accidentally gifted to the vampire. And he was always going to use it.

You had to get it together.

“The last thing I want is for you to bite me,” you spat.

But you didn’t move.

In fact, you were pretty sure you sighed as Gojo shifted until his mouth hovered over yours. His mouth that looked so damn soft. So damn tempting. Like the forbidden fruit, the Devil whispering in your ear, telling you to just take a tiny little taste. No. To let him take a taste. Let him feast. Let him take.

But you’d never admit it. Not to him. You’d never do that. But you didn’t push him away when he hovered there. And you certainly didn’t fight nearly hard enough when you felt yourself pressing up until your lips met his. You felt weightless as your mouths met. The kiss was the closest to chaste you’d imagined Gojo could muster.

He sighed against you, mouth parting just enough to tease what was going to come. He was restraining himself, barely able to hold back his grin as you held him against you, surely wrinkling his shirt. Then, when his own resolve crumbled, and your mind had just begun to process soft, delicious, addicting, he smiled, and you felt his fangs prick your lips.

If you’d known this was how good it felt to kiss Gojo, you would’ve done it ages ago.

And that thought grew tenfold when he let his grip slip, and he became hungry. Dominant. Determined. His teeth captured your bottom lip, tongue soothing the sting, as he tipped your head back. The hunger, it was like he’d been wanting this just as long as you had. Like he’d been waiting--praying, if vampires did that--for you to finally give in. You were sure you could’ve cracked a Dracula joke there, but all you could hear was Nanami’s monologues about Nosferatu, cinematic Dracula, and novel Dracula.

Gojo adjusted, tugging you onto his lap, legs splaying around him. Your head fell back as he kissed down your jaw, teasing your throat and lingering there, making your blood boil in all the best ways, and slowly undoing the tie of your nightgown. His slender fingers worked slowly, and you weren’t sure if it was to give you time to back out--which you knew was the smart decision, but since you were already in uncharted territory, you figured why not--or to drive you absolutely insane.

Most likely the latter.

His fingers grazed your chest, and you were thankful you’d decided to wear a bra. If you hadn’t, your chest would’ve given away just how needy you were. Although with all of Gojo’s keen senses and extraordinary abilities, the way he snickered as he kissed your neck told you that he was entirely clued in to how badly you wanted him.

“Let me touch you.” He toyed with the straps of your bra and pressed his hips up. “Let me show you what you’ve been missing out on for years.”

You, despite your common sense screaming at you to get up, nodded.

The groan of satisfaction and vindication that left the vampire grated on your ears, your nerves, your entire being. It was like you were drunk on him, and he hadn’t even done anything. You blamed the costume. Bastard donning some high-end version of a knock-off Dracula costume. Showed a little skin, wore some tight pants, flashed those fangs. You weren’t supposed to be this easy; you weren’t supposed to be like every other person who fawned over him.

But you hesitated. It was like you’d practically tilted your head to the side, brushed your hair away, and exposed your neck to the prick like a curious, aching dumbass you were. And he jumped on it. Pounced. You accidentally gave him an inch, and he was going to take all the miles he could. Run you ragged.

“Turn around.” You could feel his grin against your mouth and, just to spite him, you took your sweet time listening. Making sure to drag yourself over his lap in the process, rolling your hips to adjust, satisfied at the low grumble that escaped him.

But that only seemed to piss him off.

As soon as you situated yourself, his knees found themselves between yours, and he jerked your legs open. When your costume stopped him short, there was zero hesitation as he grabbed the thin fabric and tore a slit down the side. You blushed inadvertently at the action, cool air rushing your bare skin, and Gojo chuckled in your ear.

He kept your legs hooked open, holding you against him with an arm around your waist. His mouth danced over your neck, teeth caught your ear lobe, as his other hand fell between your legs. But there was no contact. He just hovered it there, the tips occasionally ticking your inner thigh. He hummed when he glanced over, eyeing your white lace underwear like you were a present waiting to be unwrapped.

“You wear those just for me?” He traced the delicate pattern of the lace, and you held your breath, trying to ignore how even just the faint touch ignited you.

“They were all I could wear with how thin the fucking costume is.”

“It’s funny,” he whispered. “They always have the maiden wear white in the movies. To symbolize innocence. Virginity of sorts before they’re bitten.”

You would’ve glared at him if you could’ve. But his fingers traded the feather-light touch that made heat pool between your legs for a pointed, purposeful one. Up and down over your cunt, sighing as he felt just how soaked you were. Your head fell back against his shoulder; each graze of your clit was agony. The momentary touch relieved the pressure only to double it when his fingers dipped lower once more. You tried to move your hips against him, chasing what he wasn’t giving you. And what was worse, you weren’t even aware that you were trying to do it until his hold tightened and he held you in place.

“Yet here you are, the image of pure desperation and need.” He slapped your cunt and you jumped. “Fucking soaked from all talk. I can only imagine how badly you want to relieve that almost painful ache.”

You thought about wrenching yourself from Gojo’s grasp, but you’d taken the first drag of that cigarette. Your entire body was shaking with need.

“Touch yourself.”

It was a command. One that was spoken in a tone as cool as his skin. Yet it made the flames erupting over your body rise.

“Give me a show, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

You bit your cheek as you moved. Your hand trembled as you draped it between your legs. When you didn’t move immediately, Gojo placed his hand over yours and guided two fingers over your clit. You gasped when he drew your fingers in tight circles over your clit, chin resting on your shoulder, gaze hot.

“What?” He withdrew his hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, making sure you didn’t move. “You needed someone to show you how? C’mon, (Y/N), I know you’ve touched yourself while thinking about me. No need to be shy.”

Each wave of pleasure you brought yourself seemed to rock your body. Gojo’s eyes on you egged you on just as much as it made your nerves spike. You couldn’t find a pace; you couldn’t get your hand to stop shaking. You tried to grind against yourself, chasing the pleasure you desperately craved, but Gojo’s arm around your waist still kept you pinned. Whenever you’d find the spot that made your eyes roll, Gojo would pull your hand away, fingers digging into your veins, no doubt getting high off of how fast your heart was racing.

You had to quiet your mind each time it wandered to what you were doing, especially who you were doing it in front of, and just how intensely he was watching you.

“Tell me,” he murmured as he pulled your hand away from your cunt for what you counted as the sixth time. “Admit that you’ve thought about me while fucking yourself.”

Never. Not in a million years.

“Do it, and I’ll reward you by making you cum until you physically can’t anymore.” He let his fingers intertwine with yours, and only his freezing skin gave away his touch mixed in with yours. “It’s easy; it’s just a few words. Here, I’ll show you.”

He licked a long stripe up your neck until his mouth brushed your ear.

“I’ve thought about you while getting off.” The arm around your waist loosened, and his hand came up to your chest. “Thinking about these tits bouncing as you ride my cock. Taking me like the good girl I know you are. Begging for me to give you more. Begging for me to bite you.”

For the first time since he’d sat you on his lap, you turned to try and see him, but a hand on your chin kept you facing forward. He’d thought about you? Like that? You thought your heart was going to explode from your chest.

“Well,” you croaked out. “Fantasies tend to be about what you can’t have.”

He barked out a laugh, dipping his hand beneath your gown, your bra, until his fingers skimmed a nipple. You didn’t need to see them to know they were hard. You arched your back as he ran slow circles around it, matching the speed he’d set between your legs. He’d retreated a tad there, however, making sure it was only you who was touching you. Free of his iron hold, you rolled your hips and unapologetically ground against yourself. Bits of cold hit you, and you chased after those. You chased after him.

“(Y/N).” He pinched your nipple. “Look down at yourself. Grinding against your hand like a fucking lust-drugged bitch. Don’t think I won’t tie you up and go to the party myself, leaving you in the agony you created for yourself. Soaked. Aching. Too proud to ask me to touch you.”

“If we’re talking about pride-”

“I’ve already admitted it, baby,” he said, voice as sharp as his fangs. “I want to see that pretty pussy take my cock, feel it squeeze around my fingers as you cum. I want to hear every sound you make when I pull another orgasm from you, even after you tell me you can’t give me another one.”

You clamped your eyes shut and groaned, your entire body shaking as you fought the internal battle. It was all pointed spears and splintered shields. You lost. You won. You spat out the words with bitter anticipation.

“I have.” But you didn’t think it was enough. The half a second pause where Gojo didn’t move solidified that. “Multiple times.”

His mouth, pressed beneath your ear, curled into what you knew was a sickening smile.

“Good girl.”

He treated the top of your costume with the same attitude as the bottom, the sound of the fabric tearing almost as jarring as his cold touch. The cups of your bra were pushed down as his hand groped and teased. His other threw your hand aside, cast away to grab onto his thigh as he snaked it beneath your underwear. You sucked in a harsh breath as his fingers grazed your swollen clit. It felt like he held an ice cube against you, and you tried to jerk away.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsked and shook his head. “Stay put.”

A throated whine left you as he pinched your nipples, going out of his way to run his fingers between your folds so every inch felt the freezing temperature before he ran tight, harsh circles over your clit. You would’ve fallen from his lap had his legs not hooked over you and held you in place. It felt incredible. It felt like too much. He already had you on edge. The last six almosts had brought you close enough, but it was embarrassing how he already had you dancing like a puppet on his strings along the crumbling edge.

“Ask for it. If you want anything tonight, you have to ask for it.” His fingers ran tighter circles, and whatever smart response you had turned into a groan.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

You wanted to kill him.

“Can I cum?”

“Did I hear a please?”

You cursed under your breath. You weren’t sure why you were trying to hold off your high as Gojo’s fingers worked that merciless pace, not seeming to care that you were moments away from coming undone. But you wanted to please him. The thought made your blood boil.

“Can I please cum?”

He hummed in contemplation and you wanted to scream.

“Go ahead.” He cocked his head to the side, and you felt his eyes roam over your body. The feeling tipped you over the edge. You refused to cry out his name as you came harder than you’d ever cum before, body buzzing, head light and floaty, muscles tense and sore.

Before you’d even finished, your walls still clenching at nothing as the stars you saw still sparkled in your vision, he slipped two fingers into your cunt. Your legs kicked out as they scissored and curled and stretched you. Slender, sure, but they were long. He hit places you couldn’t without a toy, and Gojo fucking knew it too. Your toes curled, and you tried to hide your face in his neck. It made him snicker.

“We’re not done yet.” His thumb swept over your clit. “Not nearly.”

You felt too hot as his too-cold fingers fucked you. You felt yourself squeeze around him, and the swiftness of your second orgasm approaching nearly threw you. The bastard really knew how to get people off. No. He knew how to get you off. The way his fingers slid into a specific rhythm. This was just for you. A personal torture he’d give just to you.

“C-Can I?” You hated that you asked him without much thought.

“Oh, already?” As if he didn’t know. “I don’t know, you got there pretty quick. You sure you want to cum again already? I don’t plan on stopping after this. You’re cumming until I get every last drop outta you, (Y/N).”

“Please,” you screamed. You couldn’t stave it off anymore. And you hated how your body tingled with excitement at what Gojo would do as punishment if you came without permission.

“If you’re that desperate.” He scoffed and slowed his fingers. “Then take it from what I give you.”

You did. You weren’t sure if he was trying to ruin the orgasm or delay it or knew exactly what his slow curls would do. But he strung you out, hard. Never, not once had your second orgasm been better than the first. Not fucking once. Yet the bastard had your head thrown back, toes curling, riding wave after slow wave as he seemed to wrap the puppet strings around your limbs and pull. You nearly bit your tongue as you ground your teeth together, unable to do anything else as you came around his fingers.

You huffed. You weren’t sure you could give him any more, and he’d only made you cum twice. But his fingers only paused for half a beat before starting up again. You let out a strangled no as his hand on your chest went to your clit. It was too much. You squirmed, and he laughed. Laughed. Then pressed on harder, faster. Tears slipped down your cheeks, nails dug into his thighs, teeth captured your bottom lip to stop the sobs.

“P-Please.” Your third orgasm was knocking on the door, waiting to enter. Or leave. It was all too much. You weren’t sure if you were begging for him to stop or to keep going.

“Ask.”

You hoped the one word would be enough of a response.

“Cum?”

Gojo’s body shook with laugher. It wasn’t.

“Full sentences, (Y/N).” He pinched your clit.

“Gojo.”

He slapped your cunt.

“Full sentences.”

“Can I cum again, please?”

“Yes.”

He rode you through your high. It almost hurt, his fingers fucking your cunt and rubbing your clit. Your throat felt raw by the end, and you weren’t sure if you’d screamed or if it was an accumulation from the last two orgasms as well. His fingers stopped and you thought you were free. Until he lifted you, angled you up on your shaky legs, and you felt him undo the button of his pants.

“Do you want it?” He pulled the crotch of your underwear to the side, pressing his tip against your dripping folds.

You hated that you nodded.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and you burned as he spread your folds. He lingered there a moment, surely watching as you dripped onto his lap, before he lined himself up. His fingers dug into your hips as he guided you down, groaning as you stretched around him. He fucking filled you. But your gasp wasn’t just from how fucking huge he was. You’d thought his fingers were impossible to handle with the cold. His cock was like when you’d left your dildo in the freezer before fucking yourself on it.

Even when he was sheathed entirely inside you, he didn’t move. He found your clit--puffy, swollen, sore--and his thumb ran over it with lazy strokes.

Three times. He made you cum around his cock three times without even moving his hips. You were jelly in his arms, soaked in your own cum, tears, and sweat. And the rare glimpses he gave you of his face told you he was obsessed with this version of you. You couldn’t give him anymore. You’d said that the last two times, but you were wrung dry. You were sure if he moved his hips, you’d combust like a vampire from Buffy with a stake in its heart.

But you wanted him to fuck you. So badly. With every fiber of your being you wanted him to fuck you. You just couldn’t lift yourself up to be able to fall back down onto his cock.

And then his fangs scraped your skin for the hundredth time that night.

“Bite me,” you blurted out. You hadn’t meant to. You’d been trying to ask him to fuck you. A Freudian slip.

He stopped over your pulse point and pressed his fangs against you. Just enough to let you feel the sharp prick.

“Beg for it.”

“Please.” It hurt your throat to talk. Your voice crackled with each word. “Please bite me. Please, Satoru.”

“You can do better than that. C’mon. Beg.”

“Fuck.” You clamped your eyes shut. “Please, I need you to. I need to feel it. That damned ‘pure euphoria.’ It’s all I think about whenever you flash your fangs at me. Please, I need it. I need to know.”

He pressed his fangs harder against you. Scraped them against your skin until you felt a satisfying burn.

“I’m so tempted--so fucking tempted--to leave you like this. A teary mess, begging for something I won’t give you.” Dread coursed through you at the thought. Silently, you willed him to keep speaking. “But I know whether I bite you or not, you’ll be back for more.”

He bucked his hips.

“Because nobody will fuck you like I will.”

He bucked again as you cried out as an almost painful wave of pleasure crashed into you.

“Nobody will get you off as good as me.”

Then he bit you. A searing hot pain, like a cold brand, focused at your neck. You sobbed, but you weren’t sure if that was from the bite or the way Gojo looped an arm around you and slammed his hips against you mercilessly. You’d been bitten before, but just as soon as you tried to recall the memories, you were hit with something you'd never gotten from other vampires. It felt like a wall of liquid pleasure. Or, in Gojo’s wording, euphoria.

It was like he’d injected it directly into your veins, and you laughed. You choked on the sound as another sob followed it, but it felt so impossibly good. Like you were floating on a cloud. Like you were stuck in a permanent state of almost that just kept getting better and better. Like you were dancing on the edge that never crumbled, leading you to a plummet that, as you eyed it, was waiting for you with billowing snow to cushion the fall.

“C-Can I cum? Please, Gojo, can I cum?”

Your voice sounded unfamiliar as you spoke. You weren’t even entirely sure that you had until Gojo responded a few moments later, his thrusts rough.

“Yes.” It was an order.

And you followed it.

You heard your scream leave you as if it weren’t your own. It was like two hands shoved you off the edge as you plummeted down towards the snow. It swallowed you; claimed you like a riptide does an inexperienced swimmer. Those puppet strings that had bound themselves to you earlier tightened and pulled like a torture device. Delicious, rapturous torture. Then they snapped. Like stray worn threads.

You came around his cock for the fourth time that night.

You didn’t even realize he came until you felt his cum leak out of you as you blinked up at the ceiling, coming to.

Gojo gave you a moment to catch your breath before he pulled out, licking over the two puncture wounds on your neck as he righted your underwear, either not caring that his cum was leaking out of you or extremely aware. Most likely the latter.

He laid you on your side as he got up and righted himself, his costume, his hair. He smirked down at you, eyeing your torn costume, tear-stained cheeks, and tangled hair. He knelt beside his couch and scoffed.

“C’mon, (Y/N), we’re going to be late to Shoko’s party.”

786 notes View Post

black-noir-ink

1 month ago

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

120K notes View Post

black-noir-ink

4 years ago

Who Are You?

Theme(s): [Alice in Wonderland AU]: Caterpillar Aizawa

Pairing: Aizawa Shōta X Smol F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Drug Use, Implied Non-Con/Dub-con, Dark Undertones

Word Count: 2,260

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The Throne || Darth Vader x GN! Reader

summary: he can sense your burning desire.

NSFW // smut

word count: 3713

warnings: thigh-riding, dom/sub undertones, established relationship, secret relationship, praise, cursing, unfair power dynamics, inappropriate usage of the force, mentions of canon-typical violence, fear, very brief and slight degrading, aftercare, soft vader, minor spoilers for Kenobi episode 3

a/n: listen i can't be the only one that thought of this during this scene. also please bear with me if this isn't that good,, i don't write smut very often

~~~

Mustafar. Volcanic planet located on the Outer Rim with rivers of lava cascading all over its rich, black surface. With temperatures so hot enough to burn the inside of your lungs, it's virtually impossible for any living lifeform to thrive upon it. Its one of the last places anyone would want to go.

Yet, for some odd reason, you found yourself there frequently.

It wasn't what you were expecting when you joined the Empire. It wasn't in the slightest. Upon recruit not too long after the Republic fell, you were just expecting to be a solider. Another cog in the wheel. You had signed up just hoping to get any sort of security in a galaxy of seemingly never-ending hostility. You didn't even agree with the Empire. You were just scared of what would happen if you didn't join them.

Perhaps that is what drew him to you. The smell of your fear.

You had always thought you were good at hiding it. You learned how to make sure it didn't show on your face; in your posture. But god damnit it was hard in the Empire. It was even harder around him. Granted, you didn't expect to be assigned maintaining his squadron of troopers so quickly, so you had very little time to prepare yourself. You often found yourself wondering: if you did have time to prepare back then, would it have gone any different? Would you have gotten reassigned by now? Would you have caught his eye like you did? Would the two of you had grown so close as you did?

But, more importantly, would you be in the position that you're in right now?

Growing close to him, you soon found yourself following him everywhere he went. He would make it a point to bring you every single place he went to. And, made it even more of a point to have you close at all times. Even during important meetings where you weren't allowed to be present, he would order you to wait by the door for him to return. Or wait for him to send someone to come and fetch you. It was only then were you allowed to go anywhere else.

This was another one of those times.

You had been waiting outside that room for what seemed like hours. With the hunt for that Obi-Wan guy going on, you were sure that he had a meeting about something related to that with one if not all of the inquisitors. You had heard a lot about them through him; just how useless and weak they were. Of course, you knew despite all of his complaints about them, they were still a force to be reckoned with. They were orders of magnitude more powerful than you. But, of course, compared to him, they were nothing. And you knew that was ultimately what made them get on his nerves.

But, all the same, he still had to deal with them. And whether it was because he wanted to spare you the headache, or simply because he just couldn't let you in on that information, he had you wait outside for him to finish.

You had figured it was going to at most be a few minutes. That, however, turned out to not exactly be the case. The ache in your legs told you that it had at least been a decent while, coupled with the fact that you were growing tired of the view. Mustafar was beautiful, in a very odd, foreboding way. But even with a view like that, you grew tired of waiting. Especially because you weren't allowed to do anything but wait.

Sometimes, it was a painful trade-off; the relationship you had with Lord Vader. But would you trade it for anything?

No. Never in a million years. Call yourself crazy, but you had grown fond of the sith lord after all this time. And, at least to you, he had grown fond of you as well. There weren't many people you were fond of anymore. That being the case, you made it a point to cling onto him like grim death. And if that meant tolerating his busy schedule, along with saving face and doing as he commanded when the two of you were in public (in order to not arouse any suspicion from the rest of the Empirical army), you would happily oblige.

Eventually, after letting what felt like the thousandth sigh that day escape through your lungs, you heard the faint sounds of boots clacking against the shiny, polished ground come around the corner, making your ears perk up at the noise. Turning to look over your shoulder, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment when you discovered that the footsteps didn't belong to Lord Vader. Instead, they belonged to one of the stormtroopers that had been stationed outside the door, his blaster held tightly to his chest as he addressed you.

"Commander (L/N)?" the trooper said, getting your attention, "He's ready for you now."

You hoped your eyes didn't reveal the excitement that bubbled up from deep inside you. Giving the trooper a quick nod and a soft thank you, you made it a point to watch the solider leave before you made any moves. He liked to know that when he got you to himself, there was no one around that could potentially ruin the experience. It used to make you scared; knowing that if he flipped his switch one day and killed you, there'd be no one around to hear you scream. But, over time, you found yourself agreeing with him on that.

You liked being alone with the Dark Lord.

Perhaps you have gone crazy.

Your boots clacking against the floor, you rounded the corner to the entrance to the room, stopping briefly in front of the closed doors to punch in your clearance-code. A green light flashed at you when the last of your numbers was punched in, and the large, metal doors parted to open up for you. Immediately, you were greeted with a flash of red light from within, emanating off the windows to the outside world. Stepping into the room, you were greeted as well with the sight of the man of the hour. Lord Vader was perched in the middle of the sleek, dark room, sitting in the equally-as sleek and dark throne in the middle of it all. If it weren't for the few lights within the room itself, coupled with the deep crimson coming from outside, you wouldn't have even noticed that he was there. As soon as he saw you come in, you felt his gaze from behind the mask fall upon your smaller frame, the sound of his rhythmic, mechanical breath filling your ears.

"Commander (L/N)." he rumbled out, not moving an inch from his seated position as he continued to stare ahead at you. This earned a soft smile from you as you reached down beside the doorframe, pressing a few buttons on the control pad to close the doors behind you and lock them there from the inside.

"There's no need for the formalities, Vader." You responded as you pressed the last few buttons on the controls, "I made sure everyone was gone when I came in. It's just us now."

From the corner of your eye, you could see him relax a little more in his seat as you crossed your arms over your chest. Leaning against the doorframe, you were able to get a much better look at him now. Even sitting down, he still had his iconic intimidation factor. And, he still looked huge. He was a very large man to begin with; over six-and-a-half feet tall, all that bulk and armor. Maybe sitting down only amplified just how big his muscles were, because god damn. He really could make anyone feel small. Without even trying.

Interesting.

"How'd it go?" you asked him, lifting up your legs and bending them at the knee one by one to stretch them out.

You watched as he settled his back against the expanse of his throne, his hands loosely balling up into hard, leathery fists.

"I find myself growing more impatient with their incompetence by the hour." He rumbled out, his tone making it clear that he was quite frustrated after that meeting. This made you breathe out a sympathetic yet amused smile with a shrug.

"That's understandable, though." You replied, "I mean, they aren't you, Vader. I'm telling you: You should just go out there yourself, find him yourself. It'll save a lot of people a lot of hassle. And you'd find him a lot quicker."

He let out a low rumbles at your words; a sound he made when he knew that you were right.

"I am afraid I am assigned those fools by order of my master." He said. The mention of that man made you roll your eyes. Yeah, he was your boss, but from what you knew from Vader, he liked to make things unnecessarily complex just for grandiosity. Hell, you weren't even his apprentice, and you were annoyed with him You couldn't imagine how Vader felt about it. But, it was clear to you then that at the very least, he was beyond frustrated about the whole matter. He would never outwardly say it, but you just knew he was.

He didn't have to say it for you to know.

Picking yourself off of the doorframe, you clacked your boots over to where the Sith was sitting, kneeling down in front of him from in-between his long, muscular legs to be more at eye-level.

"Hey," you said softly, smiling up at him from your crouched position as you laid your soft hand on top of his own sat overtop his armored knee, "I'm sure that they'll pull their act together soon, alright? I mean, they have the most intimidating boss in the Galaxy. Surely that's enough motivation for them to get the job done. If not, well, just remind him who their boss is."

Vader stared down at you without a word, his mask pointed right at your face as he gazed down at you. You noticed how his breath in his respirator hitched briefly shortly before he spoke again.

"You have quite the outlook on such matters as these, (Y/N)." He rumbled out. Lifting up the hand that wasn't underneath your own, he reached down and gently cupped your face in his mechanical palm, earning another soft smile out of you from beneath him.

"I'm just telling you how it is. And I just know what you like to hear." you retorted back, leaning your head into his palm as you felt his thumb gently rub back and forth upon your flesh. Shifting your weight onto your knee, you released the hand you had on the one in his lap, replacing it with one on top of the one he had on your face, giving it a gentle squeeze. You relished in the brief moment of silence that fell overtop the pair of you before you spoke again, softer this time.

"I missed you today." You nearly whispered out, just loud enough for him to hear through his helmet. It was very much the truth; you had missed him. Even though you weren't gone for that long.

You watched as his head tilted to the side.

"Is that so?" he questioned. If you weren't paying attention, you would have missed the slight hint of amusement in the back of his voice; in the way the hand on your cheek tightened ever so softly. You nodded in response, feeling your face heat up at his words.

He let out another rumble, sitting back in his chair ever so slightly. He slipped his gloved hand from off your cheek, trailing his long, thick, robotic fingers down the length of your jaw. They found their new home resting upon your chin, the bone being held firmly yet gently between his thumb and pointer finger as he tilted it upwards towards his mask. Getting a good look at your flushed face, his thumb began to travel across your smooth, plump skin, gliding itself over your bottom lip and gently tracing the bottom of it as well.

"Perhaps I have been too neglectful of your needs as of late, commander." He said to you, his voice just a touch deeper than the normal dark, deep bass that it is.

Retracting the hand off your face, Lord Vader fully leaned back in his chair, fixing his posture to sit as straight as possible. The sith pushed his hips out from his seated position, making his legs extend out from his chair just a tad bit more. He snaked his hand down onto his large, thick thigh, patting the material that covered the muscle a few times as an invitation.

"Come."

Obeying his demands, you stood up from your kneeling position, stepping in such a way that each of your legs were on either side of his large thigh. You sat yourself on the midway point between his knee and hip bone, finding the seat rather comfortable despite being so menacing. Unable to quite get your balance at first, you rested your smaller hands on his chest, on either side of the panel of buttons that adorned his solar-plexus. The sith made note of how you seemed to be unable to find your proper balance and decided to help. Reaching out to you, you felt him place one large, strong, gloved hand on either one of your hips, giving them a squeeze of approval as he rubbed his thumbs into the bone underneath your clothing.

The Dark Lord seemed to simply admire you for a moment, perched on his thigh before him. He could feel the way your hands trembled lightly as they laid upon his chest; see the way your eyes were already glazed over in want. He was a busy man. he didn't get to be this close to you as often as he wanted to be.

That's why, when he did get the chance, he was keen on making it memorable.

Your lips parted as you felt his hands begin to travel up and down the expanse of your waist, the way his fingers ghosted over your back making you shudder in the cold, dark room. Your smaller body was warm under his touch, him able to feel it even through all the different layers of clothing and armor that adorned the two of you. Even though you couldn't see exactly where he was looking, you could feel his eyes on you as you felt his hands travel slowly down your back, stopping only briefly to give your hips and butt a tight squeeze.

"You seem unsettled, little one." he spoke to you, making note of the way your hands laid against him, alongside the bend of your brow as your face heated up some more.

"I-It's just been a little while, my lord." you responded back, feeling how his hands traveled back upwards to rest on your hips once again. He let out a rumble of approval at your verbiage; at the way you addressed him. You knew he liked to be called that during times like these. And he knew that you knew. This only added to his satisfaction. But still, the the tone of your voice, he could tell something was wrong. You were nervous. You were right in saying that it had been a while. He's a very busy man.

But then again, there's no need to fret, small one. Lord Vader would never do anything to hurt you.

Not unless you asked him to.

Lord Vader reached up one of his hands and brushed the side of your cheek with the back of his knuckles, "There is no reason to worry, my sweet. I have promised you long ago that I would always take care of you."

The Dark Lord placed his back on your hip.

"Now, allow me to prove it to you, little one. Follow my lead, and don't stop until I say. Otherwise there will be consequences."

Before you could blabber out a response to him, you felt his grip on your hips grow tight, enough to where you knew there would be bruises there in the morning. Without warning, the sith begun to grind your hips down onto his thick, muscular thigh, rocking you back and forth in small motions as your clothed crotch ground against his leg. The sudden motion made you gasp, your hands palming at his chest and shoulder armor as a desperate attempt to keep you balanced. After the initial shock of the sudden pleasure between your legs, you began to rock your hips along with his assistance. A plethora of soft, quiet moans and whimpers escaped your lips, your face heating up even further as you heard your sounds ricochet off of the walls of his throne room.

"There you are, my sweet, there... Keep going, pet. Give yourself to me." Lord Vader commanded you, giving you one quick bounce of his leg and watching you gasp again, but this time a loud, breathy moan following it. Embarrassed by making such a lewd noise, you bit your bottom lip as you tried to suppress your whines, curling your waist as you tried to grid against him further.

Seemingly displeased with you trying to hold back your voice, you watched through blurry, need-filled eyes as the dark lord snaked one of his hands up your body. It only stopped once it reached your chest, the sheer size of it nearly engulfing the entire expanse of your ribcage. Without much of a warning, you couldn't hold back your needy cries as he started to knead and grope at your chest.

"You said you know what I like to hear, correct?" he asked you, only it was phrased as if it were a demand, "Then act like it."

A pang of fear at his displeasure shot through your body. You has yet to see what a punishment from him looked like, and you found yourself not very keen that afternoon to see exactly what it would be. Following his demands, you nodded your head in response and kept your moans vocal without any shame. At the loss of one of his hands, you were finding it hard to balance on his thigh again, making your movements more sloppy than what he would have liked. As a solution, you felt the air around you grow tense as he reached out with his power, using the aid of the force to keep you in place.

Your face looked helpless as you continued to gasp and moan at every stroke along his leg, your cries just has helpless as you.

"F-Fuck- ahh fuck, my lord..! Please, don't stop! So good..!" you blubbered out in between your moans, your hips desperately trying to keep up with his pace.

"Look at you, darling. What a mess you are. You are doing so well for me, little one. Good... keep going. Obey me and I shall reward you." He rumbled in response, his hand on your chest gripping and massaging in all the right places.

After a good while of following his movements, you could feel the old, familiar coil winding inside your stomach. It made your movements more erratic, even to the point to where you were moving your waist much faster than he was guiding you. Feeling your increase in pace, Vader knew that could only mean one thing. To help you along, he began to bounce his knee at random intervals, finding it quite amusing the way you would gasp each time. Your fingers on his chest gripped onto him with nearly all your strength. Your moans had grown louder by the second, only this time you didn't care how embarrassing it was.

It was only him, you were giving them to, anyway.

"I sense that you are close." He said to you, almost so nonchalantly that it made you wanna scream. You tried to respond to him as best you could, but the only thing you could blather out through your thick, lusty haze that crept across your being.

"It is alright, my star. Let go for me. Show me just how I and I alone make you feel."

With that, you let yourself go for him, relishing in the orgasm that ripped itself through your body and forced a plethora of moans escape your lips. Your orgasm made your body go weak, the pure, raw bliss coursing through your veins rendering you unable to move a muscle. To help you ride your high, Lord Vader pushed your hips into his thighs a few more times, his mechanical breath far more ragged than before. He watched as you rose and then came back down from your state of euphoria, watching you without a word as your chest rose and fell beneath his touch as you panted. As he released you from his hold on you through the force, he gently reached out and guided you down to lay against his chest, sensing that you would be far too weak to sit there on your own.

Your body was hot against his, and your small hands grabbed at any part of him that he could reach. With your body in toe, he leaned against the back of his throne, one hand stroking through your sweat, dampened forehead whilst the other held onto you, his arm snaked around your torso. He could tell that you were quite tired now as he rumbled out a few short, small praises to you, not expecting any sort of response in return. Which, for the moment he was fine with. You had done so well for him. It would just be cruel to have you keep going in a state such as this. After having you, he felt much more charitable than he normally did at any given moment.

And whilst sitting upon his throne? In his castle, on his planet on his edge of the galaxy? With his little darling so cutely in his arms?

How could he not be in such a better mood?

~~~

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black-noir-ink

2 years ago

Deserving Reward

Darth Vader x f!reader (18+)

Summary: Laid bare on a table at Lord Vader’s disposal, you agreed to his offer to pleasure you. What had you to lose? Nothing.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: Smut, Darth Vader, slight act of violence (not on you tho)

A/N: I wasn’t really happy with how this turned out, but oh well. The vibes are kinda there

Keep reading

568 notes View Post

black-noir-ink

4 years ago

Yooooo that dark Mic anon might be onto smthn...u just know he’d get off to the thought of flipping up his favorite student’s skirt and bending her over his desk while she calls him Mr Yamada

The Mr. Yamada tho ♡♡♡♡

That makes my coochie flutter so much ♡♡♡♡♡

Hold on just a second. Just one itty bitty second. I just- I need to-

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

He thinks about it more often than he should.

He likes to think that you think about it, too.

His favorite little student- so easily flustered and so very sweet, so eager for praise and such a good little girl that gives it all for her beloved teacher. You’re so fuckin’ cute- a real sweetheart- and, god, Yamada loves sweethearts- you’re his true weakness with your innocent face and shy smiles, your soft giggles and sparkling eyes. He loves you and he loves how good you look in your uniform. He loves how soft your thighs look and how hard you work to please him, how you savor his compliments with an eagerness that can’t be faked.

Such a good girl. So genuine. So pure.

He’d love to see the faces you make while grinding on his cock. He’d love to see how sweet you’d look with teary eyes dazed with pleasure and your lips trembling with anxious desire.

He’d love to bend you over his desk and flip your pleated skirt up, get a real good glimpse of your cotton panties.

You’d like it, he knows- you’d like the attention from your sensei and you’d like him teasing you over your wet little pussy and your soft, whiny gasps of “Mr. Yamada!” You’d like him eating your tiny little cunt and you’d like him stuffing you with his cock, making you cum and filling it up and fixing your pretty little panties. You’d like having to sit in your own come for the rest of the school day and you’d like whimpering and rubbing your thighs together, trying not to pant as you wait out the time until you can suck his cock like a good little student and let him fuck and fill you all over again.

A grunt leaves Yamada and he arches up into his fist, bites back a groan as he fucks his hand to the thought of his most favorite little student.

He gets so close to cumming thinking about your tight little peach of a cunt and he gets so close to getting off to your sweet whimpers and mewls as the thought of turning you into his darling little slut.

He gets so close but then-

The bell.

A snarl of a sigh leaves Yamada and he huffs to himself, stuffs his cock back into his pants and wipes his hand down his jacket. He pouts as students begin to file back into the classroom, but a small smile melts it away when he alights his eyes on you.

Yamada licks his lips as he watches you sit down, as he catches a flash of striped panties as you cross your legs.

Maybe he’ll keep you after class today...he knows you wouldn’t mind some one on one time with Mister Yamada.

Lips twitching with a smirk, Yamada picks up and his chalk and begins to teach.

Private Lessons: Part 1

Okay, so this is a rerelease of one of my earliest fics. It’s hard not to cringe but I love the story and I hope you enjoy it. This is chapter one of a yet-to-be-determined part series. Kinks are varied and will be listed in every chapter. We’re exploring folks.

No real angst will exist in this fic give yourself some damn joy. The first chapter is fluffy build up! I present to you a smutty, light-hearted romance with a fun, upbeat, initially bashful reader and Shouta Aizawa!

Nice try,” you grumbled as you jabbed your elbow into the creep trying to get behind you in the subway. He got the message and moved to another section. Luckily, your stop was coming up soon, so you probably wouldn’t encounter too many more gropers.

Keep reading

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