#but i will say that the echoes of his presence are still there

[crowsofdarkness]

You've been braty all evening and suggest a fun game to play with Bucky: Hide and fuck.

18+ CW's below the cut( mask kink, protected pinv since she's on the implant, oral with both male and female receiving, fingering, masturbation, choking, degradation, rope play/bondage, making of a sex tape, rough/possessive sex, and slight voyeurism)

a/n: ok I fully understand that Bucky wearing the mask post winter solider is somewhat traumatic but in this little universe/fic, Bucky is trying to get over the trauma by replacing that feeling of fear with something different.

My breath was unsteady and echoed loud in the confined space I found myself in. Surely Bucky had to be returning to our room soon, it had been hours since I left him at the bar with Steve, now almost ten in the evening. As soon as I came back to our room, I went about showering off the long days filth and slipped into a new piece of lingerie I’d bought a while ago just never found the perfect time to wear it. 

Until now. 

All night, I’d been teasing Bucky by whispering all of the filthy things I wanted him to do to me. More so, I wanted him to chase me and fuck me. Unfortunately even with the size of our room, there still wasn’t enough space for Bucky to hunt me down so I had to settle with a simple game of hide and seek. 

Or as I called it in the text I sent him: hide and fuck. 

I managed to fit myself in the large wardrobe dresser that we had in our room, the ones that were tall enough where I could sit inside of it somewhat comfortably. The scent of my peach perfume, Bucky’s favorite,  clouded around me as I sat with my knees pulled to my chest. Just when I was about to give up, tired of waiting, I heard the insert of a key card into the slot and the door clicking open. I had left the light on in the main area of the hotel room so some of it could cast a light into where I was hiding but with a soft click, everything was blanketed in black. 

Bucky’s back. 

Holding a hand over my mouth, I tried so hard to remain quiet even though I was beyond giddy with excitement that he had agreed to this. I knew that this was also supposed to be a therapeutic exercise for him. A way for him to see himself in his old Hydra mask and come to terms he’s not that person anymore. 

Although he was afraid, we both knew that those words that controlled him were long gone. No longer programmed. Even if he wore the mask tonight, Bucky wouldn’t become the soldier. 

His footsteps were so light, almost nonexistent, as he moved around the room. I could feel his presence as it halted in front of the wardrobe and before I could register what was happening, Bucky ripped open the doors and yanked me from it. 

My body fell to the floor with little damage and I quickly scurried away from Bucky only for his fingers to wrap around my ankle, dragging me back to him. His large body loomed over me, lust filled eyes and his lower half of his face was covered by the mask.  His breathing was all I heard as I stared up at him. He wore nothing but the mask and black briefs, hanging low on his hips. The light colored hairs of his happy trail brought a tender smile to my face. 

“Found you,” Bucky growled as his palms traced over the thin white lace of my lingerie, his eyes growing even darker. 

“I-I guess you did,” I stammered while he climbed on top of me. 

WIth his hips locking me in place, Bucky reached over my head towards a bag I hadn’t noticed before and riffled through it. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the rope between his hands, him threading it between his fingers. 

Bounding my hands to my ankles, Bucky went about tying them together with the rope, checking how tight it was before letting the game slip away for a moment. 

“Too tight?” 

I shook my head. “I promise, it’s fine.” 

He took off the hair tie around his wrist and gathered my hair away from my face and into a ponytail. His vibranium finger grazed over my cheek, forcing my eyes to meet his. 

“If you ever want to stop, say red,” he said quietly. 

“Okay,” I breathed, understanding the usage of our new safe word. 

With my hands and feet bound together, I let out a squeal of laughter mixed with shock as Bucky lifted me from the ground, carrying me like a tied animal over towards our bed and roughly tossed me onto it. My ass was up towards the ceiling, barely covered by the lace I wore, and his nostrils flared when he leaned over my lower half, still donning the mask. 

“You smell so good,” he praised while kneeling on the bed. 

“Peaches,” I informed, reminding him of my perfume. 

Bucky hooked a finger into my panties, shifting it to the side so he could brush his nose along my wet folds. 

“Oh,” I murmured when I realized what kind of smell he was referring to. 

Due to how I was tied up, I wasn’t able to look down and see Bucky between my legs, but I could feel the faint brush of his tongue over my clit and I pulled on my bindings. 

“One more thing,” Bucky said before slipping away from me to rummage around in my suitcase. 

I turned my head towards him. “We don’t need a condom. I’m on the implant, remember?” 

He ignored me, still rummaging around in my bag until he spun quickly on his heels towards me holding onto one of my camcorders. 

“Sex tape?” I asked with a teasing edge to my voice. 

Bucky’s lips curled up after he ripped off the mask. “A fucking sex tape.” 

After making sure it was fully charged and set up on the dresser across the bed with the perfect angle, he was quick to be back at the foot of the bed, kneeling on the floor. 

“I want to taste you so fucking bad, doll. Will you let me?” 

My head fell back to the mattress with fluttering eyes. “Please.”

Yanking my panties to the side again, Bucky was quick to devour me, teeth and tongue all over my core. My body writhed against the bed as he took turns between my clit and folds with his tongue before ultimately wrapping his lips around my sensitive bud and forced two vibranium fingers inside of me. 

“Shit,” I panted as the orgasm was quick to build. 

I’d been on edge all night waiting for him and I knew it wouldn’t take me long to reach there. Bucky momentarily removed his fingers from me to press the fullness of his tongue against my folds, licking me up from the bottom to the top.

"Fuck," I moaned when his tongue speared inside of me for a few strokes, before replacing it with his fingers again. 

Bucky’s lips wrapped around my clit to bite and suck at the bundle of nerves. He ate me like a man starved as was offered his final meal before death. The familiar burn at the base of my spine made me call out his name; in a praise and a warning. 

“So close,” I keened. 

Bucky’s arm held up my legs that were still bound and since his mouth was a little preoccupied, he smacked my ass with the hand that was holding my panties to the side. 

Let go, doll. 

I came with a shout, grinding myself against Bucky’s face as he licked and finger fucked me through the aftershocks. 

“Shit,” I choked on a breath when he pulled away only to rise to his feet, yanking down his brieds, now standing in front of me in nothing but the mask. 

I pulled on my bindings, yearning to touch him, but let out an aggravated cry when I realized how tight he tied them. 

“I need to be inside you, doll,” Bucky admitted while grabbing a hold of my ankles with one hand and guiding himself inside of me with the other. 

Both of our groans of pleasure tangled sweetly together and Bucky, who stood at the edge of the bed now, slammed into me with such force, it shook the headboard against the wall. The sound of skin on skin was heaven sent, along with the image of Bucky’s head rolled back, mouth open as he let out pants of air in tangent with each of his thrust. They were brutal, nearly bruising, but I reveled in it. It awoken a fire deep inside of me that from now on needed to be set ablaze. 

“So.” 

Thrust.

“Fucking.” 

Thrust. 

“Tight,” Bucky groaned as his hips stalled for a moment and I watched as the muscles in his stomach constricted. 

He was close but was trying not to tumble over the edge so he slipped out from me. Before I could protest, he was climbing onto the bed towards me. He lifted my head up, wrapping my hair around his hand to force my mouth towards his cock slick with my arousal. 

“Open that pretty little mouth,” he demanded, yanking on my scalp. 

With glittering eyes gazing up at him, I parted my lips so he could force himself inside. He ignored my gagging as he hate fucked my throat with such a bruising grip on my hair, I was sure it would be sore for days. Drool pooled from my mouth and around his cock, dripping down to my chest. 

“Such a good little slut,” Bucky smacked my cheek with the hand that wasn't tangled in my hair. “You love the way you taste, huh?”

My yelp of shock was drowned out by his cock as he repeatedly hit the back of my throat. I could taste myself on it, the tangy arousal lingering on my tongue. But soon I was gasping for breath when Bucky pulled himself from my mouth to grab a hold of my chin, bringing his face mere meters from mine. 

“I asked you a question, doll. I expect you to answer it.”

I did the best I could to nod with his tight grip but it wasn’t enough for him so he tapped my cheek again. 

“Words. You need to use your words.” 

“Yes,” I blurted. “Yes, I love the way I taste on your cock.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praised before forcing his cock deep inside my throat again. 

This time, he didn’t hold himself back as he spilled himself inside of my mouth. 

“Don’t you dare swallow,” he spat through gritted teeth as he held the back of my head, letting my tongue glide him through the aftershocks. 

I held his seed in my mouth, long after he fell to the bed next to me, only to reach into the bag he brough, pulling out a knife. My eyes widened but unable to speak, I held my breath. 

Bucky brushed his lips over mine. “You can swallow now, pretty girl.” 

Obeying him, I let out a breath and motioned towards the shiny blade. “I think this is a step too far.”

He let out a low chuckle before reaching for my bound legs and hands. “Relax, doll. I’m just cutting you free.”

Tattered rope fell to the bed and Bucky quickly brought the red, irritated skin to his lips, peppering it with kisses. 

All I did was hum and as we laid there, Bucky’s fingers grazed up and down the inside of my thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

“I hope you know I’m not finished with you yet,” was all he said before he yanked me off of the bed. 

As we passed by the camcorder, Bucky turned it so it could face out towards the balcony of the hotel room. 

“Bucky!” I nearly screeched when I noticed the somewhat busy street just a few floors beneath us. 

He spun me around so my back was against the railing, the city lights painting us in a luminescent glow, and traced a finger down the front of my lingerie. 

“This is new,” he noted. 

I shivered with not only his touch, but the cool breeze that passed over us. 

“Do-do you like it?” I asked, nervous. 

“I love it so much, doll, that I’m going to fuck you with it on,” Bucky husked before holding out his hand, spitting on it. 

He pumped his already hard cock a few times, dragging the extra skin over the head and let out a spew of curses. Gathering some of my arousal between my legs, he worked me open again with two fingers before replacing them with his cock. The rough metal of the balcony dug into my back as Bucky dragged himself nearly all the way out, slowly fucking me with the head before thrusting all of him inside of me again. It went like this for a few moments, my bottom lip caught between my teeth because the feeling caused my skin to prick. I squeezed against him, swallowing his length in warmth and our hips began to move in sync.

“Shit,” Bucky rasped while leaving dark, bruising teeth marks along my neck and shoulder. “You feel so good, doll.”

His fingers wrapped around my neck while his thumb forced my jaw up towards him. I went to slip a finger between us but Bucky slapped my hand away, a growl of arousal slipped through his lips.

“Mine,” he whispered.

The pad of his thumb pressed against my bundle of nerves and with the fast and relentless pace he had chosen now, I felt the coil deep in my stomach begin to tense, my second orgasm so close.

“Yours,” I breathed. 

Our bodies slammed against each other, skin slapping against skin, and the wet noises that came from the place we were connected were so filthy that I was ready to let my body go, walls tensing around Bucky’s cock. He lifted his forehead from my chest and forced our gazes to lock again, my arm wrapped around his shoulder to bring him closer, thumb rubbing circles on his bicep. His eyes took in every inch of my face, burning with the way I gasped silently when I felt the tip of his cock hit that spot. 

“Bucky,” I pured. “I’m going to-.” 

My orgasm ripped through me, causing the words to falter, and I shook in his tight embrace. The night air did nothing to cool my heated skin. 

Bucky removed his bottom lip from the tight grip between his teeth as he let out a deep but quiet moan as he painted my walls with his cum. Lifting me into his arms, I wrapped my tired legs around him as he carried me back into the bedroom and tossed me onto the bed yet again fixing the camera in a different position. 

“I can’t,” I shook my head when he reached for the buttons of my lingerie. 

Bucky kissed a tender kiss on my shoulder. “I know you’ve got one more in you, doll. Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” 

More than anything. 

I was exhausted from my two orgasms, how was he not? Peering down to his cock, I noticed it was nearly hard yet again, the sight of it alone causing my gut to twinge with anticipation and I licked my lips. 

Damn super soldier serum.

“I thought you can't,” Bucky mocked my voice from earlier, causing me to narrow my eyes at him. 

“Shut up!”

The sound of fabric ripping echoed in the room, my lingerie falling away from my body and I screeched while smacking his chest. 

“This was new, asshole!” 

Bucky shrugged, throwing me down to my stomach and lifting my ass in the air to lay a swift smack against it with his vibranium hand. I scrambled to get away from him which prompted him to force the top half of my body against the mattress with one of his hands while the other smacked my ass yet again. 

“Fuck! Bucky!” I bit back the tears as he laid a third smack. “Pl-please.”

“I’ll stop when you apologize for what you called me,” Bucky’s voice was dark, gone with the lust that consumed him. 

For the briefest of moments, part of me feared the monster I had awoken in him but when the pain soon turned to pleaser, I let out a quiet moan afraid he would hear. His large hand rubbed at the red skin before pressing a kiss. 

“Does the pain turn you on, doll? Hm?” Bucky spoke into the skin of my lower back. 

I grasped at the pillow, pulling it close to my chest so I could muffle my answer into it. Which only seemed to displease him because he sunk his teeth into the extra flesh of my hip, making me cry out my answer. 

“Yes! I need it to hurt!”

Wrapping an arm around my stomach, Bucky lifted me up onto my knees and to face the large mirror in the room that was hung across the bed, right next to the camera; still blinking red. I gasped at my reflection of tattered pieces of lingerie hanging on to me still by a thread, mascara running down my face, purple bite marks littered all over my neck and shoulder, and lips faintly bruised from how hard Bucky fucked my throat earlier. 

He knelt behind me and brushed his nose along the shell of my ear while trailing the pad of his thumb over the pulse point of my throat. 

“You look so pretty like this, doll. Marked up as mine so everyone knows who you belong to,” he dragged his teeth along the crook of my neck, breathing me in. 

“God, I fucking love the way you smell.”

His fingers pinched and pulled at my nipples, making my head falter back onto his shoulder.

“What do you want, baby?” Bucky palmed both of my breasts now before trailing a hand down my stomach to spread my legs wide for the reflection and mostly the camera. 

“You,” I breathed. 

Bucky said nothing, instead he slipped two fingers past my slick folds where the head of his cock was slowly gliding up and down. Gathering up not only my arousal but the little bit of precum that beaded at the slit, he brought those fingers to my lips with one simple order. 

“Lick.”

I took both vibranium fingers into my mouth without objection to lap up the tangy mixture of us and hummed greedily. I took them as far as I could without gagging and Bucky showed me how proud he was of me by sinking himself deep inside my pussy. His strokes this time were languid, taking his time with me as he worked me up with his fingers down my throat and the others spreading me wide. 

“That’s it. Take all of me. I can feel your pussy clenching around me, you’re so wet,” Bucky’s pace began to intensify as his words were urging him on. 

One hand wrapped around my throat while the other strumbed against my swollen nub, bringing me closer and close to the edge of destruction. 

My own words were gone, forever lost in the bliss that overtook my body. My soul succumbed to Bucky, allowing him to drag every part of my essence down with him to the darkness. This was a side of Bucky I’d never expected to see and now that I had a taste of him, I wasn’t letting him go. 

“I love you,” I moaned as I allowed the waves of pleasure to drown me as I soaked Bucky’s cock with my orgasm. 

He stilled his movements and sucked in a breath before forcing my face to look into our reflection of the mirror. 

“What did you just say?” 

I blinked a few times, trying to regain myself after the intensity of each after shock, and when Bucky’s grip on my chin tightened, I winced. 

Oh shit. 

I had just blurted out that I loved Bucky.

For the first time. 

Shit. Fuck. God damn it. 

We’d only been dating for a few months and I was suddenly very afraid of how Bucky would react. It was clearly way too soon to be dropping the I love you bomb. 

“Doll,” Bucky’s voice was firm as he shook my face. 

Staring at his reflection, I let the words fall from my lips again. 

“I love you.”

The hard lines on his face softened as he let the proclamation settle for a few quiet beats and just before I could find myself questioning everything, Bucky let out a guttural groan, wrapping an arm around my stomach to pull my back closer to his chest. We were pulled flush against each other as now Bucky used the new angle to buck up into me, hitting the spot each and every time. 

My body was drained and I could barely keep myself afloat in his embrace as the bed shook beneath us, creaking with every snap of his hips. Skin on skin bounced off the walls, overpowering the sounds of my quiet cries, and Bucky bit down hard on my shoulder. 

“Fuck, doll. I love you too, so fucking much. You’re mine, you hear me? Your heart, your soul, this fucking pussy? All mine,” he snarled as he filled my cunt. 

“Ah! Shit!” I cried out louder this time when I felt the teeniest prick of blood from Bucky’s bite into my neck trail down between my breasts. 

We both fell onto the bed, a heap of sweat and cum, and Bucky immediately wrapped me in his arms. He continued to proclaim his love for me while dragging those vibranium fingers up and down my spine, lulling me to sleep; all while the red light from the camera continued to blink. 

[pitchsidestories]

What do you fancy love ? II (Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x Reader)

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1495

summary: Reader is just a girl who is sometimes insecure, but her girlfriends remind her how important she is to them. requested

author's note: Hi everyone, thank you anon for the request, and hopefully you and the other readers will like this little fanfic.🩷🩷

disclaimer: Everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality. Slightly smutty ending.

You studied the photo on your phone closely. Tilting the device back and forth to avoid the glare on the screen and to find evidence of what you had told yourself over and over again in the past few days. It was Alexias’s post and naturally she looked stunning on it, smiling into the camera. Jenni was captured in side profile as she was turning towards you. She looked as cool as she always did. You were sandwiched between those two gorgeous women and the longer you stared at the photo, the less you felt like you fit in.

You couldn’t resist, your thumb instinctively clicked at the little speech bubble and the comment section opened. You already knew what was about to come.

Y/n just posted .. (let's pretend reader is Teresa in this picture)

User69: Are all three of them a thing?!

userloveswoso: no way. I mean Alexia and Jenni make sense but…

xXUserXx: yeah, they’re hot together but y/n kinda ruins it. Not sure what they want with her

You felt your stomach drop and your throat tighten immediately. While you continued to scroll through the comments, Alexias’s voice echoed through your shared flat: “Amor, where are you?”

The playful sing-song in felt completely out of place.

You cleared your throat and called: “In the bedroom!”

Instead of Alexia, Jenni shouted from the hallway: “Oh, I’m coming.”

You usually would have smiled about her eagerness to get into bed but right now, your eyes were still glued to that small screen in front of you.

Alexia groaned and scolded your girlfriend: “Jennifer, you can’t possibly always think of that one thing when you hear someone say the word bedroom.”

“What can I say? I was conditioned like a Pavlovian dog.”, Jenni laughed.

You felt their presence before you actually saw them standing in the doorway.

“Hi, did you get everything at the supermarket?”, you asked, forcing your voice to sound as casual as possible without looking up at them.

From the corner of your eye, you caught your girlfriends exchanging a glance.

“So, we’re not doing it?”, Jenni asked jokingly.

“Doing what?” You finally looked up at them and upon seeing Jennis’s smirk, you added: “Oh, you’re sure you don’t want to do it without me?”

Alexia frowned at you, her eyebrows knotting together in concern: “Okay, something is wrong. Tell us what’s going through your pretty head.”

“Pretty? Me?”, you repeated as she sat down on the bed next to you.

“Of course, you, you idiot.”, Jenni grinned from where she was leaning against the wall.

In contrast to hers, Alexias’s face was serious: “You act like we never say that to you.”

“The people seem to disagree.”, you said plainly and handed her your phone with a heavy heart. Jenni came over, leaning over Alexias’s shoulder as they both read through the comments.

The midfielder shook her head in disbelief. She was hurting for you as she saw what random people, complete strangers had to say about you and your relationship with them.:” Why would they say that?”

“Maybe they’re right.”, you whispered.

With a fierce passion Jenni disagreed:” No, those hiding behind their screens are wrong.”

Alexia said your name softly.

You almost couldn’t bring yourself to look in her beautiful hazel eyes. “Hm?”

“Don’t listen to them.”, she gently replied.

In your mind's eye, the hateful comments from the internet jumped out at you, and you quietly admitted: “It’s not that easy.”

“You can’t possibly believe that shit.”, the striker waved her hands in outrage.

In a tone that did not tolerate any protest, Alexia commanded: “Put the phone away for the night.”

“But..”, you started.

The blonde was quick to interrupt you:” You heard me.”

“Yes, relax, babe.”, Jenni tried to calm you down.

However, your thoughts left you no peace: “I don’t want to relax.” You could feel the panic rising in you as you spoke.

“You should though.”, Alexia responded.

Despite the worried look on your girlfriend’s faces, you observed:” No one says those things about any of you.”

“That’s not true, but besides who cares what they think?”, the raven-haired woman countered.

“I care, Jenni!”, you cried out.

It was in this moment that your lovers realized that you were in your early twenties, your career was on the rise, you still needed to learn how to deal with all of that outside pressure which came with being a public person.

The midfielder hated to see you so sad: “Calm down.”

To her great surprise, you got out of bed and announced: ”I’ll go for a walk.”

“Do you want us to join you or..?”, Alexia asked, sounding cautious.

Purposefully, you put on your shoes. You didn't have to think long about your answer to her question: ”No.”

As soon as you were on your way out, the door was just closing, the blonde let herself fall onto the bed with a tired sigh.

“Jenni, what do we do with her?”, her eyes wandered expectantly to her girlfriend who lay next to her.

Without giving it much thought, the older of the two suggested: “We have to show her that we know better than the stupid comments.”

“How?”

A dirty smile appeared on Jennis lips: “Well.”

“What if she’s not in the mood?”, Alexia objected.

The dark-haired woman began to stare at the ceiling, confessing with a wry smile: “Then I’m out of ideas.”

“Okay, we’ll try that.”, the midfielder decided.

A surprised laugh escaped Jenni's mouth: “Really?”

“Yes.”, she confirmed in a matter-of-factly tone.

It was early evening and there was a light breeze coming in from the sea that ran through your hair. The sunset was reflected in the water, which you could see from afar.

At the beginning of your walk, the anxiety weighed heavily on your young shoulders, but now that you were almost home again, you felt the weight lighten. The peace and beauty of the moment outweighed and calmed your inner turmoil.

“I’m back.”, you told your girlfriends once you stepped inside your shared appartement.

Again, it was Alexias voice floating over to you: “Come into the bedroom.”

“Uhm, okay.“, you said before you slipped out of your shoes and took a deep breath. You really didn’t feel like talking to your girlfriends again.

“Don’t let us wait.”, Jenni called too when you took too long to follow Alexias instruction.

You reluctantly did as you were told.

The bedroom looked a little different since you left it. There were candles burning everywhere and rose petals on bed. You had no idea from where they had appeared from. But most importantly, both of your girlfriends stood there in matching lingerie.

They looked incredibly hot but the sight of them like that was so surprising that it almost made you giggle: “Oh my god.”

Alexia reached out to you, gesturing to come closer: “Come here…”

“Seriously?”, you asked with a smile, still unsure if your eyes didn’t betray you.

Alexia nodded: “Yes, you know that I’m a serious person.”

“Hard to tell when you’re standing there in your underwear.”, you laughed.

Jenni, seemingly getting more and more impatient, walked over you with that typical mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Yes, and you, pretty girl, are still wearing way too many clothes.”, she grinned, her face close to yours. Skilfully, she slid her fingers under your sweater and started to lift fabric up.

“Excuse me? I didn’t say take them off.”, you protested jokingly.

Shrugging, Jenni pulled the shirt over your head: “No but I did.”

She immediately moved farther down, opening the button of your jeans.

Laughing, you pushed her away: “Stop.”

Alexia took Jennis spot right in front of you. Her thumb grazed over your cheek while she tenderly kissed your lips.

“Baby girl, do you still want us to stop?”

You blinked at her, your brain incapable of cooperating: “Uhm…”

None of your girlfriends moved until you gave them permission to keep going.

But you couldn’t resist, the desire was too strong.

You shook your head: “No.”

The smile Alexia and Jenni shared almost washed away the memory of these nasty comments again. They seemed genuinely happy that they were allowed to take care of you. You only realised that now. It wasn’t just about what you or anyone else thought. It was about what your girlfriends wanted. And they clearly wanted you.

Before you knew it, you laid on the bed in nothing but your underwear. Jennis fingers and Alexias lips were everywhere on your body. You loved it when they did that. It was almost like their playing styles on the pitch, complimenting and enhancing each other’s skills. There was no room for your own thoughts anymore. You were so absorbed in the action that you didn’t notice your phone sliding off the nightstand and landing under the bed. And if you had, you wouldn’t have cared. Their opinions were theirs, but your girlfriends made pretty clear that you belonged to them. That you were loved and desirable.

[kakuvibez]

hello!! I don't know if you take poly requests but could you do Shadow milk cookie x Sua!reader (alien stage) x Pure vanilla hcs? like they're reaction to having an s/o with a really good and soft voice just like how Sua has and could you base readers appearance with Sua except reader has a long hair but still has Sua's features, personality etc. hcs and scenario/s will do! but if you don't do poly rqs then feel free to just separate them! but will really like it more if you do poly but no worries it's up to you!!

yandere one shot/quotes/ hcs; CRK

Since you're my first request for a cookie run kingdom story(?) I want to give you extra (≡^∇^≡)‼️

requested by ; anonymous/ @user / none,,

fandom(s) ; ALNST, CRK

fandom master list(s): master | specific

character(s); Shadow Milk Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie Sua!Reader,

outline; "Can you sing...?"

warning(s) ; yandere themes for extra,,

You have a voice as soft and enchanting as Sua's, with an almost otherworldly tone that makes people stop and listen.

Your appearance mirrors Sua's, but with long, flowing hair that shimmers under the light.

Personality-wise, you're graceful yet mischievous, sometimes teasing but always carrying an air of elegance.

Shadow Milk Cookie

The first time Shadow Milk Cookie heard your voice, he froze. His usual sharp demeanor wavered, his grip tightening around his weapon.

He tells himself it's just a voice, but the way it lingers in his mind? Unacceptable.

"Tch. What kind of spell is this...?"

He acts unaffected, but if anyone else comments on your voice, he glares at them like they dared to touch something precious.

When you sing or hum absentmindedly, he pretends not to listen... but he always is. He sharpens his weapons slower, his mouth flicking in quiet satisfaction.

If anyone insults your voice? Expect immediate violence. "Say that again, and you won't have a voice to speak with."

- Initially, he doesn't react much to your voice. He's so used to harsh, bitter sounds-clashing swords, the echoes of solitude, the weight of his past.

- But then he hears you truly sing. Maybe it's late at night when he can't sleep, and you hum a tune absentmindedly. The moment the melody reaches him, his entire body stills.

- He tries to act indifferent, but is heart clenches. Why does your voice make him feel like this?

- He doesn't admit how much he craves your singing. Instead, he finds excuses to linger near you whenever you hum or speak softly.

- He secretly loves it when you sing just for him, even if he acts annoyed about it. If you stop? He'll grumble something like, "Who told you to stop?"

-barely above a whisper.

- If someone else hears you and compliments your voice? Oh. He does not like that. He'll pull you aside and mutter, "Why do you waste your voice on them?"

- He may not say it outright, but your voice is one of the only things that soothes his restless soul.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

- Pure Vanilla is absolutely mesmerized from the very first time he hears you. Your voice is a gift, a melody that carries warmth and kindness in every note.

- Every time you speak or sing, his eyes light up. He listens with a gentle, almost reverent expression, as if he's hearing something divine.

- "You have the voice of an angel," he murmurs, smiling softly. "Every word you say feels like a blessing."

- He often asks you to sing when he's healing others. He believes your voice alone has the power to mend weary souls, and he's right-your presence alone makes the injured feel at ease.

- He's not the jealous type, but he does feel a little sad when others demand your attention. He cherishes those quiet moments when it's just the two of you, your voice wrapping around him like a warm embrace.

- Pure Vanilla enjoys brushing your long hair as you sing. He finds it soothing, almost like a ritual of love and comfort.

- If he ever sees you upset, he'll softly encourage you to sing for yourself. "Even if no one else is listening, let your voice be a comfort to you as well."

Pure Vanilla Cookie is completely enchanted by your voice. He listens with a dreamy expression, like he's basking in sunlight.

"Your voice is... unlike anything I've ever heard. It soothes even the deepest wounds."

He encourages you to sing or speak freely, even if you're shy about it. He truly believes your voice holds healing properties.

If you ever feel insecure, he'll cup your cheeks gently and remind you: "Even the wind envies the softness of your words."

Loves when you hum while tending to flowers or helping others-it makes everything feel more magical.

He will absolutely ask for lullabies if he's stressed. His trust in you is absolute, and your voice is his greatest comfort.

Shadow Milk pretends to be indifferent, while Pure Vanilla is openly mesmerized. The contrast is amusing.

Shadow Milk is the type to grumble if Pure Vanilla requests a song: "What, you need to be sung to sleep like a child?" But then he stays to listen.

You often tease Shadow Milk about how he always "accidentally" shows up when you're singing. He denies it.

Pure Vanilla thinks your voice could bring peace, while Shadow Milk sees it as a weapon that could distract even the strongest of foes.

They both love you in their own way, but one thing is certain-your voice belongs only to them.

The quiet hum of your melody drifted through the air, carried by the soft night breeze. Sitting beneath a large tree, you let the notes flow effortlessly, your long hair swaying gently.

Pure Vanilla Cookie sat beside you, eyes closed, a peaceful smile gracing his lips. "It feels like a dream..." he murmured. "I could listen to you forever."

A short distance away, Shadow Milk Cookie leaned against the tree with crossed arms, his tail flicking. "Hmph. It's just a song." But the way his ears twitched betrayed his real feelings.

You smirked. "You say that, and yet you're still here."

He clicked his tongue, turning away. "Coincidence."

Pure Vanilla chuckled, his golden eyes twinkling. "Shadow Milk, you don't have to pretend. I see the way you relax when they sing."

Caught off guard, Shadow Milk scoffed but didn't leave. Instead, he muttered, "If you're gonna sing, at least don't stop halfway."

You laughed softly, continuing your song, while both of them-whether they admitted it or not-were completely captivated by you.

They may be different, but one thing is certain: your voice belongs only to them.

Extra!! ; Yandere Headcanons

Yandere! Shadow Milk Cookie

Obsessed. He hates how much he craves your voice, yet it's the only thing that soothes his ever-present rage.

He's always watching-lurking in the shadows, waiting for an excuse to eliminate anyone who gets too close to you.

"You sing too much for others. Do they really deserve to hear you?" His voice is low, almost threatening.

Doesn't like you speaking to others at all. If he catches you singing for someone else, he will glare daggers and find a way to get rid of them.

If anyone insults your voice, expect a body count. He doesn't hesitate.

He sometimes steals things that carry your scent-small ribbons, hair strands caught in your brush-just to keep a part of you when he's alone.

Yandere! Pure Vanilla Cookie

Unlike Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla acts like the perfect lover. He praises you, smiles at you with warmth... but beneath that, there's something unsettling.

"Your voice is a gift to the world, but... perhaps it's best if only I hear it." His tone is gentle, yet firm.

Wants you to sing only for him. If others hear you, he feels betrayed-not that he'd ever punish you outright. No, he'll make you feel guilty instead.

"Do you not love me? Is that why you let others hear your voice?"

If you try to run, he'll act hurt, making you feel like the villain. "I only want to protect you, my dear... why must you try to leave me?"

He will never let you go. If necessary, he'll use magic to erase memories of anyone who's ever heard your voice before.

They hate each other. Shadow Milk is convinced Pure Vanilla is manipulating you, while Pure Vanilla sees Shadow Milk as dangerous.

You? Caught between them. They both believe they're the only one who truly deserves you.

Shadow Milk would rather keep you locked away in darkness, safe from anyone else. Pure Vanilla would keep you in a golden cage, disguised as kindness.

They both find any excuse to keep you away from others. "Stay with me a little longer," Pure Vanilla will plead, while Shadow Milk will forcefully drag you away.

If you try to escape? Pure Vanilla will gaslight you into staying, while Shadow Milk will break anyone who dares help you.

The night was unusually quiet, save for the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Pure Vanilla Cookie sat near a small campfire, his staff resting against his shoulder, while Shadow Milk Cookie leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

You sat between them, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you absentmindedly hummed a tune-soft, dreamlike, carrying a melody neither of them could ignore.

Pure Vanilla's breath hitched, his eyes shimmering with admiration. "That song... it's beautiful."

Shadow Milk Cookie didn't say anything, but his grip on his weapon tightened ever so slightly. The usual tension in his posture seemed to ease.

"You should sing more often," Pure Vanilla encouraged gently, brushing a strand of your long hair behind your ear. "Your voice is... comforting."

"Tch." Shadow Milk Cookie scoffed, turning his gaze away.

Shadow Milk Cookie was hidden among the shadows, his tail flicking in irritation. Too many people had heard you today. He would need to take care of that.

Pure Vanilla Cookie, standing just behind you, smiled. "Your voice is... beautiful as always, my dear."

You turned to him with a soft smile. "Thank you, Vanilla."

Before you could continue, a cold hand grasped your wrist. Shadow Milk Cookie's grip was firm-almost too firm. "Enough," he growled. "You sing too much for others."

Pure Vanilla placed a hand over Shadow Milk's, his expression unreadable. "You shouldn't be so rough with them. You wouldn't want to hurt our precious songbird, would you?"

"Don't act like you're better than me," Shadow Milk spat. "You're just as bad."

You swallowed, heart pounding. There was no escaping them. No matter how sweet their words or how cruel their actions, they would never let you go.

And worst of all? A part of you was starting to wonder if you wanted to leave.

Because when they looked at you like that-like you were the only thing in their world-how could you say no?

No matter where you go, no matter how far you run-your voice, your very existence, belongs to them.

[mymoonisgrey]

mr. steal your girl

❤︎ ໋𓈒 in which satoru’s plans to steal you away from your girlfriend work, after a while.

warnings. 18+, smut, cunnilingus, p in v, satoru’s a smart manipulator, ooc, reader is bi and had a girlfriend, polygamy. based on this ask.

wc. 4.3k

A throuple. A polyamorous relationship. Not once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in one.

You’ve been with your girlfriend for a while now, and she’s wonderful—steady, kind, patient. You’ll admit that.

But a part of you has always yearned for something else. The kind of love that feels all-consuming. A man’s presence—protective, overwhelming, the low timbre of his voice settling deep in your bones, large, calloused hands engulfing yours, that brand of devotion you only ever see in movies.

Then Gojo Satoru waltzes into your life and tilts your world off its axis.

He’s thrilling, all spark and adrenaline. Just being near him sends a rush through your veins. Those striking blue eyes pull you in, make your head spin before you can even think.

It starts as a friendship.

You meet him at a bar, introduced through a mutual friend—Shoko Ieiri, who, for the record, is the human embodiment of lesbian energy. At first, you hang out in a group, once or twice. Then, somehow, it becomes a daily thing. Eventually, you’re comfortable enough to start meeting up with him alone.

“Trust me, you should really try the taro-flavored one,” he says, sliding the boba ice cream toward you with an easy smile. “I’m a sugar expert. And sugar varies, y’know?”

You hug your torso, lips quirking. “I know it tastes good. My girlfriend likes it.”

Satoru stills. The word hangs between you, and for a fraction of a second, his smile falters—so subtly you almost miss it.

Then, his expression smooths out, his interest sharpening into something even keener.

“Girlfriend?” he repeats, slow, as if tasting the word.

You nod, oblivious to the calculations running through his mind. “Mhm! I’ll bring her next time. You can meet her.”

A million possibilities unfold in his head, different ways this could go, all of them leading to the same outcome. Because he wants you—pronto.

His fingers graze the ends of your hair, his smile going languid, lazy.

“That,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “would be interesting.”

You didn’t think much about that interaction with Satoru at the time.

When you finally brought your girlfriend out to meet your friend, the connection between the three of you was instant—undeniable. Before you knew it, you had become a trio.

Satoru was always around, whether at your place or taking you both out. He spoiled you endlessly, never hesitating to drop money on gifts, meals, or spontaneous trips. He was the perfect masculine presence—charming, dependable, larger than life. Neither of you questioned it. Not at first.

You had no idea there was a motive behind it. Neither did she.

Then, one night, he brought it up.

“You know,” he starts, casual, almost offhanded. “We could just—make this a thing.”

You blink.

“Huh?” you mutter, sitting cross-legged, leaning back on your arms. Beside you, your girlfriend’s brows knit together.

Satoru swallows—an act, you realize later. He stares at both of you with a glassy, hopeful gaze, playing it up just enough to seem sincere but not too eager.

“I like you both,” he says. “So, if you’d like… I mean, I won’t take it personally if you say no—”

“Yes.”

The word leaves your lips before you can think, your back straightening as you nod.

Your girlfriend turns to you, eyes wide. But when you meet her gaze—soft, certain—she understands.

“…Yes,” she echoes.

Satoru smiles, slow and knowing. Then he stands smoothly, gathering you both into his arms—his grip just a little tighter around you.

It was a slow burn—he did think your girlfriend was cute, but you? You were everything. He could already picture it: kids, a settled life with you, lounging together in his clan’s estate. You, as his madam.

But he was patient. He took his sweet time, gradually pulling you further away from her without making it too obvious. It started small—sitting with you more often than she did, attending to every little need you had, hanging on to your every word. Then, the gifts.

“What’s all this?” you laugh softly, staring at the orange boxes with their fancy ribbons, the velvet-lined cases. You’d never been gifted something so luxurious before.

“They’re yours, honey.” He smiles, genuine, his heart pounding beneath his chest. “I picked everything based on… what you like.”

Your heart soars, your lips curling into a smile as you hug him tightly. “I love you. Thank you.”

Satoru exhales through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. “Mmm, I love you more,” he murmurs, his voice thick with devotion. He feels your eyes drift around, searching for something else.

His brow furrows. “I got her something too, don’t worry. It’s in her bedroom. When she’s back, I’ll give it to her.”

You nod, your smile warm, though your gaze lingers on the gifts in your lap. Part of you wonders—does she get the same? You assume she does. After all, Satoru’s generous.

He is, but only because he knows exactly what he’s doing. The gift for her? A simple diamond tennis necklace—barely a dent in his pocket. Not that it matters. This is all part of the plan.

It’s been going on for months—slowly, almost imperceptibly, Satoru has worked his way into your life, taking more of your attention, making you feel more at home with him than with your girlfriend. At first, it was subtle—the way he’d help you with everything, anticipate your needs before you even voiced them. But now, you’re beginning to notice the gap widening, the emotional distance growing between you and her.

Your girlfriend is becoming… strange.

She picks fights over the smallest things now—dirty dishes left in the sink, the couch cushion being out of place, your clothes tossed on the floor. It’s like every moment is an argument waiting to happen. Her moods shift at the drop of a hat. “I’m not in the mood,” she sighs. “I don’t feel like it today.” Even her complaints about Satoru—small, unimportant things—start to irritate you.

Satoru, on the other hand, never complains. He’s there when you need him, always helpful, always attentive. He’s not the one causing problems, and he never starts a fight. Everything he does seems to smooth over the tension.

But today… Today something shifts. Satoru’s patience snaps.

You’re out running errands, leaving Satoru and your girlfriend alone in the house. When you return, you find Satoru cornering her in the hallway. His face is expressionless, but there’s an undeniable hardness in his eyes.

“Honey,” Satoru says, his voice smooth, but with an edge that cuts through the air. His gaze never wavers from hers. “We need to talk.”

Your girlfriend glares at him, exhausted. “What now?” Her tone is laced with resentment.

“You’ve been really fucking hard on her lately,” Satoru continues, his voice deceptively gentle. He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture almost predatory. “What’s going on with you?”

“Hard on her?” she scoffs, her eyes flashing with anger. “Oh, so now you’re playing the ‘knight in shining armor,’ huh? Tell me, why does everything have to revolve around you two, huh?”

Satoru’s lips curl into a tight, almost amused smile. He leans in, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re always together. It’s like I’m invisible! It’s like I wasn’t even your girlfriend too— she was my girlfriend first! why are you just… swooping in like im not here?!” Her voice cracks with frustration, but her hands ball into fists at her sides.

Satoru tilts his head, his expression cool and controlled. “You’re being irrational,” he says, his tone deceptively soft. “Maybe if you treated her better, she wouldn’t feel like she has to pull away from you.”

Her eyes widen, disbelief flashing across her face. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Satoru doesn’t flinch. His gaze hardens. “I said maybe you should stop acting like a bitch towards her,” he states with calm finality.

Her face pales, and for a moment, she looks like she might explode. “Excuse me?” she whispers, barely holding back her fury. “You think you can talk to me like that? You think you can just come in here, into our relationship, and tell me how I should act?”

Satoru’s smile remains unchanged. “I’m not telling you what to do, but you’re making things difficult for her. You’re pushing her away, and it’s your fault.”

“You have an ulterior motive, don’t you?” she spits, glaring at him. “You’ve been plotting this from the start. You want her all to yourself.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Is that what you think? Really?” He takes a step closer to her, his presence overwhelming. “You’re the one who’s been making it hard for her, not me. But if you’re too blind to see that, then that’s your problem.”

She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “I think you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Satoru’s smile widens. “Maybe I have.” His eyes flick to the door, a silent invitation for her to leave, to walk away. “But you know what? That’s your choice.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he turns, walking away like he’s won.

Your girlfriend stands there, her body trembling with anger and frustration. She breathes heavily, looking at the door, before storming out without another word.

You return home, bags in hand, and freeze at the sight of your girlfriend standing outside. Her expression is clouded, her shoulders hunched, and she looks as though she’s just been torn apart.

“Hey… Are you okay?” you ask softly, approaching her, your voice filled with concern.

Her eyes flash with irritation. “Are you seriously asking me that?” she spits, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really don’t see it, do you? You’ve been so wrapped up in him, in Satoru, that you haven’t even noticed me. I’m right here, but you don’t care. You don’t even fucking care anymore.”

Your heart sinks, confusion and frustration rising. “That’s not true. I’ve been trying—”

“No! Don’t give me that!” she snaps, her voice raw with emotion. “You’ve been all about him. He’s always there, always helping, always doing for you. What about me? What the fuck do I get?”

Your eyes widen as the weight of her words settles in. “That’s not fair. You know how much I care about you.”

“Do I? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it,” she sneers, taking a step back. “It’s like you’ve forgotten everything. Like I’m just the other option, the one who gets pushed aside because you want him. You think I don’t see that?”

“Don’t talk like that,” you say, your voice wavering, emotions thick in your throat. “I’m not choosing anyone. I never wanted this to happen.”

“No, you didn’t,” she mocks. “But it’s happening anyway. Because you don’t see it. You don’t see me anymore.”

Tears spring to your eyes, but you blink them away, fighting back the lump in your throat. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Well, you are.” Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’ve already hurt me.”

Before you can respond, she spins on her heel and storms away, leaving you standing there, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on your chest.

Inside, Satoru watches from the window, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watches the scene unfold.

You rush inside, groceries in your arms, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and emotion. The door slams shut behind you with a soft thud, but the weight in your chest feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried. You fight to keep the tears at bay, but they burn at the edges of your vision.

Before you even reach the kitchen, Satoru is there—appearing as though he was waiting just for you. His hands are quick, steady, and gentle as he takes the groceries from your hands, setting them down on the foyer table with a careful precision. His eyes meet yours, searching for the storm brewing in them.

You don’t even have a chance to respond before his arms are around you, pulling you into his warmth.

“My heart, come here.” His voice is a soothing whisper, an easy contrast to the fury that still bubbles beneath your skin.

You crumble against him, the dam breaking, and sobs rack your body uncontrollably. It’s as if all the frustration, all the pain, all the love you’ve been withholding explodes at once. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, a steady presence, even as your body trembles with the weight of everything that’s happened.

“She’s being fucking unfair!” you choke out between ragged breaths, the words barely making it past the tightness in your throat.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. His hand brushes through your hair, slow and gentle, as though each stroke is meant to calm the storm inside you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his own breath steady and warm against your skin.

“I know.” His voice is soft, tender in a way that makes your heart twist. “She’s not seeing it, baby. She doesn’t see how much you’re doing, how much you care.” He holds you tighter, his grip firm yet comforting. “But I do.”

You pull back just slightly, enough to look up at him. His eyes are sharp, a mixture of understanding and something darker, something protective. He wipes away the remnants of your tears with his thumb, his gaze never leaving your face.

“She’s pushing me away, Satoru. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to make her understand,” you whisper, voice raw, the weight of it all crashing down on you again.

His smile is small, but it holds a certain promise in it—a promise that makes your chest tighten and your heart race. “Don’t worry about that. Let me handle it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words get stuck. There’s something in the way he says it, something confident and unwavering. His hand moves down your back, his fingers brushing against your spine in a way that sends a ripple of warmth through your body.

“I’ll fix this, okay?” he murmurs, eyes darkening just slightly. “She’s not going to ruin what we’ve built. Not when we’re this close. You and me… we’re untouchable.”

You want to say something, to question him, but the sincerity in his voice and the way he holds you makes it hard to think of anything but him, anything but this—the safety, the comfort, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay again.

The thought makes you dizzy. And in the quiet of his embrace, you let yourself be swept away by the weight of his devotion.

The three of you sit on the bed, the TV playing in the background, but the quiet tension in the room thickens with every passing second. Satoru’s arm is wrapped around you, pulling you closer, while your girlfriend watches, her hand inching toward his thigh.

Satoru notices first, his eyes flicking to her before he shifts slightly, pulling you into him even more. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. His touch is steady, reassuring, as if to say it’s always been you, not her.

Your girlfriend hesitates, her fingers brushing his chest, but Satoru doesn’t react. Instead, his lips find your neck, kissing you softly, purposefully ignoring her advances. Her frustration is palpable, but she pushes forward, her fingers finding their way to his lap. She leans in to kiss him.

Satoru pulls away slightly, the edge in his voice sharp as he grabs her wrist. “Not yet,” he warns, his gaze unwavering. His attention shifts back to you, his lips capturing yours in a possessive kiss. Your hands tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, to drown in him.

Your girlfriend, still sitting beside you, looks lost. She reaches again, trying to touch him, but Satoru doesn’t let her. With one hand still on you, his other gently pushes her back. “I said no,” he repeats, his voice dark with an authority that leaves no room for doubt.

You moan as Satoru’s hand slides between your legs, slipping under your clothes to find you already wet for him. He takes his time, teasing you, while your girlfriend stares, her breath catching in frustration.

The more Satoru touches you, the more your body responds. His fingers slide inside, slow at first, but he picks up the pace, bringing you to the edge. You can barely keep your composure, his lips never leaving your skin, his movements relentless.

And then, without warning, your girlfriend’s gaze shifts—no longer hungry with desire, but with a mixture of confusion and jealousy. Satoru’s full attention is on you, and he isn’t even looking at her. She’s no longer part of this equation.

As Satoru picks up speed, his breath ragged in your ear, you come apart under his touch, body trembling, desperate for more. He pushes deeper, claiming you fully, making it clear that you belong to him.

The room falls silent except for the sound of your breathless moans and Satoru’s steady pace. Your girlfriend sits motionless, helplessly watching as the last pieces of her place in this dynamic crumble.

Satoru wastes no time, maneuvering you onto your back on the bed. His hands are rough, skilled, as he strips you of your clothes with an urgency that matches the fire in his eyes. He kisses his way down your body, his lips burning trails on your skin as he works his way lower, lower, lower.

“Look at these fuckin’ tits,” he growls, his voice low and thick with desire as he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily. The sensation makes you gasp, your body arching up involuntarily. You can feel his knee pressing against your cunt, the heat of him seeping into you, sending electric shocks of anticipation through your veins.

Your girlfriend, watching from the edge of the bed, stays silent, her eyes narrowed, hands clenched into fists. She’s hot and bothered, her body reacting despite the anger twisting in her chest. She’s fed up with the whole situation—tired of being the afterthought. She hates the way Satoru devours you, but she can’t tear her eyes away.

“Ng—Satoru…” you moan softly, your breath hitching as his mouth works its magic, sucking your nipple until it’s slick and swollen. His lips leave your skin with a soft, wet pop as he shifts his attention lower, his knee pressing harder against you, reminding you of how he owns every inch of your body.

He lifts your legs, spreading them wide as he moves between them, his eyes dark with intent. “Fuck,” you yelp as he finally lowers his mouth to your cunt, his lips and tongue finding your clit with practiced ease. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking it into his mouth as he hums with approval, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Pussy’s all mine,” he mutters into your heat, his voice muffled as his tongue works relentlessly. You can barely process the words as your hips begin to squirm under the relentless pressure, his grip locking you in place. Your feet flail, trying to gain some sort of control, but Satoru has you right where he wants you—completely at his mercy.

“Sat—Satoru—” you pant, your body trembling, feeling the tension coil tighter in your stomach. His tongue is relentless, his mouth working you down to the bone, and you’re losing yourself to him.

“Down, kitty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing despite the intensity of his actions. “Let me eat.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the commanding tone making your heart race even faster.

Your hands dig into the sheets, fingers curling tightly as his mouth continues to devour you. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck of his lips, drives you closer to the edge, and all you can do is surrender to the pleasure. His grip on your hips tightens, ensuring you stay locked in place, and you feel your body trembling, the first waves of your orgasm crashing over you.

As you’re lost in the pleasure, you catch a glimpse of your girlfriend—her expression a mixture of frustration and arousal, her eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. The tension in the room shifts, the air thick with everything unspoken. But Satoru’s focus is entirely on you, making it clear who truly holds his attention.

You’re pulled back from the edge, gasping for breath as Satoru pulls away, his lips glistening, his eyes wild with hunger. He looks up at you, his face smug but tender, a twisted combination of possessiveness and affection. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

Your girlfriend, still sitting on the edge of the bed, watches, her chest heaving with a mix of frustration and desire. But she says nothing, the distance between the three of you growing ever wider.

Satoru’s movements slow for a moment as he looks down at you, his dark eyes gleaming with possessiveness and hunger. His thumb traces your bottom lip, tugging it gently as a lazy smile spreads across his face.

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful when you’re helpless like this,” he mutters, his voice dark and gravelly. “Can’t get enough of that sweet little pussy of yours.” He groans, his hips rolling slightly, teasing you just enough to make your body twitch. “You’re all mine, baby. No one else gets to feel this.”

You whimper beneath him, your hands fisting the sheets as his words make your core tighten with need. Satoru lowers himself, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks again, his voice dripping with desire.

“Say it,” he commands, his breath hot against your skin. “Say you’re mine. Tell me you love how I fuck you like this.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe out, your voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. “I love it, Satoru—fuck, I love how you make me feel.”

He chuckles low in his throat, a wicked grin curling on his lips. “Good girl,” he purrs. “So fucking perfect for me. No one’s ever gonna make you feel like I do, not even your girlfriend. You’re mine, and you know it, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, feeling him fill you completely. His words sink deep into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure. “Yes, Satoru… only you…”

“Damn right,” he growls, his thrusts growing faster, more brutal. “I’m the one who makes you come apart, not her. Every single inch of you belongs to me now. You’ll never be able to leave me after this, baby.”

His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in as he pulls you against him with each powerful thrust. He watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring you as you squirm beneath him, your body moving in rhythm with his. He groans, the sound deep and throaty as he leans down to kiss you again, hungry and demanding.

“You wanna come again, huh?” Satoru whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “You can’t get enough of me, can you? I know you’re close… you’re so fucking tight around me. You love how deep I fuck you, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please, Satoru, I need you… need more.”

His eyes flash with satisfaction. “I’ll give you more, baby. I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll forget your own name.”

He picks up the pace, slamming into you relentlessly, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. “Tell me how badly you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck you raw.”

“I want it so bad,” you moan, your body trembling as you feel your orgasm build. “I want you to make me yours, Satoru. I want everything.”

With that, he groans, his thrusts growing even more intense as he drives into you harder, faster, pushing you into a state of pure bliss. “That’s it, baby,” he growls, “Come for me. Let me feel how fucking tight you are around me.”

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, your body spasming as you scream his name. Satoru follows close behind, his grip on you tightening as he fucks you through your orgasm, his own release flooding you as he grits his teeth in satisfaction.

You feel yourself being gently lifted, your body weightless in his strong, warm arms, and you’re dizzy from the overwhelming sensations of pleasure. Satoru moves you up the bed effortlessly, his chest pressed to yours as he cradles you in his embrace. His lips brush your temple, soft and tender, as he whispers, “Let’s stay like this for a while. I’ll clean you up and feed you in a bit, my love.”

You nod, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you, your body still humming from the intensity of everything. The soft comfort of his touch is like a balm for your overstimulated body, and you lean into him, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

But then, your gaze shifts, and you look around the room, your mind catching up with the reality of the situation.

“Where’s—”

“Gone.” Satoru whispers, his voice low and soothing as his lips press against your neck. His arms tighten around you, drawing you closer. You can feel his steady breath against your skin, and for a moment, everything feels impossibly right.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you hug him tighter, the full weight of his words sinking in. Gone. It’s just you and him now.

“Finally,” he breathes, his voice soft but full of satisfaction.

for the anon that requested this, i hope its up to your liking and expectations. :) tried my best. pls let me know what you think through the inbox 🤍

© All Rights Reserved mymoonisgrey

[bluemantics]

When he looks in the mirror, sometimes Keith searches for Shiro. He tilts his head, eyes tracing his nose, his hair, wondering if blinking hard enough will change things. It never does. 

Keith knows it’s stupid— Shiro isn’t actually his brother. It’s just difficult for him to watch that empty seat in the dining room, hard for him to hear the deafening gaps in conversation Shiro would fill. 

So he looks, and he tries. When Allura approaches him to strategize, his mind races to Shiro’s normal responses. If Pidge seems to work harder than normal, he lectures her, ignoring her muttered “isn’t that rich, from you.” Hunk cooks and Keith remarks on how delicious it tastes, thanks him for feeding the team. All of this leads to stares. 

Nothing is seamless anymore, not even waking up. He has to walk by Shiro’s room every day. One time, he stepped foot inside, and left immediately after. Shiro’s walls closed in and suffocated him, pressured him. It still feels wrong to be occupying any space where his echoes ring out. 

Black is no different. She reminds him that she knows, she knows he is not Shiro, tries to comfort him with soothing pulses. Yet all he can see when he looks through her eyes is someone who is smaller, angrier, and vulnerable. He can’t get comfortable in his seat. Keith never envisioned himself at the helm of anything, much less the team designed to save the whole universe. When he’s alone, and thinks of it too much, a gap between his ribs aches. 

This team might be destined to save the universe, but Keith Kogane was never destined to lead it. 

The worst times are when he forgets. He lets himself feel eased, laughs with the team like it’s natural, issues orders without deliberation or second guessing. In those instances, guilt weighs on him like a thundercloud. How could he have felt so familiar in someone else’s role? Keith quickly retreats, reminds himself of his place. Not the helm; he’s the stand-in. 

All this self-loathing would be so much easier if it weren’t for Lance, badgering him constantly. Day in and day out, his new “right hand” constantly pushes him. 

“Join us for dinner or I won’t participate in tomorrow’s training exercises.”

“Team movie night! Your turn to choose.”

“Are you sure that’s the right plan? I’ve been thinking—“

It’s fucking annoying when he’s thinking, but it’s all Lance seems to do. He offers up opinions constantly without being asked, shows up to meetings between Keith and Allura, knocks on his door after difficult missions. Keith can’t remember doing any of this when he was supposedly Shiro’s right hand. 

“Why are you always on my tail, Lance?” Keith demands after a particular comment. 

“Because you need it.”

Lance has a new confidence when he speaks, a bravado that doesn’t need flowery words. His voice is sure. 

Keith knows he’s right. Part of him secretly relishes Lance’s feedback, uses his presence as a crutch. Another part of him is ashamed to rely on anyone at all. Shiro stood tall as a lone watchdog over them and barely needed help from anyone, much less the mess that was Keith. It makes him doubt his older brother’s judgement in choosing him for Black. 

He’s exhausted from questioning himself, his brother, his teammates. At night, he tosses and turns, and every time he tries to train, Lance stops him—or worse—joins him. Keith has a looser grip on his sword and his words at night. Control slipping, he worries he will say the wrong thing as Lance takes him down with newfound skill that only time and practice bring. 

“Since when did you get good at this?” Keith heaves from the ground, chest rising and falling quickly. Lance stands over him, smiling widely with pride. 

“Since you needed a new sparring partner.”

Keith notices Lance doing this a lot lately, anticipating everyone’s needs. Suddenly, Lance wraps Pidge in blankets, tells Hunk not to worry about a broken gadget, and comforts the Alteans by listening to their stories. 

With a pang, Keith realizes something: Lance is a better leader. The whole team probably knows it by now. Effortlessly, Lance fills new shoes without so much as a complaint, while Keith flounders trying to shove his square-shaped self into a circular opening. 

When Shiro comes back, Keith doesn’t even register the differences between This Shiro and His Shiro. He grew up with nothing, so he isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Instead, he did what he’d been itching to do since he first stepped in Black. 

Keith ran away.

When he’s alone in his quarters at the Blade, he looks in mirrors. He searches for traces of Lance and sees none. Hands cold and stiff, he covers the looking glass with a sheet, unwilling to stare back at an unworthy face.

[rieamena]

the shape of your spirit

wc: 0.5k

riea's comments: i'm sorry. image credit to n06ara on twt

my spirit was cursed to watch you live life without me, as if seeing your tear-stricken face as my body left the physical world wasn't enough. 

i was cursed to watch you spend sleepless nights, hugging a pillow, wishing that it was me in your arms.

every laugh you shared with others became a bitter echo in my ear, reminding me of the silence we used to fill together.

i saw your struggles, your victories, your growth and was reminded that i'm no longer here to support you, to celebrate you.

every day, every night. it was torture to see you but not be able to call your name once more and hear you respond, to hear takuma on your lips one more time, to hear my love just one more time.

perhaps i was losing my mind

you smile with him the same way you smiled with me. he's a good man. it's funny, i'm sure he told you the same thing back when we started dating. i'm glad that of all people, it's him you're with now. yes, it hurts seeing my mentor with you but it would hurt even more to see you never find your spark again

we did that together, though the only thing you trusted me with was sifting the dry ingredients. i didn't mind though, we didn't mind. it seems you let him do more than i did. it makes sense though; he's far more mature and responsible than me

tell me, are you happy?

i'll tell you. i'm happy. i'm happy that despite everything, you're still you. people say that love is two halves making a whole, but i disagree. love is two wholes, two complete individuals coming together to compliment each other.

though, if i said you didn't complete me,

i'm a liar

if i said that i hoped he would fill the hole that i made in your heart when i was gone,

i'm a liar

if i said that never wished that i could take his place for just one more day,

i'm a liar

if i said that seeing you laugh and talk and engage with him the same way you did with me made me content,

i'd be telling the truth

why?

because seeing you happy is all i need to fulfill mine.

a steel bowl, the same one i used for the flour and cocoa powder whenever we'd make brownies—a luxury i'll never get to experience again.

a steel bowl, our steel bowl, i knocked it over. not enough to make it fall off the counter and hit the floor, since i know how much the sound startles you, but enough to bring your attention to it—to bring your attention to me.

i know you can't tell, but i'm smiling right now. even in the afterlife, you're still my everything,

and with that,

i felt the final part of me—my soul—fade away, my presence on this earth nothing more than a memory

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[synsacra]

catharsis

pairing: best friends dad!shanks x fem reader

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), pet names (darlin', sweetheart), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, kitchen sex, age gap

words: 4.1k

a/n: i posted this fic before on a different blog but then deleted it cuz i got self conscious so if you've read it before no u haven't :P enjoy

You're sitting on Uta's bed, the soft hum of the air conditioner a comforting backdrop to your thoughts, and the scent of that sickly sweet vanilla candle that Uta loves fills her bedroom. You’ve been here countless times before, but today feels different. Your heart races as you glance at the door, half-expecting it to creak open. You can almost hear Shanks' deep voice echoing in your mind, sending shivers down your spine.

Uta is downstairs, chatting away with her dad while he makes lunch. You should be there too, joining in on the conversation, laughing at their jokes, but you can't bring yourself to move. Your fingers trace the outline of a photo on the bedside table–a candid shot of Shanks and Uta from last summer. He’s grinning, his only arm slung casually around her shoulders, his red hair glowing under the sun. His eyes, though, are what draw you in. They seem to hold a depth of experience and warmth that makes you squirm.

You feel a flush creep up your neck as you imagine those eyes meeting yours, boring into your soul. You shake your head, trying to get rid of the thought, but it lingers, growing stronger with each passing moment. You close your eyes, picturing him standing before you, towering over you with that easy confidence that always seems to dominate any room he enters.

"You okay?" Uta's voice snaps you out of your daydreams.

You jump, startled, and turn to see her standing in the doorway with a concerned look on her face.

"You looked like you were miles away," she says, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile. "Just... thinking."

She plops down beside you. "About what?"

You hesitate, not sure how to answer. The truth is too embarrassing. Instead, you shrug and say, "Nothing important. Just school stuff."

Uta raises an eyebrow but doesn't press further. She leans back against the pillows, propping her feet up on the bed. "Dad made sandwiches if you're hungry," she chirps.

Your stomach flutters at the mention of him. "Sounds good," you murmur, still unable to shake the image of Shanks from your mind.

As if on cue, the door opens again, and there he is. Shanks stands framed in the doorway, holding a tray laden with sandwiches, chips, and drinks. His presence is magnetic, commanding your attention without even trying. He strides in and sets the tray on the bed between you and Uta.

"Thought you girls might be hungry," he says with a smile, his eyes briefly meeting yours before darting away. Something in his gaze, something unreadable, sends a jolt through you. You nod shyly, picking up a sandwich and taking a bite.

Uta chatters on about her plans for the weekend, but all you can think about is Shanks. What would it feel like to have those strong hands on you, to feel the heat of his body so close? The thoughts make your breath quicken and your skin tingle.

Shanks excuses himself after a few minutes, heading back downstairs to give you some privacy. As soon as the door closes behind him, you exhale sharply, feeling both relieved and disappointed.

"He really is the best, isn't he?" Uta says, her eyes bright as she eats.

"Yeah," you agree softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "He really is."

The afternoon drags on, each minute feeling like an hour as your thoughts circle back to Shanks. You try to focus on Uta and engage in the conversation, but it’s useless. Your mind keeps drifting, imagining scenarios that leave you breathless.

After a while, Uta yawns and decides to take a nap, leaving you to your own devices. You lie back on the bed next to her, staring up at the ceiling, but your thoughts are far from restful. Images of Shanks flood your mind–his smile, his laugh, the way his body looks beneath his shirt–until you can’t stand it anymore.

You slip out of the bedroom, moving silently down the hall towards the stairs. Your heart pounds with every step, but you don’t stop. You need to see him, if only for a moment.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you pause, listening for any sign of movement. The house is quiet, save for the sound of water coming from the kitchen. You take a deep breath and step forward, your pulse racing as you approach.

And there he is, standing at the counter, his back to you as he rinses a dish under the running water. The sight of him fills you with a mix of fear and excitement.

“Shanks?” The word slips out before you can stop it, your voice trembling slightly.

He turns, wiping his hand on a towel, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, neither of you speak. Then, slowly, he smiles, a warm, knowing smile that makes your knees weak.

“Hey,” he says, his voice smooth and low. “What can I do for you?”

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “I… I was just wondering if you needed any help. With anything.”

He chuckles softly, setting the towel down and leaning against the counter. “You don’t need to help me, sweetheart. But I appreciate the offer.”

His casual tone only heightens your nervousness, your resolve wavering. You take a tentative step closer, your eyes dropping to his chest, where his shirt is open.

“Are you sure?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, studying you for a long moment before he speaks. “Is everything okay, darlin’?”

His words are soft, but they carry a weight that makes your chest tighten. His gaze pierces through your composure, and you find yourself frozen, unsure of what to say or do next.

“I…” Your voice falters, the excuse you had in mind dissolving under the intensity of his attention. You glance at the floor, desperately trying to collect yourself.

Shanks pushes off the counter and takes a slow step toward you. His movements are deliberate but unthreatening, his head tilting slightly as if trying to read your thoughts. “You seem a little off,” he says, his tone gentle but probing. “If there’s something on your mind, you can tell me.”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes for just a moment before the rush of emotions becomes too much, and you glance away again. “It’s nothing,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” he replies, his voice steady. “But you’re not a very good liar.” There’s a flicker of amusement in his tone, but it’s tempered with genuine concern.

Your cheeks burn. The words are on the tip of your tongue—an apology, an excuse, anything to break the tension—but they never come. Instead, you hear yourself say, “I just… wanted to talk.”

It’s not a lie, exactly, but it feels like one. Shanks leans back against the counter again. “Alright,” he says, his expression softening. “I’m all ears.”

The weight of his attention presses down on you, making it hard to breathe. You shift nervously, your fingers twisting together as you search for the courage to speak. The room feels too quiet, the hum of the refrigerator barely masking the thundering of your heart.

“I…” You trail off, biting your lip. Just say it. Get it out. But how? How do you confess something that feels so big, so impossible?

Shanks doesn’t rush you. He stands there, patient and calm, his steady gaze encouraging but not overbearing. Somehow, that makes it even harder.

You glance at him, taking in the way the light catches his red hair, the ease in his posture, the warmth in his eyes. “I’ve been… feeling something,” you begin, your voice trembling. “And it’s been hard to ignore.”

His brow furrows slightly, though his expression remains kind. “What kind of feeling?” he asks gently.

Your mouth is dry, and your hands won’t stop trembling. You force yourself to meet his eyes, your resolve strengthening just enough to push the words out.

“About you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The air between you seems to shift. Shanks straightens slightly, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He waits, letting you continue at your own pace.

“I know it’s wrong,” you say quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “You’re Uta’s dad, and you probably think I’m just some kid who doesn’t know what they’re feeling, but… I can’t help it. Every time I see you, I feel like- like I can’t breathe, like nothing else matters.”

You pause, your chest heaving with the effort of saying it all out loud. The silence stretches on, heavy and suffocating, as you wait for his reaction. Shanks runs a hand through his hair; his expression is complicated–a mix of surprise, understanding, and something you can’t quite place.

Shanks stares at you for a long moment, his expression softening as a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly as if amused. “Well,” he says, his voice gentle, “that’s not what I expected to hear today.”

You feel your cheeks flush with heat, embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole. You lower your gaze, fidgeting with your hands again as the weight of his presence grows heavier. “I’m sorry,” you blurt, your voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s crazy. I just… needed to say it.”

Shanks steps closer, closing the gap between you. His expression isn’t one of pity or condescension but of genuine care. “Hey,” he says softly, his deep voice washing over you like a balm. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Feelings are tricky, darlin’, and they don’t always make sense.”

You blink up at him, your heart pounding in your ears. His words are kind, but the tenderness in his tone sends a fresh wave of longing through you. You bite your lip, unsure whether to say anything more or just let the moment hang in the air.

“Shanks…” you begin hesitantly, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to make things awkward. I just… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

His expression softens further, and his lips quirk into a small smile. “It’s not awkward,” he murmurs, his hand lifting slightly as though he’s about to reach for you but stops short.

You can’t hold his gaze any longer. You glance down at the floor, wishing the ground would swallow you up. But then you feel the warm, gentle touch of his fingers under your chin, tilting your face back up to meet his eyes.

“Look at me,” he says softly. You obey, your breath hitching as you take in the intensity of his gaze. “You’re not crazy for feeling what you feel. And… you’re not alone in it.”

Your heart stops. Everything around you seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet, intimate space of the kitchen. “What do you mean?” you whisper, not believing what you just heard.

Shanks exhales slowly, his thumb brushing lightly against your chin before his hand falls back to his side. “I’ve been feeling things too,” he admits, his voice low. “I’ve been fighting it, telling myself it’s wrong, but… you’re hard to ignore.”

“You… you really mean that?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I do. But it’s complicated, darlin’. So complicated.”

For a moment, Shanks seems torn, his internal conflict written all over his face. Then, with a sigh, he gives in to his desires. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin as he leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to.

You don’t.

When his lips meet yours, it’s like the world stops spinning. The kiss is gentle at first, almost hesitant, as though he’s testing the waters. But it deepens when you press closer, your hands gripping his shirt to anchor yourself. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

The kiss is everything you imagined and more–warm, consuming, and full of unspoken emotion. When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, his forehead resting against yours as you try to steady your racing heart.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you stand there, clutching Shanks' shirt as you try to catch your breath. His hand still cups your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, his scent filling your senses.

"Shanks," you whisper, your voice shaky but filled with longing.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft yet intense. "I know," he murmurs.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is deeper and more passionate. You can feel the hunger in it, the pent-up desire he’s been trying to deny. His tongue slides against yours, teasing and exploring, and you melt into him, your body responding with a need that surprises you with its intensity.

His hand travels down your back, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you. You can feel the firmness of his body pressed against yours. The sensation sends a shiver of anticipation through you, and you find yourself grinding against him, eliciting a low growl from deep within his chest.

Shanks pulls away slightly, breathing heavily as he asks, “Can you hop up on the counter for me, sweetheart?”

You do as he asks, climbing onto the counter with a soft smile, your heart pounding in your chest. The cool surface beneath you contrasts with the warmth of his presence as he steps closer, his hand gently resting on your thigh. He steps between your legs, and his hand slides under your shirt, exploring the softness of your skin. You arch into his touch, yearning for more, as his fingers trace the curve of your waist before moving higher, brushing the underside of your breasts.

You let out a soft moan, your head falling back as you give yourself over to the sensation. Shanks takes advantage of your exposed neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down to your collarbone. His teeth graze your skin, nipping lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Your hands tug at his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. Shanks breaks the kiss just long enough to pull the garment over his head, revealing his muscular chest. 

The sight of him takes your breath away, and you can't help but reach out to touch him, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, the scars that tell the story of his life. He watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, his breath hitching as you explore his body.

With a swift motion, Shanks removes your shirt as well, his gaze roaming over your figure with an appreciation that leaves you feeling both vulnerable and empowered. He leans in to kiss you again, his hand cupping your right breast through the fabric of your bra, his thumb teasing your nipple into a stiff peak.

You fumble with the clasp of your bra, eager to feel his skin against yours. Shanks moves to assist you, his fingers deftly unhooking the garment and sliding it down your arms. His gaze locks onto your exposed breasts, and he groans with desire before leaning in to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.

The sensation of his tongue against your sensitive flesh sends jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, and you clutch at his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on one breast and then the other.

As the intensity between you builds, Shanks' hand slips between your legs, pressing against the aching core of you. The thin fabric of your pants provides little barrier to the heat of his touch, and you buck your hips forward, seeking more.

"Please," you gasp, your body trembling with need.

Shanks meets your gaze, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want," he commands, his voice rough with his own need.

“Want you," you breathe, your voice shaking. "So bad… need you so bad."

Shanks hums in acknowledgment, and he moves his hand away from your clothed cunt, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your pants. His touch sends a shiver of anticipation through you, and you can't help but gasp as he starts to peel the fabric down your legs slowly.

The cool air of the kitchen brushes against your bare skin, making you hyper-aware of your own vulnerability. But the hunger in Shanks' eyes as he takes in the sight of you, clad only in your underwear, makes any sense of unease vanish.

He steps closer, his body pressing against yours as he kisses you again. His hand roams across your skin, exploring every curve with a gentleness that takes your breath away. You can feel his clothed cock pressing against you, and the knowledge that you have this effect on him fills you with a sense of power.

"You're so beautiful," Shanks murmurs.

His fingers find the edge of your underwear, and he hooks them under the soft material. You lift your hips, helping him to slide the garment down your legs. He takes a moment to step back and drink in the sight of you, completely bared to him, and the raw lust in his gaze makes you feel like the most desirable person in the world.

He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before trailing a path of fiery kisses down your neck. His fingers trace the curve of your hip, his touch light and teasing.

You gasp as he suddenly grips your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. Shanks drops to his knees before you, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your body tense with need.

His fingers gently part your folds, exposing you to his hungry gaze. You feel a flush of embarrassment at being so thoroughly on display for him, but the desire in his eyes quickly chases it away. "So perfect," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

The first touch of his tongue against your sopping cunt makes you cry out, your back arching in pleasure. His hand moves to grip your hip, holding you in place as he explores you with a thoroughness that leaves you trembling. His tongue circles your clit, each flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You can't help but grind against his face, your fingers tangling in his red hair as you lose yourself in the sensation. He groans against you, the vibrations sending a surge of heat straight to your core.

Shanks' fingers join his tongue once you’ve stopped squirming, first one, then another, sliding into you with ease. He curls them upward, finding that sensitive spot inside you that has you seeing stars. His movements are slow and deliberate, designed to drive you mad.

Your breath comes in short, desperate pants, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each passing moment. The pressure builds within you, an unstoppable force that threatens to shatter you into a thousand pieces.

Just when you think you can't take any more, Shanks sucks your clit into his mouth, and you grind down against his mouth. The combination sends you spiraling over the edge, your vision whiting out as the orgasm crashes over you.

You cry out his name, your body convulsing around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Shanks continues to lick and suck, drawing out your orgasm until you're left a boneless, panting mess on the counter.

He stands, his lips glistening with a mixture of your slick and his spit. His eyes meet yours, dark with desire and satisfaction.

Shanks doesn't give you a chance to recover, quickly pushing his pants and underwear down his hips and kicking them away. His cock springs free, hard, and ready, and your heart races at the sight. 

His hand grips your hips, lifting you slightly as he positions himself at your entrance. You look into his eyes, seeking reassurance, and he gives you a reassuring smile. "I've got you, sweetheart," he says, his voice filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

He holds your gaze, his expression intense as he slowly starts to push inside you. You feel your pussy stretch to accommodate him, your body welcoming him with a warmth that leaves you both gasping for air.

The feeling of fullness is almost overwhelming, but Shanks gives you a moment to adjust before he starts to move. His strokes are long and deep, each one hitting just the right spot to have you crying out his name and your back arching.

“Shhh… quiet, sweetheart. Wouldn’t wanna wake Uta up, would we?”

Shanks’ words have your walls clenching around his cock; the thought of your best friend walking in on you fucking her dad strangely arousing. 

You cling to his shoulders, your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusts into you with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping fills the kitchen, accompanied by the occasional growl from Shanks as he struggles to maintain control.

"You feel so good," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight... so perfect."

You can feel another orgasm building, the pleasure coiling low in your belly. You cling to Shanks, your fingers digging into his skin as you move together. 

With each thrust, Shanks fucks you closer to the edge, until finally, with a cry that echoes off the kitchen walls, you reach your peak. He follows soon after with one last thrust, his cock pressing against your cervix as his cum floods your cunt.

Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, and there's a tenderness there that you've never seen from him before, mingling with the remnants of desire. His lips part as though he's about to say something, but instead, he just presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

You watch through half-lidded eyes as he pulls out from you, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure. He catches you looking and offers a lopsided grin that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Shanks steps back between your legs, his hand coming up to cradle your face. He studies you for a long moment, his thumb stroking your cheekbones in a tender gesture that brings a lump to your throat. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice a bit rough.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "More than okay," you assure him, your voice still shaky from the force of your orgasm.

His smile widens, and he leans in to kiss you again, slower this time. You melt into him, your hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck. It's a sweet, lingering kiss that speaks volumes.

When he finally pulls away, it's only to press a series of soft kisses along your jawline and down the side of your neck. You sigh happily, your fingers threading through his hair as you tilt your head to give him better access.

After a moment, Shanks steps back, his hand moving to take your right hand in his. He helps you off the counter, and you can't help but wobble a little on your still shaky legs. Shanks wraps his arm around you to steady you. 

"Easy there," he murmurs, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Wouldn't want you falling over."

You laugh, the sound light and airy, and you lean into him, comforted by his warmth and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. For a long moment, you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, neither of you in any hurry to move.

Eventually, though, reality starts to creep back in. You become acutely aware of your nakedness, and with a flush, you begin to gather your clothes from the floor. Shanks watches you with a heated gaze, his appreciation evident in the way his eyes roam over your body.

As you're pulling your pants on, there's a soft creak from the hallway. You both freeze, your eyes darting to the doorway of the kitchen. Shanks puts a finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet. The last thing either of you wants is for Uta to catch you like this.

The sound doesn't repeat itself, and after a tense minute, you both let out a sigh of relief. Shanks moves towards you, a playful smile on his face. "Almost got caught," he chuckles, and you can't help but giggle with him.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘮 (𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮)

The classroom felt almost too quiet, the kind of quiet that left too much space for his thoughts to drift around in circles. Matt couldn’t focus. His eyes kept sliding back to the window, where the sky was painted a strange pink hue, like the world was holding its breath. Goldie’s words echoed in his mind, swirling around him like the soft waves in a tidepool. “I think you’re honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

It was strange, how they had landed in the air between them like that. So simple, but so full of meaning. Why hadn’t he seen it before? He could feel the weight of her smile, the way her voice trembled when she spoke those words. It hung in the air, persistent, like the scent of saltwater after a summer storm.

He wondered, just for a moment, if she could feel the way his heart had raced in his chest when she said it. Could she see how her words had unraveled him, turning his world upside down in the most perfect way?

Could it be this simple? Could he just… admit it? The truth had always been right there, like a message in a bottle, floating towards him, waiting to be opened. She liked him. And he… well, he had liked her all along. So why had it taken him so long to say anything?

What had he been waiting for? Was it fear? Or was it just that he couldn’t quite believe that she could feel the same way?

His thoughts bubbled like waves crashing against the rocks. The more he thought about it, the more absurd it felt. How had they gotten so far without talking about this? How had he let his doubts hold him back when it was so obvious?

The store was quieter than usual, with the soft hum of fluorescent lights filling the gaps between the occasional shuffle of feet. Goldie was at the end of the aisle, rearranging the boxes on a high shelf with the kind of focus that made her look like she was trying to organise the whole world in perfect order. She didn’t notice Matt immediately. He had been standing there for quite a while, leaning against the shelf, feeling almost like a part of the scene, like a moment in time that had just been waiting to happen.

Goldie’s back was turned, but the way the golden light caught her hair made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion. The scene was so simple, so ordinary, but somehow everything felt more magical. Maybe it was the soft hum of the overhead lights, or the way her sweater seemed to glow in the dim light, or maybe it was just that everything felt like it was building up to something. To this.

It was the sound of her laughter that broke through, light and airy, almost like it was too good to be real. It made his heart skip. She was still here. She was still with him.

He moved closer, not quite sure how to make his presence known. The shelves creaked gently as he shifted, like the store itself was sighing with him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice light, but there was something in it that felt like a secret. Like the start of something new.

Goldie turned around, her eyes wide, a little surprised, but then softening as she caught sight of him. There was a brief moment where everything felt suspended in time, the air around them pausing, as if waiting for something.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice gentle, but it held that same weight to it. That little shift in the way she smiled. Matt couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes fully, and he could tell she was holding back, just a little bit. He had made her do that, hadn’t he? Pulled away when she’d opened up.

There it was again. That moment, like a tide pulling back just before it crashes over.

He stepped closer, his hands feeling a little clammy, but his heart was warm, like the glow of a lantern on a dark beach.

“You busy?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, almost like it didn’t matter if she was or not.

Goldie shrugged, glancing over at the clock. “Not really. Just finishing up. What’s up?”

Matt exhaled slowly, the words threatening to fall out, but he had to let them. “I, uh, I’ve been thinking. About everything.”

She tilted her head, watching him, like she was waiting for the rest of it. But Matt could feel the tension between them, like the air was holding onto the words just as tightly as he was.

“I think…” He paused, not quite sure if he could say it. But the way Goldie was looking at him, so expectant, so real, made the words tumble out anyway. “I think I’ve been an idiot.”

Goldie’s brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.

“I’ve been afraid,” he continued, stepping a little closer, his voice a little more uncertain. “Afraid of everything. Of you. Of me. Us. And I’ve been stupid, just running from it. Running from you.” He laughed a little at himself, the sound light and a little nervous. “But I want this, Goldie. I want us.”

Goldie’s eyes softened, and her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. She just watched him, like she was waiting for him to prove it. Waiting for him to show her that he meant it.

He didn’t wait for her to speak. He reached for her hand, slow, almost tentative, and it felt like a soft pull on the tide, the moment gently sweeping them toward the inevitable.

“I want you,” Matt whispered, like the words were a confession and a promise, all at once.

Goldie’s breath caught, and before she could say anything, Matt leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in the softest kiss he had ever shared. It was like floating, like the sea, and for a moment, there was nothing else but the feeling of being here, with her, in this moment.

When they pulled back, Matt was still holding her hand gently, and he felt something settle inside him. 

“So… what now?” he asked, his voice a little lighter than before, but still carrying the weight of everything he hadn’t said until now.

Goldie tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “Now?” she repeated, putting a hand on her chin like she was deep in thought. “Now, we… I dunno, go eat ramen? Maybe some ham, too? I hear it's the key to true love. Or... at least a really good dinner.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, trying to hide his grin. “Ramen and ham, huh? That’s your big romantic plan?”

Goldie nodded sagely, “You’d be surprised. I’ll bring the ham if you bring the ramen.”

Matt laughed, feeling his heart lighten with the silly energy between them. “Alright, alright. I’m sold.”

He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing as he realized how easy it felt to be with her, even in moments like this. “Deal. And, uh, no promises on the love part… but I’m sure the ham will help.”

As they stood there, their hands still lightly intertwined, the air around them seemed to hum with the feeling that this, whatever it was, was only just beginning. The world outside felt distant, like a dream, and all that mattered was right here, right now. And what a lovely thing.

meat dividers i fucking love u rose ! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: well well well

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @shadowthesim237 @pasteldreams @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @sturnsrecord @sturntiolo @throatgoat4u @cowboylikenat @sturnsrecordfaves @middlepartmatt @mattscherries @m11rx @leoslaboratory @sturnberries @sweetshuga

cya soon !!

[evorlaah]

DARLING HE LIED

Paring: non!idol!Sunghoon x female reader

Synposis: Stuck in a toxic relationship, you seek comfort from your best friend Sunghoon, only to realize he’s been in love with you all along.

Note: finally back, it’s short but I promise I’m coming with comeback! 😳❤️

Disclaimer!: cursing, toxic relationships, crying, a smidge of angst. Genre: fluff, angst, I think that’s it..

@evorlaah

“Fuck, y/n you’re always doing this!” His voice was loud, echoing off the walls of his apartment. His face was twisted in anger, eyes blazing as he stared you down.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your composure. “Doing what, exactly? Calling you out on your bullshit?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. I was just talking to her. It didn’t mean anything.”

You felt your chest tighten, hurt mingling with fury. “Talking? You had your hands all over her. Do you think I’m stupid?”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed. “You always blow things out of proportion. This is why I can’t stand being around you sometimes.”

The words were a slap to the face, knocking the air out of your lungs. You felt your throat tighten, but you refused to let him see you cry. Not this time. “You can’t stand being around me? Then why are you even with me?”

He hesitated, his jaw clenching. “Maybe I shouldn’t be.”

Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence. Your heart sank, the ache spreading through your chest. You’d always known he didn’t love you, not really. But hearing him say it—hearing him confirm your worst fears—it shattered you.

You swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears fall. “Fine. I’m done.”

Turning on your heel, you stormed out of his apartment, slamming the door behind you. The cold night air bit at your skin as you walked down the street, no destination in mind. You just needed to get away. Away from him, from his lies, from the hurt that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

Your feet moved on their own, carrying you to the one place you knew you’d be safe. Before you realized it, you were standing outside Sunghoon’s door, your fists trembling as you knocked.

The door swung open, and Sunghoon stood there, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y/n? What… what are you doing here?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a choked sob escaping instead. His face softened instantly, his arms reaching out to pull you inside, wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“What did he do this time?” Sunghoon’s voice was low, a protective edge to his words.

You buried your face in his chest, his familiar scent grounding you as the tears finally fell. “I… I’m so stupid,” you choked out, your body trembling. “I keep going back… I keep letting him hurt me…”

Sunghoon’s arms tightened around you, his chin resting on top of your head. “You’re not stupid, Y/n. You just… you want to be loved.”

Your chest tightened, the words hitting too close to home. “I just… I thought he loved me. I thought… I could be enough for him.”

He pulled back, his hands cupping your face, his eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own. “You are enough. More than enough. He’s just too blind to see it.”

You looked up at him, his face so close, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. “Then why does it feel like no one will ever love me?”

His eyes softened, his forehead resting against yours as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you, Y/n. I’ve always loved you.”

Your heart stopped, the world falling away as his words sank in. Sunghoon… loved you?

Before you could process it, his lips were on yours—soft, warm, and everything you didn’t know you needed. He kissed you slowly, tenderly, like he was trying to piece you back together, like he was erasing every hurt and lie you’d ever been told.

You kissed him back, your hands gripping his shirt as you melted into him, his touch grounding you, his presence comforting in a way you’d never felt before.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead still pressed against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret, you found yourself smiling—genuine and real. For the first time in a long time, you felt loved.

And maybe, just maybe, you could learn to love yourself, too.

[callmemonster68]

JAY - Burning Curse ( smut )

Weekly challenge: Obedience / Curse secret-moonstruck & callmemonster68

Condemned to obey and take pleasure in every order, Jay was shaped to serve.

Pairing: Jay X FemReader (Masterlist)

Genre: Smut

Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex

The sound of chains echoed off the cold walls of the dungeon, each clink resounding as a cruel reminder of Jay's damnation. He was kneeling, his arms held above his head by thick iron cuffs, his bare torso marked by ancient scars and red-hot engravings of the curse that burned his skin.

He didn't remember exactly when his downfall began. Perhaps it was when he dared to disobey a merciless master. Or when he was betrayed by those who should have protected him. All he knew was that he was now nothing more than a cursed toy, a servant whose only existence was to obey. And the worst? The spell forced him to feel pleasure every time he did it. A wrong, forbidden, unbearable pleasure.

The auctioneer's voice sounded above the murmurs of the audience. 

Auctioneer: Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a rare specimen. A convict sealed by an unbreakable obedience spell.

Below, the guests — figures with faces obscured by golden masks and luxurious robes — approached the platform where Jay was displayed like merchandise.

Auctioneer: Say your name. (he ordered, his voice full of sadism)

Jay clenched his teeth, resisting.

The pain came instantly, burning and crushing, searing his nerves as the curse demanded he do the bidding. His body shuddered against the chains. A wave of wicked pleasure ripped down her spine, and a low, choked sound escaped her throat.

Jay: Jay. (he spat, hating the way his own body betrayed his dignity)

Soft laughter echoed through the hall. The auctioneer smiled. 

Auctioneer: As you can see, he can't refuse. At any command, he obeys… and feels it.

Hands went up, bids were made. But then, a voice stood out from the crowd—low, cold, and cruel. A presence that made the room silent.

Y/N: I'll take him.

The crowd parted to reveal a woman draped in a black cloak, gaze sharp as blades. His posture was that of someone who didn't make requests, just took what he wanted. Y/N stared at Jay with a mix of curiosity and contempt, her lips curved in something that could be a smile or a threat.

Auctioneer: Congratulations, ma'am, (said the auctioneer, satisfied) The condemned man is now yours.

Jay looked up at her, feeling his body respond involuntarily to his new master. His hell was just beginning.

The castle was cold, shrouded in shadows, lit only by candles. Jay was dragged inside by guards, his wrists still bound by heavy chains. The silence was suffocating, until the door closed behind them.

Y/N watched him with icy eyes, slowly walking around him like a predator studying its prey. 

Y/N: Curious... (she murmured, her fingertips sliding down his chest, feeling the curse marks pulse under his skin) So strong, and at the same time... so weak.

He remained still, grinding his teeth. The heat from his hand was almost torturous.

Y/N: Tell me, slave... (her voice was a dangerous whisper) What do you feel now? Anger? Shame? Or…excitement?

The curse twisted inside him, burning, demanding an answer. He tried to resist, but the pain was immediate, overwhelming. 

Y/N smiled, holding his chin and forcing him to look at her. 

She ran her fingernail along his jaw, a cruel, teasing touch. 

Y/N: What if I told you to get down on your knees and beg, Jay? What would happen?

He didn't respond. Not because I didn't want to — but because I knew any answer would be a defeat.

Y/N leaned closer, lips almost brushing his ear. 

Y/N: You would moan with pleasure while trying to hide your hatred, wouldn't you?

His silence was her confirmation.

She laughed, a low, intoxicating sound. 

Y/N: How fun this will be.

Y/N walked over to a nearby armchair, crossing her legs slowly before snapping her fingers. 

Y/N: Kneel.

The curse burned, digging into Jay's spine. He tried to resist, but it was useless. His body sagged against his will, muscles flexing until he was on his knees before her. Desire and anger mixed like poison.

Y/N's eyes sparkled with pure satisfaction. 

Y/N: Obedient, (she teased, sliding the tip of her foot up his thigh) But I want more than blind submission, Jay. I want your surrender.

She leaned forward, holding his face firmly, her nails digging lightly into his skin. 

Y/N: I want you to ask.

He closed his eyes, pride fighting the curse, the pain and the overwhelming pleasure.

Jay trembled, every fiber of his being fighting the cruel desire that burned within him.

Y/N: Oh, Jay... (she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling his head back, exposing his throat) We're still going to have so much fun together.

The first days at the castle were a game of endurance.

Jay was installed in a dark room, with just a hard bed, an armchair, and a set of shackles chained to the wall. His new owner visited him regularly, always wearing the same expression of cruel amusement.

On the first day, Y/N just watched him. She sat in front of him, legs crossed, studying his every slightest reaction.

Y/N: What are you thinking about? (she asked, her voice melodic and full of venom)

Jay didn't respond. He would refuse to give any satisfaction.

On the second day, she tested his obedience. He ordered him to kneel, to kiss his hand, to admit his submission. Each command tore at his dignity, but the curse forced him to comply, and with each order followed, his body responded in the most humiliating way possible.

Y/N: Look at you, (mumbled, running her fingers along his jawline, feeling the rigid tension of his clenched jaw) How much do you hate this, Jay?

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

On the third day, she brought new chains. Made of black silver, enchanted to tighten at the slightest sign of resistance.

Y/N: These are special, (she said, locking his wrists behind his back) Let's see if they make you beg faster.

And then came the tests.

Every day was a new provocation, a new cruel command. Y/N explored the limits of the curse, pushing Jay to the extremes of his resistance. But the worst thing was how she seemed to know exactly where to touch, where to press, where to whisper to make him break little by little.

Y/N: Say it belongs to me. (she ordered on the fifth day, her lips brushing his ear)

Jay hesitated. The pain came like liquid fire, burning his insides. He panted, trying to resist, but his curse wouldn't allow it.

Jay: …I belong to you. (he whispered, the taste of defeat on his tongue)

Her smile was pure triumph. 

Y/N: Good night, my sweet convict. Tomorrow, we will play more.

On the seventh day, the provocation increased. Y/N locked him in his room, giving him a single command before leaving: 

Y/N: Wait for me, still and still.

Jay stood there, muscles shaking with tension. His body craved movement, but the curse wouldn't allow it. He was bound to obey.

When Y/N returned, she found it exactly where she left it. His satisfaction was palpable.

Y/N: Good boy (she whispered, running her fingers over his collarbone) But would you be able to disobey me… if I told you to?

She looked him in the eyes, a wicked challenge written on her face. Jay didn't know the answer. He was being broken, molded. And maybe, deep down, he didn't want to resist.

By the tenth day, the dynamic between them was changing. Jay didn't just obey—he anticipated.

He knew when she wanted to see him on his knees before she ordered him to. He knew how to hold her gaze in a way that made her smile contentedly. And he knew that when she ran her cool fingers over his skin, his body would respond with a shiver he couldn't help.

Y/N leaned into him one night, their lips dangerously close. 

Y/N: What do you want, Jay?

He didn't know how to answer. All he knew was that the curse burned inside him... and that her voice was the only thing that could relieve it.

On the fourteenth day, Y/N decided to test the final limits. She entered her room, expression implacable.

Y/N: Take off your clothes

Jay felt a shiver run down his spine. His body shook. The curse pulsed hotly through his veins. But he hesitated.

The pain came immediately. A hoarse moan escaped his lips as his muscles burned, his knees giving out slightly. 

Y/N: Take it all off.

With shaking hands, Jay obeyed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt before letting it fall to the floor. The pants followed the same fate. Each piece removed was a blow to his dignity, a cruel reminder of how much he was at her mercy.

Y/N walked around him, eyes traveling over every inch of his skin, noticing every involuntary contraction of his muscles. She stopped before him, bowing slightly.

Y/N: Now obey and look down.

Jay's chest rose and fell heavily. He knew what she wanted to see. And he knew his body would betray him, as it always did.

Y/N smiled, satisfied. 

Y/N: Your own body betrays how much you like this. Shame on you, Jay.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the humiliation burning hotter than any command.

Y/N: Now, (she whispered, her fingers lightly touching his chin, forcing him to face her) Let's see how far I can take you before you beg.

She slid a finger down his chest, slowly moving down as she watched him tremble. 

Y/N: Toque-se para mim.

Jay swallowed hard, his breathing uneven.

Y/N: Now.

Jay swallowed hard, his eyes widening at the order. The curse twisted inside him, burning, demanding obedience.

Jay: No...

The pain came like a cutting wave, washing away his resistance and replacing it with something far worse. 

Y/N leaned forward, her eyes shining in triumph.

Y/N: Touch-it.

Jay closed his eyes, his fists clenched, trying to resist. But it was a losing game. He knew that. His own breathing was ragged, and his body trembled in involuntary obedience. 

Slowly, his hand slid down. His face burned with humiliation as his fingers touched his own skin, his body responding to command like a puppet without a will of its own. A choked moan escaping his throat. Forbidden pleasure ripped through his spine like an electric current.

Y/N smiled, satisfied, watching every tremor he gave, every breathy sigh.

Y/N: That's... good boy. Keep going. I want to hear you.

The order made his stomach turn. His curse fed on humiliation, on forced desire he couldn't control. Every touch was a blow to his dignity, and still, he couldn't stop.

Y/N slowly approached. Your cold fingers touched his jaw, forcing him to look into your predatory eyes.

Y/N: Tell me, Jay... do you hate me?

His eyes were misty, his lips were parted, his breathing was rapid. But his voice came out in a broken whisper:

Jay: Sim...

Y/N laughed softly, her fingers trailing down his neck, a teasing touch that sent an involuntary shiver through his body.

Y/N: And still, look at the state it's in. Look at yourself, Jay. Submissive. Lost. Pleasure and torture mixed into one.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing his earlobe.

Y/N: And I haven't even really started yet.

Jay shuddered, feeling the weight of those words. His body betrayed his mind, his curse broke him more by the second. But there was something worse than the pain, worse than the involuntary pleasure: the growing desire that he could no longer distinguish from the curse itself.

Y/N dragged a fingernail down his chest, marking a slow path to his abdomen. The touch was cruel, intentional, a reminder of who was in control. Jay gasped, hating how his body reacted.

Y/N: Say, Jay... how far can I take you? How far can you take before you beg for more?

He gritted his teeth, fighting the response he knew was coming. But when Y/N grabbed his hair, forcing his head back, a traitorous moan escaped his lips.

And Y/N smiled. She had won.

Y/N's cold fingers slid across his jaw, tracing a lazy path to his parted lips. Jay was shaking, the curse burning inside him, nerves taut between pain and desire.

Y/N: That's right... so obedient. (his voice was a poisonous thread of silk, each word loaded with provocation)

She leaned in closer, her lips lightly brushing his earlobe.

Y/N: Tell me how much you like this.

Jay gasped, his body pulsing in a wave of revulsion and need. He tried to keep his lips pressed together, but the pain of resistance came like hot iron pressed against his skin. His chest rose and fell with force, every muscle fighting against the inevitable.

Jay: I...

Y/N pulled his face to look at her, her expression a mix of sadism and fascination.

Y/N: Say it. Without hesitating.

Forbidden pleasure clawed at his spine, and Jay felt humiliation settle into his bones. His dark eyes were glassy, ​​his body fighting against itself.

Jay: I like that.

Y/N smiled, satisfied.

Y/N: Good answer, my convict. But I'm not done with you.

She ran her sharp nails down his chest, slowly moving down, feeling his skin crawl under her touch. Jay closed his eyes tightly, as if that was enough to deny his own submission.

Y/N: You're learning so fast... but are you ready for your next lesson yet?

She moved away slightly, letting the silence between them stretch for a few seconds, increasing the suffocating tension in the room. Jay could barely breathe without feeling the weight of Y/N's expectations on him.

Then, she sat down on the armchair, crossing her legs in a cruel calm manner. His eyes flashed with something hungry, a silent decision being made.

Y/N: Come to me. But crawling.

Jay hesitated, his fingers digging into his body. The pain came immediately, burning his insides, forcing him to obey. His breathing was ragged as he moved his knees on the cold ground, feeling every inch of the journey like a crushing weight on his pride.

When he finally arrived in front of her, Y/N leaned down slightly, touching his messy hair with deceptive gentleness.

Y/N: So beautiful like that, kneeling for me. (she murmured, her fingers intertwining in the dark strands before pulling them firmly, forcing him to lift his face) But I'm still not satisfied.

Jay's eyes glittered with a mix of defiance and desperation. His breathing was heavy, his muscles tensed in anticipation of the curse's next blow.

Y/N: Say you were born for this. To serve me. To obey.

Jay gritted his teeth, his entire body shaking. But he knew it was futile to resist. The pain was already beginning to spread, sharp, relentless. He felt the humiliation deepen like sharp blades cutting into his soul.

Y/N: You're still resisting (she commented, leaning forward, her lips curved in something between amusement and malice) But I see it in your eyes. You want more. You want to know how far this can go, don't you?

Jay gasped, teeth clenched. His curse was an addictive poison. Each order fulfilled made his body yearn for the next command. An endless downward spiral.

Y/N: Speak, Jay. Say what you're feeling. (her tone was cruelly sweet)

He opened his mouth, hesitantly, and the moment he tried to resist, the pain mixed with pleasure so intensely that his body shuddered.

Jay: I... (he swallowed hard, trying to control his shaking) I hate this.

Y/N: You liar. (she laughed, bringing the glass to her lips) But that's okay. Let's test a little more.

Y/N: Beautiful. (She ran her fingers over his collarbone, slowly down his chest) Your body feels warm. You're enjoying this, aren't you?

He closed his eyes, fists clenched at his sides. Hatred and lust mixed like poison in the bloodstream.

Y/N: Maybe we should go even further. (Her eyes glittered with dark challenge) What do you think, Jay? Let's find out how much you can take before you beg?

But she didn't test him anymore that day, she got up and left, leaving him confused.

Silence became Jay's greatest enemy. He didn't know how long it had been since Y/N stopped seeing him, since his orders stopped. The castle seemed emptier than ever. Before, her every command was an invisible chain that tied him to the ground, but now… now he was free. And I didn't know what to do with it.

At first he thought it was a truce. A punishment. But the days turned into weeks, and nothing changed. He was left alone in his own thoughts, waiting, wishing, yearning for the sound of her voice. He didn't dare leave the room. He didn't dare try to understand what it meant to be "free." His body cried out for something that didn't come. His pleasure was always chained to orders, and without them, he felt nothing. Just a deep void.

And then, she came back.

His heart skipped a beat the moment he saw her enter. His eyes fixed on her like a starving dog seeing its owner. But she didn't say anything. She just walked over to him and, with delicate fingers, undid the restraints on his wrists and ankles. Jay shivered. His muscles were rigid, used to restriction, and now loose, he felt… lost.

Y/N: You are free to walk around the house (her voice sounded, but without the weight of a command)

He blinked, confused.

Y/N: And one more thing (she leaned in, brushing her lips close to his ear) From now on, I will only give orders if you wish… and beg for them.

Jay's eyes widened. This was a new kind of torture. A cruel game he didn't know if he could handle. Because now… now he would have to accept that he wanted this. You would have to verbalize it. You would have to ask.

The days without orders were silent torment for Jay. He wandered around the castle, feeling the unbearable weight of the absence of commands. His mind wavered between relief and despair, between freedom and need. He tried to convince himself that this was a victory, but the truth was a tight chain around his throat.

When Y/N finally reappeared, she didn't offer him orders. Instead, he let it exist in his presence, without direction, without punishment, and without reward. But there was something different about her. Her posture, her clothes... She was more carefree, or maybe just more cruelly attentive to what she was doing to him.

She leaned too close, the dresses fell carelessly over her skin, revealing more than they concealed. Drops of water dripped from her lips as she sucked on a red fruit, completely ignoring the way he was watching her. The sound, the movement of the tongue against the succulent flesh, the lazy slide of the fingers in the mouth as he tasted... Each gesture was casual, but to Jay, it felt like calculated torture.

He tried to resist. I tried not to look. Don't think. But his body betrayed his mind. Desire gnawed at his insides like a caged animal. He clenched his fists, dug his nails into the palms of his hands, forced himself to look away. But then she would pass by him, close enough for him to smell her. An accidental touch, a casual and carefree look.

At first, he pretended not to see her game. That he didn't care. That I could bear.

But with each passing day, his sanity crumbled a little more.

Night came, and he tossed and turned in bed, restless, burning with frustration. The silence of the castle seemed to mock him. His own body cried out for an order, for a command, for anything that would break that cycle of torturous waiting. He hated it. I hated that need. But still, she consumed him alive.

He wouldn't beg. I wouldn't give in.

But how long could I resist?

Jay felt like he was coming apart. Every accidental touch, every lingering look that Y/N threw without apparent intention, every subtle movement that revealed more skin than necessary… it all consumed him.

He tried to look away, tried to contain himself, but his body betrayed him. Curse pulsed through his veins, whispering that the only relief would come from surrender. And he refused. He refused to ask, he refused to beg.

But then, Y/N approached. She knelt in front of him to pick up something, and when she looked up, she met his eyes. Jay knew in that instant: he had no way out. It was over.

A guttural sound escaped his throat, and before he could think, his fingers were around her wrist, holding tight. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing erratic. His dark eyes were a well of despair and suppressed desire.

Jay: Say it. (his voice was harsh, full of a silent request)

Y/N smiled. He tilted his head slightly, his lips parted. 

Y/N: O hometown, Jay?

He closed his eyes tightly, as if he was in physical pain. 

Jay: You sent me. I implore…

Y/N slid her fingers along his jawline, slowly, cruelly. 

Y/N: I only give orders when they really beg me.

Jay trembled. Pride and desire were fighting one last battle inside him. But the curse was relentless.

Jay: Please... (he whispered, hoarsely) Tell me to touch you.

Y/N's smile widened, and in that moment, she knew. He had finally broken.

He knelt before her, his hands pressed against his thighs, his breathing ragged, his eyes filled with desperation and lust.

Jay: Please... (his voice broke, pleading) Send me. Use me. Tell me what to do. Possess me. I can't take it anymore... I need...

Y/N's eyes sparkled with cruel satisfaction. She bent down in front of him, touching his chin, forcing him to look at her.

He should hate her. He should hate himself even more.

But when Y/N slid her fingers under his chin, forcing him to look up, all he felt was overwhelming desire.

Y/N: You belong to me (she whispered, like a spell)

Jay moaned softly. Yes. Yes. He wanted to resist, but the curse turned any command into something addictive. No matter what she said, he yearned to follow every word. Like a faithful dog, like a devoted servant, like a ruined man.

Y/N: Say it, Jay. (her voice was pure silk) Tell me who you belong to.

His lips trembled, the words stuck in his throat.

Jay: To you. (the confession came out harsh, devastating, and too delicious to deny)

Y/N's smile widened. She slid her fingertips down his throat, feeling the tense muscles. She loved that. Y/N slid one leg over the support of the chair, exposing herself before him without haste. Her eyes were fixed on him, waiting, teasing, she removed her clothes, leaving her completely naked.

Y/N: Now, Jay... suck me.

His heart skipped a beat, the air escaping his lungs in a shuddering gasp. His fingers pressed against his knees.

His body moved before his mind could scream in protest. His lips touched her warm skin, and the world around him dissolved into a feverish haze. Every sensation was intensified by the curse: the taste, the heat, the soft sound that escaped her throat as he gave in completely.

And in the midst of the humiliation, Jay realized something terrible.

He didn't want to stop.

Y/N: You're a fascinating toy, Jay (she whispered, dragging the tip of her foot across his shoulder, slowly down his chest) So broken... and yet so useful.

Y/N: You want more, don't you? (she scoffed, watching him squirm)

He didn't want to answer. But he needed it.

JAY: Yes. (the word came out in a torn whisper)

Y/N smiled, victorious.

Y/N: Then ask.

He felt his chest heave. The last vestige of his dignity shattering like shattered glass.

But he already knew the answer.

Jay: Please... (his voice broke) Use me.

The gleam in Y/N's eyes became even more cruel.

Y/N: With pleasure, my convict.

Jay was on his knees, his face filled with an expression of pleading and desire, his eyes fixed on Y/N with a feverish need.

Jay: Please... (his voice was a shaky whisper, a drunken wail of pleasure) Tell me what to do...

She took his chin between her fingers and tilted her head, her lips brushing his without ever giving way completely.

Y/N: Lay down for me. Now.

His body obeyed before he could even think. Jay slumped onto the couch, his eyes glazed over her body as she climbed over him, like a seductive, dominating shadow. Your hands slid down his chest, feeling the tension in his muscles tensed with feverish anticipation.

Y/N: Look at me. (His voice was pure dominance, and Jay groaned as he felt the command sink deep into his mind)

He obeyed, dark eyes shining with lust and submission. The simple act of following her made his body throb with pleasure. He was lost in her. In that delicious torture that she imposed on him.

Y/N: Good boy. Now, don't you dare close your eyes. (her hand trailed down his body, touching every inch of exposed skin, each touch turning into delicious torment for Jay)

He trembled, his body arching under her touch, moans involuntarily escaping his lips. The curse burned, transforming obedience into pure ecstasy.

Jay: I... I can't take it... (he gasped, his fists clenching against the fabric of the couch)

Y/N pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him with a wicked smile.

Y/N: Hold on. You will give me everything I want. Until I decide you deserve more.

Jay's shuddering moan filled the room. He knew, in that instant, that he was lost. But I also knew I didn't want to be saved.

Y/N: You're enjoying this, aren't you?

He didn't respond, but the tremor in his muscles gave it away. 

He wanted to spit out a sarcastic retort, he wanted to curse her, he wanted to scream. But all that came out of his mouth was a choked gasp as Y/N grabbed his chin firmly, forcing him to face her.

Y/N: Say it, Jay. Ask for it.

His heart hammered in his chest. The curse pulsed against his skin, eager, insatiable.

Jay: I... (his voice broke, a harsh murmur. When Y/N dragged her fingernail slowly down his throat, his breath shuddered, and the confession escaped before he could catch it) Send me. Please.

Her smile widened, victorious.

Y/N: Good curse. Now, open your mouth.

Y/N kept her gaze fixed on Jay, lips curling into a cruel smile as he trembled under the weight of her order. 

Y/N: Tell me, Jay... (she murmured, her fingers lazily sliding along the contour of his jaw, holding him firmly) What do you feel right now?

Jay: It's... unbearable... (he gasped, eyes half-closed in despair and submission) And yet... I need more.

Y/N's low laugh reverberated throughout the room. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. 

Y/N: So pathetic... (whispered, teeth digging lightly into the earlobe before retreating) To think that one day you were feared. Now? A broken toy, eager to be used.

Jay's eyes burned with fury and humiliation, but his ragged breaths revealed the truth. He was at her mercy. And the worst part? Part of him wanted to be.

She walked away, standing up and crossing her arms as she watched him. 

Y/N: Get on your knees.

Shock crossed Jay's face for a moment, as if a last shred of dignity tried to resist. But it was useless. His body was moving before his mind could protest, his knees hitting the cold floor. The pleasure pulsed with such intensity that he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. The shame burned, but the cursed desire consumed him.

Y/N tilted her head, watching him with amusement. 

Y/N: Good boy. Now thank me.

Jay's hands clenched tightly, eyes squeezing shut in torment. His pride screamed at him to shut up, but the burning heat on his skin demanded he give in. The curse pushed him into the abyss of absolute submission.

Jay:Th-thank you… (he muttered, hating every syllable that came out of his mouth)

Y/N smiled, satisfied, and reached out, holding his chin to lift his face. 

Y/N: Again.

The pleasure intensified, as if a merciless fire was devouring him from within. He swallowed hard, eyes glassy as he repeated, voice shakier this time.

Jay: Thank you... ma'am.

She let out a low laugh, her fingers caressing his cheek with false tenderness. 

Y/N: Good answer. Now, let's see how far I can take you...

She ran her hands down her body, feeling her skin crawl with anticipation. Then she walked to the couch and lay down on it.

Y/N: You like that, don't you? (she whispered, her fingers digging into his hair, pulling him closer) You're so hard just from obeying...

He closed his eyes, breathing hitching. The pleasure of the curse mixed with true desire, distorting the line between the two. But he knew that it didn't matter where the pleasure came from—he was addicted to it now.

Y/N: Penetrate me. Now. (it was the last order, and he had no choice)

Jay obeyed instantly, as if her words were invisible chains pulling at his body. The pleasure was already consuming him, burning and irresistible, as his muscles trembled slightly under the tension. 

A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he positioned himself over her, guided by something much deeper than the curse. The moment he took her, pleasure exploded up his spine, so intense it bordered on pain, so absolute that the entire world dissolved around them.

She pulled him closer, her nails digging lightly into his hot, tense skin.

Y/N: Continue. Stronger. Deeper.

Jay obeyed immediately, a husky moan escaping his throat as his hips moved with more force, more precision, burying himself in her as if seeking to lose himself completely. Pleasure consumed him from the inside out, his curse intensifying every sensation, causing him to feel not just physical pleasure, but the forbidden ecstasy of following his orders.

The sound of bodies colliding filled the room, mixed with Y/N's muffled moans and Jay's labored breathing. His gaze was fixed on her, absorbing every expression of pleasure and power that appeared on her face.

Y/N: Touch my pussy. (she ordered, her voice broken with pleasure)

He obeyed without hesitation, one hand holding her waist while the other slid down, cupping her clit as he entered her. The impact of the order ran through his body like liquid fire, his pleasure multiplied to the point of being almost unbearable.

Y/N: You like that, don't you? To be mine.

Jay's eyes sparkled, submission and lust mixing within him in an intoxicating way. He couldn't lie. Not when every fiber of his being yearned for more, for every command, every word that came out of her mouth.

Jay: Yeah (he gasped, his voice almost a moan) I like it. I need.

Y/N: Then cum for me, Jay. Now.

The scream that escaped his lips was devastating, his entire body shuddering as he gave himself over completely to her order, her pleasure, her absolute dominance.

Y/N pulled him against her, her breath mixing with his, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she felt Jay's body tremble against hers.

Y/N: Good boy.

And with those words, Jay realized he was truly lost.

The days passed, and the relationship between Y/N and Jay became something dark and intoxicating. Jay no longer needed to wait for orders to take her — she let him take her whenever he wanted, giving in to the insatiable pleasure he offered. But Y/N hasn't lost her cruel essence. Whenever she felt Jay begin to relax too much in his servitude, she would remind him of his place.

One night, after he came to her to relieve himself, she tied him to the headboard, leaving his body naked and vulnerable. She sat next to him, running her nails slowly over his marked chest, watching how he trembled between desire and impotence.

Y/N: You like having me whenever you want, don't you? (he murmured, leaning down to nibble his earlobe) But it's still mine.

Jay's eyes were cloudy, his breathing ragged. He opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N slid her hand down his throat and squeezed lightly, seeing pleasure and torment mix on his expression.

Y/N: Not today (she whispered, kissing his lips before walking away, leaving him there, hard and hungry for her, unable to relieve himself)

The following days were a dance between indulgence and punishment. Y/N knew exactly when to let him free to take her and when to restrict him to reassert her dominance. Jay, in turn, became increasingly dependent, desiring each punishment as much as the pleasure.

Then an unexpected visitor arrived.

An urgent knock on the door echoed throughout the castle. Y/N frowned and went downstairs, finding a heavily robed messenger, his face covered by his hood damp from the rain outside. Jay was right behind her, as always, watching for any threats.

Messenger: We need to speak immediately (his voice full of gravity) There was an error.

Y/N: What kind of error? (Y/N crossed her arms, impatient)

The messenger hesitated before continuing:

Messenger: Jay's curse... can be lifted.

The silence was absolute. Jay didn't move. Y/N's heart pounded, but her face remained impassive.

Y/N: And what does that mean? (his voice was cold, sharp)

The messenger looked directly at Jay.

Messenger: It means he will no longer belong to anyone. Not to you, not to anyone else.

Jay finally reacted. His dark eyes, always filled with submission and desire, sparkled with something new. Something Y/N didn't know if she liked seeing.

Freedom.

The news fell on them like thunder.

Jay's eyes lit up, surprised but also...excited. Y/N felt her stomach drop.

Messenger: In seven days (repeated the messenger) the person who can break the curse will arrive. You will be free. It will belong only to yourself.

For a moment, Jay just blinked, processing the words. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a smile. A genuine smile, from someone who, perhaps for the first time in years, saw a different future. 

Y/N felt her heart sink. Her face maintained its usual coldness, but inside... she was breaking down.

The days that followed were the longest of Y/N's life. Jay seemed happier and more relaxed. His obedience was still there, but now there was something different. 

She wanted him. She wanted him under her control. Your possession. The thought of losing him was suffocating.

On the fourth day, she couldn't take it anymore. When he came to her room, ready to worship her, Y/N pushed him onto the bed and straddled him, holding his wrists against the mattress.

Y/N: Do you really want this? (she asked, trying to hide the vulnerability in her voice) Do you want to be free?

Jay stared at her, breathing heavily. He hesitated. But then he smiled again. A damn smile that burned her inside.

Jay: I don't know (he admitted) But I know I've never been free before. And I want to know what it's like.

The answer made something shatter inside her.

She didn't try to convince him to stay, she didn't beg, she didn't give in to the fear that gnawed at her soul. But it was there. Always present. Like a cold shadow that crept across the castle.

Jay, however, seemed indifferent. Or maybe he was just trying not to think. He still touched her whenever he wanted, took her with the same devastating intensity, his body reacting to the pleasure that the curse imposed on him. But something was different. A kind of hidden hesitation, a void in his eyes after the climax. As if, for the first time, he was beginning to question himself.

Y/N didn't mention release, but her mind swirled around it. She pretended nothing would change. And Jay pretended he didn't see how his touches became more avid, how his eyes followed her with an almost imperceptible desperation.

The fifth day arrived. Night fell heavily over the castle, the wind howling through the halls. Jay pulled her to him, speechless, as he always did. His touch was fiercer, his kisses deeper. But, at the moment when she should order him to kneel, to devour her like so many times before, Y/N hesitated.

He noticed.

Jay: What happened? (his voice was low, hoarse, almost a threat)

Y/N just looked at him. For the first time, without provoking, without demanding. Just looked.

And it was at that moment that Jay felt something fall inside him. Something I didn't understand. Something that made him hold her tighter, as if she could disappear between his fingers.

And then he knew.

He knew that when the seventh day arrived, when the person who could break the curse stood before him… he would have to make a choice.

And for the first time in his life, that choice terrified him.

The day before the person who would change everything arrived, Jay caught her before she could escape his touch. His fingers were steady as he held her wrist, his breathing heavy. There was no order, there was no command. Just raw, pure, undeniable desire.

Jay: Am I going to miss this tomorrow? (his voice sounded hoarse, filled with something that Y/N couldn't name)

She swallowed hard. I didn't know what to answer. He hadn't said "I'm going to lose you." I had said "that". But what was "it"? The pleasure? Servitude? The endless desire? Or something else?

Y/N: Do you want to lose? (she asked, voice lower than intended)

Jay was silent for a moment. Then, a slow, cruel smile appeared on his lips.

Jay: I don't know what I want anymore. But I know that if this is going to end, then I want to tag you first.

And for once, Jay didn't wait for an order. He took her willingly.

The seventh day dawned gloomy. Y/N didn't sleep. Neither does Jay. The messenger would arrive at any moment. The bitter taste of uncertainty spread throughout her body, but Y/N refused to show it.

When the knock on the door sounded, Jay looked at her, waiting for her order. Like always. As if nothing would change. Y/N felt a tightness in her chest. With a nod, she allowed him to follow her to the entrance.

The hooded figure waited in the doorway. 

Messenger: It's time (the voice sounded, impersonal) Ready?

Jay turned to Y/N. There was no hesitation in his eyes. No uncertainty. He didn't look at the messenger when he responded. 

Jay: No.

The silence was heavy.

Messenger: What? (the messenger frowned) You need to be freed. The curse—

Jay: I don't want to. (Jay's voice was firm, cutting) I'd rather belong to her.

Y/N felt her heart stop. 

Y/N: Jay...

He moved closer, his hand going up to her neck, his touch hot, possessive. 

Jay: You broke me, you made me again... And I choose to stay.

The messenger snorted impatiently. 

Messenger: That's not a rational choice. You were shaped to obey. This feeling—

Jay: It's not just the curse. (He brushed his lips against her jaw, his voice a whisper filled with dark fervor) It's real.

Y/N felt her breathing hitch.

Y/N: Are you... sure? (he asked, his voice weaker than he would have liked)

Jay: I always have. I just needed a reason to say it out loud. (Jay's eyes burned as he looked at her) And that reason is you.

The messenger sighed, resigned. 

Messenger: If that is your desire, there is nothing more to be done.

But before they could leave, Y/N ordered them to immediately release them from the curse.

They did so and then they were gone.

Leaving Y/N and Jay staring at each other. No curse. No obligations. Just the weight of choice.

And desire burning between them like an untamed fire.

From that moment on, something between them changed. Jay was no longer bound by the curse, but his desire for Y/N had not dissolved. On the contrary, it seemed to have become something even more visceral, more fiery, without the need for a command to ignite your senses.

The days that followed were a silent ordeal. He watched her, trying to decipher what he now felt, trying to understand why, even free, his obsession with her only grew. Y/N, in turn, fought her own demons. I expected him to leave, to at least consider the freedom that had been so denied to him, but Jay seemed more present than ever.

And then, one night, the tension between them became unbearable. Jay found her in her room, her eyes dark and feverish with desire and something deeper, something Y/N didn't dare name. He didn't ask, he didn't beg – he didn't need it anymore. He just moved closer, his fingers closing around her throat with a firm grip, not suffocating, just claiming.

Jay: I should want to leave (he murmured, his mouth hovering over hers) But all I want… is you.

Y/N gasped as she felt the excitement pulse between her legs. 

Y/N: Then prove it.

He didn't hesitate. Jay's mouth took hers in a hungry, devouring kiss. The clothes were ripped off in a hurry, and when he laid her on the bed, his touch was feverish, reverent, and wild at the same time. Now, his every act was done by his own choice. Every thrust, every moan drawn from her, was because he wanted it, because he wanted her insatiably.

Jay held her tight, his body pressed against hers as he buried himself deep, savoring every tremor, every gasp, every choked scream. And Y/N, now completely taken by him, couldn't think of anything other than the pleasure that consumed them both.

There were no more curses, no more orders. Just raw desire and an unnameable feeling that grew between them, threatening to devour them whole.

Next week's challenge: Fantasy X Aphrodisiac

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[dayurno]

robin cross and kevin day parallels actually go so crazy. they both spent their formative years in a basement underground with exy-obsessed captors. they both saw exy as freedom. they both were isolated even within the foxes’ group of outcasts. they were both under andrew’s protection. it cost kevin jean to leave the nest and it cost robin another girl’s life to escape her kidnapper. robin carried her racquet with her to self-soothe and kevin restrings the net of his when he’s anxious. they’re even bird coded

[retiredteabag]

Sukuna assimilating to you

Synopsis: After discovering that Sukuna has been wide awake every time you nap together, you become embarrassed around him.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It is a scientific fact that when we are around people we love and trust, while in a healthy relationship, the release of oxytocin makes us sleepy.

Sukuna does not need sleep. He is the king of curses, able to continuously use his technique without ever becoming exhausted. When you first suggested that his chambers were "perfect for napping", he had simply raised a brow and considered what that could possibly mean.

You are like a weak creature to him. A kitten or perhaps a rabbit. And since you are never safer than when you are in his presence, you frequently find yourself growing sleepy when you are around him.

Throughout your strange relationship with the king, something that you loved most, is that there never needs to be words exchanged between the two of you. You were both contented to sit in silence. Frequently dozing off together, or so you thought.

You caught on eventually, that he was always awake before you. That his breathing pattern never really changed. That his face never relaxed more than it would if he had simply been sitting with his eyes closed.

One morning, after having stayed the night sleeping, you mumbled to him, "How is it you're always awake before I?"

He rose a brow at you, his upper set of eyes were looking into yours, the lower staring at how you lay across his bed sheets.

"I do not know your meaning." He grumbled out.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "You never sleep in longer than I do, one day I would like to wake up before you."

"I never sleep at all." He stated before you had even really finished your sentace.

"What?" Your breathy outburst echoed slightly in his bed chamber, "What do you mean you don't sleep?"

"I do not require such things." He turned his torso now toward you, all four eyes studying your face, you had quickly sprung up, seemingly miffed.

"So... so all this time, you've just been... laying there while I've been sleeping?"

"I suppose I have, I do not see how this matters in the slightest." "It matters because I've been... It's just been a big waste of time for you. Sukuna you should have said something." You're upset, he can tell. Your face is scrunched up, your blood is pounding in your veins. Sukuna, however, does not know what to say in this situation.

In all honesty, he figured you knew and were just including him. Did you really think he was that weak? Or could you simply not conceive of a restless existence? Whatever the answer, he had no response for you, expecting a shrug of the shoulders- you he would discover, would not so easily let go of things.

And how humiliated you were. How many HOURS had you spent sleeping with him, within his grasp, in his space for him to have been conscious the whole time? You tried thinking back, attempting to recall a time you had requested a nap when he was uninterested.

He had never uttered a word about it. Never turned you down. Sukuna was not a kind king, he rarely ever did things that were not out of necessity, and he certainly did not do things he didn't like. That, at least, was consolation. You knew he had not been suffering for your sake, but even so, it was embarrassing.

Sukuna, still, could not understand your sheepishness about the subject. He did not care to explain that time works differently for him, that his mind is not so simple as yours and does not require entertainment all the time, that he could sit still for years and not be bothered, and frequently did before you came along.

He assumed you would get over it quickly. In your time as well as his. But days passed and he rarely saw you. You took your dinner with other people of the palace and spoke with him in the most cordial manner. One night, he informed Uraume that they needed to prepare a dish suited for you, something that would entice you, and serve it to him.

He figured this would bring you crawling back to him, tail between your legs. Yet, you did not budge.

Odd.

You were wallowing. You knew it. He did not care to spend time, what? Watching you sleep? Of course, he wouldn't, but it hurt your pride, to know you had been taking up such huge chunks of time lazing about in his presence. Well, not anymore. You slept in your chamber and your chamber alone. Gone were the days of blankets on the engawa, gone were the days of resting beneath the kotatsu while laying your head in his lap, gone were the days of sharing his bed.

If ever he wished for someone to share his bed, he had a whole cast of concubines, though you knew they were never of any use to him, they were mostly just house staff with a fancy title.

The evening he finally decided enough was enough, you were in the washhouse doing laundry.

Your back was arched over a bin full of soapy water. Your hands working tirelessly on some cloth.

"Have you not circumvented me enough?" He spoke in a low and slow tone.

"Lord Sukuna." You bowed, clothing in your hands, suds up your forearms, you bent your neck as to not look at him.

"You will reply now." He raised a brow, watching your hands quietly splash in the washbin.

"Was there something you would like me to assist to?" You questioned. Your head was full of possible reasons for what the king meant by seeking you out personally.

"Do you believe that by not sleeping in my presence I would come to believe you do not require rest?" He spoke in an unserious tone, eyes unblinking.

"No, my lord." Now what was he playing at? Of course that wasn't your intention.

"Then you hide yourself from me because you no longer have time for your king, I suppose." He mused.

Oh, for heaven's sake, "No, my lord."

"I see," He bent down to look you dead in the eyes, "So, you must no longer crave my occupancy of your space. You must not desire my hand running through your hair? I suppose you have tired of staying in my chambers?" His tone remained deep but his eyes were dead serious now.

"I-" You began, but suddenly you felt the urge to cough, swallowing you tried again, "I wished not to preoccupy so much of your time."

"And you made this decision without enlightening your king."

You said nothing.

"You will eat with me tonight, you shall stay in my chambers henceforth." He rose in record speed, turning without a second glance your way, maids were staring wide-eyed at the king of curses as he halted at the entrance of the washhouse. You could not see, but there was finality in his voice.

"I wish not to waste-" You were cut off by Sukunas voice, his broad back still facing you.

"Your wishes do not interest me now, so it seems. It is my wish for you to spend your time with me." His steps resounded through the compound, your face slack.

The maids smirked, and with shocked faces, side-eyed one another. A couple entered the washhouse giving you big open-mouthed smiles, and patted your shoulder as they passed.

That night Uraume made something you would go on to beg them to make for years to come. And when Sukuna pulled you prone from your seated position on his bed, he took a firm fingertip and stroked the space between your eyes, one of his enormous hands encircling your skull and massaging your temples with his thumb and ring fingers. He traced the bridge of your nose to your forehead, the way you would stroke a cat.

Perhaps he thought this would induce drowsiness but all it did was make you feel all floaty inside at his silliness.

And for the first time since that night, you slept alongside him. Within his embrace, and when you awoke, Sukuna's eyes were closed.

[s0dium]

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.

Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

No AC.

With a body you carved up.

You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.

Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.

So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.

"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.

The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.

Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.

You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.

"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"

"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."

You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.

"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.

Holy shit.

A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.

While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.

He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.

"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.

You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.

You can't deal with this shit.

"Self defense." You say.

The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.

"And how would you know that?"

"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."

You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.

And of course, just your luck, he is stunning

Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.

Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.

"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.

"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.

Oh, what the hell.

You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.

"Wha-"

"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.

"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.

You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.

You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.

And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.

Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.

"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"

You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.

"I-"

Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."

"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.

"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.

"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.

"The Crucifer?"

You shake your head.

"The cross maker?"

You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.

"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."

Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.

"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.

"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."

You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"

Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.

"Fine by me."

~

The Mute Collector.

Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.

And god you are beautiful.

Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.

Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."

He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."

He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."

"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.

Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.

He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.

No bra.

"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.

"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."

You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."

Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."

You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.

"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."

You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."

He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."

"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.

"Touché."

He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.

No bra.

"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"

Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.

"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."

"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"

Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.

A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.

"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."

"Fucking hell."

"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"

You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.

"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"

"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.

"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"

Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"

A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"

Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"

For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."

"And what do we get if we win?"

Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."

You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"

"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”

~

You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.

"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.

Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."

By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.

You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since. 

Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."

You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party.  His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."

There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"

You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."

Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.

"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"

Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."

"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on. 

 "And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."

"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”

You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”

Are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."

"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."

"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."

"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"

"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."

"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."

"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.

You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.

With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.

~

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.

"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.

"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."

Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.

Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."

Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.

Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.

Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?

Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled

Y/n: Shut up.

Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.

Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?

Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me. 

Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.

Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”

Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.

Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you

Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?

Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.

Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?

Suguru: Can’t it be both? 

Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.

Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.

Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.

Suguru: Really?

Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?

Y/n: *One attachment*

You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it. 

Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.

“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.” 

When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.

“Trouble?” Suguru asks.

“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.

On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents.  What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.

Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.

“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.

Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”  

~

You can't believe you are doing this. 

You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.

It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.

Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation. 

Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.

“Hiya.”

A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.

“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.

“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.

“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”

“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”

Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.

“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”

“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.

For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle. 

Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.

“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.

Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.

Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.

The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.

The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.

Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.

For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.

Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.

He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.

Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.

You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.

Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”

With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.

A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.

Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.

Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.

Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree. 

"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.

His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.

“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.

~

Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen. 

To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.

The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”

Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.

He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure. 

No bra.

The sight makes his mouth go dry.

"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.

You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?

 His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”

His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. “It’ll heal. No big deal.”

Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you. 

You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"

He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up." 

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"

Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"

You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."

Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."

The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.

Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”

You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.

He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"

Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.

You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"

"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.

"On how good you are at it," you murmur.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.

The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.

"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"

You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."

"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."

Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.

His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.

But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.

“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?” 

You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.

“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”

You cave. 

As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.

“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”

His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.

Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”

Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.

He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.

Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”

You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.

He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring. 

You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.

"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.

"No please Sugu~, I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”

You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.

“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”

You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest. 

Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.

Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.

“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”

A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.

It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.

What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.  

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.

He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.

"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess. 

The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.

Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.

“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.

Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.

“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"

So you do.

Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?” 

Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.

The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.

"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."

[himbodruid]

Crying Wolf

My take on the 105 affinity Secret Times audio 😏

Intended for 18+ readers ONLY. MINORS DNI

Sylus x Reader/You

Breeding kink (probably)-:- marking -:- possessive sex -:- soft sex -:- consent is hot -:- aftercare

Fic Master List

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The soft plinking sounds of the silly game you were playing echoed in the otherwise vacant room. You’d awoken from disturbing dreams in your own bed at the base, and snuck into Sylus’s room. And now you were curled up on his bed and clutching one of his pillows to your chest. He wasn’t home yet and it was a day off for you, but you figured he wouldn’t mind you borrowing his space.

“What are you playing?”

His voice suddenly appearing right next to your ear startled you and made you jump. Your hand struck out on instinct, which he caught with a chuckle before it could connect with his face.

“Shit, Sylus, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Are you trying to scare me?” You settled back down, trying to calm your adrenaline.

“Am I trying to scare you? You’re overthinking it, love.” He chuckled again at your pout.

“Still rude to sneak up on people like that.”

“Meanwhile, Miss Hunter didn’t even notice me when I was this close.” He leaned in, sending your pulse racing again for a different reason. “Your lack of vigilance is worryin-“

With a scowl, you slapped your hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. He was right, but you wouldn’t willingly admit it. Could he hardly blame you for feeling safe in his space?

You felt him smile under your hand for a brief moment, before he pulled it away from his mouth and flashed you that devilish half smirk of his. “You’re that eager to shut me up? Oh, you’re gonna need more than just your hands, Kitten.”

The tension that had built in those few seconds was interrupted by the sound of your game ending. Your phone was still in your other hand, but it had been all but forgotten when you got lost in Sylus’s predatory gaze.

“Oops, guess you lost,” he rumbled without breaking eye contact with you. Amusement twinkled in his eye. “Sorry for interrupting your game.”

You cleared your throat and looked away from him. You hated how easily he could get under your skin, with just a simple look from those cat-like crimson eyes of his. You made to return to your game and start again.

“But I remember an hour ago, someone promised to go to bed early starting today.”

“Oh, so you did see my text,” you muttered under your breath. He pretended not to hear you though.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” The smile in his voice made you want to reach out and punch him. Instead, you reined in the impulse and restarted the game.

“I haven’t forgotten. This is a sleep aid game,” you said with a huff, pointedly ignoring his presence now.

“You…play a game to help you fall asleep. This is the first time I’ve heard of it.” He made a noise of suspicion and leaned in again. “Looks like someone’s trying to pull the wool over my eyes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and scooted over on his bed. He rose from the chair he’d been occupying and sat next to you at your beckoning, and raised a brow when you handed him your phone with a freshly started game.

“Why are you giving it to me? I’m not into these little games.” He said gruffly.

“Just try it,” you say. “I’m trying to prove my innocence here.”

With a chuckle, he accepted your phone. “Alright, we can do that. Scoot over.”

You shifted over some more, placing the pillow you’d been cuddling back against the headboard. He stretched out languidly beside you, resting against the pillow you’d just placed, and held out an arm to you.

“Come here, rest your head on my arm,” he commanded softly. You smiled and laid beside him, where his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and immediately his hand began tracing soft patterns against your arm.

“Now then. Shall we get started?” You explained basic concepts of the game to him and showed him what to do, trying not to zero in your focus on his deft fingers lazily brushing your skin. After three sheep appeared on screen, Sylus paused.

“So the whole point of this game is to count sheep?”

“I mean, I tried to tell you it was a sleep aid game, but you didn’t believe me,” you laughed. He smirked back.

“Well, it is boring enough to make anyone fall asleep.”

With a playful punch to his chest, you took up your phone again and continued playing. You were trying hard not to focus on all the points where your bodies touched, trying to cool the heat that was slowly settling into you as he continued to trail his hand on you. You were trying not to lose yourself in the smoky spice scent of him. You were pretty sure he could feel your racing heartbeat, maybe even hear it, so you threw your focus into the game and tried hard to ignore how much you wanted to straddle him at that moment.

“Hmm…how many have we counted?” His voice was rough, like he was distracted. It took all of your effort not to squirm against him.

“You’d know if you’d stay focused,” you replied, thankful that your voice was steady. You were entirely too conscious of the fact that his shirt was stretched taut across his chest, and the sleep pants were slung low enough on his hips you could almost see his v-line.

“It’s not that I’m unfocused. Your hair is tickling my neck,” he rumbled. You scowled at him again.

“Seriously?” Was all you could think to say. He chuckled.

“Yes, it tickles. Only a little, though. Do you need me to help you tame this unruly hair of yours?”

Before you could give him an answer, his hand reached up and brushed strands of hair away from your face. His palm lingered on your cheek for the briefest of moments before moving down your neck. The action in no way removed your hair from his vicinity, but his focus was solely on you in that moment. Your breath hitched as his palm traveled further and then flattened against your collar bone. His eyes followed the contour of your neck before resting on the dainty necklace that rested in the hollow of your throat. You could see hunger ignite in his eyes when he saw it.

“Hmmh. Isn’t this the collarbone necklace I gave you?” He murmured while fingering the pendant. “My taste is pretty good, I guess.”

“Yes,” you say almost dumbly. “I love it.”

“It is very pretty,” he murmured, leaning over you. You couldn’t tell if he meant the necklace or your neck as he buried his face there. You thought you could feel his lips ghosting over your skin and the soft gasp that escaped you was nearly involuntary.

“S-Sylus, what are you doing?” You questioned, hating how breathless your voice was. He took a moment before replying, not bothering to pull himself away from you.

“Nothing. I just thought,” he said, punctuating with a soft kiss to your collarbone, “this spot was very enticing.”

His mouth descended onto your collarbone once more, a full open-mouth kiss that you couldn’t hold back your gasp at. Teeth scraped against your skin and then he latched onto you in such a way that you knew would leave a mark. It hurt at first, the aggressive pull of his mouth, but then there was a zing of rapture that flowed through you when he released you. His breath tickled across your now-damp skin and you shivered.

“It tastes just as I imagined it to be,” he murmured. “I wonder what this will taste like.”

Sylus moved to the opposite side of your collarbone now, his hand cradling your head while he gave the same treatment to that side. You tried your hardest to calm your thundering heart, to quell the heat that raced through you, to soothe the blush that spread mercilessly from your face to your now nearly exposed chest. You felt embarrassed at how quickly and easily he was able to turn you on. The sounds of the game came back to you and you desperately tried to return your attention to it. This didn’t escape Sylus’s notice.

“What? How many sheep are there now?” He nuzzled into your neck. “You’re still concerned about them? Looks like I haven’t gotten your undivided attention yet.”

“S-Sy,” you started, unable to find words when your breath came short.

“I don’t like you being so far away from me,” he growled before rolling his bulk atop you. You dropped your phone onto the mattress, the game forgotten now. “Come closer, let’s cuddle.”

You knew your face was aflame as he leaned down to nuzzle and kiss your neck. In a desperate bid to escape embarrassment, you mutter the lamest excuse you could. “B-but Sylus, it’s too warm.”

“To be honest,” a kiss on your neck, full of tongue, interrupted his thought, “it…can get even warmer. Than. This.”

His mouth found yours then, and he coaxed you open to him so that his tongue could plunge in and tangle with yours. You inhaled sharply, unable to keep your hands from him any longer. You kissed him back in equal fervor, not entirely ignorant to the hard length of him resting against your belly. Your hands combed through his silk-soft hair, all but holding him to you.

A sudden plink from your discarded phone brought you back to your senses. You were kissing Sylus. The two of you had been intimate in other ways, but nothing nearly as far as this yet. Holding hands, quick pecks on the cheek, chaste kisses here and there. But nothing so all-consuming, so passionate.

“Hmm? Oh. We lost,” rumbled Sylus against your lips. You turned your head and looked at your phone.

“Hmm. Looks like a wolf snuck in because you weren’t focused on our sheep,” you admonished lightly.

“Yeah. All of them were eaten,” Sylus replied with a smug smirk. He returned to burying his face against your neck. “How do you think those sheep were eaten? Like…this?”

He raked his teeth against the slope of your neck. You didn’t even have the mind to feel embarrassed about the moan that slipped from you.

“Or…like this?” His lips moved to the other side. A heavy, charged sigh escaped from him as he all but worshipped your neck. Kisses, bites, even rolling his tongue against your pulse. You were unravelling beneath him, and then his hand had the audacity to add to the sensations by running down the length of you. Your breaths came in short gasps and you longed to completely wrap yourself around him.

“I take back what I said about the game. It does have some redeeming qualities.”

The comment was so sudden, you couldn’t muster a response. All you could do was watch him with eyes half-lidded by desire while he elaborated.

“For instance, it is very realistic.” He gave another one of those heated sighs, followed by a soft growl while his hand continued to roam your body. You were fully aware now of his cock resting heavy against you, still held by the prison of his sleep pants. Somewhere he had wedged a knee between your own and was slowly sliding his way fully between your thighs. You could feel the heat blazing in your face and looked away from his assessing and possessive gaze.

It just happened that your attention fell back to your phone.

“Where are your eyes going? Honestly, I don’t think you need to get your phone back.”

You looked back to him, and he hiked your leg up to hook around his hip. The length of him was now pressed against your core, hot and hard.

“If you need a sleep aid, then I can fulfill that role.”

You felt like your brain was going to short circuit. Out of a desperate attempt to hide your madly blushing face, you covered it with the comforter.

“A sheep can’t escape if it’s trapped under the covers,” he said, tugging them away. “So, is this little lamb prepared?”

Another moan escaped you unbidden as he pressed his hips into yours.

“A wolf is coming,” he growled into your ear.

Fuck, I sure hope he will, you thought.

His mouth found yours again, and his roaming hand slipped underneath the cotton tank top you were wearing. Like electricity on your skin, his touch sent shivers through you. His thumb found your breast first, and then the rest of his hand engulfed the mound of flesh. You couldn’t help but arch into his touch, releasing pleased gasps into his fierce kiss.

Next thing you knew, your shirt was pushed up above your breasts and his hot mouth moved to teasing them. His tongue swirled around the nipple of one, while his hand continued kneading the other.

“S-Sylus,” you moaned with a shuddering breath. His teeth scraped against the underside and your hands dug into his scalp at the sensation. Your back bowed, arching firmly into his touch until his mouth moved further down. A blazing trail of kisses and bites all the way down your torso until he came to the hem of your shorts. All the while he kept his crimson gaze locked on your face, thoroughly enjoying the reactions he elicited from you.

He tugged at the hem, offering a silent question to you and going no further until you nodded your consent and lifted your hips for him. He stripped shorts and underwear away in one swift motion, and suddenly you were bared so intimately, so lewdly for him. You tried to pin your knees together, but he was already there, mouth at your hip and drawing out a mark to match the ones on your collarbone.

“I think,” he said, detaching from your skin, “I might enjoy seeing my marks on you a little too much.”

Your gaze landed on the bruise-like mark he left on your hip and you had to agree with him. Something about seeing his smirking mouth hovering there and a hickey darkening was just absurdly hot.

You let your head fall back into the pillow, covering your face with an arm. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Sylus.”

“Is that so?” He chuckled. “If you permit me, I can easily give you a little death, as a treat.”

Somehow your face flamed hotter at his innuendo. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, as you felt his thumb brushing through the soft fringe at your core.

“Mmh,” he growled. “So wet for me already, Kitten.”

And then his tongue followed the touch, and you were lost. A moan escaped from you, your hands flying to tangle once again in his hair. If he hated that you were messing up said hair, he didn’t say a word. In fact, the action seemed to provoke him further and he soon added fingers curling into your cunt. He worked you hard until you spilled over the edge with his name falling from your lips like a chant.

He crawled back up your body, planting a soft kiss before pulling away. He caressed your cheek while he gave you the tenderest of looks. It appeared he wanted to say something, but held himself back. Instead, he opted to lean forward and kiss your forehead.

And then the infuriating man tugged the comforter over you and made to leave.

“Wait, what?” You panicked and grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

“It’s late, Kitten, and you need to sleep.”

“No! I-“ your words were cut off by his chuckle.

“As much as I want to, Kitten, I hadn’t really prepared for sex. I don’t have any protection.”

You eased your shoulders, secretly relieved that he wasn’t rejecting you per se.

“That’s simple, though,” you say, swinging your arm wide and showing him the tiniest of protrusions on the inner side of your arm. “The Association pays for all of us to get temporarily sterilized. Those of us that want it, anyway. It lasts for five years, and I got it put in a few months ago because-“

You cut your words off, completely aware that you were rambling and embarrassing yourself further. You looked away, hating how desperate you sounded. But it was true, after being with Sylus and getting to know him, you wanted to prepare for a ‘just in case’ kinda situation just like this one. When he didn’t move or respond, you began shuffling yourself back under the duvet in awkward self-consciousness.

His hand shot out to stop you, though. “I truly don’t deserve you.”

With that, you were stripped bare before him once again. The duvet was discarded, and his crimson gaze followed every curve and edge of your body. It was like he was trying to memorize the picture of you naked in his bed.

“So damn beautiful,” he growled before falling upon you once again. His kisses were needy and hungry, working to quickly reignite your every sense. Your hands worked to slide his own shirt from his body, discarding it alongside your own clothing. The valleys of his abs called to you and you were unable to resist touching. Your fingers traveled the dips and rise of his torso, earning you panting groans from him. Testing, you allowed one hand to go even further downward. When he didn’t stop you at the hem of his pants, boldness overtook you and you grasped at the prominent bulge over the fabric.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jerking forward of their own volition. He let his head fall against your chest with rough kisses while you pressed and kneaded the length of him in wonder. He was very clearly a large man as he all but dwarfed your petite frame underneath him, but down there he was also exceptionally large.

“How in the world is this supposed to fit,” you wondered aloud while still stroking him. He chuckled darkly in your ear, rolling his hips into your touch.

“Why don’t we find out, Kitten.”

His mouth engulfed yours again while he worked to strip the pants from his body. His tongue swept into your mouth, undulating in a way that suggested he was about to do that to you with his cock. Finally his hips nestled between your thighs, and you could feel how big he was resting against your body. You opened as wide as you could for him while his hips continued rolling forward and back. While not penetrating, his cock still dragged deliciously against your folds, urging your heart to pick up pace in anticipation.

And then, gods, the moment he pierced you, you wanted to cum. His movement was infuriatingly slow as he allowed you time to become accustomed to his girth first, and then his length last. You let your head fall back into his pillows, his name tumbling from you as you clung to him desperately.

And then he stilled, though you could tell by his shaking that it took all of his effort to hold back.

“Fuck, you feel so good on me, Kitten,” he whined. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, ensuring that he couldn’t suddenly change his mind and pull away from you in that moment.

A slight tilt of your hips and a clenching of your walls, and he nearly collapsed atop you at the forceful pleasure that rocketed up his spine. His moan was deep, guttural, and damn near feral. It only goaded you into shifting your hips again to rattle him further. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and fuck the feel of him slamming so impossibly deep into you was almost enough to throw you over the edge.

“Sylus, please,” you whimpered to him. His gaze found yours and locked on as he so slowly pulled himself out, right to the tip. And then his hips rocketed forward and the force of him slamming into you all but ripped his name from you as a scream.

From there, the frenzied coupling reached a crescendo so quickly that neither of you were prepared for the full force of pleasure that toppled you over the edge. His cock was buried in you and responded in kind when your walls fluttered and milked him. You took every last bit he had to offer, and still he wasn’t done with you.

He shifted your legs so that the backs of your knees rested in his elbows, and he all but folded you in half while he pistoned into you. All you could do was cling to him, crying out in the pleasure he ripped so vehemently from you. The new position let him fuck into you even deeper somehow, and gods the way his cock dragged against your inner walls.

And the sounds he made only added fuel to the fire. Grunting moans, harsh whispers of praise, guttural growls. All of them possessed you, making you respond to him in kind between other cries of pleasure. His name became like a prayer with the frequency it tumbled from your lips, and gods when he growled out your name you were gone.

Climax swept through both of you again swiftly, more hot ropes of cum flooding you only to be used as lubricant while he continued to pound into you.

Three times he brought you over the edge and he jumped alongside you. Three times before he finally released your cramping legs and let them rest back around his hips. More marks dotted your body, and you added your own collection to his neck and chest.

Three times your body milked his, and yet he was still so impossibly hard inside you. You would be surprised if you weren’t leaking his cum for days after this.

“Fuck, Kitten, you feel so damn good. I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop fucking you,” he growled.

The pace of his thrusts slowed in reverent worship of your body. You could feel him more fully than the rapid driving of the last three rounds. You could feel how the scooped edge of the head caught and dragged along your walls, tugging and pushing electric shocks of pleasure that coursed through you. And gods the hard push of his hips when he buried fully to the hilt, the feel of his sac compressing against the slick of your combined cum. The sticky feel of it all when he pulls away with the obscene sounds echoing in the room with your twinned heavy breathing. The slow ascent of your pleasure was near infuriating, but you knew that the fall would be much sweeter, more intense.

“This is how I originally wanted to take you,” he murmured into your skin as he kissed the two marks on opposite ends of your collarbone. “But you feel too damn good, I couldn’t control myself.”

You could only respond with a moan as his cock continued to brush against that sweet spot inside you. Your legs slid up his body to bracket his torso, the slight shift just enough to give him even further access.

“Sylus, you feel so fucking good,” you whimpered to him, your nails digging into his back.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he said, nuzzling his face into your neck. He was doing that a lot, almost as if he was trying to absorb the scent of you.

“Yes,” you hissed. “Take me.”

“Come with me, Kitten.”

At his words and a final hard thrust of his hips, you shattered beneath him. Your body arched off the bed, limbs jerking with your head thrown back into the pillows. His name echoed into the room from your pleasured screams. This climax was the most intense one you’ve ever had, threatening your consciousness with black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. It was like Sylus had lit your entire body on fire with electricity. It crackled through you, your body’s convulsing no longer yours to control as you just tried to continue to cling to him.

You could feel his own orgasm steamroll through him as well. His hips jerked erratically as his cock twitched and pulsed inside you. His moans in your ear were punctuated by panting breaths and guttural growls. His sac grew taut and then he was spilling into you once more. He experienced full body trembling, quivering, spasming, and his desperate moans filled the room with yours.

His cock finally seemed to be through and he slipped from you. He left the bed without a word, coming back seconds later from the bathroom with a warm rag to help clean you up and a cool glass of water that you chugged. You were embarrassed but grateful at his care- though it was almost for naught as the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other in the shower. It seemed like there would be a never ending stream of cum flowing from your cunt with how many times he couldn’t resist burying himself in you.

After several more rounds in various positions, you were finally tucked against him and nodding off to the sleep you should have had at least six hours ago.

__

When you finally did wake, Sylus had stepped out with instructions to the twins to bring you breakfast and whatever else you wanted. Unfortunately for you, Sylus didn’t think about any kind of implications when he directed them to his room instead of your own. To make matters worse, you were bundled in his blankets, looking like you were still exhausted from a night of little to no sleep due to Sylus’s bullshit stamina.

The twins, though, were so obnoxiously delighted by the news that you “finally slept with the boss” that they kept trying to high five you whilst you were trying to fight them away out of embarrassment.

You got no peace that night or day, but it didn’t stop the contented grin that planted itself on your face.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Say my name again

Hwang In-ho x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: blood, gore, violence… if u watched SG, you’ll be fine

as always, requests are open!

You’ve been watching him for some time now. Paying attention to the way his mouth moved when he talked to his teammates, following his gaze wherever he looked. After the second game, you overheard him introducing himself. Young-il. What a coincidence he looked like the police officer that visited your flat so many years ago. The name was what made you suspicious - you could have sworn the police officer introduced himself to you as Hwang In-ho. And it’s not as if you could’ve gotten those mixed up; you two spent many restless days trying to find the ones who were behind the robbery of your home. But, you smiled with some bitterness on your tongue, the outcome was obvious based on your situation.

You knew you were the only one watching him so closely. One of your teammates even joked about it, saying you were mesmerised by that man. But he just made you nervous - his presence planting a bug in your brain. Was he a spy for the government? Or was he just as miserable as the rest of you?

With another unsuccessful vote behind you, you could finally rest and get off of your adrenaline high by leaning against the railing of your bunk bed while nibbling on some bread. You took off your bloodied shoes that always made you nauseous just by looking at them and while doing some breathing exercises your eyes of their own volition found that familiar face in the moving crowd. Of course he is still playing, you thought. He was a cop, no matter what. You watched him give his own share of milk to the pregnant girl. Did he do it out of kindness or to manipulate those people?

“Seriously, Y/N, you must have a problem. What is wrong with you? Staring like that at that poor guy- he might get the wrong idea.” One of your teammates said to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m just watching and that’s harmless on its own.”

“On its own, yes. But what you’re doing is more than that.”

You raised your brow in annoyance and curiosity and moved your eyes to her.

“And what is it that I’m doing?” You pursed your lips.

“Stalking, mildly put.” She grimaced at your look, sensing how close to irritated you were becoming.

“Stalking? Such a nonsense, Se-mi.”

“Well, whatever. Just be careful so he doesn’t notice or in the next game you might have even more trouble staying alive.”

“Yeah? Is that because you’re so done with me you’re gonna finish me off tomorrow?”

Both of you were grinning then.

“In your dreams, Y/N.”

***

The platform beneath you jerked to life but all your eyes could see were the puddles of blood everywhere. Your shoes were already drenched in it, the palms of your hands covered by it. You slipped on the blood so many times that your clothes were already camouflaged.

“Today I die,” you breathed out, ragged and scared. You knew you were right.

The music echoed in your head even as it quieted and the platform stopped. But you still couldn’t look away from all the blood, not caring anymore about the people around you.

“Two.” said the woman’s voice and panic began. You finally lifted your gaze, searching for Se-mi or anyone familiar but no one was around. People were screaming, dragging each other down, pushing, always pushing. And you just stood there, awaiting your unavoidable end.

“Come on!” There, a body appeared, and someone crashed into you with such force it was hard to stay on your feet. Hands grabbed your waist and with unbelievable strength half pushed you half carried you to the nearest unoccupied room. Only when your body connected with the floor and the doors locked behind you did you look up at the person who saved you.

“Tell me what you want from me.” Young-il or In-ho said, blocking the exit with his body, freezing you in place with those piercing eyes. So he has noticed, you thought, finding it hard to swallow, let alone speak.

“I know who you are.” you croaked and In-ho said nothing, but his laugh lines grew heavier.

“Do you?“ he asked after a while, his eyes sparkling. Was this just a game for him?

“Why didn’t you tell them your real name, In-ho?”

“What made you think you could talk to me like that?” You shivered at his words but your face remained impassable. Somehow, you weren’t scared of him, no. Just… curious.

“Same question.”

“You think I don’t remember you, right? But you’re wrong. The moment I noticed you here I knew exactly who you were, Y/ N.” It was hard to pretend that those words meant nothing to you.

“At least I don’t hide behind a different name.”

“It’s a precaution. Some of these people are criminals and if they recognised my name they wouldn’t be as happy as you to see me here, understood?”

Your cheeks reddened but that didn’t stop you from holding your ground. His gaze made you nervous and you started biting your lower lip.

“Would you stop doing that?” In-ho asked and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not the only one watching, Y/N.” he gave you a tentative smile.

Before you could say anything, the doors clicked and In-ho extended his hand to you as an offering.

“I can keep a secret… Can you?” A corner of his mouth curled up slightly and in answer you accepted his hand.

***

After you walked out of the room, the two of you didn’t speak until later that day in the dormitory. It was as if your roles switched - the whole day you felt his gaze following you wherever you went. It was driving you insane.

Thankfully In-ho approached you on his own, holding you by your elbow and gently leading you to a tranquil corner of the room.

“Stop staring at me to distract me!” you whisper shouted at him.

“Oh, I’m not staring at you to distract you.”

Again, the blush creeped into your cheeks. Flustered and ashamed, you looked away and bit your lip.

“I shouldn’t be here, you know.” he went on. His eyes were flickering from side to side, probably trying to see if anyone paid any attention to you.

“Well, I can keep a secret, can’t I?” you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, a spark in your eyes. A smile crept on his face but quickly disappeared.

“As soon as the lights go out today, the other team is going to attack us so they have more people voting tomorrow for the games to continue. You hide under the bed and be quiet, you understand?”

“Is this a trap?” you asked and stepped away, your hands starting to shake.

“Do as I say.” And that was that. With it, he meant to turn away, but you gripped his wrist.

“In-ho-“

“Would you stop doing that?” he retorted and moved his hand so it was him holding you. His knuckles were all white but he wasn’t hurting you.

“Doing what exactly, In-ho-“ before you could finish the sentence, the palm of his hand covered your mouth. Your nostrils were met with a musky and tangy smell.

“Don’t test me.” He let go of you and stepped aside. As he turned to go, he spoke over his shoulder: “When the lights turn off, come and find me. I’ll keep you safe.”

And somehow, no matter how dangerous this place was, knowing that you cannot trust anyone here, you trusted him.

***

“Light out in five minutes.” The woman’s voice resonated in the dormitory while everyone climbed into their beds. You sat at the edge of yours with shoes on, checking for the fifth time In-ho’s location. In your mind, you tried to blindly navigate your way and when you were finally convinced that you could do it, you loosened a deep sigh.

“Why so tense, Y/N?” Se-mi asked from the bed beneath yours. You climbed down onto her level and quickly checked if anyone was listening, before you whispered: “After the lights go out, gen under the beds. Trust me.” Thank god she didn’t question it, because you felt ridiculous enough for the both of you for even listening to In-ho. He didn’t have a motive to keep you safe. He had one to kill you, though. You were the only one here who knew his real name. You just didn’t know if it was information worth killing for.

“Lights out in ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…” You looked around for the last time. The air was stale and tense. Your body started shaking immediately.

“Three, two, one.” The darkness fell like a heavy curtain. You quietly stumbled down the ladder, careful to make as little noise as possible. Your left knee nearly collapsed under you as you made the first step but you kept a firm grip on the railings as you slowly passed between the bunk beds. Two railings, you go right, tree railings, you touch the wall, you follow it into the corner, then four railings before you go left…. But it just wasn’t possible to move as quickly as required. You were three quarters in when hell was unleashed. The sounds of stabbing, screaming and gurgling filled the air but your legs refused to move. You were completely paralysed with fear.

Someone jumped screaming from their bed and stumbled into you. You fell with a yelp on the cold floor and tried to scoot under the closest bed, but someone was already there pushing you out, frantically repeating: “Get out, they’re gonna find me, you have to go!”

You scrambled on all fours and stayed as low as possible while crawling to where In-ho was supposed to be. You were such a fool.

There was a sudden kick to your abdomen and you gasped, pain resonating through your body. Someone tripped over you and fell with a scream, their hands trying to hold onto anything, which just happened to be your hair. You screamed with pain, blindly punching around yourself in a desperate attempt of defence.

“In-ho!” you finally screamed, not caring anymore if someone tracked you down because of it. There was so much noise that it didn’t matter.

“In-ho!” you kept on shouting as you got up and started frantically running in the direction you thought was the right one. You were starting to get desperate, your voice turning into a rasp, tears forcing their way out of your eyes.

Earlier, when you said that you were going to die that day, maybe it would actually happen.

Suddenly, a hand grasped your ankle and you were prepared for the worst. But when your name fell off In-ho’s lips, your shoulders sagged with relief and with a desperate cry you got on the ground and slid next to him under the bed.

“I thought I was dead,” you gasped out, hand on your racing heart.

“Well, me too if that calms you down.”

“It certainly doesn’t, In-ho.” you glared at him. He was looking at you in a strange way, something in his expression you didn’t know how to identify.

“What is it?” you asked, your stomach dropping. Was he actually betraying you? Or was he trying to kiss you? With that look on his face, you couldn’t say which one.

“Say my name again,” he breathed out, your breaths mingling. Suddenly, you noticed all the points where your body was touching his, your skin heating up at the contact.

“In-ho,” you mumbled and stretched out your hand to tuck a strand of his silky hair behind his ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” In-ho looked at you with a pained expression.

“Not in the slightest,” you whispered softly against his warm lips as you kissed him.

[kitasuno]

with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second. 

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun. 

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight. 

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says, 

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much? 

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother. 

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him. 

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him. 

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him. 

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts. 

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?” 

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule. 

He meets you for the first time in February. 

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession. 

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them. 

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r. 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later. 

He sees you a lot the year after. 

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side. 

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch. 

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother. 

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation. 

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night. 

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. 

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his. 

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful. 

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him. 

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi. 

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.” 

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri. 

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.