There's a certain routine you fall into when you're dating someone like Marin Kitagawa.
It starts with a text—something like "omw to Shibuya 109 💖 wanna come??" —and ends with you sitting outside a dressing room, holding two bags and an iced coffee that stopped being cold about twenty minutes ago. Not that you're complaining. You'd be a fool to complain. Watching Marin try on clothes was practically a perk of the relationship. Hell, you'd probably fight someone for the privilege.
Still…it had its moments.
Like now for example.
You'd been sitting in the "boyfriend bench"—that awkward, too-small corner chair they cram into women's boutiques—for almost an hour. The seat cushion had long since deflated, your legs were going numb, and your phone had died somewhere around outfit number five. You were dangerously close to drifting off to the sound of muffled pop music and squeaky hangers.
But again, no complaints.
Because occasionally, between the cutesy schoolgirl skirts and casual streetwear, Marin would step out in something… else. Something that made your brain short-circuit and your hands suddenly very interested in the hem of your jacket.
Cosplay try-ons were the real minefield. That was when she'd drop the act completely, grinning as she stepped out in everything from slinky RPG assassin bodysuits to hyper-accurate magical girl transformations. You still remembered the way your throat had gone dry when she came out as Shizuku-tan from Succubus Whisper. And of course, the bunny girl outfit from that one eroge you pretended you hadn't played. You'd practically blacked out.
So yeah. Gift and curse. The kind of curse that left you walking funny if you didn't have plans to head straight home afterward.
Still… even with all that, days like this were more chill than anything. Just Marin being Marin, buzzing with energy, trying on outfits she may or may not ever wear in public. You figured you'd hit a café after, maybe catch a late movie. You definitely didn't expect to—
The curtain pulled back.
"Babe~"
Her voice was sing-songy, teasing. And before you even looked, you knew that tone spelled trouble.
You blinked.
There she stood—Marin, in all her blonde-haired, heart-eyed glory—wearing what could only be described as lingerie pretending to be cosplay. A sheer, strappy, black-and-pink number that clung in ways fabric wasn't legally allowed to cling. It had a tiny collar. Detached sleeves. A choker with a heart charm that matched the one barely covering her chest. You didn't even recognize the character.
But Marin? She was glowing. Hands on her hips, one knee bent, hip popped just enough to make the pose intentional.
"Well?" she asked, voice playful. "What do you think?"
You froze. Which wasn't unusual. But this time, it wasn't the outfit that scrambled your brain—it was the location . The dressing room. In public. Other customers. A store clerk folding jeans barely five feet away.
"I—it looks…great."
Marin's grin twitched just slightly. Almost impercetably.
" Great? That's all I get?" She spun once, the skirt, if you could call it that, flipping up just enough to flash the underside of something definitely not safe for public eyes. "You're not gonna guess the character? Or tell me I look, I don't know…super hot ?"
You rubbed the back of your neck. It was hot in here all of a sudden.
"I mean, you do —you always look… yeah." You shifted in your seat. "I just… you sure it's okay to try that on in here ?"
You cleared your throat, eyes locked somewhere around her shoulder just to be safe.
What did she want? For you to admit she looked utterly fuckable right now?
…Then again, that was probably exactly what Marin would want.
You shifted in your seat, knees pulling in, jacket tugged over your lap with practiced nonchalance. She didn't need to see that. Not here. Not in the middle of a dressing room aisle with pop music thumping through the walls and some girl two stalls down talking about sale prices.
But it was no use, Marin had already caught it. Her smile widened—not smug, not cruel, just delighted. That kind of pure, mischievous glee that made your chest tighten a little.
" Ohhh ?" she said, voice dipping low. "Is that why you're being all shy right now?"
You opened your mouth to protest but nothing came out.
She laughed. A quiet, knowing giggle that sent a shiver down your spine. "God, babe. You're such a bad liar."
You looked away, heart thudding. "Marin—"
"Get in here."
You blinked. "Wait, wha—?"
Her hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist, and before you could properly register what was happening, she gave a firm yank that pulled you clean off the chair and into the dressing room.
The curtain whipped shut behind you with a quick shff .
Now it was just the two of you. Pressed shoulder to chest in a space barely wide enough to turn around in. The walls were pale wood. The mirror was slightly smudged. And Marin—still dressed like the world's most risqué anime waifu—was looking at you like a cat with a cornered mouse.
"Much better," she purred, breath warm against your cheek.
You were frozen in place. You could smell her perfume—light and floral. The air was too thick, the space was too tight, you couldn't even think straight.
"Marin, this is—people could—what if someone hears—"
She leaned closer, lips barely brushing your ear. "Then maybe they'll get a good show."
Your pulse skipped a beat at the way she disregarded your concerns as if they were frivolous and managed to make it sound hot.
Marin pulled back just enough to look at you again, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. But underneath the teasing, there was something else. That soft, affectionate glint you'd come to recognize. She wasn't doing this to mess with you, at least not entirely. Marin wanted to be wanted, explicitly so.
" C'mon ," she whispered, her fingers slipping down your chest, then trailing lower—slow, deliberate—until they pressed against the growing heat in your pants. You flinched but Marin didn't stop. Instead she rubbed . Just a slow, firm stroke of her palm across your cock through the fabric, like she was testing how hard you were. How much you'd been holding back. "I dress up for you. You sit out there like a statue. It's not fair, you know?"
Her hand curled slightly, pressing in with just enough pressure to make you twitch, her thumb dragging a lazy circle where your waistband strained.
"I wanna see your cute reactions. The real ones. The ones that make your ears turn red and your hands start twitching." Her eyes dropped, watching your expression as she gave you another slow rub. You felt yourself throb helplessly in her hand, hips jerking despite your best efforts to stay still. "Like they're doing right now."
You swallowed hard, internally cursing how easy you were to read. Your hands were twitching.
And for the first time since she pulled you in here, you let them move. One landed on her waist. The other slid to her hip, fingers tightening over the ridiculous excuse for fabric she was wearing.
The smile on her face widened like she'd just won something. She knew you too well at this point. She knew exactly how to get you to break. Knew just how far to push before you snapped and did something reckless. Or maybe that was the point.
"M-Marin…" you stammered, the name catching awkwardly in your throat as your hand flexed against her.
"Mmm?" Her voice was sweet, but there was no denying the satisfaction that underlined it. "You looked bored, babe. I can't have that."
She rocked her hips forward, slow and deliberate, grinding the warmth between her thighs right against your strained zipper. Your knees nearly gave out right then and there.
"I mean, what kind of girlfriend would I be," she murmured, eyes locked on yours, "if I didn't keep things exciting?"
Your mouth opened—probably to argue, maybe to beg—but she cut you off with a giggle that was almost innocent. Almost. Then her fingers slipped down between you again and hooked beneath the waistband of the tiny skirt, tugging the fabric to the side.
"See?" she whispered. "So easy. One little pull and it's all right there."
You swallowed again, your eyes dropping automatically. And sure enough—just like she said—it was all right there. Bare skin. A sliver of pink lace clinging for dear life. Her inner thighs glistened faintly in the warm light.
Dear god she was perfect.
"Still think this was a bad idea?" she teased, voice low. "'Cause I'm starting to think this dressing room is, like, perfect ."
Before you could even try to respond, she reached for your hand—the one frozen awkwardly on her hip—and guided it upward. Slow and measured until your palm cupped the warm swell of her breast, barely concealed by whatever strappy excuse the top piece was supposed to be. Your fingertips twitched again, unable to resist a slight squeeze.
She sighed, head tilting back just a little, pressing herself more fully into your hand. "Y'know," she said, voice a breathy murmur now, "it'd be kinda tragic if I had to beg. I mean... really?" Her other hand curled behind your neck, pulling you in until your noses touched. "You're gonna make me ask for it?"
Without waiting for your response her lips met yours in an embrace that was sloppy and greedy. She kissed like she talked, all in, no hesitation. Her hips rolled again, grinding right into you as she moaned quietly into your mouth, her hand in your hair now, tugging just enough to keep you where she wanted you. Her tongue slid against yours, sweet and teasing, and it hit you how wet she was.
By the time she pulled back, your vision was a little hazy and your cock was throbbing so hard it actually hurt. Marin looked at you, flushed, pupils blown wide, panting just a little. Her lips were kiss-bitten, glossy. Her smile returned.
"So?" she whispered, fingers still clutching the front of your shirt. "You gonna do it? Or am I gonna have to keep humping your leg like some desperate anime girl?"
She was joking. Maybe. A little. Still the gleam in her eyes said otherwise. She wanted this. She wanted you . Here, now, in the most dangerously public setting you'd ever gotten this close in. And as much as the idea of getting her to beg sounded inviting, you were completely at your limit.
Your lips crashed against hers—hungry, unrestrained, nothing like the sweet, stunned kisses you usually gave her in quiet moments. This was different. This was raw and heated and fueled by the sheer frustration she'd been stoking since the second that curtain opened.
Marin let out a breathless moan the second your mouth met hers, her whole body pressing against you like she'd been waiting for this exact reaction. Her fingers clawed at your shirt, dragging you closer until there was nothing left between you, her hips grinding again with a quiet desperation.
You fumbled at your belt, pulling back for just a second, forehead resting against hers as you sucked in a ragged breath. "I don't—I didn't bring anything," you muttered. "No condom—"
"It's okay," she whispered, "I'm on the pill. I want to feel all of you, babe."
The words nearly made your knees buckle.
Her fingers moved to help you—clumsy, fast—until you managed to shove your pants low enough, your cock springing free, flushed, leaking and aching. You wrapped a hand around it, stroking once, twice, just enough to keep your head clear before you could lose it completely.
"God," she said, almost dreamily as her eyes dropped to your engorged cock. "You get so hard so fast. It's so cute when you're eager."
Your grip tightened at her waist.
"Oh?" Marin blinked up at you, tone teasing. "Did I hit a ner— ah! "
You spun her around, backing her toward the wall-length mirror, one hand on her shoulder, the other curling around her hip to drag her skirt up over that perfect ass. She gasped as her palms hit the mirror, chest pressing against the glass, her breath fogging it up in little bursts.
You grabbed the base of your cock, angled yourself, and pushed. Her gasp turned into a moan the second you breached her—tight, wet, clenching around you like she was made for this.
"Fuck—babe—" Marin choked out, forehead thunking softly against the mirror.
You bottomed out slowly, savoring every inch, every tremble in her thighs as you stretched her open. She was soaked, heat pouring off her, but even then, the way she gripped you was unreal—velvety, hot, almost unbearable in how tight she felt. Your hands gripped her hips, steadying her, and you gave one slow thrust, watching the way your length disappeared inside her.
Your reward was a delicious whine falling from Marin's lips.
"I— holy shit ," she panted, turning her head just enough to glance at your reflection. Her hair was messy, lips swollen, eyes heavy-lidded. "We look so hot like this…"
You couldn't disagree. Her in that barely-there cosplay, bent over with your cock buried in her, flushed and panting. It was like something out of the lewd anime she always swore didn't inspire her choices.
You leaned over her, mouth trailing along her neck, tongue teasing at her skin as your hips began to move in earnest. Your strokes were deep and hard, not overtly rough, but firm enough to make her whimper with every impact, the sounds she made echoing off the narrow dressing room walls.
"Fuck—you're deep," Marin hissed. "I can feel you in my stomach, babe."
"Yeah? You love it, don't you? Being stuffed this full?"
One of your hands slid under the fabric of her top and found her breast again, squeezing, rolling her nipple between your fingers. She keened, arching back into you, pressing her ass even tighter against your hips.
"God, yes," she moaned. "More. Don't hold back, please—feels too good—"
You obliged, thrusting harder, the rhythm messy and wild, your need overriding every last trace of hesitation. The dressing room creaked with each movement, her skin slapping against yours, and neither of you cared who might've heard. Your free hand slipped down between her legs, two fingers rubbing her clit in tight circles as you fucked her, the slick sounds of your bodies loud and obscene.
"Ah—fuck, fuck—" Marin babbled, hips twitching. "Babe, that's—shit—yes—!"
Her body was trembling now, thighs shaking with every stroke, every touch. She looked back at you in the mirror again, watching herself come apart on your cock like it was the hottest thing in the world—and judging by the moan that followed, it absolutely was .
You leaned in closer, chest to her back, mouth brushing her ear.
"Still think I'm bored?"
She let out a broken laugh between moans, her voice breathy and giddy. "Not even a little—ahh—god—don't stop—"
Lucky for her, for the both of you really, you had no intention of stopping now. And from the way her walls clenched tighter around you, you knew she was getting close.
"Look at you, my perfect little dress up doll," you grunted, lips against her skin in a heated kiss. "My perfect little fuck doll."
"Yes, yes ! "
Marin's moans had taken on that raw, uneven edge—punctuated by gasps and little, desperate cries every time your cock slammed into her. She was trembling under you now, her knees struggling to hold her up as your hips snapped against her ass again and again, your cock sliding in and out of that impossibly tight heat.
Every thrust felt better than the last—her body pulling you in like it didn't want to let go. She was soaked, practically dripping, your length slick with her arousal, and the obscene sound of it filled the small dressing room, mingling with her cries and your ragged breaths.
Your eyes dropped to the mirror and your cock ached at the sight it gave you.
Marin looked wrecked. In the best way. Her makeup had begun to smudge, lips parted, tongue peeking out as she panted, eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. Her tits bounced with every stroke, nipples peeking out from under the warped costume top, sweat making her skin glisten. And when you shifted the angle of your thrusts—just slightly—she let out a sound that shot straight to your spine.
"F-fuck—babe— right there —! Right there! Right fucking there—yesyesyesyes—"
Marin's body clamped down on you, fluttering, squeezing, gripping your cock so hard it nearly made your vision white out. Her back arched, pressing her chest to the mirror, palms flat and useless against the fogged glass. Her thighs quivered as her orgasm hit, full force, like a shockwave tearing through her.
Her eyes rolled back. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream before the moan tore free—high, loud, unfiltered. And gods, you felt it. Every pulse. Every tremble. Every desperate clench around you as she came hard on your cock.
And you—fuck, you were right behind her.
"Shit, Marin—I'm close—so fucking close—" you warned.
"Do it— fill me up, babe~"
Marin was dazed but her eyes were loosely fixated on your reflection in the mirror. You buried yourself inside her to the hilt, grinding deep as her orgasm milked you for everything. Her heat, her cries, the wet, tight suction of her body—it was too much.
It hit you like a tidal wave—no control, no thought—just your whole body locking up as you came harder than you could remember in months. You groaned low in your chest, forehead dropping to her shoulder as you spilled inside her, thick, hot ropes of cum flooding her pussy, filling her to the brim.
You felt her twitch when it hit her—her body shivering around you as your release spilled into her.
Marin moaned softly at the sensation. "Fuck, babe," she breathed, voice slurred and shaky. "You're came so much…holy shit…"
She clenched again, like her body was trying to wring every last drop out of you, and you hissed through your teeth, hips twitching involuntarily as the last pulses of pleasure rolled through you. When it was over, the dressing room was silent except for the sound of your shared breathing and the faint buzz of a pop song leaking through the ceiling speakers.
You stayed there for a moment—still buried inside her, her back pressed to your chest, your arms wrapped around her trembling body like you couldn't stand the idea of letting go. Marin's head turned just enough for you to see her smile in the mirror. Eyes half-closed. Cheeks flushed. That stupidly gorgeous grin pulling at her lips.
"Babe," she whispered, breath still catching. "That was, like…amazing."
You laughed, hoarse and dazed, brushing your lips to her bare shoulder. And as the afterglow settled in and the fog in your brain slowly cleared, all you could think was how impossibly lucky you were.
Marin let out a breathy little giggle, head resting back against your shoulder as she stared at your reflection in the mirror—both of you flushed and disheveled.
"So, uh…If you liked this outfit that much…" She turned her head just enough to glance at you with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
"…I can't wait to see how you react to the next one."
-x-X-x-
You had never considered yourself to be a great photographer.
Truth be told you were average at best. Decent enough to snap pictures of lunch or your cat or random city sunsets when the mood struck, but nowhere near the level of the professionals Marin had worked with for her cosplay.
The lighting, the angles, the direction; there was a lot more that went into it than an outsider would have imagined. Certainly more than you had before you began dating Marin. You'd picked up enough from watching her work to fake competence with the settings. But still, most of the photos you posted with her; the cute couple selfies, the accidental candids, even the staged 'boyfriend behind the camera' shots, had been chosen by Marin. Cropped by Marin, and edited by Marin. On the rare occasion that you had to stand in for her professional shoots, you were often nothing more than a body to click the shutter at her direction.
Which, honestly, was a great gig. Especially when it meant that you got to look at Marin in her hottest cosplays and call it 'work'. Not to mention when it was just the two of you, you didn't have to worry about hiding the fact that her outfits made you hard. Marin found that more amusing than anything else, usually leaning in to whisper, "Good boy. That means the costume's accurate."
So, naturally, when your phone buzzed with a notification from her earlier that afternoon, you didn't think twice about accepting.
Marin [3:42 PM]: Emergency!! 📸 Need a photographer for a super secret cosplay test tonight! Free?? 🥺❤️
Marin [3:43 PM]: It's a new character i'm working on!! need feedback on the vibe!!
You had assumed it was something standard. Maybe a new magical girl transformation, or perhaps that gothic lolita character she'd been obsessing over last week. You had expected the usual chaos: bags of fabric everywhere, a half-eaten crepe on the desk, and Marin bouncing around in a wig asking if her eyeliner was symmetrical.
You did not expect this.
"You made it!~"
Her voice floated out from the bathroom, muffled slightly by the door.
You stood in the center of her bedroom, clutching your camera bag. Though the room itself had been transformed. Gone was the usual clutter of sewing scraps and manga volumes. She had pushed the bed against the far wall and draped a black velvet sheet over her vanity chair to create a makeshift throne. The overhead fluorescent light was off. In its place, her ring light was set to a low, warm dim, and she had set up a secondary red LED strip along the floorboards. It bathed the entire room in a crimson, hazy glow that felt less like a bedroom and more like the opening cutscene of a game you definitely wouldn't play with your parents in the room.
"Yeah, I'm here. You really went all out with the set design. What genre is this exactly? Horror?"
You finally found your tongue as you began to unpack your camera. You clicked the lens cap off, pretending to check the settings though in reality you rarely ever touched them.
"Horror?" Marin's giggle echoed from the bathroom. "Mmm. Maybe for some people. For others it's a dream come true."
You paused, your thumb hovering over the shutter speed dial. It didn't sound like she was playing as Shizuku-tan. Not as Black Lobelia either. You craned your head to the side, curiosity getting the better of you.
"Marin?"
"Give me two minutes, babe, I'm getting laced in," she called out, the sound of fabric rustling reaching your ears.
"Laced in, huh?"
You swallowed thickly, trying and failing to stop your mind from wondering at all the possible implications. You busied yourself with the camera, lifting the viewfinder to your eye to test the lighting. Through the lens, the room looked even moodier. The red light washed out the details, creating deep, dramatic shadows around the draped chair. It managed to be both atmospheric and intimate.
Others might say it was a trap that you just hadn't realized yet.
"Alright, well, I'm ready when you are. Just tell me what kind of shots we're doing. Portrait? Full body?"
On cue the bathroom door handle twisted.
"Oh, definitely full body."
The door slowly swung open. Steam billowed out faintly, revealing Marin, obscured in the darkness before she stepped out into the red light. You found yourself staring, the camera lowered and forgotten in your hands.
She was wearing, well, calling it 'clothing' was a generous interpretation of physics. It was a perfect recreation of Liz-kyun from SuccuProb. Though, you didn't remember the atmosphere of SuccuProb being quite this…erotic when you read it.
She wore a black, long-sleeved crop top that ended dangerously high on her ribs, contrasted by a pristine white ruffled yoke and collar that gave the illusion of innocence. At least if you ignored the rest of it. Below that lay a G-string that defied gravity. But it was the extras that killed you.
Curled, demonic horns poked out from a wig of deep burgundy red. A spade-tipped tail flicked lazily behind her. And on her back, small, bat-like wings twitched as she stretched her arms over her head. Marin dropped her hand to her hip, popping it to the side in a pose that was pure confidence. She tilted her head, her olive green contacts locking onto yours.
"So...Photographer-kun. Am I in focus?"
She hummed, walking toward you with a predatory sway in her hips.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh fuck. She looks amazing.
"U-uh, yeah, babe. Totally in focus," you managed, lifting the camera back to your face as quickly as possible. If you kept the viewfinder between you and her, maybe your brain wouldn't completely short-circuit. "How do you want to start? You're not going to try and put me to sleep are you?"
It was a weak attempt at using humor to try and stop yourself from wanting to tear the cosplay off of her. It was fine, you could handle this. Marin, however, seemed to be fully focused.
"Mm, I was thinking a different approach."
Marin hummed, tapping a finger against her chin as she surveyed the room. The spade tip of her tail twitched behind her, catching the red light.
"Well, she's a succubus. So she shouldn't look too aggressive yet. She needs to look...inviting."
She turned her back to you, sauntering over to the velvet-draped chair. With a fluid, practiced grace, she dropped one knee onto the cushion, arching her back until the curve of her spine was exaggerated by the cropped cut of her top. She looked back over her shoulder, lips parted just enough to show the glint of a small, sharp fang.
"Like this?"
Click.
The shutter sound was loud in the quiet room.
"Perfect," You cleared your throat, twisting the focus ring. "Chin down a little. Yeah. Just like that."
Click. Click.
Through the lens, you saw everything. The shallow depth of field blurred out the messy bookshelf in the background, leaving only Marin in sharp, high-definition focus. The way the thong gripped her hips. The way the red light caught the gloss on her lips. The way her green eyes seemed to glow.
"Mm..."
Marin shifted, turning her body toward you now. She sank onto her heels, pressing her knees together in a pose that feigned innocence, though the strappy lingerie suggested anything but. "Is the lighting okay? You're breathing kind of heavy, photographer-kun."
"Lighting's fine,"
That was a lie. Well, it wasn't entirely. The lighting was fine. You, on the other hand, were not.
"Good." She smiled, and then slowly, she raised a hand to her mouth. She caught the tip of her thumb between her teeth, right between those sharp little fangs, and bit down gently. Her eyes narrowed, lidded and heavy.
"Because I want to make sure you capture all the details."
Click.
Your finger twitched on the shutter release. The image on the small LCD screen froze: Marin, tongue pressing against the her palm, looking up at you with an expression of pure, unadulterated hunger.
"Did you like that one? The shutter sounded...enthusiastic."
"It's just a standard burst mode," you muttered, grateful the camera body was large enough to hide the flush rising on your neck.
"Liar."
"Well, I've never met a succubus before but..." you swallowed thick, your mouth dry, "I'd say so."
Marin beamed, though the expression was sharper than usual. "Good."
Then she was moving again. Marin lowered herself fully onto her hands and knees. She began to crawl toward you, her hips swaying with a deliberate, hypnotic rhythm that the spade tip of her tail accentuated with every flick.
Snap out of it.
You fumbled with the dial on the back of the camera, trying to adjust the aperture. You needed a faster shutter speed. You needed to widen the depth of field. You needed...well honestly, you had no idea what you needed, because your brain had entirely stopped processing numbers.
The -- motor whined. She was moving too fast. Or maybe your hands were just shaking too much to keep the focus point steady on her eyes. Through the viewfinder, the world was a blur of crimson skin and black lace. She was getting closer and closer while the framing was getting tighter and tighter. First, her full body, her thighs clinging to that thin underwear. Then, just her torso and that delicious midriff.
With a whirl and a beeping sound the camera finally locked focus, but it was too late. Marin stopped right between your spread legs, close enough that the red LED light cast the shadow of her horns across your chest.
You lowered the camera, just an inch, peering over the top of the body.
"Too close," you rasped, the word sounding more like a plea than a direction. "The lens... it has a minimum focus distance, Marin. I can't…"
"Forget the lens," she whispered.
She sat back on her heels, her chest rising and falling with shallow, performative breaths. From this angle, you sitting on the edge of the bed, her kneeling on the floor between your thighs, the view was breathtaking. And Marin, very clearly, could see the problem you were dealing with. Your jeans, already uncomfortable, were now straining visibly. The fabric was pulled taut across your hips, betraying you completely. Marin's eyes flicked down, a slow, knowing smirk curled her lips, breaking the "succubus" character for just a split second to reveal the delighted girlfriend underneath.
"Oh wow," she hummed, reaching out. She didn't touch you yet. She just traced the air above your knee with a gloved finger, letting the heat of her hand radiate through the denim.
"The camera might be having trouble focusing...but you seem pretty locked in."
She leaned forward again, resting her forearms on your thighs, effectively trapping you. The camera was now a useless weight in your hands, squeezed between your chest and her face. "Tell me, photographer-kun," she purred, tilting her head so her burgundy hair brushed against your knuckles. "Is this part of the job description? Or do you just really like what you see?"
"I..."
You tried to formulate a professional response, to summon the dignity of a boyfriend who was just helping out with a hobby. But when Marin Kitagawa is pressing her chest against your lens and her hip against your knee, dignity was a lost cause.
"I think the lighting is...really good."
Marin laughed, a bright, genuine sound that cut through the sultry atmosphere for a second before she sobered up, her gaze dropping to the camera that still served as a flimsy shield between you.
"You're hiding," she accused.
She reached out, her hands covering yours on the camera body. She didn't take it away. Instead, she pushed it down, forcing the lens to point harmlessly at the floor, leaving nothing but air between her face and yours.
"I was wondering when I texted you..." she murmured, moving closer.
She lifted one leg, her thigh brushing against your denim as she straddled your lap. The movement was bold, her weight settling squarely over your hips. "I was wondering how long you'd last before you stopped acting like a cameraman."
She settled down, and a sharp inhale hissed through your teeth. The friction was immediate. The tight fabric of her underwear, the softness of her thighs, the heat radiating from her core. It was all pressing directly against your erection that had been suffering since she walked out of the bathroom.
"Marin…"
It was a weak warning. Your hands were hovering over her waist, unsure if you were allowed to touch or if this was still 'part of the shoot'.
"Mm?"
Her hips began to rock at a pace that was almost agonizing.A circular grind that dug the seam of her outfit right into the sweet spot. Her tail flicked behind her, brushing against your arm. "Is this distracting? Does it ruin the composition?"
She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours, her olive contacts filling your vision.
"Be honest, is this your favorite one yet? Better than Arisa? Better than Shizuku-tan?"
"You know I love Shizuku-tan..."
But Marin wasn't going to settle for cop-out answers. She ground down again, harder this time, a deliberate friction that made your hips twitch upward involuntarily to meet her.
"But is she your favorite?" she commanded, biting her lip, letting out a sound that sounded conspicuously close to a moan. "Tell me I'm your favorite."
You opened your mouth to answer, to tell her that yes, obviously, this was the best thing you'd ever seen and she should probably win an award for it. But your eyes betrayed you. At this range, with her knees bracketing your hips and the camera shoved downward, your line of sight was filled exclusively with the intricate details of her cosplay. Specifically, the way the ruffled yoke framed pale skin and cleavage in a riot of black fabric and white lace.
Marin caught the way your gaze lingered instantly.
"Hey," she chided, though her voice lacked any real bite. She tapped your nose with a finger, the sharp little claw scratching gently. "My eyes are up here, photographer-kun."
You snapped your gaze back up to her face, heat flooding your cheeks.
"Sorry. I just, the costume is…"
"Super distractingly hot?" Marin finished for you. The sultry succubus mask slipped for a second, replaced by that beaming, grin that you adored. "I knew the push-up effect on this one was OP! I spent like, three hours adjusting the fit so it would sit exactly like that."
She wiggled her hips again, a happy, excited shimmy that felt innocent in spirit but was absolutely effective in practice given that she was still grinding directly against your erection.
"So?" She leaned back slightly, arching her spine to give you, and the discarded camera, a full view of her silhouette. "Is it a winner? Is it your favorite? Even more than Rose?"
You blinked, the name conjuring the memory instantly. The nun habit. The rosary draped over her fingers. The heavy, horror-inspired makeup that made her look like a haunted doll. That shoot had been...intense.
"Yes," you answered, the word leaving your mouth before you could even think about it.
Rose had been incredible for playing out some very specific, very niche fantasies, sure. But she was a character. She was a performance. She didn't compare to what was currently seated in your lap, grinding against you with a deliberate rhythm.
Marin's grin widened, mischievous and sharp. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping an octave as her tail flicked against your thigh.
"More than Veronica?"
Your body betrayed you instantly. A sharp twitch ran through your length, a raw reaction that you couldn't suppress. Prisoner Veronica. The jagged teeth, the under-boob, the prisoner restraints. And the photos...god, the photos from that session that you had never, ever posted because they were far too compromising to be seen by anyone else.
"Well...?"
"It's my favorite," you admitted, your voice rough. You finally let your hands settle properly on her waist, gripping the curve of her hips.
"For reals?"
"By far. It's...incredible, Marin."
"Hehe. Yay~"
Marin celebrated your defeat by leaning forward and pressing a quick, messy kiss to your lips. It started sweet, just a peck, but she didn't pull away. She lingered, humming against your mouth, her body growing heavy and hot against yours. When she finally pulled back, the playful sparkle in her green eyes had darkened into something hungrier. Her gaze dropped to where your hands were gripping her waist, then lower, to where your jeans were straining painfully against her thigh. She dragged her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down on the soft flesh as she considered the situation.
"You know..." she whispered, tracing the line of your jaw with her thumb. "I've been thinking about the lore."
"The lore?"
"Mmhmm." She shifted her weight, sliding her knees wider apart so she could settle deeper into your lap. An intimate pressure replaced the friction. She trailed her hand down your chest, past the camera that was digging into your stomach, until her palm rested flat over your heart. You had no doubt that she could feel it hammering against your ribs as your pulse raced. "Succubi don't just pose for pictures, do they? That's not how they get their energy."
"They feed. They find someone full of energy...someone who's all worked up and desperate...and they drain them dry."
Marin leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear, her tail curling possessively around your arm as a wicked Marin-like grin spread across her features.
"If I'm going to act like a succubus...shouldn't you let me feed, babe?"
Feed.
Your mind raced, supplying a dozen different interpretations of what 'feeding' meant in this context. The way her mouth looked when she bit her thumb earlier. The way she had licked her lips. The way she was looking at you now, like you were a meal she had been saving for a special occasion.
"Feed?" you repeated, your voice cracking slightly. It was barely a whisper, breathless and ruined.
Marin's eyes crinkled at the corners. It wasn't the sweet, bubbly smile she saved for selfies; this was the low, guttural giggle of a predator who knew the trap had snapped shut.
"Mmhmm."
She didn't break eye contact or blink. Methodically, her hand slid from your chest down your torso. She dragged her fingertips over the buttons of your shirt, over your belt buckle, until her palm rested heavy and warm against the straining denim of your fly.
"I haven't eaten all day," she murmured, her thumb pressing down, rubbing a slow, deliberate circle over the head of your cock through the jeans. "I'm starving, photographer-kun."
You hissed a breath through your teeth, your hips jerking upward instinctively to meet her hand. The camera slid off your lap and landed with a muffled thump on the carpet that either of you paid any mind to.
"So?" Marin whispered. Her fingers curled around the zipper tab. The sound of metal teeth parting was deafening in the quiet, red-lit room. "Are you going to let me feed? Or do I have to take what I want?"
"Marin, please, just take it," you said, instantly.
"Hehe, good answer."
She shimmied back, sliding off your lap but staying between your legs. She gripped the waistband of your jeans and boxers together, tugging them down efficiently. The cool air hit your aching erection for a split second before her hand replaced it.
"Wow, you really are full of energy," she hummed, her voice filled with genuine delight as she squeezed.
She leaned forward, her hair curtaining around her face. She opened her mouth, her tongue darting out to wet her lips one last time.
"Don't worry, I promise to leave you just enough life to drive me home."
She didn't hesitate. There was no tentative testing of the waters, no shy glance up to see if you were ready. She simply descended, taking your length into the wet heat of her mouth with a greed that lived up to the character she was playing.
"F-fuck!"
Your head fell back against the headboard, your hands instinctively gripping the velvet bedspread. The sensation was overwhelming. A perfect storm of wet heat, and the visual of her red-lit silhouette bobbing between your legs.
Marin, no, the succubus, hummed against you, the vibration traveling straight down your spine. She worked with an enthusiasm that bordered on devotion, her tongue swirling, her suction tight and rhythmic.
Every time she pulled back, it was only to drag her tongue along the sensitive underside, her eyes flicking up to watch your face unravel. The red light made her contacts glow with an eerie, supernatural luminescence. The horns on her head, the bat wings twitching on her back, it all blurred into a haze of demonic perfection.
"Marin...Marin, I'm gonna…"
You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily as she tightened her lips. Her mouth didn't pull away, but she paused her movement, her teeth grazing your shaft lightly in warning. She looked up, her expression feigning annoyance, though her eyes danced with dark amusement.
"Nn-nn," she mumbled against your skin, shaking her head. She pulled back just an inch, a string of saliva connecting her lips to you, glistening in the crimson light. "Wrong. Marin isn't here right now. I told you...I'm Liz-kyun."
She squeezed the base of your cock with her gloved hand, a sharp, possessive grip that made you hiss.
"Say it," she commanded, leaning back in to brush her lips against the head. "Tell Liz-kyun she can eat."
"Liz..."
You grit your teeth, your resolve crumbling into dust. You looked down at her. At the hungry, expectant pout, the sharp little fangs, the sheer absurdity of the situation that had become the hottest moment of your life.
"Liz-kyun...please."
"Please what?"
"Eat," you begged. "You can eat."
"Itadakimasu," she purred.
She didn't give you another second to breathe. She took you back in, deeper this time, abandoning all pretense of teasing. She began to bob her head faster, her hand working in perfect sync with her mouth. She was relentless, attacking your senses from every angle, determined to wring every drop of so-called energy out of you. The camera lay forgotten on the floor, the lighting setup no longer mattered. The only thing in the world was the wet, hot suction of her throat and the way she moaned your name. Or rather, the way she moaned in satisfaction around your cock.
"Oh god…I can't…!"
The tension coiled tight in your stomach, a white-hot pressure that demanded release. You tangled your hands in her wig, careful of the horns, and arched your hips off the mattress.
"I'm feeding you! I'm…fuck!"
You came hard, your body jerking violently. Marin didn't recoil. She hummed a low, delighted sound and clamped down, swallowing wave after wave with eager, rhythmic gulps. She held you there, her hand milking the last aftershocks from your cock, draining you until you were empty, breathless, and seeing stars.
She stayed there for a long moment, making sure she hadn't missed a drop, before finally pulling back with a soft, wet pop.
The room was silent save for your ragged breathing and the hum of the ring light.
Marin sat back on her heels, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked utterly ruined. Lipstick smudged, wig slightly askew, chest heaving, but her expression was one of pure, smug victory.
She licked her lips, savoring the taste, and flashed you a grin that was all teeth and triumph.
"That was delicious, babe. Thanks for the meal~"
Her voice suddenly bright and bubbly, the dark succubus persona vanishing. She hopped up from the floor, adjusting her top as if she hadn't just sucked your soul out of your body, and skipped over to where the camera had fallen.
"So!" She picked it up, checking the lens for scratches before turning back to you. You were still sprawled on the bed, dazed, half-dressed, and completely boneless. "Do you think we got enough test shots? I bet we def got some killer ones!"
She grinned, looking down at the digital display as she briefly clicked through some of the photos. When she looked over at you again, her head tilted to the side in a way that would look innocent if you didn't know any better. "I was thinking next time we should totes record."