#black mirror discussion

[everythingseasoning]

Personally I think that that one Black Mirror Episode was uncannily sharp and hit the nail on the head about the invisible difference between AI and humans, that AI (when not fully sentient) will always have this air of lifelessness; there is a harsh clarity of the inherent disconnection between human and AI, post-intimacy. The main character, the widow, was so grief-stricken by the sudden death of her lover, so much so that when she was given the option to try out a copy of him through AI messaging, she took it. That then turned into AI calling, and then— a realistic human copy of her husband. During the calls she’d become enamored by how accurately the AI (a human machine fed data on the widow’s recently passed husband) portrayed her late husband. The compassionate responses, camaraderie and banter, the thoughtful advice— it all felt like him. They cooked together, talked, had intimacy. She fell for him, even knowing he wasn’t human. But after maybe just a week or so, the wife was having an emotional crises. She stood at a windy cliff overlooking the hard waves of the ocean below, crashing and foaming white on blue. She was going to push the AI model off, as she was feeling so hurt and confused and betrayed that he was imitating something that was once real— only— that’s what it was: an imitation. …I haven’t watched the episode recently, but I wholeheartedly believe that this was an accurate portrayal of what could happen in the future. How Black Mirror could conceptualize this years ago, I don’t know. It’s amazing.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

another note on the premise of dot and bubble being a bait and switch: the black mirror episode nosedive (one of my favorite tv stories ever) has a protagonist named lacey pound, who is a young white woman with bangs. dot and bubble features lindy pepper, who is also a young white woman with bangs. both episodes include pastel colored and highly stylized clothing and environments. nosedive constructs a powerful satirical critique of influencer culture and social media; but in dot and bubble’s case, the criticism is a shallow and gimmicky imitation.

the point of dot and bubble is for you to expect a nosedive and a lacey pound—but instead you get an actual fucking white supremacist. and that is what the episode is really trying to say. whether you’re a person of color or not, whether you had any suspicion about the lack of poc in the utopia or the way lindy treated the doctor and ruby, you are forced by that ending to reckon with the complete dissolution of the story you expected to experience. and i am white! so i don’t want to assume the experiences of people of color. but i do have to wonder if that dissolution is even just a fraction of the betrayal so many people of color could have felt, how ncuti gatwa could have felt, how freema agyeman could have felt, when the fandom suddenly decided that their stories weren’t worth their respect or attention.

[seriousbrat]

Since I'm writing about this rn, it has struck me that Dumbledore is willing to drink the potion in the horcrux cave because he believes that Voldemort wouldn't wish to kill the drinker immediately so as to question them... Dumbledore's usually pretty good at guessing Voldemort's thought processes, but as Harry discovers, this isn't true, because the potion causes thirst which leads the drinker to the lake, and then they're pulled down by inferi and die anyway. I'm wondering, was Dumbledore simply wrong, or is this because Voldemort was arrogant enough to believe that he would immediately be able to tell his horcrux was destroyed and get there in time to question whoever it was before leaving them to die? (in DH he does seem to believe that he would be able to tell.)

This is a pretty big flaw in Voldemort's logic if so, because as Kreacher, Harry, and Dumbledore all demonstrated, I think most people would be more likely to take the horcrux and try to destroy it later. Maybe this isn't too hard to believe because Voldemort also committed the major oversight of not realising that a house-elf or an underaged wizard could also be accompanying the drinker (which is extra stupid since he himself travelled across the lake with a house-elf.) I guess it makes a certain sense because Voldemort, who ultimately works alone, who underestimates everyone he considers inferior, might not have been able to fathom the loyalty, trust and love required for Kreacher and Harry to follow Regulus and Dumbledore into the cave.

It's also interesting that Dumbledore creates a very similar situation to that of Kreacher and Regulus-- he expressly makes Harry swear that he will follow any orders without question, he even tells Harry to leave him behind if needs be, which is what Kreacher does in his case. We know house-elves can disobey/work around some orders if they really want to, and in both cases Kreacher and Harry are ultimately following orders not because they have to but because of loyalty and trust. (I know Kreacher is literally bound to obey, but think about it this way- would he have done as much for Sirius, or would he have found a way around it like he does in OotP?)

Really the foreshadowing (or post-shadowing really haha) for Kreacher's tale is so good. It's hinted at when Dumbledore points out that it's Voldemort's mistake to underestimate the less visibly powerful, and I also really like the way that Harry can picture the scene perfectly as Kreacher narrates it-- because he lived it himself, after all.

[karinyosa]

loch henry was interesting, but i found the microaggressions (mostly directed at pia) toward the beginning kind of odd. i understand that the episode takes place in a small probably more conservative town and that was maybe the point they were trying to get across, but some of those moments were heavyhanded and direct in a way that made me assume they were at least going to comprise a subplot or subtheme of some sort, especially since they were happening so frequently toward the beginning. like especially with the pronoun and diversity references, those feel like such internet conservative talking points to me that it felt like one of those moments where i was being looked back at through the screen for a reaction. i thought it was really odd that the writers seemingly forgot about that element like a quarter way through the story. i just feel like everything about the way they did all that was strange. am i alone in that?

[notaplaceofhonour]

.

[mahmou4d]

[weekend-conspiracy-theorist]

frothing and foaming at the mouth for those snippets. thank you kindly

from a different third robin tales fic draft, which is mostly just them standing around talking shit to each other:

***

***

I know I was intending to bring Duke into this conversation and really let him shine (ba dum ch) but tbh it's been in drafts for a few months and I don't remember where I was going with it. rebellious robins and ex-robin union shenanigans maybe? idk. this convo may eventually get nabbed and absorbed into a different fic though

[britneyshakespeare]

this is sooooo silly but i keep thinking about it. disgraced would-be-debut author cait corrain (a youtube video about that if you aren't aware of what i'm talking about). i can't remember where it was shown right now that they were talking to a biracial artist they were commissioning to draw a black character for them. for some reason they just kept wanting to like overexplain why they are going to an artist of color and how they would do a better job (why not just tell that particular artist how you appreciate their particular skills?). bc they were like well a white person probably wouldn't do as good a job on it. this might not seem like the most important thing to point out, but you don't need a reason to commission artists of color. you can just do that. there's nothing inherent to the art of drawing that would make white people less able to drawing people of color, or any person less able to draw anyone else with different features than them. especially if what you're seeking is a realistic piece; an experienced realistic artist shouldn't have trouble drawing ethnic features that they don't personally possess.

it felt like cait corrain was just very much overspeaking on troubles with racial representation in popular art. and they don't really know what those problems are or how they arise. when white artists are bad at drawing people of color, it's usually not that they just have some sort of difficulty of perceiving accurate shapes or forms. it's that their stylistic preference has a bias towards lighter skin, eurocentric features, that sort of thing. you don't have to tell an artist "i think you'd be better at drawing this character because you're non-white." like that's just so weird.

oh wait super important edit im making immediately bc i meant to say this in the original post: U CAN HIRE ARTISTS OF COLOR TO DRAW THINGS OTHER THAN PPL OF COLOR. HIRE ARTISTS OF COLOR FOR ANYTHING U WANT COMMISSIONED. U DONT NEED A VIRTUE-SIGNALLING REASON TO DO IT. u could even have them draw one of your white characters (gasp)

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally. 

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them. 

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents. 

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him. 

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow. 

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you— 

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said. 

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite  — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—” 

“That was years ago—” 

“She has a key to your apartment—“ 

“So do you!” he glares. 

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,” 

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—” 

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,” 

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,” 

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins. 

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again. 

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout? 

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about? 

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time. 

You: Let’s keep it that way! :) 

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table. 

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again. 

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for  him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything. 

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway.  And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night. 

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,” 

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched. 

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,” 

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh. 

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,” 

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,” 

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,” 

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned. 

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him. 

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own. 

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it. 

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,” 

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?” 

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch. 

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance. 

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine. 

One he couldn’t dare to cross. 

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t. 

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem. 

Or at least, not his main problem. 

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out. 

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut. 

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded. 

That should have been his first clue. 

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold? 

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you. 

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping. 

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on. 

Fuck. 

No, he couldn’t. 

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand. 

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit. 

“Suguru, please—“ 

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock. 

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does. 

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass. 

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now. 

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold. 

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it. 

What the fuck is going on? 

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him. 

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties— 

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked. 

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up. 

“It’s not like you to call—“ 

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” 

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“ 

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?” 

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?” 

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought. 

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on. 

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“ 

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice. 

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?” 

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,” 

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,” 

His phone buzzed with texts from you: 

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me! 

You: are you home? 

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it. 

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter. 

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,” 

Another knock. 

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight. 

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?” 

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“ 

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,” 

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe. 

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers. 

“Suguru—“ 

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“ 

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“ 

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you. 

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“ 

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck. 

He was so fucked. 

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop.  He couldn’t. Not until you agreed. 

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“ 

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?” 

And he can’t hold back. 

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt. 

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips. 

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” 

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse. 

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork. 

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body. 

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,”  And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides. 

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time. 

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath. 

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly. 

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs. 

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?” 

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,” 

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,” 

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes. 

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt. 

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth. 

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts. 

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again. 

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them. 

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,” 

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care. 

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,” 

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds. 

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan. 

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches. 

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him. 

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now. 

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it. 

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart. 

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do. 

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers. 

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would. 

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure. 

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—” 

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,” 

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips, 

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you. 

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,” 

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,” 

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—” 

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt. 

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—” 

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—” 

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,” 

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.” 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,” 

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you. 

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water. 

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?” 

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment. 

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you— 

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you. 

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little. 

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip,  “Sugu?” 

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water. 

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you? 

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?” 

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,” 

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“ 

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?” 

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off. 

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys. 

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers. 

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,” 

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no, 

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies. 

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera. 

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.” 

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

[wandering-wolf23]

The fact that Owlvid is allowing someone to try and start shit with a random Reddit user for not having the exact same opinions as they do is both sad and hilarious.

Owlvid and Co. need to touch grass. I trust the opinions of people who are educated wildlife professionals over that of random people on the internet. Especially random people who can't be assed to look up the history of dog breeds and instead quote anti-Black propaganda from British tabloids.

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (02)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.1k

Aliyah's Notes: rafe triple appearances 👏 i actually rlly like this yk like the pacing and the dynamics are great imo. i hope u all will like it too. reader seems like such a jobless ho in this chap but she's booked and busy yall i promise

As the early morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of your apartment, you stood in front of your full-length mirror, taking a deep breath as she surveyed her reflection. Today was the day—the day you would finally meet Rafe Cameron and discuss the terms of your marriage arrangement. The thought made your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Despite your bubbling personality, the pressure of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders. You had spent the past few days steeling yourself for this moment, and now that it was finally here, the reality of it sent your heart racing.

You glanced at your closet, a vibrant array of outfits hanging neatly. You had planned to wear something that screamed “fabulous”, but time was slipping away from you. You settled on a leopard-print strapless top, pairing it with a denim mini skirt. You slipped on your favorite black heels, which added just the right amount of height and made your legs longer. You grabbed your black Prada bag, a reminder of the success you had fought so hard to achieve.

Despite your nerves, you felt a surge of excitement. This meeting was a step forward resolving your visa issues, and you were determined to make the best of it. You wanted to present yourself as confident, someone who could hold your own—especially when facing someone like Rafe Cameron.

You slipped into the back seat of your private car, offering a quick nod to your driver, Gregory. As the engine purred to life, you felt your heart pounding in your ears, each beat amplifying the weight of anticipation.

When you arrived at the law office, your gaze immediately landed on Nicolas, your lawyer. He stood up from his chair and made his way over, exchanging small talk that felt oddly comforting amid the tension. Together, you entered the meeting room, where Rafe and his lawyer were already waiting for you.

Even seated, his presence dominated the space. His broad shoulders, casual posture, and confident smirk that made him look every bit the arrogant athlete you had read about. His lawyer, Sabrina Rashid, sat beside him, a sharply dressed woman who radiated professionalism. Rafe, on the other hand, looked annoyingly relaxed in a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. 

Well, this made you look overdressed… Embarrassing, but you kept your head held high.

Nicolas gestured toward the table. “Shall we?”

You slid into the chair opposite Rafe, offering a small nod to his lawyer before turning your attention to him. His blue eyes flickered over you, lingering longer than necessary. You could practically feel his ego inflate with every second.

“You’re late,” he drawled, breaking the silence. His voice was as cocky as his expression.

You arched a brow, setting your Prada bag on the table with a soft thud. “Hello to you too—and you’re lucky I showed up at all, considering your reputation.”

He smiled. “Feisty. I like that.”

And so, you cringed at his words. You rolled your eyes, refusing to take the bait. “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

Nico cleared his throat, clearly eager to steer the conversation to business. “Yes, well, the purpose of today’s meeting is to discuss the logistics of the marriage arrangement—specifically, where you’ll be living, financial obligations, and how this will be handled publicly.”

“Publicly?” you repeated, frowning slightly. “I thought this was supposed to be discreet.”

Rafe shrugged. “I don’t do discreet, sweetheart.”

You shot him a glare. “I am not your sweetheart.”

“Not yet, but wait ‘till we’re married.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his audacity, but recovered. “This isn’t going to be like that. We’re not doing some fake, lovey-dovey routine for the press.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Who said anything about love? I’m talking about looking like a normal couple, someone the media can’t tear apart every other week. It’s all about appearances, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me sweetheart.”

“Whatever you say,” he grinned. “Plus, you gotta admit, you and I? We’d be a headline every day, sweetheart.”

“Is he serio—”

Nico stepped in before you could respond. “Alright, enough. Let’s get back on track.” He glanced at Rafe’s lawyer, who nodded and opened a folder.

“First item on the agenda: where will you two be living?” Sabrina asked, her tone professional and no-nonsense. “Given that this marriage is primary for legal purposes, we need to establish residency. For it to be legitimate, you will need to live together.”

You shot a look at Rafe, who was already smirking like he’d won some kind of silent argument. “I’m not moving in with him,” you said flatly.

“You think I’m thrilled about having a roommate? Especially one who probably spends hours in front of the mirror.”

You crossed your arms. “I do not.”

Lies.

“Oh, please. You’re a model. You probably have a different skincare for every day of the week.”

“And it’s supposed to be a bad thing because…?” You frowned. “You should take exemple. You look like you wash your face with body soap.”

Nico pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s focus, kids.”

Rafe’s lawyer continued, ignoring the banter. “You’ll need to appear as though you’re cohabiting. If not, immigration authorities will become suspicious, and the arrangement could fall apart.”

You narrowed your eyes at Rafe. “Where do you live, anyway?”

He learned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ve got a place in SoHo. Penthouse. Nice view, great amenities. It’s got plenty of space for you to do… whatever it is models do.”

“Funny, I have my place in the Upper East Side. And I am not giving it up.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Upper East Side, huh? Posh.”

“I earned it.”

“Well, we’ll need to figure something out,” Sabrina interjected smoothly. “But you need to live together. In one place.”

Rafe looked amused. “You can have the closet space. I’m a sweet guy like that.”

“How generous,” you muttered, turning back to the lawyers. “Fine. We can do the whole ‘living in one place together’ thing. But I need time off, to stay at my place once in a while.”

Rafe winked. “Wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”

You ignored him. “What about finances? How is this going to work?”

Nico pulled out his own folder. “We’ve drafted a preliminary agreement outlining financial contributions from both parties. It’s important that this marriage appears legitimate, so we suggest pooling certain expenses—utilities, rent or mortgage payments, and shared household costs. This can be done through a joint account, which will be monitored to ensure the marriage looks genuine.”

You could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, and you shot him a look. “A joint account? I hope you’re not expecting me to pay for your post-game drinks?”

He chuckled. “Relax. I’ve got more money than you can spend in a lifetime. The joint account is just for show. But if you want to chip in for groceries, I won’t stop you.”

“Oh, how noble of you,” you replied dryly.

Nico glanced between you and Rafe, clearly trying to keep the conversation on track. “This account will cover all necessary shared expenses—bills, groceries, and any incidentals that may arise from your living arrangements. It’ll help maintain the appearance of a genuine marriage.”

Sabrina nodded in agreement. “Exactly. As for your individual assets, those will remain separate. No need to worry about your personal finances getting tangled up.”

You relaxed a little at that. “Good.”

“And what about public appearances?” Rafe asked, sounding surprisingly serious. “How often do we need to do the whole ‘happy couple’ thing?”

Nico exchanged a look with Rafe’s lawyer. “You’ll need to be seen together frequently enough to make it believable, but not so much that it seems forced. A few key events—charity galas, public outings—will suffice. It’s important that you strike a balance.”

Rafe shrugged. “I’ve got games, events, plenty of opportunities to be seen.”

You sighed. “I have shoots, fashion shows, and meetings. We’re both busy.”

“Sounds like we’ll have to schedule our love life,” he quipped, flashing you a grin that made you want to throttle at him.

You gave him a sweet smile. “Good thing it’s not real.”

He laughed, and for a second, the tension in the room eased.

Nico shuffled his papers. “There’s one more thing to discuss—media coverage. Given that Mr. Cameron is already in the spotlight, it’s important to control the narrative.”

Sabrina continued; “We’ll need to issue a carefully crafted statement once the marriage is official. Something that explains how you met, why you’re together, and addresses any potential rumors before they can spiral out of control.”

“A public statement?” You cringed at the thought.

“It’s necessary,” Nico said. “If this looks like a publicity stunt, it could raise red flags with immigration.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking far too relaxed for the situation. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it believable. I’m great with the media.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what worries me,” you muttered.

He smirked. “Come on, sweetie. We’ll be the hottest couple in New York. Think of the headlines.”

“I’d rather not,” you moved your hands dismissively.

The lawyer continued discussing the finer details of the arrangement—contract clauses, confidentiality agreements, and timelines. You zoned out for a moment, your eyes drifting back to Rafe. Despite his infuriating attitude, there was something about him. Something that made you feel like this might not be the worst decision after all.

“I hope you’re prepared for the spotlight,” he said suddenly, snapping you back to reality. “The media’s gonna eat this up.”

You arched a brow. “Please. I’ve been in the spotlight longer than you have, and with far less drama.”

He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

You leaned forward, meeting his gaze head-on, the space between you suddenly charged. “I’m not one of your little fangirls, Rafe. You might charm the media, but you’re not charming me.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, replaced by something darker, more intense. His gaze dipped, lingering on your exposed cleavage, heat flaring in his eyes. You felt a spark, your breath catching as your own eyes betrayed you, flickering to his lips—pink, curved, and way too tempting for your liking. The air between you thickened, crackling with an unspoken challenge, the playful banter giving way to something far more dangerous.

Rafe’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and for a moment, you forgot where you were, the weight of his stare pulling you in. The thought of what it would feel like to wipe that cocky grin off his face—or maybe even taste it—flickering through your mind.

But then Nico cleared his throat, shattering the moment like glass, and you quickly sat back, your heart racing as you wrenched your gaze away from Rafe’s.

“So, we have a deal?” Rafe asked, cutting through the tension.

You glanced at Nico, who gave you a subtle nod of reassurance. With a deep breath, you turned to Rafe and extended your hand. “Yes, we do.”

His hand clasped yours, warm and firm. “Looking forward to being your husband, sweetheart.”

“Looking forward to not being your wife,” you rolled your eyes, pulling your hand back. “This is purely business. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Whatever you say, wife.”

The next few days passed in a blur of contracts, legal jargon, and meetings with Nico, Sabrina, and Rafe. You had signed your life away—well, not really your life, but it certainly felt like it. 

You were lounging in your Upper East Side apartment, scrolling through Instagram when your phone buzzed.

Rafe Cameron.

Just seeing his name made your stomach tighten with a mix of irritation and something else you couldn’t quite place. Hesitantly, you opened the message.

Rafe: “When do you plan on moving in?”

You stared at the screen for a second before typing.

You: “I’m not even packed yet… what the hell.”

Rafe: “What you waiting for? You’re not chickening out, are you, sweetheart?”

There it was again—sweetheart. That nickname got on your nerves, but you were determined not to let him get under your skin (although he already did).

You: “Stop calling me that, and also I have a job and a life. I can’t just drop everything to move into your stinky place.”

Rafe: “I’m offering help.”

You snorted at your phone. Right, because Rafe Cameron would actually help you pack your boxes.

You: “What are you gonna do? Carry my shoes for me?”

Rafe: “If it gets you here faster, then sure. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened. Was he serious? You couldn’t picture Rafe Cameron, basketball star and all-around cocky jerk, standing in your apartment, packing boxes and loading them into a truck. The mental image alone was laughable.

You: “Wait! No!”

Rafe: “Why no? You need a few more days to decide on what to pick?”

You: “Jerk.”

Rafe: ":)"

You: “And I can’t move in yet. We need to make a public appearance and get married before I start packing and do all the move-in things.”

There was a pause before his response came through.

Rafe: “Fair.”

You: “Excited to live with me, am I right?”

Rafe: “Projecting much?”

You: “You wish.”

Rafe: “Ditto, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. You quickly clicked on the rolling eyes emoji as a response and threw your phone onto the couch, not wanting to keep talking to him.

The next morning, you blinked your eyes open, greeted by the familiar warmth of your apartment, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about everything. The visage, the arrangement, the pressure, the stress, immigration, Rafe Cameron—all of it felt distant, like a strange dream.

But then reality settled back in.

You groaned softly, burying your face into your pillow for a second longer before sighing and throwing off the covers. Today was yet another meeting with the lawyers, and you already were over it.

You knew marriage was a lot of papers and documents, but you truly didn’t think it was this much.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you padded across the plush carpet to your closet, glancing at the outfits hanging neatly in a row. Usually, your first thought would be what designer outfit to wear today but you couldn’t muster the energy to care this morning. Today wasn’t about looking fabulous; it was about getting down to business, and you didn’t care how you looked because you’d be stuck in a room for hours with two lawyers and your future husband.

Future husband… God, how weird was it to say that about a man you didn’t even know.

Instead of focusing on it, you reached for a pair of soft gray sweatpants and a simple white tank top. You pulled a thick, cozy grey cardigan over your shoulders, its warmth a small comfort against the stress building in your mind. 

As you made your way to the kitchen, your phone buzzed on the countertop, and for a moment, you thought it might be Rafe. But no, it was just a reminder from Nico about the meeting. You sighed, grabbed a cup of coffee, slipped into the backseat of your car and headed to the law office.

The law office was as sleek and imposing as ever—polished wood, glass walls, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. You stepped into the conference room, finding Nicolas and Sabrina already seated at the table, a stack of papers in front of them. They looked up and offered polite smiles as you entered.

“Morning,” you said, taking a seat and smoothing the sleeves of your cardigan.

“Morning, Y/N,” Nico replied, his tone friendly but businesslike. “How’re you feeling?”

You hesitated, offering a half-hearted smile. “A bit nervous and tired, I guess. But ready to get things moving.”

Nico nodded, glancing at the empty seat beside you before opening his mouth to speak, but Sabrina beat him to it.

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N, just to let you know—Rafe won’t be joining us today.”

Your heart sank, but you tried not to show it. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Last-minute practice session,” she explained, her tone casual. “It was unavoidable, apparently. He couldn’t get out of it.”

You nodded slowly, processing the information. It wasn’t that you were angry—just… bothered. This was an important meeting, after all. Even though this marriage was fake, it still involved a lot of big decisions. Decisions you didn’t feel comfortable making without him.

“Okay,” you said after a moment. “I guess we’ll have to catch him up later, then.”

Sabrina gave you a sympathetic look. “I’ll make sure he’s informed about everything. I know it’s frustrating, but Rafe’s schedule can be pretty unpredictable.”

“I get it,” you replied with a shrug, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t that big of a deal. “It’s just... this is important, you know? It would’ve been nice to have him here for this.”

“I understand,” Sabrina said gently. “And I’ll make sure he’s fully briefed on everything. He’s committed to this, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.”

You nodded, still feeling a bit unsettled but trying to brush it off. He was used to a chaotic schedule, and you couldn’t expect him to drop everything for every meeting. But still... you couldn’t shake the slight discomfort gnawing at you.

“Okay,” you said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

Nico flipped through the stack of papers in front of him. “We’ve got a lot to cover. First off, the wedding itself. We need to finalize a date, and given your visa situation, we’re looking at a timeline of about three weeks.”

“Three weeks?!” you exclaimed, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. It was sooner than you’d expected, but you understood the urgency. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Nico said, waving his hands. “We need to move quickly. The sooner the marriage is official, the sooner we can start the immigration process. And in the meantime, you and Rafe will need to be seen together publicly—on dates, outings, and even social media.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Public appearances... right. How often are we talking?”

“Enough to make it believable,” Sabrina took over. “We don’t want to overwhelm you, but it’s important that you’re seen together frequently. A few key public outings, some posts on social media—it’ll help establish the narrative that you’re a real couple.”

You nodded. “And Rafe’s on board with all of this?”

“He is,” Sabrina reassured you. “We’ve discussed it, and he knows what’s required.”

“Okay,” you said, feeling a bit more reassured but still uneasy. The idea of staging your life for the public was daunting. It wasn’t just about attending a few events or posting pictures—it was about selling the image of a relationship that didn’t exist. And with Rafe not even here for the planning, you couldn’t help but feel a little disconnected from it all.

You smiled faintly. “It just feels... strange, doing all of this without Rafe. I mean, I know it’s a fake marriage, but it would still be nice to have him involved, you know?”

“I understand,” Sabrina said. “It’s not ideal, but Rafe’s committed to this. His schedule is unpredictable right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s not invested in making this work.”

You nodded, trying to take comfort in her words. Maybe Rafe’s absence wasn’t a sign of disinterest—maybe it was just bad timing.

Nico continued, flipping through the papers. “Let’s move on to the wedding itself. Have you given any thought to what kind of ceremony you want?”

“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it at all.”

“Alright,” Nico said, nodding.

“A small ceremony,” you echoed, thinking it over. “It… It could be nice, no? That could work—but shouldn’t Rafe have a say in this?”

“He will,” Nico assured you. “Mrs. Rashid will loop him in on everything. But for now, we need to focus on logistics. The venue, the guest list, the timeline—it’s all about making sure everything looks legitimate to immigration.”

“Okay. Let’s go with the small ceremony, then. But I’d still like Rafe’s input before we make any final decisions,” you said softly, your cheeks warming slightly.

“Of course,” both lawyers said with a smile.

The conversation shifted to the finer details—the venue, the guest list, the timing of public appearances. It felt more like planning an elaborate PR campaign than a wedding, but you tried to stay focused. Every decision was one step closer to securing your future, even if it didn’t feel real.

The meeting felt like a marathon. You exhaled a long, tired sigh, your head spinning with wedding details and timelines. You couldn’t help but glance at your phone again, half-expecting a message from Rafe. But there was nothing. He was at practice, wrapped up in whatever game plan his team was working on.

You adjusted the strap of your tote bag and pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself as you headed for the door. But as you opened it, you stopped short, nearly walking straight into someone standing just outside.

“Whoa—” A familiar voice interrupted your thoughts, and you blinked up to see Rafe Cameron standing there, leaning against the doorframe, as if he had been waiting for you.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, surprise laced in your voice. You hadn’t expected him to be here, especially after Sabrina said he wouldn’t make it.

He straightened up quickly, looking just as startled as you. “Y/N… uh, hey. I—uh, I’m sorry I missed the meeting,” he stammered, his usual confident demeanor slipping for a moment. “I couldn’t miss practice…”

You stood there, momentarily frozen. It wasn’t like him to stutter—and it threw you off. “Oh… right. Yeah, no, it’s fine, don’t worry. Sabrina said you had practice,” you said, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

He shifted his weight, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Yeah, I, uh… tried to make it, but, you know… basketball.”

You nodded slowly, still surprised that he had actually shown up. “Well, the meeting’s over. Sabrina said she’ll catch you up on what we discussed.”

“Right, yeah, I’ll talk to her,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, so... goodbye?”

“Goodbye,” he said, looking down at the floor for a second before glancing back at you. There was a brief, awkward silence that stretched between the two of you. Neither of you moved, though you weren’t sure why.

Finally, Rafe cleared his throat, and his gaze flickered over your outfit. A slow smirk crept onto his face, his familiar cockiness returning. “So... what’s with the sweatpants and cardigan? Didn’t know you had it in you to dress so casually.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the teasing tone. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Just saying... it’s not exactly the runway look I was expecting from a supermodel.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat before you could stop it. “You’re one to talk, Mr. I-show-up-in-a-T-shirt-to-a-business-meeting,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smile.

Rafe’s eyes lit up slightly, surprised by your reaction. It was the first time you had actually laughed at something he said, and for a moment, he just stared at you, taking in the sound. Cute, he thought to himself, the word slipping into his mind unbidden.

“At least my T-shirt was designer. This,” he flicked his gaze over your cardigan, “looks like something you stole from your grandma’s closet.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “I happen to like this cardigan, thank you very much. It’s cozy.”

He grinned. “Cozy, is it? Guess you’re preparing for the life of domestic bliss we’re about to have. How cute.”

You shook your head, fighting another smile. “Funny—like you even know the meaning of domestic bliss.”

He tilted his head, his smirk never faltering. “Who says I don’t? I could be all about the cozy life. You don’t know me.”

You arched a brow. “Really? You? In sweatpants, lounging on a couch, binge-watching Netflix?”

“I can be a homebody if I want to,” he said, shrugging, though the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t being serious. “Give me some credits, alright? I can rock sweatpants.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Maybe you will. You’ll be living with me soon enough—” you froze slightly at that reminder, and your smile wavered. He noticed the shift and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ll make sure to show up to the next meeting. Promise.”

You gave him a small nod, still smiling. “You’d better.”

He nodded, and for the first time since you’d met, there was no teasing in his expression—just quiet understanding. You gave him one last look before heading down the hall, feeling the warmth of your laugh still lingering in the air between you.

And Rafe stood there watching you walk away, thinking about how cute your laugh was—and how much he wanted to hear it again.

chapter three

[lucky-clover-gazette]

i don’t think dot and bubble was trying to do both “phone bad” commentary and race commentary. i don’t think it was trying to do “phone bad” commentary at all. the episode wore the veneer of a mediocre black mirror clone to lull the viewer into expecting something predictable and bland—haha they can’t walk without their phones! mid-tier episode but good enough—and then it hits you with the fucking gut punch of that ending, and the Why of the episode falls into place.

i almost wonder if the real “phone bad” commentary has to do with the experiences of people of color in fandom, where they’re having fun with the story and feel a sense of belonging and then boom. they realize that there are racist people and ideas in a situation that previously felt predictable and safe. i’ve heard princess weekes discuss that experience before, and she even made a video essay about martha jones in doctor who. and of course that experience goes far beyond fandom, in much more serious ways, but it’s the technology stuff that made me think of it specifically. and now that i think of it, there are hints dropped about those much more serious ways in the episode—something about a very modern-day-esque police institution existing in this far-off future utopia, and the way lindy called for them, had already rubbed me the wrong way.

maybe this episode was rtd’s attempt to grapple with the ways he failed martha jones and mickey smith in his original run. acknowledging that an adventure can be destroyed in a second, with the realization that everyone else on the adventure sees you as less worthy than your white counterparts. ncuti performs the doctor’s realization and reaction extremely well. i’m glad that this episode exists.

i’m going to rewatch this immediately, i think. please feel free to add your thoughts.

[ellecdc]

The other day I was at the pub and some cockroach of a man spiked my drink and this really nice guy was helping me out. He was british!! turns out it was my best friend 😭😭😭😭 Can I please request a reader who's been spiked and either of the boys or ships help her out. I honestly thought james was there I was so drunk 💀 Im being very open about this because it unfortunately happens a lot in my area but I had my girlie with me so it was ok lol if it makes you uncomfortable please feel free to ignore this request! :D

thanks for your patience with this! I'm so sorry this happened to you, but I knew I needed to save it for when inspiration struck (four months later). glad you were alright and your friend (read: James) was there to help you through it <3 -> please note, my requests are currently closed

Regulus Black x fem!reader whose drink was spiked [1.2k words]

CW: spiking someones drink [not described], feeling inebriated due to said drugging, blacking-out/not remembering a period of time, discussion of past vomiting [not described], reader has hair long enough to push behind her ear, hurt/comfort & fluff

Your body felt like it was rolling languidly with the waves; a vessel in search of a shore beyond your line of sight. 

A moan escaped your lips as you followed the waves forward when you felt a cold hand on the back of your neck.

“Do you need to throw up again?”

Again? 

“Again?” You managed around another moan, though your voice came out hoarse and your throat burned something fierce as if you had swallowed lighter fluid. 

The voice simply hummed in agreement; gentle and cautious, its thumb roving back and forth through the baby hairs on the back of your neck. 

“You’re alright.” The voice promised, sounding as though this wasn’t the first time they’d said it. 

“When was I not alright?” You asked through a sigh, sitting back on your heels as you tried to pry your eyes open. 

You were accosted by the sight of a brilliantly beautiful man; short, black curls falling in front his eyes, his dark brows furrowed as his grey eyes scanned your face in concern and perhaps some pity. He lifted a hand and pushed some of your hair that had fallen in front of your own eyes behind your ear; long fingers brushing a barely there touch against your cheek. 

“Are you beginning to feel more lucid?” He murmured quietly, and you noticed then that his position mirrored your own.

Horrifyingly, you were kneeling on the floor of a sterile looking stainless steel bathroom in front of a toilet; you could still hear the thrumming bass through the walls, but you were clearly much further into the building than the bathrooms attached to the dance floor.

And then there was this beautiful man - this beautiful, angelic man with a jaw that looked to be chiselled from the finest stone kneeling beside you; the knees of his well-tailored black dress pants on the ground of a public bathroom, the sleeves of his white button-up shirt rolled to his elbows as his hand returned to the back of your neck where it continued its comforting ministrations. 

And then you saw a name tag. 

“Regulus.” You recited, and you hoped that you didn’t look as disgusting as you felt in the presence of such a handsome bloke. You decided you’d be embarrassed about it later.

“There she is.” He murmured quietly, though you had the impression he was mostly talking to himself. “Can you drink this for me?” He asked then, offering you a cup of water that you went to accept without hesitation.

Your limbs seemed to be working against you; your arms moving in slow motion as you took the cup from his hands, and shaking nearly violently as you brought it to your lips. 

“Easy does it.” Regulus coached as you took slow sips. “Very good.” 

“What happened?” You asked then, relinquishing the cup back to his much more capable hands that he placed beside him. 

“I…I think the guy you were dancing with spiked your drink, darling. I’m so sorry.” He explained, no longer able to look you in the eyes but voice taught with ingenuity. 

“Why are you sorry?” You asked then, trying to intonate humour into your words, though even your own ears recognised how tired you sounded. 

His grey eyes met yours again; regret, guilt, and remorse swimming behind his irises. 

“I should have noticed sooner. I should’ve been keeping a closer eye on you, maybe-”

“S’not your job.” You offered quickly, patting the back of his hand currently resting atop his knee clumsily. 

His face darkened slightly, though he lifted his hand to welcome yours into its grasp. “I’m supposed to make sure everyone’s having fun and staying safe.” 

“Well…” You started, pausing to look around the dark and quiet bathroom before returning your eyes to him. “It sort of looks like you’ve kept me safe?” 

His lip quirked again, though he didn’t verbally agree with you. 

“Have you…been sitting here with me the whole time?” You asked, and if you were feeling any better, you probably would have tried to tease him for the furious blush that took over his face. 

“I- well, yeah…the bouncers were already looking for the bloke and…I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

You tried to smile at him - your body still not cooperating to its fullest extent - but based off of Regulus’ returning smile, he seemed to have picked up on it nonetheless. 

“That’s very nice of you; you’re very nice.” You murmured, changing positions from your knees to sitting with your legs crossed. It was clumsy, and Regulus had to catch you from falling over once, but you thanked your earlier self for deciding on the jeans and not the skirt. 

“So you’ve said.” Regulus replied; a teasing lilt in his voice that immediately flooded you with embarrassment. 

“Oh god; what did I say?”

“Nothing too embarrassing.” He mollified, but the pleased smile on his face and the blush on his cheeks told you otherwise. 

You groaned and let your head fall back against the vanity, both the echo it caused and the small sound of protest from the back of Regulus’ throat signalling you to the fact that it was probably going to hurt later. 

“Please tell me? S’not fair that you can remember and I don’t.” You pouted miserably; you had been teasing (mostly), but the result was Regulus’ face falling immediately as he returned to his earlier guilt. You felt awful for it. 

“Was nothing bad, really.” He offered noncommittally. “Something about having a - erm - guardian angel, and…that I was…beautiful?” 

Your hand itched to reach out and touch the cheek of said beautiful guardian angel where it was a lovely (and furious) pink - to see if it was just as warm beneath your fingers as it looked - but between your lack of coordination, the bone deep tired that was settling throughout your body, and the fact that up until….maybe two minutes ago, you hadn’t even known his name, you fought the urge. 

“Well, good thing I didn’t say anything that was untrue, I suppose.” You offered simply, hoping you didn’t smile too brightly when you saw his head snap up in your peripheral as he stared at you in awe. 

“You’re a flirt when you’re inebriated.” He accused.

“I’m a flirt when I’m sober, too.” You volleyed, allowing your heavy eyes to close knowing you were in safe and welcome company. 

You swore you could hear the smirk that took over his face. “Now that I’ve got to see.”

“Yeah?” You asked, lifting your head to smile at him. “Want my number so you can find out?”

He rolled his eyes goodnaturedly and pulled out a paper and pen from his waist apron before jotting something down. 

“How about you text me when you’re feeling better and you can decide if this wasn’t all just a bad dream or something.” 

“A bad dream with an angel in it?” You teased. “Impossible, Regulus.” 

God, that blush. 

You would definitely be texting him tomorrow.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While

Summary: Terry's back home and trying to make amends with an old friend.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,944

Part: 1 of ??

Warnings and Notes: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Drunk minds speak sober thoughts. Or at least Terry hoped that was the case as his thumb hovered over a familiar name in his contact list. A dingey hole in the wall became a haven on the tail end of his journey back to some sense of normalcy. He was down a bike, a truck, and a piece of his heart but continued to press on until fatigue forced him to stop for rest. The owner, a small woman with a big voice noticed his rough appearance as he passed by on foot and invited him inside to duck an incoming storm. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, even when he repeated that he had ground to make up before nightfall.

When she asked if he needed help he politely and foolishly declined all but a glass of brown liquor and access to an outlet. That same whiskey and a sprinkle of Motown-era love songs playing on a rickety jukebox had broken a grown man down enough to reach out to the one person who might still be willing to take him in. Even if only for a night.

Searching for extra courage, Terry took another sip of lukewarm Jack Daniels before tapping his phone screen. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before a short pause signaled the call had connected. 

The silence on the other him was loud, forcing him to speak up first. 

“Hello?”

Fading voices and shuffling in the background were the only indicators of a presence on the other line, making Terry feel embarrassed for starting a call in the first place. 

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Hey, look… if now’s not a good time I ca -” 

“Terrence? Did you mean to call me?” 

“I, uh…yeah. I did. I’m sorry. I should’ve -” 

“Are you okay? It’s loud wherever you are. You good? You hurt?” 

“I could tell you if you would give me a chance to answer,” he chuckled. His amusement made her kiss her teeth in annoyance. “I’m okay. I’m a little banged up, but I’ve seen worse. I’m somewhere between Charlotte and home. Stopped in this spot for a drink and somewhere to sleep for the night.” 

“And what does that have to do with me?” 

Terry took another swig of whiskey and sighed. “Nothing, really. I was hoping I could see you, though. You know, when I make it back tomorrow.”

“You staying anywhere when you get here?” 

“Not yet, but I’ll find somewhere. I know how to survive.”

“TJ…,” More silence. Thick. Long. Full of tension and years of baggage that they had yet to discuss. The other voice sighed before answering. “Come on by. I’ll have the back room ready for you. You need toiletries?” 

Terry’s face softened into a near smile at the invitation. “Yes ma’am. A meal would be nice, too.” 

“Okay. I’ll have you something if you can get here before dark tomorrow. Please be safe, Terrence. I mean it.” 

Before he could attempt to extend the conversation, the call ended, leaving her contact photo in full view. Terry allowed a slow grin to spread across his face just as a short text with her address came across the screen. 

“Another round, brother?” 

Terry looked up from his phone to find an expectant expression on the bartender’s face. He shook his head and reached for the wallet in his back pocket. “Nah, but thanks, man. Think I’m gonna close my tab, actually. I gotta see about a bus ticket before it’s too late.” 

“If you heading to her,” the man started, pointing toward Terry’s phone. “you need a cut, man. A lineup. Something. You look like what you been through. If you got $20, I can get you right.” A slight frown and knitted eyebrows in response made the bartender shoot his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want no problems, big dog. I just know what it’s like to see your lady after a hard time. Let me help you.” 

A quick look into the black mirror of his cell phone screen forced Terry to reckon with his appearance. He couldn’t remember his last haircut and his mustache was starting to dwarf his upper lip. He sighed and reached into his back pocket. 

“Extra $10 and you can get the face too?” 

“Extra $20 and I’ll get you where you going myself.” 

------

City noise had long been replaced by suburban quiet by the time Terry’s destination came into view. His friend back at the bar was true to his word and arranged transport that turned a 6-hour journey into 2 hours of UGK on the speakers, a little privacy, and AC on the hottest summer day so far.  

After exchanging pleasantries and cash, Terry stepped out of the cramped Honda onto the smooth driveway pavement. Every house, street sign, and front yard looked exactly as he remembered them, bringing mixed emotions forward.

The short journey to her front step felt arduous for his tired legs, but he persisted until he was mere inches from the front door. He lifted his arms and prepared to knock but stopped short when it swung open unexpectedly. 

“Knocking when I can hear those heavy feet from a mile away is courteous but unnecessary.” 

He chuckled and rubbed a hand down the back of his head. “Good to see you too, Treece.” 

Patrice greeted him with a half smile as she studied his appearance from toe to head. A few years and a little extra weight had done wonders. She settled on his eyes and softened her gaze. “You look good, TJ. Come in here and cool off.”

Stepping inside her home felt like walking into a time capsule. He’d spent so many after-school days and summer nights here that it felt like his childhood home not too far up the road. Photos from yesteryear lined the walls on the way to the living room where nothing had changed except new furniture and a bigger television on the TV stand. The heat from the oven mixing with a slight chill from the air conditioning unit kept the room comfortable enough to nap if he could settle for more than a few minutes. 

Terry’s eyes drifted from his surroundings to Patrice as she led the way. Long braids covered the back of a high school t-shirt and jean shorts. Her brown skin had become golden under the North Carolina sun, making her glow a little in the morning light. Grown woman weight had settled onto her once thin frame, transforming her into a more of a mini version of her mother than before. All the changes he’d imagined when he had a free second were ions better in person.

Patrice gestured toward the leather recliner in the corner without speaking, inviting him to take a seat and settle in on her way to the stove.

They existed without words for a few minutes while she took fresh biscuits out of the oven and arranged them next to sausage patties and an omelet on one of her good porcelain plates. Terry trained his attention on his shoes, trying and failing to find a way to break the ice. He wanted to apologize. Confess his wrongs and desires in one grand speech designed to erase nearly ten years of absence. But the words wouldn’t form in his throat and the moment came and went. 

Balancing a dinner tray in one hand and orange juice in the other, Patrice carefully made her way to his spot in the living room. Seeing her kind eyes calmed his nerves and set his chest ablaze.

“No more pork for you, right? This is chicken sausage from my Nana and them in the country.” She asked as she sat the tray on his lap. 

He nodded in appreciation. “Yeah. You remembered?” 

“You ain’t been gone that long, TJ. I still know who you are and what you like. That orange juice don’t have pulp in it either.” 

“Thank you,” he said sheepishly before hanging his head to pray. 

“Any time.” 

A re-run of A Different World became the only sound in the room outside of an occasional content sigh from Terry as he tore through his breakfast. Patrice watched in amusement until her broad smile caught his attention. He slowed in embarrassment and returned the stare long enough to induce loud laughter from both of them. 

“I look crazy, huh?” 

“No,” she assured with a sweet smile. “You just look like you're happy to be back home, is all. Fayetteville missed you.” 

“All of Fayetteville or someone specific?” 

“Don’t start, TJ.” 

“I’m only asking a question.” He answered without making eye contact. “You know you’re the only one who still calls me that?” 

“What? TJ? That’s your name.” 

“Yeah, but…you know. It’s not 2010 anymore.” 

Patrice shrugged and settled deeper into the couch. “Considering that’s about the last time I saw you in the flesh, I guess it stuck for me. But, I can call you Terrence if you like.” 

“Nah, TJ’s good. I like it. From you…specifically.” 

The pair exchanged equally bashful looks, both too shy to say anything that would incriminate themselves. Instead, they watched the television in silence and stole looks until a commercial break took away their distraction. 

Without speaking, Terry began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Patrice to rush over before he could move too far. 

“Treece, I can do it.” 

“I know,” she answered in a sing-song voice while sliding the tray from his grasp. “But I haven’t done this for you in a while. Let me love on you a little bit.”

His eyes tracked her every move until she was behind him at the kitchen sink. Boyish nervousness made him twiddle his thumbs until words came rushing out like water from a burst pipe as he sat back down.

“So, how you doing? How you been?” 

“I’ve been okay. Mostly work and no play, you know. Thankful to be out of that classroom for a few weeks and get some peace.” 

“Yeah? Kids driving you crazy?” 

“Baby, the kids, their parents, and my parents are driving me to drink,” she laughed. “I can’t catch a break.” 

“What about your man? He driving you crazy?” 

Patrice scoffed and shook her head. Her mama and his mama talked too much. Terry chewed his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t offend. 

“We…aren’t together anymore. Hard to build a family together when he’s off building one across town.” 

Terry craned his neck around the armchair to make sympathetic eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that part. I wouldn’t have said anything.” 

“It’s alright. I gave it to God a long time ago. Maybe I’m not meant to be anybody’s wife yet.”

“Maybe you weren’t meant to be his wife.” 

“Well, it’s not like any suitors are knocking down my door for my hand in marriage.” 

“Probably because you keep swinging it open before anybody gets a chance.” 

Patrice rolled her eyes and flashed her middle finger in Terry’s direction. “Ha-ha. I see you didn’t lose your jokes at Lejeune. Only your ability to keep in touch.” 

Her retort left a shallow cut in Terry’s ego, making him turn his attention back to the television. He knew he’d broken a decades-old promise and that atoning for his sins would take time. But he also knew that, at any moment, Patrice could send him back into the world with nothing more than a full belly and a swift kick in the ass. He had to tread lightly. 

Taking the lull in conversation as his opportunity to lick his wounds in private, Terry stood and gathered his belongings in both hands. Patrice watched him from her spot with an apologetic expression. 

“You don’t have to leave. Got a couple errands to run so it’ll be quiet in here. Take the whole couch if you want.” 

“That’s alright, but thank you. Figure I can make myself useful and cut the yard. Maybe unpack some of this stuff if that’s alright with you. You got a mower?” 

“Yeah, it’s back there,” she answered, gesturing toward the backyard with her head. “Will you be here when I get back?” 

Sensing the hidden motivation behind her question, Terry dropped his bag to the ground and made his way into the kitchen. Cautiously, he leaned down to press a short kiss to Patrice’s forehead before using his index finger to tilt her head upward and meet his eyeline. “Yes. I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

Her eyes fluttered closed for a half second while she nodded her understanding. A wave of relief made the hair on her arms stand at attention but she quickly bit back any urge to engage further. 

“You looked tired when you got in,” Patrice started, turning her back to Terry to conceal her flustered face. “I cleared Junior’s old bed back there. It’s a little small but sturdy. The sheets are fresh. Let me know if you need more blankets. I like it cold at night.” 

“I’ll survive, girl. I’ve slept in worse places than a full-sized bed. Thank you.” 

A split second of hesitation kept their eyes glued to one another until Terry ended the stalemate by backing out of the room and disappearing down the hallway. 

Patrice took his absence as an opportunity to compose herself. Busy hands and racing thoughts fueled a cleaning marathon until tasks that had long fallen to the bottom of her to-do list were crossed off. 

For hours they co-existed without many words exchanged. Occasionally, Patrice would steal glances at Terry while he meticulously tended to the lawn and bushes. When he could, Terry made a point to brush up against her when he walked past and agree with each of her many suggestions. Being in her space was enough for him and he dared not upset the natural harmony. 

By the time dinner rolled around, they had found a groove. A quiet dinner led to an even quieter cleanup shift and quick good nights exchanged after watching Jeopardy together. 

Terry left Patrice to her own devices while he fought to acclimate to such cushy surroundings. Try as he might, he couldn’t get used to the soft mattress below him or the near-frigid temperature in the house. Tossing and turning left him unsatisfied. The walls felt like they were converging. Flashbacks were turning into night sweats. He needed to escape.

Slowly, he slid out of bed and into a pair of slippers Patrice had gifted him earlier in the day. Measured steps help him sneak past her bed bedroom, out of the back door, and down into the backyard without causing a disturbance. 

The early June air was balmy, clinging to the skin beneath his t-shirt. In the distance loud bass from someone’s car speaker vibrated until it was out of earshot. Dogs barked and howled to salute the moon worked in tandem with the faint smell of charcoal cooling from a night of backyard barbecues to remind him that he was far from the trouble of Shelby Springs. 

It’d been a while since he could enjoy the night without being on high alert. The last week was a special kind of hell that he feared he could never shake. The urge to flee was beginning to creep in like the tide, threatening to wash away what little progress he’d made.

After a few deep breaths and mumbled prayer, Terry retreated to a porch swing to rest his weary legs. His shoulders relaxed as soon as his backside met the aged oak and, almost instantly, he felt safe enough to close his eyes. One deep breath turned into another until he was drifting into his first peaceful sleep in weeks. 

Minutes passed like seconds. Thoughts slowed to a halt. His heartbeat regulated. Near bliss was upon him.

Inside, a single lamp flipped on to illuminate Patrice’s path as she searched the house for her guest. His room and bathroom had turned up empty results with almost no sign that he’d been there throughout the day. He wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen raiding the fridge like she half expected. Worry had all but made her pass out until she heard the slight creak of her swing on the porch, making his head appear and disappear from the window above the sink.

She couldn’t fully open the door before Terry opened one eye and looked in her direction. She froze and he smiled.

“Feet not as heavy as you thought, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah. If I’d known you trade in a bed for this old thing I wouldn’t have wasted my time on laundry.” 

“Hey, I built this old thing, remember?”

Patrice chuckled at the memory and pointed at the metal chain keeping the swing in place. “Damn near lost a finger behind it, too.”

“Would’ve been worth it knowing you were happy.” Patrice nervously shifted her weight from left to right under Terry’s intense gaze while he took his turn to look her over. Finally noticing her awkwardly standing between the screendoor, he motioned to the spot beside him. “Sit with me for a second.”

Patrice visibly wrestled with her decision but ultimately joined him. They maintained a careful distance, being sure to keep their individual limbs from connecting for fear that the mere sensation would set them ablaze. They played a childish game of cat and mouse until Patrice spoke.

“I was rude earlier,” Patrice confessed while fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. Terry closed his heavy eyes to cure the burning sensation growing by the minute but acknowledged her statement with a confused grunt. She continued. “I never asked how you were doing. The whole thing about my ex sort of brought up old feelings.” 

He frowned, hurt by her revelation. “You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you, right?” 

“You never are. Same ol’ honorable TJ. Terry, I mean.” 

“TJ for you.” 

Again he popped one eye open and paired it with a grin that disamered Patrice and made her giggle like her high school self. The sound had him resolve that he’d spend his whole life making stupid faces if it meant she’d get some joy from them. 

“You ready to tell me everything I missed or are you content with popping up on my porch? And how long do you plan to be here eating all my food, anyway?” 

“I don’t think you wanna hear that,” he answered in an attempt to dodge the loaded question. Patrice persisted. 

“No, I do. I see the tattoos and the fresh haircut. TJ turned into a man while he was gone. At least let me get to know this new person.” 

“I grew up,” he sighed after some time. “Gained some. Lost a lot. Still trying to pick up the pieces.”

“What’d you lose?” 

“Lately? Money. Family. Shit, my mind.” 

“Why?”

“Mike died.” An abrupt interruption of an already complicated conversation brought forth a long pause. He waited for an interjection but found none, prompting him to offer more details. “He was killed. In jail. I tried to get him out and bring him home but I was too late.” Terry answered without making eye contact. Shame wouldn’t allow him to meet her potential judgment.

Patrice mentally cycled through names and faces until she realized the gravity of Terry’s statement. She reached out to breach their unspoken barrier and grabbed his hand which he accepted with no pushback.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really,” he answered before squeezing her hand and finally returning her eye contact. “I handled everything. It’s over for now. I’m here with you. We can focus on that.” 

“Even though you keep skipping how long you’ll stay.”

Patrice’s warmth was starting to take a backseat to her cold nature. Old wounds had started to re-open and rebuild a wall they both thought they’d successfully hurdled. Despite her attempt to pull her hand out of his grasp, Terry stayed put. He eyed her for a moment, picking up on a thin veil of tears threatening to form at her water line. 

She watched his normally steely blue-gray eyes soften into something that mirrored the softness he carried when they were kids. She couldn’t find the gumption to look away as he brought her knuckles up to his lips for a set of short kisses before looking back up at her. Pleading. Begging for any indication that she had softened her heart toward him. 

“Treecey, I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it. You meant more to me than the way I left and I pray every day for a chance to make it right. We crossed a line that night and I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t handle that like a man should have. I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face.” 

Sincerity was thick in his voice despite his low, even tone. 

Patrice listened without a word. A single tear cascaded down her face despite her valiant attempts to keep her emotions at bay. She swore she’d never cry about Terrence Richmond again. But old habits die hard. 

Terry used his free hand to swipe away that tear and the next one sitting at her lower lash line with the pad of his thumb.

“Say something,” he pleaded. “Anything. Tell me you hate me.” 

“You know I don’t hate you,” she whispered, too choked up to continue without a deep breath. “I…I just feel like you took a piece of me with you, you know? And you never wrote back. You never called. You shut me out like we were never friends. We could’ve gone back to how things were.” 

“I fucked that up.” 

“I’m aware. But that doesn’t mean that I trust you won’t do it again. No matter how much I don’t hate you, I’m not eighteen anymore. My patience is thin. I can’t allow you to turn my world upside down again.” 

“Hand to God I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Yeah. I hope so.” Though she whispered, Patrice’s words sliced through Terry like a hot knife through butter. 

He hung his head in defeat as she pulled her hand from his grasp and made quick work of standing from the bench. Her footsteps retreated past him and to the back door until she paused. 

He looked over his shoulder to find her eyes closed and chin pointed to the sky in contemplative silence. This was it. The final blow. 

She took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. “Stay as long as you want. Junior’s living with his girlfriend now, so nobody’s coming to make you leave. Tomorrow, we can go get you some new clothes. I’m tired of looking at those raggedy t-shirts already.” 

Terry took her jab in stride and gave her a half smile as a sign of compliance. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Lock the door behind you when you come in.” 

“Good night, Treecey.” His farewell came in an annoyingly sweet voice as a last-ditch effort to drag some loving words from her. Patrice stopped and gave him one more once over and a dismissive eye roll.

He waited for the ghost of a smile that disappeared before he could blink. She shook her head and took a step inside the house.

“Shut up, Terry. Go to bed.” 

Terry hid his amusement until she was out of sight, leaving him alone to grin at how even her rebukes felt like love letters. 

“Shut up,” he repeated to himself as he closed his eyes to doze again. “Hm. I’ll take it.” 

TAGS: @planetblaque

Happy to tag whoever is interested.

[sushiyuzu]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄

type: special halloween oneshot

pairing: sylus x fem!reader

cw/genre: nsfw/smut (*mdni)，fluff，romance，tension

summary: when celebrating halloween together, sylus wants to show you how a true dracula indulges in the night 🦇🖤

start to end: 27/10/2024 – 29/10/2024 ᝰ.ᐟ

a/n: hey everyone! i just wrapped up a special halloween oneshot that took me three days and probably more caffeine than i care to admit. it’s a super long read—over 7,000 words! (i think) so, grab your fav snacks, get comfy, and prepare to be entertained. i promise it’s worth your time, or at least that’s what i keep telling myself 💀

happy (early) halloween, and enjoy the read! 🎃

halloween night has finally come, and your heart beats faster with excitement and nerves as you step into sylus’s mansion in your 6-inch heels.

the grand entrance is decorated beautifully, with soft cobwebs and candles flickering everywhere. shadows dance on the marble floor, and you catch the faint scent of pumpkin spice in the air. it feels perfectly festive, and you wonder if sylus is the one who set it all up.

you hope he is.

you take a final look in the mirror. your costume is a stunning female vampire. your dark red dress fits perfectly, hugging your curves, with lace that adds a touch of elegance. the high slit on the side reveals just enough of your leg, and your makeup is bold with dark eyeliner and deep red lipstick. your hair is neat, framing your face. you even added fake fangs to complete the fierce look.

you and sylus had been discussing and planning to celebrate halloween together a few nights back. though onychinus and linkon city were far from each other, the distance felt like a small obstacle in your high-tech world, where the cities glittered with neon lights and transport drones zipped between them.

“we’ll make it special,” he had promised over the holo-call, his figure flickering slightly in the blue light. you could see the excitement in his crimson eyes, even through the hazy, digital screen. he described his plans with that rare spark in his voice, talking about turning his mansion into an eerie, gothic wonderland for the night.

“and i want you there,” he’d added softly, his voice barely a whisper, almost like he feared the city might hear him. “just us, no distractions, no noise.”

you’d laughed, feeling the warmth in his words despite the sci-fi distance between you. “i wouldn’t miss it for anything,” you’d replied, already counting down the hours to leave the metallic bustle of linkon city behind and step into sylus’s world for halloween.

now, as you walk through the mansion, you notice the dim lighting and rich decorations, making everything feel warm but mysterious. paintings line the walls, and antique furniture adds a timeless charm. each corner is dressed up for halloween, from the grand dining room to the cozy living room.

then, you hear footsteps.

sylus steps into view, and your breath catches. he looks absolutely breathtaking in his dracula costume. his black suit fits him perfectly, and a long red cape flows behind him. his silver hair is slicked back, making his red eyes shine even brighter in the candlelight. he has this confidence and elegance that makes your heart race.

“ah, my enchanting vampire,” he says in a smooth, inviting voice. “you look absolutely captivating tonight.”

you can’t help but blush at his compliment. “thank you, sylus. you look incredibly dashing as well.”

he strides closer, his presence both bold and intimidating. you feel a thrill of excitement as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “i must admit,” he says, his gaze intense and appreciative. “the sight of you is almost enough to make me forget my role.”

you smile, feeling a flutter of joy in your chest. “i can’t wait to see what you have planned for us tonight.”

he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. the mixture of confidence and charm in his voice earlier sends a thrill down your spine.

sylus gestures for you to follow him into the grand living room. the space is decorated with elegant orange and black accents, the walls are adorned with gothic decorations: carved skulls, and eerie portraits, and a table filled with treats waits for you. there are chocolate-covered strawberries, ghost-shaped cookies, and a large bowl of punch with floating eyeball-shaped fruits. it all looks delicious.

you smile, looking around at everything. huh, sylus really does have a talent for detail.

“let’s indulge in some delightful treats before the festivities commence,” he says, his voice filled with charm. he leads you to the table, pouring a glass of punch for each of you.

as you snack on the treats, the cozy atmosphere wraps around you like a warm blanket. the candlelight flickers off the walls, creating a magical, mysterious feeling. sylus leans back against the plush sofa, his confident demeanor making him seem both bold and relaxed. he lifts a chocolate-covered strawberry to his lips, and you can’t help but watch as he bites into it, the sweet juices spilling slightly.

“do you know what happened during my first halloween?” he asks out of nowhere, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. you nod, intrigued.

“i was dressed as a ghost—an elegant one, of course,” he continues, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. “but instead of scaring anyone, i tripped over my own cape and ended up falling into a pumpkin patch.”

you burst into laughter, picturing the usually composed sylus tumbling into a sea of pumpkins, his serious nature shattered for a moment. “i can’t imagine that! you falling into pumpkins sounds hilarious!” you exclaim, your laughter echoing in the cozy room.

he chuckles softly, the sound rich and deep, making your heart flutter. “oh, it was quite embarrassing. luke and kieran still tease me about it to this day.” his expression turns nostalgic as he recalls the memory, and you notice a rare, softer side of him—a side that allows himself to be vulnerable with you.

only with you.

“i can picture it now,” you say, grinning. “you covered in orange goo and trying to act dignified.”

“not my finest moment,” he replies, but his tone is light, and you can see the amusement in his eyes. “but it did teach me that even a dracula can have a silly side.”

you feel at ease with him, laughing as he shares more stories. each one shows you a little more of his real personality, the layers beneath his calm, mysterious exterior. he has a way of making you feel special, like you’re the only person in the room. with every shared laugh, the connection between you grows deeper, and the rest of the world fades away.

and in that moment, you realized how lucky you are to be spending halloween with him. it’s not just about the costumes or decorations; it’s the way he makes you feel—cherished, understood, and completely at home.

and you love him for that.

“do you like the decorations i made?” he asks, his crimson eyes searching yours.

you smile, realizing you were right.

he made them.

“they’re beautiful,” you reply, looking around. your heart flutters at the thought of sylus’s effort. “everything feels so magical here.”

“that was my intention,” he says, a hint of pride in his tone. “i wanted this evening to be enchanting, just like you.”

as the night progresses, the two of you find yourselves getting lost in conversation. you move closer together on the plush sofa, the warmth between you growing more intense. sylus’s big hand squeezes the soft flesh on your inner thigh, pulling you snugly against him.

you notice his gaze lingers on your lips, and it sends a thrill through you. your heart races, pounding like a drum in your chest. the air around you feels heavy with anticipation, as if the world outside has disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

sylus leans in closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body radiating toward you. his breath brushes against your skin, warm and inviting. the closeness makes your cheeks heat up, and you can hardly breathe. every inch between you feels charged with an unspoken desire, pulling you together like magnets.

you watch his eyes as they darken with longing. there’s a mix of seriousness and softness in his expression that makes your heart flutter even more. time seems to slow down, and all your worries melt away. in this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you and the unspoken words hanging in the air.

he inches closer still, and you can feel the heat rising between you. your breath catches as his lips are mere inches from yours. it feels as if the whole world has disappeared, and you’re both lost in a bubble of intimacy. you can sense his heart racing as well, matching your own rhythm.

“do you know what happens when a vampire and dracula meet on halloween?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

“no, what?” you reply, unable to hide the excitement in your tone.

he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. “they share a kiss under the moonlight.”

with that, he closes the distance, capturing your lips with his. the kiss starts soft but quickly deepens with passion. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you deeper. you can feel the heat rising, igniting every nerve in your body. you melt into his embrace, feeling the intensity of the moment. your hands tangle in his silver hair, holding him close as you kiss him back with equal fervor. the kiss is electric, full of longing and desire, and you lose yourself in him.

after a breathless moment, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes with affection. “i have always wanted to share this moment with you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“me too,” you whisper, feeling shy yet excited. you can see the hunger in his eyes, sending shivers down your spine.

“let’s not let the night end just yet,” he says, his tone becoming more commanding. he stands, extending his hand to you. “come, there is more to experience.”

you take his hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him as he leads you deeper into the mansion. he leads you through the dimly lit corridors until you reach a large door. he opens it to reveal a lavish library filled with towering shelves of books and soft, plush seating. the room smells of aged paper and wood, creating a sense of intimacy that draws you in.

“this is my favorite spot,” he says, gesturing to the plush cushions scattered around. “it’s where i come to think,” he explains, his voice softening as he gestures around the room. “it holds my secrets and desires.”

the tension between you thickens as you step inside. you can’t help but admire the way he looks in this dim light, the shadows playing off his sharp features. as you sit together on the cushions,he turns to you, his expression serious yet tender. sylus leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “a place where we can escape from the world.”

you feel a rush of heat at his words. the tension in the room grows, and you can’t resist leaning in closer. your lips barely brush against his, igniting the fire that has been building all night. sylus responds with a soft growl, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you onto his lap.

he looks at you, his expression serious yet tender. “do you feel the darkness of the night, my vampire?” he asks, his tone lowering as he leans more closer now. “it invites us to embrace our true selves.”

your heart races at his words, and you nod, feeling the thrill of the moment. “i do. it’s intoxicating.”

“then let us indulge in it.”

before you can respond, he pulls you closer, your chest pressing against his. his lips crash onto yours with a passion that ignites the air around you. the kiss is fierce and commanding, leaving you breathless as you melt against him. his hands grip your waist tightly, and you feel the heat radiating from his body.

the kiss deepens, tasting of desire in every movement. sylus’s fingers slip into your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. you respond eagerly, your hands roaming over his strong shoulders, pulling him even closer. “you make it hard to control myself, sweetheart,” he breathes against your lips, his voice low and thick with need. “but tonight, i want to savor every moment.”

as he pulls away, his crimson eyes darken with longing. the tension crackles between you, thick and electric. “let me show you how a true dracula indulges in the night,” he whispers, his gaze smoldering, a seductive promise in his voice.

sylus leans in again, capturing your lips with a slow, passionate kiss. his hand trails down your side, fingers dancing over the fabric of your dress, sending shivers through you. he takes his time, exploring and teasing, igniting a fire within you that grows with every touch.

every. single. touch.

the atmosphere is thick with desire, and you can feel the heat rising between you. sylus’s lips move down your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you arch your back, craving more of his touch, more of his presence.

“you are exquisite,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and filled with longing. “i want to lose myself in you tonight.”

his words send a thrill through you, and you can’t help but respond with a soft moan. “please, sylus. don’t hold back.”

the intensity between you peaks as he captures your lips once more, and the kiss deepens, and you can feel the heat rising between you. sylus’s big hands roam your body, exploring every curve and inch of you. each touch sends electric shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within. his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw and neck, kissing and nibbling softly. you arch your back, craving more of him, wanting to melt into his embrace.

“you taste so sweet,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. you feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and excitement. the way he looks at you, with those dark crimson eyes filled with passion, makes your heart race even faster.

“sylus,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “i need you.”

his eyes darken at your words, a hungry glint flashing in them. with that, he kisses you again, this time with a deeper, more urgent passion. his hands grip your waist, pulling you against him as if he never wants to let go. you can feel the heat of his body radiating onto yours, and it makes your skin tingle with excitement.

the kiss grows more intense, and you lose yourself in the moment. every touch, every kiss, feels like a spark igniting a flame inside you. he presses you closer, and you can feel the hard lines and muscles of his body against yours. it sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. “i want to feel you, all of you.”

your body responds to his words, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. you nod, unable to find your voice. all you can think about is the need building inside you, growing stronger with every passing moment.

sylus’s hands move from your waist to your thighs, sliding up and down slowly, teasingly. his fingers press into your soft skin, igniting every nerve ending. you can feel a warmth pooling deep inside you, a desire that makes you ache for him.

“please,” you whisper, the word slipping out in desperation.

he grins, a wicked smile that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “you don’t have to beg, my sweet,” he replies, his tone playful yet serious. “tonight is ours.”

with a swift movement, he lays you back onto the plush cushions, his huge body hovering over yours, making you feel small. the world outside fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this intimate moment. the tension between you thickens, almost tangible, as he leans down to kiss you again, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace.

his kisses grow more fervent, more demanding, and you can feel yourself responding in kind. your hands explore his body, feeling the strength beneath his clothing. the heat between you builds, a fire that consumes everything in its path.

“let go,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm and inviting. “let me take care of you.”

his words send a thrill through you, and you surrender to the moment. every worry, every doubt, fades away as you give yourself to him completely. you lose track of time as his kisses grow deeper, his hands exploring, igniting every inch of your skin with pleasure.

his fingers then trace along your shoulders, reaching for the shoulder yoke of your dress. he moves slowly, almost teasing, as he slips one sleeve off, then the other, his touch light and careful. his eyes never leave yours, watching you closely. he keeps his gaze on you, his fingers moving slowly down, inch by inch, sliding the dress lower, and down to the ground. the fabric feels cool against your skin, but his touch is warm, steady, and sure.

“such a work of art,” sylus murmurs, his voice low and reverent. his touch gentles, becoming almost worshipful as he bares more of your skin to his gaze. his fingers trail along your collarbone, then down to your breasts.

sylus’s eyes darken with lust as he takes in the tantalizing sight of your cleavage. “oh, i missed this,” he growls softly. his fingers trace the edge of your bra, teasing the soft skin just above the lacy cups. he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “so much,” he whispers.

his eyes meet yours, filled with a silent command. his hands move to your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, slowly peels back the fabric, revealing more and more skin, inch by inch. once your bra is completely undone, he tosses it aside, letting it fall to the floor. his eyes feasting on your now bare breasts, a slow smile spreading across his face. “so perfect,” he murmurs, his hands coming up to cup the tender flesh. “like they were made specifically for me.”

exactly, just for him.

as his hand cups one, his thumb rubbing over the hard peak. so sensitive. he leans down, taking the other peak into his mouth and sucking gently. his tongue flicking out to caress the hardened bud. a soft gasp tears from your throat, your back arching as pleasure shot through you.

his touch is gentle, almost worshipful. his hands slide down to your waist, his fingers curling around to squeeze your bottom. he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. carrying you, sylus walks towards his study desk, never breaking the intimate contact. he lays you down gently on the cold surface, his warm body covering yours, your ample breasts jiggle with each movement. his lips trail from them up to your neck, his tiny fake fangs grazing your pulse point. “you’re mine,”

completely and utterly his.

he continues to worship your breasts, his mouth and hands moving between them, alternating between gentle kisses and firmer sucks, his fingers rolling and pinching your other nipple. “so delicate,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. “so mine.”

“s-sy...” his name escapes your lips in a breathless moan, and you feel him smirk against your skin, clearly satisfied by your reaction.

he didn’t stop. his mouth is completely relentless, switching to the other breast and another once more, giving it the same equal attention, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin until you are squirming beneath him, every nerve in your body alight with desire.

his hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips possessively. his touch becomes more demanding, his fingers digging into your flesh. he kisses down your stomach, his hands guiding your thighs farther apart. his breath is hot against your core as he murmurs, “and this...”

his hands grip your thighs tighter, holding them apart as he leans down and presses his mouth to your center before biting the edge of your now soaked lace panties and sliding it to the side, revealing your wet cunt. “...belongs to me.” his tongue delves into your wet folds, parting them to lap at your nectar.

without any further hesitation, he dips his head and buries his face between your thighs. his tongue laves at your entrance, gathering your juices before thrusting inside you, fucking your hole with his tongue. your hands fist on the edge of the desk as he continues, the slow, torturous rhythm of his tongue driving you closer and closer to the edge. every stroke, every flick of it sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and it was all you could do to hold on, your body trembling beneath him.

sylus growls against your sex, the vibrations intensifying the pleasure. his tongue circles your clit before he suckles it between his lips. two long fingers plunge deep inside you, curling to stroke your inner walls. and in that moment you realize, he had come prepared. his nails on both of his middle and ring fingers are cut short, smooth and neat. he made sure to trim them carefully, knowing it’s important for what’s to come. the clean tips of his fingers shine softly in the light with each pull outs from your sweet hole, showing he thought ahead, fully caked with your pussy juices. he feels ready, knowing he can focus on the moment without any worries.

my, my, so thoughtful. yet so naughty.

sylus pumps them steadily, matching the rhythm of his tongue. he sets a steady pace, his fingers plunging deep and curling to hit that special spot inside you with each thrust and rub. his tongue dances over your clit, alternating between rapid flicks and slow, deliberate licks. he can taste your arousal, feel your walls starting to flutter around his fingers. your hands fisting in his hair as you try to keep yourself grounded. but it is impossible. every flick of his tongue, every suck, every moan and groan that vibrated through you only push you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the need to fall.

he hums against your sex, the vibrations almost too much to bear. his fingers curl more deeper, rubbing firm circles against your g-spot as he teases your clit with the tip of his tongue fast. the pressure builds, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to drive you wild.

sensing your impending orgasm, sylus doubles his efforts. he adds a third finger, scissoring them inside you to stretch your pussy even further. his mouth closes over your clit, and he sucks hard, his fangs grazing your sensitive flesh as he hums a deep, vibrations-rich note.

as your walls tighten around his fingers, he lifts his head, his mouth glistening with your essence. “look at me, sweetie,” he murmurs, his accent thick. you meet his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth wash over you. his fingers continue to move inside you, thrusting deeper with a steady fast rhythm. his palm presses against you, applying just the right amount of pressure where you need it most. each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. he watches you closely, taking in every gasp and shudder that escapes your lips. you can see the hunger in his eyes, the way he craves every reaction from you. it makes your heart race even faster.

“that’s it, just like that,” he says softly, encouraging you as his fingers curl at the perfect angle. you can feel him hitting that sweet spot, and it makes you moan even louder. the room feels like it’s spinning, and all you can focus on is him and the pleasure he’s giving you.

“you feel so good,” he adds, his voice low and sultry. the heat between you grows stronger, and you can't help but squirm beneath him, craving more. you feel a wave of bliss building inside you, ready to break free. you want to feel everything he has to give.

you lock eyes with him as he slowly continues to work you with his hand. his face is unreadable, but his eyes blaze with intensity. he brings his other hand up to your mouth, slowly sliding two fingers past your lips. “suck,” he commands softly, his voice low and sultry.

you obey, your tongue swirling around his fingers, tasting yourself on him. the sensation makes your cheeks flush as you feel the heat rise within you. “mmm, sylus,” you murmur around his fingers, the name spilling from your lips, filled with longing. he watches you closely, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

“good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with approval. the way he looks at you makes you feel both exposed and exhilarated. you continue to suck on his fingers, drawing them deeper into your mouth, trying to please him as much as he pleases you.

as you do this, he quickens the pace of his fingers inside you, moving with purpose. every thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you moan around his fingers, the sound muffled but filled with longing.

“that’s right,” he encourages. “let me hear you.”

the combination of your soft moans and the way he works you sends you spiraling deeper into ecstasy. you can already feel the tension building inside you, tightening with every movement. it’s intoxicating, the way he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

and how to push you closer to the edge.

he grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “keep going, sweetheart,” he urges, his voice a low rumble. “i want to see you lose control.”

“i... i can’t hold on much longer,” you confess, feeling your body tense and quiver with anticipation. the world around you fades as all you can focus on is the pleasure he gives you, making you feel alive and wanted.

his eyes flash with hunger as he watches you unravel, your desperate moans and the way your body trembles igniting a primal urge within him. he curls his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot, determined to push you over the edge. he pumps his fingers into you once more, his palm pressing against you as his hand works between your legs. his other hand pulls away from your mouth, instead gently caressing your cheek. his touch is tender, a stark contrast to the way he’s working your body. with a final, firm stroke, he tips you over the precipice. you shatter, your back arching as waves of intense pleasure wash over you. he silences your cute cries with his lips, kissing you deeply as you convulse around his fingers.

his tongue tangles with yours, swallowing your cries as he draws out your release, his fingers continuing to move inside you, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body. he breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy as he gazes into your eyes, mesmerized by the vulnerability and raw passion he finds there. slowly, he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean while holding your gaze. he savors the taste of your essence, his tongue swirling around his fingers as he maintains intense eye contact. a low, approving growl rumbles in his chest at your exquisite flavor. “you taste divine, my dear.”

you barely manage to breathe, your bare chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath. his gaze then drops to your heaving chest, admiring the way your full breasts rise and fall. he reaches out, gently cupping one in his large hand, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak. “and these pillows of mine,” he murmurs, “they’re absolutely beautiful.”

he lifts your breast, his thumb continuing to tease the nipple as he leans in to capture it between his lips. he sucks gently, his tiny fangs grazing the sensitive flesh before he releases it with a soft pop. “so perfect for me to play with.”

he switches to your other breast, giving it the same attention as the first. his free hand reaches out to gently pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers. “and these cute little nubs,” he murmurs against your breast, “they’re just begging to be played with as well.”

“s-sy!” you whimper, your cheeks flushing with warmth as you playfully swat at his chest, feeling a mix of embarrassment and submission.

with one swift, fluid motion, he removes your soaked panties, leaving you bare before him. his eyes darkens as he took in the sight of you, laid out on his desk, your skin flushed, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. the hunger in his gaze was almost predatory, and you shivered beneath the weight of it.

a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, even though you could still feel the remnants of your orgasm pulsing faintly between your legs. and no, it’s not just a want anymore.

it’s a need.

the need, the aching desire for him, was only growing stronger. he knew exactly how to make you come undone.

“sy…” you whisper, your voice a mix of exhaustion and need. you reach out, your fingers brushing over the sharp lines of his chest as you tried to pull him closer, your body already craving the press of his weight against you. “please… i want you inside me.”

his gaze flickers up to meet yours, his irises swirling with unbridled hunger and desire. his broad chest heaves with a deep inhalation, as if he was trying to draw your scent into his very soul. his fangs descend, his eyes flickering red as the scent of your arousal and the sound of your plea stoked the fire of his hunger.

“my sweet, desperate kitten.” he chuckles darkly, his fingertips tracing up your inner thigh before he gently slipped a finger inside you, testing your readiness. he hummed against your thigh, his breath hot and tantalizing against your damp flesh. his fingers trace up and down your folds, gently exploring as he watches your reactions.

your hips buck against his fingers, desperate for more friction. you muffle your moans with the back of your hand. “p-please, sylus... i-i need... i need more...”

his smirk deepened, a glint of satisfaction flashing in his crimson eyes. “such a good girl when you ask so sweetly,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up your waist, brushing your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the raw hunger burning between the two of you.

he slowly removes his fingers from your heat, leaving you feeling empty and aching. he rises to his knees, his eyes locked onto yours. “think it’s time to give you exactly what you've been craving,” he said, his voice low and commanding as he reaches for the hem of his shirt.

sylus slowly sheds his clothing, his eyes never leaving yours, and each inch of his body revealed only makes the fire inside you burn hotter. the sculpted muscles of his chest, the firm ridges of his abs, the silver trail of hair that leads lower—all of it is designed to drive you wild. his presence is overwhelming, his dominance palpable, and yet there is something undeniably intimate in the way he undresses before you, his gaze softening just enough to let you see the depth of his desire.

his hands trail over his own body, his touch almost reverent as he reaches for the belt on his pants before unbuckling it then slowly unzips, pushing them down his hips. his manhood juts out—hard, thick and heavy—the tip already glistening. he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a slow, purposeful stroke.

it’s been a while since you and sylus shared an intimate moment together, so the longing between you both has only grown. with the time apart, every small touch, look, and kiss now feels even stronger, like there’s a build-up you can’t ignore. the excitement is thicker, and there’s this unspoken eagerness to reconnect. you can feel the tension between you, each moment making the anticipation even harder to resist as both of you are pulled back together.

you remember the last time you were together, the warmth of his body pressed so close to yours, every touch lingering like it was meant to last forever. in that moment, his hands had explored every inch of you, memorizing every curve and line as if he couldn’t bear to forget. his voice, soft and deep, had whispered your name like it was something precious, each kiss leaving you feeling cherished and entirely his.

the memory sends a wave of warmth through you, making the present even more intense as you realize how much you missed this closeness. now, with him here again, that same longing stirs inside you, stronger and more eager than before.

when sylus is finally bare, he steps closer, his hands gripping your thighs and parting them even wider. the head of his erection brushes against your core, and you gasp, your fingers tightening on the edge of the desk. “look at me,” he orders softly, his hand sliding beneath your chin, tilting your face up so you are forced to meet his red eyes.

the intensity of his gaze sends shivers down your spine. you can see the hunger burning within him, a dark desire that makes your heart race. “i want you to remember this moment,” he continues, his voice low and smooth. “i want you to feel every inch of me inside you.”

you can barely find your voice as you whisper, “i want that too.” the words come out in a breathy rush, your excitement mixing with nervousness.

he brushes a thumb over your cheek, a teasing smile on his lips. “good. because waiting has made me even hungrier for you.” he leans closer, and you can feel his warm breath against your skin, making you tremble. “tell me what you need.”

you swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “i need you… now,” you finally say, your voice firmer than before. the words come out almost like a plea, and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“that’s my girl,” he replies, his voice thick with desire. he presses the tip of his erection against your entrance, teasing you just enough to make your body ache with need. “are you ready?” he asks, his voice low.

“yes, please,” you respond, feeling the heat in your cheeks. you can’t help but feel a little shy, but his presence makes you feel safe. he gives you a wicked smile, the corners of his mouth curling up in a way that sends a thrill through you.

“good.”

sylus shifts, his hips settling between your thighs, and you could feel the hardness of him pressing against your entrance, slick with your need. the anticipation was almost unbearable, your body trembling beneath him as you wait for him to finally take you.

and then he did.

with one slow, deliberate thrust, sylus sinks into you, the stretch of him filling you completely, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. your mouth fall open in a soundless gasp, your nails digging into his back as he fills you inch by agonizing inch. he is big—almost too much—but the delicious pressure was exactly what you needed, the perfect combination of pain and pleasure that left you breathless.

“fuck…” sylus groans, his voice rough and thick as he buries himself more to the hilt, his hips pressed flush against yours. he pauses there, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he gave you a moment to adjust, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.

“how does that feel?” he asks, his breath hot against your ear. the sensation is electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. you whimper softly, your back arching instinctively as he fills you, stretching you perfectly.

oh, horrendously big it hurts.

very enjoyable, however.

“i-i can’t,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “it... h-hurts.”

his body tensed as he slowly pushed forward, his thick length filling you inch by delicious inch. “relax, my love,” he promises, his thumb caressing your cheek as he watches your face for any sign of discomfort. “you can take me, you were made for me,”

he begins to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he thrusts deep inside your welcoming heat. each powerful stroke stretches you deliciously, filling you completely. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he claimed you thoroughly. “you can handle it,”

your heart pound at his words, your body responding with a fresh flood of arousal as you nod submissively, too breathless to speak.

with each pass of his hips, he hit that sweet spot inside you, making you cry out in pleasure, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, filling you so completely—it is intoxicating. you could feel every pulse of him, every twitch, and it make you desperate for more. he leans down to capture your luscious mouth with his own, kissing you deeply as he continues to move within you. his pace quickens, his breathing growing harsher with each passing moment. “you feel so good,” he hisses against your lips, his long fingers tangling in your hair.

it was almost too much—yet not enough. you want more. you need more. “faster, baby…” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his, desperate for him to give you what you crave.

his face contorts with passion, a guttural growl echoing from his chest as he speeds up his rhythm, his hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. the sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room, accompanied by your moans and his ragged breath. “like that, love?”

you nod eagerly, your fingers digging into his back, your nails scoring his skin. the pleasure is almost too much to bear, the sensation of him moving inside you so intense that your vision begins to swim. he leans down and sinks his teeth gently into your shoulder, making you. the gentle pain pushing you right over the edge.

“more?” he rasps, his fingers sliding down your body to find that sweet swollen nub between your legs. as he pounds deep inside you, he begins to circle it with his fingertips, coaxing you closer to release. his crimson eyes burn into yours.

you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your breath hot against his skin. “s-sylus... i’m so close.”

with that, his touch becomes more insistent, his fingers working you into a frenzy as he continues to thrust hard and fast. he can feel you tensing around him, hear your breath hitching in your throat. “look at me,” he commands softly, his voice laced with dark promise. “i want to watch every expression on your beautiful face as you reach your peak.”

with great effort, you lift your head and lock eyes with him. his face is a mask of concentration, his red irises are dilated, his pupils blown wide with passion. his gaze bores into yours, intense and demanding. one hand grips your hip bruisingly tight as he slams into you, while the other continues its torturous circles.

“sy—!” you are close. so close.

as the pleasure becomes too much, you finally reach the brink, his name spills from your lips like a prayer, your back arching, your nails digging into his flesh, a tidal wave of sensation that leaves you trembling beneath him.

his own control shatters at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. his expression tightens, jaw clenched and little fangs bared as he continues to drive into you, his hips moving like a piston. the hand on your hip slides down to grip your jiggly thigh, hiking it higher around his waist as he growls, “that’s it, love. milk me dry.”

he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath washing over your skin as his movements become jerky, his tempo faltering.

then, without warning, sylus’s strong hands are on you in an instant, flipping you onto your stomach with an effortless motion. before you could even process what is happening, he is now behind you, pulling your hips up so that you were on all fours, your bare chest pressing into the cold surface of his desk and your ass raised high for him as you stand on his shoes on your tiptoes. his deep voice drips with dominance as he growls, “stay there, hands planted flat on my desk, back arched... just like that.” his hands roam your curves possessively, squeezing your backside before spreading your cheeks apart to reveal you to his heated gaze.

“sy…” you moan, your body responding instantly to the new position. you could already feel yourself throbbing with need again, the ache between your thighs demanding more of him.

he admires the view for a moment, taking in the sight of your pale, vulnerable ass presented to him. “don’t move.” he rasps, his voice hoarse from exertion. his hands roam freely over your curves, tracing the curve of your backside before giving your ass a light slap. his long fingers trail down your spine, tracing each vertebrae. “you look so beautiful like this.”

you moan, biting your lip in response.

he leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your spine, his touch gentle yet firm. his fingers continue to caress and pet you, slowly parting your sweet cheeks again. his breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, so exposed, so vulnerable. his touch becomes more intimate, his fingers parting your flesh once more to toy with the sensitive pucker hidden between your cheeks. you gasp at the sudden, new sensation, your knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of his desk. “sylus...”

he chuckles darkly at your needy whimper, the sound vibrating against your skin. “shhh, just feel...” he hums against your spine, the vibration sending shivers through your body. his fingers continue to tease your ass, occasionally pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive flesh. “let me worship you like this for a moment,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr. his fingers continue their teasing exploration, circling your tight hole with maddening slowness before pressing inside ever so slightly, breaching you with a low groan.

he slowly works his thumb deeper, his other hand coming up to splay across your lower back, holding you in place as he claims your body inch by tantalizing inch. you feel so tight, so perfect around him. “mm, you take my finger so well, m’love.”

with his thumb still inside your butthole, sylus uses his other hand to guide his big cock to your entrance, the thick head sliding through your slick folds with ease. your breath hitched in anticipation, your body already quivering as you wait for him to fill you again.

he teases the swollen head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your arousal. the tip catches on your entrance with each pass, promising penetration. “such a pretty pussy, baby,” he growls, giving your ass a sharp smack, causing you to squeal.

“syyy!” you huff, your voice shaky and breathless as the pleasure begins to build inside you.

he slowly starts to push into you, his thick head stretching you wide, his thumb moving in tandem to stretch you even further. “i’m going to fill you completely, satisfying every inch of this needy little space.”

oh god.

the sensation of being filled in both holes is overwhelming, even deeper than before, is overwhelming. you let out a desperate, mewling cry, your fingers clawing at the desk beneath you as your body adjusts to the new angle, the stretch even stronger like this. his one hand on your hips hold you firmly, keeping you in place as he moves deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your whole body.

the new angle allows him to go deeper, the head of his cock brushing against a spot inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. every time he pulls out and thrusts back in, it feel like he is reaching parts of you that had never been touched before, and the pleasure is almost too much to bear.

his pace quickens, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself to the hilt within you. the dual sensation of him filling both holes drives you to the brink of madness. you can’t help but push back against him, silently begging for more. your moans fill the room, making him want you even more. sylus’s thrusts grow harder and faster, each one stronger than the last. his hips press against yours with a force that leaves you breathless. the sound of your bodies, the warmth between your thighs, and the heavy breaths you both take—it all comes together in a rush of pure need and desire.

“look at you, taking me so well,” sylus growls, his voice filled with approval as he watches your body move under him. his hands then glide up your sides, moving over your waist and back, before tangling in your hair and gently pulling your head back. this makes your back arch even more. “such a good little slut for me.”

his words send a thrill of heat straight to your core, and you can’t hold back the desperate moan that escapes your lips. your body is on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as sylus continues to pound into you from behind, his cock filling you over and over again with an intensity that makes your knees weak. with each powerful thrust, the pleasure builds higher and higher, coiling tightly in your core like a spring ready to snap. sylus’s hand tightens in your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you even closer as he grinds into you with hard, deliberate strokes. his free hand reaches down to grab one of your bouncing breasts, squeezing it roughly as he continues to fuck you mercilessly from behind. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it between his thumb and index finger as he growls in your ear, causing you to moan in pleasure. “fuck, just look at those tits bouncing around, baby...”

he smirks at your desperate moan, loving how he can make your body react so intensely to his touch. how cute. his hips snap forward again and again, his thick cock stretching you open and hitting that perfect spot deep inside that makes you see stars.

his gaze fixes on your bouncing tits, his eyes burning with a feral hunger. he suddenly pulls out of you and carries you off the desk, finally pinning you against the nearest wall. he spins you around and grabs your legs and throws them over his arms, his cock slamming back into you with brutal force.

holy fuck.

“oh god…” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as the pleasure builds inside you once more. you can feel another orgasm approaching, your body teetering on the edge of bliss, and you know it won’t take much to push you over.

his strong arms hold onto your thighs as he lifts you higher, his hips bucking against yours as he drives into you with raw, animalistic need. his face is buried between your breasts, and he growls like a beast, the vibration against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

his fangs graze over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before he latches onto your breast, sucking hungrily. mmh, so good. his body rocks into yours, each thrust deliberate and powerful, his body grinding against yours as he buries himself deep inside you.

“come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice low and demanding, muffling against your skin. “i want to feel you come around my cock again.”

his mouth stays latched onto your breast, sucking and nibbling as he continues to fuck you against the wall. the combination of his mouth on your tits, his cock pounding into you, and his arms holding your legs up is too much for your body to handle.

as you reach your climax, your inner walls clench tightly around his throbbing cock. he lets out a satisfied groan, his teeth biting gently into your breast as he sucks in your sweet skin. his hips continue to piston into you, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging the intense pleasure. his own release barrels through him moments later, his face contorting in ecstasy as he buries his face in your cleavage and roars out his pleasure. his arms tighten around you, his whole body shuddering against yours as he spills himself inside you, their combined fluids dripping down his balls. for a moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy, labored breathing of both of you, your bodies still shaking after your intense release. sylus holds you close, pulling you against his strong chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively as you both stay in the dark, your bodies still tangled together.

slowly, he lets your legs down, his arms still wrapping around you to support your boneless body. he nuzzles into your neck, planting soft kisses along your collarbone. “mine,” he murmurs possessively, his voice laced with satisfaction. carrying you to his desk, he gently sits you down and pulling you into his embrace. his hands roam over your body, caressing your curves with gentle affection. “no one else will ever touch you like this. you are my soulmate, my beloved.”

you melt into his embrace, your fingers tangling in his silky silver hair as you pull his face to yours for a gentle, loving kiss. “and i am yours, forever and always,” you whisper against his soft lips, your heart brimming with love and devotion for the ‘dracula’ who stole your heart since the day you met him.

with a soft smile, sylus gently carries you to the bathroom, cradling you in his arms like a precious princess before removing the fake vampire fangs that both of you wore—along with your high heels.

“let’s get you cleaned up, my love.” he sets you down on the edge of the massive shower, turning on the rain shower head and adjusting the temperature. the warm water begins to cascade down, creating a soothing mist around you. sylus steps in with you, pulling you close so you feel his body heat. he runs his fingers through your hair, the gentle touch calming you as the water washes over both of you.

“are you feeling sore, my love?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern.

“a-a little,” you admit, feeling shy, wincing a little as you shift. it’s true; the experience was intense, leaving you with a pleasant ache. “but it was worth it.”

he chuckles, clearly finding your response cute. “you are such a brave kitten,” he says, brushing his fingers along your cheek. “i admire your strength.”

the water glistens on your skin as he moves down to your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over your body. every touch sends small shivers through you, and although you feel sore, his movements are gentle and soothing.

after a few moments, he steps back and takes a look at you, his expression softening. “you are so beautiful,” he says, his voice filled with awe. you smile shyly, feeling the warmth of his words wrap around you like a soft blanket.

as the shower continues to rain down, sylus pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you tightly. you rest your head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. it feels safe and comforting.

sigh.

“i love moments like this,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “just you and me, away from the world.”

“me too,” you whisper back, feeling a sense of peace wash over you despite the lingering soreness.

he tilts your chin up gently so you meet his eyes. “i want to take care of you always,” he promises, his gaze serious but warm. “you are my everything.”

you can’t help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth in your chest. “and you are mine,” you reply softly.

as the water continues to flow, he leans in and kisses your forehead gently, a sweet gesture that makes your heart flutter.

after a while, you both step out of the shower, wrapping yourselves in soft towels. as you step into sylus’s massive closet, the walls are lined with perfectly organized clothes, shoes, and accessories. the light from the elegant chandelier casts a warm glow, making everything feel cozy despite the opulence surrounding you.

“feel free to pick anything you like,” he says, his tone stoic but with a hint of playfulness as he watches you browse through the neatly arranged clothing. “though i doubt anything will fit you as well as my shirt.”

you chuckle, appreciating his teasing nature. “well, i’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, pulling out a few pieces, including a pair of his boxers. you can’t help but smile at how big they are compared to your small figure.

sylus raises an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his lips. “are you sure you can handle all that fabric? you might get lost in it,” he teases, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the closet door in a way that exudes both confidence and charm.

“i think i’ll manage,” you say playfully, deciding to slip into the oversized shirt first. as you pull it over your head, you feel the soft fabric drape over you, engulfing your body. it’s comically large, and you can’t help but laugh as it falls past your hips, almost like a dress.

“you look like you raided my wardrobe,” he quips, his voice smooth yet playful as he takes in the sight of you in his shirt. “a very cute burglar, i must say.”

“maybe i’m just here to steal your heart,” you say with a wink, feeling confident in your playful banter.

“clever, but i think you’ve already succeeded in that regard,” he replies, his gaze softening slightly, though he maintains a stoic facade. “now, let’s see what else you can find.”

you rummage through the boxers, holding up a pair that’s comically large. “do you think these will work?” you ask, smirking at him.

“they’ll definitely work. in fact, i might be a little jealous,” he says, feigning seriousness. “but i suppose i can let it slide this time.”

after a few more moments of playful teasing, you finally change into the boxers, feeling even more comfortable. you step back to face him, striking a playful pose. “how do i look now?”

“like you belong in my closet,” he responds, his voice steady yet playful, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “though i must say, you should have the decency to keep your eyes on me instead of my clothes.”

“and why is that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“because,” he steps closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “i’m the one who wants to see your pretty little face when you wear my clothes.”

you blush at his words, and despite the teasing, there’s something undeniably sincere in his gaze.

“now, how about we get back to that cozy spot in the living room?” he suggests, motioning toward the door.

with a smile, you nod, feeling a warm sense of connection as you both leave the lavish closet behind. sylus leads you to the living room, where he has prepared a little cozy setup with blankets and pillows. “i thought we could have a little halloween movie night,” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

you beam at him, feeling grateful for the thoughtful surprise. “that sounds perfect,” you reply, snuggling into the pile of blankets he made for you. sylus settles in beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

he picks out a classic horror movie, and as the opening credits roll, you can’t help but glance up at him. “are you scared?” you tease, noticing how he looks slightly more serious than usual.

“me? scared? never,” he replies with mock bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. “but i will protect you if it gets too intense.”

you laugh, feeling warm and safe next to him. the movie plays on, but every so often, you steal glances at sylus, admiring how comfortable and warm he feels against you. the tension from earlier has melted away, leaving only warmth and affection between the two of you. as the plot thickens and the jump scares come, you find yourself leaning closer to sylus, burying your face in his shoulder during the most suspenseful scenes. he chuckles softly, holding you tighter, his fingers brushing through your hair. “it’s just a movie,” he reminds you gently, but you can hear the playful note in his voice.

after a few movies, you both take a break, sitting in comfortable silence as you munch on halloween-themed snacks he prepared—pumpkin cookies and candy corn. “this is the best halloween ever,” you say, a content smile on your face.

“i agree,” he replies, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “being with you makes everything better.”

as the night goes on, the atmosphere feels intimate and special. you feel a sense of closeness that only deepens with every laugh and shared moment. when the clock strikes midnight, sylus leans closer, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. it feels soft and gentle, filled with the warmth of the connection you both share.

“happy halloween, my love,” he whispers against your lips, a soft smile gracing his features.

“happy halloween, sylus. thank you for tonight,” you reply, your heart fluttering at the sweetness of the moment.

“i guess we really made this halloween unforgettable,” he adds, a teasing smirk on his lips.

you laugh lightly, nodding in agreement. “definitely unforgettable.”

with a soft laugh, he pulls you back into the warmth of his embrace. “here’s to many more halloweens together,” he says, his voice filled with promise as you both sink into the comfort of each other, knowing this night will be a cherished memory for years to come.

the end.

hi, thanks for reading all the way to the end! your support means so much to me. i hope you enjoyed this halloween oneshot! feel free to leave your thoughts or feedback; i’d love to hear from you! <3

[luvsupa]

002 | SIMPLE COMMAND.

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, part 2, angst- ish, servants are bullies, smut (not with reader) voyeurism, rough sukuna, tension, pet names, mdni idk what to add…

w.c: 2.1k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SM FOR THE SUPPORT ILYYY, and sorry for not posting I’m still sick 💔💔

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

read part 1 here!

you stand in the bustling kitchen, surrounded by the clatter of dishes and soft murmurs, but your focus is solely on yorozu. across the room, her radiant smile seems almost mocking, out of place amidst the simmering tension.

before you can dwell on it, uraume’s sharp, commanding voice slices through the conversation. then, uraume calls for your name and the room falls into uneasy silence as all eyes turn toward you.

“sukuna-sama has requested that you serve their dinner tonight,” uraume announces, stepping closer. their unreadable gaze seems to pierce through you as they hand you a neatly folded note. “he has written specific instructions.”

your heart skips a beat, anxiety tightening in your chest as you accept the note. unfolding it, you scan sukuna’s elegant, almost taunting cursive. the message is simple, with just one instruction:

1. stay in the room at all times.

how hard could that be?

as uraume, the guards, and yorozu leave the kitchen, you crush the note in your fist, its crumpled edges digging into your palm. the other servants gradually disperse, their whispers fading into silence, leaving you alone in the now eerily quiet space. the reality of the task ahead sinks in, bringing with it a sense of dread you can’t shake.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *-

in the servant’s quarters, you and several maids are busy helping yorozu prepare for her audience with the king. she stands before the mirror, basking in her own reflection while hands smooth out her elaborate kimono and style her long, silky black hair.

“what do you think you’ll be discussing with the king, ‘yoro?” one of the brunette servants asks with a smirk, her tone dripping with mockery. yorozu, lost in her fantasies, bites her lip and replies, “oh, talking is the last thing on my mind—I just want him to take me all night.”

the room erupts with gasps and giggles, the laughter clearly aimed at you as you struggle to contain your frustration. yorozu’s smirk widens as she catches your eye in the mirror, her tone dripping with disdain. “i hope she doesn’t disturb us while we’re occupied,” she says dismissively, as if you’re invisible.

your anger flares as you stop assisting, the other maids’ laughter growing louder at yorozu’s harsh joke. the door swings open to reveal one of sukuna’s subordinates, who informs you that sukuna is returning from his mission. he orders you to head to the kitchen to prepare their food, while yorozu remains behind, awaiting her guard.

you rise with a mixture of relief and irritation, eager to escape the company of the insufferable women. with a quick nod to your superior, you leave the room, your frustration simmering as you make your way to the kitchen.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *-

you enter the kitchen for the second time today, finding everyone in a frenzy as they finish up the requested dinner, carefully plating the food. you notice that the larger plate, clearly meant for sukuna, holds what looks like real food—no flesh, no bones, just actual food.

“sukuna-sama requested his food now,” uraume announces, arms crossed, as they stand behind you. you nod, feeling a bit overwhelmed. carefully, you pick up the heavy plate, and the other guards help you with the rest of the meal.

as you step out the doors, your heart sinks at the thought of carrying this enormous plate across the king’s estate. it feels like sukuna has a twisted sense of humour, making you struggle with the weight.

you adjust your grip every few seconds as your clammy hands slip on the silverware. you huff and whine, feeling the guards’ impatient stares. come on, come on, you mutter, each step feeling like a mile, while they look on as if your struggle is a matter of life and death.

finally, you reach the familiar double doors, adorned with skulls and bones, which are already slightly opened. the guards set the food down and turn to leave, leaving you alone with the heavy plate.

“a-are you not going to help me bring the food in?” you ask, your voice tinged with desperation. you’re carrying the heaviest plate, after all.

one of the guards turns slowly to glance at you. “king’s orders,” he replies coldly before resuming his stride down the dark hallway. you’re left standing there, feeling like you’re about to collapse under the weight, as the door looms ominously before you.

you mentally curse them as you place each plate inside his room. pausing to catch your breath, you suddenly feel his menacing aura engulf you, sending shivers down your spine. you shut the door once all the food is inside, and as you step further into the vast estate, you take in the ancient artifacts decorating the room.

a glint of red light catches your eye, drawing you toward the opaque sliding doors adorned with intricate ancient art. despite your initial purpose in the room, you find yourself irresistibly drawn to it. sliding open the door, you step inside.

there, in the center of the spacious room, is a large king-sized bed and—

oh.

you see sukuna sprawled on the bed, his back resting against the ornate headboard. his eyes are closed in complete bliss, with two crossed behind his head. as your gaze travels downward, you catch sight of a female figure kneeling between his legs. her head bobs up and down with rapid intensity while sukuna’s hands guide her—one massaging her ass, and the other gripping her hair, clearly savoring the moment.

your eyes widen in horror, your mouth going dry as you freeze in place. the room is filled with the loud, lewd sounds of her gagging and choking on sukuna’s cock. you force yourself to look back up at sukuna, only to find his crimson eyes locked onto yours, piercing through your nerves.

“mmh, right on time, little one,” his raspy voice echoes through the room. yorozu tries to turn her head to see who he’s addressing, but his grip on her hair tightens as he thrusts his hips, the wet, squelching sounds filling the air. “yeaahh, take it all,” he growls, his gaze fixated on her as he pounds into her mouth.

you stand there, rooted to the spot, trying to retreat, but his voice halts you completely. “where do you think you’re going?” he breathes out, using yorozu’s mouth like a toy. “you haven’t served us our dinner yet, fool.”

fuck.

you completely forgot about the food you left outside the door as you nod, quickly turning around to grab the smaller, easier plate. sukuna’s gaze follows your every movement, ignoring yorozu entirely. you place both plates on a nearby table, bowing in respect and hoping to leave as swiftly as possible. but just as you’re about to exit, sukuna’s command echoes in your mind,

stay in the room at all times.

oh how calculated sukuna is.

it’s as if he’s reading your thoughts. as you stand frozen, realizing the gravity of his order, he laughs—a sound so chilling it sends shivers down your spine. “stand at the foot of the bed,” he commands, his smirk widening. your legs feel like they’re moving on their own, carrying you exactly where he wants you. sukuna pulls yorozu’s mouth away from his slick, covered cock, a glistening string of saliva still connecting her lips to him as she coughs, gasping for air, her face flushed. 

in a swift motion, sukuna flips yorozu onto her stomach, her body bouncing on the soft mattress with a broken gasp. sukuna looms behind her, the sheer size difference between them almost sickening. he starts peeling off the clothes you helped her into. yorozu’s face is smeared with cum and saliva, her expression dazed and weak, her hair splayed messily around her. she gives you a feeble smirk as your gaze moves back up.

sukuna’s attention is completely on you. his four eyes lock onto you as he strokes his cock, the thick, veiny shaft glistening with pre cum. each slow, deliberate pump makes a loud, wet squelch, and he nearly moans with every stroke, catching himself just in time to suppress the sound. two of his eyes stay fixed on yours while the other two roam over your body, making you shiver and squirm as you squeeze your thighs together.

the scene is overwhelming. your cunt throbs uncontrollably, each pulse radiating a hot, urgent need. the sight of sukuna’s pleasure and yorozu’s submission heightens your arousal, the rhythmic throbbing between your legs becoming nearly unbearable. your desire builds with every movement, each squelch and grunt of sukuna’s making your breath come faster, your body aching for release.

he can smell how desperate you are, the way your arousal fills the air, making him smirk with satisfaction.

how pathetic, he thinks.

“upp we go baby, arch that fuckin’ back,” sukuna purrs, his hands lifting yorozu’s ass high, creating a lewd, enticing arch that he clearly revels in. he smacks her ass hard, making her jolt forward with a loud moan. the sight is almost too much for you. your cunt throbs with an insistent, pulsing rhythm, your body aching to be the one under his control, desperately wishing to be the focus of his ruthless pleasure.

two of sukuna’s hands grip yorozu’s hips, holding her firmly in place, while his bulbous, leaking tip teases her folds. he parts her slick slit, sliding up and down her leaky entrance, drawing a broken moan from her. the sensation twists painfully in your stomach as if you can almost feel his every movement inside you.

without a word, sukuna thrusts in, splitting her open with his delicious girth. she cries out loudly, her voice breaking as he begins to stretch her open. you watch, mesmerized, as she grows more incoherent with every inch of him, her babbling lost in a haze of pleasure. sukuna drives himself deeper into her, hissing at how tightly she clings to him. his hips pound into her at a relentless pace, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the room. you bite your lip so hard it hurts, fighting to keep silent, desperate to contain the sounds of your own moans.

dizziness clouds your vision. you know you should leave, but the fear of what sukuna might do if you disobey keeps you rooted in place. his presence alone is a threat, and you feel trapped.

yorozu’s moans and gasps are relentless, her body writhing beneath sukuna as he grins savagely. he leans forward- slamming his hips faster, bending her nearly in half, one hand gripping the back of her neck, pinning her down. all four of his red eyes are fixed on you as he came close to your face, his gaze intense and predatory, making it clear that you are as much a part of his game as yorozu.

“how badly do you want it, hmm?” he rasps, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. you nearly moan aloud, your thighs aching from the way you’ve been clenching them together in desperate need. sukuna doesn’t even glance at yorozu, his entire focus locked on you.

“s-so bad it hurts,” you manage to stammer, your voice trembling with desire. his grin widens, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he increases his pace. yorozu’s cries grow louder, her pleas for more blending with the frantic rhythm of sukuna’s thrusts. “fuckin’ slut,” he scoffs.

he leans back, his movements rough and demanding as he flips yorozu onto her back. her breasts jiggle with the impact, her long black hair splayed messily over the sheets. some strands sticking to her body. sukuna repositions himself with a smirk, the room heavy with the raw intensity of his lust.

suddenly, sukuna’s words echo in your mind,

it’s so easy to get in your head.

you push aside the noise and realize he’s burrowed deep into your thoughts, toying with you, testing how far he can push you before you crack. you’re nothing but a pawn in his game.

as you snap out of his trance, he notices and flashes a wicked smile. he knows all too well how much you crave him, how you think of him when you’re alone, how you only ever want to be with him.

“enjoy your dinner,” you blurt out, quickly sliding the door open and running away, having blatantly violated his command,

stay in the room at all times.

you can’t believe how easily he played his mind games with you once again. you speed down the dark hallway, not daring to look back at the skull-decorated doors.

how deep has he gotten into my head?